Reviews by PvtCaboose91

Every filmmaker has to begin somewhere. For some directors, television ignited their infatuation with the art. For other directors, such as Steven Spielberg, a love for filmmaking ripened during childhood years when they helmed cheap, amateur home movies. Spielberg both wrote and directed Amblin' - this short film shot on 35mm on a budget of $15,000 in 1968. Although a mere 26 minutes in length, Amblin' brought Spielberg into the spotlight, and he became the youngest director in history to be signed to a long-term deal with a major Hollywood studio. Sid Sheinberg was the vice president of production for Universal's TV arm, and he viewed Spielberg's short. Spielberg was subsequently signed to a seven-year contract under the Television division of Universal. In later years Spielberg became the Hollywood director everyone now recognises him for, and he employed the title of Amblin' as a name for his film company - Amblin Entertainment.

The story concerns two hitchhikers (Levin, McMyler) who hook up in the middle of the desert in southern California, en route to the Pacific Coast. The film chronicles their chance meeting, their initial bond, and their journey to the paradisiacal beach as they develop into friends and lovers.
Story-wise, there isn't much to Amblin' - it simply conveys a straightforward love story using visuals and omnipresent acoustic guitar music instead of dialogue. Amblin' is essentially a prolonged montage showcasing the beautiful cinematography of Allen Daviau. Naturally, Spielberg went on to direct such blockbusters as Jurassic Park, Raiders of the Lost Ark and Jaws. Yet after visiting early efforts of Spielberg it reminds us that special effects and a colossal budget aren't as crucial as wonderful acting and a good (if slender) story.

Looking back at Spielberg's roots, it's easy to see why the director shot to big-time stardom. He handles the script (he wrote himself) with utter dexterity. The film flows naturally and fluidly, with his economic direction resulting in a valuably ponderous pace. It does linger unnecessarily on a few plot points, yet it's mesmerising to witness the cinematic techniques on offer - there are dark silhouettes against a white desert background, wide angles showcasing the stunning locales, and the actors continually registering expressions on their faces to convey their thoughts (rather than using heavy dialogue). Throughout the film the only words spoken are those in the title song (by October Country). As for the other music, there's soft acoustic guitar accompanied by beautifully rendered ambiance of the desert. In all honesty, not much actually transpires during the 26-minute running time. It probably appears to be an incoherent succession of random bonding scenes. It isn't much more than a montage (as stated previously), but at least it's a concise and beautiful montage.

Spielberg found Richard Levin working as a librarian in the Beverly Hills library. For the female hitchhiking companion, Pamela McMyler was discovered in the Academy Players directory. These two performers may have had little acting experience prior to Amblin', yet Spielberg has managed to get great performances.

Amblin' became a reality when Spielberg met aspiring producer Dennis Hoffman who agreed to finance the short film. Filming transpired over a few weeks in a soundstage and on various desert locations, with the final sequenced filmed outside Jack Palance's house in Malibu. On rough terrain and in punishing 105-degree heat, many of the unpaid crew left before filming was completed. Filming eventually wrapped in July 1968, with the premiere in December of the same year (it shared a double bill with Otto Preminger's Skidoo). Amblin' won several awards, and Spielberg received his contract at Universal.

All in all, Steven Spielberg's Amblin' is an interesting little flick certainly worth visiting for avid fans of the director. All aspiring filmmakers will learn a thing or two from this motion picture; primarily that simplicity can spawn beautiful results when in the right hands. I suggest YouTube would be the ideal location if you wish to see this gem.

7.7/10

"You see the world through John Malkovich's eyes. Then after about 15 minutes, you're spit out into a ditch on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike!"

Feature films as remarkably audacious and endlessly inventive as Being John Malkovich are few and far between. This reassuringly unique movie denotes the feature film debut of director Spike Jonze, who had previously been responsible for cutting-edge music videos. Jonze (who was nominated for an Oscar for his work on this film) works from a wonderfully imaginative screenplay penned by Charlie Kaufman. Kaufman's script brilliantly expounds on an oddball premise by presenting a steady stream of twists and an outrageous succession of unpredictable developments. Being John Malkovich is not inaccessible to an average movie-goer, but it certainly won't be summarily devoured by tastes of all stripes. It's an extremely strange and peculiar film; a dark comedy of the absurd featuring sinister undertones. It adheres to the style established by Terry Gilliam in such films as Brazil; in fact die-hard fans of Gilliam's work are the ideal audience for such a film as this. Being John Malkovich is gruelling to stomach as it occasionally lacks an entertainment value and it's notoriously unenjoyable from time to time, yet the joint efforts of Kaufman and Jonze have spawned an irresistibly bizarre and original movie.

The story tracks struggling, dishevelled street puppeteer Craig Schwartz (Cusack). He's a brilliant puppeteer, but he's unable to find work. Dowdy wife Lotte (Diaz) persuades Craig to seek an alternative job in order to acquire a steady income. He lands a job as a filing clerk for an enigmatic company located on the 7½th floor of an office building. It's here - while working for loopy boss Lester (Bean) and lusting after colleague Maxine (Keener) - that Craig encounters a portal that sucks an unsuspecting individual into the head of actor John Malkovich (giving possibly the performance of a lifetime as, well, himself). For fifteen minutes a person literally "becomes" Malkovich - sees through his eyes, hears what he hears, and feels what he feels - before being spewed out adjacent to the New Jersey Turnpike. Craig consults Maxine who subsequently decides to go commercial, allowing paying customers to experience fifteen minutes inside Malkovich. But this money-spinning novelty quickly descends into utter insanity. Lotte realises the joys of the portal, Maxine indulges in the pleasures of Malkovich, Craig aspires to permanently inhabit Malkovich's brain in order to establish a successful career as a puppeteer, and Malkovich twigs that strangers are messing with his head.

"Nobody's looking for a puppeteer in today's wintry economic climate."

To brand Being John Malkovich as bizarre or absurdist would be an understatement. This is a comedy in the off kilter tradition of Terry Gilliam (and Monty Python, for that matter). The characters are all eccentric oddballs, and the situations they deal with are jaunt and far-fetched. Surprisingly, though, it all hangs together. Nothing can prepare you for how astoundingly original this movie is. Jonze takes an idea which could have been stretched beyond breaking point - or simply fallen flat in the wrong hands - and transforms it into a simply startling picture. Being John Malkovich manages to be hysterically funny and achingly poignant while also making life as a crabby, pompous movie star seem like the most attractive prospect in the world.

The unusual premise is an attention-grabber in itself, yet Being John Malkovich offers more than just a gimmick to win over its audience. Charlie Kaufman's screenplay is brilliant, bringing to the forefront numerous issues in contemporary philosophy of mind; such as the nature of consciousness, the mind-body dichotomy, and sensory perception. It's doubtful that anyone expected Being John Malkovich to be any sort of hit - critical or otherwise. Regardless of only pulling in $23 million at the box office, critics lauded it - esteemed American critic Roger Ebert even selected it as the best film of 1999. The film was praised particularly for the originality evident in Kaufman's magnificent screenplay. His script even earned him an Independent Spirit Award for Best First Screenplay, and an Oscar nomination. Young Jonze's direction is also rampant in originality. Jokes exist in several layers, from the obvious guffaw to sly visual gags (floor 7½ takes a bow in this respect). It's amusing to witness an army of office workers reduced to bending over at the waist in order to accommodate the low ceiling. No-one says a word about it...it's just accepted. In order to get to said floor, one must press the emergency stop button in the elevator as it becomes equidistant between floors 7 and 8, and then pry open the elevator doors using a crowbar. Craig even beholds a plaque detailing floor 7½ at the 7½th minute of the movie!

Jonze and Kaufman continue to throw new surrealistic ideas at the audience. Commonly, the level of originality in a film reduces as time goes by. However, Being John Malkovich retains its creativity - which even continues to heighten as the movie progresses. John Malkovich experiencing the portal himself is a masterpiece, but other ideas aren't so golden (a chimp regressing into its own childhood is, frankly, beyond the pale). Perhaps the greatest inclusion is a brief mockumentary featured as a way to chronicle the rise of Malkovich's career as a puppeteer. An interview with Sean Penn is even included for the sake of authenticity. Other more subtle additions are included, such as Cusack murmuring a succession of names which prove significant later into the story. It's certainly a movie which demands to be viewed multiple times in order to adequately glean the subtleties that are in abundance. However the continually dim, bleak tone and the sometimes leisurely pace is quite detrimental. Being John Malkovich isn't an overly enjoyable picture, and its re-watchable value is astonishingly depleted.

As for morals, messages, or topics explored within the film...the filmmakers may or may not be conveying messages regarding the negative consequences of people wanting to be somebody else, questioning their own identity, and exploiting others.

