Reviews by PvtCaboose91

If you're familiar with low-budget horror flicks and/or video-game-to-movie adaptations, chances are you've heard of Uwe Boll. Even if you're not familiar with Boll's cinematic output, you've more than likely heard opinions on the guy's work, and, in all likelihood, those opinions have not exactly been complimentary. If Boll's work and name is a mystery to you, here's all you need to know: he's renowned for making terrible video game adaptations, his original work sucks too, he's had more films on the Internet Movie Database's Bottom 100 at one time than any other filmmaker (living or dead), he is widely regarded as the worst director in history, and he's able to make Ed Wood look competent. With 1968 Tunnel Rats, Boll continues to prove his uncanny ability as a versatile director: he's outrageously awful in every genre. Upfront: despite the fact I detest Uwe Boll, I wanted to like this particular movie. Truly, I did. The trailer was very promising. Alas, I must've forgotten I was dealing with Boll, because it's his trademark to turn movies with potential into absolute duds.

1968 Tunnel Rats (shortened to just Tunnel Rats in some corners) is set during the Vietnam War, but is not a typical jungle warfare movie. Boll's film focuses on an American army platoon that have copped the unenviable task of infiltrating the complex network of underground tunnels used by the Viet Cong to move around undetected and plan clever ambushes. Unfortunately for the soldiers, a dangerous task lies ahead of them: crawling along these narrow, unlit passageways peppered with booby traps and armed VC soldiers. If there's one thing Boll managed to skilfully achieve here, it's capturing the claustrophobic disposition of these tunnels, and the air of uncertainty around every narrow twist and turn. Alas, the impressive recreation of these tunnels is the only thing remotely successful about Tunnel Rats.

Almost immediately into the movie, the clichés begin to roll in fast and furious. The first 30 minutes or so is spent in exposition mode as the central characters are loosely established. Problem is, they're all stock characters: one solider misses his mother, another has a girl back home, their leader is a hardened career man, and someone wants to open a restaurant following their tour of duty. You get the idea. These archetypes are forgivable because these are the type of men you'd stumble upon in an American platoon, but what's unforgivable is the character development and the dialogue. Every character is two-dimensional, unremarkable, and interchangeable. No names ever stuck due to the lack of memorable faces, distinguishing features and killer dialogue. Worst of all, you never care about them. There's no reason to care about them. They're boring. Unsurprisingly, the script was improvised - the basic story was sketched out, but the actors were left to develop their own characters and write their own dialogue. It could not be more obvious, since the dialogue is also remarkably awkward and permeated with an unrealistic amount of swearing. Other Vietnam movies like Platoon and Apocalypse Now managed to offer interesting protagonists. Tunnel Rats makes us shrug and ask "Who cares?"

Other major detractors stem from Boll's trademarks: appalling direction and shoddy cinematography. For starters, there's a frequent lack of authority, with scenes playing out awkwardly. Editing is both lazy and choppy as well, with shots dragging on awkwardly long and some slapdash action set-pieces. In particular, a shot used during the opening sequence that observes a helicopter drags on for far too long and reeks of self-indulgence. At such a prolonged length, these shots don't engage; leaving a viewer bored and uncomfortable. Of course, Boll's use of shaky cam is abominable as well. It's mighty clear Boll has no idea how to effectively use this technique. Instead of tracking fight movements with the shaky cam (like, say, The Bourne Ultimatum), Boll shakes the camera for the sake of it, and the results don't achieve the desired effect. To the credit of Boll, his cinematic technique is gradually improving - Tunnel Rats does contain the director's most watchable action sequences to date. However, the fact one can only accept this as an exploitative action film rather than a war drama is disconcerting.

Predictably, Tunnel Rats is also marred by embarrassing technical inaccuracies. In the film, the U.S. soldiers use M16A2 and M655 Carbine Rifles, which were not developed until the 1980s and were certainly not used during the Vietnam War. The Americans are also shown wearing WW2-era uniforms and post-Vietnam web gear. The Viet Cong, meanwhile, are depicted using Norinco-Type 84S rifles instead of AK-47s, and they sport laughable hairstyles as if they just walked off the set of Tokyo Drift. To top it all off, the military outpost built deep into the jungle is without perimeter wires and guard towers. It's no wonder they were overrun so easily.

Tunnel Rats tries its hardest to deliver the message of "war is futile", but this is not explored past surface level. We see soldiers breaking down and crying, we see guns being fired, we see their terrifying ordeals in the tunnel, but we never feel their pain. This is due to the awful character development and the lack of nuance in every performance. More acclaimed movies based on the Vietnam War run a solid two or three hours, whereas Tunnel Rats boasts a scant 90-minute runtime. It feels like an action film first, and a potent war drama second. Look, this is Boll's best effort to date, but it's by no means a good or even a decent film. It's poorly acted, poorly directed, poorly handled, and the improvisation did not have the impact it should. The cover states "After Apocalypse Now, After Platoon Comes...Tunnel Rats". In this sense, Boll aimed extremely high but missed by an unbelievable margin (and this tagline is worded poorly...). There are plenty of superior movies set during the Vietnam War, and it's advisable you watch those and avoid this subpar effort.

