Reviews by PvtCaboose91

Prior to helming The Spirit, a screen adaptation of Will Eisner's comic book series, Frank Miller had scripted the woeful RoboCop III and had co-directed the extraordinary Sin City (with Robert Rodriguez). Merely a few minutes into The Spirit, it's agonisingly clear who the real cinematic talent behind Sin City was. Miller (himself a legend in the realm of graphic novels) directs solo for the first time for The Spirit, and the product is this definitive showcase of what can go wrong if a comic book artist seizes the reigns of a celluloid production. For Miller's directorial debut, the sense of visual style becomes so pervasive that it overwhelms everything else, especially (and most detrimentally) plot. Alas, the eye candy grows stale and repetitive, unlike Sin City which coupled the mind-blowing visuals with engaging, fast-paced stories. The visuals cannot be faulted in their execution, but there's little holding the film together - The Spirit is just pretty pictures connected with tin-eared dialogue and cardboard characters. Frank Miller deserves credit for being a comic book visionary, but - to quote Dirty Harry - a man's got to know his limitations. Due to the quality of this tosh, Miller may not direct a major studio film on his own ever again. The Spirit is a mess - it's hollow, directionless and self-indulgent. It seems that in order to keep a film tightly-plotted and well-paced, Miller needs a guiding hand.

The story takes place in the dreary, crime-riddled Central City. Denny Colt (Macht) was one of the metropolis' finest cops until he was killed in the line of duty before being reborn as the enigmatic masked avenger known as The Spirit. He's seemingly indestructible as his body regenerates upon sustaining injury, but the same is also true of his nemesis The Octopus (Jackson). The Octopus aims to wipe out The Spirit's beloved Central City while he also pursues the blood of Heracles which will make him immortal. Caught up in this battle is sultry jewel thief Sand Saref (Mendes) who shares a past with Denny Colt.

The Spirit simply has no idea what it wishes to be as it erratically veers across the tonal spectrum. Part neo-noir, part acid trip and part black comedy, this feature is like Dick Tracy, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, The Phantom, and the '60s Batman TV series rolled into one...but minus their respective charms. Goofy slapstick punctuates the action, and the gorgeous CGI-augmented visuals (which evoke Sin City) are at odds with the awful campy approach. Samuel L. Jackson as The Octopus wields a large pipe-wrench, traps The Spirit in a toilet (complete with a lame one-liner) and melts a cat down to a couple of eyeballs. There's a scene featuring Jackson and Scarlett Johansson dressed as Nazis - for absolutely no reason - that drags on for ten minutes straight, and The Octopus hates eggs. The guns resemble something out of the Looney Tunes as well! This is also a PG-13 film, meaning intense violence is out. If Miller had crafted either a hard-edged Sin City-esque noir or a straight-up campy parody, then The Spirit might've worked. As it is, this nonsense fails as a film noir, a comic book movie, and as a dark comedy.

In cinematically adapting Will Eisner's acclaimed comic book series, director Miller has opted to employ techniques similar to those that were used so effectively in Sin City - i.e. the majority of the film was shot in front of a green screen. By working with a digital set, Miller is able to craft a motion picture that looks almost identical to its comic book equivalent (even occasionally copying specific shots from the comic). There's a lot of computer generated imagery and animation here, with silhouettes and shadows playing a big part in the visual palette. The digital format suits the source material, allowing the filmmakers to combine the fantastical with gritty hyper-realism. However, the green screen noir visuals no longer sparkle as much as they did in Sin City; feeling imitative as opposed to innovative. It seems Miller is so focused on bloating his flick with one-note characters and stabs at slapstick that he neglects story and pacing. Consequently, there's no sense of forward momentum. The overacting, the bland story and Miller's tepid direction prevent pulses from speeding up as well. The visuals are impressive, but there's just no story to serve them. Scenes just happen, often with no clear beginning or end.

The dialogue is utterly atrocious, the acting is embarrassing, and the drama is corny to the point of laugh-inducing. And this kills any element of suspense or tension. There's a certain artistry in crafting crime dialogue, and Frank Miller has shown he can successfully pull off such dialogue as his Sin City graphic novels are perfect examples of the form. However, Miller's gifts aren't palpable while watching The Spirit. Lines such as "My city screams. She is my lover and I am her spirit" are delivered with gusto but sound awful. Admittedly, some of the levity is in place on purpose, but Samuel L. Jackson's over-the-top monologues probably aren't meant to be worthy of chortles. The Octopus is not sinister...he's silly! As for The Spirit...he's far too dull and personality-deficient to be able to hold together an entire movie. He's easily the least interesting of all the main characters, unfortunately. Miller uses roof-running as a substitute for action, and the film misses much of the quirky charm and humanity of the Will Eisner comic book series. Ultimately, this grossly mishandled adaptation lacks emotion and is hollow at its core. It's just plain boring.

The Spirit is a movie without a direction, a vision, or a definitive path - it's all over the place! Frank Miller is even unable to commit to a time period to set the film in. Characters look and dress as if they're living in the 1940s, and talk as if this is a Double Indemnity parody. They also drive classic automobiles straight out of the 40s. In addition, women run their own hospitals and perform complicated surgical procedures. Every office has a Xerox machine, ostensibly in order for Miller to concoct a scene in which Eva Mendes photocopies her rear end (bear in mind the Xerox machine wasn't invented until the 60s, conflicting with the 40s atmosphere). This eventually leads to a cheesy double entendre.

Gabriel Macht's performance, much like the film's tone, is all over the map. The blame should lay with the director rather than the actor in this case, though. He's a dark avenger one moment, a snappy-talking noir character the next. And he's always - always - monologuing! Miller aimed to bring all the comic book thought-balloons to life using constant monologues, but it gets very tired very fast. And as for Samuel L. Jackson playing The Octopus...he has never been hammier. At the other end of the spectrum are the femme fatales, all of which are attractive but vapidly performed. There's an almost unrecognisable Scarlett Johansson as The Octopus's number one henchman, and Eva Mendes as a bad girl obsessed with shiny things.

2008 was an above-average year for comic book movies (Iron Man, The Dark Knight) until The Spirit reared its ugly head. The critics had a right to pound this one into the ground. While Miller's directorial debut is watchable on account of a few rousing scenes (the initial five minutes foster the false impression that greatness will ensue) and technical competency, the negatives far outweigh the positives. Miller simply lacks the chops as a filmmaker to handle a motion picture on his own. The Spirit is indefensible; a ridiculous mishmash of random, disconnected scenes and boring speeches. The action lacks excitement, the humour is too campy, and the drama is half-baked. Stick with Sin City.

4.2/10

A botched, superfluous modernisation of Robert Wise's timeless science fiction gem of the same name, The Day the Earth Stood Still is an overdone and super-sized special effects extravaganza as well as a prime example of cinematic blasphemy. Instead of the 1950s mindset which pervaded the original feature (Cold War, fear of aliens, fear of nuclear attack), this remake has been resettled into a 21st century mindset (concentrating on environmental issues), and the result is a blockbuster poorly masquerading as an important "message" film. In the end it's extremely familiar, not just due to its nature as a remake but also because it's a fundamental duplicate of every global disaster/alien epic from the past decade (from Independence Day to The Day After Tomorrow to Deep Impact). The Day the Earth Stood Still is a CGI-laden retread chock full of clichés and stock characters (government officials, frazzled scientists, a kid etc.). Both the director (Scott Derrickson) and the main star (Keanu Reeves) of this remake are self-proclaimed fans of the 1951 original, but their collaboration is utterly soulless. Worse, The Day the Earth Stood Still lacks the simplicity, elegance and intelligence of the earlier film, employing special effects and pointless action scenes to replace passages of dialogue.

Following barely a few minutes of generic character development, Astrobiologist Helen Benson (Connelly) is abruptly plucked from her everyday life when the American Government summons a group of scientists for a top-secret matter. As it turns out, an object from outer space is on a collision course with Earth and the point of impact is projected to be Central Park in Manhattan. The object turns out to be a massive glowing sphere, and from it emerges an alien ambassador named Klaatu (Reeves) who assumes human form to communicate with the citizens of Earth. Klaatu is interrogated by United States Government officials, and he reveals that he has an important message for the planet but will only speak to the United Nations. He is denied of this, however, and goes on the run with Helen and her stepson (Smith) as the fate of the planet gradually becomes clear.

The Day the Earth Stood Still opens in 1928 and attempts to establish some back-story that was absent from the original movie. During this opening sequence, a nameless character portrayed by Keanu Reeves is shown on an expedition on a blizzard-infested mountain in India and stumbles upon a glowing sphere. This scene ostensibly serves the purpose of explaining how Klaatu looks a lot like Reeves in his human form. You see, apparently modern audiences are unable to use their imagination to figure out why an alien would resemble a human. But not knowing Klaatu's origins in the 1951 movie generated an effective, intriguing mystery. On top of this, the landing of the sphere in Central Park in this remake lacks the emotional charge as well as the jaw-dropping nature that Wise captured so excellently all those decades earlier. In the original film, there was a far greater feeling of confusion and excitement during Klaatu's arrival, but this is hopelessly lost here as Hollywood excess is in full display, showing the re-imagined Gort emerging from the glowing sphere. Neither the sphere nor the larger Gort are as impressive as their simplistic counterparts from over fifty years ago. Most disappointingly, The Day the Earth Stood Still lacks unique, defining imagery.

After a strong, fast-paced beginning (albeit with zero characterisation), the flick veers off course throughout its second half with clichéd "character building" sequences, pointless pyrotechnics, and a lot of running around in the backwoods of New Jersey. Klaatu is given inane abilities, such as being able to interfere with technology and the ability to revive dead people. As the film draws to a close, clichés are in abundance. The ending is also extremely rushed and unsatisfying, as well as lacking the ominous and downbeat warning of its predecessor. Another of its major crimes is displaying nations using stereotypes. The film is ambitious in scale, unsuccessful in execution. Australia is shown briefly, for instance...the postcard-style image depicts a couple overlooking the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House. London also looks as if it's stuck in the '50s! Egypt and Middle-Eastern countries are shown as primitive civilisations who ride camels. In addition, the main action taking place in New York is an inexcusable cliché. It's as if Roland Emmerich directed the flick!

The original film offered an anti-war message - the human race needed to be eliminated in the flick because advanced weaponry posed a threat to alien worlds. Back in 1951, a handful of years after World War II, the message was timely. In 2008, global warming has become a major issue and it's addressed in this remake. Klaatu states his case for genocide: Earth is too valuable to allow its indigenous human population to destroy it, and therefore humans must be eliminated. The Day the Earth Stood Still conveys the message that humans are destroying Earth with industrialisation, cars and our thirst for electricity, but these messages are merely a plot device. Frustratingly, The Day the Earth Stood Still could be successfully updated to suit contemporary issues, but, with the story traded in for special effects, this remake is just an uninspired mockery of Robert Wise's original film. What a wasted opportunity!

The Day the Earth Stood Still is technically proficient with some terrific special effects, fantastic cinematography, and a pulse-pounding score. But all of the Hollywood magic on display cannot hide the fact that the entire film lacks soul and fails to engage on an emotional level. The effects themselves are hit-and-miss, mind you. The giant alien spheres are stunning to behold, and the large swarms of bugs are spectacular, but most of the effects integrated with the real actors look quite weak. Anything involving Gort looks absurd, and he's the film's least convincing visual element. Most of the big "money shots" (there are a lot) were used in the trailers as well, so you won't be missing much if you skip the movie. Surprisingly, Peter Jackson's Weta Workshop worked on the project. It's a shame that this is one of their most subpar efforts.

The film works better when it focuses on the drama involving the protagonists as this is when a viewer feels most engaged. Unfortunately, though, once Klaatu changes his view on humankind's potential to transform itself, it's unconvincingly motivated and it seems like the aliens didn't even do their homework before deciding to eliminate the human race.

The famous quote from the original Day the Earth Stood Still - "Klaatu barada nicto" - has become a cult sci-fi phrase over the years, held in the same esteem as "May the Force be with you" (from Star Wars) and "Live long and prosper" (from Star Trek). This remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still apparently contains these beloved words, but they're irritatingly inaudible.

Keanu Reeves is emotionless and wooden, as befitting a naïve humanoid alien not accustomed to a human body. Considering his impassive acting style, Reeves is a decent choice for the role of Klaatu, but his performance isn't anything special and lacks a requisite zing. Jennifer Connelly is merely serviceable in the fairly thankless role of Helen Benson. She's not memorable, and all the emotion she attempts to bring to the role barely registers. Jaden Smith (Will Smith's son) appears as a child who's a frequent source of irritation. Jaden's performance is fine, but his character is a stereotype - an infuriating stereotype as well. He starts out as the stepson of a woman he calls Helen, but by the end the two have bonded and he refers to his stepmother as "Mom". Along the way he's on hand to be a general pain in the arse. Veteran actress Kathy Bates also chews up a few scenes as the Secretary of Defense. John Cleese, however, makes the biggest impression, delivering the best performance in the film in what amounts to a mere cameo. Cleese's character presents an impassioned case to Klaatu, telling him why humankind should be given a second chance.

In order for a remake to be successful, it has to traverse a difficult path. It must honour the original while bringing something fresh, interesting and intelligent to the project. This remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still fails a little in both categories. The need to be a CGI spectacle trumps the desire to be smart and thought-provoking, and this is detrimental. In the end it feels too much like a generic disaster feature not unlike those released during the last ten years. The Day the Earth Stood Still is certainly entertaining and technically extraordinary with acceptable performances, but it simply fails to connect emotionally and it's too shoddy to ever be considered a classic in its own right.

4.5/10

From the outset, Fanboys wears its Star Wars fandom visibly on its sleeve, right down to a familiar opening scroll that's even prefaced with the title "A short time ago in a galaxy not so far, far away..." Immediately, it's obvious you're dealing with passionate fans, and that the experience to follow will be endearing, goofy and fun. Shot in 2006 before subsequently becoming the victim of a heated post-production war, Fanboys at long last rises out of Harvey Weinstein's dust-laden vault to satiate the devoted who hoped to one day enjoy this carousel of Star Wars references and male bonding humour. The makers of Fanboys aimed to provide a love letter to fanboys and fangirls worldwide - i.e. to those who devote themselves to an aspect of pop culture and often endure ridicule for their passion. Unfortunately, while this tribute to fandom has its moments of sheer brilliance, it is primarily a conventional road trip feature that doesn't manage to rise above the standard for typical entries to the tired genre. There's a selection of very funny moments and sly references, but it ultimately ends up feeling clichéd and shallow. In the hands of more adept storytellers, this could have been a far deeper, more thoughtful movie.

Fanboys is set in 1998, and the countdown to the highly anticipated release of Star Wars Episode One: The Phantom Menace is intensifying. The story tracks a group of Ohio's biggest Star Wars fans - Eric (Huntington), Linus (Marquette), Hutch (Fogler) and Windows (Baruchel) - who live and breathe everything Star Wars and believe six months is too long to wait for the prequel. Three of these protagonists are also stuck in perpetual adolescence: they work in a comic book store, still live at home and are hopeless with the opposite sex. As for the fourth protagonist, he has grown up and works at his father's successful business. However an awkward reunion at a Halloween party reignites these old friendships. When it's revealed that Linus is dying of cancer and won't live long enough to witness the premiere of The Phantom Menace, the boys devise a plan to travel to the Skywalker Ranch in San Francisco where they'll break in and steal an unfinished copy of the much-anticipated flick...

See, since this is set before George Lucas released the dire prequels, these guys genuinely believe the new Star Wars film will be worth all the trouble...

It's fair to say that The Weinstein Company, who distributed Fanboys, treated the film abominably. It was originally due to be released in late 2007, but reshoots, re-edits, and marketing uncertainty forced the release date to shift multiple times before it was finally dumped into a small number of theatres in February 2009. Fanboys was beset with controversy because the Weinsteins re-edited the movie in order to eliminate the subplot about Linus being terminally ill. It'd be interesting to find out how close the film's theatrical cut is to director Kyle Newman's original vision, especially considering that Stephen Brill (the guy behind Without a Paddle) conducted the reshoots of which Newman took absolutely no part in.

