By Orla Smith.

After a limited run last December, Your Name is returning to UK cinemas in both IMAX and standard formats. After breaking box office records in Japan, it became a rare international success. It’s not hard to see why: Your Name is a melting pot of conflicting elements, all of which fuse together with invigorating energy and soul.

The film may be jarring for some Western audiences who are unfamiliar with the stylings of Japanese anime. Unlike the more classical Studio Ghibli, it has a pop aesthetic. Your Name begins with an opening credits sequence that is more like the titles of a TV show than anything you’ll find in American cinema. Much of the film sets itself to peppy J-pop; it can feel abrasive, but when embraced, these big-hearted musical choices are an expressive representation of the teenage soul.

Two seventeen year olds divide the screen time, but scarcely share it. Mitsuha lives in a quiet mountain town where the closest thing to a café is the pairing of a bench and a vending machine on the side of the road. She dreams of something bigger and easier: “Please make me a handsome Tokyo boy in my next life!” That frustrated cry into the wind gains a lot more significance than Mitsuha ever anticipated.

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=xU47nhruN-Q

We’re presented with vignettes of Mitsuha’s life, often preceded by a black screen and the buzzing of an alarm. It’s not until later that it becomes evident that, during our very first encounter with Mitsuha, she wasn’t Mitsuha at all.

Taki is that very thing that Mitsuha wishes to be: a handsome Tokyo boy, who often frequents a real café with his school friends. After a few seemingly amnesiac episodes, both Mitsuha and Taki realise that what they thought were dreams were actually real: every week or two they randomly switch bodies. Initial alarm fades away, and they gradually work out a way for their unpredictable new situation to function: leaving diary entries on each others’ phones and writing on their hands and faces.

Your Name remains a sweet body-swapping comedy for at least its first half.

There’s no ultimate goal attached to their predicament, so Mitsuha and Taki go about each others’ daily lives, trying to navigate their complications. While neither can talk to the other face to face, their connection to one another’s lives becomes stronger and the film sends us into a time-jumping montage which imagines them talking face to face. They scold each other in the messages they leave behind. They talk with the kind of scornful sarcasm that can only be cultivated between old friends.

It’s in this territory that the movie is most comfortable. A more satisfying third act would have been one that went further with the threads set up at the beginning. Instead, the film feels a need to heighten the stakes to an alarming degree, and it loses sight of what it was trying to say in the first place. New rules are added to the initial sci-fi premise that appear to be rooted in nothing other than a need to push the plot in the necessary direction.

It is true that without this sudden shift, the film may not have been able to get to its moving coda. At the very end, Your Name becomes about looking wistfully back on your childhood: to the places you went that you can’t quite remember, and the people you loved whose faces are fading in your memory.

Unfortunately, this emotional gut-punch comes at the expense of exploring more interesting themes.

In its second half, it becomes clear that Your Name is pushing these characters into a romance with each other. This is strange given the dynamics set up earlier which, if explored, could have led to a fascinating exploration of gender. That gendered element is brought to the fore given that this is the story of a boy and a girl taking on each others’ bodies – and their exploration of their new physical forms is given screen time, mostly in the context of comedy. However, with Mitsuha’s romancing of Taki’s female work colleague while in Taki’s body, one thing becomes clear: Taki is falling in love with Mitsuha, but Mitsuha is falling in love with being Taki. It’s baffling that the film decides to leave this unexplored.

In IMAX, Your Name is visually ravishing. The camera often sweeps around its characters as they gaze up at the stars, and we’re left just as astonished as they are. While Your Name is not a clear vision, it is often quite wonderful – and emotionally resonant. Controversially, it failed to earn an Academy Award nomination for best animated feature. While I would count myself as slightly less awed by the film as others are, I wouldn’t hesitate to join the chorus of those claiming it deserved that nomination; this ragged film is more affecting and complex than most commercial animation, even if it has room to be much more of both those things.

After waiting what felt like forever (it was only a year) for Shin Gojira to be released in the UK and being personally taunted by being in Japan for its original release, but unable to watch it, the UK and I were treated to the cinematic release of Shin Gojira last week.

