Reviews by PvtCaboose91

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

A treasured cult classic from much-loved B-Movie producer Roger Corman, Death Race 2000 can be described as a lot of things - it's cheesy, it's overwrought, it's stupid, it's campy, the special effects are appalling, the plot is idiotic... And it's great fun! The average viewer or critic will almost certainly look distastefully at the film's low production values and the poor acting, and dismiss the flick entirely (Roger Ebert did award it zero stars). To the less cynical, however, this is top-notch campy filmmaking; taking a low budget in exchange for absolute freedom to be as ridiculous and unconventional as possible. With its absurd premise, a macabre sense of humour as well as its dizzying combination of racing and pure ultra-violence (of the bright red tomato sauce variety), Death Race 2000 comes off as a mindlessly entertaining '70s exploitation romp...the kind of fluff one would watch at the drive-in cinema all those decades ago.

Set in the far flung future of the year 2000 (well...it was far flung back in 1975), Death Race 2000 presents America as a fascist empire now run by a powerful dictator after a major global turmoil leaves the world in dismal shape. The ultimate sporting event is now the Transcontinental Death Race - a futuristic annual road race during which skilled drivers gun their customised four-wheeled killing machines from one side of America to the other, and contestants can score points by murdering innocent pedestrians (the more helpless the person, the more points the driver receives). This year, the formidable and popular champion Frankenstein (Carradine) has a new challenge in the form of arrogant rookie driver 'Machine Gun' Joe (Stallone). A twist at this year's Death Race also comes in the form of an organisation trying to bring an end to the immoral sport.

Death Race 2000 is wonderfully compact at a meagre 80 minutes, resulting in a fast-paced, darkly funny comic-book action film. Like most of Roger Corman's movies, Death Race 2000 was quite obviously shot on the cheap. Corman (who served as producer) had a talent for making the most of a restricted budget, and by the time Death Race 2000 entered production he had more experience making successful low-budget movies than anyone else before him. Corman's talent really pays off when it comes to films like this. The cars (though they just look like plain old consumer vehicles given minor body work) look fairly convincing as the speedy, pedestrian-slaughtering station wagons of death. Certain things, such as the futuristic backgrounds at the beginning of the movie, look extremely fake and unbelievably cheesy. This is not necessarily a bad thing, though, as this constitutes half the film's appeal. In traditional with this type of cinema, there's also a sleazy satirical subtext beneath the on-screen violence.

Despite some ham-fisted moralising about violence in American culture, Death Race 2000 is by no means a serious movie - it's infused with Corman's trademark brand of black humour. People get run over in hysterically fake ways (resulting in bright red ketchupy splats), and doctors even wheel the elderly out to the middle of the road for the drivers to hit. It's not the (distinctly lacking) plot or the creative ideas that make Death Race 2000 so enjoyable, but the characters and the cheesy action. The campy qualities of this flick simply cannot be overstated. It's almost impossible for an audience to feel sorry for the innocent pedestrians who are killed mercilessly because it's so entertaining to watch them die! The appalling special effects, the disjointed editing and the shonky film adjustments (when shots are sped up, it's very obvious) make Death Race 2000 a downright hilarious watch. Like most of Corman's work, this has become a cult classic for a good reason.

Director Paul Bartel attempts to compensate for a noticeable lack of plot by throwing in an assortment of colourful oddball characters and moments of comedy, but the frequent narrative lulls become more and more problematic as the film progresses. In fact, the entire story is a one big mess, not to mention the screenplay is fundamentally a congregation of lousy dialogue, shallow characters, a muddled plot and traces of a deeper social meaning. Death Race 2000 is simply so awful that it's good. Only über-producer Corman could produce rubbish of this surprisingly watchable standard.

Face it: you didn't settle upon the decision to watch Death Race 2000 hoping to witness some true acting talent. The movie is crammed with barely passable acting, which is to be expected for a film of this ilk.
Sylvester Stallone's typical tough-guy persona serves him well here as the aggressive Machine Gun Joe. This is one of Sly's earliest performances (in his late twenties here), and he bellows out each line as if he's drugged on PCP. As you'd expect from an action film, Stallone's performance is watchable but very contrived. Oddly, for such a manly man he's clad in an astonishing amount of pink. At the opposite end, David Carradine appears as Frankenstein; a scarred road warrior in a corny costume of a black leather suit and cape (the production values are painfully evident while observing this campy outfit). Where Stallone delivered his dialogue like a kid on a Trix high, Carradine's Frankenstein is more of an anorexic Darth Vader. He ominously mumbles and grumbles as he disperses cryptic musings.
Meanwhile, the other three competitors of the Death Race appear in the form of Mary Woronov, Roberta Collins and Martin Kove - all of whom are forgettable.

Low in budget, high in chutzpah - Death Race 2000 is '70s schlock exploitation filmmaking at its finest. It's a fun, thoroughly campy piece of work let down by the terrible script and a distinct lack of plot. Yet, it isn't difficult to understand why the movie has endured over the years, particularly given the unabashed violent tendencies and the genuinely thrilling racing sequences. The greatest thing about Death Race 2000 is that it's very short, succinct and entertaining. There's plenty of cartoonish action to enjoy, and even when the racing pauses there's gratuitous nudity as well as the spacious, orange-décor hotel suites to keep one rapt. The goofy narrative also concludes satisfactorily. The combination of slapstick humour, satire, and plain camp ensures this movie a place among Corman's finest.

Followed by Death Sport. A re-imagining (not exactly a remake as only a few character names and the general premise are retained) was also released in 2008.

5.7/10

An ambitious historical drama helmed by the legendary Clint Eastwood, Changeling is without a doubt one of the best pictures of 2008; a thoroughly engrossing, powerful film able to entertain as much as it provokes. Eastwood's latest masterwork is based on a true story, and it chronicles the appalling events surrounding the Wineville Chicken Coop Murders that occurred between 1928 and 1930. It must be stressed that this feature isn't just a simplistic story of a mother's heroic quest for truth... Beneath its exterior, it's an excellent exposé of crime and corruption during the early 20th Century. Changeling is the first of Clint Eastwood's two 2008 productions (the brilliant Gran Torino being the other), and it is a mature, mesmerising saga made far more compelling by the director's masterful handling of the material. Eastwood has employed the same sparse, unadorned yet exceedingly watchable filmmaking style throughout his several decades as a director, and this style is prominent here. His films rarely drag as well - they're lean and efficient; rarely wasting energy or becoming bogged down in sentimentality. Considering the subject matter, Changeling could've been created as a maudlin, melodramatic mess with exaggerated performances and telegraphed emotion. Under Eastwood's direction, however, it is none of those things. Changeling is unforgettable... It's unforgettable for its extraordinary story, for the cinematography of ethereal beauty, for the haunting performances and for Eastwood's stylistic directorial style. But most of all, Changeling is unforgettable for its sheer impact. This is a devastating and touching story which has been beautifully told by a filmmaker who remains at the top of his game.

The story commences in 1928 Los Angeles. Hard-working single mother Christine Collins (Jolie) returns home from an impromptu shift at work to discover that her 9-year-old son Walter (Griffith) has mysteriously vanished. Five months after Walter's unexplained disappearance, the LAPD - anxious to get some good publicity to help their tarnished image - insists they've found Christine's son. Delight soon turns into horror, however, when Christine lays eyes on the young boy the police have found and instantly realises it's not her child. But the LAPD, worried about further bad press, arrogantly refuse to admit their mistake. As she questions the tactics of the police on an escalating scale of hysteria, the LAPD attempt to silence Christine through iniquitous methods and begin using the press to discredit her claims. But when a campaigning clergyman named Reverend Gustav Briegleb (Malkovich) comes to Christine's aid, the whole rotten system of lying officialdom is tackled and they begin to expose the LAPD's epic web of deception. As the mystery of her missing son deepens, Christine is forced to face an awful possibility about what might have actually happened to Walter...

During 2008, Eastwood turned 78 and still shows no sign of stopping. Most people in any trade retire at 65, but Clint was merely warming up; going on to produce some of the finest work of his directorial career (Oscar-winning films like Million Dollar Baby, Mystic River and Letters From Iwo Jima). The esteemed actor-director has effortlessly segued into a no-nonsense, old-fashioned filmmaker in the mould of John Ford, Sergio Leone, and (his mentor) Don Siegel.
For Changeling, Eastwood allows the events to unfold slowly and quietly without resorting to the over-the-top performances or a roaring soundtrack a lesser director would have employed to highlight the drama - Eastwood recognises that this tale requires no exaggeration. Put simply, Eastwood is the best classical filmmaker working in contemporary Hollywood: his pictures are never flashy or gimmicky, as he recognises these as distractions from his primary job, which is to pay service and respect to a story. However, the man is not a simplistic filmmaker either. Here, Eastwood has crafted a motion picture that moves with ease and grace from potent drama to dark thriller to a tale of corruption echoing such films L.A. Confidential and Chinatown. The ability to work on various levels and shift gears with such skill comes from years of practise...Changeling represents another career high point of one of this generation's finest directors.

