Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.

Film

Joss Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing, cinemas nationwide, 14th June

Whedon had a 12 day break after filming The Avengers, so what did he decide to do? Make a feature-length film of course! Filmed in black and white, Much Ado About Nothing unites the original Shakespearean language (spoken in American accents) with the modern day. Surprisingly, it has earned a reputation with critics as “the must-see film of the summer so far”, with one critic saying that “it ought not to work, but it does”. The film is released nationwide today.

Exhibition

Sky Arts Ignition: Memory Palace, V & A, 18th June- 20th October

Presented as a walk-in story at the Victoria and Albert Museum, Memory Palace brings a new fiction book by the author Hari Kunzru to life. It is visualised through a set of 20 commissions from a range of people including internationally renowned illustrators, graphic designers and typographers.  The exhibition opens on Tuesday and is open until Sunday 20th October.

Concert

Pet Shop Boys, The O2, 18th June

The internationally acclaimed Pet Shop Boys bring their Electric tour to London on Tuesday. This tour highlights the duo’s electronic music and style, but they will perform songs from across their entire career, up to and beyond their current album "Elysium", which has been received with much critical approbation.

TV

The White Queen, BBC 1, premieres 16th June

This 10-part remake of acclaimed author Phillipa Gregory’s series The Cousins’ War premieres on Sunday. It is set in 1664, around the time of the Wars of the Roses, in what has become a turbulent part of British history. Filmed in Bruges, the series tells the story of a woman by the name of Elizabeth Woodville, who was relatively unkown until Gregory brought her into the public eye. Following the success of the dramatisation of her novel The Other Boleyn Girl, fans and critics alike await The White Queen with much anticipation.

Festival

Meltdown Future Sounds 1: Baltic Fleet, The Clore Ballroom at Royal Festival Hall, 16th June 6:00pm

As part of the Festival of Neighbourhood and Meltdown at the South Bank centre, marking  Yoko Ono's long-standing support of young and emerging artists, Baltic Fleet will be making their first of two appearances tonight at 6pm. Baltic Fleet are described by Time Out as being “Modern post-punkish sombre pop that's both melodic and kraut-rocking', and they are the winners of the 2013 GIT Award. Entry is free for this event.

 

Joss Whedon's take on Shakespeare's "Much Ado" is a surprise hit with critics. Photograph: fastcocreate.com
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The lessons of Finding Dory are commendable, but why make a children's film so complicated?

Pixar's latest animation, a sequel to Finding Nemo, gives forgetful fish Dory a lead. Plus: Jason Bourne.

Amnesia is a concern for the heroes of two blockbuster sequels – the Pixar animation Finding Dory and the espionage thriller Jason Bourne. The condition extends to the film-makers, who have forgotten much of what made the original movies so appealing. In fairness, the 2003 Finding Nemo lacked the emotional complexity of top-drawer Pixar. But its story of an anxious clownfish combing the ocean for his lost son served as a neat rebuke to worrywart parents, and it featured one enduring character: the Pacific blue tang Dory. Her short-term memory loss left her in a state of carefree enchantment perfectly expressed by Ellen DeGeneres, whose voice calls to mind a rubber ball thrilled afresh by each new bounce.

Now Dory has a movie of her own, in which she goes in search of the parents from whom she was estranged as an infant. Many of the previous picture’s fish chip in to help, but the script’s argument for inclusivity and diversity is made most persuasively by Dory’s new allies. Hank is a tomato-red octopus who can’t bear to be touched, while Becky, a frizz-haired loon, and Gerald, a bullied sea lion, have learning difficulties that leave them vulnerable to mockery by their fellow creatures. Heroism originates here with the apparently disadvantaged, whose differences ultimately prove to be no sort of disadvantage at all.

The message is commendable, so it’s unfortunate that the execution is so complicated. Incident is stacked upon incident, most clumsily during a final half-hour in which the sea creatures take chaotically to the roads. When there are lulls in the action, these are filled too often by homilies and life lessons that demand no spelling out.

Quality control remains high in the area of animation. From the velvety anemone beneath a lattice of rippling sunlight to the pink-tinted ocean surface at dusk, it is clear that nature needs to up its game to keep ahead of Pixar. The biggest gasps should be reserved for Hank’s extraordinary chameleonic powers, which allow him to blend into a laboratory wall and to mimic a potted plant or a handrail. Impersonating a baby in its stroller, he uses his Mr Tickle arms to propel himself at high speed like a wheelchair-basketball champ tearing up the court. In a film that largely plays it safe, Hank brings a jolt of anarchic danger.

The breakneck editing and neck-breaking violence of the Bourne series, about a brainwashed CIA killing machine who gradually recovers his memory and goes rogue, has been the biggest influence on action cinema since the advent of the car chase. There have been only three instalments until now (four if you count the spin-off The Bourne Legacy) but their style is so ubiquitous it feels as if there’s one Bourne every minute. The latest outing reunites two leading players who swore they were done with the franchise: the actor Matt Damon, looking as bulky and implacable as a tank, and Paul Greengrass, the British director who whipped up a storm in films two and three but consigns it to a teacup this time around.

Rarely has such a fast-paced film felt so weary and resigned. Christopher Rouse’s screenplay throws into the usual paranoid, dystopian, NSA-fearing mix a Zuckerberg-style social media guru (Riz Ahmed) in cahoots with the craggy CIA overlord (Tommy Lee Jones) hunting Bourne. There is also a bright CIA underling (Alicia Vikander) experiencing vague pangs of conscience from her operations hub where po-faced automatons tap endlessly on keyboards; it’s like a Kraftwerk gig without the tunes.

The film makes gestures towards political topicality. But whether it’s riots in Greece or the ongoing tension between security and privacy, everything is reduced to the level of window dressing while Bourne crashes motorbikes, plummets from the tops of buildings and doles out upper cuts as though he were passing around Tic Tacs.

Just once it would be nice to have some character detail or a line of dialogue that went beyond “Suspect turning left”, or the series catchphrase: “You don’t have any idea who you’re dealing with!” Bourne himself is a dead end, dramatically speaking; he has recovered his memory now but his personality and inner conflict have been wiped clean. When he isn’t fighting, he has nothing to do except go woozy with flashbacks and generally outfox the CIA. He should try hiding in the voluminous bags beneath Tommy Lee Jones’s eyes – they’d never find him there.

Ryan Gilbey is the New Statesman's film critic. He is also the author of It Don't Worry Me (Faber), about 1970s US cinema, and a study of Groundhog Day in the "Modern Classics" series (BFI Publishing). He was named reviewer of the year in the 2007 Press Gazette awards.

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue