movie reviews by PvtCaboose91

"Become the animal. Embrace the other side."

Let's face it: we pay to see summer movies for the explosions, the fight scenes and the action in general. They aren't required to engage us on a cerebral level; they merely offer an abundance of action during which we're required to suspend our disbelief. X-Men Origins: Wolverine, however, is definitive proof that a plateful of action is not enough to create a satisfying summer movie. For a film to attain the status of an excellent popcorn-munching cinematic experience, it's required to pay at least some attention to narrative coherence and character arcs, not to mention the action has to occur in an actual context. In Wolverine, the action sequences just...happen. To arrive at an action sequence, one has to suffer through badly-paced scenes of trite dialogue and terrible acting. Plot holes also flourish, logic is quickly discarded, and it leaves too many things unexplained. Instead of a deep character study, X-Men Origins: Wolverine is merely an action film masquerading as something more. There's no human drama (ala Spider-Man) or witty dialogue (like Iron Man). Even the other X-Men movies had a political resonance to them which isn't retained here. This is Hack Filmmaking 101!

X-Men Origins: Wolverine was ostensibly a labour of love for poor Hugh Jackman who also served as producer, but unfortunately his efforts didn't pay off. About a month before the film's scheduled release, an incomplete workprint was leaked online. As it turns out, though, this leak was the best thing to happen to the film industry during 2009. Those eagerly anticipating the movie (this reviewer included) were given the opportunity to see how awful it truly is. Fox immediately attempted to cover their blunder by claiming footage from the reshoots was missing from the workprint (fourteen minutes in total, apparently). Curiously, closer to the release date, Fox's story changed: ten minutes of reshoots are missing from the workprint version, and these ten new minutes are replacing ten particular minutes which have been removed from the final cut. However, the workprint was indeed the final cut sans finished special effects, sound effects and music. The alleged "missing footage" never existed...it was a lie manufactured by Fox in a frantic attempt to convince audiences to go see the completed movie. But those deceptive chairmen at Fox couldn't manufacture a lie to cover one particular fact: Wolverine is completely beyond salvation. No amount of reshooting could salvage this mess. Nothing short of a total remake - with a completely new script and plotline, and a bunch of new actors - could rescue this awful film.

In a failed attempt to distance the franchise from 2006's X-Men: The Last Stand, Fox green-lit this prequel instead of another sequel. Wisely, Wolverine was selected as the focus of this first origins adventure...yet this motion picture fails to illuminate the breadth of Wolverine's tale. His back-story is complex and lavish, traversing over many centuries and veering off into numerous sub-plots (and countries), all the while navigating through various relationships with an assortment of characters. This is all condensed into about 105 minutes, and it falls apart in less than a fraction of that time. No-one cares about where Wolverine got his jacket - a Wolverine-centric spin-off following the main character kicking butt in Japan would have been far better!

The film opens in Canada in 1845 (which is very strange, considering Canada wasn't established 'til 1867) when a young James Howlett first discovers his bone claw abilities. A few deaths occur, and James goes on the run with his half-brother Victor. This prologue, however, is very rushed; it's more confusing than compelling. Following this, a montage is presented as Wolverine and Sabretooth (Jackman and Schreiber, respectively) fight alongside each other in every major U.S. war. Never mind that it's impossible for these two to always be assigned to the same unit, as this indiscretion is reasonably minor compared to the other sins of logic to be found within. For instance, they're also Canadian... I guess no-one checked their papers when they enlisted in the U.S. Army...
After their experiences in Vietnam, the brothers are recruited by William Stryker (Huston) to be part of a team of mutants assigned to carry out missions in third world countries. Off-tangent sub-plots then appear in abundance; the main one concerning Wolverine seeking revenge after his lady friend meets with a violent end. Some betraying also occurs, more mutants are introduced, and this culminates in an endlessly silly climax. Instead of one solid plot, Wolverine is merely a tonne of sub-plots mashed together.

"All the horrible things in your life... Your father, the wars, I can make all this go away. You can live knowing that the woman you loved was hunted down, or you can join me. I promise you will have your revenge."

It's hard to begin detailing exactly what's wrong with this movie, because the truth is, it's just about everything. X-Men Origins: Wolverine is a disaster of monumental proportions.
The first major problem is the screenplay. It's a string of well-worn clichés we've seen a million times before - including not one, but two "don't do it, you'll be just as bad as him" moments as well as a conventional, cheesy, embarrassing romance subplot which concludes on the most clichéd note possible. Dialogue is another issue: it's AWFUL! I have no idea what's worse; the dreadful dialogue or the abysmal way the actors disperse it. The script also skims through crucial character development and more or less eschews Wolverine's origins entirely. If it's truly an "origins" tale as advertised, where are the explanations? When initially introduced to baby Wolverine, he's already a mutant with bone claws. How did he get them? The best we can assume is his biological father was a mutant, although the implication is irritatingly vague. These things are brushed aside in a hurry in order to dive straight into the action. The screenwriters never considered, however, that an audience needs a reason to care for the characters that are stuck in the midst of the action (only small-minded, ADD-inflicted individuals will overlook this). Another thing regarding the action: virtually all of the characters are invincible, which jettisons all hope of any emotional investment with them. When Wolverine and Sabretooth battle pointlessly over and over again, we know neither of them will die and the fight will conclude with them just walking away. Why should we care?

Wolverine is never given an opportunity to come to terms with his mutations. Even after his skeleton is coated with Adamantium, he's automatically cool with it all...except for the customary "looking at self in mirror while testing abilities" (TM) scene which lasts one or two minutes. Another major gripe: the name "Logan" is never justified. In the original comics, Wolverine was a Samurai and he was given the name Logan. In this muddled mess of a movie, the name Logan just...appears. We have no idea where it came from...he's just named Logan for no reason, and other characters mysteriously pick this up.
Neither does the script justify why Sabretooth becomes Wolverine's sworn enemy. Reasons for other happenings in the story - such as Sabretooth killing a perfectly harmless mutant, and beginning a Watchmen-style elimination of all mutants in his former team - also never become clear.

"I'm coming for blood. No code of conduct, no law."

The script is beset with absolutely preposterous moments. Like there's a high profile facility on the mysterious "Island", and Wolverine is able to simply stroll through the front doors. No security? No locks? And when mutants are escaping, a grand total of four armed men try to stop them. The cages containing the mutants are also just metal wire fences. Some mutants have powers to cut through these wires easily, like Cyclops who can slice through bricks. On top of this, Stryker is so dumb he decides to erase Wolverine's memory after coating the guy's skeleton with Adamantium, making him indestructible. Characters also pop up at the most appropriate time (an entrance from a particular character during the final showdown is embarrassingly terrible and way too convenient...it will elicit groans). Wolverine is beleaguered with logic problems, primarily from the "Why don't you just...?" variety and the "That's just totally stupid / What the fuck?!" range (like the aforesaid examples). One should suspend their disbelief for a comic book movie, but this takes things to the next level. It's worse than your usual brainless summer actioner. The film's concluding 10 minutes in particular are absolutely retarded. On top of this, the continuity of the entire series is wrecked. Certain conversations in the other X-Men films now make no sense (like Stryker telling Wolverine he gave him claws when in reality Stryker just strengthened the claws).

A plethora of infamous Marvel characters are dispatched not long after their introductions. Virtually every single character is flat; appearing in name-only form to entice fans. Deadpool's treatment is most heartbreaking. Perhaps Ryan Reynolds was behind the workprint leak after he viewed the incomplete version and realised the gross misuse of Deadpool. The character's appearance is no more than a cameo. Don't get too attached to other much-hyped characters such as The Blob, John Wraith, Agent Zero and Bolt, as (like Deadpool) their appearances amount to a mere cameo. Team X is formed at the film's beginning, but after a brief first mission Wolverine has a stroke of moral conscience and leaves the group. Why Wolverine and Sabretooth are so willing to join Stryker in the first place is a mystery. Due to the rushed nature of the opening twenty minutes, there's no way we can get emotionally attached to the characters. A lot of potential is wasted.
Most jarringly, this film clearly wants to be separate from the comics as it takes a separate path, yet if you're not acquainted with all these Marvel characters you won't care about those who appear and won't understand what they're doing here. The story isn't deep enough to provide the uninitiated with requisite information about everything (the title of 'Team X' isn't even mentioned...if it was it certainly wasn't a memorable moment), and it isn't loyal enough to satiate the fanboys.

Director Gavin Hood previously helmed 2007's Rendition as well as Tsotsi (which won an Oscar for Best Foreign Language Feature in 2006). Hood's inability to direct a genuinely enjoyable and resonant motion picture surfaces here again. Wolverine is a concatenation of action movie clichés, not just from the hackneyed screenplay but also the selection of shots. Like a shot of the protagonist setting off an explosion and walking in slow motion towards the camera, as well as the customary situation of the hero walking away from the bad guy he's decided not to kill, only to turn back slowly as said bad guy dramatically reveals something.

