
How To Build A Girl. (15.)
Directed by Coky Giedroyc.
Starring Beanie Feldstein, Paddy Considine, Sarah Solemani, Laurie Kynaston, Frank Dillane and Alfie Allen. Available to stream July 24th. 104 mins.
The How I Grew Up To Be A Journalist movie is not one of the most fiercely contested film genres. Generally, biopics are restricted to proper writers who write/wrote proper books. At the moment the clear winner in this limited field is An Education, but if you can make a successful film of How I Grew Up To Be Lynn Barber, surely you can make one on the rise of Caitlin Moran. The distributors aren't so sure; even though the reopened cinemas have very little in the way of new releases to go around (after some early bravado everybody is holding off to next week) this is being banished to the naughty step of Amazon Prime.
The fictional Moran is Johanna Morrigan, a precocious 16-year-old schoolgirl from a council house in Wolverhampton who wins a competition to be a rock critic on a fictionalised NME, even though her submission is a review of the Annie soundtrack. Too much too young surely, and for a while she turns to the dark side. In order to gain acceptance in the snide, entitled boys club of rock journalism, she puts any love to one side and just writes savage, cutting reviews of anybody and everybody, and alienating her family in the process. The narrative tension is fearing that she will grow up to become Julie Burchill.
The film's great asset is the central performance of Feldstein, and her performance's great asset is a startling and adorable look. You'll have seen it on the poster: rosy cheeks, a top hat and ruby red hair looking like a cartoon character that has come to life and stolen the Johnny Deep role in a Tim Burton film. She even has a convincing bash at the Wolverhampton accent, occasionally. I was going to say that she bustles through the film with the assurance of Rikki Lake in Hairspray, until I looked back and saw I'd made the same comparison about her in her breakout role in Booksmart. Still, Rikki Lake in Hairspray is the podgy equivalent of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday, so it is the highest of praise.
The film is enjoyable and there is a strong cast but it never really takes off. This is possibly because the script by Moran and John Niven (who wrote music industry expose Kill Your Friends) is full of witty lines that look great written down but don't quite bullet themselves into killer dialogue.
Directed by Coky Giedroyc.
Starring Beanie Feldstein, Paddy Considine, Sarah Solemani, Laurie Kynaston, Frank Dillane and Alfie Allen. Available to stream July 24th. 104 mins.
The How I Grew Up To Be A Journalist movie is not one of the most fiercely contested film genres. Generally, biopics are restricted to proper writers who write/wrote proper books. At the moment the clear winner in this limited field is An Education, but if you can make a successful film of How I Grew Up To Be Lynn Barber, surely you can make one on the rise of Caitlin Moran. The distributors aren't so sure; even though the reopened cinemas have very little in the way of new releases to go around (after some early bravado everybody is holding off to next week) this is being banished to the naughty step of Amazon Prime.
The fictional Moran is Johanna Morrigan, a precocious 16-year-old schoolgirl from a council house in Wolverhampton who wins a competition to be a rock critic on a fictionalised NME, even though her submission is a review of the Annie soundtrack. Too much too young surely, and for a while she turns to the dark side. In order to gain acceptance in the snide, entitled boys club of rock journalism, she puts any love to one side and just writes savage, cutting reviews of anybody and everybody, and alienating her family in the process. The narrative tension is fearing that she will grow up to become Julie Burchill.
The film's great asset is the central performance of Feldstein, and her performance's great asset is a startling and adorable look. You'll have seen it on the poster: rosy cheeks, a top hat and ruby red hair looking like a cartoon character that has come to life and stolen the Johnny Deep role in a Tim Burton film. She even has a convincing bash at the Wolverhampton accent, occasionally. I was going to say that she bustles through the film with the assurance of Rikki Lake in Hairspray, until I looked back and saw I'd made the same comparison about her in her breakout role in Booksmart. Still, Rikki Lake in Hairspray is the podgy equivalent of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday, so it is the highest of praise.
The film is enjoyable and there is a strong cast but it never really takes off. This is possibly because the script by Moran and John Niven (who wrote music industry expose Kill Your Friends) is full of witty lines that look great written down but don't quite bullet themselves into killer dialogue.