Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"Fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing."

Larger and more overblown in every aspect, except where it would be beneficial, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is the definitive portrait of Michael Bay at his most conceited and undisciplined. For this follow-up to 2007's Transformers, Bay and his screenwriters (Ehren Kruger, Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman) go haywire with excess, lathering this God-awful film in dumb humour and a dizzying amount of CGI. No coherent story ever emerges throughout Revenge of the Fallen - it is just a monotonous collection of generic explosions and robot battles that mimics storytelling without understanding it. Without any tension, downtime, warmth and any reason to care, all 150 goddamn minutes of Revenge of the Fallen represent an audio-visual assault on all senses (including common) that rapidly becomes excruciatingly boring.

Now...the story? Yeah, that's awful, too. Sam Witwicky (Shia LeBeouf) departs for college while the Autobots hunt the remaining Decepticons. When Sam conveniently finds a shard of the Allspark in his jumper, his brain is flash-loaded with a bunch of ancient symbols about the location of a deadly machine that will let the bad guys destroy our sun for reasons too stupid to explain. Megatron (Hugo Weaving) is soon hauled out of his deep sea tomb (where he was dumped as part of the military strategy to set up a sequel) and revived before being placed in the service of the Fallen - i.e. "The First Decepticon": a being so important that nobody bothered mentioning him in the first film. The plot more or less concerns Sam going all crazy as the symbols overwhelm his brain and the robots pound on one another. Sam and his pals also meet a government agent (John Turturro), after which they all travel to Egypt, where the pyramids are...because that's what happens when you let a bunch of geographically challenged idiots make a $200 million blockbuster.

At one stage, John Turturro asks a Transformer, "Beginning. Middle. End. Facts. Details. Condense. Plot. Tell it." - I'd like to ask the screenwriters the same thing.

This sequel accentuates the blunders of 2007's Transformers, while the very limited charms of the original are gone, resulting in an utterly unredeemable pile of shit. Seriously, the film represents the cinematic equivalent of being stuck behind a screaming infant on an aeroplane. I have news for Michael Bay: a perpetual string of chaotic money shots robs each action sequence of weight, emotion, heart and impact. Furthermore, Bay pads out the straightforward plot to an unholy two-and-a-half hours, meaning the picture is packed with gratuitous filler. For instance, there's a subplot in which Sam and his girlfriend (Megan Fox) are too nervous to say "I love you" to one another...until, of course, the climax - a law straight out of the Screenwriting 101 handbook. By the time the climactic battle between the Autobots, Decepticons, Otherbots (???) and the U.S. Army arrives, there's a good chance you will be too numbed and fatigued to actually give a fuck about how it will end. Aren't movies like this against the Geneva Convention?

For reasons completely beyond this reviewer's mental perimeters, greater emphasis is placed on comedy for Revenge of the Fallen. Therefore, the dead space between the action is filled with rear nudity from Turturro, Autobots who trigger uncomfortable memories of Jar Jar Binks, significantly more time with Sam's obnoxiously unfunny parents, and a Decepticon spy who likes to hump legs. Does the concept of a robot humping a woman's leg seem funny to you? Bay seems to think it is so hilarious that he also includes two scenes of dogs humping each other. A set of Transformer testicles also make an appearance, and there is an agonisingly long gag involving Sam's mother tripping out on pot brownies. And slutty chicks can transform into robots, too, because the film outright refuses to make any goddamn sense. If Bay had another ten million to spend, he probably would've put in a Transformer sex scene or some form of musical number.

The action is relentlessly tedious and repetitious. Robots battle other robots, humans use firepower against robots (though never in the history of cinema has artillery ever actually harmed alien machinery), and so on. Worse, this film has over forty Transformers, reducing most of them to nothing more than interchangeable cannon fodder. Adding to the confusion, the Transformers are similar in design, not to mention they are poorly defined and make absolutely no visual sense (a car can transform into a robot a few storeys tall?!). Combined with the director's typical routine of quick-cutting and shaky cam, it is impossible to tell what the fuck is happening during the battles, each of which ultimately amounts to a nauseating, incomprehensible blur of confusion. The results are frustrating, and one will struggle to figure out what's happening instead of relaxing and enjoying. It's like watching paint dry while someone whacks you over the head with a baseball bat and another person whacks a couple of frying pans together! Additionally, the digital effects are mixed. On the one hand, some of the technical prowess is laudable, but on the other hand, the digitally-created Transformers are often cartoonishly and haphazardly integrated into the live-action footage.

Naturally, the humans suck, too, with the characters ranging from obnoxious to pointless. Every role amounts to a bland cipher, and when they aren't delivering witless dialogue or spouting tiresome exposition, they are running away from explosions in slow motion. Megan Fox's character is particularly superfluous - she serves no purpose in the story and is there just because she's hot. The camera spends so much time ogling her torso that one must wonder if 13-year-old boys were operating the camera. And no Michael Bay movie would be complete without the director's disturbing sense of reality. The women are all scorching hot supermodels masquerading as actors, and they love spreading their legs for nerds. Meanwhile, minorities conform to every stereotype imaginable and are best used as comic relief. Oh, and scenes set in a foreign country must depict the country's clichés - thus, there are mimes in France and camels in Egypt. Naturally, too, the American Armed Forces are fetishised, with the final act amounting to a patriotic army recruitment commercial.

Michael Bay is also patently in love with himself, and this love is on full display here for all to see. A large poster for Bad Boys II is seen in Sam's dorm room, and there are visual homages, as well. For example, fiery objects destroying buildings in Paris look similar to Armageddon, while the destruction of an aircraft carrier appears to be a nod to Pearl Harbor.

Fans of this woeful picture can only say a couple of things in the film's defence: it's entertaining, and the special effects are amazing. But the latter is arguable, and the former is merely a subjective opinion. Every summer blockbuster has big special effects and action...Revenge of the Fallen is just a tired, boring rehash of action movie conventions without an ounce of humanity, and it embodies every negative aspect of summer blockbusters. I understand that Transformers movies flourish at the box office and that blockbusters like this appeal to a certain demographic. And that's fine - but can those who like this crap please just realise that they are an idiot?

