Huddersfield Examiner - Movies, Films & Cinema

Michael Bay's 'Transformer's: Dark of the Moon'

2011-07-14T00:16:20Z

It's 1969, and man has landed on the moon. Unbeknownst to the public, this is part of a secret mission by the American government for astronauts to inspect a crashed alien spacecraft located on the 'dark side' of the moon.

Cut to the present day, and the human-friendly, Optimus Prime-led Autobots - an alien race that can 'transform' into any form of technology - are on the hunt for any evil Decepticons hiding out on Earth. But when legendary Autobot Sentinel Prime comes to Earth, it kick-starts a destructive war between the Autobots and Decepticons that throws longtime Autobot compatriot Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf) and his girlfriend Carly's (Rosie Huntington-Whiteley) lives into chaos. Them and everyone else on the planet.

It's too easy to make fun of a Transformers movie, which is why it's so enjoyable to write a review of one. It's true that critically evaluating a bad movie is much easier than evaluating a good one. Being able to unleash all your pent-up bile in one go prompts creativity - apparently - so secretly critics love terrible movies. Many critics' reviews of the film that preceded Dark of the Moon (Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, also directed by Michael Bay) are probably considered some of the best work of their career. It might have made one or two of them. I imagine a few of them will have another field day on this one.

I'll get the positives out of the way first. Yes, the special effects are outstanding as ever and Michael Bay can always be trusted to make his pictures look slick (but can someone please spare me of having to watch any more movies in 3D? I'm sick of this headache), filmed as they are in some kind of perpetual sunset. The Transformer designs and the movies' set-pieces are the realisation of a child's playtime fantasy and the opening sequence of an alternate history (I presume it never really happened anyway) - where the 1960s space race gets underway in order to investigate a crashed Transformer craft on the moon - aint half bad. It feels pacy yet uncomplicated and ever-so slightly sophisticated, sensations you will not experience again for the rest of the film.

For as soon as we arrive in the present day and Bay's cameraman begins trying to perv at Rosie Huntington-Whiteley's derrière, any sophistication is dispensed with, and you will not understand what in the hell is going on in the 'plot' from this moment on. I didn't get it anyway.

One thing I am certain of is that Michael Bay simply loves his stereotypes. Whether it's the black ex-soldiers that are based on the director's ideas about "the ghetto" or the Autobots seemingly styled on gruff, beer-swilling Brits (an Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman walk into a Transformers movie...), one could easily be offended if you took any of this movie seriously enough. And that's what we're encouraged to do by the defenders of the film, isn't it; to sit back, watch the film and suspend our disbelief? Well you won't believe the kind of dialogue screenwriter Ehren Kruger has got these pig-headed characters spouting.

And so brings me to my fundamental criticism of the Transformers movie franchise.

Obviously, the point of the Transformers movies is so we can watch a bunch of robots get all up in each other's grill. They argue and they scrap, they're impressively lent some gravitas in the voicing department by Peter Cullen as Optimus Prime and newcomer Leonard Nimoy as Sentinel Prime. They are the reason for the film. They receive scant assistance from their Earthly allies. Their name is in the title. The film is only interesting when they are on screen.

Which is why I question the need for the human protagonists at all. The main cast member, Shia LaBeouf, is now the most astonishingly irritating man in Hollywood and lost his spark long ago. In the first Transformers movie, LaBeouf's nerdy loser vying for the affections of an unattainable girl at least encouraged some empathy and there was some mild comedy from the likes of the late Bernie Mac and Kevin Dunn as Sam's father. Now Sam is some gloating rich kid with a girlfriend us commoners will probably only ever see in FHM, there is not a single moment of sympathy for the humans and the only comedy comes from John Malkovich being John Malkovich. And even he isn't in it very long.

And it doesn't stop at LaBeouf; instead of a core number of human characters, there's a whole ensemble of them. It's like Michael Bay was trying to make a version of The Wire with robots, which I don't think even David Simon could pull off. And so Ken Jeong is Sam's annoying co-worker (no really, he is annoying), Josh Duhamel and Tyrese Gibson return as macho soldiers and the so-bland-he-might-turn-invisible Patrick Dempsey is Carly's boss.

Of course there's Carly herself, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, replacing Megan Fox as Sam's girlfriend. Whiteley is nowhere as bad as you've heard, but nor is she that great either. She's not Meryl Streep, but neither is she Sofia Coppolla in The Godfather 3 - like Paddy Considine's Le Donk, she just exists. And she at least doesn't look as though she's carrying a blade, so she has one up on the threatening-looking Fox. Similarly, cult hero John Turturro, plus new cast members Alan Tudyk, Oscar-winner Frances McDormand and Oscar nominee Malkovich all give the same "here comes my paycheque" performance. Why? Because this is not a Mike Leigh film. Are the critics really expecting anyone to put their best work in here?

So it's up to the Transformers themselves to make any kind of impact on the audience. I did genuinely feel something when one goodie Transformer was executed by another baddie Transformer, which is more than I can say for when any of the ant-like humans fell to their death out of a multi-storey building or got reduced to ash by Decepticon gunfire. When a CGI robot being 'killed' draws more emotion from an audience than when a human - mere cannon fodder in this script - dies, I not only despair for the filmmakers but return to my question of why the Transformers movies didn't just cut to the chase and leave the sketchily-drawn humans out of the storyline altogether. After all, don't these movies exist just for us to see big machines beat each other up?

Transformers: Dark of the Moon goes on approximately one hour too long and I think I can pin all those tedious minutes on whenever those pesky humans appeared on screen and Ehren Kruger had to write some dialogue like this was an actual film. It's not as though he's a professional screenwriter or anything.

So the movie is dull and often awful whenever real people are onscreen. So the storyline is convoluted hogwash and the cardboard characters are forgettable and occasionally - worryingly - racist. Don't get me wrong, this is not as bad as Revenge of the Fallen, but then not many things in this world are. And hey, Michael Bay isn't the worst director in Hollywood - at least his films are prettier than Roland Emmerich's.

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides review

2011-05-25T23:06:45Z

Embarking on a journey to find the fabled fountain of youth, Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) - along with old rival Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush), infamous pirate Blackbeard (Ian McShane) and his daughter Angelica (Penelope Cruz) - happens upon something unexpected: a good old-fashioned, franchise-reviving pirate movie. Though it's difficult to imagine the magic and charm of 'The Curse of the Black Pearl' ever being recaptured, Rob Marshall, taking directing reigns from Gore Verbinski on the fourth picture in the series, makes a good go of it.

It goes without saying that the writing is an improvement on the last two instalments. 'Dead Man's Chest' and 'At World's End' were bloated to the point of incoherence, so it's good to see 'On Stranger Tides' going back to basics. The tighter story moves along at a neat pace, while the dialogue is vastly superior, one such shining example coming courtesy of mortality-botherer Keith Richards as Sparrow's dad: "Does this face look like it's been to the fountain of youth?"

Stylistically, the director swap isn't noticeable - Marshall has a painterly eye for grandeur and opulence as much as Verbinski, while tonally we still find ourselves in the midst of a darkly comedic, fantastical fairytale. It's panto on an epic scale and budget - instead of treading boards in the crumbling local theatre, Depp, Rush and co bring their high-campery to some of the world's most exotic locales and some excellently-designed sets.

And bring it they do. Depp's Sparrow appears more severely wasted than ever, while Rush has the most fun he's had so far as craggy-faced nutjob Barbossa. The newcomers know their place too: McShane is a dastardly Blackbeard and Cruz has more feistiness in her than Keira Knightley ever did.

It's not a perfect picture, not by a long shot. Clergyman Sam Claflin and mermaid Astrid Berges-Frisbey (replacing the not-noticeably-missing Orlando Bloom and Knightley as love interests) are expendable in a shoehorned romantic frisson, while minor rewrites could have solved those nefarious plotholes. A lot is left unexplained - why Blackbeard has superpowers, how he bottles the enemy ships he captures, how Keith Richards is still alive - which might frustrate if you dare engage for more than two seconds.

Still, this is the most straightforward, comical and - crucially - entertaining Pirates film since the first outing. It requires you switch off your brain for maximum enjoyment, but what Hollywood blockbuster, what weekend pantomime doesn't?

Review of Joe Wright's 'Hanna'

2011-05-06T22:33:08Z

16 year-old Hanna Heller (Saoirse Ronan) spends her days with her father, Erik (Eric Bana), eking out an existence in an unknown frozen tundra. It's here where Erik has kept Hanna all her life, teaching her how to hunt and training her how to fight in daily, rigorous regimes. When Hanna decides that that isolated life isn't enough anymore, she allows herself to be captured by the CIA operative (Cate Blanchett) her father has warned her of her entire life. Escaping captivity and breaking free into the big wide world, Hanna must travel a great distance in order to rejoin her father while evading the tireless gallery of thugs following her trail.

