Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (Matt Reeves, 2014)

While human civilisation collapses, Caesar (Andy Serkis) keeps his community safe.

Following a chance encounter with a local enclave of humans, Caesar takes a hesitant step toward accomodation with them.

This act is a step too far for the tortured radical Koba (Toby Kebbell), who believes there is no such thing as peaceful co-existence with humans.

With his leadership and worldview challenged, the question becomes not whether Caesar can save his people, but what is he willing to lose in order to protect them?

What strikes me the most about the Matt Reeves Apes movies is the way in which they deal with the passage of time, and the way actions have rippling effects which carry through time - both at the level of character, and broader impacts on the world at large.

 

That theme is present from the beginning - Dawn of the Planet of the Apes opens with a reprise of the previous film’s closing graphic of the plague’s spread.

Where Rise ended as an exhilarating prison break movie, Dawn lands us in a world where hope is - if not lost - significantly on the wane.

A tense thriller about trust and what lengths you will go to protect what you believe in, Dawn forces its central character to show his true mettle.

Leadership is about choices, but as the movie goes into, it is also about how you react to events.

When we meet him, Caesar is battle-hardened - but pragmatic enough to avoid conflict.

While distrustful of humans, he is unwilling to endanger his community, which puts him on a collision course with Koba (Toby Kebell, fantastic).

Koba is Caesar’s dark twin - a physically and psychologically scarred ape who is obsessed with destroying the human race. In an ironic twist, he is a Bonabo, a species known to be more mellow than chimpanzees - an unstated reflection of how horrific he has been treated by humans.

While there was a clearer moral division in the previous film, Dawn shakes this sense of certainty.

This film shows a measure of empathy for everyone, even Gary Oldman’s Dreyfus, who is not portrayed as a one-note villain. There is a lovely low key moment when power is restored to the city, before Koba’s attack, Dreyfus uses power to see images of his family on a tablet and cries.

Indeed, while his responses to Koba’s attack are extreme, they are totally understandable under the circumstances.

In contrast to the righteous fury of the finale of Rise, there is no thrill to the final battle. Filmed with red and yellow, this is hell. Koba’s attack is a slaughter - fuelled by genocidal rage rather than strategy.

The film is filled with some great tension, and it is based not just on immediate stakes, but a broader sense of fatalism.

Every time Caesar finds potential trust with the humans, some obstacle - either human or ape - screws it up. The prime example is Caesar’s showdown with Koba, which is intercut with Dreyfus’s plan to blow up the tower they are on.

Koba’s death is a bitter irony - he falls into a makeshift cage of girders before falling to his death. He is back in a cage, only this one is of his own creation.

The film ends with Caesar learning to trust a human again, but it is against a backdrop of inter-species war.

Jason Clarke and Gary Oldman are good, but from this film onwards, the human casts take a backseat.

While Kebbell’s performance is the standout, Andy Serkis continues to ground the franchise - the look of sorrow at seeing his son with a gun is quietly devastating.

While Caesar’s personal growth is a flicker of hope, the final shot throws that into doubt:

We end where we began, on Caesar’s face. It is a mirror of the opening - except Caesar looks weary and uncertain.

Related

Planet of the Apes 

Beneath the Planet of the Apes

Escape from the Planet of the Apes 

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes 

Battle for the Planet of the Apes 

Planet of the Apes (2001)

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

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Cobra (George Pan Cosmatos, 1986)

An army of slashers is on the prowl through LA, hellbent on creating a perverse new order.

There is only one man standing in their way...

I first watched Cobra late night on TV as a kid.

With its blend of genres and hyperkinetic visuals, it is impossible to forget. 

It might have been the first Stallone vehicle I watched front to back.

A happy accident of a movie, made at the height of Stallone’s power, and with backing of Cannon Group, Cobra is pure hubris.

Stallone and Cannon are a deadly combination - like eating a dozen donuts and a 1.5L of coke at the same time.

A variety of 80s influences converge here - action movies, slashers and MTV.

The emphasizes its soundtrack and the edit so much, stopping the narrative for montage, that the film almost feels like a musical.

Every scene is pushed to its extreme - rapid edits on action, use of neon, never-ending soundtrack, Stallone’s wardrobe and arsenal. 

That sense of extremity is built in to the narrative: 

The world is in chaos and Cobra is the only person capable of restoring order.

So it is basically Dirty Harry on steroids.

The casting of Dirty Harry’s original partner Reni Santoni and nemesis Andy Robinson make that film’s influence clearer.