As for the cancer subplot, it gives the plot momentum and it provides the characters with further motivation. However, the fact that it could be so easily excised indicates how little it is actually touched on. Linus never talks about his sickness, and he rarely even seems sick. His cancer is only mentioned at the beginning before resurfacing once the film begins to wind down. There's a lot of potential here that's never fully realised. Newman and the writers tread lightly around the subject of mortality and the real reason for this cross-country adventure. They instead maintain a light tone, keeping the focus on pop culture references as well as the wacky situations the characters become entangled in while on the road.

It's probably best to consider Fanboys an affectionate ode to the adventure of geekdom, and how pure the feeling of Star Wars idolatry was back in 1998 (before the Jedi nation was forever divided upon the release of The Phantom Menace). Fanboys plays out more or less as one would expect from a road trip picture. The characters interact, meet quite a number of strange people, and reach their destination only after some unexpected detours. Like most movies of this ilk, there are segments of the film that work better than others. One of the better scenes depicts Hutch taking a detour in order to go to Captain Kirk's Iowa hometown and harass some rabid Star Trek fans. In fact, the Star Wars vs. Star Trek war rages on throughout the course of Fanboys (fairly ironic in 2009, as the latter franchise just became cool again thanks to a big-budget revival). This particular subplot is the film's finest touch, permitting the two rival factions to slap each other around for a number of good laughs. The characters' final arrival at Skywalker Ranch - complete with ninja outfits, grappling hooks and Star Wars props galore - is a fitting finale that suits the movie's silly, warm-hearted tone.

Most of the characters are treated merely as caricatures, defined only by their obsession and complete inability to relate to anyone outside of their small, insular circle of fan-friends. Not to mention the film is also overflowing with clichés. The dialogue is admittedly quite flat at times, and the raunchiness is tame (due to the docile PG-13 rating). Fanboys could have used some Kevin Smith or Judd Apatow-style moments to increase the laugh quota and make it a tad more daring. The dialogue is even so clichéd that towards the end, after their quest is over, Linus explains "It was never about the movie..." How's that for subtlety?

The filmmakers certainly do an excellent job of honouring fandom. The extensive list of cameos is very impressive, and there are endless Star Wars references. In terms of cameos, there's Danny Trejo, Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes, Danny McBride, Ethan Suplee and even William Shatner (whose appearance is hysterical). Seth Rogen even appears, playing not one but three roles: a bucktoothed Trekkie, a Trek conventioneer dressed as a monster, and (most hilariously) a Las Vegas pimp! Amazing, Rogen steals the show from the lesser-known actors and manages to pull off actual characters rather than thinly veiled versions of himself. Star Wars alumni Billy Dee Williams and Carrie Fisher both make cameos, as well as Ray Park who's given a small role as a security guard at Skywalker Ranch. On top of this, scenes and situations from the original trilogy are even recreated. The obvious missing cameo is George Lucas, but the man did give the film his blessing. Consequently, familiar sound effects are used here and there as Lucas granted the filmmakers the rights to the Lucasfilm audio library.

Sam Huntington, Chris Marquette, Dan Fogler and Jay Baruchel all place forth energetic performances as the four protagonists. They're a very watchable gang. Meanwhile, the eternally-charming Kristen Bell makes an appearance as a geeky young girl who joins the boys for their quest. Her reappearance at the halfway point gives the picture a welcome jolt of life.

Fanboys is not a Phantom Menace-level disappointment, but it remains a generic comedy. On the other hand, it's a very enjoyable, fun flick, and the humour is occasionally quite clever. The final sequence is particularly apt - when our heroes are camped in lines outside a theatre for the premiere of The Phantom Menace. In this single scene the filmmakers manage to accurately capture the tremendous anticipation for this particular movie event as well as the dedication of the fans. This is followed by a sly last-minute jab at the quality of the first Star Wars prequel. These moments, as well as other isolated scenes, are pure brilliance within an otherwise by-the-numbers motion picture.

The film jokingly and affectionately makes fun of fanboy culture, employing clichés to build the characters as well as their circumstances. While only a few fans will see a replica of themselves in one of the protagonists, all those who identify with the label "fanboy" will almost certainly see some representation of their passion on the screen. Fanboys is just really good, fast-paced fun, and it's easy entertainment.

6.7/10

Prepubescent twelve-year-olds who laugh at well-worn fat jokes may be amused by Paul Blart: Mall Cop. Those of us with decent taste in comedies, on the other hand, can happily avoid the obnoxious, laugh-free antics of an overweight misfit security guard and his mall-dwelling compatriots. Kevin James, who starred alongside Adam Sandler in the abysmal I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, rides solo in this shockingly amateurish and single-note action-comedy for which the main star also co-wrote and co-produced. The movie - a curious amalgam of Home Alone and Die Hard - clearly has one consistent strategy: capitalising on Kevin James' adeptness at hurling around his sizable bulk. Pardon the expression, but this is an extremely slim approach. Witless, slow and tonally uneven, Paul Blart: Mall Cop merely offers a blend of painfully predictable slapstick comedy, tacky sentiment, and over-the-top action.

The premise ostensibly spoofs Die Hard, with bumbling hypoglycaemic security guard Paul Blart (James) as the "man on the inside" who's forced to defend a New Jersey mall on Black Friday when a group of high-tech thieves seize control and take hostages. Paul rides around on a Segway, whereas the (acrobatic) thieves navigate the shopping centre on skateboards for no real reason apart from the fact that twelve-year-olds - who clearly represent the target demographic of this dire PG-rated endeavour - tend to like them. Prior to this takeover, Paul sets his eye on Amy (Mays), who staffs one of the new mall kiosks. Predictably and inevitably, she's among the hostages who are taken, which prompts the obese security guard to devise creative ways to defeat the bad guys (who, fortunately, only appear to carry guns when they have no opportunity to shoot at him).

Paul Blart: Mall Cop is what Die Hard might have been like if John Candy was the star. There's some good energy once the actual robbery plot takes centre stage, but it's tough to accept Paul's sudden transition to John McClane since the bumbling idiot never does anything right until the shit hits the fan. The movie dwells far too long on Paul's self-loathing tendencies as well as his vain attempts at trying to win over Amy before the story finally rouses to life. Roughly half an hour is allotted to adequately establishing Paul's character, as well as his delusions of grandeur (he rides his Segway like it's his stallion, he takes the mall gig way too seriously) and how little respect he commands (evident in the run-in with an old man in a wheelchair). Yet this set-up is awfully dull, and Paul is a mundane character who frankly isn't worth spending time with. He could be established in less than half the time to the same effect. Not to mention the attributes intended to make Paul a "lovable loser" are either creepy or genuinely sad. The actual heist is overflowing with fat jokes, predictable pratfalls and forced dialogue as Paul taps into his inner Bruce Willis to save the day. The movie eventually ends with a Home Alone-style resolution, with the S.W.A.T. team and the cops bundled outside due to some silly plot devices, and Paul left alone with a mall full of resources to thwart the baddies.

To slow the pacing tenfold, the film continually depicts Paul becoming entangled in ridiculous situations that go too far in an attempt to generate cheap laughs. For instance, Paul is at one stage called to the Victoria's Secret store to resolve a conflict between two women fighting over the shop's last push-up bra. There are several funny ways the conflict could go down, but the film elects the annoying one - Paul ends up engaging in physical combat with an overweight woman (whose shirt is even removed during the conflict for "comedic" effect).

There's a predictable reliance on tedious fat jokes as well. Annoyingly and bafflingly, the film asks us to laugh jeeringly at Paul's weight regularly while also demanding us to feel bad for the poor guy when people ridicule him for his weight. This is a very poor proposal. The film's worst scenes are those that attempt to milk humour from Paul's weight. See the fat man competing in a nacho eating competition! See the fat man trying to play a video game (which requires physical activity) and failing!

Given its setting (a particularly ironic location considering current economic woes), Paul Blart: Mall Cop could've been comfortably retitled Product Placement: The Movie as product placement is worked into nearly every shot. It's as if production placement is the sole reason why the flick was green-lit because it certainly wasn't green-lit for the dire jokes. Directed by Steve Carr, who's responsible for many flavourless family films (Daddy Day Care, Are We Done Yet?), Paul Blart: Mall Cop is a lazy, sloppily created comedy. The editing is so shoddy that there are glaring gaps in the action, such as a chase sequence that begins in the mall before suddenly and inexplicably winding up on the roof. The schmaltz gets laid on pretty thick too. The "Blart is sad" scenes are underscored with shamelessly treacly music.

The flick was shot at Burlington Mall near Boston, and apparently the mall was not shut down for particular scenes. During these scenes, real people walked and shopped, and sometimes the director had to cut when some of the passers-by became curious and stared into the camera. The film crew and the Extreme Sports athletes may have taken control of the mall, but they can't commandeer the movie...this is Kevin James' film. The actor possesses an affable Teddy Bear charm, but he'll need stronger material if he's going to make the leap from TV star to movie star without needing a bigger name co-star beside him.

The romantic element of the feature misfires majorly - the character of Amy is one-dimensional, and Jayma Mays' acting is consistently lacklustre. Kevin James tries to make this fraction of the story work, but clichéd, predictable writing and a dubious choice for the female lead ultimately handicap it. The supporting performances are blander than vanilla, though some of the stunt work is at least visually impressive (if unnecessary).

Paul Blart: Mall Cop is a juvenile movie designed for a juvenile audience which doesn't offer much beyond the expected. For its January 2009 release, the film became an unexpected hit despite competing with Oscar bait at the box office (far surpassing expectations). Audiences were probably enraptured by the film on release due to the promise of slapstick humour and family-friendly laughs. It's a shame the gags aren't actually funny, though. It's also a shame that it fails to be something more than a collection of glaringly foreseeable gags and some uncomfortable moral lessons about standing up for yourself. Admittedly and surprisingly, however, Paul Blart: Mall Cop is curiously watchable and somewhat appealing, and these factors save it from hopeless disaster.

4.0/10

Initially conceived by Steven Spielberg over a decade prior to its eventual release, Eagle Eye is a highly derivative action-thriller that combines WarGames, Nick of Time and Enemy of the State. Spielberg was originally attached to direct the movie, but was compelled to surrender the position due to scheduling issues. D.J. Caruso instead took the helm (with Spielberg serving as executive producer), reuniting with star Shia LeBeouf after their collaboration on 2007's Disturbia. Caruso drew inspiration from Alfred Hitchcock for Disturbia, but it appears Caruso doesn't wish to follow in Hitchcock's footsteps after all...with Eagle Eye, it seems he's vying for the title of the next Michael Bay. This is a big-budget, explosive Hollywood blockbuster filled with everything except common sense and believability. Caruso has designed an actioner that discards logic, physics, and reason to generate a nonsensical blur of hyper-stylised explosions and overclocked jabs at tension. An implausible action film beset with the type of visual diarrhoea typically associated with Jerry Bruckheimer and Michael Bay, Eagle Eye is smart in concept but overproduced and absurd in execution. It's certainly entertaining, but be sure to leave your cranial luggage at the door.

The story centres on amiable slacker Jerry Shaw (LeBeouf) and single mother Rachel Holloman (Monaghan). Following the funeral for his recently-deceased twin brother, Jerry discovers his bank account stuffed with thousands of dollars and his little apartment packed with a wealth of terrorist equipment...and federal agents are on their way. Contacting him on his cell phone is a mysterious female voice (an uncredited Julianne Moore) with specific instructions for his escape. With a bang, Jerry is off and running for his life, soon crossing paths with the frightened Rachel as they're guided through a series of perilous situations. The voice on the other end of the phone line can not only control Jerry's phone connection, but seemingly every other piece of technology on the planet as well...

From there, Eagle Eye is one long hyperkinetic chase across the country. The film starts with great promise with its first act introducing plenty of intrigue, passable characterisations and a few pulse-quickening developments. Yet things rapidly crumble as soon as the central plot twist is finally revealed. Once the identity of the female caller is disclosed, Eagle Eye takes a massive nosedive. Needless to say, the actual 'Eagle Eye' of the movie isn't as fearsome or as devious as it should be...it's laughable. The motive is even more unbelievable. Eagle Eye tests a viewer's tolerance for enduring blundering stupidity when the payoff is hardly worth the wait. Director Caruso does an acceptable job of attempting to hide the script's stupidity by keeping the pace fast and furious. In reality, though, the chase sequences are pointless as they never advance the plot - the characters are mice on a treadmill, endlessly running but not getting anywhere. Did Caruso truly think the fast pace would prevent someone from realising the sheer absurdity of the story?

The premise hinges on our advanced world of mobile phones and surveillance cameras, and how this invasion of privacy could be used against us by any force, be it friend or foe. The brain-dead screenplay - stitched together by a quartet of writers - plays on the fears of a post-9/11 society made skittish by the government's increased intrusion into private communications. Jerry & Rachel are pestered by an assortment of mundane technologies, such as electronic billboards and GPS systems, as they're pushed and pulled in various directions while always being closely watched. It's a chilling thought.

Artificial Intelligence is a primary part of the premise as well. However, we've seen movies warning us of the dangers of Artificial Intelligence before, one of which even starred Shia LeBeouf (2004's I, Robot). The plot even seems to borrow countless ideas from Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. Perhaps ten years ago when Spielberg conceived the story, the film's message would've been somewhat timely. All these years later, however, it's merely a trite reiteration. It's a shame Spielberg's story was on the backburner for so long.

The key flaw of Eagle Eye (one of several) is not difficult to discern. If an entity has the ability to access and control all networked computers and electronic devices worldwide, why does it need a couple of humans to do its bidding? Furthermore, if it chooses to use them, why send these humans on an unbelievably long and convoluted wild goose chase when the same end could be accomplished more simply? This large issue is impossible to be ignored by anyone who allows a thought to pass through their mind while watching the flick. The word "preposterous" is too moderate to describe Eagle Eye as it contains barely a single mildly plausible moment. For instance, somehow a computer system can remotely disconnect power lines! Ripples in a coffee cup are even monitored in order to listen to a conversation at one stage. The film commences on a ridiculous note as well. For said opening, a spy plane in the Middle East spots a suspected terrorist leader and military computers calculate there's a mere 51% probability it's the guy they're looking for. Instead of waiting for the suspect to head back out into open spaces, they bomb an entire village and kill hundreds of civilians! Eagle Eye is aimed at the brain-dead and the catatonic.

With its contrived message about the dangers of modern technology, Eagle Eye could easily be misinterpreted as an understated, intelligent thriller. Instead, it's an action fiesta. Caruso, who hadn't previously directed a pure action film, feels confident enough here to try a plethora of big-budget stunts. Unfortunately, the Disturbia director isn't interested in breaking new ground - instead he sets up a formulaic game of cat-and-mouse, stealing from the Michael Bay book of blow-'em-ups to lazily engage the audience. Caruso manages to pull off a perfect imitation of a Bay action flick, complete with the irritating, pointless shaky cam technique which wastes potentially interesting stunts by failing to film them correctly. Caruso lacks both the instincts and the subtlety to engage an audience using this technique as he simply shakes the camera for no reason other than to disorient a viewer. Happily, though, a great deal of the stunt sequences were executed with very little CGI. The pace is also brisk and the suspense is admittedly nail-biting, even if the action grows tiresome.

As for the cast, Shia LeBeouf manages to hold his own as the hero at the core of the film. Yet the star continues to play characters within his comfort zone without ever truly testing his limits as an actor. In Eagle Eye, he's the same sort of character we've seen him play in such recent titles as Transformers and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. How boring. Michelle Monaghan's natural charisma is useful here, but she's predominantly forgettable. There's nothing wrong with her performance in particular...the problem is that she's just playing a bland, standard "girl in a Hollywood thriller" role. Monaghan was much better in the brilliant Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Billy Bob Thornton and Rosario Dawson appear to be on hand merely to pick up paychecks. It's particularly disappointing to see Thornton in such a thankless role considering his excellent work in recent years (Bad Santa, Monster's Ball, Sling Blade, etc). Michael Chiklis is mildly memorable as the Secretary of Defense, and Anthony Mackie is terrific when thrust into the spotlight for the climax.

Eagle Eye is a big disappointment, taking a topical subject and turning it into action tosh for an action-saturated market. It's comatose and predictable, not to mention it's also a facsimile of nearly every action film from the past decade (right down to a multitude of repetitive, zoom-happy car chases). The film shows all the earmarks of a once substantive script that was endlessly prodded and cut until all intelligence was wrung out of it. It's still possible to see the cautionary message it tries to convey, however - something about the danger of giving computers too much control. But this done-to-death topic has formed the fulcrum of countless sci-fi stories over the years, like the Terminator series, The Matrix, and WALL-E (arguably 2008's best movie). Admittedly, though, the constant action is well staged and somewhat exhilarating, and the whole production is slickly produced. It remains an enjoyable guilty pleasure guaranteed to satiate action fans as it packs quite a wallop. So really, it's not awful - it's just empty-headed.

