Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"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

"I am the law! Put down your weapons and prepare to be judged."

The greatest cinematic guilty pleasures in history generally feature an 80's action hero as its primary acting talent. Sylvester Stallone is a particularly habitual purveyor of guilty pleasures. Think Cobra, or the second & third Rambo movies, or Tango & Cash. The film in question - 1995's Judge Dredd - is yet another classic example of a guilty pleasure featuring the muscle-bound performer. This isn't a perfect film by any means - in fact from a critical standpoint this is an awful movie. It's inane, stupid, brainless and derivative. Nevertheless, it's irresistibly entertaining, enjoyable and fun. Stallone packs his muscular body into the gold-plated, armoured uniform of Judge Dredd. As this "Judge", he has the privilege of being judge, jury and executioner rolled into one. The whole movie is built around this concept - Stallone fundamentally deals out justice in a futuristic dystopian metropolis for 90 minutes.

Judge Dredd is based on a popular British comic book strip. This comic book atmosphere is retained, although it's fairly cartoonish at times. I'm not accustomed to the source material, thus I can't testify to the level of fidelity, but a majority of the visuals evoke a comic book atmosphere - from the campy costumes to the imitative production design and the corny one-liners. In all honesty, Judge Dredd occasionally seems like a futile retread of Demolition Man.

You want chaos? I'm the chaos. You want fear? I'm the fear. You want a new beginning? I'm the new beginning!

The film is prefaced with a prologue - an opening title reel outlining the story so far. This is the first shred of evidence substantiating the fact Judge Dredd aspires to be Star Wars, made far more obvious with the authoritative, bellowing voice of James Earl Jones to accompany.
The story commences decades into the future when society has deteriorated. In an inevitable amalgam of Mad Max 2 (a.k.a. The Road Warrior) and Blade Runner, crime has flourished to an uncontrollable extent and the "Cursed Earth" is a desolate wasteland. In order to battle crime more efficiently, Judges patrol the streets - they "judge" the criminals they encounter, dishing out an appropriate sentence; be it several years of incarceration or immediate execution. During the action-packed opening sequence, the audience is introduced to Judge Dredd (a suitably lean, gruff, burly Stallone). Dredd is the most formidable and revered of the Street Judges - emotionless, relentless, and merciless. Following this character establishment, a plot (if it can be called that) emerges: a murderous former judge (Assante) hatches a sinister plan to overthrow the government and eliminate the Judges, instead substituting them with clones of himself. Let the chaos and mayhem begin...

"Court's adjourned!"

Limitless plot holes are easily noticeable, and the absurd disposition of the vague plot almost insults the intelligence. Example of a plot hole: early into the film, Dredd explains bullets aren't effective past two hundred metres. However, in truth, as long as a bullet has gravity to guide it, its force won't be weakened until it hits something! Also, villains in the film try so hard to be sinister that they forget to have an adequate motivation.

"The Judge's standard-issue body armor. Yours, when you graduate. The Lawgiver: a Judge's standard-issue sidearm. Yours, if you graduate. The Lawmaster: a Judge's standard-issue personal transport. Yours... if you can ever get it to work."

Judge Dredd is Blade Runner for viewers suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder. Ridley Scott's Blade Runner is ponderous and deeply philosophical, whereas Judge Dredd offers brainless popcorn entertainment. As previously detailed, this is leave-your-brain-at-the-door material. The action sequences manage to thrill, but they are preposterous - even for science fiction. Heroes are entirely impervious to bullets, for instance (even after suffering a wound, a character still manages to save the day in a hopelessly clichéd finale). Then by the time Stallone and Rob Schneider outrun a blast of fire, one can't help but laugh. Be that as it may, Judge Dredd is an underrated gem that deserves to be on the to-watch short-list of any Stallone fan...or just any fan of the action genre. This is 90 minutes of solid entertainment, laced with enjoyably frenetic action sequences and a mind-blowing display of special effects (for the most part, that is - obvious matte paintings during one chase sequence will cause one to wonder if the budget suddenly imploded).

