Reviews by PvtCaboose91

Over the years, Chris Morris has established himself as the enfant terrible of radio and television in Britain. Following a period of announcing the fake deaths of leading politicians and celebrities on radio, he went on to create the satirical television programs The Day Today and Brass Eye. Since the end of Brass Eye, Morris kept comparatively quiet for a few years. That is, until he opted to co-write and direct 2010's Four Lions; his first feature film. In essence, Four Lions is a terrorism comedy and a sharp, pitch-black satire with the balls of films like Network and Dr. Strangelove. Adjectives like 'edgy', 'audacious', 'provocative' and 'shocking' immediately leap to mind. Additionally, this is a balloon-sized laugh riot from beginning to end - one of the funniest motion pictures in years. Yet, those who are accustomed to Morris' proverbial wit may be surprised to find that the filmmaker also added plenty of heart to complement the belly-laughs.

As the film begins, we are introduced to a group of London-based Muslins who desperately want to blow something up in a suicide bombing attack. They are unsure of what they should destroy, or even why, but they are nonetheless convinced that strapping explosives to themselves is the appropriate thing for a bunch of young Muslims to do. The bad news is that they're planning an attack, but the good news is that the group are clueless and inept beyond belief. The film tracks the Muslim men as they record mission tapes, train in Pakistan and try to formulate a coherent plan.

Chris Morris - who wrote the script with Jesse Armstrong, Sam Bain and Simon Blackwell (In the Loop) - was reportedly interested in using Four Lions to emphasise the notion that terrorists are in fact normal everyday men who are integrated within our culture. Fortunately, he hit the nail on the head. On top of this, it's doubtful that Morris' film would prove offensive to anyone. It does not mock the characters for being Muslim, nor is the movie anti-Islamic - instead, Morris had a simpler aim: to exploit male stupidity. The point is not that these guys are Muslims - the point is that the group are so incompetent that they couldn't organise a piss-up in a pub, let alone a terrorist attack to bring England to its knees. Morris clearly took great delight in puncturing the objectives of the group over and over again, with each ludicrous development taking the film to new comedic heights. Four Lions is also a biting satire of the imbecility of fanaticism that benefits from dagger-sharp dialogue laced with droll comedy. The comedy within Four Lions is genuine, grade-A DARK humour as well. Comedies this ballsy, hilarious and black are few and far between.

Yet, just when you think Four Lions offers nothing but rapid-fire comedy, Morris and his writers throw out something unexpectedly warm or insightful. For instance, the film's sobering final five minutes manage to simultaneously be blackly comic, intellectually stimulating and curiously respectful. Added to this, it's possible to grow to sympathise with the central characters while at the same time finding their ineptitude laughable and their ruthlessness appalling. This is a testament to the skills of the major players, all of whom are superb in their respective roles. Riz Ahmed is particularly terrific as Omar - he kept a straight face whilst detonating the comedy, and brought commendable pathos to the role as well. Meanwhile, Chris Morris' directorial handling of the material is excellent. The mise-en-scène is effective, while the shaky-cam cinemagraphic techniques heighten the authentic edge of the material. The only problem with Four Lions is the slight feeling that it's a single joke stretched to its limits. Sure, it's a brilliantly-written comedy, yet there are a few patches during which the energy relents and the film consequently begins to drag.

With Chris Morris' Four Lions, a human face has at long last been painted onto previously dread-inspiring terrorist caricatures - it provides insight into the minds of a bunch of human Muslim men who happen to have stumbled on the wrong path to paradise. Added to this, if it's true that we stop being scared of something once we can laugh at it...then Four Lions has made this reviewer feel a bit better about the war on terror. In fact, according to Morris, the movie is loosely based on actual blunders made by terrorist cells. Some movie-goers may find that Four Lions hits a little too close to home (people reportedly called for theatres to boycott the film), but those who are able to let their inhibitions go will find this to be a perfectly-pitched, hilarious ride.

8.4/10

An amalgamation of the Bourne series, the Bond series and the Mission: Impossible films, 2010's Salt is exactly the type of action-thriller you'd expect to witness during summertime - it's loaded with clichéd characters, a patently silly story, and lots of ridiculous action set-pieces which defy all known limitations of physics and pain tolerance. And due to the fact that the film takes itself with the poker-face seriousness of the Bourne pictures, there are several serious problems hampering Salt. Yet, unlike a lot of recent blockbusters, this film is almost saved by two things: competent craftsmanship and terrific star power. While the film does not possess much replay value since a lot of interest is hinged on not knowing character intentions, the initial experience is still a lot of fun.

Angelina Jolie stars as the titular Evelyn Salt; a CIA agent who's first seen being tortured in North Korea before being traded back to America at the insistence of her boyfriend Mike (Diehl). Two years later, Salt is happily married and has settled into a life of domesticity. But when a Russian defector (Olbrychski) fingers Salt as a deep-cover Russian agent planted in American to participate in an uprising, Salt goes on the run in order to clear her name. According to the Russian defector, Salt's objective is to assassinate the Russian President (Krupa), who is in the United States to attend the funeral of the U.S. Vice President.

