movie reviews by PvtCaboose91

Inarguably, Brazil is the definitive Terry Gilliam movie. In a sense, it's Gilliam's Citizen Kane. Added to this, it was his first post-Monty Python feature. The Python troupe's final motion picture, The Meaning of Life, hit screens in 1983, and Gilliam perceived his liberation from the group as an opportunity to spread his creative wings. Brazil is pervaded with the type of dark humour that owes much to Monty Python, yet the absence of Python members (save for Michael Palin) allows this to emerge as a different animal. A hilarious, paranoid and chilling film, it's somewhat difficult to explain Brazil. In a sense it's several different movies, but it's predominantly a picture about escape; escaping from boredom, escaping from parental rule, escaping from our mundane jobs, escaping reality, escaping authorities, and the eventual escape from sanity. Or is it? Armed with a frighteningly prophetic social commentary, a nourishing dose of black comedy, an excellent sense of visual imagination, and a miasma of great actors, Brazil is classic Terry Gilliam filmmaking in every sense of the word.

Set "Somewhere in the 20th Century", the film's proceedings take place in a needlessly convoluted futuristic society; a giant bureaucratic mess whereby everything requires a signed form and all the world's citizens are being watched by a rather Orwellian Ministry of Information. Sam Lowry (Pryce) is a civil servant working at the Ministry of Information who types his way through a lifetime of meaningless papers. His only escape from this dreary existence is in his dreams, where he can fly away from technology and the overpowering bureaucracy to spend eternity with the girl of his dreams. The basic gist of the plot concerns a paperwork mix-up that leads to the imprisonment of a Mr. Buttle, who was arrested instead of suspected terrorist Harry Tuttle (De Niro). While Sam tries to rectify the wrongful arrest of Buttle, he finds the woman he has been dreaming about: Jill Layton (Greist)

This is the plot described at a very basic level. There are a number of additional subplots which seem unrelated to the narrative, yet serve to emphasise the type of world this is and sound a cautionary note about the direction of modern society. Sam's mother Ida (Helmond) receives frequent facelifts, and this highlights humanity's innate obsession with physical perfection. Jack (Palin) has a smiling ability to ignore the woes of his actions, which reflects politicians and company executives who defend their position without considering the consequences to others. Added to this is all the paperwork, whereby every act requires a signed form with a stamped receipt. While many would scoff if Brazil was filed under "Comedy", this is what the film is at its core - a sharp, comedic satire of the Information Age. The mockery is rarely subtle, yet it's frequently dead-on. Plus, a smattering of amusing physical humour is also on offer from time to time.

Throughout Brazil, a number of conflicting dichotomies are set up by Gilliam in order to pose difficult, complicated questions. It's key to the understanding of the film to realise that absolutely no answers are offered here, and there's no right or wrong. In this way, Gilliam capably engages his audience in a fashion that most moviemakers would baulk at, and he risked alienating and confounding those watching his flick. Clearly, Gilliam desired for his viewers to understand that nothing in life is understandable, and life has no clear-cut corners or any easily conceived answers. With this in mind, Brazil could have been a pretentious, artsy slog, but it's enthralling.

As the most visual member of the Monty Python troupe, it's unsurprisingly that Gilliam ended up as the most prolific filmmaker of the bunch. Brazil transpires within two different realms: the dreary "reality" where Sam spends his waking hours, and the airy fantasy world of Sam's dreams. Gilliam has always had a penchant for breathtaking visuals, and this is strongly evident in the various dream sequences peppered throughout the movie. Sam's reality, on the other hand, has been infused with a 1940s noir feel - more or less a view of what the '80s may have looked like from the perspective of a filmmaker from the '40s. Additionally, the mark of Gilliam's genius is that his visual gags clearly communicate the tyranny of a bureaucratic state. As a result, a 10-year-old could watch Brazil and grasp its message. Perhaps the best definition of Brazil comes from French directors Marc Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunet: "retro-futurism".

Due to the film's somewhat downbeat nature, Universal executives deemed Gilliam's initial edit unsuitable for release. They desired a picture with wide appeal, rather than an "art house movie". A re-edited version was thus sanctioned that later Gilliam disowned, which has since been dubbed as the "Love Conquers All" bastardisation. The entire "Battle over Brazil" (as it was called) basically boiled down to a public war of words between Gilliam and Universal executive Sid Sheinberg. In the end, Gilliam triumphed and his cut was the version that entered multiplexes. To gain this victory, Gilliam arranged a series of unauthorised screenings for Los Angeles-area movie critics, who in turn named it 1985's Best Picture. Somewhat embarrassed that a film he was holding from release was honoured in such a way, Sheinberg admitted defeat.

At the centre of the movie is Jonathan Pryce's exceptional portrayal of Sam Lowry. The role was written with Pryce in mind, and he responded by submitting this brilliantly nuanced performance of a mousy man desperate to be someone heroic. Gilliam reportedly had trouble casting the part of Jill Layton, and after filming he was dissatisfied with Kim Greist's work, so he cut down her screen-time. Considering this behind-the-scenes dilemma, Greist is surprisingly strong, though she is not as remarkable as the remainder of the cast. Meanwhile, Python regular Michael Palin managed to use his charm to emphasise the duality of his character; loving husband one moment, bureaucratic sleaze the next. Comedian Katherine Helmond's portrayal of Ida is replete with a dash of mad humour, while Ian Holm played Mr. Kurtzmann as a typical bureaucrat. Robert De Niro provided the star power of Brazil, and fought alongside Terry Gilliam for the film's American release. His appearance amounts to a cameo, which was quite a change for the star.

Brazil clocks in at over two hours, which is admittedly a tad long and thus the film tends to drag from time to time. This criticism aside, Brazil is a must-see. If you love Gilliam's work, see this film without hesitation. For those unfamiliar with his films, this is the best introduction to Gilliam's filmography. Interestingly, as many critics have noted, the film is startlingly prophetic. Movie-goers in 1985 scoffed at the concept of terrorists infiltrating the government, and the notion of police arresting people and holding them indefinitely in a secret prison to be tortured. They also scoffed at a world overwhelmed by technology, and where privacy is merely a word. Food for thought.

