Reviews by PvtCaboose91

Agent Griffin Dowd: "What's he into?"
Agent Jennifer Marsh: "High-end tech and low-end porn."
Agent Griffin Dowd: "You sure he's a guy? If it's a women, she could be my soulmate."

Psychological thrillers, such as Untraceable, are far more welcome these days than woeful gore porn films like Hostel or (god forbid) Saw with its never-ending flow of sequels of increasing mediocrity (as of 2008, Saw is up to its fifth entry...with six and seven already announced. I doubt even my great-grandkids will love long enough to witness the Saw series coming to a close). Untraceable fundamentally functions as a 100-minute episode of a police-procedural television crime drama. In the vein of psychological thrillers such as Se7en and Silence of the Lambs, director Gregory Hoblit has created a visceral thriller warning the use of technology against the populace.

Special Agent Jennifer Marsh (Lane) works at the Portland, Oregon FBI Cybercrimes Division. Along with her partner Griffin (Hanks), she generally spends her working hours shutting down music pirates and paedophiles. Jennifer is soon faced with a new and infinitely more deadly adversary when she comes across a website called KillWithMe. The tech-savvy lunatic running the site offers a live video feed to horrific acts of torture. After whetting the pervosphere's appetite with a live kitten sacrifice, the webmaster moves onto human victims. The live on-air murders accelerate with each click of a visitor's mouse. The serial killer behind the site is intelligent, and has worked out a technique to ensure the website is totally untraceable as well as impervious to attempts at removing it. The rumour of its existence catches fire, and in no time it's one of the hottest Internet stopovers. Jennifer quickly becomes obsessed with apprehending this impossibly clever internet predator, in the process finding herself ensnared in the killer's deadly game.

Untraceable is an enjoyable slick thriller: it's smart, merciless and tightly told without excessive exposition that lulls. In the 21st century the film's plot has great relevance and potency: a killer filming his victims die in elaborate ways while allowing the event to be viewed live on the internet. The more hits the site receives, the quicker and more violent a victim dies. "You know, if no-one was watching now, you'd just be sitting in water," the killer informs a victim who's neck-deep in water while a sulphuric acid drips into the tank (one drop for every internet hit the site receives). "But the whole world wants to watch you die, and they don't even know you." As the hit-counter goes berserk, the water becomes battery acid; his flesh rapidly corrodes and he dies as people watch from their computers, courtesy of live video streaming. What does this say about human nature these days? It's simple - the net has accelerated and magnified the morbid impulse to gawk at train wrecks. Over the years, the net has made us more uncivil and more inhuman.

At the core of Untraceable lies a moral question: if a person is being tortured online and you knew the URL where the streaming video can be found, would you visit the site? Furthermore, would your decision be influenced if you knew the person's death is hastened based on the volume of the site's traffic? These days snuff sites do exist. And, reportedly, in some communities they're quite popular. It doesn't take much expertise to uncover an online video of someone being genuinely executed. Seek and you shall find. Taking this one step further, what is it with mankind's fascination with the horrible? A majority of the population watches the news everyday (or listens to it) to learn about the latest local murders or tragic accidents. As we drive past an accident site, we slow down and observe the scene. Has mankind truly become sadistic voyeurs?

For the first half of Untraceable, the veneer of intelligence it exhibits is truly amazing. During said first half, this tense thriller is compelling in the way that a thriller like Se7en is compelling. Director Hoblit took pride in the realistic portrayal of an FBI pursuit of online criminals. Unfortunately, there are far too many unbelievable elements and obnoxious clichés in the film that the authenticity of the investigation process scarcely matters. Furthermore, it seems the more obvious methods of police work are jettisoned. After the first two victims are identified, the investigators never seem too fazed about establishing a possible connection between the two. As it is, if the (what would've been utterly obvious) connection was established the police would have had their criminal in the bag within the first hour of the film's runtime. But no - the five credited screenwriters exploit a formulaic structure and clichés to no end. Not a single cliché stone remains unturned in the film's rush to a jaw-droppingly stupid conclusion.

