The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones Review

One has to remain open to these things. One does - one day, they'll make a good'un, and you kinda have to be there to see that when it happens.

Okay, wow, way to give the game away early, Ross. Fuck it, have this, I'm putting my feet up:

 

Oh...you're still here. Fine, I'll write something...Jeez, you guys are pushy.

So I was clued into this by a friend who's read the books - according to both her, and the literary community at large, they're actually a pretty neat riff on the whole 'urban fantasy' thing, and were begging to have a movie made out of them. I can't honestly comment on the books - I've not read 'em, and I'm assured that they're 'completely bloody different!' from this trainwreck, so let's proceed to verbally beat the shit out of it, shall we?

I suppose the most disappointing thing is that there was almost certainly a good film to be made from the script as is. A few cheesy (and we're talking Camembert levels of stink here) lines and some braindead decision-making aside, the story is actually surprisingly solid: in a modern world where 'every story you ever heard is true', there exists a breed of human known as the Shadow Hunter, who spend their waking hours fighting the unwinnable, but essential war against the forces of darkness. Clary is not one of these people - but she can see them, even when they use runes tattooed onto their skin to turn invisible. As she tries to figure out why, she becomes embroiled in a plot from within to undo the hunters, and their hidden-in-plain-sight base, The Sanctuary.

It's at the very least interesting on its own terms - the mythology surrounding it in particular is most intriguing. It's a great shame that the execution is a stumbling, shambolic mess.

This is almost entirely down to director Harald Zwart. The cast is decent, the production values solid and the script, despite the aforementioned stinkers, is a surprisingly tight adaptation - there's even some pretty decent special effects thrown into the mix. But Zwart botches it - it's clear that the extent of his familiarity with the fantasy genre is that it exists, and is mildly popular just now. There's not a single ounce of flair, style or substance in any of the framing, fight choreography or staging. Battles lack any sense of tension or threat. Romance comes off as dumb and corny as shit because of a soundtrack that's either intrusively, obnoxiously obvious, or as dull and pointless as the staging.

Worse, Zwart fails to recognise when the characters he's marshalling are being utterly, utterly stupid. Case in point? Our heroine develops a power that can freeze adversaries in time - but rather than butchering the demons where they're stuck with their fancy demon-slaying weaponry, they move through the pack of claw-based death and leave them there. We're then supposed to care when the creatures reanimate themselves after the spell wears off, and murder a bunch of werewolves. You do know swords have unlimited ammo, right guys?

The only thing that saves it from being thrown in the same bin as AvP2 and Battlefield Earth is that admid the turgidity, there're a few few-and-far-between moments where the strength of the story and mythology shine through. A flame-thrower that appears to fire holy napalm? Awesome. Mozart was actually a musical engineer who developed sequences of chords that sounded lovely to humans, but like nails on chalkboard to demons? Genius (even if Clary brazenly forgets this fact a mere 8 hours after she learned it). But as said, there's just not enough of them present for the film to pull itself from the mire. The cast are actually also do admirably considering the non-entity at the helm - Lily Collins and Jamie Campbell Bower were perfect castings, if the fan art I've googled is to be believed, and Robert Sheehan (of Misfits fame) sports an impressively honed American accent, and a decent performance to boot. In fact, his part of the film is the only one that's not hideously mishandled, and there's no doubt that it's down to his chemistry with Collins that this works.

It's just a massive shame all round - this had the promise to be the anti-Twilight, a Shadowrun for tweens. Alas, what we've got is a watered-down pap - an incredibly basic film that's intended to sell its crappy teen-pop soundtrack and pictures of the admittedly highly attractive leads. Nothing more. Nothing about it works, it's only sporadically enjoyable, and if you've ever seen a single action-fantasy movie before this one, you'll facepalm at least three times in its bloated run-time. Unless you're interested in your eyeballs attempting to escape from your face in desperation, avoid.

  

(still)

Elysium Review

Sci-fi is something of a painfully neglected genre of late. Whilst there's no denying that your Iron Man Threes and your Man of Steels and your Star Trek In Darknesses are all very technically accomplished films and enjoyable films, there's a common theme throughout them - they're all modern updates of already existing franchises. The dearth of originality in this genre on the silver screen is perhaps more glaring than in others, with the last decent attempt - Joseph Kosinski's Oblivion - lacking the heart that made, say, Logan's Run or Silent Running such masterpieces, and lost amid the aforementioned swathe of franchise films.

Step up Neill Blomkamp - having fully recovered from his stalled Halo project, and leaping off the back of the magnificent District 9, with Elysium, he's shown that there's life in the old genre yet. Not just that, he's crafted a story that's got Oblivion's clarity of vision, but instead of a cold, soulless centre, you have sets of fully-formed human eyes staring back at you.

In the mid-22nd century, the rich elite of Earth have fled from a planet that's become over-crowded and over-polluted to a giant orbiting space station named Elysium, where the wealthy can live forever, and the riff-raff are murdered on sight if they even dare approach. On the ground, an ex-vagrant named Max (Matt Damon) is trying to turn his life around, working on a production line which provides the station with it's all-powerful security force. After a horrifying accident leaves him with fatal radiation poisoning, and with neglectful leadership denying him readily available life-saving treatment, he resolves to get to Elyisum however he can. But all is not as peachy as it seems aboard the station, and as his plan progresses, he accidentally becomes embroiled in a plot engineered by the Secretary of Defense, Jessica Delacourt (Jodie Foster).

The story, whilst perhaps not quite as impactful as D9's apartheid allegory, is still well crafted, and examines in detail various problems facing the contemporary developed world - exaggerating them to their logical conclusion, 150 years down the line. It also succeeds in keeping you guessing as to exactly how it's all going to pan out - though a side effect of this is a couple of story threads that seem a little stalled. The flipside of that coin, however, is a commentary on quite how interesting every facet of the story is.

Then there's the action, and Blomkamp has outdone himself in this department. His penchant for exotic weaponry is on full show - the air-burst rounds are a particularly brutal stroke, but there's small touches everywhere, and they're integrated seamlessly into the world building. This is Blomkamp's true strength as a film-maker - his attention to detail allows him to construct a world that feels like it's been lived in: Earth is a breathing, stinking slum, and Elysium is Homeric in its execution. The special effects are a joy to behold too - particularly the intricate autons that police Earth's surface on behalf of those on high.

The cast do a superb job of it too - Matt Damon's performance is subtle but brilliant, but we should expect nothing less from a man who hasn't put a foot wrong since those amnesiac spy movies. Jodie Foster - despite sporting one of the strangest accents (a mish-mash of French, British and American) this side of Gerard Butler's Irish - presides over Elysium maliciously, sneering through her teeth at those that question her questionable actions beautifully. The real, gems, however, are Wagner Moura and Sharlto Copley. The former plays an outrageously fast-talking people- and data-trafficker, and he's a joy when he's bouncing off Max's literal and figurative outer shells. Copley, on the other hand, belies his previous efforts to deliver a chillingly horrid villain - merciless, psychotic and seemingly impossible to kill, the tension between himself and Damon gives their scraps a sense of urgency and purpose that is most satisfying.

If there are problems with it, it's two-fold. The allegory is a little on the nose, and some may come away with a bad taste in the mouth from its scathing skewering of America's current healthcare and immigration issues, despite it making an entirely valid argument. Most sad, however, is that whilst the action is still entertaining, it's curiously bloodless this time around. That the film carriers a PG-13/12A rating tells you all you need to know, and the result is a softening of its bite.

But truth be told, it's impossible to not overlook these in favour of the other strengths on show. It's such a complete film, bucking the trend of everyone and their dog setting up for a potential sequel that may or may not transpire. The world it creates is believable, the actions sequences are fantastic (and on occasion even darkly humourous), and the performances top notch on all counts. There's even a curt nod to Halo which brought a smile to this gamer's face. Blomkamp has now proven himself to be a major player in the sci-fi scene, and you owe it to yourself to see this.

Random Film Round-Up

 

I'm not really sure what all the fuss was about this; terribly reviewed, and shunned by audiences at the time of its release, it's...really not that bad. It's by no stretch of the imagination great but it's not the dud that it was reported to be.

The world-building is top notch - whilst maybe not a born-and-bred action director, Andrew Stanton's eye for detail is second to none - Tylor Kitsch is actually bearable in the central role, and Mark Strong continues the proud British tradition of Hollywood villainy, along with adding to his own hand of intriguing villains played. The action sequences are a little flat and lack any real oomph, but the story carries it along, despite some turns towards the odd. Lynn Collins is most ill-served by this, her character skipping between warrior maiden and damsel in distress whenever the plot deems it appropriate. It's a shame, because the warrior maiden part is surprisingly well played - the damsel in distress is not.

Overall, it's clear that it ultimately suffers at the hands of itself - John Carter is, after all, one of the archetypes upon which most superhero- and science-fiction is drawn from. Moments that may well have been original back in the late 19th century here feel derivative of the very things derived from them, in a spectacular moment of circular logic that is nearly impossible to get yourself out of. Still, for what it is, it's fun enough, and there's just enough interesting about it to have kept me watching until the end.

Odd one this - ostensibly adapted from a book, it comes to us by way of director Oliver Stone to craft a tale of murder, drugs and treachery. It's got Taylor Kitsch in it (apparently I'm on some sort of Kitsch binge...disaster) and he's...not bearable in this. Neither's Aaron Taylor-Johnson - they're both playing unlikable young drug dealers who stumble upon a particular intense strain of that there crazy pipe weed. They're also both in love with the same woman, here played by the ever-terrible Blake Lively.

She gets kidnapped because reasons - mostly because they refuse to work with a Mexican drug cartel, who aren't willing to simply accept having their plants and distribution network under their control. Oh no, they want the two's 'expertise' (of which they have none) to help grow and sell the product. It more or less escalates from there, with double-crosses, corrupt government agents (John Travolta, continuing to fuel rumours that he's had something done to his face - I vote all nerve endings removed), and an utterly stupid ending that plays out twice. The first one would've actually been a decent place to leave these 'savages'. But no, that one was just in the girls head, and the real ending is an abrupt, deus ex machina moment that is just...dreary, really.

If there is good about it, it's Benicio del Toro and Salma Hayek doing seedy villains, the former delightfully sleazy, the latter sultry yet intimidating. If only the rest of the piece were as good as its antagonists, we might've seen a better film. Alas, actors making hamfisted jobs and heavy-handed writing abound, and this was not an enjoyable experience.

 

Seeing as Henry Cavill is now part of the Superman pantheon, I thought I'd finally give this a go. Coming from the stable of Tarsem - who previously gave us the shallow but visually striking films The Cell and The Fall. He bucks the trend somewhat here with a surprisingly interesting take on the Theseus legend from ancient Greece.

Cavill is decent if a little stiff in the central role, but it's made up for by some excellent supporting work from Stephen Dorff, Mickey Rourke and Luke Evans, all in slightly over-the-top mode, as is appropriate for a story that features gods fighting among men.

The story does some interesting things, trying to figure out what in reality might've inspired the legend, whilst at the same time allowing for the flights of fancy so common in Greek mythology. All of the battles - aside from exhibiting a curious beauty within the chaos - showcase same excellent fight choreography, and the set and costume design are wonderfully intricate. All of this gives rise to the film's best part - its interpretation of the Minotaur part of the legend. A vast, impossibly strong henchman of the evil Hyperion who wears bull-shaped helmet, it's a neat twist and the battle it produces is spectacularly brutal.

It does plod along at times, particularly at the start, but once it allows itself to get going, it's a great ride.

Total Recall (2012) Review

Sometimes, you should really re-consider your title. Or at least, consider it in the first place, because had it not been for the association with the turn of the 90s Paul Verhoven actioner, this could've been held in higher regard, because as an action-orientated adaptation of 'We Can Remember It For You Wholesale', it actually works pretty decently.

Len Wiseman's always been one for boldly-staged set pieces - see his Underworld films, as well as the irritatingly badly written Die Hard 4.0 - and he doesn't disappoint here, with scenes that sweep through a decently realised, if slightly derivative dystopian future. He does, however, retain the sense to keep the films he references within the Philip K Dick adaptation stable - everything from Minority Report to Blade Runner to A Scanner Darkly, as well as Verhoven's effort, are given visual nods. There's simply too many of them for them to really be described as derivative - rather, it feels like an effort to have all of these films take place in the same world. 

Colin Farrell is solid in the lead role, believable as a bunched up and frustrated worker to whom there's more than is initially apparent. Kate Beckinsale - despite her husband's odd penchant for presenting her backside to the world - makes a fun switch from doting wife to futuristic femme fatale, and Jessica Biel, whilst hardly challenged, doesn't really bring anything particular impressive to her role as love interest/competition. It's nice to see Bill Nighy turn up once again in a Wiseman flick, and Bryan Cranston's evil dictator is like Walter White without the moral compass and more kung-fu skills, which is more or less as entertaining as it sounds.

It falters a little towards the end - the script not really sure what to do with itself, with screenwriters Kurt Wimmer (of Equilibrium and Ultraviolet fame) and Mark Bomback (of 'ruining Die Hard' fame) presenting us with possibly cinema's first quintuple agent, and ceasing to make any sense from there, resorting to just blowing shit up in lieu of figuring out its own clusterfridge of a story. The most interesting stuff happens when they attempt to play with the concept of rekall (with a K, no less), but this is ultimately restricted to a tense scene in the middle which sees Farrell's adversaries attempting to convince him that nothing he's done thus far is real.

But the action is fun, the story just about engaging enough to keep you occupied (if Becksale's butt doesn't quite grab you, as Wiseman insists it should), and the vision of the future is pleasingly technophillic. Just don't expect a satisfying resolut-...'Rekall'!! It should've been called 'Rekall'!

Man of Steel Review

If you're going to be making a Superman movie and you want it to be decent, you need two things. Well...three. First of all, obviously, you need Superman himself. Second, some heart - we need to be forming an emotional bond with this character, because otherwise, we just won't give a shit when the third thing starts. The third thing? Action - because what's the point of an invulnerable man if you can't chuck him about a bit?

Sadly, the movie falls shortest in the heart department - though it's clear that the film had more at some point. Whilst Kal-El's exodus from Krypton is examined in detail, his time from landing on Earth to becoming Superman is more-or-less skipped over. You can practically feel Warner Bros - wary of Superman Return's lukewarm reception - breathing down your neck as snippets of this essential part of his story flash across the scene before being abruptly replaced. It ultimately means that Kevin Costner and Diane Lane are required to do quite bit with not a lot - the parental bond that humanises the character given a flashy, high-impact makeover here that smacks more of Spider than Super.

It's a shame, because what is present of that aspect of the story is beautifully scripted - the scene where Martha rushes to school to coax a young Clark, terrified of his new-found power, out of a janitor's closet is rather wonderful. "The world's too big, Mom." I think we can all relate.

