Reviews by PvtCaboose91

As the title implies, writer-director Richard Curtis's Love Actually is a motion picture about love. Without any cynicism or pessimism, this is an unashamedly upbeat romantic comedy - it proclaims that, even in the direst of circumstances, love is all around, and if we cannot see it, it is because we are not looking. This sentiment constitutes the film's core, and though it may seem cloying or mushy, Curtis is so earnest in upholding the notion that it comes across as genuinely touching. Like most films featuring a sizeable ensemble cast, Love Actually is overstuffed, but it leaves you wanting more due to the feature's pervasive charm, enchanting characters and sharp, witty writing. Curtis's directorial debut after scripting numerous acclaimed comedies, Love Actually is an endearing cinematic exploration of the most essential human emotion that will leave you feeling warm and fuzzy. Containing a cast of more than twenty main characters in separate yet intertwining stories, Love Actually is a Robert Altman film on antidepressants and Viagra.

Love Actually plays out as a string of short vignettes that follow a group of semi-linked Londoners during the lead-up to Christmas. These stories are about love in all of its multiple forms and guises: love between siblings, love between parents and children, love between spouses, puppy love, platonic love, unrequited love, and sexual/romantic love. Characters are falling in love, and other characters fall out of love. Some characters are with the right people, and some are with the wrong people. Some are looking to have an affair, while others are in a period of mourning. One character also needs to come to terms with having feelings for a member of the same sex.

One of the key narrative threads involves the new Prime Minister, David (Hugh Grant), who cannot express his feelings for his new personal assistant, Natalie (Martine McCutcheon). Additionally, there is an art gallery manager (The Walking Dead's Andrew Lincoln) who's in love with his best friend's (Chiwetel Ejiofor) new wife (Keira Knightley), a pair of naked movie stand-ins (Martin Freeman and Joanna Page) who grow closer while performing simulated sex scenes, a writer (Colin Firth) who falls in love with his Portuguese housekeeper (Lúcia Moniz) despite her not speaking English, and a burnt-out rock star, Billy Mack (Bill Nighy), who releases a new single entitled Christmas Is All Around. Another vital story involves Daniel (Liam Neeson), who struggles to deal with losing his beloved wife while caring for his stepson, Sam (Thomas Brodie-Sangster). Sam develops a crush on his American classmate, Joanna (Olivia Olson), but does not know how to approach the situation. More stories occur within, including a design agency director (Alan Rickman) who begins pursuing an affair with his secretary (Heike Makatsch), as well as a designer in the same company (Laura Linney) falling in love with the creative director (Rodrigo Santoro).

To illustrate the film's core message about love being everywhere, Curtis opens and closes the film at Heathrow Airport, making use of authentic footage of the arrival gates full of anonymous smiles, hugs and kisses. After all, what is more symbolic than the longstanding rom-com cliché of the airport? Love Actually sees Richard Curtis take the helm of a production after over two decades of film and television writing. After contributing to iconic TV shows like Blackadder, Mr. Bean and The Vicar of Dibley, he scripted such acclaimed movies as Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Bridget Jones's Diary. Curtis is, therefore, able to confidently temper romanticism with comedy. Love Actually is frequently hilarious, containing numerous side-splitting comedic set pieces. Most memorably, there's a hilarious scene featuring Rowan Atkinson as a department store attendant. The film also heavily features Billy Mack, the outspoken, addled rock star whose tendency to proclaim his new single is commercial shit exasperates his long-suffering manager (Gregor Fisher).

The only problem with Love Actually is that there is too much here, with all the tales feeling slightly underdone. The stories are easy to follow and enjoy, but it is challenging to genuinely care about all the characters, as each segment receives an average of eight minutes of screen time. The film's original cut was significantly longer, even incorporating an additional storyline, but Curtis and editor Nick Moore (Notting Hill, About a Boy) ultimately hewed the picture down to a bit over two hours. Remarkably, however, the film nevertheless works, with Curtis finding a strong narrative rhythm, and it is fun to see what amounts to a reel of highlights for nearly a dozen separate romantic comedies without losing any narrative coherence. Additionally, Curtis resolves some stories in a downtrodden manner, while other endings feel like fantasies. Although it feels like Curtis keeps changing the rules, the variety keeps the film more surprising and enjoyable.

For all intents and purposes, Love Actually probably should not work because it has too many characters and stories. Despite this, it does work to a remarkable degree, dissecting love, lust and loss with charming precision while delivering humour and poignancy. Although there is an overabundance of characters, every one of them is worth spending time with, and I would be willing to sit through another two hours of them fumbling their way through the messy odyssey of falling in love, staying in love, or loving people they cannot be with. When the end credits roll, it is virtually impossible not to smile or feel heart-warmed. Plus, if the biggest complaint about a motion picture is that there is not enough of it, that is undoubtedly indicative of a disarming, joyous film. Curtis later wrote and directed a mini-sequel in the form of 2017's Red Nose Day Actually, a 17-minute promotional short film that checks back in with several of the characters.

One of Love Actually's biggest pleasures is the ensemble cast comprising numerous respected and recognisable British actors. Hugh Grant, Liam Neeson, Colin Firth, Emma Thompson, Alan Rickman, Keira Knightley, Kris Marshall, Martin Freeman, Bill Nighy and the aforementioned Rowan Atkinson are present here, to name a few. Neeson is boundlessly likeable as the struggling widower, while Grant is his usual charismatic self as the Prime Minister, reminding us why he is a popular and reliable choice for romantic leads. Other nationalities also pop in, with Laura Linney meaningfully contributing to the story, while Billy Bob Thornton makes a memorable cameo appearance as the President of the United States, reportedly taking a break from Bad Santa to film his scenes. To wax enthusiastically about the cast would take days, but suffice it to say, this is a fantastic ensemble full of compelling and amusing performances. Every actor manages to shape distinct characters with clear-cut personalities, staving off story or character confusion. However, Billy Nighy arguably trumps the rest of the cast, delivering a show-stealing performance as Billy Mack. Nighy is a hoot, wholly committing to the role with his singing and comedic antics.

As a Christmas love story, Love Actually is romantic, festive and jubilant enough to become a Yuletide mainstay, making it unsurprising that it has become a holiday tradition in many households. Cinematographer Michael Coulter beautifully captures the London setting with its festive decorations, and the soundtrack is pitch-perfect, with delightful Christmas tunes and a fantastic original orchestral score by Craig Armstrong. Online critics continue to debate the morals of various stories, with Keira Knightley herself even proclaiming the cue card scene as creepy, but it seems Scrooge-like to analyse the picture to such a degree when it is so effortlessly captivating. Love Actually is full of iconic scenes and moments, from David's dance scene to the school Christmas pageant and a last-minute dash to the airport. The movie is smart, funny, entertaining and poignant, sidestepping the usual genre pitfalls to weave a thoroughly enjoyable exploration of the human heart. This is a delightful way to spend two hours, and it is terrific to witness so many of Britain's best actors sharing screen space in their prime.

7.9/10

Got any kids who've been naughty? If so, then Deck the Halls is their present. It has become a time-honoured tradition for Hollywood studios to distribute below-par Christmas movies as the festive season approaches in an attempt to extract as much money as possible from the naïve movie-going public. Of all the abysmal Christmas movies in recent memory, Deck the Halls is definitely among the worst. It even fails to meet the low standards set by Jingle All the Way and Christmas with the Kranks. It's unfunny, juvenile, remarkably tedious, painfully formulaic, hackneyed, and infused with messages regarding the holiday season that are shallow and pointless. It's topped off with embarrassing mushiness, and a climax so terribly insipid it makes Christmas with the Kranks seem like It's a Wonderful Life in comparison. The film will even make one want to renounce Christmas altogether. It's simply the definitive Christmas present for any naughty child - far nastier than a lump of coal. Deck the screenwriters instead!

As for the story: Steve Finch (Broderick) is a successful optometrist living in a quaint Massachusetts town. As December sets in and Christmas draws closer, Steve finds his title of Mr. Christmas being challenged by his new neighbour Buddy (DeVito). At Christmastime Steve usually organises small town events, but nothing too ostentatious - he coordinates carolling expeditions, he's in charge of the tree in town square, he owns a Christmas tree farm, and unofficially presides over the annual Winterfest carnival. Meanwhile, Buddy develops a goal of his own for Christmas that's anything but ostentatious: cover his house with so many lights that it can be seen from space. This garish display offends Steve, and thus their December battle commences as they vie for the title of Mr. Christmas. One-upmanship and jealousy ensues as their 60-minute pissing contest takes shape.

Deck the Halls contains unrealistic characters living in a world entirely devoid of logic. Case in point: in a phoney display of apology, Buddy gives Steve a new car from the dealership he works for. Steve is utterly gob-smacked by the generosity, and out of guilt he repents for apparently misjudging Buddy. As it turns out, Buddy forged Steve's signature on some legal documents, meaning Steve has officially PURCHASED the car and must now pay for it. This is about six different types of illegal, but does Steve ever go to the police to sort things out like a smart person? Nope. Instead, the men decide to settle matters by having an ice-skating race. No matter who wins the race, Buddy is still not charged with fraud, theft, or forgery - all of which could be proven, and all of which could put a man in prison for a long time. It's offensive to the intelligence.

Deck the Halls is clearly intended to be a light-hearted family comedy, hence the PG rating. So why are the two protagonists such unredeemable bastards? In black comedies like Bad Santa, contemptible protagonists are acceptable due to tone and target audience. But in a family romp it's confusing for the kids who'd come under the false impression that revenge is right. There's an unforgiveable character cliché here too - Buddy is annoying, manipulative, greedy and contemptible, yet Steve is the only one capable of seeing that. Everyone else thinks Buddy is delightful, and Steve is grilled for disliking his neighbour. But the more Steve attempts to show everyone what a jerk Buddy is (and he IS a jerk; a lying, thieving, crass buffoon) the more it backfires, making him look bad and making everyone love Buddy all the more.

A typical scene depicts either Buddy or Steve (or both) attempting to handle some sort of situation before something foolish and predictable transpires. This formula being reused over and over again makes up Deck the Halls. Trees are burned, dads perversely leer at their teenage daughters without realising it, and a character gets covered in animal excrement. But it's obvious that, despite so many disasters, there will be a reunion of sorts at the end of the film and amends will be made. Why? Because it's Christmas! All is forgiven, right...? Fuck no! It's impossible to forgive the filmmakers for wasting one's time with recycled clichés and unfunny set-pieces. It spends over an hour establishing Buddy as a despicable wretch, and then the audience is expected to start liking him because Steve is dumb enough to be conned into forgiving the guy? In the real world, Buddy would be forced to reform; to admit his wrongdoing and plead for forgiveness. In this twisted wreckage of Hollywood excess, however, somehow STEVE is the one who needs to change his ways. Just when one thinks/hopes the superficiality is over, the population of the town pull out their cell phones to use as lights, because's Buddy's Christmas light display fails...

The fact that this stuff sticks out while watching Deck the Halls is an indicator of the quality of the humour. The lack of reality could be forgiven if only there were laughs to be had, but this film ain't funny, nor is it fun or enjoyable. Matt Corman and Chris Ord were credited for the screenplay, and this is their first Hollywood credit. Boy, their inexperience is obvious. Every amateurish trick designed to entertain is employed, such as an expensive, prized family vase mentioned early into the film that one can pretty much guarantee will play a part somewhere in the third act to provide a giggle. Furthermore, characters appear to mysteriously recite one-liners when they're alone. A prime example of this is a scene during which a young boy, upon seeing two hot girls undress through a window, exclaims "This is going to be the best Christmas ever!" despite the fact he's all alone. Who are you talking to, you horny little brat? Yourself? The audience? The telegraph pole you're perched on? The Lord?

Once the script was completed, Don Rhymer conducted rewrites and John Whitesell was hired as the director. Garbage of a monumental degree was destined to be born from this point forward. Whitesell had previously directed Calendar Girl, See Spot Run, and Malibu's Most Wanted. Rhymer wrote movies like Carpool, The Santa Clause 2 and Agent Cody Banks 2. Rhymer and Whitesell had also collaborated previously for Big Momma's House 2. These two are purveyors of hopeless crap - they're some of the worst "talent" Hollywood has ever seen. Matthew Broderick and Danny DeVito appear to give it their all as the protagonists here, but the actors merely play the umpteenth versions of their long-established screen personas. It's a very tragic state of affairs indeed when someone of DeVito's stature can't get a laugh... Those tempted to give this film a shot as a mark of respect for Broderick and/or DeVito should think twice. If you're a fan of one or both performers, you simply don't want to see the material they've been allocated.

Deck the Halls doesn't do an adequate job of capturing the spirit of the holiday season either. There are Christmas carols and a pallet of red and green, but this lifeless film has no heart. There are some great Christmas movies out there - Bad Santa and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, to name a couple. Deck the Halls, however, is not destined to be remembered among them. Why is it so hard to make a decent Christmas comedy? Not every movie has to be on the level of It's a Wonderful Life. A Home Alone or a Love Actually would do fine. Nevertheless, year after year, we get unfunny and unpleasant cinematic abortions. Deck the Halls takes its place alongside Surviving Christmas and Christmas with the Kranks as one of the most unpleasant gifts of the Christmas season. They look fine when wrapped, but, once opened, one hastily wants to return them.

1.9/10

Nothing says Christmas quite like the classics. With each Christmas season resulting in an influx of holiday-themed titles, very few modern Christmas flicks are destined for the same level of popularity as the seasonal favourites of old. One much-loved and highly-regarded Yuletide picture is the 1947 masterpiece Miracle on 34th Street. Although audiences now consider the picture one of the best Christmas films in history, its success was highly unlikely. Indeed, 20th Century Fox's studio head disliked the film, choosing to release it in May while keeping the Christmas setting a secret in marketing materials. Additionally, writer-director George Seaton's screenplay takes subtle jabs at festive commercialism, and the story deals with law and politics. But Miracle on 34th Street found its audience, receiving critical acclaim and Academy Awards. Bolstered by a winning combination of warm, sincere performances, magical moments, and clever scripting, Miracle on 34th Street is an annual holiday viewing tradition in many households for good reason. Children will find it a rewarding fantasy about the existence of Santa, while the picture will reward older, more mature viewers with an intelligence lacking in mainstream Christmas films.

As the film begins, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City is about to occur. When a kind old man named Kris (Edmund Gwenn) discovers that the parade's Santa Claus is intoxicated, he promptly informs the organiser, Doris Walker (Maureen O'Hara). Realising that Kris resembles Santa to a striking degree, she persuades him to jump in as the parade's replacement Father Christmas. With Kris doing a remarkable job during the parade, Macy's hires him as their Santa for the Christmas period, and he is a huge hit: he is wonderful with children and is full of Christmas spirit. Doris's daughter, Susan (Natalie Wood), witnesses Kris in action and believes he is the real Santa Claus. However, Doris is raising Susan to not believe in fairytales, and she hopes that Kris will inform her daughter that Father Christmas is not real. To her dismay, Kris instead insists that he truly is Santa Claus. Kris's ostensibly ridiculous claim is immediately challenged, leading to a courtroom battle where the judge (Gene Lockhart) will determine Kris's sanity. In court, Kris is represented by Doris's neighbour, Fred Gailey (John Payne).

Without any flying reindeer, magical sleighs, elves, or acts of magic, Miracle on 34th Street is a distinct Christmas offering that takes place in reality but contains fantastical undertones. Seaton keeps the picture cleverly ambiguous, as nobody ever definitively declares Kris to be the real Santa Claus, nor does the movie prove that Santa exists. Just as Doris and Susan gain faith in the unprovable, so does the audience. With the feature presenting evidence for and against the notion that Kris is Santa, it is up to individual viewers to believe and interpret the ending however they wish. Furthermore, similar to other Christmas films from the 1940s (It's a Wonderful Life, The Shop Around the Corner, or The Bishop's Wife), Miracle on 34th Street captures a time of sheltered innocence when a trip to the department store involved dressing in your best clothes, and parents could trust strangers to look after their children. The film feels like a charming nostalgic dream beset with delightful moments, including Kris singing Sinterklaas Kapoentje with a little Dutch girl, Thelma Ritter in her first film role as a frustrated mother who experiences Kris's selfless goodwill, and the United States Postal Service delivering all the undelivered Santa letters on Kris in court.

George Seaton started as a radio actor (he played the Lone Ranger in 1933 broadcasts) before moving into screenwriting during the 1930s and making his directorial debut with 1945's Diamond Horseshoe. Although Miracle on 34th Street was one of his earliest directorial undertakings, he displays a robust sense of craftsmanship and keeps the narrative engaging despite the picture mostly amounting to dialogue. The film is also notable for its use of authentic locations, which was an innovative approach at a time when motion pictures were filmed almost exclusively on soundstages. Seaton even filmed scenes with his actors during the real Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, using nine cameras and only recording each scene once. The director filmed other scenes inside an actual Macy's department store with real workers and customers in the background. Such techniques are highly effective and heighten the sense of authenticity.

Although the cinematography is understandably basic and lacks dynamism, Seaton coaxes exceptional performances from the actors, which is one of the production's biggest assets. Edward Gwenn's Oscar-winning performance as Kris Kringle is wonderfully endearing. He is the type of person who makes you immediately smile when you are in their presence, rendering him the perfect big-screen Santa Claus. Instead of playing the role with an exaggerated, booming voice, Gwenn portrays the jolly fat man as the nuanced embodiment of goodwill and kind-heartedness. Best of all, you cannot help but love him regardless of whether you believe he truly is Father Christmas or not. Further additions to the cast include the captivating Maureen O'Hara and the precocious young Natalie Wood, who's an utter joy as Susan.

It may not reach the dizzying heights of It's a Wonderful Life, but Miracle on 34th Street is a shrewd, immensely enjoyable festive fable that carefully hedges its bets in playing the line between reality and fantasy. The picture refuses to get mushy on us, with the sentiment feeling earned and genuine instead of forced. Seaton astutely blends tender drama, sly humour (this is a very funny movie at times), and a knowing, biting commentary on the commercialism of Christmas that grows more relevant with each passing year. Indeed, one must wonder what Kris would think about the state of Christmas commercialism in the 21st Century. Miracle on 34th Street also embodies the holiday spirit, which is more about kindness, humanity and decency. 

9.2/10

Hollywood, it would appear, is determined to inundate movie-goers with at least one holiday-style motion picture at Christmastime every year. These festive movies are intended to be warm and heartfelt, and are designed to lift our spirits, but only very few will end up making the hall of fame. Films such as National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, Miracle on 34th Street and It's a Wonderful Life are a few examples of well-adored Christmas movies. But with the arrival of 2003's Elf, you can add a new title to your annual Christmas Eve movie night. Directed by the little-known (at the time) Jon Favreau, this is a bright, warm, charming and delightful film that manages to hit a home run in terms of laughter, heartfelt emotion, and Christmas spirit. It never seems trite or forced, it never appears to play to the lowest common denominator, and, more importantly, it was a strong step forward for Will Ferrell's career as a leading man.

Elf is the tale of a man named Buddy (Ferrell). As a toddler living in an orphanage, he crawls into Santa's toy bag and accidentally ends up in the North Pole. Santa (Asner) and the elves opt to raise Buddy (who is named as such due to the brand of diapers he's wearing) to believe he is himself an elf, despite physical evidence to the contrary. As an adult, Buddy finally learns of his true heritage and sets out to New York City to find his biological father: Walter Hobbs (Caan), a children's book editor who's gruff, busy and has absolutely no knowledge that Buddy was ever born. In NYC, Buddy encounters an unfamiliar culture, a father who doesn't want to acknowledge his existence, and an attractive...okay, VERY attractive girl named Jovie (the lovely Zooey Deschanel) who captures his heart.

This sets the stage for what turns out to be the jolliest, funniest, most deliriously whimsical family comedy in years. Buddy's adventures in New York City are what one would expect: he's fascinated by revolving doors, he takes at face value a café's assertion that it makes the "world's best cup of coffee", he hasn't dealt with cars before, and he isn't used to unfriendly critters. In terms of storyline, Elf adheres to the well-worn, Hollywood-approved tale of an outsider trying to fit into a new world who wins over all those he comes into contact with. The result could have been a saccharine-coated blast of faux holiday charm, but under the watchful eye of director Favreau, Elf is disarming, genuinely hilarious and touching. And, to the credit of Favreau, the pace is delightfully brisk.

(See what I mean about her? This is a review of a kid's movie, so I'll just say... I'd *beep* the *beep* out of that *beep*ing gorgeous thing)

Part of the reason why the film works when it should fail is the visual appeal. Rather than relying on overworked computer-generated effects, the look of Elf is kept simple and direct through the utilisation of stop-motion animation techniques and simplistic yet effective sets. It's a clever way to evoke nostalgia and good will. Another masterstroke is a generous helping of references to past classics of the genre. For one, Favreau enlisted the aid of stop-motion specialists The Chiodo Brothers to bring this fantastically skewed version of the North Pole to life. And the clever creative decisions dive even further into the collective pop culture consciousness with the spot-on casting of television comedic deities Bob Newhart and Ed Asner. The additional casting of improvisation-oriented actors such as Andy Richter, Kyle Gass, Amy Sedaris and Arty Lang in minor roles is equally inspired. Other off-kilter touches include a cameo appearance of by stop-motion legend Ray Harryhausen, while an extra good omen comes in the form of Peter Billingsley in a cameo role as an elf workshop manager. Many years ago, Billingsley played the main role in the classic A Christmas Story. Good luck charms can't come better than that.

Elf does have its clumsy patches. The film admittedly feels like a mere showcase of vignettes and skits, not to mention there's a lingering sense of predictability, and it lacks depth. Added to this, Elf is hindered by an overly drawn-out, cheesy climax involving Buddy as he tries to help Santa get his sleigh running when New York loses its Christmas spirit. This entire sequence borders on outright weirdness as soon as a group of mounted police (who resemble the Ringwraiths from the Lord of the Rings trilogy) show up. It is only during this climax that the film feels as if it's sinking into a Christmas movie formula. But even these missteps are not nearly enough to undermine the humour, warmth, charm and intelligence surrounding them.

On Saturday Night Live, Will Ferrell's comic genius was derived from his mastery of one of comedy's most basic ingredients: the necessity to be committed. Nearly anything can be funny, no matter how absurd, as long as the performer believes in what he's doing. If there's a sign of doubt in the actor's eyes - a glimmer of "This is rather silly, isn't it?" - the spell is broken and the humour is diluted. Ferrell constantly demonstrated his sound understanding of this principle during his seven-year SNL stint, and he does it again in Elf - and heavens me, the way he sells his character is hysterical. The sight of the tall, lanky Ferrell in tights alone is enough to elicit uncontrollable burst of laughter, but when he tacks on his persona of a completely innocent, blithely naïve man-child...you can pretty much forget about catching your breath most of the time. While he's outrageously silly when it's called for, there's also sincerity behind his performance. This translates into instant empathy for what is otherwise a totally unrealistic character. Alongside Ferrell, the curmudgeonly James Caan plays Buddy's real father in a rather Scrooge-like manner. And what would a holiday film be without romance? In this case, there's the unbelievably gorgeous Zooey Deschanel whose doe-eyed reserve plays well against Ferrell's ADD bravado. Bob Newhart is certainly worth a mention as well; his dry narration at the beginning and end is witty, well-delivered and very, very funny.

Sure, Elf is obviously a mainstream creation; it's a Christmas film, after all. But it's set apart from the rest of the pack because it works on a variety of levels. It works as a light-hearted family film, a highly energetic comedy, and a holiday film that's as surprising as it is hilarious. Elf will warm the heart, tickle the funny bone, and make Christmas feel like it can't come fast enough.

7.9/10

Ostensibly determined to defecate on one of its most respectable commodities, National Lampoon have begat the abominable, pointless and brain-dead Christmas Vacation 2: Cousin Eddie's Island Adventure. Hoping to get extra mileage out of the Vacation series (which stopped being interesting during the '80s), those responsible for Christmas Vacation 2 dredged up a few familiar faces and placed them in the midst of this plotless, excruciatingly unfunny bedsore of a movie...which is also tagged as a direct sequel to arguably the most beloved Vacation film - 1989's Christmas Vacation - despite the fact it was part three of a four-part film series. Sorry if this doesn't make sense to anyone...

Like most sequels of this ilk, Christmas Vacation 2 bears the stink of being born out of greed and actor desperation. Not even the hopelessly washed-up Chevy Chase needed the work this badly. But Randy Quaid was obviously sick of eating dog food and living in a cardboard box, so he takes centre stage here.

In the film, Cousin Eddie (Quaid) is fired from his job in favour of a monkey. But to avoid a lawsuit when this aforementioned monkey bites Eddie, the company offers him an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii for Christmas. Since most of the jokes are derived from the fact that Eddie is unrealistically stupid, he takes this holiday rather than suing the company for thousands of dollars. With his wife Catherine (Flynn), son "Third" (Thompson), uncle Nick (Asner) and nephew Audrey (Barron, reprising the role 20 years after she played it) in tow, Eddie heads to the beaches of Hawaii. Following a boat accident so hackneyed and unfunny that it's not worth describing, everyone becomes stranded on a deserted island where they play Gilligan's Island and refuse to make you laugh for about an hour. What ensues is a string of unrelated, laugh-free "comedy" set-pieces until Eddie and company are eventually rescued. The end. Oh, and while on the island they throw an "Island Christmas" at the insistence of their brain-challenged guide who has one of those overly convoluted foreign names just so everyone can mispronounce it.

Christmas Vacation 2: Cousin Eddie's Island Adventure sucks hard. Oh, so terribly, terribly hard. Not a single laugh escaped this reviewer's wired-shut jaw. Not a single giggle, chortle, or smirk. The filmmakers tried to get laughs. They threw in slapstick, one-liners, sight gags, crazy monkeys, Fred Willard and dirty old men...but to no avail. The end result is as funny and agonising as a pipe wrench to the testicles. It speaks volumes about the quality of the writing when the only sequence with potential for a laugh was one in which Eddie uses the stench of his dog Snots (who farts frequently, of course) to get through the long airport line in a matter of seconds. Matty Simmons, who was the producer of all four Vacation movies, was the screenwriter for Christmas Vacation 2, despite having no previous screenwriting credits. His inexperience is oh-so-obvious. The film was directed by Nick Marck; a television director who has helmed episodes of such TV shows as The Wonder Years, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Veronica Mars. In spite of his impressive prior efforts, Marck shows no sense of comic timing and has crafted an unbelievably dull motion picture. The screenplay itself was a dud, but Marck's incompetent direction only made it worse.

The primary reason for this movie's failure is the premise of shaping it around Cousin Eddie. Sure, the Griswold saga has run its course, but an Eddie-centric spin-off is hardly an effective solution. It's also hardly a way to let the Vacation series end with a shred of dignity... The character of Eddie worked because he was a foil. He was hilarious because of his juxtaposition with (relatively) normal people, and because of the insults Clark threw at him which never registered. Quaid pulls off his Eddie persona decently enough, but the bottom line is that the character, judged on his own merits, is not funny, and Eddie is not a suitable character to carry his own film.

This leaves the rest of the cast to shoulder the burden...sorry, not happening. Ed Asner never looks remotely interested, Miriam Flynn's Catherine was always a background role so there's not much to mine here, and Sung Hi Lee appears to just be the requisite object of lust. Jack Thompson is flat-out awful. With so many budding actors hoping to break the big time, it's a mystery as to how such talentless failures like Thompson manage to get work. Dana Barron is the only highlight, but only due to the novelty factor since she played the role of Audrey Griswold in the very first Vacation movie in 1983. There's a very unfunny cameo courtesy of Eric Idle as well, who (one supposes) plays the same role he portrayed in European Vacation - the British guy who gets beaten up by accident a lot. Wasn't funny back then, and it's far less funny now. To be fair, even a group of Oscar-winning actors wouldn't make this movie any less dismal.

Perhaps worst of all, Christmas Vacation 2 never even feels like a Christmas movie. This could be attributed to the tropical island setting, or the lack of a delightful Christmas atmosphere. But in all likelihood, it's because of the awful screenwriting that basically tries to cash in on the Christmas Vacation name. Then again, this reviewer might just be a bit of a cynic.

If you're seeking a definitive lesson on how to milk a franchise until there's nothing left but a burnt out, lifeless husk, Christmas Vacation 2 fits the bill. It isn't so bad it's good. It isn't even so bad it's bad. To call it bad would be an insult to all things that are bad. This film hurts one's feeling. It tarnishes the Christmas Vacation label. Depression rates apparently go up at Christmastime, and here's a way to justify that. I believe I've devoted more than enough manpower to write a review of this cinematic abortion. Trust me, you don't want to watch it. You don't even want anything to do with it.

0.5/10

In the grand pantheon of Christmas movies, 1989's National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation - the Griswold family's third (mis)adventure - is undoubtedly one of the best, if not the best. Everyone has a favourite Christmas movie they view as part of their annual Christmas Eve traditions, such as Miracle on 34th Street, Elf, The Santa Clause, Die Hard, or many other titles. But for many film-watchers, including this reviewer, it is Christmas Vacation. The definitive family holiday flick, this third entry in the Vacation series delivers side-splitting gags and a poignant sense of the Christmas spirit, representing the best of mainstream Hollywood Yuletide comedies. It is more enjoyable and rewatchable than A Christmas Story, far jollier than It's a Wonderful Life, and considerably better than the trite festive flicks that pollute multiplexes, television stations and streaming services every year.

In the previous Vacation films, Clark W. Griswold Jr. (Chevy Chase) and his wife, Ellen (Beverly D'Angelo), took their family across America and Europe. However, for this instalment, the Griswold family remains at home in the snowy Chicago suburbs because Clark dreams of having a "fun, old-fashioned family Christmas" with his extended family. Clark will not let anyone or anything get in his way, remaining positive in the face of each new obstacle. Both sets of grandparents arrive to stay in the lead-up to Christmas, while Cousin Eddie (Randy Quaid) also shows up unexpectedly with his wife (Miriam Flynn) and two children (Cody Burger and Ellen Hamilton Latzen). Despite the house filling up and Clark's children, Audrey (Juliette Lewis) and Rusty (Johnny Galecki), expressing their disinterest in quality family time, Clark continually marches on, weathering the storm in a desperate bid to provide a memorable, picture-book holiday. But things grow progressively worse, with Clark drawing the ire of his yuppie neighbours, Todd (Nicholas Guest) and Margo (Julia Louis-Dreyfus), and the dedicated family man growing concerned about the status of his Christmas bonus.

Even though Christmas Vacation is the third Vacation film, it does not necessarily require any knowledge of National Lampoon's Vacation or National Lampoon's European Vacation, feeling more like a standalone Christmas movie than a sequel. (Different actors even play the Griswold children for each instalment.) After scripting the first two instalments, legendary filmmaker John Hughes (The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller's Day Off) returned to write Christmas Vacation after Warner Bros. begged him for another Vacation flick, using a 1980 short story from the National Lampoon magazine (entitled "Christmas '59") as the basis for the screenplay. The resulting movie is understandably episodic, but the structure works, with the flick smoothly transitioning from one uproarious comedic vignette to the next while an advent calendar occasionally appears to display the date as the big day draws nearer. With Hughes overseeing the script, there is genuine heart amid the hilarity, encapsulating the spirit of the festive season and conveying an uplifting message. Instead of a message about the birth of Christ or the Three Wise Men, it reminds us about the importance of finding fun and laughter in the little moments that make life special. Without ever becoming mired in cringe-worthy sentimentality, the picture also reiterates that familial relationships truly matter regardless of the disasters that befall us. It also reminds us that you should never light a match near a drain full of sewerage...

Running at a mere 97 minutes, Christmas Vacation moves from one memorable, classic scene to the next, with no dud moments or scenes that fall flat. Scene after scene, the picture is so consistently hilarious that it confidently puts other Christmas comedies to shame, though filmmakers continually try to replicate its lightning-in-a-bottle magic. Christmas Vacation is full of laugh-out-loud moments, from a squirrel attacking the family to Clark riding on a sled at lightning speed, plus Eddie emptying toilet waste into a storm drain as he proclaims, "The shitter was full!". However, the humour is not all broad, as there are clever and subdued moments of hilarity, including sly one-liners ("Dad, you taught me everything I know about exterior illumination!") and subtle sight gags (a Christmas present wrapped in "Happy Birthday" paper). Even though Christmas Vacation carries a PG-13 rating (in contrast to Vacation's R rating), the humour remains crude and vulgar at times, particularly with Cousin Eddie, and the picture never feels unnecessarily neutered by the rating's restrictions. Like many of Hughes's other films, the original script was significantly longer, with a considerable amount of material that did not make the final cut. As of 2024, the deleted material has never seen the light of day despite images of deleted scenes appearing online and the trailer incorporating excised footage.

Undertaking his first feature film after directing music videos, Jeremiah S. Chechik (a replacement for original director Chris Columbus, who helmed Home Alone instead) displays immaculate comedic timing and editorial rhythm. Chechik never lingers on comedic beats for too long, with credited editors Jerry Greenberg and Michael Stevenson maintaining a gloriously brisk pace. Additionally, the soundtrack furthers the Christmas vibe, as the picture incorporates a pleasing mix of timeless Christmas tunes and the Yuletide-soaked original score by Angelo Badalamenti (Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks). From the Griswold family's acapella rendition of Deck the Halls to Ray Charles's The Spirit of Christmas and the terrific opening tune by Marvis Staples that evocatively encapsulates the feeling of Christmas, the soundtrack brims with holiday spirit. The film also opens with an amusing animated segment to set the chaotic mood, a wonderful nod to the classic animated holiday television specials of old.

Christmas Vacation is fascinating in a historical sense because it demonstrates that Chevy Chase was once funny. Although not an honoured thespian, Chase has the iconic role of Clark W. Griswold Jr. down to a tee, starting as optimistic and merry before descending into frustration and anger as he lingers on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Clark also remains likeable because, despite his manic outbursts in the third act, he is simply a hardworking, dedicated family man who wants the best for his loved ones. Luckily, an able ensemble cast surrounds Chase, with Randy Quaid particularly standing out as the repulsive Cousin Eddie, reprising his character from 1983's Vacation. As the long-suffered Ellen, Beverly D'Angelo is a note-perfect foil for Chase, and the pair share believable and endearing chemistry. Clark and Ellen's interactions are often funny, and D'Angelo makes Clark's lunacy all the more hilarious with her frowns and exasperated facial expressions. As the Griswold children, Johnny Galecki and Juliette Lewis are arguably the best actors to tackle these roles, with Galecki generating a few big laughs during scenes alongside Chase.

Other memorable characters who inhabit Christmas Vacation include Cousin Eddie's colourful family, a disgusting dog named Snots, two sets of grandparents (Ellen's mother is played by the late Doris Roberts, who is perhaps best known for her role in the sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond), a cantankerous uncle (William Hickey), and a clueless aunt (Mae Questel, the voice of Betty Boop). Also in the mix are two arrogant neighbours whose decision not to have a big Christmas celebration condemns them to suffer through Clark's shenanigans. Nicholas Guest and Julia Louis-Dreyfus are ideal in these small but important roles, and whenever they appear, you know that something funny is about to occur - and they deserve whatever inconvenience is about to befall them. Bill Murray's brother, Brian Doyle-Murray (Caddyshack, Scrooged), also appears as Clark's greedy, uncaring boss whose Christmas Eve plans are forcibly altered by the Griswold family.

With fans frequently citing it as the best Vacation flick and one of the Christmas films ever made, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation is an iconic slice of American pop culture that's as synonymous with the festive season as eggnog, trees, turkey and decorations. Chechik transforms Hughes's razor-sharp screenplay into a riotously enjoyable comedy, a rare film that successfully balances humour and poignancy. Every scene will become eternally embedded in your memory, yet you will want to watch it again after the end credits expire. It never gets old, and even after multiple viewings, the feature is still funny. If Christmas Vacation does not make you laugh, you obviously do not understand the true meaning of Christmas - which is, of course, electrified cats, emptying a shitter into a storm drain, and nearly causing an electrical outage from powering up 25,000 lights.

9.1/10

It's strangely appropriate that John Sturges' The Magnificent Seven is a Western remake of Akira Kurosawa's Japanese epic Seven Samurai. After all, Kurosawa has repeatedly said that his work is inspired by American Westerns. While The Magnificent Seven cannot compete with Seven Samurai in terms of visual dexterity or profound thematic complexity, John Sturges' Western-ised adaptation holds up as a rousing action-adventure story as well as a fascinating turning point in the history of films about the Old West. Not only does The Magnificent Seven contain a pitch-perfect cast and a satisfying amount of exciting, gun-slinging action, but it additionally finds time to explore deep contradictions of the mythic noble outlaws which proved so endemic to the American Western genre.

The plot is a simple one, and follows the template established by Kurosawa's Seven Samurai. A small Mexican village is repeatedly raided by a bandit gang led by the menacing Calvera (Eli Wallach) who constantly leaves the villagers destitute. Desperate and fed up with living under Calvera's thumb, several of the villagers travel to a nearby border town in the hope of purchasing guns to defend themselves, but end up simply hiring professional gunmen instead. A total of seven men are recruited, who travel back to the village to confront Calvera and his gang of bandits. Each of the seven men has their own reasons for being involved, but all are united under the common goal of removing fear from the village and overthrowing the evil marauders.