Some critics have called Hanna a modern-day fairytale, and even without the heavy-handed references to the Brothers Grimm, it's easy to see why. The naive princess (Ronan), curious about the world outside her castle (a dilapidated shed in this case), ventures out into the big bad world to smite the evil witch (Blanchett), aided along the way by wellwishers and do-gooders that teach her a thing or two about life outside her sheltered existence. With guns.

Hanna might be best described as a sort of psychedelic action thriller, a surreal tale helmed by Joe Wright thickly laying on the garish colour and directing with his usual dizzying visual panache (including many more of his already-renowned tracking shots). But the truth is there's so much going on in Hanna that you could place it within one of many brackets. It's also a road-trip movie, a coming-of-age tale, a romance with flecks of dark comedy, an exploration of culture-clash, a revenger, a (SPOILER ALERT!) sci-fi...

What holds all the pieces together, I can't say, but something about Hanna works beautifully. Perhaps that's why Seth Lochhead and David Farr's script was on the Hollywood blacklist of best unproduced scripts in both 2006 and 2009; that and their tight plotting and eye for colourful characters. In particular, I enjoyed watching Tom Hollander bring to life the sleazy German assassin Isaacs, with his ambiguous sexuality and unhinged personality, but even the bit-parters feel invested with a lot of time and care.

But Hanna is, in truth, a film with its primary strengths found in the execution rather than the source material. Joe Wright I've already mentioned, the Atonement and Pride & Prejudice director making a surprisingly strong foray away from emotional drama into a primarily action-orientated picture. Fight/chase scenes are shot with clarity and simplicity, Wright wisely avoiding to imitate Hollywood's confusing jump cut-mania and realising that the best action sequences should let what's going on inside the frame do the talking.

Wright also - as always - chooses the best actors to fill his roles. Hollander, working with Wright for the third time, clearly has the most fun, but you know Saoirse Ronan, Eric Bana and Cate Blanchett are safe bets. Ronan, whom Wright made a star of in Atonement (still his finest feature, though Hanna isn't far behind), is bound to be propelled much further off the back of this film, and deservedly so. We're in Hanna's presence from start to finish, as she darts breathlessly from anonymous tundra to anonymous desert to anonymous Germany (all wonderfully-chosen locations), and Ronan always has the audience's attention.

And it'd be criminal not to mention the musical score by The Chemical Brothers, which manages to get pulses racing one minute and invest emotional heft in the film the next. 'Hanna's Theme', for one, is simply a beautiful piece of work. It's another triumph for musicians creating original music for the movies after Daft Punk (Tron Legacy) and Arctic Monkeys' Alex Turner (Submarine) both produced exceptional work while making the leap to movie soundtracks recently.

Hanna is a surprising film. It turns a pulpy idea into something approaching high art, mixing thrilling action and mainstream conventions with arthouse leanings; most unpredictable is the feeling of real sadness that lingers at the end of this surreal and utterly captivating revenge flick. See it for its originality, its strange yet successful mesh of ideas, and perhaps the best OST you'll hear all year.

Inappropriately late, my top ten films of 2010

2011-01-10T19:15:02Z

Roughly a fortnight ago, the world's movie critics began to release their run-downs of what they considered to be the best feature films of 2010. I was not one of these people.

Instead, lurking at the bottom of this January 10th blog entry is my own personal list and it has arrived - as my personality generally dictates - late. But this wasn't just due to the time taken up by the shamelessly busy and indulgent period surrounding Christmas and New Year. No. It was that, but also that my mission to gain access to and view as many of 2010's films as possible - those I hadn't already seen, anyway - took on an element of obsession akin to professional madman Howard Hughes.

Like some flicker show-fixated lunatic with too much time on his hands, I trawled review sites in search of what were considered the 'best' of the year, vowing to view every single one of them. There were many, and a man has only so much time to watch them between waking and collapsing back into an involuntary coma. It took sweet time but by God it was worth it. For while there were some disappointing films this year (Greenberg, Due Date, Uncle Boonmee), there were also a lot of great ones, too.

They included: A Town Called Panic (hilarious), The Town (mature crime flick), Buried (claustrophobic), The Killer Inside Me (disturbing), Monsters (gripping), The Secret of Kells (pretty), Ponyo (even prettier), Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (insane), The Kids Are All Right (brilliantly-acted), Restrepo (haunting war doc), The Ghost (smart), Hot Tub Time Machine (heart-warming), I Love You Philip Morris (gross-out with a big heart), Kick-Ass (cool), The Way Back (gorgeously shot), Unstoppable (thrilling) and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (twisty-turny Scandinavian nonsense).

But none of those made my top ten list. Why? Well, after a comparatively paltry 2009, there was a sudden surge in real quality films last year. Choosing the right ten was difficult and, on a different day, the end list might be different. But here they are, in all their rudely delayed splendour: my top ten movies of 2010.

10. Dogtooth
Giorgios Lanthimos' Haneke-esque story of three children imprisoned and raised by their parents in a family home, never venturing outside its grounds their entire lives, was largely overlooked by audiences and critics in 2010, which is a shame considering the quality of this Greek drama. The compelling and voyeuristic telling of a 'what if?' scenario that is as darkly comic as it is hypnotic, I recommend you seek this one out.

9. Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World
This spot was reserved for 2010's other outstanding comic book movie, Matthew Vaughn's Kick-Ass, but Edgar Wright's video game-obsessed rom-com actioner beats Vaughn's excellent superhero tale by being the most energetic and original flick I've seen all year. Well, I've never seen another quite like it anyway.

8. Four Lions
Next to A Town Called Panic, this was the funniest film of the year. It's not politically correct, it's not at all perfect and some of the themes are unsettling to be seen present in what could often be considered a slapstick comedy, but this is still hilarious and intelligent stuff.

7. Winter's Bone
A social-realist noir set in a forgotten pocket of Deep South America, Winter's Bone tells of a 17 year-old girl forced to care for her two younger siblings while simultaneously uncovering the secret behind her drug-dealing father's disappearance. A bleak mystery drama leaving you as chilly as its setting, this will crawl under your skin and stay with you in a way that you couldn't imagine.

6. Cemetery Junction
The film may be too slight for some, but I found Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant's '70s-set Cemetery Junction - a story about escape and the joy of youth - invested with an endearing warmth and affection for its era. It's also wickedly funny, well-acted by a trio of unknowns and has one killer soundtrack.

5. Shutter Island
Ignore the lengthy running time; this mystery-horror is the most interesting and experimental that director Martin Scorsese has been since Goodfellas. Leonardo DiCaprio also puts in his best ever performance as an unhinged detective exploring a gothic mental asylum, cementing himself as possibly the best star-actor of his generation.

4. Toy Story 3
Ending one of cinema's greatest trilogies on a high, Toy Story 3 is as inventive, witty and soulful as its predecessors, while Pixar continues to effortlessly walk the tight-rope between family and adult-orientated entertainment. Commendable work from all involved, especially newcomers Ned Beatty and Michael Keaton, voicing a homicidal teddy bear and a vainglorious Ken doll, respectively.

3. The Social Network
A film that shrugs off the dreary label of 'that Facebook movie' via top-flight acting (from Andrew Garfield, Justin Timberlake and particularly Jesse Eisenberg), a smart script by Aaron Sorkin and typically excellent direction from David Fincher. Remarkable, character-driven stuff.

2. A Prophet
Critically-adored, A Prophet is an epic crime thriller set in the confines of a decaying French prison, with a naÃÂ¯ve young petty crook steadily rising to the level of head honcho over the course of a six-year stretch. Although one of the first releases of 2010, there was never any doubt this darkly satisfying tale was one of the best of the year, believably charting the rise to power of a slyly clever and opportunistic criminal.

1. Inception
This was Leonardo DiCaprio's year. As if starring in one reality-bending thriller in 2010 wasn't enough, he did it again with Christopher Nolan's Inception. Difference is, this one's even better, a mind-mangling titan of a movie, endlessly rewatchable, a blockbuster with a brain (and a heart) and simply the best movie of 2010. This movie doesn't make my first place just for being hugely entertaining and thought-provoking, but its immense box office success proves to the studios that cinema-goers aren't just a homogenised mass that will settle for less and might - might - herald in a new era of quality from Hollywood.

The State of Modern Cinema

2010-11-15T16:16:51Z

After the New Hollywood movement spent the '60s and '70s trying to culturally liberate us, it feels like we've reverted back to the Dark Ages. Cinema is as bland, idiotic and commercialised now as it was in the 1950s, with producers as clueless to our needs as they were back then. The only difference is producers today don't seem to care.

To talk about Hollywood cinema is to talk of world cinema. No country dominates an art form today more than the USA has a stranglehold on film. Authors worldwide have their novels translated into any and all languages. Art is and always has been global. Even popular music, though currently Western-centric, allows artists all over the world a chance to become successful. When, on the other hand, was the last time you saw a film that wasn't a product of the U.S. at your local cinema?

