2 reviews

Poppy is a spoilt Malibu princess. After a particularly disgraceful act of vengeance against her Dad’s girlfriend she is shipped off to an all girls’ boarding school in rural England. The school comes complete with a very stuck up head girl, odd Scottish matron and cringe-worthy male French teacher.

Poppy wants out and the only way is to be expelled. After befriending her roommates they join forces to help plan her escape. Following some highly entertaining pranks and more bonding you realise that actually Poppy isn’t a bad girl, just a girl getting over the loss of her mother in need of some attention and Malibu probably wasn’t the best place for that. They decide the only way to get Poppy expelled is for her to be caught kissing the Headmistress’ gorgeous son. You know what is going to happen and that something is going to go wrong before the end but that’s why you’re watching!

It’s a great chick-flick. Emma Roberts (we won’t compare her to her Aunt but the smile is there) plays Poppy very well, you want to hate her but at the same time you feel sorry for her. Natasha Richardson is the caring Headmistress. Alex Pettyfer is the love interest and I doubt a single girl will object to that casting. The head girl is incredibly annoying and well portrayed by Georgia King. And there is a brief appearance from Nick Frost as a gay hairdresser, very entertaining.

The film has hints of St. Trinians only better. You’ll like the characters more, there is no Rupert Everett in drag, no exploited stereotypes and hockey has been replaced with Lacrosse! If you like the St. Trinians films you might find this a bit soppy. In comparison this is much more of a feel good rom-com.

Emma Cuthill 7 Aug 2008

Wild Child is a fat, dull slab of witless trash. Read on if you want to know just how so and why – and what minor positive features it has – but I thought we'd better get that out of the way first up. The film starts with a deliberate reference to Four Weddings’ opening scene, but this time, the repeated four-letter word begins with S, not F. Only editorial constraints prevent me from beginning this review in just the same fashion.

There’s no need for any kind of plot summary when the title combines with the poster taglines to achieve almost the full complexity of the entire film. The slogans read: New School, New Girl, New Rules and A New Term For Trouble. If you’re still at a loss, Google the trailer and wallow in the “best bits” for a moment. You’ll get the idea somewhere between clicking play and feeling the acid burn going up and down in the back of your throat.

There have been a good handful of really great films made in the teen/school genre – Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Heathers, If…, Say Anything, Gregory’s Girl, Election, Splendor in the Grass, Rushmore, Brick and, to a lesser extent, Sixteen Candles, Clueless, Can’t Hardly Wait and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. A considerable list, but I hope you didn’t skip over it because while there’s one single film left there that you haven’t seen, you really have no good excuse for watching Wild Child. Indeed, I’m serving you better by directing you towards those films than I ever could be in discussing Wild Child, so soon will it fade into the white noise background of pop culture history.

The screenplay for Wild Child was written by Lucy Dahl, youngest daughter of Roald; the lead role is essayed by Emma Roberts, daughter of Eric, niece of Julia; the director is Nick Moore, who previously edited a handful of films for Working Title, the production company; there’s even a Richardson in the ranks. The credits roll for Wild Child reads like a demonstration of Not What You Know But Who You Know. There’s a faint silver lining to this though, as Moore’s editorial experience has enabled him to sidestep many typical first-timer mistakes. This is not uncommon for directors graduating from craft jobs on film crews rather than from, for example, a career in acting, literature or even theatre direction. Witness it in how the coverage cuts together with a fair degree of smoothness. Faint praise, perhaps, but I wouldn’t want to deceive you.

While we’re looking on the bright side, it is only fair to mention that Alex Pettyfer, of the abortive Stormbreaker franchise, gives the most interesting performance in the whole film (and it is only fun to note that Shirley Henderson and Shelby Young give the worst). Of the film’s numerous climaxes – sporting final, teen on trial, reunion with dad – the lacrosse game was the least tiresome, if only for the seemingly experimental use of video footage. It looks a little off, definitely, which might wake you up just long enough to elbow the stranger sitting next to you and stop them drooling on your shoulder.

Brendon Connelly 7 Aug 2008