Submarine

Dir. Richard Ayoade
Starring. Sally Hawkins, Craig Roberts, Noah Taylor

I never tire of a good coming of age story. Maybe it's because I didn't really understand what the phrase even meant until I came out of my own adolescence and was like 'Oh, was that me coming of age? That period of time I accidentally dyed my hair the color of rust and had legs like a baby giraffe? And now I don't anymore? I get it now."

Anyway, it is ironically a genre that just doesn't get old. It gives teens an outlet for all that angst; a chance to realize they aren't alone in their struggles. And for us oldies, it's a chance to look back fondly on our formative years and rejoice that we made it out of them alive. Every generation needs their own great coming of age tale, and if Submarine is not well on it's way to becoming this generation's, it damn well should be.

Meet the films pubescent hero, Oliver Tate (Craig Roberts). He enjoys long walks on the beach, keeping close track of his parents sex life, and reading the dictionary. He even had a brief hat phase. But most of all he likes Jordana (Yasmin Paige), a pretty but confusingly aloof young pyro with whom he has a budding romance. As their relationship progresses, Oliver faces an increasingly tense situation at home with the decay of his parents marriage. He does all he can to save it by preventing his mother (Sally Hawkins) from having an affair with her ex-lover and next door neighbor, a New Agey spiritual leader and possible ninja (Paddy Considine). Through all of this, Oliver tries to figure out who he is, who he wants to be, and how he can become it.

Every scene in this film is charming and poignant. It's carried by the excellent Craig Roberts who is loveably awkward in a Michael Cera kind of way, only far more dynamic. Sally Hawkins contributes to many of the films most brilliant moments and it's really great to see her showcase her talents, even in a supporting role. This is an exceptionally promising debut film from director Richard Ayoade. His influences are quite clear: it's like a Woody Allen script, shot and cut by Godard, and meant to feel like Wes Anderson. But more importantly it's an Ayoade film, and his voice shines through these similarities with enough originality to give the film resonance.

Oh god, I'm gushing. This is embarrassing. I don't even know who I am any more. But seriously, just try and say something bad about this film. Try! I will hunt you down. And have a reasonably adult conversational debate with you, where you will say something like 'Well the story was predictable and basically the same as most coming of age tales.' To which I will calmly reply 'Perhaps it is a classic story, but it's done to perfection and all of the observations and jokes were refreshingly original.' Thus I will ultimately prove you wrong and you will concede to never doubting me again. Failing that, I will beat you over the head with an Age of the Dragons DVD (which is more humane than making you watch it.)

So, go on generation me or x or y or i or iphone or tweeter or whoever you are, get yourself to a theater this Friday. And don't even think about illegally downloading it to your ipads. I'll hunt you down for that too. No, I don't have the resources or manpower for that kind of operation but I assure you, this is a film worth paying for.

Let Me In

Dir. Matt Reeves
Starring. Kodi Smit-McPhee, Chloe Moretz, Richard Jenkins

I have a dream that one day a universal law will be passed outlawing the remake of a film until at least 5 years after the release of the original. I am unfortunately not yet ruler of the universe, so until that time I am forced to wade through the skeptic tank of re-makes, re-dubs, re-imaginings, re-releases, re-duxes, re-inforcings, and re-mixes like everyone else. That being said, I am re-lieved to re-port (that's the last of the "re's," I promise) that Matt Reeves' Let Me In did not disappoint. In fact, it grabbed me from the opening scene and mercilessly sucked the cynic right out of me.

Drawing from its source material, John Ajvide Lindqvist's novel Let the Right One In and the Swedish film of the same name, Let Me In tells the story of a troubled boy, Owen (Kodi Smit-McPhee), facing his adolescence virtually alone. He comes from a broken home and is friendless and bullied at school. Then he falls for a vampire. If you're thinking you've heard this whole vampire thing before, you haven't (unless of course you've read this book...or seen the original movie). But Abby (Chloe Grace Moretz), is no sparkly bottled-blood drinking vamp. She is a thirsty killer, a fact Owen must face when he learns the evil nature of his one true friend.

Let Me In is violent yet beautiful; disturbing yet incredibly moving. Reeves proves his affection for the subject matter and shows enough restraint during the gory bits to keep viewer eye-rolling at a minimum. An exceptional performance from Kodi Smit-McPhee grounds the supernatural elements in real human emotion and Michael Giacchino's score is arresting if not overpowering at times (or maybe that was just the wave of nostalgia I felt for Lost every time the strings kicked in). The result is a well orchestrated emotional thriller that touches on that primal human need for companionship.

Fans of Let the Right One In are surely tapping anxiously on their keyboards by now shouting into the abyss of the interweb, "Fine, fine, but how does it compare to the original?!" I know, I hear you. I have that power. Rest assured, little ones. Let Me In does right by your beloved Swedes. It is a faithful and compelling adaptation. Only a few scenes were given the "Hollywood treatment" and they were minor enough to be overlooked in the end. However, so were the moments in which Let Me In added something new to the story. So as to the question of whether or not this remake was entirely necessary, I stand firmly in the corner of the converted optimists. If Let Me In can expose a wider audience to the definition of what a modern horror film should be, this remake has my approval... and re-approval.

(Check out Britfilms.tv for this review and much, much more.)