Chronicle Review

Found footage is a gimmick that, for a lot of people, does not bode well. Representative of either extreme, vomit-inducing shakey-cam, or just general rubbishness - and yes, I'm looking at you, Blair Witch. But there are those of us who have a penchant for first-person shenanigans - and we've been richly rewarded for our tolerance with excellent movies such as Cloverfield and the first Paranormal Activity. And it's this subset of the population that will almost immediately fall in love with Chronicle.

Telling the story of an unpopular kid named Andrew, who acquires a 'old' video camera to not only create a barrier between himself and the real world, but also to document the systematic abuse that he suffers at the hands of his father. The trials of high school life inevitably get in the way, though, and he, his cousin and the most popular kid at school find themselves in a strange underground cave, where a glowing rock formation pulses with energy, and subsequently knocks them out. They wake up above ground, with no recollection of what happened - but whatever it was, they now have telekinetic abilities, and the film explores quite what the average high-school student might do in this predicament.

For reasons that'll become clear further down, let's start with heaping the praise on it. 

Story-wise, it's not the most original premise, but what it does have is a fresh take on the usual formula of the every-man superhero story. It's a flipside of Kick-Ass and Super's coin - or  rather, it strips the usual superhero story of the 'hero' part, rather than the 'super' part. Filtering this through the rogues gallery of the American high-school is both ingenious and a no-brainer, and whilst it's been done before, in a year where Marvel and DC will be showboating with their primary film franchises, this is refreshingly small and simple, with a character-driven story that pushes forward at exactly the right pace. Story-turns - super-power granting rocks aside - never seem contrived, and the dialogue crackles with authenticity.

It's also wonderfully performed by the core ensemble - with Michael B Jordan (of The Wire fame) putting in a particularly good performance, turning the popular, class-president archetype into an intriguing study in empathy: his Steve's ingratiation with Dane DeHaan and Alex Russell's losers not simply down to their single shared experience, but as the act of a genuinely kind individual. DeHaan escalates his performance as Andrew remarkably, and whilst Russell, playing the main character's stoner cousin, takes a little while to get warmed up, by the end, you're hardly holding it against him.

So, all this praise under advisement, you can now understand my full meaning when I say that somewhere in here, there is a far, far better movie. The sad fact of the matter is that what prevents it from better is also its core gimmick - the found footage stylings. Had they transitioned between found footage and more traditionally cinematic shots in the manner of District 9, this could've been genuinely one of the best superhero movies in years. 

There are attempts at this towards the end, but it never actually emerges from within the found footage box, and because of this, they have to come up with more and more contrived reasons to have cameras in the frame. Don't get me wrong - the manner in which they tackle it is ingenious, and there is a commentary about quite how often, in the digital age, there is someone with a camera watching you, but the sense of contrivance never goes away. There's also a bit of awkwardness in the finale thanks to this, where there's a series of transitions between cameras in the action and the news helicopter that's trying to document it. The odd shift in audio dynamic as the view flicks between these two points mars what is otherwise an exhilarating set piece.

There're a few moments of odd dialogue that clunk a little, a couple of dubious directorial decisions and a few ropey special effects scattered about, but these aren't really noticeable thanks to the lightning fast pacing. The plot is a little sign-posted in terms of predictability, and it's incredibly streamlined, with a run-time of a mere 83 minutes. It doesn't make it any less satisfying, thanks to the relatively fresh angle, but a cynic might brand it simplistic were he to skip breakfast the day he saw it.

All-in-all, it's tough to criticise something that's as technically proficient, visually engaging and thoroughly entertaining as this. The previous criticisms have been pondered for a good while before committing to t'internet, and even now I'm struggling to really justify them. It's a real cinema movie too- sparklingly clear visuals combining with a soundtrack whose bass rattles bones, engrossing you in the experience. There is that niggling sensation that a better movie could've been made given more money and more time, but it's just not enough to derail it. A fresh, darkly intriguing take on the superhero formula, and a great action movie to boot, we can only hope round two is bigger and bolder - because what a treat we'd be in for.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

 

I think I can safely say that not a lot of us were expecting to enjoy the original Sherlock Holmes as much as we did. Whilst the entire prospect may have been somewhat appealing - Sherlock, is of course, a classic character - but the constituent elements may have caused the more sniffy amongst us to question its value. 'Hot as shit right now' American actor Robert Downey Jr. in the title role? An out-of-form Jude Law in support? A recently lambasted Guy Ritchie in the directors chair? This, coupled with the debut of the excellent modern update from the BBC meant that the cynical amongst us - and yes, that included me - might've thought this would amount to a rather disastrous cocktail. But come together it did, and majestically so, with its family-friendly, mischevious sense of humour blending perfectly with an intriguing, gothic-inspired story to create a surprise Christmas treat.

The box office takings were hardly insignificant either, and thus along rolls the rather inevitable sequel. But - in the spirit of the Empire striking back - we must ask: is it better than the first one?

Unfortunately, the rather inevitable answer is no. But it does come with some rather large caveats - namely the fact that it's more or less exactly as good.

There are some losses as it transitions into franchisedom - gone is the mystically gothic vibe of the first, Rachel MacAdams and the slightly looser structuring in favour of a tightly-paced, action-oriented flick with a villain whose primary weapon is economics. That and...y'know...predictive kung-fu. The mystery here seems all the less mysterious, and it's open to debate whether the film is better for it.

If you like your action at least considered, then you'll find a lot to like here. The idea of Holmes running a fight through his analytical mind is beautifully toyed with in this one, as he's not coming up against run-of-the-mill fighters now. There does come a moment where the switching between slow-motion and normal speed starts to feel a little gimmicky, but it never really comes to a head, and the fact of the matter is that it looks fantastic - if nothing else, Guy Ritchie has a fantastic eye for tensely directed action. Set pieces abound, and they're all immensely entertaining, from Watson attempting to conduct a rescue of Holmes under sniper-fire, and subsequently coming up with a rather...destructive solution to it, to a cross-dressing, train-based caper that brings about belly-laughs as well as getting the adrenaline flowing.

The story - whilst disappointingly dropping the mystical angle - is still tight and well conceived, and not a plot-hole in sight. It does occasionally feel a little contrived in its attempts to make the adventure a globe-trotting one when it could've easily been contained once again within London, with a brief foray to Reichenbach to cap it off. But this is easy to overlook, as in exchange we get a far grander plot that never drags and keeps the scenery interesting.

The chemistry between Downey Jr. and Law is still one of the main selling points, though, and they evolve the relationship beautifully. Holmes starts off, once again, having introverted himself due to a lack of an interesting case, and it's up to Watson to balance his affection for Holmes and that for his soon-to-be wife. The dialogue is as joyously tongue-in-cheek as it was in the first one, and Downey Jr's particular brand of 'insane genius' is, I must say, most appealing and engaging, and there's a certain joy to be had from the interplay between this and the more grounded intelligence of Watson that the screenwriters have done a fantastic job of capitalising on.

Elsewhere, Noomi Rappace, whilst good, feels almost entirely peripheral as Gypsy queen Simza, there almost as a MacGuffin that appears to have been accidentally made into an important player only right at the very end of the movie. Stephen Fry is great as Mycroft - or Mikey, as he's known in this interpretation. Whilst there's little familial resemblance, Fry plays off Downey Jr. rather wonderfully - QI's good and all, but he slips into Mycroft's shoes rather comfortably, and I distinctly remember wishing that he was in it more. It's a little let down by a relatively forgettable turn by Jared Harris in the nemesis role, though this could actually be interpreted as intentional - ultimately, the entire point of Moriarty's plan is that he's never implicit or even remembered in the war that his schemings creates. It's just that he's perhaps a little too successful, and this is actually, and oddly, to the film's credit.

All in all, this is a fantastic continuation of the now set-in-stone franchise. Richie does seem to have found another niche that he can operate rather well within, and the characterisations are utterly enthralling. Throw in some great performances, a wonderfully clever script and a neat twist on 'The Final Problem', and this is a sequel that for once doesn't disappoint.

SOPA/PIPA

Ladies and gentlemen. In lieu of my more light-hearted pieces, for once I'd like to address a serious issue.

If you're not already, please get up to speed on the bullshit that's currently attempting to crimp its way through the American justice system - to bills: the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) and the Protect Intellectual Property Act (PIPA):

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-16628143
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-16646023
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stop_Online_Piracy_Act

I'm no pirate, but these ambiguous laws, if passed, will see the end of the Internet as we know it, both the bad parts AND the truly wonderful parts. This won't just affect the USA either, this'll have serious ramifications globally, both cultural and economic.

We need to make it clear that as a species, we will not stand for the global suppression of free speech and the systematic invasion of privacy that these bills would result in. The creative industry - and I speak as one of their number - need to learn that the onus is on *them* to pursue breaches of copyright, not on governments, internet service providers or individual websites that, as a by-product of providing a useful service to the masses, inadvertently enable pirates to go about their shady business.

It's like attempting to win the war on drugs by banning the wearing of shoes. It hurts everybody.

Intellectual property owners already have more than enough power - they have the ability to have a British citizen extradited to New York for breach of copyright. Isn't that enough?

The question we should be asking ourselves is this: why should we be forced to give up one of the great achievements of humanity - and yes, I rank the internet up there with landing on the moon, sliced bread, Firefly and the wheel - just because of a few douchebags use it to serially avoid paying for things? Should we give up language just because Scottish people swear a bit too much? Should we give up singing because of Nichole337? I think not. Censoring or banning these things hurts everbody. And if the creative industry want to go running to Daddy-government because tracking down pirates is 'too haaaaard!' then fuck them, the lazy pricks. I feel almost ashamed to be associated with them.

If you, intellectual property owners, would like to coax us, the consumers, into buying your product - make it worth buying. DVD extras, the experience of the cinema, additional but non-essential content for video games - I can go on. If they don't want to put the effort in, we must show that we won't tolerate the childish tantrum that SOPA and PIPA represent.

Pressure your bosses to pressure their bosses until the company you work for takes a stand against it, even if they have no internet presence whatsoever. Local representatives, Facebook, Twitter, your local newspaper, national newspapers, pubs, clubs, dives, squats, bedsits, kitchens, bars, hallways, lecture theatres and living rooms everywhere, get talking about it. Let's stand up for ourselves, and demand that the internet - in all it's majesty and depravity - be left exactly as it is.

Because ultimately, the internet reflects us as a society. Perhaps if governments focussed on tackling society's problems, then maybe we can set about solving the internet's problems too.

Oh yeah, and DVDs that I've bought or rented legitimately - don't fucking tell me that it's illegal to download this product. I know! That's why I bloody bought it!!!!!! YOU JERK!


Also some may recognise echoes of Jim Sterling's rant on the Escapist - I not only realise but openly admit that I am simply conforming to Jim's request at the end of the video. It is intentional, I make fuck all money from this blog and please don't sue me! Kthnxbai.

I Want My Money! Or:...

Or: How The Old Republic Engaged a Cynic

Or^2: How Bioware Put the RPG Back into MMORPG

Or^3: Star Wars: The Old Republic Review

Okay, first of all, a quick foreword to this - this is the longest non-fiction piece I've ever written. So...y'know...go with it.


I'll come out of the cupboard for a moment to admit that I don't get MMOs really. Yeah, the likes of World of Warcraft, Age of Conan, and EVE Online are all incredible pieces of software – with EVE in particular getting my seal of approval thanks to its outrageously deep economic system – but I've never really seen the appeal.

I get bored of – well, not bored;I'm done with – a game usually after around two or three months, with intermittent periods of intense attention paid to the latest triple-A shooter release. It's around this time that I feel I've received my money's worth back from the developer, that they've fulfilled their end of the contract by providing me with a world or scenario that I can get caught up in.

With MMOs, they are intrinsically designed as time sinks – and skip this part if you're familiar with these kinds of games, as the following statement may contain some uncomfortable truths. Everything is deliberately protracted, from the occasionally ludicrous distances that you have to make your avatar travel just to receive a quest reward, to the sheer logistical nightmare that is organising groups to tackle the high-level areas (or raiding, to the WoW enthusiast), it takes time to get literally anywhere.

Content that might be in the first four hours or so of an ordinary RPG is stretched out over the course of days of gameplay, not just hours. Requirement after requirement piles up, and constant rewards are dangled in front of you should you meet them. Just one more hour, and you can have that awesome sword! There's some psychoanalytical angle here regarding Skinner boxes and operant conditioning, but Google – and in particular, a little webshow called Extra Credits; look it up – explains it in far more detail then I ever could.

There are inherent strengths of the MMO, though. The key is the second M – multiplayer. I'm a fan of multiplayer – in particular, cooperative multiplayer. There's something about shared effort to tackle a challenge that is a lot more satisfying than breezing through it on your own. After all, human beings are social creatures – so I'm told... - and we like working together to accomplish things. MMOs have this down pat, of course – nuturing an atmosphere of cooperative competion as guilds, coorporations and factions fight it out for dominance.

Tangentially, a key facet of gaming – and yes, I'm including all forms, not just video games - is that the medium itself is an inherently ingenious method of storytelling. Having someone progress a story through their own decisions? No other medium asks so much of the person experiencing it, and this is one of the many reasons that gaming maintains a constant presence in my life. I find the method of story-telling fascinating, to the extent that I'm willing to forgive a game technical flaws – though not that many, Fallout 3 – difficulty frustrations and flat gameplay in favour of a well-told story.

My favourite game of all time, at present? Red Dead Redemption. One of the buggiest games released last year. Flying cowboys, horses in walls, weird physics – it didn't matter. I adored every moment that I spent as John Marston. The quirky characters, the wonderfully epic plot and the earthy, endearing tone with which it was told. I would liken it to being told a tall tale by a weathered old gent, sat next to a campfire, strumming a few melancholy chords on a battered guitar as the heavens seem to listen in. It was genuinely magical.

Conversely, you can have among the most meticulously detailed and well-crafted stories currently being told, along with gameplay so deep there's entire encyclopedias dedicated to delving its crevaces; but if you fail to tell it in an engaging manner, it becomes more like a poorly taught history class. You sit there, getting battered by facts, figures, politics, plot points and a whole host of other nonsense that you don't really care about. You're just there because you need a decent grade.

This is where the protracted nature of MMOs comes to bite them in the backside – you cannot tell an engaging story through the medium of dialogue pop-ups. Not when the time between these pop-ups is being excessively padded with lengthy walks, irritating minor enemies that bite at your heels and long waits attempting to cobble together something resembling an effective four-man team.

Ask me what the story of World of Warcraft is, and I genuinely couldn't tell you. Something about the Horde coming out from somewhere, and the Alliance being none too happy about that. But the fine details? I have no idea. And I played that game for three months. I ended up on autopilot, not even registering the flavour text as I accept quests. Where do I go? What do I kill? Do I need help? Those were the three things that mattered. Everything else was just so much hot air.

Now, ask me what the story of The Old Republic is – and yes, we're finally getting to the point of this article. Well done for getting this far!

To date - and this is just for one of my characters – I (or Jayk, as I have dubbed him) has...

(I promise, I won't go into too much detail!)

