movie reviews by PvtCaboose91

"Well, there you have it, from Mark Whitacre, Ph.D. You know what the Ph.D. stands for, don't you? Piled higher and deeper."

While the marketing squad at Warner Brothers promoted The Informant! as a loony comedy set within the corporate environment, the trailers are in fact quite misleading. Rather than playing the material as a straightforward mainstream comedy, director Steven Soderbergh has crafted a sophisticated yet disappointingly uneven dark comedy that's unable to attain a smooth rhythm as the story progresses.

The Informant! is the semi-true, semi-fanciful account of Mark Whitacre (Damon), who worked in upper management for a lysine developing company called ADM (Archer Daniels Midland). When he becomes uneasy about a price-fixing scheme at ADM, Mark reveals his concerns to the FBI and agrees to act as an informant to provide evidence to bring the company down. But questions soon begin to emerge. What is Mark getting out of his whistle-blowing? Is he truly a clean and reliable witness, like he initially seems? Uncovering the mysteries regarding Mark and his motives soon becomes of more interest to the FBI than ADM's illegal activities.

To be sure, The Informant! is predominantly a comedy, but it's a specific type of comedy that's difficult to pinpoint. More than anything, the movie's tone is funny - it has an oddball sensibility, a peculiar way of looking at things, and an absurd perspective of Whitacre and the quicksand he proudly matches into. Soderbergh is too sophisticated a filmmaker to simply play the material as a broad, commercial comedy. Instead, the humour is fundamentally dark and the laughs are generated through clever writing, though the filmmakers never lose the sense that the story is essentially a tragedy. However the gambit is not entirely successful, partially because the tricky tightrope walk between comedy and pathos makes the film feel hamstrung at times when it should be cut loose instead. The pacing simply isn't tight enough as well. Even at about 100 minutes, the film lingers for at least a quarter of an hour too long. If the editing had been more aggressive, the picture would have been far stronger. As it is, the material feels stretched beyond its ideal length. If Soderbergh was aiming for a zippy film, he failed.

Soderbergh lensed The Informant! using a lot of the handheld, pseudo-documentary techniques he has been honing over the years. The film's colour scheme is of corporate browns and sickly oranges, providing the movie with the dull paleness of business life in Middle America. To Soderbergh's credit, he knew when to stick to less attention-grabbing compositions when solid storytelling and performances were all that was required to progress the narrative.
One of the greatest pleasures afforded by the movie is the score courtesy of composer Marvin Hamlisch; a music legend who hasn't gone near a motion picture since the late '90s. Hamlisch has created a witty combination of the kind of goofball music he provided for early Woody Allen comedies (think Bananas or Take the Money and Run) and the brand of action-danger-suspense tunes he cooked up for The Spy Who Loved Me. As a matter of fact, Hamlisch's music is slyly appropriate for Mark's character - like him, the score manages to be both disconnected and with it at the same time. The delightful score earned Hamlisch a Golden Globe nomination.

Submitting his best performance since 1998's The Talented Mr. Ripley, Matt Damon is almost unrecognisable as Mark Whitacre. With his spectacles, furry toupee, moustache and extra weight, Damon is as far from the lean-and-mean Jason Bourne as can be imagined. Additionally, the internal twistiness of the character is amusingly conveyed via earnest voiceover narration that perpetually suggests Whitacre is not always quite with it. While his narration occasionally just comments on the events currently unfolding onscreen, it more often reveals the peculiar randomness of his trail of thought, as well as his deluded inner fantasies (such as the way he constantly compares his dilemma to John Grisham and Michael Crichton novels). Though Damon provides the film's star power, his performance is more along the lines of something you'd expect from a focused character actor rather than a headliner.
Alongside Damon, Melanie Lynskey is wonderful as Mark's wife, as is Scott Bakula who nails the beleaguered sensibility required to pull off the role of Mark's primary FBI contact. In a stroke of genius, Soderbergh rounded out the cast with a selection of stand-ups and comic actors, including Joel McHale, Rick Overton, Bob Zany, Patton Oswalt, Tony Hale, Paul F. Thompkins and the Smothers Brothers.

All things considered, The Informant! never manages to catch fire the way that Soderbergh's best work did, and it lacks the infectious energy that made the Ocean's pictures such a hoot. It's hard to shake off the thought that Soderbergh should've simply settled on one tone and ran with it. The material suggests an edge-of-your-seat nail-biter (even with Whitacre's strange disposition taken into consideration), and a world of comic possibilities lie within the concept of a deluded executive who uses one crime to cover another. If Soderbergh had gone one way, The Informant! could have been a smash. As it stands, it's an uneven experiment. But even so, the movie is at least worth checking out for Matt Damon's performance and a few good moments.

5.8/10

"I never meant for anyone to get hurt, but Haden got greedy."

Adapted from the graphic novel of the same name, Whiteout is a formulaic, sloppily-constructed thriller almost entirely devoid of excitement and thrills. The plot from the book is not altered considerably for the movie, but Whiteout has been crafted with such lifeless banality that it's almost impossible to become genuinely invested in the central murder mystery. This is strictly paint-by-numbers stuff, with an uninteresting story giving way to twists and turns sign-posted long in advance, and action as dull as dishwater. It's no surprise to learn that the project sat on the shelf for two years awaiting a cinematic release (filming wrapped in mid-2007), yet the studio should have instead done the honourable thing and buried all prints of the movie deep in the ice of Antarctica.