4.9/10

If Judd Apatow is the Jesus of modern cinematic comedy, Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer are the Anti-Christ. Disaster Movie, the latest Friedberg/Seltzer "effort", is not only the worst film of 2008 (dethroning the pair's own Meet the Spartans for the dubious honour), but it's also a contender for the worst film in history! Yet another bottom-feeding cash-grab that exploits current events, takes cheap-shots at pop culture and ridicules recent movies, Disaster Movie is obnoxiously unfunny, poorly-paced, cheap, stupid garbage which defiles the very medium of cinema. If peeking into the toilet after taking a dump makes you laugh at least a little, you'll have double the entertainment value that's provided by this excruciating spoof. The title is indeed unbelievably ironic, especially when it comes to the Unrated "Cataclysmic Edition" (it's actually called that, honest!) which manages to be marginally worse than the theatrical cut.

In a nod to Cloverfield (I think), Will (Lanter) endeavours to save his ex-girlfriend Amy (Minnillo) while their city is being hit by asteroids and maybe being attacked by a monster... (A tornado even makes an appearance. Maybe they were trying to parody Twister?) For his quest, Will is joined by his friend Calvin (G. Thang), Calvin's girlfriend Lisa (Kardashian), and (for absolutely no reason) a Juno imitator (Flanagan). Eventually the plot transforms into Indiana Jones when a Crystal Skull randomly enters the equation...apparently it's the cause of this Armageddon and it has to be returned to its cushion to end the rampant destruction (seriously, the film is so low-budget that the skull rests on a fucking cushion).

As you've probably ascertained from the (very short) story outline, there isn't much to Disaster Movie. It's a five-minute-long story pumped up to 75 gruelling minutes, using the same ol' tired formula to pad out the runtime. Granted, the plot doesn't matter in a spoof movie, but there needs to be something funny going on (Airplane!, The Naked Gun! and Top Secret! are examples of spoofs with a shallow plot but are made enjoyable with constant clever laughs). In Disaster Movie there is not a single mildly amusing gag to behold. Practically the whole film involves Will's group watching someone from a movie or from popular culture being imitated while something colossally unfunny goes down. If you've endured the prior instalments of this horrific "Movie" franchise, you know the formula: introduce a character who has no reason to be there, make a joke, overexplain the joke through close-ups and dialogue clarification, and then introduce a predictable gag to get rid of this character (Hancock flies upwards into a street light, Indiana Jones swings out of a conveniently-placed window, and so on). Friedberg and Seltzer cling to this simplicity for dear life. Words do not exist in the English language to express how bad and agonisingly unfunny Disaster Movie truly is.

The title would likely lead one to believe that this flick is actually a spoof of, you know, disaster movies. Of course, it'd be stupid to think such a thing (about as stupid as deciding to watch this train wreck). Friedberg and Seltzer instead do precisely what they did for Date Movie, Epic Movie, and Meet the Spartans - they spoof unrelated blockbusters and reference pop culture regardless of how it fits into the title concept. Thus the movie provides imitators of Iron Man, Batman, Hellboy, the Incredible Hulk, Beowulf, Juno, Hancock, Indiana Jones, Prince Caspian, the Superbad guys, the kids from High School Musical, the gals from Sex in the City and more, which are blended with spoofs of Wanted, The Day After Tomorrow, Night at the Museum, Cloverfield, 10,000 BC and The Love Guru (and more) before mixing in Justin Timberlake, Amy Winehouse, American Gladiators, the Macbook Air, Facebook and Hannah Montana. God, even Michael Jackson shows up! This nonsense is brought to life using downright illiterate filmmaking. Sadly, none of this spoofing results in anything even remotely funny. Laughs are non-existent, and nearly every scene suffers from repulsive slapstick humour or primitive dialogue. Whether it's an Amy Winehouse lookalike burping for about a minute, Dr. Phil trying to get laid at a party, the Hulk losing his pants or a Juno wannabe beating a male Carrie Bradshaw, the list of dire moments is endless.

When Seltzer and Friedberg run out of movie trailers to quote, they toss in some really long and utterly pointless scenes to extend the film to its contractually mandated minimum runtime. One particularly painful sequence rips off Alvin and the Chipmunks and is bloated with three songs before they go rabid and gnaw on our heroes' balls. This abovementioned sequence could be the worst five minutes in cinematic history. There are countless moments, including the High School Musical dance number and the Kung Fu Panda fight, during which I temporarily departed from my physical body and entered a sort of limbo for an indefinite period of time before re-entering my skin and thinking "It's still going?”. At least this Fresh Hell breaks at the 75-minute mark (not counting the fucking woeful closing credits, which are played over an incompetent song & dance sequence as well as a bunch of boring outtakes). As this tosh plays out, there's a cast one genuinely pities. Their performances once again lower the bar - each joke is poorly delivered, and all that's missing is a corny wink.

No longer housed at Fox, and taking up residence at the much smaller Lionsgate, Friedberg and Seltzer worked with less backing here. The lack of budget is highly evident as this slapdash motion picture looks as if it was filmed on a vacated condo. The picture looks enormously amateurish, with pathetically inept versions of Iron Man, Batman and the Hulk. Alvin and the Chipmunks are turned into dime-store hand puppets and Kung Fu Panda is a man in a cheap fluffy costume that a usual costume shop would be embarrassed to stock. There's an obvious allergy to special effects as well, leaving inert spoofs of Night at the Museum and 10,000 BC looking bizarre and conceptually embarrassing.

Disaster Movie is godawful. It's not deep or profound or memorable or even slightly entertaining, and it caters to the lowest common denominator. To Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer, all one needs in order to make a great spoof is a list of summer blockbusters and a subscription to a monthly gossip magazine. With a continuous stream of pop culture icons stepping in front of the camera to say their name before either farting, burping or getting crushed by something, creativity is at an all-time low. Portraying Amy Winehouse as a sabre-toothed alcoholic is not funny. Saying Sarah Jessica Parker looks like a man is not funny. Puerile beyond all comprehension, the only thing this dross gets correct is the title. A horrific waste of time, money and oxygen, Disaster Movie is unquestionably the worst movie I've ever subjected myself to (coming from someone who has endured multiple Uwe Boll films). Fortunately, the film flopped in America (only $14 million domestically), meaning we might - might - be spared of further spoofs.

0.00/10 (it's still getting more than it fucking deserves!)

Written and directed by John Patrick Shanley, Doubt - an expert screen adaptation of Shanley's own Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award winning play - is a complex and uneasy moral thriller shaped by words and characters that relays a story of doubt and certainty in direct conflict. This intellectually and emotionally fatiguing experience is a drama of the highest calibre which concerns a nun and a priest caught on opposite sides of an alleged scandal. This sets in motion an inquisition of morals, values, character, and faith - not just faith in God, but in themselves as well. It's also a tale that enters a moral quagmire from which it never fully emerges. Films often provide resolution and catharsis, but these are qualities rarely uncovered in real life situations, and this is mirrored in Shanley's screenplay. With enough dramatic meat to chew on for days, one is likely to finish watching Doubt pondering the plethora of evidence found within the movie but will be no closer to truth than any of the characters. With assured direction, a superior script, and staggering performances, Doubt isn't a comfortable experience, but it's certainly an engrossing one.

Set during the mid-60s at a Catholic School in New York, Doubt centres on the charismatic Father Flynn (Hoffman) and the strict, poisonous Sister Aloysius (Streep). When the naïve young Sister James (Adams) communicates to Sister Aloysius her guilt-inducing suspicions about the possibly inappropriate bond developing between Father Flynn and the school's sole African American child (Foster), the elder nun embarks on an unrelenting personal crusade to expose the truth. Without a single shred of evidence to corroborate her suspicions, Sister Aloysius locks in a battle of wills with Father Flynn as his sanctity and integrity as a priest is brought into question. Based on merely circumstantial evidence and her innate distrust of Flynn, Sister Aloysius first obliquely then directly accuses him of sexually abusing the boy.