Historical relevance notwithstanding, Changeling emerges as a contemporary morality tale as well. After all, Walter is abducted when Christine agrees to work on her day off (a day that she promised she would spend with Walter). By agreeing to work, Christine not only chooses her job over spending time with her son, but she also breaks a promise. The consequence of this decision is that she loses her young boy forever. The film is possibly making a statement regarding single mothers, as well as reasserting that nothing is more important than family and moments spent away from children are moments lost forever.

No original book or magazine article exists detailing the Christine Collins case. Screenwriter (and former journalist) J. Michael Straczynski had to conduct meticulous research, developing the story using newspaper files and old records (from city hall, the courthouse, and the city morgue). The extraordinary story of Changeling starts as a flapper Erin Brockovich before turning into Silence of the Lambs by way of L.A. Confidential. Truth is stranger than fiction, as they say. The fact that Eastwood's flick manages to morph from one genre to another is a measure of how truly unusual the story is. It can certainly keep an audience off balance...there are a lot of surprises. Admittedly, Changeling boasts a story far better than the screenplay, as Straczynski's inexperience as a feature film writer is occasionally evident. The one fault of the script is simple: the dialogue sounds a tad too contemporary from time to time. The period detail mixed with this modern-ish dialogue can be very jarring. Dialogue aside, though, Changeling is pervaded with an immense emotional weight that consistently feels earned and sincere as opposed to cloyingly manipulative.

The most striking element of Changeling is the look of the film. With top-shelf production values and excellent visual effects, Eastwood's feature is imbued with an evocative mood of Depression-era L.A. without missing a beat. The digital recreations of 1920's Los Angeles are marvellous, and there are moments when it looks as if Eastwood managed to get his cast and crew into a time machine. Every cent of the $55 million budget (estimated) is used sparingly and put to great use. Tom Stern (Eastwood's expert cinematographer since 2002's Blood Work) paints a muted palette of dehydrated colours reminiscent of the 1920s, punctuated with subtle splashes of colour (like Jolie's red lips) as beacons of hope.
Not only does the aging Eastwood direct his pictures, but he also produces and carries out several additional duties (hence the astounding low-budget nature of his films). Changeling has been beautifully scored by the director himself with lilting pianos and blustery strings. This sweetly melancholic music subtly comforts our souls.
If there's one thing to savour about Changeling, it's the graceful way it transports the audience, taking them back in time to this famous era with traditional Eastwood ease. The 140-minute runtime (approximately) may seem daunting, but it never really seems that long. All pieces of the puzzle merge together, forming a remarkable motion picture which rarely feels its tremendous length.

Clint Eastwood has the ability to coax the best from his actors. Changeling is propelled by an array of wonderful performances, headed by Angelina Jolie whose shattering portrayal of Christine Collins was deservedly nominated for an Academy Award. Choosing to underplay her character's rage and sadness, the actress escapes into her role, painting Christine as a determined woman whose sombre and steadfast nature in the wake of her son's disappearance occasionally gives way to an incendiary temper... Jolie brings every ounce of motherly love and anguish to this part. Appearing in most scenes and carrying the emotional weight of the entire picture, Jolie gives one of the most nuanced performances of her entire career.
There is scarcely a bad performance in the entire film. Jeffrey Donovan is arrogantly loathsome and slimy yet entirely credible as Captain Jones, who seems bereft of humanity as he tries to defend the inexcusable behaviour of the LAPD in unacceptable ways. Playing his superior with gusto, Colm Feore's Chief Davis is equally adamant to push the dirt under the rug without any regard for justice or for Christine. Also first-rate and suitably hateful are the actors portraying the unscrupulous doctors supportive of the corrupt cops - Denis O'Hare as the psychiatric hospital's nasty head doctor, as well as Peter Gerety and John Harrington Bland. Michael Kelly is an especially memorable addition to the cast playing the detective who investigates the dreadful Wineville Chicken Coop Murders. As the psychotic Gordon Stewart Northcott who executed these murders, Jason Butler Harner is exceptional. The moderately unknown actor paints one of the most skin-crawling portraits of pure evil in recent cinematic memory.
John Malkovich is a particular standout as the crusading clergyman who uses Christine's plight to further his own agenda. He's understated and terrific, bringing considerable authority to his character of Reverend Briegleb who's armed with a radio station microphone and rants against the corrupt cops of Los Angeles.

Changeling is one of 2008's best movies. What begins as a simple mystery-thriller soon takes a number of devastating twists and turns, bordering on noir before dipping into dark, bloody horror, and culminating in a courtroom drama for the well-paced and tense climax. Changeling travels to dark places, with scenes and circumstances that will haunt you long after the credits expire. It's not exactly an easy movie to watch, but it's very classy and it adroitly avoids exploitation for the sake of drama. The muted colours, the simple but effective period design and the plot-driven editing grab our attention and emotions with a firm grip as Eastwood tells this elegant story. Changeling is visually sumptuous as well; both its cinematography and art direction were justly nominated for Academy Awards. As long as Clint Eastwood continues to make new movies, this reviewer will continue to pay to watch them. This is a gorgeous, underrated masterpiece and a perfect example of fine art...how the Academy overlooked this tour de force for Best Picture is simply beyond me.

9.5/10

The Reader is one of those motion pictures which feels specifically tailored for a December release. An adaptation of Bernhard Schlink's 1995 international bestseller, this is a mature historical drama laced with nudity, compelling themes, suppressed emotion and a few twists. It's quite telling that producer Harvey Weinstein rushed the film's production to ensure its place in the 2008 Oscar race. At any other time of the year, such a movie would frankly feel out of place. Directed by Stephen Daldry (his first feature since 2002's The Hours), The Reader is blatant Oscar bait, but the makers' overconfidence in their product is palpable from the outset...and the result is closer to a near miss than a rousing success. While Daldry's Oscar-nominated film is brimming with emotion and provocative moral ambiguity in the context of a melodrama, The Reader is an unrelenting journey into dreariness and one-note drama with thinly-drawn characters. This is strictly by-the-numbers, conventional Oscar bait which quickly descends into abject boredom. Not skilful enough to be genuinely engaging, and truly lacking in substance, this is a cold fish of a film which falls short of the greatness for which it strives. It's even strangely detached from emotion when it should've been brimming with poignancy. The Reader is not a particularly bad movie per se...it's just an average, boring one. It's frankly bewildering that this film was nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards.

The mainstay of the story begins in Germany in 1958, when 15 year old Michael Berg (Kross) falls ill on the street and is comforted by a stranger named Hanna (Winslet). Months later, after he overcomes his grave sickness, Michael returns to thank Hanna for her kindness. But the young man finds himself attracted to this older woman who willingly beds the overeager virgin. This brief, sensual, passionate affair combines sex with foreplay during which Michael reads passages of literature to Hanna. It is throughout this section that the film alternates between chapters and sex, sex and chapters. This leads to the inevitable heartbreak when, despite their intense bond, Hanna mysteriously disappears. Eight years later, and Michael is a student at law school. Through a coincidence barely allowable in a movie like this, his law class is given the chance to witness a Nazi war crimes trial...and Hanna is one of the defendants. Michael figures out a secret which would exonerate his former lover, but is too embarrassed to share it. The story unnecessarily stretches into Michael's adulthood (now played by Ralph Fiennes) when he has become a man plagued by relentless regret and shame.

The Reader is notable for its first-rate performances, the handsome photography, and the elegant music. The preceding praise may sound generic, but so is the movie. Production values are admirable, and everything is brilliantly subdued, but nothing pierces, shocks, engages or challenges. The interesting undertones and themes are occasionally compelling, but for the most part everything interesting dissolves into disconcerting blandness.