As the freakish premise grows more grotesque and repugnant, the apparent enthusiasm of the cast keeps the film afloat. Cusack is intensely watchable as the scruffy puppeteer who becomes ceaselessly bemused, frantic and close to homicidal by the film's dénouement. He's virtually unrecognisable in the role. As Lotte, an unrecognisable Cameron Diaz is featured. She brilliantly immerses herself into the character, generating utterly wonderful results. Catherine Keener has never been better as the opportunistic Maxine who's appropriately underhanded and scheming. Keener was even nominated for an Oscar. Seasoned comic Orson Bean plays Dr. Lester - Craig's boss - as a fuzzy-brained Leslie Nielson. Charlie Sheen and Sean Penn also appear in cameos as themselves, with Sheen usually parodying his own womanising lifestyle and Penn featuring in the mockumentary mentioned earlier.
But this is John Malkovich's movie, and it's a joy to witness him lampoon himself on such an alarming scale; coming across as the kind of obnoxious, self-absorbed idiot no actor would ever want to appear to be. Malkovich seems to be having an absolute ball in this career-defining performance as himself.

Essentially a wildly twisted trip into a strange world, Being John Malkovich is a greatly realised fantasy from the multi-talented Spike Jonze. This is a bizarre yet engaging movie; an outstanding segment of celluloid analogous to the works of Coen Brothers and Terry Gilliam that isn't easily forgotten. Its dim nature may prevent an overly enjoyable experience, but its continuous stream of creative ideas makes this picture worth watching once at the very least.

"I think it's kinda sexy that John Malkovich has a portal, y'know, sort of like, it's like, like he has a vagina. It's sort of vaginal, y'know, like he has a, he has a penis AND a vagina. I mean, it's sort of like... Malkovich's... feminine side. I like that."

7.7/10

"It would require a great philosopher and historian to explain the causes of the famous Seven Years' War in which Europe was engaged and in which Barry's regiment was now on its way to take part. Let it suffice to say, that England and Prussia were allies and at war against the French, the Swedes, the Russians and the Austrians."

Stanley Kubrick earned his directorial chops following the phenomenal success of his breakthrough, landmark sci-fi masterpiece 2001: A Space Odyssey. For this particular motion picture, Kubrick endeavoured to tell a story almost entirely visually (accompanied by classical orchestral background music). This technique succeeded, and every frame is consequently downright stunning. In fact, 2001 is such a beautiful film that one could take any frame at random and hang it up on one's wall. With Barry Lyndon, Kubrick attempts a very similar movie. Both the story and setting is undoubtedly different, with deeper characterisations and far more dialogue. Yet Kubrick's underlying objective was identical: create gorgeous pictures worthy of being hung on a wall. Kubrick's superb version of William Makepeace Thackeray's first novel is meticulous and philosophically invigorating, but it will leave audiences unmoved on a profound emotional level.

Although Barry Lyndon offers little excitement or action, Kubrick's primary aim was to recreate the ambiance of an 18th century painting. By detailing each shot with a multitude of intricate niceties, Kubrick asks an audience to carefully examine them, ponder them, and appreciate them - not necessarily for what they symbolise, but for themselves. This creates a unique, if decidedly slow-paced, cinematic experience.

Shot over a two-year span (300 days all told) in order for Kubrick's proverbial obsessive detail to pervade each frame, Barry Lyndon is a costume epic that appears to be operating under a spell. Thus the actors become pieces in a chess game - exquisite philosophical compositions to be moved hither and thither as automatons more than humans. The performances of Ryan O'Neal and Marisa Berenson are more like echoes; carefully and ponderously shifting from A to B, their lines becoming secondary. Their tableau - haunted by lush paintings - is so ornately decorated it almost becomes static. This swashbuckling landscape is bathed in deep melancholy. It's a world functioning almost subliminally, allowing an audience to absorb the images as opposed to simply beholding them. Barry Lyndon is so divorced from emotion, and therefore hard to measure on an entertainment scale. The result is pure art...art that all but locks the watcher out. It's awfully lengthy and periodically gruelling at a running time of three hours, but never is the film boring per se.

"No lad who has liberty for the first time, and twenty guineas in his pocket, is very sad, and Barry rode towards Dublin thinking not so much of the kind mother left alone, and of the home behind him, but of tomorrow, and all the wonders it would bring."

Barry Lyndon is based on William Makepeace Thackeray's The Luck of Barry Lyndon - later revised as The Memoirs of Barry Lyndon. Set in the 18th century, the film is a picaresque adventure - a satire of an upper-class society that chronicles the exploits of a roguish hero of the common classes. Young Redmond Barry (O'Neal) is an Irish commoner in his late teens when the story commences during the 1750s. By the film's dénouement, Barry is well into his fifties. Barry Lyndon consists of separate vignettes rather than an unbroken narrative; Kubrick's objective to deliver an epic on the subject of the protagonist in a style akin to Gone with the Wind or Lawrence of Arabia. Each vignette on the anti-hero's life brings adventure, fame, fortune or ruin. The film is narrated in a deadpan, folk-story manner by esteemed British actor Michael Hordern.

The initial vignettes of Barry Lyndon chronicle the character's origins. As a teenager, Redmond Barry is in love with his cousin Nora (Hamilton). When Nora becomes engaged to a captain in the British army (Rossiter), Barry becomes jealous. Following a successful duel, the young Irish rogue is advised to leave the area. With no money and little alternatives, Barry joins the army and fights in the Seven Years' War. He deserts the army, but is subsequently abducted into the Prussian army. Through a series of political manoeuvres upon the war's conclusion, Barry befriends wealthy nobleman and gambler Chevalier de Balibari (Magee). Barry then lies, dupes, duels and seduces his way up the social ladder of the 18th century aristocracy. He marries Lady Lyndon (Berenson) for financial advantage. He also inherits a vast estate and has a child. But with Barry Lyndon's meteoric rise to the top comes the seeds of his downfall. The second half is composed of vignettes recounting Redmond Barry's social + financial collapse through philandering, gambling, and the drink as well as a vengeful enemy.

"Barry's first taste of battle was only a skirmish against a small rearguard of Frenchmen who occupied an orchard beside a road down which, a few hours later, the English main force would wish to pass. Though this encounter is not recorded in any history books, it was memorable enough for those who took part."

Following 2001: A Space Odyssey, Stanley Kubrick launched development for a motion picture about Napoleon Bonaparte. During pre-production, however, Dino De Laurentiis' Waterloo (a movie recounting Napoleon's defeat at Waterloo) crawled out and died at the box office. Consequently, Kubrick's financiers cut funding for his proposed project. Having pumped considerable time and effort into the development of his Napoleon epic, Kubrick was furious. With no alternative, the director turned his attention to his next film - A Clockwork Orange. Following A Clockwork Orange, Kubrick started developing Barry Lyndon (in part to take advantage of the copious research Kubrick had conducted for his aborted Napoleon picture). Stanley Kubrick wonderfully adapted Thackeray's novel for the big screen. In the grand scheme of things, though, not much actually transpires. A single line from the script appears to be translated into multiple minutes of screen-time. The final duelling scene, for example, is filled with ponderous pauses (it even took 42 days to edit the sequence!) and barely a page of dialogue as the director fashions a ten-minute scene intermingling intensity and pathos. Director Kubrick was certainly in no rush as he spent a total of 300 days filming the movie. Indeed production was forced to be shifted from Ireland to England once Kubrick was informed that his name was on an IRA hit-list for filming a movie about English soldiers in Ireland.

Kubrick's meticulous screenplay comes alive through the remarkable Oscar-winning cinematography of John Alcott. In order to truly capture the colour palette of an 18th century painting, special lenses from NASA were fitted to traditional cameras. Reportedly, these lenses allowed night scenes to be filmed by natural candlelight with no additional artificial light. To date, Barry Lyndon contains the largest aperture in filmic history. Contrary to legend, though, artificial light was utilised from time to time.
The legendary Ken Adam won an Oscar for his extravagant, aesthetically beautiful production design. The combination of Adam's production design with Alcott's cinematography is breathtaking and intoxicating. On top of this, the costumes look truly stunning. Legend has it the costumes are 100% authentic, yet this is only partially true. A majority of the costumes were created specifically for the production. In addition, costume designer Milena Canonero purchased a number of authentic costumes from the 18th century at an auction. The visuals are amazing no matter where you turn. From vividly-uniformed soldiers to candle-lit interiors and extensive period estates, every shot is a masterpiece of colour, composition, depth, and detail - indeed, the entire film is a tour de force of 18th century décor.
The score - always integral to Kubrick's vision - is also reminiscent of the period. It's a subtle coalition of Irish folk tunes by The Chieftains and Schubert's E-minor Trio.

As always, Kubrick delves into provocative themes - here he explores people being used for selfish purposes and allowing themselves to be used. The writer-director was never too positive in any of his films with the egocentric, callous, ulterior motives of humankind. This philosophy is manifested in the character of Barry Lyndon - the social-climbing fortune hunter - who's only too pleased to be a business partner or a trophy husband in order to achieve his goals. Barry Lyndon isn't just a costume epic (like Full Metal Jacket isn't just a war film, nor is The Shining a horror film); instead it's a movie working on various extra-narrative levels. It seems Kubrick was endeavouring to illustrate the difficulty of man striving to become the ruler of his own world. The characters are all aspiring to greatness, but can never elude destiny. Literally crushed by the totalising borders of the film, the characters can never gravitate outside of the world that has been devised and outlined for them. Barry Lyndon is full of acerbic social critique which is merged with Kubrick's experimental distancing style. Certainly not for all tastes, but it's definitely worth a watch.

Kubrick's Barry Lyndon is entirely sedate; his objective to stimulate the eye more than the heart. Moreover, the characters - especially the protagonist, played by Ryan O'Neal - are designed to be distant. In over three hours of screen-time, O'Neal hardly registers an expression on his face. Perhaps the actor is too soft spoken and introverted to convince as Barry, but O'Neal's performance is a masterful instance of less-as-more; his litheness in duelling sequences contrasted with the robotic, dysfunctional actions as he seduces Lady Lyndon.
As O'Neal's co-star, Marisa Berenson is superb. As a matter of fact, across the board there isn't a faulty performance at all. The lack of emotional involvement is the only lethal flaw - it may have been deliberate, but at its extreme length it appears to lack a certain spark.

Barry Lyndon is a gloriously ponderous, sweeping historical epic that serenely moves through the life and times of Redmond Barry. Of all the entries to the Kubrick canon, this flick is perhaps in most need of re-examination. Barry Lyndon is a forgotten gem; it's unfairly overlooked, and unfortunately it's not a film Kubrick is remembered for. The film is probably too long, but it's a beautiful eye pleaser despite its pedestrian pacing. Kubrick's camera leisurely scans an assortment of palaces, gardens, woods, lakes, streams, fields, lagoons, statuary, grand buildings, manicured lawns, reflecting pools, and sumptuous rooms. To guarantee eyes are kept on the scenery, the director deliberately diffuses the individuality of the characters. But in 2001: A Space Odyssey Kubrick kept his audience rapt with a constant stream of innovative images and fantastical experiences. In Barry Lyndon he is only able to produce gorgeous images of an 18th century European landscape, coupled with inaccessible characters. Although the cinematography is wonderful, it's not always sufficient to sustain the extreme three-hour length.

"Gentlemen may talk of the age of chivalry, but remember the ploughmen, poachers and pickpockets whom they lead. It is with these sad instruments that your great warriors and kings have been doing their murderous work in the world."

8.1/10

"In this world only the strong survive. The weak get crushed like insects."

Shine is a deceitfully straightforward and disposable title for an unreservedly amazing motion picture. This low-budget Australian feature illuminates the strength of the human spirit and the triumph of the heart as it depicts the tremendous courage of a troubled individual. The story it conveys is incredibly poignant - a young man driven to breaking point by his father, and defying his father's wishes in order to pursue his dreams. Provocative, enthralling and potent, Shine offers a tale of insurgence and individuality through the eyes of a pianist whose sole form of self-expression is in the ivory keys of a piano. Shine may superficially appear uninteresting and depressing - yet, quite simply, it's anything but. Writer-director Scott Hicks' biopic is an astonishingly well-made saga of triumph over adversity and the destructive power of love that's compelling viewing; leaving no emotional chain unyanked.

At the Sundance Film Festival of 1996, Shine was among the hottest properties being offered. This unforgettable tour de force ignited a distributor bidding war between Harvey Weinstein of Miramax and Bob Shaye of New Line. Upon its eventual theatrical release, Shine was acclaimed by critics and movie-goers alike. Despite its low-budget origins, this film was among the must-see movies of 1996. It earned 9 AFI (Australian Film Institute) Awards, including those for Best Picture, Best Actor (Geoffrey Rush) and Best Supporting Actor (Armin Mueller-Stahl). Noah Taylor was additionally nominated for Best Actor, competing against Rush.

Astonishingly, Shine even reached the Academy Awards! Geoffrey Rush received the Oscar for Best Actor for his memorable performance as the mentally unstable adult David. The film was nominated for additional Oscars - Best Picture, Best Director (Scott Hicks), Best Supporting Actor (Armin Mueller-Stahl), Best Screenplay, Best Editing and Best Music. Although it only gleaned a single Oscar at the ceremony...for a little Aussie movie it's extremely impressive nonetheless. On top of this, it also acquired an incalculable amount of prestigious awards worldwide. This includes awards at the BAFTAs and the Golden Globes (Rush continually won Best Actor). After viewing the first frame of Shine, it's already obvious why it garnered so much acclaim. This is a testament to the glorious filmmaking in all departments.

The film is a fictionalised account of the life of Australian pianist David Helfgott. Shine chronicles David's life from childhood (played by Alex Rafalowicz), through to adolescence (Noah Taylor), and onwards to adulthood (Geoffrey Rush). David's father, Peter (Mueller-Stahl), is a Polish Jew who settled in Australia following his devastating experience during the Holocaust. The anguish of losing loved ones impels Peter to keep his family together at all costs, and his drive to teach David music from a young age is a direct reaction to his own father's dislike of music. As a little boy, David is a child prodigy who shows phenomenal promise. After performing at a school recital, music teacher Ben Rosen (Bell) notices David's obvious talent and offers to teach him. As an adolescent, David wins several competitions and is offered a scholarship for the Royal College of Music in London. Even despite his father's pungent objections, David departs for London...and Peter summarily disowns his son. In London his brilliance flourishes, and he opts to attempt a notoriously difficult piece of music. The cumulative pressure overwhelms David, and after playing a perfect rendition of Rachmaninoff's Third Concerto he suffers a mental breakdown. Ten years on, David resides in mental institutions who frown upon the piano in fear of a relapse. An unlikely romance eventually brings stability, and through several twists of fate (more unlikely than those told in the film) he makes his return to the concert stage.

Gillian: "How do you feel?"
David: "I'm shocked, stunned and amazed."

In 1986, Scott Hicks read a newspaper story about David Helfgott - a pianist who performed a flawless classical catalogue at a Perth restaurant. Hicks' interest was immediately ignited, and he arranged to witness Helfgott in concert. For the majority of the following year, Hicks worked to earn Helfgott's trust with the goal in mind of committing his story to celluloid. Jan Sardi's screenplay was admittedly fictionalised to an extent, in fact Hicks is emphatic Shine is not a straight biography despite including real people and events. Although it'd be interesting to behold a more faithful telling of David Helfgott's life & career, Shine is 1996's most stirring and inspirational movie. The decidedly inaccurate story is both powerful and affecting. It's riveting from the first frame 'til the last, which is a combination of the wonderful script, the engaging performances, the focused direction and the banquet of striking locations. The passion for the music incessantly clattering around in David's head fuels the film. Handsomely photographed concert scenes are bequeathed with the energy of a shootout in a John Woo picture. It's pianist vs. music in a contest of wills, and this is embodied by swirling, dizzying camera work.

Sardi and Hicks elected to tell the story of David Helfgott in a non-chronological manner. While the structure isn't totally jumbled - ala Pulp Fiction - the film is predominantly told through flashbacks. This bestows the movie with a unique dynamic. Fortunately, there is no voice-over narration - the proceedings speak for themselves without the support of a disembodied voice adding "valuable" comments. Those behind the camera have made few, if any, mistakes with Shine - and the fashion of its unique presentation is just one example of a perfect creative decision.

Love can flaunt various different faces, and Shine illustrates two of the most extreme. The first is Peter Helfgott's compulsive, domineering love. Mueller-Stahl's performance challenges a viewer to label Peter as just another abusive father attempting to live vicariously through the talents of his son. Peter can be consoling and gentle every so often, and there's no denying that he holds genuine feelings for David. Nevertheless there are instances when his outbreaks cause violence, and cruel results are the outcome.
The other face of love is the healing, undemanding one - as personified in a middle-aged astrologer named Gillian (Redgrave). As the two fall in love, Gillian offers her strength and understanding to David in order to help him rebuild his life. The final scene depicts the synthesis of both these faces as David attempts to at long last bring closure to one of the great, unresolved issues of his troubled life.