The action sequences are frequently marred by slo-mo shots, whereas other action sequences can't be enjoyed because of the invincibility of the characters, and as for the others...there's no context. An action scene involving Wolverine taking down a helicopter is admittedly awesome to watch, but within the story it makes no sense. Stryker is trying to kill the creature he just created at great expense, and sends his right-hand man to do the job...knowing fully well that bullets made of Adamantium are the only thing that can take down Wolverine. That's just the first of many irreverent action sequences. Others include a boxing match between Wolverine and The Blob that happens for no reason, and even a large-scale battle against Gambit - a mutant who's actually on the same side! For the climax, an unfinished genetically enhanced weapon is unleashed upon Wolverine, when once again Stryker has a full gun of Adamantium bullets at his disposal...and nothing else can kill the (anti)hero. Nothing in this film deals with the immortal characters in a meaningful or interesting way, and no amount of impressive fight choreography can provide the action with genuine tension. The special effects are also quite shonky, and an appearance of a CGI Patrick Stewart is absurdly unconvincing. The pacing, as well, is awful, as spaces between the action sequences are unforgivably sluggish, and this is due to Hood's incompetent direction. Bring back Bryan Singer!

Hugh Jackman has endless charisma as an actor, but his performance here is hamstrung by the badly drawn character. Wolverine is meant to be a badass anti-hero, but he's toned down for the sake of toy sales and the target audience. All Jackman does is strike poses and deliver dismal dialogue. Meanwhile, Liev Schreiber just alternates between sassy one-liners and open-mouthed rage. Luckily, Schreiber is actually a brooding villain, even if his motivations are never explored.
Ryan Reynolds is good as swordsman Wade Wilson (a.k.a. Deadpool), but he's lost far too early into the movie. His screen-time is exasperatingly brief, as is that of Dominic Monaghan whose character of Bolt has an appealing sadness. Taylor Kitsch is a soulless Gambit with a terrible, false accent. Perhaps Lost's Josh Holloway would've made a better Gambit (he was offered the chance to briefly appear in X-Men: The Last Stand as the character, but declined). Not worth mentioning anyone else, as they're all forgettable, especially Danny Huston who isn't at all sinister as Stryker.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine eventually turns into a confusing hodgepodge of uninspired, clichéd fight scenes and loud explosions. The other X-Men films focused on Wolverine at certain times, and he was more or less the central character. You'd think this "origins" tale would, ya know, reveal his origins...but it doesn't! It's just an action film with Wolverine at its core and mutants surrounding him, not unlike the other X-Men flicks. As a whole the film feels very rushed - it's too short to be considered an epic Marvel feature. The action is occasionally impressive, granted, but the whole falls below the sum of its parts. Good action does not mean an excellent movie.
All superhero films are advertisements for their merchandising departments, but Wolverine is more obvious than most, with product placement substituting compelling characters and an engaging storyline. Combined with limp direction and unimaginative special effects, and there's little to recommend. Even Jackman's natural charisma can't rise above the material...but he sure can strike a pose, doing so in every action sequence to ensure the toy department have a field day. No longer will people have to refer to the Spider-Man 3 fiasco - now Wolverine will be the target of conversations concerning bad Marvel movies. Even Brett Ratner's X-Men: The Last Stand is more enjoyable.

2.6/10

"I'd rather die than to stay away from you."

Adapted from Stephenie Meyer's best-selling novel (the first of four books), Twilight is a sloppy, anaemic tale of forbidden teenage love. Perhaps the biggest fault with Twilight is that the film is damagingly reliant on its source material, meaning that while its reverential nature may satiate the pre-converted (a predominantly feminine fan-base of all ages and lung capacity), it leaves the uninitiated on the outside looking in. See, as a standalone film, Twilight is detrimentally incoherent and condensed - characters are underdeveloped, the plot hardly exists, and story intrigue barely exists. The most important thing to realise about Twilight is that it would be exactly the same movie with or without vampires. Those seeking bloodsucking action will be disappointed - the vampiric themes are just a gimmick, as the central focus of the plot is instead a cheesy, insipid, melodramatic romance fable.

Teenage romance tales usually begin with the protagonist moving to a new school and struggling to cope with this change. Such is the unenviable situation when 17-year-old Bella Swan (Stewart) moves in with her father (Burke) after her mother hits the road with a new lover. Bella soon develops a tight-knit group of friends at school despite her inescapable self-consciousness and awkwardness during social interactions. Another cliché soon appears in the form of Edward Cullen (Pattinson). Edward is the typical bad boy archetype: he keeps to himself and no girls are good enough for him. Predictably, Bella develops an incurable crush on this elusive, dashing young man, and the feeling is mutual. But as their tenuous courtship begins, the reason for Edward's mysterious, withdrawn disposition is revealed: he's a vampire. This does not stand in the way of a romance, though, of course.

Twilight admittedly starts well enough with a promising first act, but then it loses its way. Most detrimentally, it takes an inordinate amount of time for the film to hit its stride - it just sluggishly rattles along for far too long as futile ancillary characters are introduced and Bella & Edward trade bad dialogue while gazing longingly at one another. Of course, this is hardly sufficient to sustain a two-hour motion picture, so some superfluous antagonists are introduced at about the 80-minute mark: an unfriendly pack of vampires, who - for absolutely no reason, other than to lead the plot somewhere - decide to hunt Bella.

With book sales so massive that the publishers are filled with envy, and with an enormous fan-base completely prepared to lap up anything pertaining to this beloved franchise, it was only a matter of time before Twilight and its follow-ups were adapted as movies. Mind you, the powers that be are not funding these adaptations because the target audience wants to see them - these films are being green-lit because the fans PAY to see them. Otherwise, everyone involved would be stepping up to ensure Meyer's works were skilfully translated to celluloid. As it is, Twilight is a shoddy commercialisation of the source material; compressing things for the sake of time, and incorporating plot points for fidelity reasons that don't flow naturally. Meyer herself even had the final say in the editing room. This reviewer has never read any of Meyer's novels, but, judging by the quality of this feature, has no interest in starting - Twilight is merely a journey to Dullsville on Nosferatu's ratty wings.

Devoid of the book's first-person narration, the chain of events served up in Melissa Rosenberg's adapted screenplay - like the protagonists mutually surrendering to their feelings, Edward's initial and inexplicable hostility towards Bella, and Edward's choice to reveal himself as a self-controlled but still lethal bloodsucker - proceed with zero logic. Furthermore, even with an occasional emo-ish voiceover, the film cannot truly get into the head of Bella Swan, and consequently her decision to get involved with a lethal vampire comes across as stupid and ill-considered. What the fuck do these people see in each other? The film fails to provide an answer, other than the shallow reason that they're attracted to one another. The result is a supernatural romance in which both the supernatural and romance elements feel rushed, unformed and insufficiently motivated, leaving viewers with little to do but shrug and focus on the eye candy. Also, according to Meyer, William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet was an influence on Twilight. Evidently, it went completely over the bimbo's head that Romeo and Juliet was a fucking satire! If the titular lovers got married, they would have filed for divorced a few years afterwards. Shakespeare may be regarded as boring, but it's hilarious that he can make someone look stupid almost four centuries after his death.

With a more generous budget and a more competent writer, Twilight might - keyword might - have been transformed into a somewhat decent movie. Unfortunately, the film was made on a rather small budget, making it look and feel more like a pilot for a television show. Furthermore, why Catherine Hardwicke was selected to fill the director's chair is truly a mystery for the ages. A film of this scope and sensual edge required a director able to communicate thick torrents of romance as well as dark, violent undertones mixed together to form an arena in which the characters can work out their angst. Hardwicke's sheer inexperience with fantasy and horror is very evident from the outset. The special effects are merely average instead of remarkable, too - when Edward tree hops with Bella, one can virtually see the wires. The depiction of the sparkling vampires in direct sunlight is even worse. The filmmakers turned to ILM for this effect, but - despite their best efforts - Edward's skin looks unconvincing and artificial. Admittedly, though, Twilight is somewhat enjoyable as the momentum builds due to the occasionally engaging atmosphere and a number of excellent soundtrack choices. But don't get me wrong - the film still sucks.

For her novels, Meyer rewrote the vampire rulebook to suit her desires. Meyer's vampires don't have any lethal problems with sunlight, crucifixes, stakes, garlic or holy water. They don't have fangs either. Meyer thus castrated the undead - instead of badass creatures of the night constantly hunting for blood, they casually stroll around on cloudy days and are far too sensitive to bite open the neck of a helpless young girl. There are a few evil vampires in the story, but, given the limitations of the PG-13 rating, they aren't frightening or memorable. On top of the ingrained bloodsucker cinema logic being disposed of, concepts of character motivations and romantic chemistry were ignored too (siblings have more sexual heat than Bella and Edward). Twilight eventually culminates with an exhaustively moronic final act during which the characters suddenly pinball around the country with minimal explanation before arriving at a mirror-filled final showdown arena straight out of the filmmaking 101 handbook.

Another major negative of Twilight is the woeful casting. Robert Pattinson is dull as Edward Cullen. Judging by Pattinson's performance and the nature of his character as presented here, it's difficult to fathom why the world's female population swoon whenever Edward's name is mentioned. Pattison's acting is completely soulless and awkward. He may be portraying an emotionless vampire, but he's too uninteresting. Kristen Stewart's awkward line deliveries are also problematic. The interactions between Bella and Edward feel particularly forced, and the script gives Kristen Stewart no chance to convince the audience of her transcendent love for a guy who'd just as soon drink her blood as jump her bones. No-one else in the cast merits much attention. Due to the sheer volume of characters, smaller roles are left without much dimension and the stars portraying these characters are forgettable. Females are welcome to disagree, though, since the men look like they spent time posing for Abercrombie & Fitch catalogues between takes.