If there was any real passion or feeling behind it, The Reader might've felt like more than a mere space-filler on the inexorable march towards Oscar night. Despite the best efforts of the three talented main actors and a competent director, The Reader just lies on the screen demanding the audience to care and engage but never offering them much to grasp onto. Daldry also appears to have a difficult time with the film's tonal shifts. The director makes a peculiar choice to paint Michael's raw sexual awakening on a dull palette of bleached, muted colours. Regardless of all the nudity and constant love-making, The Reader is about as sexy as a brick wall. The tone additionally contradicts Kross' openhearted, wholly amorous performance as the smitten teenager. The picture is also structured in a pointlessly choppy and non-linear fashion, losing momentum and focus once the proceedings move beyond the trial. The segments taking place in the '90s lack the foundation of the preceding chapters. A viewer can understand that as an adult, Michael is still obsessed with Hanna, and his obsession isn't healthy, but that's virtually everything we manage to glean from about 40 minutes worth of film. Ralph Fiennes is a fine actor (who also starred in 2008's In Bruges and The Duchess), but his portion of the film is let down by the screenplay.

Reportedly, The Reader is a predominantly faithful adaptation of Bernhard Schlink's book when it comes to major plot points (and it gets points for it), but the devil is in the details. Intricacies and nuances that exist in the novel and which can be presented in the first-person narrative are absent from this more straightforward motion picture.
The first two thirds of The Reader are by far the strongest. These scenes (which chronicle the affair and the impact the revelations about Hanna's past have upon Michael), provide rich drama and pose some troubling philosophical questions, even if Daldry grossly mishandles the material (why he was nominated for a Best Director Oscar for this film is a mystery for the ages). It has to be said that the slow pace of the film also allows an audience to realise the gaping plot holes. (An illiterate person able to work as a ticket checker on a tram?)

As stated previously, producer Harvey Weinstein forced director Daldry to rush the production. At times, this intensified schedule shows in the finished product. A lot of the dramatic transitions aren't as tightly focused as they should be. The giant leaps between timelines are baffling, particularly the initial transition from 1995 to 1958. Character motivations are seldom explored in David Hare's shallow script (also curiously nominated for an Oscar). The characters are therefore presented merely as two-dimensional caricatures. Hanna is just a horny male's fantasy, while Michael is merely a horny teenager. Both of the aforementioned choose to withhold crucial information in fear of embarrassment. As we can't understand the motivations of the characters, we don't understand why Hanna chooses to face a lifetime in prison when a simple piece of humiliating information could soften her sentence. Crucially, we don't care either. A suicide also happens towards the film's dénouement, but why this character chooses to take their life is unknown. Most of these faults are due to the film's faithfulness to its source material, but this doesn't excuse them.
What does work is the stunning cinematography by Roger Deakins and Chris Menges (the latter coming onto the feature after the production schedule was changed by the producer and the former suddenly dropped out due to scheduling conflicts). The cinematographers were nominated for an Academy Award for their great work.

Both Kate Winslet and David Kross commit unequivocally to their roles. Winslet plays the character of Hanna throughout the entire movie; going through a gauntlet of old age make-up in the process. Winslet's Oscar-winning portrayal of Hanna is note-perfect, but she's unable to overcome the thinly-sketched nature of her character - the actress is adrift with no coherent character to grab onto. Kross and Ralph Fiennes are engaging enough, but the character of Michael Berg isn't much more interesting than Hanna; the transition from callow youth to guilt-ridden man never made clear.
In a supporting role, Bruno Ganz is authoritative as the law professor who poses pertinent questions to Michael about the human condition. Hannah Hertzsprung is also marvellous in the small but pivotal role of adult Michael's daughter. The acting across the board is great, but the contrivance inherent in playing this German tale in English for an international audience detracts from its authenticity. It isn't as affecting as, say, The Lives of Others or Downfall.

The weakest addition to the 2008 Oscar race, The Reader is a plodding, meandering drama plagued by a glacially slow, shallow screenplay. Still, there's enough intelligent material here to make it worthwhile as a meditation about the post-World War II implications of the Holocaust upon the German psyche. It also works as a tale of the tragedy suffered by one man because, at a young, vulnerable stage time of his life, he fell in love with the wrong person. While never making excuses for those who committed atrocities in the Holocaust, The Reader becomes the latest Nazi-related feature to question whether redemption is a possibility for a person responsible for monstrous acts. The stylish cinematography, coupled with Nico Muhly's florid, somewhat overbearing score makes this motion picture seem like the type of movie one ought to take seriously. Don't be fooled by the elegant exterior, though, as The Reader never fulfils its promises of relevance and depth. R.I.P. Anthony Mingella and Sydney Pollack.

Frost/Nixon is Ron Howard's cinematic adaptation of Peter Morgan's hugely successful Broadway play of the same name. Morgan (who also penned the screenplay for this motion picture appropriation) based his production on the series of television interviews featuring British journalist David Frost and disgraced former president Richard Nixon (conducted in 1977). Judging from this premise, one would likely expect a dry, historical and contrived drama... But Frost/Nixon is instead a delicious contest of wits, complemented with top-notch acting and a narrative which is both gripping and dramatic even despite the foregone conclusion. Director Howard has crafted a powerful, compelling duel involving two iconic figures, which (in spite of liberties taken with well-known facts) offers multiple hard-earned truths and an intricate portrait of one of the most controversial Presidents in American history. It'd be easy to demonise Nixon, especially in today's political climate, but the makers circumvent this lazy pathway. Howard and screenwriter Morgan have transformed this fascinating tale into something more than an embellished re-telling of modern history. Nominated for five Oscars (Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Editing and Best Director), Frost/Nixon can definitely be counted alongside 2008's best films.

There's so much more to this dramatisation of Frost's televised interviews with Nixon in '77 than one would realise. Beginning with the President's resignation after the Watergate fiasco, the film tracks Frost as he puts his entire life and career on the line to execute the greatest television accomplishment of his career. Howard's picture also pays close attention to the power plays and behind-the-scenes machinations that went into making these interviews which became the most-watched in TV history at that time.

The movie opens in August 1974, presenting a series of news reports and interviews as United States President Richard Nixon (Langella) announces his resignation. For the better part of three years, he remained in exile, disgraced by the Watergate conspiracy which brought down his presidency. Up until 1977, Nixon shunned the media and refused to give interviews. But in this year, David Frost (Sheen), a British talk show host longing to return to his glory days, is given the chance of a lifetime when Nixon agrees to appear in a series of interviews regarding aspects of his presidency. For Nixon, these interviews are seen as an opportunity to rehabilitate his image in the eyes of the American people, and gambled that Frost would only lob him softballs. David Frost, however, perceived the interviews as a chance to establish his credibility and make headlines, especially if he could manage to coax an apology or an admission of guilt out of the former US President. Gathering a squad of investigators (portrayed by Macfadyen, Rockwell and Platt), Frost begins planning his verbal offensive. As the cameras began to roll, a charged battle of wits ensued. Frost finds Nixon (also known to many as Tricky Dick) a shrewd man capable of controlling any room he enters with aplomb. After three catastrophic interview days, Frost fears ruin, but it was in the final day that the foppish interviewer managed to force a moment of honesty in which Nixon gave the confession and apology the public hungered for.

In adapting his own play (not an overly difficult job, as this was a very cinematic script to begin with), screenwriter Morgan wisely converts the direct-to-audience monologues into documentary-style direct-to-camera interviews. Ron Howard is not a director one might consider for this type of material, but he navigates Morgan's script with proficiency and precision. The result is this crisp motion picture; a literate, riveting vocal tango that successfully examines a well-worn historical footprint without ever feeling fatigued. The power of the close-up is something Howard evidently appreciates, and this sole factor alone deems this cinematic adaptation necessary. On stage, small details aren't visible. On film, the camera can capture every brilliant facial expression which conveys a story in itself. It's Howard's willingness to let his camera linger and capture every bead of sweat that affords Frost/Nixon a great deal of its impact. He guides the film with an inspired smoothness that renders the picture quite digestible, even despite the labyrinthine historical backdrop of Watergate which is not sufficiently explained (indeed, one will want to constantly pause the film in order to research facets of the Watergate cover-up, and it will only run incredibly smoothly to an audience with extensive knowledge on the topic).

Approximately 50% of the picture is recreated material from the 1977 interviews, which have been shifted, shaped, and edited to augment the drama. Obviously, a great deal had to be cut given that the broadcasted version of the interviews spanned about six hours (with several additional hours of footage not shown). Howard wisely focuses on the segments that are most remembered and/or that made history. The verbose, dynamite interview portion makes up the film's final hour, and the psychological nuance is simply spellbinding. Most commendable is Howard's ability to engage without much assistance from Hans Zimmer's music. It's during the film's concluding moments in particular (as Frost at last decides to take the interview seriously) that director Howard ratchets up the intensity, slamming home his movie's place in the 2008 Oscar race. Howard's extraordinary work earned him an Academy Award nomination.