Ardently character-driven from the opening sequence, Shine is carried by phenomenal performances right down the line. Geoffrey Rush makes short, infrequent appearances during the film's first half before being brought to the fore for the film's final half. Rush's Academy Award was well-earned (as was his AFI Award, for that matter). His stuttering delivery exemplifies the unbridled genius of the adult David Helfgott. Noah Taylor was also nominated for an AFI Award as the adolescent David. Even though the two actors worked together to perfect specific mutual mannerisms, each offered a unique interpretation of the character. Taylor is young, energetic, and highly-strung. Rush, on the other hand, presents a recuperating David who - while still hyperkinetic - is progressively learning to face the world as opposed to hiding from it.
David's childhood is dominated by Armin Mueller-Stahl as Peter Helfgott; a man who recognised his son's remarkable abilities and pushed him to practice and learn. Fatherly love becomes single-mindedness - when David is accepted into prestigious international music schools, his father refuses him permission to go due to an obsession with family unity, strength and pride. "You will destroy your family!" he screams.
The supporting cast includes Alex Rafalowicz as a wonderfully assured infant David, Googie Withers, Lynn Redgrave, Nicholas Bell and John Gielgud as a crusty, cravat-sporting piano teacher.

"No-one will love you like me, no-one like me."

Shine primarily concerns building strength from weakness. It's inspirational due to the fact David fights his way back. He never renounces, and his triumph becomes ours. David may not have experienced these precise events, but he most certainly endured the basic outline - becoming an exceptional pianist, collapsing, and putting himself back together again. This basic structure alone is astonishing, and perfectly conveys the consequences of a strong human heart. Shine is extraordinarily compelling for essentially a character study of one man, and director Scott Hicks masterfully uses the camera to capture an inner turmoil. The acting is immaculate (Rush's frantic babbling as the insane David perfectly encapsulates the nature of the real-life David), the classical soundtrack is stirring, and the story is told with warmth and humour that prevents it from being the self-pitying wallow it could easily have become. The protagonist veers between poignant depression and touching eccentricity, coming across as an adorable innocent and giving rise to an uplifting ending. The picture also presents its own inimitable impression of genius, arguing that even the greatest talent needs to be nurtured. Through the power of David Helfgott's virtuoso musical performances, Shine illustrates that there are other, more effective ways of self-expression than mere speech.

"You must play as if there's no tomorrow."

9.5/10

"Music's the only thing that makes sense anymore, man. Play it loud enough, it keeps the demons away."

Director Julie Taymor's trippy, psychedelic, lush tribute to the music of The Beatles can be suitably branded as ambitious and audacious. Across the Universe seeks to tell a fictional love story set amid the tumultuous years of the 1960s, and utilises countless Beatles songs in its storytelling - naming characters, planting allusions, and drawing plot inspiration from the Fab Four's musical oeuvre. All told, almost three dozen Beatles songs feature on the soundtrack. Taymor was responsible for the Broadway retelling of The Lion King, thus the songs employed therein are largely reconceptualised to suit the medium of film. Visually, Across the Universe is a marvel - it's exquisite, clever, creative and enthralling. It additionally contains traces of romance and war, accompanied by issues of the 1960s (i.e. the Vietnam War, drugs, protests, and so on). But Across the Universe fails to include two constituents utterly crucial for a motion picture: a solid story and narrative focus. It's a prolonged, asinine dream - and it doesn't make a lick of sense!

All the protagonists are named after Beatles songs while also alluding to Sixties' icons. There's Jude (Sturgess) from Hey Jude, Lucy (Wood) from Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, Max (Anderson) from Maxwell's Silver Hammer, Prudence (Carpio) from Dear Prudence, JoJo (Luther) from Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, and Sadie (Fuchs) from Sexy Sadie. Logically, much of these character names exist to allow a musical set-piece to be performed about them.
As Sadie belts out Helter Skelter and Don't Let Me Down, she unmistakably resembles Janis Joplin. Likewise, with JoJo's soulful electric guitar playing during While My Guitar Gently Weeps, he's an obvious allusion to Jimi Hendrix. Screenwriters Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais continue to add additional layers of 60's references and imagery. Eventually, Across the Universe itself begins to undertake the pop-culture vitality of an Andy Warhol feature or Roy Lichtenstein painting.
In a nutshell: the film's plot follows Jude who travels to America in search of his real father. After a rather anticlimactic meeting, Jude meets soon-to-be college dropout Max. Together, Max and Jude head to New York. Jude begins to fall in love with Max's sister Lucy, and Max finds himself drafted in the army. As Max fights a battle in Vietnam, Jude and Lucy fight their own battle as anti-war protests are conducted.

Across the Universe appears to owe a hefty debt to Baz Luhrmann's Moulin Rouge! in addition to Beatles films like Help!, A Hard Day's Night, Magical Mystery Tour, Yellow Submarine and Let It Be. Director Taymor brought music producer and composer Elliot Goldenthal onto the project. Goldenthal decided not to remain faithful to the original songs, but instead to reinterpret them for the new generation (a generation which wasn't alive during the 60s). These reinterpretations frequently add another dimension and a new underlying meaning. I Want to Hold Your Hand, for instance, is sung by a young female high school student as she watches a cheerleader she has a secret same-sex crush on. Due to these changes, this song becomes a sensuous confessional rather than conveying the peppy teen angst of the original version. A lot of the songs were apparently sung live (not lip-synched), and they therefore seem far more natural. On the other hand - to paraphrase The Wanderers -"Don't fuck with the songs". It may be a laudably ambitious concept, but this doesn't necessarily mean it's a good idea.

The recreation of classic Beatles tunes is sometimes great. Joe Cocker singing Come Together, Eddie Izzard singing For the Benefit of Mr. Kite, and Bono singing I Am the Walrus are absolutely wonderful sequences. Yet, in all honesty, what is the point? Across the Universe is a succession of flashy, spectacular music videos connected by pulp. It seems the screenwriters decided which songs to use before conceiving a rubbish plot to join them. More than half the songs do nothing to advance the plot. The lyrics appear to have no meaning. What was the point of Jude singing Revolution, really? Scenes like these reek of self-indulgence. The filmmakers decidedly opted to include as many legendary Beatles songs as possible, plot be damned. The fusion of a few realistic concepts (like the Vietnam War and the rallies against it) with highly fantastical musical set-pieces is jarring, to say the least. At times the characters are also ensnared in unfortunate situations. How are these overcome? Some singing and colourful imagery. The worst offender is when abandoned by a bus. Max explains he might not be able to attend his appointment with Uncle Sam. After some singing, life is normal again and they're all home.

The characters are two-dimensional and clichéd. Zero character development transpires. It's gruelling to connect with the characters on a truly human level. Emotional investment is virtually impossible, giving a viewer no reason to care about a trouble to be overcome by the characters. The actors do place forth charismatic performances, though. Jim Sturgess is particularly watchable, although his singing voice is underwhelming. As with all the actors, Sturgess does his best with the flawed material. In supporting roles, there's a solid selection: Evan Rachel Wood, Joe Anderson, T.V. Carpio, Martin Luther and Dana Fuchs. Bono (who sang a few cover versions of Beatles songs, most notably Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds heard during the end credits) steals the show in his stylish I Am the Walrus musical sequence, Eddie Izzard is spectacular in the overlong musical set-piece of For the Benefit of Mr. Kite, and Joe Cocker deserves kudos for his singing of Come Together.

"The home of Dr. Geary, another outlaw, like myself. We're navigators, we're aviators, we're eating taters, masturbating alligators. Bombadiers, we got no fears, won't shed no tears. We're pushing the frontiers of transcendental perception. What's weird is we haven't met yet, on this or any other plane."

Perhaps Across the Universe is better regarded as an experience rather than a movie. The story itself is incidental; a threadbare excuse for Taymor to string together reconceptualised covers of her favourite Beatles songs. It's inhabited by a handful of insipid characters that are genuinely superfluous in the grand scheme of things. These irrelevant characters are given their own musical set-pieces just because Taymor et al were unable to find a way to tie all the greatest Beatles songs into Jude and Lucy's tumultuous romance. Across the Universe is a definitive case of style overstepping substance. However, the film is overflowing with imagination and bolstered by a dazzling visual style. When a film is this stylish, it's certainly difficult to brand it a total failure. It's a visually arresting film, but its stimulating use of bright colours and imagery is the only positive to unearth. After enduring 130 minutes of a single-noted string of music videos, though, it grows fairly tedious.

Across the Universe is a beautiful misfire - beautiful, yes, but still a disappointing misfire. While it's a daring experiment - unique, aesthetically alluring and distinctive - the script is unsatisfactory no matter where you turn. It tells a hopelessly clichéd love story, the narrative is unfocused and the characters are trite. Perhaps Across the Universe is simply an acquired taste. Perhaps it should just be looked upon as a succession of enthralling music videos. Perhaps it should be perceived as merely a valentine to the artistic and idealistic spirit of the 60s as symbolised by the music of The Beatles. Draw your own conclusions, as films like these are gruelling to critically analyse and opinions will be radically diverse.

"All you need is love,
All you need is love!
Love is all you need!"