It's hard to deny the commercial success of Twilight ($380 million worldwide from a $37 million budget is nothing to sneeze at), which was mainly thanks to the lonely dateless tweens and college gals who embraced Meyer's wish fulfilment universe. But to the outsiders, the experience alternates between embarrassing cheesiness and outright boredom. A viewer will make up their own mind as to whether or not they'll see the film, so it would be redundant to make a recommendation - either one loves the franchise and wants to see the page-to-screen translation, or curiosity (based on the hype) will merely get the better of an outsider.

Unsurprisingly and unfortunately, Twilight spawned a number of sequels, starting with The Twilight Saga: New Moon in 2009.

4.2/10

"When you're young everything feels like the end of the world. But it's not... It's just the beginning."

Imagine a feeble, generic screenplay (mixing equal parts of Back to the Future, It's a Wonderful Life as well as Big) and mediocre acting. These are the basic constituents that make up 17 Again; a by-the-numbers teen comedy ostensibly green-list for the sole purpose of spotlighting Zac Efron. The teen heartthrob wants to break out of his High School Musical niche...but apparently not too far out of it. In 17 Again he plays a teenager who's the star of the school basketball team. He even dances a little (no singing, though). At 21, young Efron still has ample time to make the transition from teen idol to adult star, which is a relief because this lethargic comedy is a shaky start. The blame for this film's failure rests solely on the shoulders of writer Jason Filardi and director Burr Steels who employ a promising premise - middle-aged screw-up reborn as his teenage self - and misfire at every turn. The target audience for this mess is roughly the same as Hannah Montana: The Movie, and the quality is similar as well.

Mike O'Donnell (Efron) is the star of his high school basketball team. As the film opens, it's 1989. 17-year-old Mike is about to play a crucial basketball game which will determine the course of his life. But Mike ruins the opportunity to play and, in doing so, renounces a potential scholarship. Fast-forward several years, and Mike (now played by Perry) is living a miserable life - a divorce is on the horizon, his job situation is awful, and his kids hate him. (We also know Mike is miserable because he tells his spouse "I'm extremely disappointed with my life"...in case you haven't realised, writer Filardi tells more than he shows.) Frustrated, he audibly wishes that he could reboot his life and elect a different route. Lo and behold, this wish is granted...Mike soon wakes up as 17-year-old Efron. Over the course of the next few weeks, Mike keeps an eye on his family and tries to sort out his life. Oh, and during this time no-one ever wonders where (adult) Mike has disappeared to. Some additional ludicrous twaddle is also thrown into the mix about a spirit guide entering the picture in the form of the magical high school janitor (ugh, that old device?).

Very little creative energy was expended in the creation of this movie, which is modelled after the body-swapping comedies of the 70s and 80s, one of which is even called 18 Again. Screenwriter Filardi - whom one can assume is an expert in contrived, formulaic comedy, having previously written Bringing Down the House - has simply mashed together a string of clichés, and director Steers hasn't done much to improve it. It's all extremely conventional and it's nothing we haven't seen before. 17 Again treads no new territory, and trudges through familiar territory with a slack disregard for its own quality. It more or less reiterates messages stated in It's a Wonderful Life; this time aiming at a more modern audience familiar with the concept of a miserable middle-aged man whose life has crumbled apart due to decisions made during teenage life.

Unfortunately, the humour frequently relies on the satirisation of contemporary teenage life, referencing such things as cell phones and YouTube for laughs. However, these gags (which are considered amusing in 2009) will prevent 17 Again from developing into a timeless classic as the relatability of its depiction will eventually dissolve. See, instead of encapsulating the era it merely satirises it...and only those inside the joke will laugh at the gags. That said, there are small things to enjoy in 17 Again. Thomas Lennon is the by far the most enjoyable; playing a nerd whose home is overloaded with nerdy memorabilia (from Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings). The scenes involving Ned add nothing but padding and clichés to the central plot, but they're easily the funniest parts. How can the movie get one thing so right while getting other things so wrong? It's disappointing.
All of the characters (even Ned to an extent) are unable to escape from his or her caricature orbit. They're a bunch of stereotypes and, for the most part, their one-dimensionality makes them uninteresting. The film's buoyant comedic tone sometimes seems strained as well, tossing in a lightsabre duel and an Efron dance number for no real reason other than to keep the audience awake.

Workable ideas are often poisoned by trite, unfunny humour and zany scenes that drag on for far too long. Some of the humour relies on Mike getting entangled in situations that are awkward on account of his secret status as an adult. A sex-ed lesson in health class, for instance, soon takes a downward tumble when Mike begins lecturing his fellow students about abstinence. It's awkward, but, crucially, not very funny. The film is rife with situations like this, including the inevitable moment when Maggie - Mike's own daughter - puts the moves on him (a dull homage to Back to the Future). The moments that do generally succeed, however, come as a result of the PG-13 rating which allows for more risqué sex jokes, even if they are quite tame compared to most contemporary American sex comedies.

Filardi's screenplay also contains gross errors in chronology. For instance, in one of the 1989 scenes Mike is referred to as "Vanilla Ice" by his coach. That's peculiar considering Vanilla Ice didn't become famous until 1990. More importantly, if Scarlett fell pregnant with Maggie in early 1989, Maggie should be almost 20 years old by now and therefore not a high school student. Confusions also arise in regards to the number of years Scar and Mike have been a couple, as characters say different things at different times. I'm guessing these errors are because the film was scheduled to be released last year and was probably meant to be set in 2007, not 2009. Nevertheless, when the adult Mike is introduced the title reads "Today". A good way to confuse the audience, lads!

At one time or another, adults probably fantasise about reliving the glory days of their youth. It's an unfortunate but true fact that only time imparts the wisdom to realise what has been lost. 17 Again endeavours to express this, but the message is hindered by the execution. The film doesn't spend enough time in the company of Matthew Perry as the adult Mike. In all likelihood, the filmmakers frantically rushed through Perry's scenes to return Efron to the screen as quickly as possible...thus botching the crucial setup. At no point does Perry's portrayal of Mike achieve a semblance of humanity. When teenage Mike is on screen, the "hook" for the omniscient audience is that he's a middle-aged man trapped in the body of his high school self, but neither the script nor Efron effectively sell this premise. Quips and moments are included to remind us, but there's a difference between being told something and actually believing it. Since adult Mike is given such a small amount of screen-time, we're not familiar with how he acts, and therefore it’s impossible to find comedy in Efron's impersonation.

It's telling that the film's strongest scene is its opening sequence. 17 Again subsequently crashes once old Perry transforms into young Efron and almost immediately dives into the business of repairing his family life. Shouldn't he be relishing the opportunity to relive his teenage years? No use is made of such potential; the film instead comfortably plods towards the inevitable, clichéd ending. The plot concentrates on Mike's befuddled path to salvation, but the movie appears more infatuated with Efron and his performance elasticity.

Both Efron and Matthew Perry are forgettable in their respective roles; Perry not given sufficient time to make an impression and Efron is simply disposable. Efron's job is to look pretty and give the girls around him a reason to hit on him. To the teenage girls, mission accomplished. To the male population and critics, it just isn’t good enough. The heartthrob has yet to submit a breakout performance that displays his versatility and talent as a performer. Leonardo DiCaprio made a solid impression during his transition to adult star with What's Eating Gilbert Grape, for instance. Efron needs to take a big step away from Disney and genuinely test his limits as an actor.
As said before, Lennon steals the show as Ned. He's the only purveyor of decent comedy in this disappointing flick. Leslie Mann also appears as Mike's fed-up (soon-to-be-ex) wife. She's strong and appealing, and another highlight of this otherwise flimsy comedy.

It's inexplicable that 17 Again works from such an awful script, especially given that other movies have employed an almost identical premise and eventually became classics. Your tolerance of this Zac Efron vehicle will mainly depend on your tolerance of the young High School Musical star. This reviewer can barely tolerate Efron, but his presence was merely the tip of the iceberg. There's nary an ounce of originality (a deluge of 70s/80s films exhausted the concept), the humour is lazy, plot holes flourish, it isn't particularly clever, and director Steers barely manages to keep the film afloat. Still, it's far more bearable than I expected, mainly on account of Thomas Lennon as Ned.

4.8/10

"A rollercoaster is just elemental physics, a conversion of potential energy to kinetic energy."

By this entry in the Final Destination series, the central premise - the unstoppable force of the Grim Reaper stalking and slaying those who've evaded his scythe - had grown more than a little tired. Fortunately, the pleasure of these flicks has never had much to do with the story, but rather the visceral thrills they serve up - a new selection of spectacular, gory death sequences ensuring each entry to the franchise is as enjoyable as the one preceding it. Fortunately, too, each sequel thus far has belied its generic storytelling with advantageous upgrades in the filmmaking department. Final Destination 2, for instance, contained slick direction, marvellous visual effects and more believable death sequences. Final Destination 3 ups the ante in the gore department once again, as well as delivering a more appropriate, believable and all-round superior dénouement.