In one of the film's most dramatically potent scenes, Nixon calls Frost in his hotel room late at night on the eve of their final on-camera confrontation. For this scene, Frost is depressed over the failure of the interviews thus far, and Nixon has downed a few drinks. As the former President begins to talk, he starts drawing parallels between his inquisitor and himself in regards to their backgrounds and struggles. During this scene he's more or less taunting Frost...but Nixon's motivations are brilliantly vague. Morgan's exceptional screenplay suggests that Nixon was pushing Frost to amp it up...that somewhere deep inside his dark psyche, Nixon wanted to confess, and when he realised that Frost wasn't working hard enough to elicit this confession from him, he pushed the naïve talk show host. According to many sources, this phone conversation is pure fiction...but at least it's compelling fiction.

Peter Morgan's script does deviate from reality on several occasions, and there are a few major instances worth mentioning. Nixon's controversial view on presidential power ("When the President does it, that means it's not illegal!") was not part of the Watergate interview (this was apparently uttered in an earlier interview) as portrayed here. Reportedly, the climactic Watergate interview was also not interrupted in exactly the manner depicted in the film. Granted, it'd be impossible for Morgan's Oscar-nominated script to be completely accurate, but the movie would be superior if the screenwriter didn't take these particular liberties.

Truly a tale of two verbal gladiators facing a critical moment of professional and personal candour, Howard's film is right at home with Frost and Nixon as they enter the gladiatorial arena of public scrutiny and face off over several days. The smartest creative decision was retaining Michael Sheen as Frost and Frank Langella (who won a Tony for his performance in the play) as Nixon. Both are magnificent, and make for absolutely riveting opponents. These actors never try to mimic the real Frost and Nixon, but to instead embody their respective characters through sheer force of performance.
While there are issues with Frank Langella's physical appearance as Tricky Dick, his body language is truly mesmerising, and he creates a Nixon of media charisma who's constantly at war with his abrasive instincts. The character is not predicated on surface imitation or caricature. Instead, Langella undergoes an amazing transformation during the film. Especially during the interviews, we feel as if we're seeing Nixon...not an impersonation. In order to make his acting easier, Langella never broke from character on-set and asked the crew to call him "Mr. President". He whole-heartedly deserved the Oscar nomination for Best Actor.
It's extremely tragic that Michael Sheen wasn't given any recognition at the Oscars. The actor's performance is every bit as brilliant as Langella's. Sheen also transforms himself, but his direction is one of cocktail-hour discontent as his character of Frost confronts his own issues of integrity and financial pressure. He portrays David Frost as a playboy and as a dabbler; he's obsessed with celebrity culture and disinterested in politics. Thankfully, Sheen possesses the boyish charm to effectively pull this off and present Frost in the classic role of the underdog. Frost's naiveté allows him to be outmatched in the early rounds of the vocal gladiatorial match, but Nixon's overconfidence ultimately paves the way for his own downfall.

The supporting cast is filled with some of the best character actors working today, such as the impeccable Kevin Bacon as Nixon's post-resignation chief of staff Jack Brennan. Playing David Frost's team of researchers is Sam Rockwell, Matthew Macfadyen, and Oliver Platt, all of which are uniformly superb. Rebecca Hall (who earned a Golden Globe nomination for her role in Woody Allen's Vicky Cristina Barcelona, also released in 2008) is first-rate as Caroline Cushing, Frost's love interest.

The tone of Frost/Nixon is extremely staid, as befits a movie covering this subject matter, yet there are compelling dramatic currents beneath the sometimes calm surface. This is a gripping, unrelenting motion picture that convincingly travels back in time and recalls (albeit imperfectly) how a national nightmare finally faded. Movies for mature adults these days are few and far between, so when a film as stimulating, witty, and smart as Frost/Nixon is released, attention should be paid. Equal parts entertaining and engrossing, masterfully acted, excellently directed and exceptionally well-written, Frost/Nixon is one of the most extraordinary films of 2008; a modern masterpiece laced with tension and potent human drama.

8.8/10

In making Defiance, director Edward Zwick (whose résumé boasts such titles as The Last Samurai, Blood Diamond and Glory) turns his attention to World War II; helming a loose adaptation of Nechama Tec's novel which chronicled the true-life experiences of the Bielski partisans who waged a vicious guerrilla campaign against the Nazis. This historical action-thriller is a Holocaust movie with a twist - while films like Schindler's List focus on the extermination of the Jews in countless harrowing ways, Defiance concentrates on Jewish resistance fighters who slaughter their Nazi adversaries and generally kick ass (on that note, the Knocked Up boys would love this film). There are a number of battle sequences, but Zwick's film spends the majority of its runtime exploring the difficulties of surviving as fugitives in the midst of a harsh Soviet winter. Defiance is meticulously crafted, sincere and admirable, but while the facts are fresh, the execution (particularly the structure) is exceedingly familiar. The extraordinary true story has also been altered in a typical Hollywood fashion; coming across not as a fascinating history lesson but as a melodramatic, occasionally gripping historical action-thriller. It's certainly solid as the latter, but (considering the facts of the real story) a superior film could easily have been delivered had it been more faithful to the source material.

Set in Nazi-occupied Eastern Europe of 1941 during the Holocaust, the story tracks the Bielski brothers - Tuvia (Craig), Zus (Schreiber), Asael (Bell) and Aron (MacKay) - who manage to escape the slaughter of the Jews and take refuge in a dense nearby forest they've known since childhood. Before long the brothers encounter a growing number of refugees fleeing from the savagery that's being unjustly inflicted on the Jews. In this Belarussian forest a makeshift village is established with its own rules, rituals and internal politics wrapped around one question: can the brothers afford the luxury of revenge on the Nazis, or should they lie low and concentrate on protecting the lives they've already saved?

Out of the Bielski brothers, Tuvia and Zus are the key players, and their intense relationship - beset with sibling rivalry - is as central to the drama as the appalling events of the war itself. The brothers' parents were slain by local police under orders from occupying Germans, and in no time Tuvia has summarily executed the murderers. Indeed, the film's secondary theme primarily concerns the brutalising effect of war on all involved. As the seasons change, the Bielski brothers are tested by the hardships of starvation and enemy patrols; hopeful they can survive the war without losing their humanity. By the war's end, in spite of the incredible hardships the partisans encountered, roughly 1200 people had miraculously survived in the woods.

Defiance is an amazing motion picture, endowed with excellent craftsmanship and a compelling story of remarkable endurance, courage and unlikely hope. It's an extraordinary tale, and one that deserves to be committed to celluloid. As to be expected, there is violence as the ever-growing assemblage of fugitives struggle to survive against all odds. Animosity flares and tempers fray as the pressures of hunger and sickness begin to set in while relationships start to evolve amidst this chaos as well. Zwick - a sturdy, competent director with a desire to illuminate long-shadowed stories - spent over a decade trying to bring this cinematic adaptation of Nechama Tec's novel to fruition. Yet in the long run, Defiance doesn't go beyond the usual hackneyed narrative of valour and endurance. It's also frustrating to consider how much more dynamic the story could have been with a few narrative tricks, such as flashbacks to reveal the back-stories of the four Bielski brothers. By narrowing the film's focus, Zwick is left with a formulaic tale of survival; the community-building elements of classic Westerns mixed with the guns-and-grit morality of every other World War II movie ever made. On top of this, the historical reality is vastly simplified, telling an abridged version of the story which has been crammed into a very recognisable structure. Defiance is an incredible motion picture, but it's unable to find the perfect balance between telling a story faithfully and ensuring an audience will be kept rapt.

The battle sequences are extremely skilful, and contain a sufficient amount of uncertainty to make them both genuinely exciting and riveting. But one should expect nothing less from Zwick; a director who has also overseen Civil War engagements (in the Oscar-winning Glory) as well as Japanese conflicts (in 2003's The Last Samurai). More gripping than the spectacular action is the drama involving the formation and preservation of the Bielski partisans' refugee camp located deep in the Belarussian forest during one of the most inhospitable times of the year. Not only do they encounter problems with famine, but an outbreak of typhus also spreads throughout the community. Zwick recreates each new crisis with utter immediacy while never bypassing other less threatening elements of life, such as faith in God under trying circumstances, the friction between the Bielski group and other partisans in the vicinity, as well as love, sex and marriage. At first glance, Defiance appears to centre on a series of guerrilla attacks against the Nazis. But in reality these moments are merely a small segment of the wider tapestry director Zwick has stitched together out of a mixture of history and dramatic license. The various central themes are tough and substantial, and Zwick treats the subject matter with the gravitas it deserves.

