Reviews by PvtCaboose91

For a time during the 1980s, Arnold Schwarzenegger ruled Hollywood. He was the ultimate action hero, and it did not matter that he was a one-dimensional actor who favoured snappy one-liners and blood-soaked action over Oscar-worthy dialogue and profound emotion. From Conan the Barbarian to The Terminator and Commando, the iconic "Ah-nuld" was a force of star power to be reckoned with, and movie-goers flocked to his movies in droves. 1987's Predator is the perfect '80s movie, amalgamating the decade's three most popular genres: action-adventure, horror, and science fiction - and it is a Schwarzenegger flick to boot. These ingredients form this entertaining brew of violent action, over-the-top macho posturing and ridiculously quotable dialogue, and it is all set at a breakneck pace. Predator arguably remains the manliest movie in existence.

At its most basic narrative level, Predator is a standard men-on-a-mission movie like The Wild Geese or The Dirty Dozen, but with added horror and sci-fi flourishes. Dutch Schaefer (Arnold Schwarzenegger) and his battle-hardened squad of elite commandos accept a mission from the CIA to rescue a group of political hostages from guerrillas in the remote jungles of Central America. The assignment seems simple enough, but shortly after rappelling into enemy territory, Dutch and his team feel something is not quite right. Not only have they been set up by the CIA, who actually want them to recover military intelligence, but there is also something lurking in the jungle...an extraterrestrial, technologically advanced creature watching their every move. As the men make their way to the extraction point, the mysterious Predator begins targeting them one by one.

The fact that the Predator never gives a reason for its presence on Earth makes its hunting game far more ruthless. Moreover, this creature has no voice, and the men cannot reason with it - it is a hunter, pure and simple, and it slaughters the commandos for sport. Unsurprisingly, since screenwriters Jim and John Thomas wanted to cross Rocky with E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial, the movie eventually boils down to a mano-a-mano standoff between Schwarzenegger and the Predator, with the stakes becoming equal when Dutch discovers a way to appear invisible to his opponent's thermal imaging vision. At this point, Predator announces its affinity for all things primal as Dutch reaches deep inside himself and becomes a primordial warrior stripped of all guns, equipment, and armour. The battle between Dutch and the Predator is exhilarating, with a palpable sense of danger seldom felt in a regular Arnie movie. The superstar is more vulnerable while fighting this strong, otherworldly entity, creating tension since it is unclear whether or not Dutch can survive.

A huge part of what makes Predator such a top-shelf action flick is that it never stops charging ahead. No sprawling back-stories, rambling chunks of exposition or gratuitous narrative distractions ever bog down the uncomplicated plot. However, it is easy to become invested in what occurs because Dutch and his commandos have a hell of a lot of personality, and the screenplay allows the characters to flourish and light up the screen. The lulls in the action are always filled with something: mistrust, pig-sticking, pussy jokes, the nagging sense that something is not quite right, intense character interaction, and more. As a result, the pace never has the chance to drag. On top of this, Predator is one of the most quotable films in history, on pair with Arnie's Commando - "If it bleeds, we can kill it"; "Get to the choppaaaah!"; "I ain't got time to bleed"; "You're one ugly motherfucker"...the list could keep going, but you get the idea.

With its thrilling, high-octane mix of Rambo and Aliens, Predator is a masterpiece in every sense of the word, delivering plenty of energetic action and enough testosterone and machismo to float an entire island of elephants. It is cheesy as hell, of course, and the visual effects are slightly dated, but it is also entertaining and cool as hell, with tonnes of quotable lines and an utterly unforgettable villain. Predator is an action-adventure movie with something for everyone, and it is a seminal jewel in Arnie's esteemed career.

10/10

It'd be reasonable to dive straight into the crucial problem with Hot Rod - the filmmakers behind it attempted to expand a one-joke premise (the type that might have worked in a Saturday Night Live short) into a feature-length motion picture. The product is a 10-minute gem stretched out to a lazy 85-minute goof which can't even begin to sustain its wafer-thin premise over the comparatively bloated runtime. The sporadic flashes of inspiration and a few funny moments are overwhelmed by a lot of aimless noodling around and silly pratfalls in lieu of genuine wit and cleverness. While this was intended to be a lovable loser comedy, Hot Rod comes across as a product assembled with an Allen key designed for quick sale that was made to cash in on the likes of Napoleon Dynamite and Anchorman. The leading role was originally written for Will Ferrell, and the antics of Andy Samberg in the film are quite derivative of cinema's leading Man-Child. This is Samberg's feature film debut, but while he's a performer of sizeable energy, his range of laugh impact is limited.

The story, such as it is, centres on a self-proclaimed stuntman named Rod Kimble (Samberg). Rod was raised to believe his now deceased biological father was Evel Knievel's test rider, and he dreams of one day being able to defeat his step-father Frank (McShane) in a fight. When Frank is in urgent need of a heart transplant, Rod decides to raise $50,000 for the operation by staging a stunt that's worthy of Evel Knievel: jumping 15 buses (one more than Knievel ever dared). Supported by his loyal crew - younger half-brother Kevin (Taccone), friends Dave (Hader) and Rico (McBride), as well as Denise (Fisher) who lives next door - Rod begins to plan his big jump so he can keep Frank alive and finally kick his ass.

It would appear that Samberg, screenwriter Pam Brady and director Akiva Schaffer put together a literal checklist for each scene in order to maximise the comic potential. Funny shirts? Got it. Funny hair? Check. Funny words and/or pronunciation? Uh huh. Funny song? Yes indeedy. The problem with the gags in Hot Rod, though, is that the "funny" is relative - which means it's funny to see a mate of yours engaged in these antics because you know their personality. Unfortunately without the benefit of this perspective, the goofs are sometimes amusing, but more often less so, and the film comes across as more of a self-indulgent series of skits. It seems that the filmmakers also have a real familiarity and affection for '80s movie conventions. In particular, Hot Rod employs the increasingly clichéd framework of John Hughes films/teen coming-of-age stories as a backdrop for the series of disconnected gags. This framework necessitates a competitor for Denise's affection, a second act revelation about Rod's father that shatters his confidence, and a final, triumphant slow-motion middle-of-the-street march that leads to his redemptive jump attempt.

The fact that the crew behind Hot Rod are Saturday Night Live alumni would explain why the movie feels like an extended skit. Rather than aiming for honest laughs through clever writing or carefully nurtured comedic set-pieces, the filmmakers opt for a veritable salad of movie references, bone-crunching pratfalls, flat-out silliness and pointless comic digressions. The sequences in which Rod's ill-advised stabs at stunt-work result in him being bashed, burned and nearly drowned may be amusing when witnessed in two-minute chunks on YouTube, but seeing then running one after the other for close to 90 minutes grows tedious. Rod is a dolt who ends up failing and getting hurt not due to bad luck or an inability to judge his abilities and shortcomings - it's because he's an idiot. This could have worked if he was an endearing idiot, but he's no Will Ferrell or Inspector Clouseau. Granted, Hot Rod does supply a few laughs. Then again, it's not hard to laugh at brutal pratfalls (the producers of Jackass made millions off that premise). But one can only laugh at Rod's missteps and poor stunts a few times before they're just no longer funny. Furthermore, the punch lines are incredibly predictable. While training for the big jump, Rod asks his friends to hold him underwater for a period of time to strengthen his lungs. You can easily predict what's going to happen...

There's no doubt the guys behind Hot Rod can be funny. However the dynamics (specifically in concept, timing and execution) that work for a short comedy sketch don't translate into success for a cohesive feature film. It's for this reason that isolated bits and pieces of the film are funny, but if taken as a whole it fails to gel. Even then, the film doesn't necessitate repeated viewings and after seeing it once it loses much of the comedic punch it originally packed. At the very least, Hot Rod is a breezy farce and a fun watch that's fairly easy to enjoy, and it also manages to provide an answer to the eternal question: who would win in a fight between a grilled cheese sandwich and a taco?

4.9/10

At its most basic level, Eraser is a shameless Arnie movie - another member the action movie subgenre wherein the Austrian Oak smirks, munches on cigars and dispatches several battalions of nameless extras. It's loud, violent, sporadically funny and overflowing with action set-pieces and nifty weaponry. The only thing Eraser lacks is a spin - at the end of the day, it's just a fairly undistinguishable Arnold Schwarzenegger film. This is not a particularly bad thing, however, since it's therefore able to forgo all pretensions in order to revel in the fun, over-the-top action sequences. The final result is flawed but undeniably enjoyable.

The Schwarzenegger role in Eraser is U.S. Marshal John Kruger. He works with the witness protection program as an "eraser", which basically means that, as a protective measure, he "erases" the identities of the witnesses he's assigned to protect. As to be expected from an Arnie film, Kruger is considered to be the best in his line of work. His latest assignment is Lee Cullen; a top ranking executive for Cyrez Corporation (a U.S. weapons manufacturer) who uncovers evidence of a political plot to put a new super-weapon in the hands of an American enemy. But Cullen and Kruger soon discover that the level of treason extends past the Cyrez Corporation and into high levels of government.

The plot is expectedly thin stuff; an excuse to tie together rip-roaring action scenes. The action ranges from sensational to downright silly. Director Charles Russell (The Mask, Nightmare on Elm Street 3) capably shapes the story and paces the movie. The script is moderately well-structured, and wonderfully seasoned with Schwarzeneggerisms. Eraser is also another attempt at a "high tech" action flick (in the mould of Mission: Impossible and Hackers) - that is, it's a collection of the usual explosions and shootouts which are placed within a plot that involves all types of electronic gadgetry. Not much attention is paid to whether the science is feasible...but if it looks and sounds awesome, why not utilise it? While Eraser is standard stuff, there are some fun variations - mainly in the fact that many of the gunfights feature weapons which can shoot through walls (with an x-ray sight to boot).

So with explosions, stunts, nifty guns and "Ah-nuld", what else could you ask for? Well, a fresher script - the whole enterprise is hampered by a "been there, done that" feel. The much-worked-over screenplay (credited to Tony Puryear and Walon Green) sorely needed more work, particularly in the character department. The characters are utterly generic - Kruger is totally unstoppable (even after being stabbed and shot) and lacks any dimension, while Cullen is nothing more than a stereotypical, forgettable damsel in distress who does barely anything to further the plot, and Deguerin is a standard issue bad guy (with Caan using every hammy mannerism possible to sell what amounts to a third-rate James Bond villain). However, to the credit of the screenwriters, some of the more painful action movie standbys are avoided - the male & female leads do not fall in love, and (happily) they aren't always at each other's throats. That said, there are countless other problems with Eraser. It simply runs out of steam halfway through; having offered up its most spectacular set-pieces long before the lengthy 120-minute picture nears its climax. Even some of the best scenes are marred by dated CGI, which is especially disappointing considering that the budget could have paid for a small African nation.

There's a reason why Arnie kicking ass has become part of movie culture...it's awesome fun!! Eraser should hearten Schwarzenegger fans who disliked his ventures beyond the action realm (for instance the bloated parody Last Action Hero, and the comedy Junior). This is Ah-nuld at his muscle-bound, gun-toting best: mowing down bad guys without taking much of a breather. He does little more than walk through the ostensibly tailor-made role of John Kruger, but the big man is one hell of an amazing screen presence, and he can still deliver snappy one-liners with assurance (such as the iconic line "You're luggage" which he utters after shooting an alligator). Thankfully, Arnie has been surrounded by a more than satisfactory supporting cast. The acting is extremely passable, especially from Robert Pastorelli who seems to be having an absolute blast in the Joe Pesci-type sidekick role.

All in all, Eraser is pretty standard-issue Arnold Schwarzenegger, and a perfectly adequate time filler. It's hardly original, but with Arnie and some spectacular set-pieces, this is a thrilling ride. Just don't expect to remember much about the film five minutes after you finish watching it.

6.2/10

Released immediately after The Terminator and Commando, 1986's Raw Deal is a straightforward Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle which was designed to exploit the star's new image as an unstoppable one-man army. Films like these aren't generally well received (as exemplified by the generally poor reviews it endured), but this reviewer had no problem enjoying the hell out of it - especially since it features "Ah-nuld" at the pinnacle of his career. However, while enjoyable, Raw Deal is admittedly nothing more than a run-of-the-mill action flick; a lightweight spar through the rule-breaking cop conventions without a skerrick of narrative originality.

In the film, the Austrian Oak stars as Mark Kaminsky. He's a former FBI agent (ejected from the bureau for heavy treatment of a lowlife suspect) who has become forced to suffer the indignity of a job as a sheriff in a small town. When one of Kaminsky's old pals from the FBI (Darren McGavin) contacts him with an opportunity for reinstatement, he jumps at the chance. His assignment: to infiltrate a Chicago Mafia family and destroy it.

There are a bunch of terrific action moments scattered generously throughout Raw Deal; building to the mega adrenaline rush of a climax. For the final act, Schwarzenegger's character basically gets fed up, decides to lock & load, and prompts an '80s arming up montage (reminiscent of Commando). First order of business: to drive around a gravel pit dispatching as many villains as possible to the tune of the Rolling Stones' Satisfaction. Second order of business: take out the entire Chicago mob using a ridiculous amount of firepower. Believable? Not at all. Fun? Fuck yes! The climax can easily be considered moronic since Schwarzenegger is invincible and unshootable, but this is exactly what an '80s audience expected of the Austrian Oak - he was an invulnerable killer like no other. Arnie also gets plenty of corny one-liners to disperse here, such as the classic line "You should not drink and bake."

Raw Deal plays out as if the filmmakers decided upon the action set-pieces first before conceiving a suitable story to justify them all. A standard mob infiltration plotline is on offer here, complemented with the usual subplot of the former FBI agent wanting to get back on the force. Generally speaking, the police thriller genre is not well suited for '80s Schwarzenegger carnage. The committee of screenwriters, along with director John Irvin seem aware of this fact until the final showdown when the film transforms from police thriller to outright '80s actioner. Whether the climax will satisfy depends entirely on your expectations - it's undeniably fun watching Schwarzenegger dish out the trademark goods, but others may be disappointed that the action compromises an otherwise serious, more drama-oriented film.

There are tonnes of flaws to point out in Raw Deal; a surplus of cheesy moments which hinder the film's fun value (such as the dreadful final scene), a lingering sense of predictability, very little in the way of originality, and there isn't as much action as one would expect considering its origins as a Schwarzenegger action vehicle. Subplots and periphery characters are mostly shoved aside in favour of keeping things as stripped-down and simple as possible (for instance Kaminsky's wife shows up during the first 20 minutes, and then disappears completely). At least the performances are adequate thanks to an ideal cast. Robert Davi in particular delivers a rock-solid performance; supported by passable acting courtesy of Sam Wanamaker as a crime boss and Kathryn Harold as the love interest of the picture. Arnie admittedly pales in comparison to these performers whenever he's given dialogue to deliver, but he's still infinitely more watchable and charismatic than, say, Van Damme or Steven Seagal. And, naturally, his screen presence is unbelievably awesome.

To be honest, I miss movies like Raw Deal. You know, old-school '80s action fodder starring a muscle-clad performer such as Sylvester Stallone or Arnold Schwarzenegger. Despite flaws, this is an easy film to enjoy with its numerous action rampages and a high level of pure machismo. Raw Deal may not be a good movie, but it never pretends to be. It's enjoyable and mindless - a film best enjoyed with a bunch of friends, plenty of beer, a pizza, and (most importantly) an uncritical attitude.

6.0/10

Though I walk through the valley of shadow and death, I shall fear no evil; for Lord John Matrix will protect me; his big fucking guns and huge muscles, they comfort me.

In the beginning, there was the masterpiece known as Commando. And the God of '80s Action Excess did look upon it and see that it was good. And lo did Arnold Schwarzenegger massacre hundreds of mercenaries in displays of awesome ultra-violence, and Alyssa Milano did rejoice. Amen.

After the triple play of The Terminator and both Conan films, Arnold Schwarzenegger graduated to top billing with Commando; a classic '80s action movie that fetishises explosions, violence and guns, in addition to containing an assortment of evil villains, cheesy one-liners, big guns, bigger guns and enough dead bodies to keep a mortician's convention busy for days. It was produced by illustrious action super-producer Joel Silver and written by distinguished action writer Steven E. de Souza (48 Hrs., Die Hard), not to mention that the primary star is none other than the iconic Arnie. On any level above that of red-faced guilty pleasure, there's simply no way to defend Commando. It's a gloriously primitive and cartoonish action vehicle that makes absolutely no bones about its absurdity. It never pretends to be anything other than a simple-minded exercise in vicarious violence. Its heart and soul is best summarised by a line of dialogue - a female character, while witnessing two über-macho behemoths engaged in mano-a-mano fisticuffs, exclaims "These guys eat too much red meat!"

Schwarzenegger plays Colonel John Matrix (complying with the First Law of Early '80s Action Movies, this is one awesome name); a former special ops soldier now retired and living in a secluded cabin with his daughter, Jenny (Alyssa Milano). Matrix believes his old life of violence, gunfire and post-mortem one-liners is over, but a former dictator is unwilling to let him rest in peace. This dictator is Arius (Dan Hedaya), who, with the help of the psychotic soldier Bennett (Vernon Wells), enacts a plan to regain power in the third-world hellhole he was ousted from. They wish for Matrix to do their bidding, and they kidnap his daughter to convince him to comply with their instructions. But there's one thing they forgot: nobody fucks with John Matrix.

It's the way Matrix dispatches with the villain's original plan and summarily devises his own that makes Commando so exhilarating. Director Mark L. Lester (Class of 1984, Showdown in Little Tokyo) serves the action spectacle straight-up, with little in the way aesthetic flourish, emotional bracketing or even downtime. The makers realised that Schwarzenegger's primal screen presence needs little accoutrement, and the action hero is, therefore, just given the opportunity to bulldoze his way through the narrative (and literally through a sporting goods store at one stage). Matrix is less a character than a force of nature, and the cutesy scenes meant to establish his loving fatherly nature with Jenny at the beginning of the movie are impossible to take seriously. ("Why don't they just call him Girl George? It would cut down on the confusion.") Matrix only makes sense when he's armed to the teeth with an assortment of weaponry, blasting his way through hundreds of henchmen like an automated turret when given a line of immobile enemies to dispatch (there's no reason to point out how convenient it is that he has a limitless supply of ammunition, and seems to find bigger weapons just by looking down). Commando simply surges forward from action set-piece to action set-piece, pausing only for one-liners and shots of Alyssa Milano sneering at her captors. The film lasts less than 90 minutes, but one could spend two hours talking about it because it contains so much cool stuff.

Commando works on just about every level, but it's the script that makes it such a gem. Classic one-liners range from "Let off some steam, Bennett" (after Bennett is impaled with a steam pipe), "I eat Green Berets for breakfast. And right now I'm very hungry" and the classic "I let him go" (after dropping some poor bloke off a cliff). Gold. Pure gold. Commando is the movie that helped to forge and solidify the Schwarzenegger action movie persona. At the time of this movie's release, the former Mr. Universe was known as a cyborg from the future and a loin-cloth-clad barbarian. He had already uttered the immortal "I'll be back" catchphrase (in The Terminator), and Commando immediately announces its self-aware silliness when Arnie repeats this line to the movie's central villain. This is just one of the many one-liners, puns and badass phrases peppered throughout the film, making the consciously bad dialogue second in volume to the number of bullets fired during the scant runtime.

De Souza's script is pitch-perfect, Lester's direction is immaculate, Matthew F. Leonetti's cinematography is beautiful, the editing is sharp and the score by James Horner is one of the coolest you'll ever hear (not to mention it gives even more power to the unique visual style). The acting, meanwhile, is spot-on right down the line. Schwarzenegger is enormously likeable and funny, and he's an awesome physical actor. Arnie reportedly performed nearly all of his own stunts (this included jumping through windows, doing gruelling fights and hanging onto a plane's landing gear as it travelled at 65 miles an hour), and the price was merely a dislocated shoulder and some stitches...what a guy. Vernon Wells's performance is classic - the actor was fresh from Mad Max 2 and Weird Science when he stepped into the role of Bennett, and he's right at home with this goofy material. The banter between Wells and Arnie is downright iconic. Rae Dawn Chong as the token female confidently fulfils her duties, while Milano is easily likeable as Matrix's daughter.

The action genre reached its pinnacle in 1985 with Commando. No movie in the ensuing years has been able to wield a proper combination of violence, awesome one-liners and absurdity like this vintage Arnie vehicle did. Flicks like this are also an endangered species due to the contemporary evolution of the genre necessitated by dismissive critics. With action movies becoming increasingly more complex (with fewer action set-pieces), this is a reminder of a simpler era of moviemaking. Sure, Commando could be called a dumb movie, but those deriding it with such harsh words are not accepting the film as what it was intended to be. Unfortunately, a planned sequel never materialised despite de Souza writing a draft (and Frank Darabont doing revisions on it), but the script is available to read online and it is highly recommended. Don't believe the snobby, self-important film connoisseurs who claim that Citizen Kane is the best and most essential film ever - Commando is the film you MUST see!!!

I love this movie. I love it with an unhealthy obsession.

10/10

Every review of Observe and Report will most likely mention Paul Blart: Mall Cop at some stage. The connection between these movies is understandable since both were released during 2009 and both provided satirical portrayals of mall cops. But while Paul Blart was a genial, good-natured, family-friendly story of a blue-collar schlub, Observe and Report is dark, demented, twisted, perverse and absolutely not for a family audience. Logically, one would think that R-rated content would afford an edge which was sorely missing from the bland Paul Blart: Mall Cop, but Observe and Report is merely smutty for the sake of smut, and it's a far worse film than its PG-rated counterpart. A note to filmmakers: movies about mall cops are destined to fail.

Observe and Report concerns Ronnie Barnhardt (Rogen); a shopping mall security guard who, at the beginning of the movie, makes it his duty to catch a flasher who has been exposing his privates to females in the vicinity. Above all, Ronnie is determined to protect vacuous, slutty make-up counter girl Brandi (Faris). Meanwhile, he barely gives the time of day to a temporarily disabled and good-natured coffee vendor (Wolfe) who takes a romantic shine to the mall cop. With Ronnie obsessively hunting the flasher and desperate to join the police force, he embarks on a campaign of terror...this leads to a date-rape (he has sex with an almost unconscious Brandi who's drunk and vomiting), smashing local kids over the head with their own skateboards, labelling an Asian mall worker 'Saddam Hussein', and some excessively violent - and pointless - showdowns with cops & villains.

Ronnie is a mere clod. How he managed to get the job as a security guard, let alone head of security, is mystifying considering his many psychological difficulties. Ronnie's answer to any problem is to yell, curse, punch or shoot (occasionally at the same time). A number of scenes involve the mall cop attacking people or attempting to single-handedly defeat a horde of police officers in almost surrealistic scenes of obnoxiously unfunny ultra-violence. How the filmmakers thought this Neanderthal was humorous is a mystery. Worse, writer-director Jody Hill made an absolute howler of a decision to position Ronnie as the hapless hero of the hour who gains respect from mall workers and the police force through indefensible actions, which an audience is encouraged to laugh at and enjoy rather than justifiably abhor.

This could have been all well and good, if only the film was genuinely funny. Observe and Report dishes out black comedy and gross-out humour...only without the comedy or humour. At one stage in the movie, Ronnie is being told that he was unsuccessful at getting a job as a police officer. As it turns out, a number of people were listening in as Ronnie received the news. One of these people soon enters the room and proclaims "I thought this was going to be funny, but actually it's just really sad". I can't think of any better words I could use to describe this movie...

It's difficult to tell what kind of comedy that writer-director Hill was aiming for. Observe and Report is a dark, witless dark comedy that appears to confuse acts of violence, racism and rape for humour. Hill also relies heavily on foul language and gratuitous nudity to get a rise out of the audience. Black, subversive and politically incorrect humour can be brilliant in capable hands and with the right purpose (like the brilliant Bad Santa), but here it's offensively bereft of any wit and, at the end of the day, simply unpleasant. Throughout the film's running time, it's hard to tell whether you should laugh or cringe in discomfort. The only positives of this flick are surface-level stuff - the crisp, slick cinematography admittedly makes the film easier to watch, and the film has been assembled skilfully.

Seth Rogen is completely incapable of making Ronnie likeable or even a character to sympathise with. Rogen is usually recognised for his amiable, witty slacker persona, but all of these characteristics are quickly lost amid the wreckage of such an appalling character. Meanwhile Anna Faris is at her one-note limit. Faris is usually likeable in the roles she plays, but there's very little reason to care about her in Observe and Report - she's a drunken bimbo without a shred of self-respect. Ray Liotta is also on hand as a cop who rather bitterly hates Ronnie (at least one character in this cinematic atrocity has a brain), while Michael Peña appears to sleepwalk throughout the film as one of Ronnie's co-workers. Collette Wolfe is the only cast member whose acting is truly heartfelt. She's one of the film's limited bright spots.

It's crucial to note that the creators of Observe and Report didn't set out to emulate Paul Blart: Mall Cop, and the makers of both movies even shared information with each other to make sure they weren't stepping on each other's toes. So why is it, then, that Observe and Report truly is just a version of Paul Blart: Mall Cop for adults? In Observe and Report, Ronnie is useless and pudgy (like Paul Blart: Mall Cop), lives with his supportive mother (like Paul Blart), takes his job far too seriously (like Paul Blart), has a condition which requires medication (like Paul Blart), has a crush on a worker at the mall (like Paul Blart), and dreams of firing a gun (like Paul Blart) but can't actually have a gun (like Paul Blart). There's a crime happening in the mall (like Paul Blart) and solving it will be Ronnie's redemption (like Paul Blart), and even though everyone will laugh at him along the way (like in Paul Blart) he won't give up (like Paul Blart: Mall Cop)...

Observe and Report grows increasingly bleak and ludicrous as time drags on until it ends on a sentimental yet still vulgar note. The climactic chase sequence features an obese, overcoat-wearing flasher running through the mall with the camera fixated on his grotesque equipment for what feels like hours instead of minutes...the fact that several minutes are spent observing his penis in slow motion just about sums up the flaccid quality of this lazy, awful motion picture. Observe and Report possesses all the earmarks of a low-budget indie product trying too self-consciously to be cute, coy, clever, unconventional and groundbreaking.

2.7/10

For Whip It, first-time director Drew Barrymore has crafted a sports flick and a coming-of-age tale rolled together to produce a warm, droll charmer of a motion picture. Shauna Cross wrote the screenplay for the film, which was adapted from her own novel Derby Girl: a fictional story constructed using anecdotes from the author's time spent in the professional female roller derby. While Whip It succumbs to several screenwriting conventions, the energy of Barrymore's direction is able to compensate for the script sputtering, and the actors all breathe jubilant life into this adamantly character-driven film.

The story concerns Texas-based teenager Bliss Cavendar (Page) who resides in the small, dead-end town of Bodeen. She has fallen victim to the narcissistic and nepotistic desires of her mother (Harden) who clings to the glory days of her beauty queen past by forcing Bliss to endure the same type of ritualistic torture. Bored and desperate to escape the tedium of her life, Bliss sneaks out to the roller derby one night where she swoons over the female players with their retro outfits, gaudy make-up and awesomely ludicrous nicknames (Maggie Mayhem, Bloody Holly, Smashly Simpson, etc). From there, Bliss begins training to join the down-and-out Hurl Scouts; the perennial losers of the Austin-based roller derby league. Her speed makes her a standout at the tryouts, and she soon becomes Babe Ruthless - the league's new star.

Since Whip It is a sports movie, everything comes down to the championship at the end. Happily, everything culminates with a humdinger of a climax - a nail-biting showdown infused with cheer-provoking moments and honest-to-goodness tension.

In terms of both teen drama and sports movies, Whip It adheres to a customary formula: girl hates the life she's been forced into, finds something she loves, lies to get it, but must reconcile with that lie in order to truly succeed. During the cliché-heavy narrative Bliss also makes real friends, has her first romance, has a falling out with her best friend, and her parents eventually find out about her extracurricular activities. Additionally, Whip It holds true to the time-worn sports movie convention of an inept team that goes all the way with the addition of a new superstar. But it's only when a movie is limply done that you can virtually hear the gears of its formula grinding into place. When a film is bursting with gusto, heart and charm, however, one can gladly enjoy the experience without being too bothered by the clichés. Fortunately, Whip It falls into the latter camp - director Barrymore and writer Cross have stumbled upon a fresh setting for the formula, and the movie only feels like a retread in hindsight. Best of all, the progression of events feel natural as opposed to contrived - it feels like a naturalistic, non-Hollywood depiction of the monotonous life of a young female.

Unfortunately, the comedy is frequently muted (probably by intention - it wasn't supposed to be a riot); offering only the occasional chuckle but not much else. With Whip It running at almost two hours, a trim would have been beneficial - as would a few more laughs. But Drew Barrymore does deserve credit for her first effort as a director. Having featured in movies since she was a small child, Barrymore has learned from the best (most notably E.T. mentor Steven Spielberg). She acquits herself particularly well during the roller derby scenes; collaborating with cinematographer Robert Yeoman to craft some exciting and fun set-pieces (on top of this, as Roger Ebert noted, Barrymore's supporting role savvily puts her in the position of not asking anything of the actors that she doesn't do herself). Though Barrymore isn't perfectly assured (there are sluggish patches, and not all of the derby sequences are as dynamic as they could be) she hits most of the marks she strived for.

Ellen Page is rapidly becoming one of the finest actors of her generation, and this movie offers further proof of her immense range. Page has received a bit of a rap for ostensibly playing every role the same, but anyone who has witnessed her heartbreaking turn in An American Crime or her gripping performance in Hard Candy knows better. In Whip It, her role of Bliss is a good choice - shy, weary, frightened and unsure of herself. Page submits a dialled down, heartfelt performance, with little reliance on Juno-style dialogue. The rest of the cast offer brilliant support. There are effective performances courtesy of Andrew Wilson (who brings great humour and charm to the role of the Hurl Scout's long-suffering coach), Marcia Gay Harden (who's exceptionally nuanced as the pageant mum) and Daniel Stern (solid as Bliss' supportive father). As for Bliss' team-members, there's Kristen Wiig who's down-to-earth as the captain, as well as Barrymore herself playing the resident badass, and stuntwoman Zoë Bell (previously seen in Tarantino's Death Proof) among others.