At least visually, Judge Dredd aspires to be the next big sci-fi action extravaganza. Blade Runner presented a unique image of a possible future. Mega-City One (formerly New York City) in Judge Dredd is evidently a glitzy replication. And let's face it: the air speeder chase is an aping of Return of the Jedi. Traces of Mad Max appear to be thrown in...and, interestingly, there are a few cannibalistic mountain folk mirroring The Hills Have Eyes as well. This is a derivative sci-fi action film, but even in spite of its blatant unoriginality it entertains and the sets look genuinely spectacular. In addition, there are a sufficient amount of creative ideas incorporated into the film. Mega-City One is appropriately intricate and exhilarating. And Dredd's signature weapon - a pistol with voice-selectable ammo for all occasions - is undeniably cool. Stallone as Judge Dredd is more or less Dirty Harry in RoboCop's armour. Stallone plays the character in Eastwood style; his lines delivered in a monotone, and his eyes glint with a noble rage (the glint basically means "I'd enjoy killing your arse!").

"The legendary Angel family. Cursed Earth pirates, murderers, scavengers, and of course scumbags!"

Judge Dredd appears to have a serious tonal problem. Stallone grunting through his first few lines is enough to trigger fits of laughter. The dialogue is frequently hilarious - whether intentional or otherwise. Examining the committee of credited screenwriters, it isn't hard to see why. Michael De Luca and William Wisher Jnr. were responsible for RoboCop 3, after all.
Badass one-liners are a necessity for the genre. The Terminator wouldn't be the same without "I'll be back", for instance. Stallone is given all the best lines, most notably his declaration of "I am the law!". Moments like this call to mind memories of Cobra - as a matter of fact, Judge Dredd is Cobra transplanted into a sci-fi setting.

"We're both prisoners warden. You're behind a desk, and I'm behind this."

Director Danny Cannon was obviously aiming for a science fiction action blockbuster with a touch of humour. Cannon handles the material competently. As a supplement for Cannon's visual implementation, there are dynamic sound effects and a pulse-pounding score. Originally the film was to receive a PG-13 rating from the MPAA, hence the disappointingly tame violence. However it was ultimately slapped with an R-rating...but a deplorably soft R-rating.

Performance-wise, there's a selection of two-dimensional acting talent on offer - quite suitable, I suppose. Stallone is Stallone in spades; need more be said? The notoriously bad actor half-grunts and half-bellows his lines throughout the runtime. At the film's beginning he dons a helmet, concealing all except his lips. The effect is slightly disconcerting since it emphasises the slurry, drugged-sounding lethargy of Stallone's vocal delivery. Thankfully, the helmet isn't on for long.
Stallone is given a love interest in Diane Lane as a fellow Judge. The usually reliable actress is somewhat bland, and Lane's chemistry with her co-star is abysmal. Thankfully, Rob Schneider is thrown in for a bit of comic relief. This is definitely a high point for Schneider's career...something to remember since his career was eventually relegated to worthless Adam Sandler vehicles. In this performance Schneider is hysterical; firing off one-liners and conveying his anxiety about a situation amusingly. At one stage during the production, Schneider improvised a mockery of Stallone. The filmmakers found it hilarious, and subsequently added it to the final cut. Armand Assante looks to be having a great time as the central villain; over-the-top, menacing and murderous. In every scene he appears to be vying for the Sociopath of the Year award. Other respected thespians fill in the gaps - Max von Syndow's Obi-Wan-ish manifestation is watchable, and Jürgen Prochnow makes a brief appearance as a Judge.

"The innocent only exist until they inevitably become perpatrators. Guilt or innocence is a matter of timing."

All things considered, Judge Dredd is serviceable low-grade entertainment. It's a brainless popcorn sci-fi action movie, featuring top-notch explosive action sequences fuelled by a pretty horrible script. Aside from Stallone's occasional twinkle - dispersing Dredd's limited repertoire of kick-ass catch phrases - it's the extravagant production design and special effects that effectively engage. Judge Dredd can only be defined as a guilty pleasure. It may be campy and silly beyond all comprehension, but the film provides straightforward fun without being too taxing. In no way am I ashamed to admit I enjoyed this film thoroughly and would willingly watch it again numerous times.

