Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"If you don't make it, it's your own damn "vault." That's a bitch slap of truth right there."

The 1970's television series Land of the Lost was ripe for hilarious parody. If a screen adaptation was produced that poked fun at the series and the low-budget, stop-motion genre, a gem would be imminent. However, as it is, 2009's Land of the Lost is just a lightweight adventure in the form of a standard Will Ferrell movie. Throughout the feature, Ferrell's character runs from things and screams, and between these sequences he's engaging in semi-improvisational speeches designed to make himself look like a moron. One can watch Ferrell doing the aforementioned in literally any movie in which he features, so why would anyone want to see him repeat his same old routine under the guise of a cinematic reimagining of a '70s TV show? From the outset, it's unclear who this movie was meant to be pitched to. Was the aim to introduce the show's campy zest to a new generation of children? Or appeal to the now adult fans of the show with a combination of cheesy nostalgia and postmodern mockery? Unwisely, Land of the Lost tries to be both; peppering the story's juvenile antics with smutty adult humour. That said, it at least makes the cut in the dumb but fun department, and it's still watchable.

In the TV series, a father and his two children on a rafting trip become sucked into a portal which teleports them to an alternate universe that fuses elements of the past (namely dinosaurs) with elements of fantasy and science fiction. This fundamental concept remains in the movie adaptation, but rather than a family of protagonists there's an unlikely trio of mere acquaintances - Dr. Rick Marshall (Ferrell), Holly (Friel), and Will (McBride) - who plunge into an alternate universe as the result of Rick's invention, a "Tachyon Amplifier", which was the cause of his banishment from mainstream science several years prior (following a career-ending appearance on The Today Show with Matt Lauer (who gamely played an extra-glib version of himself)).

Once in this alternate dimension, the protagonists forge a tenuous friendship with a primate named Chaka (Taccone), and encounter the kind of scenarios that the two screenwriters (Dennis McNicholas and Chris Hench) were able to conceive when given $100 million to play with - namely, loosely connected skits tailored to the improvisatory skills and free-wheeling talents of the primary stars. There are rampaging dinosaurs, fast-crawling bugs, a race of lizard people (called the Sleestaks) and an assortment of cultural signifiers from different eras of human history (a Viking Ship, the Golden Gate Bridge, a roadside motel) scattered throughout the desert. Those involved with the production preserve creature designs and locations from the original series, as well as adding the occasional inside joke to please old fans. But the inconsistent quality of the special effects is jarring. The Sleestaks, for example, look very phoney, and the sets frequently look goofy. This is all well and good, since it's an obvious homage to the low-budget origins of the show. So why is it, then, that the dinosaurs were brought to life with state-of-the-art CGI? Early in the movie, Matt Lauer asks Rick Marshall in disbelief "You've spent $50 million studying time warps?". Meanwhile, the filmmakers blew $100 million making this motion picture when it could've been produced for half that amount to better effect.

Contrary to common sense, Land of the Lost is absolutely not for children. Perplexingly, the filmmakers elected the hard PG-13/borderline R-rated route. Sex jokes, abrasive profanities, vulgarities, breast grabs, drug-induced hazes and a few expected bits of rather graphic violence are all incorporated into the film; imparting a darker edge to the material that's foreign to the franchise. It'd be one thing to fully commit to a gross-out, hilariously violent, curse-ridden R-rated send-up of the television program, but the filmmakers seem afraid to pursue this. The alienating approach they end up taking will most likely charm teenagers and young couples who enjoy such films as Anchorman or Talladega Nights, but it will appeal to very few others. Admittedly, there are several amusing moments scattered throughout Land of the Lost. A few one-liners delivered by McBride and Ferrell, which feel improvisational, at least achieve chuckles. The fact that this cast is better suited to a vulgar comedy environment and that the raunchiness affords the best comedic moments is compelling evidence that the filmmakers should have selected the R rating option.

Director Brad Silberling - who was responsible for the 2004 screen adaptation of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events - serves up a wonderful visual feast, supported by the efforts of production designer Bo Welch. A peculiar universe has been accomplished here, so it's a shame that the movie built around it isn't up to standard. Another key problem with Land of the Lost is that of unbelievably sloppy filmmaking. The editing in particular is simply ghastly. For instance, whenever the Tyrannosaurus Rex is chasing the characters, the spatial relationships are a mess. One moment the T-Rex is within biting distance of the characters...then in the following shot the characters have magically jumped forward about 10 or 20 metres. In a scene towards the climax, Marshall and Will rescue Holly from about eight or nine Sleestaks...they end up dispatching three or four, and suddenly they're all gone. Do the filmmakers assume we're not paying attention?

It's possible to see the flop-sweat of desperation on Will Ferrell's forehead as he battles to mine laughs from this barren screenplay. However Ferrell's ability to play self-deluded and conceited is admittedly somewhat amusing. Danny McBride has his moments and happily pings off Ferrell, while Anna Friel delivers a pretty stoic performance as the scientist incarnation of Lara Croft...which is all the script asks of her. The only other member of the cast worth mentioning is Leonard Nimoy, who is given a cameo.

Land of the Lost has its pleasures - the always-charming Anna Friel in small outfits, a few funny Will Ferrell moments - but it's ultimately forgettable and uneven. It's too schlocky and adult-minded in its humour for a family audience, but too dumb in its broad strokes to appeal to adults. To its credit, though, it's still enjoyable fluff, and it qualifies as one of the trippiest movies of the 2009 summer season - think the prehistoric version of Anchorman as written by Hunter S. Thompson...except it's no-where near as awesome as that sounds.

5.1/10

"Whatever love you can get and give. Whatever happiness you can provide. Every temporary measure of grace. Whatever works."

"Vintage Woody Allen" would be the most appropriate label for 2009's Whatever Works, because that's never been truer. Woody initially wrote this film back in 1977 as a vehicle for Zero Mostel, but the screenplay was set aside when Mostel inconsiderably died before the film could be made. However when Woody's one-movie-a-year output was placed in jeopardy by a threatened actor's strike and he needed a movie ready to go sooner than usual, he resurrected the old script and gave it a quick rewrite. Whatever Works marks the writer-director's return to New York City following several filmmaking endeavours in Europe, and it features a number of his touchstones: the philosophising of Annie Hall, the misanthropy of Deconstructing Harry, and the customary old man/young lover theme present in a lot of Woody's prior films. A familiarity that clouds the entire enterprise notwithstanding, this typically Woody-esque, comical mediation on human existence and love is the filmmaker's most effective and hilarious comedy in years (the fact that Woody wrote this film around the same time as Annie Hall probably has something to do with that).

Whatever Works opens brilliantly with Boris Yellnikoff (David) breaking the fourth wall (a typical Woody Allen technique) as he addresses the camera to introduce his narrative. However this isn't an aside; Boris is doing it in the middle of New York City in full view of bystanders. His friends think he has utterly lost it, especially when he explains that they are in fact being watched by thousands of people in theatres. This technique begins the film with an easy charm; a sly smile in the audience's direction.
Boris is an adamant misanthropist who bad-mouths children, shows little patience for anyone, and even insults the most inoffensive individuals who cross his path (perceiving them as imbecilic simpletons of inferior intellect). He also impresses his ideologies on religion, relationships and the randomness of existence upon anyone willing to listen. But when Boris begrudgingly allows naïve Mississippi runaway Melodie St. Ann Celestine (Wood) into his apartment, his reclusive rage gives way to an unlikely friendship.

Amidst this narrative, there are talky conversations at landmarks and outdoor cafés; all taking place in the New York City that Woody Allen has celebrated throughout his career. The time of separation away from his native Manhattan (during which he worked in London and Spain) has reinvigorated his work - there's a great sense of liveliness and spirit. It's a joy to see the filmmaker back in this territory. However, Whatever Works is far from flawless - in between the one-liners and witty dialogue, the narrative odds and ends of the film feel perfunctory, even resigned. The second half of the movie (full of reunions and subplots to extend the runtime) isn't as well-paced as the blisteringly hilarious, rapid-fire first half. In addition, the movie's philosophy may be about life being full of surprises, but Allen's recent output is only rarely surprising. Whatever Works reinforces the notion that the writer-director's creative well has run dry; his films now either spectacles featuring attractive characters in foreign locales (like 2008's Vicky Cristina Barcelona) or comedic larks in which notable names embody the archetypal Woody Allen role. These criticisms notwithstanding, his latest efforts are still entertaining, and with the comfortable space he's created for himself he can just get on with being Woody Allen without fretting (ironically).

Interestingly, the three decades have been kind to Woody's script for Whatever Works. It's just as funny - maybe even funnier - as it would've been back in 1977, and it feels more audacious and relevant in 2009. As a matter of fact, much of what makes the film seem daring is as a result of the passage of time. The elements guaranteed to startle in 2009 - a ménage à trois, a homosexual awakening, the generally irreligious tone - would be far less shocking to a '70s audience. The fact that Allen presents these in a matter-of-fact, offhanded manner reflects the earlier era, making them more provocative all these decades later. Since Whatever Works is a dosage of old-school Allen, the dialogue is boundlessly witty and there are some killer one-liners. Boris' diatribes are hysterical; the best Woody has written for years (once again coming back to the fact that the material was written in the '70s). Probably the most note-worthy aspect of Whatever Works is that it's one of Allen's most optimistic films about life and love to date.

Curb Your Enthusiasm comedian Larry David is an excellent Boris Yellnikoff. David was a natural to play the "Woody Allen role", and he handles himself excellently; making his character appealing and tolerable without diluting his nasty side. According to Allen, Boris is an extreme exaggeration of his feelings - to that end, David's gleeful portrayal of the unyielding misanthrope is more savage and belligerent than Woody has even been. Boris' omnipotent contempt is nothing new, but the mean-spirited ferocity is. The 74-year-old Allen could have probably pulled off the character, yet it still works with a surrogate. As a side note, there are lines delivered by Larry David that Zero Mostel might have gotten more comedic mileage out of.
David receives solid support from Evan Rachel Wood (previously seen in 2008's The Wrestler), who manages to make her role of Melodie dopey and callow but not grating or obvious. The actress disappears into the role of the Southern dumbbell to the extent that she's almost unrecognisable. Patricia Clarkson (who starred in Woody's 2008 project Vicky Cristina Barcelona) shines as Marietta, while Ed Begley Jr. and Henry Cavill fulfil their functions in the story terrifically.

Curiously, the predominantly negative reviews for Whatever Works gripe about the fact that Boris is "too unlikeable" or "unsympathetic". These critics are missing the point entirely. It's no accident that (as the familiar old record for the opening credits) Allen chose Groucho Marx singing Hello, I Must Be Going; the character of Boris Yellnikoff is the same type of sharp-witted, bitter grouser that Groucho used to portray. Despite this, Groucho was a comedian and, as often noted, a huge influence on Allen. Did anyone complain about Groucho playing a quick-witted con man who insulted everyone in sight? No, because he was funny. So is Boris Yellnikoff. So is Whatever Works to a tremendous degree. While a viewer may be left with a lingering sense of déjà vu during the movie, this is a fun and funny sit-down; a nourishing dose of old-school Woody Allen ladled on top of a New York that, after all these years, still needs him.

7.8/10

"What transpires within the confines of the walls of Sodom, stays within the confines of the walls of Sodom."

Year One looked to be the comedy of the 2009 summer season. Judd Apatow (the King Midas of modern comedy) produced the film for his idol Harold Ramis (Groundhog Day, Caddyshack) who wrote the screenplay with the staff writers for the successful American version of The Office. The two leads of the movie are Jack Black and Michael Cera, who are supported by a bunch of able actors (including David Cross, Hank Azaria and Paul Rudd). It's a colossal shame, then, that Year One is an inexplicably unfunny, hit-and-miss comedy. It's not exactly an abject laugh famine, but with the film boasting such a large variety of comedic players behind and in front of the camera it wouldn't have been unreasonable to expect something far better than this.

The film introduces two cavemen protagonists: inept hunter Zed (Black) who has a tendency to annoy the tribe's more respected members, and equally inept, wimpy gatherer Oh (Cera). Neither of them have much luck with women - Maya (Raphael), the object of Zed's lust, perceives him as an unlikely provider, while Oh's would-be bedmate Eema (Temple) doesn't even know he exists. Zed gets fed up and bored with his life, and decides to eat forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. Since this is a violation of tribal law, Zed is banished from the primitive village, and Oh joins him as they set out to explore the ancient world.