…landed on a planet called Ord Mantell with a cargo-hold full of munitions. Before I could deliver my cargo, I had my ship stolen, and in an attempt to locate quite where it'd gone, I found myself embroiled in the local conflict between the authorities and a separatist movement. Admid the chaos, I teamed up with another smuggler named Corso Riggs, who proved invaluable in a fight, and also had connections to the criminal underworld. Through him, I met a kingpin, and in exchange for using his information network to track down the thief who stole my ship, Skavak, I provided my services as a gun for hire.

Whilst out doing these errands, I saved a few orphans and the lone doctor protecting them from the anarchy, I gathered some valuable intelligence for a Republic spy, saved at least three different lives and generally made a bit of a name for myself as a man who can get things done.

After a few intense gunbattles, - and declaring myself a 'Scoundrel' - I chased Skavak to the city-planet Coruscant. Through the connections I'd made – and again, in exchange for a few favours which saw me fighting for my life against the notorious Black Sun criminal organisation - I finally was able to waylay Skavak whilst he was attempting to make a deal with some Imperial spies. Defeating them, Skavak escapes by the skin of his teeth, and has the cheek to contact me with threats of 'hunting me down'.

My ship now firmly back in my possession – and my protocol droid C2-N2 dithering at every possible moment - I've got an entire galaxy to explore. And there's a strange woman in my cargo hold. I should probably go ask her what she's doing there...

The point is, I know what's going on. My character has a story. My characters have never had stories when I play MMOs. Yeah, I pick their race, their gender, and I control them for a bit, during which they forge some kind of loose-knit, jumbled narrative. But they don't have actual character traits.

My smuggler does. Yes, other smugglers will have the same major plot-points. But no experience will be identical – what I've described above is but the prologue of my story, and what makes it special is that I, the gamer, have written my own flavour text. The minor story beats that connect the major ones are my decisions, and that makes this particular story, the story of Jayk, mine.

This appeals to the very heart of my gaming fascination, and this is in no small part due to Bioware's mastery of video games as a medium for story-telling. There is no one aside from perhaps Rockstar who does it as consistently brilliantly as they do – even their recent misfire, Dragon Age II, was rarely criticised for being poorly told; instead, criticisms were focused on the stripped down nature of the gameplay, and the relatively limited scope of the setting.

I am not going to stand here and claim that Bioware have revolutionised the genre. The MMO is still standing on ground unbroken – the same tediums that plague WoW and EVE abound in The Old Republic.

What Bioware have done, though, is provide us with their take on the genre, by adding the single flourish of an entirely player-driven, constantly evolving and changing narrative. But not just that – every single character that you can speak to has a voice, has an opinion, has an intriguing quirk. I could go on about the great script, the fantastic voice work or the wonderful way that the individual stories of players magically intertwine through wonderfully staged 'flashpoints', and how Bioware have done for story what CCP did for player-driven economy with EVE. But I'm going to skip ahead ever so slightly to the very crux of the matter, as I've been yammering on for a bit now.

It reminds me of old times. I know, I know, it's ridiculous for someone in his very late early twenties to refer to any times as old times, but go with me. When I was a slightly awkward social pariah of a teenager, I had a few refuges from an insistent world. One was video games, but the other was tabletop roleplaying games.

Playing The Old Republic feels like I'm back there – only I'm privileged enough to have one of my idols, my heroes, serving as the story-teller. Particularly, and this really is the entire point of this article, when I'm playing with my wonderful friends Al and Nathaniel.

They were two of the folk whom socially debased themselves enough to partake in Dungeons and Dragons, the D20 Modern RPG and the Star Wars Roleplaying Game, and so there's of course the 'nostalgia' value to that, but there's also more to it.

When you play with friends, the game very cleverly involves all players in any given conversation with a non-player character. You're all there – each with your own unique character and perspective, and a deeply embedded (thanks to the prologue) idea of who your character is. Then it throws some chaos into the mix – randomly determining who, of the players involved, gets to actually speak and control the conversation.

Initially, you'd think this would create conflict, but it's a subtle mechanic that works incredibly well. You receive points and bonuses as if you answered with your own response – so ultimately, you can't be forced to accept perceived penalties if you don't want to - but the physical nature of the story plays on the whims of a random dice roll.

To wit, I was playing with Nathaniel. I've got my mildly gung-ho smuggler on the go, and Nat is controlling a Jedi named Kai-Lai. We're doing a story-driven scenario – one of the above mentioned 'flashpoints' - whereby we must defend a ship from an attacking Imperial cruiser. Now, after all is said and done, and we've had a bit of a laugh at my smuggler's cocky attitude juxtaposed against the wall of tranquility and compassion that is the Jedi, eventually it comes the point where we're to be rewarded.

Now, being a cocky smuggler, I initially headed for the 'About bloody time' option. But then I paused, and realised that I didn't want to look bad in front of the Jedi. I mused a moment on why I was doing this - realising that points must be given to Bioware for actually making me give two hoots about what path my Smuggler follows, even if it'll only matter to me personally.

Regaining control of my senses, and subsequently the mouse, I clicked the option that, to paraphrase, would've said 'That's very nice of you. Thank you!'.

Only to be foiled. The game rolled the dice, and Kai-Lai won with an impressive 135 to my measly 17. 'There is no need for a reward,' she said serenely, 'service to the Republic and her people is reward enough.' Then some nonsense about giving it to someone who deserves it more. Only I'm not listening.

