The World’s End
The Review: Remember a time when British comedy films either had three or four Pythons in them or Richard Curtis’ name on the front of the script? That is, if you were lucky and you weren’t watching yet another tired attempt to extend the Carry On franchise past its normal lifespan. British comedy was alive and thriving on TV, and covering every demographic, but it wasn’t until Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg made the transition from their cult TV hit Spaced to their cult film hit Shaun Of The Dead that successfully combined a host of geeky film references with a strong plot and a parade of familiar faces. They returned three years later with Hot Fuzz, and replaced the world cult with the word massive, finishing in the top 10 of the year for the UK. Wright is headed to the Marvel cinematic universe and Pegg now has roles two major Hollywood franchises and the likes of J.J. Abrams and Tom Cruise on speed dial. But ever since Hot Fuzz, they’d been promising a third entry in their loose trilogy, and The World’s End now provides the answer as to whether it was worth a six year wait.
Except closer examination reveals that the similarities between the three films run very deep. Each is bolted to a high concept (Romero zombie homage, buddy cop action film, and the sci-fi trappings of The World’s End) and examines a different core relationship dynamic: the relationship breakup of Shaun and the father / son conflict of Fuzz give way to the forgotten childhood friendships and the difficulties of raking up the past. But each also holds up a reflection to modern British life, from the struggles against the encroaching apathy of the
youth of today zombie hordes to the pressures of conformity and the sheltered attitudes of middle England prevalent in Sandford. The World’s End gives us Newton Haven, and when five school friends (Pegg, Nick Frost, Eddie Marsan, Paddy Considine and Martin Freeman) return to attempt to finish an epic pub crawl from their youth, the nature of their friendships and their willingness to accept change are called into question. Marsan still works for his father, Considine is dating a woman fifteen years his junior and Frost is clinging to the end of a failing marriage, but it’s Pegg’s Gary KIng who seems to have been trapped in a time warp. When they stumble across Newton Haven’s dark secrets, the seeming alienation of the town’s inhabitants and the homogenisation of its finest watering holes turn out to be just a metaphor for what’s really troubling the town, but even that doesn’t get in the way of the Pegg / Frost dynamic.
Each of the films in this decade-long triptych have concentric circles of the finest of British acting. On the periphery here are cameos from old familiar faces such as Rafe Spall and Mark Heap. Peeling away at the layers sees stronger supporting turns from the likes of Reese Shearsmith and David Bradley, before the core ensemble (which also includes Rosamund Pike as the sister of one and the object of teenage affection of two others), but as with their predecessors the key relationship is between Pegg and Frost. Where they have looked to vary things up is in the nature of that relationship, and here Frost is the straight man to Pegg’s unlovable loser. Neither Pegg nor Wright seems afraid to make Gary King anything other than outwardly lazy and contemptible, the friends who don’t seem to suffer fools gladly at least willing to suffer this one out of a sense of misplaced loyalty, but the drawback is in losing any one of the main characters to really root for when the trouble comes. The Shaun / Ed and Nicholas / Danny pairings from earlier films may have had their drawbacks, but there was a warmth to their double acts that’s deliberately absent here and it inevitably makes the viewer have to work harder to engage with the group. It also doesn’t help that the second layer of Freeman, Marsan, Pike and Considine feel more one dimensional than they have in previous efforts; you long for a Dylan Moran or a Timothy Dalton to really energise proceedings.
So that’s the similarities covered, and indeed thematically and tonally The World’s End does feel part of a trilogy, but there are differences too, not just in the core relationship but in the nature of the story itself. Where Shaun is a creeping dread and Hot Fuzz a gradual escalation, The World’s End pivots on a scene in a gents toilets and instantly goes from five guys on a pub crawl to a pending apocalypse in a shift that may prove too sudden for some. It’s fair to say that The World’s End isn’t as funny as its predecessors either; it’s not that the jokes fall flat, rather that they’re sidelined in favour of a darker tone and a more sombre approach which once again prioritises story over everything else. The other marked difference is that the references to the source material feel less prominent – possibly due to Wright and Pegg feeling slightly less confident in, or in love with, the genre than they did with zombies or buddy cop movies – and if you can put aside the need for big belly laughs, the story works well. It’s still littered with references to itself, which may prove a distraction on first viewing (when you hear the young pub crawl described in the prologue, it’s impossible not to want to look for the references later in the film, but it’s best to pick up these aspects on later viewings) and the sheer level of detail may be a little overwhelming. But The World’s End is a fitting trilogy capper, and it’s not afraid to explore some different territory in a familiar manner. If you’re prepared to adjust your expectations as you follow Wright, Pegg and Frost to the end of the world, then your faith should be reasonably rewarded.
Why see it at the cinema: So much going on in terms of details that the cinema screen is your best option to catch it all. There’s also half a dozen big laughs and plenty of smaller titters to keep you entertained. But the close choreography of the fights and the sheer kinetic energy that Edgar Wright seems to have carried over from Scott Pilgrim at those moments will also best be absorbed on a larger canvas.
What about the rating: Rated 15 for very strong language and strong sex references. Edgar Wright’s exchange with the BBFC about that language gives a fascinating insight into the modern relationship between film maker and film judger.