There is of course the argument that Superman stories are about nothing if they are not about his heart. But it'd be unfair to say that the film has no heart. It's verging on bare bones, but it's there - hence my cunning use of 'shortest' - a groundwork upon which you are expected to lay your own familiarity with the character. It's difficult to hold this against them, given how firmly embedded our Friendly Neighbourhood Kryptonian is in pop culture's psyche.

It's more than enough to invest you in the action, and as said, there's a lot of it. Thankfully, it's really quite enjoyable - no choppy wire-fu, rubbish CGI Bizarros or forced camera angles here. These are glorious, large-scale, effects-driven punch-ups, with actually rather concerning amounts of collateral damage as various Kryptonians barrel through the toughest human constructions, and humans themselves, like so much tissue paper. Snyder, ever the pop-culture masher-uperer (is that a word? Is now), references everything from The Matrix to the film's own predecessors as he wrecks various locales with gusto.

He also cleverly subverts his own precedent - having filmed both of his previous comic-book adaptations with the stop-starting slow-motion that ostensibly became his trademark, here the action only ever plays out at full speed. Overall, this gives the action a velocity that nicely emphasises our hero's core powers, and serves as a neat counterpoint to Whedon's wit, and Nolan's muscularity.

Cavill is a revelation - not only convincing as a flying man, but making us forget the ones that flew before him. No longer a clean-cut stalwart, this Superman is a something of a dashing rogue (is that... chesthair?!). But he doesn't just bring looks that will have folk swooning the world over - he nails a new physicality of the hero too, a brawler lacking in finesse, little more than instinct and determination overwhelming odds. Then there's a very cute twisting of the whole Clark Kent/Superman dichotomy throughout the film - almost like Goyer was intentionally referencing Tarantino, but I digress - and Cavill plays it brilliantly.

The support is good too, despite Michael Shannon's Zod not quite feeling right - as if he's both taking it seriously, but phoning it in at the same time. Antje Traue's Faora is, surprisingly, the far more effective villain, an entity entirely replete of morals, the ferocity with which she fights for her cause unsettling in the best possible way. Amy Adams is decent as Ms Lane, and Lawrence Fishburne, whilst given precious little to actually do, is actually rather memorable as Perry White.

Final mention must go to the composer. John William's iconic score (you know those first two bars by heart don't you, you nerd) was a tough act to follow, but true to form, Hans Zimmer forges a new musical iconography, and it's a soundtrack that is worthy of purchase by itself.

What's here is great. So indeed, it's not quite what you might've hoped for - it was perhaps a mistake of the marketing that people were expecting blown minds on a scale akin to The Dark Knight - but saying that doesn't do it justice. It's less a reboot, and more a modern clarification of an existing character - throwing an otherwise fully-formed iteration of Superman onto the screen, and creating the foundations of a DC Cinematic Universe whilst it's at it. It does both of these rather triumphantly - keep your eye out for various name drops throughout. Thrillingly shot, neatly written and well performed - even, on occasion, funny - it's far more than we could've possibly asked for, and was more than worth the wait.

Star Trek Into Darkness Review

SPOILER WARNING: It is literally impossible to tell you what I think of the movie without revealing what it has up its sleeve. But seeing as it's now plastered all over the Internet (it's on Wikipedia, for crying out loud), I figure that you, dear reader, are more likely to already know it than not. But for those who haven't yet seen it and wish to remain surprised, read on at your own peril...

Back when I reviewed the first the new Trek movies, I may have breathlessly extolled that JJ Abrams had the chops to become the new Steven Spielberg. With Into Darkness - and Super 8 in the interim, lest we forget - it's clear that whilst I wasn't exactly wrong, the road to that title is a lot longer than anticipated, and there are a few obstacles that he needs to hurdle before we let him grow The Beard.

On the surface, he's certainly built a thrilling experience. The Enterprise has never been so realistically depicted, with action sequences that pack an unprecedented punch - the highlight being a confrontation between two Federation ships that will be difficult to top in terms of scale and tension. It's all accentuated by terrific sound design - thunderous base helps, so choose your cinema wisely - and a beautifully weighted orchestral score. The story, too, is masterfully edited, serving to draw you in with carefully paced reveals that all tie together come the end.

But in spite of this sheen of slickness on the surface, there is a point almost precisely a third of the way through the film where you start to notice that this skin doesn't quite sit properly on its innards. From here, we're given a masterclass in how to give mediocre script work a triple-A makeover in the execution - that Abrams is able to defy the script's downward tug on the film's quality is somewhat miraculous.

Scenarios, both in terms of action and character development, are lazily recycled wholesale from the previous movie - with dialogue that sees our players openly admit on behalf of the screenwriters that they ran out of ideas. It also shares a fair few plot points with The Wrath of Kahn, though with a contemporary twist (Terrorism! We're suddenly relevant again!), and cunningly hidden inside John Harrison's unfolding character arc. Whilst this is the most interesting thing about the film, it also serves to artificially create a twist where one simply wasn't necessary. Yes, Harrison is in fact Kahn, and if you're a newcomer to the franchise, don't expect who or what he is to be properly explained, because lazy script writing. Also, do you remember how Wrath of Kahn ended? Notice any similarities? They tried to trick us by reversing the roles and throwing in some more deus ex machina - as if we hadn't had enough - but fumbled the sleight of hand. Because lazy script writing (And now lazy review writing! It's infectious!).

It's a shame, because performance-wise, there's joy to be had. Of particular note is Benedict Cumberbatch, - alternating between brooding darkly and kicking fifty shades of shite out of Kirk, Spock, Klingons, and anyone else who happens to get in his way. Cumberbatch is actually a revelation in that department - he fights here as a man possessed, scathing his way through his foes with a lithe brutality that serves to compliment Kahn's calm fixation on revenge. His showing is worthy of a newly forged character that tips his hat to the classic villain, rather than this lazy mark-two that ultimately ends up brushed under the carpet - though it's testament to the strength of the performance that it feels this way.

Zachary Quinto's uncanny portrayal of a young Spock is still excellent, and regardless of everything that's wrong with the climax of the film, he does a good job of it, managing to scream the iconic 'Kaaaaaaaaahn!' without shedding his dignity. Zoe Saldana provides the emotional core of the piece elegantly, and Simon Pegg - whilst still sporting an accent worse than Gerard Butler's Irish one - is enjoyably daft as Scotty. Rounding out the headliners is Karl Urban, providing the rest of the film's comic relief with aplomb. Sadly, Chris Pine seems to be under the impression that nobody's watching, playing Kirk on auto-pilot until the denoument, where he suddenly ramps it up to 11. The rest of the cast aren't really given much to do, ranging from painfully under-written, to shameless eye candy - but they all do more than is required of what they're given.

It's not that it's bad. Quite the opposite, there's a lot of fun to be had - as a sci-fi action movie, it more than delivers, with thrillingly kinetic action sequences, spectacular visual effects and in the few-and-far-between moments where the writers actually put some effort in, there's laughs and heartbreak to be had. But as a Star Trek movie, it falls flat somewhat - an echo in contrast to the first film's ballsy shout, meekly following in the footsteps of a now irrelevant predecessor. I'm sure we were promised different.

Iron Man Three Review

In a twist bewildering long-term geeks and nerds the world over, we now live in a post-Avengers world - not only is a movie about four superheroes teaming up one of the most successful films of all time, it's also been celebrated for being...y'know...good. What's more, after its clash of four separate stories, it's lain groundwork for a grandiose second act that bears nothing but promise. First up? Iron Man 3 (or Three...or 'the Third', or whatever the hell you like).

