Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"Chapter One. He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Beneath his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat. I love this. New York was his town, and it always would be..."

Widely regarded as one of Woody Allen's best films, Manhattan is an endearing romantic comedy that takes a picturesque black & white tour of the borough of Manhattan in New York City. Filmed in 1979, this aesthetically gorgeous picture is often deemed a follow-up to Woody's Annie Hall from 1977. Manhattan makes no attempt to eschew the proverbial Woody Allen trademarks. It's autobiographical by nature, and was even named after the city Woody so passionately (and frequently) commits to celluloid. This particular film is a quantum leap in regards to style, craft and maturity of the subject matter. From a decidedly basic story, the gifted Woody Allen has produced an extraordinarily mature, honest and funny motion picture.

The heart of the story concerns Isaac Davis (Allen). He's a neurotic 42-year-old in the midst of a mid-life crisis: he hates his job as a writer, he's dating a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl named Tracy (Hemingway) who's in love with him, and he's divorced. To make matters worse, his now-lesbian ex-wife (Streep) is currently penning a devastatingly personal "tell all" novel about their marriage and eventual break-up.
Isaac finds no pleasure or satisfaction in writing pure junk for a television program for a paycheck, and instead aspires to write the great New York novel. In order to get serious about his novel, Isaac quits his job.
Isaac's best friend Yale (Murphy) is happily married, but is nevertheless having an affair with a woman named Mary (Keaton). Gradually, Isaac falls in love with Yale's mistress. But Isaac is still troubled by his relationship with the youthful Tracy. She's madly in love with him and wishes to take their relationship to the next level...Isaac, however, does not love Tracy in return. Instead he opts to break off the relationship and pursue Mary instead.

"She's 17. I'm 42 and she's 17. I'm older than her father, can you believe that? I'm dating a girl, wherein, I can beat up her father."

Logically enough, the city of Manhattan functions as a central character - probably as crucial as the characters navigating its streets. In various respects, Manhattan is Woody Allen's classic love-hate letter to the city of his soul. Collaborating with master cinematographer Gordon Willis, Woody used black and white photography for the first time. In addition to this, the film was shot in the 2.35:1 aspect ratio. Black and white was employed to give a texture and polish to the city, and the results are simply intoxicating. In expanding the aspect ratio, a greater level of density was built to give a deeper feeling of detail and scope to Woody's vision. Willis' photography surpasses postcard pretty...the essence of the city has been marvellously encapsulated in a way no-one had ever accomplished before. Manhattan is also Woody Allen's most personal film. The absence of colour imagery reflects Isaac's disillusion with both his career and the clique of friends surrounding him. All are writers - he's a writer for TV, his former wife is writing a feminist tract on their marriage, Yale is working on a biography of Eugene O'Neill, and Mary is a both a critic and a columnist. Furthermore, conversations are interspersed with allusions to creative artists, from Strindberg and Kafka to Ingmar Bergman, Fellini and Groucho Marx.

Over the decades, New York City has transformed into a different city altogether. Woody Allen's Manhattan is a city of subtle beauty. It is also a place of marvellous intellectual incentive, and serenity between the frantic traffic. It's refreshing to see the city sans mobile phones, computers and, more or less, electronics in general. Woody and Willis capture the simple silence of a city before the advent of advanced technology - it's all the more striking as a window to a prior generation and as a remarkably poignant snapshot of life in the 1970s for typical New Yorkers.

Party Guest: "I finally had an orgasm, and my doctor said it was the wrong kind."
Isaac: "You had the wrong kind? I've never had the wrong kind, ever. My worst one was right on the money."

Allen generates wonderful comedy through his witty dialogue. Never are laughs blatant or contrived - there is no slapstick, for example. All the laugh-out-loud dialogue is natural, never forced. Manhattan is frequently marred, however, by Woody Allen's constant ravings. Although beautifully photographed, the film also occasionally lacks a vital spark to energise the dialogue and sustain a viewer's interest. Despite a runtime of merely 95 minutes, the film needed to be tighter. As Woody rambles unremittingly, the actor at times fails to engage.

"My ex-wife left me for another woman."

In essence, Woody's character of Isaac Davis is a more mature, fleshed-out version of Alvy Singer from Annie Hall. It's amazing how the filmmaker and star manages to successfully pull off variations of his typical screen persona. Throughout his career, Woody Allen has performed as Woody Allen in spades. He's usually appetising, but at other times he needs to learn restraint during his rambles.
Diane Keaton plays the somewhat unpleasant, possibly egotistic object of Woody's infatuations - i.e. the same type of role she always plays in a Woody Allen picture. Suitably, this is acting by numbers for Diane. Mariel Hemingway copped an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress as the 17-year-old love interest. The naivety and immaturity of her performance conveys the uncertainty inherent in this type of relationship. The anguish she endures as Isaac dumps her, and the bewilderment she experiences when he randomly returns to her is totally honest and natural. Mariel's performance is top-notch, and it rings with such wonderful truth. Her performance is endowed with charm and grace.
In supporting roles, a young Meryl Streep features as Isaac's lesbian ex-wife. She fuses the right tone of antagonism with just the right sense of humour, allowing her to seem much more than the standard, two-dimensional ex-wife bitch. Michael Murphy is on hand as Yale: Isaac's best friend, and straight man to Isaac's jokes.

If ever there was a filmmaker whose work divided opinions so rigorously, it'd be Woody Allen. Various audiences find it challenging to "get into" Woody's films. After all, he plays the same character - basically himself - all the time: Jewish liberal neurotic with narcissistic overtones. If you're irritated by his usual mannerisms, you'll most likely roll your eyes at his frequent casting of beautiful young starlets as his love interest. Unsurprisingly, the critics chose to chastise Allen for selecting a 17 year-old blonde as his Soul Mate for this picture. But the young lady epitomises the vigour and excitement that Isaac had forgotten existed within Manhattan. This is definitely one of Woody's most interesting films.

When Woody Allen viewed the rough cut of Manhattan, he told producers Jack Rollins and Charles H. Joffe to destroy every frame - and if they did, he'd direct another film for United Artists for free. It may have been a critical and commercial success, but Manhattan is to date Woody's least favourite film from his extensive oeuvre. Be that as it may, this film is both tremendously funny and ultimately very poignant. New York City looks beautiful when captured by Gordon Willis' lens, and it's gift-wrapped with a bow courtesy of the gorgeous music of George Gershwin. The writing is sharp and perceptive, with all of the performances uniformly on the mark. For the first-time Woody Allen viewer, Manhattan is an ideal place to start. His strengths are on ample display, with very few of his excesses.

"I feel like we're in a Noel Coward play. Someone should be making martinis."

8.35/10

"I'm coming for the rest of your family. You just bought them a death sentence, motherfucker."

As straightforward pulp revengers go, Death Sentence is disposable but satisfying. Considering the contemporary standard for its genre, you could do far worse than James Wan's flashy shoot-'em-up vigilante actioner. Certainly, Death Sentence is a dumb and derivative action flick that confusingly switches genres mid-stream. It's also pretentious, unrealistic, implausible, infantile, and it aspires to be taken far too seriously. Nevertheless, director Wan deserves credit for dressing up this knockoff of Death Wish with honest-to-goodness visual flair.

Perhaps James Wan is most commonly recognised for initiating the Saw franchise back in 2004. The young, inexperienced director offered a deft handling of the clever screenplay (penned by his collaborator Leigh Whannell from a story they wrote together). In a few weeks and on a paltry budget, Wan had masterfully re-invigorated the horror genre, paving the way for films of its type to follow (including its countless sequels).
The Charles Bronson vehicle Death Wish, based loosely on a novel by Brian Garfield, virtually invented the vigilante film genre whereby an ordinary man transforms into a blood-thirsty soldier hungry for revenge. Countless incarnations have been produced over the decades, using this basic theme to varying degrees of effect. Death Sentence is also loosely based on a Brian Garfield novel (written in the 1970s as a sequel to Death Wish). Even despite Wan's prior success with the original Saw, Death Sentence had plenty of trouble finding its way into cinemas and ultimately fared poorly in its theatrical run - it gleaned less than $10 million domestically.

Nick Hume (Bacon) is a successful business executive who lives an idyllic life with his loving family. Nick's eldest son Brendan (Lafferty) is a trophy winning hockey player soon to be attending a high-class college. However, the family's contented existence is devastated when tragedy strikes. As Nick and Brendan travel home following a hockey match, they reluctantly stop at an unfriendly neighbourhood. Shortly thereafter they encounter a car-load of punks - including one thug who must murder as part of his initiation. Before Nick's eyes, his son is murdered. The murderer is apprehended while the rest of the gang make their escape. The grieving Nick is able to identify the machete-wielding punk, but his sole testimony is the only evidence that the murder took place. Dissatisfied - and as amazed as the rest of us - with the prosecutor's decision to offer the thug a bargain (a prison term of three to five years) as lack of evidence wouldn't bode well in court, Nick retracts his statement and opts to take up the sword of justice himself. In probably the quickest vigilante turnaround ever recorded on celluloid, Nick grabs an implement of death and sets about carrying out the principal of tit-for-tat. Unfortunately, this concept is unfamiliar to the rest of the gang - and Nick has effectively sparked a war which will have tragic consequences on his family.

Tonally, Death Sentence is all over the place. It begins as a family drama before transforming into a shoot-'em-up action-thriller that draws evident inspiration from Taxi Driver and Death Wish. Initially the audience is given a chance to become genuinely involved with Nick and his family. Then, after one irrational act, he's placed his entire family in jeopardy. The events that follow are dramatically incongruous and utterly absurd. The highlight, though, is a spectacularly adrenalised, pulse-pounding, breathtaking chase through the streets and a multiple-storeyed parking station. This sequence features an incredibly long and intricate single take as the camera weaves in, out and around the parking station. This is a most spectacular sequence showcasing the virtuoso skills of Wan and his director of photography John R. Leonetti.
Subsequent to this sequence, Nick lurches forth to an inevitable bloodbath. Absurdity levels are cranked up to 11 as badly wounded, bandage-clad Nick - barely alive - escapes a hospital, eluding unbelievably daft police officers. Director Wan and his evidently enthusiastic technical team work marvels for the consequent final action sequence as holes are shot in walls and limbs are blown off in showers of blood in the realistically grimy sets. This is accompanied by ear shattering sound effects. Despite the competent filmmaking, this climax is a juvenile waste of time. It's chaotic, irritating and unbelievably silly. How can an Average Joe suddenly morph into Rambo on Slim Fast, shooting with such accuracy despite no firearms training? As this scene winds down, the moment of philosophising as two spent warriors recline side-by-side is totally pretentious and preposterous. Despite its unevenness and stupidity, Wan's excitingly shot and directed flick is visceral and gripping, as well as extremely entertaining.

Death Sentence largely works because it's openly aware of what kind of flick it is - a taut revenge actioner wrapped inside a basic but effective morality tale. The film sets out to achieve this title with the same ruthless single-mindedness that Nick exhibits as he pursues the street punks. It seems to continually convey the Gandhi concept that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. There are, however, narrative blunders (including a stupid subplot concerning a younger brother being loved less than his bigger brother) and far too much Hollywood. The gang is pure Hollywood, as they sport tattoos and drive vehicles featuring the same design. There's incredible craftsmanship on offer, but the components are fairly standard stuff.
Loving family torn apart by senseless crime? Check.
Justice system with its hands tied? Check.
Ordinary guy turned proficient, gun-wielding soldier? Check.
Clueless cops? Big check. Aisha Tyler stars as one of the most thankless characters in recent memory as a detective who is unable to figure out why every Bacon shows up with a new cut or bruise whenever a gang member is mysteriously killed.

Ultimately, Death Sentence endeavours to carry on the great tradition of man-pushed-to-the-edge vigilante flicks. But this is such a flawed attempt to revive a genre, yielding a tragically average product. It needed more twists and sparks as opposed to merrily rattling along, adhering to the trite old formula. Trying to pass itself off as a gritty take-the-law-into-your-own-hands action-thriller for the video game generation, it really amounts to an actioner with a catastrophic shortage of action.

Kevin Bacon's watchable performance helps raise Death Sentence above the glut of other revenge-themed films of its type. Bacon's Nick Hume is a respectable man with no prior experience with such violence - he's not a former Special Forces soldier who has been wronged, or anything clichéd like that. At times Bacon looks glum, at other times lively and energetic. He suits the role extremely well, occasionally allowing an audience to overlook the awful screenplay.
Kelly Preston makes the most of the little she has to do, and the two young lads as Nick's offspring look fine. Aisha Tyler is a major weak spot. She's wooden and unbelievable, and her character is poorly written. As for the "baddies", there's Garrett Hedlund (of the Four Brothers fame) as the vicious leader, and John Goodman also has a small but effective role as a gun dealer and father of Hedlund.

Death Sentence is under no delusion of being respectable. It's a flashy, pretentious, ridiculous, laughable exploitation action film that at least features fine filmmaking. It isn't an overly terrible film, but it's not that great either. From start to finish, it's fairly slick and there are a number of extremely entertaining moments. Wan, although handling a flawed screenplay, seems keen to splash around buckets of blood and direct fun shoot-'em-up action sequences.

"Man, I guess there is justice, huh."

6.6/10

"And maybe there's no peace in this world, for us or for anyone else, I don't know. But I do know that, as long as we live, we must remain true to ourselves."

One of the most quintessential swords-and-sandals epics of all time, Spartacus is a stirring and passionate historical saga chronicling the military career of an indomitable gladiator who commanded a Roman slave revolt. This is a brilliant, seminal piece of filmmaking that inspired several other great epic films, including Mel Gibson's Braveheart and Ridley Scott's Gladiator (both of which earned Oscars for Best Picture). In a way, Spartacus is an extraordinary family picture as the central character fights not only for freedom but additionally for dignity, family, brotherhood and father-son relationships.

Spartacus is an epic of superior quality due mostly to its disregard of the Christian motif - a motif commonly marring similar productions. This is instead a film founded on ideals, convictions and moral dynamism, and it enthrals through sheer force of intellect. It may disregard Biblical themes, but it's indeed set during Biblical times and its story seems like something Biblical - slave is carted off to gladiator school, slave falls in love, slave escapes and becomes an esteemed hero to thousands, slave loses big war and is crucified as a result... But perhaps that's being a tad flippant.

"I'M SPARTACUS!"

Based on a novel by author Howard Fast, Spartacus is the story of a rebellious Thracian chum known as Spartacus (Douglas). After being born into slavery and raised as a slave, he's sold to gladiator trainer Lentulus Batiatus (Ustinov) who owns a school in Capua. (Note: this aspect is among the film's several historical inaccuracies - Spartacus was in fact a freeborn who served as an auxiliary in the Roman army in Macedonia. He deserted the army, was captured, sold into slavery, and then sold to Batiatus' gladiatorial school) Early into the picture he meets a slave girl named Varinia (Simmons) who's used to 'entertain' the gladiators. From there, Spartacus is forced to endure a gruelling and brutal training period. He refuses to allow himself to be demeaned by the Romans. His newfound love for Varinia, coupled with his loathing for the devastating treatment and callous slaughtering of his fellow slaves, ignites his passion for freedom. Spartacus instigates a slave revolt at the gladiator school, forming a slave army that has the Roman Senate in a tizzy. The rest of the film tracks the escapades of Spartacus and his army as they travel across Italy freeing slaves who gladly join his quest to conquer the decadent Roman Empire.

Meanwhile, a political storyline emerges concerning two great Roman Senators (who were also adversaries): Crassus (Olivier) the patrician (representing the interests of the aristocrats), and Gracchus (Laughton) the plebeian (representing the interests of the commonplace Roman citizens). These men employ their wealth and cunning to battle each other for control of the Senate...and Rome itself. With the Roman Army primed to attack, the slave army prepared to counter-attack, and the Roman Senators skirmishing amongst themselves, Spartacus is poised for a maximus climaxus where there will be more losers than winners.

The story behind the film's creation is almost as interesting as the film itself. Kirk Douglas eagerly sought after snatching the title role of the epic Ben-Hur. However William Wyler (director of Ben-Hur) assigned the role to Charlton Heston as an alternative. Extremely irked, the hot-headed Douglas aspired to make his own Roman epic. He secured the rights to Howard Fast's novel Spartacus and hired blacklisted screenwriter Dalton Trumbo to pen the screenplay. Due to Trumbo being part of the Hollywood blacklist he'd been writing under a pseudonym for years. Douglas (an active executive producer for the film) opted to credit Trumbo for his contributions to the script (Mr. Douglas is now recognised for breaking the blacklist).

Following a mere week of filming, original director Anthony Mann was sacked (or he quit...depends on which story you believe). Douglas selected a prompt replacement: youthful director Stanley Kubrick, who had helmed Paths of Glory (also starring Douglas) years earlier. Much ruckus has been sparked concerning Kubrick's contribution to the film. Because Kubrick never directed the same film twice, some think it fits nicely into the Kubrick oeuvre. Others believe Kubrick didn't do much at all, and was pressured into being a director-for-hire employed to ensure the production didn't violate the Director's Guild rules. While Kubrick was present on set, Kirk Douglas in fact directed a majority of the film himself. Kubrick later disowned the movie as he felt he didn't have adequate creative control. He even attempted legal action to have his name removed from the credits!

Rumoured to have a budget of over $US12 million, Spartacus was the most expensive Hollywood film ever made in 1960. A great deal of gossip regarding the problematic production is well-known: the Kubrick disputes as noted above, the heated arguments between Kirk Douglas and Kubrick which ended both their friendship and professional relationship, the battle of egos between the stars (each believed they had superior dialogue) as well as the uncredited script 'doctoring' by Peter Ustinov. Despite all this, Spartacus is a stirring, unforgettable, remarkable epic. Regardless of its mammoth scale it never forgets its characters, the detail, the excellent story, and the timeless fight for freedom it conveys.

The scale and scope of the invigorating battles is phenomenal, and they are coupled with exhilarating gladiatorial matches. The intricate detail in the costumes and locations is breathtaking. In this digital age audiences are accustomed to witnessing a computer-generated "cast" of thousands. It's powerful and awe-inspiring to behold hordes of practical extras pervading the frame for the massive battle scenes. Kubrick would've had to command these extras as firmly as Crassus ruled Rome. With thousands of meticulously-costumed extras, it puts digital Hollywood "epics" to shame. Decades on, Spartacus still holds its own - even alongside films such as Gladiator and Braveheart.
The cast is particularly top-notch as well, with a passionate Kirk Douglas leading the enormous cast. The strength and conviction of Douglas (and his powerful "inny" chin) carries the day.

In the early 1990s, a team worked to restore Spartacus and construct the definitive version of film. Footage that was initially removed for the theatrical release was inserted back into the final cut. Also, a scene had its dialogue altered for the 1960 theatrical release. For the restored version, the original dialogue was to be re-inserted but the original soundtrack couldn't be found. Laurence Olivier's voice in said scene (when he tries to seduce Antoninus in the bath) couldn't be restored. Therefore, as a replacement, actor Anthony Hopkins stepped in to lend his voice to the particular scene. The restoration is utterly marvellous.

In spite of all its strengths, Spartacus isn't without faults. At a running time of over three hours it's challenging to sustain excitement levels from start to finish. The politics are too stilted and there are a few unnecessary, historically inaccurate sub-plots begging to be removed. The definitive biopic of Spartacus has yet to be made. At three hours, a majority of the film feels like padding. The acting is occasionally a tad wooden as well, almost campy.

The authoritative acting, lush cinematography, bold costumes and visceral battles won Spartacus a total of four Oscars. This is a secular Roman epic and one of the best entries to the swords-and-sandals genre. It's a story of both inward and outward conflicts, well-written and executed by an ideal creative team. Those who adore the Golden Age of Hollywood will be extremely pleased with the big name cast, big name director in addition to the lavish sets, costumes and cinematography. Put your best sandals on, hitch up the chariot and seek out Spartacus. You will most certainly be maximus chuffedus if you do. Gladiator, Ben-Hur and Spartacus make the perfect triumvirate for lover of Hollywood epics.

"This republic of ours is something like a rich widow. Most Romans love her as their mother but Crassus dreams of marrying the old girl to put it politely."

7.9/10

"You look at me, and you don't like what you see. But this is the price, Mother - the price of belonging to you."

Adapted from the Oprah-certified novel by Janet Fitch (unread by me), White Oleander is an emotional story of mother and daughter suffering tormented lives after their idyllic relationship is shattered. The title stems from a flower (called the white oleander, logically enough) that is externally charming but internally poisonous. The white oleander of the story is an artist who - although fairly beautiful on the outside - is a poisonous and immoral individual who poisons lives. White Oleander can easily be classified as a chick flick as women are at the core of the movie. However it transcends its genre. The issues of love and control explored within are very real, and are treated quite shrewdly with real dramatic focus. The narrative is potent and usually engaging, Peter Kosminsky's sharp eye for direction is commendable, and the production values are faultless. Nevertheless, it's slightly banal at times and it lacks a necessary spark to move extract it out of the 'average' category.

Astrid Magnussen (Lohman) is an expressive, artistic teenager. She lives with her mother Ingrid (Pfeiffer) who shares Astrid's passion for art. Their life together is happy until Barry Kolker (a criminally wasted Billy Connolly) enters the picture. Ingrid falls in love with Barry, only to have her heart subsequently broken. In anger, Ingrid murders Barry using the poison of the white oleander flower (that's something the creators of Cluedo will need to use for an upcoming edition). As a consequence she is found guilty of murder and sent to prison...possibly for life.
Meanwhile, young Astrid is forced to endure an assortment of foster homes and foster parents. Over the course of multiple years she experiences love, religion, near-death occurrences, drugs, starvation, and she experiences what it's like to be loved. Throughout these years Astrid continues to communicate with her mother via letter or a visit. As Astrid drifts from foster home to foster home, the all-consuming hand of Ingrid reaches out to infiltrate and poison the lives of not only Astrid, but those who have adopted her.
Amongst the chaos and tragedy, the only solace Astrid can find is with the gentle and non-judgmental Paul (Fugit) whose similarly devastating background gives her a point of refuge.

"Beauty was my mothers law, her religion."

To reveal the plot turns along Astrid's survival course would spoil far too much. Suffice to say, the film concludes with a guarded note of hope and an indication that there might - just might - even be the possibility of personal redemption for mother as well as daughter.

White Oleander is a coming-of-age tale that tracks young Astrid who is confused and often depressed, evidently because she has no knowledge of her biological father and appears scared to press her deceitful mother for information. The sole survival technique Astrid adheres to is to become a chameleon and adopt the characteristics of each family she's placed with. Thus she undergoes metamorphoses at the hands of every foster environment she experiences. She is forced to become white trailer trash when cared for by born-again ex-stripper Starr (Wright-Penn) before morphing into a Beverly Hills princess when beneath the roof of failing actress Claire Richards (Zellweger). In her final placing - under the tutelage of the ultra-capitalist Rena (Efremova) - Astrid discovers her gothic expression and assumes the jagged edged persona of youth on the edge. The mimicry, however, is only of limited depth - underneath each new outer shell is a young woman struggling to refine and retain her own identity under the hardest of pressures.

"Take my advice and stay away from broken people."

On a slight side note, serious questions should be asked of the local social services department. Among those trusted to care for Astrid include: a drunken, gun-toting, bible-thumping crack whore, and a moping, suicidal failed actress. Really, who checks up on these people?

"Workers of the world arise. You've got nothing to lose but Visa card, happy meal, and Kotex with wings."

White Oleander is apparently quite faithful in principal to the source material (various adjustments were made to the story, though). Janet Fitch was reportedly very happy with the novel-to-film translation. However, the thematic material seems diluted to a detrimental extent. The exclusion of stronger scenes in order to obtain a PG-13 rating (from the MPAA) affects the whole movie. Themes of suicide and murder are lightly touched upon, but it seems a whole lot is being held back. I feel that in order to do justice to the novel, the filmmakers should've pushed the boundaries and crafted an R-rated movie.

There are severe problems in the storytelling department. The film's timeline appears garbled, and the developments feel confusingly unearned. After Astrid is accepted into her first foster family, a few scenes worth of dialogue occur and (through dialogue) it's revealed she's been there for six months. In all honesty it feels like a week. We're granted little time to become acquainted with the second foster family. Initially promising and loving before things suddenly deteriorate and tragedy strikes. The developments are particularly poor in this case. Finally, Astrid's conversion to a gothic persona is random and sudden. The transformation appears to occur between two scenes. Astrid is shown as innocent, shy, and dressed regularly. In the next scene she's has developed into a smoker with black hair, black nails, black lipstick and skimpy clothes who doesn't seem to care about anything. The worst offender is Astrid's relationship Paul. At first hesitant to befriend him...then after a few scenes they are lovers? Where are the montages? The stirring scenes depicting the radical alterations? It's too jumbled and fast-moving, but at the same time too ponderous and plodding. It's a compelling story for sure, yet it isn't engaging enough. This is also due to the PG-13 rating - with an absence of stronger material, it unfortunately fails to engage every so often. It needed to be more compelling, and couldn't do this under the restrictions of a PG-13 classification.

"I made you. I'm in your blood. You don't go anywhere until I let you go."

Young Alison Lohman admirably holds her own while acting alongside a cavalcade of veteran stars. She's truly exceptional and emotional playing the forever-changing forms of Astrid. Lohman is destined for big-time Hollywood stardom - impossibly gorgeous, pleasing to watch, and utterly focused. Alongside Lohman is Michelle Pfieffer in her most expressive and beautifully delineated performance. Pfeiffer plays the character of Ingrid as a self-absorbed succubus; a steely beauty whose speeches of lone-wolf self sufficiency conceal an emotional susceptibility. She continually feeds Astrid a poisonous philosophy of misanthropy that almost kills her as assuredly as the white oleander milkshake that killed Ingrid's former lover. At times Ingrid appears to be a female rendering of Hannibal Lector; manipulating Astrid and her string of foster parents with cold precision and evil intent. Pfeiffer devours all her scenes with an utterly ferocious performance.
The performances of Pfeiffer and Lohman are bolstered by excellent support from Renée Zellweger, Robin Wright-Penn, Zvetlana Efremova and Patrick Fugit. Zellweger and Wright-Penn are particularly stirring as the troubled foster mothers, with an appealing Fugit as Paul who is the only character capable of sensing Astrid's true depth beneath a protective veneer. An almost invisible Billy Connolly also appears. Connolly is entirely forgettable and only delivers one line.

"My opinion is if there is a god he sure as hell ain't worth prayin' to."

It may not be a perfect film, but White Oleander deserves credit for its ambitious aspirations and slick execution. The leaping story line - shaped by first-time director Peter Kosminsky - shows all the signs of rich detail compressed into a handful of evocative images and striking character traits. The frequently beautiful and bright images are also accompanied by a powerful, beautiful score. This is a pleasant diversion and it passes the time; however it appears to have suffered in part from the absence of stronger scenes in order to obtain a non-lenient PG-13.

White Oleander is fundamentally a medieval morality tale recast with Darwin philosophies concerning damaged modern woman. At the centre of this play stands Lohman - sweet and unpretentious, in search of a movie more worthy of her outstanding performance.

"Love humiliates you. Hatred cradles you."

6.5/10

"I am the law! Put down your weapons and prepare to be judged."

The greatest cinematic guilty pleasures in history generally feature an 80's action hero as its primary acting talent. Sylvester Stallone is a particularly habitual purveyor of guilty pleasures. Think Cobra, or the second & third Rambo movies, or Tango & Cash. The film in question - 1995's Judge Dredd - is yet another classic example of a guilty pleasure featuring the muscle-bound performer. This isn't a perfect film by any means - in fact from a critical standpoint this is an awful movie. It's inane, stupid, brainless and derivative. Nevertheless, it's irresistibly entertaining, enjoyable and fun. Stallone packs his muscular body into the gold-plated, armoured uniform of Judge Dredd. As this "Judge", he has the privilege of being judge, jury and executioner rolled into one. The whole movie is built around this concept - Stallone fundamentally deals out justice in a futuristic dystopian metropolis for 90 minutes.

Judge Dredd is based on a popular British comic book strip. This comic book atmosphere is retained, although it's fairly cartoonish at times. I'm not accustomed to the source material, thus I can't testify to the level of fidelity, but a majority of the visuals evoke a comic book atmosphere - from the campy costumes to the imitative production design and the corny one-liners. In all honesty, Judge Dredd occasionally seems like a futile retread of Demolition Man.

You want chaos? I'm the chaos. You want fear? I'm the fear. You want a new beginning? I'm the new beginning!

The film is prefaced with a prologue - an opening title reel outlining the story so far. This is the first shred of evidence substantiating the fact Judge Dredd aspires to be Star Wars, made far more obvious with the authoritative, bellowing voice of James Earl Jones to accompany.
The story commences decades into the future when society has deteriorated. In an inevitable amalgam of Mad Max 2 (a.k.a. The Road Warrior) and Blade Runner, crime has flourished to an uncontrollable extent and the "Cursed Earth" is a desolate wasteland. In order to battle crime more efficiently, Judges patrol the streets - they "judge" the criminals they encounter, dishing out an appropriate sentence; be it several years of incarceration or immediate execution. During the action-packed opening sequence, the audience is introduced to Judge Dredd (a suitably lean, gruff, burly Stallone). Dredd is the most formidable and revered of the Street Judges - emotionless, relentless, and merciless. Following this character establishment, a plot (if it can be called that) emerges: a murderous former judge (Assante) hatches a sinister plan to overthrow the government and eliminate the Judges, instead substituting them with clones of himself. Let the chaos and mayhem begin...

"Court's adjourned!"

Limitless plot holes are easily noticeable, and the absurd disposition of the vague plot almost insults the intelligence. Example of a plot hole: early into the film, Dredd explains bullets aren't effective past two hundred metres. However, in truth, as long as a bullet has gravity to guide it, its force won't be weakened until it hits something! Also, villains in the film try so hard to be sinister that they forget to have an adequate motivation.

"The Judge's standard-issue body armor. Yours, when you graduate. The Lawgiver: a Judge's standard-issue sidearm. Yours, if you graduate. The Lawmaster: a Judge's standard-issue personal transport. Yours... if you can ever get it to work."

Judge Dredd is Blade Runner for viewers suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder. Ridley Scott's Blade Runner is ponderous and deeply philosophical, whereas Judge Dredd offers brainless popcorn entertainment. As previously detailed, this is leave-your-brain-at-the-door material. The action sequences manage to thrill, but they are preposterous - even for science fiction. Heroes are entirely impervious to bullets, for instance (even after suffering a wound, a character still manages to save the day in a hopelessly clichéd finale). Then by the time Stallone and Rob Schneider outrun a blast of fire, one can't help but laugh. Be that as it may, Judge Dredd is an underrated gem that deserves to be on the to-watch short-list of any Stallone fan...or just any fan of the action genre. This is 90 minutes of solid entertainment, laced with enjoyably frenetic action sequences and a mind-blowing display of special effects (for the most part, that is - obvious matte paintings during one chase sequence will cause one to wonder if the budget suddenly imploded).

At least visually, Judge Dredd aspires to be the next big sci-fi action extravaganza. Blade Runner presented a unique image of a possible future. Mega-City One (formerly New York City) in Judge Dredd is evidently a glitzy replication. And let's face it: the air speeder chase is an aping of Return of the Jedi. Traces of Mad Max appear to be thrown in...and, interestingly, there are a few cannibalistic mountain folk mirroring The Hills Have Eyes as well. This is a derivative sci-fi action film, but even in spite of its blatant unoriginality it entertains and the sets look genuinely spectacular. In addition, there are a sufficient amount of creative ideas incorporated into the film. Mega-City One is appropriately intricate and exhilarating. And Dredd's signature weapon - a pistol with voice-selectable ammo for all occasions - is undeniably cool. Stallone as Judge Dredd is more or less Dirty Harry in RoboCop's armour. Stallone plays the character in Eastwood style; his lines delivered in a monotone, and his eyes glint with a noble rage (the glint basically means "I'd enjoy killing your arse!").

"The legendary Angel family. Cursed Earth pirates, murderers, scavengers, and of course scumbags!"

Judge Dredd appears to have a serious tonal problem. Stallone grunting through his first few lines is enough to trigger fits of laughter. The dialogue is frequently hilarious - whether intentional or otherwise. Examining the committee of credited screenwriters, it isn't hard to see why. Michael De Luca and William Wisher Jnr. were responsible for RoboCop 3, after all.
Badass one-liners are a necessity for the genre. The Terminator wouldn't be the same without "I'll be back", for instance. Stallone is given all the best lines, most notably his declaration of "I am the law!". Moments like this call to mind memories of Cobra - as a matter of fact, Judge Dredd is Cobra transplanted into a sci-fi setting.

"We're both prisoners warden. You're behind a desk, and I'm behind this."

Director Danny Cannon was obviously aiming for a science fiction action blockbuster with a touch of humour. Cannon handles the material competently. As a supplement for Cannon's visual implementation, there are dynamic sound effects and a pulse-pounding score. Originally the film was to receive a PG-13 rating from the MPAA, hence the disappointingly tame violence. However it was ultimately slapped with an R-rating...but a deplorably soft R-rating.

Performance-wise, there's a selection of two-dimensional acting talent on offer - quite suitable, I suppose. Stallone is Stallone in spades; need more be said? The notoriously bad actor half-grunts and half-bellows his lines throughout the runtime. At the film's beginning he dons a helmet, concealing all except his lips. The effect is slightly disconcerting since it emphasises the slurry, drugged-sounding lethargy of Stallone's vocal delivery. Thankfully, the helmet isn't on for long.
Stallone is given a love interest in Diane Lane as a fellow Judge. The usually reliable actress is somewhat bland, and Lane's chemistry with her co-star is abysmal. Thankfully, Rob Schneider is thrown in for a bit of comic relief. This is definitely a high point for Schneider's career...something to remember since his career was eventually relegated to worthless Adam Sandler vehicles. In this performance Schneider is hysterical; firing off one-liners and conveying his anxiety about a situation amusingly. At one stage during the production, Schneider improvised a mockery of Stallone. The filmmakers found it hilarious, and subsequently added it to the final cut. Armand Assante looks to be having a great time as the central villain; over-the-top, menacing and murderous. In every scene he appears to be vying for the Sociopath of the Year award. Other respected thespians fill in the gaps - Max von Syndow's Obi-Wan-ish manifestation is watchable, and Jürgen Prochnow makes a brief appearance as a Judge.

"The innocent only exist until they inevitably become perpatrators. Guilt or innocence is a matter of timing."

All things considered, Judge Dredd is serviceable low-grade entertainment. It's a brainless popcorn sci-fi action movie, featuring top-notch explosive action sequences fuelled by a pretty horrible script. Aside from Stallone's occasional twinkle - dispersing Dredd's limited repertoire of kick-ass catch phrases - it's the extravagant production design and special effects that effectively engage. Judge Dredd can only be defined as a guilty pleasure. It may be campy and silly beyond all comprehension, but the film provides straightforward fun without being too taxing. In no way am I ashamed to admit I enjoyed this film thoroughly and would willingly watch it again numerous times.

"Emotions... there ought to be a law against them."

6.6/10

"You'll never survive if you lose control Mr. Fox."

On first impression, Vacancy probably seems like conventional, by-the-numbers horror fluff...upon closer inspection, this is anything but! In the midst of Hollywood's putrid "torture porn" movie craze (Hostel and its diabolical sequel are probably the worst offenders) it's indeed a rare occurrence to witness a good old-fashioned horror flick that relies on white-knuckle suspense as opposed to the senseless exploitation of gore and sex. Vacancy - the English-language debut feature of director Nimród Antal - isn't going to gain any awards for originality; as a matter of fact the premise and script are mediocre at best. However it's the filmic implementation that elevates this horror film high above the expected standard. Running at a scant 80 minutes, Vacancy is lean and mean. For the most part it hits the correct notes and provides a satisfying dosage of nail-biting tension. Director Antal competently creates a strong sense of atmosphere and escalating suspense. This is a very thrilling flick!

The story tracks David and Amy Fox (Wilson and Beckinsale, respectively) - they are a married couple in the middle of contemplating a divorce after their marriage is placed under substantial strain when they lose a child. While travelling home following a family function, their car breaks down on an isolated road. It's late at night, and the quarrelsome couple become compelled to hike in excess of a kilometre to a grungy little roadside motel (managed by a creepy fella played by Frank Whaley) which would make even the Bates Motel seem welcoming. It isn't long before David discovers a stash of snuff movies...eventually recognising that said movies had been filmed in their motel room. Trapped in their room with hidden cameras watching their every move, David and Amy realise they could become the stars of the sadistic filmmakers' next cult classic.

Vacancy is stripped down and raw. Once the nitty gritty commences there's scarce respite as it races along, offering moment after moment of genuine terror. All told, the film's runtime is a very tight 80 minutes. The film knows not to linger around for too long begging for attention - it starts, it gets to the point, and it humbly departs. Screenwriter Mark L. Smith admirably eschews a majority of the genre clichés. Vacancy offers just two protagonists as opposed to of a truck-load of disposable knife-fodder, therefore allowing a viewer to care far more about their fate. It takes its time establishing things, allowing us to familiarise ourselves with David and Amy. These are two moderately normal people...they aren't the dumb idiots that usually populate this kind of flick. Most commendably, there's no guarantee that either protagonist will survive to see the end credits. One of the film's strengths is in its frequent unpredictability - there's a strong sense that the protagonists may not make it out in one piece, let alone make it out at all.

Moreover, the main characters of this horror outing are smart. In the context of horror heroes, they are fairly intelligent. Compared to the people who were murdered prior to their stay, they're utter geniuses. They conduct themselves as reasonably intelligent adults might behave in a similar situation. David is also aware that he and Amy are no match for a group of killers in pitch black, especially in unknown surroundings. Therefore he doesn't engage them in hand-to-hand combat, nor does he attempt to set an ambush. Although the climax is somewhat predictable, Amy doesn't act like a superhuman nor does she mysteriously muster impressive martial arts skills in the blink of an eye. In fact, she even falls asleep at one stage - an act wholly human. Granted, a few times a bout of "here's what I'd do" will strike a viewer, and there are a few script mishaps, but the characters in Vacancy are still the smartest horror victims in recent memory. After a contemptible glut of horror films (ranging from Friday the 13th to Hostel, where the death of expendable supporting characters is perfunctory on account of it being fun to watch), Vacancy reminds us of what made Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho so remarkable: a handful of restricted sets and human characters.

Perhaps the most obvious thing that separates Vacancy from other contemporary horror films is in the content. Too often do horror films insert extra gore, sex and profanity for the sake of adding it as they're already bound for an R-rating from the MPAA. However, the film in question distinctively avoids displaying a vast majority of the violence - it usually happens off-screen. In addition, Vacancy avoids the inclusion of an obligatory sex scene. All of the sex and most of violence is on tape, witnessed with a bluish tint and flickering interference on a small TV screen. Frankly, this makes the violence and sex far less gratuitous and it's all the better for it.

Vacancy plays on ordinary human fears: loud noises late at night, a ringing phone with no-one at the opposite end, rats & roaches, claustrophobia, and a sense of hopeless isolation. Director Nimród Antal allows his cinematographer (veteran Andrzej Sekula) to intensify the impression of imminent doom. Each shot is meticulously composed to enhance the suspense. There are some truly masterful moments, perhaps the most ominous when David and Amy are harassed by noisy banging on the doors and walls. The normality of the situation is instantly shattered when mysterious noises erupt and panic begins to heighten. Antal builds the movie slowly, but even the build-up is reasonably creepy and chilling.

In spite of a number of flaws - and believe me, there are flaws - Vacancy gets more right than wrong. Still, it's far from perfect. The snarky dialogue between David and Amy is a waste of space. All the bickering seems redundant, even in the context of character development. The concept has also been exhaustively employed over the decades: a car breaks down in the middle of no-where, and bad things start to happen. Amy's cell phone also fails to get a signal in the middle of nowhere...how formulaic. Other flaws: sections of the story are difficult to accept, such as the main concept itself. It's doubtful the snuff film scheme could endure for so long. All the victims on tape appear to be stupid, defenceless, unintelligent horror victims. None of them attempt anything smart. Most detrimental is the conclusion. It's generic, and from a believability standpoint there are incalculable dilemmas. Had a clever rewrite courtesy of a skilled screenwriter transpired, Vacancy could have been this decade's king horror movie.

Luke Wilson and Kate Beckinsale manage their "every person" roles effectively. Wilson's handling of David succeeds, and his amiability seasons a bland role. Thank God none of the sleazy teenage idols of the early 21st century got this role. Beckinsale is also convincing as Amy. As fear pervades the tense atmosphere, the protagonists seem legitimately terrified. Never do these actors seem contrived; in fact their naturalistic performances aren't Hollywood at all.
Frank Whaley as the manager is sinister and sadistic. He'd make a good roommate for Norman Bates. Kudos to Whaley for placing forth a wholly believable and spine-chilling performance!

Perhaps expectations for Vacancy might have been quite low, but the product considerably outweighs any assumption of this being "just another silly horror film". From a creative point of view, Vacancy is leaps and bounds ahead of at least 80% of the current horror films from major studios. The script isn't particularly creative, but it's Antal's virtuoso direction that makes the film so effective. The movie is an accomplished brew of bright colours, dark shadows, and a grimy atmosphere. This is a terrific white-knuckle thriller - convincing performances mixed with a masterfully thrilling tone. If Psycho made people wary of showers, then the tense and tightly-paced Vacancy will make them think twice before stopping at a depressing old motel in the middle of nowhere - even if it's the only room available for hundreds of kilometres.

"It's right there in the corner number 4. You might have to jiggle the handle a little bit to open her up, she's as sticky as an old whore."

7.5/10

"You and your plans. You know what my grandmother used to say? If you want to make God laugh... tell Him your plans."

First-time director Alejandro González Iñárritu burst into the world's cinema spotlight with his multi-award-winning feature Amores Perros (a.k.a. Love's a Bitch). Heralded as a masterpiece by audiences and critics alike, this acclaimed Mexican drama weaves together three diverse tales rich in thematic material concerning relationships, love and loss. Director Iñárritu infuses his picture with raw energy that's both intriguing and confrontational. Amores Perros is extremely compelling, expressive, entrancing and challenging. Featuring a non-liner storyline (ala Pulp Fiction), this gripping drama presents a mosaic of dissimilar characters living despondent lives in the economic melting pot of Mexico City who all become connected by a tragic car accident.

Amores Perros shares undeniable similarities with Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction, although most of said similarities are at surface level. Like Tarantino's Oscar-nominated masterpiece, Iñárritu's film deals with a range of characters living on the seedy side of life. The plot unfolds episodically and in a non-coherent manner - characters from one segment occasionally feature in (or pass through) another. However, Pulp Fiction glamorised the characters - the conventional "bad guy" seemed hip and appealing, as established through witty dialogue and stylish filmmaking techniques. However, Amores Perros does not romanticise the characters. Iñárritu exposes his characters for what they are - human beings whose moral compasses have become twisted. Thus the territory may seem familiar to Pulp Fiction fans, but the vantage point is drastically divergent. Amores Perros introduces us to a veritable gallery of contemptible individuals. Of the multiple significant characters traversing through Iñárritu's terrain, not many could be considered sympathetic. The other characters form a web of corruption and deceit. There are assassins, murderers, philanderers, thieves, traitors, in addition to other varied riff-raff. Tarantino's anti-heroes are cool and debonair, always with the right one-liner to offer. Iñárritu's characters are brutal and lacking even a modicum of charm.

Amores Perros begins with a kinetic, exhilarating, bone-crushing car chase. The devastating outcome of this chase acts as a catalyst for the rest of the stories for the film. Following this car chase, the film then imaginatively delves into three devastating stories involving characters dealing with loss, regret, and life's ruthless realities - all in the name of love. It's a risky device to delay crucial plot points until past a third of its runtime, but the individual stories - which weave in and out of each other with realistic disarray - are so transfixing that you're willing to go along with the ride until everything becomes clear.

"Come away with me."

The first story concerns an optimistic young man named Octavio (Bernal). He lives with his older brother Ramiro (Pérez), their mother, and Ramiro's young wife Susana (Bauche). Incessantly abused by Ramiro, Susana struggles to complete high school whilst trying to care for their infant son. Regardless of living in fear of his violent older brother, Octavio is hopelessly in love with his sister-in-law Susana and is determined to raise sufficient money to convince her to run away with him. But in Mexico City where poverty abounds, clean money is difficult to acquire. With little alternatives, Octavio enters his dog in the local dog-fighting circuit.
Of the three stories, this is the most entertaining. A viewer can certainly grow concerned about Octavio and Susana. When the romance begins to go south, it's also affecting. The movie starts with the car accident from Octavio's perspective. At the end of this story it is replayed, but this time we meet two other characters who had been subtly introduced beforehand.

The next narrative thread tracks two people: Daniel (Guerrero) and Valeria (Toledo). Valeria is a world-class model who has struck the big time. Her face and body dominate billboards throughout Mexico City. Daniel is a magazine publisher who has left his wife and two offspring to be with Valeria. Together, they make the perfect couple...until tragedy strikes. Valeria is critically injured in the car accident. Daniel is therefore compelled to cope with living with a mentally and physically crippled woman whose modelling career is at an end. The hopeful life Daniel had envisioned begins to reek of decay. The relationship between them takes a slow downward spiral as Valeria loses herself in a bout of depression, and Daniel learns that fantasy and reality are never the same.
The middle story suits the film on thematic level, but on a story level it seems detached. The story stands on its own, and is a study of delusion and impossible love. It's powerfully acted by Goya Toledo and Álvaro Guerrero.

The final story is about El Chivo (Echevarría) - an enigmatic, wild-looking figure that drifts around the periphery of the preceding stories until his tale is finally told. Chivo is fundamentally a hobo hitman who prefers the companionship of dogs rather than people, endlessly wandering the streets of Mexico City with his cart and menagerie of stray dogs. An ex-guerrilla, Chivo has spent 20 years in prison; long ago abandoning his wife and daughter. Many years later, he's a man beleaguered with regrets. He spies on his adult offspring from afar, never mustering the courage to approach her. In order to feed himself (and his stray dogs) he carries out the occasional contract killing. However, upon his latest assignment, he arrives at a few realisations about the importance of family and wishes to start anew.
If the first story concerns young love and the second about false love, then this story is about lost love. Emilio Echevarría carries this entire story. He has an immense screen presence that builds the character's mysterious qualities. His emotional scene in the end - a plea to his long lost daughter - is both extraordinary and heart-wrenching.

A theme crucial to the plot(s) of Amores Perros is the character's relationships with their canine companions. The dogs in this picture are about as significant as the human characters.
In spite of loving his dog more than anyone else in his entire family, Octavio willingly jeopardises the life of his dog in vicious fights to win his fortune.
Valerie loves her pooch Ritchie more than she would a child (and, one might argue, more than Daniel). When Ritchie gets trapped underneath the apartment floor, her dog's confinement begins to distinctively reflect her own.
El Chivo treats his mangy pack of dogs with greater respect than he accords to any human.
By elevating dogs to this level of importance, Alejandro González Iñárritu is making a proclamation about the level to which society has stooped. Amores Perros is a sombre commentary regarding a culture where persons care more about their dogs than they do about any other humans.

Amores Perros is a tremendously confronting film. Raw emotion plays a large role in the story and it's difficult to stomach. The explicit scenes depicting dog fights will prove gruelling and excruciating for animal lovers. These dogs seem to be genuinely fighting. As a matter of fact, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in England complained about the dog-fighting scenes to the British Board of Film Classification. The faint of heart may be appalled with the constant sight of dead, bloody dogs. These scenes, however, are necessary to the film - not solely to help create the film's atmosphere and emotion but to offer a parallel to the world these characters dwell in.
The film has been implemented magnificently. Music is employed effectively to provoke emotion in the viewer. The direction is wonderful and the editing sublime. Following his successful directorial debut, Iñárritu went on to direct 21 Grams and Babel - both of which received critical acclaim. His first film, though, still remains a stirring, visceral eulogy to life, loss and dog-fighting on the mean streets of Mexico.

Both poignant and astonishing, Iñárritu has directed a truly beautiful and confronting drama infused with the affluence, violence and poverty that constitute the soul of Mexico City. Highlighting the sharp contrast between poverty and the wealth of more affluent citizens, the film's deeply textured characterisations and locations generate a depth infrequently witnessed in Hollywood cinema. The sheer energy of Amores Perros is breathtaking. Director Iñárritu exudes a masterful control of story and style, blending the two impeccably to generate an incredible film. Although the visual flair is omnipresent, it never obstructs the story. Style over substance is an all-too-common occurrence of late, so it's refreshing (to say the least) to behold an extremely stylised film that never falls into this trap. With its stalwart cast, and featuring one of the most frenzied car chases in recent memory, this is one drama every cinema buff simply must see.

Iñárritu has surrounded himself with an amazing cast. Amores Perros is an ensemble piece, yet there isn't a poor performance in sight - even the trained dogs do solid jobs. The first story is undoubtedly stolen by the appealing Gael García Bernal. Bernal's performance throughout the film encompasses the correct gamut of emotion - ranging from utter joy and elation to anguish, desperation and widespread emotional devastation. The young actor manages everything with professionalism and skill. He is competently supported by Vanessa Bauche whose naïve yet optimistic Susana is tremendously believable. Her quandary seems hopeless, but she never gives up hope.
Emilio Echevarría places forth a magnificent and thoughtful performance as the hopeful El Chivo. He's simply magnetic, with radiating eyes staring out from beneath shaggy eyebrows. They are the eyes of an extremist, yet there's also a feeling of unspeakable loss in them as they gaze in the direction of his long-lost daughter. The realism conveyed by the actor contributes significantly to the story as he immerses himself into the character to a required standard.
The rest of the performances - Goya Toldeo as Valeria, Álvaro Guerrero as Daniel and Marco Pérez as Octavio's brother Ramiro - are all utterly brilliant.

This film was nominated for both a Golden Globe award and an Academy award in the category of Best Foreign Language Film. Amores Perros has also won a number of prestigious awards at various film festivals, including Cannes where it received the audience awards for Best Film (Critics Week and the Young Critics Award). In addition to these, the film has also received wide critical acclaim from both the critics and audiences alike (much-respected critic Roger Ebert wrote a glowing review of the film). Watching the film, it's not difficult to understand why. Iñárritu's directorial style contains elements of Tarantino, and others. Ultimately, though, the synthesis is all his own. Amores Perros is more than just a strong debut; it's terrific, gritty filmmaking.

The emotional roller coaster ride of Amores Perros commences with a frenetic, breathless car chase. This wonderful energy pervades the film until the dramatic climax. This is the kind of film that allows you to see the world differently after watching it. Contemplative, provocative and excellently made - this is first-rate filmmaking. It's horrific and tender, raw and lyrical - albeit sometimes excruciatingly overlong.

"Being tough won't make you smart."

8.4/10

"What a dump. When I think of castles, it's not what I picture."

Hauru no ugoku shiro (a.k.a. Howl's Moving Castle) - the latest animated enchantment from esteemed Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki - is based on a novel by English writer Diana Wynne-Jones. This portion of anime is set in an indeterminate period (a cross between Harry Potter, Jules Verne and Alice in Wonderland) where late 19th century costumes mingle with flying battleships, witches and wizards.

The masterpieces of Hayao Miyazaki (and his legendary Studio Ghibli) are indisputably the most exquisite animated pictures originating from Japan. The breathtaking artistry of each of Miyazaki's films is undeniable; employing traditional, time-consuming hand drawn animation to astonishing effect. Miyazaki's 2001 release, Spirited Away, earned him an Oscar for "Best Animated Feature". Miyazaki himself wasn't in attendance on the night to receive the gold statuette - so to speak; he was the underdog whose chances weren't substantial.

Akin to all of Miyazaki's pictures, it's revitalising to behold anime with appeal extending to adults as well as children. Howl's Moving Castle is an extraordinary movie; visually affluent, enjoyable, eye-catching and amazing. It adheres to a lot of Miyazaki's trademarks - notably a struggling, determined, often unprepared young heroine thrust into an exhilarating adventure. There are also a lot of flying objects, cute magical sprites in addition to ugly, bulbous monsters. However the plotting is opaque and the simplistic message is flattened out into an all-too-lengthy two-hour runtime. It's also hobbled by a general lack of direction and an anti-war message that is handled poorly.

"You're wearing that hat? After all the magic I used to make your dress pretty?"

The central heroine of Howl's Moving Castle is a young teenager named Sophie (voiced by Chieko Baisho in the original Japanese dub, and Emily Mortimer (young) and Jean Simmons (old) in the English dub). She's an average girl lacking both confidence and vivacity, and she works at her deceased father's hat shop. While walking through the narrow streets, she is accosted by two soldiers. Sophie is rescued by roguish, self-indulgent magician Howl (Takuya Kimura in the Japanese dub, Christian Bale in the English dub) who takes her for a brief fly around the city - the two of them stroll high above the city walking on air, in the kind of surrealistic dreamlike world only Miyazaki can deliver. It's virtually love at first flight, much to the chagrin of the Wicked Witch of the Waste (Akihiro Miwa in the Japanese dub, Lauren Bacall in the English dub) who's still in love with Howl. Sophie is soon transformed into an aging crone by the jealous, spiteful Wicked Witch. Unable to tell anyone of her plight, Sophie leaves home and embarks on a journey to regain her youth and break the curse. She finds refuge in Howl's magical moving castle where she soon becomes a valued member of the household. As Sophie strives to help Howl bring peace to a war-torn nation, their relationship deepens and she finds herself fighting to protect them both from a dangerous war of sorcery that threatens their world.

"Looks like we have another addition to the family. Hmmm, you've got quite a nasty spell on you too, huh? Seems everyone in this family's got problems."

Hayao Miyazaki has infused Howl's Moving Castle with his own myths, themes and preoccupations. The setting is a pungent amalgamation of influences; a 19th-century pastiche of mythological, historical, natural and magical worlds. This is the kind of alternate universe that Miyazaki is accustomed to creating - he conceives the look and feel of a futuristic, retro-fabulous, industrial revolution-era England. The film depicts a valiant new technological period of inventions. The streets abound with trolley cars, carriages, and car prototypes. Up above, strange aircrafts skim through the sky. Beyond the town there's an expressive pastoral landscape. In the vicinity of said landscape there's Howl's Moving Castle; a wheezing, old-fashioned eyesore of the Terry Gilliam school. The vast castle contains a doorway with a magical portal into several different worlds. It waddles on four metallic chicken legs, and steam blows from an assortment of funnels and pipes. It is the property of shape-shifting wizard Howl, who is said to devour the hearts of beautiful young women and is spoken of by the townspeople with a frisson of exhilaration and apprehension. The setting evokes classic fairytales such as Alice in Wonderland and Beauty and the Beast, with the story situated against a contemporised backdrop of war.

Howl's Moving Castle is an invigorating visual assault. As Studio Ghibli fans have come to anticipate, the film is beautifully rendered and the animation is striking. Traditionalists who yearn for hand drawn animation won't be disappointed. What's most extraordinary and impressive is how smooth and fluid the result is. The backgrounds look absolutely wonderful. Also, the characters themselves are capable of expressing emotions with little obvious alteration to their appearance. The animation is richly detailed and astounding. It is also widely divergent from the Pixar style of computer-generated animation, though CGI has been employed extensively throughout the film (mainly for the backgrounds). Miyazaki has an appeal that crosses generational barriers. Adult audiences will be mesmerised by the depth and variety of the vision while enjoying the clever scenarios and occasionally witty lines (Calcifer is particularly hilarious). Kids will also be drawn to the visuals.

Miyazaki is renowned for creating imaginative, exhilarating, prosperous and outlandish movies that are enchanting and full of grace as well as gravity. Howl's Moving Castle is also infused with Miyazaki's gentle humour and is utterly absorbing for the first half - especially with the wonder of experiencing a new, incredibly vivid fantasy world. Where the movie has a tendency to disappoint (perhaps that's too strong a word) is in its story. Aside from the story being far too excessively padded out and slender, it contains a few constituents bordering on cliché. Most notable is the anti-war theme, which seems deeply ingrained in Japanese culture and is overused in anime. There are occasions when the film feels like the eponymous castle - a cumbersome, sizeable object constantly in danger of toppling over. A majority of the movie is an extended rant against the evils of war. Howl keeps making speeches about the destructiveness of aerial bombings. While I might be in agreement with the intense 'war is bad' connotation, I don't necessarily want it hammered into my cranium in random preachy moments scattered throughout the feature. For instance, at one stage Sophie asks Howl "Are those the enemy's planes or ours?" to which he replies "Is there really a difference?". These specific interactions are laughable at best, cringe-worthy at worst. It's almost redeemed by its ending; an uplifting marriage of music vocals and redemptive imagery.

"That boy is extremely dangerous, his powers are far too great for someone without a heart. If he stays selfish, I'm afraid he'll end up just like the Witch of the Waste."

Howl's Moving Castle is dissimilar to standard Hollywood animation, as Miyazaki eschews movie references and niche elements incorporated for diverse age groups. Miyazaki's sense of "good" and "bad" characters is deliberately ambiguous: there are continuous challenges and surprises in store when it comes to the depiction of villains.
The journey undertaken by the characters in search of truth and self-discovery is an entertaining and peculiar one. The heroine Sophie exhibits a combination of spunkiness and sombreness. Though cursed into the body of an elderly woman, Sophie learns more about herself as a crone than she ever did as a teenager.

As usual, an English-language version was eventually produced. Purists may holler, but the product is pure pleasure. Christian Bale is intensely likable as Howl the magician (whose appearance resembles a rock-star). However, Bale is periodically dull. Lauren Bacall lends her throaty voice to the plump Wicked Witch of the Waste. Jean Simmons voices Sophie when the witch turns her into an old hag, while Emily Mortimer provides the voice of the youthful Sophie. Both actresses offer charm. Billy Crystal is comic energy unleashed as Calcifer; the fire demon who keeps the castle moving. Crystal as Calcifer is a hilariously welcome presence.

True to expectations from Hayao Miyazaki's Studio Ghibli, Howl's Moving Castle is a triumph of technical excellence in animation. The synthesis of conventional hand-drawn animation augmented by subtle computer effects is rich, meticulous and vibrant. This degree of visual elegance is paramount, and sustains an audience when the plot gets a tad murky. Nevertheless, Miyazaki delivers a simplistic message; attempting to compensate for the thin story with gangbusters visuals. All age groups, in addition to Miyazaki fans, will coo at the film's optical depth and rich surreality. But opaque plotting lets the momentum of the first act vanish into thin air. This isn't of the sheer brilliance of Spirited Away or Grave of the Fireflies, but Howl's Moving Castle is a self-assured addition to the Studio Ghibli pantheon.

"When you're old, all you want to do is stare at the scenery. It's so strange. I've never felt so peaceful before."

7.8/10

"You hear that? Sounds like somebody's sheering."

Honestly, how can one critically scrutinise a comedic horror film with killer zombie sheep? Black Sheep is simply an unapologetic baaaaaaad movie. Anyone who abhors this movie should feel unconditionally sheepish. This fun barnyard zombie horror schlock exists to offer gory B-Grade thrills mingled with comedy... It delivers on its promise. It's intentionally stupid and it's highly entertaining. As the tagline states: "Get ready for the Violence of the Lambs!"

There's plenty to be fond of in this cheesy small-budget New Zealand flick. It splendidly continues the legacy of the splatter horror genre established by Peter Jackson in his early career when he directed Braindead (a.k.a. Dead Alive) and Bad Taste. With its intriguing premise and Peter Jackson's Weta Workshop responsible for the buckets of gore, Black Sheep is undoubtedly the greatest movie ever made in cinematic history...about mutated killer sheep, that is.

This Kiwi horror fest is a black sheep in more ways than one. Not only does it feature flocks of murderous mutated fur-balls but its originality and creativity makes it an odd one out in the crop of modern horror films - essentially a sole black sheep in a flock of otherwise white sheep. Quite simply, it's a breath of fresh air.

As for the plot (it's more of a concept disguised as a plot, actually): Henry Oldfield (Meister) is the most forlorn of New Zealand characters - he's absolutely terrified of sheep. Dosed up on therapy, Henry returns to his family farm to sell his portion of the property to his greedy older brother Angus (Feeney). However, Henry is unaware of Angus' activities on the farm - he's recklessly genetically engineering sheep in order to build superior livestock. When a pair of inept environmentalist activists unwittingly release a mutant lamb from the laboratory, it unleashes a plague that transforms thousands of sheep into vicious, bloodthirsty, marauding balls of fluff. Add to this a mad scientist or two, a man who loves sheep a little too much, a lot of sheep mauling people, a number of weresheep AND an abundance of hilarity. There's much more to discover within, but it's far too delicious to spoil.

Writer/director Jonathan King may or may not be endeavouring to deliver a message about the consequences of humankind's eternal mission to disrupt the natural order of nature. But make no mistake - Black Sheep ain't anything preachy. This science-gone-wrong parable is instead played predominantly for yucks and giggles. Plenty of comic mileage can easily be extracted from the sight of seemingly placid fluff-balls running amok with the bloodlust of the grimmest movie zombies. The production values are enhanced by the wonderful effects work of Weta Workshop. For the most part Black Sheep eschews digital effects; offering a seamless, excitable brew of vintage puppetry, animatronics, CGI and real-life sheep (who prove to be quite the performers). It proudly includes moments of genuine laughs mixed with grossly excessive gore. These sheep don't merely kill...they relish every opportunity to chow on innards and body parts. People are mauled and geysers of blood paint the surrounding scenery. Weta have applied their considerable talents in making the sheep believable yet hilariously exaggerated. It's three bags full of fun.