9.2/10

For his first outing as a director since 2002's Adaptation, director Spike Jonze has revisited the thin line separating reality and fantasy to adapt Maurice Sendak's beloved children's book Where the Wild Things Are. Creating a feature-length motion picture from this source material posed a unique challenge, since the book is only comprised of 338 words (constituting 10 sentences) and a handful of illustrations. To their credit, Jonze and writing partner Dave Eggers (this is the first time Jonze hasn't worked with a screenplay written by Charlie Kaufman) have pulled off an admirable job of transforming the slender source material into something more substantial. Unlike most children's films in this day and age, Where the Wild Things Are is lacking in action, chases and pop culture references - it's instead a plotless, enchanting, bittersweet mood piece, and a loving ode to the inevitable passing of childhood. Added to this, it's an opportunity for parents to enjoy (as opposed to endure) a movie with their kids.

In the story, 9-year-old Max (Records) is facing the end of his childhood innocence, with his older sister more engaged with teenage concerns, his school teacher promising the end of the world, and his mother (Keener) working to make sense of her love life and career. Once this neglect gets too much for Max, a moment of violent rebellion is the consequence, resulting in a shouting match between Max and his mother. Max runs away from home, and enters the world of his mind, where he imagines (or maybe not) a boat trip to a faraway island inhabited by several "Wild Things": Carol (Gandolfini), Judith (O'Hara), Ira (Whitaker), K.W. (Ambrose), Douglas (Cooper) and Alexander (Dano). Max is swiftly appointed king of the land, and joins the monsters as they play and argue. However, the longer Max stays with the Wild Things, the more he comprehends his misbehaviour at home.

The opening segment preceding Max's escape into his imagination establishes Max's personality effectively. This is beneficial, as each of the Wild Things reflect Max's feelings towards those around him, and it's helpful to witness these traits integrated into Max's life before meeting them in the form of these Wild Things. With this symbolism and a rare intelligence in place, the film is truly about Max making several realisations about himself and his relationships with others.

While Where the Wild Things Are contains a number of depressing elements, Jonze's film is not all dread and gloom; it's predominantly a celebration of childhood imagination. However, this does not mean candy-coated wonderment or clichés - rather, the film is about proper, dirty outdoor playing, where forts are built, in-jokes are cracked, you get bruises and scabs, and you're free to run, screech and howl without a care in the world. To be sure, the entire story is spontaneous and hence plot is minimal, yet this is a fantastic representation of what goes on in the mind of an imaginative child. Thus, instead of mechanical and predictable, Where the Wild Things Are is honest, mature and emotionally affecting. The only problem is that, as a consequence of the movie's plotless nature, the proceedings tend to meander at times and there are a few dull moments. The pacing issues eventually recede, though, and the film picks right back up with more wonderment and imagination.

Another asset of Where the Wild Things Are is that all of the monsters feel like actual characters, rather than a collection of walking, talking metaphors. Each has their own personality and arcs, and they all receive their moment to shine. A major contributing factor to this success is the way the monsters were brought to life: a knockout combination of spectacular animatronic suits (courtesy of Jim Henson's Creature Shop) and utterly seamless digital face work. To the credit of the filmmakers, the creature design effortlessly evokes and pays tribute to the illustrations in Sendak's book. There's not a single moment in which the titular Wild Things feel anything other than real and alive. Additionally, the colour palette and lighting was kept appealingly natural, with a great deal of the filming taking place on location (in Victoria, Australia) that contributed to the immaculate atmosphere. Consequently, nothing feels manufactured or as if created within a studio. Meanwhile, Carter Burwell and Karen Orzolek's score is evocative and remarkable, and will burrow into the mind of a viewer.

Playing Max, young actor Max Records is the only cast member who was allotted considerable screen-time. Max, whose only previous film credit is a minor role in The Brothers Bloom, is blessed with an incredibly expressive face that effortlessly conveys an array of emotions and never fails to sell the legitimacy of a scene. His performance is absolutely convincing, and this is a rare quality in a child actor. The vocal casting for the Wild Things is spot-on, with James Gandolfini who's exceptional as Carol, Lauren Ambrose who's a standout as K.W., and all the other cast members hitting their marks with equal assurance. Catherine Keener also appears in the minor role of Max's mother, and she exudes confidence.

Where the Wild Things Are may be perceived as too dark, scary, strange and complex for the little ones, but this assumption is misplaced. However, the film may indeed be too dark, scary, strange and complex for adults. See, while adults will absorb every facet the film imparts, children will not be able to comprehend the underlying themes; in fact, their young minds will likely overlook them. Thus, this is a family film which engages viewers of all ages: children will adore the experience, while pre-teens and young teens will connect with Max, and adults will be able to recognise the allegorical nature of the film and absorb everything on offer. A visually stimulating, emotionally riveting celebration of the spirit of childhood, Spike Jonze's third feature film is mature and resonant; qualities rarely exhibited in a family film. To quote Bob Chipman: "The idea that a children's film like this can even exist in the same world that produces horrors like The Cat in the Hat or The Pacifier is a wonder to behold."

7.8/10

By the time Daylight entered multiplexes in 1996, Sylvester Stallone was a fading star. Following the success of Cliffhanger and Demolition Man in 1993, Sly featured in a string of less-than-stellar movies and his career appeared to be running out of steam. Daylight is one of Stallone's late-'90s attempts to erase his tough guy image, expand his horizons and rekindle the success of his earlier movies. In essence, this Rob Cohen-directed disaster flick is a '90s version of The Poseidon Adventure, whereby a group of people become trapped and are facing death after a catastrophic disaster. Thankfully, Daylight is a top-flight disaster thriller overflowing with nail-biting tension and explosive set-pieces of a high calibre. It's the type of flick which would not have felt out of place if released during the 1970s; an era in which Irwin Allen's name was attached to various iconic disaster pics (such as The Towering Inferno and the aforementioned Poseidon Adventure).