After the sheer scope of the Avengers' hoedown, it's surprisingly pleasant to skim back down to just the one primary hero in shot, and being reminded that Tony Stark will have problems of his own. Particularly after Stark's 'sacrifice play', which - we are informed at the beginning of the movie - has inflicted post-traumatic stress disorder on our hero, and he can't sleep. Couple that with a series of increasingly devastating bomb attacks overseen by a terrorist calling himself 'The Mandarin', as well as a shadowy figure returning from his past, Mr Stark has quite probably seen happier times. As you may have gathered, a dark tone has been set - words like 'shadowy' and 'traumatic' are being thrown about. It's that intense.

Snarkery aside, the story is cleverly structured and carefully paced, neatly balancing the newly introduced darker themes - pride coming before the fall, terrorism, industrial espionage, the whole PTSD thang - with the action-comedy tone of what came before. Most intriguing, however, is a mostly armour-free middle act that could've been a complete drag, even going so far as to have a mission where Stark's only tools are the contents of a local hardware store. It carries this coup off with aplomb, however - the emphasis on improvisation, adaptation and some good-old soul-searching brilliantly showcasing our hero's actual superpower. This also allows for a slow reveal of the Mandarin as both more and less than what he appears - genuinely, this is one of the biggest joys of the film: a most ingenious interpretation of a classic Marvel villain that subverts, twists, combines and stretches, but somehow fits perfectly within their new cinematic canon.

New director and co-writer Shane Black's fingerprints appear throughout - touchstones seemingly lifted directly from the cutting room floor of Black and Downey Jr's previous collaboration, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. The dialogue has taken a silver-tongued turn towards Black's personal brand of quirk - to which Downey Jr is perfectly suited, let it be known - and he also retains his proven stylistic pretensions, giving the darker aspects of the story a deliciously noire-ish feel. This is particularly evident in its development of Pepper Potts from damsel in distress (in heels), to femme fatale (in track pants), with Black coaxing a fierce performance from Paltrow that surprises and thrills (and as evidenced by my choice of poster at the top, might be my favourite thing in it).

Elsewhere, Downey Jr is Tony Stark - if they intend to replace him at any point, they're going to have their work more than cut out. There would be more to say if he had put a foot wrong - but even with a slightly grimmer character to grapple with, his performance effortlessly adapts. Ben Kingsley is...eh...in the film. To say more about his performance is to spoil quite what makes it so good, so we'll move on. Guy Pearce is wondefully sly as industrialist Aldrich Killian, 'before' and 'after' aspects of the character juxtaposing mouse against snake. The transition is believable, and he does his fair share of service to the plot. Rebecca Hall, Don Cheadle and Jon Favreau are very much plot fodder, though they all do better than relatively under-written roles warrant. Best of the rest is James Badge Dale as First Henchman™, lip-lickingly evil and very much the deserving recipient of a comeuppance.

Come the end of it. the very best thing about the film - as I've been hinting at - is the way that it doesn't quite play out how you think it might've. The narrative heads roughly down the expected path, but there's a couple of surprising turns come the end of the second and third acts that really speak volumes about quite how bold they're being with this whole thing. And it works - it's a great sequel, both to The Avengers, and to Iron Man 2, and an exciting, darkly humourous ride in its own right. Plus I was late seeing it, so if you haven't seen it at this point...what exactly have you been doing with yourself? See it. Again, if you have to.

Warm Bodies Review

When it comes to the zombie apocalypse, romance is hardly on the cards. Yeah, you can meet someone nice, and yeah, you'll have a whale of a time trying to survive, but social connections formed in apocalyptic scenarios are invariably based on desperation and little else, bringing together folk who might otherwise have never interacted. The genre - for all its horror trappings - feeds off of these mismatches in unforgiving circumstances to create engaging human drama. The zombies are set dressing - horrible, flesh eating set dressing, yes, but set dressing nonetheless. They're not meant to be engaged with. Are they?

Imagine, if you will, my conjecture being vocalised in an abandoned bar to you, my fellow survivor. Suddenly, the door crashes in, and in shambles a zombie, a sticker with 'Hi! My name is Warm Bodies!' on its chest. But instead of trying to open our skulls like tinned chilli, he takes a seat, and tries to answer that question. Sums up the movie, really.

Back to reality, with its male romantic lead a zombie, it's a clear attempt to take a fresh approach on no less then two genres. The mythology has obviously been adapted accordingly - one can hardly have a romance without a spot of spurning your brethren in its pursuit - and here, they're divided into two subsets. The first are the walking social commentaries featured in Romero's films: retaining some sense of who they were, and when not feasting on cerebellum, they're emptily going through the motions of a life half-remembered. Then there's the 'bonies', eyeless bags of bone and sinew, beyond saving and devouring anything with a heartbeat.

It's an interesting play from the writers, and from a script point of view, it's difficult to fault beyond proceeding exactly as you might expect it to. So much so that I'm skipping sumarising the plot as a challenge to any reading this! This isn't restricted to the narrative either, with a few of the jokes only really funny because they may have crossed your mind when you were watching the same situation played straight elsewhere.

But the laughs are there to be had - several, in fact, and good ones too - with the cast making a decent job of it. Nicholas Hoult and Rob Corddry's comic timing - and that's pretty much all they've got at their disposal here - are the stars of the show, bouncing off each-other and co-star Teresa Palmer enjoyably enough to buoy her enticing but ultimately uninteresting portrayal of The Girl (TM). John Malkovich is on autopilot in his role as the merciless military commander of the survivors - even the addition of Over-Protective Father (TM) hardly challenges him - so if you're hoping for something as fun as his turns in RED or Con Air, you'll need to keep looking. The rest are unremarkable, but never bad.

The almost inevitable let down is in the execution. Whilst it's entirely competent from a technical standpoint, there was an decision made to open it up to the audience that it shares bare plot bones with - human falls in love with supernatural creature, and you can read that however you like. The result, stylistically, is a removal of bite from the human/zombie interaction. It's completely bloodless, and lacks a single proper scare - earning a 12A from the BBFC, the horror tagged as 'moderate'. Seeing as the horror is what would ostensibly be the forbidden aspect of this love story, this in turn undermines the romance, leaving the comedy to do the bulk of the entertaining, and this can't quite fill the two gaps. It's a story that, had they made the horror aspects horrifying, could have been an unexpected delight.

Furthermore, the lack of horror is a curious decision insofar as it's a clear pastiche of the supernatural romance - taken to a logical extreme, as pastiches invariably are. To open it up to the audience you're winkingly ripping into, and completely de-clawing your movie in the process, is bordering on madness.

It's also a touch too long, meandering between plot points without any sense of urgency or threat, and it verges on outstaying its welcome in the flat finale. There's a tight, funny, blooded movie in the vein of Zombieland and Shaun of the Dead to be had from this story, and it's disappointing that this one squanders a good portion of its potential.

Still, the ideas at its core are good, it's at least competently executed, and the comedy does work, even if you're mouthing the punch lines as they're projected. It's a shame the other two aspects of the story are so toothless, caught in a viscous cycle stemming from a business decision. But this is Hollywood, so having your figurative guts ripped out so more people will see you is par for the course. That the carcass is still entirely watchable is a testament both to the strength of the idea, and to the two male leads' zombified chemistry. Not one to rush out and see, but worth a look down the line.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey Review

The time has come once again, young friends, to grab your walking stick, saddle up your pony (who's hopefully called Bill) and prepare for a trek through Middle Earth once again - for the first of Peter Jackson's latest string of Tolkien adaptations is upon us, and thankfully, whilst it's not an absolute triumph, it's entertaining enough to keep your eyes glued to the screen.

