It's Frank's world, we just live in it

Robin Wright and Kevin Spacey

There’s no doubt that the last season of House of Cards was the televisual equivalent of the ‘difficult third album’. The first two seasons had reached new heights of television drama as Frank and Claire Underwood – the ultimate Washington power couple – cut a Machiavellian swathe through the American political establishment.

The third series on the other hand managed to jump the shark; that moment that indicates a TV show is about to begin its death spiral. All of that business with Claire in Russia was so out of character and looked to have given the glacial heroine an unwanted and unnecessary sentimental side. Claire does not do sentiment. This is the woman of whom Frank memorably said ‘I love that woman like a shark loves blood’; not a lot of softness there.

Shows that recover from jumping the shark are few and far between but the latest series of House of Cards – season 4 – takes the programme back to its best and, in its final episode, arguably reaches new heights.

It’s all down to what screenwriters refer to as ‘character wants’. In the first two series it was plain what was at stake; Frank Underwood, the Chief Whip, wanted to be President of the United States. His wife Claire was Lady M to his Thane of Cawdor and she wanted to help him. He wanted power, she wanted influence; together they would stop at nothing. No one was safe and their progression to the White House left a trail of bleached bones of those sufficiently ill-advised to get in their way.

But in series three with Frank in the top job there is something of a vacuum. Frank is like a dog chasing a motor car; now that he’s caught it he doesn’t know what to do with it. The result was a series that wallowed somewhat as it searched for a new direction.

I would suggest that in Season 4, they have found their new direction by redefining Frank’s want. He is President, but unelected. Now that he faces losing the top job he will do anything he can to hang on to it. Claire too has had a taste of influence and not only is she reluctant to give it up, she wants more.

In addition the tone of the show has shifted making it a little soapier, but in a good way. It is still a high quality drama but it is prepared to introduce sub-plots that reflect the current political environment. This series deals with terrorism at home and abroad, campaign finance, political horse trading, intelligence oversight, and other hot button issues.

There are intriguing character developments too. While Kevin Spacey as Frank and Robin Wright as Claire are outstanding, Michael Kelly continues to make his mark as Doug Stamper who takes loyalty to new heights at Frank’s time of greatest crisis. Sadly there are missteps too, not least in the casting of Joel Kinnaman as Frank’s Kennedyesque Republican opponent. Kinnaman was very good in The Killing and Robocop and I’m sure he will be fine in Suicide Squad but he is not cut out to play smooth politicians in suits. He looks ill at ease throughout and this is reflected in the performance.

The real star of Season 4 however is Robin Wright who is terrific in front of the camera but a revelation behind it. Wright directs four episodes of this series and she does a marvellous job.

The problem with directing a show like this is that you have to abide by the visual template established by the big name director/exec producer who does the pilot – in this case David Fincher – but also try to put your own stamp on it. Fincher set the tone for this show with the pilot episode which was full of Fincher tropes; static set ups, no hand held or steadycam shots, wide frame, minimal close-ups. However Wright has managed to work within these constraints and still exert her own directorial authority.

This is most effectively seen in the series’ most emotional moment – a three-handed scene involving Wright, Ellen Burstyn, and Paul Sparks. By clever use of blocking Wright manages to shoot the whole room but still convey a sense of intimacy and drama which makes the scene genuinely affecting.

By the end of Season 4 House of Cards has pulled things out of the bag with a barnstorming finish which I guarantee will mean that not only will you want to see Season 5, but you want to see it now!

Reality...what a concept!

One of the admirable things about Charlie Kaufman is that his work defies categorisation; you are never quite certain what he is going to come up with next. When he is at his best – Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Being John Malkovich – he produces excellent work. Even the misfires, and here I would include the much-praised Adaptation along with Synecdoche, New York, are more ambitious than lesser film makers at their best.

At the heart of Kaufman’s films is an exploration of the human condition; he is a genuinely existential film maker. Whether its Eternal Sunshine or Synecdoche his work concerns itself with big themes; identity, existence, what it means to be human.

Anomalisa is perhaps Kaufman’s most ambitious film to date; it fuses form and content in a way that has led some to describe it as a masterpiece. I wouldn’t go that far – some of the tone shifts are a bit sniggery for me – but this is a very fine piece of work.

I would go so far as to say it was robbed of an Oscar when the Best Animated Film award went to Inside Out. The Pixar film seems to have won by virtue of dealing with grown-up themes, albeit in a relatively juvenile way. Anomalisa deals with grown-up themes in an extremely adult way without the reassurance of a conventionally happy ending. It’s a haunting film that lingers long after you leave the cinema.

