Movie reviews: World War Z

Two decades on from their romantic interlude in Before Sunrise (1995), and following on from their rendezvous in Before Sunset (2004), Before Midnight (15A) finds Celine (Julie Delpy) and Jessie (Ethan Hawke) on holidays in Greece, the parents of twin girls and comfortably in a long-term relationship.

Richard Linklater’s film opens with Jessie’s son, Hank (Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick), from a previous marriage, flying home from Greece to the US, which prompts Jessie to ask Celine if she’d move to Chicago so he can be nearer Hank. That prompts angst, as Celine and Jessie’s relationship experiences the equivalent of a mid-life crisis. Delpy and Hawke are co-writers with Linklater on Before Midnight, lending authenticity to the emotional intimacy. Long, lingering takes and plausible ad-lib-like dialogue give depth to the casual confidences and brutalising verbal wounds; it feels as if the audience is eavesdropping on the destruction of a real marriage. Powerful performances from the leads add to the verisimilitude, as does Linklater’s unobtrusive camera-work. The result is an occasionally uncomfortable, always engrossing domestic drama.

In World War Z (15A), former UN investigator, Gerry Lane (Brad Pitt), is commissioned to discover the site of a viral outbreak that has caused humans to mutate into ravenous zombies. With the world overrun, Gerry crisscrosses the globe, from the US to Korea and on to the Middle East, one step ahead of the wave of inhumanity. Based on the novel by Max Brooks, and directed by Marc Forster, World War Z opens with a visceral scene of zombies overwhelming Philadelphia and rarely relaxes its pace thereafter. This isn’t necessarily good, as the relentless set-pieces that Gerry barely escapes don’t allow for much audience engagement with the characters. Pitt makes the most of the little character development and humanises the terror of the threat he and his family face. Some of the set-pieces, particularly the section in Jerusalem, are vividly depicted and genuinely horrifying. All told, it’s a solid, if unremarkable, take on the traditional zombie flick.

A different kind of zombie appears in Citadel (16s) — writer-director Ciaran Foy never makes it explicit if the ‘undead’ creatures that inhabit a tower block (the Citadel) are traditional horror-flick monsters or a grotesquely exaggerated variation on a social underclass. Young father, Tommy (Aneurin Barnard) battles a crippling agoraphobia, while living on a housing estate that resembles a post-apocalyptic setting, only venturing out to secure the basic needs for his infant daughter. When feral youths steal his daughter, Tommy joins forces with a radical priest (James Cosmo) and penetrates the Citadel’s heart of darkness. Foy’s feature-length debut is haunting, a visually arresting film that blends scenes of social deprivation into the classic tale of the hero who overcomes his limitations and penetrates the dark labyrinth. A failure to crystallise the threat carried by the forces of darkness undermines its potential as a straightforward horror, and it lacks subtlety as an allegory for social commentary, but, as a debut, Citadel is an impressive calling card.

Set in May, 1990 against the backdrop of the Stone Roses’ infamous and era-defining performance, Spike Island (15A) is a coming-of-age tale in which ‘Tits’ (Elliott Tittensor) scrabbles to get a ticket for the gig, falls in love with Sally (Emilia Clarke), and comes to terms with the dying of his father. Written by Chris Coghill and directed by Mat Whitecross, this is a charmingly ramshackle affair, in which ‘Tits’ is only one of a bunch of ‘mad for it’ teenagers experiencing the delicious agonies of growing pains. Indeed, there are a few too many characters for the story to truly engage the audience emotionally, but the performances are lively, the characters are a gallery of likeable rogues, and the soundtrack is dominated by Stone Roses classics. If you’re in the mood for some light-hearted love, drugs and rock ’n’ roll this weekend, Spike Island is just the ticket.