The plot of Whiteout could be accurately described as a combination of Cliffhanger, D-Tox and John Carpenter's The Thing, except not as awesome as that would imply. U.S. Marshal Carrie Stetko (Beckinsale) is the sole law enforcement official at a research station in Antarctica. For the past two years, she has maintained order at the facility, and now her tour of duty is almost over. A few days before Carrie is scheduled to return to the States, a corpse is discovered on the ice not far from the facility. Of course, she chooses to stay and investigate, presumably because she's a dedicated cop, or maybe it's because this is the first murder in the continent's history, or, more likely, it's because she knows what's good for the movie.

In spite of the potentially intriguing premise and a visually arresting setting, Whiteout is a boring, factory-made whodunit which is quickly snowed under by stupidity, genre clichés, stale writing, and limp direction. Everyone involved was clearly working on autopilot, and the film feels like a tired television cop show story made noteworthy because of its setting. Every red herring and twist is familiar, and even flashbacks pop up routinely to clarify the most trivial of details. Heck, Carrie is even introduced in a gratuitous strip-and-shower sequence in which she's reduced to a mere fetishised object. And there isn't even proper nudity, which is especially disappointing considering that director Dominic Sena's last movie - Swordfish - is renowned for featuring a shot of Halle Berry's bare breasts. Also of interest is that Whiteout could have easily been a silent movie. There is dialogue of course, but most of it barely qualifies as anything but noise as characters always say the most obvious things. For instance, if someone walks inside an airplane, they say "It's an airplane". If there's a corpse on the ground with a hole in its head, the first words out of anyone's mouth will be something like "That guy has a hole in his head."

Production values are also notably poor - the score is all booms and crashes to wake up the audience every few minutes, the cinematography makes Antarctica look like a surprisingly dull place, and the production design perpetually screams either green screen or enclosed set. The digital effects are a disappointing mixed bag, with somewhat convincing storm effects undercut by the repetitive, dull foot chases they're used for. Sadly, the film is further marred by director Sena's inability to construct a decent, or even a coherent action sequence. Sure, the title of the film refers to extreme weather conditions that are supposed to disorientate the unlucky ones who are caught within it, but this is no excuse for how poorly shot and edited several of the outdoor struggles are. With everyone dressed alike in bulky snow gear moving at a snail's pace, constantly strapping hooks onto safety lines, these types of action scenes are not in the least bit interesting. A set-piece like this could work if the director was talented, but Sena is not.

All the actors look weary as they go through the motions. Kate Beckinsale does whatever she can with the material, but there's never a moment where the actress seems genuinely immersed in the material. Gabriel Macht follows up his dreadful turn in The Spirit with an even less successful performance here; delivering his lines with a dire lack of enthusiasm. Tom Skerritt is generically warm and friendly as the base doctor, but at least he knew how to make the most of his stock character. Meanwhile Columbus Short barely registers as the helpful Delfy, and Alex O'Loughlin is worryingly endearing as the Australian who's been plonked into the proceedings.

Whiteout is pure amateur hour, resembling a motion picture stitched together by a group of folks unaware of how moviemaking works. If you're familiar with John Carpenter's The Thing, the visual style for Whiteout will also be familiar to you. And if you've seen such TV shows as Bones and CSI, you'll be familiar with the crime-detecting style of this film. Simply put, Whiteout is merely a CSI: Antarctica episode which spends more time justifying the motions than actually enjoying the ride. The best thing that can be said about the film is that it's moderately painless. The whole affair comes across as just a made-for-TV movie, yet that's not saying a lot considering the time and expense involved.

2.8/10

"There's over a million Stevens with a "V" in the country. It's much more popular than the "PH" way. Twice as popular, in fact. I think it was the the Brits who prefer their PH's."

The title of All About Steve implies the film in question is about its titular character, but in fact this movie is about generic rom-com storytelling, drab jokes and attempts at syrupy melodrama. All About Steve was initially planned for release in 2008 and designed as a vehicle for both Sandra Bullock (who hadn't had a hit in years) and Bradley Cooper (who had yet to become a household name). But with the studio delaying the movie by a year, it was able to be sold as a comedy featuring the stars of the two biggest comedies of the 2009 summer season: The Proposal and The Hangover. However, even with other amiable actors in supporting roles (like Thomas Haden Church and Ken Jeong, the latter of which was also in The Hangover), no amount of star power could've saved All About Steve. It's a slapdash, interminable series of gags based around the shrillest, most obvious characters imaginable.

Bullock plays Mary Horowitz; a lonely, socially awkward cruciverbalist who has no friends, lives at home with her parents, likes to talk a lot, and spends her days writing crossword puzzles. The story kicks into gear when Mary's well-meaning parents set her up on a blind date with a handsome news network cameraman named Steve (Cooper). Mary is instantly smitten with him, but he's put off by her incessant jabbering and over-the-top advances. As the date is abruptly brought to an end, Steve makes the fatal mistake of making an off-hand remark about going on the road with her. Moonstruck, the naïve Mary writes a sappy crossword about Steve, loses her job as a consequence, and decides to follow Steve and his crew as they cover news across the Southwest.

Throughout the movie, director Phil Traill continuously demonstrates why the vast majority of his directorial credits have been one-off work for failed sitcoms (like abominable American version of Kath & Kim) and television dramas. His efforts for All About Steve are tragically vanilla; offering lightweight silly business occurring within an infuriating sitcom atmosphere. Worst of all, Traill never advances the movie beyond the first gear, which results in a tragically staid, boring comedy. Simply put, All About Steve is entirely without laughs. The attempts at comedy never even register as such... As a matter of fact, a laugh track would've been beneficial so viewers would at least know when they're supposed to laugh. There are so many talented performers in the cast, but the problem is with Kim Barker's awful script. For those of you unfamiliar with the name (you're not alone), Barker has only one other screenwriting credit to her name: License to Wed. Instead of improving over time, this writer is getting worse.