Director Ramis and his pair of screenwriters employ material from the first book of the Bible in the form of a sketch-comedy akin to Mel Brooks' History of the World, Part I. In fact, Year One treats the Biblical book of "Genesis" not as a chronology of happenings but as a geographical road map instead. The Garden of Eden and Sodom are included, along with Cain, Abel, Abraham, Isaac and countless others - all separated by distance rather than time. The film isn't exactly a satire of Bible stories (it might've worked better had that been the objective) - it's instead a mismatched buddy movie which contains Biblical names and locations. This is not a necessarily bad idea, but laughs are crucial for a shallow comedy like this. It'd be remiss to say Year One never achieves chuckles, as it does occasionally, but these are a depressingly thin and disappointingly intermittent commodity. This could have been the new generation's Life of Brian, but that film had the advantage of a smart, inspired and hilarious screenplay written by the Monty Python troupe working at the pinnacle of their creative powers, and who were unafraid to push the boundaries in order to achieve comedic goals. Hindered by its PG-13 rating, Year One feels like the product of a group of writers having an off night with a paranoid studio executive supervising the process.

Year One plays it frustratingly safe. With little in the way of cutting Biblical humour or mockery of primitive cultures, the movie is crammed with gross-out humour, incest jokes and flat pop culture references. There's a brief scene featuring Bill Hader that fails so spectacularly that Hader himself is seen questiong the script during the end-credit outtakes. Year One might provoke belly laughs from 6 or 7-year-old kids who can't resist giggling at the image of someone farting or urinating on themselves, or someone munching on faecal matter, but what the film sorely lacks is ingenuity and wit. There's even a large orgy sequence which was probably designed to serve as the film's comedic centrepiece, but it's exasperatingly long without being funny or (thanks to the PG-13 rating) even sexy. Hell, the writers were even unable to come up with a single amusing Sodom joke; a task this reviewer could pull off over the course of a quick lunch break. Year One is a stillborn production that merely delivers 100 minutes of laugh-free scenarios.

Judd Apatow apparently has great affection for Harold Ramis, but allowing him to run wild with Year One was an ill-advised decision. The film's failure is almost entirely because of Ramis whose direction is clumsy and half-hearted, and whose sense of comic timing is slipshod. The story simply meanders along, awkwardly transitioning from one scene to the next. Ramis often cuts to the next skit before any real punchline; regularly generating the impression that huge chunks of the movie are missing. For instance, Oh is attacked by both a snake and a cougar early into the movie. But on both occasions, the film cuts to the next scene before we get to see how he gets out of it! Even the final scene ends with the characters just walking away. This is followed by an end-credit blooper reel full of flubs and on-set stuff-ups that allow an audience the opportunity to see just how little anyone cared about the production.

It's almost cruel to witness a procession of marvellous actors failing so miserably here. All these talented performers are unable to elevate the material beyond primary school depth. Furthermore, no-one in the cast pushes themselves beyond their established screen personas, with the respective shtick of Jack Black and Michael Cera - the bug-eyed, over-exuberant fat doofus and the mumbling, deadpan pork - growing tiresome very quickly. Black's comedic liveliness is usually only tolerable in small doses. With him receiving top billing and maximum screen time in Year One, he becomes grating. Cera, on the other hand, merely turns in the exact same performance we've seen him deliver in Superbad, Juno, and so on. The concept of pairing Black's bluster with Cera's reticence may have seemed foolproof in theory, but in practise the results are lethal.
Arguably, the only comedic highlight of Year One (if there is only one) is Hank Azaria's amusing interpretation of Abraham, though his screen-time is far too limited. The rest of the cast is awful, including Oliver Platt who hams it up and merely epitomises an abundance of gay jokes for his role. It would seem impossible to include a bad Paul Rudd cameo, but Harold Ramis is a can-do guy when it comes to pushing quality into the middle of the road - or, in this case, off the road and into a ditch!

Year One admittedly retains some energy, so it's tragic that this energy is squandered on a movie not really worth making. There are a few chuckles to be found here and there throughout the film, but they're so irregular that they only serve to highlight how the rest of it has utterly failed in that regard.

2.7/10

"We are confronted with an unprecedented situation: two people have died while connected to their surrogates."

Sometimes there's nothing better than a science fiction thriller supported by an exciting premise that resonates with the present. But there's nothing worse than watching an exciting premise being squandered - and this is precisely the fate of 2009's Surrogates. Adapted from the 2006 graphic novel by Robert Venditti and Brett Weldele, this is a film that wastes a fascinating concept by inserting a generic conspiracy plot that's as nonsensical as it is hard to follow. Director Jonathan Mostow's enthralling visual scheme is not enough to compensate for the cliché-ridden script.

A rapid-fire opening credits montage reveals the technological advances leading to the "now" of the story, and explains how surrogates came to be. Most of the population of the world are now plugged into these robotic avatars (which are more or less just ideal representations of the user) and can go about their daily activities without fearing death from accidents, diseases or any other risks associated with the contemporary world. The crime rate has dropped sharply as a result, and the streets are filled with attractive people (of course there's the inevitable gag of a disgustingly obese man walking the streets as a smokin' hot female surrogate). Those who reject the surrogate culture have been marginalised and now live in ghettoised civilisations.
Set in the not-too-distant future, the film picks up when there's an anomaly in technological paradise: someone has developed a weapon which can kill a user through their surrogate (an action thought to be impossible). When the son of the man who invented the surrogates is murdered in this fashion, FBI Special Agents Greer (Willis) and Peters (Mitchell) begin investigating.

What follows is a twisty, heavily clichéd whodunit tale tagged with a predictable ending. The movie simply jumps from turn to turn in a programmed manner and feels underdone at 85 minutes; suggesting that studio interference was a problem, and the movie was trimmed heavily on its way to cinemas. Surrogates has been pared down to the bare essentials of action and whodunit without a lot of room to breathe, which is highlighted uncomfortably by the clichéd subplot concerning the relationship between Greer and his wife Maggie (Pike). It's a narrative thread that's integral to the overall story, but the melodramatic fragments are all that remain. These flaws notwithstanding, the story is at least delivered at a brisk pace. The narrative problems are brought to the fore only in hindsight - if nothing else, the film gets credit for its entertainment value.

Surrogates can be praised for its riveting visuals. Jonathan Mostow's direction is crisp and the special effects are spectacular. It's a fascinating world that's been created here, with the surrogates being given a plastic-like sheen that differentiates them from the "meat bags" who refuse to plug into the system. However the action sequences are severely undercut by one factor: the PG-13 rating. All the violent money shots are placed off camera and the violence is frustratingly tame. Luckily, though, the action is not marred by quick cutting or indecipherable shaky cam. Mostow's intention was clearly to entertain, and in that regard the director has crafted a perfectly serviceable, paint-by-numbers thriller. Unfortunately, though, the high-octane blips are just that - blips. It's admirable that the film aspires to examine deeper issues, but the script by Michael Ferris and John D. Brancato (the guys who penned Catwoman) is lacking. The filmmakers prioritise pacing over content, when a deeper, longer movie should have been produced.

