I sometimes wonder if I should add to my list of the most puzzling questions about the world – is free will real, or an illusion? Does God exist, or not? – the issue of why every romantic comedy Hollywood bashes out on an annual basis feels obliged to also be a drama, and include some all too serious moments as if we all need reminders that love and all that is important. Crazy, Stupid, Love is the latest exhibit in a long line of films reinforcing this God-awful trend, but it also makes you reflect on just how easy it would be to get the formula right. Were they merely to tweak their potion by extracting the poison that is the scenes of sincerity or ‘true love’ that seemingly beg for our hearts to be warmed, and insist upon us for some reason saying ‘Aww’ as we leave our seats, then they really would be on to something, and that holds true here no less than anywhere else.

Luckily this disappointing soppiness is mainly saved for the end. Before that, this film has a USP it exploits to its utmost, and it shows signs at times of giving us a real ride worthy of our entrance fee. That X Factor, of course, is mancrush of the moment Ryan Gosling. Between Blue Valentine and his role here, he’s quite remarkably gone from the sweet and idealistic but rough round the edges Dean to the suave stud we see here that girls only dream is the real Gosling behind the camera. Nothing can escape the fact that he’s a stupidly good-looking man, and fortunately the film knows this and uses it. The situation set up is a perfect one: a middle-aged self-flagellating divorced bore is resurrected through the rediscovery of his manhood, with Gosling, of course, teaching him the art of modern pulling and the skill behind sexy dressing.

For all its apparent dullness, it turns out to be a barrel of laughs, and whilst this is the story arc pursued on screen the sparks truly fly. The camera occasionally even stops to film the men in slow-motion strolling with shades on as if we’re watching an extended Gucci commercial, and the technique works a treat, if only because Gosling turns out to be just too good at the smug look that his character’s personality plays upon. We know nothing about him except that he can get any girl he wants into his bed, and that’s all we need to know. Whilst it’s happening, we’re quite happy to continue watching him weave his verbal magic all night long.

Perhaps inevitably, though, to make this a feature film rather than a short, half a dozen other story strands are wrapped around the real fruit, and we’re left watching the tempo rise and fall like the FTSE on a frantic Friday. The most tedious is undoubtedly the thirteen year old son besotted with his slightly older babysitter, and the joke here threatens to wear so thin that we are almost left with no choice but to cynically assume the storyline is here to fill the minutes. Even worse is that it gives rise to the father intervening to make an awkward but ultimately applauded speech in public on his son’s school graduation day, again about love, and again seemingly seeking out our ultrasoft hearts like we’re as duped as Pavlov’s dogs. Not even the presence of such a strong supporting cast (Kevin Bacon, Julianne Moore) can mask the smell of shit that clouds it all.

But in fairness, if there’s one thing that can be said in defence of the convoluted and intertwining love triangles that plague the plot and all lack energy apart from the Gosling strand, it’s that they do culminate in a scene involving all characters convening at once in a garden, and it’s surprising how well the humour pays off here. One wonders if the poor parts we have to put up with for most of the movie can at least be seen as instrumental to the making of this one fun scene. It’s also the scene that single-handedly explains the film’s curious title.

So more of Gosling the smooth teacher next time, please, and less of the preachy drama and mindless window dressing that taints an otherwise smart idea at its core.

 

The new pointless rehashing of Charlotte Brontë’s classic prides itself on its innovative jumbling up of the storyline, first showing us Jane staggering tearfully out of the grounds of Thornfield, and then going back to fill out the details via Jane’s sudden and severe flashback attacks. What was obviously conceived as a way to skim over certain passages and stretch the love affair out to cover the film’s entire duration ends up shooting itself in the foot, in that it involves the complete destruction of almost everything likeable about Jane Eyre. She mopes around self piteously and mentally detached from her surroundings; totally inappropriate for a character supposedly so practical, active and deeply observant of others. 

Screenwriter Moira Buffini’s scrambling for a new and modern way to tell this story was never destined for success. Her adaption suppresses everything Gothic and extreme in accordance with modern tastes; the scene in which Bertha Mason tears Jane’s wedding veil in two was shot but cut because it was incongruous with the mood of the film. 