The fundamental problem is that screenwriter Barker never seemed to realise the film is meant to be conveying a sad story. All About Steve concerns a woman who's disturbed, emotionally unstable, and in need of help. Her behaviour soars past the "lovably goofy" level and up into the "genuinely troubling" stage, but the film observes her actions as if they're cute. Added to this, the whole enterprise is disgustingly mean-spirited, and gets its kicks out of torturing a poor woman in increasingly humiliating ways. Not long after Mary and Steve first meet, she throws herself at him in a sexual manner. Instead of a friendly, farcical moment, it's something to be genuinely pitied: this unstable woman is making a complete fool out of herself in front of a man who, initially, is willing to take full advantage of her. Similarly, Thomas Haden Church's character frequently toys with Mary's emotions and personal safety. Simply put, the handling of this premise is appalling. (500) Days of Summer is perhaps the only recent example of a rom-com that managed to deal with romantic infatuation without underlying creepiness. The character of Mary in All About Steve, however, has an obsession that transforms into stalking. It grows very creepy very quickly.

On top of all this, Mary is a haphazardly assembled collection of wacky character traits, and does not ever come across as a real person. And, quite frankly, if she were a real person, she'd be a person you'd really like to avoid. From the get-go, we understand why Steve is desperately trying to get away from her. We also understand why he becomes so terrified. It's consequently impossible to root for the happiness of such an obnoxious, obvious writer's construct. Probably the biggest crime committed by All About Steve, however, is that it neglects the two most important things about a romantic comedy: romance and comedy. The film precariously skirts between dark comedy, syrupy tearjerker, romantic fable and inspirational story with a message, and the unevenness prevents the film from finding a satisfying groove.

1.5/10

"It's like a little kid gets a puppy for the first time, just hugs it so much, and snaps it's neck. It's puppy cradle death syndrome. All that love is gonna snap that puppy."

Couples Retreat is a through and through snooze-fest. It's a concatenation of stale jokes, big-name stars and predictable plot obstacles, sloppily assembled with an Allen Key for quick sale. In fact, the film bears the appearance of a mere excuse for some Hollywood actors to take an extended vacation in an exotic location at the studio's dime. After all, long-time buddies Jon Favreau and Vince Vaughn wrote the script (with help from Dana Fox, who was responsible for What Happens in Vegas), so it's not hard to imagine the two concocting any excuse they could to take a vacation together in Bora Bora with Malin Akerman, Kristen Bell and Kristin Davis.

The plot concerns four couples, each with a standard sitcom relationship issue. There's the happily married yet overworked couple unable to make sufficient time for one another (Vaughn and Akerman), the high school sweethearts who are waiting for their daughter to go to college so they can file for divorce (Favreau and Davis), the couple whose marriage is falling apart due to their inability to have a child (Bateman and Bell), and the divorced guy who's now dating a 20-year-old (Love and Hawk). One of the couples hopes to attend a week-long getaway at a therapeutic island to engage in a marriage workshop. However, they can't afford it unless they get the group rate, so they persuade their friends to accompany them.

Considering the amount of tremendously talented individuals involved here, this movie should be far, far funnier. The cast boasts the likes of Vince Vaughn, Jason Bateman, Jon Favreau, Malin Akerman, Kristen Bell, and Jean Reno, and the film was directed by Peter Billingsley (best known for playing Ralphie in A Christmas Story), but it failed. It's truly shocking how unfunny this picture is - the "comedic" set-pieces drag on and on until no longer watchable, with Vaughn's non-stop complaining about sharks and scenes of couples' therapy that grow awkward and uncomfortable. Furthermore, a Guitar Hero duel is thrown in when the screenwriters were clearly out of ideas, and the sequence can only be explained as a product placement at its most blatant. The level of raunchiness is also severely limited by the studio's desire to release to the film to the widest audience possible, hence a teen-friendly PG-13 rating. Didn't the wild success of 2009's The Hangover prove R-rated comedies can still be profitable and popular?

It takes 25% of the movie's screen-time for Couples Retreat to finally get underway, and the set-up is long, sloppy and tedious. Once the proceedings shift to the tropical island, it's one bland scene after another, played at a poor pace with a distinct lack of genuine comic energy. It's easy to nail Billingsley to the wall for this mirthless misfire, as his slapdash direction reveals his amateur status all too easily with a workmanlike routine of sitcom effects and uncomfortable close-ups. He appears to have adopted a make-it-up-as-we-go-along approach for his efforts, with predictably inconsistent results. Some parts of Couples Retreat are more watchable than others, but the whole thing is far too forgettable.

In the acting department, only Faizon Love and Jon Favreau appear in synch with the material, and though they never achieve belly-laughs, they're the only members of the cast to get close to them. Vince Vaughn plays yet another version of his usual screen persona, with the wise-cracks, the overacting, and absolutely nothing to stretch his range. In fact, Vaughn is on autopilot from start to finish. On top of this, it should come as no surprise that Jason Bateman is also in familiar territory. The women are largely forgettable, unsurprisingly, while the supporting players are given largely thankless roles. This was strictly a paycheck effort for both Jean Reno and Temuera Morrison, the latter of which stays in the background and bangs a gong. There are a lot of talented actors here, so it's a shame the script can't serve them.

Billingsley deserved better. The cast deserved better. The pristine, beautiful beaches of Bora Bora even deserved a better cinematic treatment than Couples Retreat. This is a humourless mess, and one of 2009's most egregious missed opportunities. Depending on your expectations, there are a few giggles here and there, but nothing as substantial as a memorable sequence or an interesting idea. One of the film's final shots is of a toddler taking a dump in a display toilet at a home improvement store. The image perfectly sums up the filmmaking on offer.