The script is also riddled with holes. Surrogates would surely cost a great deal, so how would the poor or the unemployed or even the petty street criminals be able to pay for a surrogate and have their protection ensured? It's also hard to believe that virtually everyone on the planet would want to own a surrogate. Is real life truly that awful that we could all consider living life as a robot? There are other aspects which aren't touched upon. Can one eat and drink while using their surrogate? How would sex work? Furthermore, how would reproduction work? The robotic surrogates obviously wouldn't be able to give birth, and everyone seems to want to remain inside their surrogate and avoid contact with actual humans, so how the hell would more generations of people be born? The premise of Surrogates is bursting with narrative possibilities and interesting questions the movie simply isn't interested in addressing.

Bruce Willis starring in a movie is always a good thing. He's the John Wayne or Clint Eastwood of this generation: even if the movie stinks, Willis' screen presence makes it more tolerable and worthwhile. Playing the familiar movie policeman role who must risk the loyalty of his family and colleagues to uncover the truth, Willis does an exemplary job. Once his character of Greer can no longer use his surrogate, he's forced to hit the streets in the flesh. From there the film relies on his performance to allow viewers to experience Greer's system shock of facing surrogate land as a real person and realising just how ridiculous the situation has become. Instead of using flashy camera techniques to illustrate the changing perspective, Mostow focuses squarely on Willis' emotional & physical performance - the actor had to convey the central theme of the movie through his performance, and he achieves this, which is utterly extraordinary.

The filmmakers do a great job of making Bruce Willis look young and handsome. That said, the wig he wears is awful. It's a blessing that Greer breaks from his surrogate about one third into the movie. Most of the supporting cast is shoved to the side due to the brief running time. Radha Mitchell's character initially seems less predestined towards two-dimensionality, but there's no room in the tired murder plot for any back-story or solid characterisation. Rosamund Pike does what she can with the thankless role of Greer's wife, while Ving Rhames makes a strong impression as the leader of the resistance against the surrogates. James Cromwell's role is minor, but nevertheless his performance is assured.

It's clear that the creative team behind Surrogates wanted to deliver an astonishing and worthwhile sci-fi actioner. But the way the film addresses a number of meaningful issues fails to make much of an impact. While it's an enjoyable movie thanks to some quality action, and while it does achieve its goals on a very basic level, the ingenious premise is pushed aside too soon in favour of formula.

6.1/10

"From the Wayan Brothers comes the most outrageous movie of the year," the trailer for Dance Flick promised. In one sense, this is correct - it's an outage that precious reels of celluloid were imprinted with this lazy, cheap, dire, tedious, obnoxious and desperate attempt to induce laugher. And that's just a small selection of disparaging adjectives which can be applied to this tripe.

Dance Flick is just another in the long line of excruciating spoof films begat by the Scary Movie series. Said franchise also inadvertently unleashed upon the world the writer-director team of Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer, and their creations (Epic Movie, Date Movie, Meet the Spartans, Disaster Movie) somehow managed to earn a fortune at the box office while also being universally despised. These recent spoof "comedies" forget one very crucial thing about the genre: they forget to actually be funny. They're miles away from the belly-laugh miracles of the Airplane! and Naked Gun era. Dance Flick is merely a barrage of pointless pop culture references, ghastly stereotypes and overt spoofing - all of which unite to deter laughter. The film was created by the Wayans, and while they weren't responsible for many of the other dire parodies of recent years, you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise.

Less a baseline story than a platform on which to showcase a series of unfunny, disparate sketches, this is a spoof of (logically) every dance film imaginable (running the gamut from Fame to Step Up 2 The Streets). While there are plenty of movies that fit this criterion, Dance Flick is inexplicably focused on 2001's Save the Last Dance. It adapts that particular movie's plot almost scene-for-scene, probably because the filmmakers couldn't be bothered coming up with something more creative on their own.
To an extent, there is a plot (however paltry). It concerns a white, naïve ex-dancer named Megan (Bush) who moves in with her father (Elliot) after her mother dies in a car accident. She hooks up with black street dancer Thomas (Wayans Jr.) and together they aim to compete in a local contest to scoop some much-needed cash. You see, Thomas needs money to pay larger-than-life gangster Sugar Bear (Grier) - who looks like a cross between Fat Bastard and Mr. Creosote.

As with other recent spoofs, the satirical elements of Dance Flick aren't restricted to dance films. One of the most unbearable failed gags of the movie comes at the expense of Twilight. There are also parodies of Black Snake Moan, Catwoman (WTF?!) and even Little Miss Sunshine merely to get the film up to its barely feature-length runtime. The puerile attempts to raise laughs lack subtlety, skilful direction or any degree of intelligence. Instead, there's a junior version of Ray Charles (with his blindness cruelly used as a launching pad for numerous "comedic" mishaps) and a dance instructor named Ms. Cameltoé (Sedaris). Guess what? Yep, Ms. Cameltoé has a noticeably large vagina...and it even beatboxes!

Dance Flick also contains a large variety of potty jokes, racial jokes and hackneyed gags (for instance the music at one stage overwhelms a character who's speaking, so he turns to the orchestra and tells them to quiet down). All this pushes the film's PG-13 rating to the very brink. The point is not that this stuff is offensive, but that it's so insufferably terrible. Exposition and random skits and mashed together willy-nilly with no concern for making a coherent motion picture, and the end result looks and feels like what one would expect from a bunch of kids screwing around with a camera during a family reunion (considering the number of Wayans involved, this could actually be the case here). There's an unexpected amount of energy here (particularly during the dance numbers), but this cannot excuse the tragic deficiency of laughs and the fact that the whole thing is just plain gruelling.

Recently, so many genre parody movies have been made that they no longer carry a novelty factor, making Dance Flick tedious and familiar. This is the very definition of critic-proof - if you want to view this bottom-feeding cash-grab that caters to the lowest common denominator, you've already made up your mind and no amount of reviews will persuade you otherwise. For those of you who adored Disaster Movie or Meet the Spartans, you're welcome to indulge in this tosh...but please keep it away from the rest of us. You know, some of the worst dance movies actually exist as self-parodies, so what the fuck is the point of parodying them anyway???