Before Angelina Jolie was attached to the project, the film was originally designed as a vehicle for Tom Cruise (who reportedly decided to star in Knight and Day instead). Yet, Jolie's involvement is a true benefit, and she managed to believably bring Evelyn Salt to life. Granted, it would have been interesting to see Cruise in the lead role, but Jolie is perfectly acceptable as Salt. Added to this, she's a welcome and refreshing change of scenery after so many male action heroes over recent years. Also of note in the cast is Liev Schreiber as a CIA agent who claims Salt is innocent, and Chiwetel Ejiofor as the counter-intelligence official whose duty is to investigate the claims against Salt. Jolie, Schreiber and Ejiofor are all well-suited for their respective roles.

The key mystery element of the narrative - is Salt a double-agent or a triple-agent? - keeps the film compelling and interesting. Alas, the answer is revealed before the midpoint is reached. From here on in, Salt falls into the category of pure eye candy, with the spy aspects being pushed aside in favour of spectacular stunts and lengthy chases. Phillip Noyce directed Patriot Games back in the early '90s, so one would think he'd be knowledgeable about building suspense, yet no suspense is present here - the film is just a series of bombastically-soundtracked crashes and bangs. As the focus was on pace, exposition is kept to a minimum, though this can be considered a positive since the dialogue usually consists of clichéd action movie speak. Eventually, the movie wraps up with a perfunctory and somewhat unsatisfying conclusion. Salt frankly feels like a pilot episode for a mini-series rather than a self-contained feature-length movie, since 95 minutes was not enough time to explore all the narrative possibilities. For instance, the relationship between Evelyn and her husband should have real resonance, but it comes across as an afterthought and a pace-killer.

Salt may be a Jason Bourne clone from a conceptual standpoint, but, to the credit of director Noyce, it's not a stylistic clone. Eschewing the almost incomprehensible hyper-kineticism of a lot of contemporary action films (a trend made popular by Paul Greengrass), the action is often crisp and clear. There is plenty of action throughout the film and it rarely relents, but all the set-pieces laugh furiously in the face of reason and physics as the material progressively grows more preposterous and cartoonish until every ounce of interior logic is destroyed. In the climax Salt resembles Spider-Man as she manages to break into the bunker beneath the White House by jumping and sliding down an elevator shaft (the wirework is painfully obvious) before knocking out a few guards and slipping through a door before it shuts. Salt also manages to make the assassination of the Russian President look insanely simple. It becomes difficult to take the film seriously at all. This would be fine if it was an intentional parody of spy-thrillers or if it had a camp sensibility, yet the tone argues that it wants to be taken seriously. There's no humour. It's a huge problem.

Another key problem which hinders Salt is the PG-13 rating. This is perhaps the most violent PG-13 in recent memory, but the kills are all much too "clean". Thus, this is another unfortunate instance of Hollywood taking inherently adult material and, by toning down the blood and swearing, transforming it into teen-friendly fodder. Still, Salt is an enjoyable blockbuster. Make no mistake, this is nothing more than cinematic junk food, but at least it's not the type of cheapo shit that leaves you wishing you had never indulged in the first place.

6.2/10

Judd Apatow is a powerful name in the realm of contemporary comedy, and any film he's merely associated with is automatically something of interest. Apatow's sole 2010 offering, Get Him to the Greek, is a spin-off of 2008's Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and it foregrounds one of the earlier film's supporting characters: the womanising rock star Aldous Snow, played by Russell Brand. The director of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Nicholas Stoller, even returned as writer-director here. While Get Him to the Greek provides a few big laughs from time to time, the gags are uneven, and the film (similar to its main character) ultimately begins to wear out its welcome as the end draws near. In spite of this, a few memorable set-pieces and instances of sharp satirising makes the film an occasionally amusing commentary on the foibles of rock stardom.

A lackey working for a record company, Aaron Green (Hill) dreams up a grand idea to return rock star Aldous Snow (Brand) to the stage for a special ten-year anniversary concert after the rocker's legacy has been tarnished by a tumultuous relationship, the spectacular failure of a self-important, exploitative single, and years of partying. For his idea, Aaron's boss Sergio Roma (Combs, a.k.a. P. Diddy) gives Aaron the impossible assignment of flying to London and chaperoning Snow to both New York for a talk-show appearance and Los Angeles for the big show. Yet, Snow is notoriously unstable, and he is more interested in partying, drinking, sex and drugs.

With the exception of a fleeting, hilarious cameo for Kristen Bell as Sarah Marshall, Aldous Snow is the only returning character from 2008's Forgetting Sarah Marshall (Jonah Hill also starred in the earlier movie, but as a different character than the one he plays here). The decision to construct an entire feature around Snow was inspired - he stole every scene of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and demanded more screen time. Thus, chief among the challenges that writer-director Nicholas Stoller faced for Get Him to the Greek was to make Snow feel like more than just a scene-stealing misfit. Fortunately, he mostly succeeded. Snow's fundamental outlandishness was retained, yet the character has been developed into a three-dimensional human here with an emotional arc and a vulnerability barely masked by his trademark exuberance. There is also a poignant aspect to the story that affords an element of human drama, which, like most Apatow efforts, allows Get Him to the Greek to emerge as more than just a brainless laugh-fest.

The trouble with Get Him to the Greek, though, is that the movie grows tiresome, and it feels long in the tooth. No doubt, the movie fares best at its early stages; benefitting from a rapid-fire pace, several compelling performances, and an often hilarious script. Yet, especially once the midway point has passed, the film begins to seriously run out of steam, and it suffers from the same lack of craftsmanship that has plagued a lot of films produced by Apatow's company (see Funny People). Throughout the film, it's evident that Stoller was working with a bare-bones screenplay on the assumption that he and the cast would improvise large chunks, and the film would come together in the editing room (adding credence to this theory is the amount of material seen in trailers that is nowhere to be seen in the final product). The trouble with this approach is that a strong, clear foundation and focus is needed in order to generate an effective pace. It's forgivable when the skits are inspired, but there are too many flat skits that become long, repetitive, and at times utterly awkward. Simply put, the gags become far too scattershot, and the pacing is much too uneven.

In terms of acting, Russell Brand is Russell Brand. As Aldous Snow, he fails to break new ground as he's merely an off-the-wall lunatic. His performance is notably focused, though, and he inhabited the role with terrific abandon. Mention should be made of Snow's music, as well, which is well-crafted and catchy enough for the rocker's fame to be believable. Brand is a terrific singer, too. Meanwhile, Jonah Hill doesn't break much new ground either, but, to his credit, he's not his usual foul-mouthed self from Superbad or Knocked Up - instead, he's somewhat restrained as the straight man in over his head. The biggest surprise here is Sean 'P. Diddy' Combs, who's well-suited to comedy. In fact, he's the comedic highlight of the entire movie. Be sure to stay until the end of the credits, as Diddy gets one last laugh.

Jam-packed with cameos and offering sporadic bursts of inspired hilarity, Get Him to the Greek is better in spurts than as a whole. It's difficult to recommend spending your hard-earned money to see the movie, as it's unable to live up to the promise of its opening half hour and it ultimately becomes a bit of a drag. It's nonetheless enjoyable and at times creative, but, considering the brilliance of other contemporary comedies (such as The Hangover), Get Him to the Greek is lacking.

6.2/10

1974's Mr. Majestyk arrived during the most lucrative period of actor Charles Bronson's career; a time when movie-goers attended cinemas to see actioners like Red Sun, Chato's Land, Death Wish and The Mechanic. 1974 was most likely the best season of all for Bronson, as Mr. Majestyk and Death Wish were running in theatres simultaneously. While Mr. Majestyk lacks the social commentary of the vigilante actioner Death Wish, the film nonetheless packs a wallop and remains an enjoyable, competent showcase for Charles Bronson's superhero cool. Most interesting about the movie is the fact that screenwriter Elmore Leonard managed to transform the subject of the mistreatment of migrant workers into a vehicle for Bronson's violent heroics.

Bronson's character here is the titular Mr. Majestyk; a solemn watermelon farmer in Colorado who does not take kindly to anyone messing around in his watermelon patch. With harvesting time upon him, Majestyk hires a crew of migrant workers to pick the watermelons, but a local weasel named Bobby Kopas (Koslo) shows up demanding that Majestyk hire his men. After opening a can of whoop-ass on Kopas, Majestyk ends up in the local prison where he runs afoul with mafia hitman Frank Renda (Lettieri). Predictably, Renda is furious, and vows revenge on Majestyk. Of course, the enjoyment from here on in is watching Renda and Kopas bullying Majestyk, but them being unaware of the danger they're wandering into by doing so.

Elmore Leonard penned the script for Mr. Majestyk, and the usual rhythms of his hard-bitten prose are evident throughout. No revenge/vigilante cliché was left unused here, too, with Majestyk's best friend being mortally wounded, the love interest being placed in danger, the police being wholly incompetent, etc. The list goes on. Fortunately, there's a welcome amount of tongue-in-cheek humour within the film, and plenty of opportunities for Bronson to showcase the capabilities of his usual "don't fuck with me" screen persona. It's enough to trigger a few big dumb grins from time to time. Thankfully, too, the filmmaking is of a high standard here; director Richard Fleischer proved competent at handling moments of tension in particular. Coming from the heyday of the 1970s, the action is low-tech by contemporary standards but the violence packs a realistic punch. The climactic shootout is a humdinger, and there are some impressive chase scenes as well. Old school truly is the best school.

Mr. Majestyk additionally proves that a Charles Bronson revenge movie can be made about practically anything. In the Death Wish movies, Bronson avenged the death of loved ones. In Mr. Majestyk, Bronson avenges the death of his watermelon crop. There is even a scene depicting a bunch of gunmen callously blowing holes in a massive watermelon pile. When Bronson sees that his melons have been blown to smithereens, he emotes more than he did in all of the Death Wish movies combined. Sure, he merely lowers his head in anger and clenches his fist, but, considering Bronson's usual acting standard, this moment represents Laurence Olivier-type shit. As for the rest of his performance, Bronson played Majestyk with his usual quiet, stoic toughness, and his line delivery is frequently contrived. Like John Wayne, however, Bronson's fans attended his movies to enjoy his badass screen presence, and Mr. Majestyk delivers in this respect. However, it's Al Lettieri as Frank Renda who truly stands out here. Renda is a vicious brute, and it's easy to root against him.

The only real problem with Mr. Majestyk is that the set-up is too sluggish and laborious. If the movie was solely about Majestyk fending people off of his land, it would have been far simpler, more focused and all-round superior. Additionally, aside from pacing issues, Mr. Majestyk never truly stands out in any aspect; it's just an enjoyable, by-the-numbers action movie you will likely forget about a few days after watching. Nevertheless, it's a fun watch, and fans of Charles Bronson cannot afford to miss it.

6.2/10

There are countless bad movies out there. Most of them end up fading into obscurity, as their downright awful nature renders them unbearable. But, every now and then, a terrible movie comes along that becomes a classic solely because of its staggering ineptitude. 2003's The Room is a textbook example of such a movie. As of 2010, this film has developed a massive cult following, and some regard it as the Plan 9 From Outer Space of this generation. In short, The Room is a film that's amazingly, unbelievably inept in every conceivable aspect. Experiencing the film is akin to stepping into an alternate universe devoid of recognisable human behaviour and where up is green. Financed, written, directed, produced by and starring Tommy Wiseau, The Room is the type of film that's unleashed upon the world when an incredibly overconfident, untalented narcissist gains access to filmmaking equipment.

A simple, terribly-realised story of love gone wrong, The Room stars Wiseau as a businessman named Johnny. His live-in girlfriend, Lisa (Juliette Danielle), is tired of their relationship and chooses to turn her attention to Johnny's best friend, Mark (Greg Sestero). Mark succumbs to Lisa's charms all too easily but regrets the affair due to his friendship with Johnny. Meanwhile, Johnny is oblivious to Lisa's infidelity and continues to shower her with chocolates and roses before taking her to bed. On top of this, Lisa's mother advises Lisa to marry Johnny because he's a good provider and a good catch, and it does not matter that she can no longer stomach him. The events that stem from this basic set-up can best be described as a ridiculous series of non-sequiturs.

Wiseau's screenplay is packed with half-baked ideas, out-of-place plot elements, laughably terrible dialogue, and countless screenwriting no-nos. Production blunders litter every single scene of the movie, with frequently out-of-sync dialogue, fucked up continuity, strange staging (Johnny and Lisa's television is situated behind a couch), hilariously bad chroma key effects, endless random establishing shots of San Francisco landmarks, bizarre sex scenes, and frequently out-of-focus cinematography which came as a consequence of the inexperienced director electing to shoot on both 35mm and HD on the same mount. Plot points about cancer, drug money and pregnancy are introduced but are never mentioned again. Meanwhile, characters come and go without explanation, most noticeably Johnny's psychologist friend, played by Kyle Vogt, who quit the film before his scenes were completed. It's hard to use words to describe the terrible acting in this movie, too. Wiseau is the most notable offender, as he delivers his lines as if he were reading the instructions on a tax form.

Although terrible in many respects, The Room is absolutely fucking hilarious from start to finish. It's best viewed with a crowd of people who can appreciate this form of atrocious cinema. Loads of fun can easily be derived by watching it with friends and picking out the plot elements that make no sense. For instance, four characters head outside to play football while wearing tuxedos for no reason - and the game itself consists of the people standing three feet apart tossing the ball to one another. Also funny to watch are the cringe-inducing sex scenes in which Wiseau is clearly unfamiliar with how the missionary position works. Meanwhile, the bizarre music never fits with what's happening on screen, and the abysmal dialogue is a constant source of amusement. Added to this, the meaning of the title is never explained. It's called The Room, but it's set in many different rooms. The hilarity of this film is never-ending.

What truly distinguishes The Room from other legendary cinematic turkeys is Wiseau's narcissism, which is on screen for all to see. A mysteriously-accented, sleepy-eyed figure who emanates the polar opposite of charisma, The Room exudes an intense amount of self-absorption. During the movie, characters constantly state that Johnny is a great guy, yet there is no evidence to corroborate this. Viewers are expected to believe Johnny treats Lisa "like a princess", but the writer-director's understanding of relationships is so poor that Johnny is only seen doing the bare minimum (flowers, declarations of love, and so on). Meanwhile, Lisa is depicted as a slutty, malicious bitch who betrays Johnny out of spite rather than any dramatically credible reason. Wiseau is also crazy enough to believe that viewers will want to see his creepy naked form in the agonisingly long, weird sex scenes.

While one can laugh at The Room constantly, there are still dead spots, and the cinematography is, at times, so ugly that the film is difficult to watch. When it's funny, it's funny, but when it's boring, it's boring. Additionally, as with all bad films, it's truly fascinating to think that Wiseau had a vision so strong and clear that he could actually see the film through to completion and believe he made something good. Thus, Tommy Wiseau must be admitted into the directorial pantheon that also includes Ed Wood. What's also highly amusing is that Wiseau does not mind people thinking that The Room is bad. On the matter, he said, "People should feel free to laugh, cry and express themselves. Just as long as they don't hurt each other." The guy's a certified nutcase. God bless him.

4.8/10

After Steven Seagal began his promising action career by starring in films like Under Siege and its sequel, the star squandered this potential by featuring in a handful of dreadful movies that revealed he has gradually gotten fat, slow and philosophical about nature. 2001's Exit Wounds was intended to be career resuscitation for Seagal - it's a theatrical Hollywood blockbuster that ended the star's straight-to-video purgatory period, and it was produced by Joel Silver. For better or worse, Exit Wounds is exactly the type of action film you'd expect to find Seagal in: it's big, dumb and boisterous. Alas, it's also a bland, poorly-written hodgepodge of countless action film clichés. The film was based on John Westermann's novel of the same, but it would appear that screenwriters Ed Horowitz and Richard D'Ovidio merely used the synopsis on the back of the book on which to base their script.

For this particular venture, Steven Seagal plays Detroit Police Detective Orin Boyd. Another rogue cop in the Dirty Harry mould, Boyd spends the movie's opening scene saving the life of the Vice President whose motorcade is attacked by a bunch of unnamed terrorists. After Boyd kills all the terrorists and blows up a helicopter with his handgun, he is subsequently demoted and sent to work at the city's worst precinct. See, the Chief of Police believes that Boyd used excessive force despite his heroic actions, because these kinds of contrivances are pivotal for getting the ball rolling in action movies of this ilk. Eventually, the plot degenerates into the usual police corruption yarn involving drugs and gangsters. And, of course, Boyd rapidly comes to the realisation that not everyone can be trusted.

Exit Wounds admittedly begins well enough with an exciting shootout, yet the movie endures a huge decline in quality from this point onward. In particular, the film suffers from a lack of identity, as it veers from genre to genre in an erratic fashion. It appears to be a drama, a comedy, an actioner and a karate flick rolled into one, with a little "who can you trust?" thrown in for good measure, but none of the respective elements were pulled off with any degree of talent. The dialogue is frequently uninteresting, the characters are boring, and the plot is hackneyed. You'd be a lot happier fast-forwarding through the dialogue to get to the action scenes. Also, what is it with "movie cops" like Boyd? At no point does Boyd appear to have an actual job or an assignment to carry out; rather, he just wanders the streets encountering crime and following it up on his own time. That's Hollywood screenwriter thinking for you, I guess.

Talented cinematographer Andrzej Bartkowiak made his directorial debut with Romeo Must Die, and managed to afford Exit Wounds with a slick look. Admittedly, the action is fun enough to watch, but the "in-between stuff" and the plot are glaringly subpar. The problem is not with Bartkowiak's handling of the material, but the material itself. The screenwriters pulled out every cliché known to action films: gunfights, cars blowing up, car chases, motorcycle chases, kung-fu fighting, helicopter chases, absurd twists, and so on. The film liberally borrows from Heat, the Lethal Weapon series, every buddy cop film ever made, and far too many other films to mention. The storyline is just a tired redoing of every cop film you've seen. Of course, there's no problem with borrowing if done right, but Exit Wounds was done wrong. Added to this, it's difficult to make sense of the convoluted plot most of the time.

Steven Seagal is essentially the poor man's Sylvester Stallone. With his sleepy-eyed stare, his pinched-up, confused facial expression (note the lack of an "s" at the end of "expression") and dull line delivery, it's as if Seagal was perpetually stoned throughout filming. The second strike against the actor is that it looks as if he always hit the refreshment table between takes. The slow, podgy action star waddles throughout the proceedings at the speed of a broken down car. While the camera twirled around him in an attempt to make his fight moves flashier, it's obvious the years have not been kind to Seagal's fighting skills...or his waistline. Admittedly, Seagal lost a bit of weight between this film and his last role (1998's The Patriot), but Seagal looks less and less impressive in an age where Jet Li can move at lightning speed without the aid of special effects. Alongside Seagal, the performances are fairly routine and forgettable. The only two standouts are Tom Arnold and Anthony Anderson, both of whom managed to bring a welcome amount of comic relief to such a stale creation.

Even with its flaws in mind, Exit Wounds is not a total waste as you can derive some (guilty) pleasure from the action set-pieces. There are a few laughs to be hard as well, with the most substantial laughs arriving at the end credits during a hilarious chat-show send-up featuring Tom Arnold and Anthony Anderson. Despite these strengths, the film as a whole remains disappointingly subpar. There are countless other action stars more talented than Seagal in this day and age, making Exit Wounds look lacklustre in comparison.

4.3/10

Over the years, the popular American television program Saturday Night Live (SNL) has helped to launch the film careers of countless comedians and comedy writers, including Bill Murray, Chevy Chase, Billy Crystal, Eddie Murphy, and tonnes more. In the late '80s and early '90s, Mike Myers and Dana Carvey got their big break on SNL, and the roles they portrayed on the show functioned as the basis for the 1992 film Wayne's World. In this day and age, the notion of a movie inspired by Saturday Night Live sketches is groan-worthy due to more misses than hits, yet Wayne's World stands as one of the best SNL feature films. It's also one of those films that was purely and simply made for fun, and should not be critically analysed too closely. Sure, Wayne's World is largely predictable and it delivers more of a succession of vignettes than an actual story, but the characters are endearing and the film is a consistent delight due to a terrific mix of physical and verbal comedy.

In the film, Wayne (Myers) and his slightly insecure best friend Garth (Carvey) produce, co-host and broadcast a youth-culture chat show entitled Wayne's World on local public access television. Filmed in Wayne's parent's basement, the duration of the show is spent discussing women, music, the latest goofy inventions and whatever else may be on the hosts' minds. Soon, a slimy Chicago television executive named Benjamin (Lowe) discovers the show and wishes to exploit it; hiring the boys to feature in a big-budget network television version to use it as a promotional tool for a Chicago-area arcade. This causes the show to lose touch with its audience, however, and triggers a degree of friction between Wayne and Garth. Added to this, Benjamin takes an interest in Wayne's new rock star girlfriend Cassandra (Carrere), and begins pursuing her with promises of fame and fortune.

Wayne's World is infectiously funny at times, with the energetic performances of Mike Myers and Dana Carvey always ensuring the film is enjoyable despite the occasional lulls in pace. The overzealous efforts of the two lead performers additionally reflect the absurdity of the movie and its meandering plot. From time to time, the two directly address the audience and break the fourth wall; highlighting that the movie is indeed meant to be taken with a grain and salt, and that one should view the film with the understanding that its absurdity and irrelevancy is key to its success. As a matter of fact, in some of the best scenes, the movie pokes fun at its own contrived nature, with subtitles such as "Oscar Clip" and "Gratuitous Sex Scene". To round out the film and to further demonstrate the wink-and-nod approach, a trio of different endings are played out one after the other, each of which is bursting with intentionally obvious clichés.

Similar to many parody movies, Wayne's World contains moments which poke light-hearted and at times scintillating fun at the popular culture of its time. However, with so many years having passed since its theatrical release in 1992, a number of these jokes will provoke fewer laughs since the timeliness has evaporated. Thankfully, though, Wayne's World contains a solid selection of timeless lampooning as well. Among the best and most enduring moments features Wayne and Garth condemning Hollywood's sell-out mentality and pointing out the wrongs of product placement while gleefully placing Pizza Hut pizza, cans of Pepsi, and other assorted products directly in front of the camera. They even incorporate the classic, overly-enthusiastic salesmanship smile into the segment. Meanwhile, another memorable scene depicts Wayne, Garth and their crew singing along to Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody in a car. It has zero impact on the plot, but it's great.

Mike Myers and Dana Carvey are perfect for the roles of Wayne and Garth. In top comedic form, the two actors managed to add depth to characters that could have easily been shallow caricatures. As a result of their amiable nature, Wayne and Garth emerge as people you want to spend time with, and their troubles become your concerns. Their performances also remind us of a time when the actors were both relevant and funny (i.e. before Myers committed career suicide with The Love Guru and countless Shrek sequels, and before Carvey faded into obscurity). It's fortunate that the duo is so good, too, because the remainder of the performances are merely adequate. Rob Lowe is fine as the sleazy television executive, but is never in the same comedic league as Myers and Carvey. Meanwhile, Tia Carrere (star of such critically disclaimed but fun action films as Showdown in Little Tokyo) is somewhat strong as Cassandra, but is nonetheless disposable.

To the credit of those behind Wayne's World, the movie never feels like a Saturday Night Live skit dragged out to feature-length proportions (this is more than what can be said for other SNL features). Thanks to the brilliant scripting and a delightful comic energy, the film possesses an identity separate from its television counterpart. It's not in the same league as The Blues Brothers (let's face it, not much is) and it's nothing substantial (it is fluff), but it's still eminently watchable, funny and quotable. This is high praise indeed for a film of modest origins that's comprised of a meandering series of vignettes loosely tied together by a generic plot. Wayne's World never tries to be anything more than the sum of its parts, and that's good enough.

7.3/10

2010's Death at a Funeral is the American remake of the long-forgotten, years-old 2007 movie of the same name. That's correct - by the time this remake entered multiplexes, barely three years had elapsed since Frank Oz's British original hit cinemas and found cult success. The twist (if it can be called as such) is that this American version features a primarily African-American cast, who were given the almost exact same script as the 2007 picture to act out. However, one word springs to mind while describing this American version: why? Why remake a three-year-old British film (which was in English) and redo the exact same gags? It might work for those unfamiliar with the original, but even that is debatable.

The plot, as with the original film, concerns the funeral of a family patriarch which is being held in his large home by request. Eldest son Aaron (Rock) has taken care of all the arrangements, but becomes faced with all the bills and domestic headaches that come with a family gathering. Added to this, Aaron lives in the shadow of his successful brother and best-selling author Ryan (Lawrence). If this isn't bad enough, Aaron's wife Michelle (Hall) wants to conceive a child, mother Cynthia (Devine) is overwhelmed by grief, and a cavalcade of family acquaintances (including Saldana, Glover, Morgan, Marsden, Glass, and many others) have arrived with their own problems to disrupt what was intended to be a peaceful celebration of life. Also spoiling the funeral is a mysterious dwarf named Frank (Dinklage, reprising his role from the 2007 original) who has plans to blackmail Aaron.

For this Death at a Funeral remake, the biggest mistake was to retain Dean Craig's original screenplay. Aside from a few groan-worthy pop culture references and the occasional new or slightly altered line, this version is practically a gag-for-gag, word-for-word replication of the 2007 film. In order to work, this American version needed the very thing that Craig's sturdy script was unable to provide: a new voice. The best remakes in history are able to offer a fresh take on a premise as opposed to a word-for-word recreation of somebody else's work. The Departed, Ocean's Eleven and Peter Jackson's King Kong are all examples of good remakes. 2010's Death at a Funeral, however, is just flat and useless. The original UK version was a solid, understated black comedy, but when Americanised by an inadequate cast & crew, Death at a Funeral feels weak and forced. The laugh lines seem like precisely that: laugh lines. In a dark comedy like this, it's less amusing if the actor is in on the joke.

Furthermore, Death at a Funeral embodies everything that's wrong with Americanising a movie. The 2007 original was hardly highbrow, but it was not stupid, nor did it assume its audience would be. But the team behind this remake clearly assumed that its audience would be complete morons who can't understand a joke unless the punchline is over-exaggerated, and who cannot laugh at physical humour unless it's overplayed. See, the film wastes time hammering home points that need not be hammered home. At the beginning, for instance, the undertakers deliver the wrong coffin to the family home. In the 2007 original, the joke is low-key and brisk. In this remake, the joke is dragged out, and we see that the man in the coffin is actually an Asian, which underlines the notion that this could not possibly be part of an African-American family. Thus, whereas the British film was excellently nuanced in the acting department and relied on understated wit to generate laughter, 2010's Death at a Funeral is notably louder and stupider.

Chris Rock (The Longest Yard) is usually a supremely talented comedian and a supremely likeable presence, but in portraying Aaron he was restricted to playing the level-headed protagonist, and thus seems miscast. Who would want Rock to play the straight man, anyway? Alongside him, there are a few decent performances, most notably from Zoe Saldana, James Marsden and Ron Glass. The standout in the cast is Danny Glover who's a hoot as the misanthropic, wheelchair-bound Uncle Russell. One of the best lines in the movie is of Glover remarking "I'm too old for this shit"; referencing his Lethal Weapon years. If he replaced the word "old" with "good", he'd be a lot closer to the mark.

To its credit, the film moves forward amiably enough - it's never truly dull thanks to an unexpected energy, but never is the movie hilarious or genuinely good either. Death at a Funeral provides three or four scattered laughs, but not nearly the same quantity or quality of its predecessor, which is strange considering the almost identical screenplay. Additionally, aside from the British original, 2010's Death at a Funeral is strangely reminiscent of another film: Gus Van Sant's 1998 remake of Psycho. In both instances, talented people were squandering their talents and energies on a needlessly restricted project, denying them the opportunity to offer a completely fresh take on another movie.

4.2/10

Only the English filmmaking industry could successfully employ the concept of a sombre funeral service as a foundation on which to construct an eccentric black comedy. A clever, lively creation, 2007's Death at a Funeral is the latest comedy to be helmed by American director Frank "voice of Yoda" Oz, whose past hits include Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and Bowfinger. Despite having been directed by an American, Death at a Funeral retains a distinctly English flavour, as it's blessed with an English country setting, populated by predominantly English actors, and supported by a witty screenplay courtesy of Dean Craig. While clichéd, at times predictable, and occasionally more awkward than funny, Death at a Funeral is an energetic, wily motion picture. Eschewing flimsy gags and flashy special effects in favour of strong comedic performances and a brisk pace, Oz has crafted a top-notch black comedy.

At the centre of Death at a Funeral is real-life married couple Matthew Macfadyen and Keeley Hawes playing Daniel and Jane; the film's straight men who exist to navigate through the madness that is to come. As the film opens, Daniel is trying to get a funeral underway to give his deceased father a dignified send-off. Daniel is soon joined by a cavalcade of family and friends who are gathering to pay their respects. Plenty of chaotic events unfold throughout the course of a few hours as the eccentric supporting cast are introduced, each of whom have their own troubles to deal with.

The stories of the respective characters play out simultaneously, with the camera leaping from one to the next. It's chaotic, to be sure, and some of the characters are not given enough to do, but this permits a glorious fast pace. With the oddball scenarios, the frenetic antics and the protagonist's struggle to maintain normality, Death at a Funeral is at times notably reminiscent of the classic UK television series Fawlty Towers, except it's without the manic genius of John Cleese. On that note, Death at a Funeral is not as funny as it had the potential to be. It's more of a mild torrent of hilarity than an all-out laugh-fest from beginning to end. Worse, there are flat jokes, with situations that are dark and uncomfortable rather than funny. Due to this, Death at a Funeral received a fairly mixed reception. One's taste for black comedies will determine whether you're a fan, a hater, or somebody in between.

Expanding upon the lack of laughs, Death at a Funeral demands patience, as the first half is lacklustre in the humour department. There are a few laughs, sure, but the pickings are slim for the better part of 40 minutes. Fortunately, though, even during its barren stretches, Death at a Funeral remains watchable and entertaining. Director Oz and screenwriter Craig managed to infuse the film with a pervasively affable atmosphere that effectively compensates for the less-than-hilarious nature of the film's first half. Added to this, the filmmakers managed to do something rare: build momentum. The nearer the film gets to the end credits, the faster and more furious the jokes come. Granted, there's a bit of unnecessary bathroom humour and nudity, but the movie never sinks into the realm of bad taste. Oz and Craig even inserted a eulogy towards the film's end that's heartfelt and touching without seeming forced, tacked-on, or out of place.