If you’re a fan of Toho’s Godzilla then I think you will absolutely love Shin Gojira. Introducing a new arc and therefore a new origin story, Shin Gojira updates Godzilla into a new world and a new style, excellently combined with all the original elements. As usual, it’s dealing with Godzilla that takes centre stage and not the monster itself, and although we’re introduced to his destructive force (albeit in a different form) much earlier than usual, the intrigue and mystery of  a good Godzilla film remains.

Shin Gojira is more West Wing than Battle Los Angeles and therefore may not quite hit the mark with Hollywood fans. It’s a frighteningly accurate depiction of politics, where decisions take both time and very large committees, contrasting heavily with Hollywood presidents who make instant life changing decisions without the need for changes in law or any consultation whatsoever. This produces a very unique and interesting disaster movie.

The acting in Shin Gojira is steady and honest, with a typical Japanese style. The effects struggle when compared to Godzilla’s big budget Hollywood cousin, but it doesn’t steal away from the impact or horror of the beast. Interestingly Godzilla is far less human than in previous Godzilla depictions and appears completely instinctual which adds more verve to the nuclear metaphor that emanates once again through this film. It’s sometimes easy to forget Godzilla (1954)’s political heritage, but Shin Gojira brings this up to date with almost propaganda proportions.

I will be recommending Shin Gojira to everyone because I love Godzilla, but putting my reviewer hat on instead of my fanboy vest, Shin Gojira is a solid film, and a good example of Toho’s strength and the more serious side of Godzilla. I would firmly recommend this film to Sci-Fi and political drama fans, but for those looking for non-stop violence, it may not be for you.

You know what I find strange. A lot of people love shark movies. Even people who hate horror films tend to go crazy for shark films. I’ve never understood that; particularly because most of them kind of suck. We have the amazing Jaws and the good B-Movie thrill rides Deep Blue Sea and The Shallows, but other than that what do we have. There all pretty bad outside of that. Sure, we get interesting or entertaining bad – like Open Water or Bait 3D – but most overs are just terrible – like Shark Attack, Shark Night 3D and Jaws the Revenge.

The reason I bring this up is because I have still yet to understand the hype behind the new finned-fiend thriller, 47 Meters Down.

To be fair, we do have an interesting premise here. Two sisters on holiday in Mexico go cage diving with the great white sharks. But when the chain snaps, the two find themselves trapped at the bottom of the ocean – you know, I’ve forgotten the depth. A shame it’s not sign posted for us. The two are low on oxygen, the cage is a death-trap and any attempt to leave puts them in chewing range of the sharks. They must use their wits and ability to work as a team to reach the surface and avoid a toothy demise. It’s not bad at all really. There’s just one problem. This is meant to go on for 90 minutes.

This film was directed by Johannes Roberts. No, I had not heard of him before either. But I had to mention the fact, because the title to this film is not simply 47 Meters Down – no, it’s Johannes Roberts’ 47 Meters Down.

Clearly this man is proud of this film. And after doing some research I think I know why. It’s because every other film he has made before this got lower than the 5.0 mark or IMDb. That alone should give you an indication of what you are in for with this film.

The directing is extremely lacking, even if what was attempted is commendable. These actresses had to spend most of the film actually underwater. Just imagine the stress and strain that must have had on everyone involved. Also, coupled with the creative premise are some fairly effective moments. I did like the use of the ocean murk, hiding the sharks from view until you are in striking range. But what doesn’t help is the films awful cinematography and even worse editing. This isn’t like Taken 3, where you get twenty cuts when Neeson is jumping a fence. But no shot feels like it’s the correct length. It’s always either too long – some were so never ending that I almost felt like screaming “cut” at the screen – and others are too short that it’s impossible to tell what you were supposed to be looking at. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZS4bT2d2Cw

The opening sets the tone for this; there’s a shot that feels like it lasts and age where a woman is sitting on an inflatable chair in a pool, a glass of red wine in her hand. We know what’s going to happen, something’s going to make her drop it and the blue water shall run red. But when it finally happens, the shot changes to a less effective shot of the wine in the pool. We have the sisters argue for a minute, one leaves as her sister comments on how nice her ass is – and then we randomly cut back to the red water as the title comes up. It’s such a bizarre scene that perfectly demonstrates what the rest of the film is like. I guess in that regard it was effective then, so I could almost applaud that.

