Reviews by PvtCaboose91

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

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

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

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

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

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

8.1/10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7.6/10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7.7/10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6.5/10

"Well you had better decide whether you're hanging on the cross, or banging in the nails."

For the first time in eight years, Mel Gibson has stepped back in front of the camera with this adaptation of the 1985 British mini-series Edge of Darkness. Penned by William Monahan and Andrew Bovell, the film unsurprisingly truncates and simplifies the six-episode mini-series; keeping the basic premise of the small screen original but concentrating more on Gibson's brand of primal rage. While the trailers and general marketing implied the film to be akin to Taken, Edge of Darkness is a far more sedate and verbose type of thriller; serving up scenes of heavy exposition occasionally punctuated by instances of shocking violence.

The narrative of the mini-series is transposed from England to Boston, where we're introduced to lonely veteran police detective Tom Craven (Gibson). Tom is delighted when his beloved daughter Emma (Novakovic) arrives for a visit, yet this delight soon turns to horror when a hooded gunman arrives on his door-step and blows a hole through Emma's chest. While common wisdom would indicate Tom was the real mark but his daughter was caught in the crossfire, the bereaving father suspects otherwise. This incident launches Tom on a single-minded mission to uncover the truth behind his daughter's murder.

Viewers expecting an adrenaline rush from Edge of Darkness will to be disappointed. There are bursts of enthralling action, sure, but they're surrounded by long, tedious periods where not a great deal actually happens. Slow expository scenes to set up deeper aspects of the story are certainly necessary, as well as time alone with Tom as he laments over the loss of his daughter, but they're not taut enough. Too often, scenes reach their logical conclusion only for it to continue dragging on and on, to the point that even the actors seem to be wondering why they are still there. In addition to this, the film is overstuffed with characters and locations. The premise becomes far too unnecessarily complicated and drawn-out, which is especially troublesome because there aren't enough twists to justify the long runtime. Worse, once the ending is at long last reached, it all feels far too simplified and rushed; as if the writers reached a certain point, realised the script was running too long, and searched for the easiest solution. The enterprise is further marred by the lack of truly complex characters - the motivations of Jedburgh (Winstone) are unclear, reducing the role to a deus ex machina. Tom Craven is believably depicted, but he too regularly imagines his daughter is still there with him. While cute at first, it fast becomes cheesy.

Midway through the movie, when Craven decides he will no longer take crap off anybody, we get glimpses of what Edge of Darkness could have been. For all his time off, Gibson can still kick ass with the best of them. There are a number of death-dealing moments here, including an exhilarating blood-drenched climax and a few nifty stunts. These serve as a decent pay-off for a movie that has meandered far too much. Thankfully, the material is moderately well handled by director Martin Campbell. Interestingly, the man got his big break helming the BBC mini-series on which this film is based, and then proceeded to direct such movies as GoldenEye, Casino Royale, and the two Zorro films. Campbell has tackled this material with a minimum of fussiness; primarily relying on Mel Gibson's screen presence and the raw intensity of the story.

For Mel Gibson, Edge of Darkness represents something of a comeback. The last picture he headlined was 2002's Signs - eight years ago, when he was among Hollywood's elite. Since Signs, Mel concentrated on directing movies rather than starring in them. Having stayed out of the spotlight for almost four years (Apocalypto was the last film he was involved in), Gibson elected to return to the screen here by playing another version of his well-established screen persona: a brutal, revenge-minded cop. Ultimately, the movie never takes Gibson out of his comfort zone, but we easily buy him as Tom Craven. His performance (which is closer to his character from Payback than anything else) is easily the best part of the movie.

The remainder of the cast is a mixed bag. Ray Winstone, who plays a corporate 'fixer' struggling to decide which side of the fence to come down on, submits an enthralling performance, and comes across as both gruffly sophisticated and subtly sinister. Danny Huston's performance as the villain is disappointingly bland, and represents one of the film's weakest aspects. The only other performances of note are courtesy of Australian actress Bojana Novakovic who plays Emma Craven, and Caterina Scorsone whose scene to shine is simply a masterpiece of escalating tension and enthralling character interaction.

