Going on a bear hunt with Paddington in Peru

The Paddington ‘threequel’ sees the Browns and Paddington travel to Peru to visit Aunt Lucy at the Home for Retired Bears, after the Reverend Mother in charge there writes to Paddington to tell him that Aunt Lucy is seriously missing him.

But when they arrive, it’s to the news that Aunt Lucy has disappeared. Paddington persuades the family to mount a search for her, which they do by hiring a riverboat owned and skippered by one Hunter Cabot, along with his daughter Gina, and head into the jungle.

Of course, this being Paddington, this bear hunt doesn’t go smoothly.

With Paul King once again at the helm, having also co-written the screenplay – along with Mark Burton and Jon Foster for this outing – it is a charming watch, though feels a little flatter and shorter on the gags than for Paddington 2. That said, the second film set an incredibly high bar.

There is fun to be had spotting nods to other films – not least The Sound of Music and Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Where it is significantly helped is in the involvement of Olivia Colman as the Reverend Mother and Antonio Banderas as Cabot, both of whom turn in delightfully arch performances.

I was surprised that I didn’t feel it ‘wrong’ seeing Emily Mortimer as Mary Brown, with Sally Hawkins not wanting to reprise the role again. Otherwise, Hugh Bonneville is back as the risk-averse Henry Brown, along with Madeleine Harris and Samuel Joslin as Judy and Jonathan Brown, and Julie Walters as Mrs Bird. Carla Tous catches the eye as Gina.

A very pleasant way to spend a gloomy Saturday afternoon – and make sure you watch ALL the way to the very end.

An exquisite mediation on loss – and observing life

It's 30 March 1924, and the Sheringham, Niven and Hobday families have gathered for lunch by the Thames at Henley – a Mothering Sunday ritual that they have performed for some years and maintain, even though both the Niven sons and two of the three Sheringham sons were killed in the 'Great War'. Yet the reality of their collective loss is unspoken.

This time, the lunch is taking place just days before the remaining Sheringham sibling, Paul, is due to marry Emma Hobday. Neither of them is particularly enthusiastic about the situation, but feel they have no alternative.

For Paul, it’s complicated by a long-standing affair he’s been having with Jane Fairchild, a maid at the Nivens’ home. On the morning of the annual lunch, he tells his parents he’ll join them later, as he needs to cram for his law studies.

Instead, he’s surreptitiously called Jane and arranged for her to join him at the family home. The staff have also been given the day off (as has Jane) and they’ll have the place to themselves. But when Paul finally leaves for Henley, tragedy strikes.

Told from Jane’s perspective, Eva Husson’s 2021 adaptation of Graham Swift’s 2016 novel of the same name jumps between 1924 and further stages in Jane’s life, including her marriage to Donald, a philosopher, and her own development as a successful writer.

The film’s been described as working “at a frustratingly chilly remove”, but this does actually work in a number of ways. First, as Donald notes to Jane, her having been a maid has turned her into an observer of people.

Second, in a state of grief, Mrs Niven questions Jane about her past, checking that it really was the case that she has no family (she’d been abandoned at birth), before saying that that means she’s lucky, as she has nobody to lose.

Third, the bottled-up emotions of the upper classes also plays out here – so it’s shocking when Mrs Niven breaks down at the lunch and swears that all the children have gone.

In other words, an emotional remoteness is pertinent to the film.

In many ways, it’s a meditation on grief and loss – and pushing through that. The screenplay from Alice Birch is very good, while Jamie Ramsey’s cinematography is lushly sensuous, Sandy Powell’s costume design is sumptuous and Morgan Kibby’s music is spot on.

The supporting turns are excellent – not least from Olivia Colman and Colin Firth as the desperately unhappy Nivens, but also from Sope Dirisu as Donald and Josh O’Connor as Paul.

But the film rests on Jane and Odessa Young gives a really fine performance in a film where so much is about the camera on her face.

As an added attraction, there’s a delightful, sparkling cameo from Glenda Jackson, in her penultimate role, as the older Jane.

I’d bought the disc on a visit to the BFI Southbank late last year, remembering having seen the film advertised and also aware that I am becoming a big Colman fan.

It’s pure coincidence that I decided to watch it today, given that tomorrow is Mother’s Day, but it will be on Channel 4 tomorrow (Film4 was one of the production companies involved) and is well worth a watch.

Wicked it might be, but it's also confused

Here is a real oddity: Wicked Little Letters is billed as a black comedy but, while it manages to be that, it also has something of an identity crisis.

Based on the true story of a poison pen scandal in the seaside town of Littlehampton that scandalised England in the 1920s, Thea Sharrock’s film tells the story of neighbours Edith Swan and Rose Gooding.

When the latter moves in, she soon becomes known for her rambunctious behaviour – not least boozing and swearing.

By contrast, Rose is the pious, stay-at-home daughter of Victoria and Edward, a domineering man with very firm ideas about ‘proper’ behaviour – particularly when it comes to women.

When a series of obscene letters being arriving for Edith, suspicion falls on Rose. As the situation escalates, police officer Gladys May decides to investigate, having concluded that the case isn’t quite as straightforward as almost everyone else believes.

There is much that is genuinely comic in Jonny Sweet’s screenplay, but the story has a very dark reality to it. The identity crisis is because of moments where there are instances of the comedy moving into mugging and slapstick. These are not a comfortable fit.

It’s a shame, because there’s much to enjoy here – not least in the performances. There’s delightful support from Joanna Scanlon, Lolly Adefope and Eileen Atkins as local women who help Moss. 

Gemma Jones gives as lovely turn as Victoria and Timothy Spall is excellent as the deeply unpleasant Edward.

Anjana Vasan has some really fine moments as Moss, but she’s one of the cast who has been directed to go over the top in a couple of scenes. Malachi Kirby, as Bill – Rose’s boyfriend – seems to have been faced with a very scant sketch of a character to work with.

But the central duo are a major reason to see this. Jessie Buckley as Rose brings wonderful vivacity and warmth to the role, but real emotion when it’s needed. Olivia Colman as Edith is delicious as the prissy wannabe saint, but every bit as good in the scenes where we discover the lived reality behind this public face.

Wicked Little Letters is good on showing just how women were expected to behave at the time – and how they were judged if they refused to conform (pressures that have notion away a century on). It also acts as a useful reminder that ‘trolling’ existed well before the internet and social media – and the damage that it can do.

The world according to Louis Wain and his cats

In 1881, after the death of his father, Louis Wain becomes the primary breadwinner of his household, where he lives with his mother and five sisters, while working as a part-time illustrator for the Illustrated London News.

Editor Sir William Ingram wants him to go full-time, but despite the family finances being in tough shape, he initially says no, preferring to have some time for interests other than his art – not least attempting to get patents for his varied inventions and trying to compose an opera.

But his eldest sister Caroline, who has taken over running the house from their scatty mother, has hired a governess for the three younger girls, so Louis has to change his mind on the job offer.

Emily Richardson, the governess, is a hit in the household – and the eccentric Louis, who has never experienced romantic or sexual feelings before, finds that changing.

But after Emily causes an accidental scandal, Caroline decides to fire her – forcing Louis’s hand to start a courtship.

And once married, it is his wife who rescues a tiny kitten, who will then inspire Louis to start painting the cat pictures that were to make him famous – and had a major impact on the acceptability of keeping cats as pets in Victorian England.

This 2021 film, directed by Will Sharpe, who also co-wrote the screenplay with Simon Stephenson, is a whimsical biopic of a man who was, in many ways, very childlike and vulnerable.

Benedict Cumberbatch as Wain, and Claire Foy as Emily, are excellent leads, with Olivia Colman narrating and Toby Jones turning in a lovely supporting performance as Sir William.

There are also cameos to watch out from Taika Waititi, Richard Ayoade and Nick Cave – the latter, as HG Wells.

Erik Wilson’s cinematography feels both quirky in places and highly conventional in others, and it’s not certain that such a mix works perfectly. But in general, it’s a charming, sometimes funny and often moving, watch.

Wonka is a (Paddington) bear hug of a movie

Paul King has found a formula – and it’s every bit the equal of any chocolate treat that Willy Wonka can confect.

Having hit the jackpot with the Paddington films (Paddington in Peru comes next year), King teamed up with Paddington 2 co-writer Paul Farnaby to create a Willy Wonka origin story. And it’s an absolute joy.

We meet our titular hero as he arrives by sea in an unnamed European city (hints of both France and Germany though mostly filmed in England), armed only with his magical abilities with the cocoa bean and the dreams that his mother, who steered a narrow boat up and down canals, told him were so important.

She herself made wondrous chocolate – this feels reminiscent of Joanne Harris’s iconic novel, Chocolat, not least in a sense of magic being involved – but died before she could impart the secrets to her son.

The problem for Willy though, is that the town he has chosen in which to launch his products on the world is effectively run by a cartel of three unscrupulous chocolatiers who want this threat to their power gone – and that follows having fallen prey to the dreadful Mrs Scrubitt and her henchman Bleacher, after the latter offers a homeless Willy a roof over his head, without mentioning the hidden costs that will drive him into captivity and forced labour.

Calah Lane as Noodle

But Willy makes new friends, including the orphan Noddle, and they all – eventually – engage with his plans of how to free themselves and defeat the cartel.

A few commentators have suggested that Willy is such a nice character, it’s hard to believe that, in his future lies a less charming approach.

But there are hints here that his inherent mischievousness could develop a darker side. And Timothée Chalamet captures both that and the naivety of the character in a completely convincing way.

He also has a very pleasing singing voice that does full justice to the great new songs from Neil ‘The Divine Comedy’ Hannon. It’s also a delight that the film includes new versions of Pure Imagination and The Oompa-Loompa Song from the classic 1971 Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley score.

I’ve already effectively said that Chalamet is very good indeed – he is utterly convincing and has charm by the bucketload, and can sing and hoof brilliantly. Teenager Calah Lane as Noodle is simply wonderful in what is sure to be her breakthrough role.

Everywhere else – as with the Paddington films – is a wonderful ensemble cast. Sally Hawkins as Willy’s mother, Jim Carter, Natasha Rothwell, Farnaby and Rakhee Thakrar as his new friends are all excellent.

Matt Lucas and Mathew John Baynton as two of the triumvirate of the chocolate cartel are also great, but do rather lose out to a wonderful turn from Paterson Joseph as the third of their corrupt number. And this is before we mention Rowan Atkinson as a dodgy priest, Olivia Colman as Mrs Scrubitt, Tom Davis as Bleacher and Keegan-Michael Key as a corrupt chief of police.

Ah… and then there’s Hugh Grant, who risks stealing the entire show with his Oompa-Loompa (left), as he did when playing Phoenix Buchanan in Paddington 2.

Anything else to add? It looks gorgeous. And after a really tough personal year, it was the hug of a movie that I needed. There is a scene involving flamingos and balloons that had me blubbing for sheer joy.

And that seems to be King’s great skill: he can create films like this, without a shred of cynicism, but always avoiding over sentimentality or mawkishness. A great big (Paddington bear) hug of a film!