In the film, a bunch of runaway thieves are escaping in a getaway car through a large tunnel and slam into a truck filled with toxic waste, causing an explosion of cataclysmic proportions that seals off both exists of the underwater tunnel between New Jersey and Manhattan. A band of ordinary citizens survive the explosion, and are left to fend off the elements in order to work their way back to the surface. But the situation looks grim, with air running low and water seeping through the crumbling walls. Fortunately for them, Sylvester Stallone is on hand. Sly plays Kit Latura; the former head of New York City's Emergency Medical Service who was forced to resign after being blamed for the accidental deaths of some co-workers (sounds like Cliffhanger, doesn't it?).

From this point forward, Daylight transforms into a string of white-knuckle action scenes and near-escapes as Kit struggles to both save the lives of the survivors and redeem himself for past blunders. This is all orchestrated with great vitality by director Rob Cohen. In undertaking the film, Cohen evidently looked to the disaster pictures of yesteryear to glean inspiration, and the resulting picture is infused with a look and feel of the type of films Irwin Allen was famous for producing. With the presence of physically capable Stallone (who was pushing 50 at the time), Cohen was also allowed the freedom to create a disaster film spotlighting an almost superhuman protagonist. Compared to Earthquake, Airport and other classics from the '70s, Daylight is packed with more action than you'd expect from the genre. A lot of the hallmarks of typical disaster films are backgrounded here; allowing more room to showcase Stallone's ability to react to precarious situations. Fortunately, it all comes together nicely. Adrenaline is always appreciated, though it's not as rewarding as films such as Die Hard and Speed which managed to serve up a supplemental mix of humanity and emotion.

When Daylight went before the cameras, special effects had come a long way since The Poseidon Adventure in 1972, and this is therefore a visually dynamic disaster pic. In terms of pyrotechnics, the film delivers the goods in a satisfying fashion. The centrepiece - the explosion inside the tunnel - is breathtaking; easily rivalling the money shots of other '90s disaster features (Independence Day, Twister, etc). Thanks to Cohen, the movie shifts forwards at a nice pace as well. In fact, at no point does Daylight descend into abject boredom - not even during the character building moments. Problem is, the characters are all caricatures that lack defining personalities. There's also a lack of shocks and surprises on account of the way the characters are treated, because only a few are killed. Consequently, we can guess the characters will survive almost every nail-biting situation they encounter. A bunch of richly-drawn characters and a bit less sentimentality could have benefitted the movie - as it is, it's a fairly routine instance of disaster film junk food.

On the acting front, Sylvester Stallone is surprisingly nuanced. As opposed to an emotionless, gun-toting thug, Daylight provided Sly with the chance to play a flawed hero; conveying the kind of emoting he did in Rocky back in the late '70s (for which he earned an Oscar nomination for Best Actor). Epic one-liners are absent for the most part (with the exception of a rather giggle-worthy final line) and the tough-guy act is generally eschewed. Thankfully, too, he imparts great intensity throughout the film (even if his character's back-story is amazingly clichéd). The rest of the cast, ranging from Amy Brenneman to Viggo Mortensen, are generally decent, though none of them are true standouts; they're disaster movie ciphers, and in this sense the actors carried out their duties commendably.

Daylight is packed with merciless tension and moves at a strong pace, not to mention it contains excellent special effects and a great leading performance from Stallone. It's unfortunate that it faded into obscurity over the years (whereas films like Independence Day are more remembered), because this disaster film deserves far more attention.

7.3/10

Among the latest fads in Hollywood is to remake every other horror movie released throughout the 1970s and '80s. Predictably, this has caused an outcry of criticism and a number of bad films to clutter the cinematic climate. However, Wes Craven's directorial debut, 1972's The Last House on the Left, is a film that left room for improvement. Despite its reputation and cult status, the movie has not aged well. Blemished with amateurish performances, low-rent production values and a terribly uneven tone, the original Last House on the Left is merely a footnote in the genre only note-worthy due to the controversy it stirred up as well as the fact that it was Craven's first film. This 2009 remake therefore had serious potential. Unlike the majority of other horror remakes, The Last House on the Left was not begat by Michael Bay's Platinum Dunes, meaning no hack music video director and far more creativity. Luckily, this remake fulfils its potential - it's a gripping experience with solid acting and far more substance than you'd expect to find in such a production.

While several changes were made for this remake, it remains faithful to the original film's basic premise. Mari Collingwood (Sara Paxton) is vacationing with her family at an isolated summer home, and spends an afternoon with her best friend Paige (Martha MacIsaac). The two meet the shy young Justin (Spencer Treat Clark), who invites them to his motel room to smoke weed. Unfortunately, once at the motel, Justin's travelling companions show up: father Krug (Garret Dillahunt), uncle Francis (Aaron Paul), and Krug's girlfriend Sadie (Riki Lindhome). As it turns out, the clan are murderous fugitives, and Justin's extended family are less than pleased to find two visitors in their motel room. After kidnapping the girls and stealing their car, Krug, Francis and Sadie proceed to torture and violently dispose of their captives in front of the horrified Justin. With a violent storm approaching, the four seek refuge at the only nearby house: the house occupied by Mari's parents.

With both Craven and Sean S. Cunningham backing this remake, it could be said that the two were attempting to refine their ambitious 1972 amateur film. In fact, though many die-hard fans have balked at this statement, Wes Craven himself has admitted that the remake is a marked improvement over his original film in several areas. One thing's for sure: this The Last House on the Left is a far more accomplished movie than the 1972 original - the technique is slicker, the script is smoother, and the tone is not as erratic (the element of slapstick humour has been removed, thank goodness). It could be argued that this remake is pointless and unnecessary, yet it feels justified since the filmmakers did not set out to simply emulate every aspect of the original. Rather than a mere shot-for-shot remake, screenwriters Adam Alleca and Carl Ellsworth expand upon Craven's original and add new ideas.