Though popular American cinema has become a byword for commercial, reconstituted rubbish, it wasn't always like this. In '70s Hollywood, we had material being made yearly by the likes of Scorsese, Coppola, Spielberg, Malick, Lucas, Polanski, Scott, Allen, Bogdanovich, De Palma, Altman, Ashby, Friedkin and Cimino. A busload of brilliant, crackpot geniuses that came to prominence in just one decade, while Kubrick, Peckinpah and Lumet made arguably their best films during this period of freedom, too.

Cut to today and the most successful directors are the ones that can handle special effects and know how to make the most out of a multi-million dollar budget - glorified accountants and demolition experts. Where true originals of contemporary cinema Steven Soderbergh, Joe Wright, Sofia Coppola and Paul Thomas Anderson find difficulty scraping money together for their projects, Michael Bay and Roland Emmerich are regularly thrown $200 million per movie. In perspective, that's 200 This Is Englands. Begs the question: couldn't that money be used to better effect elsewhere?

In this commercialised age, there isn't much surprise about the state of the movies. At least it hasn't reached the terrible, terrible lows of television - I give you the '...Got Talent' franchise - and there are still those real filmmakers around that somehow manage to find work. The Coen brothers, Quentin Tarantino, Darren Aronofsky; those that want to make films, not just movies.

But the grip the U.S. film industry has on the market appears to be tightening. Promising directors are having to compromise, throwing in the towel and consigning themselves to Hollywood blockbuster movies - if you're Christopher Nolan then you've probably found your true calling, but what a rarity he is. The remainder of the pool of 'talent' in Hollywood seems determined to create work as broad and colourless as possible.

The actors all look like they've been chosen by a panel akin to the X-Factor judges, whereby the only requirement is they all have to look alike in their featurelessness - possession of acting talent is a bonus, but not a necessity. Why bemoan James Cameron and Robert Zemeckis popularising dead-eyed acting via mo-cap when we're practically already there?

On the production side of things, where once there were the LA and New York film schools, there is a new training ground called music television. Directors emerging from here have the unique talent of shooting so fast-paced they can induce aneurysms and come complete with an ADHD-stricken editor hooked up to an adrenaline drip. And perhaps the fastest growing part of the industry is the CGI department; those that work here are the heroes responsible for special effects that look dated after only a couple of years. Just take a look at Peter Jackson's King Kong remake or George Lucas' Star Wars prequels from only the last decade.

Put all those elements together et voila, modern filmmaking rears its disfigured head.

Where Jaws and The Godfather proved two of the top grossing films of their era, one of the biggest box office pulls of the last ten years has been Transformers 2. Does this make Michael Bay the next Francis Ford Coppola or Steven Spielberg? Of course it doesn't. It just offers further proof of the probably irreversible monopoly the American studios have on us and the effects of $100 million-worth of advertising.

As Hollywood cinema, and therefore world cinema, stands, there is nothing to be optimistic about. Where Hollywood was once a bright beacon of hope for film, it's now nothing more than a soulless empire built on sheets of money and ruled by businessmen that could be equally at home there, the Wall Street stock exchange or anywhere else that could build them a better home or give them a fatter paycheque. Hollywood cinema is not a cinema; it's a business. It ceased to warrant a term that had any echoes of culture when the '80s dawned.

Ever since a savvy exec had the Eureka moment "hang on...they'll watch anything if we tell them to!", Hollywood's output has worsened year on year. The realisation that blanket marketing, and not quality of a film, is what makes a profit has made Hollywood moviemaking into a production line, a factory mass-producing and recycling material. A once-admired cinema reduced to churning out movies the same way McDonalds makes its burgers. So now we have sequels, prequels, spin-offs, remakes, re-imaginings, movies based on popular comic books and basically anything else lacking originality that comes with an audience pre-packaged and the idea is, as long as the trailer looks good enough, audiences will be ensnared.

Whether the film the trailer advertises is any good isn't important. These aren't films, but equations, where the sum is one of hundreds of millions of dollars. Creativity be damned; creativity only takes time and money and is now a surplus to requirements. The repulsive and immoral nature of what was once the greatest cultural hub in the world - choking up a market of only its tepid movies and leaving no space for others - is hugely disturbing and I wouldn't be surprised to see more and more people washing their hands of the movies.

Films You Have To See 1: 'Adventureland'

2010-11-12T17:39:29Z

In the Summer of 1987, James Brennan (Jesse Eisenberg) graduates from College with his sights set on a road trip across Europe and a place at New York's prestigious Columbia University. However, difficulties arise when James' parents run into money troubles - in place of a once-in-a-lifetime European journey, James must spend his Summer working at Adventureland, a theme park in his home town of Pittsburgh. While there, he befriends his oft-eccentric fellow workers, including the pipe-smoking Joel (Martin Starr), aspiring rock star and maintenance guy Connell (Ryan Reynolds) and the troublesome Em (Kristen Stewart).

A lot of people ignored Adventureland on release, myself included. This wasn't Superbad 2, as the horribly misleading trailers suggested - though director Greg Mottola applies the same hazily nostalgic tone as he did to his 2007 hit - and some, nay many, were disappointed.

Superbad: not an accurate representation of Adventureland

Superbad was one of 2007's best comedies, if not one of the best of the decade. A frank depiction of a day in the life of two best friends trying to lose their virginity before their schooldays are over, Superbad's beauty is in its execution. Like a feature-length, American equivalent of The Inbetweeners, Mottola's break-out hit is full of wonderfully foul-mouthed one-liners and such simple teen staples as trying to obtain alcohol underage or turning to jelly when talking to the opposite sex. It's a film full of truths, not least in its depiction of male relationships and the social dynamics of high school. It's also hilarious, and features Jonah Hill's immortal line as the crude Seth: "'I was so drunk last night, I shouldn't have slept with that guy...' - we can be that mistake!" Consider expectations raised.

Mottola's 2009 follow-up is different. Adventureland is not a regular laughathon - though there are some great comedic elements - and going into the film with the expectation will only leave you unfazed. If you were to watch Adventureland without such towering pre-conceptions, you'll instead find a warm, witty, reflective, sad, honest and, yes, funny movie.

Though Adventureland was made on a budget, the setting of Summer 1987 is never in doubt and the feeling of capturing an era is palpable. It's up there with coming-of-age greats such as American Graffiti and Dazed And Confused for being entirely of its time and place. Not many people in Adventureland wear mullets or day-glo tracksuits, and our protagonist favours old-school Lou Reed and David Bowie over '80s pop (one running joke is how 'Rock Me Amadeus' by Falco plays repeatedly over the park's speakers, slowly driving Eisenberg's James insane), but Summer '87 is in the flick's DNA. It's just that, like the rest of the movie, it has a very subtle presence.

The performances are likewise. Jesse Eisenberg, currently wowing critics with his Oscar-worthy portrayal of Mark Zuckerberg in The Social Network, is excellent. Once dismissed as a Michael Cera-type employed when Cera wasn't available - perhaps less so now, considering Eisenberg has shown far more range than Cera in the last two years alone - the Squid and the Whale actor is perfect as James Brennan. Shy, awkward, a little geeky, yet utterly hilarious and even heart-breaking in certain scenes, Eisenberg plays a character you'll know from your youth - perhaps it was even you - and he is never anything less than 100% believable.

Alongside Eisenberg, Kristen Stewart breaks free of her unwanted Twilight shackles and does some proper acting as love interest Em, a similarly awkward, yet preposterously troubled teen. Em is James' main complicating factor in his life, uncertain of his feelings or even her own, and is a crush legions of men will identify from their school days. Those who've only seen her in the Twilight movies might be surprised, but anyone who's seen any of Stewart's other acting roles will know she's always been this talented anyway. As Mottola says on his decision to cast Stewart, she's an actress that's incapable of being dishonest.

The supporting cast are as magnificent as the colourful Adventureland staff. The always-brilliant Bill Hader shares his scenes with Kristen Wiig as the park owners, her truly clueless about the job and he taking it way, way too seriously. Martin Starr, as "pragmatic nihilist" Joel, is the typical 'loveable stoner' character with a notable difference: he's a three-dimensional human being rather than the usual weirdo. Matt Bush's Frigo, whom Joel accurately describes as "a demented person", ensures his surprising and increasingly inventive "sack-whacks" on James' private parts are another constant source of hilarity.

Strangely enough, Ryan Reynolds, once the movies' go-to guy for a smarmy wisecracker, possibly pulls off the most tragic and layered performance of the movie. Maintenance man Connell may be a manipulator, a womaniser and a pathological liar, but we gradually realise, over the course of the film, it's all just a way to escape the crushing mundaneity of what his life has become. Cool cockiness gives way to vulnerability as we see, the last time Connell is in shot, there's sadness behind those eyes. This (not to mention this year's compelling Buried) marks Reynolds out, truly, as an actor to watch.

