movie reviews by PvtCaboose91

Australian involvement in the Vietnam War is seldom covered in film and television, outside of the little-known 1979 film The Odd Angry Shot and the obscure 1987 miniseries Vietnam. Enter 2019's Danger Close: The Battle of Long Tan, a contemporary Australian production about the oft-studied titular battle from 1966. Under the careful directorial eye of Kriv Stenders (Red Dog, Australia Day), Danger Close is a top-notch war film which is both intense and riveting, and it deserves to be viewed on the largest possible screen. Commendably, this is not a bargain-basement production that feels cheap or nasty; rather, it's a slick and proficiently produced feature which never appears budgetarily constrained. Although not able to reach the upper echelon of war movies, Danger Close presents an accurate, satisfying, and above all moving recreation of the historical battle.

In August of 1966, three Australian Army Delta Company platoons led by Major Harry Smith (Travis Fimmel) are dispatched to investigate a rubber tree plantation at Long Tan following a mortar attack on the 1st Australian Task Force base in South Vietnam. Commanded by Second Lieutenant Gordon Sharp (Mojean Aria), with support from Sergeant Bob Buick (Luke Bracey), 11 Platoon comes under heavy fire from an entire battalion of Viet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers, and struggle to hold the line with dwindling resources until reinforcements arrive. 12 Platoon, under the command of Second Lieutenant David Sabben (Sam Parsonson), as well as 10 Platoon, scramble to help their fellow soldiers. As the inexperienced Australian men engage in the fight of their lives, the skittish officers back at the base are wary of the risk of sending more reinforcements into Long Tan. 

Controversies surround the Vietnam War as well as Australia's involvement, but Danger Close wisely eschews exploring the turbulent political situation; instead, the film simply concentrates on the Australian soldiers who faced impossible odds on the battlefield. This results in a refreshingly apolitical, boots-on-the-ground war picture devoid of narrative flab and sensationalism. Among the most commendable aspects of Danger Close is its accessibility, as even viewers unfamiliar with military operations and jargon will still be able to follow and become invested in the proceedings. Additionally, the movie provides sufficient context and build-up before the titular battle commences, establishing the characters (without relying on stereotypical flashbacks or hoary stories about wives/girlfriends back home) and even revealing that a concert was occurring on the afternoon of the battle. Admittedly, though, the screenplay does take dramatic liberties, some of which are detrimental. For instance, the portrayal of Second Lieutenant Sharp is unnecessarily antagonistic and ignorant, and an early heated exchange between Major Smith and Private Paul Large (Daniel Webber) seems gratuitous and overblown. There are a few too many dramatic scenes of soldiers defiantly standing up to their superiors, as well. However, these are minor shortcomings.

The production benefits from comprehensive research and an exhaustive attention to detail, which is reflected in the screenplay (credited to five writers, including Stuart Beattie) as well as the production values. Produced on a robust $24 million AUD budget, the illusion throughout Danger Close is compelling and convincing, from the era-specific period recreation to the spot-on costumes and firearms, in addition to the intense battle sequences beset with explosions and bullets zooming through the air. Stenders acquits himself admirably with the material, staging the shootouts with visual finesse and superlative intensity, aided by superb editing and slick cinematography, as well as exceptional sound design which puts you in the thick of the action alongside the Australian and New Zealand soldiers. (The sound design won an AACTA award.) The fighting throughout Danger Close is visceral and violent, and Stenders never shies away from showing bullet impacts or wounded soldiers. The use of practical effects and authentic jungle locations (with Queensland, Australia standing in for Vietnam) gives the production a gritty, realistic edge, while sparing use of subtle digital effects further augment the illusion. The CGI is occasionally obvious, especially when artillery is deployed (plus, the slow-motion POV shots following artillery shells through the air are a bit gratuitous), but it's not a deal-breaker. Danger Close also benefits from the score by Australian composer Caitlin Yeo (who specialises in documentaries and TV shows); the music is flavoursome and intense, and is never too intrusive. Even though there is a lot of fighting throughout Danger Close's two-hour runtime, it does not feel repetitive or boring.

In the de facto lead role of Major Smith, it is interesting to see Travis Fimmel (The Beast, Vikings) espouse his native Australian accent, and the resultant performance is unfailingly engaging. Fimmel is arguably the most high-profile actor in the cast (except maybe Richard Roxburgh or Luke Bracey), as the ensemble otherwise comprises of lesser-known Aussie talent. The lack of forced international star power is laudable, and the performers effectively hit their marks throughout. The movie also contains a welcome, larrikin sense of humour which makes the soldiers feel more real; one character even retorts "We're not here to fuck spiders!" in one scene. Furthermore, Australian Army advisors were present during every stage of the production; therefore, the battlefield tactics and firing positions ring true in every frame, giving the movie a stronger sense of authenticity.

As is almost customary for this type of true-life war picture, Danger Close: The Battle of Long Tan closes with a montage of images of the real men involved in the battle, paying poignant tribute to the soldiers and their sacrifices. Plus, it's all set to the (somewhat predictable) tune of "I Was Only 19" by Redgum. It is a wonder why it took so long for the Battle of Long Tan to receive the big-screen treatment since the skirmish is frequently covered in classrooms across Australia, but it's encouraging to report that this movie has finally happened and that it's actually worthwhile. Danger Close is worth your time and attention, and it will stand the test of time.

8.0/10

Arriving twelve months after 2018's culturally significant Black Panther, Captain Marvel is the first instalment in the ever-expanding Marvel Cinematic Universe to feature a female lead. The obvious comparison in this respect is 2017's Wonder Woman, which verified the commercial and critical validity of female-led superhero movies after years of misfires (Elektra, Catwoman, Supergirl, and so on). Unfortunately, although it is reassuring to finally see a female-led MCU entry, this aspect alone is not enough to elevate Captain Marvel above the ordinary. In fact, the effort as a whole is below-average - it's certainly slick and full of colourful action, but it lacks the requisite stakes to make this story genuinely compelling. Furthermore, it lacks the thematic and narrative elegance of something like Wonder Woman, and the result feels like the worst kind of bland, commercial, assembly-line filmmaking.

Carol Danvers (Brie Larson), who is known as Vers, works as part of a Kree military squad on the planet Hala, answering to her mentor and commander, Yon-Rogg (Jude Law). The Kree are at war with the Skrulls, a race of shape-shifting extraterrestrials led by Talos (Ben Mendelsohn) who are capable of impersonating humanoids. Following a conflict with the Skrulls, Carol is subjected to a mind probe which reveals scattered memories of a past life on Earth in which she was a pilot in the United States Air Force. Carol escapes but crash-lands on Earth in the mid-1990s, where she immediately attracts the attention of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) and Phil Coulson (Clark Gregg). With the Skrulls arriving on Earth, Carol pairs up with Fury to stop a potentially world-ending alien invasion. In the process, Carol also learns more about the life she previously lived, reuniting with her former co-pilot and best friend Maria (Lashana Lynch).