If you're unfamiliar with the close-to-legend plot of the Hobbit, do yourself a favour: stop reading this review, and go buy a copy of The Hobbit. This'll still be here when you're finished. But for the lazy: wizard recruits titular little person to aid a group of thirteen other little (but slightly bulkier) people in their quest to reclaim their kingdom from the dragon what nicked it. Or to put it another way - it's another movie about fucking walking from the fucking Shire to a fucking mountain in the east.

Don't let the pithy plot summary dissuade you, though, as Mr Jackson has done a sterling job of fleshing out the plot of the book - and whilst superficially, the plots are similar, there's a lot of emphasis placed on the telling, rather than the plot turns themselves. The embellishments on the six chapters of the novel that this, the first of three movies is based on is pleasing enough, mercilessly foreshadowing the dark times to come, and expanded on a few passingly-mentioned characters, upgrading Azog the Goblin from a long-dead enemy to a secondary antagonist, as well as an expanded role for Radaghast the Brown. As Gandalf muses at the start of the film: 'all good stories deserve embellishment', and whilst they may not sit entirely comfortably with Rings enthusiasts and scholars, in terms of the films structure, they work wonderfully.

Stylistically, the change between the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit films is similar to the books - The Hobbit playing lighter and with a touch more humour about it, which Jackson translates to film elegantly whilst still maintaining his penchant for the visually epic and arresting. It doesn't quite reach the highs of the first of his previous trilogy, thanks to a relative lack of investment in the characters, and a strange bloodlessness that removes any real sense of threat. They're still visually arresting, and not without a touch of wit, but there's nothing that can quite match the Mines of Moria sequence here, despite their best efforts.

From a technical standpoint, it's difficult to say exactly where I sit. 3D here is as perfunctory as it ever was - though there are a couple of moments where it's used to good effect, it still feels like a lame excuse to charge more for the entry fee. It is, however, the crispest 3D I've experienced since Avatar, thanks to the 4K resolution and high frame-rate filming. Unfortunately, this added fidelity can on occasion draw attention to the seams in...well...everything. From the irritatingly obvious join between actor's skin and skull-cap on Dwalin's head, to the almost toy-like quality of the various weapons wielded - now that we can see every tiny detail of a scene, it's easier than ever to have your suspension of disbelief come crashing back down to earth. The sheer breadth and majesty of Jackson's vision, as well as the absolutely stellar CGI work, go a long way to mitigating this, but as stated, such little irritations can prove distracting.

Fortunately, the film is strongest when looking at it from a performance point of view - assisting in drawing your attention away from the visual oddities. Particular credit should go to James Nesbitt, Ken Stott, Dean O'Gorman and Aidan Turner, all bringing stoic turns with just the right amount of humour to their respective dwarves. Martin Freeman is great as Bilbo, and his scene with the always fantastic Andy Serkis - returning as Gollum - is as pitch perfect a rendition as one could possibly hope for. Richard Amitage is perhaps a touch flat as Thorin Oakenshield, and the rest of the dwarves aren't really given enough screen time to really appreciate.

The most inspired bit of casting, however, must go to Slyvester McCoy as Radaghast - a shambling living earth-pile of a wizard who none-the-less displays the spryness of his less disheveled counterpart Gandalf - who is still elegantly played, less grumpy this time, by Ian McKellen. Whilst his scenes are almost entirely the creations of Jackson, Walsh and Del Toro's screenplay, McCoy plays them with a sly absent-mindedness that belies an over-active mind and his presence is missed after he vanishes about half way through the movie.

Overall, An Unexpected Journey isn't quite the tantalising prospect of adventure that The Fellowship of the Ring was - in part due to it all feeling a little bit like a retread with less blood and more slapstick comedy - but it's still hugely enjoyable, and even though it's a stately 169 minutes long, it never feels it, and come the end, Smaug's desolation in December 2013 can't come fast enough.

Skyfall Review

Carrying a legacy is no mean feat, by any stretch of the imagination - and it's more difficult than one might be able to conceive if that legacy is the James Bond film franchise, in it's 50th anniversary year. Couple this with a Bond whose appearance has divided critics and audiences alike, along with it being a follow-up to the relatively lacklustre Quantum of Solace, and you'll begin to get a sense of just how much was riding on Skyfall.

It's a relief to report, then, that Sam Mendes has absolutely nailed it. There are a couple of snags at script level, but ultimately, this is an absolute return to form for the franchise - an ensemble cast that's never been finer, a story that neatly subverts a few stale tropes as it establishes a new status quo, whilst at the same time acknowledging the 50-year-old legacy that preceded it with a degree of subtlety that's almost unprecedented.

It may have initially seemed like an odd choice for director, given his previous films - but Mendes is a genuine revelation as an action director. From the initial chase sequence that ticks every box you could imagine - cars, motorbikes, parkour and trains - to guerilla warfare in an abandoned old house, every beat of action is exciting, entertaining and above all, gloriously captured by Roger Deakins. The film's crowning moment - at least in my not-so-esteemed opinion - is the set piece involving Bond trailing and ultimately confronting an assassin in a glass office. A masterstroke of effectively setting tension before an action sequence, and then properly framing it - there's some cat-and-mouse play as Bond hides in the reflections in the glass, and the subsequent fist-fight between the two is done in a single slow zoom, silhouetted by the blue neon sign on the building behind them. It's one of those 'wow' moments unique to cinema, and I challenge you to sit through this scene without your jaw knocking out the person sitting in front of you.

What's great about the direction is that there's an effort to connect Craig's newer, grittier Bond with the suave aloofness of Brosnan, Connery and Moore. Little details abound in each scene and set-piece that link the four portrayals together. There's also some interesting questions raised about just how useful an individual like Bond is in the age of digital intelligence. As Ben Wishaw's new incarnation of Q puts it: "I can do more damage on my laptop, sitting in my pajamas, before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do a year in the field. But sometimes, a trigger needs to be pulled". The conclusion it draws? Very useful indeed - but that's the rub of the piece, and you should see it yourself for just how it comes to this.

Performance-wise, Daniel Craig continues to do his best to become everyone's new favourite Bond, and as said, there's a real effort, both from Mendes and from Craig himself to connect the blunt instrument of Casino Royale to the sophisticated, dapper agent that we were used to before he rocked up. Javier Bardem is deliciously unsettling as Silva, the villain of the piece - he's a nod to the slightly camper days of old, but coupled with a disturbing twist that creates a genuinely memorable villain. Judi Dench provides no evidence against the ostensible fact that she can't put in a bad performance as M, and welcome additions to the cast in the form of Naomi Harris and Ralph Fiennes help round out what is a fantastic ensemble.

It's perhaps a bit of a disappointment that the story sags a little in the middle, but this is mainly due to an unreasonable number of intriguing plot threads being juggled rather deftly, and physics dictates that there's going to be some form of inevitable downward motion, so it's easy to overlook this when taking the film in in its entirety. Less forgiveable is the glossed-over motivation of Silva, which feels a little too-quickly explained and poorly emphasised. It would've perhaps been more interesting to make him a Joker-like character - "Some men just want to watch the world burn" - rather than try to hastily cram an explanation into expositionary dialogue. Still, Bardem's interpretation of the character is so strong, so beautifully off-putting, that you'll simply be glad he gets to clash with Bond at all.