Aside from the acting talent, what is undoubtedly a key to Adventureland's success is the obvious affection Greg Mottola has for his material. The film, written by Mottola and based directly on his Summer spent working at the real Adventureland in his younger days, is like a bittersweet memory captured on the screen. Like Superbad, recognisable moments mirroring our own adolescence abound: the lousy job, Em's epic fallout with her parents and the park-wide crush on the mythical Lisa P, we've all been there before in some form or another.

Of course, the melancholy soundtrack aids the overall tone, with tunes like The Velvet Underground's Pale Blue Eyes and Don't Change by INXS echoing in your head long after the film's over. But Mottola's unflashy directing style, choosing to rest his camera, instead focusing on his actors and finding the humanity in their characters, is the primary reason for Adventureland's depth, realism and warmth.

After re-discovering the movie only recently, I write this review in the hope that word might be spread on just how good Adventureland is. This is without a doubt one of the most beautiful and sincere depictions of youth I've ever seen and deserves a more prominent place in popular culture. Just don't expect another Superbad.

Review of Shane Meadows' 'This Is England '86'

2010-10-02T21:45:55Z

Whereas Shane Meadows' largely auto-biographical 2007 movie This Is England was an account of Shaun Fields' (Meadows' alter-ego) young life as part of a gang of skinheads, This Is England '86 sees Shaun three years down the line, leaving school only to find himself reintroduced to the band of loveable rogues he once thought he'd seen the back of. Reduced to a smaller role within an ensemble comprised of This Is England's original cast, taking centre stage instead of Thomas Turgoose's Fields is Vicky McClure's fiery Lol.

There wasn't much to be seen of Lol in Meadows' original film, save for a short scene between her and Stephen Graham's Combo (a character you won't see much of in this series, but one that still makes a huge impact), but here McClure is magnificent as the angry and damaged Lol. Her ever-shifting relationships with the people closest to her, including long-term boyfriend Woody (Joe Gilgun, one of the best things about the film, reliably delivering much of the comic relief here), long-term friend Milky (Andrew Shim) and sister Kelly (Chanel Cresswell), form the core of the story. But it's all made even more complicated by a botched wedding and the return of Lol's disturbed father Mick (Johnny Harris).

Vicky McClure as Lol

Ask anyone what they love about This Is England and nine times out of ten the answer will be the cast. Meadows' discovery on that film of a group of actors with such improvisational talent and chemistry that they seem like a real group of friends with a genuine history is probably a once-in-a-career thing. With that in mind, it seems completely justifiable when Meadows declares it was the love of his cast of characters alone that saw the creation of This Is England '86 - even more justifiable when that crucial element of the film transfers so comfortably over to the series.

There are a few additions to the original cast (though two of them, Michael Socha and Joe Dempsie AKA Skins' Chris Miles, are criminally underused), best of all London to Brighton's Johnny Harris as Lol's absentee dad. Harris is an unsettling presence from the first moment we lay eyes on him, terrifying just by calmly uttering the words "mind the seats" as a bloodied and beaten Shaun climbs in his car. Ably portraying a man with an unspeakable rage bubbling just below the surface, it's not all that shocking when Harris' Mick finally lets his sick compulsions get the better of him. Which brings me on to a caution: if anyone found the violence in This Is England shocking, there are scenes of abuse in This Is England '86 so disturbing and unforgiving that they put Milky's attack in the shade.

So, somewhat predictably, the actors in a Shane Meadows production rarely put a foot wrong. If there is a problem, it's as a result of the writing duo of Meadows and Skins writer Jack Thorne, This Is England '86 at times resembling an unsure cross-breed of the e4 teen drama and the This Is England movie. These are two very different projects - Thorne wrote Skins as an unsubtle, sledgehammer-characterised tale of excess, whereas Meadows made This Is England as a super-realistic, largely improvised lump of Brit-grit - and the two ideas inevitably clash. In the final two episodes, directed by Meadows, it's barely noticeable. However, the opening two, directed by regular Skins helmer Tom Harper, are a 50/50 split of Skins-lite and This Is England-lite. The jokes are broad and the new characters ludicrous and unrealistic; fortunately, the talent of the original cast manage to render it still quality telly.

Shaun (Thomas Turgoose), Woody (Joe Gilgun) and the gang

Meadows clearly isn't the one to blame here, as he calls the shots on the far stronger episodes three and four. That said, there are some uninvolving sub-plots throughout This Is England '86 (Gadget's (Andrew Ellis) affair with older woman Trudy begins and ends as a non-event) that could have been replaced by those that are established then simply discarded by the end (the Mexico World Cup theme is barely relevant and Socha's Harvey is reduced to bafflingly limited screen-time in Meadows' episodes, despite the intriguing depiction of his home life in episode two).

But I'll be honest in saying that I quickly forgot and forgave any flaws the series might have thanks to a spectacular, nigh-on perfect final episode. Perhaps this is because the mercurial Stephen Graham returns as This Is England's troubled 'original skinhead' Combo, or that the series seems to finally find its footing. Whatever the reason, this is the real deal.

In particular, episode four's final confrontation, where Lol and her violent father at last have that inevitable clash, is masterfully assembled. It could be because the three best actors of the series - Vicky McClure, Johnny Harris and Stephen Graham - are involved, or that Meadows' directing, including one unnervingly long single take, is so effective. These last few devastating, unpredictable minutes rank alongside the best stuff Meadows has ever produced and the three actors can be proud to say that they all reach peaks in their career together.

'Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World' Movie Review

2010-09-15T19:04:49Z

Toronto band Sex Bob-omb bassist Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera) is in a funk: while dating highschooler Knives Chau (Ellen Wong), Pilgrim falls for the mysterious Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), the girl of his dreams. To make matters worse, he must first defeat Ramona's seven evil exes - including movie star Lucas Lee (Chris Evans), rival bass guitarist Todd Ingram (Brandon Routh) and a pair of Japanese twins - before he can make her his girlfriend.

Screenwriter Michael Bacall adapted Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World from the six-volume Scott Pilgrim comic books - a wealth of material, and it's clear that Bacall has struggled to condense it all. There is a lot going on in Scott Pilgrim, and not all of it serves the film well. For example, the Knives Chau character simply isn't necessary and just adds minutes to the running time. And I don't know if this featured in the Scott Pilgrim comics, but I could've done without the Bollywood dance sequence.

Scott Pilgrim meets Ramona Flowers for the first time

But in every other sense, the screenwriter has done an applause-worthy job. Pilgrim could even be forgiven if not all of its jokes hit - Bacall and director Edgar Wright have delivered such a maelstrom of energy that there's never time to be bored - but nearly all do, and they come often.

Michael Cera delivers to his usual standard, ever the loveable loser to laugh at, warm to and sympathise with. An impressive feat to achieve all three, even if his screen persona is becoming repetitive. The rest of the cast are mostly bit-players in the expansive character list, but everyone gets their share of the laughs. Curiously, comic book movie regulars Chris 'Captain America' Evans and Brandon 'Superman' Routh are the hysterical standouts, both nailing the egotistical boorishness of superstars with power.

The only other real constant in the cast alongside Cera is Mary Elizabeth Winstead. Winstead as Ramona Flowers is the epitome of everyday, kooky loveliness and she and Cera have that quiet, easy chemistry it's so hard to get right in the movies. It's a clichÃÂ© to say so, but their romance really does give the film its heart.

Pilgrim faces his first evil ex

Putting their biggest stamp on the film by far, though, is Wright. His style could be justifiably described as 'wired', delivering the jumble of whip-pans, loud music and hyperactive editing you'll recognise from his previous efforts. The Brit also turns a potentially ridiculous idea into something heartfelt and believable through his ability to keep out-there material wholly down to earth.

Edgar Wright, after giving us Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuss and now Scott Pilgrim, appears to be a master of the high-concept comedy. There are critics who damn the director for his films' apparent coldness (for the record, Pilgrim is his warmest to date), but then name me more than a handful of supposedly great comedies that have any genuine warmth to them anyway. Look at the other releases at your local cinema right now - Adam Sandler 'comedy' Grown-Ups, talking-dog movie Marmaduke, another dire rom-com starring Jennifer Aniston - and just be thankful that we have this man.

Extraordinary Cinema: 50 Years of 'Les Quatre Cents Coups' (The 400 Blows) and 'A Bout De Souffle' (Breathless)

2010-08-25T21:11:08Z

Picture the scene: a Parisian gangster, the sharp-suited Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo), is on the run from the French police.

Hiding out in Paris before making a new life for himself in Italy, Michel has returned to the French capital for his one true love, American student Patricia (Jean Seberg). Leaving the company of an associate when the money owed to him isn't paid, Michel heads for the Champs-Elysees. There, we see the luminous Patricia for the first time, a slender figure with cropped blonde hair, wandering in and out of traffic, selling newspapers. And then comes a cry, and we hear Patricia for the very first time:

"New York Herald Tribune! New York Herald Tribune!"