If you've seen the first two Final Destination flicks, you'll know the drill - an unsuspecting teen foresees a horrible disaster, takes steps to avoid this nasty end, and in the process saves a few lives. As a consequence, Death gets annoyed that his design has been messed up, and sets about offing those who cheated him. Final Destination 3 is no deviation from this template.
This time around, the Grim Reaper comes calling at an amusement park where a bunch of high schoolers are celebrating graduation. While climbing aboard the rollercoaster, young Wendy Christensen (Winstead) experiences a vivid, violent premonition of the rollercoaster running off the rails. In a fit of panic she disembarks the ride with a few others, and they all watch in horror as the rollercoaster actually malfunctions, running off the rails and making mince meat of those onboard. One-by-one, the Grim Reaper then begins to pick off those who cheated death in a string of elaborate "accidents" leading to an assortment of inventive violence and gratuitous female nudity.

The mythos of the Final Destination franchise has now grown quite stale, and Final Destination 3 feels like a redundant instalment of this now-thrice-told joke. A third entry to the series could have been an opportunity to solve the irritating mysteries surrounding these films, but once again it leaves us with more questions than answers. Where do the premonitions come from? What's so special about the people experiencing these visions? Is it possible to permanently cheat death? Final Destination 3 stubbornly refuses to expand the mythos and address these queries; using a large amount of gore as compensation. Not even Tony Todd returns to star as the enigmatic mortician again, which a true shame as Todd offered tantalising explication in the preceding instalments. Todd does, however, star in voice-only form during key scenes at the beginning and end, making him the only actor to be involved with all three instalments so far.

With the Final Destination blueprint growing sour, the creative team behind every instalment are required to push the envelope in new and inventive ways. For Final Destination 3, James Wong (who helmed the first entry) made a return to the director's chair. The script is also the joint effort of Wong, Glen Morgan and Jeffrey Reddick (all of whom penned the original film).
The premonition set-piece is yet another spectacular disaster; definitely on a par with those crafted in the previous films. Final Destination 3 also benefits from an element absent in the two predecessors: the innate creepiness of a carnival. The title sequence features images of out of control rides, a mechanical fortune-teller, and a chilling montage of sideshow attractions (upon close scrutiny, one will realise this sequence also foreshadows impending deaths). The swirling strains of a pipe organ set the stage for an uncertain experience, establishing a fitting atmosphere.

Final Destination 3 has been composed with tremendous skill. There's legitimate tension built up during the pre-death scenes, for instance. There is a formula associated with how the death scenes develop, but the fun lies in figuring out how a character's grisly demise will play out. The film's greatest assets are definitely Wong's skilled direction and Robert McLachlan's sublime cinematography. For the opening disaster sequence, McLachlan provides excellent POV imagery and intense shots of the rollercoaster as the chaos unfolds. Employing remote-control power pods with affixed mini-cameras, the cinematographer captured actual movement in the practical shots of the cast on the rollercoaster, resulting in an experience more frighteningly realistic and riveting than anything stationary cameras could deliver. Director Wong additionally insisted upon using the actual actors in as many of the action sequences as possible, thus presenting an audience with a more honest depiction of the horrifying events that befall the characters. Granted, some of the CGI shots are slightly sub-par (mainly suffering from poor contrast matching), but these are minor killjoys of an otherwise skilfully crafted sequence.

Without a doubt, the real stars of this franchise are the effects. Wong and McLachlan have skilfully taken the delivery of gore to a new level, showcasing gruesome deaths in excruciating detail. It's refreshing to see that some filmmakers understand the appeal of practical effects. The sole drawback of these sequences is that the deaths are occasionally CGI enhanced, and the CGI blood is usually quite obvious. Nonetheless, the killings are spectacular. Delivering creative, gory kills at every turn, this series caters to its target audience without insulting them - and that's probably why these flicks are so successful at the box office. At least the Final Destination films are more inventive than, say, the Friday the 13th series which stopped being interesting after the very first movie!

The central fault of every Final Destination film so far is simple: the characters are stereotypical cookie-cutters. Predictably, Final Destination 3 is no different. Although the two main characters (one male, one female) claim to not like each other, they naturally grow a bond and are virtually ready to proceed into romance territory. The high school conventions also come out to play: there's the egotistical jock, the completely air-headed girls, and the Gothic couple. Virtually none of these characters are developed past the first dimension, and little character development means they come across as caricatures rather than people. They're all interchangeable characters; included to provide the Grim Reaper with some folks to off. Just like the previous films, some of the characters are named after famous horror icons - Lewis Romero, Jason Robert Wise, etc.

No characters from previous Final Destination films make an appearance in this third film (except for Death of course), although there are multiple references to the events in the forerunners. Naturally, a good-looking girl is essential for films of this type. For Final Destination 3, Mary Elizabeth Winstead carries out the duties as the smart, attractive female protagonist. Young Winstead is a competent actress whose emotions seem genuine. Her hysteria after experiencing the premonition is frighteningly believable. She's definitely one of the more convincing horror movie heroines of recent memory. Winstead's male cohort is Ryan Merriman, whose prior acting experience is mainly in television. He's a generic young male, and the limits of his talent are never truly tested by the screenplay. The rest of the cast are decent without being remarkable, and they effectively carry out their primary function - i.e. moving the plot ahead to the next gruesome death sequence. There aren't any breakout performances in this film, but that isn't why you're watching this flick in the first place.

This is Sequelcraft 101 - if you enjoyed the first two Final Destination films, you'll most likely enjoy this one too. Final Destination 3 is enjoyable and technically sound, but the formula has been wringed too much and there isn't a slight trace of originality left in the plot department. If this series is going to continue, the filmmakers need to introduce something new into the tired formula. Nevertheless, for a sequel to a sequel, Final Destination 3 still doles out the goods in fine form. Not a perfect movie, but very tolerable and one helluva ride (c'mon, you knew that pun was coming). And think about it: how many Part 3s turn out to be anything besides awful?

Followed by Final Destination: Death Trip 3D in 2009. (Interestingly, Final Destination 3 was meant to be filmed in 3D but the process was deemed too complicated. For the fourth film, however, the filmmakers ultimately decided to use 3D technology.)

6.1/10

WARNING: This review may contain very minor spoilers.

Please note that this is a review of the illegal Wolverine workprint version which was leaked online at the beginning of April. It's understandable that people may find my views of this flick irrelevant as I haven't yet viewed the final cut, and some believe I have no right to judge this incomplete cut. Au contraire, my friends, as the official running time has been released and it's exactly the same length as the workprint version. Interestingly, Fox tried to cover their blunder (i.e. the film leaking online) by claiming 14 minutes were missing from the workprint. Curiously, their story soon changed to something totally different: 10 minutes are missing from the workprint, and these 10 new minutes have been inserted into the final cut to replace 10 particular minutes. Uh huh.

Unfortunately, Wolverine is completely beyond salvation. No amount of reshooting could salvage this mess. Nothing short of a complete remake with a totally new script and plotline, and a bunch of new actors could save this awful film.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine is a disaster of monumental proportions. It's a terribly written, badly directed, poorly acted motion picture. Honestly, I have no idea where I should begin...
Alright, first of all there's the screenplay. It's a string of clichés stitched together and passed off as a movie. The conventional romance subplot is incredibly cheesy and embarrassing, even concluding on the most clichéd note possible. Dialogue is another issue: it's AWFUL! I have no idea what's worse; the dreadful dialogue or the abysmal way the actors disperse it. Cheap attempts at humour are even thrown in! The script also skims through crucial character development and more or less eschews Wolverine's origins entirely! In the opening sequence, Wolverine is shown implementing his claws for what seems like the first time. This prologue is rushed; it's more confusing than compelling. The opening credits are then played as the film quickly dashes through the next hundred years of his life or something. Wolverine is never given the opportunity to come to terms with his mutations. Even after being pumped with Adamantium, he's automatically cool with it all. Oh, except for the customary "looking at self in mirror while testing abilities" TM scene which lasts one or two minutes.

Worst of all, Wolverine disrespects its comic origins. Marvel characters which have been introduced are quickly dispatched, and are poorly handled. Deadpool fans won't be able to finish watching the movie. Towards the end, they'll leave to vomit...then they'll go home. Perhaps Ryan Reynolds was the one behind the leak after he watched the incomplete version and realise how badly Deadpool has been treated. As a matter of fact, Deadpool's appearance is more of a cameo. As for Dominic Monaghan as Bolt...five minutes of screen-time at the most. Team X is broken apart just as quickly as it was formed. The team execute a single mission (happening on screen for about 10 minutes) before Logan leaves the group. No development. No fitting introduction. Due to the rushed nature of the opening few minutes, I stopped caring about all the characters. I only latched onto Wolverine on account of my familiarity with the character. As for everyone else...their deaths came as a relief. Every single character is flat and undeveloped; multiple infamous Marvel characters included in name-only form to entice the fans. On top of this, the continuity of the series is ruined! Some conversations in the earlier X-Men films now make little sense.