3.9/10

With computer graphics replacing traditional, hands-on animation techniques, it is rare to behold movies brought to life through the art of claymation, for which animators painstakingly photograph plasticine puppets one frame at a time. Aardman Studios (Wallace and Gromit, Chicken Run) and LAIKA (Coraline, Kubo and the Two Strings) are among the only companies with enough patience to keep the artform alive in the 21st Century. It is, therefore, refreshing to see an Australian film like 2009's Mary and Max. The feature film debut for writer-director Adam Elliot, who won an Oscar for his 2003 short film Harvie Krumpet, Mary and Max uses claymation techniques to tell a bizarre, sweet, mature, and deeply personal story about two unlikely friends, demonstrating the possibilities of using animation to explore adult themes. Tremendously inventive, poignant, and hilarious, Mary and Max is a sublime picture of warmth and compassion about life's dissonances. The animation is superb, the characters are endearing, the humour is abundant, and it authentically delves into several topical themes.

Based partly on Elliot's personal experiences with a long-running pen-pal relationship, Mary and Max is about two people leading a mundane existence on the fringe of society who find solace in their heartfelt letters to each other. Mary Daisy Dinkle (voiced by Bethany Whitmore as a child and Toni Collette as an adult) is a chubby, friendless eight-year-old girl living in the suburbs of Melbourne with her neglectful, unsupportive parents. While at the post office with her mother, Mary discovers a New York City telephone book and looks for a random American to write to, as she is curious about the country. She selects Max Horovitz (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a severely obese 44-year-old Jewish atheist with Asperger's Syndrome living in the chaos of New York. Through their written correspondence, the two discover they have a lot in common - aside from loneliness and a complete lack of friends, they both love chocolate and a TV show called The Noblets. Thus begins a 20-year correspondence, with their friendship surviving more than the average diet of life's ups and downs.

Australian legend Barry Humphries (a.k.a. Dame Edna Everage) provides an omnipresent stream of narration that gives the movie the ostensible feel of a children's tale, but Mary and Max is not for kids. The film does not shy away from an array of mature, confronting issues, such as depression, sexuality, suicide, obesity, childhood neglect, and mental illness. Whereas most mainstream movies end on a happy note and involve friendship saving the day, Mary and Max is unmistakably dark - both physically dark and dark in its depiction of reality. Max is never able to lose weight, and Mary cannot escape the shadow of her alcoholic father or kleptomaniac mother. Mary eternally resides in the brown-tinged Victorian suburb of Mount Waverley, while the movie portrays NYC as a monochrome metropolis whose only bright colours come from Mary, including a red pompom she sends her new friend. The predominantly colourless and ominous cityscape of NYC symbolises Max's melancholy, mental distress, and isolation. The ending underlines the film's dark disposition by positing that there may be happy moments in life, but happy endings are almost non-existent. But despite this, Mary and Max is not a highly depressing venture; it is a cinematic delight, with constant laughs, an abundance of heart, and several profoundly moving moments. Somehow, Elliot squeezes all of this into an efficient 90-minute running time.

It took five years to bring the visually sumptuous Mary and Max to life, with Elliot spending a year on the screenplay before storyboarding the entire feature. Principal photography took 57 weeks, with six dedicated animators working under Elliot's direction in a converted factory in Melbourne, and each animator creating an average of five seconds of footage per day with limited time and money (and no leeway for multiple takes). The smooth animation belies the film's low budget, a testament to Elliot's dedicated team, including technical director Darren Burgess, who previously worked on several Aardman productions. Subtle visual effects also effectively amplify the animation without distracting from the superlative craftsmanship of Elliot's hands-on animation team. The vivid, picturesque world is enormously impressive, with the grim landscape evoking a film-noir feel thanks to cinematographer Gerald Thompson's meticulous lighting. Every one of the hand-moulded characters is intricately and lovingly detailed, while the sets and backdrops are similarly eye-catching. The detail and intricate lighting generate the illusion of a computer-animated feature, yet the painstaking claymation process affords a look, feel and soul that computers struggle to replicate. Filmmakers must have patience and passion to undertake a stop-motion feature of such length and meatiness, but Adam Elliot exerts both qualities in spades.

Whereas Pixar, DreamWorks and Disney create light-hearted animated flicks that predominantly feature talking animals and aesthetically pleasing people, the characters in Mary and Max are flawed and human: overweight, introverted, mentally unwell, and with distinct personality traits that humanise them. Another tremendous strength is the voice cast, a cornucopia of vocal talent from Australia and beyond. Philip Seymour Hoffman is an enormously versatile actor, and he is virtually unrecognisable here, disappearing into the role of Max. This performance, therefore, reflects the true essence of voice acting - a viewer should focus on the characters instead of the actors. Meanwhile, Australian actress Bethany Whitmore (who was eight or nine years old during production) is effortlessly endearing as young Mary, giving the character an authentic vocal personality. Toni Collette also lends her talents to the production as Mary in her later years, and the veteran Australian actress brings maturity and gravitas to the role. Another recognisable name is Eric Bana, who makes a terrific impression as Mary's husband, Damien.

Through an immense aesthetic artistry and a staggering screenwriting maturity, Mary and Max authentically addresses a profound question: Is there someone for everyone? In adulthood, we understand that we are born into our families but choose our friends, and the 20-year friendship between two vastly different yet curiously similar individuals proves this notion. Adam Elliot's ambitious first feature-length claymation movie is an absolute delight, merging witty laughs with heartfelt emotion to generate this genuinely moving slice of animation with depth and substance. Mary and Max is, for this reviewer's money, the best animated motion picture of 2009 (yes, better than Pixar's Up). There is undoubtedly a place for animated movies from Pixar, Disney and DreamWorks, but we also need more brilliant movies like Mary and Max that engage, move, and make viewers think. After the terrific Harvie Krumpet and now Mary and Max, it is clear that Elliot is a highly talented filmmaker to watch.

10/10

Upon its completion in 2005, Edison (alternatively titled Edison Force) endured a torturous limbo existence. Following a disastrous reception at the 2005 Toronto Film Festival as well as terrible test screening reactions, its theatrical release was jettisoned and it headed straight to DVD. Similar to Uwe Boll's BloodRayne, one will likely glance at the cast list for this movie and wonder why such big-name stars agreed to appear in it. Sure, witnessing the likes of LL Cool J and Justin Timberlake in this type of direct-to-DVD action fodder is not much of a shock, but when they're placed alongside such respected actors as Kevin Spacey and Morgan Freeman...one can't help but wonder what the hell happened. Though far more watchable and entertaining than its reception might suggest, Edison remains highly disposable, forgettable and generic. There's nothing wrong with the movie at face value, but it's pure genre stuff, and clearly a paycheck effort for all involved.

In the film, Timberlake plays a naïve and ambitious reporter named Pollack whose research for his latest story leads to the discovery of a major scandal. An elite police force in Edison known as F.R.A.T. appears to be corrupt, and the entire justice system seems to be willingly turning a blind eye to the abuses of this unit. When Pollack's life is threatened (along with the life of his girlfriend), he begins working with his editor, a once-famous reporter, and a private detective to bring down F.R.A.T. and everyone behind it.

Long-time small-screen scribe David J. Burke makes his writing and directing debut with Edison; a flick which clearly strived to be a sprawling corruption drama in the vein of Chinatown and L.A. Confidential that additionally tries to deliver an important message about the moral responsibilities of journalists. Before diving into this film's innumerable flaws, it must be said that Burke's directorial work is solid. Backed by a reported $25 million budget, the first-time director has crafted a number of exciting set-pieces, and the cinematography is frequently energetic. The score, too, is effective. But the problem is that this movie is a parade of clichés which only clicks on a very basic level. With a loose-cannon antagonist, the hard-ass cop with a good heart who strives to fight against corruption, and Freeman portraying the wise old Pulitzer-winner unsubtly named Moses, the whole enterprise is very familiar, meaning there's not a great deal of suspense. The plotting sorely lacks credibility as well - some of the characters are so inept at covering their tracks that a reporter from a small magazine could pin them to the mat.

In terms of action and suspense, Edison flaunts a few decent scenes here and there, but the film as a whole fails to gel. This is mainly due to Justin Timberlake, whose acting one can't help but snicker at. The inexperienced actor is saddled with the enormous responsibility of carrying the film's dramatic weight, and the movie was almost certainly designed as a stepping stone for Timberlake up to star status, but the singer is not compelling or believable enough. Also, he's consistently outshone by his co-stars, most notably Kevin Spacey and Morgan Freeman, who, while phoning in their performances, are still Kevin Spacey and Morgan Freeman! Timberlake may get better as an actor with time, but he's completely wrong for this role. Added to this, Edison is plagued with too many utterly inane moments, including a scene where Pollack escapes the bad guys on a bicycle and a sequence in which Morgan Freeman dances in his dressing gown.

At first, Edison is bursting with promise. Despite some underwhelming acting, the conspiracy plot is engaging and the film does a fine job of making us curious. From there, Burke decides to wrap everything up like a cheapjack action flick, and thus the quiet conspiracy thriller approach is suddenly replaced by shoot-'em-up action set-pieces, car chases, explosions and even a flamethrower. The director might find it cool when people are killed in violent ways, but he fails to understand that this is not the outlet for such a thing. Once the characters shut up and the bullets begin to fly, we see past the glossy sheen of this all-star ensemble and realise Edison is nothing more than a direct-to-DVD actioner inhabited by a few A-listers. Timberlake fans or fans of hardcore action flicks may find this an enjoyable evening of movie-watching. For those seeking something more substantive...move along, there's nothing to see here.

5.8/10

In this day and age, the thought of claymation will likely evoke images of Chicken Run or Wallace & Gromit, but, like any other medium, any type of story - from humour to drama; from the strange to the ordinary - can be conveyed utilising this particular filmic technique. Adam Elliot's Oscar-winning short film Harvie Krumpet is lodged firmly on the "peculiar" end of the spectrum, and is a delightfully humorous, yet drama-heavy little gem. Over the course of its 22-minute runtime, Harvie Krumpet tells the sad, strange life story of its titular character. Harvie (voiced by Flous) is born into an impoverished Polish family, but after a childhood tragedy he immigrates to Australia. From there, his life consists of losing loved ones, being struck with not only illness but also a bolt of lightning, having a testicle removed, and descending into Alzheimer's Disease. Although Harvie's life appears to be a never-ending battle of misfortunate, he continually manages to seize the day and enjoy everything that both the world and fate throws in his direction.

This deceptively simple story is communicated by Geoffrey Rush, who adopts a suitably gentle, naïve tone while delivering lines of narration. Rush's placid voiceovers allow an audience to feel more knowing than both the protagonist and the narrator, and it's this austere device (allowing an audience to observe the earnest absurdity of human existence as "gods") that affords the film a great deal of power. Hollywood has begat several biopics over recent years - The Aviator, for instance - but not many of them have managed to cram as much incident or pathos into several hours as Harvie Krumpet achieves in 22 minutes of dialogue-free narrative.

Without a doubt, the majority of animated shorts these days are created using computers. While computer animation is still a long process, claymation pictures are usually more time-consuming and expensive. A good day of intensive shooting using said technique results in only about 4 seconds of completed footage, thus a short film can take up to a year to complete. As a result, claymation shorts remain one of the purest examples of film as an art form; crafted using a mix of vision and dedication. Any normal claymation short is laudable enough, but writer/director Adam Elliot was the sole animator for Harvie Krumpet, which in itself is an Oscar-worthy feat. The animation here certainly looks rough around the edges, and more vibrancy would've certainly been beneficial, but Elliot has nevertheless done a laudable job here; it looks like these little clay people are alive and moving naturally.

The message delivered by Harvie Krumpet seems to be "life is what you make it". The film opens with the old saying "Some are born great. Some achieve greatness. Some have greatness thrust upon them", but writer/director Elliot is clearly more concerned with the people who never achieve much throughout their life. Harvie gets married, adopts a child, contracts testicular cancer and ends up in a nursing home, but it's the little things he has done to make himself content that satisfies him in the end. All in all, Harvie Krumpet is a delicate, warm-hearted film loaded with pathos, and it's great to behold talent like this within the Australian film industry.

8.2/10

Undoubtedly, one of the best Canadian exports of recent years is Trailer Park Boys; a television show mockumentary celebrating the adventures of three big-dreaming, low-achieving trailer park misfits. For the fans, the protagonists of Trailer Park Boys feel like old friends, with a history stretching back over seven seasons, multiple specials and a feature-length film. Into this history now steps Trailer Park Boys: Countdown to Liquor Day; the latest - and reportedly final - entry to the TPB canon. Filmed in the usual mockumentary approach by creator/director Mike Clattenburg, this is an underwhelming, disappointing sayonara to the lovable losers in Sunnyvale which recycles old plots and struggles to retain the show's charm, though it still delivers several solid laughs.

Countdown to Liquor Day begins, familiarly, with Ricky (Wells), Julian (Tremblay) and Bubbles (Smith) being released from gaol where they ended up in the finale of series seven. The ex-cons return to the world to discover countless things have changed in their absence - their beloved Sunnyvale Trailer Park resembles a bombed-out wasteland, Bubbles' treasured cats are caged at an animal shelter, and the park supervisor, Mr. Lahey (Dunsworth), has developed his own posh new trailer park. Once the boys' attempts to forge new careers are dashed, they resort to doing what they do best: breaking the law. And, with Mr. Lahey starting to dip into the alcohol once again, it becomes only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose.

Said hell that breaks loose is the brand of Trailer Park Boys mayhem that fans have grown accustomed to; involving gay jokes, pee jokes, fat jokes, prostitute jokes, drunk people jokes, pot jokes and, most potently of all, jokes which end with a highly creative use of the word "fuck". Half the fun of Trailer Park Boys: Countdown to Liquor Day is watching as the boys become their own worst enemy. In spite of their best (and worst) intentions, everything goes hilariously wrong for both the gang and those around them. Even the one who technically wins in the end is left joyless. But, just as the boys' schemes continually results in catastrophe, this reviewer's futile mission to search for heart or depth in Countdown to Liquor Day ultimately ended in disaster too. As is often the case with television shows translated to the big screen, the movie feels overlong and slapdash - it feels more like a bunch of zany episodes strung together as opposed to a coherent whole (a pratfall overcome to an extent by the first movie).

Trailer Park Boys fans will at least be rewarded with a few instances of the type of humour that made the original series a cult favourite. The film's beginning offers one of the funniest sequences in the entire canon; a jump-cut comparison of Ricky and Julian's "pleas" for early release. Julian is relaxed and borderline pious as he outlines his plans to open an auto body shop and become a solid citizen. On the other hand, Ricky is hilariously contemptuous; constantly swearing and bragging about returning to his life of growing pot. Fans should also be joyed to hear that Julian's habit of always carrying around a glass full of rum & Coke is retained here (even during a bank robbery), while another of Julian's not-quite-so-perfect schemes (one of his best ever) leads a hilarious car chase. Apart from this, there's little else of value from a comic standpoint - the drama-heavy mid-section represents a major laugh draught, and a lot of the humour and situations feel forced. There are no new "Rickyisms" here, and several of the characters have changed for the worst (what the hell happened to J-Roc?). At least the actors inhabit their roles with utmost conviction, even when the script is unable to serve them.

At the end of the day, Trailer Park Boys: Countdown to Liquor Day is uneven and lacking. It remains watchable during the more inspired moments, but it's still unable to offer anything fresh. With Mr. Lahey struggling to give up alcohol again, Ricky struggling with pot harvesting again, Randy threatening to return to the streets as a male prostitute yet again, and so on, we've seen it all before. While the show has certainly run its course and it's terrific to see the series finally drawing to a close, die-hard fans of Trailer Park Boys deserve a far better farewell to the characters than this.

5.8/10

In motion pictures, it's a widespread belief that children are the embodiment of pure evil. Perhaps not all kids are the spawn of Satan, but horror filmmakers realise that evil disguised behind the eyes of a seemingly innocent child is an effective way of amplifying the scare factor. Into this genre now steps 2009's Orphan. Instead of being an overly effective suspense piece, however, this is a predominantly boring, meandering film which suffers from repetition and poor scripting. If the creepy kid horror genre is in need of resuscitation, this subpar affair will not provide it.

