Z For Zachariah

A thoughtful post-apocalyptic drama which marries the small-detail intensity of a stage play with grandiose scenery the likes of which only cinema can provide (New Zealand masquerading as somewhere in southern America).

Chitty Chitty Ejiofor stumbles into Margot Robbie's strangely uncontaminated farm valley home a year or so after a nuclear disaster that is discussed only in half-finished sentences and knowing looks but which was probably a result of war rather than mass power station meltdowns.

Or maybe it's not so strange that her little corner of the world is uncontaminated while the rest of the locale gets Geiger counters clicking like horny grasshoppers: she's the wide-eyed daughter of a preacher who built the nearby chapel as well as their home, presumably. Daddy's gone seeking survivors, Ann (Robbie's character) digs and sows and ploughs with a rustic determination seemingly from a bygone age.

John (Ejiofor) is suffering radiation sickness. Obviously he's going to survive with some tender nursing from Ann otherwise it's going to be a short film. Equally obvious is the likelihood they will bond on a deep enough level to consider making their relationship a more, ahem, biblical one.

Slight problem - John is not a religious fellow. Indeed, he's a scientist: practical to the core, which comes in handy in respect of advising Ann on how to hand pump gasoline from the local station to fuel her tractor. But when it comes to his notion of building a water wheel to replace a broken beyond repair generator he cannot quite understand her reluctance to use the wooden walls of the chapel. It's raw materials for him; sacrosanct to her.

Their relationship has not yet reached consummation when Chris Pine's Caleb turns up, adding extra muscle power to jobs around the farm but also much tension when it seems clear Ann finds him quite alluring. To further complicate things for John, Caleb shares Ann's faith although he agrees with using the wood from the chapel to make that wheel. His accurate but somewhat manipulative observation that it's what Ann brings to the building with her beliefs and her regular playing of the old church organ that make it holy.

Using God to get into a woman's pants is a pretty low tactic but ultimately it works. John tries to take it on the chin but by this point knows he is in love with Ann. Godless he might be but he's seemed reasonably moral to this point. So when he and Caleb set off to put the completed water wheel in place but only he returns, claiming the other guy has moved on in search of a possibly mythical citadel further towards the coast, do we believe him?

Do we fuck and it's doubtful Ann does either but he keeps in her good books by dragging the organ into the farm barn, saving it from exposure to the elements now that the chapel has been dismantled. Cue musical finale, not in the sense of a song and dance number but back to poignant shared looks while she plays and he listens intently.

A simple tale, splendidly told. Ejiofor appears to have stolen Denzel Washington's vocal styling for the role but hey, he's an Englisher and thus doing a grand job. Robbie's an Aussie so equally admirable for her southern twang. Pine couldn't be more all-American if he tried but his performance here is a great reminder of his genuine acting abilities for anyone who thinks the cartoonish requirements of portraying Captain James T. Kirk are the extent of his range.

While the storyline itself is no great cerebral challenge the performances ensure the film stays in the memory and the characters lodge themselves into the viewer's heart. More expert scripture-readers than I will be able to tell you what the significance of the title actually is.

Star Trek: Into Darkness

Not having been an avid viewer of much in the way of JJ Abrams' output prior to the first instalment of his rebooted Star Trek, I must say that film made a huge impression on me. I'm a Whovian more than a Trekkie but do have a soft spot for Kirk and the gang (not a 70s funk band), and the camera flaring, explosion heavy, fire-everything mentality of Abrams' first Trek movie was pitch perfect. High expectations came with me when I headed for the second instalment, then.

Largely I was not disappointed although a little of the joy of seeing some wonderful reinterpretations of familiar characters was burnt out first time around (except McCoy - he's hilarious all day long). The action scenes are, if anything, even more tense and I literally found I was holding my breath towards the climax when a massive star ship plummets towards Star Fleet headquarters in a death-dive. Breathe, damn it, breathe; dying at the movies is a silly way to go and it makes your face all purple.

The Kirk/Spock bromance continues to dominate but, just so religious types and those from the Deep South (Croyden) can assure themselves the Captain and his First Officer are not actually getting it on, Spock's unlikely relationship with Uhuru is still ongoing. She, like last time, has a few key scenes of her own (Nichelle Nichols must be envious) as do most of the supporting cast - Sulu, Chekov, McCoy. Scotty actually does a lot of running around and is integral to some of the later action which must have been such a rush for Simon Pegg. Yet his accent is so erratic that I wonder why they bothered with it.