The script is also ridiculous beyond comprehension. Like the high profile facility on the mysterious "Island". Wolverine is able to simply walk through the front doors. What? No security? And when all hell breaks loose, a grand total of...four armed men come out to shoot at the heroes. Wolverine is beset with logic difficulties, mainly from the "Why don't you just...?" range and the "That's just totally stupid" range (like the aforesaid example). One should suspend their disbelief for a comic book movie, but this takes things to the next level. It's worse than your usual brainless summer actioner. Characters pop up at the most appropriate time, for instance (an entrance from a particular character during the final showdown is embarrassingly terrible and way too convenient...it will elicit groans). The film's concluding 10 minutes are absolutely retarded. Reshoots won't redeem the movie...but I hope if they did happen, they at least marginally improve this steaming shit.

Gavin Hood was behind 2007's Rendition, and his complete inability to direct an enjoyable and riveting motion picture surfaces here once again. The action sequences are frequently marred by silly slo-mo shots, and the film fails to latch out and truly engage you. There is action, but the spaces between the action sequences are sluggish. If adequate character development had been included, we'd feel more for the characters...but we don't, so the film is boring. The pacing is awful; and this is due to Hood's incompetent direction. Bring back Bryan Singer!

Not worth going into the performances, really. Hugh Jackman and Liev Schreiber are the only cast members who place forth decent performances. Everyone else is forgettable, mainly due to their shallow characterisations.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine is an appalling movie. It feels very rushed, and it's far too short to be considered an epic Marvel action film. The action sequences can be enjoyable and the two lead performances are decent, but it's truly lacking in every other department. I was not entertained very often and I was cringing 90% of the time. One-dimensional characterisations, muddled story, sluggish pacing, bad filmmaking and poor acting...need I say more?
If the final cut proves to be quite different to the workprint version, I'll be happy to post another review. Otherwise, this review will just receive touch-ups here and there. The fact remains, however, that unless a new director is hired to reshoot everything, a completely new script is written and most of the actors are replaced, this film will suck. BIG TIME! I'm not judging this workprint on the incomplete CGI, sound effects or music...as these things will not be enough to save this film.

This is the worst film of 2009 so far. It's so bad that even Uwe Boll will have trouble directing a worse movie. No longer will people have to refer to the Spider-Man 3 fiasco...now Wolverine will be the target of conversations concerning bad Marvel movies. X-Men: The Last Stand is even a superior film (in this reviewer's humble opinion).

Interesting trivia note: the temporary music for the workprint version has been sourced from Rambo and Transformers, and probably a few other movies as well.

2.5/10

"Look, I know this sounds crazy but... you guys all heard about Flight 180, right? The kid who got off the plane? Well, it happened a year ago, today. My premonition was just like his."

According to the Hollywood rulebook, a commercially viable motion picture should be succeeded by a sequel in order to capitalise on this success. The original Final Destination - a cult horror film about the Grim Reaper finishing his ghoulish work after a group of teens cheat death - contained no visible killer, as well as a tonne of creative, gory death sequences. The bearers of this franchise, realising a wallet-stuffing film series could be on the horizon (ala Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street), consequently green-lit this inevitable follow-up. Virtually none of the main characters from the first film lived to appear in the second, but this isn't a problem...the filmmakers merely needed to create a new batch of victims.

Less of a sequel, more of a retread...2003's Final Destination 2 adheres to the template of the original to the letter, replaying all the riffs and rhymes of its predecessor, from the wonderfully orchestrated deaths to the in-jokes (a few character surnames are again those of horror movie icons, such as Tim Carpenter and Kimberly Corman). This sequel to the 2000 horror sleeper actually works, however, emerging as a slick and downright enjoyable entry to the world of blockbuster cinema.

On the first anniversary of the Flight 180 tragedy (that transpired in the first Final Destination, for those unaware), a group of teenagers are driving to Daytona for Spring Break. Driving along Route 23, everything seems rather off (like the beginning of the first film). Kimberly Corman (Cook) then experiences a vivid vision of an apocalyptic pile-up. Petrified by her intensely real vision (or was it a premonition?), Kimberly uses her car to block traffic, which prevents the queue of motorists from being involved in this catastrophic road accident. Lo and behold, the pile-up actually occurs. By blocking traffic, Kim has caused another "rift" in Death's design. As the survivors come to terms with their lucky escape, Death begins to methodically pick them off and complete his work... In desperation, Kim turns to the sole survivor of the Flight 180 tragedy: Clear Rivers (Larter).

Those familiar with the original Final Destination will recognise this set-up. Final Destination 2, as previously stated, is extraordinarily derivative. The central concept - a string of precise, domino effect deaths - is starting to look tired. The unoriginal screenplay is additionally beset with hokey dialogue as well as being anorexic in the plot department. Unfortunately, as well, the characters are without adequate development. It's therefore quite difficult to genuinely feel for the characters (with the obvious exception of the three protagonists, purely because they're allotted the most screen-time) when they're stalked and dispatched by the Grim Reaper. The characters also arrive at conclusions about things far too quickly, the premonitions occur conveniently (eventually the sheer number of premonitions is ludicrous), and there are some pretty sappy moments throughout the flick.

On a positive note, Final Destination 2 surpasses its predecessor in one aspect - the kill sequences. The original Final Destination featured intricate, Rube Goldberg-esque deaths. For some of these sequences, the elaborate disposition made them truly preposterous. Several minutes were dedicated to building up the imminent death...and as a consequence, the actual death lost it shock value as it was no longer a surprise. Final Destination 2, on the other hand, offers far less complicated killings. In this sequel the whole domino effect technique is retained, but it's under normal circumstances that things go haywire, resulting in eventual deaths. Yes, these kill sequences are generally built up (the hospital, for instance), yet director David R. Ellis is a superior suspense-builder, and the eventual death remains unpredictable which in turn makes them more shocking. Once again, the filmmakers make no attempt to personify Death. Instead, the Grim Reaper remains a supernatural force capable of manipulating anything and everything. There's also a mind-blowing twist; tying the characters into the events of the original movie.

In the capable hands of first-time director Ellis, Final Destination 2 effectively elicits thrills at every turn. Ellis directs with flamboyance and assurance, utilising his experience as a second unit director to craft this slick horror/thriller. His compositions are inventive, slick and spectacular, hitting the ground running by kicking into high gear with a superbly-staged freeway pile-up (a true action tour de force). This jaw-dropping, chaotic motorway sequence has appeared on several "best car crash/accident" lists, and even acclaimed director Quentin Tarantino was quoted as calling it a "magnificent car action piece". For the death sequences the stunts are incredible, the special effects are marvellous, the CGI is seamless and the make-up department...had a proverbial field day. Exertions in all departments come together, conjuring up nail-biting tension. The competent filmmaking almost counterbalances the feebler moments.

The cast is once again comprised of young actors in their mid-twenties trying to pass themselves off as teenagers. And once again, the cast don't even bear a slight resemblance to actual teens.
Ali Larter reprises her role of Clear Rivers from the original film who's recruited to find a way to cheat Death's design for good. Like the first film, this actress is a saving grace. Her acting is solid, and she's very appealing.
In the new cast there's the extremely charming & beautiful A.J. Cook as the premonition-seeing Kimberly, and Michael Landes as a charismatic but generic police officer on Death's list. These two share adequate chemistry, but their eventual romance seems contrived and clichéd. Of the new cast, only Landes, Cook and T.C. Carson (as an uptight black man) bring any depth to their characters. The rest of the cast are quite cardboard, and they lack diversity. A more diverse congregation of actors, and perhaps a better-written group of characters would've made Final Destination 2 a real winner.
CineSchlockers will snap to attention nearly an hour into the movie when Tony Todd (of the Candyman fame) returns to reprise his role from the 2000 original. Todd is memorable as he delivers cryptic prognostications about Death's doings, generating a brilliantly dark mood.

For all its flaws, Final Destination 2 is a slick-looking and well-paced horror sequel. This violent, brutal genre schlock knows precisely what its target audience wants...and delivers it with cleverness and playful exuberance. Granted, the ending is silly, the novelty factor has diminished, there's little substance and plot is at an all-time low...but we don't seek logic or deep characterisations in a horror flick - we want to see people being killed on the most inventive and disgusting scale imaginable. On these terms, Final Destination 2 succeeds. Frankly, this sequel is about as good as its predecessor - equally as flawed, yet equally as enjoyable.

Followed by Final Destination 3 in 2006.

6.6/10

"You already cheated death by walking off the plane. Now you gotta out when and how it'll come back at you. Play your hunch, Alex. If you think you can get away from it. But beware the risk of cheating the plan, disrespecting the design... could initiate a horrifying fury that would terrorize even the Grim Reaper - and you don't even want to fuck with that MacDaddy."

By the year 2000, the slasher genre seemed to have utterly run out of steam given the disappointing final instalment in the Scream trilogy. Final Destination, however, ably proves that there's still life and originality left in the ailing sub-genre. Not a genuine classic by any means, and it's essentially B-Grade horror schlock infused with genre conventions and endowed with A-Grade production values, but this first chapter in what promises to be another never-ending horror saga is superior to your usual horror outing. Blending intriguing supernatural elements with spine-chilling moments and general gory carnage, Final Destination is an extremely entertaining, inventive Friday nighter. Stylishly filmed and tautly directed, this flick deals with a variety of fairly heavy topics which are discussed candidly by teenage characters (in accurately written "teen-speak" as opposed to highly intellectualised dialogue even Harvard scholars wouldn't use), all the while developing into a darkly foreboding, eerie suspenser.