2.7/10

"You got my money, you leave that shit in the mailbox on your ass way out, you feel me? Some other motherfuckers let fool rob on them. I don't play scrimmage. But I don't fuck with no kids. And if that girl only hope is you, well, I pray for her, because she's gone, baby. Gone."

The most significant aspect of 2007's Gone Baby Gone is that it marks the directorial debut of Ben Affleck. Considered to be among Hollywood's worst actors prior to this filmmaking endeavour (quickly descending from Hollywood A-Lister to late-night talk show host punchline), Gone Baby Gone demonstrates that Affleck's career has a brighter future behind the camera rather than in front of it. Written by Affleck and Aaron Stockard (based on the acclaimed novel by Dennis Lehane), Gone Baby Gone is a gripping, densely-plotted crime thriller able to engage viewers on both an emotional and an intellectual level. The essence of Boston, Massachusetts is expertly captured in this brilliantly gritty tour de force which takes you through a world of drug users, drug peddlers, small-time hoods and big-time dreamers.

Gone Baby Gone is narrated by Patrick Kenzie (Affleck), a young man residing in Boston who works with his girlfriend Angie (Monaghan) as a private investigator specialising in missing persons. When a media frenzy engulfs the kidnapping of a 4-year-old girl named Amanda McCready, and with the police making little headway on the case, the girl's aunt and uncle (Madigan and Welliver) turn to Patrick and Angie in the hope that they can augment the investigation. While Patrick and Angie freely admit that they have little experience with this type of case, the family want to hire them for two reasons: they know the tough neighbourhood, and they have a rapport with the parts of town that don't take kindly to police. As the investigation intensifies, Patrick finds his eyes opened by the depth of betrayal, lies and death that accompany the ostensibly straightforward missing child case.

Affleck's filmmaking debut is based on the novel by Dennis Lehane, whose book Mystic River was very successfully adapted as a feature film by Clint Eastwood back in 2003. Gone Baby Gone works in a similar style to Mystic River since both stories deal with the grief of losing a child. There are probably only a handful of people who've experienced such grief, but even fewer who can question it, and the film will therefore strike a primal nerve in several viewers. The narrative of Gone Baby Gone is excellently serpentine, and its nature keeps a viewer thoroughly involved and uncertain as to what the next corner will reveal. The film is comprised of three distinct acts - the first two acts are only tangentially related, but the third ties everything together in jaw-dropping fashion. The only problem with the movie is a loss of strong dramatic tension as the film nears its conclusion - it becomes too talky, explicative and moralising in the most obvious manner imaginable. The way it beats viewers over the head with long monologues is the only misstep of an otherwise taut, engaging crime thriller.

It's always a dangerous move when actors, especially well-known movie stars, decide to move behind the camera due to the fact that their directorial efforts are at risk of being subsumed by their work in front of the camera, not to mention such a decision is also often perceived as a power move. However, over recent years, the Oscar committee have rewarded well-known actors who've proved themselves to be skilled directors; giving gold statues to such stars as Robert Redford, Kevin Costner, Clint Eastwood and Mel Gibson for their directorial work. With Gone Baby Gone, Ben Affleck can add his name to the list of stars who have successfully pulled off the transition. It's not exactly surprising that Affleck - a high-profile actor with a wildly variable body of work in both style and quality, and who almost lost his career due to tabloid scrutiny - did everything possible to ensure his directorial debut would be taken seriously, and employed every ounce of his directorial skill to do justice to the source material (reportedly Affleck's favourite book).

Ben Affleck has helmed the film with a remarkable amount of skill and confidence (especially for an inexperienced filmmaker). For several sequences, Affleck and director of photography John Toll favoured the use of handheld cameras, with lots of movement to underscore the characters' emotions. On top of this, Affleck's work appears to emulate the gritty crime pictures of William Friedkin and Martin Scorsese - his vision of Boston is not far removed from the hellhole that New York City was depicted as back in the '70s. Gone Baby Gone is a detail-rich film, an atmosphere-rich film, and inexorably a Boston film - it's brimming with local colour, from the accents to the slang. Meanwhile, the extras are dripping with authenticity, and this is because Affleck used actual locals as well as professionals to occupy the background. Gone Baby Gone is permeated by the sense of a real world inhabited by real people, rather than meticulously produced sets on a soundstage inhabited by Hollywood hopefuls. For the finicky detail Nazis, Affleck has directed motion pictures in the past, but Gone Baby Gone is the first of his efforts to reach the multiplexes.

Taking the lead role here is Casey Affleck, yet the casting is simply far too superb to be dismissed as the choice of a freshman director electing his easiest option. Casey, who earned an Academy Award nomination for The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, is extraordinary as Patrick Kenzie; bringing an understated intelligence, a quiet confidence, and an explosive ferocity to the role. Michelle Monaghan is well-paired with Casey, and submits a similarly superb performance. Luckily, the supporting cast is equally impressive, with the always-reliable Morgan Freeman submitting a scene-stealing performance as a police captain, and the duo of Ed Harris and John Ashton both placing forth highly compelling work. The sole Academy Award nomination Gone Baby Gone received was for Amy Ryan's performance as Helene McCready. Though by no means the most note-worthy aspect of the production as the nomination may imply, Ryan nonetheless presents a riveting portrait of a woman who loses her daughter.

Gone Baby Gone is a smart and remarkably honest motion picture, and it's riddled with moral questions that challenge the notion of what's truly right without pretending to offer clean, convenient answers. Commendably, it also manages to be emotionally wrenching without revelling in any syrupy melodrama or resorting to manipulation - the impact is earned from sure-handed direction, a phenomenal cast, and one hell of a script. It's this reviewer's fondest wish that Ben Affleck writes and directs more movies as excellent as this highly satisfying, morally complex crime thriller.