Pacing issues, a myriad of clichés and too few laughs notwithstanding, Whip It is a tremendously enjoyable flick. It's a promising debut for Barrymore behind the camera - a slice of heartfelt, feel-good entertainment.

7.5/10

Generally speaking, viewers cut horror movies a little slack - we can overlook nonsensical plots and stupid characters, but in return we want decent scares, an intoxicating atmosphere of visceral terror, and perhaps a bit of blood and violence. The Unborn contains all the elements one would expect to put up with, but without the compensation. Writer-director David S. Goyer's tedious, flat, convoluted, agonisingly dull horror movie ultimately spends so much time explaining itself, it forgets its purpose to actually scare. Think The Grudge meets The Exorcist, as written by an inept screenwriter like Uwe Boll.

The average, well-adjusted teen taking centre stage in The Unborn is a girl named Casey Beldon (Yustman), who is having trouble unlocking the meaning behind her recent dreams. Sensing that a demonic force in the form of a child named "Jumby" is pursuing her (yes, according to this flick, the root of all evil is a one-time foetus named Jumby), Casey turns to the clues left behind by her late mother (Gugino). This leads her to the Wise Old Woman Whose Sole Purpose Is To Provide Exposition (™) in the form of an Auschwitz survivor (Alexander) who turns out to be Casey's grandmother. So instead of acting like a normal teen and paying a visit to the psychiatrist, Casey spends time with granny and is informed that she had a twin brother who died in the womb. Apparently it's this twin brother who's haunting her...or something to that tune. Casey's only hope is to request the services of Rabbi Sendak (Oldman).

The plotline is merely a ridiculous mishmash of Auschwitz, Nazis, demonic possession and twins, resulting in a barely coherent story. One would expect a review of a horror movie like this to state that it simply shifts from one lazy jump moment to the next...but in the case of The Unborn, the "scary" sequences are bridged with 15 or 20 minutes of a teary-eyed Casey seeking the truth. This could've been at least a watchable film, but Goyer provides far too much exposition. As the convoluted babble about twins, demons, the door being open and other such nonsense unfolds, the more preposterous the movie becomes and the less entertainment one can ultimately find within it.

In desperation to market The Unborn as something more substantive than it is, the distributor used the fact that writer-director David S. Goyer was also involved with 2008's The Dark Knight. But, you see, Goyer only helped develop the story with Christopher Nolan, who then wrote the script with his brother Jonathan. For a more accurate representation of Goyer's cinematic legacy, look no further than the Blade films - he wrote all three and directed the appalling third movie. As bad as that film was, Blade: Trinity is still better than this tripe. The Unborn has been directed by Goyer with conventional touches, with set-pieces straight out of the horror handbook. But when the scares are telegraphed so far in advance, do they even qualify as scares? (For instance, when a character is wandering around for 5 minutes in an uneasy atmosphere before the sloppily-formulated "scare moment" eventually happens.) If Goyer deserves any praise, it's for devising a few unsettling images, like upside-down heads and mutilated faces which barely slip under the PG-13 radar. Yet a lot of this stuff seems lifted directly from other genre movies, particularly The Exorcist, and they're only slightly scary.

Goyer also drops the ball when it comes to basic logic; filling the movie with a multitude of plot holes and behavioural whoppers. He appears to make no attempt to establish a coherent set of rules by which possession occurs, with the evil "Jumby" conveniently leaping from body to body, which makes one wonder why it's so fixated on possessing Casey outside of the fact that a character claims it has a taste for her family's blood. On the topic of family, Casey's father (Remar) appears in two scenes before completely disappearing from the story. Apparently he went on a business trip, but it's mentioned that he's supposed to return the following day. And he doesn't appear to. I guess his plane crashed and nobody noticed.

In the dybbuk (as the Jews call it), Goyer found an interesting and little-known piece of folklore around which to form his story...but he had no idea what to do with it. The film is a mess of dead-end exposition and credibility-stretching coincidence. The dybbuk mythology never amounts to a compelling story and it rarely makes sense, even despite a tonne of mind-numbering exposition. And of all the dumb characters, the dybbuk might be the dumbest - Rabbi Sendak is initially sceptical of Casey's claims when she goes to see him, then the spirit decides to intimidate the Rabbi with a show of natural force, thus proving its existence to a guy who can banish it! Without spoiling the ending here, this can be said: you'll see the ending coming a mile away, will convince yourself that Goyer wouldn't possibly pen a conclusion so utterly lame, then either laugh or cry at the realisation that he did it. The film's conclusion is a stunning blend of predictability and hardcore stupidity. No amount of blood or gore could be added to improve this inert horror throwaway that was obviously cut to PG-13 standards (the unrated cut only adds a whole 49 seconds of footage).

In terms of casting, there's Gary Oldman who should have taken a much-deserved vacation instead of taking part in this clunker. How he ended up in this film is a true mystery for the ages - he was probably drunk, bored, or doing someone a favour. Odette Yustman, who was last seen escaping the tentacled behemoth in Cloverfield, is only nice to look at in a deeply generic sense (think Megan Fox). Goyer is completely aware that Yustman looks good in underwear, so he included two scenes in which the camera focuses on the actress' white-cotton-covered derriere. Even the poster takes advantage of this.

There's only one thing of interest about The Unborn: it's not a remake of an Asian horror film, but it certainly feels like one. Not just because it's incoherent and nigh on unwatchable (a common trait of said remakes), but because the plot contains the same basic characteristics; a nasty demon or ghost messing with a poor heroine in sinister but PG-13 ways. Perhaps that's how David S. Goyer got the green light for this movie - by fooling some gullible producers into thinking it was an Asian horror remake. At the end of the day, there is nothing to like about The Unborn. It is not scary. It is not interesting. It is not worth watching. Making a really obvious crack about it being a cinematic abortion is too easy...so I'd rather just belt out a bold, italicised "avoid" and get on with my life. So yeah...avoid! I've warned you. I've done my duty. Let's never speak of this movie again.