Rochester’s been through the same mill as Heathcliff and come out the other end a loveable rogue, rather than unnerving and unreadable. With the muting of the novel’s Gothic elements we lose all its complementary forms of passion — repulsion, fear, guilt, sexuality and morality — and Mia Wasikowska’s blank and bland Jane joins all the other passive, gormless heroines on our screens waiting to be mastered, usually by vampires. With no convincing anger coming from Jane, the film’s efforts at violence and harshness fall flat. There’s no sense of the imagination which gives rise to her drawings, or the intelligence which in the book leads her to speculate about the source of the strange goings-on at Thornfield. She encounters scenes of arson and physical maiming with the same meek and bizarrely uncurious attitude.

Robert Stevenson’s 1943 version (starring Orson Welles opposite Jane Fontaine) is melodrama, but at least it strives towards a psychological landscape, rather than a decorous Sunday-night period drama formula with an emotionally neutralising string soundtrack. Perhaps this is a novel which simply doesn’t work as film; we need Jane’s internality to work out what’s going on behind her control and her careful expression, and visually that’s hard to get at. Nonetheless the robotic replication of scenes we’ve seen before is a crime in itself, and a depressing lookout on how producers are trying to capitalise on this property.

 

Reboots are often found in the comic book industry with new artists and writers taking on the old material in a new way for a new generation of readers. In fact comic power house DC, who are behind household favourites like Superman and Batman, have recently started their franchise again at Issue 1 in a bid to bring in new readers. So it is no surprise that Marvel, in this economic climate where safe bets are the new game plan, have decided to reboot their most popular and financially profitable franchise: Spiderman. 

The reboot brings in a talented cast to help it stand out. Peter Parker is played by Andrew Garfield who impressed both Hollywood and audiences last year with his portrayal of Eduardo in The Social Network. Opposite him will be the hot young star Emma Stone who has gone back to her natural blonde roots to play Gwen Stacey. Gwen only had a short appearance in the last movie franchise, but fans will know she plays an essential part in the original story of Spiderman; Stone will make Gwen a stronger character than your average damsel in distress (sorry Natalie, but we all know Thor could have been done without you). Supporting these two will be Rhys Ifans, who plays Dr Conners and his slightly less than human alter ego The Lizard, and Sally Field, who plays Aunt May and has previous experience with super hero offspring, having played Martha Kent in the 90’s TV show The New Adventures of Superman.

 This cast make it seem as if this reboot may in fact be good. Add to it the chance that some of the roof top swinging may be filmed in 3D and people should be getting excited. However, it is hard to know who the target audience is. Fans who have already seen the Tobey Maguire version have formed their opinions on the wall crawler’s movie credibility, whilst new viewers may stay away from a franchise that has needed to be rebooted less than ten years after the original was released.  It may be that both fans and new audiences give the film a shot due to its likable and talented cast, and if this is the case it could be a gold mine for Marvel. If people’s scepticism of reboots triumphs however, this could prove a major blunder for the studio. 

It’s no surprise why film remakes get immediately criticised upon their release. Understandably, many viewers are fed up of seeing their all-time favourites regurgitated for the frothing mouths of the next generation, while others are depressed by the drying up of Hollywood’s creative well. But remakes aren’t always a bad thing, which the following films show:

1. Ocean’s Eleven:  Steven Soderbergh
I’m not killing any sacred cows in saying that the original Ocean’s Eleven was a terrible film. It was mostly an excuse for the Rat Pack to hang out in Vegas, get rich, and call it a movie. But director Steven Soderbergh knocked that concept right on the head, crafting the ultimate heist film and fathering the redemption of George Clooney after the outright debacle that was Batman & Robin. Then the cast made Ocean’s Twelve, which was mostly an excuse for them to hang out in Europe, get rich and call it a sequel. Oh well.

2. The Thing:     John Carpenter
Back in 1982, Universal Pictures shocked audiences with a grotesque extraterrestrial lifeform, which completely eclipsed the original (The Thing from Another World) and built its own unforgiving world with elaborate special effects that remain as some of the most nauseating I’ve ever seen. Even 30 years later, it stands on its own two legs. Granted, they are growing out of its head.