While it may be argued that the cinéma vérité aesthetic of Craven's original added to the visceral impact, the film's technical shortcomings nonetheless stick out like a sore thumb all these years on. For this remake, Greek director Dennis Iliadis proves to be a visually sophisticated filmmaker, and has done an excellent job of sustaining mood and tension, as well as generating and maintaining a powerful, intense atmosphere of dread. In particular, the middle portion of the film is masterfully executed, with build-ups of tension worthy of Hitchcock. The original Last House on the Left gained its notorious reputation due to its overly gory content, and 2009's Last House on the Left is therefore an uncompromisingly violent and gory horror film as well. It features one of the most horrific rape scenes ever committed to celluloid, in addition to violence that's unsettlingly realistic and stomach-churning.

While Michael Bay's name may not be attached to the credits of The Last House on the Left, there are a few sleazy elements that may trick you into thinking you're watching a Bay-produced horror film. For instance, the camera leeringly lingers on Mari's body at the beginning, and the very last scene is a schlocky, unnecessary inclusion merely for the sake of the gore-hounds. Also, the film lacks the intellectual punch of the original, and thus feels a bit more disposable. With that said, however, horror films usually falter on the acting front, but The Last House on the Left excels in this department. Garret Dillahunt and his three companions are far more disquieting than their 1972 counterparts. Dillahunt is the standout here; his work is riveting as the reprehensible Krug. As Krug's brother, Aaron Paul is menacing, while Riki Lindhome is convincing as Sadie. The youthful Spencer Treat Clark is impressive as well, with his performance allowing Justin to emerge as a moral blank slate. Tony Goldwyn and Monica Potter are uniformly exceptional as Mari's parents, while Sara Paxton is appealing as Mari.

Problems in the execution aside, The Last House on the Left is superior to Craven's original; serving up top-calibre cinematic technique, honest-to-goodness tension, an interesting new take on the story and a plethora of excellent performances. It's the best remake in recent memory - perhaps the best remake of a classic horror film ever. Of course, the dedicated fans of the 1972 film may not take kindly to the changes made, yet it's different for the better and this should be recognised. One should take into account that Craven praised this version, and also revealed he won't bother to see the 2010 remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street.

7.6/10

Every filmmaker has to start somewhere. During the 1980s, Wes Craven and Sean S. Cunningham separately developed two of the most lucrative long-running horror franchises in cinematic history: A Nightmare on Elm Street, and Friday the 13th, respectively. Yet, the careers of these two blokes were jump-started by the low-budget 1972 shocker The Last House on the Left, for which Craven and Cunningham collaborated to create. Fundamentally a sadistic, no-holds-barred adaptation of Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring, The Last House on the Left is not for the faint of heart. Due to its explicit content, the film represented an important leap forward in what could be shown on theatre screens. Few prints of the film survived circulation without being butchered by either the distributors or the exhibitors. All these years on, the word most often used to describe this film is "disturbing", and there are numerous scenes to justify this label. Heck, the tagline was as follows: To avoid fainting, keep repeating "It's only a movie...It's only a movie..."

The plot of The Last House on the Left concerns two teenage girls, Mari (Cassell) and Phyllis (Grantham), who venture from secluded suburbia to the big city in order to attend a rock concert for Mari's birthday. While looking to obtain some marijuana, the girls find themselves ensnared by a pair of murderous escaped convicts, Krug (Hess) and Weasel (Lincoln), and their accomplices, Krug's lover Sadie (Rain) and Krug's son Junior (Sheffler). Locked in the truck of a car and taken out into an isolated spot in the woods, the two girls are systematically humiliated, tortured, raped, and eventually murdered. After committing the crime, though, the gang get more than they bargained for when they are forced to show up at the nearest house to spend the night: the home of Mari's parents. Once Mari's mother and father learn of the gang's hideous crimes, they decide to exact brutal revenge.

An amateur $90,000 movie with dizzyingly high ambitions, Wes Craven's low-budget exploitation feature is actually much smarter than some have given it credit for. Due to the raw, rough-edged nature of the moviemaking, it's challenging to perceive Last House on the Left for what it was designed to be: a scornful indictment of violence. Its message is that bloodshed is never the right choice, whether for sadistic purposes or ostensibly justified vengeance. Once Mari's parents slaughter the murderers, nothing is solved: their daughter is still dead, and they've denied their own humanity by avenging Mari. This is underscored by the movie's closing shot, which depicts Mari's parents as defeated, blood-spattered and exhausted, rather than victorious and satisfied. This is the reason why Craven's movie remains more than just gruelling torture porn: it's actually about something.

Several decades after it was first released, The Last House on the Left retains a certain power, and it's virtually impossible not to be affected by the shocking proceedings. Because the girls are portrayed as young and likeable, there's a great deal of honest-to-goodness tension. Meanwhile, the film's ability to shock is still potent due to the dispassionate, grainy documentary filming style which was employed to capture the events. Nothing is stylised, making the film far more gripping and unsettling. The performances, on the other hand, are fairly forgettable, with the exception of Sandra Cassell who's utterly convincing in every frame. As those involved in the production revealed, her on-screen fear was not acting; she was genuinely terrified of her fellow actors. She even decided to leave the production without notice at one stage! Bearing this in mind, it's all the more difficult to stomach the sequences in the woods.

In spite of its legendary status, The Last House on the Left is heavily flawed, mainly due to the pervasively amateurish vibe that extends to most of the staging, the heavy-handed screenplay and the atrocious score. The songs used in the film aren't just grating - they're also wildly incongruent, and in some instances undercut the film's power by calling attention to themselves and mocking the horrors unfolding on-screen. Equally destructive is the inclusion of two bumbling cops: an idiotic sheriff (Anker) and his deputy (Kove). They engage in a series of slapstick misadventures on their way to the location where all the raping and killing is taking place. The shenanigans of these two cops are usually scored with awful banjo music, and the scenes are so bad that fast-forwarding through them is an attractive option. Craven and his crew may have decided to lighten up the severity of the film's imagery with this physical comedy, yet it results in uneven tonal shifts. Also detrimental is a missing narrative beat: Mari's parents are never seen in the act of deciding what they'll do before they begin exacting revenge on Krug's gang.

While the complaints pile up, you cannot deny the power or the importance of The Last House on the Left. The assaults on the two girls in the woods are horrifying, filled with tension, and terrifyingly real. When the film works, it truly works. But there are times when it does not work at all. It's still worth seeing for its historical importance, however.