Our characters are played by Mandy Moore, the princess from Tangled, and Claire Holt, the barging-value Emma Roberts. Once the two of them reach the depth stated in the title they are serviceable. Nothing great but nothing terrible. Before then, and it is possible that blame belongs to the script or Johannes Roberts, but they were both awful. I remember thinking to myself, as I waited twenty minutes for the chain to snap, that if we didn’t see the sharks soon then I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t shout at the screen to get a move on. Which does bring me onto a major problem with this film.

The concept is good, but Roberts seemingly cannot find a way to drag this story out to a feature length. Instead he just attempts to pad the film out with filler. It’s twenty minutes before the story really gets going (or feels it at any rate), but when we get there we’re just sat waiting for the sharks to attack while the film gets padded out with melodrama. We get the typical sibling rivalry plot line and how one sister is exciting and the other is boring and must learn to come out of her shell more. Normally this can drag out, but here we have only these two to follow, so between the shark moments the film really drags on. Especially when they are in the cage, as we are explicitly told that the sharks cannot get them in the cage. We therefore know the drill, and can therefore only feel any tension when they are outside of the cage. Although, to be fair they come out of that cage a stupid amount of times.

Even then though, the tension is just made because the only scares in this film are jump scares. I hate jump scares. I don’t find them scary. Startling, yes, but it doesn’t take a lot to startle me. I get startled when I’m reading in the garden and a cricket jumps on me – of course I’m going to jump when a really fake looking shark jumps out of nowhere and the musician suddenly leans on his keyboard. But the thing is, as soon as I have jumped then there is no tension left in the scene. It has blown its load and has nothing left to offer. Speaking of peaking early, depending on your mind-set the ending will completely lose you. Without wishing to spoil, not that I’d be spoiling much, the ending feels like a watered-down rip of the ending to The Descent.

But where The Decent leaves you with a foreboding feeling of dread and depression, fitting in perfectly with the tone of the film, 47 Meters Down feels like Roberts missed the point. It’s out of nowhere and is actually very predictable, thanks to how the dialogue before it hammers the point in.

47 Meters Down isn’t without its moments. It’s just mishandled. If this was done by someone like Jaume Collet-Serra (director of The Shallows) or Neil Marshall (The Decent), then maybe we would have something scary and entertaining. As is it’s not an awful film. I don’t feel angered by it, and I don’t feel like it’d make for an engaging rant. It’s mostly just dull. The occasional creepy image, or even the odd hilarious shot or dialogue aren’t enough to save this one from sinking. It’s definitely better than the likes of Sharknado and Shark Night 3D, but only see it if you are a huge fan of these films. Even then, wait for it on Netflix or Prime, don’t waste your money.

Forced to defuse a beach full of mines in post war Denmark, Land of Mine introduces us to a group of young German POWs facing terror, violence and constant peril as they and their Danish commander come to terms with the situation, and each other.

Land of Mind is shocking, violent and thought provoking, and is undoubtedly one of the best war films I’ve seen in years. Introducing us to a part of war (post-war to be precise) rarely seen, Land of Mine covers hatred, prejudice, emotional and physical loss as well as friendship and comradery in a unique and real world setting. Land of Mine brings intense pain in a sedated and realistic way with no embellishment or added drama. It’s very real and very impactful. Roland Moller who plays the Danish Commander portrays a man who views are conflicted with beauty and grace. He hates the Germans for what they’ve done, but as his young POWs face peril with stoicism and heroism he begins to see them as what they are, boys, learning to separate them from the things their commanders and they themselves may have done in the name of war.

This young cast give commanding performances as director Martin Zandvliet pulls no punches. They are convincingly increasingly ill and weak throughout the film, the colour stolen from their faces as director and crew try to hide none of the shameful treatment of these prisoners with none of the usual Hollywood restrictions.  Joel Basman and Emil Belton stand out in particular despite being more minor characters, and I hope to see them in more mainstream films in the future, and I’ll be following their work as they grow.

Land of Mine could easily challenge Hurt Locker if they were to fight for best picture. Land of Mine won’t get the plaudits it deserves because it’s both a foreign language film and covering as aspect of war less interesting and less marketable. Land of Mine is gritty and at times hard to watch, but ultimately, brilliant. I will be talking about Land of Mine for the rest of the year and I thoroughly recommend you watch it.