6.2/10

"When I lived in Porpoise Spit, I used to sit in my room for hours and listen to ABBA songs. But since I've met you and moved to Sydney, I haven't listened to one Abba song. That's because my life is as good as an Abba song. It's as good as Dancing Queen."

During conversations regarding the greatest Australian filmic exports, Muriel's Wedding will almost certainly be mentioned. This endearing synthesis of pathos, (often lambasted) Aussie stereotypes and satisfying humour is one of the most celebrated Australian films of all time. It seems Australian filmmakers have a knack for producing feel-good, light-hearted comedies - witness such sleepers as Crocodile Dundee or The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Muriel's Wedding, however, is an addition to the Down Under cinematic pantheon that dares to be different. As an alternative for straight-up comedy, this particular film introduces social drama into an otherwise featherweight, irresistibly sweet tale of self-discovery. Although the final product doesn't quite gel, writer-come-director P.J. Hogan deserves top honours for his attempt to inject the diminutive Aussie industry with something innovative.

Muriel Heslop (Collette) is a frumpy, plump 22-year-old Australian woman. She is not beautiful, nor is she successful, intelligent or popular. In the opening moments of the film, she catches a bouquet at a wedding. Her "friends" instantly attack her; labelling her as a "nothing" and a "nobody". "No-one will ever marry you, Muriel" her superficial buddies also declare. Muriel is a downtrodden, disconsolate dag in a family of layabouts living solely on the reputation of their father Bill (Hunter). Bill is a bitter man, and his bitterness is manifested in his treatment of his family. He takes every opportunity to brand Muriel as "useless"...in fact he considers her the most useless of his offspring. His constant verbal abuse erodes Muriel's self-esteem. Muriel spends her days locked in her room listening to ABBA music and dreaming of the perfect wedding day. She wants nothing more than to be married - not for companionship, love or even money...Muriel simply believes it is the ultimate human experience, and proof a person has "made it". She craves acceptance, but receives none from her friends (who eventually ditch her) or her family (who have hopeless written in their genes). Then a blank cheque from her mother changes her life... Muriel vacations in Hibiscus Island where she meets old school chum Rhonda (Griffiths). Together they move to Sydney, their world is turned upside down, and Muriel - renamed Mariel - gradually breaks out of her shell as she learns a valuable lesson of a lifetime.

The primary story arc concerns Muriel's journey of self-discovery. Muriel also learns that dreams and reality are two unequivocally different things. She used to spend her days fantasising about her perfect fairytale wedding day...but when Muriel eventually does get married she finds it hollow and unfulfilling. While living in Sydney she changes her name to Mariel; a prime example of her belief in superficial changes leading to substantial personal development. For a majority of the film Muriel is also somewhat selfish. Tragedy does of course strike (not just once), putting Muriel to the test and compelling her to mature and take responsibility for her actions.

"You're right, you are a new person, and you stink. "Mariel VanArkle" stinks. And she's not half the person Muriel Heslop was."

As stated beforehand, Muriel's Wedding isn't the feel-good, straightforward comedy romp one would usually come to expect from an Australian film. Instead this is a darker, more idiosyncratic comedy-drama infused with heart, friendship, dreams, reality, tragedy and the joys of ABBA music. Muriel's Wedding could be easily perceived as a social commentary masquerading as something slightly less pretentious. From the word go, the film reminds its audience this is unmistakably not a Hollywood picture. As clichés are eschewed and unpredictable tragedy strikes, it continues to remind its audience of this.

The distinctly unconventional third act of the film pleasantly surprising. Muriel's Wedding will never be mistaken for a Hollywood production as it constantly flouts the "feel-good" clichés that normally characterise this kind of romantic comedy. The ending is by far the most surprising. There's a restrained note of hope, merely suggesting everything will be hunky-dory as opposed to blatantly showing it. Below the occasional laugh-out-loud moment lies a melancholy undercurrent that triggers a string of unpredictable and unconventional events. Alas, the frequent dramatic flashes eventually give way to a catalogue of depressing proceedings that sit rather awkwardly alongside the film's otherwise wacky, heart-warming Aussie feel. The occasional feel-good moment and uplifting ending almost compensate for the depressing detours off the comedy highway. The mixture had the potential to be perfect, but the concept required a more talented screenwriter. Additional laughs were definitely needed.

Australian comedies are reassuringly unique animals. Usually surprisingly sophisticated, Australian comedies often feature one - or sometimes several - tragic subplots running for the length of the film, functioning as a baseline to counterpoint and contrast the humour charitably peppered throughout. American comedies are merciless with dosages of (sometimes absurd) humour, while the British stretch believability to breaking point with a series of outlandish events. On the other hand, the Australian comedy film grounds its humour confidently in a sense of morbid reality (The Castle may have been a ruthlessly hilarious romp, yet the irresistible humour is never over-the-top, with its plot wholly believable). Though depressing every so often, it effectively allows every funny moment (judiciously scattered all through the picture) to shine like a nugget of pure gold.

The vibrant, energetic Toni Collette places forth a truly marvellous performance. Her transformation from overweight dag to striking beauty is amazing, and not in the typical Hollywood fashion. Stunningly, Collette appears to lose weight and grow more beautiful as time goes by. The way her character of Muriel - or is that Mariel? - matures and achieves a level of self-esteem which originally seemed impossible is a testament to the marvellous script as much as Collette's brilliant performance. The underrated Rachel Griffiths, too, is utterly credible and appealing in her performance as the headstrong Rhonda. Bill Hunter's performance (he's in every Australian film, it seems!) is incredibly well-textured, and his hateful nature is totally believable as the sad, lonely man with a deep sense of melancholy. Jeannie Drynan appears as Muriel's mother - a mentally ill woman who is little more than a slave to her family, and who dotes on her lecherous husband. She's a very downtrodden character; one of the most downtrodden you're ever likely to see on film.

One cannot review Muriel's Wedding without mentioning the aspect it's most noted for - the soundtrack! But what few people realise is the effective use to which ABBA songs are put. The music of ABBA is not just used at random points as decoration; they are placed strategically at key moments to heighten the comedy or drama. Fernando emotionally ties Rhonda and Muriel together, hence used as background music during Muriel's long drive home. Dancing Queen conveys the dreamy, shallow melancholy Muriel experiences throughout the course of the film. I Do, I Do, I Do perfectly echoes the excitement and glamour that Muriel associates with marriage. Mamma Mia is great background music as Muriel excitedly collects wedding photos. The contest scene for which Muriel and Rhonda lip-sync Waterloo is alone worth the time to view the film. Any fans of ABBA will be pleased to discover that the songs are not throwaways, but are intelligently and fittingly employed to further the plot.

Frequently cited as one of the best Australian films in history by critics, audiences and even television programs - Muriel's Wedding is a witty, enjoyable movie event everyone must check out at least once. This hugely influential and surprisingly successful film not only launched Toni Collette to international stardom (she's now remembered for About a Boy, The Sixth Sense, and many others), but also demonstrated the astonishing reservoir of untapped talent that lay in the Australian film industry. It's an utterly charming and uplifting film, and its obsessed fans exist for a good reason. Muriel's Wedding has its moments of great humour, but it's also downbeat and even mean-spirited a tad too often. While these depressing excesses may have been a turn-off for mainstream audiences, this is a flick everyone could love.

"Cancer? Oh my God! I am gonna go bald and have to eat macrobiotic food!"

7.5/10

"Chapter One. He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Beneath his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat. I love this. New York was his town, and it always would be..."

Widely regarded as one of Woody Allen's best films, Manhattan is an endearing romantic comedy that takes a picturesque black & white tour of the borough of Manhattan in New York City. Filmed in 1979, this aesthetically gorgeous picture is often deemed a follow-up to Woody's Annie Hall from 1977. Manhattan makes no attempt to eschew the proverbial Woody Allen trademarks. It's autobiographical by nature, and was even named after the city Woody so passionately (and frequently) commits to celluloid. This particular film is a quantum leap in regards to style, craft and maturity of the subject matter. From a decidedly basic story, the gifted Woody Allen has produced an extraordinarily mature, honest and funny motion picture.

The heart of the story concerns Isaac Davis (Allen). He's a neurotic 42-year-old in the midst of a mid-life crisis: he hates his job as a writer, he's dating a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl named Tracy (Hemingway) who's in love with him, and he's divorced. To make matters worse, his now-lesbian ex-wife (Streep) is currently penning a devastatingly personal "tell all" novel about their marriage and eventual break-up.
Isaac finds no pleasure or satisfaction in writing pure junk for a television program for a paycheck, and instead aspires to write the great New York novel. In order to get serious about his novel, Isaac quits his job.
Isaac's best friend Yale (Murphy) is happily married, but is nevertheless having an affair with a woman named Mary (Keaton). Gradually, Isaac falls in love with Yale's mistress. But Isaac is still troubled by his relationship with the youthful Tracy. She's madly in love with him and wishes to take their relationship to the next level...Isaac, however, does not love Tracy in return. Instead he opts to break off the relationship and pursue Mary instead.