The plot, in a nutshell, concerns Kate (Vera Farmiga) and John (Peter Sarsgaard). They're married with two kids, but Kate's recent miscarriage has put a strain on their relationship that's already burdened by John's infidelity and Kate's battle with alcoholic tendencies. Seeking to introduce a new child into their family, the couple decide to adopt. During a visit to the local orphanage, John connects with a strange yet astonishingly intelligent 9-year-old Russian girl named Esther (Isabelle Fuhrman). As you may or may not have guessed, Esther is no ordinary child, and seems to have been specially ordered from the Eastern European School of Creepy Kids. She distinguishes herself from those around her not only because she's mature beyond her years, but because she also appears trapped in a 19th Century time-warp with her fondness for Victorian doll dresses and ribbons. For her introductory scenes, Esther of course appears beguiling and innocent. Once she's adopted by John and Kate, the film then sets out to defy our preconceptions of how eerie and horrifying this little girl can be. And good heavens, is she creepy.

If it means anything - and in dealing with the consistently awful creepy kid subgenre, it likely does - Orphan is not the worst of its kind. It's atmospheric enough and contains a number of generally unsettling sequences, not to mention there's a solid attempt to delve into the characters' lives so that they comes across as more than blood-spurting automatons. Yet, in spite of these strengths, the film remains a ridiculous, by-the-numbers horror show. Spanish director Jaume Collet-Serra poorly orchestrates so many clichéd "boo!" moments designed to make the audience jump (such as mirror reveals), on top of faux scares in which a viewer believes they're about to jump but - surprise! - nothing's there. The repetition is irritating and laughable. These moments are hardly effective, too, since the music, with its rising disharmonies and sudden crashes, suggests there's a "scare" on the way. Orphan is also predictable from a narrative standpoint. It's easy to guess Esther's next move well before she makes it. And for the climax, the filmmakers call upon the most embarrassing genre convention imaginable: giving superhuman abilities to a weak character. At least the final showdown is relatively entertaining. Highly predictable, yet still satisfying nonetheless.

In addition to all this, the characters tend to act in whatever way serves the plot best. For example, it makes no sense for Kate and John to adopt Esther when she's clearly out of synch with the rest of the family. Furthermore, Kate is sometimes a raging alcoholic, but at other times an overly caring mother. Infidelity issues are raised in the first half, but they hardly surface again. At times, John is a trusting, loving husband and father, but at other times he's both ignorant and disloyal. Not to mention these characters are so stupid. What parents never see their child undress? What parents allow their child to skip dental appointments, and basically live in solitude in a mansion-like home? Why would no-one question Esther's ribbon accessories or her anti-social behaviour? Furthermore, John sets a new standard for Horror Movie Dumbass - he's bizarrely enamoured with this Russian girl (even when she rats him out for flirting with their neighbour!) and ignores his wife's desperate warnings. All of this is coupled with a major violation of Roger Ebert's main tenets for an unsuccessful narrative: if the main plot-point could be easily resolved - in this case, a mandatory medical examination should've been conducted by a state-run child protective services agency prior to approving the adoption - everything falls apart.

Credit where credit is due - in the acting department, things aren't too shabby at all. Vera Farmiga and Peter Sarsgaard share solid chemistry which makes their relationship believable. Isabelle Fuhrman is a terrific find: she's cute and charming, which makes her behaviour far more unsettling. The convincing Russian accent adds to her unnerving presence as well. For a horror movie of this type to boast such terrific performances is nothing short of a miracle. Yet, if one sets aside the solid acting, the interesting final plot twist, a few effective set-pieces and the fact it still works on a pretty basic level, Orphan remains a generic, cliché-ridden suspense film that strains credulity to breaking break. If you're in the midst of a strained marriage and are considering adopting a Soviet child, you may find this to be a terrific horror outing. As for everyone else...nah, it ain't worth the effort to get through these two distinctly mediocre hours.

4.9/10

In this name-only follow-up to the woeful 2006 film The Marine, yet another WWE superstar makes his feature-film debut (Ted DiBiase Jr.), and in the same endeavour proves that he as unfit to carry a motion picture as all the other wrestlers-turned-actors before him. For The Marine 2, DiBiase is placed in the role of a different marine named Joe Linwood, who takes a vacation in Thailand with his wife Robin (Cox) following a difficult assignment. See, Robin is in charge of a large party at some new island resort, so this is a good enough excuse for Joe to tag along in case something goes wrong. As to be expected, something does happen - a group of terrorists crash the party and take Robin hostage, along with all the other rich people. Negotiations begin between the authorities and the terrorists, but Joe is dissatisfied with their efforts. Unwilling to sit by idly, he takes matters into his own hands.

It's unbelievable how wooden everything in The Marine 2 truly is. Not a single actor here - not even the headlining Ted DiBiase Jr. - displays any degree of enthusiasm in their respective performances. DiBiase is one of the most wooden action stars in history (even by straight-to-DVD standards), and after enduring 90 minutes of him spewing clichéd dialogue with zero conviction, the "acting" of Steven Seagal or Jean-Claude Van Damme becomes appreciated. At least those guys look somewhat credible are action men. DiBiase, on the other hand, merely looks like a normal young lad in prime physical condition who's more likely to hold open the door for an elderly lady at the supermarket than single-handedly assassinate a group of highly trained killers. To his credit, he does occasionally try to act (for instance during a cheesy, melodramatic "don't die on me!" moment), but he just resorts to the patented Christian Bale "gravel voice" before returning to his ordinary line delivery. While DiBiase can obviously handle the action elements (especially evident during a terrific single shot showcasing some impressive fight choreography), anytime he opens his mouth he sounds as if he's reading from a teleprompter. In fact, his performance channels the Chuck Norris style of cardboard acting. This ain't the only Chuck Norris similarity - The Marine 2 plays out like a Missing in Action sequel, with an American protagonist and Asian stereotypes for antagonists.