9.2/10

"Brothers and sisters, this is the time to build our nation!"

At one point during the production of Invictus, Clint Eastwood reached the age of 79. Not that this bothers him, though, as he still shows no signs of stopping. Throughout his autumnal years, the legendary filmmaker has dealt with various themes and genres; ostensibly keen to try anything, and as a result usually achieving both critical and commercial success. 2009's Invictus marks the next addition to the director's filmography, and it's an impressive tour de force which merges the facts of Nelson Mandela's first years as President of South Africa with the tale of the 1995 Rugby World Cup. While the film's outcome has been predetermined by history, Eastwood has nevertheless created a riveting, nail-biting picture that succeeds as both a sports drama and an examination of the birth pains of the racially integrated South Africa. Once again, Eastwood has solidified his reputation as a bold, reliable purveyor of sincere and beautifully-made pictures.

Invictus (Latin for "unconquered") begins with Nelson Mandela (Freeman) assuming the presidency of South Africa after being locked away in prison for decades. While searching for a way to unite his nation still reeling from the effects of apartheid, Mandela's curiosity is piqued by the performance of the national rugby squad: the Springboks. With the team's captain, Francois Pienaar (Damon), attempting to push the Springbok players to victory at the 1995 Rugby World Cup, Mandela motivates and inspires the players; believing the universal language of sport will help heal his beloved South Africa and act as a potential unifying force.

Working from former journalist John Carlin's book Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game That Changed a Nation, Invictus employs the conventions of a traditional underdog sports story in order to shed light on one of the most important international developments of the latter half of the 20th Century. Screenwriter Anthony Peckham (himself a South African) structures the story in a familiar manner; establishing the Springboks as the underdogs as well as portraying them as a flexible metaphor for both shifting race relations and the potential of forgiveness. During the years preceding the 1995 World Cup, the coloured South Africans loathed the Springboks and perceived them as a symbol of oppression, to the extent that they actively rooted against their national team in favour of other squads. Thus, Mandela's decision to use rugby as a platform to unite the country was a key moment of forging a new national identity that had potential to bring together the two races.

Invictus may carry the appearance of a mere rugby movie, but the material strives for something more substantive. Presenting a portrait of Mandela's early years as President of a volatile country which once imprisoned him, Eastwood's movie observes the first big steps of this iconic man as he slips into his official routine and faces a population unsure as to what the integrated future will bring. A movie less sure of itself would've likely been filled with scenes illustrating racial tensions in the most obvious manner conceivable, but not Invictus - Eastwood and Peckham smartly convey this material through conflicts involving two groups of racially different security agents thrown together at Mandela's behest. These scenes depict (in a surprisingly subtle manner) how initial fears and mistrusts on both sides eventually gave way to a certain understanding, while also propelling the story forward instead of killing the pacing. To be sure, not everything works. Though the opening sequence can be appreciated for its brevity, its severe compression of events does affect a viewer's sense of time - it feels as if Mandela was elected within a few weeks rather than years. There are a few underdeveloped subplots too, as well as some clumsy inaccuracies, but these are minor complaints considering the film's myriad strengths.

It's genuinely astonishing that a 79-year-old Clint Eastwood can still create movies of tremendous dynamicity and great scope. Eastwood directed Invictus with a sure hand, and his style is controlled and professional rather than fussy and showy - he realised a remarkable story such as this required little gimmicky flourish. The film particularly springs to life throughout the rugby matches that occupy most of the final 40 minutes or so. Cinematographer Tom Stern's compositions are stunningly elegant, while editors Gary Roach and Joel Cox provide the film with a sublime fluidity. Even though the rules of rugby are not outlined at any point, rugby-ignorant audiences should find these action set-pieces involving, exhilarating and inspirational. They benefit greatly from a powerhouse soundscape and the rollicking, touching score, but are at times marred by the use of slow-motion cameras to capture the aching close moments of possibility.

Another positive of Invictus is Eastwood's skill as an actor's director. No matter how obvious the casting choice of Morgan Freeman as Mandela may be, there's no arguing the subtlety, humour and charm of his performance. He does more than imitate the prolific man - he inhabits and embodies him, and emits a good-natured warmth even in moments as minor as receiving tea from his house servant. The actor was nominated for an Academy Award for his outstanding work. Matt Damon, who was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar, absolutely nails the South African accent and provides masterful support for Freeman. Damon may be shorter than the 6'4" Pienaar, but his performance is graceful and engaging.

Granted, Invictus never offers a real sense of what Mandela did for South Africa during his presidency, with his policy initiatives only glimpsed at throughout meetings during which he leaves to check on the Springboks. Then again, this type of material is probably best saved for a larger Mandela biopic. Eastwood seized the World Cup championship as a way to convey one aspect of Mandela's greatness, and there is no doubt that Invictus succeeds terrifically on its own terms. The underlying message is positive, there are enough details about the difficulties Mandela faced to portray how divisive this period was in South Africa, and the film culminates in the type of rousing climax a sports movie requires. Whether you perceive it as a biopic, a stirring testament to the human spirit or the 2009 project of one of the best American directors of all time, this is compelling, emotional viewing that's absolutely worth seeing.

8.7/10

1984's Top Secret! is another side-splitting spoof comedy from the filmmaking minds of David Zucker, Jerry Zucker and Jim Abrahams, the trio who brought you Airplane! and the short-lived television show Police Squad. Setting their sights on new genre targets, Top Secret! primarily skewers World War II espionage pictures (most notably The Conspirators) and B-grade Elvis Presley musicals (think Blue Lagoon), though the ZAZ trio do not stop there. Indeed, the writer-directors adhere to the familiar spoof template previously established in Airplane!, packing the 90-minute feature with as many jokes as possible while parodying the likes of Casablanca and The Wizard of Oz, and even Pac-Man. Although not as consistent as Airplane! or The Naked Gun!, Top Secret! is nevertheless a classic comedy in every sense of the word, and it deserves your attention.