In the 25 years since the original Edge of Darkness mini-series, dozens of similar conspiracy thrillers have reached both the big and small screen, which leaves this particular motion picture laughably clichéd and at times utterly naff. These days, it'd be more of a surprise if large companies weren't involved in shady meetings and backroom dealings with the government. What should have been a straightforward revenge flick develops into something more complicated and roundabout, and ultimately less interesting. Edge of Darkness remains passable entertainment thanks to Gibson's formidable performance and Campbell's directorial flair, but it's a flawed example of mainstream entertainment.

5.7/10

"Just say yes."

Director Scott Hicks' first Australian film since 1996's Shine, The Boys Are Back is a mature, poignant meditation on two staggering familial tragedies: divorce and early death. While this film had every right to be maudlin and contrived, screenwriter Allan Cubitt and director Hicks tackle the material with a raw emotional realism; affirming that real stories of loss and emotional rebirth can be told without to succumbing to manipulative melodrama. Fusing humour, heartbreak, power and poignancy with the greatest of ease and with a lack of pretension, The Boys Are Back feels impressively real and sincere, and is all the more resonant because of it.

Towards the beginning of the film, emotionally immature sports writer Joe Warr (Owen) loses his wife Katy (Fraser) to cancer, leaving him to take care of their 8-year-old son Artie (McAnulty). But prior to this tragedy, Joe had never had a particularly close relationship with Artie, and finds it difficult to handle the child. At a loss for how to deal with Artie, Joe opts for a more laid-back parenting method, resulting in a chaotic boys' club of laughs, fun, dangerousness and messiness, and as a result they develop a deeper connection. This is threatened, however, by the sudden arrival of Joe's older son Harry (MacKay); the offspring of Joe's previous marriage. With the pressures of work piling on and the limitations of his support network, Joe's shortcomings are exposed, most of which are difficult to face, let alone accept.

The Boys Are Back is loosely inspired by the real-life memoirs of Simon Carr. Though names have been altered and a structure has been applied, numerous incidents and people from the book were incorporated into the film's screenplay. For its first 20 minutes, The Boys Are Back concentrates on Katy's declining health and eventual passing on. These devastating opening minutes establish the film as a potent tear-jerker; observing Joe as he struggles to cope without his beloved spouse and grows gravely concerned for Artie, whose young brain is unable to process the serious event. Joe's grief eventually results in him conversing with a mental manifestation of Katy's spirit, who visits from time to time to question his abilities as Artie's guardian. While this may be perceived as an obvious and stale plot device that could trigger questions regarding Joe's mental stability, it does work. After all, in times of need, we typically evoke voices offering advice, and this merely takes it one step further. Though there are a few rocky patches of dialogue as the end approaches, and a number of narrative shortcuts, this is a top-shelf movie.

Perhaps the most notable aspect of The Boys Are Back is the way Hicks focuses on the humdrum details of life inside Joe's household. Such an approach amplifies the story's sense of realism, as if the camera merely happened across these events as they unfolded. There's one particular moment of this motion picture that demonstrates the effectiveness of Hicks' style - a raw, unforgiving close-up revealing the look on a man's face as his heart breaks in half. It's a subtle shot brimming with feeling that demonstrates how masterful the director has become, as well as bringing to the fore one crucial thing: nothing in this finely-honed film feels forced, false or conveniently sentimental. A less talented filmmaker would use mournful music to convey the emotion, but Hicks is very matter-of-fact, with the richly nuanced actors to pack the emotional punches. Simply put, nothing here feels Hollywood. Added to this, the stunning South Australian countryside, as captured by cinematographer Greig Fraser, affords the film an achingly convincing sense of place.

Action hero roles fit Clive Owen almost too comfortably, so it's refreshing to see the actor playing a character outside of his comfort zone. Thus, The Boys Are Back provided Owen with the chance to place forth his most compelling dramatic work since Children of Men. Owen submits a standout, heartfelt performance; conveying deep reserves of emotion and inner strength. Playing Joe's beloved Katy, Scottish actress Laura Fraser is superb - her Aussie accent is flawless. Also worth mentioning is the brilliant Julia Blake as Joe's mother-in-law, and Emma Booth who's highly endearing as a new companion for Joe. As for the kids of the ensemble, Nicholas McAnulty and George MacKay are tolerable and convincing - both of which are crucial when dealing with child actors.

The film's subject matter combined with Hicks' low-key direction could have resulted in a boring picture of false emotion, but The Boys Are Back is anything but. It's a very real movie, and it's made enthralling due to the performances and a genuine attachment to the characters. Much of the movies in today's cinematic climate are aimed at young men and boys; most of which are brainless blockbusters that tap into the corner of the mind craving escapist fun. In the case of The Boys Are Back, though, this is a quintessential boys' film without explosions or action sequences. In a sense, it's an ideal companion piece to Charlie & Boots - both are effective Australian movies which are perfect to watch with your dad, brother or granddad. To put it frankly, The Boys Are Back is a chick flick for guys. And it's a great one.

8.3/10

"Now more than ever, we need the Jedi."

At the commencement of The Men Who Stare at Goats, a disclaimer reveals "More of this is true than you would believe". And this is very credible, because this tale of the U.S. Army's attempts to harness psychic powers to create super-soldiers is so bizarre is HAS to be true, in accordance with the "how could anyone make this up?" principle. Furthermore, the program to create said super-soldiers is instigated for one simple reason: the Russians began psychic research because they thought the Americans were doing psychic research when in fact the Americans weren't doing psychic research, and thus the Americans are compelled to commence a psychic research program because the thought of the Russians getting ahead in this field is unimaginable. Considering the practises of the U.S. Army over recent years, this justification is not exactly far-fetched.

Bouncing back and forth through time, the film introduces a hippie named Bill Django (Bridges) who's hired by the U.S. Army as part of an operation to create "psychic spies" - more commonly referred to as "Jedi Warriors". Alas, the program is shut down before any worthwhile wars come to fruition. This brings us to the movie's present - in 2003, a befuddled Midwestern journalist with domestic troubles named Bob Wilton (McGregor) travels to Kuwait in the hope of covering the Iraq War and proving himself to his wife who unceremoniously dumped him. From there, he meets one of the psychic spies named Lyn Cassady (Clooney) who agrees to take Wilton with him on a mission across the border. What follows is the one of most absurd buddy/road movies in history as the two encounter a series of disasters, and Bob is indoctrinated into the way of the Jedi.

Without a doubt, the brightest moments of The Men Who Stare at Goats are to be found within the first hour. Absurdity runs rife during this period, there are countless laugh-out-loud moments, and it functions as a sharp, effective parody of the rules and structure of military (its depiction of the U.S. Army is hysterical). Occasionally, the filmmakers attempt to ask thoughtful questions about warfare, but for the most part they appear to just be concerned with providing a good time. This is achieved well-enough, with a quick pace and several memorable moments of comedy, though it's more of an enjoyable watch than a powerful or lasting experience. Then again, this is a movie about men able to kill goats with their minds, so this is probably about as substantial as such a film can be.

Armed with a winning combination of audacious political satire in the vein of Dr. Strangelove, and the type of off-beat approach reminiscent of the movies of the Coen Brothers (think Burn After Reading), The Men Who Stare at Goats definitely gets points for both wild ambition and entertainment value. Actor-turned-first-time-director Grant Heslov (who co-wrote Good Night, and Good Luck with Clooney and produced 2008's Leatherheads) manages the proceedings with a maximum dosage of quirk in creating this side-splitting, freewheeling descent into the madness of the military machine. Added to this, The Men Who Stare at Goats boasts the best in-joke of recent memory: anyone familiar with the Star Wars prequels will have no trouble realising and laughing at the irony of a baffled Ewan McGregor asking what a Jedi Warrior is. This generates a welcome further sense of amusement whenever Cassady and Wilton discuss the mind powers of the Jedis. It would be interesting to know whether director Heslov and screenwriter Peter Straughan were aware of McGregor's pending involvement while constructing the script.

By this stage in his career, George Clooney has perfected the Coen-Brothers-influenced art of genial goofiness. In The Men Who Stare at Goats, this is blended nicely with good old-fashioned movie star charisma. Alongside Clooney, Jeff Bridges is brilliantly cast as the stoner and Kevin Spacey wondefully portrays Cassady's psychic rival. When Bridges, Clooney and Spacey share the screen, The Men Who Stare at Goats is extremely lively - like a military version of Anchorman with a more subtle sense of stupidity. This appraisal is only valid for the earlier scenes, however, as their interactions are less interesting during the final reel. Meanwhile, Ewan McGregor is in top form as the endearing straight man. Also worth mentioning is Stephen Lang, whose performance here is side-splitting. 2009 was a great year for Lang, who also submitted remarkable work in Public Enemies and Avatar.

Unfortunately, the conclusion for The Men Who Stare at Goats is extended past its expiration date. The fun is compromised during the final 25 minutes as the brilliant humour erodes, the focus shifts to plot, and there's a noticeable lack of energy. The more the movie concentrates on coherently advancing the narrative, the less enjoyable it is for the simple reason that, as it turns out, Cassady's mission is rather uninteresting. Thank heavens, then, that the rest of the picture is impeccable from top to bottom. For the most part, director Heslov has crafted a delightfully energetic motion picture, and one of the funniest movies to hit multiplexes during 2009. It's also refreshing to witness a comedy such as this which has been designed with a more sophisticated audience in mind, as opposed to the brainless antics of Dance Flick or Year One. How much of this story is actually true is beside the point. Look into my eyes...I compel you to stop thinking about it, and focus on the entertainment value of this romp.

8.2/10

"If people die the moment that they graduate, then surely it's the things we do beforehand that count."

Over recent years, movie-goers have been subjected to countless coming-of-age tales imbued with a plot concerning a young, naïve person who receives a preview of the adult world lying in wait for them. Directed by Lone Scherfig and scripted by Nick Hornby, 2009's An Education is the latest of this particular pedigree, and it overcomes the numbing sense of familiarity by showcasing a mature, level-headed take on this particular coming-of-age journey. An open, honest examination of sexual politics and a woman's place in the world during the early 1960s, An Education is an immaculately-crafted ode to the loss of innocence which boasts top-shelf performances, evocative cinematography, and a solid screenplay at its core. It's a rich, satisfying cinematic experience, and one of the greatest movies of 2009.

Set during 1961, An Education tells the story of 16-year-old schoolgirl Jenny Mellor (Mulligan) who resides in the London suburb of Twickenham with her parents. Studying hard on the wishes of her father (Molina) in the sole pursuit of getting into Oxford, Jenny soon grows tired of the life chosen for her. Jenny's life drastically changes when she meets David (Sarsgaard); a man twice her age who she meets while walking home from school one day. Seductive and charismatic, David charms Jenny's parents and subtly ingratiates himself into her life. He goes out of his way to show both Jenny and her family that his interests in the 16-year-old are not improper; he merely wishes to expose her to the cultural activities she enjoys the most. She quickly grows accustomed to the life to which David and his companions, Danny (Cooper) and Helen (Pike), have shown her, and the relationship between David and Jenny begins to transform into something romantic. But, as the time-honoured adage states, if something looks too good to be true, it probably is...

The title of An Education refers to the life lessons learned by Jenny as the consequence of her romantic interactions with David. She's educated about life, love and herself throughout the events of this movie - at first she believes she's worldly and self-assured upon entering her liaison with David, but soon learns her sheltered upbringing could never fully prepare her for the painful aspects of the "real world".

Nick Hornby's screenplay (based on the memoirs of Lynn Barber) is incisive and intelligent, and bursts with razor-sharp dialogue. Danish filmmaker Lone Scherfig, best known for Italian for Beginners and Wilbur Wants to Kill Himself, largely allows the material and the performances to tell the story. The director has no insistent style; instead allowing the narrative to unfold with low-key mise-en-scène. On top of this, Scherfig effortlessly evokes the post-war state of the London suburbs - a state which made Jenny restless and her elders complacent - through top-shelf costumes, art direction and musical choices (the soundtrack hums with the era's pop tunes, adding an extra element of fizz). This is a far more difficult job than it might seem, since this particular period of British history essentially lacked key social or cultural signifiers which would explode in the subsequent years (The Beatles were not big yet, for instance). The film's closing scenes do feel distinctly rushed (with lazy narration) and there are several bothersome loose ends (specifically in relation to Danny and Helen), but these objections are minor.

It's borderline rude to get this far into a review of An Education without mentioning young Carey Mulligan. Move over Lindsay Lohan, Hilary Duff and the Olsen twins, and make way for this highly talented young star who isn't a total airhead. Making her stunning leading lady debut here, Mulligan was 22 years old at the time the movie was shot, and effortlessly passes as a teenager of only 16/17 years of age. More than that, she's capable of playing a myriad of emotions, sometimes all at the same time. She's an actress who knows how to work with her eyes; contradicting a brave face by showing the fear and disappointment boiling underneath. Without a doubt, this is the type of performance that will compel movie-goers to look up the actress on the Internet Movie Database in search of other movies she can be seen in. While her résumé is more substantial than others of her age group, Mulligan's work is mainly restricted to roles in British television and supporting parts in major movies (she featured in Public Enemies, in a "blink and you'll miss her" role). To say her performance in An Education is eye-opening would be an understatement; watching her unforced transformation from child to adult is one of those rare star-is-born moments.

Yet, this is not a movie which lives and dies by its leading performance - Mulligan is surrounded by a ridiculous amount of talent. Peter Sarsgaard adopts a wholly credibly British accent; easily slipping into the role of a cad, and conveying limitless charm which makes the premise far easier to buy. Dominic Cooper and Rosamund Pike are equally remarkable, with each espousing a believable accent and emanating charm as David's close friends. Revered British star Emma Thompson is given only a handful of scenes as the headmistress, but nevertheless steals every frame in which she features. If An Education doesn't contain the best ensemble cast of 2009, it's a sure-fire contender for the honour.

With smart, sprightly dialogue from Hornby, smooth direction from Scherfig, unanimously excellent work in the acting department and a star-making performance from Carey Mulligan, it's easy to recommend An Education. Best of all, though, is that it's also solid evidence that a drama doesn't need to be overtly downbeat and distressing to convey a story like this.

9.1/10

"He's not some monster trying to evade you. He's just an animal."

More than forty years and two-dozen movies after first raising his mammoth head in the Japanese monster flick Gojira, Godzilla made its Western-ised debut courtesy of the director/producer team of Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin. By 1998, this particular twosome had firmly established themselves as purveyors of big-budget Hollywood blockbusters, with Stargate and Independence Day having previously blown out theatre speakers. Thus, this late-'90s reinterpretation of the normally dumpy, rubbery monster is a loud, special effects-ridden summer flick created with the brain-dead in mind. It's also a textbook example of a failure - it underperformed at the box office, the planned sequels never materialised, and it was disowned by Toho Pictures (the company responsible for the original Godzilla productions) who actively excised this version from the canon. For what it's worth, 1998's Godzilla is not the disaster that the majority have made it out to be as Emmerich pitches the idiocy at an agreeable tone, but the flick is definitely underwhelming on the whole.

The plot, such as it is, concerns biologist Dr. Niko Tatopoulos (Matthew Broderick). Not long into the film, Niko is recalled from Chernobyl by the United States Army to study large footprints left on tropical islands. Meanwhile, accounts begin to materialise which claim that a large creature known as "Godzilla" has been capsizing ocean vessels around the world. Before anything can be put into conjecture, Godzilla - a stories-tall creature which bears the appearance of a dinosaur - emerges from the waters off New York City and begins wreaking havoc within the Big Apple. With the city under threat of annihilation, Niko is hired to work in conjunction with the military to stop the behemoth. As fate would have it, amid the chaos, Niko meets his former flame Audrey (Maria Pitillo), who's now a struggling reporter seeking her big break.

At first, the monster is not seen at all - it's an unseen but clearly gigantic menace, à la Jaws. With radars blipping, ships being destroyed, an attack survivor uttering the word "Gojira," and giant footprints being discovered, the sense of foreboding is enormous. Unfortunately, this style lasts all of 20 minutes, after which the style shifts from Jaws to Jurassic Park as Godzilla proceeds to rip up the city. Emmerich and Devlin's screenplay is an incredibly bloated affair, dragging out all the nonsense to an inconceivable 130 minutes. The most egregious addition is a subplot involving the offspring of Godzilla which would have been better suited for a sequel. This leads to an extended sequence involving baby 'Zillas which look and act like the velociraptors in Jurassic Park (the mini 'Zillas even hunt down the movie's heroes from one room to another...just like in Jurassic Park). However, whereas Jurassic Park was nail-biting and had a degree of substance, Godzilla is more concerned with money shots.

While the digital effects are competent here, they are not spectacular, and for the most part fail to hold up all these years later. At times the giant lizard looks convincing, and the creature design is impressive, but it oftentimes looks hokey and embarrassingly digital. More importantly, the size is inconsistent (it grows and shrinks at the plot's convenience), and the creature lacks weight. Each time a close-up observes Godzilla's foot as it hits the ground, it never looks quite right. And, of course, what summer blockbuster would be complete without plot holes and stupidity? In this case, a monster that's as tall as a skyscraper is able to fit through subway tunnels, and Niko is able to purchase home pregnancy tests in the middle of the night from a pharmacy apparently still operating in an evacuated city. Furthermore, the split-second timing typically associated with Hollywood movies is a frequent bother. For instance the protagonists find the nest of baby 'Zillas just as they're hatching, Godzilla arrives on the scene at the most convenient time, and so on.

In the original Japanese Godzilla films, the monster usually had a clear agenda. In this American appropriation, Godzilla is a mindless brute; a lizard that wants to eat and reproduce. The creature's destruction isn't intentional - it's just the result of a big dinosaur-like monster being trapped in a world designed for humans. Thus, this is literally a film about a bull in a china shop. Adding insult to injury, a few slipshod attempts at humour are included. There's an ongoing gag regarding the fact that no-one can pronounce Niko's last name correctly, and the script attacks film critics Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel. Of course, the reason for this attack is because Ebert and Siskel panned Emmerich and Devlin's prior movies. But the characters serve no purpose in the story other than to add further padding, and, as the critics themselves noted, the revenge part was handled poorly. Are these characters torn to shreds and eaten by the monster? Nope. They just bicker. What a wasted opportunity.

Working in the film's favour is Emmerich, a proficient blockbuster filmmaker who's skilled as mise-en-scène despite the idiocy of his screenplays. Godzilla can only be defended as a dumb piece of entertainment, though that's a strictly subjective opinion. In terms of shot composition and direction, the film is fairly skilful, with a number of standout action sequences scattered throughout the narrative. The climactic chase through New York City is particularly impressive, as is a set-piece involving helicopters pursuing the giant lizard. When the pace slows down and the film tries to give the cardboard characters some dimension, Godzilla is less successful. But when it's focused on delivering pure entertainment, there is fun to be had.

Ultimately, Godzilla is pretty much critic-proof. It has its niche audience, and said audience will probably enjoy it (it was my favourite movie when I was eight years old). After all, it's a widely-shared viewpoint that critics are boring and are not able to enjoy blockbusters. Godzilla is not as good as Emmerich's other efforts, but it has its strengths, and all of the harsh criticising the film has received does seem a bit excessive. It's dumb fun; take it or leave it.