Ultimately, these two minor hiccups do prevent the film from taking its place alongside the likes of Goldeneye and Goldfinger - but the gap isn't exactly what one might refer to as large. It's exciting, it's engaging, it's thoughtful, and it's iconic, with a best-yet performance from Mr Craig. See it, and - if you're like me - see it again shortly afterwards.

Looper Review

Warning: Mild spoilers-by-inference contained within.

Perhaps the key to making a successful sci-fi film is to ensure that no matter how grand your ideas get, you always ground them in a relatable reality. Avatar was grounded by the incredible detail in its special effects. Moon was grounded by an incredibly human performance from Sam Rockwell. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (yes, it counts as sci-fi) was grounded by its central love story. And The Matrix? That was grounded by centralising an all-too-inevitable conflict between humanity and artificial intelligence.

After the event, the fact that Looper has been even mentioned in the same breath as The Matrix is somewhat confusing - there isn't a single shade of the Wachiowski brothers' opus here.

The story goes that in 2074, time travel is invented, but is immediately outlawed. That of course doesn't stop criminals from putting it to nefarious means, using the technology to circumvent their time's ability to track corpses - hurling people they want dead back in time to be murdered by people known as 'loopers' in 2044. When the time comes to end a looper's contract, they are sent back to get killed by themselves for a retirement-grade payday - a process known as 'closing the loop', and hence the name of the job.

If anything, this should've been coined as Back to the Future's psychotic younger cousin - it's newer, angrier and a whole lot more complicated. But the key difference that sets this apart from The Matrix - and indeed Back to the Future - is that the latter two work. Sadly, Looper does not.

At least, not fully - I'm not necessarily saying that it's without merit. The central premise of time-travel as a means of assassination is one of the best ideas to be committed to film in quite a while, and it gives way to an astonishing sequence involving one of the titular loopers, his future self and a surgery table that is beautifully unsettling. If nothing else, it proves that Rian Johnson has come into his own as a director - everything is handled with a dark, dry sense of humour that has come to be his unique selling point even in the disappointing The Brothers Bloom.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Bruce Willis are also fantastic as the present and future versions of Joe, with Gordon-Levitt in particular nailing the speech patterns and mannerisms of a 1980s Bruce Willis. This, coupled with the extensive make-up disguising him, makes for a compelling dynamic between these two aspects of the same character, and the best character moment is shared between the two in a Pulp Fiction-style stare-down in a remote diner. Jeff Daniels is laconically menacing as the mob boss who runs the loopers, and Noah Segan's bug-eyed secondary antagonist is a spluttering, incompentent joy to behold - the indignation when he's asked if he's blown off his other leg is fantastic.

But despite the best efforts of everyone involved, the movie ultimately comes to rely on three central conceits that aren't particularly grounded. The first is that the film's take on time travel is not particularly consistent - not being able to choose between Twelve Monkeys' approach of one set timeline in which everything has already happened, and BttF's multiple timeline's approach. The stuff involving telekinetic powers is clearly just shoe-horned in to up the visual spectacle, and could've easily been excised whilst preserving the narrative.

The final, crippling conceit, however - and this is the one large spoiler that you may wish to avoid - is the fact that the loopers are armed with weapons that cannot fire further the 15 feet. It's frankly ridiculous, and never properly explained - 'just because' is the best Johnson can come up with - but two of the film's major set pieces (including the chaotic finale) rely on this fact, and it completely undermines the joy of the admittedly spectacular sequences.

Disappointing would be the word of choice on this one, though a part of this is the comparisons with The Matrix colouring my expectations. But even discounting this fact, the best that can be said about it is that it's an admirable mess, much like The Brothers Bloom that preceeded it. Johnson has a real talent for direction, but it's possible that self-indulgence is getting the better of him, and it may be time for him to direct something that he didn't write himself.

But it's still certainly worth a look - the performances are great, the premise sound and inconsistencies aside, the story progresses in a relatively satisfying manner, with some excitingly played set pieces. It's also darkly amusing to boot - it's just such a shame that the story doesn't hold up to closer scrutiny. Have a pinch of salt ready, but otherwise, there are worse ways to spend two hours at the movies.

Dredd 3D Review

Character development is an interesting thing - whilst it's more or less essential for making a movie whose timeline encompasses the passing of a few weeks or months, what if a movie takes place more-or-less in real time? Can character development be sidelined in favour of character presentation? Can we get to know and even like a character based purely on their actions within a certain scenario?

'Yes', is the reverberating answer that Dredd 3D tries to drill into you like a slow-motion bullet to the brainpan, and ultimately, it's quite successful. It's intriguing and exciting to see a comic-book movie that is not overly concerned about extolling an origin for its primary protagonist, instead opting for exploring the characters by having them react to a scenario, all of which is set up in a swift and elegant first 10 minutes.

For those of you unfamiliar with Judge Dredd - and to be fair, I was hardly what one might refer to as an expert - he, and his fellow Judges, are the logical extreme of the American system of law. Judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one, Judges are empowered to apply the law as and when they see fit in the MegaCities of the future that serve as their jurisdiction. In one such MegaCity - where crime and drug abuse are rampant - Judge Dredd and his fresh-out-of-the-academy partner Judge Anderson are called to a triple homocide in a tower block - and whilst murder is never simple, these get particularly complicated particularly quickly.

What follows this set-up is more or less 80 minutes of action, with a few stops for breath. It's beautifully filmed and directed, and whilst the 3D can feel a little perfunctory for the majority of the movie, there are a handful of moments that do make it worth sitting with those awful glasses on your face - not that you have much of a choice in the matter, if you wish to see the movie, given that there's no 2D release.

However, any sequence which involves the MacGuffin narcotic 'Slo-Mo' is a treat, with the water droplets and shards of glass suspended amid over-saturated, prismatic colours, that quickly drop back to the dull grey of the unenhanced world. It elicits a modicum of sympathy for the characters that do use it - it's a way for them to escape their colourless existence in what may well be the closest thing to an actual Hell on Earth.

The action packs a fairly meaty punch, too, with visceral slow-motion shots of bullets entering faces, chests, legs and other appendages from a variety of angles. There's some grim satisfaction, as well as mild horror to be had here, and the efficiency with which Dredd cleans up the bad guys is both impressive and a little unsettling, with the more tactical set pieces unfolding at such a blistering pace, and yet precise, technically accomplished camera allows the audience to keep up with it beat for beat.

Performance-wise, there're no weak links. Karl Urban - or at least, Karl Urban's face from the nose down - is great as Dredd, all dogged surliness and pinpoint markmanship. He also gets the best lines in the film, and delivers them with a snarl that is pitch perfect to the character. The lion's share of the character development goes to Olivia Thrilby as Judge Anderson, and she does a convincing job of finding the grey areas in Dredd's black and white morality. Lena Headley is quietly menacing as the primary antagonist Ma-Ma, and a slew of strong bit players help to create a convincing world of rather facistic oppression.

It sags a coupled of times between action sequences, and there's not as much satire as one might've hoped for, with Alex Garland himself admitting that the script was written as a wide-eyed teenager might interpret the character and world. It's still funny, but in a badass, one-liner way rather than as a skewering of the establishment. But given its strengths, it's easy to forgive the film for these minor blemishes.