"She's 17. I'm 42 and she's 17. I'm older than her father, can you believe that? I'm dating a girl, wherein, I can beat up her father."

Logically enough, the city of Manhattan functions as a central character - probably as crucial as the characters navigating its streets. In various respects, Manhattan is Woody Allen's classic love-hate letter to the city of his soul. Collaborating with master cinematographer Gordon Willis, Woody used black and white photography for the first time. In addition to this, the film was shot in the 2.35:1 aspect ratio. Black and white was employed to give a texture and polish to the city, and the results are simply intoxicating. In expanding the aspect ratio, a greater level of density was built to give a deeper feeling of detail and scope to Woody's vision. Willis' photography surpasses postcard pretty...the essence of the city has been marvellously encapsulated in a way no-one had ever accomplished before. Manhattan is also Woody Allen's most personal film. The absence of colour imagery reflects Isaac's disillusion with both his career and the clique of friends surrounding him. All are writers - he's a writer for TV, his former wife is writing a feminist tract on their marriage, Yale is working on a biography of Eugene O'Neill, and Mary is a both a critic and a columnist. Furthermore, conversations are interspersed with allusions to creative artists, from Strindberg and Kafka to Ingmar Bergman, Fellini and Groucho Marx.

Over the decades, New York City has transformed into a different city altogether. Woody Allen's Manhattan is a city of subtle beauty. It is also a place of marvellous intellectual incentive, and serenity between the frantic traffic. It's refreshing to see the city sans mobile phones, computers and, more or less, electronics in general. Woody and Willis capture the simple silence of a city before the advent of advanced technology - it's all the more striking as a window to a prior generation and as a remarkably poignant snapshot of life in the 1970s for typical New Yorkers.

Party Guest: "I finally had an orgasm, and my doctor said it was the wrong kind."
Isaac: "You had the wrong kind? I've never had the wrong kind, ever. My worst one was right on the money."

Allen generates wonderful comedy through his witty dialogue. Never are laughs blatant or contrived - there is no slapstick, for example. All the laugh-out-loud dialogue is natural, never forced. Manhattan is frequently marred, however, by Woody Allen's constant ravings. Although beautifully photographed, the film also occasionally lacks a vital spark to energise the dialogue and sustain a viewer's interest. Despite a runtime of merely 95 minutes, the film needed to be tighter. As Woody rambles unremittingly, the actor at times fails to engage.

"My ex-wife left me for another woman."

In essence, Woody's character of Isaac Davis is a more mature, fleshed-out version of Alvy Singer from Annie Hall. It's amazing how the filmmaker and star manages to successfully pull off variations of his typical screen persona. Throughout his career, Woody Allen has performed as Woody Allen in spades. He's usually appetising, but at other times he needs to learn restraint during his rambles.
Diane Keaton plays the somewhat unpleasant, possibly egotistic object of Woody's infatuations - i.e. the same type of role she always plays in a Woody Allen picture. Suitably, this is acting by numbers for Diane. Mariel Hemingway copped an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress as the 17-year-old love interest. The naivety and immaturity of her performance conveys the uncertainty inherent in this type of relationship. The anguish she endures as Isaac dumps her, and the bewilderment she experiences when he randomly returns to her is totally honest and natural. Mariel's performance is top-notch, and it rings with such wonderful truth. Her performance is endowed with charm and grace.
In supporting roles, a young Meryl Streep features as Isaac's lesbian ex-wife. She fuses the right tone of antagonism with just the right sense of humour, allowing her to seem much more than the standard, two-dimensional ex-wife bitch. Michael Murphy is on hand as Yale: Isaac's best friend, and straight man to Isaac's jokes.

If ever there was a filmmaker whose work divided opinions so rigorously, it'd be Woody Allen. Various audiences find it challenging to "get into" Woody's films. After all, he plays the same character - basically himself - all the time: Jewish liberal neurotic with narcissistic overtones. If you're irritated by his usual mannerisms, you'll most likely roll your eyes at his frequent casting of beautiful young starlets as his love interest. Unsurprisingly, the critics chose to chastise Allen for selecting a 17 year-old blonde as his Soul Mate for this picture. But the young lady epitomises the vigour and excitement that Isaac had forgotten existed within Manhattan. This is definitely one of Woody's most interesting films.

When Woody Allen viewed the rough cut of Manhattan, he told producers Jack Rollins and Charles H. Joffe to destroy every frame - and if they did, he'd direct another film for United Artists for free. It may have been a critical and commercial success, but Manhattan is to date Woody's least favourite film from his extensive oeuvre. Be that as it may, this film is both tremendously funny and ultimately very poignant. New York City looks beautiful when captured by Gordon Willis' lens, and it's gift-wrapped with a bow courtesy of the gorgeous music of George Gershwin. The writing is sharp and perceptive, with all of the performances uniformly on the mark. For the first-time Woody Allen viewer, Manhattan is an ideal place to start. His strengths are on ample display, with very few of his excesses.

"I feel like we're in a Noel Coward play. Someone should be making martinis."

8.35/10

"I'm coming for the rest of your family. You just bought them a death sentence, motherfucker."

As straightforward pulp revengers go, Death Sentence is disposable but satisfying. Considering the contemporary standard for its genre, you could do far worse than James Wan's flashy shoot-'em-up vigilante actioner. Certainly, Death Sentence is a dumb and derivative action flick that confusingly switches genres mid-stream. It's also pretentious, unrealistic, implausible, infantile, and it aspires to be taken far too seriously. Nevertheless, director Wan deserves credit for dressing up this knockoff of Death Wish with honest-to-goodness visual flair.

Perhaps James Wan is most commonly recognised for initiating the Saw franchise back in 2004. The young, inexperienced director offered a deft handling of the clever screenplay (penned by his collaborator Leigh Whannell from a story they wrote together). In a few weeks and on a paltry budget, Wan had masterfully re-invigorated the horror genre, paving the way for films of its type to follow (including its countless sequels).
The Charles Bronson vehicle Death Wish, based loosely on a novel by Brian Garfield, virtually invented the vigilante film genre whereby an ordinary man transforms into a blood-thirsty soldier hungry for revenge. Countless incarnations have been produced over the decades, using this basic theme to varying degrees of effect. Death Sentence is also loosely based on a Brian Garfield novel (written in the 1970s as a sequel to Death Wish). Even despite Wan's prior success with the original Saw, Death Sentence had plenty of trouble finding its way into cinemas and ultimately fared poorly in its theatrical run - it gleaned less than $10 million domestically.

Nick Hume (Bacon) is a successful business executive who lives an idyllic life with his loving family. Nick's eldest son Brendan (Lafferty) is a trophy winning hockey player soon to be attending a high-class college. However, the family's contented existence is devastated when tragedy strikes. As Nick and Brendan travel home following a hockey match, they reluctantly stop at an unfriendly neighbourhood. Shortly thereafter they encounter a car-load of punks - including one thug who must murder as part of his initiation. Before Nick's eyes, his son is murdered. The murderer is apprehended while the rest of the gang make their escape. The grieving Nick is able to identify the machete-wielding punk, but his sole testimony is the only evidence that the murder took place. Dissatisfied - and as amazed as the rest of us - with the prosecutor's decision to offer the thug a bargain (a prison term of three to five years) as lack of evidence wouldn't bode well in court, Nick retracts his statement and opts to take up the sword of justice himself. In probably the quickest vigilante turnaround ever recorded on celluloid, Nick grabs an implement of death and sets about carrying out the principal of tit-for-tat. Unfortunately, this concept is unfamiliar to the rest of the gang - and Nick has effectively sparked a war which will have tragic consequences on his family.

Tonally, Death Sentence is all over the place. It begins as a family drama before transforming into a shoot-'em-up action-thriller that draws evident inspiration from Taxi Driver and Death Wish. Initially the audience is given a chance to become genuinely involved with Nick and his family. Then, after one irrational act, he's placed his entire family in jeopardy. The events that follow are dramatically incongruous and utterly absurd. The highlight, though, is a spectacularly adrenalised, pulse-pounding, breathtaking chase through the streets and a multiple-storeyed parking station. This sequence features an incredibly long and intricate single take as the camera weaves in, out and around the parking station. This is a most spectacular sequence showcasing the virtuoso skills of Wan and his director of photography John R. Leonetti.
Subsequent to this sequence, Nick lurches forth to an inevitable bloodbath. Absurdity levels are cranked up to 11 as badly wounded, bandage-clad Nick - barely alive - escapes a hospital, eluding unbelievably daft police officers. Director Wan and his evidently enthusiastic technical team work marvels for the consequent final action sequence as holes are shot in walls and limbs are blown off in showers of blood in the realistically grimy sets. This is accompanied by ear shattering sound effects. Despite the competent filmmaking, this climax is a juvenile waste of time. It's chaotic, irritating and unbelievably silly. How can an Average Joe suddenly morph into Rambo on Slim Fast, shooting with such accuracy despite no firearms training? As this scene winds down, the moment of philosophising as two spent warriors recline side-by-side is totally pretentious and preposterous. Despite its unevenness and stupidity, Wan's excitingly shot and directed flick is visceral and gripping, as well as extremely entertaining.