The fundamental question at the core of Doubt relates to the nature of the relationship between Father Flynn and Donald Miller (the African American boy). There are several possibilities, and Shanley supplies evidence to support virtually every one of them. Shanley doesn't stack the deck and, crucially, he refuses to present the definitive truth. (Would anyone expect anything different from a movie titled Doubt?) The picture is also set in an era when priests were trusted implicitly but during which such trust was abused in certain cases (according to court cases, news reports, etc).

Lensed with arresting autumnal weight by cinematographer Roger Deakins, Doubt generates an overpowering religious grip immediately, taking the viewer into a Catholic church divided where the line of power was drawn only by gender. Shanley's feature is thinly plotted and is marred by the occasional narrative lull, but it's nonetheless enthralling. Doubt asks a simple question: did Flynn molest the boy? Writer-director Shanley employs the hook of curiosity to keep an audience riveted as the script examines the bigger picture, tackling the responsibility of power and the struggle of faith. This is packaged elegantly, but not easily. Shanley is wise enough to keep building up apprehension as Aloysius insists herself further into the fray, and while Flynn guards his innocence with less power and more desperation as the conclusion draws nearer (an ending which presents new and enduring conundrums).

Red herrings are plentiful in Doubt. Sharp framing as well as other sly cinematic devices are employed to spawn an aura of suspicion surrounding everything. Curiosity is piqued, creating a feeling of discomfort in which the viewer questions every little detail. What did that facial expression mean? Why did that character say that the way he said it? Different viewers can process this information in different ways and reach a different conclusion. This is the beauty of the screenplay and the masterful acting - it does not dictate, but instead asks each viewer to draw their own conclusions. Some may call this approach unsatisfying and manipulative...this reviewer calls it brilliant. Doubt does falter in one aspect, however. Religious allegories are overused, and eventually become intrusive. For instance, Aloysius' light bulb dies during a verbal gladiatorial match and the weather radically changes from time to time.

The world of Doubt is excellently enclosed, and separate from goings-on beyond the boundaries of this Catholic School. With a few minor exceptions, the film plays out entirely within this primary location. It certainly helps that production values are top-notch and the atmosphere is impeccably established. Deakins' cinematography is particularly mesmerising, while Howard Shore's brilliantly gentle, sparsely-used score is the icing on the cake. Shanley is skilled enough to ensure music is an ancillary device to generate power as well...the camerawork and the stellar cast are his primary tools.

To say the acting in Doubt is first-rate could be perceived as an insult; the work here is perfection. This is a showcase for the four main actors, all of which were nominated for Academy Awards.
Doubt features yet another superlative performance courtesy of Meryl Streep. The actress always takes the time to understand every character she plays. As Sister Aloysius, Streep is in fine form. She vanishes into her role, and everything - including posture, body language, mannerisms, physical appearance, accent, etc - is nailed by the award-winning actress. Philip Seymour Hoffman is one of the very few actors capable of holding his own in a scene with Streep, and that's precisely what he does. His portrayal of Father Flynn is strong and self-assured, displaying compassion and depth while his characterisation also keeps us wondering. Streep and Hoffman in particular make the film's runtime fly by with their spellbinding vocal combat, yet the interactions involving the supporting cast are equally mesmeric.

Caught in the middle of the verbal battle between the two protagonists is Amy Adams as Sister James. Shanley extracts a truly remarkable performance from Adams. Her role is less showy and more subdued, displaying credible wisdom and despair. The fourth brilliant performance is that of Viola Davis, who is simply a marvel during her 10-minute appearance. She plays the extremely minor role of Donald Miller's mother with such courage and candour that she changes the complexion of the story during the course of ten minutes.

Doubt is a powerful, provocative motion picture...undoubtedly one of the greatest movies of 2008. Vehemently a cautionary tale, it warns of the dangers of blindly following unsupported assumptions as well as displaying the serious outcomes of following such assumptions. Those who enjoy moral dramas not wrapped up in absolutes will adore mulling over what they've seen; ultimately unable to determine the best conclusion. Writer-director John Patrick Shanley's goal was to foster doubt, and he has succeeded tremendously.

8.7/10

An assuringly unique and refreshing vampire story from Sweden, Let the Right One In is a motion picture of extraordinary mood and imaginative directorial potency. Instead of a customary genre feature, this Swedish sleeper is in fact a hushed, gentle tale of provisional friendship, the ordeal of adolescence and the curse of vampiric immortality. A spellbinding motion picture from start to finish, Let the Right One In is a marvel; an ingenious horror film able to frighten and disarm in the same instant, and one of the most resonant, haunting cinematic experiences of 2008. And it has already been targeted for a Hollywood remake...

During 2008, movie-goers greeted two similar vampire movies, both of which partly focused on adolescent love but each with a different marketing strategy. Twilight, based on Stephanie Meyer's best-selling novel, takes the simple approach - aiming to entice a teenage audience with a hackneyed romance parable featuring one-dimensional, condescending characters merely required to look pretty. Let the Right One In (also based on a novel) by contrast targets a mature audience with a deep, amazingly original coming-of-age tale about a prepubescent child's love for a member of the undead. Forget the disposable Twilight...in ten years, this Swedish feature will be remembered as the real deal (and the right one, if you will).

Written by John Ajvide Lindqvist (adapting his own novel), this film tells an absorbing tale which transpires in Stockholm during the 1980s and which centres on a morbid child named Oskar (Hedebrandt). Bullied unremittingly at school, Oskar is a socially and emotionally withdrawn boy who spends his free time collecting and reading newspaper articles about murders. Things take an uplifting turn for Oskar one night when he meets an enigmatic young girl named Eli (Leandersson), who is in fact a carnivorous vampire. Oskar is oblivious to Eli's blood-drinking habits, but he's perfectly happy to overlook her peculiar behaviour as the two tweens strike up a hesitant friendship. They playfully communicate and bond, eventually clinging to each other in the hope of staving off their crushing social isolation.

Let the Right One In is no standard horror-fest; it has greater ambitions. The vampire subplot lurks in the shadows while the film conveys a story about the camaraderie and empathy that develops between two of society's misfits. And this isn't an overblown, melodramatic romance - there are elements of a burgeoning love story, but they are tentative and lacking overt sexuality. The film isn't endowed with the cheesy gothic romance of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series or the humour of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and its offspring). Let the Right One In alternatively strikes a low-key melancholy tone, bolstered by both the location and the effective de-dramatised approach. Admirably, the feature doesn't beat a viewer over the head with Eli's history and it only permits brief glimpses stemming from vampire lore. Not only does this aspect make the film intriguing, but it becomes easier for us to lose ourselves within the story.

Rest assured that Let the Right One In doesn't leave out the genre elements, though...it contains a fair amount of violent blood-draining scenes. Blood looks good on the Swedish snowscape, and the instances of horror violence are nearly as impressive as the subtler moments. A miscalculated ending is one of the movie's sole drawbacks - it's a gory, competently-handled vampire attack let down by its clichéd nature.
Unlike what you'd expect in a Hollywood vampire movie, at no stage does Oskar research the details of vampiric etiquette as it simply isn't necessary. Everyone knows the basic powers and limitations of vampires, and the creators are intelligent enough to realise this. Eli's brand of vampire adheres to a lot of the ground rules established in Bram Stoker's Dracula. We never learn whether a stake through the heart will kill Eli or whether she can transform into a bat, however - there are no opportunities to test such myths. The brilliance of Let the Right One In is that events and scenes serve the story and characters, with no scenes included merely to exploit vampiric abilities (unlike Twilight). But there are minor flaws in pacing, with a bit too much time spent with some of the locals who become Eli's supper.

Director Tomas Alfredson accomplishes lots through images and sound, and he very rarely relies on dialogue. The cinematography is extraordinary; each frame is a work of art and the stylish camera angles quietly ensnare a viewer. Alfredson renders the crisp stillness of a Swedish winter nicely, letting the landscape evoke a multiplicity of feelings. Let the Right One In is consumed with mood; it's filled with long takes and features action staged around stark snowscapes which is photographed with brilliant menace by cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema. The camera moves languidly; observing but never intruding, and only moving in close to capture moments of vulnerability.