Eduardo Serra's stunning, gritty cinematography of the Lithuanian woods (filmed approximately a hundred miles away from the real location of the Bielski brothers' camp) is a particular highlight of Defiance. The landscape under a thick blanket of snow is captured with commendable brutality and harshness. James Newton Howard's elegant score (nominated for an Academy Award) also adds a stylish texture to the proceedings.

To the film's credit, the actors speak in European accents, and lines are occasionally delivered in foreign languages (like Russian). The authenticity of the picture is elevated by these small factors. Perhaps it's ridiculous for English to be spoken at all throughout the picture, but the approach as a whole is far better than that which was employed for Bryan Singer's underwhelming Valkyrie (also released in December 2008, and contained Nazis speaking English in British and American accents). An undeniable layer of Hollywood gloss envelops both features, but Defiance feels more authentic and gritty.

One of the main flaws of Defiance is that some of the high-minded sentiments articulated by Tuvia in his flowery speeches seem too contrived for the circumstances. Inconsistent accent and general stiffness aside, there isn't much specifically wrong with Daniel Craig's performance, but it's a little difficult to accept the actor as a Jew.
Central to the movie's effectiveness is Tuvia's transformation from idealist to pragmatist. He never quite reaches the level of callousness displayed by Zus, but events force Tuvia to reconsider the price of showing clemency. We can believe this interior struggle and the actor seems quite passionate, but this isn't Craig's best work. It's Liev Schreiber who turns in the best performance here - a memorable portrayal as the least idealistic of the Bielski brothers, and who constantly howls for Nazi blood. Admittedly, Craig and Schreiber have nice chemistry and their brotherly interactions are credible.
Jamie Bell meanwhile exhibits the makings of leading man here. Young Australian actress Mia Wasikowska also continues to display her top-notch acting talents; submitting a well-nuanced and believable performance...and Mia was only 17 years old when production began!
It's difficult to keep tabs on the rest of the cast. Most are quite memorable but (let's face it) names are hard to catch in a movie of this nature.

A respectable attempt at a Holocaust story with uplifting qualities and plump moral questioning, director Edward Zwick's Defiance is a handsome historical thriller which unfolds in a conventional, old-fashioned way of storytelling. Defiance begins ponderously but steadily grows more engrossing. This is a compelling, absorbing action-thriller with enthralling battle sequences, elevated by the briskness and focus of Zwick's direction. It's hampered, however, by superfluous sentimentality, a few awkwardly-handled love stories, and a bunch of trite ancillary characters (including a clichéd bespectacled intellectual as well as a cynically philosophical rabbi). The themes at the film's core have also been truly done to death. As a heroic drama, Defiance has its clichés and narrative hiccups. As an examination of the cycle of violence, however, this film is utterly harrowing.

7.6/10

Gus Van Sant's Milk is an incisive and stirring dramatisation of the heroic life and violent death of 1970's gay activist Harvey Milk. Van Sant's magnificent biopic of indelible power is infused with a masterful and vibrant recreation of a tumultuous era that throbs with heart, humour and anguish. This engrossing, multi-layered history lesson concerning the turbulent political situation of the '70s couldn't have been delivered at a more appropriate time - for it to arrive in cinemas in November 2008, at the time of Barack Obama's successful presidential campaign as well as the passing of Proposition 8, is almost unbearably poignant. Dustin Lance Black's script (which won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay at the 2009 ceremony) closely sticks to the facts of Milk's political career, and Van Sant employs plenty of stock footage (as well as still photographs) from the 1970s to effectively amplify the period verisimilitude.

The framework of this biopic consists of Milk sombrely speaking into a tape recorder, preserving his story and his feelings in the probable event of his assassination. The picture covers Milk's tale from his sexual liberation up until his dying breath. Milk is accessible, enthralling and edifying - it's a penetrating chronicle of big-city politics and a touching portrait of a warrior whose passion was equalled only by his generosity and good humour.

Approaching the age of 40, Harvey Milk (Penn) realises he hasn't done anything in his life he can be proud of. To transform his life, he moves to San Francisco with young lover Scott (Franco) to open a camera shop in Castro Street, quickly making countless friends within the burgeoning gay community. Assuming a place of leadership in the neighbourhood, Milk decides to run for office, hoping to secure civil rights for homosexuals in America. In 1977, following several unsuccessful attempts at office, Harvey Milk finally wins a political seat, much to the mortification of fellow supervisor Dan White (Brolin). Achieving a revered place in the history books as the first openly homosexual man in America elected to public office, Milk takes the city by storm, seeking a better world for his gay community while dealing with such people as Anita Bryant as well as her endeavour to outlaw homosexuality across the country. Milk overthrows the iniquitous Proposition 6 and is on his way to achieving civil rights for gays, but this success was not to last... Milk was assassinated, along with San Francisco mayor George Moscone (Garber) by Dan White in 1978. (This can't be considered a spoiler as these deaths are a well-known historical fact, and a news-clip of Diane Feinstein announcing the assassination is presented early in the film.)

Milk is a riveting and important motion picture; it's a story which needed to be told on film, and it has been brought to life with craftsmanship of the highest order. The film's greatest achievement lies in Van Sant's meticulous recreation of San Francisco during the rolling '70s where homosexuality was a focal point in the culture. Throughout the film, Van Sant and expert cinematographer Harris Savides (who also helped director David Fincher encapsulate the same city and general era in Zodiac) employ a free-wheeling and intimate visual style to great effect; skilfully interweaving photos, archival footage, and excellent camerawork to evoke the Castro of the early 70s. The Castro has even been recreated in the precise storefront location it occupied at the time. Milk submerges a viewer into the era, skilfully moving back and forth between fact and fiction. Danny Elfman's elegant score is another key feature, augmenting the film's power during crucial sequences. Naturally, the finale is gripping, tragic, and (in the outpouring of grief) strangely triumphant.

Yet Milk has unfortunately been written with a focus on politics over personality. As a study of the protagonist's political career this biopic is remarkable, but as a story of Milk's personal life it's extremely lacking. We can understand his fight but are less enlightened about the man. Alas, it's a portrayal that errs towards hagiography. What also undermines this excellent work is that Milk, especially during its first half, is more of a polished re-enactment than a drama. Van Sant and writer Lance Black evidently want Harvey Milk's story and the history of the gay movement to be as accessible as possible, and the product is a didactic, by-the-numbers approach to his numerous tilts at elected office.

Harvey Milk's struggle with the rise of the Proposition 6 anti-homosexual movement across the country makes up the majority of the film's second half, permitting little room for Dan White's story which is so integral to any discussion regarding Milk's life. Only the poignant epilogue points out White's mental issues that are curiously omitted from the film, and the characterisation consequently feels hollow and oddly insignificant. While White's side of the story clearly just wasn't in Van Sant's field of vision, the lack of a proper psychological calibration is disappointing.

Milk demonstrates how political movements can be born of frustration, and how unproblematic it is for groups of strangers to find unity and strength in numbers. A magnetic Penn leads a powerful ensemble. Penn's portrayal has been constantly praised and rightfully so, and it also earned the actor a much-deserved Academy Award. The actor's usual dedication is present here; delivering a chameleonic, utterly endearing performance. Penn's intensity and energy are in force, while additionally offering an unusual exuberance, playfulness and warmth. His attention to Milk's body language and speech patterns is absolutely remarkable. A warmly sexualised, comedic, reverential portrayal, Penn grabs Harvey Milk with both hands, and functions as the guide rails for Van Sant's hospitable direction.

Extra zing is added by the other performances, none of which can match Penn's titanic stature but all of which are nevertheless absolutely stunning. There's sharp support from Emile Hirsch (star of Penn's 2007 masterpiece Into the Wild) who brings spirit and energy to the role of Milk's protégé Cleve Jones. Josh Brolin as Dan White is a standout; delivering a nuanced, hugely sympathetic performance in a role that would be pure villain in most other hands. Brolin is exceptional here, and it's a genuine shame that his character isn't developed properly. James Franco also submits a terrific performance as one of Milk's lovers. Alison Pill as Anne Kronenberg is whip-smart and constantly engaging, while Denis O'Hare is extremely convincing as loathsome State Senator John Briggs who spearheaded Proposition 6. Also look out for Diego Luna in a ridiculously underdeveloped role as another of Milk's lovers, as well as Victor Garber who's utterly amazing in the role of Mayor Moscone.

With respect to American President Barack Obama, Milk also highlights just how little things have changed on the political front. Thirty years following Milk's tragic assassination, America's gay community still continues to fight for its civil rights. The passing of California Proposition 8 - which eliminated the rights of homosexual men and women to marry - proves that there's a long way to go before Milk's ambitions are at long last realised.