Admittedly, the picture is populated with the type of stock characters one would expect to see in a film like this: the cad, the comic relief, the invalid, the favourite son, and so on. Yet, these roles were brought to life by such an ideal cast that it barely matters. Matthew Macfadyen is a terrific straight man capable of delivering side-splitting dialogue without ever seeming in on the joke. Meanwhile, American actor Alan Tudyk (of Firefly and Serenity fame) steals the show here as a character who ingests a potent LSD mixture and gets involved in hilarious shenanigans as a consequence. Veteran character actor Peter Vaughan also deserves full props for effortlessly pulling off the role of Uncle Alfie; a handicapped old man who has a profane expression for every situation. Adding to the insanity is Andy Nyman as the hypochondriac who's constantly left to deal with Alfie, a rubber-faced Ewan Bremner who spends his time at the funeral trying to win back his now-engaged former love interest, and a funny Rupert Graves as Daniel's well-respected brother, just to name a few. Frankly, I feel bad leaving some of the cast members out, as all of the actors are just terrific. Had John Cleese wandered into this funeral, he would have been right at home.

Death at a Funeral is most definitely a black comedy in the traditional sense, as humour is mined from grim situations. It's not perfect, but the positive aspects far outweigh the negatives. With a uniformly strong cast complementing the witty script, this is a lively, enjoyable and sophisticated piece of filmmaking. It's not as laugh-out-loud funny as it had the potential to be, but at least it at no point grows tiresome or aggravating, and that's more than what can be said for most contemporary comedies. Unfortunately, an American remake of the film was released in 2010, and the results were predictably dire.

7.3/10

Over the years, the Sci-Fi Channel has built up a rather solid reputation for consistently delivering bad made-for-TV movies (see Boa vs. Python and Pterodactyl). Another film can now rest in this compost heap: Lake Placid 2, a name-only sequel to the awful 1999 creature feature Lake Placid. Apparently the original Lake Placid developed into a minor cult classic and has a number of fans, though I've yet to meet any. However, it's doubtful even the mysterious fans of the original would appreciate Lake Placid 2, which was helmed by David Flores (Boa vs. Python), scripted by a couple of reality-TV writers, and was first aired on the Sci-Fi Channel. This killer crocodile action-adventure is a croc of shit, and it's unable to even replicate the few charms that the original possessed.

Essentially a remake of its predecessor produced on a budget that would barely cover the cost of a DVD, Lake Placid 2 takes place in Maine a full eight years after the events of the original film. In these eight years, the giant crocodile incident has apparently been forgotten and dismissed as a myth. (Not like a prehistoric crocodile attack would've been well-documented...) Added to this, a few more giant man-eating crocs have appeared since the first film, and have started feasting on the local population. The plot of Lake Placid 2 is set in motion when (much like in the original) a crocodile attack leaves a man dead, and the local sheriff (Schneider) is alerted to potential danger. He heads to the lake accompanied by a Fish and Wildlife Services representative (Lafleur) and a big-headed hunter (McMurray), along with a few other unimportant supporting characters. Meanwhile, Cloris Leachman stars as the sister of Betty White's character from the first movie. Cloris, too, is feeding the crocodiles, and is woefully underused in a film desperate for comic flourish (indeed, some of Leachman's lines are the funniest in the whole picture).

You might have noticed I used the plural term "crocodiles", as there is more than one croc residing in the lake. How many is there in total? Fucked if I know. An additional croc seems to be added every few scenes.

At every turn, Lake Placid 2 is banal, generic, tedious and unbelievably cheesy. The screenplay is comprised of a merciless torrent of bland exchanges, limp quips, and stunningly terrible banter. Seriously, the dialogue is brimming with lines such as "After a while, crocodile". As punishment for penning this tosh, the scripters deserve to be rectally impaled with a painful writing implement. Furthermore, the film panders to its target audience by providing senseless female nudity and forced gore, while the characters are one-dimensional stick figures not worthy of any emotional investment. Added to this, the acting is not even solid enough for it to be called merely flawed - the performances are flawed in their entirety. Betty White's character from the original has even been replaced with a full-on lunatic and murderer. Worse, the film is meant to take place in the same location as its predecessor, yet the locations in this sequel look completely different. Series continuity does not exist.

I wonder how many minutes on Microsoft Paint it took to draw this thing...

The majority of the movie's runtime is dedicated to a repetitive series of set-ups and kills, with the absurdly unconvincing CGI crocs constantly popping up. It honestly seems as if the filmmakers were not even trying for most of the film. At times, completely futile ancillary characters show up briefly for the sake of watching them get offed in semi-gruesome ways. For instance, two topless models and their photographer get eaten five minutes after their introduction. The randomness and the laziness of this scene is mind-boggling, and those watching the film may wonder if they changed the channel to watch another bad movie for a few minutes. To make matters worse, the editing is appalling - the cuts do not match with the special effects, and continuity is often an issue (most amusing is that the underwater shots of the lake were obviously filmed in a chlorinated pool). Meanwhile, the croc action scenes are absurd and rely on contrived character stupidity. In one scene, a croc chases a couple of characters up to a house. It even bangs on the door before giving up once the door is shut.

The CGI crocodiles in the original Lake Placid were terrible, yet the eight years separating that film and its sequel have only brought about a decline in the special effects department. In Lake Placid 2, the shoddy special effects are a constant source of amusement - in comparison, the CGI of its predecessor looks positively Oscar-worthy. To be fair, Lake Placid 2 is at times so terrible it's funny, and star John Schneider appears to be enjoying himself. But for every fun spot, there's twenty minutes of terrible filmmaking to endure. As a result, the unintentionally funny patches are scarce, and as a whole this movie is just bland and stale. It earns the most problematic of horror movie adjectives: it's boring.

2.1/10