The main story is built on a simple question: what if you cheated Death, but the Grim Reaper still demanded his due?
Alex Browning (Sawa) is a senior French high school student about to embark on a class trip to Paris with his fellow peers. At the airport prior to departure, everything seems a little off. Upon boarding the plane, Alex suddenly has a vision that the plane will explode after takeoff. His vision is so vivid and intensely real that it provokes a violent reaction. This causes a disturbance, and Alex is consequently booted off the plane along with a few other students as well as a teacher. They're furious with Alex's behaviour...but this emotion quickly changes when they witness the plane promptly exploding moments later, killing all on board. However, the seven who stepped off the plane have cheated Death, and Death wants to balance the ledger. Alex and his friends begin to be methodically hunted down by the forces of the Grim Reaper who's intent on collecting the souls of those who cheated him.

"In death there are no accidents, no coincidences, no mishaps, and no escapes."

After this set-up is established, the film indeed turns into a slasher movie, albeit a more thoughtful one than usual. Nobody takes their clothes off, and the usual invincible knife-wielding monster is replaced with the never-seen granddaddy killer of them all, the Grim Reaper. Final Destination doesn't use Death as a killer with superhuman abilities who must be overthrown by the protagonists...it's a truly unstoppable supernatural force instead. However, Final Destination succumbs to far too many genre clichés. The FBI agents are, of course, completely useless in the proceedings, and the adults are equally hapless. Also thrown in is an all-knowing mortician who babbles on for two minutes about "Death's design" (portrayed by none other than Tony Todd of the Candyman fame). The protagonists occasionally do boneheaded things (some characters practically walk into their death as opposed to being alert), and they usually act antagonistic towards one another for forced "tension". On top of this, the standard chase finale is silly, and it lacks intensity from time to time.

The mediation on fate found within the concept of Final Destination would most likely seem more appropriate for a foreign art film as opposed to a teen slasher flick. These provocative questions about premonitions and destiny are employed merely as a hook. The point of the film has nothing to do with the survivors coping with guilt and uncertainty (a potentially fascinating premise). It instead has other things on its mind: concocting graphic bloodbaths, and proving that death cannot be cheated. Final Destination is certainly serviceable as a teen slasher flick...but it's too clichéd, and the premonition aspect is barely touched on. Interestingly, the story was originally the concept for an abandoned X-Files episode.

At least the kill sequences are imaginative and enjoyably gory; evoking the spirit of Rube Goldberg. X-Files alum James Wong directs with style and flair, usually judging the timing of the shocks flawlessly (one particularly nasty road accident will leave audiences gasping with surprise), and in the opening 20 minutes he delivers one of the most devastating air disaster sequences ever committed to celluloid. However, Wong occasionally falters when the death sequences are elaborately built up. This is a fault of both those that choreographed these sequences as well as Wong's handling of the material. The kills are constantly far too elaborate to be believed, and the foreshadowing fails in building sufficient suspense. A "less is more" approach could possibly have proved more effective here. To the credit of everyone involved, though, the "don't go in there" syndrome never kicks in when a character is due to die.

"We're all on the same list."

It comes as no surprise that the "teenage" portion of the cast look more like adults in their mid-to-late twenties as opposed to 18-year-olds. As Alex Browning, Devon Sawa is appealing and subtle. Despite not looking like a teen at all, Sawa offers a certain believability that's beneficial during the film's key moments (after his initial premonition, he looks genuinely terrified). As Clear (the object of Alex's affection), Ali Larter is extremely effective. Ali is undeniably beautiful, but Final Destination never exploits the females of the cast, therein lying one of the best creative decisions of the entire film.
As the movie's resident asshole, Kerr Smith stars as Carter Horton. Alongside him, Seann William Scott places forth a surprisingly decent and charismatic performance as one of those who survives the plane disaster. He's the sort of person who gets inadvertently caught up in awful situations. He's also the only student not to leave the plane voluntarily. The rest of the cast is competent at best, including the requisite adult role (Kristen Cloke).
True fans of the horror genre will realise the characters are named after famous horror icons. For instance: Alex Browning (Dracula director Tod Browning), Larry Murnau (Nosferatu director F.W. Murnau), Agent Schreck (Nosferatu star Max Schreck), Agent Weine (Cabinet of Dr. Caligari director Robert Weine), Billy Hitchcock (Psycho and Rear Window director Alfred Hitchcock), as well as a few others.

In a genre normally devoid of wit, intelligence and originality, Final Destination is a diamond in the rough. Director James Wong's horror movie has the ability to shock (although these moments lose their effectiveness after repeated viewings) and surprise - two qualities rarely found in modern horror flicks. It's ultimately let down, however, by excessive genre clichés and some bad judgements on the part of the filmmakers in relation to some of the death sequences. Instead of a dark horror flick, Final Destination is unfortunately more of a teen slasher. Enjoyable as the latter, but it may have been a superior experience as the former. In spite of a few irritating shortcomings, this is probably the most innovative addition to the genre for years.

Followed by multiple sequels, beginning with Final Destination 2 in 2003.

6.7/10

"Well, you guys are fucked!
They wanted to give you 30 days in jail. But I worked my magic on the judge and instead over the next 30 days you have to log 150 hours of community service."

A fresh take on the standard buddy movie formula blended with sharp, irreverent writing and tight plotting, Role Models is a solid comedy carried by a steady stream of laughs, plenty of heart, and a cast that works incredibly well together. In this era of crass R-rated comedies, humour is generally subjective and reviews of modern comedies merely need to stretch "it's hilarious!" into multiple paragraphs (a sentiment not shared by all viewers, mind you). Fortunately, 2008's Role Models is more than your typical profane comedic trash - it's a good-natured, crowd-pleasing, fun and goofy comedy that merits a look beyond the sheer number of laughs. With competent direction by David Wain (also responsible for 2001's Wet Hot American Summer) and a clever, well-written screenplay, this flick is both eye-wateringly hysterical as well as sentimental without being overly saccharine-coated.

Danny (Rudd) and Wheeler (Scott) are representatives for the Minotaur Energy Drink Company. The two men travel to high schools promoting this caffeine-loaded energy drink as part of a "say no to drugs" program. Wheeler is the simple type who still enjoys empty one-night stands and loves his (dead-end) job. Danny, on the other hand, is a miserable, bitter, cynical bloke annoyed by everyone and everything. After a personal problem throws him off the deep end, Danny goes on a minor rampage which results in the duo's arrest. To avoid 30 days in prison, Wheeler & Danny are forced to perform 150 hours of community service at a charity - a big brother-style program called Sturdy Wings. They subsequently become mentors for troubled children. Their subjects: a foul-mouthed kid named Ronnie (Thompson), and a socially inept nerd named Augie (Mintz-Plasse) who wears a cape and participates in LARP (Live-Action Role-Playing).

Role Models doesn't reinvent the comedy genre or even the buddy movie genre; as a matter of fact, it adheres to the same old trite formula to the letter throughout its runtime. Most conventional is the concluding third which contains hackneyed musical montages (crammed with lamenting) and a predictable coming together in a triumphant event that proves the immature protagonists have changed for the better. Every puzzle piece (and the way they interlock) will be familiar to anyone who's seen this type of mainstream comedy before. Role Models is extremely formulaic, and the outcome is predictable from an early stage. However, a massive credit to the screenwriters (four all told, including director Wain in addition to actors Paul Rudd, Ken Marino and Timothy Dowling) is due - Role Models may be clichéd, but it's also hilarious and plenty of fun, and dull moments are at a minimum. Frequently amusing and extremely enjoyable, this is a great example of familiar comic material made fresh with affectionate irreverence.

The screenplay is a real winner. It's obvious this material was written with Rudd and Scott in mind (Rudd did co-write the thing) as the jokes are fine-tuned towards the stars' comic sensibilities. Role Models is permeated with the type of humour that will definitely offend some people. It may be particularly shocking to those who mistake this flick for a family-friendly comedy about two loveable guys mentoring two young rascals... This is instead a good-natured comedy saturated in raunchy humour and R-rated language. At the same time, though, it ain't all sex jokes and sophomoric locker-room banter, because Role Models additionally delivers a certain sentimental feel good-ishness that prevents it from being mere juvenile comical rubbish.
This picture also does a commendable job of not making LARPing appear totally un-fun. People really do spend their days dressed up like medieval warriors and battling each other, and the film is smart enough not to alienate or offend those involved in the activity it is eagerly lampooning. Sure, those involved in LARPing are just extremists deserving of ridicule, but the screenplay remains decidedly pro-nerd, which makes it seem genuine, and the whole thing is ultimately far more fun.

Another secret weapon of Role Models is the editing. The flick runs a sleek 100 minutes, and there isn't much fat. Mega-producer Judd Apatow's "everything-and-the-kitchen-sink" trademark has led to a number of overstuffed comedies (Knocked Up, Pineapple Express, Superbad, Walk Hard), but Role Models remains rather succinct. The film also doesn't linger on certain jokes. With this clever approach the gags are more understated.
This comedy does, however, hit a rough patch during its midsection where it lags, lacks laughs, and succumbs to screenwriting 101 templates to push it to the finish line. Fortunately, it finishes strongly (unlike, say, Step Brothers) and leaves us smiling when the credits begin to roll.