Considering that Dredd 3D has next to no introduction to its characters, and even less by way of a plot - we're talking less plot points than Star Wars, here - it's genuinely surprising that not only is it quite enjoyable - in a darkly humourous, action-packed way - but thoroughly so, with slick direction, great performances and a fantastic script that characterises through action, not prevarication. A sequel needs to be earned, so go see it!

The Bourne Legacy Review

It's a rare sight indeed to see any series to maintain quality into a fourth iteration, and whilst there may indeed have been hope for the Bourne series - in the form of the great Mr Jeremy Renner stepping into Matt Damon's ass-kicking boots, and Tony Gilroy not only continuing writing duties, but also stepping into the director's chair - it's derailed by some strange additions to the mythos that don't sit comfortably within the context of the overarching story.

There's a nice sense of foreboding built at the start, with stark Alaskan landscapes, and a rugged, ragged-looking Renner clambering through it rather expertly. This is juxtaposed against Edward Norton and Stacey Keach, prevaricating in suits in Washington as they deal with the fallout of Jason Bourne's escapades. It's here that the film is most interesting, laying a groundwork that is actually rather elegantly interwoven with what we know about Treadstone and Blackbriar, with cameos from various major players that serve as a constant reminder of the climate of intrigue in the world we are being presented.

Performances are good - with Renner in particular going all out as Aaron Cross, notably performing the majority of his own stunts, and brooding both intensely and appropriately as the plot becomes silly around him. Norton brings his appealing brand of fast talk to the antagonist, and the supporting players all make a convincing go of it.

It's nicely directed too, but given the grade of action that Greengrass gave us, this was never going to really measure up. There're a few beautifully dynamic shots - a continuous tracking shot of Cross scrambling up the side of a house, bursting through a window and putting down a government assassin is the most memorable - but for the most part, whilst solid, it can feel a little visually perfunctory.

Then, about twenty minutes in, the story takes its uncomfortable turn - introducing a pair of pills that Cross has been taking that are...well, it's not properly explained at first, nor is it fully explained by the end. It feels a little cheap in terms of story-telling, using facts that the characters have known all along, but have simply foregone divulging to the audience to drip feed us ultimately incomplete information that plays against the hyper-realistic, psychological angle of the first three. Brainwashing, after all, isn't far-fetched at all - and whilst that element is still present, the movie also starts coining phrases like 'virusing out', and peppering the dialogue with pharmaceutical jargon that feels quite forced, and not in keeping with the precedent that has been set.

It also never manages to make a case for the audience creating relationships with the characters, seeming to assume that we'll dislike or like the characters based on who they are aligned with from the previous films.

In fact, were it not for the fact that we know Cross is meant to be the Bourne character of the piece, his character could be construed as the villain - a drug-addicted psychopath who more or less kills indiscriminately in pursuit of what he needs, as the powers that be do whatever they can to stop him. See this without knowing the story, and you'll likely be left scratching your head as to exactly whose side you're meant to be on.

Ultimately, this is something of a disappointment - visuals that have dropped significantly in  intensity, and a muddled plot that is both deeply rooted in, and yet somehow in polar opposition to its prologue, not really working on its own, nor as the Legacy that it purports to be. The performances and the action are entertaining enough to buoy the film just above the surface, and if we want to see Greengrass and Damon back in the saddle, it should be seen, but beyond that, it's the first real let down of the blockbuster season.

Ted Review

Given that this is a Seth MacFarlane comedy, it's probably safe to assume that you've already made a decision as to whether or not you'll be seeing Ted. In fact, in all likelihood, you've rushed out and seen it already! Which makes reviewing it seem a little fruitless, but what the hey.

For those of you unsold on MacFarlane's unique comedy stylings, this isn't going to sway you onto him - the same scatological whimsy that is on display in his televisions shows pervades here, even so far as to cut to slightly silly asides that don't really hold any meaning beside being quite funny.

It is, however, a terrific setup, playing on the nostalgia of similar 80s/90s movies - you know the ones, modern fantasies that have a hint of magic, riffing on them beautifully with Walter Murohy's deliciously chintzy score, and a slightly serious, yet oft-distracted narration from Patrick Stewart that is the source of the film's first laughs.

Then there's the magic moment itself, and this is rather well built-upon, with Ted quickly becoming a celebrity, and then following the path of more than a few child stars as he grows up, retreating into obscurity

But what's really remarkable is that the film does indeed have a soul - strip away the ostensible gimmick of the animated cuddly toy as protagonist, and it would still work. It has something to say about friendship, love, obsession, parenting, and more, and as it explores these with coarsely poetic dialogue swirled into outlandish slacker melodrama - recalling Kevin Smith at his best - it creates characters that you can actually invest in. Come the denouement, when what the BBFC might refer to as 'mild peril' is introduced, you find yourself concerned for the wellbeing of a stuffed toy that you're not even sure can die, which is something of an achievement.

Whilst MacFarlane's direction is occasionally a little rudimentary, he never mishandles any particular aspect, though his talents are clearly more suited to some motes of live action over others. He does, however, drive it all forward himself with a great central performance as Ted, and his sense of comic timing also makes the overall transition to the big screen intact.

The rest of the cast a good too: Mila Kunis has already established herself as a good leading lady, and Mark Wahlberg makes for a capable foil, ensuring the story stays grounded. It's nice that there's also no traditional 'straight man' within the trio. Each take their turn, and this lends the dialogue an organic feel that serves to make the comedy rather satisfying. The supporting cast - bit part cameos as a majority - are all fun to spot, and each gets a nice few moments in the limelight. Most notable are Bill Smitrovich as Frank, Ted's manager - a bit of an oddball, but a memorable one - and Giovanni Ribisi as Ted's stalker, a character that was drawn from the same part of MacFarlane's mind as Herbert from Family Guy. Funny, but also mildly creepifying.

Ultimately, the film is simply good fun - tight editing eliminates dull moments, and MacFarlane's particular brand of comedy is as it ever was, and if it's your cup of tea, you'll find more than your share to like here. Certainly worth seeing.

The Dark Knight Rises Review

NOTE: I try to avoid spoilers, but one can always infer anything from anything, so be warned, ye Sherlock Holmes deductive reasoning types...anyway...LET'S DO THIS S**T!!

*trumpet fanfare*

If I had to sum up The Dark Knight Rises in one word - and I don't, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to try - it would be simply: monumental. If you go away from is review with one thing in your head, let it be that: monumental. How the film achieves this is, of course, the rub of this piece, but let's say it again: monumental.

For a film which, at least initially, wasn't really believed in - both by its creators and the public at large - Christopher Nolan has lost none of his meticulous approach to film-making, and, alongside the rest of the cast and crew, has crafted a film that not only completes a trilogy with a bold flourish, but serves as a monument to the Batman mythos, both in terms of this particular story, and the legend as an entity.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the story is that they've positioned it such a way that The Dark Knight can actually exist on its own. The only thing you need to know with regard to the second movie is that (actual spoiler alert) Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes are dead - nothing else carries over, and what does is conveniently replayed via flashback. This allows them to rather cleverly sidestep the problem of matching a matchless movie, and allows them to get on with finishing the story.

In these terms, the Nolan brothers, along with David Goyer, simply couldn't have done a better job. The story they've created is expansive, and yet never forgets where it came from, taking story threads from the first film and intertwining them with threads lifted straight from the comics. It forges new backstories for most of the newly introduced characters, and whilst the web produced might not sit comfortably with fans of the stories that this draws on, it's still an elegant stripping down of the mythos that fits perfectly - both tonally and thematically with its predecessors - and is fully self-contained.