"Emotions... there ought to be a law against them."

6.6/10

"You'll never survive if you lose control Mr. Fox."

On first impression, Vacancy probably seems like conventional, by-the-numbers horror fluff...upon closer inspection, this is anything but! In the midst of Hollywood's putrid "torture porn" movie craze (Hostel and its diabolical sequel are probably the worst offenders) it's indeed a rare occurrence to witness a good old-fashioned horror flick that relies on white-knuckle suspense as opposed to the senseless exploitation of gore and sex. Vacancy - the English-language debut feature of director Nimród Antal - isn't going to gain any awards for originality; as a matter of fact the premise and script are mediocre at best. However it's the filmic implementation that elevates this horror film high above the expected standard. Running at a scant 80 minutes, Vacancy is lean and mean. For the most part it hits the correct notes and provides a satisfying dosage of nail-biting tension. Director Antal competently creates a strong sense of atmosphere and escalating suspense. This is a very thrilling flick!

The story tracks David and Amy Fox (Wilson and Beckinsale, respectively) - they are a married couple in the middle of contemplating a divorce after their marriage is placed under substantial strain when they lose a child. While travelling home following a family function, their car breaks down on an isolated road. It's late at night, and the quarrelsome couple become compelled to hike in excess of a kilometre to a grungy little roadside motel (managed by a creepy fella played by Frank Whaley) which would make even the Bates Motel seem welcoming. It isn't long before David discovers a stash of snuff movies...eventually recognising that said movies had been filmed in their motel room. Trapped in their room with hidden cameras watching their every move, David and Amy realise they could become the stars of the sadistic filmmakers' next cult classic.

Vacancy is stripped down and raw. Once the nitty gritty commences there's scarce respite as it races along, offering moment after moment of genuine terror. All told, the film's runtime is a very tight 80 minutes. The film knows not to linger around for too long begging for attention - it starts, it gets to the point, and it humbly departs. Screenwriter Mark L. Smith admirably eschews a majority of the genre clichés. Vacancy offers just two protagonists as opposed to of a truck-load of disposable knife-fodder, therefore allowing a viewer to care far more about their fate. It takes its time establishing things, allowing us to familiarise ourselves with David and Amy. These are two moderately normal people...they aren't the dumb idiots that usually populate this kind of flick. Most commendably, there's no guarantee that either protagonist will survive to see the end credits. One of the film's strengths is in its frequent unpredictability - there's a strong sense that the protagonists may not make it out in one piece, let alone make it out at all.

Moreover, the main characters of this horror outing are smart. In the context of horror heroes, they are fairly intelligent. Compared to the people who were murdered prior to their stay, they're utter geniuses. They conduct themselves as reasonably intelligent adults might behave in a similar situation. David is also aware that he and Amy are no match for a group of killers in pitch black, especially in unknown surroundings. Therefore he doesn't engage them in hand-to-hand combat, nor does he attempt to set an ambush. Although the climax is somewhat predictable, Amy doesn't act like a superhuman nor does she mysteriously muster impressive martial arts skills in the blink of an eye. In fact, she even falls asleep at one stage - an act wholly human. Granted, a few times a bout of "here's what I'd do" will strike a viewer, and there are a few script mishaps, but the characters in Vacancy are still the smartest horror victims in recent memory. After a contemptible glut of horror films (ranging from Friday the 13th to Hostel, where the death of expendable supporting characters is perfunctory on account of it being fun to watch), Vacancy reminds us of what made Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho so remarkable: a handful of restricted sets and human characters.

Perhaps the most obvious thing that separates Vacancy from other contemporary horror films is in the content. Too often do horror films insert extra gore, sex and profanity for the sake of adding it as they're already bound for an R-rating from the MPAA. However, the film in question distinctively avoids displaying a vast majority of the violence - it usually happens off-screen. In addition, Vacancy avoids the inclusion of an obligatory sex scene. All of the sex and most of violence is on tape, witnessed with a bluish tint and flickering interference on a small TV screen. Frankly, this makes the violence and sex far less gratuitous and it's all the better for it.