The essential story of Milk is composed of various rudimentary elements: the triumph of the underdog, David vs. Goliath, and the tragedy of a strong voice silenced too soon. Being fully aware of the story's conclusion merely emphasises the importance of the steps leading up to that point. Van Sant has frequently practiced a type of detached romanticism, allowing his stories to unfold matter-of-factly while infusing them with touches of melancholy beauty. And here he is helped by Danny Elfman's graceful score in addition to the expressive cinematography of Savides, not to mention the fine work of editor Elliot Graham whose adroit use of documentary footage compliments the immediacy of Van Sant's direction. One of the greatest aspects of Milk lies in its uncanny balancing of nuance and scale, as well as the ability to contain just about everything - love, death, politics, sex, etc - without ever losing sight of the intimate particulars of the story it's telling. Milk represents a thought-provoking, cathartic, and predominantly true saga of politics and courage.

For Matchstick Men, acclaimed director Ridley Scott turns his attention away from the visceral blockbusters he's recognised for in order to deliver a finely crafted drama and character study about con artistry and family life. An adaptation of the novel by Eric Garcia, this excellent motion picture successfully combines black comedy, drama, and (most importantly) a cluster of unforseen plot twists. Matchstick Men falls into a particular sub-genre of the thriller - a sub-genre concerning conmen and their disreputable trade. Some of these movies work, while others sink without a trace. The Sting and The Grifters are examples of great additions to this sub-genre, and Ridley Scott's Matchstick Men can now be self-assuredly added to that list. Granted, this flick is a large bevy of clichés mixed together in a cauldron. However, the product is an infinitely entertaining and imaginative plot-driven little feature. With director Scott's seal of approval, a wicked little script and several utterly fabulous performances, the clichés are stylishly disguised.

Roy Waller (Cage) is an obsessive-compulsive agoraphobic veteran conman. As he describes it, he's a "con artist. Flimflam man, matchstick man, loser. Whatever you wanna call it, take your pick". Roy and his partner Frank (Rockwell) only pull off small cons; little games that earn them a few hundred dollars at a time. Their slippery antics employed to implement these little cons keep the money flowing in, especially for Roy who has built a comfortable lifestyle owing to his clever deception. But Roy has a conscience (consequently unwilling to pursue a "long con"), is a neurotic, and his personal life is a mess. His life takes a dramatic turn when he discovers he has a teenage daughter - a child whose existence he suspected but never dared confirm. 14-year-old Angela (Lohman) enters his life suddenly, becomes intrigued by her father's trade and wants in on the Roy/Frank partnership. But, with a "long con" job finally coming down the pipeline, Angela's entrance may jeopardise Roy's peace of mind, not to mention his entire way of life.

Matchstick Men is more or less two movies magnificently spliced into one; each enriching the other. Cage's character takes centre stage in the first. The focus is on his psychological problems, his misgivings about his profession, and (most importantly) his relationship with Angela. The abruptness of Angela's arrival in his life opens up a world of possibilities he hadn't ever previously considered, while simultaneously making him aware of how unprepared he is for major life-changing decisions. The second concentrates on the conning escapades of Frank and Roy. Matchstick Men moves along confidently and expertly, diving into the lives of these characters while displaying their weaknesses and fully involving us in their exploits. The one truly detrimental fault in the story is that, in hindsight, too much of it depends on sheer coincidence and chance. The film ends with a saccharine-coated conclusion that, while tying up all the loose ends, feels tacked-on and uneven.

On top of being moderately suspenseful on occasion, Matchstick Men is also imbued with a sly, biting sense of humour. Character behaviour sometimes results in decent laugh-aloud moments (although it isn't really a comedy overall even if it is billed as one...don't expect a large dosage of broad comedy and you'll be satisfied). Matchstick Men is also emotionally satisfying, with the association between Roy and Angela becoming central to the storyline. The interactions between them are spellbinding and fascinating. There's even a slight hint of discovery in this relationship. Angela is given the opportunity to live the fantasy and find out what it's like to have a real father, and Roy is provided with the chance to experience the wonders of what he missed when his wife walked out on him fourteen years ago.

Understandably and encouragingly, none of this actually feels like a Ridley Scott motion picture. Restrained in style and carefully-paced, Scott's artistry is in a more subtle mode here. The director's efforts are truly remarkable, and he never allows a viewer to foresee any of the numerous plot twists. The characters are also grounded in contemporary reality without ever falling prey to the ridiculous. Matchstick Men isn't overflowing with lavish locales or big-budget action sequences... it's a simple comedy-drama (trademark tension is a key feature, mind you). Ridley Scott has helmed character-driven features before (Thelma & Louise, White Squall), but he's never previously done anything this light. For a filmmaker with no prior experience with comedy, Scott has a deft hand. Considering his experience as a director, though, would it have been rational to expect anything less?

The script is moderately derivative and it does contain a number of customary genre clichés, but screenwriters Nicholas and Ted Griffin still manage to elicit fresh-feeling material (Scott's lively direction also contributes to this). Dialogue is witty (a rarity these days), and characters are both sharply-drawn and well-developed. The cinematography is especially excellent as well - dizzying POV shots are quite stunning; providing insight into the condition of agoraphobia (a truly marvellous creative choice). Han Zimmer's laid-back, jazzy score is the definitive ingredient; establishing the right mood during the drama and cranking up the tension as the film begins to wind down. Also included is a selection of eclectic music, consisting mainly of classics such as the work of Frank Sinatra as well as Johnny Mercer. Matchstick Men delivers plenty - emotional investment with the three-dimensional characters, a narrative which engages from start to finish, and mind-blowing plot twists.

One of the movie's greatest assets is undoubtedly the talented band of actors filling the cast. Nicolas Cage places forth a wonderful portrayal of conman Roy Waller. In displaying the traits of his character's disorder, Cage never exaggerates and consequently comes across as extremely believable. This is definitely one of the star's best performances. Alongside Cage is the always-reliable Sam Rockwell; playing the partner in crime to perfection. Rockwell's performance as Frank Mercer (the name is a tribute to Frank Sinatra and Johnny Mercer) is infused with the right mix of cynicism and sincerity. The dialogue between Rockwell and Cage crackles with wit and intelligence (a rarity in films these days), providing an exceptional dynamic that keeps the film rolling along at a satisfying pace.
However it's relative newcomer Alison Lohman who steals the show; unquestionably outshining the superb stars working beside her. Her vivacious performance infects us with her energy and enthusiasm, combining a girlish innocence with a brash worldliness. As Roy's 14-year-old daughter, she's both adorable and believably natural. Her attire and mannerisms are spot-on...which is especially commendable, because she was actually 22 years old during filming!
Actors Bruce Altman and Bruce McGill also supply top-notch support - the former taking centre stage as a psychiatrist, and the latter submitting a grimacing performance as the latest con victim for Roy and Frank.

Tucking away his visual athletics in favour of something more leisurely and subtle, Ridley Scott (one of the very best visual directors in history) proves he is more than capable of helming special effects extravaganzas and intricate dramas with equal aplomb. The actors also prove their versatility, especially Nicolas Cage who places forth one of the greatest performances of his career. Matchstick Men is a sublime example of old-fashioned filmmaking, with a script that's far too delicious and cunning to spoil. For an entertaining, intelligent, slick comedy-thriller, this is hard to beat.

8.1/10

As the title implies, High Fidelity is a quirky, humorously philosophical romantic comedy driven thematically by music - in other words, music matters to the protagonists and more or less defines them. Containing over 50 credited songs, this is a pop-music-soaked study of failed relationships (and the obsessive elitism of pop-culture fanatics) through the eyes of a music geek. This filmic appropriation of Nick Hornby's 1995 novel probably seemed like a daft idea on paper, as the setting was altered from London to Chicago and the decidedly British tone would be difficult to retain. Yet, against all odds, director Stephen Frears and co. have crafted an appealing, engaging, witty, smart meditation on the prattles of sex; retaining the attitude of the novel and adding a broader, more accessible feel. Hornby's amusing and undeniably honest insights into the male condition remain intact in this cinematic adaptation as well. High Fidelity is also extraordinarily well-crafted - it entertains from the very first shot 'til the closing credits, the script is terrific, performances are zingy all-round, and Frears' direction is inspired.

