Quickfire Reviews (Part 6)

This Is The End/ The World's End

Can James Franco's strange hand gestures combat apocalyptic tidings?

 By some strange coincidence (or perhaps as a premonition of our impending doom) two apocalyptic comedies have been released about a bunch of blokes coping badly with the end of days. This Is The End is undoubtedly the funniest, with a collection of debaucherous American actors facing God's final reckoning at James Franco's house (much of the humour consists of the protagonists knowingly mocking the egotistical nature of actors, more specifically, them). The vague plot involves Emma Watson wielding an axe, Jonah Hill undergoing an exorcism and Danny McBride founding a cult of cannibals. But whilst This Is The End unashamedly goes for the obvious laughs, The World's End seeks to win your heart by one of the most bizarre set ups in the history of cinema. It's another collaboration between Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, in which Pegg plays an alcoholic, egotistical failure of a man who, refusing to let go of the glory days of his adolescence, decides to revisit an unfinished pub crawl in his home town with four despairing friends. The beginning is almost painful to watch, with Pegg playing an utterly unlikeable character whose refusal to accept adulthood is more pathetic than funny. But in a shocking plot twist, the town has been taken over by robots with blue blood and it is up to the now drunken, slightly confused gang to save the world from invasion. The result is a decent send off to Edgar White's Three Flavours of Cornetto trilogy, although it's a shame that the chemistry between Frost and Pegg is only really capitalised upon at the film's climax, surprising being outstripped by Seth Rogen and Jay Baruchel in the former film. So if your in the mood for a comedy about the end of the world (I often am), then This Is The End is your best option.

This Is The End 7/10
The World's End 6/10

Dear River/ The Civil Wars

John and Joy smolder as they think of sheep and banjos

Everybody loves a bit of folk (well maybe not everybody). But aside from Mumford and Sons, and their mini mes the Lumineers, which bands are likely to get you raving whilst sheering sheep in a desolate field in Scotland, if that is indeed what folk fans do? Fortunately, help is at hand. Emily Barker and her Red Clay Halo are back with Dear River, but for fans of her previous album Almanac, a melancholic and atmospheric tribute to traditional folk, this latest offering may be something of a surprise. Emily Barker is now something I never thought she'd be: loud. Indeed songs like Tuesday and Ghost Narrative almost call for head banging, which as we all know, is a bit odd if you were expecting something along the lines of Danny Boy. Barker and her entourage appear to be veering towards the marketable stereotype of madly-strumming-guitars-accompanying-massive-folk-sing-along that the Mumford and Sons have clung to. Nevertheless, Dear River captivates with its first song and is never short of memorable melodies. The same can be said for The Civil Wars eponymous second album, although it's a somewhat darker affair than Dear River. You get the feeling of the songs been set in some barmy small town American backwash, where our male and female vocalists John Paul White and Joy Williams boast about their sexual exploits in the rollicking I Had Me a Girl. In the surprisingly cheerful Oh Henry, Joy threatens the lecherous titular character with the alarming line "Don't you know that we don't need one more grave in this town?". But despite being slightly dangerous to be around, The Civil Wars deliver an impressive collection of songs, with the addition of a couple of atmospheric covers. So all in all, folk lovers should probably buy both, to while away the midnight hours whilst leaping round a camp fire roasting marshmallows on horseback (is that folk lovers or Boy Scouts?).

Dear River 8/10
The Civil Wars 8/10

The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet/ Jacob's Room

Something very interesting occurs to the left of Virginia

So as I am such a cool person, I decided to compare modernist Jacob to postmodernist Jacob, or in normal terms a Virginia Woolf novel and a David Mitchell novel. Jacob's Room was Woolf's first experimental novel, and the seeds of Mrs Dalloway are clearly identifiable. But there are a lot of things wrong with it, the authorial presence seems uncertain at times with ill advised intrusions and her attempt to convey the meaningless of life through the idolatry of the silent Jacob begins to become "Jacob's heartbreak of the chapter" near the end. But nevertheless, there are those traditional details of character that make any Woolf novel sumptuous, and a bad Woolf novel is still a good work of fiction by any other standard. Whilst modernist Jacob is an enigma, postmodern Jacob is your likeable Everyman, desperately trying to hold on to moral standards in the immoral surroundings of the Japanese port of Deijma. The book is divided into three acts, which start off fairly sensible and end up utterly barmy. Of course it's all a comment on how we poor souls are being manipulated by advanced capitalism, with a particularly nasty villain and the theme of language, culture and their manipulation running through it. And although the central set-up of the evil monastery on the mountain is a little bit silly, it works out as a clever metaphor for women trapped in the expectations of modern day life. And at any rate, the historical backdrop is fascinating.

The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet 7/10
Jacob's Room 7/10