At least for all its flaws, The Marine 2 is superior to its name-only predecessor and considerably more enjoyable. Swapping out both John Cena and the PG-13 rating, there are at least a few guilty pleasure moments throughout. Director Roel Reiné (Pistol Whipped) stages a few impressive, flashy action scenes considering the budget and DTD origins, but the film fails to heat up until the second half, and there's a distinct lack of both forward momentum and tension. The action sequences are mishandled a lot of the time as well - during one particular scene, Joe is in a shootout, and then everyone drops their guns in order to launch into a fist fight. When there aren't any silly situations like these, or any shoddy CGI explosions stinking up the screen, a viewer will be struggling to make out where the characters are in relation to each other due to the haphazard editing and the overused handheld cameras. The thin story is stretched out by plot twists which arrive like clockwork before things culminate in a laughable foot chase in which the hero knocks down a wooden foot bridge cover using his forearm.

Rather than aping the style of the original The Marine (which was a flat-out Commando imitation) this sequel delivers something that's part First Blood and part Die Hard. Hell yes, I'm well aware of how that sounds, but those responsible for The Marine 2 lacked the talent to create a film which lives up to the potential of this ostensibly foolproof concept. There's no sense of goofy fun which was present in the countless films aped by The Marine 2...this is just a highly generic mishmash of clichés which takes itself far, far too seriously. Meanwhile the villains - led by Temuera Morrison - are marred by unclear motives and even less personality; depleting all sense of danger from the proceedings.

Lots of stuff blows up, lots of people shoot at one another, and lots of guns are fired - The Marine 2 does have that going for it. But the movie is so jam-packed with tired action movie clichés that, despite the fact it's all marginally entertaining and somewhat watchable, it's hard to recommend. Fans of 2006's The Marine (all one or two of them) in particular should stay away, since there's no connection to its predecessor, and Ted DiBiase Jr. sets the credibility of wrestlers as actors back more than a few years with his stale performance.

3.6/10

Inevitably, Harry Brown will be branded as Death Wish for the 21st Century, and the UK's answer to Gran Torino. In fact, this 2009 production - which marks the feature film debut of Daniel Barber - is an intriguing mix of its two aforementioned predecessors; merging a timely portrait of contemporary street crime (similar to the Charles Bronson action vehicle) with the idea of an elderly serviceman bearing witness to the decline of the area he has called home for decades (much like Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino). Despite being imbued with these winning characteristics, Harry Brown undeniably remains a slice of wish fulfilment revenge fantasy cinema. Thank God it's also expertly-crafted, and a gripping example of British filmmaking.

Michael Caine plays the revenge-dispensing title character of Harry Brown; a 70-something ex-Royal Marine who lives in a run-down neighbourhood now ruled by feral teenagers (more commonly referred to as "chavs"). With his wife having recently passed away due to natural causes and his best friend bullied to death by the drug-peddling gangs of the local area, Harry is left alone and emotionally withdrawn. Moreover, the authorities have been powerless to solve the killing of Harry's best friend, and Harry is determined to see justice done. Armed with military experience and bucket-loads of anger, he thrusts himself into gun-toting, death-dealing action to clean up the neighbourhood.

In lesser hands, the narrative of Harry Brown could've played out like a Death Wish sequel (let's not forget Charles Bronson was 72 years old when he kicked serious ass in Death Wish 5). But Daniel Barber handles the material with an unmistakably realistic, gritty tone. The character of Harry Brown is not some daft superman of a granddad vigilante - similar to Clint Eastwood's Walt Kowalski (from Gran Torino), Harry is just an ordinary man who's pushed too far, and who's constantly marred by his limitations as a senior citizen. Thankfully, too, Harry is not merely one-dimensional - he feels like a fully-formed human being; reinforced during the film's first half hour which potently observes the character as he goes about his ordinary daily activities. Thus, when he exacts his savage payback, a viewer can comfortably cheer him on.

This brings us to the topic of the film's moralistic standpoint. Look, the film does not advocate vigilante justice. Harry Brown displays the effectiveness of actions outside the realm of prescribed law, but the tone is unmistakably downbeat (as opposed to Death Wish, which was light exploitation cinema). Moreover, it may ostensibly seem wrong for Harry to slaughter the unruly teens because it's gradually revealed his friend was slaughtered in self-defence. If one digs deeper, however, one will learn that self-defence merely entails disarming an attacker, whereas these "chavs" disarm Harry's friend before beating and stabbing him with intent to kill.

A major asset of Harry Brown is Michael Caine's magnetic, badass screen presence. As Empire said, the film reconfirms Caine as the unparalleled king of cool. Indeed, there's an unmistakable touch of Jack Carter as he lays waste to every mugger, peddler and hoodie he crosses paths with. More importantly, even when Harry is doing very little, the masterful Caine keeps you interested - he holds the film together with several solemn-eyed close-ups and a subtle hint of emotional turmoil boiling beneath his hard exterior. But Emily Mortimer, playing a determined Detective Inspector, is wooden, while Charlie Creed-Miles does what he can with a thankless role of a naïve police officer. Liam Cunningham, who delivered such an unforgettable performance in the 2008 film Hunger, is highly compelling and convincing as one of Harry's old friends.