3. The Hills Have Eyes: Alexandre Aja
The latest take on Wes Craven’s classic was a real nugget of the noughties. After seeing it, I swore that I’d never put myself in any situation where I could get stranded in the desert surrounded by sexually aggressive mutant cannibals. It seemed like such a mood killer.

4. The Departed:  Martin Scorsese
Based on the Japanese film Infernal Affairs, this film was brash and explosive where its predecessor was slick and understated. Whether throwing clouds of cocaine in the air with two prostitutes or idly playing around with a severed hand, Jack Nicholson was compulsively watchable in yet another classic from the gut-punching Martin Scorsese. 

These films are hardly arthouse favourites, but they are evidence that not all remakes are soulless ventures by money grabbing executives. It’s time for film fanatics to get over their fears, realise that the sky isn’t falling down, and recognise that if it does, someone will be along shortly to fix it up.

When I went to the cinema once over the holidays, one of my friends noticed a strange trend – every poster we passed could be dismissed as ‘remake/reboot’, ‘adaptation’ or ‘sequel’, with very few exceptions. John Carter from Mars, Conan, Jane Eyre, Green Lantern, Thor, X-men: First Class, Harry Potter – everywhere you looked, things that you’d seen before. This is not necessarily a bad thing in moderation, but over the last couple of years there has been a slightly disturbing trend for what is essentially unoriginal material. The reasons for this present themselves easily: in a recession, people are choosier about what they spend their money on, and in a world of quick DVD releases and easily downloadable online content the expensive and time-consuming ‘full cinema experience’ is a luxury that nobody is too worried about sacrificing. Still, people will always go to the cinema for something they really want to see, something that they think will be a uniting cultural event, or alternatively something that they just don’t want to get spoiled by friends or reviews. And what kind of film are punters excited by? Well, one that they already know.

This is over-simplified of course, but logically the more a person knows about a film then the more excited (or at least interested) they’ll be in going to see it. In a world with dozens of releases every couple of weeks, one film really has to stand out and assure the viewers that they’ll get value for their money. Certainly, a dedicated marketing campaign helps bridge this difficulty, but it’s far easier and less time-consuming to tap into these ‘existing audiences’. These adaptations, remakes and sequels are seemingly ‘less risky’ than an altogether new idea. A Hobbit fan who hates the idea of an adaptation would still want to go and see it, even if to only satisfy their curiosity.

It’s an exaggeration to say that all films coming out these days are unoriginal (Avatar, the highest-grossing film in cinematic history is an original concept), and of course just because a film is a remake or adaptation doesn’t mean it’s a bad film – just look at the critically praised Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, which is both a remake (of the BBC series) and an adaptation. To complain of ‘built-in’ audiences may also seem naive – people have always flocked to the latest release of their favourite star or director while knowing nothing about the film in question. Is this any different? Perhaps technically not, but I find this dearth of original content somewhat depressing. Spider-man was rebooted less than five years after the release of the last in the series, remaking films that did not warrant remaking – yes, the third was a little uneven, but overall the series was successful in presenting the mythos and character of the comic. This reboot lays bare the cynicism and greedy mentality of the studio system, stripping away any illusion that there was a motivation to make this film aside from profit. No matter how good the film is, or any other remakes for that matter, it is symbolic of the distasteful culture of profit over art that cheapens cinema.

The cover version is a notoriously fine art. It’s easy to play someone else’s song, but it’s very, very difficult to do it well – any artist trying to cover a song, especially something well-known, runs a very real risk of it sounding, as Pulp sang on 2002’s ‘Bad Cover Version’, ‘like a later Tom & Jerry when the two of them could talk… like an own-brand box of cornflakes’. The general consensus seems to be that making the song your own by changing it substantially is the key to a good cover, but this doesn’t always work. The world’s ears have been affronted by some truly awful covers over the years, but we won’t be too negative: here are fourteen pretty great ones. (Incidentally, we’ve edited this list down from a three-hour version for pretty much arbitrary reasons. Any shocking omissions? Add them to our collaborative Spotify playlist.)