Particularly impressive is the adaptation of Bane's character into the franchise. Whilst Ledger's Joker was a terrorist who 'just wants to watch the world burn' - representing our collective fear of the unpredictable nature of the psychologically unbalanced - Bane here is a force that's driven by belief in a cause, and a hatred of Batman so deep that you can smell it in his voice.

It's not quite revealed why until the denouement, but the tension generated by the build-up is capitalised on brilliantly, and that culminates in a scene that,as it progresses, builds a horrible sense of dread - and this is a monument to the characters and stories that have been crafted, that you feel such genuine concern for those on screen.

So having created a story that is essentially a duology with a Joker-based interlude in the middle, you have to set about filming it. And this, my friends, is where the truly spectacular stuff starts going down.

The action chops that Nolan honed on Inception are in full show here, and it's all captured with Wally Pfister's jaw-dropping IMAX cinematography. Set pieces bristle with iconic imagery throughout, and the fist fights are abrupt but bone-crunchingly satisfying, filmed with a broader stroke here than in the previous two.

Ferocious physical performances from all those involved also give the fights a harder, more immediate sense of threat than the previous films - and this is no small part of the above-mentioned dread-filled sequence. Tom Hardy in particular provides a predatory stalk to Bane that, coupled with his deeply unsettling vocal register, makes for a villain that is entirely different, but exactly as elementally terrifying as the late Mr Ledger's agent of chaos. Bale is still both a good Bruce Wayne and a good Batman, if only for the fact that the duality of the character has been mostly jettisoned. The scene-stealer is Anne Hathaway, though, smouldering dangerously as Selina Kyle, and pulling off a feline physicality without a single reference to cats. Then there's Joseph Gordon Levitt. To discuss his performance is to ruin the fun of it, so just keep an eye on him, yeah?

If there are problems, they arise only due to the scope of the vision. Despite never truly boring, the story sags a little in the middle under the weight of its own plot threads, and takes a little while to pull itself back together. One appearing character feels almost crowbarred in, and it is occasionally a little too pacily edited for its own good.

It's perhaps a little bit early to brand the film as the best of the series - a rewatch is in order, just to make sure it did all add up. But what's here is a terrifically exciting movie that only threatens to bore in a slightly overlong, Batman-free middle section, and considering the film is 2 hours and 45 minutes long, that this is only a threat is something of an achievement. The IMAX cinematography and the imaginative set pieces are the highlights, but it's also buckling at the seams with iconography that'll stand the test of time. See this monument. See it soon, and in as big a screen as you can.

Prometheus Review

So here it is, after a 10-year wait - so long absent from science-fiction, the man who brought us Alien and Blade Runner finally makes his return to the genre. Not just that, but a return to the Alien mythos - albeit reduced in significance when compared to the original concept for the film. Couple that with the a title that has all sorts of mythological subtext, and you have it: Prometheus. Sadly, the film is very much one of two halves.

The set-up is genuinely fantastic. Archaeologists discover a curious constellation of stars that crop up in the artwork of many different ancient cultures on Earth, despite it being impossible for them to have communicated with each other. There's also the fact that there's only one possible star cluster that matches, and those that made the drawings couldn't possibly have been able to see it. So a plan is made to send an expeditionary force to the cluster - and specifically, a life-supporting moon in orbit around a gas giant - to find out what's there, and why it seemed like we were being told to go there.

The first hour or so of the film's two-hour running time is dedicated to the set-up - motivating the characters, moving them to the aforementioned moon, and laying the framework for what initially promises to be a spectacular second and third act. Visually, it's absolutely breathtaking from the get go - the opening sequence is incredibly pure and thoughtful sci-fi, bringing to mind Arthur C Clarke's style of 'show, don't tell'. It offers no explanations - there's not a word dialogue - it just happens, and it's an incredibly arresting, disturbing and ultimately intriguing sequence that serves to make the set-up that little bit more effective.

That's not to say the rest of the film pales in comparison, with detailed, intricate special effects and a lovely contrast between the stark, industrial practicality of human technology compared with the organic, H R Geiger-designed and inspired alien architecture, an aesthetic brought over from the films that preceded it. The visuals are draped in Alien mythology, both overt and subtle, but never intrusive, and it's these design details, coupled with Scott's still-keen eye for the visually majestic, and Dariusz Wolski's gorgeous capturing of the really-quite-alien Icelandic landscapes, that give the film an incredibly rich visual palette.

The performances, too, are for the most part good, with the stand-outs being Idris Elba's ship captain Janek, Charize Theron's Vickers, the frosty commander of the mission, and Michael Fassbender's android David. It's Fassbender who truly steals the show, utterly nailing an unsettling, Lynchian vibe to the character. There's something not quite right about everything he does, and one of the film's better moments is a study of quite what androids get up to when all the humans are in hypersleep, although again, this appears in the film's first act.

Moving on to the second half, this is where the problems with the film start to raise their heads. For a group of individuals purporting to be on an expedition seeking out God himself - or the closest available substitute - the crew of the Prometheus do not make intelligent (or even semi-intelligent) decisions when under pressure. There's a lot of talking going on the first act - with the grand idea of finding the Creator being discussed with a decent level of intelligence and a dab of philosophy to boot and whilst this permeates the film, not a one of the character's actions in the second half reflects the grand plans made in the first.

In fact, not a one of their decisions make sense - all sorts of questionable behaviour abound, with characters not communicating with each other despite a pressing need to do so, and making immoral and bizarre choices that jeopardise both themselves and the crew, despite ostensibly acting in their own interests. Its not even a case of us, having seen the preceding films, being one step ahead of the characters - these people are on the frontier, light-years away from home, with the best communication technology imaginable, and they are simply not using it, logic be damned.

There are some lovely moments - moments drenched in the mythology, moments of fascinatingly awful body horror, and moments of pulse-pounding adrenaline, but the decisions that chain them together simply don't smack of a crew who could ever or even should ever have been put together. Perhaps this is one of the movie's points - that putting together this sort of mission requires more than 2 years planning and a bit of money thrown at it - but in a world where horror and sci-fi tropes get subverted as often as they get played straight, in a film like this, intelligent characters making intelligent decisions is a must, and there's a distinct lack of this in Prometheus' second and third acts.

There's other minor irritations, such as a dearth of actual answers to both questions we had before, and those that were raised whilst watching the film; the awkward, unnecessary international casting follies - Englishman playing American? Swede and Australian playing Brits? Really? Idris Elba did't need to be American; Noomi Rappace didn't need to be British; Guy Pearce didn't need to be in the film at all but for that one TED 2023 viral that went out. But perhaps the most irritating of all is a piece of body horror involving a robotic surgery machine that is well played visually, but is stymied thematically by an irrelevant contrivance in its build-up that is almost entirely endemic of the film having had its script drastically over-hauled during production.

For a film that had so much riding on it - both in terms of audience expectation, and in terms of the mythology driving it - the finished product is something of a mixed bag. The visuals impress, the attention to detail is astonishing - subtly integrating the film into Alien canon, whilst never dictating the direction of the plot - and as has already been said, the first hour of the film is a masterclass in setting the scene. But the sheer lunacy of some of the characters decisions, the lingering smell of grinning incompetence over the finale and a plethora of other oddities that all exclusively stem from weak writing in the second and third acts means the story lacks resonance, and without this, the film ultimately fails to engage properly. See it for the visuals and the deepening of the Alien mythos - even if it does raise more questions than it answers. Just temper your expectations of the story being told around it.