Daniel Barber - the Oscar-nominated director of the 2007 short The Tonto Woman - displays an astute cinematic eye and ear in Harry Brown. The opening sequence, shot as if from a mobile phone camera, is visceral, and endowed with unsettling immediacy. The housing blocks and locations in which the story transpires heighten the authenticity and grittiness, as well. This is also one of the most gorgeous British films of the decade - the colour palette has been duly dipped in inky blacks and autumnal browns; recalling the rich, shadowy look of The Godfather or the urban darkness of Se7en. For this, credit belongs to the ace rising-star cinematographer Marin Ruhe (whose prior work includes Control). However, despite the technical proficiency, the film is strictly cartoon-level in terms of character and story. It's the predictable Death Wish formula played out on the streets of 21st Century Britain with one-dimensional villains and useless policemen. More importantly, the film depicts some uncomfortably extreme solutions to dealing with misbehaving teenagers without getting to the heart of the issue. Another grave miscalculation is the use of digitally-created blood which at times exhibits distracting phoniness.

As a slice of histrionic Charles Bronson-esque revenge cinema, Harry Brown delivers, and pushes all the right buttons. Although not quite as accomplished as Shane Meadows' exceptional Dead Man's Shoes, this is a powerful and vital example of modern British filmmaking.

8.0/10

While a great deal of "topical" motion pictures invariably arrive too late, 2009's Up in the Air is a flawlessly timed evocation of this modern age of corporate instability, a shaky global economy, and a general aura of uncertainty and discomfort. Of course, a film is not catapulted to greatness on account of its timeliness alone. Jason Reitman visibly understands this principal - he has created not just a relevant film with Up in the Air, but a tour de force on several additional levels. Reitman's prior directorial outings, Thank You for Smoking and Juno, were both assured comedies, but the 32-year-old director has taken an enormous leap forward with Up in the Air, toggling between comedy and drama, romance and social observation, and satire and sorrow with absolute confidence. Up in the Air is a reminder of a reality that movies prefer to gloss over - it's an achingly poignant film that manages to do a commendable job of both entertaining you and reminding you of how problematical and painful life can be.

George Clooney plays corporate downsizing expert Ryan Bingham. When the CEO of a company doesn't have the cajones to fire an employee themselves, they hire a professional like Ryan to fly in and deliver the news instead. In these bad economic times, Ryan's business is booming; he's perpetually flying all around the country, leaving people unemployed wherever he goes. Ryan lives his life in hotels, airplanes and airports, but it's a life he prefers - it allows him to ignore the responsibilities and attachments often associated with growing up. This is threatened when Ryan's boss hires an arrogant young hotshot named Natalie (Kendrick), who suggests the use of teleconference technology to allow remote layoffs. Objecting to the impersonal nature of virtual dismissal, but more concerned his cherished way of life will end, Ryan takes the naïve Natalie on one of his cross-country firing expeditions.

Thus, part of the film's dynamic is the experienced veteran who shows a determined newbie the ropes, which in this case involves the proper etiquette of dealing with distraught employees, the benefits of four-wheeled suitcases, and the preferred people to get in line behind at the airport. More comprehensively than any movie this reviewer has ever seen, Up in the Air masterfully evokes the essence of the airport experience as well.

Based on Walter Kirn's novel that was adapted for the screen by Reitman and Sheldon Turner, Up in the Air is a rare cinematic animal: an unclassifiable story with a prime focus on people. It contains equal parts comedy and tragedy, romance and heartbreak. From time to time, it possesses the look and feel of a romantic comedy, but this is misleading. Ryan does develop a relationship with a woman he meets at the airport named Alex (Farmiga), but this is a secondary plot - a way to illustrate further facets of Ryan's life, and to provide tightly-scripted dialogue. Added to this, Reitman's picture is one of the best movies to tackle the inhumanity of the way corporations fire employees. The lampooning is razor-sharp and resolute; each target is singularly nailed before each point is driven home with unyielding force.

Up in the Air can be a tough film to stomach. As the proceedings continue to unfold and a viewer eases into the comfortable aura of escapism, Reitman continues to hit us with harsh reminders that life is unexpectedly cruel. The filmmakers masterfully used real recently-unemployed people (save for a few notable famous faces) for the scenes of dismissal; their genuine pain and heartache affords the film with an unsettling realism. The movie only truly missteps in the third act, at the point where the focus shifts away from hotels and airports to instead concentrate on Ryan's personal life to allow for Capra-esque redemption. Despite said redemption being inevitable for the character, this particular portion feels the most forced and the least natural. Additionally, the film's constant stream of sophisticated humour aside, there are a few easy jokes here that don't always gel with the recurrent scenes of workers having their lives shattered.

Ryan Bingham represents a fascinating specimen - a member of the modern world whose goal is the exact opposite of the American Dream: he doesn't want the house, the wife or the children, and his relationships consist of one-night stands in airport hotels. Eschewing human baggage, Ryan has developed a philosophy of personal disconnect and stark individuality which is shared with others throughout professional seminars. The title of Ryan's talk, "What's in your Backpack?", acts as a metaphor for how materialistic possessions and human relationships weigh us down. With a perpetually empty backpack, Bingham adores his solitary existence and cherishes the experience of avoiding the concerns of reality as he soars through the clouds from one rental car depot and airport hotel to the next. George Clooney is perfect for this role. More than virtually any other of this generation's actors, Clooney capably combines the old-world style and charm of classic Hollywood stars with the skilful malleability of the world's best character actors. Even though the character of Ryan Bingham thrives on the misery of others, Clooney's performance allows a viewer to sympathise with him. Thanks to Clooney's top-notch work, Ryan's lifestyle also seems bizarrely desirable until the curtain is finally peeled back to reveal the chilly loneliness residing within Ryan's cupboard.