The Slits – I Heard It Through The Grapevine

Where better to start than this? The Slits reclaim the soul classic (most famously performed by Marvin Gaye) by cheerfully ignoring the original gender dynamic and slapping funky, dub-steeped bass and scratchy post-punk guitars all over it, but best of all are the late Ari Up’s manic vocals.

Kokolo – Girls on Film

The Kokolo Afrobeat Orchestra are from New York, but do a very convincing impression of the jazz-funk-Yoruba style pioneered by Fela Kuti in the 1970s. Here they take the straight-outta-Birmingham original and make it sound as tropical as Duran Duran clearly always wanted to be. Best bit: the ebullient multilinguial chorus.

TV on the Radio – Heroes

David Bowie casts a long shadow over his songs and that makes it dangerous to take on virtually any, let alone the scorchingly brilliant ‘Heroes’. Staying true to the epic simplicity of the 1977 recording, TV on the Radio start off their version small and then build it up to a flickering splendour.

The Dead Weather – Are Friends Electric?

Gary Numan’s Tubeway Army must have sounded like the future in 1979, but the sawtooth synths of ‘Are Friends Electric?’ were coming across a little rusty by the time The Dead Weather included this cover on their debut single. It’s sort of appropriate, then, that the supergroup’s psychedelic blues-rock has backdated ‘Are Friends Electric?’ even further. When Numan sang ‘it’s cold outside, and the paint’s peeling off of my walls,’ he sounded like he was in a dystopian tower-block; Jack White makes it sound more like a shack in the Louisiana swamps.

The xx – Teardrops

‘Hey, have you heard of this really great new band?’ The xx crept onto everyone’s ‘cool new music’ playlists in early 2010, and can now be found in the usual haunts of underground bands made good(?): soundtracking Channel 4 comedies, Gossip Girl, and trips to Debenham’s. So it’s refreshing to hear something not included on their astonishing yet overplayed debut album, especially since this melancholy cover of Womack & Womack’s 1988 R&B floor-filler packs a weighty emotional punch alongside its intricate guitar work.

The Big Pink – Sweet Dreams

They shot to fame with the Nicki Minaj-sampled indie anthem ‘Dominoes’, but this cover of Beyoncé’s 2009 hit shows The Big Pink on the same introspective form as their early hit ‘Velvet’. Over eerie vocal samples, Robbie Furze takes naturally to Beyoncé’s lyrics and reveals them as some of the darkest in recent pop history. 

KASMs – Killer (Scentless)

Although they’ve been dormant since guitarist Rory Attwell’s departure last year to form his own project Warm Brains, KASMs were always set apart from their East London contemporaries by virtue of having a sense of humour about themselves. After all, you don’t get too many Shoreditch bands covering Seal (and it doesn’t even sound like they’re doing it ‘ironically’). The grinding guitars, string samples, and gasped vocals are all great, but while in Seal’s original ‘it’s the loneliness that’s the killer’, here it’s the bassline.

Grizzly Bear – He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)

Phil Spector was creepy a long time before he was imprisoned for murder in 2009: he oversaw the recording of The Crystals’ original version in 1962, which casts singer Little Eva’s experience of domestic abuse as a tender gesture. The song was (rightly) forced off the radio by public outcry. Grizzly Bear’s haunting and subtle 2007 version rewires the song as an internal drama, and the music’s rise and fall from barely-there to all-conquering, and back, suggests there’s far more to the story than the lyrics are letting on.

Fever Ray – Mercy Street

In which Karin Dreijer Andersson takes Peter Gabriel’s original and makes it sound like she wrote it. Fever Ray’s 2009 debut album was a sparse and spectral extension of the weird synthpop of Andersson’s band The Knife, and this single from last year (the first, apparently, in a series of different artists’ takes on Gabriel’s music) fits perfectly alongside tracks like ‘If I Had a Heart’. If you’re looking for another fix after this, check out her collaborative version of Nick Cave’s ‘Stranger than Kindness’, which is equally brilliant.

The Associates – Heart of Glass

This shimmering version of the Blondie classic lends the original a bitter, prickly resignation which the slightly saccharine original lacked, without sacrificing its dancefloor credentials. ‘I’m the one you’re using, please don’t push me aside’ never sounded so poignant, while the wordless female backing vocals seem to mock Billy Mackenzie’s pleading.