The Magnificent Seven is divided into two distinct halves. The first chronicles the rounding up of the seven gunmen, while the second half recounts the epic battle fought between the gunslingers and Calvera's gang of bandits. Taken at face value, this is standard good vs. evil stuff. But if scrutinised further, one will uncover something much deeper. Sure, the good guys fight off the bad guys heroically, but each character is imbued with a finely-drawn, distinct and interesting personality. The gunmen are masterfully humanised; they're tough guys who have regrets and fears, but manage to do a commendable job of hiding them. Things steadily intensify during the lead-up to the final showdown which displays no mercy even towards the film's most likeable characters. The Magnificent Seven also remains vital and interesting due to departures from the genre norms it opted to take. This was probably the first Hollywood Western in history to delve into the emptiness of the life of a gunfighter; they're confident in their profession, but are unable to hold down a stable home and family life. In a wonderfully judged scene, the seven men discuss the pros and cons of the life they've chosen, and it's apparent this life hasn't greatly rewarded them since they were poor enough to accept this job for which they'll receive little pay.

Of course, The Magnificent Seven wouldn't be considered such a success on characters alone; there are rousing action sequences here as well. In this respect, much of the credit belongs to director John Sturges, an 'outdoor' director who keeps the pacing efficient and has an eye for action set-pieces. Prior to The Magnificent Seven, Sturges was experienced in directing both action films and Westerns with such titles as Gunfight at the O.K. Corral and Bad Day at Black Rock. It's due to the director's extensive experience that when the action happens, it's taut, motivated and convincing, with a strong sense of urgency and a clear notion of what's at stake. The expansive vistas of Western scenery, the codes of honour among the gunslingers, the camaraderie they find in each other, as well as the shootouts so common in Hollywood Westerns are all included here in spades. This fusion of so many irresistible elements raises the film several notches above more typical tales of simplistic cowboy heroes.

Yul Brynner was initially suggested to direct this movie, but Sturges ended up getting the job. Instead, Brynner settled for one of the protagonists - an excellent alternative, because Brynner's performance is outstanding. Another inspired casting choice is Steve McQueen as a member of the titular team. McQueen, who eventually went on to star in Bullitt and The Great Escape, imbues his performance with cool and intensity. He was the ultra-cool male film star of the 1960s, after all. The other five champions of the film are James Coburn, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn, Brad Dexter and European film star Horst Buchholz. It's easy to see why these men were cast: all have unique, memorable faces that convey both conviction and desolation. A number of actors got their big breaks in this film, including Steve McQueen, James Coburn and Charles Bronson. It's funny to imagine these actors being relatively unknown at the time. It's also interesting to note that there was a tremendous rivalry between the actors, in particular between Brynner and McQueen. Meanwhile, Eli Wallach is superb playing the menacing, no-nonsense villain. Too many movies allow the lead villain to remain two-dimensional, but this is not the case here.

Upon close examination, there are no real flaws to point out within The Magnificent Seven - it's just flawed in the sense that it feels like an abridged reiteration of Seven Samurai. Other than that, the film is top drawer. It offers drama, strong characterisations, clever writing, action and suspense. It's exciting, witty, smart and sometimes even sweet. Added to this, it's a Western actioner that crosses the line to appeal to movie-lovers of all sorts. Deep down, you know it's not as brilliant as Kurosawa's Seven Samurai...but very few films are.

9.0/10

One thing's for certain: no-one could ever accuse Joel and Ethan Coen of selling out. After the duo achieved perhaps their greatest critical success with No Country for Old Men (for which they collected multiple well-earned Oscars) immediately followed by the box office triumph of Burn After Reading, they've created one of their most befuddling pictures to date. 2009's A Serious Man is a Coen-esque, oddball mixture of black humour and dramatic pathos told from a profoundly Jewish perspective, which simultaneously highlights the film's deep Old Testament roots and offers a unique cultural backdrop rarely seen in Hollywood films. Many critics have highlighted the ostensibly personal nature of A Serious Man, but the Coens (who aren't devout Jews by any means) seem to have just once again selected a specific area of American culture and skewered it to death - and for this venture it just happens to hit a little closer to home.

A Serious Man is essentially a contemporary re-enactment of the Book of Job which transpires in suburban Minnesota during the late 1960s. Physics professor Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg) is married, has kids, and holds down a good job, but he becomes trapped in misery: he's up for tenure but anonymous letters are being submitted urging the committee to deny him, his wife is leaving him for a mutual friend (for vague reasons), a frantic Korean student is trying to bribe his way out of a failing grade (then tries to blackmail him for supposedly accepting the bribe), his brother is lost in depression, and his offspring are predominantly disinterested in him (the only thing his son wants is for Larry to fix the TV aerial so that he can watch F-Troop clearly). As the strands of his life begin to unravel, Larry is left to question whether he's been a good man or a serious man, and whether God is even paying attention.

What Larry is unable to understand is why God would force someone who follows all the rules of decency to suffer so much while others seem to get away with anything they want. The Coens present Larry's dilemma without offering any solutions; suggesting that when life gets tough, one has little recourse but to stand firm and take it. Moreover, Larry seeks an answer to explain the troubles suddenly befalling his life by visiting several rabbis. In every case, however, they merely speak in aphorisms and metaphors, and generally beat around the issue without every getting to the heart of it. And this is precisely the point, of course - the Coens don't shy away from the interpretation that it may all mean nothing. The answer Larry seeks is nonexistent because to answer the question of human suffering would be to forever close the gap between humankind and the eternal. It's due to this that the best answer he receives is one he never recognises as such: "Accept mystery". Perhaps if Larry had heard the Hebrew proverb that prefaces the film - "Accept with simplicity everything that happens to you" - the words might have given him solace in his time of need.

An ode to Midwestern Judaism and the havoc of guilt, the Coen Brothers have woven together a truly masterful tapestry of neuroses and personal damage, intercut with enough black humour to alleviate the pervasive dread. By this stage in their career, Joel & Ethan Coen have perfected the art of quirkiness without contrivance. For each new film, they construct their own bizarre universe governed by chance and indifference to the well-being of its inhabitants, while the characters that are subjected to the whims of this dimension are charged with finding a way through it. Like most Coen productions, A Serious Man is inscrutable and challenging, which is most evident during the opening scene: a parable entirely in Yiddish about a husband who invites over to dinner a man who may or may not be a ghost. This parable's relation to the main story is tenuous, but it acts as a nice introduction to this world.

The direction by the Coens is pitch-perfect - it transforms material which could have easily been painful in the hands of others into a hilariously discomforting and mordant comedy. A Serious Man also benefits from remarkable performances from the mostly unknown cast (this is not the type of film that would benefit from the presence of George Clooney). Due to stage actor Michael Stuhlbarg's big-screen anonymity, a viewer can concentrate entirely on the character rather than the actor, and the result is a sensitive, riveting performance. Alongside Stuhlbarg, Fred Melamed is particularly hysterical; he plays a man who cuckolds Larry, and insists on making it up to him with a bottle of wine that he uses as a metaphor for justifying his behaviour. If there's a flaw with A Serious Man, it's the inclusion of oddball divergences that don't have a compelling reason to exist...other than self-indulgence.

Each Coen Brothers production has an immediate, distinct and memorable visual impact (from the snowscape of Fargo to the scorching desert of No Country for Old Men), and this is unchanged here. Technically and artistically, A Serious Man is pure class; capturing the mid-Western Jewish enclave of the '60s with realistic period recreation and comic exaggeration. The neighbourhood in which Larry resides is an immaculate evocation of the suburban neighbourhoods that existed across America in the '50s and '60s (with the widely separated, flattened houses, narrow driveways, and treeless yards). Roger Deakins' exceptional cinematography brings out the right notes of alienation from the expanses of blue-sky suburbia, while further menace is added by Carter Burwell's score and the ominous sound design. That this technical excellence was achieved on a $7 million budget is a miracle.