Clooney was exceptionally paired with Vera Farmiga. The two stars generate white-hot sparks and irresistible romantic chemistry playing the anonymous lovers bonding over a mutual awareness of travel tips and hotel room seclusion. No less impressive is Anna Kendrick, whose perfectly assured and nuanced performance as Natalie may allow us to forgive her for tarnishing her résumé with the Twilight series. In those films she's generic and easily dismissed, but here she displays ownership of terrific acting chops, and that, given a proper outlet, she knows how to use them. Several other actors of note (J.K. Simmons, Sam Elliot, Danny McBride) were used sparingly but effectively. Zack Galifianakis, who shot to immediate stardom thanks to 2009's surprise hit The Hangover, is particularly note-worthy; his screen-time is hysterical.

Up in the Air is ultimately about realisation, breaking free from the corporate system, celebrating the freedom to act spontaneously, and daring to reach out to others. The naturalistic flow of the dialogue which unfolds in real-world rhythms, as well as the sharp comedy and heartfelt drama establishes Reitman as one of the finest filmmaking talents of his generation. It's a movie made for grown-ups by grown-ups, and let's hope for all our sakes there's still an audience for that kind of thing.

9.2/10

For all you action fans, the wait is finally over. At long last, nearly twenty years later, Jean-Claude Van Damme and Dolph Lundgren reteam for 2009's Universal Soldier: Regeneration, yet another sequel to the 1992 Roland Emmerich-directed hit. With countless Universal Soldier flicks floating around, it is confusing to comprehend where the various entries fit into the overall series. To clarify, Regeneration is a direct sequel to the original movie that disregards the two direct-to-video follow-ups and the 1999 theatrical sequel, Universal Soldier: The Return. The product is downright awesome: a startlingly competent and highly entertaining action film that makes the most of its limited budget. It may not be a masterpiece, but as superfluous direct-to-video sequels go, Regeneration is above average.

The story is a simple one. Terrorists occupying the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant abduct the Ukrainian Prime Minister's son and daughter, rigging the reactor with explosives and threatening to detonate unless the authorities release their imprisoned comrades within 72 hours. Among their ranks, the terrorists also have a Next-Generation UniSol, or NGU (Andrei Arlovski), under their control, overseen by rogue scientist Dr. Robert Colin (Kerry Shale). With U.S. soldiers and the Ukrainian Army failing to rescue the hostages, Dr. Colin's former colleague, Dr. Richard Porter (Garry Cooper), resurrects the Universal Soldier program, reviving four UniSols to battle the seemingly unstoppable NGU. When things get desperate, the government recruits Luc Deveraux (Jean-Claude Van Damme), one of the original UniSols, to participate in the mission. However, Dr. Colin also has a second UniSol: a cloned and upgraded Andrew Scott (Dolph Lundgren).

At the helm of Universal Soldier: Regeneration is relative newcomer John Hyams, the son of Hollywood mainstay Peter Hyams, whose list of credits includes 2010: The Year We Make Contact, Outland, and the Van Damme movies Timecop and Sudden Death. Peter serves as cinematographer here, allowing his son to handle the directorial duties. From a critical standpoint, Regeneration is mediocre at best and will not win awards for the screenplay by first-timer Victor Ostrovsky, but John Hyams nails the execution, staging several exhilarating action sequences. The flick opens with a humdinger of a car chase - an effective, gritty, technically sound set piece that is all the more laudable considering the meagre $9 million budget. Aware that every penny counts and keen to show off his skills behind the camera, John displays impressive stylistic flair throughout the action sequences, some resembling a Call of Duty videogame. The fight choreography is also sensational, with the various punch-ups guaranteed to get pulses pounding. Thanks to Peter's slick cinematography and John's competent direction, Regeneration looks more impressive than any number of theatrical action movies.

Of course, the picture's crown jewel is the battle between Van Damme and Lundgren. At its core, the first Universal Soldier was nothing more than an excuse to repeatedly pit two of the era's biggest action stars against each other. Arriving seventeen years after the original film, Regeneration reuses this rudimentary formula, which still results in a highly entertaining action film. Granted, Van Damme only appears in half the film, and Lundgren only receives roughly 15 minutes of screen time, but this is nevertheless sufficient to ensure the movie is worth checking out. The boys bring it during their showdown, and then some - they beat the tar out of each other, and their size difference works as well here as it did in 1992. Both men are trained martial artists, and it appears they did not use stunt doubles very often since Van Damme and Lundgren are frequently visible either receiving a beating or dishing one out.

Fortunately, the script adequately serves Van Damme and Lundgren, as the material suits the acting range of both stars: they play emotionless thugs whose single objective is to kick serious ass. Witnessing these two masters of mayhem at work reminds us, and will hopefully remind Hollywood, just how deserving Van Damme and Lundgren are of appearing in more theatrical movies. These two are not the only muscle-bound performers in Regeneration, mind you, as monstrous UFC wrestler Andrei 'The Pitbull' Arlovski receives ample opportunities to slaughter people and show off his fighting chops. The rest of the cast mostly amounts to generic names with faces, with the budget not facilitating any more familiar or well-known thespians.

Taken at face value, Universal Soldier: Regeneration is a success. It achieves everything it sets out to do, and it is sure to satisfy action enthusiasts. It is easy to acknowledge the film's flaws - the predictable screenplay, the unremarkable dialogue, the not-so-compelling plot - but it all comes with the territory. The climactic 30 minutes deliver the type of slam-bang, balls-to-the-wall action moviemaking that is easy to appreciate, especially if you enjoy this genre. Regeneration is atmospheric and brisk, and it knows when to quit. It's a great beer and pizza flick, fellas.

7.2/10