Kaufman uses stop-motion animation to tell his story of Michael Stone (David Thewlis), a motivational speaker who is in Cincinnati overnight to speak at a convention. Cincinnati is where he broke up with Bella, the love of his life, and he is haunted by the experience. Stone is in a fragile emotional state but he wants to get together with her even though he is not sure why.

The meeting goes badly, Bella storms out and Michael takes solace in cocktails. He then meets Lisa (Jennifer Jason Leigh) a convention attendee and they have what is, for him, a life-changing fling. Lisa is physically scarred but it is obvious that her wounds are nowhere near as deep as Michael’s emotional scars.

Their relationship plays out with some wonderfully written dialogue and, even though they are stop motion figures, Michael and Lisa are much better realised than a lot of flesh and blood characters. The animation too creates a hazy, trippy effect which adds to Michael’s sense of dislocation.

Is he a man on the verge of a breakdown, or is this film the product of the breakdown? In the end it doesn’t matter. What is important is our engagement with the two principals. The strangeness of the surroundings forces you to pay attention to the dialogue and the vocal performances.

If this were live-action it would run the risk of being trite and conventional but here the form complements the content and elevates it the highest levels of film making craft.

London Bridge isn't falling down, but everything else is blowing up

The infinite monkey theory suggests that an infinite number of simians, given an infinite number of typewriters, and an infinite amount of time, would eventually produce the complete works of Shakespeare. That’s as may be but fairly early on in the process I’m sure they would knock out the script for London Has Fallen.

I get that the monkeys are a metaphor for randomness and I am merely trying to extend that metaphor by suggesting that this film is staggeringly random. It’s not really a story; it’s just stuff that happens in front of the camera while Gerard Butler grunts and punches his way from one explosion to the next.

This is of course the sequel to Olympus Has Fallen, a film of staggering dim-wittedness in its own right but it’s like Citizen Kane compared to this. This is a film so nuanced that Butler's character refers to  the terrorists as coming from 'F***headistan'.

Having survived the carnage of the first film US President Aaron Eckhart, the world’s unluckiest chief executive, is heading for London and the funeral of the late and not terribly lamented British prime minister. Every head of state in the world is there and they have no sooner pulled up at Westminster Abbey than it all starts to go sideways big time as terrorists get their revenge for the drone strike which starts the picture.

Just about every landmark you can think of blows up with uncanny synchronicity, each timed to take out the world leader who just happens to be standing in front of it at the time. Eckhart and his trusty bodyguard Butler fight their way back to their helicopter as London blows up around them. Even in the skies they are not safe from Stinger missiles.

My favourite moment in the film is when Angela Bassett doing her best Admiral Ackbar impression announces ‘It’s a trap’ as the missiles head towards them. That kind of insight, I thought, is why she is head of the Secret Service.

With the chopper downed, Eckhart and Butler have to make their way through a curiously deserted city as terrorists on trail bikes hunt them down.

It’s dull stuff throughout. I stopped worrying about the inaccuracies and inconsistencies. The state funeral, for example, appears to have been thrown together rather ignoring the fact that every country has plans for these events and rehearses them rigorously. Likewise the Metropolitan Police seem particularly ineffective; I know they’ve had their moments but even on their worst day I’m confident they’d be better than this.

And there is the inevitable mole. In what appears to be a developing modern trope they have followed the example of Spectre by making it the one who looks most like George Osborne. Perhaps I should have said ‘spoiler alert’ there but it is so inconsequential that I can’t believe anyone will care by the time it’s revealed.

There is nothing I like more than a good action film. I can be relied on to stop channel-surfing if I come across the first two Die Hard movies or the first two Terminator films or Independence Day, but London Has Fallen is so uninvolving it is hard to get worked up about.

It has no light or shade. It is leaden-footed from start to finish and the CGI looks fake and unreal.

I wondered which master of the modern craft had served up this gem, especially since it is billed immediately after the title as ‘A film by Babak Najafi’. No, me neither. A quick squizz at imdb reveals that he has done a couple of episodes of Banshee; ah, that Babak Najafi. Kudos to his agent for the possessory credit and kudos to Babak for being willing to take the blame.

A final thought about marketing. I noticed that the tag line on the posters says ‘Prepare for bloody hell’.  They don’t really need the first two words.