The screenplay and the direction work to make Role Models an entertaining comedy, but the cast bring everything to life. Every actor in the film brings a certain magic to their role, elevating the clichéd characters and making them seem like actual people. It's fantastic to see Paul Rudd top-lining a comedy after placing forth so many memorable supporting performances in films like Anchorman, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and The 40-Year-Old Virgin. His Danny is a wonderfully realised contemporary misanthrope. Rudd's deadpan approach and his natural charisma save Danny from being a totally unlikable creation. Seann William Scott is perfectly at home with this form of comedy. He's able to tap into the strong material and enhance it with his own comical talents; mixing charm, bewilderment, and stupidity into an amusing cocktail. Rudd and Scott have great chemistry, and play extremely well off of each other. But the duo are also sublime in their pairings with Christopher Mintz-Plasse and Bobb'e J. Thompson. Thompson and Mintz-Plasse match their (more experienced) co-stars every step of the way, with Thompson in particular developing into a genuine scene stealer. Mintz-Plasse has all the sincerity of a real LARP nerd, chuckling over silly jokes like "the whispering eye", and being deadly serious about the battles he and his "kinsmen" are due to fight in.
Best of all, though, is Jane Lynch's Sweeny who is a tad too proud of her formerly sleazy life and never misses an opportunity to mention it in conversations. Elizabeth Banks is also great as Danny's girlfriend, although she's fairly underused.

American comedies these days owe a huge debt of gratitude to Judd Apatow. Not only has this guy brought back the beloved R-rated breed of comedy, but he's scored multiple winners infused with heart and gags. Comedies like Forgetting Sarah Marshall and The 40-Year-Old Virgin have paved the way for similar films to follow. In fact it's surprising that Apatow's name isn't attached to Role Models considering its foul nature and R-rated language (speaking of Apatow, this film also contains many of his frequent collaborators). Even more surprising is that David Wain's movie is a case of playing Apatow's game better than he ever did it. Role Models is fun, witty, concise and funny, and it has stacks of heart. It's just a shame that there are too many clichés, and the stale formula remains unchanged. Fortunately, though, there are plenty of laughs to conceal its lack of originality...to an extent. Role Models remains a heartily funny diversion, served with believable characters and a few masterful KISS jokes.

7.4/10

"He handed us fiction after fiction, and we printed them all as fact. Just because we found him entertaining. It's indefensible."

In 2003, Stephen Glass - a disgraced former hotshot journalist - published his first novel, entitled The Fabulist. In this novel, Stephen detailed his experiences writing for The New Republic...or, more accurately, fabricating stories for the respected magazine. Shattered Glass is an excellent, predominantly faithful retelling of Stephen's days working at The New Republic before the falsity of his stories was finally uncovered. Written and directed by Billy Ray, Shattered Glass is an incisive, intensely engaging drama as well as a brilliant exposé of the pressures and politics of journalism. Carefully combining the facts with a pinch of artistic license, Billy Ray's extraordinary motion picture caters for both those familiar with the story as well as the newcomers. Frankly, though, if you're in the dark about the Stephen Glass fiasco, you're in for a terrific story made all the more compelling by writer-director Ray's understated approach to the material.

After starting out as a promising journalist for The New Republic (the "in-flight magazine of Air Force One") and rising to meteoric heights in his early 20s, Stephen Glass (Christensen) is on his way to the top of the journalistic profession. Seeking a short-cut to fame, Stephen began using fiction in his work; concocting sources, quotes and even entire stories. Consequently, his articles are cutting-edge; drawing on a seemingly endless supply of insider contacts and informants. His deception, however, did not slip under the radar forever...

Stephen Glass' world begins to unravel when the popular editor of The New Republic, Michael Kelly (Azaria), is sacked due to complications with his superiors (mainly due to his tendency to defend his staff). Replacing him is the unpopular Chuck Jones (Sarsgaard) who isn't prepared to show these writers the same respect.
A lowly internet journalist (Zahn) is suspicious of Stephen's latest article about a pubescent hacker from the suburbs hired by a major software company, and begins to do some digging. As accusations begin to pour in that this story is phoney, Chuck (unwilling to overlook these claims) makes it his duty to thoroughly investigate the situation. This sets in motion a chain of events that ultimately exposes the years of deceptiveness perpetrated by one of the publication's star writers. All told, 27 of Stephen Glass' 41 articles were found to be either wholly or partially fictional. This shocking revelation shook a successful journalistic establishment to its core, and forced considerable revisions of codes of ethics and proof reading procedures. That for so long he managed to avoid being found out is astonishing considering the outlandish nature of his stories.

"The New Republic, snobbiest rag in the business, the in-flight magazine of Air Force One... and their star goes out and gets completely snowed by a bunch of hackers. I mean, God couldn't have written this any better."

This dynamite character drama predominantly concerns the confrontation between the appealing, unscrupulous Stephen Glass and the pedantic, solemn Chuck Lane, and the two drastically different types of journalism they embody - one is committed to entertainment, and the other to truth. When these two men come into conflict, they both stand their ground with the staunch obstinacy of heroes in a Greek tragedy until compromise becomes unattainable, and disaster (for at least one of them) is inevitable. The product is a genuinely gripping story overflowing with strong, flawed characters and compelling drama.

Shattered Glass, the feature film debut of screenwriter Billy Ray, meticulously chronicles the rise and fall of the protagonist. Among other things, the film shows how Glass ingratiated himself with his co-workers, as well as how he constantly squirmed, connived, and deceived to elude the ever-tightening noose. It's clear that Glass is mentally messed up - he takes night school, has serious personal problems and ended up in therapy for several years. Stephen is also a brilliant manipulator, which is evident in his interactions with the staff. Playing innocent, Steve constantly protests "I didn't do anything wrong". Writer-director Ray is careful never to demonise Steve. This portrayal isn't one-sided, but his actions and accountability speak for themselves. Complimenting a secretary about her lipstick does not counterbalance falsifying stories. However, Ray's script falters in terms of depth; it fails to shed sufficient light on Stephen Glass' motives & methods - i.e. the "why" and "how" has been excluded. The film never truly gets inside Glass' head; therefore as a character study it isn't effective enough.

One must always bear in mind that Shattered Glass is based on a true story. Stephen Glass, Chuck Lane, Michael Kelly and various other key characters all exist, although Stephen's editor-girlfriend Caitlin (Sevigny) and perhaps a few others are merely fabricated composites of real people. Glass' actual articles also appear in Ray's film. Even the dialogue is reportedly extremely accurate (some scenes virtually verbatim). The dialogue can only be an approximation of what was really said at the time, but writer-director Billy Ray (striving for the highest level of authenticity) conducted extensive interviews with the main players, and even allowed the real Lane to examine the final script (according to Lane, the scene in which Lane confronts Glass in front of the TNR magazine covers is practically a precise retelling of the actual events). The film itself is therefore the very compromise its characters so glaringly fail to achieve, generating a terrific story without sacrificing its integrity or authenticity...and it remains remarkably entertaining.

This riveting drama is bolstered by incredible performances by both Hayden Christensen and Peter Sarsgaard. Christensen (actually on his way to redeeming himself for Attack of the Clones) is impeccable as the consummate conman, manipulating his peers and superiors by telling them what they want to hear as well as exuding innocence. His juvenile refrain "Are you mad at me?" is so disarming one almost wants this guy to succeed in his lies...almost. The actor perfectly presents the character as a wide-eyed and seemingly naïve kid with many childish mannerisms, and an almost pathological need to be liked. Played with a skilfully handled combination of insouciance, charm and indefatigable conceit, Christensen places forth his best work to date.
Christensen may be exceptional, but it was Sarsgaard who was the breakout star of Shattered Glass, earning several awards (including a Golden Globe nomination) for his portrayal as an editor who slowly grows furious at the lie that has been pulled on him and the magazine. His work is subtle and keenly-observed. It's the type of acting that's so natural one gets lost in it; losing sight of the actor as an actor and only seeing the character he's embodying. Chuck is a character under pressure from everywhere. His allegiance to Michael Kelly is tested, his integrity is questioned, his colleagues dislike him, his young star is under fire from a rival publication, and the whole reputation of The New Republic itself is on the line. It'd be easy for an actor to mismanage these threads and overplay crucial moments. Sarsgaard, however, never falls victim to this... not even for the briefest moment. His performance is unreservedly perfect. Why he was overlooked by the Academy Award committee is frankly bewildering.

But Christensen and Sarsgaard aren't the only ones submitting remarkable performances, as the movie also boasts a plethora of supporting talent. Chloë Sevigny (still recovering from the Brown Bunny fiasco) and Melanie Lynskey are superb as loyal co-workers manipulated by Glass into acting as his mother hens. Steve Zahn (known for his comedic work) is confident and compelling in a more dramatic role as the determined online editor who brings the scandal into the open, and he's supported by the capable Rosario Dawson. Hank Azaria is also sublime as Stephen Glass' first editor who adamantly defends his staff and demands the highest level of journalistic honesty. Most of Glass' fabricated stories, however, were published when Kelly was editor of The New Republic...the appeal of the young man blinded his editor. There is not a single weak spot in this cast.