With a script credited to directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck (Mississippi Grind), as well as Geneva Robertson-Dworet, one of the fundamental issues facing Captain Marvel relates to the narrative. The opening act of the movie is borderline indecipherable, rushing frenetically through too much story material without any substance to supplement the visual pizzazz. As a result, even though the film benefits from a slick technical presentation that is customary for the MCU, it's impossible to feel genuinely involved in the proceedings. Moreover, whether it's a shortcoming of the editing or the screenplay, the film butchers the Kree/Skrull war, which is a significant storyline in the comics but receives insufficient development here. Worse, Captain Marvel should be about Carol trying to reconcile with having fragmented memories of a past life, and experiencing the disorientation of recognising places and people without knowing why she does. Upon arriving on Earth, investigating these memories should be Carol's primary motivation, taking precedence over the Skrull hunt. Alas, without this motivation, Carol's arc feels tragically underdeveloped. Admittedly, dealing with Carol's origin in flashback is a welcome formula change, but the audience should be allowed to spend more time in Carol's past life to get to know her. Alas, a lack of meaty background detail affects a viewer's ability to become emotionally invested in the protagonist or care when she's in danger.

At the end of the second act, Captain Marvel pulls a bait and switch with a twist that recontextualises the narrative. However, not everything adds up with the characters' previous behaviours, and it also means that the real villain is not revealed until the finale. The political metaphor of said finale is about as subtle as a shotgun; the villain is, essentially, the patriarchy holding Carol back from embracing her true power. Equally awful is a battle sequence set to the tune of "Just a Girl," to further underscore the dubious significance of a female superhero kicking arse on-screen. Indeed, Captain Marvel is too on-the-nose with political matters, with Carol being belittled by an obnoxious man on a motorcycle, and preachy themes about border control/refugees. Real-world allegories are a staple of Marvel Comics, but most of this material comes across as head-slappingly obvious and sanctimonious. Even the devout refusal to include a love interest for Carol is clearly a political decision.

There is no denying Larson's talent as an actress, with her breakout role in Room leading to an Academy Award, but she is grossly miscast as Carol Danvers. She lacks personality and spunk, and fails to make an adequate impression or convey requisite cinematic strength. One can certainly argue that her memory loss led to a personality wipe, but her renewed personality should begin to emerge through the film as she grows and develops. Unfortunately, this does not occur. Worse, there is no character arc for Carol. Throughout the movie, men consistently belittle her and hold her back, until she eventually removes an actual physical mechanism which suppresses her powers, and summarily becomes supercharged and invincible. But this version of a hero's journey literally amounts to Carol being right and perfect for her whole life, and the proceedings continually validating her righteousness. In other words, there are no flaws for her to overcome, nor does she actually learn anything, because Carol has no flaws - and, consequently, she does not feel human or relatable. Thus, Carol does not have a meaty motivation and never undergoes a meaningful arc. It's difficult to ignore the political implications of this character, since the writers appear reluctant to portray Carol as flawed in any way. One could argue that any number of weaknesses might feel clichéd or overdone, but, if executed with genuine sincerity, even the tritest of character weaknesses can translate to something meaningful and emotional. Anything would be more rewarding than this.

On the bright side, the 1990s nostalgia is appreciated, such as Carol crash-landing into a Blockbuster Video store, plus a painfully slow-loading CD-ROM drive and the mostly agreeable selection of era-specific songs. (Carol even wears a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt.) Also, the recreation of the 1990s is spot-on, from the vehicles to the fashions, and production values are state-of-the-art all-round. Another element which truly works is the original score by Pinar Toprak (TV's Krypton), which is flavoursome and unique as opposed to outright generic - there is even some retro synth. Unfortunately, no amount of CGI and nostalgia can compensate for the utter emptiness of the battle sequences, which are devoid of stakes because it's impossible to care about Carol and it's difficult to become invested in the Kree-Skrull war. Furthermore, watching the supercharged Carol defeat everybody without breaking a sweat is about as interesting as watching paint dry. Captain Marvel also lacks a sense of the exotic since every alien species on-screen speaks English. Hell, the Skrulls are often depicted as buffoonish, too, which undermines any sense of menace. Unsurprisingly, Mendelsohn is an acting standout - he is even allowed to embrace his native Australian accent while playing Talos, and he gives the material genuine gravitas.

The prequel angle of Captain Marvel facilitates some interesting possibilities; for instance, both Djimon Hounsou and Lee Pace reprise their (now-deceased) roles from Guardians of the Galaxy. However, Pace's role of Ronan the Accuser is particularly emasculated and powerless, with his appearance amounting to nothing. This story also introduces a glaring timeline issue relating to the Tesseract, which is top-secret S.H.I.E.L.D. property but was apparently loaned out to a military scientist (played by Annette Bening). Meanwhile, the digital de-aging of Jackson is sublime, ably demonstrating that this technology has progressed to the point that such characters can take on a major role in future productions, which has innumerable possibilities. Jackson visibly enjoys playing a younger version of Fury, delivering a loose, humorous performance - he almost saves the movie. However, Jackson's athleticism is lacking, as he still moves with the limited agility of a man in his 70s. (Martin Scorsese's The Irishman encountered a similar issue.) The mystery of Fury's scarred eye is also addressed...and it is disappointing and underwhelming. It is also worth pointing out that the de-aging of Clark Gregg (in his first Marvel movie since 2012's The Avengers) is less effective, though the illusion still works to an extent.

Among the things that Captain Marvel does correctly, the opening tribute to the late Stan Lee is enough to bring a tear to your eye, and Stan's cameo in the film is one of his better appearances in the MCU. At the end of the day, however, Captain Marvel is one big misfire which sits right at the bottom of the Marvel canon, just below The Incredible Hulk and the two Ant-Man films. The narrative issues are a major problem, as well as the lack of a character arc - as a result, this superhero blockbuster entertaining in drips and drabs, but falls drastically short of the brilliance of Iron Man or The Avengers, or any number of other great MCU entries. Even though Larson's titular character is on-screen for two hours, she still remains an enigma when the end credits begin to appear, and she's never as endearing or as fun as Jackson's Nick Fury. Captain Marvel is a waste of potential, pure and simple.

4.7/10

The first cinematic adaptation of H.G. Wells' renowned 1898 novel of the same name, The War of the Worlds endures as one of the most defining science-fiction films of the 1950s. Following in the shadow of The Day the Earth Stood Still and When Worlds Collide, but appearing before the likes of Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind in 1977, this ambitious 1953 production uses the premise of an alien attack to play on the Cold War-era paranoia about foreign invasion. There is no denying the historical or cultural significance of this original The War of the Worlds, with its groundbreaking special effects and a daring story about malevolent invaders which scared the living daylights out of audiences back in 1953. However, there is not much in the way of humanity or substance to this sci-fi thriller, which also appears noticeably dated in many respects.