0.8/10

The year is 2018, the sky is ashen, machines rule the world, and the only humans which remain (who've undergone a humour bypass) constitute "The Resistance". That's the simplified synopsis of the fourth instalment in the Terminator franchise; a dull, predictable, bloated exercise in CGI overload which could easily be mistaken for a Transformers sequel. While the previous three films offered glimpses into the devastated futureworld dominated by the self-aware SkyNet, Terminator Salvation is the first sequel to be set entirely in that future, which provides the series with a new look. It's a shame, then, that it's merely another trembling step backwards for the franchise, and an appalling buttfucking of a once-great series of time-travelling adventures. With awful dialogue, an uninteresting plot and mostly uninspired performances, the human element has (ironically) been drained from the franchise... The machines have won.

The narrative intentions of Terminator Salvation are simple: John Connor (Christian Bale) has to meet his father Kyle Reese (Anton Yelchin), become the leader of the resistance, and get his scar. Meanwhile Kyle is being held captive by SkyNet, and Connor's superiors plan to bomb the complex with no regard for the human prisoners inside...which means Connor must launch a rescue mission. But the movie is more consumed with a secondary plot strand involving a man named Marcus Wright (Sam Worthington). He's first seen as a death-row inmate on his way to lethal injection in 2003, but is suddenly resurrected in the apocalyptic 2018 with no memory of what has occurred in the years between.

Our brains logically tell us that this is John Connor's story. The Terminator franchise has always been about Connor. So why does Salvation inexplicably focus on the character of Marcus? In fact, Connor is pushed into the background...he becomes the supporting player in his own series (in the original script, Connor had an even smaller role, but the part was made comparatively larger when Bale signed on). Salvation mainly suffers from countless story problems. For instance, SkyNet are shown manufacturing the T-800 Terminators (those portrayed by Arnie in prior sequels) when the human/terminator hybrid Marcus was assembled beforehand... Why would SkyNet begin with the complete package (as in Marcus) and then regress to the inferior Schwarzenegger-style T-800? The terminator models are simply a joke in this film - there are Growlenators (seriously, the T-800s were growling), Throwenators (they just throw everything in sight instead of, ya know, killing their targets) and ready-for-humans-to-hijack Motorcyclenators. Adding insult to injury, there are even enormous machines which resemble the Transformers that stomped around in Michael Bay's cinematic abortion of a 2009 summer blockbuster. Couple this nonsense with the fact that one of these Transformer-type machines at one stage manages to silently sneak up on a group of humans...

Terminator Salvation neglects the cardinal rule of action cinema - introducing human characters a viewer can care about. The film plays out like a video game tie-in to the original franchise, and even proceeds with video game logic. It's set in 2018 when John Connor hasn't become the leader yet... So why has SkyNet been hunting Connor for years? He doesn't smash their defence grid until 2029, which is when SkyNet decides to send a T-800 back in time to terminate his mother. Moreover, how could SkyNet concoct an elaborate trap using Kyle Reese when it's impossible for the system to have any knowledge that he's Connor's father? And if SkyNet knew Reese was Connor's father, why not just kill him? Eventually Terminator Salvation culminates with an exhaustively moronic climax. To begin with, Connor frees a bunch of prisoners and tells them to run for "the transport ship". He has seemingly forgotten that he came alone on a Motorcyclenator and that there is no transport ship. Oops...

The first cut for Terminator Salvation was apparently 30-40 minutes longer than the theatrical cut, and the sloppy trimming is obvious throughout the entire film. This is felt most directly with the character of Blair (Moon Bloodgood) who nonsensically botches her allegiance to the Resistance in order to protect Marcus from justifiable execution after only one day spent together. Screenwriters John D. Brancato and Michael Ferris may have been natural picks for Salvation considering they wrote Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, but the duo also penned Catwoman and Primeval (that cheesy crocodile feature, not the BBC series). The dialogue is particularly appalling - the characters spout hackneyed action movie speak, while occasionally recycling trademark lines from earlier Terminator movies. For his tirade, Bale should have lashed out at the screenwriters rather than the cinematographer (who admittedly crafted a stylish, good-looking film).

For all of Christian Bale's public insistence that McG is more talented than his moronic stage name suggests, he's still the guy who directed Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle. With not much of a story to worry about and no complex characters, there wasn't much preventing McG from crafting kick-ass action sequences. Except, uh...lack of skill!! As painful as it is to say (well, not really), the explosive, epic battles between man and machine are dull. The future war scenes imagined by James Cameron in the first two Terminator movies were murky, petrifying and dark. 200 million dollars were blown on this movie, but nothing matches Cameron's masterful work (not even the set-pieces in the original film should feel threatened...and they were produced on a $7 million budget). The only positives of Salvation (amazing CGI, great production design) are merely superficial - if a turd is coated in gold, it's still a turd...just a shiny one. The biggest action set-piece of the film feels like something from Transformers, and other highlights feel as if they've been lifted from other films (shots of helicopters landing resemble Apocalypse Now, the Motorcyclenators look like something from The Dark Knight, some shots from prior Terminator films have been replicated, etc... Terminator Regurgitation is a more appropriate title). Bear this in mind as well: Salvation is a Terminator movie directed by a producer of The O.C.... The technological lethargy even extends to Danny Elfman's score, which only reminds a viewer just how terrific Brad Fiedel's original music was.

All the sound and fury of the powerhouse action sequences can't make up for the studious lack of humanity. The characters are one-dimensional ciphers who never evoke passion or enthusiasm. A viewer will only root for these characters based on their appearances in prior instalments (another huge issue, since some consider this a "reboot" of the franchise that's independent from all other Terminator films). Playing John Connor, Bale unleashes his Gotham Growl, but he's sullen and tedious. Worse, he doesn't feel like the kind of guy who would fire up anyone, let alone the remainder of the human population. For his famous on-set rant, Bale displayed more drama, emotionality and variety than anything in the actual film. Worthington, on the other hand, is passable - it's just a shame he's never given a chance to truly test his acting ability. Meanwhile the supporting cast is miserably wasted. Helena Bonham Carter is embarrassing, Michael Ironside is hopelessly flat, and Terry Crews is reduced to...a corpse seen in a single blink-and-you'll-miss-it shot. Arnold Schwarzenegger's much-discussed CGI cameo is hardly convincing; he looks like the product of a below-par Pixar movie.

