To decry Red One for its commercialist cynicism feels somewhat disingenuous. Were you expecting different? It’s Dwayne Johnson…at Christmas…with a sci-fi blaster. Captain America’s his side kick. If anything, given the cynicism fuelling most Christmas films these days, Red One’s chronic disinterest in hiding the fact almost feels honourable. Almost. The critique can but fall on deaf ears on the grounds that Red One is exactly the film it set out to be. It’s Hobbs and Shaw with silver bells on. Highly competent soullessness. Which is to say, an expensively executed evisceration of every ounce of heart that is supposed to beat within the Christmas message. The commercialised one, that is.
There’s little in Wicked, Jon M. Chu’s unjustifiably long adaptation of the eponymous musical’s first act, likely to convert the unconverted. It’s a fitfully spellbinding affair but not quite transformationally bewitching. Those who love Wicked, will embrace the film in kind. It boasts excellent performances, extravagant set pieces and frankly extraordinary attention to detail. Those who do not, take heed: in spite of a runtime almost as long as the entire Broadway show, intermission included, Chu’s Wicked only manages to reach the show’s infamous half-time banger, “Defying Gravity”, by the roll of its credits. Part Two is twelve months from release. It’s a Jacksonian split either agonising or frustrating, dependent on personal inclination. Both, really.
There’s a blink and you’ll miss it cameo early in the new Paddington film, third in the series and first to return the beloved bear to his native Peru. The fleeting shot sees a framed photo canonise the Platinum Jubilee meeting of Paddington and the late Queen Elizabeth II. It’s a lovely nod but stark marker of just how much the world has changed since our last visit to 32 Windsor Gardens. Five Prime Ministers, a new monarch, global pandemic, TikTok, Brexit…all since the release of Paddington 2. It’s overwhelming. To this end, a return to marmalade sandwiches and a more comprehensible grasp on quintessential Britishness can’t help but feel rich in reassurance.
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