1.5/10

"Since they're guinea pigs, why don't you put them where they belong"

Yet again, the folks at Disney have given their Talking Animal Movie Randomiser (™) a spin, and this time it's landed on the action-comedy G-Force - a technically impressive blend of live action and CGI about a gaggle of superspy guinea pigs in Mission: Impossible mode. Unfortunately, this is a film which relies so heavily on its central conceit that it neglects everything else. If the talking rodents were removed from the equation, G-Force would be an exceedingly generic spy adventure riddled with holes - and this is hardly a surprise, given that the screenplay was written by the husband-and-wife team of Cormac and Marianne Wibberley, who also penned Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle and Bad Boys II. This is a Jerry Bruckheimer movie as well, so this sort of thing is standard operating procedure for him.

As one would expect, the protagonists of G-Force are the rodents that constitute the titular group: 3 guinea pigs (Rockwell, Cruz, Morgan) and a high-tech mole (Cage). There's also a housefly on the team who does surveillance. (Believe it or not, not only can this fly understand English, but it has also surpassed its two-week lifespan! Amazing!) The human who heads this elite squad is Ben (Galifianakis), along with his assistant Marcie (Garner). While trying to uncover the insidious plan of electronics magnate Leonard Saber (Nighy), the G-Force is shut down following an unauthorised operation to get evidence. (Oh, that old plot point?) Eventually the rodents end up in a pet store where they're held for adoption, but wish to escape from captivity and take down Saber. From there it's Mission: Impossible meets Toy Story meets Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.

G-Force clearly feels the urge to present viewers with a sympathetic portrayal of talking animals when potential viewers, both young and old, would rather witness the heroes in all stages of miniature combat and furry teamwork instead. It's quite easy to be taken during the introductory sequences of the film. However, beyond this (possibly in a page count panic), the writers insist on an emotional conflict and heavy exposition, sticking to every hoary screenwriting template that submerges the heroes in doubt so a false sense of triumph can be concocted. The typical "learn to have faith in yourself" plot point eventually pops up out of no-where, and is resolved so quickly that it feels hastily thrown in simply because a clueless producer insisted on such a moment. This all kills the momentum of the picture. It's a mystery as to why movies can't take a page from Pixar, and learn how to have it both ways - to develop characters terrifically, while entertaining and gaining momentum along the way.

The pay-off of the whole story is an action sequence featuring a giant robot comprised of many small appliances. This whole set-piece just seems like a knee-jerk reaction to Transformers and an acknowledgement of the sequel. The clueless producers probably realised how much young boys love watching robots fighting, and figured it'd also belong in a movie about talking guinea pigs. G-Force is backed by a script that travels on autopilot; assuming that an assortment of fart jokes, cheesy one-liners and pop culture references will appease viewers of all ages. There are a few amusing moments, but every good punchline is countered by limp gags (for instance yuks about Facebook and Paris Hilton)... G-Force is just not an overly funny movie.

First-time director Hoyt Yeatman has enjoyed a long career as a special effects mastermind. He has presided over some of Hollywood's biggest blockbusters, ranging from Star Trek: The Motion Picture to Armageddon (he even earned an Academy Award for his work on James Cameron's The Abyss). His reward for all these efforts is the chance to finally helm a feature film of his own...in the form of G-Force. It's logical for Yeatman to be given CG-intensive material for his directorial debut, but he seems too distracted by the technical angle that he doesn't bother with decent storytelling. His misplaced attentions result in some truly incredible CGI work - the critters look extraordinarily realistic (only a few notches below photorealistic, in fact), and the faux Transformer is as impressive as anything that stomped around in Michael Bay's movies. When G-Force is locked in adventure mode, it's an unexpected charmer. The action set-pieces do have an impressive zing to them, backed by Trevor Rabin's fantastic score. But wouldn't it have been nice if such attention was given to the script & story, too? To an extent, the generic nature may be intentional - it's amusing to see action movie clichés re-enacted by guinea pigs. But once the novelty wears off, it's just an ordinary, by-the-numbers spy caper. And due to an action shortage, it's not fun enough.

The most depressing blow is the casting of Zach Galifianakis as the G-Force's handler. The bushy-bearded comedian broke out into mainstream cinema with 2009's surprise hit The Hangover in which he played a uniquely hilarious character. In G-Force, Galifianakis plays a cookie-cutter role; essentially the straight man to a trio of wisecracking guinea pigs. All the human actors - including Kellie Garner, Will Arnett and Billy Nighy - are mere props, and one wonders if the movie might've worked better if their characters were animated instead. The voice work is admittedly better than expected. Nicolas Cage clearly relished the opportunity to have fun with a goofy mole voice. The rest of the voice actors - Sam Rockwell as the leader of the group, Jon Favreau as a chubby, flatulent guinea pig, Steve Buscemi as a vicious hamster, Penélope Cruz as the obligatory female of the team, and Tracey Morgan as a wisecracking guinea pig operative - place forth solid work. Fairly forgettable, but not woeful.

G-Force is a halfway decent action-comedy. It simply doesn't trust itself enough to run carefree and enjoy the wacky premise...it's instead packed with achingly dull scripting and exposition that eats up most of the film. The special effects are very impressive of course, but the filmmakers should have understood that even with great animation, a lousy story is still a lousy story. Like all high profile summer releases, G-Force targets a particular audience and it will undoubtedly please them - after all it's just pleasant, inoffensive entertainment - but it's also pointless and instantly forgettable.

4.8/10

"We've been living above an entire world, and we didn't even know it!"

As most movie-goers should be aware of, dinosaurs predated the mammals of the Ice Age series by millions of years. Thus, Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs (the third instalment of the now 7-year-old computer-animated franchise) has a few problems to overcome in order to justify the scaly and the furry sharing the screen. To solve this conundrum, the committee of writers have dug deep into the classic tomes of science fiction (such as the works of Jules Verne and Edgar Rice Burroughs) to conceive an idea so ludicrous - an entire world existing beneath the icy ground of the Pleistocene Epoch - that it very nearly works. Of course, Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs is a children's cartoon, and expecting it to be paleontologically accurate is rather imprudent. Nevertheless, if this small detail keeps coming to mind during the movie, it may be an indication that Fox has gone to the well one too many times with this franchise. Dawn of the Dinosaurs is a charming film, but it's more of an agreeable television event than a majestic animated feature.

