Taboo: Series One - TV Review

'There are only so many gravelly line deliveries and guttural rumblings you can tolerate before you just want to offer Delaney a lozenge and tell him to speak up a bit'.

Your overall enjoyment of Taboo is likely to come down to a combination of two things: how far you're happy to engross yourself in the series' grim and grimy version of Regency era London without worrying too much about what's actually going on; and how far you're able to tolerate yet another growly and incoherent performance by Tom Hardy.

For me, unfortunately, the answer to both of these questions was: not very far at all. As James Keziah Delany, Hardy is arguably less growly and incoherent as he was in both Lawless and The Revenant, but his performance here is still distinctly positioned towards that end of the spectrum and it's starting to get a bit tiresome. There are only so many gravelly line deliveries and guttural rumblings you can tolerate before you just want to offer Delaney a lozenge and tell him to speak up a bit.

Whilst Hardy's performance may not be for everyone, at least it's consistent. The version of 19th Century London he inhabits is far less so, veering from unsettling horror to broad parody, sometimes within the same episode. Mark Gatiss' prosthetics-heavy caricature of the Prince Regent typifies the flaws of the latter, feeling like a rejected character from The League Of Gentlemen who's wandered into the series uninvited. The script too lacks consistency, clearly aiming for gritty period drama but too often sounding like it was written by a thirteen-year-old boy who's just discovered a whole set of swearwords he can't wait to use. This is Pulp Dickens, taking in everything that's good and bad about such an idea, but with the elements that don't work ultimately outweighing those that do.

The plot is all over the place, taking eight episodes to tell a story that could easily have been covered in four and still have had room for a couple of the relatively more successful deviations. Instead we have a garbled mish-mash of politics, murder, gunpowder and witchcraft which, by the final episode, have largely all been eschewed for brainless action sequences anyway. The secondary storylines offer little consolation: a subplot involving James' half-sister Zilpha Geary (Oona Chaplin) and her increasingly unpleasant husband Thorne (Jefferson Hall) is initially one of the most intriguing threads Taboo has to offer, only to transform into one of the most frustrating once it reaches its limp and unsatisfying conclusion.

By Ben Broadribb. Ben is a contributing editor at Film Intel. He is normally seen in the wild wearing t-shirts containing obscure film references. When he's not writing about films here, Ben is usually writing about films - mostly Shakespeare adaptations - for his MA by Research. He's also on Google+ and Twitter.

The Hollow Crown: The Wars Of The Roses - TV Review

'Consistently succeeds in realising the nature of the political machinations and personal quests for power that make Shakespeare's version of this period in history so gripping'

The biggest draw of The Hollow Crown: The Wars Of The Roses for those who are partial to a bit of the Bard, but don't consider themselves ardent Shakespeare-philes, is undoubtedly Benedict Cumberbatch as the younger Richard Plantagenet, later Duke Of Gloucester and then King Richard III. Arguably the biggest name here, Cumberbatch is reliably excellent, bringing Shakespeare's most Machiavellian creation to life expertly across the second and third parts of the the series. The actor believably develops Richard from his relatively more humble beginnings supporting his father Richard (Adrian Dunbar) in his claim to the English throne through to the murderous tyrant he becomes. Cumberbatch also does well in playing Richard in his "rudely stamped" form - complete with a truly grotesque hump - without ever coming too close to replicating Laurence Olivier's famously thespian version of the character in his 1955 film.

However, watching solely to see Sherlock do Shakespeare during the final episode, Richard III, is to miss out on a wealth of superb performances from an exceptionally talented cast. Both Tom Sturridge and Sophie Okonedo as King Henry VI and Queen Margaret of Anjou respectively put in a pair of flawless performances across all three episodes, Okonedo's spirited warrior perfectly complementing Sturridge's mild and pious ruler. Other memorable turns throughout the series come from Hugh Bonneville, Sally Hawkins and Judi Dench, although in all honesty there's not a bad performance to be found.