When a flaming meteor from outer space crashes near a small town in California, scientist Dr. Clayton Forrester (Gene Barry) is quickly drawn to  the impact site, along with scores of tourists and curious locals. Deciding to pursue further examination of the meteor, Clayton soon meets beautiful librarian Sylvia Van Buren (Ann Robinson) who is excited to learn about his work. However, the meteor turns out to be one of several alien crafts that have landed around the Earth, from which powerful Martian war machines emerge to obliterate cities and eradicate humans. Although the American military is quick to act, invisible shields protect the war machines which are impervious to all of humanity's weaponry. As the Martians intensify their relentless assault, Clayton and Sylvia desperately endeavour to find a scientific way to defeat the invaders, turning to Clayton's colleagues at Pacific Tech for help.

Although sci-fi movies existed before The War of the Worlds, there had never been anything quite like this before. The screenplay by Barré Lyndon shoots down all notions of a benevolent alien race as the first characters to make contact with the Martians are summarily incinerated - the invaders are "cool and unsympathetic," in the words of H.G. Wells. Additionally, Lyndon's adaptation majorly deviates from Wells' original novel in several ways, but perhaps the most notable is the film's perspective on religion. For instance, a sympathetic pastor (Lewis Martin) plays a considerable role in the first act before dying as a martyr, and the conclusion strongly implies that divine intervention is what leads to the Martians' defeat. These religious overtones are not uncommon for the era but do not play as well in 2020, especially the abrupt ending that feels sudden and anticlimactic.

Directed by Byron Haskin on a modest $2 million budget, the scale of The War of the Worlds is genuinely extraordinary for the era. Especially considering the crude special effects technology of the early 1950s, the imagery of the flying Martian war machines destroying cities is undeniably remarkable. Captured by cinematographer George Barnes (The Greatest Show on Earth), The War of the Worlds was shot in gorgeous Three-Strip Technicolor, which creates a striking, vivid filmic image. Although the visual effects are dated by 2020 standards, the design of the Martian war machines is commendable, deliberately resembling manta rays, while the accompanying sound effects are highly inventive. However, the design of the actual Martians is much less successful, as they look downright silly and laughable. It is difficult to share Sylvia's terror when she comes face to face with one of the Martians, which is a major problem. Furthermore, there's an undeniable "stagey" feeling to large swaths of the film, since The War of the Worlds was primarily shot on studio sound stages and the actors frequently stood on sets in front of extensive matte paintings. Unfortunately, this creates an artificial aesthetic, though the artistry is still easy to appreciate.

More problematic about The War of the Worlds is the lack of humanity; the movie features dull, one-dimensional characters who feel more like archetypes than actual humans. Unsurprisingly for a 1950s sci-fi flick, the story mostly concentrates on scientists and military men, and there is no room amid the spectacle for any authentic character development. Additionally, the characters do not even carry any recognisable personality traits. Some of the dialogue is memorable, such as the proclamation of "Once they begin to move, no more news comes out of that area" which is referenced in the 2005 Steven Spielberg remake, but there's simply no solid emotional core to supplement the death and destruction. Consequently, it is difficult to become fully involved and invested in the proceedings. Nevertheless, the actors themselves are fine, with Gene Barry and Ann Robinson giving it their all despite playing glorified archetypes, but nobody deserves any awards.

The War of the Worlds still has ample merit, and there is no denying its ineffaceable influence on sci-fi cinema which remains apparent in the 21st Century. The special effects are impressive for the era, while the accompanying music by Leith Stevens is memorable and impactful - the main title theme is especially fantastic. Nevertheless, especially due to the film's often stilted disposition, this iteration of The War of the Worlds is virtually obsolete for today's audiences, and is only an essential watch for cinema or sci-fi enthusiasts. As blasphemous as it may sound to some, I greatly prefer Steven Spielberg's 2005 remake.

7.1/10

1983's Uncommon Valor is a real meat and potatoes action movie ingrained with macho themes of brotherhood, honour and heroism, plus a considerable side order of testosterone. Directed by Ted Kotcheff (Wake in Fright) and produced by the inimitable John Milius, this is a satisfying manly movie in every sense of the word; a live-action iteration of "Soldiers of Fortune" magazine, packed with guns, explosions, helicopters and plenty of attitude.

A decade after the United States pulled out of the Vietnam War, some 2500 American soldiers are still listed as "missing in action," and might still be imprisoned in Vietnam. Retired Marine Colonel Jason Rhodes (Gene Hackman) firmly believes that his son, Frank (Todd Allen), is still alive and being held at a POW camp in Laos after being listed as MIA. After years of searching and gathering information, Rhodes discovers a promising lead but receives no assistance from the U.S. government. Determined to bring Frank home safely, Rhodes secures financial backing from a wealthy oil businessman (Robert Stack) and assembles a team of Vietnam veterans who were a part of Frank's platoon. Joining the group is former Recon Marine Kevin Scott (Patrick Swayze), whose father is also MIA in Vietnam. Under Rhodes' leadership, the team begins extensive training for the dangerous operation before flying into Southeast Asia hoping to bring home their missing countrymen.

The notion of American prisoners of war still being held in Vietnam became a full-blown action subgenre in the 1980s, leading to the likes of Missing in Action, Rambo: First Blood Part II, and other minor action titles. Perhaps unsurprisingly, since this is an action movie first and foremost, the intricate political situation surrounding the Vietnam War POW/MIA issue is only briefly touched upon, and is not explored with any depth or significance. Furthermore, the Rhodes family angle is undercooked and cut down to the bare essentials. Hell, Rhodes' wife (Gail Strickland) only receives about a minute of screen-time in total. Indeed, the screenplay (credited to Joe Gayton, from a story by actor Wings Hauser) is more focused on the mission at hand, tracking Rhodes as he determinedly assembles his squad and begins training before they travel to Laos. It's pretty formulaic, but that's par for the course - and even though some clichés are apparent, the movie manages to circumvent other obvious genre tropes. Uncommon Valor delivers what matters the most in this genre: it's brisk and no-nonsense, without any distracting pretensions or subplots to weigh down the narrative.