Shattered Glass is amazing for its faithfulness and accuracy, and (most shockingly) it proves that Hayden Christiansen can actually act (erasing awful memories of his soulless performance as Anakin Skywalker in Attack of the Clones). Writer-director Billy Ray's incredible motion picture pulls no punches and makes no villains out of anyone. Shattered Glass is an incredibly spellbinding film that pulls you in from the very first frame with characters that seem instantly familiar. Most of these actors (all of whom are uniformly excellent) will never be better than their performances here. This is an outstanding first directorial effort from Billy Ray. Utterly suspenseful and strongly paced, Shattered Glass manages to build a sense of dread and anxiety that's exceptional considering the ending is obvious and well-known. Although the film lacks a certain depth as a character study, this transfixing, claustrophobic drama proves that a good story and a subtle approach can be just as effective as any SFX-loaded blockbuster. A fascinating, highly mesmerising morality tale!

8.3/10

"I know how this sounds, but I've mapped these numbers to the dates of every major global disaster from the last 50 years in perfect sequence. Earthquakes, fires, tsunamis... The next number on the chain predicts that tomorrow, somewhere on the planet, 81 people are going to die, in some kind of tragedy."

Knowing is Alex Proyas' take on the typical end-of-the-world disaster movie formula, infused with an intriguing assortment of additional genre elements, including ghost stories and conspiracy thrillers with a dash of science fiction. Director Proyas (back on the sci-fi chain gang, following Dark City and I, Robot) has taken what begins as a fairly straightforward sci-fi premise to heights of psychological and visceral bravado. However, Knowing is a classic case of a movie that's crammed with interesting ideas but is unable to explore them in an overly satisfying fashion. It undertakes too many genres, resulting in a unique mishmash which never quite gels satisfactorily. For its first two thirds, Knowing is a riveting M. Night Shyamalan-esque thriller capable of engaging a viewer on account of Proyas' masterful storytelling and the outstanding premise. The final third, however, gives into lazy genre clichés before imploding during the ultimately unsatisfying closing minutes. A lot transpires during the film's two-hour duration, and while not all of it may hold up under careful scrutiny, Knowing stands up as a solid escapist cinematic experience enhanced by its chilling symbolism, and filled with tension, thrills and marvellous visual effects.

In 1959, an elementary school in Massachusetts commemorates its official opening by burying a time capsule underground which will remain sealed until the school's 50th anniversary in 2009. Students are asked to submit a drawing for this time capsule; a drawing of their vision of the future. Troubled young Lucinda Embry (Robinson) scrawls down a series of mysterious numbers for her submission to the time capsule...
Half a century later, the time capsule is exhumed and the current students of the elementary school are each given a drawing to study. Young Caleb Koestler (Canterbury) receives Lucinda's seemingly random succession of numbers. This sheet of paper triggers the interest of his father, widowed astrophysicist John Koestler (Cage), who examines the numbers and realises a pattern of chilling historical relevance: it's a cryptogram that faultlessly lists all the world's worst disasters for five decades in consecutive order...and three future catastrophes are also listed.

"What happens when the numbers run out?"

Initially, Knowing appears to be in standard Hollywood sci-fi or psychological mystery territory - and even this ambiguity is enthralling. The elementary school's fifty-year time capsule is opened, and one is already uncomfortable due to the behaviour of little Lucinda who - instead of a drawing her vision of the future - has almost obsessively written out a full page of numbers. Gibberish or code? If code, of what? Why? Proyas' filmmaking competency is on full display here, provoking a never-ending stream of further questions. Who are the enigmatic whispering men in black? Why is the temperature climbing so high? What is the importance of black stones? Proyas makes us care about and ponder all these things. Questions become building blocks of tension as the narrative thrusts into second gear and all the small touches of extraordinary begin to amass into a tsunami of mysteries.

The central question of Knowing is whether the universe is deterministic: are we here because of a meticulous grand scheme, or is our existence on Earth pure chance? For a while, Knowing deals with some fascinating concepts, including questions about fate, chance, and predestination. Also, there's the perception that numbers form the ultimate underlying foundation of the universe - a belief shared by a number of mathematicians and spiritualists alike. Unfortunately, despite the screenplay spending an inordinate amount of time with numerology and questions about destiny, these elements aren't relevant to the narrative's final trajectory. They are, to quote James Berardinelli, "tangential obfuscations" - that is, ways to mislead a viewer and make the resolution "surprising".

Without spoiling much, the final occurrence listed on the numbers sheet is an interesting beast. To the typical movie-goer it may come across as downright terrifying and thought-provoking. To real astrophysicists it may come across as silly and impossible. As this reviewer is uneducated in astrophysics, I am unable to make an educated comment, but would be very interested to hear a professional opinion.

The two (heavily promoted) disaster set pieces of Knowing, in which John's frantic decoding takes him to the sites of a plane crash and a subway accident (events he's attempting to prevent), are the two key components that make this film worth seeing. Alex Proyas - a meticulous visual stylist - knows how to the turn up the tension knobs with proficient camerawork and a blaring Herrmann-esque score from composer Marco Beltrami to complement the mayhem. The disaster sequences are extremely well staged, especially the plane crash which is filmed in a single tracking shot that trails John as he wanders through the wreckage; both thrilling and haunting. These scenes connect (even with a few special effect blunders, like fire touching John's limbs but leaving no burns) because they plug directly into the film's cracking premise as a chest-tightening disaster picture. However, the heavy reliance on CGI is evident. Make no mistake, the visual effects look decent, but they appear to lack a definitive polish and consequently come off as incomplete. The train crash is the worst offender; it's less convincing than, say, Die Hard: With a Vengeance (wherein practical effects and traditional stunt-work was employed to remarkable effect).
Interestingly, Knowing was filmed in Australian locations (mainly in Melbourne) to double for Boston. Believe it or not, the Melbourne locations are quite convincing (this is arguable, though, as Boston's inhabitants may find Melbourne a poor substitute).

For the disaster sequences, tone is the one area where this movie excels. The crashes are deeply disturbing (how this got past the MPAA with a PG-13 rating is a mystery), and it will remind people of 9/11, but Proyas isn't exploiting these sequences for fun or action. Proyas' intention is to make you as shaken as John is, and he succeeds. Knowing is also frequently chilling. When John searches the home of Lucinda (author of the time capsule numbers sheet), the revelation uncovered may be fairly obvious, but it's tremendously creepy. Likewise, the inclusion of mysterious, pale-skinned men in black coats is wringed for a couple of disturbing moments on account of their iris-free eyes and unblinking stares. If Knowing had fulfilled its potential, Proyas might have made one of the year's best sci-fi films as well as one of 2009's best horror films in one fell swoop.

The reliance on CGI grows more detrimental as the picture progresses, concluding with an unnecessarily spectacular FX sequence where something simpler and less ostentatious may have been more poignant (the final 60 seconds should definitely have been removed). During the final third, the tonal change is jarring. What begins as an intriguing mystery/thriller transforms into Close Encounters of the Third Kind combined with Deep Impact before culminating in an unsatisfying conclusion. Alex Proyas and three additional writers reportedly worked on the script, but creativity is at a minimum during the final third. After the meeting with Lucinda's daughter (Byrne), the writing suddenly becomes too lazy, Hollywood and conventional. The problem with such a superb premise is simple: how the hell do you end it? Not enough talent was involved in the creation of the screenplay, unfortunately, and the picture all in all is merely good when it had the potential to be excellent. Tragic, really.

Nicolas Cage is in manic, pseudo-action hero mode. Cage looks the part, but his acting is fairly wooden and he never radiates a genuinely profound sense of humanity. We recognise that his character loves his son because the screenplay spells it out, not because Cage sells it. Nevertheless, Cage is acceptable in the role even if he isn't outstanding. For the most part, he and young Chandler Canterbury make a terrific father and son team, and the picture relies on this equation for much of its emotional punch.
Rose Byrne has an appealing screen presence as Diana Wayland, the grown up daughter of the troubled Lucinda. Believe it or not, it's actually easier to empathise with Byrne than with Cage. Fortunately, the film doesn't attempt to force an inappropriate romance between Cage and Byrne. Youngsters Chandler Canterbury and Lara Robinson (doing double duty; playing Abby and young Lucinda) both have a natural presence despite a few wooden moments, and their uncluttered performances assist in keeping the film grounded. However, the characters occasionally do stupid things. The protagonists leave their cars with the engine turned on and the keys in the ignition at least three times, for instance.

All things considered, Knowing is a solid science fiction thriller with a lot on its mind. By daring to not explicitly answer its various questions regarding destiny and free will, it allows for debate and discussion. Alex Proyas is brilliant at the helm; injecting immediacy, artistic imagination and a looming sense of foreboding into the flabby, disappointingly generic screenplay. What could have been a tight, exciting 100-minute thriller is inflated to 120 cumbersome minutes, force-feeding a sub-standard climax that doesn't fit the tone at all. A broad, leisurely hodgepodge of Hitchcock-style suspense architecture, M. Night Shyamalan-style atmosphere and overblown Michael Bay-esque special effects, Knowing is an adequate apocalyptic thriller which had the potential to be better.

7.1/10