Vacancy plays on ordinary human fears: loud noises late at night, a ringing phone with no-one at the opposite end, rats & roaches, claustrophobia, and a sense of hopeless isolation. Director Nimród Antal allows his cinematographer (veteran Andrzej Sekula) to intensify the impression of imminent doom. Each shot is meticulously composed to enhance the suspense. There are some truly masterful moments, perhaps the most ominous when David and Amy are harassed by noisy banging on the doors and walls. The normality of the situation is instantly shattered when mysterious noises erupt and panic begins to heighten. Antal builds the movie slowly, but even the build-up is reasonably creepy and chilling.

In spite of a number of flaws - and believe me, there are flaws - Vacancy gets more right than wrong. Still, it's far from perfect. The snarky dialogue between David and Amy is a waste of space. All the bickering seems redundant, even in the context of character development. The concept has also been exhaustively employed over the decades: a car breaks down in the middle of no-where, and bad things start to happen. Amy's cell phone also fails to get a signal in the middle of nowhere...how formulaic. Other flaws: sections of the story are difficult to accept, such as the main concept itself. It's doubtful the snuff film scheme could endure for so long. All the victims on tape appear to be stupid, defenceless, unintelligent horror victims. None of them attempt anything smart. Most detrimental is the conclusion. It's generic, and from a believability standpoint there are incalculable dilemmas. Had a clever rewrite courtesy of a skilled screenwriter transpired, Vacancy could have been this decade's king horror movie.

Luke Wilson and Kate Beckinsale manage their "every person" roles effectively. Wilson's handling of David succeeds, and his amiability seasons a bland role. Thank God none of the sleazy teenage idols of the early 21st century got this role. Beckinsale is also convincing as Amy. As fear pervades the tense atmosphere, the protagonists seem legitimately terrified. Never do these actors seem contrived; in fact their naturalistic performances aren't Hollywood at all.
Frank Whaley as the manager is sinister and sadistic. He'd make a good roommate for Norman Bates. Kudos to Whaley for placing forth a wholly believable and spine-chilling performance!

Perhaps expectations for Vacancy might have been quite low, but the product considerably outweighs any assumption of this being "just another silly horror film". From a creative point of view, Vacancy is leaps and bounds ahead of at least 80% of the current horror films from major studios. The script isn't particularly creative, but it's Antal's virtuoso direction that makes the film so effective. The movie is an accomplished brew of bright colours, dark shadows, and a grimy atmosphere. This is a terrific white-knuckle thriller - convincing performances mixed with a masterfully thrilling tone. If Psycho made people wary of showers, then the tense and tightly-paced Vacancy will make them think twice before stopping at a depressing old motel in the middle of nowhere - even if it's the only room available for hundreds of kilometres.

"It's right there in the corner number 4. You might have to jiggle the handle a little bit to open her up, she's as sticky as an old whore."

7.5/10

"You and your plans. You know what my grandmother used to say? If you want to make God laugh... tell Him your plans."

First-time director Alejandro González Iñárritu burst into the world's cinema spotlight with his multi-award-winning feature Amores Perros (a.k.a. Love's a Bitch). Heralded as a masterpiece by audiences and critics alike, this acclaimed Mexican drama weaves together three diverse tales rich in thematic material concerning relationships, love and loss. Director Iñárritu infuses his picture with raw energy that's both intriguing and confrontational. Amores Perros is extremely compelling, expressive, entrancing and challenging. Featuring a non-liner storyline (ala Pulp Fiction), this gripping drama presents a mosaic of dissimilar characters living despondent lives in the economic melting pot of Mexico City who all become connected by a tragic car accident.

Amores Perros shares undeniable similarities with Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction, although most of said similarities are at surface level. Like Tarantino's Oscar-nominated masterpiece, Iñárritu's film deals with a range of characters living on the seedy side of life. The plot unfolds episodically and in a non-coherent manner - characters from one segment occasionally feature in (or pass through) another. However, Pulp Fiction glamorised the characters - the conventional "bad guy" seemed hip and appealing, as established through witty dialogue and stylish filmmaking techniques. However, Amores Perros does not romanticise the characters. Iñárritu exposes his characters for what they are - human beings whose moral compasses have become twisted. Thus the territory may seem familiar to Pulp Fiction fans, but the vantage point is drastically divergent. Amores Perros introduces us to a veritable gallery of contemptible individuals. Of the multiple significant characters traversing through Iñárritu's terrain, not many could be considered sympathetic. The other characters form a web of corruption and deceit. There are assassins, murderers, philanderers, thieves, traitors, in addition to other varied riff-raff. Tarantino's anti-heroes are cool and debonair, always with the right one-liner to offer. Iñárritu's characters are brutal and lacking even a modicum of charm.

