Breakwater review – troubled souls cross class and age barriers in nicely judged debut feature

An Oxford theology student and a middle-aged fisher are drawn together despite their many differences in an ambitious first film from Max Morgan This evocative debut feature from Max Morgan is a film of many contrasts. One is the May-December attraction between Otto (Daniel McNamee), a theology student and aspiring violinist, and John (Shaun Paul McGrath), a middle-aged fisher with a shadowy past. The worlds that they inhabit seem poles apart. Compared with the storm-ravaged Suffolk coast that curves around John’s rugged village, the imposing halls of Otto’s college at Oxford are at once grand and isolating. Despite their differences in age, the two men are bound by shared trauma and turmoil: both struggle with their sexuality and the loss of a loved one. The highly textured cinematography renders these inner conflicts strikingly tactile. The camera at times stays uncomfortably close to the main characters, highlighting the gnawing anxiety of not belonging. From the demands of a frustr...

Golda review – lifeless Meir biopic hides Helen Mirren’s talent in a cloud of cigarette smoke

As a drama about the Yom Kippur war, this film is bafflingly dull. As a portrait of Golda Meir, Israel’s prime minister at the time, it’s even worse

Helen Mirren’s latexed and enhanced portrayal of Golda Meir, Israel’s “Iron Lady” prime minister during the 1973 Yom Kippur war, has been overtaken by a debate about “Jewface” casting because Mirren is not Jewish – addressing why Jews are casually excluded from the otherwise fiercely policed sensibilities about authenticity and identity on screen. (Would they get a white actor, for example, to black up as President Anwar Sadat?) It’s a valid and important question, but not exactly the problem in this stately, stuffy and at times almost comatose TV-movie-type drama about tension in Israel’s corridors of power as the Yom Kippur war exploded and the country faced off against Egypt, Syria and Jordan in a battle for its very existence.

Mirren, normally such a sparkling performer, is lumbered with a grey wig, false nose and jowls, with occasional headscarf and handbag, making her look as if she is playing the Queen doing an impression of Richard Nixon. This Golda Meir impassively chainsmokes her way through wooden potted-history dialogue scenes with her military top brass, while everyone blows cigarette smoke at each other; occasionally she takes a break to lie prostrate on a hospital bed, stoically smoking and dying of cancer. Is she going to die? Why not? The film is flatlining.

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