The camerawork also adds to the mystery. Shadows conceal objects and characters until the exact moment we're required to see them, for example, which allows for amplified shocks. There's a great deal of mystery to be explored in Let the Right One In, and it progresses without feeling the need to explain everything - gruelling explication and back-story is virtually non-existent (such things will no doubt accompany the American remake). With sparse dialogue, Alfredson skilfully refrains from answering some of our questions. For instance, who is the older man travelling with Eli and what is their relationship? Why does Eli continually insinuate that she isn't a girl? Why are Oskar and his father so distant? Apparently some of these questions are answered in the novel, but Alfredson (and screenwriter Lindqvist) show great judgment by omitting these answers. With their exclusion, the ending can either be perceived as happy or tragic.

The relationship between Oskar and Eli is another aspect communicated without many words. Alfredson instead employs gorgeous, soft-focus close-ups in addition to Johan Söderqvist's delicate romantic score to convey the developing intimacy. He's also aided (in no small degree) by great performances from first-time actors Kåre Hedebrandt and Lina Leandersson. Hedebrant, with his blonde hair and pale skin, is an excellent Oskar. He exudes pure innocence and looks the part of a societal outcast while also making the character seem remote, withdrawn and a tad creepy. Alongside him, Leandersson possesses an alluring charisma and comes across as an individual both mysterious and compelling. She's a standout in the challenging part of Eli, capturing both the weariness of an ancient vampire and the sweet vulnerability of a young girl. Unlike Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt, her vampire portrayal is smelly and grotty, and with the awkwardness of a pre-teen. These two leading performances give Let the Right One In true heart...something beyond the fangs and wooden stakes that usually define the genre.

Grotesque, unnervingly gentle, delicately forbidding and ethereal, Let the Right One In manages to reenergise modern vampire cinema. This Swedish masterpiece observes naïve sensuality involving pre-teens, treats death with a frightening visual poetry, and is directed with superb tonal control by Alfredson. Let the Right One In can technically be classified as a horror movie, but it's more of a coming-of-age story. The blood and gore isn't excessive as director Alfredson is more interested in touching emotional chords. The story unfolds gradually and this slow pace may prove maddening for some viewers, but this rare blend of art house and horror is both entertaining and unusually affecting.

8.2/10

For the Coen Brothers, Burn After Reading is a refreshing departure from the brooding, staid tone of 2007's No Country For Old Men (a superb movie that earned the twosome a handful of Oscars). Such a searing thriller as their 2007 Best Picture winner is a hard act to follow. As is often their style, the filmmaking duo elected to go in another direction with their follow-up film - delivering an absurd, Coen-esque black comedy. Burn After Reading can best be described as either a thriller with a high quotient of comedic elements, or (if you prefer) a dark comedy with a high quotient of thriller elements. As is frequently the case with features created by Joel & Ethan Coen, this is a difficult film to categorise, but it doesn't make it any less enjoyable.

Burn After Reading is definitely not for the cynical film-goer - it's fundamentally without a plot as it's mainly concerned with presenting various amusing character vignettes. Not even the Coen Brothers themselves would be able to tell you the point of their 2008 project, nor could they clearly outline the plot. To quote Ethan Coen, the film is more or less about "the covert world of the C.I.A. and internet dating". And to this formerly untapped mixture of indolent espionage and modern internet dating, they also add '70s conspiracy thriller elements and personal training, not to mention sexual deviancy as well. In a career steeped in peculiarity, this is another classic example of the Coen Brothers' penchant for tossing an assortment of wacky ideas and movie references into the blender to see what flavour materialises.

Burn After Reading spotlights a collection of characters too wrapped up in their own vanity to take even the slightest notice of their outlandish actions. At the centre of the story (if it can even be called as such) is Osbourne Cox (Malkovich), a C.I.A. analyst who quits his job in a fit of pique when the agency demotes him. The disgruntled Cox then decides to write a tell-all memoir, but a disk containing a copy of these hastily-penned revenge memoirs falls into the hands of two unscrupulous gym employees: Linda (McDormand) and gung-ho personal trainer Chad (Pitt). The witless duo, believing they've found something of great value, attempt to turn this disk into cash, blackmailing Osbourne into paying them for the return of his memoirs. When Osbourne refuses to pay for the disk's return, Linda and Chad set out to steal more and sell it to the Russians. Also in the mix is Harry (Clooney); a married Treasury agent who's having an affair with Osbourne's wife (Swinton) while also cheating on his mistress with Linda. A few additional melodramatic subplots are also included for best effect.

As you'd expect, the Coen Brothers continue to pile it on, deepening the plot and incorporating a number of shock moments made all the more effective due to the matter-of-fact way in which they are delivered. The screenplay (also penned by the two directors) never takes itself too seriously, with comedic moments scattered around haphazardly. Some of these are merely amusing, others are clever, and the rest are just downright hilarious. A pair of conversations between two C.I.A. honchos (played by David Rasche and J.K. Simmons) are by far the funniest scenes the film has to offer (at one point Simmons even tells Rasche to report back to him when everything makes sense; a bit of a reflection on the script). A back-stabbing, double-crossing, exhaustively absurd caper with black comedic enrichments, Burn After Reading is a beauty; an electric symphony of impetuous idiots left to their own devices, leaving behind a trail of violence and bewilderment with every move they make. Backed by an enchanting score from Carter Burwell and lensed by ace four-time Academy Award winning cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, this Coen Brothers production fearlessly dives into a dense mess, keen to capture every single beat of surprise.

An intriguing combination of Fargo, Raising Arizona and The Big Lebowski, Burn After Reading is one of the better films from the mind of the Coen Brothers (unquestionably better than the dire Intolerable Cruelty). In a nutshell, the film is an odd screwball comedy concentrating on a group of idiots who engage in idiotic conversations and make utterly ridiculous decisions. None of these clowns ever truly think about what they're doing, and watching them being forced to deal with the consequences of their silly actions is absolutely delicious. The material allows the directors to play to their strengths, i.e. their sense of devious comic timing. The script's witty dialogue is often hysterically funny as well. There's also a fair amount of violence thrown in for good measure, but said violence is usually brutal and unsettling to the point of distraction. The use of such brutal violence in a light-hearted comedy is jarring...it kills the laughs. The film is hampered by this serious fault. The overall plot also lacks both real direction and an anchor, which is another drawback of an otherwise solid movie.

The kinetic and inventive visual style of the Coen Brothers as well as the precision of their writing is frequently discussed, but the directorial duo's greatest gift may lie in their ability to assemble an impressive ensemble cast and coax remarkable performances from the entire ensemble. The casting for Burn After Reading is pitch perfect, and virtually all of the characters were written with these precise actors in mind (Tilda Swinton is one of the only exceptions). By employing members of their large acting family in addition to able newcomers to the Coen universe, the brothers ensure there isn't a weak performance to be found. The star-soaked ensemble cast is huge, but there is no main star - screen time is split fairly evenly between John Malkovich, George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Frances McDormand, Tilda Swinton and Richard Jenkins, with the hysterical duo of J.K. Simmons and David Rasche thrown in from time to time to give the film its standard Coen Brothers tone.
Brad Pitt steals the show with his high energy performance that borders on self-parody. With the exception of Pitt's character (who's energetic and enthusiastic about everything), every character is struggling with some form of misery. Frances McDormand (Joel Coen's wife) places forth a mesmerising performance as Linda, who's worried about her appearance and is longing for plastic surgery. Frances does excellent screwball work alongside George Clooney, who turns down the charm and enhances the sleeze in the unusual role of a sex addict. Watching Clooney interact with Tilda Swinton is terrific, especially considering that they played rivals in 2007's Michael Clayton. The bristling John Malkovich does what he does best - acting weird before eventually losing it. Malkovich is truly impeccable as he angrily shouts at his co-stars (one of the funniest aspects of this feature).

Returning to the sharp comedy that has defined most of their prior features, which is accompanied by a crime-laced plot that also recalls several of their past films, the Coen Brothers take absurdity to a new level with Burn After Reading. Watching the film's eccentric characters bumbling about is nothing short of a wildly entertaining experience, with a supporting turn by J.K. Simmons as the perturbed head of the C.I.A. nearly worth a viewing in itself. The portrayal of the C.I.A. as a clueless agency that doesn't appear to take intelligence very seriously makes Burn After Reading more of an espionage spoof than anything else. This story of spies, personal fitness workers, and their diverse struggles through middle life, encompassing blackmail, perversion, death, and infidelity, is the darkest of comedies, and is an easy recommendation for any fan of the Coen Brothers who'll effortlessly embrace the film. Absurdity rules supreme in Burn After Reading, and that is exactly why this flick is so refreshingly enjoyable. It's merely a quirky tale about unintelligent intelligence...that's the Coens for you.