The unforgivable problem with Salvation is its PG-13 rating. Terminator is an R-rated franchise, and this toned-down, kid-friendly sequel is neutered beyond repair (nothing more unsightly than a man being mowed down with a mini-gun before merely slumping over). The visceral nature of the first two movies generated by heavy violence and profanity made an audience feel that the protagonists were in genuine danger. In Salvation, it feels like the characters are merely going through the motions and are never in real peril. A talented director given a better-written R-rated script and the same budget could have turned this into another classic. As it is...this is Terminator Castration.

Compared with James Cameron's two thought-provoking action classics, Salvation is a powerfully dumb film. The first two movies offered sprawling stories, visceral thrills, deep drama and well-defined characters. This film strains credibility with epic unlikelihoods, and tries to camouflage them with nonstop paroxysms. It doesn't matter how awesomely designed the robots are rendered; without gripping drama, characters to sympathise with or even an ounce of humour, Terminator Suckvation is a dumbed-down, soulless summer offering - the commercialisation of the Terminator franchise which might as well have been Transformers 3. It's also far worse than Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, which was no classic but deserves a bit more credit than it gets.

3.2/10

Fired Up! might as well have been entitled Cheer Leader Movie or Teen Movie, because those are far more suitable titles considering the bottom-of-the-barrel quality of the film it's concerning. The only thing to differentiate this comedic dud from the likes of Date Movie, Epic Movie and Disaster Movie is the absence of the names Aaron Seltzer and Jason Friedberg from the credits. Instead, there's a first-time director named Will Gluck, and a group of four writers who credit themselves as 'Freedom Jones'. Fired Up! is nothing we haven't already seen countless times - it's a watered-down hodgepodge of several other films, and the result kills laughter rather than triggering it.

Working under the assumption that girls are as stupid as cattle, the movie introduces Nick (Olsen) and Shawn (D'Agosto); two football-playing studs who have used up the reserve of girls at their high school, and are seeking a new lady-killing challenge. The boys decide to ditch football camp in favour of cheerleading camp when they learn that it'll be attended by 300 young women. They worm their way onto the squad and hence into the camp, then proceed to sleep with anything that moves. But trouble arises when Shawn falls in love with one of their team-members.

After a brief opening sequence which establishes the protagonists as through-and-through jerks, Fired Up! embarks on a profoundly unfunny quest to add any sort of non-sequitur to the mix; assuming that conventional absurdity will wash over audiences like laughing gas. The actors are visibly too old for their roles, but the jokes are older than the Bible - the film is a morass of tired, obvious and telegraphed gags, from the mascots who never remove their costumes to the cheerleaders chanting about what they're doing all the time ("We are eating, we we are eating"), and even a scene in which the cheerleaders repeatedly chant "FU!" for Fired Up...because the very notion of the girls almost cursing is side-splitting, of course. The film also relies on the outtakes-during-the-end-credits approach to generate a few cheap, late laughs...but even these aren't even slightly funny. How bad must a movie be to contain a dud blooper reel?! And, despite the presence of talent like Philip Baker Hall and John Michael Higgins, the side characters are never given a chance to make an impact - they have been reduced to one-note caricatures or, in the case of the females, personality-free sex objects. Masochism aside, there are also homosexual gags - primarily a constant suggestion that all male cheerleaders must be gay.

Among the biggest problems with Fired Up! is that it contains absolutely no surprises. With such a totally obvious plot, you'll be able to predict what will happen at every juncture. The minute Shawn takes a shine for his teammate Carly (Roemer), it's obvious they'll eventually get together. But not after she overcomes her Jerk Boyfriend Who Sleeps With Other Girls (™), and the Break Up To Make Up Scenario Because The Protagonist's Disreputable Original Plans Which He Decided To Change Were Discovered (™). See, the two boys wanted to leave camp a week early, but they realise they've grown to care about the team and decide to stay, but their initial treachery is uncovered and they have to prove themselves to the team. Sound like anything new? Combine this with the fact that Nick wants to go to bed with the "unattainable" camp counsellor who's married to an old guy. Care to venture a guess about how that'll pan out? A Frankenstein's Monster of a movie, Fired Up! has three things on its mind: showcasing the improvisatory "skills" of the stars, PG-13 titillation, and cashing in on a cheerleading genre that's already passé. In reality, these intentions add up to a big headache of a movie, with director Gluck highlighting his naivety behind the camera through routine shot construction and a permissive attitude with the cast, who all seem to think they're God's gift to comedy. Nicholas D'Agosto and Eric Christian Olsen (aged 29 and 31, respectively) play the least convincing high school students imaginable, and they spend their screen-time mugging the camera. Neither actor possesses any degree of charisma, nor does the duo have the skill for turning bad material into less-bad material. Crucially, why should we care about these shallow douchebags who try to tap every female in sight?

It would seem that Fired Up! was intended to be a parody of Bring it On (the characters even view the movie at one stage, and recite every single line verbatim), though that's not for certain. See, the concept of a parody implies humour, and there's nothing even resembling laughs within this tripe. Making matters worse, this is an obviously R-rated movie masquerading as a PG-13 (ah, nothing like a smutty teen comedy in which the guys ogle fully dressed women). The emasculation is so painfully obvious that it calls attention to itself: characters wear clothes for skinny-dipping scenes, there are euphemisms for "fuck", and the sexual innuendo is softened. According to IMDb, the movie was submitted to the MPAA a grand total of 18 times before it was finally slapped with a PG-13 rating. A raunchier approach to Fired Up! may not have spawned a superior film per se, but it would've seemed more honest, and there would have been at least some guilty pleasure moments.

There's no checking your qualms at the door and riding along with Fired Up!, as it manages to be unfunny and offensive at every turn. Girls sucked in by the cheerleading theme will merely find out that boys perceive them as dumb-as-rocks sex objects, while the male demographic seeking raunchy laughs will find more original, funnier stuff in the first American Pie movie. If there's something rarer than a great comedy, it's a depressing one that somehow manages to produce not a single laugh (even with outtakes in consideration). Fired Up! is one of those - it's so formulaic, disposable and instantly forgettable, and even if you do find these gags funny, you'll be hard-pressed to justify why you found it at all amusing once you finish watching it.

0.9/10