Kotcheff, who was fresh off directing 1982's First Blood, shows a firm command of the movie, making the most of the generous (for the era) $11 million budget. Aside from the opening scene depicting a battle in Vietnam, the action is reserved for the third act when the squad heads into hostile territory, and it is worth the wait - the finale at the POW camp is genuinely exciting and well-crafted, with competent production values to boot. The set-pieces are captured with sturdy cinematography by Stephen H. Burum, who often collaborated with Francis Ford Coppola (he even shot Apocalypse Now) and became Brian De Palma's go-to director of photography. Uncommon Valor was produced before the digital filmmaking revolution; therefore, it's a showcase for practical effects, with several helicopters even featuring in the climax. There's a certain grit and charm to '80s action movies with real pyrotechnics, location shooting and sets, which makes this a hugely entertaining watch in the 21st Century. Plus, although the action sequences still exhibit '80s filmmaking sensibilities, the shootouts are more believable than a more standard-order goofy action film, and are not outright ridiculous. Uncommon Valor also features one of James Horner's earlier film scores, and it's characteristically rousing work by the late composer. There's genuine majesty to the music, ably driving the film and amplifying the sense of excitement during the action scenes. The film even closes with a cheesy but effective Ray Kennedy song called "Brothers in the Night," which is note-perfect for the end credits.

A men-on-a-mission movie of this ilk heavily relies on a memorable ensemble cast, and Uncommon Valor delivers in this respect. Veteran actor (and former real-life Marine) Hackman is great in anything, and he's a superb leader as Colonel Rhodes, bringing reliable gravitas to the role despite the movie's B-grade origins. The colourful ensemble also incorporates a demolitions expert (Reb Brown), a traumatised soldier who prefers stealth kills (Fred Ward), an ace pilot (Tim Thomerson), a token African-American soldier (Harold Sylvester), and a crazy but loyal machine gunner (Randall "Tex" Cobb). Cobb is a scene-stealer as the unhinged Sailor, and he's lovable in his craziness. Meanwhile, Swayze is surprisingly terrific as the by-the-book Marine Corporal, even though this was only his third feature-film appearance (this was a year before Red Dawn). The actors all hit their marks confidently, ensuring that we have a firm grasp of the characters before they carry out the dangerous mission in Laos.

There's more heart and emotion to Uncommon Valor than expected, and these qualities anchor the narrative - it's the most believable Vietnam POW/MIA movie from the 1980s. Aside from Rhodes being haunted by the absence of his son, it's also effective to see how the men are impacted by returning to military life after a decade of living as a civilian. A minor box office success in 1983, Uncommon Valor rapidly faded into obscurity, and is only remembered by avid genre fans. Those who enjoy this brand of macho '80s action film will get the most out of Uncommon Valor, as it's supremely entertaining, but everybody else need not apply.

7.2/10

The much-maligned remake of the classic 1963 film of the same name, 1999's The Haunting is a better flick than its reputation implies, thanks largely to a charismatic cast and exceptional set design. Scripted by David Self (Road to Perdition), the feature is based on Shirley Jackson's 1959 novel The Haunting of Hill House (which recently inspired a terrific Netflix series), and is actually more of a re-adaptation than a remake, since the production company could not obtain the remake rights for the 1963 film. Produced on an eye-watering $80 million budget, and with blockbuster extraordinaire Jan de Bont (Twister, Speed) at the helm, The Haunting is a visually striking horror movie, but it does not leave a lasting impression or get under your skin, which is a shame considering the talent and potential.

Dr. Jeffrey Marrow (Liam Neeson) intends to conduct an academic study on the nature of fear, and selects three participants under the pretence that the research relates to insomnia. Eleanor (Lili Taylor) is an insomniac who recently lost her mother and risks homelessness, and is one of the candidates chosen by Dr. Marrow for the experiment. Joining Eleanor is the adventurous Theodora (Catherine Zeta-Jones) and the sarcastic young Luke (Owen Wilson), both of whom suffer from sleep disorders. Dr. Marrow, along with research assistants Mary (Alix Koromzay) and Todd (Todd Field), takes his subjects to the enormous gothic mansion known as Hill House, which was built in the 19th century on an isolated site in New England. Dr. Marrow intends to frighten the group by telling them about the house's disturbing history, but soon finds out that the mansion is really haunted by Hugh Crain (Charles Gunning) as well as the souls of several murdered children.

1963's The Haunting is celebrated for being a psychological horror film, as it never reveals any spirits or entities on-screen; it's a sublime demonstration of "less is more." However, this iteration of The Haunting mostly disregards psychological horror, instead relying on expensive special effects to create big set-pieces and show the entities inhabiting Hill House. Although this new approach is often perceived as a negative, merely duplicating the 1963 picture's style would likely feel too derivative. Furthermore, several of the scary moments receive innocuous explanations, which leaves you to wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you. The Haunting fares best throughout its first two acts, which are more restrained and contain numerous chilling moments, but it begins to lose its way as the proceedings build to an overblown climax. The digital effects by ILM are competent and serviceable, but do not always convincingly blend with the live-action material.

The real star of The Haunting is the extravagant production design by Eugenio Zanetti, which is a sight to behold, turning Hill House into a character of its own. The mansion's architecture is breathtaking, from the gothic statues to the windows, paintings and furniture - there is always something visually striking on-screen, and cinematographer Karl Walter Lindenlaub (Universal Soldier, Independence Day) takes full advantage of the lavish sets. The sweeping exterior shots of a real mansion in England also serve to augment the sense of scope. Furthermore, the score by the late great Jerry Goldsmith is predictably magnificent, giving The Haunting some much-needed atmosphere and flavour. Meanwhile, in terms of the casting, Lili Taylor's character receives the most development, as the movie allows us to become acquainted with her before she sets foot in Hill House. (Luke and Theodora are not glimpsed until they arrive at the mansion.) Taylor is a talented performer, and she brings convincing depth to the role, always appearing committed to the material. Additionally, the always-reliable Neeson makes for a fine Dr. Marrow, while Zeta-Jones and Wilson are eminently watchable, even though neither of them step outside of their comfort zones.

In the grand pantheon of contemporary horror films, The Haunting is not among the worst, and it deserves a second chance. Although not exactly terrifying, it is entertaining and atmospheric, and it's low on mindless jump scares that have come to characterise the modern horror genre. It's a bit long in the tooth at just under two hours, and the climax is underwhelming, but some moments throughout the feature are creepy and thrilling, while the production design remains a visual marvel. In short, while not the classic it had the potential to be, the movie gets just enough right to ensure it's worth watching. Spurred on by the negative critical reception, The Haunting was nominated for five Razzie Awards, including Worst Picture, but it does not deserve such disdain.

Back in 2010, Pixar Studios defied the odds to deliver the excellent Toy Story 3, a long-delayed sequel which closed the Toy Story series on a fitting, cathartic, pitch-perfect note. Arriving nine years later, 2019's Toy Story 4 sees Pixar defying the odds once again, producing a third sequel that confidently avoids tarnishing Toy Story's esteemed legacy. With newcomer Josh Cooley at the helm, this fourth Toy Story feature does not attempt to retcon the earlier films, or extend the brand awkwardly or unnaturally - instead, it assuredly justifies its existence by exploring fertile narrative and thematic ground. Recapturing the spirit of its predecessors, Toy Story 4 is immense fun, delivering all the requisite comedy, adventure, joy, and whimsy that has characterised this franchise since the beginning.