Condensing four plays that would likely take around twelve hours in total to perform on stage into three parts totalling around half that time is an unenviable task, and one that director Dominic Cooke and writer Ben Power take on admirably. The three parts of Shakespeare's Henry VI plays are covered through the first two episodes, and the choice of where to divide matters up feels natural and is handled well. However, the abridgement of the source material is also the main source for any shortcomings the series may have. Some of the plot developments end up feeling hurried, with a couple of changes of allegiance in particular seeming as though they come a little out of nowhere. Whilst the battles are all excellently realised, the second episode also ends up rather combat-heavy as a result of the conflation of the source material.

What the series consistently succeeds in realising, however, is the nature of the political machinations and personal quests for power that make Shakespeare's version of this period in history so gripping. The Hollow Crown: The Wars Of The Roses delivers an entire cinematic trilogy in one, bringing four of Shakespeare's historical plays to life in a vibrant, engaging and highly polished fashion.

The Hollow Crown: The Wars Of The Roses is currently available on BBC iPlayer, and will be released on UK Blu-ray and DVD on Monday 20th June 2016.

By Ben Broadribb. Ben is a regular contributor to Film Intel, having previously written at Some Like It Hot Fuzz. He is normally seen in the wild wearing t-shirts containing obscure film references. He is a geek, often unashamedly so. He's also on Google+ and Twitter.

American Crime Story: The People v. O.J. Simpson - TV Review

'This is a courtroom drama, and yet the series forces us to sit through almost two hours of soapy sensationalism before we can get to that'.

The overwhelming acclaim that American Crime Story: The People v. O.J. Simpson has received from critics and audiences throughout its ten-episode run surely must be fuelled only by the closing four fifths of the series. The opening two episodes are overwhelmingly terrible, to the point where I almost gave up on the series there and then. Aside from the poor writing and hammy acting - particularly from Cuba Gooding Jr. as O.J. Simpson - the events depicted in these episodes, whilst notable within the overall story, feel increasingly superfluous to what the series is actually about. This is a courtroom drama, and yet the series forces us to sit through almost two hours of soapy sensationalism before we can get to that.

Thankfully, the series picks up from episode three as the focus shifts onto those both prosecuting and defending. Simpson largely becomes a supporting character from this point to the benefit of the series, as prosecutor Marcia Clark (Sarah Paulson) and lead defense lawyer Johnnie Cochran (Courtney B. Vance) rightfully take centre stage. Paulson and Vance are key players in of all of the best episodes, with the moments where the two actors share the screen regularly providing the series' undeniable moments of excellence. The supporting cast is less consistent however, ranging from the reliably strong Bruce Greenwood and the pleasingly restrained Nathan Lane to the cringeworthy-to-the-point-of-distraction John Travolta, looking like a melted Ken doll and acting as if he's got an icicle permanently lodged somewhere within his nether regions. 

When those behind the scenes allow The People v. O.J. Simpson to be the straightforward but well-executed courtroom drama it always should have been, the series proves both gripping and thought-provoking. But other issues are allowed to encroach upon this too often, resulting in a number of episodes becoming mired in less successful distractions. The teased relationship between Clark and her co-prosecutor Chris Darden (Sterling K. Brown), although apparently based at least in part on truth, is an unnecessary distraction and ultimately adds nothing to the series. The fact that Simpson's friend and lawyer Robert Kardashian (David Schwimmer, still struggling to break free of Ross Geller over a decade after Friends) is the father of Kim et al. also proves too much for the series to pass by, resulting in a few ill-conceived and ill-fitting moments which attempt to ironically foreshadow the family's current celebrity status.

Whilst there's plenty to like in The People v. O.J. Simpson, with a handful of genuinely excellent episodes on offer, there's also too much the series as a whole gets wrong to consider it anything more than a partial success. Removing episodes one and two would go some way to remedying this, but even then the remaining eight parts fail to provide enough consistency to allow the superior elements to truly outshine those that are less polished.

By Ben Broadribb. Ben is a regular contributor to Film Intel, having previously written at Some Like It Hot Fuzz. He is normally seen in the wild wearing t-shirts containing obscure film references. He is a geek, often unashamedly so. He's also on Google+ and Twitter.

Going Clear: Scientology And The Prison Of Belief - Online Review

'just as prosecutions within Catholicism would have been easier had the religion not been declared a state, here investigation would have been more forthcoming had the cult no been declared a religion'

At some point during Alex Gibney's Going Clear: Scientology And The Prison Of Belief, his expose of the 'weird' religion, popularised in Hollywood by Tom Cruise and John Travolta, amongst others, an interview subject points out that followers of Scientology cannot distil down to a questioner what the religion's core beliefs are. Christianity, Islam, Judaism and others may be complicated, he suggests, but their followers can give you a simple synopsis of what they believe in thirty seconds, whilst Scientologists cannot.

The question of 'what is Scientology?' runs throughout Gibney's film, both as its raison d'être and as its challenge; can a documentary maker, even one as good as Gibney, make a film out of an undefinable religion, full of members who refuse to speak to him?

The answer is of course yes. You don't need to know exactly what Scientology is to know that something odd is going on around it and Gibney excels in presenting sometimes solid, sometimes slightly circumstantial evidence that points to those facts. That does not, however, mean that Going Clear gets by entirely. For the second time recently (the other being 2012's Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence In The House Of God), it feels as though the director has arrived at a story at just the wrong time. In Mea Maxima Culpa, Gibney could not have known that his film would arrive just months before Joseph Ratzinger resigned the papal seat, casting elements of his third act in potential new light. There's nothing quite that drastic from the Church of Scientology yet, but Gibney himself points out that it is coming; with falling membership, a single dictatorial leader, a government thinking twice about past decisions, celebrity supporters who are less vocal in their support; we're surely only a domino fall away from some sort of significant Scientology event.

As it is, Going Clear still manages to shed new light on what goes on inside the church. Gibney's polemic hinges on a similar point to, again, Mea Maxima Culpa; just as prosecutions within Catholicism would have been easier had the religion not been declared a state, here investigation would have been more forthcoming had the cult not been declared a religion. Scientology's first amendment rights protect it in certain ways - not least of all, from a taxation perspective - making serious scrutiny almost impossible.

Though almost unwritten and unsaid within the film, one imagines for legal reasons (Going Clear is peppered by title cards of disclaimers, which feel placed solely by a legal hand), Gibney clearly contests that Scientology is less a religion, more an overt money making venture, specifically for the gain of head honcho David Miscavige. To Gibney's credit, and in-keeping with his other work, he refuses to stop at the conjecture that Scientologists are crazy; there is method behind the madness and that method leads to money and lots of it. The Church has 'a book value of $1.75 billion, about $1.5 billion of which is tied up in real estate', according to a Forbes article and Gibney's film.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about what Gibney reveals is that some of Scientology seems to have an element of worth, or at least well-meaning intention. Former Scientologist Paul Haggis likens the early stages of their process to other forms of self-help. Another contributor points to the fact that parts of it are extremely Freudian and that the regular one-to-one sessions, carried out by so-called auditors, have very close roots to psychoanalysis. Gibney's film then is a tragedy, a fall of some good ideas into madness and money, spun out to the point where it clearly harms individuals and collectives. It's not his clearest documentary, but to get even that much from subjects who now won't speak to him, or anyone else, is some form of film-making victory.

Going Clear: Scientology And The Prison Of Belief was playing on all Sky platforms.

By Sam Turner. Sam is editor of Film Intel, and can usually be found behind a keyboard with a cup of tea. He likes entertaining films and dislikes the other kind. He's on Google+, Twitter and several places even he doesn't yet know about.