Following the events of Ice Age: The Meltdown, Manny (Romano) and Ellie (Latifah) - the last two woolly mammoths on the planet - are expecting their first child. However the prospective new arrival has put a strain on the gang; sabre-toothed tiger Diego (Leary) fears domesticity will cause him to lose more of his edge as a hunter, while Sid the sloth (Leguizamo) realises the family dynamic could lead to his eventual exclusion. Depressed, Sid wishes for a family of his own, and stumbles upon a trio of dinosaur eggs that contain Tyrannosaurs Rexes which he decides to adopt. But once they hatch, their perturbed mother soon shows up to seize them...and takes Sid as well. So with Sid taken captive by a dinosaur who takes him to a lost world of dinosaurs under the ice, it's up to his motley group of mammal pals to rescue him - with a crazed weasel named Buck (Pegg) giving them a helping hand along the way.

Unfortunately, the story just feels like a thinly-veiled excuse to incorporate dinosaurs (presumably because they're popular with little boys). For the most part, Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs plays out like a demo for the video game as it careens from one improbable action situation to the next. Mastering these sorts of challenges may be fun in an interactive video game, but they're dull and out-of-place in a movie. To the credit of the filmmakers, though, the picture doesn't strain itself to find a higher purpose, and the absence of responsibility permits the movie to have a bit of fun. The directorial duo of Carlos Saldanha and Mike Thurmeier therefore hand Dawn of the Dinosaurs over to the colourful locales, dangerous predators and the adorable infant dinosaur shenanigans. A sense of freshness is encouraged with the introduction of Buck; a comedic hunter with a leaf eye-patch who's been lurking solo in the lost world underneath the ice for several years. Buck is a splendid, off-the-wall sidekick who's integral to the narrative and pitched to entertain (instead of irritate), with Simon Pegg elevating the material with his endearing rendition of the character.

And of course, crowd favourite Scrat ("voiced" by series head-honcho Chris Wedge) shows up periodically throughout the film to liven things up. The buck-toothed, squirrel-like critter's incessant love for his acorn is continually put to the test; more so when he crosses paths with the femme-fatale of his species, affectionately known as Scrattè (Disher), who's rather a tough nut to crack. Their physical tussles over the acorn (which lead to them falling in love) provide welcome relief from the story proper, and remind us that well-executed slapstick comedy is always enjoyable. The Scrat/Scrattè interactions frankly make the rest of the movie look rather stale.

The previous Ice Age films maintained a consistent cleverness, and had only minimal reliance on television-grade jokes. But there's an overriding laziness haunting Dawn of the Dinosaurs. Hearing Ray Romano bitch about married life is out-of-place in this picture, as if the audio from Romano's former television program was recycled. On top of this, the plotline resembles that of a generic sitcom episode. The humour is half-baked, and hilarious moments are only occasional. The film often resorts to bathroom humour or relating to gender differences to get a laugh (for instance, what happens when you try to "milk" a male cow?). Most of the jokes couldn't be less relevant to what's happening as well. There's a bit of playful bantering between the characters from time to time as well as a selection of amusing vignettes, but once again these are infrequent. Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs feels like it was assembled as quickly as possible before the franchise's target audience could outgrow the infantile protagonists.

Blue Sky Studios continue to operate strongly in the shadow of Pixar and DreamWorks, but this smaller enterprise needs to improve their techniques in order to compete in the animation realm. The look of Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs is disappointing, particularly with Pixar's Up being released in the same year. While the characters themselves are well-detailed, the world in which they operate is bland and generic.

With each new release, Pixar manages to expose deep issues and still create a highly enjoyable romp that appeals to viewers young and old. Meanwhile, Fox continues to milk franchises like Ice Age, and the result is surface-level fluff. Like the previous Ice Age films, Dawn of the Dinosaurs is enjoyable, but too formulaic, and creativity is slowly decreasing (who didn't predict the '80s one-hit wonder Walk the Dinosaur being used for the soundtrack?).

6.4/10

"I need to get some fucking friends."

Over recent years, it would seem, the mainstream comedy genre has become a breeding ground for male arrested development. With American comedy embracing unadorned masculinity - in all its slovenly, sexist, drunken and often childish glory - with such gusto, it's a surprise that I Love You, Man is perhaps the first modern comedy that actually attempts to explore male bonding. For 100 minutes, this film tracks the protagonists as they sing Rush songs, hang out and give each other silly nicknames, while a shoestring plot lingers in the corner which is occasionally picked up when the rote structure calls for it. There are some amusing moments within I Love You, Man, but it's mostly forgettable, not to mention so formulaic that a viewer will be able to figure out what's coming next even before the film's midpoint.

The story concerns straight-laced realtor Peter Klaven (Rudd) who, at the beginning of the movie, becomes engaged to his girlfriend Zooey (Jones). All seems fine until Zooey starts calling her best friends to tell them the great news, and it soon becomes obvious that Peter has no people to call apart from his parents. Pressed by his fiancée and family, Peter embarks on a series of "man dates" in an attempt to widen his social circle. Following a number of disastrous meetings with various flakes, Peter happens upon Sydney Fife; a part-time investment councillor and a full-time slacker. Sydney opens Peter's eyes to the world of a male best friend, offering advice on romance and a discussion outlet in the form of his self-described "man cave" (a primordial shrine to narcissistic masculinity filled with TVs, instruments, comfy chairs, and even a masturbation station). But as the two grow to be inseparable, Zooey grows concerned, especially when Sydney's influence causes Peter to question his upcoming nuptials.

The semi-love affairs between straight, immature men is the topic the film tackles, and it's fleshed out using standard Judd Apatow-style ingredients: cheerful vulgarity, good-natured charm, sexually explicit & profanity-ridden dialogue, as well as off-the-wall pop culture references. Although Judd Apatow has absolutely nothing to do with I Love You, Man, one could be forgiven for thinking he was behind it. Not only does this film contain a lot of trademark Apatow elements, it also stars two Apatow alumni (Paul Rudd and Jason Segel, both of whom appeared in 2008's Forgetting Sarah Marshall).

Director John Hamburg (who shares a screenwriting credit with Larry Levin) is fairly sly in his construction of Peter and Sydney's story. I Love You, Man cleverly repurposes the standard scenes and conflicts of modern romantic comedies, from the cute meetings to the "getting to know you" montage to the third party which may break them up (in this case, Zooey). However the movie also adheres to the well-worn tenets of the romantic comedy genre, right down to the temporarily break up and last-minute reconciliation. With the characters warmly established and an enjoyable, fluid tone bubbling wonderfully, it's borderline criminal to halt the merriment in order to wander into a formulaic rom-com bear trap. I Love You, Man is flawed in other ways; Peter's awkward verbal blunders grow tiresome, and the unfunny character Lonnie (Truglio) shows up a few too many times.