7.8/10

A brisk, bone-crunching modern re-imagining of the 1975 Roger Corman B-Movie classic, Death Race delivers precisely what its title promises: cars and carnage. There are a lot of things for serious critics and film-goers to hate about this film - it's a loose big-budget remake of a true grindhouse classic, there's plenty of gory violence for the sake of exploitation, it's undeniably sleazy, and it pretends to be a social commentary - but (in a very tangible way) this is truly missing the point, as Death Race was created to revel in meaningless sadism. Director Paul W.S. Anderson has assembled a fun, hardcore action flick that's weak in terms of plot and characterisation, but strong in the visceral action sequences (something the target audience will likely be seeking). Screenwriters Robert Thom and Charles Griffith bring the vehicle combat of Corman's Death Race 2000 into a penal environment where hardened criminals race for a shot at freedom. Pedestrian bystanders (which were run down by the drivers for points in the original) are removed from the equation entirely - drivers are instead required to just eliminate their adversaries. In this regard, only the very basic premise and the names of the two main drivers are carried over from the 1975 film (a few other sly references are also thrown in, though).

Death Race is set in the year 2012. With America's economy in tattered shreds, unemployment rates through the roof, crime rates on the rise, and gladiatorial sports growing more popular, the corporate forces managing the penal system devise a brilliant plan to raise funds and efficiently deal with the inordinate amount of criminals overcrowding the country's prisons - armour-plated cars are rigged with machine guns (as well as an assortment of additional weaponry), convicts are placed behind the wheel, and these prisoners strafe their way around the deadly track for a chance to earn their freedom. It rapidly becomes an internet pay-per-view sensation, overseen by the prison's icy warden (Allen) and featuring a bunch of colourful drivers. But the most popular participant of the Death Race, Frankenstein (Carradine, who played the character in the original film), is unfortunately killed following his latest race. Framed for the murder of his wife, Jensen Ames (Statham) is sent to Terminal Island prison where the Death Race takes place. He's given the opportunity to partake in the brutal sporting event, racing in the place of the deceased Frankenstein. Given a kick-ass car armed to the teeth with a variety of weapons and defensive gadgets in order for him to commit vehicular destruction on a massive, chaotic scale, Jensen races for victory and his freedom.

Let's be realistic - the plot is worthless. Death Race is all about hard driving, bullets and mega explosions, of which there are plenty. Each vehicle (the designs reminiscent of Mad Max II) is equipped with a variety of Gatling guns, missiles, napalm, oil slicks, swords, flame throwers and every other weapon imaginable. The drivers do everything possible to inflict life threatening injury on the other competitors using said weaponry. For good measure, the warden also throws in a number of obstacles intended to cause widespread destruction to the Death Race participants.After introducing all the disposable characters and setting up the paper-thin plot over a half-hour, the race commences. As one would expect, there are several mini-climaxes as Jensen faces off against a motley assortment of scumbags, including the vicious Machine Gun Joe (Gibson). The climax is a tad unexpected and slightly unconventional, although it is telegraphed pretty early. The conclusion is perfunctory and, surprisingly, doesn't offer the true satisfaction some might desire.

Roger Corman's Death Race 2000, while being hilariously entertaining, set its satire gun on the American public's lust for violence. With Death Race, director Paul W.S. Anderson takes plenty of stabs at the requirement for ratings, sensationalism, and pay-per-view sports (slightly reminiscent of The Condemned as well as Arnold Schwarzenegger's The Running Man). This satirical edge is underwhelming and dull, however, largely due to the fact that the flick is so claustrophobic. The makers place so much emphasis on the races and the pay-per-view setup that no viewers outside of the prison are ever shown. There is so much talk of ratings, of millions of viewers paying to watch, and yet the film never offers any images of families crowding around their televisions lusting for blood. But can we really expect a feature of this nature to present a clear and effective social commentary? After all, the more you ponder the picture and its premise, the more plot-destroying questions you stumble upon - for instance, if the majority of Americans are poor and jobless, how can they afford to spend $250 to watch the Death Race?

Of course, Death Race is all about the testosterone. The well-choreographed action is the real reason to watch this flick, and it's accompanied by a head-banging musical score courtesy of Paul Haslinger. The film is a noisy hard-R affair that pours the action on thick and violently at the 30-minute mark and never looks back. The usual Paul W.S. Anderson rapid-fire editing still remains, but it's not as pronounced or as distracting as one might expect. While it's true the cars are far less imaginative than those in Death Race 2000, they're still pretty cool in that fetishistic Mad Max kind of way. None of the vehicles are slick or sleek - they're armed and armoured tanks. While the scenery gets a bit drab after a while (the racing always occurs on the same track, whereas Corman's original had bright, picturesque locations), interesting gimmicks are introduced in each new race to prevent us from getting bored. Director Anderson's adherence to practical stunts and effects as opposed to cartoonish CGI results in some impressive, intense, thrilling races punctuated by gunfire, fireballs, rolls and spectacular collisions. These effects are refreshing to say the least, and lend a gritty feel to the movie. They're also extraordinarily violent, as drivers (and their female navigators) are splattered at high speeds; ripped to shreds by bullets or buzz-saws, or atomised by enormous explosions. It's not called Death Race for nothing!

Director Paul W.S. Anderson has Mortal Kombat, Alien vs. Predator and three Resident Evil films under his belt (all video game adaptations), but Death Race is more like a video game than all five of 'em combined! The cars even have power ups! These deadly cars are armed to the teeth, but the drivers are unable to unleash any firepower without driving over a sword-shaped icon on the racetrack. Their defensive gear - smoke bombs, oil slicks, etc. - will only kick in after driving over a shield icon. There are even death icons, which trigger a lethal object to rise out of the track and destroy the doomed car. All that's missing is a health bar in the corner.

An impressive cast has been assembled for Death Race. Apart from the eminently likable Statham, Tyrese Gibson plays the villain, and (to the horror of film critics everywhere) Joan Allen also appears. Jason Statham has rapidly ascended to star status over recent years. Such films as the Transporter trilogy, Crank, Cellular and War have established the actor as a charismatic action star. In Death Race, his appealing mixture of toughness and sympathy gives us a hero worth rooting for amidst the otherwise one-dimensional selection of characters. Meanwhile, Tyrese Gibson appears in the role of Machine Gun Joe - a character originally growled by a young Sylvester Stallone in the original 1975 flick. Gibson is a stereotypical, customary action movie villain who detests the hero and is willing to kill even members of his own crew. For someone of Joan Allen's stature to appear in this movie is simply baffling. She adjusts herself well, however, presenting Warden Hennessey as a badass in a skirt and high heels - the type of woman viewers love to hate. Her profane diatribes are quite amusing. In the supporting cast, Ian McShane comports himself appropriately as one of Frankenstein's mechanics. And that's about it when it comes to the main cast. There aren't any truly stand-out performances here, but everyone does an adequate job of allowing the film to move smoothly from A to B.

An ambitious combination of The Condemned, The Running Man and Mad Max, Death Race is just an enjoyable, fast-moving exploitation action flick, which (against all odds) is superior to the 1975 Roger Corman classic on countless levels. Characters are barely developed, and the script avoids creating meandering subplots, so the flick just screams along for a brisk 95 minutes. The runtime is probably longer than it should be, but the pacing is rapid and there's hardly a dull minute. There's nothing even remotely original about the story (with a wronged, vengeful hero, some one-note villains, an obligatory romance, etc.) and the satire aspect is fairly dull, yet Anderson has still crafted an entertaining guilty pleasure - exactly the type of film he wanted to deliver. Let's face it...an action flick with the title Death Race was never going to appear on any annual Top 10 lists or anything. This is just a big, loud, gloriously dumb action romp overflowing with over-the-top vehicular slaughter. It ain't a particular great movie, but the mayhem is highly enjoyable. Sometimes that's good enough.

6.7/10