(PG, 111 minutes)
THIS is it – the behind-the-scenes film of the 50-date concert series at the O2 Arena in London that sadly never was.
Hastily constructed from hundreds of hours of backstage and rehearsal footage, Kenny Ortega’s documentary is a glowing tribute to the King of Pop as he prepared for one of the most spectacular live shows of his career.
“Here is a glimpse of the personal gift Michael was preparing for his fans and the audiences of the world,” the sombre opening credits crawl announces against a black screen, which bursts into life with dancers preparing to audition for a coveted role on the tour.
“She’s the one,” says Michael, pointing to a willowy blonde as the show’s director, Ortega, announces the names of the principal dancers to screams and tears of delight.
The rehearsals footage, shot predominantly in June at the Staples Center in Los Angeles and The Forum in Inglewood, California, opens with a foot-thumping rendition of Bad and segues into Jam, with male dancers flanking the star in perfect time.
The hits come one after another: They Don’t Care About Us with a futuristic military theme, Billy Jean, Beat It, Black and White and a delicate version of Human Nature, which reveals the singer had lost none of the melody in his voice.
For Smooth Criminal, we go behind the scenes of a green-screen video shoot which inserted Jackson into black-and-white movie clips including Rita Hayworth’s glove striptease in Gilda, then a chase involving Humphrey Bogart.
A second video shoot for Thriller in 3D cuts back to the venue, where Michael emerges from a giant black widow spider that scuttles on to the stage.
A soundcheck for The Way You Make Me Feel leads to a difference of opinion with musical director Michael Bearden over subtle changes in key and tempo.
“You gotta let it simmer,” says Michael, trying to let the music build slowly.
All that remains is a triumphant rendition of Man in the Mirror, culminating in the epitaph: “Michael Jackson. King of Pop. Love Lives Forever.”
Screening for a limited two-week engagement, This Is It is an opportunity for the fans to witness arguably one of greatest pop concerts never staged.
A lot of the footage is rough and some of the sound is muffled, but Ortega has cut together scenes with impressive attention to detail, employing split screens when appropriate.
At times, Jackson looks painfully thin and gaunt as he strives to perfect each arrangement, but, for the most part, the film captures a musician at the height of his powers, excited to be reconnecting with fans in a live environment.
Sadness over his death mixes with regret that we never got to enjoy his vision at the O2. If only . . .
(12A, 100 minutes)
ASTAR is born. Twenty-four-year-old British actress Carey Mulligan positions herself as a serious Oscar contender with a mesmerising portrayal of a conflicted schoolgirl in Swinging Sixties London.
Based on a memoir by journalist Lynn Barber, An Education is a rites-of-passage story blessed with a touching and humorous script by Nick Hornby (High Fidelity, About a Boy).
Director Lone Scherfig beautifully evokes an era of miniskirts, bouffant hair and childish innocence.
She delicately handles the heroine’s sexual awakening, mining a rich vein of humour in scenes between the girl and her parents, whose desire for their little girl to do well at university threatens to suffocate her.
Twickenham, 1961: 16-year-old schoolgirl Jenny (Mulligan) meets handsome stranger David (Peter Sarsgaard) on the street and is unsure how to respond to the attentions of the older man.
When their paths cross again, Jenny nervously accepts an invitation to a classical music concert with David’s business partner, Danny (Dominic Cooper), and his girlfriend Helen (Rosamund Pike).
Gradually, they lead her astray with visits to late-night supper clubs and a trip to the country.
As a consequence, Jenny’s grades slip and her teacher, Miss Stubbs (Olivia Williams), fears her best student is throwing her future away.
Still, Jenny is dazzled by her suitor – but not so much that she is willing to surrender to him, confiding: “I’m a virgin and I want to stay that way until I’m 17.”
As the milestone approaches, Jenny is torn between the hopes of her parents (Alfred Molina, Cara Seymour) and her burgeoning desires.
An Education is an elegant and affectionate portrait of post-war conservatism as seen through the eyes of a precocious yet painfully naive teenager teetering on the cusp of womanhood.
Mulligan’s tour-de-force central performance galvanises the film, striking the right balance between determination and vulnerability.
American Sarsgaard’s shaky English accent is an unnecessary distraction. He concentrates so hard on elongated vowels that at times, he almost forgets to deliver a performance – unlike Pike, who relishes her supporting role as a blonde ditz who cannot fathom why a girl would be interested in textbooks when she could be having fun.
“Someone told me that, in about 50 years, no one will speak Latin, probably . . . not even Latin people,” she trills.
Emma Thompson enjoys a memorable cameo as the school’s headmistress, who won’t allow her girls to stray without a stern word.
At the end of Jenny’s journey of self-discovery, Miss Stubbs notes: “You sound old and wise.”
A little wistfully, the teenager replies: “I feel old, but not so wise”, and we cannot help but smile with her.
(12A, 79 minutes)
EXPANDED from an Oscar-nominated 2005 short film, 9 is a computer-animated odyssey set on a post-apocalyptic Earth devoid of human beings.
Writer-director Shane Acker greatly embellishes his original 11-minute vision into a 79-minute quest to sow the seeds of a new man and womankind.
His protagonists are a race of tiny, manmade sack people, who look similar to the characters in the LittleBigPlanet video game.
These Hessian heroes have distinct personalities, enriched by vocal performances from Hollywood stars including Elijah Wood, Christopher Plummer and Jennifer Connelly.
Disappointingly, Acker’s feature is a triumph of dark, steampunk-styled visuals over substantial plot and character development.
The script, co-written by Pamela Pettler, is too linear and simplistic, and tension dissipates every time the film treads water before the next set-piece.
When 9 (voiced by Wood) wakes in a seemingly deserted room, the scientist who created him is dead, slumped lifeless on the floor, one of millions wiped out by a carefully targeted attack spearheaded by the Great Machine.
Stumbling into the decimated outside world, 9 picks his way through streets littered with detritus and fallen masonry. Corpses sit motionless behind the wheel of a car.
Eventually, 9 meets other figures, all with identifying numbers scrawled on their backs.
War veteran 1 (Plummer) has anointed himself the leader of the survivors, setting up headquarters inside an abandoned church.
The fallen house of a long-forgotten God is also home to loveable yet frail inventor 2 (Martin Landau), the silent twins 3 and 4, benevolent engineer 5 (John C. Reilly), tortured artist 6 (Crispin Glover), spunky fighter 7 (Connelly) and knucklehead bodyguard 8 (Fred Tatasciore), who enforces all of 1’s orders through intimidation.
No longer alone, 9 joins forces with his cloth kin in an epic battle against the remaining machines, including a vulture-like flying contraption and the monstrous Beast with its giant red eye.
This sparks a power struggle between 9 and the incumbent 1, who believes he always knows best, bellowing: “Your path takes us back to catastrophe.”
The fingerprints of producer Tim Burton are all over 9, and there is a pleasing dearth of sentimentality in Acker’s script.
There is also a distinct lack of dialogue and back-story, and when the film’s grand design comes into focus during the climactic showdown, we’re left to ponder if the valiant efforts of 9 and his brethren are worth it.
“Some things are better left where they lie,” notes one of the characters sagely.
Visuals are stunning throughout, opening with a breathtaking sequence of the scientist stitching together his little helpers.
However, aesthetics can carry the film only so far and in the absence of a deeper emotional connection to the characters, Acker’s adventure falls short of the lofty praise befitting of its title.