This sequel picks up two years after Woody (Tom Hanks), Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) and the rest of Andy's toys were donated to young Bonnie (Madeline McGraw). However, Bonnie has started neglecting Woody; she ignores him during playtime, and puts his sheriff badge on Jessie (Joan Cusack) instead. Still determined to protect Bonnie, Woody sneaks along for her kindergarten orientation where she creates a new plaything out of a spork: the neurotic, googly-eyed Forky (Tony Hale). Bonnie loves Forky, but he instantly experiences an existential crisis, believing that he is garbage as opposed to an actual toy. Woody serves as Forky's around-the-clock guardian, an undertaking that gets more complicated when Bonnie's family goes on a road trip. Getting lost after Forky dives out of the RV, Woody and his new pal find themselves at an antique store where they encounter a talking doll, Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks). As Buzz and the other toys search for their friends, Woody is held captive by Gabby Gabby, who intends to rejuvenate herself by stealing his voice box. The adventure reunites Woody with Bo Peep (Annie Potts) and her sheep, who now live as nomad adventurers without a child owner.

Perhaps inevitably, Toy Story 4 plays out with a different tone to the preceding films. It's still Toy Story with the same brand of scenarios, but it deals with fresh themes and ideas, and subsequently feels like somewhat of a standalone movie even though it does tie off a loose plot thread from Toy Story 3. Indeed, an opening prologue details Bo Peep's initial departure from the group, with Woody forced to choose between the woman he loves and Andy's bedroom, which sets up the main thrust of this story. (The intervening years with Bo are briskly covered in the Disney+ exclusive short movie, Lamp Life.) Once the story hits the road with Bonnie's family, Toy Story 4 splits up the principal toys, with screenwriters Andrew Stanton and Stephany Folsom labouring to include everybody in some capacity. Woody's story is easily the meatiest while Buzz's subplot is less involving, as he searches for his "inner voice" in the form of his pre-recorded Space Ranger voice messages. Buzz has less to do here compared to the previous movies, while the script also sidelines the rest of the returning characters, which is a bit disappointing.

Toy Story 4 is not an all-out sobfest like Toy Story 3, but the finale does tug on the heartstrings, and those who grew up with these flicks will find the ending indescribably affecting. Toy Story 3 saw the toys coming to terms with mortality and time, but this fourth movie involves the main characters dealing with self-actualisation. This theme is primarily explored in Woody's arc, as he ponders his true purpose and struggles to remain a leader/guardian. Unwanted by Bonnie, the cowboy desperately clings to his longstanding role in the group, with his increasingly meaningless existence now solely consumed with safeguarding Bonnie's happiness. Woody takes the initiative with the arrival of Forky, frantically trying to maintain order and prevent the spork from committing suicide. Furthermore, Gabby Gabby is a more layered villain than expected; instead of an outright sinister antagonist, Gabby Gabby adds welcome poignancy to the story and contributes to Woody's character growth. However, as ever, even though there are deeper themes at play, Toy Story 4 does not skimp on the laughs - the writing is witty and razor-sharp, making this one of 2019's most effective comedies. Indeed, like many of Pixar's movies, Toy Story 4 is hugely entertaining, but there is also more to the feature than just humour and adventure. Likewise, the narrative does incorporate familiar story beats, but the sophisticated and confident execution prevents the movie from feeling perfunctory or formulaic.

The improvements in Pixar's animation techniques since 1995 are all over the screen, but Toy Story 4 also takes things a step further. In addition to the animation looking more detailed than ever, the cinematography and lighting are particularly exceptional, as the animators deliberately simulate the look of specific camera lenses from shot to shot, down to anamorphic/spherical distortion, careful focus, and even grain/noise. Furthermore, as usual, Pixar gets ample mileage from creating perilous set-pieces in everyday locations with banal things - the antique store, for instance, is the stage for a rescue mission, and the toys face great risk in the form of a cat. The franchise's long-time composer, Randy Newman, also returns for this instalment, cooking up a flavoursome soundtrack that's wholly in keeping with his melodic contributions to the original trilogy. Newman even contributes a new original song, "I Can't Let You Throw Yourself Away," which received an Oscar nomination.

Without a doubt, it's the supporting cast who steal the show in Toy Story 4. Sure, the returning cast is magnificent from top to bottom, as the performers immaculately slip back into their respective roles, but the new characters deliver the lion's share of the laughs. Keegan-Michael Key and Jordan Peele are roll-on-the-ground hilarious as a snarky pair of stuffed carnival animals, while the always-reliable Keanu Reeves brings terrific oomph and enthusiasm as overeager Canadian daredevil Duke Caboom. Tony Hale is another comedic standout as Forky, giving the timid utensil a legitimate personality and easily earning big laughs. Out of the main cast, Hanks does most of the heavy lifting in terms of drama, and his effortless gravitas elevates the material. Plus, Toy Story 4 sees the return of Annie Potts as Bo, who ably handles a more prominent role in this story. Moreover, Bo's character evolution is intriguing, with the formally soft-spoken love interest becoming a self-assured, self-sufficient action heroine, and Potts convincingly sells the characterisation. Hanks and Potts' interplay is a constant joy, as well, infusing the picture with genuine heart. Admittedly, the movie does miss hitting darker notes in the Woody/Bo relationship, particularly in regards to their philosophical differences, but this is a negligible misstep.

At first glance, this basic plot could have been turned into another Toy Story television special or Disney+ original. However, there is weight and significance to Toy Story 4's narrative, which sparkles with the same adventurous spirit as its predecessors while finding interesting new places for the characters to go. Even though this is more or less a victory lap sequel, it's miraculous how fresh the film feels, and it does not carry the commercial/cash-in vibe of other Pixar sequels. In fact, while Toy Story 4 still primarily targets a young audience, this instalment is actually more relatable for adults, as it's a story about coping with loss and change. Toy Story 3 felt like the perfect conclusion to a perfect trilogy, but this fourth film is a worthwhile and welcome epilogue. Hilarious, visually stunning, exciting, swiftly-paced, and emotional, Toy Story 4 is further proof that, even with a few misfires under the studio's belt, it's foolish to underestimate Pixar. Be sure to stick around for additional material during the end credits.

A loving ode to adolescence, garage bands, and '80s music, Sing Street is a delightful coming-of-age musical dramedy from acclaimed Irish filmmaker John Carney, late of 2007's Once and 2013's Begin Again. Returning to Ireland for another low-budget, homegrown indie, Carney's Sing Street is a lovely movie from top to bottom; an evocative, fantasy-tinged story about growing up and following one's passion, bolstered by an exceptional soundtrack. Although comparisons to The Commitments are inevitable due to the film's period Irish setting, it's closer to School of Rock or Son of Rambow, with a touch of John Hughes. However, the resulting film is a true original, stamped with Carney's distinctive cinematic idiosyncrasies.