Amores Perros begins with a kinetic, exhilarating, bone-crushing car chase. The devastating outcome of this chase acts as a catalyst for the rest of the stories for the film. Following this car chase, the film then imaginatively delves into three devastating stories involving characters dealing with loss, regret, and life's ruthless realities - all in the name of love. It's a risky device to delay crucial plot points until past a third of its runtime, but the individual stories - which weave in and out of each other with realistic disarray - are so transfixing that you're willing to go along with the ride until everything becomes clear.

"Come away with me."

The first story concerns an optimistic young man named Octavio (Bernal). He lives with his older brother Ramiro (Pérez), their mother, and Ramiro's young wife Susana (Bauche). Incessantly abused by Ramiro, Susana struggles to complete high school whilst trying to care for their infant son. Regardless of living in fear of his violent older brother, Octavio is hopelessly in love with his sister-in-law Susana and is determined to raise sufficient money to convince her to run away with him. But in Mexico City where poverty abounds, clean money is difficult to acquire. With little alternatives, Octavio enters his dog in the local dog-fighting circuit.
Of the three stories, this is the most entertaining. A viewer can certainly grow concerned about Octavio and Susana. When the romance begins to go south, it's also affecting. The movie starts with the car accident from Octavio's perspective. At the end of this story it is replayed, but this time we meet two other characters who had been subtly introduced beforehand.

The next narrative thread tracks two people: Daniel (Guerrero) and Valeria (Toledo). Valeria is a world-class model who has struck the big time. Her face and body dominate billboards throughout Mexico City. Daniel is a magazine publisher who has left his wife and two offspring to be with Valeria. Together, they make the perfect couple...until tragedy strikes. Valeria is critically injured in the car accident. Daniel is therefore compelled to cope with living with a mentally and physically crippled woman whose modelling career is at an end. The hopeful life Daniel had envisioned begins to reek of decay. The relationship between them takes a slow downward spiral as Valeria loses herself in a bout of depression, and Daniel learns that fantasy and reality are never the same.
The middle story suits the film on thematic level, but on a story level it seems detached. The story stands on its own, and is a study of delusion and impossible love. It's powerfully acted by Goya Toledo and Álvaro Guerrero.

The final story is about El Chivo (Echevarría) - an enigmatic, wild-looking figure that drifts around the periphery of the preceding stories until his tale is finally told. Chivo is fundamentally a hobo hitman who prefers the companionship of dogs rather than people, endlessly wandering the streets of Mexico City with his cart and menagerie of stray dogs. An ex-guerrilla, Chivo has spent 20 years in prison; long ago abandoning his wife and daughter. Many years later, he's a man beleaguered with regrets. He spies on his adult offspring from afar, never mustering the courage to approach her. In order to feed himself (and his stray dogs) he carries out the occasional contract killing. However, upon his latest assignment, he arrives at a few realisations about the importance of family and wishes to start anew.
If the first story concerns young love and the second about false love, then this story is about lost love. Emilio Echevarría carries this entire story. He has an immense screen presence that builds the character's mysterious qualities. His emotional scene in the end - a plea to his long lost daughter - is both extraordinary and heart-wrenching.

A theme crucial to the plot(s) of Amores Perros is the character's relationships with their canine companions. The dogs in this picture are about as significant as the human characters.
In spite of loving his dog more than anyone else in his entire family, Octavio willingly jeopardises the life of his dog in vicious fights to win his fortune.
Valerie loves her pooch Ritchie more than she would a child (and, one might argue, more than Daniel). When Ritchie gets trapped underneath the apartment floor, her dog's confinement begins to distinctively reflect her own.
El Chivo treats his mangy pack of dogs with greater respect than he accords to any human.
By elevating dogs to this level of importance, Alejandro González Iñárritu is making a proclamation about the level to which society has stooped. Amores Perros is a sombre commentary regarding a culture where persons care more about their dogs than they do about any other humans.