Chet Faker – No Diggity

From Melbourne and sporting an impressive ginger beard, Chet Faker’s sound falls in the same soul-meets-downtempo-electronica template as James Blake. While Faker’s own songs come highly recommended, this cover of Blackstreet’s mid-90s R&B anthem takes the original into drifting, dreaming bliss, and although he wisely avoids any attempts at Dr Dre’s rap verse, Faker is more than qualified to be ‘giving ‘em eargasms with my mellow accent’.

Easy Star All-Stars feat. Toots & The Maytals – Let Down

As Little Roy’s Nirvana covers album demonstrated this year, reggae version of alternative rock songs are an unlikely but fruitful source of original sounds. Perhaps it’s the fact that reggae is at heart an intensely melancholic genre, but Radiohead’s ‘Let Down’ translates perfectly into the new medium. Bringing in ska heavyweights the Maytals for this rendition was an inspired move by Easy Star All-Stars, who have so far released reggae versions of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon and The Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, as well as Radiohead’s OK Computer.

Low – Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me

Morrissey’s lyrics for The Smiths have a reputation for being gloomy, but they always tended to cloak themselves in irony, melodrama, and details of the mundane. In this cover from 2001, Low strip all of that away and reveal the lyrics’ bleak potential for true despair, and Alan Sparhawk’s plaintive vocals sound truly desperate. A wonderfully depressing reinterpretation.

The Sundays – Wild Horses

The best cover version ever? Fans of Buffy the Vampire Slayer may be familiar with this one (the prom episode, remember?), but it remains starkly beautiful almost twenty years after its release. Totally ignoring the sickly, lilting blues bravado of the Rolling Stones’ original version, Harriet Wheeler’s lighter-than-air vocals turn it into a heartfelt story of abandonment and survival. Ten times better than the original.

Mixer: Cover Me is also available (in an abridged version) on Spotify – click here to load the playlist, and add your own favourite cover versions.

Every October, Frieze Art Fair graces Regent’s Park with its presence.

First launched in 2003, the fair features work from more than 150 of the world’s trendiest contemporary art galleries. No old masters to be found here: the Fair boasts work only by living artists.   

As well as providing the possibility to wander through Regent’s Park marvelling at contemporary creations, the Fair offers the opportunity to take part in an interactive programme of talks, conferences, film projects and events put on by artists themselves. This makes the art seem less intimidating, as the punters themselves can interact with the art. 

You can even get a makeover; but don’t expect it to make you look any younger. The project features the work of A Gentil Carioca, a Brazilian artist whose ‘makeover’ is designed to make you look older. Surprisingly, it seemed to have attracted great interest. All in the name of art. 

Highlights of the contemporary creations include the parody of Rodin’s Le Penseur, with a slightly bemused-looking goat sitting in the position of the thinker, and a strange sea-creature installation by Pierre Huyghe.  Ugo Rondinone created a chic flock of bronze birds pecking at an expanse of bright white, while a series of captivating black-and-white photos from Romanian artist Ion Grigorescu was also a piece not to be missed. 

Contemporary Italian artists Lucio Fontana and Piero Manzoni jostle alongside English, German and Chinese talents. Drawing dealers from around the world, Sotheby’s and Christie’s were at the Fair, auctioning pieces of astronomically-priced art including a piece by Lucian Freud. 

At nearly £30 for entry into the Fair (£20 for concessions), the price is aimed at chic London art types and dealers and could be prohibitive for the cash-strapped student. Nonetheless, the Fair is well worth a visit if you happen to be wandering past the park the next time Frieze makes its brief appearance in London. 

Scattered around Regent’s Park itself during the Fair are sculptures to admire, and this part of the Fair is free. Undoubtedly one of the most exciting parts of the Fair is seeing contemporary pieces of sculpture like Anish Kapoor’s metallic, spaceship-like discs coming into land in the open air of a crisp October afternoon, rather than viewing these sculptures in the more artificial atmosphere of a gallery.      

Another venture to look out for from the Frieze Art Project is the new Frieze Masters Fair, planned as a complement to the Project’s current offering of contemporary art. Frieze Masters will feature art from antiquity up to the turn of the last millennium.