In 1985, economic times are tough in Dublin, with England seeing a rise in the number of Irish immigrants making the move to seek a brighter future. Teenager Conor Lawlor (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo) is taken out of his expensive private school due to his family's financial concerns, and moved to a Christian Brothers school, Synge Street. It's a struggle to adjust, with Conor drawing the wrath of a bully, Barry (Ian Kenny), as well as the school's tyrannical headmaster (Don Wycherley). However, Conor finds a glimmer of hope in slightly-older local beauty Raphina (Lucy Boynton), who aspires to pursue a modelling career in London. Wanting to impress his newfound crush, Conor impulsively asks her to feature in his band's music video, even though he does not actually have a band. Putting the word out, Conor and pal Darren (Ben Carolan) rapidly put together a "futurist" group, and their first original song is enough to entice Raphina to join their music video exploits. Conor falls more and more in love with Raphina, but she is dating an older man (Peter Campion) and still intends to follow her dreams by leaving Dublin.

A semi-autobiographical depiction of Carney's upbringing, Sing Street initially concentrates on the formation of the band, who are unsuccessful at producing covers but truly soar when they begin dabbling in original compositions. Visibly drawing upon Carney's real-life experiences, scenes involving band meetings and practice sessions are reliably funny and endearing, while the boys' music video shoots feel natural and authentic. Additionally, Sing Street is coloured with the culture of 1980s Ireland - it even begins with a news report about the increasing number of Irish immigrants travelling to London, with the challenging financial climate a key plot point in the film. Hell, in a reflection of Ireland's casual racism, Conor and Darren even recruit Ngig (Percy Chamburuka) simply because of his dark skin, innocently assuming that his race means he knows music. Meanwhile, the characters' big ambitions and blind zeal are almost universally relatable, giving Sing Street a similar tone to the likes of Son of Rambow. Likewise, Conor styling himself after his favourite musicians is equally relatable.

Carney's music selection is laudable, as the writer/director sources tracks from The Cure, The Clash, Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, The Jam, and Hall & Oates to solidify the movie's evocative sense of time and place. Plus, even within the restrictions of a meagre $4 million budget, the recreation of Dublin in 1985 is perpetually convincing, down to outrageous fashion choices which provide a few hearty laughs. Further elevating Sing Street are the original compositions, with Carney enlisting the help of Danny Wilson frontman Gary Clark to co-write several catchy, authentic-feeling new tracks. (Even Maroon 5's lead singer, Adam Levine, co-wrote and sang the original song "Go Now" for his contribution to the soundtrack.) Moreover, this charming creativity goes beyond the songs themselves, as the boys produce some amiable music videos inspired by the era's popular bands. Another moment involves the band singing "Drive It Like You Stole It" to a Back to the Future-inspired 1950s prom fantasy sequence in their high school auditorium. These fantastical touches pepper Sing Street, leading to a somewhat optimistic ending which is wholly in keeping with the story's fairy-tale/music video elements. Indeed, Sing Street often feels like a pop video in terms of narrative, a deliberate instance of intertextuality to further pay tribute to the era's popular music.

The romance between Conor and Raphina is not exactly groundbreaking in terms of the details, but the relationship blossoms thanks to sensational performances from newcomers Walsh-Peelo and Boynton (the latter of whom later co-starred in 2018's Bohemian Rhapsody). The two actors are charismatic and instantly likeable, while their chemistry is palpable whenever they share the screen. The performers imbue the feature with genuine heart and depth, resulting in an on-screen relationship which never feels contrived or unearned. Moreover, Raphina is more than just the object of Conor's desires, and she does not spend time with the boys out of sheer pity - instead, she instantly takes a liking to the group, and greatly contributes to the music videos. Jack Reynor is another standout as Conor's brother, Brendan. Carney happily avoids the hoary stereotype of a patronising/unsupportive brother, instead building a positive relationship between Conor and Brendan. The insanely talented Reynor delivers some of the film's sharpest dialogue, emanating both melancholy and levity, which turns Brendan into a genuinely three-dimensional character. Another surprise is Ian Kenny as the school bully, Barry. Although an unsympathetic character on the surface, the script gives Barry unexpected dimension, which effectively humanises him. It's a fantastic cast all-round, with veterans Aidan Gillen and Maria Doyle Kennedy also bringing gravitas to the material, while the younger actors hit their marks with confidence at every opportunity.

Wisely, although Carney does not shy away from the story's dramatic elements, this material is not lathered on; instead, he displays tact, and foregrounds the music and romance. Certainly, Sing Street could have further explored Ireland's hardships in the 1980s, but it's not about such drama - rather, this is a story about Conor and Raphina, and, as a result, the film never feels like a chore to get through. Going on to earn a Best Picture nomination at the 2017 Golden Globes (but losing to La La Land), there is much to love about Sing Street, which is arguably Carney's finest achievement to date. Admittedly, the romantic and coming-of-age elements are familiar, but the execution is more important for this type of production. And luckily, Carney elevates his robust screenplay with a winning cast and an excellent soundtrack, making this one of 2016's most pleasant cinematic surprises. Sing Street is legitimately funny, sweet, involving, and full of infectious tunes.

9.2/10

Before comic book properties were a hot cinematic commodity, there was 1989's The Punisher, which was one of the first-ever live-action films based on Marvel Comics (after 1986's Howard the Duck). Instead of a PG-rated, family-friendly superhero flick in the same vein as Superman or Batman, director Mark Goldblatt's The Punisher is a dark, R-rated vigilante action film, closer to Death Wish or Mad Max than a run-of-the-mill comic book movie. Although a blasphemous notion at the time of its release, the violent source material is a perfect fit for this brand of B-grade action entertainment, even if the film does lack legitimate personality to distinguish it from the dozens of other vigilante pictures produced during the 1980s. Indeed, this iteration of The Punisher lacks the iconic skull emblem on the titular antihero's shirt, and strips away more of the comic's defining characteristics - such as the Punisher's psychological traumas, the recognisable villains, and his Q-esque partner who supplies weaponry and tech. Consequently, this first cinematic depiction of the Punisher is fun to watch, but never lingers in the mind.