1.2/10

Check out [Link removed - login to see] - it pretty much sums up everything that's wrong with this flick...in words funnier than mine.

"I got to fucking do something about this. I can't have the kid fucking talking to the cops. You understand me? The fucking gun is on the street. This whole fucking goddamn thing is about to fucking blow up. If fucking Tommy or any of those fucking guys find out about it, I'm a dead man. You got to fucking help me."

Taking a heavy dose of influence from 1970's cop flicks as well as employing elements of modern action films (with a bit of Grimm's Fairy Tales also in the mix), Wayne Kramer's Running Scared is a hard-hitting, visceral, over-the-top extravaganza of blood and bullets that never lulls for a moment. With his second major movie, writer-director Kramer has delivered a non-stop action powerhouse packed with brutal violence, nightmarish caricatures, gun-toting kids, washing machine cunnilingus and enough f-bombs to make Martin Scorsese blush. It's also laden with pointless-yet-cool camera tricks and a crazily contorted plot structure. In a nutshell: Running Scared is an outrageous catalogue of action movie tricks presented by a director who's clearly having fun sampling from the genre salad bar. This ain't a movie for squeamish or those sensitive to gratuitous violence, but Running Scared is highly recommended if you have a taste for stylish filmmaking and gritty realism - it will leave you breathless.

The less written about this film's storyline, the better. In the simplest words possible, the story concerns a low-level gangster named Joey Gazelle (Walker). Following a botched drug deal that results in the deaths of several corrupt cops, Joey is tasked with disposing the guns used during the shootout. But before he can dispose of the guns, one of them is stolen by a young boy named Oleg (Bright) who uses it to shoot his abusive father (Roden). This gun becomes a MacGuffin which sets things in motion. Throughout the course of one night, Joey has to find the gun as well as Oleg. What follows can be described rather accurately as a feverish fairy tale told in the backdrop of a nihilistic and violent underworld.

Running Scared begins with an eye-popping, violent action sequence that's part True Romance, part Lethal Weapon and part The Matrix. With frenetic camera work, quick edits, slow motion and blood aplenty, this is an ardently visual sequence. Action fanatics will certainly be pleased with this opening which also establishes a fitting "anything can happen" atmosphere. After this shootout, the story slows down in order to develop the characters. Once Oleg uses the gun, however, the film detonates with an exhilarating, kinetic energy. From there, Running Scared becomes a succession of encounters, each one growing more bizarre and overblown. Much of this flick exists in an almost dream-like state, with sequences bordering on surrealism. The screen drips with sweat and blood with scene after scene of relentless brutality. Joey and Oleg's trip down the rabbit hole (if you will) is a despairingly dark odyssey of crime and suspense that culminates in an amazingly violent climax for which all bets are off.

Writer-director Wayne Kramer previously directed the somewhat low-key 2003 film The Cooler, hence Running Scared is a surprise in terms of style. For this film, Kramer adds a multitude of visual tricks that amplify the nightmarish atmosphere. Jim Whitaker's cinematography is equally astounding - with a desaturated colour palette of rich, grimy lustre and a number of magnificent, digitally-enhanced images, the filmmakers have achieved a true comic-book mood in the vein of Sin City and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. This is all topped off with Mark Isham's top-flight score. Director Kramer also truly tests the boundaries for his film's R rating - on top of the orgy of ultra-violence, profanity is plentiful and there are a few full frontal nude shots.

Running Scared is not without its faults, however - the storyline is confusing, with plot holes and unbelievably contrivances galore. The dialogue alternates between outrageously profane and unbelievable, and a lot of the characters are cardboard. Kramer also employs pretty much every crime film cliché in existence. But the visuals are so enthralling, the pacing is so frenetic and the action is so involving that the film only falls apart in retrospect. There are probably too many endings as well, but Running Scared nevertheless remains a deliriously off-beat, psychotic action flick that entertains mightily.

Paul Walker is one of the movie's greatest strengths. The hard-edged, scared-to-death persona of Joey perfectly suits Walker - he does plenty of running, jumping, shooting and swearing with grit and believability backing up his actions. Even better, the actor manages to sell panic better than one would expect judging from his past work (movies like The Fast and the Furious). The children (Cameron Bright and Alex Neuberger) submit solid work, while the villains (such as Chazz Palminteri, Karel Roden and Johnny Messner) exude malice. As the ever-devoted wife of Joey, there's Vera Farmiga who steals every scene. She even gets a subplot of her own - one which clearly indicates that Running Scared is more of a pulpy comic book or a grim neo-fairytale.

Running Scared is best described as an adult fairytale since writer-director Wayne Kramer blends conventional action-adventure aesthetics with the fantastic and the mythic. So much crazy stuff occurs during the course of Joey's outlandish night that the film frequently feels like a "greatest hits" collection of action flick lunacy. Best of all, Running Scared moves at such a lightning pace that one can easily overlook the preposterousness of the whole enterprise.

8.3/10

"Give a guy a gun, he's Superman. Give him two and he's God."

John Woo's Hard Boiled is a scrumptious feast for action lovers - an explosively visceral, operatic tour de force of amazingly choreographed violence and blistering pyrotechnics that's iced with Woo trademarks. At its core the film is a fairly standard cop drama with a limp emotional hook and cardboard characters, but with action extraordinaire John Woo at the helm, Hard Boiled is pumped up several notches. Woo grasps the conventional framework of an over-the-top action-thriller before adding a dense layer of visual artistry which is supplemented with meticulous choreography and the visceral punch of innocents in harm's way. Altogether, it's the perfect recipe for a John Woo actioner, and if this isn't his masterpiece then it certainly represents the director well enough.

Hard Boiled introduces us to tough-as-nails Hong Kong inspector 'Tequila' Yuen. At the beginning of the film, Tequila loses his partner in a shootout with a ruthless local triad gang. Determined to settle the score with these gun smugglers, Tequila reluctantly partners up with undercover police officer Tony (Leung) who has infiltrated the Hong Kong Triads. As Tony and Tequila work to crack the gun-running case, there are countless chest-thumping gun battles mixed with some halfway decent character development on top of an interesting subplot concerning paper cranes.

More than anything else, Hard Boiled is anchored firmly in place by the jaw-dropping action. Countless bullets are discharged throughout the film as the duo of heroes battle literally hundreds of henchmen. The key action sequences in Hard Boiled can be instantly recalled just by naming the location in which they transpire (the tea house, the warehouse, and so on). The shootouts never lack energy and never fail to astonish - the opening gunfight itself would be a worthy climax for any American actioner. The entire final half an hour of the feature is one long, breathtaking action set-piece within a hospital which moves briskly from one tense confrontation/shootout to another. There's one particularly stunning shot during the hospital sequence that lasts almost three minutes and follows Tequila & Tony as they dispatch a multitude of henchmen. In excess of 100,000 rounds of blank ammunition were reportedly expended during the production of the film. Interestingly, even despite the nonstop gun battles, we hardly ever see any characters reloading...

Director Woo employs close-ups, quick cuts, slow-motion, and insane tracking shots to weave in and out of the action. As a result, a viewer can easily become enthralled by the intense carnage. Unlike most other action directors, Woo understands one crucial thing - the geography of an action sequence. Woo's cinematography is smooth and steady as opposed to over-edited and shaky (like the director's successors). Meanwhile the score is both eerie and adrenaline-pumping, and the editing is sharp. Credit is also due to those who designed + created the sets - every location which houses an action sequence is blown to pieces for our viewing pleasure. The mayhem is simply awesome! On top of the competent craftsmanship, there's some sly humour tossed into the mix as well. A special mention should be made about the body count for this flick - according to multiple websites, Hard Boiled dishes out 307 bodies in total (146 during the hospital sequence alone).

Woo has two exceptional actors in Chow Yun-Fat and Tony Leung, who help prevent the film from diving into deep melodrama. Hard Boiled is marred by one factor, however: Tequila is never developed as a flesh-and-blood character. Tequila is just Chow Yun-Fat, the Asian Arnold Schwarzenegger - he's a mere cardboard cut-out with nothing more behind him. Were it not for the fact that Tony Leung's character is thoroughly developed and that the action truly kicks ass, Hard Boiled would just be another disposable actioner.

Prior to director John Woo's Hollywood conversion (resulting in excellent films like Face/Off, as well as duds in the form of Paycheck, Windtalkers and Mission: Impossible II), the man crafted a number of classic action films. Hard Boiled is arguably the best of the bunch. It's thin on plot, it's definitely silly, and it lacks an emotional hook, but it's the action and the top-notch filmmaking that deserves recognition here. From start to finish, dull moments are few and far between - and at over two hours in length, that's quite an achievement. Hard Boiled is also an essential motion picture which helped revolutionise the action genre for the subsequent generation - films like The Matrix owe their success and superb shootouts to this John Woo classic. You're simply not an action enthusiast unless you're familiar with Hard Boiled.

8.2/10

"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time. You ain't never caught a rabbit, and you ain't no friend of mine."

Deborah Kampmeier's much-hyped Hounddog premiered at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival to a disastrous reception. Following its derailment at the festival, the film was subsequently recut and revised before being given a brief, unsuccessful theatrical release almost two years afterwards. But make no mistake...even the amended version of this humid drama is thoroughly awful. Although writer-director Kampmeier tried to get this project off the ground for a decade, Hounddog - unofficially known as The Dakota Fanning Rape Movie - feels tailor-made to be a vehicle for young Dakota Fanning who clearly desires to transition from kid roles to more dramatic material via this controversial drama. Unfortunately, this is just a heavy-handed, overwrought feature that isn't nearly as powerful or as provocative as it clearly strives to be. Hollow, unbelievably clichéd, unappealing, and unable to convey a worthwhile message, Hounddog is a handsomely-produced but unintentionally risible film.

Taking place in Alabama (although it was filmed in North Carolina) during the late 1950s, the story follows a precious young free spirit named Lewellen (Fanning). A pre-teen on the verge of womanhood, Lewellen is unaware of her burgeoning sexuality as she attracts the attention of lecherous boys while attempting to sort out her domestic troubles. The troubled 12-year-old girl only finds solace from her abusive life through blues music - namely Elvis Presley, whose songs she keenly sings and dances along to.

If there's one thing Hounddog does correctly, it's the recreation of the American South during the 1950s. The striking visuals are evocative of rural living, and the soundtrack (alive with the sounds of locusts and grasshoppers, in addition to a cocktail of classic music) are able to pull a viewer in. Unfortunately, though, Kampmeier has no idea what to do with an audience once they've become immersed in her world. The key flaw is that the story doesn't have anything valuable to say. Moreover, Lewellen never acts like a prepubescent girl - she's a writer's construct as opposed to a living, breathing human being.

Essentially a coming-of-age tale, Hounddog is an extremely episodic drama that bounces all over Lewellen's world in increasingly irritating and unintentionally funny ways. The loss of innocence is supposedly the main vein of thematic exploration for this feature, but Kampmeier simply isn't focused or talented enough to effectively pull it off as she struggles to cover the large canvas of Lewellen's family woes. Clichés plague the screenplay as well. With plenty of painfully "symbolic" snakes, a jovial African American who can offer homespun wisdom at the drop of a hat, and predatory boys who rape young girls, it's doubtful there's a Southern cliché that the writer-director misses!

The first two thirds of Hounddog are incredibly unfocused and grow increasingly boring. Kampmeier continues to throw in pointless distractions rather than focusing on developing a semblance of a narrative. Such distractions include the arrival of a snobby rich girl, as well as the tragedy that befalls Lewellen's father when (in an unintentionally comic moment) lightning strikes his tractor and he's turned into a childlike invalid. Eventually those who know what's coming will find themselves in the decidedly peculiar position of impatiently awaiting the rape of Lewellen, hoping the scene will get things moving. The rape scene arrives after roughly an hour, and is shown with sufficient restraint to deflect a lot of the criticism it received. There's nothing gratuitous or exploitative about this particular scene; it's presented as tastefully as possible while still conveying the horror of the act. (Kampmeier does cross the line, however, with a silly Jesus reference: Lewellen's palm is cut by a nail).