This is not the beginning of 1960's Breathless, but it is the moment when one of cinema's most palpable romantic liaisons begins to unfold before our eyes. It is the single most iconic moment of the French New Wave (or 'Nouvelle Vague'), the cinema movement begun in the late '50s/early '60s by French film critics and cineastes whose passion for film knew no bounds. The sight of Jean Seberg strolling down Paris' most prestigious of streets, backed by strings so romantically soaring it sounds as though even the soundtrack is in love with her, is a transcendent moment in cinema. To wonder aloud just why this part of Jean-Luc Godard's debut is so awe-inspiring would probably rob it of its cool; just know that it is.

Belmondo and Seberg: cooler than a mountain top

It's in this one scene that all the best things about Breathless are encapsulated: the smooth, jazz-influenced score, the non-traditional style and, of course, the acting. Jean Seberg, with her innocent elfin features, is mesmerising, while Jean-Paul Belmondo is so far beyond cool he doesn't even flinch when discovering he's just been reported for murder. Theirs is a romance that is unconventional and doomed from the start - he loves her, she's indifferent to him. But Breathless is far from a conventional romantic drama, anyway.

Instead, the picture is a way for Godard to indulge all his directorial fantasies at once. Godard - and the New Wave - was famously obsessed with American gangster movies; Breathless is about a petty French crook obsessed with Humphrey Bogart. The Nouvelle Vague aspired to achieve something real in cinema; Breathless is filmed almost documentary-style. And above all else, Godard wanted to smash the idea of conventional film form; here, the director toys with editing, relentlessly breaks down the fourth wall and generally plays around with his picture in a way that shook up filmmaking forever.

A genuine moment on set, whereby Seberg at last teaches Belmondo arithmetic

Still, there's no doubt about it: Breathless is flawed. The New Wave has been accused of pretentiousness, and A Bout De Souffle is more often than not guilty of it. But although a recent Guardian article by Francesca Steele pointed out the flimsy character development that Breathless could be accused of, the author's attack on the entire output of the Nouvelle Vague seems completely unjustified. For while Steele - managing to use just three New Wave films as repeated reference points and failing to recognise a scene from Breathless, so you know she's an expert - uses Godard's audience-divider as her primary example, she stays well away from outright criticising Francois Truffaut's 1959 debut The 400 Blows.

Of course she does. For while Breathless is often great, at other times maddening, The 400 Blows - one of the first films of the Nouvelle Vague - is a flat-out classic of French cinema.

You can't tell from this picture, but the father isn't even the worst parent in this film

Truffaut's tale of an emotionally starved child (Jean-Pierre Leaud) living in Paris is one of the most accurate observations of childhood in film. This is helped no end by the superbly naturalistic acting - with a 14 year-old Jean-Pierre Leaud entirely believable as the rebellious Antoine Doinel - and Truffaut's partially autobiographical screenplay based on his own troubled childhood. And, as with Breathless, the soundtrack is crucial, a haunting, fairytale-esque musical score up there with the very best of them.

Truffaut would return to the character of Antoine Doinel four more times, in Antoine and Colette (Antoine as an awkward teen; funny and accurate), Stolen Kisses (Antoine as a young man torn between two women; moving), Bed and Board (Antoine failing at married life; a bit dull, frankly) and Love on the Run (a part-movie, part-clips show of Antoine reminiscing on life and his failed marriage; poor) but The 400 Blows is a true original.

Antoine and friend Rene take their frustration out on luckless passing Parisians

In 1959 and 1960, two films forever altered the course of film history. They brought about new film movements the world over and entirely re-shaped people's idea of filmmaking and the cinema. And, despite the years that have passed, The 400 Blows and Breathless still hold up today.

Breathless is more a vibrant experiment, a filmic letter bomb addressed to tired Western moviemaking that signalled in a huge change in world cinema; it's often clear that Godard made it just to shake things up. As a result, there are certain aspects of the film that would've made more sense and impact back in 1960 than they do now. The 400 Blows, on the other hand, feels more like a real movie, with a story and characters that audiences will always care about, no matter the decade, made flesh via Truffaut's simple and timeless directorial technique. If these two movies were people you knew, Breathless would be the roguish spontaneous one, but The 400 Blows would be the contemplative, trusted old friend you will always ultimately return to.

'Toy Story 3' Review

2010-07-28T16:01:44Z

With a 17 year-old Andy heading off to College, his long-forgotten toys, including Woody (Tom Hanks), Buzz (Tim Allen), Jessie (Joan Cusack), Mr. Potato Head (Don Rickles) and Hamm (John Ratzenberger), are in danger of being left behind. Finding themselves instead sent to toy haven Sunnyside Daycare centre, Woody and co. are taken in by the loveable Lotso Huggin' Bear (Ned Beatty), head toy of Sunnyside. However, Lotso may not be all as he seems - he and his plethora of toy minions may have an ulterior motive for welcoming the unassuming newcomers into their home.

Woody and the remaining Toy Story gang on their way to Sunnyside

Opening in a vast, Western-themed play-world of Andy's imagination, the beginning of Toy Story 3 is not entirely successful. It is, instead, somewhat laboured and lacking in the wit of Pixar's past excursions. In terms of appearance, it seems the animators simply wanted a way to show off their skills, whereas story-wise it just feels lazy, the creators seemingly working in the vein of the turgid Shrek franchise by introducing the main characters as caricatures of their former selves while spouting tired catchphrases (does anyone still find "the claaaaw!" funny?). This is, admittedly, not a promising set-up.

It also does not represent the rest of what turns out to be one of Pixar's best films.

Plot-wise, the typical heist scenario of the Toy Story pictures is slightly tweaked as the toys seek to break out of Sunnyside Daycare via a thrilling prison break scenario, but, essentially, the central themes of Toy Story 3 are the same as Toy Story 2. Again, it's about growing old, in Lotso's case, and falling apart, in the case of some of the more unfortunate toys here. Our human protagonist, Andy, is also no longer a boy, but a man, and the toys, Woody, Buzz et al, are much wiser and, yes, grown-up, than before.

A grown-up Andy must make a tough decision

Which is why I'm not sure how much kids will relate to this film. Even the set-pieces are much more menacing and threatening, while the time spent captive at the hands of the bullying playthings at the prison-like Sunnyside shouldn't sit too well with children. It's as though the film's creators have made the film for now grown-up fans of the 1995 original first and kids second.

It's a brave move, but not one untypical of the always bold and daring Pixar, for Toy Story 3 to be, primarily, a fans' film, and not one that panders just to newcomers. Throwaway references to previous Toy Storys are numerous, with much of the emotion and humour drawn from knowledge of the last two films - the disposal of Bo Peep, the aged family dog and, most importantly, the sight of a grown-up Andy growing up and moving on from "junk" like Woody and Buzz. If nothing in Toy Story 3 reaches the emotional height of Jessie's back-story in Toy Story 2, it comes damn close.

Lotso introduces Woody and friends to the rest of Sunnyside's residents

As ever, you can rely on Pixar for quality storytelling and animation and, although many regular ingredients lack originality (but why fix what isn't broken?), the introduction of new elements give the film a shot of energy. The majority of the gags mostly come from the setting relocation to Sunnyside, with its nightmarish toddlers, seemingly inescapable grounds and, most significantly, countless new toys.

Pixar's ability to craft unforgettable characters is incomparable, which may be why Toy Story 3's creators have avoided any repetition by introducing more new toys than in the first two films combined. While they may not all be given much time to shine - Timothy Dalton's thespian hedgehog Mr Pricklepants and Michael Keaton's hilariously smug Ken doll are but two of the criminally under-used new toys - they nonetheless bring a vibrancy and originality that easily trumps the previous Toy Story sequel. And as a bonus, the new member given the most screen-time, Lotso, is a far more terrifying villain than the last instalment's flimsy Prospector - you know he has it in him to destroy our heroes, and he has the means to do it, too.

Barbie with Ken (Michael Keaton), one of Toy Story 3's best new characters

Aside from an average opening few minutes, Toy Story 3 is a solid effort. As laugh-out-loud as the first Toy Story, as moving as the second, better animated than and as creative and fun as either, Toy Story 3 is further proof that Pixar can do no wrong. The now complete Toy Story saga stands as one of the best and most consistently inventive trilogies that Hollywood has ever produced.

'Inception' Movie Review

2010-07-18T20:40:34Z

Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a thief excelling in the art of dream extraction, stealing secrets from people's minds for shady organisations. For his last job, Cobb is given a proposition by businessman Saito (Ken Watanabe): plant an idea in the mind of the heir to a global energy corporation (Cillian Murphy) and Cobb will be allowed back into his American homeland and see his estranged children again. Cobb must first assemble a crack team for the ultimate anti-heist - Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), the point man; Eames (Tom Hardy), the forger; Yusuf (Dileep Rao), the chemist; and Ariadne (Ellen Page), the architect.