6.0/10

The first and undeniably the best feature film featuring characters born on Saturday Night Live, 1980's The Blues Brothers is one hell of a fun motion picture with infinite replay value. With a script credited to Dan Aykroyd and director John Landis, this is the Lawrence of Arabia of movies adapted from SNL sketches, an epic yet intimate musical action-comedy that wonderfully blends uproarious broad comedy with sly, understated wit. Consisting of one-third blues music, one-third character-based comedy, and one-third car chases, The Blues Brothers does not feel like a careless genre patchwork - on the contrary, it feels like an epic, flavoursome and entertaining '80s movie that holds together in every way that counts. All these years later, the film retains a tremendous nostalgia kick thanks to the excellent humour, plenty of car chases, numerous iconic musical sequences, one of the best soundtracks in cinema history, and the sparkling rapport between Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi.

For those unfamiliar with the Blues Brothers, the characters originated in a Saturday Night Live sketch before evolving into a blues and soul group independent of the variety show, serving as an opening act for Steve Martin and eventually releasing their 1978 debut album, Briefcase Full of Blues. Soon enough, Aykroyd started working on a feature film screenplay that exceeded 300 pages, more than double the length of a regular movie script, necessitating extensive rewrites by John Landis to pare it down to something usable. Meanwhile, Universal threw their support behind the project to cash in on Belushi's success after Animal House. However, with production costs surging out of control (a portion of the budget was even reportedly set aside for cocaine), The Blues Brothers is one of the most expensive comedies in history, and the studio feared that it might flop. Thankfully, despite the lukewarm reviews, shaky box office prospects and fewer cinema bookings than a regular high-profile release, movie-going audiences quickly realised the film's pervasive charm and flocked to see it.

For such a successful and beloved cult movie that all good film buffs fondly remember, the premise of The Blues Brothers is exceedingly simple. As the story begins, Elwood Blues (Aykroyd) collects his brother Jake Blues (Belushi) from prison after he finishes serving three years for armed robbery. Heading off in their new Bluesmobile, which is just a battered old police car that Elwood acquired at auction, they visit the Catholic orphanage where they were raised. Meeting with a nun known as "The Penguin" (Kathleen Freeman), Jake and Elwood learn that the orphanage will be permanently closed unless they can pay $5,000 in property taxes. Following a chat with their old mentor, Curtis (Cab Calloway), and a sermon by Reverend Cleophus James (James Brown), Jake sees the light and experiences an epiphany: they can reform their old band, play a few gigs, and earn the money to save the orphanage. Setting off on a "mission from God," Jake and Elwood seem to make more enemies than friends along the way.

As it turns out, Jake and Elwood are innate troublemakers and non-stop chaos magnets who cannot achieve a simple task without drawing somebody's ire. The seemingly simple mission of rounding up their old band members and playing some shows becomes an epic catastrophe, with the brothers managing to infuriate state and local law enforcement officials, a group of Neo-Nazis, a country-western band, and a mysterious woman with a fondness for powerful firearms (Carrie Fisher). There is no point in further breaking down the story since The Blues Brothers is not a narrative-driven film with meaningful character arcs; instead, it's a vignette-laden film, with a string of set pieces playing host to gags, stunts, car chases, celebrity cameos and musical interludes. It's episodic filmmaking of the highest order, with director Landis at no point allowing the film's infectious energy to relent as there is always something hilarious or entertaining right around the corner. See, unlike other feature-length expansions of Saturday Night Live sketches, The Blues Brothers is actually clever. An extended version was later released on home video, incorporating an additional 15 minutes of footage that was excised following a preview screening. The longer cut contains more laughs and extended musical sequences, making it an essential watch for die-hard fans. In this reviewer's eyes, it is the superior version.

Admittedly, the technical presentation of The Blues Brothers is imperfect, with some rough-around-the-edges special effects, but this hardly matters in the grand scheme of things, and it actually contributes to the movie's goofy charm. The soundtrack also bears mentioning, as the film is bursting with toe-tapping tunes performed by such musical legends as James Brown, Ray Charles (in one of the film's best scenes), Cab Calloway and Aretha Franklin, all of whom play minor characters. The high-energy musical sequences are a delight. Another of The Blues Brothers' endless pleasures is the performances of Belushi and Aykroyd, both of whom were in their prime during the film's production. Their deadpan delivery is a frequent source of laughs, while broader moments (such as the unforgettable restaurant scene) are equally side-splitting. Additionally, the two actors confidently deliver during the musical scenes, performing acrobatic dance moves on stage. Although Belushi and Aykroyd mainly steal the show, The Blues Brothers features several minor characters played by a dazzling array of guest stars. John Candy, Frank Oz, Carrie Fisher, Charles Napier, John Lee Hooker and even Steven Spielberg earn a few laughs in their respective cameo appearances.

The Blues Brothers features some of the most spectacular and destructive car chases ever committed to celluloid, rivalling the car chase sequences of The French Connection and Bullitt. The film even held the record for the highest number of cars crashed in a motion picture at the time. There's an iconic chase through a shopping mall resulting in all manner of destruction, and dozens of cars pile up and crash during the prolonged climactic chase. Gary McLarty's stunt crew deserve a standing ovation for their efforts, which look all the more impressive in an age of CGI-dominated blockbusters. When it comes to this movie, there is so much bang for your buck. Sure, the antagonists are one-note, and none of the characters learn any life lessons or change their ways, but I wouldn't want The Blues Brothers any other way - it works. Full of belly laughs, contagious energy, toe-tappingly terrific tunes, hundreds of endlessly quotable one-liners, sharp suits and cool shades, The Blues Brothers deserves multiple viewings. No matter what appeals to you, this is a movie that can sustain your interest for 140 minutes. Personally, I cannot imagine anyone feeling dissatisfied after indulging in this marvellous movie, and I always want to watch it again each time I finish another viewing.