As the title character, Stallone is a remote figure, hidden behind a costume. He has a few one-liners but they come early. 

Brian Thompson is well cast as his nemesis, and their final battle is terrific - set in that eighties staple, an abandoned but working factory (product? hellfire), it is the perfect hyperbolic close.

All that being said, I have never liked this movie.

It is easy to see why it has been referenced, and its aesthetic so influential, but that is probably the best way to approach it - a mood board of the eighties action film.

If Dirty Harry set the template for Cobra, Stallone’s love letter comes off more like a parody. 

Appropriately, after this edifice to the 80s action hero faltered, 1987 would see the release of Lethal Weapon, ushering in the era of action every-men who would render Stallone a dinosaur.

A relic, but a fascinating one.

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Real Genius (Martha Coolidge, 1985)

When a group of genius university students learn their laser experiments are to be used for a  new military satellite weapon, they have to put their minds together to prevent their work from falling into the wrong hands.

I do not think I will be reviewing many comedies in future.

They tend not to work on me in isolation.

This is an exception.

It is rare to see a major studio movie that challenges the military-industrial complex.

 

To think this came out in the 80s makes it even more singular.

The teens in this movie show no interest in the application of the tech they are working on.

But when they figure out they show no compunction about sabotaging the weapon.

The movie even makes jokes about corruption in military contracts - the film’s villain has been charging the cost of his new home to the project’s budget.

Finishing the weapon is about saving his skin more than anything else.

The film opens with such a different tone: We get a demonstration of the weapon and a debate about the legal and ethical issues involved.

 

One of the committee members pulls out.

And as soon as he leaves the meeting, the chair orders this member’s assassination.

It is not even played for laughs.

The government subplot folds around the teen 20-something hijinks like a burrito, and that set up makes for some more concrete tension in the third act. 

It also adds a layer of suspense to rebel genius Chris’s (Val Kilmer) combative dynamic with antagonist Professor Jerry Hathaway (William Atherton). 

Once we are introduced to teen wunderkind Mitch Taylor (Gabriel Jarret), the film assumes the format familiar to a lot of frat comedies:

Our nerdy hero is introduced to a wiser, wilder mentor in Chris, who tries to teach his charge on the importance of having fun.

Their idealism about their work - and sheer joy in learning - put them on a collision course with Jerry.

I had heard about Real Genius for years. Watching it now made me think about the current lack of mainstream studio comedies.

We do not make comedies like this any more.

I felt this watching Night Shift as well - older comedies seemed to take their dramatic components more seriously (think of the gangster massacre that opens Some Like it Hot). 

Nowadays, so few comedies are made (at least on a mainstream budget level), that films which combine multiple genres are even rarer. The last one I can think of was Game Night. And that was over six years ago.

While the cast are solid, Val Kilmer is the standout.

It is easy to see why he was pegged for movie stardom - and why he struggled in straight leading roles.

He is so singular and anarchic, a benevolent spin on the energy that he would bring to later, more iconic roles. Kilmer can come off a little broad and external, but that works here - Chris’ easy cheer belies a more melancholic, cynical understanding of the field he is working in.

Kilmer’s performance sums up the movie’s merits - and is the vehicle through which it delivers its more subversive intentions.

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BITE-SIZED: The Last Unicorn (Arthur Rankin Jr. and Jules Bass, 1982)

The last unicorn (Mia Farrow) goes on a quest to find out what happened to the rest of her kind. 

It feels appropriate to watch this movie in 2025 - a time where hope is in short supply

Here is a movie about rediscovering hope, believing that darkness is not inevitable and can be fought 

I had never heard of The Last Unicorn until a few days ago.

A dive into the crew reveals a murderer's row: Rankin and Bass, the animators who would later form the nucleus of Hayao Miyazaki's team, and Jimmy Webb supplying the melancholy songs and score.

I feel like every other movie I have been watching recently has featured Lew Grade in the credits. This was one of the last forays he made into movies. 

It is a pity it bombed because this movie is kind of great.

While it is aimed at a younger audience, it deals with some dark subjects.

The unicorn’s journey, of learning about love and loss, is infused with a sense of melancholy. 

The passage of time, ageing and death underlie the whole film. 

There is the witch welcoming her end at the hands of a harpy she has caged for years.

And the film ultimately revolves around a heartless tyrant who is so devoid of happiness he feels the need to destroy anything that can inspire this feeling in the world around him.

Featuring a literate script with respect for young viewers' intelligence, striking character design, and a marvellous score by Jim Webb, The Last Unicorn is terrific.

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