Leonardo DiCaprio as dream-thief Dom Cobb

When Hollywood regularly suppresses originality and instead churns out nothing but a brain-dead mush consisting of tired sequels and tepid remakes, it's hard to believe that Inception's creation itself wasn't a dream. A film asking big questions about concepts of life, death, reality, that encourages the audience to actually think, made on a $200 million budget? The only possible solution could be that director Christopher Nolan characteristically confused and mind-bended a roomful of faceless Hollywood suits into submission until they just threw money at him until he stopped. And thus Inception was born.

Although it is an absolute joy that a movie this unique exists - an enthralling and exciting action blockbuster that really makes you think may never have been done so successfully before - Christopher Nolan's latest is not perfect. In fact, of all his films, it's probably his most flawed. But its innumerous strengths mean that it also sits alongside Memento as his best work and even trumps the LA noir as his most perplexing and thought-provoking feature to date.

Inception's outstanding visual moment, the corridor fight scene

There are many niggles. The soon to be famous zero-gravity duel, where Gordon-Levitt's Arthur tackles a suited goon in a rotating corridor, is truly spectacular, alone making the best case for Nolan's penchant for shooting special effects in-camera rather than via CGI. The rest of the action leading up to this point is also, considering the globe-spanning locales, comparative with classic Bond. Unfortunately, the climactic set-piece set in a snowy mountain hospital is something of a damp squib. With the entire picture leading to this moment, Nolan unwisely puts the focus on a less exciting human drama, with any tension removed by relentless cross-cutting.

It's at this point, where the film takes place simultaneously on four different "levels" of dreaming, that it becomes apparent that Nolan is simply juggling too many ideas at once. There's just too much information crammed into the film and you'd really think it would be possible that, having developed the script over the course of a decade, Nolan could have made Inception leaner without having to sacrifice its significant smarts.

Saito (Ken Watanabe) has a job offer for Cobb and Arthur

As a cost of introducing and running with such original ideas, there was always going to be some exposition within Inception. That Nolan stuffs so many ideas into the film means exposition is necessary to the point that it takes up a rather large portion of the film and it seems his cast spend an awful lot of their time merely relaying the plot to us.

Which is why Nolan should be thankful that he can, at this point in his career, bag any actor in the world. For while Inception's characters don't have much personality - they are, for the most part, archetypes or ways of just explaining what's going on - the actors filling those roles do. As with his Batman franchise, Nolan shows with Inception that he has an unparalleled eye for casting and Inception's actor's roster is a breathless list of award-winners, established powerhouses and rising talents.

Tom Hardy as Eames. Less angry than he was in Bronson

From Gordon-Levitt, dry and intellectual as Arthur, to Ellen Page, wide-eyed and ambitious as Ariadne, to Michael Caine, ever a warm presence as Cobb's father-in-law, they are all excellent. But even the standouts, a sympathetic Cillian Murphy, a cool Ken Watanabe and, especially, a roguish Tom Hardy, are eclipsed by Leonardo DiCaprio. Fresh from Shutter Island and taking on the role of the similarly disturbed Cobb, a man who is only on the surface a calm and collected crook, DiCaprio is here, as Nolan has recently described him, a rare mixture of movie star - with easy charm and charisma - and powerhouse acting talent. He is now unquestionably one of the best of his generation.

After mastering the technique on The Dark Knight, Nolan seems to now possess that rare ability to effortlessly craft winning blockbusters. Every frame looks like a million dollars thanks to cinematographer Wally Pfister beautifully capturing Inception's diverse locations and Nolan's gorgeously-designed sets. Not just that, but the director manages to keep everything, even the lengthier strands of expositionary dialogue, moving at a lightning speed.

Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) oversees a 'shared dreaming' session

But pretty views and talented acting have been done before. Rather, it's Inception's position as a film with grand ideas that makes it so unique and so compelling. Like The Matrix before it, Inception wraps an action drama around questions regarding your interpretation of reality, this time without the burden of a lead actor so wooden you could make a cabinet out of him. It also asks some pretty tough questions about life - for instance, whether the memory of a person alone can keep them alive forever - and death.

Inception will also, as in The Matrix, leave you debating which is preferable: blissful ignorance or hard fact. With our lead a trapped, isolated figure only happy when in a dreamscape of his creation and Murphy's Robert Fischer allowed to reconcile with his unloving father (Pete Postlethwaite) only in his dreams, we are made to ask ourselves some uncomfortable questions. Questions that rival the complexity of why there are those who still refer to Nolan as a cold director when he can create immensely moving pieces of work such as this. Not only is Inception a heartfelt creation but, with the recurring appearances of Cobb's dead wife, relentlessly invading his dreams and refusing to let him forget her passing, and a final moment that everyone will soon be talking about, Inception is, quite simply, haunting.

Mal (Marion Cotillard), primary antagonist of Cobb's deceptive mind

Yet a mostly cerebral director Christopher Nolan does remain, and smarts definitely outweigh emotions in Inception. Exploration and explanation of dream logic and Nolan's concept of shared dreaming is fascinating, especially as much of it can be applied to our own dreaming experiences. Visually, it's Eternal Sunshine on a much bigger scale, with not just a house but whole skyscrapers crumbling into the sea, and freight trains ploughing through city streets. This is one mega-budget blockbuster where you can clearly see where the money's gone. As Paris folds in on itself and the rules of time and space are bent, to call Inception 'ambitious' would be an understatement. But that a film can be so ambitious and succeed so admirably at it is a very, very rare thing indeed.

Ariadne (Ellen Page) uses her mind-power to re-shape Paris

Like cinematic Sudoku, Inception will have your mind doing somersaults. Christopher Nolan, at this moment in line to becoming the most financially successful director on the planet behind James Cameron, invites you to solve intricate puzzles upon puzzles while holding your interest with a story of genuine emotion. Ultimately, an iconic final shot will divide the audience into two camps of thought, but most viewers should come away elated at the small chance that Hollywood cinema might have just begun producing smart, challenging movies again.

'Munich': the Best Steven Spielberg Film of All Time?

2010-07-11T20:14:38Z

Of all the great American director's work, Munich deserves a re-appraisal as the best Spielberg film ever made. It's an unconventional choice, perhaps, but probably only because it's one of his least-seen pictures. Plus, could a director responsible for so many happy childhood memories and famous for family fare like Jurassic Park, E.T., Close Encounters and Indiana Jones, really be any good at making a bleak, graphically violent, paranoid revenge drama centred on a character faced with an - by the credits - unresolved crisis of faith and identity?

Munich's 'hero' Avner (Eric Bana) with wife Daphna (Ayelet Zurer)

Turns out he is.

Munich is the fact-based story of a squad of Mossad hitmen, led by Australian actor Eric Bana's German-Israeli Avner Kaufman, given the task of assassinating the Palestenian terrorists responsible for the murder of eleven Israeli athletes during the 1972 Munich Olympics. On paper, it's a straightforward thriller come men-on-a-mission movie; it even begins as such. But Munich is deceptive - it has an agenda that only reveals itself once the film's drawn you in. What starts as a run-of-the-mill, no-nonsense spy thriller descends into something much deeper. And much, much darker.

The team stand before bombmaker Robert's (Mathieu Kassovitz) tools of destruction

The tone of Munich is unlike any other Spielberg film except for, curiously, blockbuster War of the Worlds (made back-to-back with Munich), a film with an equally grim and defeatist attitude. Even those films where Spielberg appeared to explore a dark side, such as the sci-fi noir Minority Report, WW2 epic Empire of the Sun or, most obviously of all, holocaust drama Schindler's List, were all ultimately uplifted by an overpowering feeling of hope.

Not in Munich. The bouts of playful, childish comedy, present at times even in Schindler's List, are absent, replaced by a humour so black it's almost invisible to the naked eye. What's more, any optimism gives way to an increasing feeling of helplessness and constant reminders that revenge creates revenge, violence leads to violence, and the idea that terrorist networks are not easily conquerable but almost infinite, continuously regenerating.

Carl (Hinds), Hans (Zischler) and Robert flee the scene of a botched bomb attack

And if you're at the very least hoping for last minute, Oskar Schindler-style redemption, then, unfortunately, you've caught Spielberg on a bad day. Not even the lead character, so often an archetypal, regular Joe in the 'Berg's movies, can lay claim to any. Avner Kaufman isn't your usual Spielberg anchor. This man is a murderer. He kills elderly men without question. He shoots a young boy in the head when he threatens to raise an alarm. He even - shock horror - seeks to cheat on his wife.

As Avner, Eric Bana is simply incredible, subtly embarking on a journey from bright-eyed jingoist to a disturbed, soulless figure used - and used up - by a country that senselessly wants revenge for attacks on its people, at the cost of its people themselves. His support is as flawless - Spielberg has always had an eye for casting the right people, whether huge stars or little-known character actors, in fitting roles, and Munich is an ideal example. Kaufman's hit squad is an eclectic dream team of world cinema performers - English Daniel Craig, Irish Ciaran Hinds, German Hanns Zischler, French Mathieu Kassovitz and Antipodean Geoffrey Rush as their leader - with supporting roles filled out by the likes of Ayelet Zurer, Mathieu Amalric and Moritz Bleibtreu.