Former police officer Frank Castle (Dolph Lundgren) loses his wife (May Lloyd) and daughters in a mob hit orchestrated by mafia boss Dino Miretti (Bryan Marshall), which leaves the widower a broken man. With nothing left to lose, Castle - who is officially listed as deceased - becomes an armed vigilante known as The Punisher, who protects the innocent by assassinating the city's key crime bosses. With 125 murders to his name over five years, Castle is a wanted man, with his ex-partner Jake Berkowitz (Louis Gossett Jr.) heading a specialised Punisher taskforce to stop the notorious vigilante. After Miretti's murder, mobster Gianni Franco (Jeroen Krabbé) comes out of retirement to unify the Mafia families, but they attract the attention of the Japanese Yakuza, led by Lady Tanaka (Kim Miyori). A mob war looms, and although Castle is happy to sit back and let the carnage unfold, he remains wary of the collateral damage when the Yakuza kidnaps the mobsters' children with plans to sell them into the Arab slave trade.

The Punisher is an Australian production, with principal photography primarily taking place in Sydney, which doubles for the Pacific Northwest. Unfortunately, the scope is severely limited, with the majority of the film unfolding in cheap locations: sewers, offices, dojos, houses, and so on. Indeed, it is impossible to get a proper sense of the city, which reflects the restricted budget. On the other hand, pleasing action scenes are nevertheless staged within the confines of the available locations, including a violent amusement park shootout (filmed at Sydney's Luna Park) and a major action set-piece on a dock. Goldblatt does not hold back or pull any punches, as The Punisher earns its restricted adult rating through a high body count and graphic violence, which makes this an entertaining watch for old-school action fans. A veteran editor, Goldblatt made sure to capture ample coverage of each action scene, which results in exciting and competent set-pieces. A precursor to the frenetically-edited action pictures of the 21st Century, The Punisher does favour short shots and frequent cutting, but the set-pieces are coherent and easy to follow, even though the film underwent additional trimming to secure an R rating in the United States. (The unrated cut is the superior version.)

Whether the result of Boaz Yakin's script or those overseeing the editing process, The Punisher is pared down to the bare basics, with a lean 89-minute running time leaving no space for dead air. Under Goldblatt's direction, the film briskly moves from one action set-piece to the next, interspersed with perfunctory connective tissue to ensure the narrative is at least cohesive. Although Castle does reflect on his deceased family, this should be a more significant part of the story, with more in the way of psychological analysis. The workprint version of the film actually adds an extended prologue which establishes Castle's character, his family life, his professional partnership with Berkowitz, and the case that prompted Miretti to assassinate the Castle family. The prologue's removal is a genuine shame. Meanwhile, other technical aspects of The Punisher are solid if unremarkable, with a synth-heavy original score by Dennis Dreith which lacks defining themes and motifs, while production design is rudimentary and cheap.

Lundgren was an established action star at this point in his career, with leading roles in Masters of the Universe and Red Scorpion (in addition to his iconic antagonist role in Rocky IV), and he plays a convincing Frank Castle here. Castle is an antihero through-and-through, but Lundgren keeps the character sufficiently likeable, even if there are not many layers to his performance. In the supporting cast, veteran Australian actor Barry Otto provides a splash of colour as Castle's only friend, Shake; an alcoholic actor (or thespian, in his own words) who often speaks in rhymes. The always-reliable (and Oscar-winning) Gossett adds some gravitas to the material, while Jeroen Krabbé (The Living Daylights, The Fugitive) makes for a fine villain.

As an exploitative action movie, The Punisher is a perfectly serviceable way to pass 89 minutes of your time, though it's not essential viewing unless you're a fan of the '80s action genre. One cannot defend this movie as anything other than a surface-level guilty pleasure, and it's a shame that it comes up short in terms of character development, but it's a competently-constructed and fast-paced B-movie with no pretensions that never tries to transcend the genre. If a genre movie with such verve sounds appealing to you, The Punisher is worth watching. For everybody else, tread lightly.

Pixar's most colourful and culturally defined motion picture to date, Coco finds the studio back at the top of their game for the umpteenth time. Co-directed by Lee Unkrich (Toy Story 3) and Adrian Molina, Coco yet again demonstrates Pixar's knack for producing entertaining animated features that appeal to children but also possess sufficient emotional heft and sophistication to satisfy older viewers. This is a resonant story about family and legacy, set against the backdrop of the Día de los Muertos (or Day of the Dead): a long-standing Mexican festival rich in culture and mythos, making it an ideal candidate for the Pixar treatment. Coco is beautiful and almost unbearably poignant, reinforcing Pixar's transcendent abilities and sense of imagination when they step away from commercially-driven sequels. This is the studio's most idiosyncratic movie since Inside Out in 2015, and, for what it's worth, it is their best since 2010's Toy Story 3.

Young Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez) dreams of following his passion and becoming a musician, but faces staunch opposition from his shoe-making family. Music is strictly banned in Miguel's family because his great-great-grandmother, Mama Imelda (Alanna Ubach), was abandoned by her guitar-playing husband, who left to pursue a musical career and never returned. Believing that his absentee great-great-grandfather is the celebrated, long-dead musician Ernesto de la Cruz (Benjamin Bratt), Miguel attempts to borrow his idol's guitar to perform in the Día de los Muertos Talent Show. However, strumming de la Cruz's guitar suddenly transports him to the Land of the Dead; an afterlife realm populated by skeletons, including Miguel's deceased relatives. If Miguel doesn't return to the Land of the Living before sunrise, he will permanently join the dead. Mama Imelda offers to give Miguel a blessing to return him to the Land of the Living, but only on the condition that he never plays music again. Unable to agree to such terms, Miguel seeks to obtain a blessing from Ernesto de la Cruz, pairing up with troublemaker Hector (Gael García Bernal) to traverse the Land of the Dead and find the famous singer before sunrise.

An animated movie about the Día de los Muertos Festival is not entirely novel, as Guillermo del Toro's The Book of Life did it first in 2014, but Coco is a different film altogether. Whereas The Book of Life explores supernatural mythology and stories, Coco is more of an intimate familial drama, using the afterlife as a plot device to tell an emotional story about growth and memories. Admittedly, the narrative is predicated on a proverbial premise that could be resolved if the characters took a moment to sit down and talk, and the climax is not exactly unsurprising, but the satisfying payoff compensates for any degree of screenplay familiarity. Pixar has made us cry since 1995, and this is one of their most emotional endeavours to date, arguably the most emotional. It is not hyperbolic to state that Coco will make you cry as it nears its touching conclusion, which is reflective of Pixar's careful filmmaking process. Indeed, not only is it easy to get invested in these characters and their plight, but the ending is highly evocative, as well. Those with relatives who have dementia, or those who have experienced the loss of a family member, will bawl their eyes out. Stock up on tissues.

