Reviews by PvtCaboose91

The notion of yet another motion picture concerning the Iraq War is probably about as welcome as a knife in the eye. While it may be a pertinent topic in this day and age, it's a flat cinematic subject, with Hollywood producing generally stodgy movies of bloated self-importance marred by various miscalculations (Rendition, The Kingdom, and so on). Thank heavens, then, for Kathryn Bigelow's superb The Hurt Locker. Among the various reasons that Bigelow's flick works where others have failed is that it never endeavours to be "about" the war in Iraq; rather, it accepts the war as a background setting for a fascinating character study regarding the potentially addictive thrills of mortal danger.

Set during the early stages of the post-invasion period in Iraq in 2004, The Hurt Locker follows a group of American soldiers known as Bravo Company who specialise in bomb disposal. With just a few weeks remaining before they are rotated back to the United States, their Sergeant meets with an unfortunate end. This leaves the other soldiers in the unit to serve their final weeks with a new comrade; Staff Sergeant William James (Renner). Much to the chagrin of his fellow soldiers, James is an adrenaline junkie with no qualms about disarming a bomb device manually (and thus breaking protocol). The plot of The Hurt Locker from there is episodic, with the soldiers shifting from conflict to conflict. Tension is a killer during these sequences, because explosive devices aimed at everyone and no-one could be disguised beneath any pile of garbage. Since a bomb would take out anybody and anything within a certain radius, James must approach one of the devices alone to disarm it (with the perimeter maintained by his fellow soldiers). Thus, one of the most repeated images of the film is of the unaccompanied James as he wanders into a strangely deserted space - a fitting visual metaphor for the character's emotional and personal isolation from those around him, both near and far (one even gets the sense his wife and kid back home are never close in his mind).

The Hurt Locker was scripted by Mark Boal; a journalist who based the film's screenplay on his own experiences. Even if you're unaware of this fact before watching the movie, you'll likely suspect it because a clear and unvarnished sense of reality permeates every frame. This is an apolitical, boots-on-the-ground war picture. Not once do the characters stop to discuss why they are there, and they never discuss the wayward politics of the war. In fact, the movie has no political agenda. The filmmakers don't care if the invasion and occupation is right or wrong - all that matters is that the troops are in the country, have a job to do, and are fighting for survival. Much like a number of prior films that have touched on the Iraqi conflict (such as Jarhead), The Hurt Locker portrays a meandering battle that ends up being less about specific offenses and more about maintenance. Unpredictable combat leads to unpredictable schedules, and (particularly for a bomb disposal unit) the call of duty comes when it comes. Right from the opening scene, there's a potent sense that no character is safe, and death can come at any moment. It's this terrifying uncertainty that fuels the story's drama.

Another of the greatest strengths of The Hurt Locker is that it quickly and decisively re-establishes Kathryn Bigelow's position as one of the best action filmmakers in the business. Speaking from a technical standpoint, this film is a stunner from start to finish. Bigelow has always had a knack for directing action in complicated, even abnormal scenarios (like surfers robbing banks in Point Break), and the deserts of Iraq are no different, with the director exhibiting an amazing command for the physical details of filmmaking while shifting through the various set-pieces. A viewer can viscerally feel the danger the characters are in, as most of the film was shot on location in Jordan using an effective documentary style. Interestingly, cinematographer Barry Ackroyd utilised four handheld cameras at any one time, capturing a total of about 200 hours of footage. Even with this handheld disposition, the frame is never rocked too much. However, it must be said that despite this technical competency, the movie fails to resonate as much as something like Saving Private Ryan or Platoon.

The film's cast boasts such names as Ralph Fiennes, Guy Pearce and David Morse, but these big-name actors are relegated to minor roles. This is intentional since, although these well-known stars may entice people to watch the movie, they can detract from the reality of the situation. The main players of The Hurt Locker are instead Jeremy Renner, Anthony Mackie and Brian Geraghty, each of whom pulls off their characters with complete assurance and compelling enthusiasm.

Kathryn Bigelow's The Hurt Locker is not a film that assumes an ideological stand regarding the Iraq War. Instead, it aspires to present viewers with a war film about the ways in which a unit of soldiers react to the pressures of combat. In fact, if a few details were changed, this could be set during any war. To the credit of the filmmakers, the movie only misfires a few times - a major detractor is when the focus leaves Iraq on a couple of occasions to examine William James' life in America, but neither time is necessary. The second trip home provides an explanation for James' risky behaviour that's a bit too on the nose, especially when combined with the music video-style recruitment commercial that closes the film.

8.7/10

Uwe Boll (which is German for "Appalling Filmmaker") has made a living over recent years (and has angered a great deal of people) by transforming beloved video game properties into epically awful movies. As a result, the cultural landscape has become tragically cluttered with unwatchable motion pictures such as House of the Dead, BloodRayne, Alone in the Dark and In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale. Boll's latest video game adaptation-turned-sign-of-the-Apocalypse is 2008's Far Cry, which was adapted from the PC shooter of the same name. The lush tropical island setting of the game has been replaced with the Pacific Northwest, and silently sneaking through the forest picking off soldiers has been replaced with abysmal dialogue and brainless, unexciting action scenes. Never thought it would happen, but Boll has reached yet another new low. After showing evidence that he may be improving in 1968 Tunnel Rats, Boll's work is firmly back in the doldrums.

The protagonist of the video game is retained here: an ex-special forces operative named Jack Carver (Schweiger). Now a transport for hire, Jack accompanies investigative journalist Valerie Constantine (Vaugier) to a mysterious island in the Pacific Northwest where she suspects something heinous is occurring. As it turns out, of course, her suspicions are proved to be correct. Occupying this island is mad scientist Dr. Krieger (Kier), who is genetically engineering a race of super-soldiers. Jack and Valerie's presence on the island is not exactly welcome, and henchmen are dispatched to take care of them. With Valerie captured and Jack's boat destroyed, Jack enters reluctant hero mode.

It's a very simple set-up that isn't too far removed from the plot of the game. Problem is, it takes half an hour of this 90-minute film for the action to start. Sure, Boll tried to transcend the genre by taking his time to develop the characters and the plot, but the first 30 minutes are hopelessly marred by poor acting, poor dialogue and slipshod filmmaking. By the time the action set-pieces begin, things are so dark and poorly editing that all hope for a salvageable or even a watchable movie is shattered. Just to provide an example of how flat the action is: a river chase at one stage sees Jack's speedboat heading for a randomly-placed ramp in the waterway. The music swells, the comic relief sidekick yelps, and the boat jumps the ramp in the most unspectacular and drab manner imaginable. No explosions, near-misses, great heights or great distances - this boring minor stunt is treated as a major money shot. All the shootouts, meanwhile, are hindered by Boll's cinematic technique. The bad guys do stupid things, the cinematography is sloppy (even comedies contain more pulse-pounding car chases), the editing is terrible, and the action set-pieces come across as very amateurish, ordinary and bland. The music is woefully ineffectual, and the pacing is constantly uneven - the film drags when it should be brisk.

If Boll had aimed for just a straightforward '80s-style action movie, it would still have been an uninspired filmic turd, but the entire enterprise is further soured by the shamefully asinine attempts at humour. The abysmal screenplay - which took three people to ruin - serves up every single action movie cliché in the book in terms of both dialogue and plot, in addition to being loaded with sophomoric punch-lines which fail so miserably one could swear they were witnessing jokes that belong in Disaster Movie. For instance Valerie has no idea what a hand grenade is, and thus, when she throws one without pulling the pin, Jack explains "You have to pull the pin. They're useless with the pin!". Several "humorous" set-pieces are also thrown in which provoke sickness rather than laughter. The main offender: Jack and Valerie are nearly killed in a car chase shootout and wind up trapped on the deserted island with armed guards hunting them, and end up in an isolated shack. Rather than taking the situation seriously, they strip down, climb into bed, and engage in off-screen sex. All this provides is a running joke, with Jack continually asking Valerie to rate how he was in the sack on a scale of 1-10 and her repeatedly emasculating him with very low scores.

Before long, the terrible scripting gives way to excruciating acting with the introduction of a nails-on-chalkboard irritating comic relief sidekick: the dim-witted Emilio (Coppola). He replaces Valerie as Carver's sidekick halfway through the movie when Carver sneaks up on him to knock him out, but inadvertently saves the fatty from choking. A grossly overweight food delivery person caught in the crossfire, Emilio looks like a poor man's Wayne Knight. And on the topic of awful acting, German action star Til Schweiger phones in a lazy performance as Jack Carver. Be on the lookout for Schweiger's three facial expressions: blank, smiling, and "tough guy face". His heavily accentuated acting is so embarrassingly phoney that it makes Arnold Schwarzenegger look comparatively nuanced. In fact, Schweiger sounds so much like Uwe Boll that if an audio commentary was ever recorded with the two men, it'd be impossible to discern which of them is talking at any one time. Added to this, most of the cast are clearly not native English speakers, and their awkward accents mixed with the clunky dialogue makes for some truly cringe-worthy acting. Over and over again, Boll has demonstrated that he has no concept of how to extract believable performances from actors. Any instances of convincing acting that exist in his films are surely just flukes.

A lot of the folks who are fed up with the Boll hatred claim that people hate his movies because they're stuck-up video game fans who whinge like babies. But me? I've never played Far Cry. I don't give a fuck if this is a disgrace to the Far Cry label. In fact, I've never played any games Boll has used as a basis for his movies. I'm judging Uwe Boll's adaptations as standalone movies. And as an individual film, Far Cry is fucking awful - bad effects, blah action, a weak, nonsensical script, and a disproportionate amount of German actors who struggle to deliver their lines in English with any semblance of drama. I could name countless movies that may not be quality cinema in a conventional sense, but are still a fun way to kill 90 minutes. Far Cry is not one of them.

0.5/10

Tackling any film genre can be tough, but romantic comedies pose a unique challenge. Vital to a rom-com's success is sizzling chemistry between the leads, because an audience has to believe and care about the central coupling. In addition, the conclusion for virtually every rom-com is obvious, so it's always the journey the matters - it has to be fun, fresh and funny. Over recent years, Hollywood has established a bad reputation when it comes to the genre, and this is reinforced with The Proposal. A standard-issue, paint-by-numbers product of the weary mills of Hollywood, this romantic comedy fails the key acid test: it doesn't sell the romance, and it's unable to offer a fresh or funny journey.

Cliché #1 of The Proposal is Margaret Tate (Bullock); a take-no-prisoners company executive with a reputation for being a witch around the workplace. Cliché #2 is soon introduced when it's revealed that Margaret is in fact a Canadian, and she's about to be deported because her visa application was denied. In desperate need of a miracle to remain on America soil, she hastily talks her perplexed assistant Andrew (Reynolds) into marrying her, and he goes along with the scheme on the condition of a brighter career future. For an upcoming weekend, Andrew had planned to visit his family in Alaska, and Margaret decides to accompany him. This, of course, brings about the introduction of cliché #3: career-minded woman attempting to adjust to a warm family environment. With Andrew's family, we meet clichés #4 and #5 - the crazy and inappropriate grandmother, and the disapproving father. From there, The Proposal continues on; checking off one cliché after another.

Written by Pete Chiarelli, The Proposal is best described as hackneyed storytelling in desperate search of creative oxygen to keep itself alive. Unfortunately, director Anne Fletcher offers little helpful assistance. Fletcher (whose work on such films as Step Up and 27 Dresses demonstrated her knack for turning potentially decent films into the dullest motion pictures imaginable) is best described as a robotic studio filmmaker, and the conventional The Proposal is solid evidence of this. Heck, this thing is so by-the-numbers that even the score exudes embarrassing lethargy - all the music cues are straight from the "Scoring Rom-Coms" handbook, almost as if every single fragment of the score was stolen from other films. Unfortunately, as well, the humour is usually forced and languid. Ryan Reynolds is the only performer able to provide a semblance of wittiness, but his jokes seem improvised rather than scripted, and even these can only provoke smiles or reserved chuckles rather than genuine belly-laughs.

Once the proceedings shift to Alaska, the pace slows to a crawl as the film becomes borderline painful to watch, and the set-ups grow blatantly obvious (a character at one stage mentions that the dog cannot be let outside due to the eagles...can you guess what will happen later into the story?). As the poor comedic sequences continue to unfold, one can all but hear the mechanisms of the tired plot creaking into place. The film is lazy as well - early into the film, Margaret states that her and Andrew got engaged after dating for a year, while Andrew later says they dated for six months (on both occasions said to the same person). This discrepancy in their stories should've provided further conflict, but it's just a continuity error. Worse, the most trite and predictable third-act crisis imaginable is thrown in. Meanwhile, Andrew's old flame is introduced at one stage; building the promise of further exploration and perhaps someone to tempt Andrew away from Margaret. Alas, this arc never comes to fruition. As previously said, the outcome is almost always a foregone conclusion in the world of romantic comedies, and through the removal of this potentially suspenseful roadblock for Andrew, the film forfeits any hope that the dreary Hollywood structure may be spruced up.

The Proposal commits another cardinal sin: it tells us the protagonists are in love rather than showing us through subtle body language. We're expected to believe that after a few conversations and bickerings over a three-day weekend, these characters are now in love. Problem is, try as we might, we never really feel it. And neither, it appears, do the actors. Speaking of the actors, most of them are standard-order. Bullock plays another variation of her regular screen persona, though Ryan Reynolds truly shines; his sharp line delivery is a skill that's severely missed whenever Bullock tries to generate laughs on her own. It's not easy playing second fiddle to Bullock's dragon-lady persona, but Reynolds easily holds his own with genuine charm. Without a doubt, he's the best thing about this movie.
There are several other recognised actors to see here as well, such as Mary Steenburgen, Craig T. Nelson, Betty White, Denis O'Hare, and Malin Akerman. White is of particular note here, but she's far too good for this material.

I have no problem openly acknowledging that The Proposal was not made for me. After all, surprise-free romantic comedies aren't my cinematic cup of tea. And quite frankly, it's fine that females can enjoy this sugar-sweet two-hour rom-com. Nevertheless, the best genre films in history are those that satiate both the target audience as well as others. If action films like Die Hard can be enjoyed by females, and Love Actually can make romantic comedies palatable to the blockbuster fanatics, it's certainly not unreasonable for me to have demanded more from The Proposal.

3.5/10

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

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

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

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

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

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

3.9/10

In this cinematic era of computer animation, the art of claymation (for which hand-moulded figurines are painstakingly photographed one frame at a time) is slowly dissolving. Aardman Studios (the guys behind Wallace and Gromit) seem to be the only ones who still possess the patience required to continue the practise into the 21st Century. It's therefore refreshing to witness the Australian film Mary and Max (the feature film debut of Adam Elliot, who won an Oscar for his short film Harvie Krumpet), which was created using this claymation method to tell a bizarre, sweet and mature story. Tremendously inventive, clever, hilarious and wise, Mary and Max is a sublime movie of warmth and compassion about life's dissonances. The animation is superb, the characters are endearing, the humour is abundant, and it honestly and thoroughly explores several topical themes. If American Beauty director Sam Mendes collaborated with Aardman Animations, the product would be something like Mary and Max.

Based partly on Elliot's own life experiences, Mary and Max is a feature about two people leading a mundane existence on the fringe of society; finding solace only in their heartfelt pen-pal letters to each other. Mary Daisy Dinkle (voiced by Bethany Whitmore and Toni Collette) is a chubby, friendless 8-year-old living in the suburbs of Melbourne with her neglectful parents. One day, Mary randomly selects a name from the Manhattan phone book and writes a letter to him. She chooses Max Horovitz (Philip Seymour Hoffman); a severely obese 44-year-old Jewish man with Asperger's Syndrome living in the chaos of New York City. It turns out they have a lot in common - beyond loneliness and a complete lack of friends, they share a love of chocolate and a TV show called The Noblets. Thus begins a 20-year correspondence, with their friendship surviving more than the average diet of life's ups and downs.

There's plenty of playful narration (almost constant) courtesy of Aussie legend Barry Humphries which gives the film the feel of a children's tale, but Mary and Max is not for kids. The movie doesn't shy away from covering an array of mature, confronting issues, such as depression, sexuality, suicide, obesity and mental illness. Unlike most mainstream movies in which friendship saves the day and everybody is happy, Mary and Max is unmistakably dark - both physically dark, and dark in its depiction of reality. Max is never able to lose weight, and Mary can never escape the shadow of her parents. Mary eternally resides in her brown-tinged Melbourne suburb, while Max's New York City is depicted as a grey metropolis whose only bright colours are those that come from Mary (a red pompom, for instance). The predominantly colourless and ominous cityscape of NYC is clearly symbolic of Max's melancholy, mental distress and isolation. The ending in particular underlines the film's dark disposition; showing that in real life there may be happy middles, but happy endings are almost non-existent. But despite this, Mary and Max is by no means a highly depressing venture; it's a cinematic delight, with its downbeat content matched by constant laughs, a super-abundance of heart, and several deeply moving moments. Somehow, all of this is squeezed into an 85-minute timeframe, which at times feels longer due narrative simplicity and the occasional pacing issues. This is probably to be expected, however, as Elliot has only previously worked on shorts.

Even though a mere claymation short could take up to a year to create, old-school animators such as Adam Elliot and his team display a palpable affection for this approach. Mary and Max spent a total of five years in the making, with six dedicated animation teams working under Elliot's direction in a converted factory in Melbourne, and each team creating an average of 4 seconds of footage per day. A huge kudos to Adam Elliot and his claymation team for creating such a vivid, picturesque world here, with the grim landscape evoking a film-noir feel. Every one of the characters, created from plasticine, is intricately and lovingly detailed. The detail does generate the illusion that we're watching a computer-animated movie, yet the painstaking claymation process affords a look, feel and soul that has yet to be replicated through computers. One must have patience and passion to undertake a stop-motion feature of such scale, and these are two qualities Adam Elliot infinitely exerts.

Another tremendous pleasure of Mary and Max is the voice cast; a cornucopia of vocal talent from across the globe. Without a doubt, Philip Seymour Hoffman has proved one of the most versatile actors of recent years with his exceptional vocal work (Capote, anyone?), and he's virtually unrecognisable here. This is, of course, the true essence of voice acting - a viewer should not be given the chance to focus on the actor providing the voice, but instead the character they are voicing. Meanwhile Bethany Whitmore is effortlessly endearing as the young Mary, and Toni Collette is pitch-perfect as Mary in her later years.

Through an immense artistry as well as an evident maturity emanated by the makers, Mary and Max affirmatively and genuinely answers a potent question: is there someone for everyone? In adulthood, we understand that we're born into our families but choose our friends, and the 20-year friendship between these two vastly different yet curiously similar individuals proves the theory. Adam Elliot's ambitious first feature-length claymation movie is an absolute delight, merging witty laughs with heartfelt emotion to generate this genuinely moving slice of animation. Mary and Max is, at least for this reviewer's money, the best animated motion picture of 2009 (yes, better than Up). After the terrific Harvie Krumpet and now this, it's clear Elliot is a highly talented filmmaker one should keep an eye on in future years.

9.1/10

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

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

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

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

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

5.8/10

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

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

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

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

8.2/10

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

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

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

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

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

5.8/10

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

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

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

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

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

4.9/10

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

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

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

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

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

3.6/10