Playing the hit squad, from left to right: Craig, Bana, Hinds, Kassovitz and Zischler

The cosmopolitan cast are complemented by Munich's globetrotting sensibility - we're propelled all over the world, visiting Tel Aviv, Rome, Paris, Athens, Amsterdam, London, New York, Munich of course - and even more so by its mish-mash of film styles. For a '70s-set film about shady government wranglings, Munich inevitably takes most of its inspiration from the paranoid thrillers of New Hollywood; you can see Alan J Pakula's Paranoia trilogy and Sydney Pollack's Three Days of the Condor in the skewed camera angles, shadowy informants and cold, imposing urban settings. Stylistically, Munich also owes a debt to the cool naturalism of 1960s European cinema, with other scenes - the Mossad assault on an enemy compound in Beirut, in particular - employing a documentary-style realism which was, in 2005, a growing obsession for Western cinema, while the tense assassination sequences can only be described as Hitchcockian (albeit with violent denouements Hitchcock could only have dreamed of).

Avner takes a stroll through Tel Aviv with head operative Ephraim (Geoffrey Rush)

Hitchcock is, clearly, a familiar influence for all of Spielberg's films, but, elsewhere, the look and feel of Munich is entirely new for the director. It's refreshing to see a filmmaker who could, understandably so by now, be settling into old habits instead of completely reworking his style from the ground up, but it's even more compelling to see Spielberg explore a side of himself nobody knew he had, to embrace the darkness so willingly.

His A.I. adopted a similarly gloomy approach but the director was hindered by something that has now regrettably become one of his trademarks: the ill-fitting 'happy' ending. Munich doesn't make the same mistake, its very last scene offering little hope, or even any real closure, Rush's grumpily avuncular Ephraim refusing Avner's invitation for them to "break bread" together, at last revealing his true nature as as much of a multi-faceted leech as Avner's uncaring government. Still, it's another moment previous that sticks longer in the memory.

Kaufman ends his Mossad career in fear and isolation in New York

With Avner having quit his post as Mossad agent, one of the film's most lasting images is that of the former assassin, exhausted, empty, detached, bathed in a bleached out glow of light, waiting to be debriefed. The room is empty, all except for Ephraim working at a battered old tape recorder. You can't help but feel that Avner expected a shower of glory upon the completion of his mission, a display of immense gratitude from his adored homeland. Instead, there is a creeping realisation that a task that at first seemed so noble ultimately meant nothing. The final, devastating blow, for us and for Avner, are the passing words spoken by the amused Israeli general fleetingly sent to thank Avner for years of gruelling work: "That's it. There is no medal or anything!" Amongst all the bloodshed, the shootings, bombings and mutilations, this quiet, sober scene is perhaps Munich's most unforgettable.

Spielberg directing his cast on the set of Munich

Forget for the moment Schindler's List, Close Encounters, Jaws or any of the countless, child-friendly blockbusters Steven Spielberg has made over his career - if you're looking for Spielberg's masterpiece, an example of cinematic perfection and his opus, this is it. This is his most complete film; not marred by a sickly, child-friendly approach like E.T. or spoiled by an abrupt, jarringly 'happy' ending as in Minority Report or Saving Private Ryan - Munich has a cynical, paranoid heart through and through, from violent beginning to disheartening end. It takes no prisoners, relentlessly painting the world as a place not bound by morals but by opportunism, a place ruled by the selfish and the power-hungry. That Spielberg takes this approach with Munich makes his film all the more bold and daring. It was also unquestionably the right thing to do - correctly portraying the war between Palestine and Israel and, on a more global scale, the conflict between East and West, as so pointlessly, relentlessly destructive is much more appropriate than to simply sugar-coat the truth.

Robert and Avner survey the scene

If you don't appreciate quality acting, outstanding cinematography or some genuinely nail-biting set-pieces, then this is still easily one of the deepest, most debate-inducing films of the last decade. It's the most thought-provoking film made by Spielberg yet and will be the cause of countless arguments and discussions regardless of whether you like the film or not. If you haven't seen it, do so now. If you've seen it before and didn't quite manage to absorb it all the first time, or simply found it lacklustre, as some did on its release, give it another try - you might come to agree that this little-seen and little-recognised revenge thriller is the best film of Steven Spielberg's career.

Review of 'Get Him to the Greek'

2010-06-23T23:25:07Z

A semi-sequel to 2008's Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Get Him to the Greek sees Sarah Marshall's recovering rock star Aldous Snow (Russell Brand) fall off the wagon after his latest album bombs and his long-time partner, songstress Jackie Q (Rose Byrne), leaves him. Meanwhile, music executive Aaron Green (Jonah Hill) hatches a plan to re-invigorate Snow's career: a live concert at LA's Greek theatre. Green has 72 hours to escort Snow from London to LA, more than enough time were it not for Snow's determination to party hard and his propensity to leave a path of destruction everywhere he goes, roping Green ever more into his decadent lifestyle.

Russell Brand playing against type as drug addict Aldous Snow

Jonah Hill is a likeable everyman in Get Him to the Greek. The actor has often been the loudest, most intentionally vulgar presence in the likes of Superbad and Knocked Up, but here he wisely leaves it to the rest of the cast to make their music business-types as explosive as possible, all the while leaving Hill to act as the vital anchor. Supporting him and standing out amongst the multitude of star cameos are a Lily Allen-esque Rose Byrne - often so bland she's nearly invisible, but not here - and Sean Combs as Green's borderline-insane studio boss. Combs isn't the most capable of actors, and there is something curiously missing behind those eyes, but he does bring some of the biggest laughs via his impressive, almost entirely improvised dialogue. And I haven't even mentioned the acting ace in Get Him to the Greek's deck yet...

Yes, a talented cast is present here. Alas, they've been saddled with director Nicholas Stoller, someone that can control neither the chaos of Get Him to the Greek's heavy improvisation or its loose structure. Nor can Stoller get a handle on the tone, which wildly swings from gross-out humour - example: Green inserting smuggled drugs into his rectum - to awkward moments of darkness that feel somewhat out of place - example: Snow baring his fragile soul following a suicide attempt.

Fortunately for the viewer, the movie is lucky enough to have the mercurial presence of Russell Brand as Aldous Snow, consistently delivering laughs throughout. Even more at ease here than he was in (Stoller's previous directing gig) the distinctly average Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Brand embodies Snow, a heavy-living rock buffoon, impacting like a lightning bolt whenever he's on screen.

Green and Snow make a run for it, Puff Daddy in pursuit

Brand also has potential as a serious actor from the evidence presented in Get Him to the Greek. Admittedly he is playing only a slightly more fleshed-out variation of his Forgetting Sarah Marshall character, itself a version on Brand himself, but he brings immense depth to someone who didn't even really require it. Brand adds to being effortlessly funny in the movie an ability to convincingly convey the degrees of bitterness, self-loathing and cruelty lurking within Snow. You wouldn't necessarily expect it from the comedian.

Not a great film, but a vast improvement on its predecessor, Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Get Him to the Greek is funny, occasionally even hilarious, in bursts, but needlessly dark in other moments, suffering from a dip in quality whenever Brand is absent. Thankfully he's present for the majority of the movie, meaning Get Him to the Greek is never anything less than enjoyable.

Review of 'Synecdoche, New York'

2010-06-23T03:08:09Z

The cover of the DVD for Charlie Kaufman's Synecdoche, New York screams that the film contained within is "the smash-hit comedy of the year!" This means that the person behind this off-the-mark soundbite has either a) never seen the film or b) watched it and realised that "the most maddening, bewildering, offbeat think-piece of the year!", although more appropriate, just wouldn't sell as many copies.

Perhaps they were knocked violently off course by confusion - as I was upon seeing the film in its entirety - as to how Synecdoche ever received funding. This movie was never going to make money. Its audience is limited to professional critics (many of whom either loved it or loathed it), hardcore Kaufman fans and those who might refer to themselves as something along the lines of 'cinematic intellectuals'. I imagine Jeff Daniels' character in The Squid and The Whale would go see this movie, or someone else with an arty beard big enough to stroke while watching and/or attempting to analyse the picture.

Philip Seymour Hoffman and Catherine Keener: a doomed married couple

Essentially, Synecdoche, New York is about Caden Cotard (Philip Seymour Hoffman, consistently the best thing in everything he's in), a playwright living unhappily with his wife (Catherine Keener) and young daughter in New York. After they move to Berlin and leave Caden behind, the neurotic writer is gifted with the Macarthur 'genius' grant and sets about recreating his life, and building a small-scale New York, within a giant warehouse, for a play he foresees as his masterpiece. As Caden ages and his numerous female companions come and go, production of the play stretches in size and budget, with constant delays seeing it span across Cotard's life time.