My cinema experience: I’ve so far managed to see The World’s End two and a half times at the cinema, oddly a feat that I also managed to perform on both Star Trek (2009) and Fantastic Four: Rise Of The Silver Surfer (don’t ask). The first one and a half times were both at Friday night late shows at the Cineworld in Cambridge, and both were very sparsely attended and moderately received, my early departure from the second viewing enforced when Gary jumps off a roof in order to pick up Mrs Evangelist from work. A third viewing, this time on an early evening Friday showing, confirmed that people are more inclined to laugh when in large crowds.
The Score: 8/10
Half way through the year, and it’s been a mixed year so far. A decent amount of five star films, but the quality layer below that has been slightly thinner than in previous years, so the second half of the year has a fair amount to make up for. But as well as the midpoint of the year, July marks another milestone: it’s the fiftieth Half Dozen that I’ve written for the blog.
Fifty collections of trailers, from the monthly specials to Superbowl reviews, annual lists of all the trailers I’ve seen at the Cambridge Film Festival and FrightFest and even a Tony Scott obituary special. From the highs of annual award winners including The Social Network, Submarine and The Imposter to the lows of fantastically cheesy trailers such as Killer Elite and Elephant White, it’s now become a monthly ritual to watch every trailer for films coming out to try to find the cream of the crop, and even if no-one reads this, then it’s helped me to uncover a few cinematic gems I wouldn’t have otherwise tried.
But if you are reading this, then you’ll be expecting some trailers, and to mark the 50th anniversary I’ve not only trawled through the whole of July, but picked out the most enticing trailers for each month for the rest of the year.
Clearly inspired by The Artist, because no other movie has ever been made in black and white or without sound, Blancanieves translates as Snow White. Yep, it’s a Spanish Snow White with bullfighting, and if that’s not enough of a hook for you, you may wish to check your pulse to see if you’re still alive.
Long time readers of the blog will know that I like my blockbusters big, dumb and full of fun; I’m a fan of Independence Day and not ashamed to admit it. I can remember a friend telling me he didn’t get on with that particular film after the first act and the trailers had a more serious vibe and then it laid on the cheese, but in my view you can’t really do something of this scale without a bit of Stilton or Wensleydale. Early reports suggest that might not be the case, which will be a cheesy shame.
We Steal Secrets: The Story Of Wikileaks
The second documentary of the year from master documentarian Alex Gibney, this follow up to Mea Maxima Culpa will hopefully be distinguished in one key respect – hopefully I’ll actually manage to catch this one.
The World’s End
Two trailers were released for this, the upcoming closer to the informal Three Colours Cornetto trilogy. One has a casual voiceover from Simon Pegg, but this international trailer has the full-on voiceover man, and you’ve never heard someone make the words “pub crawl” sound quite so incongruous. (Although, looking for ideas of what to do for my 40th next year, maybe finding four mates to do a 12 pub crawl? Perhaps a 12 cinema crawl is more my speed.)
If you, like me, have a high tolerance for kooky and mumblecore, then you’ll very much be looking forward to the latest from Noah Baumbach and Greta Gerwig. If those names strike fear into your heart, you’ll be turning this trailer off after around 10 seconds.
I bear the scars of battle. I’ve seen X-Men: The Last Stand. I’ve seen X-Men Origins: Wolverine. I wasn’t looking forward to this one at all. Yet somehow this trailer has, just about, revitalised my interested, and I will be very cautiously optimistic come the end of the month. Also, just in case you weren’t convinced, here’s Hugh Jackman to really sell it to you. If the star of his own movie thinks it’ll be good, who am I to argue?
Plenty of potential for August with the Alan Partridge movie, Matt Damon and Jodie Foster in Neill Blomkamp’s latest Elysium, a Morgan Spurlock doc on One Direction and a David Bowie exhibition on film. But the one which has me most in anticipation is the critical Marmite that is Nicolas Winding Refn’s latest. Luke Evans dropped out to be in The Hobbit, giving us another dose of brooding Gosling. Tasty.
Only God Forgives
The list for September was looking thin, to say the least. Richard Curtis and Roland Emmerich unleash their latest, and Ron Howard has Formula 1 biopic Rush, but for me the Cambridge Film Festival always dominates September, and the opening film was announced this week. The star of The Simpsons, Star Trek: The Next Generation and The Big Bang Theory will also be in attendance, all being well. (I once saw him at the local Cineworld watching Atonement, so this isn’t quite a big a deal as it could have been.)
As well as more Oscar bait in the shape of Tom Hanks starrer Captain Phillips, October has a veritable feast of fantasy and sci-fi, with the adaptation of Ender’s Game, the sequel to Thor and this stunning looking space drama from Alfonso Cuaron, which many (myself included) will be hoping can live up to Children Of Men.
The eleventh month of the year is due to see the release of Cannes winner Blue Is The Warmest Colour, Ridley Scott attempting to redefine all star cast with Cormac McCarthy scripted The Counselor and the latest instalment of the Hunger Games, but my pick is Joseph Gordon-Levitt, proving that if anything’s good enough for Hugh Jackman, it’s good enough for him.
Hobbitses? Jack Ryan? Pointless Oldboy remake? Keep them. There’s only one film in December I’m truly looking forward to, and it’s as smooth as a thirty year old scotch and as dumb as a cat in clown outfit. Say whaat?
Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues