Review - Doctor Strange

Of all the Marvel characters to headline their own films, Doctor Strange is without doubt the most naff. A superstar surgeon who wears a sentient floating cape and casts spells by waving his hands around was always going to be a harder sell than Iron/Spider-Man. Unlike these films, where powers are usually as simple as ‘very strong’, ‘very rich and very smart’ or ‘knows how to use a bow and arrow’, Doctor Strange’s setting and powers are focused around alternate dimensions and magic. In introducing the character, Marvel also have to jump through hoops explaining the world he inhabits. The studio has previous experience in taking characters audiences are unfamiliar with and crafting a hit with films like Ant-Man and Guardians of the Galaxy, and the formula is repeated again here with a degree of success.   

Marvel also have to make this goatee believable 

The film’s plot is particularly generic, even for an origin story. Stephen Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) is a brilliant but self-centred surgeon, who, following a horrific car crash, journeys to the Far East to regain his purpose. Along the way he discovers he is destined for wizarding greatness, combats evil and even learns some humility. Well-worn tropes such as the mentor with a deep secret and the villainous former pupil who lost their way are all present and accounted for. 

The extent to which you’re willing to forgive the story will be dependent on how much you enjoy Cumberbatch in the role. Full disclosure – I find Cumberbatch to be a bit of a tit and have rarely enjoyed his screen presence. His Strange is intolerably one-note, and, for lack of a better word, a dickhead. We are used to narcissistic characters in comic book movies, but Cumberbatch and the screenwriters imbue Strange with such little empathy that by the time he finally puts his ego aside for the greater good I found it impossible to reconcile with his earlier behaviour.  

Chiwetel Ejiofor pulls the short straw as Strange’s sidekick Mordo, sadly lumbered with the lion’s share of the exposition. Mordo is clearly supposed to be the most sympathetic character, but we learn so little about him in-between his explanations of portals, relics and dark dimensions that we never get to care. This is particularly disappointing as the film sets him up for a key role in the inevitable sequel. Rachel McAdams, Strange's surgeon colleague and love interest, is also massively underserved by the script. Over roughly fifteen minutes of screen time we don't learn anything about her or understand her inexplicable loyalty to someone so deplorable.

In spite of all of the above, I couldn’t help but enjoy Doctor Strange. Shaven-headed Tilda Swinton is clearly having a fantastic time throwing punches and spurting Yodaisms as Strange’s mystic mentor ‘The Ancient One’. Benedict Wong excels as a warrior monk/librarian and Mads Mikkelsen elevates rudimentary villain Kaecilius simply by virtue of being Mads Mikkelsen. Though the script’s characterisation is poor, the usual quota of Marvel quips is accounted for, and it does well to acknowledge that the entire concept of a hand-waving inter-dimensional magic man is inherently silly.

Warrior Monk/ Street Countdown Aficionado 

It’s greatest strengths lie in its visually dazzling action sequences. Drawing from the source material and heavily influenced by Inception and Interstellar, Doctor Strange’s world is unlike anything the target audience are likely to have seen before. Standouts include a showdown in an Escher-esque rendition of New York and an hallucinogenic trip through the multiverse. As with Ant-Man and Guardians before it, the film benefits from being largely disconnected to the greater Marvel universe. Such imagery and invention would not be possible if the film also had to serve the over-reaching narrative of Earth-bound Marvel characters.

This sort of thing - with plenty of hand-waves

The film’s Hong Kong based finale is also a refreshing twist on the exhausting city-wide destruction of other comic book films, finding an enjoyable intersection between brains and brawn. The detail and wit of such scenes demonstrate that director/screenwriter Scott Derrickson has talent to spare. With an original plot and a script which fleshes out its lead roles, Doctor Strange could go on to be the wonderfully weird sibling of its Marvel counterparts. 

Three and a half Bald Tildas out of five

Review - David Brent: Life on the Road

Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant's The Office is as close to perfection as sitcoms come, and the Christmas special was an as-yet unbeaten marriage of humour, embarrassment and heart. Brent's sign-off gave great closure to the character, so I was cynical about Gervais, without Merchant, returning to visit his most famous comic creation thirteen years on. Sadly this cynicism was well placed, as Life on the Road is a retread of the special with none of the wit or subtlety.

The film charts Brent, now a sales rep for a sanitary product company (selling tampons is clearly supposed to be hilarious), cashing in his pension pot for a final stab at music stardom on tour with a hired band and rapping protégé - played gamely by real life rapper Ben Bailey Smith.

All the character development that Brent exhibited over the course of the series and special, culminating in television's most satisfying 'fuck off', is out the window. Brent is once again the man-child from the first episode, except he now constantly looks at the camera with a contorted, constipated grin, his every sentence punctuated with an ear piercing nervous squall. Gervais clearly wants to portray him as a lovable loser, but over 90 minutes we are given no convincing reason to root for him as he moves through the world in a self-deluded haze.

This pose for 90 minutes

The Office was anchored by Tim and Dawn, and even caricatures such as Gareth and Keith rang true to life. The supporting characters in Life on the Road are completely two dimensional, alternately bullies or inexplicable Brent devotees. Bailey Smith does his best as rapper Dom Johnson, and is rewarded with some of the film's best lines, but the suspension of disbelief required to imagine that a young talented rapper would stick with Brent through his egotistical episodes and constant gaffes is too much to ask of the audience.

The biggest issue with LOTR is that it's thin on the ground with actual jokes. Punchlines are substituted with embarrassment and offence. Just saying that someone is a ‘fat bird’ isn’t a joke in itself, especially when followed with the aforementioned withering grin. Humour of this caliber is recurrent throughout the film, and it became clear to me that Gervais' tank is running on empty when I noticed the script recycling gags I'd heard on his XFM shows from 2001.

The songs are generally amusing, but as with the rest of the film, the songs that land, such as Equality Street and Lady Gypsy raise more of a wry smile then a belly laugh. The opening song 'Life on the Road' is a funny-enough checklist of overlooked satellite towns, but all merit is lost when Gervais rhymes Gloucester with Costa, then holds up a Costa cup to the camera. Later in the film he holds up his loyalty card and says coffee is on him. The product placement and cross promotion are so egregious you wonder how much Gervais struggled to raise finance for what was clearly an unpolished script.

The inevitable sentimental payoff isn't earned. Characters' motivations and emotions change between scenes without impetus, and the optimistic tone is at odds with a main character who doesn't appear to have learnt anything on his journey. Life on the Road just about gets by on some residual good will, solid songs and a few satisfying gags, but when Gervais tempts fate with a few seconds of Handbags and Gladrags, it's impossible to not consider what this could have been with the involvement of Stephen Merchant.

Two and a half Oggmonsters out of five