The story primarily concerns reflection, self-discovery and realisation about the nature of love. It additionally concerns (and is in a way for) those obsessed with pop culture - books, music, movies, etc.
Rob Gordon (Cusack) is an underachieving former DJ seemingly cursed with a romantic hex. Ever since a brief liaison under the football benches as a kid, his love life has been catastrophic. Speaking directly to the camera, Rob takes us on a guided tour of his life; mulling over his favourite music and the bittersweet history of his romantic failures. Rob is a downright music enthusiast - his apartment is lined with shelves of coveted vinyl records, and he owns his own (failing) record store 'Championship Vinyl'. He begins going through a crisis of self-confidence when his latest girlfriend Laura (Hjejle) dumps him. Rob proceeds to recount his top five most memorable break-ups of all time, reflecting on his romantic troubles to determine why his relationships are so luckless.

To capture the freewheeling style of Hornby's book, director Frears is heavily dependent on direct-to-camera addresses and voiceovers which are initially jarring. However, with Cusack's eminent amiability functioning as a conduit, one can eventually slide into the movie's rhythms and get drawn into Rob's little universe. Not a lot actually occurs throughout the course of the film, and it can't eschew the clichés, but it's the way director Frears tweaks it that makes it seem fresh and welcome. In a meandering fashion that could easily alienate an audience accustomed to action pictures and broad comedy, High Fidelity takes us inside Rob's struggling record business; cinematographer Seamus McGarvey's camera spending a great deal of time tracking events occurring inside the store. Rob specialises in vinyl records of pop music, and his two workers Dick (Louiso) & Barry (Black) are willing to work voluntarily for twice the time that they were hired to do. The comedy succeeds because the makers are aware that they must create well-drawn characters a viewer can come to care about in order to stage a successful humorous situation. High Fidelity finds the delicate balance between hilarity and dramatic resonance, without ever resorting to character caricaturisation or going over the top in its depiction of true-to-life situations (perhaps once, granted, when three different takes are presented of a confrontation between two characters).

High Fidelity pays particularly astute attention to the typical life of an aging Generation-X male in contemporary society; absolutely nailing even the smallest details of his existence with droll, sagacious charm, such as those cruel, nagging phone conversations between mother and son. From its observant take on late twenty-something romance, to its faultless recreation of the record store set and music scene (not to mention the terrific portrayal of the denizens dwelling within), High Fidelity does virtually everything right. There are countless wonderfully original, touchingly funny scenes. The humour is wry and clever, and the movie maintains a generally upbeat tone. It also occasionally toys with the significance of pop music to a person's psychological development. There's even a slight hint of Woody Allen in the project (from the neuroses of the protagonist to the Annie Hall-type dissection of a dud romance), but without the stigma some movie-goers attach to Allen's excellent oeuvre. Due to its quirky characters, smart dialogue, and sporadic bursts of incisive humour, High Fidelity stands out as a small movie that deserves wide exposure.

The distinguishing point of High Fidelity is that it's much closer to the authentic feel of British films as opposed to the crisp perfection of Hollywood. All of the characters come across as actual people not unlike those you'd encounter in a record store. The first-rate screenplay was written in part by John Cusack who also stars as the protagonist. Cusack is an apt choice; admirably pulling off Rob as both a character and as a narrator. The "breaking the fourth wall" technique seems completely natural. He constantly addresses the audience via narration or speaking directly to the camera, but it never feels excessive thanks to his boundless geniality. Cusack's character is clearly miserable, yet he never craves too much sympathy - he recognises our intelligence. Your tolerance of High Fidelity will most likely depend on your tolerance of the lead actor.

While Cusack is excellent in the title role, there's a gallery of supporting actors who wonderfully make their mark. Jack Black and Todd Louiso absolutely steal the show as two socially-inept clerks working at Rob's vinyl shop who live and breathe pop music, and spend their days arguing about pop trivia while comparing various "top 5" lists. These guys have their music aficionado characters nailed down to a tee. Jack Black is a particular stand-out; his characterisation of Barry is full of energy and attitude, and he imbues every line with comic punch. One of the film's best scenes features Barry ferociously telling off a middle-aged man looking to buy I Just Called to Say I Love You for his daughter.
Relatively unknown Danish actress Iben Hjejle is believable and likeable as Rob's latest girlfriend. Despite little experience as an actress in American movies, she's clearly mastered her American accent. Beyond these characters, there's merely a bunch of cameos from a variety of actresses. Catherine Zeta-Jones is the most memorable for fairly obvious reasons. Lisa Bonet is also appealing for every frame in which she appears, and John Cusack's sister Joan (a frequent guest in her sibling's movies) is predictably good as Rob's pal Liz. Look out for Tim Robbins as well, who's visibly enjoying himself (this is contagious).

High Fidelity is a charming, whimsical little film that perfectly captures the temperament of retail folks who are both knowledgeable and passionate about their product, and who prefer discussing their commodity as opposed to being paid for it. This is a fantastic flick; an excellently-constructed romantic comedy for the pop generation. The characters inhabiting the picture are believable and very well developed, and the performances are strong. The humour is sharp and witty; never feeling forced. The accompanying soundtrack is scene-appropriate and extremely enjoyable. It even rightfully recognises Evil Dead II as the cinematic classic it truly is. On top of this, a boundless energy pervades the movie - there's hardly a dull moment at any stage during the 110-minute runtime. High Fidelity also succeeds because it deeply taps into the male psyche with an emotional honesty that anchors the drama and ensures the characters (Dick and Barry included) are never treated as caricatures. It's fairly clichéd, but Frears' terrific direction strongly distracts us from the unoriginality. All things considered, High Fidelity is high value cinema and it's simply a delightful way to spend a couple of hours.

Let's face it: we pay to see summer movies for the explosions, the fight scenes and the action in general. They aren't required to engage us on a cerebral level; they merely offer an abundance of action during which we're required to suspend our disbelief. X-Men Origins: Wolverine, however, is definitive proof that a plateful of action is not enough to create a satisfying summer movie. For a film to attain the status of an excellent popcorn-munching cinematic experience, it's required to pay at least some attention to narrative coherence and character arcs, not to mention the action has to occur in an actual context. In Wolverine, the action sequences just...happen. To arrive at an action sequence, one has to suffer through badly-paced scenes of trite dialogue and terrible acting. Plot holes also flourish, logic is quickly discarded, and it leaves too many things unexplained. Instead of a deep character study, X-Men Origins: Wolverine is merely an action film masquerading as something more. There's no human drama (ala Spider-Man) or witty dialogue (like Iron Man). Even the other X-Men movies had a political resonance to them which isn't retained here. This is Hack Filmmaking 101!

X-Men Origins: Wolverine was ostensibly a labour of love for poor Hugh Jackman who also served as producer, but unfortunately his efforts didn't pay off. About a month before the film's scheduled release, an incomplete workprint was leaked online. As it turns out, though, this leak was the best thing to happen to the film industry during 2009. Those eagerly anticipating the movie (this reviewer included) were given the opportunity to see how awful it truly is. Fox immediately attempted to cover their blunder by claiming footage from the reshoots was missing from the workprint (fourteen minutes in total, apparently). Curiously, closer to the release date, Fox's story changed: ten minutes of reshoots are missing from the workprint version, and these ten new minutes are replacing ten particular minutes which have been removed from the final cut. However, the workprint was indeed the final cut sans finished special effects, sound effects and music. The alleged "missing footage" never existed...it was a lie manufactured by Fox in a frantic attempt to convince audiences to go see the completed movie. But those deceptive chairmen at Fox couldn't manufacture a lie to cover one particular fact: Wolverine is completely beyond salvation. No amount of reshooting could salvage this mess. Nothing short of a total remake - with a completely new script and plotline, and a bunch of new actors - could rescue this awful film.

In a failed attempt to distance the franchise from 2006's X-Men: The Last Stand, Fox green-lit this prequel instead of another sequel. Wisely, Wolverine was selected as the focus of this first origins adventure...yet this motion picture fails to illuminate the breadth of Wolverine's tale. His back-story is complex and lavish, traversing over many centuries and veering off into numerous sub-plots (and countries), all the while navigating through various relationships with an assortment of characters. This is all condensed into about 105 minutes, and it falls apart in less than a fraction of that time. No-one cares about where Wolverine got his jacket - a Wolverine-centric spin-off following the main character kicking butt in Japan would have been far better!

The film opens in Canada in 1845 (which is very strange, considering Canada wasn't established 'til 1867) when a young James Howlett first discovers his bone claw abilities. A few deaths occur, and James goes on the run with his half-brother Victor. This prologue, however, is very rushed; it's more confusing than compelling. Following this, a montage is presented as Wolverine and Sabretooth (Jackman and Schreiber, respectively) fight alongside each other in every major U.S. war. Never mind that it's impossible for these two to always be assigned to the same unit, as this indiscretion is reasonably minor compared to the other sins of logic to be found within. For instance, they're also Canadian... I guess no-one checked their papers when they enlisted in the U.S. Army...
After their experiences in Vietnam, the brothers are recruited by William Stryker (Huston) to be part of a team of mutants assigned to carry out missions in third world countries. Off-tangent sub-plots then appear in abundance; the main one concerning Wolverine seeking revenge after his lady friend meets with a violent end. Some betraying also occurs, more mutants are introduced, and this culminates in an endlessly silly climax. Instead of one solid plot, Wolverine is merely a tonne of sub-plots mashed together.