American rock n' roll singer Nick Rivers (Val Kilmer) is invited to East Germany to perform at a cultural festival, which is actually a diversion while the government carries out a top-secret military operation. In Germany, Nick meets the beautiful Hillary Flammond (Lucy Gutteridge), a French Resistance fighter whose scientist father (Michael Gough) was kidnapped to create a devastating doomsday weapon for the German government. Rapidly falling in love with Hillary, Nick agrees to help the French Resistance to thwart the Germans' plan and rescue Hillary's father. Thus, Nick teams up with the likes of Chocolate Mousse (Eddie Tagoe), Déjà vu, Soufflé, Montage, Latrine, Escargot, and other French Resistance fighters.

Abrahams and the Zucker brothers began scripting Top Secret! after the success of Airplane! in 1980, wanting to create a hybrid of WWII movies and Elvis flicks. However, the team couldn't crack the story, and consequently brought in a fourth screenwriter, Martyn Burke, to tie all their vignette ideas into a (relatively) cohesive narrative. It all comes together, but this is not a story-driven endeavour; Top Secret!'s plot exists as a flimsy excuse to string together comedic scenes and non-sequiturs, though it is not as absurdly haphazard as most modern spoof films. On that note, recent spoof pictures also too often revel in their cheapness, and it never appears that anybody behind the camera put in any effort. (See Epic Movie or Meet the Spartans.) However, Top Secret! feels enough like a legitimate motion picture; there are pyrotechnics and special effects, and it was captured on film by veteran British cinematographer Christopher Challis (S.O.S. Titanic, Force 10 from Navarone, The Deep). Furthermore, Nick Rivers' original songs are catchy and feel authentic, which again demonstrates that this film was not carelessly thrown together on the ultra-cheap.

Almost everything on-screen throughout Top Secret! is a joke, including sight gags, wordplay (the "little German" joke), witty dialogue, subverting familiar cinematic tropes, and parodies of famous movies - even Jaws and E.T. are targeted. Hell, for one shot, a city street miniature from 1978's Superman is used, with hamsters and mice set loose amid the cars. Of course, not every joke is a home run, and some jokes will not work for everybody since comedy is so subjective, but this reviewer still laughs heartily upon every re-watch. Plus, because the ZAZ team deploy gags at such an alarmingly constant rate, even if only 20% of the jokes register, you will still be laughing more frequently than most other comedies. Additionally, Top Secret! is mostly inoffensive, with little in the way of profanity and gags that will upset anybody. Sure, it is a tad saucy at times, but it's very tame by 2020 standards in this sense. It's a very silly film, and if this type of comedy appeals to you, it is absolutely uproarious.

Top Secret! marks Kilmer's feature film debut, and he clearly enjoys himself in the role of Nick Rivers, showing top-notch comic timing and playing the material totally deadpan. Additionally, Kilmer demonstrates his surprisingly great singing voice here, performing all of his own songs which were subsequently released on the film's soundtrack album. Meanwhile, it's a thrill to see veteran actors like Peter Cushing (Star Wars), Omar Sharif (Lawrence of Arabia) and Michael Gough (Batman) in supporting roles, and Gutteridge makes for a beautiful leading lady. Top Secret! is not an actors' movie, but the performers at least put in genuine effort, and do not appear to be in on the joke.

Top Secret! is not as revered as the other ZAZ movies, but, in this reviewer's humble opinion, it stacks up incredibly well alongside the likes of Airplane! and The Naked Gun!. Despite an abrupt ending, an almost complete lack of plot momentum, and some underwhelming moments which expose the meagre budget, this is nevertheless a funny, energetic and easy-going comedy which miraculously holds up on repeat viewings. The spoof genre is now sullied beyond repute after the likes of Meet the Spartans and Disaster Movie, making it all the more refreshing to revisit Top Secret! in 2020, and remember a time when spoof movies were actually good. If you refuse to watch Top Secret!, I'll put your name on the Montgomery Ward mailing list...

8.1/10

"I can see the pieces. How they should fit. How I want them to fit."

The final moments in the life of actor George Reeves (renowned for playing Superman/Clark Kent in the '50s TV show The Adventures of Superman) remains one of the most enduring mysteries surrounding a celebrity death in Hollywood history. 2006's Hollywoodland is a fictionalised account of the investigation of Reeves' death; employing a combination of apocryphal stories and confirmed events to construct the central narrative. The three most probable theories are explored here: did Reeves commit suicide out of despondency due to his lacklustre career (as the official record indicates), was he killed by a former lover, or was he perhaps snuffed out by a studio enforcer under orders from a jealous movie bigwig? Instead of choosing a theory and making it their pet, director Allen Coulter and writer Paul Bernbaum present the viewer with a Rashômon-style multiplicity of possibilities; leaving viewers to draw their own conclusions. It's balanced in its presentation of evidence for and against suicide, and - rather than being a biopic of Reeves - the protagonist is a private investigator who attacks the mystery.