Because my smuggler really wanted those credits. He's got speeder bikes to buy! Caught up in this tidal wave of character-based angst, we proceeded to have a relatively long conversation where I wasn't certain if we were in character or out of character. Essentially...

I want my money!!!!

Of course, I'm kidding really – I'm not actually going to full-on demand the money from Nat. Instead, we've generated a memorable moment that we can reference in future story beats. And in truth, that's probably how I would've written the scene, were I tasked with it.

But what gets me is how true a roleplaying moment that was. Nathaniel could've easily stuck to the mindset of previous MMOs - 'I must have my reward', which I had only adhered to because my character's dialogue options, coupled with my predisposition towards Han Solo-esque bravado, had inclined me to do so.

There're three moments there that prove how true a roleplaying experience The Old Republic is. My rethinking of my dialogue choice based solely on an ultimately inconsequential detail; Kai-Lai's adherence to the Jedi moral code; and finally my reaction to it.

Without even realising it, and for no in-game benefit – only me and Nathaniel will ever care about those decisions and that turn of the dice – we both found ourselves roleplaying our characters properly. It was as if we were fifteen again, huddled around those forever multiplying rulebooks, grinning with satisfaction as we played through a particularly satisfying set piece that we had sculpted ourselves. It was genuinely magical.

Yes, there are occasional moments where the immersion is broken. There's an attempt to prevent characters of the same class – and thus, similar back-stories – from mingling in their personal quests, which goes a long way to encouraging you to team up with players of other classes, which in turn results in a fuller experience. But the fact that it's a multiplayer game means that every so often you'll see another smuggler who's got the same companion and equipment as you, and the prologue occasionally feels a little crowded in this regard. But it's not game-breaking – and given the circumstances a mere smudge on the gemstone.

From the get-go, Bioware throw you into an entirely different state of mind to most MMOs. You have a story. Yes, other players will have a similar story – but it's given extra meaning and weight not just by the fantastic, player-driven story-telling, but by the friends and even strangers that you experience it with.

This is why, in my opinion, The Old Republic – for all its conformity to genre tropes gameplay-wise – is still a complete triumph. It doesn't revolutionise anything, nor is it the most technically adept of the current line-up of MMOs. What it is is entirely engaging – eight unique character stories, masterfully intertwined with an over-arching plot of grand galactic conflict. Industry take heed – story-telling this brilliant isn't solely confined to single player. This is the bar – let's set about meeting it.

Green Lantern Review

Every so often, a movie comes along that utterly stumps me. Green Lantern was one of those films - all the constituent elements for a rollicking good time are present. Great director? Check. Decent writing team? Check. Reasonably good choice of thespians for the leads, villains and supporting character? Triple check. So how on earth did they manage to create such a thin-on-the-ground, back-end of the middle-of-the-road flick?

The answer to this question lies entirely at the script level, and perhaps with the ‘we accidentally threw too much money at it’...thing. There is literally no excuse for scripting this bad, particularly given the pedigree of both the character and the writing team – and the thing that seems to have eluded the production team is that you can’t solve the problems with your script by adding another gargantuan, effects-driven set piece.

Here is a story that has fewer plot points than Star Wars, and yet a thousand times more special effects shots - boiling down decades of mythology both intriguing and fatuous into a mere three story turns and a few bombastic action sequences. There aren't even any twists - it progresses exactly as you might expect, with about as many surprises as a night in with spaghetti Bolognese (what's this?!?! Mushrooms?!?! Oh no, wait..it's just more meat...).

So indeed, our jocky, vaguely arrogant hero learns the ways of the Green Lanterns from a slightly dead purple alien, learns some humility, and then beats up a big, bad alien menace, and ends up getting the girl. But there is literally just wiffle connecting them – ending up as something the Jesus of Suburbia might’ve stitched together, seventeen hours after his last Ritalin dose.

The most telling of these editing nightmares is the ‘training sequence’ that takes place on the Planet Oa. The scene skits fitfully from one character training our hero to another, and it’s in real time. After fifteen minutes of this schizophrenic character dropping, Hal is more-or-less shipped off back to Earth with a pat on the backside. It’s clearly an attempt at fan service, but ends up as more of an insult – making out that this intergalactic police force just hands its power rings out and says 'off you go', despite some earnest efforts to convince us to the contrary.

What’s worse, the entire thing – from the script to the staging - stinks of a certain Tom Cruise movie that involved an arrogant fighter pilot learning some humility. The only thing it’s missing is…y’know…the deeply homoerotic vibe, and even that would’ve at least given this kitsch appeal.

Still, it could’ve resulted in an element of simplicity that had the potential to be vaguely refreshing – Top Gun was hardly a bad film, after all - but it's rendered inert by a complete lack of interesting, connected characters (and yes, that is when compared to Top Gun). Ryan Reynolds does his best with the flaccid script, but ultimately just comes off as a set of teeth hovering in front of a green screen. Blake Lively's Carol Ferris is perhaps the dullest human being ever, let alone the dullest supporting female of all time. Tim Robbins and Mark Strong are completely wasted in roles that are almost entirely peripheral, with the latter’s potential for villainship clearly held back in a ‘we’ll definitely get a sequel!’ move. But the final, crippling blow is Peter Saarsgard's utterly, atrociously awful performance as red-herring villain Hector Hammond. Fine actor though he may be, he attempts to ham it up Anthony Hopkins style, and instead comes across as a screeching, irritating wet fish of a villain, who is ultimately and entirely brushed aside come the big climax.