That is Synecdoche in basic terms, but the film is about so much more. A whole book could be written on it, and differing interpretations of what it all means, or a psychological analysis of Charlie Kaufman's worrying mental state. Those either perplexed by, or simply indifferent to, Kaufman's previous writing projects, the best two being Eternal Sunshine and Adaptation, should probably avoid Synecdoche - here taking both writing and directing duties, this is Kaufman's most baffling and frustrating work to date.

If you take the film literally you'll be left irritated; this is one best to approach as a gigantic metaphor, a filmic poem to experience rather than to intellectually engage with too much. If you reach the end of Synecdoche - you'll know fairly quickly whether or not you'll want to stick with it to the finale - you'll see just how moving, how achingly sad, it is. Caden's progression through life is laden with tragedy and poignant asides, which the average viewer should recognise providing Kaufman's astoundingly pessimistic outlook on life doesn't grow too wearisome for them. If you're someone of a more sunny disposition, which I can only hope most people are, you might find the film's persistently bleak tone a major annoyance, even laughable.

An older Caden with Hazel (Samantha Morton), inside the gargantuan playhouse

As for this being Kaufman's debut as director, he does a very impressive job. The Oscar winner draws great performances from a fantastic cast on form (alongside Hoffman and Keener, the cast includes indie heroines Samantha Morton, Michelle Williams, Hope Davis, Emily Watson and Jennifer Jason Leigh) and the film is, in a departure from the gritty look of Kaufman's other films, classically, beautifully framed. It cost $20 million to make and, despite this being a relatively small amount by Hollywood standards, the picture looks fantastic and feels suitably epic.

Charlie Kaufman has crafted a dense, multi-layered piece of cinema. It's often exasperating and it's hard to love, but this is a movie unlike any other, stuffed with metaphor and meaning. Synecdoche, New York is a real divider of opinion, but no-one can say that it isn't an ambitious and unique project.

'The Pacific' Review

2010-06-23T00:12:29Z

The Pacific, executive produced by Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks, is an epic account of U.S. involvement in the Pacific campaign during World War 2, charting from America's entry into Guadalcanal in 1942, via the costly battles for Pelelieu and Iwo Jima, onto Okinawa in 1945 and the end of the war. The focus is on three U.S. marines - rebellious writer Bob Leckie (James Badge Dale), gung-ho action hero John Basilone (Jo Seda) and naÃÂ¯ve youngster Eugene Sledge (Joseph Mazzello) - and their role in some of the bloodiest battles of the 21st century.

Jon Seda stars as Sgt. John Basilone

Why review The Pacific on a movie blog? This is a project, after all, that received a weekly airing, episodically, on television. But this is not a simple TV series. The budget, an estimated $150 million, allows for an epic scale unseen in any previous television show (including Hanks' and Spielberg's previous miniseries collaboration, Band of Brothers) and the production elements, from the elegant musical score to the script, are distinctly filmic. No, this is not a simple TV series - this is a series-length movie.

It was always inevitable that The Pacific would be compared to Band of Brothers; the main crew, including principle directors and writers, are shared by the two. Both are the brainchildren of Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg, are looks at World War Two from the American perspective, and both feature realistic, Private Ryan-esque glimpses of combat. What makes for the major difference is that The Pacific and Band of Brothers are set on two very different sides of the world.

The war in the Pacific was a very different conflict to the war in Europe. Soldiers didn't last long and friendships were short-lived, hence why the notion of brotherhood, explored so often in Band of Brothers, is largely absent from The Pacific. This serves, regrettably, to The Pacific's detriment - it makes it very hard to form a connection with the characters aside from the central three.

Joseph Mazzello's Pvt. Eugene Sledge goes to hell and back

Which, consequently, highlights another issue. Whereas The Pacific is told exclusively from the POV of three characters, Band of Brothers was significantly more ambitious, telling the story of fifty plus soldiers simultaneously. This is where Band of Brothers remains superior over The Pacific - BoB's gigantic ensemble showed a flair for economic storytelling and character development whereas The Pacific has us remain throughout primarily with just the three leads. This wouldn't be too much of a problem if these characters weren't so underwritten, the worst being John Basilone, given barely a scrap of life by The Pacific's writers.

The series' biggest flaw, however, is in its odd decision to regress from the realism of BoB into some (at times laughable) theatricality. The scenes of battle are set firmly in a gritty reality, but the dialogue, so natural in BoB, very often steps over the line of corny in The Pacific. It's not bad writing, it's just that a lot of it belongs in another film - a cheesy 1950s war movie might have been more ideal.

There is a lack of consistency in The Pacific's structure that lends it a few other problems. That Robert Leckie, sympathetically-played by an excellent James Badge Dale, is the focus for the first half only to almost entirely disappear and be replaced by Eugene Sledge, also well-played by Joseph Mazzello, in the second, makes for a highly jarring viewing experience. John Basilone, on the other hand, is barely present as a character, confusingly interrupting the two other characters' storylines intermittently until he is finally made the sole focus of the story in episode eight. It's unfortunate that Jon Seda, not given much to do up until that point, only gets to show how remarkable an actor he can be far too late in the series.

James Badge Dale, the most impressive of the central three as Pvt. Bob Leckie

This is one of The Pacific's main problems - it's just too short on focus. As soon as we come to know and relate to a lead character, they are removed from the narrative, making it very difficult to form any kind of emotional connection. It's hugely distracting. The strength of Mazzello's episodes, comprised of hard-hitting combat and Sledge's camaraderie with the likes of the morally ambiguous 'Snafu' Shelton (Rami Malek, giving the most interesting performance of the series), also makes you lament the fact that the whole story is not entirely based around these characters.

None of this is to say that The Pacific is without merit. Far from it - there are many reasons to recommend it. The main source of interest is the miniseries' exploration of the horrors, and numbing effect, of war. Through Hanks' and Spielberg's depiction of the brutal nature of the Pacific arena - we frequently witness sudden, random suicide bombings as well as seemingly endless waves of Japanese troops throwing themselves into American machine gun fire - coupled with its extreme terrain and weather patterns, we get an impression of how desensitising war can be on the average soldier. They convey this impeccably, particularly through the character of Sledge, what with his descent into hell and transformation into deadened war machine 'Sledgehammer'.

What's more, rarely has combat been quite so impactful on the screen. The violence is graphic and the battle scenes intense within the first half an hour - Team Hanksberg throwing us immediately into a zone of senseless slaughter on Guadalcanal - and becomes increasingly so until the final moments of fighting, a grim, desperately bloody denouement on Okinawa. The Pacific is not for the squeamish - just as Eugene Sledge gradually becomes desensitised to violence during the clash on Pelelieu, the three-hour long battle scene set on the island could send you the same way. By the time we witness Snafu absent-mindedly throwing stones into a dead Japanese soldier's bloody head cavity, we've already seen so much that it barely even registers.

Snafu (Rami Malek) and Sledge, given the most interesting dynamic of The Pacific

Scenes like these show just how brave the creators of The Pacific are - it's rare to see real war presented to us so matter-of-fact. Of course, they could claim they are simply showing us what really happened, with the miniseries based almost entirely on the memoirs of featured characters. These true stories are compelling, but the material is often astoundingly risky. It all makes for such challenging viewing, the casual racism by U.S. troops towards their 'Jap' enemies, the moments of pitch-black humour (one scene sees a marine, having taken a momentary toilet break, pursued with his pants around his ankles by two Japanese soldiers), the frank representation of the more callous marines (try erasing the image of a U.S. soldier extracting gold teeth from a live Japanese soldier from your mind) or any number of the many horrific sightings - decaying corpses litter The Pacific - we witness in the lulls between fighting.

But it's during those scenes of conflict that the series really hits its stride. When Sledge's aquatic troop transport begins its slow ascension toward a thriving, battle-scarred Pelelieu beach, we rightly get the feeling that the impending battle scene may just be the equal of Spielberg's own greatest cinematic achievement as director: Saving Private Ryan's D-Day landings. Given that The Pacific's budget is significantly higher than Spielberg's war masterpiece (more than double), this is - if you like easy comparisons - a longer, more epic, tropical version of his WW2 opus.

A typically chaotic Pacific battleground

As a war drama, The Pacific is only fitfully successful. As an illustration of the Pacific theatre during WW2, though, this is the definitive portrayal, with war as brutal, epic and bloody as it comes. Careful how you watch it though - The Pacific's patchy structure means the whole thing works better watched as one and, for those who wisely waited for the box set, reap the benefits by viewing The Pacific as one long movie (time-consuming though that may be). You may find it difficult at times to stick through the home segments and some other clichÃÂ©d moments, but do so and be rewarded with unparalleled scenes of jungle combat, not to mention a genuinely moving final hour set in the marine protagonists' American homeland. You'll get a better idea of war in the Pacific than you would from any documentary.