Hollywoodland is split into two narratives occurring across two different timelines.
The first - and the most prominent - narrative commences on the night George Reeves (Affleck) is found dead. Although ruled as a suicide, the crime scene at Reeves' home leaves the official story open for doubt. The late actor's grieving mother (Smith) is unwilling to let the questionable circumstances surrounding her son's death go unaddressed, and hires hard-boiled private eye Louis Simo (Brody) to dig deeper into the mystery. At first Louis investigates at the behest of Reeves' mother, but when the sordid facts of the case begin to consume him, he investigates out of his own curiosity. In addition to forensic evidence suggesting foul play, Louis finds no shortage of suspects who might have wanted Reeves dead.
The second story chronicles the Hollywood career of George Reeves, beginning in the late 1940s. After struggling to make the big time, Reeves agrees to take the role of Superman in TV's The Adventures of Superman. Despite starring in the immensely popular television show, the actor is not a happy man - he isn't being paid well, he becomes stereotyped, and he's unable to find other work.

It's critical to note that Hollywoodland is mostly fiction. While Reeves' mother did in fact hire someone to investigate the death, and the investigator bore a number of traits used in the character of Louis Simo (who is otherwise the screenwriter's creation), the film should be perceived as a fictionalised account of real-life events designed to uncover certain truths. However, there are problems with this approach, mainly with subplots involving Simo which hamper the film's momentum - one a short, unnecessary subplot about a cuckolded client of Simo's, and the other a far more distracting subplot depicting Simo's domestic problems. These seem designed to provide the character with depth, but they're tragically drab when contrasted with the intriguing murder mystery at the heart of the movie.

Indeed, the portions of the film concerning Reeves' life - his rise, fall and the alleged cover-up of his "murder" - is absolutely engrossing cinema. Director Allen Coulter (a television veteran but a motion picture newcomer) successfully recreated Los Angeles during the middle of the 20th Century, and his portrayal of the Hollywood film industry, with its fleeting glamour and excessive heartache, rings true. Hollywoodland is also a handsomely-produced period piece with a moody atmosphere. Coulter's work indicates he's a filmmaker to keep an eye on, with slow and deliberate pacing, and a terrific handling of the story that never ceases to intrigue or engage. Indeed, virtually every frame is bursting with self-assuredness. However, the film misfires in a vital area - a viewer never gets an incisive look into Reeves' soul and psyche. It'd be easy to say that there wasn't much to him, but on the contrary, the film actually omits his complexities. His committed charity work is absent from the narrative, and, more importantly, the movie neglects the fact that the actor was about to begin a new Superman series when he died - surely this would lend further credence to the contention that he was murdered?

Hollywoodland is filled with first-rate acting. Somewhat surprisingly, the highlight by far is Ben Affleck who delivers an astonishingly nuanced, self-effacing performance as George Reeves. There's no faulting Affleck's acting here, but one could be forgiven for questioning whether he's right for the part since, even in full Superman costume, he bears no resemblance to Reeves. Those familiar with Reeves' visage may need to elevate their suspension of disbelief, but the strength of Affleck's performance should win over the doubters. After all, Affleck nails the aspect that counts - he captures Reeves' smug showboating, desperate need for attention, and sly charm. Meanwhile Adrien Brody is thoroughly engaging and likable as Louis Simo, and Diane Lane delivers an outstanding performance as an aging trophy wife who manages to be both alluring and pathetic. Robin Tunney, who featured in the first season of the hit show Prison Break, also submits terrific work.

By avoiding the usual pitfalls of other straight-up biopics, and by turning Reeves' story into a multi-layered murder mystery, an altogether unique product is achieved. Some may watch Hollywoodland expecting to glean conclusive evidence as to what happened to George Reeves, but - as said before - it leaves you to draw your own conclusions. Regardless of what you conclude, if you conclude anything at all, the film's key strength lies in its ability to tell a story and raise important truths about the nature of fame, fortune, love and deception. That said, the movie is not quite as accomplished as it could've been, and Coulter and Bernbaum could've at least had Simo present his (their) best guess. Without it, the movie feels a bit gutless.

7.6/10

"Martyrs are exceptional people. They survive pain, they survive total deprivation. They bear all the sins of the earth. They give themselves up. They transcend themselves... they are transfigured."

Pascal Laugier's controversial horror movie Martyrs can be described as several things. Shocking, vicious, ugly, merciless, brutal, and sickening are a few adjectives which spring to mind. Fortunately for genre fans with strong stomachs, it's also a provocative, strangely enthralling horror effort guaranteed to trigger thought and discussion long after the end credits have expired. The movie will undoubtedly be labelled as torture-porn and will be compared to Hostel, but (while it's indeed a stunningly graphic movie) Martyrs has virtually nothing in common with the films it will be grouped with. In fact, it could be argued that Martyrs is an anti-exploitation exploitation movie - it's certainly packed with gore, but the graphic content exists to open doors to something far more substantial.

The opening sequence of Martyrs depicts a young girl named Lucie (Pham) escaping from a grim industrial location where she had been imprisoned and physically tortured. Upon being placed in an orphanage, she's befriended by another abused little girl named Anna (Scott). Cut to 15 years later, and the two childhood friends (now played by Jampanoï and Alaoui) are still attempting to find the people responsible for traumatising Lucie as a child. As the quest for revenge draws to an end, something much more insidious is uncovered.

From the film's early stages, a number of questions are posed. Did Lucie kill the right people? What exactly did Lucie endure? What's the ghoulish figure that shows up to attack Lucie at certain points? As these answers are gradually revealed, further questions are tossed in at an alarming rate.

At first the film is somewhat routine and familiar, and even contains some contrived character behaviour to keep the proceedings moving ahead. Certain scenes are fairly predictable as well, but the film shifts gears whenever you believe that you've figured the whole movie out. The real kicker is the final third which goes so far afield that it's jaw-dropping. Added to this, Martyrs feels like it's on the verge of ending every 15 minutes or so, but then another rancid layer of the onion is peeled away. With all this in mind, the movie is one of those rarest of genre offerings - one that manages to stimulate your brain while working a viewer's gag reflex at the same time. It's simultaneously a psychological thriller, a slasher flick, a monster movie, and a torture porn endurance test. Yet, for anyone interested in engaging Martyrs purely on a superficial level, there's plenty of violence and gore that horror fans can appreciate without thinking about the film too deeply.