10/10

Over recent decades, each of the classic big-screen monsters from the former half of the 20th Century have started receiving glossy, big-budget Hollywood resurrections. This trend was kicked off by Francis Ford Coppola in 1992 with Bram Stoker's Dracula, which was followed two years later by the Kenneth Branagh production Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. In the shadow of these two motion pictures arrived Stephen Sommers' reinvention of The Mummy in the form of an Indiana Jones-style blockbuster action-adventure. This brings us to 2010's The Wolfman; director Joe Johnston's long-delayed reimagining of the 1941 Lon Chaney movie. This retelling of the classic story could've either been a fun, blood-soaked creature feature or a restrained, effective thriller. Unfortunately, it's an uneasy, poorly-paced hodgepodge of these two categories with boring characters and stale dialogue.

This version of The Wolfman takes place in the 1890s on the moors of rural England. Lawrence Talbot (Del Toro) is a Shakespearean actor who returns to his Victorian England homeland once he hears of the disappearance of his brother. Reuniting with his estranged father Sir John Talbot (Hopkins) for the first since he left as a youth, Lawrence arrives to learn his brother's mutilated corpse has been discovered. In the process of discovering who killed his brother, Lawrence is bitten by a werewolf, which transfers the curse to him. It isn't long before the full moon glows, Lawrence begins turning bestial, and the massacre he leaves in his wake begins drawing the attention of both the local villagers and Scotland Yard Inspector Abberline (Weaving, bearing no resemblance to Johnny Depp who played the same character in From Hell).

The Wolfman endured a rather problematical production period during its journey to the big screen, with heavy editorial attention, reshoots and many missed release dates. Even if you were unaware of all the post-production tampering, it's obvious - evidence plagues the final product. The picture is at times incoherent and incomprehensible, with badly handled subplots and jarring tonal changes. At one stage during the film's latter half, flashbacks of Lawrence's early life are shown that make little sense in the grand scheme of things. Meanwhile, the botched romance between Lawrence and his brother's former fiancée Gwen (Blunt) is nonsensical - why does Gwen even love him? In terms of tone, it's clear in the atmospheric visuals and set design that The Wolfman may have been originally designed as a restrained gothic horror film. It's also clear in the gore and the wolf action sequences that someone else wanted to splatter buckets of gore throughout the picture in the hope of satiating the gore hounds.

Where The Wolfman succeeds is in the wolf action scenes and the special effects. Rick Baker's make-up effects are gloriously old-fashioned and effective, and the physical transformation from man to beast looks convincing enough (Baker was an inspired choice to handle the make-up, since he won an Oscar for his efforts on An American Werewolf in London). This picture is a hard R as well; replete with the kind of gory beheadings, dismemberments and disembowelments that could only be suggested back in the era which bore the release of the 1941 original. If you came here wanting hardcore wolf attack sequences, The Wolfman thankfully delivers. The problem, though, is that it takes an hour for the werewolf action to begin, and the gaps between the action scenes suffer from terrible pacing, wooden acting, and sophomoric dialogue. Despite a cast full of Oscar nominees and winners, the script (penned by Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self) never bothers to develop the characters into the first or second dimension, hence a serious lack of humanity. Joe Johnston is the master of bland, after all, having previously directed Jurassic Park III and Jumanji. Thus, with no interesting characters and far too many dead spots, The Wolfman sorely lacks action and is, at the end of the day, quite a bore.

The woefully miscast Benicio Del Toro is a total snooze as Lawrence Talbot. Del Toro apparently lobbied for the role, but he clearly had zero fun with it. The emotional connection is absent, with Del Toro's character generating no empathy and failing to excite emotions. It's a tedious portrayal, and the actor triggers boredom during his dialogue scenes. Surrounding Del Toro is a great deal of talent, though none of the supporting actors were able to submit truly remarkable work. Anthony Hopkins, in his second classic horror remake (he played Van Helsing in Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula), is perhaps the best actor of the bunch, but he was clearly on autopilot. Emily Blunt is forgettable as the thankless, pointless "love interest" with no real purpose, while Hugo Weaving fares better as Abberline.

The Wolfman required a deft touch in order for it to work; it needed skilful pacing and intoxicating build-ups of tension. The Others is a strong modern example of this style done well. Unfortunately, in the case of The Wolfman, neither subtlety nor skill is delivered by the undercooked screenplay or Joe Johnston's direction. More than that, the climax is a total dud; quickly dissolving into an awkwardly naff, cheesy, unsatisfying disaster. Oh well, at least The Wolfman delivers in the werewolf aspect better than New Moon.

4.9/10

The recipe for 1998's Deep Rising is simple: begin with The Poseidon Adventure, mix in a bit of Aliens, Jaws, Titanic, Tremors and any heist film, and top the concoction with a goofy, self-aware sense of humour before adding guns, gore and a campy octopus-like creature. Voila! Written and directed by Stephen Sommers, Deep Rising is a silly and unoriginal hodgepodge of other films, but it is nevertheless an old-fashioned, unpretentious, flat-out fun horror-action picture benefitting from an engaging cast, a non-serious tone, and an enjoyably brisk pace. In essence, it is the type of junk food you know is unhealthy, but it remains eminently edible, and you will undoubtedly return for seconds. Fortunately, Deep Rising entered production back in the 1990s when studios felt more comfortable allocating generous budgets to B-grade, R-rated movies like this and Deep Blue Sea. Indeed, movies like Deep Rising are now mostly relegated to nasty, low-budget offerings from studios like The Asylum.

An enormous luxury cruise ship with a supposedly "impregnable" hull, known as the Argonautica, is making its maiden voyage across the South China Sea with a full load of passengers. Not far behind the Argonautica is a boat captained by freelance rogue Finnegan (Treat Williams). A group of armed mercenaries led by Hanover (Wes Studi) hire Finnegan and his crew, including second-in-command Joey Pantucci (Kevin J. O'Connor), to transport them to an undisclosed rendezvous point in the South China Sea. After a collision with a smaller vessel damages Finnegan's boat, the mercenaries take control and announce their plans to rob the Argonautica before sinking it. However, the Argonautica is empty when the group boards the ship. Soon enough, they discover the reason: a giant, tentacled, man-eating sea monster has devoured the majority of the ship's occupants.