To their credit, Hamburg and Levin have created a script which manages to avoid some of the more rough-edged clichés of the genre - Jane Curtin plays Peter's mother like a regular parent instead of some over-the-top shrew, and the homosexuality of Peter's brother not reduced to swishing stereotypes. While the movie isn't exactly the side-splitting laugh riot it probably could have been in more adept hands, there are a lot of amusing details and hysterical one-liners (Sydney's observations about male behaviour are quite amusing). Hamburg's direction isn't terribly innovative, but why would one want a director intruding on a character comedy with indulgent camerawork?

Paul Rudd may be in danger of getting typecast as the goofy boyfriend type, but he's turned this sort of role into an art form. Rudd's allure is one of the film's greatest weapons; the wedding proposal that opens the film is winning and sweet, and gets us on his side from the outset. On the other side of the spectrum is Jason Segel who's also known for a certain character (the laid-back, earnest imbecile). For the film, he essentially just plays off Rudd's straight man. Segel's matter-of-fact delivery and likability makes him a great partner for Rudd. The genuine friendship between Segel and Rudd is clear in every scene, and obvious improvisation adds an additional level to their friendship. But one also gets the feeling that they're both better than this material; nothing in the movie can hold up against their brief scenes together in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Luckily, the two leads are surrounded by a full staff of comedy players. Jon Favreau is a particular highlight, whose scenes with Jaime Pressly are downright hysterical. Rashida Jones is beyond charming as Zooey, and it's clear why Peter would be so smitten with her. Also in the cast there's J.K. Simmons, Jane Curtin and Thomas Lennon (who's especially funny), to name a few.

Despite a clever premise and several laugh-aloud moments, I Love You, Man slightly underwhelms due to a story that sags a bit from overfamiliarity. Still, the accurate portrayal of male bonding and the healthy dosage of comedy makes this "bromance" worth a watch.

6.5/10

"You're not funny. You look funny, but you're not funny." [I could say the same thing to the movie]

The drama-comedy Funny People is Judd Apatow's third outing as a writer-director, and it stars both Seth Rogen and Adam Sandler. This should be a funny movie, right? Of course, the problem with expectations is they occasionally lead to disappointment - and Funny People is disappointing on numerous levels. It has been suggested that this flick is the final entry in Judd Apatow's comic trilogy about sex (2005's The 40-Year-Old Virgin), birth (2007's Knocked Up) and now death (or at least the threat of death). In this regard, the movie is a blatant attempt on Apatow's part to display maturity as a filmmaker, and the product is more of a drama (an uncomfortable one at that) than a comedy. There's one crucial hindrance with Funny People: it's neither funny nor touching - it's grim. Even Apatow and Sandler devotees will find their attention spans challenged, as the film wears out its welcome long before the excessive 150-minute runtime has elapsed.

Central to the story is a comedian named George Simmons (Sandler). After spending his career making asinine comedy movies for the masses, George has become self-absorbed and emotionally stunted. Towards the beginning of the movie, he's diagnosed with a rare blood disease. Upon learning about his impending doom, George basically just continues to indulge in his usual self-centred activities (except with a much darker attitude) rather than embarking on some form of spiritual journey or attempting to right his past wrongs. George eventually stumbles upon a makeshift comedic soul mate in the form of struggling stand-up Ira Wright (Rogen); taking the inexperienced funny man into his life for jokes and companionship.

This is, however, just one half of the narrative. George pursuing his estranged early love Laura (Mann) constitutes the other half. The notion seems to be that Funny People is a two-hander between George and Ira, but George's story eventually overwhelms Ira's. By combining what should have remained two separate stories into one movie of extreme length, a lot of potential is wasted. The relationship between Ira and George was a self-contained narrative in itself, and the first half which explores this is quite entertaining. But instead of concentrating on this narrative thread, the film pursues something more hackneyed, with George trying to reconnect with Laura while Ida is held in reserve. Exploring the deep rituals of the comedy circuit would've also made the film far more compelling.

Judd Apatow's movies (even those he produces) are frequently crippled by their needlessly long runtimes and general self-indulgence. Funny People is no different - it meanders around a number of plotlines before seemingly ending at random; aware it has exhausted its audiences' tolerance for Apatow's trademark excess. Believe it or not, the running time of Funny People exceeds the extended editions of both The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up by around 10 minutes, and there's more that could have been added. Some connective tissue appears absent (like the explanation of why Laura, who is irritated and dismissive during earlier conversations with George, agrees to see him upon learning he's dying - and it's a mystery as to how she even finds out about his condition since there's no public announcement). Much like the films of Quentin Tarantino, Funny People is a movie in desperate need of discipline.

Disappointment is imminent on the comedy front. The stand-up sequences, with their poor lighting and an air of flop-sweat, admittedly possess an air of authenticity (the actors themselves even wrote their own material, and it was all filmed in front of a live crowd). But the on-stage routines aren't funny or in the least bit memorable. In fact, some of them are excruciatingly unfunny. Pretty much the only funny parts of the entire movie were shown in the trailers (maybe 5 or 6 lines in a 2½-hour movie), none of which are genuinely hysterical. Unfortunately, too, the dialogue never crackles with any wit. Funny People is an audacious movie that provides a few entertaining moments, but as a whole it's tragically flat.

Adam Sandler as George Simmons is a stroke of genius. The actor is in top form with this low-key performance, and this is perhaps the most lived-in work of his career. Sandler has already proved he's a capable dramatic actor (Punch-Drunk Love, Reign Over Me), and he flexes these chops capably here. Suitably, the character of George Simmons is a famous comedian who has long sacrificed his edge for awful movies made purely for money. With Sandler having starred in a number of awful movies made purely for the box office returns over recent years, it's clear he's having a little fun at the expense of his own career.

As with every Apatow movie, the cast gives the film a class-reunion sensibility, which makes the film a lot more fun for them than it is for an audience. As Ira Wright, a slimmed down Seth Rogen is in familiar territory; playing a poorly-masked version of his usual self. Leslie Mann (Apatow's wife) is also in familiar territory playing Laura, though she's still endearing. As Clarke, Laura's Australian husband, Eric Bana steals the show. Meanwhile the two offspring of Mann and Apatow play the children of Laura and Clarke, and Jason Schwartzman and the agonisingly unfunny Jonah Hill play Ira's wisecracking friends/roommates (a staple ingredient in Apatow films). A bunch of real celebrities (playing themselves) are given small cameos too, and they're fun to watch (Ray Romano's cameo is one of the film's most amusing moments).