After the rape scene, Kampmeier's movie stumbles from one unlikely story development to the next, and is packed with further distractions (such as the return of a character who wants custody of Lewellen). There's no compelling portrait of Lewellen as she struggles to deal with the trauma. The film never deeply explores the character...she's ashamed and her spirit is broken - that's about all we get. An unnecessary plethora of subplots are added instead - there's some mystical mumbo-jumbo involving snakes, and an all-knowing Negro who soothes Lewellen's spirit with his words of healing and blues music. How does that solve the problem? At the end of the day, Hounddog is just utterly uninvolving and asinine.

More than anything else, Hounddog is a film that allows Dakota Fanning the rare opportunity to convey a tremendous range of emotions in an Oscar-baiting performance. Fanning is the best thing about this otherwise cold fish of a motion picture. The only other actor worth mentioning is David Morse as Lewellen's father. Morse, already a cringingly limited actor, just does his best Forrest Gump impression after his character is struck by lightning. He ludicrously overplays his character's mental reduction, to the point that one will likely be reminded of Robert Downey Jr.'s speech in Tropic Thunder regarding the perils facing an actor who goes "full retard."

Hounddog is merely a string of vignettes - there's no coherent or compelling story, and it loses power as a result. The controversial rape scene is the only moment in Hounddog that's genuinely effective because it is the only time that writer-director Deborah Kampmeier had a solid idea of what she wanted to say. In spite of a few scenes of utter greatness, this motion picture as a whole is an unmitigated mess. If there was genuine heart and passion behind this film, Hounddog could've become the genuinely moving and powerful drama that it wanted to be rather than the maudlin, silly mess it ended up becoming.

4.7/10

"I'm writing a story. I work for the National Desk okay, and it's gonna run tomorrow, and it's gonna say among other things that you are a CIA operative and that you went on a mission, a fact-finding mission to Venezuela."

Nothing But the Truth is rock-solid entertainment devised by adults, starring adults, and intended for adults. The opening moments of this riveting journalism drama emphasise that it's merely inspired by (but not based on) a true story. The plot is a moderate reworking of an event that occurred in 2005 - New York Times reporter Judith Miller served time in gaol for refusing to reveal her source for a story that exposed the identity of CIA operative Valerie Plame. For Nothing But the Truth, details of this true story have been altered (Iraq is changed to Venezuela, 9/11 is changed to an attempted Presidential assassination), but the broad strokes are there. Writer-director Rod Lurie employs the true story's basic elements to craft this compelling political thriller. And in doing so, Lurie has created a powerful examination of the fragility of Constitutional rights as well as the consequences of journalistic integrity. In a contemporary cinematic climate of kid-friendly and action-drenched multiplexes, Nothing But the Truth stands out as something rare - a top-flight drama for grownups. One of the most overlooked and unappreciated movies of 2008, this is an intelligent motion picture which centres on smart characters.

In this loose retelling of the 2005 Miller/Plame affair, an ambitious Washington journalist named Rachel Armstrong (Beckinsale) writes an article that divulges incriminating evidence about the United States government. This article also reveals that a local suburban woman named Erica Van Doren (Farmiga) is a covert CIA operative. The axe falls immediately - Rachel's story triggers a swift reaction from the government, who demand to know who gave the reporter confidential information. However Rachel refuses to reveal the identity of her source, and consequently she's thrown in gaol by smooth-talking US prosecutor Patton Dubois (Dillon). As days turn into weeks, and weeks into months, Rachel refuses to talk, which brings about dire consequences for herself and her family.

Director Lurie manages to keep the gripping narrative throttling forward at a brisk pace. The speed and force with which the government come down upon Rachel is as abrupt and startling to the characters as it is to a viewer. As the plot progresses, Lurie continually adds more nuance while also offering a thoughtful commentary on several things - the fleeting media attention for Rachel's plight, the shifting public perception of the media, and even sexism (in the form of criticism against Rachel for remaining in gaol instead of being with her son). These elements culminate in a terrific speech delivered by Rachel's attorney (Alda) at a US Supreme Court hearing. Nothing But the Truth concentrates on Rachel's dilemma while simultaneously displaying the aftershock for CIA agent Erica Van Doren. As Erica is continually grilled by her superiors (who believe that she is either the leak or has carelessly disclosed her identity) and Rachel is threatened with prison time, it becomes possible to sympathise with both of these women.

Lurie's screenplay deviates considerably from the Miller/Plame affair that inspired the film in order to critique the American government and a modern society. One of the picture's strongest points is that those unfamiliar with the real-life story will be easily sucked into the film's narrative, and the movie doesn't contain many exaggerations to distract those acquainted with the story. The filming style adopted by Lurie and cinematographer Alik Skharov is tremendously gritty, and the immediacy is downright staggering from time to time. The thoughtful script is also well-written - heated conversations between the characters are intense instead of over-the-top - and the central narrative is wrapped up with a clever, unexpected plot twist. The film is sharply edited thanks to editor Sarah Boyd as well, and everything is topped off with a powerful, evocative score courtesy of Larry Groupé. Nothing But the Truth has its faults - it's underwritten (more character development would've been beneficial), the politics of the knotty case are oversimplified, and the subplot about Rachel's husband is a dead end (both emotionally and structurally) - but it's nevertheless a masterful effort, and these faults aren't enough to outweigh its abundance of strengths.

One of the strongest points of Nothing But the Truth is the cast, led by Kate Beckinsale who submits one of the best performances of her career. Through Beckinsale we can see Rachel Armstrong's ambition as well as her love for her son, and her shock and outrage at the treatment the FBI subjects her to. Director Lurie relies a lot on close-ups, and this style is advantageous because the myriad of emotions conveyed by Beckinsale are brought out.
As the explosive CIA operative Erica Van Doren, Vera Farmiga is downright excellent. The conviction and indignation that Farmiga manages to bring to her character is startling. Matt Dillon is impeccably nuanced as Patton Dubois. Dillon's restraint in the role (he never plays Dubois as an antagonist) makes it easier to see things from his perspective.
The supporting cast is equally remarkable. Angela Bassett conveys grave authority in her role as Rachel's editor, while Noah Wyle does an excellent job as the newspaper's hot-headed legal counsel. Alan Alda is terrific as the overly dapper but committed attorney, bringing a great degree of gravitas to this challenging role. Meanwhile, David Schwimmer submits understated, engaging work as Rachel's embittered husband.

Unjustly ignored during its brief period in theatres, Nothing But the Truth is a crisply-shot political thriller that's definitely worth checking out.

8.8/10

"The dead have a lot of unfinished business, which is why we're still here."

Co-written and directed by David Koepp, Ghost Town is a pleasant little cinematic gem which perfectly balances romantic comedy and light-hearted ghost story. Despite being a commercial underperformer (only just regaining its budget at the box office) and suffering a short theatrical run, this is a genuinely funny rom-com elevated by a top-shelf cast and a sharp script. Thankfully, Koepp's feature never goes big - there are no over-the-top comedic set-pieces, and the filmmakers never hurl fistfuls of money at the screen to distract with ornate sets or excessive CGI. Ghost Town isn't weighed down by too many characters or dangling subplots either, so it's therefore able to focus on making us laugh and tugging our heartstrings (which it does well). The film's sense of humour is dry, quippy, and superbly understated, while at the same time there's a sweetness and vulnerability on the flipside - this is a movie with a big, beating heart.

The protagonist here is a misanthropic dentist named Bertram Pincus (Gervais). The man hates people, and he chose his profession because he doesn't have to talk to his clients. During a routine colonoscopy, Bertram unexpectedly dies for bit less than seven minutes. Following his brief departure into the afterlife, Bertram is gifted with the ability to see and interact with ghosts wandering the streets of New York City, specifically those with unfinished business from their former lives. Unfortunately for the socially awkward Bertram, the ghosts begin pestering him non-stop, seeking his help to finish their unfinished business. Bertram soon meets a recently-deceased businessman named Frank (Kinnear) who promises to get rid of the ghosts forever if he does him a favour. Frank's widow (Leoni) is about to be remarried, and Frank wants Bertram to break it up.

Writers Koepp and John Kamps never bog down their screenplay with superfluous subplots, nor do they introduce a gaggle of characters merely for a laugh - the screenplay is instead remarkably sleek and efficient. Ghost Town is essentially a three-character piece: it focuses on Frank, Frank's widow Gwen, and the misanthropic Bertram who's inadvertently caught in the middle. The first half of this feature is a blend of amusing situations and droll dialogue as Bertram comes to terms with his new ability. A hilariously tempestuous relationship also develops between Bertram and the ghosts during this period which erodes the dentist's patience. Once the comedic and romantic elements are established, Koepp reaches for the heartstrings during a few poignant sequences. This mawkish aspect is surprisingly well-handed, although the tonal shift is a bit abrupt. During the final forty minutes, the screenplay unfortunately descends into a mire of familiar rom-com clichés.

Bertram is a snobbish antisocial asshole, and from the outset it's obvious he'll be redeemed by the film's dénouement. The problem is that the movie is devised to be a romantic comedy, and it's difficult to embrace the romance if one half of the couple is unlikeable. Because the dentist is so horrible to Gwen initially, it's also difficult to accept the fact that she falls for Bertram...it's the quickest "frenemy" conversion in movie history.

The core of the story is not otherworldly exploration, but Bertram slowly adjusting to the world of communication with other people. The ghosts are mainly a MacGuffin - they help Bertram realise his hollowness, and place the man on a path to redemption. Ghost Town thankfully avoids addressing concepts of spirituality and God, therefore never becoming needlessly preachy or provocative, and it's far more enjoyable as a result. However, the script stumbles in its depiction of ghosts - they can walk around on the solid floor, they can sit in seats, they can lean on walls and obviously have some form of physical presence...yet they can walk through things as well (Frank clearly moves from room to room without using a door). This aspect is ultimately confounding, and the duo of writers should've included a brief explanation. After all, explaining the abilities of ghosts in this sense is a concept overflowing with comedic possibilities.

Ghost Town is ultimately elevated by the well-developed characters and the witty, well-written character interactions. Director Koepp handles the material with great skill, displaying a sleight-of-hand that can be funny, surprising or touching. The combination of Koepp's delicate direction and a wonderful soundtrack ensures that Ghost Town engages and entertains from the very first frame.

Ricky Gervais pulls off the lead role with unique self-assurance. He is the exact opposite of a romantic lead - short, middle-aged, and ordinary in appearance - but he perfectly matches the character of Bertram Pincus. Gervais never forces his lines or overacts - his humour is instead dry and understated, yet caustic. Greg Kinnear is equally excellent, taking his sleazy, determined ghost role and infusing it with a convincing, regretful sense of humanity. Kinnear and Gervais play off each other wonderfully whenever they share the frame. Thanks to these endearing actors, a viewer can become comfortable with the concept of a man talking to ghosts, and therefore get comfortable with the characters. Alongside Gervais and Kinnear, there's a very watchable Téa Leoni. Kristen Wiig (who previously featured in Knocked Up) is given a tiny role as a meek surgeon, and provides some of the movie's biggest laughs. There's some impeccable back-and-forth between her and Gervais as she desperately tries to cover up gross malpractice.

With Ghost Town, David Koepp grasps a familiar framework and does something remarkable with it. The writer/director's approach is understated yet devastatingly hilarious, and with a lot of heart to boot. Ghost Town may not burn up the box office, but this perfectly entertaining effort entertains and disarms with an impeccable mix of humour and pathos.

8.2/10

"Michael Riggins. Ex Marine Corps. Weapons transporter. Honorable Discharge. Prison time. Solitary. Guy's a goddamn out of control mercenary! This is worse than we thought!!"

Direct Contact is just another standard "if you've seen one, you've seen 'em all" direct-to-DVD action flick. Aging action star Dolph Lundgren is this picture's focal selling point - without a performer like Lundgren, there'd be nothing of any interest to anybody since the cast is filled with small-time actors no-one gives a damn about. To the credit of director Danny Lerner and writer Les Weldon, Direct Contact assuredly entertains with a non-stop string of incredibly violent action sequences. As long as you're prepared to suspend your disbelief (describing this film as preposterous is an understatement) and overlook general filmmaking incompetency, this low-budget actioner delivers precisely what you'd expect. Direct Contact was purportedly a mere stepping stone for the Dolphster - he was compelled to appear, and the production company (Nu Image) in return allowed him to direct and star in Command Performance.

The protagonist here is Mike Riggins (Lundgren); a lethal black ops soldier caught smuggling and dumped in a Russian prison for perpetuity. He lands a Get Out of Jail Free card when an American diplomat (Paré) negotiates his release, offering Mike freedom and $100,000 to rescue a woman named Ana (May) who was kidnapped by a ruthless war lord in Eastern Europe. Mike promptly carries out his orders, but after killing a bunch of incompetent soldiers and saving Ana, he realises he's been snookered. Both Ana and Mike are then hunted by tonnes of seriously ill-tempered, heavily-armed bad guys.

The story is strictly well-worn territory. The plot is also thin, incredibly lazy, and non-existent yet unfathomable at the same time. Nothing is ever set up, and plot elements are just glossed over. It seems everything apart from the action is an inconvenience to the filmmakers. This story is a trite waste of time driven by plot holes and unbelievable contrivances.

The characters are all clichéd and one-dimensional. Gina May's performance is easier on the eyes than the ears - she's a woeful actress whose performance is complemented with horrid dialogue. The film's villainous cohorts are tediously contrived and evil in the most stereotypical of ways. Michael Paré has become an Uwe Boll regular, thus for the performer to feature in a low-rent actioner is forgivable. James Chalke is notably awful; awkwardly fumbling around, playing one of the worst screen villains ever committed to celluloid. At least Dolph Lundgren manages to provide his fans with a few thrills. He's a pretty stoic performer, but Lundgren packs a serious punch for a guy in his fifties. Director Danny Lerner isn't exactly known for high-calibre screenplays (he has penned a few Steven Seagal films) or top-quality features (he directed Shark in Venice and Raging Sharks), so it comes as no surprise that Direct Contact is pretty bad. He simply can't pry decent performances out of his actors, and he's unable to write dialogue that doesn't sound forced and/or clichéd. Even worse, Lundgren and Gina exhibit zero chemistry, and it's disconcerting to portray the two of them in a romantic fashion considering that they could pass off as father and daughter.

Direct Contact is at least very violent, and the main bad guy succumbs to a legendary death sequence. When the Dolphster is granted the opportunity to fire upon his enemies with an array of firearms, loaded blood squibs explode with reckless abandon. This is an unapologetically hard-R picture, gleefully embracing its hyper-violent late '80s action pedigree. Sinew blasts from the ruined uniforms of soldiers during the rampant gunplay exchanges, bringing back memories of Arnold Schwarzenegger's Commando in several ways. The majority of the budget was clearly blown on both blood squibs and pyrotechnics. Even the abandoned building in which the climax takes place is packed with a convenient stash of gas barrels just lying around, waiting to explode. Direct Contact is incredibly stupid as well, with Dolph's Mike Riggins walking out into the open during multiple action sequences when he has guns trained on him! Throughout virtually every action sequence, soldiers have clear shots at their target but conveniently miss. The only hit Mike ends up sustaining is a conveniently-placed flesh-wound which is used to create a tired set-up for a love scene later in the film.

The action is thankfully more 'old school' - it's devoid of silly split-second editing that plagues most action films of the current era. While the imagery is admittedly infused with at least some degree of flair, the filming/editing collaboration is simply woeful, generating constant continuity errors. Probably the worst action sequence in the film occurs at a stadium - choppy beyond all belief. The car chases are also a bit too standard and lack energy, not to mention a lot of the footage has quite obviously been sped up. The result is a merely watchable actioner.

Fundamentally an amalgam of Commando and the Dolphster's own The Mechanik (a.k.a. The Russian Specialist), Direct Contact is a flawed but enjoyable action film. It's taut and brisk at about 85 minutes, and it provides bagfuls of blood and gore, but all elements of this film are mediocre at best. Still, Dolph Lundgren kicks things up a notch and holds your attention with a kung-fu grip. The aging but still awesome Dolph partaking in some entertaining action sequences makes Direct Contact exciting enough to ensure it's at least worth watching.

4.8/10

"Now if we don't find a viable means of stopping this fucker, Sharkzilla is gonna own the sea. You own the sea, you own the world. Limeys and the spics got that right. What? I'm an equal opportunity racist."

The critical mind boggles when one is faced with the task of reviewing a film entitled Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus. The title itself reveals everything you need to know about this B-Grade monster schlock - the plot, the major set-pieces, and above all the genre. Cinematic schlock is created when a preposterous concept is meshed with an inept approach, generating a perfect storm of celluloid patheticness that guarantees plenty of laughs (intentional or otherwise). There are instances when sheer filmmaking incompetency produces a deliciously awful experience - such movies triggered the creation of the term "so bad it's good". Lovers of such lunacy will adore Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus; this low-budget creature feature filmed in twelve days and completed barely four months afterwards. With its sloppy CGI, uproariously ridiculous plot points and lame acting, Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus is an instant camp classic as opposed to a standard cinematic stool sample. It's certainly bad, but deliberately so - winking at the audience frequently along the way. Expecting anything from this feature apart from a good time revelling in awfulness would be setting yourself up for disappointment.