With a monster on the loose and a sizeable ensemble of potential victims, Deep Rising adopts a predictable pattern of cat and mouse aboard the gradually sinking Argonautica, with the cavalcade of characters getting picked off one at a time by the marauding sea creature. The creature adheres to the expected tropes for movie monsters and slasher film villains - it is a powerful mass of spiked tentacles and endless rows of teeth, and it possesses the uncanny ability to reach any part of the ship at the most convenient time. Deep Rising is derivative and predictable, but so what? Not even the filmmakers would try to argue this point; therefore, Sommers infuses the flick with a delightful tongue-in-cheek sensibility, ensuring the viewing experience is fun despite its inherent flaws. After all, how could anyone take this material seriously? For crying out loud, the creature sucks a woman down a toilet bowl! Sommers also drenches his screenplay in one-liners and comedic moments, which is why the film is such a bona fide guilty pleasure.

Before Deep Rising, Sommers had only helmed two other features, both of which were children's films: The Adventures of Huck Finn and The Jungle Book. One cannot mistake Deep Rising for anything close to resembling a children's film, though, since it contains as many gross-out moments of violence and gore as Sommers could think of...or as many as the MPAA allowed him to get away with. Indeed, whereas big-budget monster movies typically cater to the PG-13 blockbuster crowd, this is a vehemently R-rated endeavour, which significantly benefits the production as it enhances the sense of fun and adds an edge to the bloodshed. Sommers excels as a director of cinematic junk food, and Deep Rising is further evidence of this talent. The pace is taut, the action is exciting, and the $45 million budget is put to wise use with impressively large sets and some respectable special effects courtesy of ILM. Jerry Goldsmith's flavoursome accompanying score is fantastic, as well. The digitally-created creature is not always convincing, and it is downright atrocious in some shots, but it's good enough most of the time, especially considering the modest budget and the film's vintage. Deep Rising was Sommers' first film to heavily rely on digital effects, paving the way for the director's follow-up project, 1999's beloved classic The Mummy.

In the acting department, the late Treat Williams is impeccable as the Han Solo-esque hero (Harrison Ford turned down this role), coming across as commanding and charismatic. Familiar faces fill out the supporting cast, including the appealing Famke Janssen (GoldenEye) as a pickpocket who was imprisoned in a storage cupboard before the monster's initial attack, while Anthony Heald relishes the chance to play the ship's sleazy creator and owner, Simon Canton. Kevin J. O'Connor, who went on to feature in The Mummy the following year, is on hand as the film's comic relief, and he is an enjoyable presence here. It is possible to care enough about this central trio to want to see them survive, which is a major positive. Meanwhile, the mercenaries ooze masculinity and deliver no-nonsense dialogue, with the likes of Cliff Curtis, Djimon Hounsou, an authoritative Wes Studi and a scene-stealing Jason Flemyng effectively playing these roles. There is a noticeable Aliens vibe to the colourful mercenaries fighting back against the monster.

Although there are horror elements, Deep Rising is not strictly a horror movie, as Sommers mostly favours goofy action scenes over unbearable tension or suspense. There are some intense scenes as the characters try to evade death, but this is not a scary movie. If you wish to criticise Deep Rising for its tongue-in-cheek silliness, the endless clichés, the one-dimensional characters and the lack of dramatic depth, you can. Hell, you have every right to. Deep Rising wears its flaws on its sleeve, but it throttles forward with such playful abandon that it's easy to overlook the rough spots to enjoy this goofy monster movie. It's an early example of Sommers' unique entertainment brand, solidified in later years by such titles as The Mummy and The Mummy Returns. Switch off your brain and enjoy this movie for what it is.

7.2/10

Joel & Ethan Coen's 2007 project, No Country for Old Man, was an adaptation of the novel of the same name by Cormac McCarthy, and earned an Academy Award for Best Picture. Prior to this, McCarthy's novels had been predominantly ignored by moviemakers, as his prose had been perceived as challenging to cinematically adapt. 2009's The Road is based on one of the author's most innately non-cinematic books. With this in mind, it's hard not to be impressed by the efforts of director John Hillcoat and screenwriter Joe Penhall in adapting the novel for the screen. Yet, while the film is impressive as a straight-up adaptation, everything from the novel seems translated in a workmanlike manner. The resulting motion picture is not awful per se, but it's more of a companion piece to McCarthy's book than an invigorating new take on the story. It's two hours of empty unpleasantness and atmosphere building, minus an emotional impact.

The movie takes place in a post-apocalyptic future, where an undefined catastrophe has occurred rendering the planet uninhabitable. Nothing can grow, wild life did not survive, and natural disasters such as earthquakes have destroyed the environmental balance. At the centre of The Road is two survivors: Father (Mortensen) and Son (Smit-McPhee), who have carried out the same lonely, aimless day-to-day routine of existence for years. Father and Son traverse the roads with only a vague goal in mind of reaching the coast and heading south in the hope of finding other people. There are dangers aplenty along the way, however, including disease, cannibalistic gangs, and, most pressingly, starvation.

As those who have read McCarthy's novel can attest to, this is a tough story about loss, death, and the fine line dividing man and animal. It raises interesting questions about if survival is truly desirable in such a harsh climate. Moreover, it erases action heroes from the post-apocalyptic equation to focus on a more unexciting tale. Translating this from book to screen would've posed a challenge, due to movie-goers being accustomed to seeing action-packed survival stories occurring within a post-apocalyptic environment (Mad Max and its sequels, for instance). Director John Hillcoat was an ideal choice to handle this material, as his last film The Proposition was tonally similar. From a visual standpoint, The Road is harrowing, with incredible shots of broken cities, blackened forests and wide expanses of dead country. The sky is grey & black, with the weather alternating between rainy and overcast. Colour is desaturated, with the sun only glimpsed in brief flashbacks. Indeed, The Road could have been filmed in black and white.