The spirit of Black Sheep is unashamedly B-Grade. The concept of killer sheep isn't sufficient to sustain a feature-length film. Thus writer-director King is astute enough not to push the film beyond an 80-minute running time. Along the way there are humorous homages to Night of the Living Dead and An American Werewolf in London. King also manages to skewer New Age philosophy, organic food, global warming and New Zealand culture. It isn't long before the film becomes an essential parody of itself. The filmmakers noticeably had a great deal of fun coming up with this material (like people transforming into weresheep), and it shows onscreen. Never before or since have filmmakers offered the image of flatulent sheep catching fire and exploding due to the flammability of the methane.
But I must sound this warning - if you want to live your life without ever seeing a sheep biting off a man's joy stick, you may want to shield your eyes at some point.

Maintaining the film's B-Grade tenor, the acting is hammy and occasionally unrealistic. The amateur actors are obviously in on the joke, and are having stacks of fun. This fun is contagious. Nathan Meister is certainly watchable and likable as the hero. Danielle Mason is occasionally irritating as the environmentalist, but she always looks stunning. Other wonderful performances come courtesy of a predominantly New Zealand cast; including Peter Feeney, Tammy Davis, Glenis Levestam, Tandi Wright, Oliver Driver and Nick Fenton.

Black Sheep takes itself none too seriously, and it's pure goofy fun. No pretensions, no magnanimous metaphors...just cheap thrills, silly laughs, and plenty of blood 'n' guts! Although extremely stupid, you'd have to be a pretty grim and cynical person not to succumb to the sheer delightfulness of the silly premise. Combining a wide multiplicity of schlock while parodying zombie movies, mad scientist plots, hippies, the overtly Green, and even family dramas - Black Sheep bites off pieces from pretty much everything before spitting it all back out as bloody chunks of fun. If you're seeking a few thrills in addition to flocks of belly laughs, Black Sheep is essential viewing. It won't change your life, but it'll perhaps make you think twice before buying a wool sweater. Hating this film is analogous to hating fun, and that's impossible right?
It's simply a joyful, bloody riot from start to finish. I'll be damned if I ever stopped smiling.

"I thought you of all people would appreciate efforts to deconstruct the colonialist paternalistic agrarian hierarchy that disenfranchises the Tangata Whenua and erodes the natural resources of Aotearoa."

7.2/10

"I don't care what they say! We have to tape everything!"

Just when you thought it was safe to declare low-budget Spanish film [Rec] the greatest horror flick in years, the inevitable Hollywood remake has already hit cinemas barely a year later. Unsurprisingly, Quarantine is an extraordinarily faithful remake of [Rec] - right down to every major narrative beat and scary moment, not to mention the very layout of the multi-storied building has been almost precisely replicated. There's little uncertainty as to why Quarantine was in the can so quickly. Aside from a handful of tweaks hither and thither (as well as the obvious language modification from Spanish to English), it's a brazen facsimile of [Rec] - its faithfulness reminiscent of Gus Van Sant's Psycho remake. John Erick Dowdle isn't so much a director, but a copycat handling someone else's homework. Oh boy, it shows.

Sony's Screen Gems had this remake officially commissioned before principal photography for [Rec] had even been completed. The company clearly perceived the Spanish horror film as the next landmark of the horror genre, taking a genre staple (a zombie plague) and allowing movie-goers to witness it through the immediacy of a handheld camera. [Rec]'s release in America was delayed until well after Quarantine, evidently in an endeavour for Screen Gems to develop a ruse that their film is 100% original. US audiences may have been none the wiser, but for anybody who's caught the original, Quarantine is guaranteed to trigger recurrent uncontrollable bouts of déjà vu.

The fundamental story of [Rec] remains unmodified for its remake: shooting a night-shift reality program, presenter Angela (Carpenter) and cameraman Scott (Harris) are shadowing a crew of Los Angeles firemen on an ostensibly dreary evening. Following a few uneventful hours the firemen respond to a routine 911 call which takes them to a small apartment building. The tenants had called 911 in response to blood-curdling screams coming from an apartment. However they soon learn the inhabitant of said apartment has been infected with something unknown. Following a vicious attack, the authorities swiftly quarantine the entire building - cutting off all entrances, exits and windows. Phones, internet, television and cell phones have also been cut-off. Meanwhile, the heroes are hopelessly trapped inside the building as the unknown virus spreads...converting hosts into bloodthirsty, rabid mutants. As the residents fight to survive and struggle to find a way out of the quarantined building, Scott documents the horrifying experience on camera.

Having viewed [Rec] multiple times, it was possible to recognise scenarios and plot points which have been precisely duplicated in Quarantine. It's a blatant remake severely undermined by unoriginality and its unmistakable Hollywoodness. The noble and dignified firemen have become horny, cheeky and self-centred (this is even acknowledged!). On the other hand, Angela openly flirts with the firemen. The character of Angela has been transformed into a stupid, clichéd American horror movie bimbo. [Rec] featured a strong protagonist concerned with getting a good story. In Quarantine, Angela is tragically Americanised.
In addition, gore levels are higher and characters frequently do stupid things. For example, Scott the cameraman keeps filming and uses the camera to view everything. He even kills an infected person; smashing the lens of the camera into its face! No cameraman would ever do this, and no camera would ever survive the treatment. Another touch of Hollywood: a character tries desperately to escape, and is gunned down as a result. Oh, and Scott the cameraman is an African American. Adhering to the clichés, he's muscle-bound and he kicks butt.

If it ain't broken, don't fix it - this motto should become a law in Hollywood. [Rec] is an original, chilling horror film that succeeds admirably in its execution. Its atmosphere of anxiety is able to keep any viewer riveted throughout the taut running time. [Rec] is also the best entry to the horror genre for a very long time. Remaking it in Hollywood with a bigger budget under the tight studio system is the equivalent of a Hollywood remake of The Blair Witch Project. There's absolutely nothing wrong with [Rec], and a remake shouldn't have been green-lit...let alone within a year of its theatrical debut. Quarantine is unnecessarily longer with extended character development (notably at the beginning of the film) and added Hollywood moments. Scares are far more predictable, and plot developments are too mechanical. The scenarios lifted from [Rec] appear awkward when inserted into this film. From time to time the film also seems lost. It needed brisk pacing and taut duration. Quarantine is instead cumbersome and lumpy - it's cold, lifeless, stiff and sometimes downright excruciating. It has been filmed on studio sets rather than a real apartment block, therefore feeling false and flat. To save time and funds, the Americans should've just produced an English dub of [Rec]...or just not touched the Spanish gem at all!

The central technique of the "found footage" genre (initially made popular after the success of The Blair Witch Project) is to employ handheld camera and give the cameraman a personality - the audience will therefore feel like a participant in the horrifying events. In Hollywood, the genre is rarely done well. The approach has been done to death...the novelty has worn off, and it simply feels gimmicky. It ruins interesting character development (the only time allotted to becoming familiar with the characters grows very boring very quickly) and jettisons the hope of any emotional investment with the characters. Add to this a range of awful performances. They never play the realism card...they play the Hollywood movie card, contradicting the filming technique. While filming [Rec], directorial duo Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza kept a few scares a secret in order for actors to look genuinely terrified. [Rec] felt real. Quarantine does not.

During the action sequences, the shaky cam is too distracting, nauseating and baffling. In Blair Witch and [Rec] the images are still manageable. In this film, however, it's hard to make out what's going on - you just know it's nasty. For these aforesaid action sequences (and at other portions of the movie) there are also distracting jump cuts and unbelievably erratic movements. It's a total mess and Dowdle's directing is appalling! Adding insult to injury, the cameraman never baulks at capturing the gory stuff. On that matter, the gore exudes exploitation. [Rec] was never about exploiting gore, neither was Blair Witch. The "less is more" technique works...this is just ridiculous. Scott the cameraman purposely turns the camera to look at a corpse or a puddle of blood, etc. Understandable if the cameraman turned his head to look, but why turn the whole camera?

Nits are easier to pick in Quarantine, especially with the glaring lack of originality. In spite of all these drawbacks, there are positives. Every so often the film is gripping and nail-biting, as well as somewhat fun and entertaining. The make-up effects are particularly effective as well. The exaggerated gore does scream Hollywood, but it's fun to watch. The greatest strength, though, is the amazing sound design. The constant sirens and helicopters build a palpable panic. There's never any music or a score, which increases the feeling of apprehension. The atmosphere of trepidation is commendably elevated with the use of sounds instead of a score. Okay, so a few scenes manage to make me jump. Not many, though.

Admittedly, the original [Rec] is hardly original; it's a Romero-style zombie outbreak fused with 28 Days Later... in the style of Blair Witch. The concept catches fire as a result of the raw pseudo-documentary style that keeps the zombie nonsense feasible. The excellent rawness has been lost in translation: the film stock is too crisp, the explicit gore too cinematic, and the performances are never quite real enough. Jennifer Carpenter continually feels like an actress playing a reporter. Any edginess has been painted over with a dense layer of Hollywood polish. It's too Hollywood from the word 'go', which begs the question: doesn't a glossy remake of a reality horror defeat the point? But hey - there are far worse films out there (like the 2008 cinematic turds known as Meet the Spartans and Disaster Movie), and after suffering a scare-free succession of studio horror offerings a genre fan may be pleased. There are some fun jolts to be had during the film's 90-minute duration - even if they are second-hand. Nevertheless, view [Rec] instead.

4.9/10