While A Serious Man is very funny, it's far removed from mainstream cinema, and wouldn't have had a chance in hell of getting made without the Coen Brothers having earned the right. This is largely because the ending (like the beginning) feels random and unsettling; playing out like a spiteful poke in the eye to those who disliked the ambiguity of the final scene of No Country for Old Men. The ending may not bode well for reliable box office, but it stays true to the film's overall tone; reminding viewers that the journey doesn't end just because things are starting to look up. One of the primary themes the film tackles is the randomness of existence and the futility of figuring everything out through mathematical formulas, thus the apparent abruptness of the ending appears to highlight this theme. It also allows plenty of latitude for interpretation. A Serious Man is cinema at its best, leaving your mind in motion long after the credits have rolled.

A Serious Man manages to be at once laugh-out-loud funny and deeply serious. It's also simultaneously troubling and satisfying, warm and bleak, and respectful of its Jewish heritage while mocking its restrictions and false comforts. This is undoubtedly one of the best films the Coens have made to date, and it reconfirms that they are among the most daring and audacious filmmakers currently working in the movie industry, though it's doubtful this film will catch on with a mass audience.

9.3/10

It's doubtful that any Christmas story is as omnipresent as Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol. Since cinema's very inception, there have been tonnes of motion picture adaptations of this 1843 novella, as well as spoofs and updated variations (the Muppets, Mickey Mouse and even Mr. Magoo have all tackled this Yuletide morality tale). In addition, the characters are ingrained so deeply in popular culture that one only has to utter the name "Scrooge", and the vast majority of the human populace will immediately conjure up images of a grumpy, miserable old curmudgeon who dampens the spirits of those around him. Therefore, it's logical to ask why the world needs another screen version of A Christmas Carol.

The answer is simple: Robert Zemeckis' 2009 picture is a Disney-branded, computer-animated spectacle (in 3-D) appropriate for the digital era. A Christmas Carol is Zemeckis's third attempt at reimagining page-bound stories with cutting-edge performance capture technology to turn flesh-and-blood actors into infinitely malleable digital avatars (his previous efforts being The Polar Express and Beowulf). It's hard not to be impressed with the top-shelf animation, but Zemeckis' A Christmas Carol is nevertheless flawed.

(Synopsis is mostly taken from my review of the 1984 version because I can't be bothered writing another synopsis of the same fucking story)
The embittered old Ebenezer Scrooge (Jim Carrey) is one of the cruellest men in London, and Christmas is his least favourite time of the year. With Christmastime upon him yet again, Scrooge could not care less; he's far more concerned with running his business and torturing assistant Bob Cratchit (Gary Oldman). Upon his arrival home on the evening of Christmas Eve, Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his late business partner Jacob Marley (Gary Oldman again), who warns the old man that his miserly ways may lead to his soul being tormented for eternity. As the night wears on, Scrooge is visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past (also Jim Carrey), the Ghost of Christmas Present (Jim Carrey again) and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come (still Jim Carrey), who take the bitter man on a grim time-travelling journey.

Zemeckis' script is remarkably faithful to Dickens' original novella, down to insignificant moments and most of the dialogue. This fidelity instantly creates a problem, though. The Victorian English from the original text vastly differs from modern English in terms of grammar, words, syntax and rhythm. Hence, the dialogue here is quite dry, and children will no doubt have trouble deciphering what's being said. Dickens also used societal commentary in his story, which erroneously transfers to Zemeckis' adaptation. The most glaring example is an out-of-place digression in which Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Present take time out of their journey to discuss "Sabbatarianism" (the practice of closing businesses on Sunday). Presented in this flick without any specification as to what is being discussed more than a century after it stopped being controversial results in a huge "What the fuck?!" moment. Books should be altered for their translation to the screen. Take the 1984 version of A Christmas Carol - the makers changed the dialogue to give it an engaging new spin, and the result is both spiritually faithful to the novella and more comprehensible.

Sticking slavishly to Dickens' novella could have worked, but Zemeckis wasn't just aiming for a loyal page-to-screen transplantation; A Christmas Carol also aspires to be a flashy, adamantly Hollywoodised 3-D blockbuster with broad appeal. Thus, the film tries to have it both ways, with elaborate set pieces and moments of inane physical comedy. To pander to the 3-D gimmick, Zemeckis overplays the action a few times to underscore various things in an unnecessarily obvious, overdone fashion when a more low-key approach would have sufficed (an elongated chase through the streets of London is the most egregious - it's borderline painful). It's clear that this material is present to keep the kids awake, but the picture as a whole is too scarifying and dark for tots.

Oddly enough, however, A Christmas Carol still gels for the most part, as the most offensive action only occurs in the final third. Furthermore, director Zemeckis is astonishingly competent at staging expositional scenes, making the dry dialogue less of a problem. This is also a technically jaw-dropping picture. The film opens with a superlative tracking shot that takes us on an aerial tour of Victorian-era London. A Christmas Carol was released in 3-D, with extraordinary extra-dimensional effects. The glasses may be a nuisance, but the most memorable and enjoyable way to experience this picture is in 3-D. The score by the criminally underrated Alan Silvestri also deserves credit, as it encapsulates the flavour of the Christmas season (it even contains notes from various Christmas carols) on top of carrying a general old-fashioned 19th-century aura. On a less positive note, characters in motion capture movies are often plagued by "dead-eye syndrome", and (despite technological advancements since 2004's The Polar Express) A Christmas Carol cannot convincingly overcome this problem. It's getting there, but Zemeckis' technology has not come far enough to give his animated characters a soul. After viewing behind-the-scenes footage of the original performances, it also seems that the computers failed to replicate all the nuances of the performances.

Working overtime is star Jim Carrey, who plays several key roles here. Carrey is an interesting and unusual casting choice, given that Scrooge is defined by his bitter stasis, whereas Carrey is best known for his brand of comedic performance. Yet, as Carrey has proved in films like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, he is hardly a one-trick pony. And fortunately, the actor does an admirable job. His voice for Scrooge feels lived-in, and, amazingly, Carrey successfully inhabits several different characters with different mannerisms and different voices. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast are uniformly impressive - the likes of Gary Oldman, Robin Wright Penn, Cary Elwes and Bob Hoskins all make appearances, and all of them fulfil their duties to a high standard.

Although this A Christmas Carol doesn't illuminate or expand upon Dickens' original story in any new or meaningful ways, it is a visually engrossing, atmospheric and, at times, emotive retelling. Perhaps the world didn't need yet another Christmas Carol movie, but Zemeckis' effort is not exactly undesirable - it has more heart and carries more weight than Hollywood's usual festive output. It's a shame that Zemeckis' script wasn't given a thorough makeover before the virtual cameras began to roll. Mark this one as "flawed but enjoyable and admirable".

6.7/10

With 2009's Avatar, visionary director James Cameron proves that there's at least one filmmaker in Hollywood capable of putting a $300 million budget (or was it $500 million?) to good use. Cameron's first feature film outing since 1997's Titanic, this hotly-touted flick has spent years brewing in post-production and triggered fevered discussion about the possibilities of its revolutionary digital effects (developed in part by the hands-on director himself). Up until the mid-months of 2009, Avatar had been shrouded in secrecy (dedicated internet fanboys can attest to this fact), but one thing was made clear: it would be a groundbreaking cinematic event, and the advanced motion-capture technology would elevate filmmaking to the next level. While the storytelling and characterisations admittedly remain stuck in the past, Avatar is visual moviemaking 2.0 in an extremely satisfying and exhilarating way. As long as you're not one of those people who've made up their minds prior to viewing Cameron's latest masterwork (in other words, if you're not one of those who brand the film as a Fern Gully rip-off and criticise the CGI as videogame-calibre), Avatar is a tremendously rewarding, soulful experience.