The problem is that the above plot synopsis is...literally it. This minuscule premise is not expanded upon in any interesting way, but rather unnecessarily stretched out to a gruelling two hours. It's a film built upon a non-existent story with no character arcs or true narrative beats, and with hardly any conflict. It's two hours of nothingness, with Hillcoat offering the viewer nothing to chew on but utter finality and nothing to indulge in but utter agony. Films and books are two completely different mediums, and a successful novel adaptation must be willing to deviate from the source material in inventive ways. It's not that The Road needed frequent action and testosterone; it just needed to be interesting and enthralling. 12 Angry Men (the 1957 original, of course) is a visually dull movie which takes place in a single room, yet it's riveting and well-written, with dynamite dialogue, rich characters and interesting arcs. Father and Son in The Road are boring, thinly-drawn figures, and the flashbacks to their former life are not enough to make the slog more tolerable. Sure, while you can admire what has been done here (and yes, I get what they were trying to do), at the end of the day it's like watching paint dry.

Even if what happens throughout the film is not especially interesting, Viggo Mortensen is usually compelling to watch in the lead role. Mortensen clearly threw himself into the character physically and mentally, as his performance is perpetually focused and the actor's body looks starved. The young Kodi Smit-McPhee, on the other hand, is never truly convincing - he merely hits the same shrill notes of naïveté over and over again, as well as asking frustrating questions. It's a poorly-written character brought to life in a soulless portrayal. Meanwhile, the supporting cast is filled with high-profile actors who receive little more than cameos: Charlize Theron as the Mother, Robert Duvall as an old man, and Guy Pearce who shows up at the end as a survivor who also wanders the desolate planet.

The Road looks good and has its moments, sure, yet it's just too agonising, depressing and difficult to sit through. It could have worked as a half-hour film, or a 10-minute short, but two full hours? It is not engaging or interesting enough to justify its runtime.

5.8/10

One must admit, it takes serious guts to entitle a film The Losers, since lame jokes are just begging to be cracked. Already, the critics who panned this appalling motion picture have utilised the obvious "The losers are in fact the audience" in addition to the also obvious "What were you expecting? It's called The Losers". Added to this, another thing you can count on is the film's screenwriters referencing the title on several occasions. In the very first scene, the line "Hey, you losers!" is used, and from there the references keep on coming. Alas, these one-liners lack the zing you'd anticipate, while the action is unbelievably pedestrian and the film rapidly degenerates into the same type of PG-13 junk you'd expect Michael Bay or Brett Ratner to deliver (though the filmmakers did not even aim that high). The Losers (based on a series of comics) should have delivered over-the-top action and large explosions. Instead, The Losers is all about limits: limited budget, limited scope, limited effort and limited imagination. Even the movie's best moments are still abjectly disposable.

The movie kicks off in Bolivia, where the audience is introduced to the titular team of Special Ops warriors: sniper expert Cougar (Óscar Jaenada), tech expert Jensen (Chris Evans), escape driver Pooch (Columbus Short), second-in-command Roque (Idris Elba), and the leader, Colonel Clay (Jeffrey Dean Morgan). When the operation goes south, The Losers attempt to rescue a number of children by sacrificing their place on their extraction aircraft. Unfortunately, the team is betrayed and their aircraft is destroyed, leading to the government believing that The Losers are dead. Subsequently, The Losers head underground while harbouring a thirst for vengeance against the man responsible for their predicament: evil government mole Max (Jason Patric). Eventually, the team are drawn out of hiding by Aisha (Zoe Saldana), a slick operator who offers them unlimited funding to exact their revenge on Max.

In other words, the generic plot is not unlike the television series The A-Team. This familiarity may have been easier to digest if only there wasn't an A-Team movie being released a few months after this film. Clearly, no-one thought the release slot through very well.

Once the plot balls start to roll, the movie perks up a bit with a few moderately entertaining action beats, but the entire enterprise is hampered by countless factors. The film's primary problem rears its ugly head at the beginning: the PG-13 rating. Director Sylvain White actually insisted upon the PG-13 rating (whereas the studio was prepared to fund an R-rated picture), and this decision affects The Losers in a major way. The action scenes feel as if they're perpetually pulling punches, with the camera awkwardly shying away from capturing gunshot wounds, and the occasionally choppy editing accentuating the problem. A lack of blood and profanity detracts from the reality of the movie, as it merely feels like a bland product tailor-made for maximum box office profits. The irony, of course, is that the film flopped anyway; it was a slow crawl to merely make back its $25 million budget! (Hey, the film was a loser at the box office!) Additionally, the majority of the CGI used in the film (mostly reserved for explosions) is woeful. The cartoonish incompetency ruins the atmosphere, and mars the movie's only mildly entertaining moments.

While the titular Losers have an arsenal of weapons at their disposal, the team are no-where near as fun as the '80s action heroes which they visibly strived to emulate. Director White, true to his origins as a director of music videos and commercials, was clearly keen to add visual flair to the picture, as he employs an armada of techniques (including jump-cuts and slow motion). The introductions of the characters, meanwhile, are intercut with images from the comics on which the film is based. This idea may be interesting in theory, but it's disastrous in practise - putting a strain on what should've been a lightweight actioner. The key problem, though, is the failure to maintain a consistent tone. A number of scenes are played with a knowing wink and seem intended for laughs, yet this tone is contradicted by the action sequences which take themselves too seriously and are inherently uninteresting. Perhaps due to budget limitations, the action is not gloriously B-grade or enjoyably over-the-top. Planet Terror is an excellent instance of a B-grade actioner filled with hilariously OTT action - this is the pedigree that would have served The Losers the best. Only actor Jason Patric delivers the material in the desired fashion. His Max is a cartoonish villain, though he's nonetheless forgettable amidst the tedious plot machinations.

At the end of the day, The Losers is an awful, tragically insipid action picture with action scenes that never rise above the run-of-the-mill. It feels more like a pilot for a television show than a feature film, to be honest, as the characters spend more time trying to be clever than allowing us to get to know them. A quick-fix shoot-'em-up needs more personality, style and verve than this. Worse, proper closure is sacrificed in favour of opportunities for sequels which we may never see due to the film's box office failure. Thus, The Losers is tonally schizophrenic, empty-headed, unsatisfying and disposable. There is absolutely no reason to see it.

3.2/10