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.

"And Then Emily Was Gone" Comic Book Review

Fresh off the presses of the vibrant Scottish independent comic-book scene, this comes courtesy of engimatic writer/artist team John Lees and Iain Laurie.

Set in Scotland, it tells the story of Greg Hellenger, an ex-detective whose nightmarish waking visions have cost him nearly everything, as he's set on the trail of the titular Emily - a teenager who vanished on a Scottish Isle under mysterious, perhaps even supernatural circumstances. This is at the behest of her best friend, who has the curious quality of making the nightmares stop. There's also Vin, who has an interesting job, oh yes - and an actual mystery box to be intrigued by (my best guess at this stage is that it's JJ Abrams' head in there...).

It's a genuinely terrific read - Laurie's ever-so-slightly unsettling stylings gives the proceedings a Lynchian, dream-like quality, and Lees' script takes full advantage of its detailed nature, crafting a story where you can't be sure if it's all going to end in grim reality, or an even grimmer fantasy. It's a book that begs to be poured over immediately after you finish reading it, with details scattered about in both the writing and art that threaten us with a complex, disquieting and ultimately satisfying tale to come.

There's also a fascinatingly awful moment of extreme violence that'll completely catch you off guard - bordering on being a darkly amusing anti-joke, it relies on pitch perfect structuring, sly dialogue, and stunning use of contrast to create a most impactful two-page spread that'll stick in your head for quite a while afterwards. It's very much the kind of moment that only sequential art could achieve, and that it's nestled inside such a gem of a story is icing in the chocolate fountain - it's all pretty sweet, and flows magnificently.

The only problem is that it does feel a little slight, but this is down to it being the first half of a first act, so it's hardly fair to hold this against it. The feeling is also a direct result of enjoying it, and craving more - and given that this is indeed a mystery, that's job done, as far as anyone could possibly be concerned. WHAT'S IN THE BOX, GODDAMIT?!

And in such a short space, perhaps the most impressive thing about it is how they've succeeding in creating a fictional horror mythology on a par with the Slender Man for quite how delightfully unsettling it is - flashes of reality interwoven with the fiction to make it just believable enough to make your skin crawl thinking about it, even after you put the book down. I won't mention her here...BONNIE SHAW

...

Because she isn't real.

She isn't real...

She isn't...WHAT THE FUCK WAS THA-

AND THEN ROSS WAS GONE

Post-script: If you want to check out John Lee's other stuff, head to his blog here. If you're up for further perusal of Iain's mind to see what monsters lay inside, check out Mothwicke, Powwkipsie and his previous release, Horror Mountain. You're welcome.

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.

The Charlesbearius Hug Grading Scale

The Charlesbearius Hug Grading Scale

In the event that customers feel that the insults provided by our service are 'too mean', a hug will be offered in compensation. These will fall into one of five 'grades' or categories of hug:

Grade 1: This is like getting hugged by a skeleton wearing an inside-out iron maiden, and will only be offered sarcastically.

Grade 2: A standard hug - only enjoyable if you've not had any physical human contact in years. Otherwise, little more than a nuisance.

Grade 3: A decent hug - comforting, encompassing and quite satisfying. Like being wrapped in a nice, thick duvet. If that duvet were a person.

Grade 4: The sort of hug you'd expect to get from a lover. There may be kissing. And nuzzling. Only offered in particular circumstances.

Grade 5: Like getting hugged by Christina Hendricks and her four clones.

Note: hugs are strictly one-time redemption, and have no equivalent cash value.

The gender of the person issuing the hug is pre-assigned. Once requested, there is no taking back of the hug.

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.