It's hard to begin detailing exactly what's wrong with this movie, because the truth is, it's just about everything. X-Men Origins: Wolverine is a disaster of monumental proportions.
The first major problem is the screenplay. It's a string of well-worn clichés we've seen a million times before - including not one, but two "don't do it, you'll be just as bad as him" moments as well as a conventional, cheesy, embarrassing romance subplot which concludes on the most clichéd note possible. Dialogue is another issue: it's AWFUL! I have no idea what's worse; the dreadful dialogue or the abysmal way the actors disperse it. The script also skims through crucial character development and more or less eschews Wolverine's origins entirely. If it's truly an "origins" tale as advertised, where are the explanations? When initially introduced to baby Wolverine, he's already a mutant with bone claws. How did he get them? The best we can assume is his biological father was a mutant, although the implication is irritatingly vague. These things are brushed aside in a hurry in order to dive straight into the action. The screenwriters never considered, however, that an audience needs a reason to care for the characters that are stuck in the midst of the action (only small-minded, ADD-inflicted individuals will overlook this). Another thing regarding the action: virtually all of the characters are invincible, which jettisons all hope of any emotional investment with them. When Wolverine and Sabretooth battle pointlessly over and over again, we know neither of them will die and the fight will conclude with them just walking away. Why should we care?

Wolverine is never given an opportunity to come to terms with his mutations. Even after his skeleton is coated with Adamantium, he's automatically cool with it all...except for the customary "looking at self in mirror while testing abilities" (TM) scene which lasts one or two minutes. Another major gripe: the name "Logan" is never justified. In the original comics, Wolverine was a Samurai and he was given the name Logan. In this muddled mess of a movie, the name Logan just...appears. We have no idea where it came from...he's just named Logan for no reason, and other characters mysteriously pick this up.
Neither does the script justify why Sabretooth becomes Wolverine's sworn enemy. Reasons for other happenings in the story - such as Sabretooth killing a perfectly harmless mutant, and beginning a Watchmen-style elimination of all mutants in his former team - also never become clear.

The script is beset with absolutely preposterous moments. Like there's a high profile facility on the mysterious "Island", and Wolverine is able to simply stroll through the front doors. No security? No locks? And when mutants are escaping, a grand total of four armed men try to stop them. The cages containing the mutants are also just metal wire fences. Some mutants have powers to cut through these wires easily, like Cyclops who can slice through bricks. On top of this, Stryker is so dumb he decides to erase Wolverine's memory after coating the guy's skeleton with Adamantium, making him indestructible. Characters also pop up at the most appropriate time (an entrance from a particular character during the final showdown is embarrassingly terrible and way too convenient...it will elicit groans). Wolverine is beleaguered with logic problems, primarily from the "Why don't you just...?" variety and the "That's just totally stupid / What the fuck?!" range (like the aforesaid examples). One should suspend their disbelief for a comic book movie, but this takes things to the next level. It's worse than your usual brainless summer actioner. The film's concluding 10 minutes in particular are absolutely retarded. On top of this, the continuity of the entire series is wrecked. Certain conversations in the other X-Men films now make no sense (like Stryker telling Wolverine he gave him claws when in reality Stryker just strengthened the claws).

A plethora of infamous Marvel characters are dispatched not long after their introductions. Virtually every single character is flat; appearing in name-only form to entice fans. Deadpool's treatment is most heartbreaking. Perhaps Ryan Reynolds was behind the workprint leak after he viewed the incomplete version and realised the gross misuse of Deadpool. The character's appearance is no more than a cameo. Don't get too attached to other much-hyped characters such as The Blob, John Wraith, Agent Zero and Bolt, as (like Deadpool) their appearances amount to a mere cameo. Team X is formed at the film's beginning, but after a brief first mission Wolverine has a stroke of moral conscience and leaves the group. Why Wolverine and Sabretooth are so willing to join Stryker in the first place is a mystery. Due to the rushed nature of the opening twenty minutes, there's no way we can get emotionally attached to the characters. A lot of potential is wasted.
Most jarringly, this film clearly wants to be separate from the comics as it takes a separate path, yet if you're not acquainted with all these Marvel characters you won't care about those who appear and won't understand what they're doing here. The story isn't deep enough to provide the uninitiated with requisite information about everything (the title of 'Team X' isn't even mentioned...if it was it certainly wasn't a memorable moment), and it isn't loyal enough to satiate the fanboys.

Director Gavin Hood previously helmed 2007's Rendition as well as Tsotsi (which won an Oscar for Best Foreign Language Feature in 2006). Hood's inability to direct a genuinely enjoyable and resonant motion picture surfaces here again. Wolverine is a concatenation of action movie clichés, not just from the hackneyed screenplay but also the selection of shots. Like a shot of the protagonist setting off an explosion and walking in slow motion towards the camera, as well as the customary situation of the hero walking away from the bad guy he's decided not to kill, only to turn back slowly as said bad guy dramatically reveals something.

The action sequences are frequently marred by slo-mo shots, whereas other action sequences can't be enjoyed because of the invincibility of the characters, and as for the others...there's no context. An action scene involving Wolverine taking down a helicopter is admittedly awesome to watch, but within the story it makes no sense. Stryker is trying to kill the creature he just created at great expense, and sends his right-hand man to do the job...knowing fully well that bullets made of Adamantium are the only thing that can take down Wolverine. That's just the first of many irreverent action sequences. Others include a boxing match between Wolverine and The Blob that happens for no reason, and even a large-scale battle against Gambit - a mutant who's actually on the same side! For the climax, an unfinished genetically enhanced weapon is unleashed upon Wolverine, when once again Stryker has a full gun of Adamantium bullets at his disposal...and nothing else can kill the (anti)hero. Nothing in this film deals with the immortal characters in a meaningful or interesting way, and no amount of impressive fight choreography can provide the action with genuine tension. The special effects are also quite shonky, and an appearance of a CGI Patrick Stewart is absurdly unconvincing. The pacing, as well, is awful, as spaces between the action sequences are unforgivably sluggish, and this is due to Hood's incompetent direction. Bring back Bryan Singer!

Hugh Jackman has endless charisma as an actor, but his performance here is hamstrung by the badly drawn character. Wolverine is meant to be a badass anti-hero, but he's toned down for the sake of toy sales and the target audience. All Jackman does is strike poses and deliver dismal dialogue. Meanwhile, Liev Schreiber just alternates between sassy one-liners and open-mouthed rage. Luckily, Schreiber is actually a brooding villain, even if his motivations are never explored.
Ryan Reynolds is good as swordsman Wade Wilson (a.k.a. Deadpool), but he's lost far too early into the movie. His screen-time is exasperatingly brief, as is that of Dominic Monaghan whose character of Bolt has an appealing sadness. Taylor Kitsch is a soulless Gambit with a terrible, false accent. Perhaps Lost's Josh Holloway would've made a better Gambit (he was offered the chance to briefly appear in X-Men: The Last Stand as the character, but declined). Not worth mentioning anyone else, as they're all forgettable, especially Danny Huston who isn't at all sinister as Stryker.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine eventually turns into a confusing hodgepodge of uninspired, clichéd fight scenes and loud explosions. The other X-Men films focused on Wolverine at certain times, and he was more or less the central character. You'd think this "origins" tale would, ya know, reveal his origins...but it doesn't! It's just an action film with Wolverine at its core and mutants surrounding him, not unlike the other X-Men flicks. As a whole the film feels very rushed - it's too short to be considered an epic Marvel feature. The action is occasionally impressive, granted, but the whole falls below the sum of its parts. Good action does not mean an excellent movie.
All superhero films are advertisements for their merchandising departments, but Wolverine is more obvious than most, with product placement substituting compelling characters and an engaging storyline. Combined with limp direction and unimaginative special effects, and there's little to recommend. Even Jackman's natural charisma can't rise above the material...but he sure can strike a pose, doing so in every action sequence to ensure the toy department have a field day. No longer will people have to refer to the Spider-Man 3 fiasco - now Wolverine will be the target of conversations concerning bad Marvel movies. Even Brett Ratner's X-Men: The Last Stand is more enjoyable.

2.6/10