Okay, so I’m assaulting it a bit here – it certainly wasn’t without its merits. Strong was actually really quite good as Sinestro, and Reynolds, had he had a better plot and stronger writing to work with, would’ve been actually a surprisingly good choice for Hal Jordan, as even in these shambling proceedings, he manages to nail the transition from bastard to do-gooder. The effects are impressively done (when they aren’t completely overwhelming the screen, that is), and there’s an element of fun to be had in all of the set pieces – particularly one that sees him saving a crashing helicopter, which allows Martin Campbell to really flex his action muscles.

It’s just so bloody insubstantial, at the end of the day. There’s so little to it, and yet it lasts for the better part of two hours, with the majority of the film spent faffing about. Had it not been so cynically sequel-driven, or even had a script better than this Top-Gun-with-superpowers knock-off, it could’ve been a decently entertaining movie. As it stands, it’s a sporadically enjoyable, yet ultimately empty affair. The Green Lantern genuinely deserved better than this – some of the most intriguing, integral stories of the DC universe have just been allowed to fizzle out. Let’s hope they still greenlight (hah!) a sequel. Is it way too early to consider a reboot? With distinctly less money thrown at it, and Mark Strong as the main villain? Probably…ah well.

Contagion Review

Love him or hate him (or, in the case of the Ocean's trilogy, be utterly bemused by him), Stephen Soderbergh is one of those rare directors who, rather than leaving a trademark visual and narrative style, adapts himself to the subject matter as required. Don't believe me? Just go to IMDb, and have a look at his back catalogue. Ignoring sequels (oh please, for the love of God, ignore those sequels), it's incredibly varied, from sci-fi, to biopics, by way of heist movies and historical dramas.Only Peter Weir can claim to be as much of a cinematic chameleon. And now, Soderbergh can add pandemic flick to the list of sub-genres that he's mastered. If I were a director, I'd be green with envy at his eclectic back catalogue. As a critic, I'm simply impressed.

Contagion starts sparsely - there're no title cards, no opening credits, it simply opens with Gwyneth Paltrow in an airport and 'Day Two' in simple text at the bottom of the screen, and this simplicity is what pervades the film from start to finish. There's no focus on fancy cinematography, no impressive camera tricks, no complex motivations or back stories. The focus of the film is on two things - the virus itself and the effort to contain it, the human beings caught up in its wake.

If there is a single common theme to be found between this and Soderbergh's other films, it has the most in common with that depressathon drugs parable Traffic - interconnected stories, linked by character interaction. But here, Soderbergh capitlises on the idea of formite transmission as the connection between the story threads - the fact that what's linking them could be as simple as a handshake, or even that they grabbed the same safety rail on a bus.

Okay, I may have lied when I said no impressive camera tricks. There is just one, and it's a deceptively simply one - clever use of focus. Rarely are we shown the big picture - instead, we've presented with essentially what amounts to a series of close-ups, seeing characters facial expressions, the panic or resolve in their eyes, and most importantly, what they touch with their hands. Presented with the astonishing fact that the average human being touches their face a few thousand times a day, you'll find yourself paying more attention to a character's hands than to the medical jargon or panicked babbling that's exuding from their face, and this is entirely facilitated by Soderbergh's minimalist cinematography.

Obviously, this would fall apart without strong verbal and physical performances. Matt Damon and Lawrence Fishburne form the emotional core of the ensemble - the former a father who finds himself immune to the disease and attempting to defend what remains of his decimated family from the virus, the latter a put-upon CDC head-honcho who slips up and is forced to pay for it through the nose. Marion Cotillard, Gwyneth Paltrow, and this reviewer's personal favourite Kate Winslet all shine too. If there's a weak link, it's two-fold. First Jude Law's spot on, but utterly confounding Australian accent. Quite why either a) he couldn't be British, or b) they didn't cast an Australian actor, is utterly mystifying. Still, Law does a good enough job, and it's only really a quibble that occurred to me after the film had finished. The second is that the ensemble cast is so very expansive that some characters never get a satisfactory amount of screen time - Cotillard, in particular, vanishes for the middle to late third of the film. But again, this only really occured to me afterwards.

To sum up - engrossing is the word that I would use to describe the film. It's being sold as a thriller, but it very rarely thrills, instead, it's incredibly intense, beautifully written (with a few zingers too: 'Blogging? That's just graffiti with puncuation!' Fucking OUCH!), and above all, entirely absorbing. It's not necessarily a movie that you'll enjoy, but it's an interesting 21st century take on an old chestnut that works incredibly well. Catch it on the biggest screen you can.

The Three Musketeers Review

If you're an avid fan of this blog - all five of you... - then you'll know that I'm rather keen on surprises, particularly when it comes to movies. Good surprises are my favourite, but obviously there're bad ones out there too, and one must be prepared for both eventualities, especially when you go in to a movie with rather heavy expectations. It's perhaps as much a shock to me as it might be to you that actually, against all the odds, I ended up having a huge amount of fun with The Three Musketeers.