Set in the year 2154, the Earth is dying and faraway planets are being targeted for strip-mining. In a neighbouring star system lies the exotic-but-deadly planet of Pandora; the source of an ultra-valuable mineral known as Unobtainium. Naturally, a sinister corporation has set up base on the planet and wishes to commence their operation. Standing in their way, however, is the indigenous population of Pandora - the Na'vi; a race of tall, blue-skinned tree-dwellers whose civilisation rests atop possibly the richest deposit of Unobtainium in existence, but have no desire to relocate. Enter the "Avatar" program, which sees people transfer their consciousness to half-human, half-Na'vi hybrids which can be controlled telepathically. It's hoped that through this program, the aliens can be gently persuaded to move out of mankind's way. Soon, a disabled ex-marine named Jake Sully (Worthington) is unwillingly thrust into the situation when his twin brother suddenly dies. Through using his Avatar, Jake is accepted as part of a Na'vi tribe and falls in love with a female Na'vi warrior named Neytiri (Saldana). With an epic battle for the fate of Pandora drawing dangerously close, Jake must choose his side.

Cameron wastes no time before plunging viewers straight into the world of Pandora; not even allowing any time for an audience to adjust to this breathtaking new technology. In a masterfully efficient opening 10 minutes, writer-director Cameron introduces everything one will need to know for the following 2½ hours - about Pandora's climate and population, about Jake's situation, about the ruthless plans of the humans and about the Avatar program. From that point onwards, the film is off and running. At an intimidating 160 minutes, Avatar never feels too long or flabby - there's just so much movie crammed into these 160 epic minutes: the human stories, the Na'vi stories, the bio-diversity of the planet, and above all the warfare, with Jake joining the resistance against his former allies. While things are slowed down for the middle hour as Jake's infiltration operation gestates, it's astonishing how brilliantly-paced the film is. Unlike other CGI-heavy movies against which Avatar will be judged (including the abominable Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen and Terminator Salvation), Cameron's movie is superbly constructed; using all 160 minutes to judiciously build characters and establish relationships before all the strands culminate for an epic, action-packed climax. Since such a perfect emotional connection is built, a viewer will care about what happens to the protagonists and the Na'vi tribe.

In terms of storyline, Avatar offers nothing unprecedented. The plot is reminiscent of the likes of Dances with Wolves and The New World, in which a 'civilised' westerner lives amongst a supposedly backwards society and slowly sides with the noble savages. Heck, the characters are largely predictable too. But in the context of the movie, all these elements come together perfectly. The fact that it all succeeds is a testament to Cameron's skill at working formula and familiar story elements with a skilful dexterity very few can match. Of course, Avatar is not just about spectacle and action (though both elements are offered in spades) - it's primarily a love story. This is hardly surprising, of course, since more or less every Cameron film is a love story at its core (Titanic, The Terminator, etc). The surprise here is the effectiveness of the central coupling, thanks in large part to Weta's staggering digital effects. It's impossible to overstate how real the Na'vi look; every facial movement, and every movement in general seems organic. They may not always appear photo-real, but they do seem alive. The dead-eye problem plaguing motion capture movies for years has been well and truly solved - these CGI characters are imbued with a soul.

James Cameron and his crew created Pandora from the ground up using a mixture of motion-capture techniques and computer-generated animation. As a result, Avatar is an astonishing feast for the eyes, with ethereal, invigorating shots and sequences genuinely unlike anything you've ever seen before. The level of immersive detail displayed in this tour de force is extraordinary. But the true success is in the seamlessness - not a single shot stands out as blatant green screen. Live-action and digital elements are so skilfully integrated that the point where the live-action ceases and the digital effects begin is impossible to determine, which ensures the illusion is unbroken. Pandora truly feels like a living, breathing world, and it's as if Cameron is the planet's most enthusiastic tour guide. James Horner's score, meanwhile, is atmospheric and appropriate; gloriously supporting the exotic beauty of the jungles of Pandora (though it lacks a memorable underlying theme as a hook).

One thing that distinguishes Cameron from young pretenders like Michael Bay and McG is that he anchors his epic visions with relatable emotions handled with utmost sincerity. Of course, it also helps that Cameron remains one of the best action directors in the business. Avatar concludes with a climactic showdown between human and Na'vi forces - it's a battle royale of excitement, thrills and tragedy that's both truly epic and rivetingly intimate. It's a wonder to behold. In a decade where action choreography is constantly masked by frantic editing, Cameron proves himself once again to be the old-school master. Younger filmmakers should also take note of the prudent use of 3-D which is perceived as an enhancement rather than a gimmick. Cameron never garishly breaks the fourth wall since the 3-D is employed to generate a sense of depth - a viewer feels like they're glancing into an open window of another world. Never before has the effect felt so unintrusive; never before has CGI felt so natural, necessary and alive. If you plan to see the film in 2-D via DVD or a downloaded version filmed from within a cinema...there's no talking to you. Avatar is a cinematic experience and an event, not a mere film.

It's crucial to note that, in most cases, cinematic displays of new technology are rubbish. The technology is usually then refined, and applied to a superior movie. But this is not good enough for James Cameron, who has managed to push the boundaries with new technology while simultaneously creating an excellent, full-throttle piece of entertainment. Avatar is also rather reminiscent of the great epics of yesteryear - from Spartacus to Gone with the Wind. Such classics relied on universal themes and enthralling characters to drive their sprawling narratives, and Avatar is no different. It's stirring drama on a vast canvas painted with broad brush-strokes, and the audience is powerless to prevent themselves from being swept up in the action and emotion.

As Jake Sully, Sam Worthington places forth a charming and spellbinding performance (both in and out of his Avatar). His soulful eyes are an asset; a quality that's retained and magnified in his Na'vi form. Zoe Saldana, however, is the standout as Neytiri. For her entire performance she plays behind a CGI face, yet she makes Neytiri into a thoroughly multi-faceted character endowed with a fully conveyed emotional personality. Witnessing Sigourney Weaver re-teaming with James Cameron is a joy (a good omen, since Aliens is one of Cameron's best film). Even if it's only a small part, Weaver's role as the chief scientist is a memorable and integral part of the narrative. Every minor character - no matter how clichéd - is played with gusto and earnestness by the marvellous cast (a group of talented thespians, rather than big stars). Stephen Lang clearly relished the opportunity to play the evil Colonel Quaritch. Also in the cast is an underused but nonetheless extremely effective Michelle Rodriguez as a sympathetic pilot, on top of the endearing Giovanni Ribisi who's pitch-perfect as another corporate scumbag.

In creating Avatar, James Cameron additionally inserts undertones relating to corporate greed, as well as complex questions about what it means to be human. Underneath the spectacle are subtle equivalences to the Vietnam and Iraq Wars, but these are not restricted by any means - the story is broad enough to apply to any indigenous race under threat from superior external imperialist forces. Avatar clearly sides with the Na'vi population, and portrays the Americans as the monsters. Some might find the environmental message of the film too preachy, but it never openly shoves this agenda down our throats; it simply sits beneath the surface, ripe for analysis if we choose to dig further. In spite of its strengths, Avatar does lean slightly towards spectacle over script; the story is no dud, but while discussing the movie you'll be inclined to discuss what you've seen, rather than quote lines (there's no killer banter). Minor script flaws aside, this is a superb blockbuster. It has to be seen on the big screen - in 3-D, no less.

9.55/10