Death Sentence largely works because it's openly aware of what kind of flick it is - a taut revenge actioner wrapped inside a basic but effective morality tale. The film sets out to achieve this title with the same ruthless single-mindedness that Nick exhibits as he pursues the street punks. It seems to continually convey the Gandhi concept that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. There are, however, narrative blunders (including a stupid subplot concerning a younger brother being loved less than his bigger brother) and far too much Hollywood. The gang is pure Hollywood, as they sport tattoos and drive vehicles featuring the same design. There's incredible craftsmanship on offer, but the components are fairly standard stuff.
Loving family torn apart by senseless crime? Check.
Justice system with its hands tied? Check.
Ordinary guy turned proficient, gun-wielding soldier? Check.
Clueless cops? Big check. Aisha Tyler stars as one of the most thankless characters in recent memory as a detective who is unable to figure out why every Bacon shows up with a new cut or bruise whenever a gang member is mysteriously killed.

Ultimately, Death Sentence endeavours to carry on the great tradition of man-pushed-to-the-edge vigilante flicks. But this is such a flawed attempt to revive a genre, yielding a tragically average product. It needed more twists and sparks as opposed to merrily rattling along, adhering to the trite old formula. Trying to pass itself off as a gritty take-the-law-into-your-own-hands action-thriller for the video game generation, it really amounts to an actioner with a catastrophic shortage of action.

Kevin Bacon's watchable performance helps raise Death Sentence above the glut of other revenge-themed films of its type. Bacon's Nick Hume is a respectable man with no prior experience with such violence - he's not a former Special Forces soldier who has been wronged, or anything clichéd like that. At times Bacon looks glum, at other times lively and energetic. He suits the role extremely well, occasionally allowing an audience to overlook the awful screenplay.
Kelly Preston makes the most of the little she has to do, and the two young lads as Nick's offspring look fine. Aisha Tyler is a major weak spot. She's wooden and unbelievable, and her character is poorly written. As for the "baddies", there's Garrett Hedlund (of the Four Brothers fame) as the vicious leader, and John Goodman also has a small but effective role as a gun dealer and father of Hedlund.

Death Sentence is under no delusion of being respectable. It's a flashy, pretentious, ridiculous, laughable exploitation action film that at least features fine filmmaking. It isn't an overly terrible film, but it's not that great either. From start to finish, it's fairly slick and there are a number of extremely entertaining moments. Wan, although handling a flawed screenplay, seems keen to splash around buckets of blood and direct fun shoot-'em-up action sequences.

"Man, I guess there is justice, huh."

6.6/10

"And maybe there's no peace in this world, for us or for anyone else, I don't know. But I do know that, as long as we live, we must remain true to ourselves."

One of the most quintessential swords-and-sandals epics of all time, Spartacus is a stirring and passionate historical saga chronicling the military career of an indomitable gladiator who commanded a Roman slave revolt. This is a brilliant, seminal piece of filmmaking that inspired several other great epic films, including Mel Gibson's Braveheart and Ridley Scott's Gladiator (both of which earned Oscars for Best Picture). In a way, Spartacus is an extraordinary family picture as the central character fights not only for freedom but additionally for dignity, family, brotherhood and father-son relationships.

Spartacus is an epic of superior quality due mostly to its disregard of the Christian motif - a motif commonly marring similar productions. This is instead a film founded on ideals, convictions and moral dynamism, and it enthrals through sheer force of intellect. It may disregard Biblical themes, but it's indeed set during Biblical times and its story seems like something Biblical - slave is carted off to gladiator school, slave falls in love, slave escapes and becomes an esteemed hero to thousands, slave loses big war and is crucified as a result... But perhaps that's being a tad flippant.

"I'M SPARTACUS!"

Based on a novel by author Howard Fast, Spartacus is the story of a rebellious Thracian chum known as Spartacus (Douglas). After being born into slavery and raised as a slave, he's sold to gladiator trainer Lentulus Batiatus (Ustinov) who owns a school in Capua. (Note: this aspect is among the film's several historical inaccuracies - Spartacus was in fact a freeborn who served as an auxiliary in the Roman army in Macedonia. He deserted the army, was captured, sold into slavery, and then sold to Batiatus' gladiatorial school) Early into the picture he meets a slave girl named Varinia (Simmons) who's used to 'entertain' the gladiators. From there, Spartacus is forced to endure a gruelling and brutal training period. He refuses to allow himself to be demeaned by the Romans. His newfound love for Varinia, coupled with his loathing for the devastating treatment and callous slaughtering of his fellow slaves, ignites his passion for freedom. Spartacus instigates a slave revolt at the gladiator school, forming a slave army that has the Roman Senate in a tizzy. The rest of the film tracks the escapades of Spartacus and his army as they travel across Italy freeing slaves who gladly join his quest to conquer the decadent Roman Empire.

Meanwhile, a political storyline emerges concerning two great Roman Senators (who were also adversaries): Crassus (Olivier) the patrician (representing the interests of the aristocrats), and Gracchus (Laughton) the plebeian (representing the interests of the commonplace Roman citizens). These men employ their wealth and cunning to battle each other for control of the Senate...and Rome itself. With the Roman Army primed to attack, the slave army prepared to counter-attack, and the Roman Senators skirmishing amongst themselves, Spartacus is poised for a maximus climaxus where there will be more losers than winners.

The story behind the film's creation is almost as interesting as the film itself. Kirk Douglas eagerly sought after snatching the title role of the epic Ben-Hur. However William Wyler (director of Ben-Hur) assigned the role to Charlton Heston as an alternative. Extremely irked, the hot-headed Douglas aspired to make his own Roman epic. He secured the rights to Howard Fast's novel Spartacus and hired blacklisted screenwriter Dalton Trumbo to pen the screenplay. Due to Trumbo being part of the Hollywood blacklist he'd been writing under a pseudonym for years. Douglas (an active executive producer for the film) opted to credit Trumbo for his contributions to the script (Mr. Douglas is now recognised for breaking the blacklist).

Following a mere week of filming, original director Anthony Mann was sacked (or he quit...depends on which story you believe). Douglas selected a prompt replacement: youthful director Stanley Kubrick, who had helmed Paths of Glory (also starring Douglas) years earlier. Much ruckus has been sparked concerning Kubrick's contribution to the film. Because Kubrick never directed the same film twice, some think it fits nicely into the Kubrick oeuvre. Others believe Kubrick didn't do much at all, and was pressured into being a director-for-hire employed to ensure the production didn't violate the Director's Guild rules. While Kubrick was present on set, Kirk Douglas in fact directed a majority of the film himself. Kubrick later disowned the movie as he felt he didn't have adequate creative control. He even attempted legal action to have his name removed from the credits!

Rumoured to have a budget of over $US12 million, Spartacus was the most expensive Hollywood film ever made in 1960. A great deal of gossip regarding the problematic production is well-known: the Kubrick disputes as noted above, the heated arguments between Kirk Douglas and Kubrick which ended both their friendship and professional relationship, the battle of egos between the stars (each believed they had superior dialogue) as well as the uncredited script 'doctoring' by Peter Ustinov. Despite all this, Spartacus is a stirring, unforgettable, remarkable epic. Regardless of its mammoth scale it never forgets its characters, the detail, the excellent story, and the timeless fight for freedom it conveys.

The scale and scope of the invigorating battles is phenomenal, and they are coupled with exhilarating gladiatorial matches. The intricate detail in the costumes and locations is breathtaking. In this digital age audiences are accustomed to witnessing a computer-generated "cast" of thousands. It's powerful and awe-inspiring to behold hordes of practical extras pervading the frame for the massive battle scenes. Kubrick would've had to command these extras as firmly as Crassus ruled Rome. With thousands of meticulously-costumed extras, it puts digital Hollywood "epics" to shame. Decades on, Spartacus still holds its own - even alongside films such as Gladiator and Braveheart.
The cast is particularly top-notch as well, with a passionate Kirk Douglas leading the enormous cast. The strength and conviction of Douglas (and his powerful "inny" chin) carries the day.