I'm going to dedicate an entire paragraph of this review to the film critic in me that wears a top hat and monocle, and snarfs derisively at the so-called 'tosh' that frequently excuses itself as mainstream cinema these days. Artistically speaking, this movie has practically zero merit - every single shot is derivative of some other, frequently better movie, with director Paul WS Anderson riffing on everything from 300 to Master and Commander, and stopping at every station in between, including a reference to Anderson's own Resident Evil franchise. The dialogue frequently and unceremoniously thuds. There's the bizarre decision to give every 'French' person a British accent, except D'Artagnan, who is saddled with Logan Lerman's smarmy, smug American mannerisms. The story has almost inexcusably been compromised beyond recognition, driven by producer-fueled delusions that it might not sell Stateside. That Alexandre Dumas didn't rise from his grave in search of brain-munching vengeance is perhaps a small mercy...

But about 30 minutes into the movie, this particular aspect of my personality was given pause, and the rest of me spent three minutes ignoring the film, attempting to figure out quite what had silenced him so thoroughly. Then it hit me - the ridiculous choice of accents, the knowing winks to pop culture, the outlandish twists on an established story, the vaguely plastic sheen to the set and costume design, the outrageous moustache twirling of Orlando Bloom and Christophe Waltz as the villains.

This is a bloody pantomime!

Then it started to happen - I started to have fun, and by the time James Corden was on stage...sorry, screen, offering the rest of the cast some cheese, I was having an absolute ball.Yes, it dances a merry jig on Dumas' grave. Yes, for whatever reason, Anderson saw fit to add fucking airships into the fray. But somehow, it emerges as a schlocky, silly piece of genuinely fun cinema, that entertains whilst it's there, and will instantly be forgotten.

There are problems with it, mostly stemming from the moments when it takes itself a little too seriously - it features a grave performance from Matthew MacFadyen as Athos that frequently seems out of place given that there are fucking airships that shoot fire from dragon-shaped cannons. It's more the writers' fault than MacFadyen's, and when he is allowed to join in on the fun, he shines wonderfully.

Then there's Logan Lerman. A fine young actor though he might be - but he's utterly, utterly miscast in the lead(-ish) role. Had he been replaced by a young British actor in keeping with the rest of the cast (or at the very least, been forced to adopt the accent) the smarm might've come across as slyly ironic. Alas, we'll never know.

Still, there's so much on show that is genuinely enjoyable. From the mentioned fire-shooting airships (which subsequently do battle and, in one of the movie's most joyous pieces of silliness, end up crashing into Notre Dame), to beautifully choreographed and shot sword-fights, you can't say that Anderson doesn't have an eye for outrageous (say it with a French accent!) set pieces.

The cast - for the most part, at least - seem to have cottoned on to the nature of the film as well, and have tongues firmly planted in cheek as they bounce across the screen. As mentioned, Orlando Bloom belies his usual wooden performances to bring a villain so deliciously, ridiculously evil and pompous you just can't help but chuckle every time he's on screen. Luke Evans is great as Aramis, and Ray Stephenson is essentially doing a pantomime version of Titus Pullo from Rome as his interpretation of Porthos, which is exactly as fun as it sounds.

So...you'll have noticed my overuse of a certain three-letter word in this review: fun. The movie is by no means good. But it is fun, and a lot of it. Get a few beers in you, see it with other movie-loving mates, and you'll have a ball. Just leave the top hat and monocle at the door, yeah?

Minecraft Boredom

So! Minecraft 1.8 came out. It's awesome - it feels much more 'game-y' now, if you get what I mean.

Anyways, I've been making maps and exploring (on Easy mode, because I'm a pansy). The below picture is how far I've gotten.

Essentially, I made a nether portal at the centre of map_0. I then went into the nether, and went a rather large distance north (or at least, what I thought was north - east is at the top of the map...like dwarves!). I then built a nether portal, and emerged in the centre of map 2. The aim of the game is to connect map_0 to map_2 in the real world. And we shall see what I find as I go!

I'll upload pics of anything interesting that I find, as well as anything I build and an updated map every so often. Enjoy :D

Super 8 Review

A while back, in my review of the Star Trek reboot, I may have spurted that JJ Abrams is well on his way to becoming Spielberg Mk II. If Super 8 is to be believed, he’s pretty much pulled off that little coup – it’s a movie that resonates with Spielberg’s influence, from the beautiful, shot-on-film texture to the wonderfully weighted story, this is a wonderfully entertaining movie.

Ostensibly telling the tale of a group of kids trying to make a zombie movie on a Super-8 camera, it inevitably turns sinister when the kids accidentally capture a catastrophic train cash. Attempting to use the subsequent, unexplained military lockdown as a backdrop for their movie, the find themselves and their parents tangled further and further in fracas involving a strange, belligerent creature that seems to have been released from the crash.

It’s most certainly a perfect blend of both Spielberg’s heart and Abrams’ head. Told almost entirely from the perspective of the kids, it’s a clear riff on the Goonies-style kids-in-over-their-heads formula, with each of the wonderfully played children having a distinct and intriguing personality, with motivations to act beyond simple desire to survive. Joel Courtney and Elle Fanning are particular revelations, though this is one of those rare movies where the kids ensemble outshines the adults.