The violence showcased within Martyrs is alarmingly in-your-face and disturbingly brutal. When blasted in the stomach with a double-barrelled shotgun, characters (even a teenage girl) simply fall into a heap and expire rather than limping away or making dying speeches. The same applies for sliced throats and objects applied to the skull. No matter how jaded you may be as a moviegoer, Laugier's horror film will grab you by the collar and shake you senseless. Even if you believe you can deal with extreme violence and indescribable creepiness, chances are you may not be able to make it through this film's 100-minute runtime - but don't worry, as that probably just qualifies you as a normal member of the human race. On top of this, Laugier lensed the film using a gritty vérité style that amplifies the unsettling realism.

But technical proficiency doesn't in turn mean a film is a masterpiece (applying this logic would mean all Saw and Hostel movies are home runs). See, what makes Martyrs succeed better than its peers is believable performances, incisive underlying themes, and actual suspense. In fact, this could be considered "Thinking Man's Torture Porn". With genre thrills balancing the macabre rumination on physical pain, emotional pain, and the nature of being, this is a must-see for all horror enthusiasts and art-film fans with strong stomachs. The only real problem is that the majority of the movie functions as a lead-up to the big twist, and once you've familiarised yourself with the whole thing, it's doubtful you'll want to experience it again.

7.7/10

"I promise you a day of reckoning that you won't live long enough to never forget."

After Christopher McQuarrie and director Bryan Singer collaborated for the exceptional The Usual Suspects, the two proceeded to work separately to pursue noticeably different motion pictures. While Singer directed the Marvel comic adaptation of X-Men, McQuarrie helmed The Way of the Gun; a down and dirty Western. For his directorial debut, McQuarrie took a bold step forward with this strikingly grim, fatalistic tale of petty criminals who make a determined bid for the big time but find they've bitten off more than they can chew. In a sense, The Way of the Gun feels like a violent, grim Coen Brothers film - it could be Quentin Tarantino's Raising Arizona.

The two (anti)heroes of the film are Parker (Phillippe) and Longbaugh (Del Toro) who develop an ostensibly simple scheme to strike it rich. This plan involves kidnapping and holding for ransom a surrogate mother named Robin (Lewis) who is just days away from giving birth to a child for a wealthy tycoon who'll presumably pay any sum for her safe return. Unluckily for Parker and Longbaugh, said tycoon has mob ties. From this point onwards, subplots and side roads abound as the kidnappers find themselves somewhat out of their depth. This brings about a chase across Mexico filled with double-crosses and trickery.

McQuarrie has devised a meticulous spider-work of intersecting lives for The Way of the Gun. Despite the sizeable number of protagonists, the writer-director avoided creating a tightly-packed storyline that observes a number of people whose lives conveniently intersect in a private universe. Instead, everyone is a criminal here who's pursuing whatever serves their best interests. Rather than neatly tying together unrelated stories, one single event drags everyone into this tale, and they all splash around in their struggle to stay afloat. More pertinently, The Way of the Gun is populated by a gallery of amoral characters, and there's consequently nobody to care about or cheer for. However this is the type of thriller for which likable characters aren't necessary to appreciate the suspense inherent in their situation.

As a cinematic experience, The Way of the Gun is well crafted, but it remains largely single-note from start to finish, and the pacing could have benefitted from an added zip. This fault is derived from the fact that, though the script is clever, the thing is considerably over-plotted and, as a direct result, interminably slow. This is exasperated by the fact that McQuarrie clearly had no clue about directing a motion picture when he volunteered to fill the position, and his direction therefore lacks the self-assurance that Bryan Singer displayed for his handling of The Usual Suspects. Luckily, the action sequences are a saving grace. With the constant grittiness, reliance on static camera and a minimal reliance on distracting camera gimmicks, McQuarrie seems to be replicating the aesthetic of '70s action cinema (think The French Connection, Dirty Harry or The Wild Bunch). Nevertheless, when things are quiet and guns aren't being discharged, McQuarrie evidently had a difficult time getting his talented actors to do what he had in mind.

This is not to say the acting is necessarily bad, mind you - the performances are focused, but they're relatively unengaging from time to time. The standout here is James Caan as Joe Sarno; the grizzled bagman who's seen it all and lived to tell the tale. If there's one sympathetic person in The Way of the Gun, it's Sarno. Granted, this role doesn't stretch Caan's range and it appears to be a comfortable character for him to pull off, but this just means we never have trouble accepting him as Sarno. Meanwhile, playing the vicious duo of Parker and Longbaugh, Ryan Phillippe and Benicio Del Toro submit competent, understated, well-nuanced performances. When given snappy lines to deliver, the two confidently handle the material. Unfortunately, the same praise cannot be said of Juliette Lewis, whose monotone delivery and flat acting relegates her character of Robin to a plot necessity rather than a fully-realised, complex individual.

Commendably, McQuarrie's screenplay refuses to sell out. At the film's beginning, the writer-director sets up an unwinnable struggle for the protagonists and sees it through to the conclusion; never compromising the film's integrity for the sake of a Hollywood-style happy ending. There is, alas, no redemption to be found here for the characters, but that's the whole point. That said, The Way of the Gun is one of those movies you admire more than you actually enjoy. It's a tour de force of cinematic invention, but it's also one of the most pointless and unfulfilling crime movies of recent memory.

6.5/10