In the early 1990s, a team worked to restore Spartacus and construct the definitive version of film. Footage that was initially removed for the theatrical release was inserted back into the final cut. Also, a scene had its dialogue altered for the 1960 theatrical release. For the restored version, the original dialogue was to be re-inserted but the original soundtrack couldn't be found. Laurence Olivier's voice in said scene (when he tries to seduce Antoninus in the bath) couldn't be restored. Therefore, as a replacement, actor Anthony Hopkins stepped in to lend his voice to the particular scene. The restoration is utterly marvellous.

In spite of all its strengths, Spartacus isn't without faults. At a running time of over three hours it's challenging to sustain excitement levels from start to finish. The politics are too stilted and there are a few unnecessary, historically inaccurate sub-plots begging to be removed. The definitive biopic of Spartacus has yet to be made. At three hours, a majority of the film feels like padding. The acting is occasionally a tad wooden as well, almost campy.

The authoritative acting, lush cinematography, bold costumes and visceral battles won Spartacus a total of four Oscars. This is a secular Roman epic and one of the best entries to the swords-and-sandals genre. It's a story of both inward and outward conflicts, well-written and executed by an ideal creative team. Those who adore the Golden Age of Hollywood will be extremely pleased with the big name cast, big name director in addition to the lavish sets, costumes and cinematography. Put your best sandals on, hitch up the chariot and seek out Spartacus. You will most certainly be maximus chuffedus if you do. Gladiator, Ben-Hur and Spartacus make the perfect triumvirate for lover of Hollywood epics.

"This republic of ours is something like a rich widow. Most Romans love her as their mother but Crassus dreams of marrying the old girl to put it politely."

7.9/10

"You look at me, and you don't like what you see. But this is the price, Mother - the price of belonging to you."

Adapted from the Oprah-certified novel by Janet Fitch (unread by me), White Oleander is an emotional story of mother and daughter suffering tormented lives after their idyllic relationship is shattered. The title stems from a flower (called the white oleander, logically enough) that is externally charming but internally poisonous. The white oleander of the story is an artist who - although fairly beautiful on the outside - is a poisonous and immoral individual who poisons lives. White Oleander can easily be classified as a chick flick as women are at the core of the movie. However it transcends its genre. The issues of love and control explored within are very real, and are treated quite shrewdly with real dramatic focus. The narrative is potent and usually engaging, Peter Kosminsky's sharp eye for direction is commendable, and the production values are faultless. Nevertheless, it's slightly banal at times and it lacks a necessary spark to move extract it out of the 'average' category.

Astrid Magnussen (Lohman) is an expressive, artistic teenager. She lives with her mother Ingrid (Pfeiffer) who shares Astrid's passion for art. Their life together is happy until Barry Kolker (a criminally wasted Billy Connolly) enters the picture. Ingrid falls in love with Barry, only to have her heart subsequently broken. In anger, Ingrid murders Barry using the poison of the white oleander flower (that's something the creators of Cluedo will need to use for an upcoming edition). As a consequence she is found guilty of murder and sent to prison...possibly for life.
Meanwhile, young Astrid is forced to endure an assortment of foster homes and foster parents. Over the course of multiple years she experiences love, religion, near-death occurrences, drugs, starvation, and she experiences what it's like to be loved. Throughout these years Astrid continues to communicate with her mother via letter or a visit. As Astrid drifts from foster home to foster home, the all-consuming hand of Ingrid reaches out to infiltrate and poison the lives of not only Astrid, but those who have adopted her.
Amongst the chaos and tragedy, the only solace Astrid can find is with the gentle and non-judgmental Paul (Fugit) whose similarly devastating background gives her a point of refuge.

"Beauty was my mothers law, her religion."

To reveal the plot turns along Astrid's survival course would spoil far too much. Suffice to say, the film concludes with a guarded note of hope and an indication that there might - just might - even be the possibility of personal redemption for mother as well as daughter.

White Oleander is a coming-of-age tale that tracks young Astrid who is confused and often depressed, evidently because she has no knowledge of her biological father and appears scared to press her deceitful mother for information. The sole survival technique Astrid adheres to is to become a chameleon and adopt the characteristics of each family she's placed with. Thus she undergoes metamorphoses at the hands of every foster environment she experiences. She is forced to become white trailer trash when cared for by born-again ex-stripper Starr (Wright-Penn) before morphing into a Beverly Hills princess when beneath the roof of failing actress Claire Richards (Zellweger). In her final placing - under the tutelage of the ultra-capitalist Rena (Efremova) - Astrid discovers her gothic expression and assumes the jagged edged persona of youth on the edge. The mimicry, however, is only of limited depth - underneath each new outer shell is a young woman struggling to refine and retain her own identity under the hardest of pressures.

"Take my advice and stay away from broken people."

On a slight side note, serious questions should be asked of the local social services department. Among those trusted to care for Astrid include: a drunken, gun-toting, bible-thumping crack whore, and a moping, suicidal failed actress. Really, who checks up on these people?

"Workers of the world arise. You've got nothing to lose but Visa card, happy meal, and Kotex with wings."

White Oleander is apparently quite faithful in principal to the source material (various adjustments were made to the story, though). Janet Fitch was reportedly very happy with the novel-to-film translation. However, the thematic material seems diluted to a detrimental extent. The exclusion of stronger scenes in order to obtain a PG-13 rating (from the MPAA) affects the whole movie. Themes of suicide and murder are lightly touched upon, but it seems a whole lot is being held back. I feel that in order to do justice to the novel, the filmmakers should've pushed the boundaries and crafted an R-rated movie.

There are severe problems in the storytelling department. The film's timeline appears garbled, and the developments feel confusingly unearned. After Astrid is accepted into her first foster family, a few scenes worth of dialogue occur and (through dialogue) it's revealed she's been there for six months. In all honesty it feels like a week. We're granted little time to become acquainted with the second foster family. Initially promising and loving before things suddenly deteriorate and tragedy strikes. The developments are particularly poor in this case. Finally, Astrid's conversion to a gothic persona is random and sudden. The transformation appears to occur between two scenes. Astrid is shown as innocent, shy, and dressed regularly. In the next scene she's has developed into a smoker with black hair, black nails, black lipstick and skimpy clothes who doesn't seem to care about anything. The worst offender is Astrid's relationship Paul. At first hesitant to befriend him...then after a few scenes they are lovers? Where are the montages? The stirring scenes depicting the radical alterations? It's too jumbled and fast-moving, but at the same time too ponderous and plodding. It's a compelling story for sure, yet it isn't engaging enough. This is also due to the PG-13 rating - with an absence of stronger material, it unfortunately fails to engage every so often. It needed to be more compelling, and couldn't do this under the restrictions of a PG-13 classification.

"I made you. I'm in your blood. You don't go anywhere until I let you go."

Young Alison Lohman admirably holds her own while acting alongside a cavalcade of veteran stars. She's truly exceptional and emotional playing the forever-changing forms of Astrid. Lohman is destined for big-time Hollywood stardom - impossibly gorgeous, pleasing to watch, and utterly focused. Alongside Lohman is Michelle Pfieffer in her most expressive and beautifully delineated performance. Pfeiffer plays the character of Ingrid as a self-absorbed succubus; a steely beauty whose speeches of lone-wolf self sufficiency conceal an emotional susceptibility. She continually feeds Astrid a poisonous philosophy of misanthropy that almost kills her as assuredly as the white oleander milkshake that killed Ingrid's former lover. At times Ingrid appears to be a female rendering of Hannibal Lector; manipulating Astrid and her string of foster parents with cold precision and evil intent. Pfeiffer devours all her scenes with an utterly ferocious performance.
The performances of Pfeiffer and Lohman are bolstered by excellent support from Renée Zellweger, Robin Wright-Penn, Zvetlana Efremova and Patrick Fugit. Zellweger and Wright-Penn are particularly stirring as the troubled foster mothers, with an appealing Fugit as Paul who is the only character capable of sensing Astrid's true depth beneath a protective veneer. An almost invisible Billy Connolly also appears. Connolly is entirely forgettable and only delivers one line.

"My opinion is if there is a god he sure as hell ain't worth prayin' to."

It may not be a perfect film, but White Oleander deserves credit for its ambitious aspirations and slick execution. The leaping story line - shaped by first-time director Peter Kosminsky - shows all the signs of rich detail compressed into a handful of evocative images and striking character traits. The frequently beautiful and bright images are also accompanied by a powerful, beautiful score. This is a pleasant diversion and it passes the time; however it appears to have suffered in part from the absence of stronger scenes in order to obtain a non-lenient PG-13.

White Oleander is fundamentally a medieval morality tale recast with Darwin philosophies concerning damaged modern woman. At the centre of this play stands Lohman - sweet and unpretentious, in search of a movie more worthy of her outstanding performance.

"Love humiliates you. Hatred cradles you."

6.5/10