It’s also really quite well written, with what might be clichéd or entirely outlandish lines given a cute twist by filtering them through the language and mannerisms of early teenagers. Choice lines abound, and there’re even some quite affecting moments amid the frequent bouts of monster- and train-based carnage.

That there’s also quite thoughtful sci-fi underlying the personal dramas of these kids is pleasantly surprising. Avoiding spoilers, the creature is well conceived, if hardly that original, and sharp digital effects bring it to life in unexpected and intriguing ways. Abrams brings his mastery of the slow reveal to the fore too – drip-feeding us glimpses of a rich back-story that, when it pays off, is almost entirely satisfying. There’s perhaps a bit too much effort put into it, and it perhaps informs us a little too much whilst sacrificing the truly remarkable stuff going on with the kids, but you don’t really notice this when you’re watching it thanks to pacy editing for the duration of its 112-minute tenure.

The only irritation that really occurred to me was the niggling sense of vague déjà vu – both in terms of the echoes of Spielberg, and indeed Abram’s own producing back-catalogue. A monster movie? From a slightly different perspective to the traditional one? Just because you’ve ditched the shaky cam, doesn’t mean it’s not essentially the same idea! But like I say, this is a practically unnoticeable blemish on a sparkling gem of a film. It’s also worth saying that it’s almost cynically Spielbergian – and if you don’t like Spielberg, you’ll find more or less nothing that you like here.

Exciting and yet heartfelt, this is Abrams’ best work to date, and if you’ve been in search of a good sci-fi fix this year, this is your ticket. Even if you’re not, there’s much to like here – it looks fantastic, it features some incredible performances and it keeps you riveted to your seat. Catch it on the big screen, though – this is most definitely a cinema movie.

Tree of Life Review

Reviewing a ‘film’ such as The Tree of Life is not without its difficulties. Chief among said difficulties is that whilst this does indeed share the trait of being a collection of moving pictures and sounds combined together and then projected onto a large white canvas, this is no film in the traditional sense of the word.

Rather, in true Terrence Malick style, this is a visual poem – a musing on faith, life, death, the nature of memory, the universe and the inter-connectivity of everything. There is a story, but it’s a mere conduit to the poetry. Boiled down to its most basic level, it’s about a man named Jack, who - after many, many years - finally comes to terms with the death of his brother.

There are performances contained herein, and they are, for the most part, good. The child actors in particular go completely against the norm to give a frighteningly accurate portrayal of pre-pubescent rebellion, all mumbles and passive-aggressive barks. Brad Pitt gives his most understated performance to date as Jack’s father - all pent up, like a spring that is ready to snap at any moment, and snap it does.

In truth, though, this is a piece where dialogue and performance are practically inconsequential. They simply meld into and accentuate the visual poetry on display – and what a work of visual art this is. Suns are born and die, microbes flitter and dance across the screen, sunlight plays through forests that tower overhead. It’s a sensual experience, full of the little curiosities of nature that we usually take for granted - and you can almost feel them: the roughness of stone, the silky veneer of a butterfly’s wings, the heat of the sun on your face, the odd sensation of wet grass stuck to your bare feet. And to go into the other-worldly beauty of Jessica Chastain – playing either an angel or Jack’s mother, it’s tricky to tell – in this piece would require a separate, 700-word essay just to do even a vague amount of justice to.

But what’s perhaps most astonishing about this cinepoem (yes, that is an actual thing) is that it rhymes, and the effect that this has on you, the filmgoer, if you allow it. It’s so difficult to describe this in words alone, but there’re visual motifs that echo throughout the piece, allowing it to lull you into an almost meditative state. Your breathing will slow, you’ll be able to hear your heart beating slowly but regularly, and the editing seems almost designed to synchronise with this state.

If there is a failing of the movie, it’s that about three-quarters of the way through there is a sudden attempt to shoehorn in forty minutes or so of vaguely coherent narrative. There is an argument that’s in favour of this – given the transient nature of memory; it’s essentially Jack’s thoughts finally cohering into something tangible, instead of vague flashes of emotional imagery. But from a structural point of view, it’s vaguely confusing, and it takes a little effort to adjust back from the zen-like trance that the first part of the movie will almost certainly put you into.

It’s also about twenty minutes too long, but it’s difficult to point at any particular part and say ‘that needs to go’, although the slightly bizarre sequence involving dinosaurs is probably a candidate, and there’s probably quite a bit that can be trimmed from the coming-of-age film that got stuffed into the final hour. And yes, it is about as pretentious as cinema can possibly get without actually starting to smoke a gauloise.

At the end of it, though, I’m not going to give this a star rating. If I were going to, it would be a five, simply because you should go see it, to make of it what you will. You might hate it, you might love it, it might bring you to tears or you might be entirely indifferent. It is one of those magical movies that you have to make work for yourself. If it hasn't become clear to you yet: I enjoyed myself – but it’s not entertaining in the traditional sense of cinema. It is, however, thought-provoking, heart-wrenchingly beautiful and truly fascinating. It works on about eight different levels, and all of them are intriguing and well thought out. Please see it – it’s an experience quite like any other so far this year.