In the case of Funny People, there's simply too much here for one movie. The plotting is unruly and flabby, as what seems to be a straightforward tale of morality and redemption becomes bogged down by unnecessary characters, formula and outright schmaltz. This isn't an inherently uninteresting or gruelling film (in fact the first hour is great), but the indefensible length turns a bold experiment into something that too often feels like an endurance contest.

4.8/10

"Technically, GI Joe does not exist. But if it did, it would be comprised of the best men and women from the top military units in the world, the alpha dog's. When all else fails we don't."

Built on the philosophy that any line of Hasbro action figures will translate to the big screen with lucrative results (à la Michael Bay's Transformers), G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra is exactly the type of overblown, loud, mindless summer blockbuster it clearly aspired to be - a cartoonish actioner of ornately costumed good vs. evil with large explosions, plenty of CGI, very few nuances and some woeful acting. The filmmakers behind G.I. Joe visibly intended to replicate what a 10-year-old boy's imagination might conjure up while playing with his action figures, and the result is an action film highlight reel that's pleasing to the eye but not to any other organ. On this note it's an awful movie by any standard, but it's also a great deal of fun.

For those unaware, G.I. Joe is not a person - it's an organisation (a bit like the X-Men, except the G.I. Joes gain superpowers through technology and training rather than innate ability). General Hawk (Quaid) is the one who presides over this elite unit of warriors. The plot, so to speak, concerns the Joes whose mission is to defend a bunch of cutting edge NATO weapons from an evil organisation. The bad guys plan to steal these weapons and use them to destroy strategic global targets in an effort to (what else?)...take over the world! Of course, none of this detail matters because the whole storyline is an excuse to showcase action sequences that'll just be interrupted by a poorly-placed flashback or a silly joke.

G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra is virtually wall-to-wall action, delivered at such a brisk pace that the lull is very noticeable during brief breaks for exposition. The dialogue is expectedly risible, while the story is at once elemental and incomprehensible; jumping from 1640s France to the near future before zipping to Tokyo 20 years earlier, and so on. The screenplay (credited to five writers) is a clichéd mess of fanboy pandering (the famous "knowing is half the battle" line is of course spoken) which struggles to introduce a cumbersome roster of one-note characters while a world domination scheme unfolds that wouldn't pass muster in the most self-indulgent efforts of the James Bond franchise. The script also spends an absurd amount of time on flashbacks that help establish all the characters in the Joe universe. Half the bad guys were originally good guys, the Cobra back-story is turned into a chintzy soap opera, and the origins tale of Snake Eyes is compressed into a few short flashbacks (usually concerning fights between two kids). Even despite the attempts to offer an origins tale for most of the protagonists, they remain as plastic as the toys that inspired them. Sure, expecting character development in a G.I. Joe motion picture is foolhardy, but tension and excitement in action movies are tied to the viewer's ability to root for the protagonists - and it's hard to root for underdeveloped characters.

On the other hand, G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra is a devilishly fun and entertaining guilty pleasure. Why? Because it gets it - it knows the pedigree it wants to be, and it pursues it. All that's missing from this film is the hands of an 8-year-old on the screen making the characters move. Director Stephen Sommers only operates in one gear; infusing G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra with a blistering pace that makes it somewhat easier to overlook the film's numerous shortcomings. The atmosphere of unapologetic cartoonishness is exacerbated by the eye-rolling overuse of computer-generated special effects, with the pervasive lack of reality reinforcing the film's proud status as a big-budget summer blockbuster.

In any case, this film is far better than Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen - not because it's more creative or thoughtful (it isn't) but because Sommers is a more sure-handed director than Michael Bay. An audience may not have a great deal of emotional investment in the action, but at least it's comprehensible (the camera never experiences a sudden seizure). Admittedly, too, the action sequences are frequently exhilarating, and the inclusion of several better-than-expected set-pieces (like a breathless chase through the streets of Paris) allow the film to be far more fun than it should be. Yet the quality of the CGI is inconsistent (at times bordering on photorealism, at other times embarrassingly phoney), and the climax erodes interest by splicing together a few hundred concurrent battles instead of just one conflict. While far too long at almost two hours, G.I. Joe is at least not as excruciating or unending as Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.

The only aspect of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra which does resemble Transformers is the attempt on the part of the filmmakers to have it both ways - to make it as childish and blood-free as possible to draw in kids and obtain a PG-13 rating for maximum profits (though it still underperformed at the box office), while also including enough shooting and violence to keep the older demographic entertained. Like most of Sommers' other work, it's impossible to take the deeply stupid material seriously, and it's therefore jarring that there's a semi-serious tone to everything. It's like Team America minus the winks and overt humour.

Unsurprisingly, G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra features atrocious acting. Channing Tatum is the most glaring offender in the bad-acting department, with a performance that's beyond unconvincingly wooden. Sienna Miller is equally dreadful. An audience should become invested in the relationship between Tatum's Duke and Miller's Ana, but poor writing and lack of chemistry between the leads fails to sell the romance as anything more than a feeble plot element. Christopher Eccleston and Joseph Gordon-Levitt provide a few giggles; they understand they're playing cartoons, and have suitably hammed it up. Marlon Wayans is the film's comic relief, but he's only slightly amusing. Also in the cast is a stale Dennis Quaid, and a few actors from Sommers' The Mummy who are given small roles (Brendan Fraser, Arnold Vosloo and Kevin J. O'Connor).

The subtitle The Rise of Cobra is actually misleading - the Cobra doesn't bother to rise until the last few minutes. There are also loose ends dangling everywhere, which suggest the filmmakers were thinking of a sequel before producing this chapter. The film is therefore not a standalone entity but a tease for future instalments, which makes it an unsatisfying standalone experience before those sequels have been made.

If any film of 2009 has suffered bad buzz and worse marketing, it's G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra. The result is nothing excruciating, but at its best moments it's still entirely forgettable. Then again, the 10-year-old boys for whom the movie is tailor-made aren't seeking Oscar-calibre performances or anything thought-provoking. They want eye-candy and no-holds-barred action, which G.I. Joe delivers at mind-numbing pace. Is it perfect? Fuck no. It's rubbish. But it's still fun.

5.3/10