After all, the main villain of the piece (and here comes a spoiler) is none other than Khan (KHAN!) but Benedict Cumberbatch shows no interest in trying to emulate Ricardo Montelban's Hispanic tones. Yes, that's right, you read me right - KHAN! Only this time around it is Kirk he comes close to killing (does actually kill him but not for long - watch it if you don't know already). And this time it is Spock who yells 'KHAN!' in the manner of a man who is attempting to expel a particularly reluctant stool which he has inexplicably named.

Saw it coming, to be honest but it works. Boy does it work. Bang, crash, fight, boom, plunging ships, gravity failing on the Enterprise - I was as caught up in the action as a five year old boy is caught up when the string connecting his gloves half strangles him as he puts on an oversized raincoat.

I love how Abrams plays with the existing mythology of Star Trek. He's allowed, it's an alternate timeline. Thus Khan is more charming and yet even more vicious than his counterpart in the original movies (and, indeed, the TV series). Thus women only have to look at Kirk to start removing their clothing. Thus Nimmoy can give Quinto spoilers mid-film, the sneaky so-and-so.

Overall I think the first film just edges Into Darkness for invention and interplay between the main cast. Khan is a far better villain than old grumpy-face Nero, though, so maybe it is a question of swings and roundabouts?

If you love spacey stuff, big a bang a boom stuff, action happening so fast you cannot keep up with it all stuff and hand-held, edgy camera work (which everyone praises Abrams for yet overlooks the fact that he sort of nicked it from Joss Whedon's Serenity), then you will love lots of the stuff in this movie. And if you don't like any of that stuff: 

1. what are you reading this for? and, 
2. you and I cannot be friends any more.

Star Trek: Beyond

How to tell that JJ Abrams was not directing or scripting the third of the rebooted Star Trek movies - it's not as good as the previous two. 

How to tell that Simon Pegg was involved in scripting the third of the rebooted Star Trek movies - his character, Scotty, gets more action than in the previous two and steals focus from the two supposed stars, Kirk and Spock. Oh, and the script isn't as good as anything Pegg's produced with regular cohort Edgar Wright. And don't even get me started on the fact that Pegg is the only piece of casting in the entire reboot that I completely disagree with: James Doohan's corpse would have been better.

Suffice to say that Beyond is not up to scratch. It has its moments, not least when Sofia Boutella kicks butt and delivers the only truly comic lines in the piece, and there is merit in examining the tedium that would come from a five year mission exploring strange new worlds. Because it isn't all exploring strange new worlds, lots of it is routine crap to do with making the ship move about from one place to another while you're stuck with the same faces the entire time

Merited this may be but while I suspect Abrams could have summed up the ennui and self-doubt of Kirk and Spock in a line or two, Pegg clumps away at it with all the subtlety of an Emmerich-wielded sledgehammer. Minus a billion points for emotional manipulation and dull dialogue, Simon.

Idris Elba's villain could be more than the stereotypical malcontent grinding his axe, too, but again poor exposition and a preference for letting some twat who previously made goddawful Fast And Fucksake movies take over the director's chair and thus ensuring spectacle would drown out the more human complexities of such a storyline was as bad a move as letting Pegg drive the script.

I sound like I hate this movie. I don't hate it but I don't love it and that is very telling given that I had indeed loved the previous two. I grew up with the original TV series then spent my late teens and early twenties watching the big screen versions lurch from brilliant to mediocre only for TNG to revive the entire concept and lead to other sequels including the inimitable Voyager. When Abrams brought the original concept back and opened up endless new possibilities with the alternate timeline twist there was hope that this time around a combination of amazing special effects and a plethora of skilled directors and scriptwriters ought to ensure the franchise stopped skipping so many beats back on the big screen. Hopes dashed. 

I can only hope that Chris Pine, Zoe Saldana and Zachary Quinto have not been put off continuing with the Star Trek future as they, like everyone else but Pegg, are perfectly cast and totally bedded into their roles in the minds of old and new fans alike. Just have a care, Roddenberry estate-holders, don't let some brilliantly sarcastic British cast member write any part of the script again and for Vulcan's sake don't let anyone near the director's chair who is only capable of making vacuous, action-and-explosions-as-porn films.