Now, the plot... Wow, this'll be easy. A Megalodon shark and a gigantic octopus were frozen in mid-combat back during the Ice Age. Millions of years later, the glacier containing these prehistoric combatants melts, reviving the creatures. After these monsters wreak havoc on the world and inflict massive casualties on the human populace (mostly off-screen, which is unfortunate because what we do see is hilariously awesome), a marine scientist (Gibson) along with her newfound Japanese counterpart (Chao) and daffy Irish mentor (Lawlor) are brought in to assist with the situation. Initially the scientists try to capture the gargantuan animals, using pheromones as bait. (Of course, no-one is concerned with how the fuck they'd be able to keep these specimens alive for research...logistics is never an issue for the characters.) But predictably, this plan fails, so it's time for Plan B: lure the two creatures away from civilisation and allow them to fulfil the prophecy of the film's title.

We're subjected to a clichéd "laboratory scene" while the characters are trying to figure out how to kill the titular creatures, wherein the scientists make weird faces, mix coloured liquids in beakers for no reason, look through microscopes and scribble down notes. Lots of jargon is thrown into the script in an attempt to make the military sound authentic as well - plenty of "Plan Delta" and "Zero One Niner". There's even a Japanese submarine supposedly in Japan that's inhabited by a crew who speak perfect English without the slightest hint of a Japanese accent.

Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus opens with an assortment of inexpensive stock shots of snowy mountains punctuated with inexpensive stock shots of the sea. A helicopter apparently drops some sort of sonic wave thingy into the sea since he's on some kind of top-secret government mission. Be aware that we never actually see said helicopter flying over the water...we're just shown footage of it flying amongst the clouds. The one shot of the helicopter flying is reused about three or four times before the shot is flipped to show the helicopter flying in the opposite direction which is then reused a few times.

The highlight of this motion picture is undoubtedly the hilarious sequence during which the Mega Shark attacks an airborne passenger plane...the shark literally leaps thousands of feet out of the water and grabs the jet with its mouth. Never mind that the impact upon landing back in the ocean should kill the shark. In addition to this, the film's "Money Shot" moment shows the Mega Shark taking a chomp out of the Golden Gate Bridge. Meanwhile, the Giant Octopus swats planes with its tentacles and dismembers an entire oil rig. Absurd and unconvincingly executed, yet it's glorious! Absolutely glorious! The epitome of bad monster movie awesomeness!

See? It's awesome!

Jack Perez writes and directs under the pseudonym of Ace Hannah (I shit you not), loading the screen with overinflated dialogue, well-worn clichés and laughable action sequences. Due to this, you'll be giddily awaiting to see where he'll take this mess next. One assumes Perez billed himself as Ace Hannah to make his name sound more B-Movie-esque. However it's more likely that the man was mortified by what he'd created and desperately wanted to distance himself from it.

Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus is unmistakably fun, but it's also underwhelming. While there are some awesome moments of Mega Shark and Giant Octopus mayhem guaranteed to tickle your B-Movie funny bone, one will be yearning for more. The film unfortunately fails to deliver a truly epic duel between the gigantic sea monsters. The concept is definitely too ambitious given the budgetary restrictions, though every penny appears on the screen. The computer animation looks cheap and is never realistic, but it isn't brutally bad either. The actual fight between the shark and the octopus sadly looks more like a bizarre mating ritual. They bump into each other, and then it appears that the octopus is humping the Megalodon. Perhaps the pheromones made an impact and the thing is trying to fuck its opponent to death.

The filmmakers cut corners whenever possible. Certain computer-animated shots are repeated a lot, including one sequence which features the very same shot three or four times during a ten second period. The shark vs. octopus encounter itself is just the same few shots on a loop. Although the shots are hokey and the repetition is glaringly obvious, they do the job at least, and all the fakery adds to the film's charm. The standard studio sets are also quite comical. Look out for the interior ship set - it's used twice as two different US battleships and once as a Chinese submarine, and it's very obvious as well. Again, it adds to the charm. The editing is pretty shoddy as well. Some live action shots are reused a lot, for instance. On top of this, at one stage the pilot of a jet radios a mayday about being knocked out of the sky before he's actually knocked out of the sky. The same type of thing also occurs during the shark/plane sequence. Once again, this is all part of the charm.

In the cast you'll find former singer Debbie Gibson as the female protagonist and Vic Chao as the Japanese associate - both are hilariously awful. Lorenzo Lamas delivers an expectedly wooden performance with crummy dialogue to match, but he can be forgiven due to his use of the term "Sharkzilla". However, it seems Lamas doesn't actually know what type of film he's making as he appears to take everything a bit too seriously. Alongside these "actors" is Sean Lawlor (whose filmography also includes Braveheart) who at least looks like he's trying. Every piece of bad, laughable dialogue is delivered with straight faces by these performers.

Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus is gormless, unrealistic, cheesy, and great! The budget doesn't allow the film to fulfil its potential (a big-budget Hollywood remake should be in order), but the 'fun factor' is firmly in place. God knows there are countless criticisms you can throw at the movie, but the enthusiasm cannot be denied. Just watch the film in context and remember exactly what it is. If you like good old-fashioned schlock, this fast-paced 85-minute B-Movie bonanza overflowing with campy glee will bring a smile to your face.

5.4/10

Bambi Meets Godzilla! The title outlines the plot of this very short 90-second cartoon quite efficiently, thus reiteration would be redundant. It's basically 10 seconds of actual action sandwiched between the opening and closing credits.

This is a classic cartoon unmatchable for its sheer audacity and imagination. I mean, who would've thought anyone would ever make a movie about a Walt Disney character coming across the mammoth creature of myth!? It's just totally out of the blue and random, and in turn utterly brilliant. The artist behind this exceptional creation apparently made this little film for a school project when his originally-planned live action movie was not going to be completed on time.

In 1994 this hilarious gem of a film was voted as #38 of the 50 Greatest Cartoons of all time by members of the animation field. This was very well deserved. Surely you can spare 90 seconds of your time watching this concoction of subtle comedy ("Bambi's wardrobe designed by...") and just good old-fashioned laughs. One shot, one main gag. Nuff said.

You'll find it right here: [Link removed - login to see]

9.0/10

"His name's Bison. I've tracked him through eleven major cities on four continents and never come close, not once. This guy walks through the raindrops. Anybody that's against him is either dead, or on their way."

Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li is not only a compelling early contender for the worst film of 2009, but it's also a contender for the worst film of all time! This second attempt at a screen adaptation of the revered Capcom video game series is unbelievably awful in every aspect. Generic action sequences, atrocious acting, cringe-inducing dialogue and lacklustre filmmaking are all combined, resulting in an hour and a half of pure cinematic torture. The first time the Street Fighter video game empire was adapted for the big screen, it concerned (a cartoonishly costumed) Jean-Claude Van Damme and Kylie Minogue trying to rescue the world from the evil clutches of (an infirmed) Raul Julia...and the film tanked! Now in 2009, fifteen years later, we've been given Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li - a production armed with a few clumsy television actors, Chris Klein, and a member of the Black Eyed Peas. This is not progress! With Andrzej Bartkowiak at the helm (who also directed the awful film adaptation of Doom), this feature is incredibly inept, and even that's putting it lightly. Most disheartening is that this dreck is unable to deliver the barest of bare-knuckle guilty pleasures promised by the genre. So what's left? Absolutely nothing.

At least 20th Century Fox were aware of the dud they had on their hands - they didn't screen the movie for the critics, and apparently most of the theatres showing this reel of used toilet paper only screened it once or twice a day. Why does this movie even exist, anyway? The Street Fighter video game series peaked in the '90s, which justifies the Van Damme movie. This latest rendition, however, is unjustifiable.

The plot concerns Chun-Li (Kreuk) who travels to Bangkok after receiving an enigmatic scroll (oddly enough, this scroll literally looks like a piece of paper that has been shoddily glued onto a piece of cheap cardboard). The streets of Bangkok are ruled by a crime syndicate called Shadaloo, headed by criminal mastermind Bison (McDonough) and his right hand man Balrog (Duncan). It seems Chun-Li battles this crime syndicate to save the city and because they kidnapped her father when she was a kid. Meanwhile, Interpol Agent Charlie Nash (Klein) is equally passionate to stop Bison and take down Shadaloo.

The story does not make much sense. Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li simply limps along from one poorly-staged set-piece to the next, climaxing with a whimper rather than a bang. It lacks both coherence and flow. This 2009 picture is distinctly different to the catastrophic 1994 movie failure, exchanging the cartoon atmosphere for a grittier tone that concentrates on revenge scenarios rather than a world domination plot. Justin Marks' script is surprisingly straight-faced...far too serious for its own good. It's also just really badly written. When a character seeks information on Shadaloo, they simply use the internet. No secret is safe from the internet, after all. When Chun-Li needs to know about a secret shipment, she finds a random guy on the wharf and breaks his arm to extract the relevant information. With the help of a guy named Gen, Chun-Li is trained to become a supreme master of kung-fu. This transformation from naïve fighter to highly skilled warrior takes all of five minutes, and mostly involves marbles being pelted at her.

Here's the big problem: both Street Fighter films have next to nothing to do with the actual video game. The basic concept behind Street Fighter is gloriously simple: two fighters face off in the ring, attacking each other with a variety of kicks, punches and special moves until one is beaten into submission. A serviceable film adaptation could be derived from the same formula (maybe a tournament movie like Bloodsport?), but both attempts so far work from a needlessly complicated and ridiculously silly story (in this case a meandering crime syndicate tale which takes forever to unfold). The Legend of Chun-Li is much further removed from the video game than the Van Damme vehicle preceding it. This is only a Street Fighter movie by name, and because a few classic characters have cameos. Chun-Li at one stage fights Vega (one of the video game's coolest characters), but he gets a minute or two of screen-time and just seems like a poor imitation of Wolverine with his giant metal claws.

At its core, Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li is a martial arts demonstration reel, but it's an extremely unimpressive one. For a big studio release, the technical accomplishments are extremely subpar. The strictly ordinary choreography during the fight sequences is captured with scarcely a modicum of skill - some clumsy cinematography which is amplified by the choppy editing. It's impossible to lighten up and embrace the violence when it's just a blur occasionally punctuated by a famous Street Fighter finishing move. These are just silly wire-work sequences during which no-one ever seems to get hurt, and one is unable to get any sense of a character's brute force or skill. The gun battles are just routine, PG-13 filler. In fact, so is the entire movie as it lamely lurches from conflict to conflict in a programmed manner. Some of the gun battles do look mildly cool, but these are unfortunately few and far between. The Legend of Chun-Li cannot be considered a movie - it's a God forsaken tragedy! It reels in some of the most pathetic actors in the industry who are aching for their existence to be acknowledged, and gives them a vastly stupid script to regurgitate.

The acting is atrocious right across the board. Chris Klein delivers one of the most laughably awful screen performances of the decade, making Van Damme seem Oscar-worthy in comparison. His portrayal of Nash is beyond awful - not only can he not act, but he was probably drunk during filming. The performer (calling him an actor would be a questionable compliment) assumes a strange mix of Clint Eastwood and metrosexual paedophile as he desperately tries to come across as a tough guy. It's frankly hilarious to observe his cheese, especially in the presence of the other actors who seriously look as if they're holding back giggles. His character also favours a pistol over hand-to-hand fighting, so why is he even included in the film?! Throughout this cinematic abomination, I was actually missing the acting skills of Jean-Claude Van Damme... And as for the rest of the cast... Neal McDonough might've fared better had he not used such a goofy Irish accent (Bison is a quintessential Irish surname, after all). One-time Oscar nominee Michael Clarke Duncan is reduced to playing the character Balrog, while a host of other actors (Robin Shou, Josie Ho and the attractive Moon Bloodgood) are unfathomably woeful as the one-dimensional stock characters. Kristin Kreuk is hot, but it seems she was deceased throughout the filming period as she boasts just one expression and one tone of voice. She also does a thoroughly awful job of faking martial arts moves before her stunt double steps in.

Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li is tiresome, brain-dead and ill-considered. It'd be impossible for anyone to have a legitimately enjoyable time watching this awful motion picture which delivers nothing apart from an inconsistent crime plot. Unfortunately, the makers behind this Street Fighter movie are unable to put together a martial arts scene that's worth a damn. Not even morbidly curious film-goers should give this one a shot unless they also have masochistic tendencies.

1.5/10