Amores Perros is a tremendously confronting film. Raw emotion plays a large role in the story and it's difficult to stomach. The explicit scenes depicting dog fights will prove gruelling and excruciating for animal lovers. These dogs seem to be genuinely fighting. As a matter of fact, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in England complained about the dog-fighting scenes to the British Board of Film Classification. The faint of heart may be appalled with the constant sight of dead, bloody dogs. These scenes, however, are necessary to the film - not solely to help create the film's atmosphere and emotion but to offer a parallel to the world these characters dwell in.
The film has been implemented magnificently. Music is employed effectively to provoke emotion in the viewer. The direction is wonderful and the editing sublime. Following his successful directorial debut, Iñárritu went on to direct 21 Grams and Babel - both of which received critical acclaim. His first film, though, still remains a stirring, visceral eulogy to life, loss and dog-fighting on the mean streets of Mexico.

Both poignant and astonishing, Iñárritu has directed a truly beautiful and confronting drama infused with the affluence, violence and poverty that constitute the soul of Mexico City. Highlighting the sharp contrast between poverty and the wealth of more affluent citizens, the film's deeply textured characterisations and locations generate a depth infrequently witnessed in Hollywood cinema. The sheer energy of Amores Perros is breathtaking. Director Iñárritu exudes a masterful control of story and style, blending the two impeccably to generate an incredible film. Although the visual flair is omnipresent, it never obstructs the story. Style over substance is an all-too-common occurrence of late, so it's refreshing (to say the least) to behold an extremely stylised film that never falls into this trap. With its stalwart cast, and featuring one of the most frenzied car chases in recent memory, this is one drama every cinema buff simply must see.

Iñárritu has surrounded himself with an amazing cast. Amores Perros is an ensemble piece, yet there isn't a poor performance in sight - even the trained dogs do solid jobs. The first story is undoubtedly stolen by the appealing Gael García Bernal. Bernal's performance throughout the film encompasses the correct gamut of emotion - ranging from utter joy and elation to anguish, desperation and widespread emotional devastation. The young actor manages everything with professionalism and skill. He is competently supported by Vanessa Bauche whose naïve yet optimistic Susana is tremendously believable. Her quandary seems hopeless, but she never gives up hope.
Emilio Echevarría places forth a magnificent and thoughtful performance as the hopeful El Chivo. He's simply magnetic, with radiating eyes staring out from beneath shaggy eyebrows. They are the eyes of an extremist, yet there's also a feeling of unspeakable loss in them as they gaze in the direction of his long-lost daughter. The realism conveyed by the actor contributes significantly to the story as he immerses himself into the character to a required standard.
The rest of the performances - Goya Toldeo as Valeria, Álvaro Guerrero as Daniel and Marco Pérez as Octavio's brother Ramiro - are all utterly brilliant.

This film was nominated for both a Golden Globe award and an Academy award in the category of Best Foreign Language Film. Amores Perros has also won a number of prestigious awards at various film festivals, including Cannes where it received the audience awards for Best Film (Critics Week and the Young Critics Award). In addition to these, the film has also received wide critical acclaim from both the critics and audiences alike (much-respected critic Roger Ebert wrote a glowing review of the film). Watching the film, it's not difficult to understand why. Iñárritu's directorial style contains elements of Tarantino, and others. Ultimately, though, the synthesis is all his own. Amores Perros is more than just a strong debut; it's terrific, gritty filmmaking.

The emotional roller coaster ride of Amores Perros commences with a frenetic, breathless car chase. This wonderful energy pervades the film until the dramatic climax. This is the kind of film that allows you to see the world differently after watching it. Contemplative, provocative and excellently made - this is first-rate filmmaking. It's horrific and tender, raw and lyrical - albeit sometimes excruciatingly overlong.

"Being tough won't make you smart."

8.4/10