5.1/10

"Maybe this place is haunted..."

Similar to The Amityville Horror, 2009's The Haunting in Connecticut is a supernatural horror film which employs the "based on a true story" crutch as a hook to entice movie-goers. Of course, the claim that it's based on an actual suburban haunting is all smoke and mirrors, as those who spend even half an hour conducting research will realise the majority of this film's narrative was invented by the screenwriters (Adam Simon and Tim Metcalfe). Interestingly, even Ray Garton - who novelised the particular ordeal - has gone on record stating he doubts the veracity of the story, and this all goes to show how loose the phrase "based on a true story" can sometimes be employed. Interestingly, too, The Haunting in Connecticut seems not that it's based on a true story, but instead based on horror movies of prior decades.

The story concerns the members of the Campbell family, whose oldest son Matt (Galler) is suffering from cancer. In order for them to live in close proximity to a specialty clinic where Matt (Gallner) is undergoing experimental treatments, the family opt to rent a house in Connecticut. However the realtor explains that the house "has a history", which soon becomes apparent when Matt begins witnessing disturbing images at night. At first he believes they are mere hallucinations as a result of his cancer treatments, but the visions are far too vivid. When it's revealed the residence was formerly used as a funeral home, Matt seeks help from a fellow cancer patient, Reverend Popescu (Koteas), who recognises the horrific signs as a cry for help from a macabre past.

To its credit, The Haunting in Connecticut does neglect a few horror clichés we've come to expect from the genre, but these are unfortunately replaced by generic plotlines more common to film in general. On top of the formulaic ghost story, there's the sudsy melodrama about Matt dying from cancer and the impact it has on his family. A poorly-developed side plot exposes the father of the family as an emotionally-abusive former alcoholic, but this is barely touched upon and seems to have been included to add an extra ten minutes to the runtime. Meanwhile the mother is unable to connect with her dying son on an emotional level, and struggles to hold her family together. These clichés don't stop, with the wise priest entering at the right moment to provide an essential service, and children seeing unsettling images as well. Moreover, the characters are without personality and believability. In fact, they deserve a Stupid Horror Movie Character Award in the Family Category. After all, once the ghosts scare the hell out of everyone, the protagonists don't bother to leave the house and head for the closest motel...instead they return to their beds and try to sleep. If people are stupid enough to remain in a situation like that when they could easily leave, they deserve exactly what they get.

In addition, The Haunting in Connecticut is so bankrupt when it comes to generating an effective atmosphere of dread that first-time director Peter Cornwell inserts countless "boo!" moments in an attempt to keep viewers interested. Thus, scenes of dialogue are frequently punctuated with glimpses of a ghostly figure reflected in a mirror or passing outside of a window. These scares are appallingly telegraphed too, with menacing music cues, obvious framing, and protracted dramatic pauses. It becomes almost comical after a while. Indeed, if one played a drinking game in which one swallowed a gulp of alcohol each time a ghoul appeared on-screen in a flash edit of hazy doom, chances are you'll be drunk within half an hour... It's that overused. Furthermore, the PG-13 rating forbids overtly gruesome or explicit content - this means no gratuitous nudity, no requisite sex scene between husband and wife, and the burnt corpses look distinctly tame. Neither nakedness nor gore could have salvaged this paint-by-numbers chiller, but the film would've at least been more digestible.

On the bright side, The Haunting in Connecticut is not unredeemably awful. The script clearly strived to flesh out these characters well enough, and the acting is passable. The plotting also accommodates the removal of one of the most embarrassing horror clichés of all - since the story takes place during the 1980s before the days of the internet, the characters at no point research the phenomenon via Google as a means to lazily advance the narrative to the next plot point. The problem with The Haunting in Connecticut, however, is that it simply feels stale. The story is not interesting or surprising enough, the protagonists aren't compelling enough to latch onto, and the cinematic style is dull.

4.0/10