Written by relative newcomers Matthew Aldrich and co-director Adrian Molina, one of Coco's biggest assets is the immaculate depiction of Mexico, which gives the production a refreshing sense of identity to overcome any screenwriting clichés. This is not another case of Hollywood appropriation, as the Pixar team conducted extensive research (by actually visiting Mexico) during the long development phase, and the finished product exemplifies this careful attention to detail. The vibrant Mexican culture rings true in every frame, from the family structures and traditions, to smaller details that will go unnoticed by many. The movie even reinforces that sandals are a deadly weapon in the hands of an angry Mexican grandmother. Furthermore, this material is not just window dressing: Coco amounts to a fascinating walking tour of Mexican art, music, movies, sports and popular culture, and it all feels organic to the narrative. Also organic is the movie's sharp sense of humour, with Unkrich and Molina never opting for cheap laughs. Additionally, the directors maintain impeccable pacing throughout, briskly working through the narrative without sacrificing dramatic or emotional development. Another key strength is the music, from the magnificent original songs (one of which earned an Academy Award) to the flavoursome original score by Pixar regular Michael Giacchino (Up, Inside Out).

Coco is mesmerising from a visual perspective - the Mexican locales look authentic, while the Land of the Dead showcases creative, effervescent environments at every turn. In addition, the Land of the Dead's skeletal inhabitants are distinctive enough for viewers to tell them apart, thanks to the expressive personalities and colourful designs which generate a sense of individuality for each character. A few recognisable actors lend their vocal talents to the movie (such as Bernal and Bratt), but none of the performers were cast purely for commercial purposes. It's not that selecting big stars is an inherently bad thing, but Pixar's casting here reflects the importance of choosing the right actors in such a culturally important production. And my word, the cast is excellent across the board, with Gonzalez showing a level of maturity and dramatic range that is scarcely glimpsed in child actors. But it's Bernal who steals the show, delivering a measured performance which enhances the movie's impact. His sense of underlying charisma, as well as his heart-wrenching vulnerability, turns Hector into a genuinely three-dimensional character. It's superb work from the award-winning actor.

Coco is one of the only Western animated movies in recent memory which does not feel like it was designed for maximum merchandising opportunities. Merchandise exists, sure, but Pixar did not concentrate on creating eccentric, Minion-like caricatures purely for toy sales - instead, story and character were their primary concern. It is also refreshing that this is an original film as opposed to a remake or sequel, which is all the more encouraging given that Coco followed a few months after the release of Pixar's Cars 3. The production's maturity and substance seems almost effortless, showing precisely what is missing from the likes of Turbo, Home, Trolls, The Angry Birds Movie, The Secret Life of Pets, the fucking Emoji Movie, and the Despicable Me sequels (not to mention Minions). Flawlessly mixing heart and laughs to supplement the sumptuous visuals, Coco is an instant classic and one of Pixar's highest achievements, ticking every box with utmost confidence.

The third Saturday Night Live feature film, Coneheads emerged after the surprise success of Wayne's World in 1992, as Lorne Michaels promptly sought to adapt more SNL skits into big-screen motion pictures. The Coneheads originated as a recurring sketch on SNL dating back to the late 1970s, followed by a Rankin/Bass animated TV special in 1983, the plot of which is noticeably reflected in this feature film. Alas, SNL's big-screen winning streak (which began with their first feature, The Blues Brothers, back in 1980) was not destined to last, as Coneheads failed both commercially and critically. In 2020, it endures as something of a cult oddity that is primarily remembered by a small group of devout fans; indeed, the film is not mentioned or even recalled in serious cinephile circles. Coneheads packs a few laughs and creative ideas, but it does wear out its welcome despite a mere 87-minute runtime.

Sent to conquer Earth, aliens Beldar (Dan Aykroyd) and Prymaat (Jane Curtin) are shot down over United States airspace by the National Guard. Their spaceship crash lands near New York City, prompting Beldar and Prymaat to adapt to human civilisation as they gradually assemble a communication device to call their homeworld of Remulak requesting a rescue vessel. Beldar gains employment repairing electronics, but the coneheaded aliens soon attract the attention of ambitious INS agent Gorman Seedling (Michael McKean). Managing to escape the INS, and with a rescue vessel unable to reach them for several years, Beldar and Prymaat buy their own house in New Jersey, where they raise a daughter, Connie (Michelle Burke), and adopt the surname Conehead. But Gordon continues his investigation with the help of his assistant, Eli (David Spade), which threatens the Conehead family's newfound suburban bliss.

The movie's only genuinely inspired sequence is a montage of "home movies" as Beldar and Prymaat move into their NJ home and raise Connie, signifying a considerable time jump as the family embrace the American dream and ingratiate themselves into human culture. Other laughs are also earned through dialogue, as Aykroyd and Curtin deliver complex spiels with a rapid-fire cadence, including an amusingly indifferent, matter-of-fact description of breakfast foods. Descriptions of televisions and other objects are also amusing, while Prymaat announces her pregnancy by stating "I am with cone." Outside of such moments, however, it seems like everyone is trying too hard to generate comedy, making Coneheads feel like an amateur movie made by a group of friends. The sheer size of the ensemble cast, which encompasses countless SNL regulars, reinforces this impression. The number of cameos is sincerely impressive, mind you, with the likes of Adam Sandler, Sinbad, Drew Carey, Michael Richards, Phil Hartman, Ellen DeGeneres, Tom Arnold and Jon Lovitz all fleetingly showing up for a couple of minutes each. Even the late Chris Farley has a beefy role as Connie's romantic interest.

With a generous estimated budget of $33 million, there is adequate competency to the technical presentation which ensures Coneheads is consistently watchable, even if it's rarely side-splitting. Director Steve Barron (a music video veteran) is no stranger to special effects, as he previously helmed the original (and still best) Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie in 1990. Coneheads shows real ambition in its third act, with a trip to Remulak exhibiting impressive scope in its special effects, including a monster that would not look out-of-place in a Star Wars movie. The invading Remulak fleet, too, is sufficiently convincing considering the film's age and modesty (Coneheads was never intended to be groundbreaking science fiction). The score by veteran composer David Newman (Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, Galaxy Quest) also helps to sell the illusion, making it even more of a shame that the material is often pedestrian. Furthermore, perhaps unwisely, Coneheads is a PG-rated comedy; therefore, the humour lacks bite. This sort of family-friendly fare is fine, but the four credited screenwriters (Aykroyd, Tom Davis, Bonnie Turner, and Terry Turner) come up short in terms of wit. Again, there are laughs, but the film is a bit middle-of-the-road as a whole.

One cannot fault Aykroyd or Curtin for their commitment to the material, as they completely inhabit their respective characters, but the shtick is not for all tastes, and it grows grating from time to time. This comes back to the issues inherent in expanding bite-sized sketches into a full feature film. On the other hand, Coneheads has a secret weapon in Michael McKean, a veteran character actor who takes the material seriously despite the increasing ridiculousness of the proceedings. Alongside him, Spade plays a great straight man to the absurd goings-on around him. Coneheads is not a total bust, and it certainly makes for inoffensive entertainment (even by today's overzealous standards of political correctness), but it's a shame that it's not better.