Most clichéd are the characters. Jennifer is a widowed woman and a neglectful mother with family problems. Colin Hanks' computer geek works with almost impossible efficiency. And towards the film's climax, a character reveals over the phone he's found something vital. Instead of relaying this vital information over the phone (not even in brief summary), this character explains he'll reveal it later on when he's face-to-face with the voice at the other end of the phone. We know he's not going to live very much longer. Poor guy never stood a chance.

Untraceable ends up containing stupid filler material as if the screenwriters were on autopilot during the writing process. Instead of this filler material, the writers should've been establishing more build-up. By this I mean the website automatically goes from the killing of a kitten to the killing of live humans. It jumps straight into the nitty gritty, and as a result the nitty gritty feels unearned. The killer should have whet appetites more extensively; perhaps starting with something small, like a rat, before moving up to larger house-hold pets. Another irritating aspect is the killer's impossible ability to capture prey without any trouble at all. And in the space of a few days he can somehow conceive an elaborate torture method for a victim. In these few days he's also capable of purchasing the proper equipment (it would cost a fortune...how does he pay for it all?) and rigging it up without the neighbours hearing any noise. The reasoning behind the killer's murder spree is also inadequate. It's nothing mind-blowing - in fact there's nothing to make you gasp or leave you speechless. It plays out as if nothing substantial is being revealed.

The rote thriller elements also make an appearance: red herrings, poking around dingy basements, and the good old reliable killer-coming-at-what-the-heroine-loves gambit. Another thing that irritated me is that without much promotion, the site is able to reach millions of hits within a matter of seconds. I don't think so...

To its credit, the film manages to avoid relying on gore to "build suspense". Hostel, for example, was simply gory murders with no substance. Untraceable is able to hold audiences in suspense with the intriguing premise. In fact, if you ignore the preposterous conclusion and endless clichés, this isn't a bad film. But in the last 20 minutes the film descends into a dark abyss of nothingness. It becomes a laundry list of clichés minus any originality or cleverness. It concludes with a whimper. The heroine, as if in a stupid horror film, continues doing things so asinine it's laughable. It doesn't provoke anymore chills...instead it provokes derisive chortles. It's as if the filmmakers who made the first two acts were replaced by Uwe Boll collaborators for the final act. It's frustrating that such a promising premise died without a trace.

The always dependable Diane Lane is competent in the title role. As she moves through the script's laboured contrivances, the good news is that Lane is easily watchable. She appears to have more emotional range than, say, Jodie Foster in Silence of the Lambs. The fact still remains that Lane is forced to endure a pretty disappointing script. Maybe she was initially seduced by the great first half of the script, or maybe she needed a paycheck. She occasionally lends a touch of class to an otherwise tacky thriller; striving to keep the script afloat during the last half with little success.
The supporting cast is effective, although moderately tiny. Colin Hanks has inherited a portion of his father's amiability and Billy Burke has the perfect square jaw for his part as the extraneous cop/pseudo-love interest.

Untraceable feels half-baked. However it's a competent suspenser that conveys a fairly potent moral statement about human nature in the digital age ruled by the internet. It's adeptly handled - an attractive colour scheme, a likable cast, fairly credible police procedures and some intense moments - but in the end it's ultimately undermined as it follows the modern thriller playbook to the letter. Into the last half it's cliché for exhausted cliché. This had the potential to be this decade's Se7en, but it's a missed opportunity.

"If that's water in that tank, pretty soon he's going to be sitting in battery acid."

6.1/10

"Spirits surround us on every side... they have driven me from hearth and home, from wife and child."

Prior to F.W. Murau's Nosferatu there was Robert Weine's silent horror masterpiece Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari (translated to the more common title; The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari). In the annals of the horror genre, these two instances of German Expressionistic cinema stand above all others as pivotal filmic creations. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is amid the few archetypal horror films accountable for influencing fundamental elements of horror. These aforementioned elements include: a mad scientist, a "monster" slave to its master (think Frankenstein...even though the novel was published a century beforehand), and the pangs of guilt triggered by beauty or kindness.

This is a strikingly different piece of cinematic history due to its sheer artistry and eerie atmosphere. Visually, the film is unmistakably Expressionistic: weird, contorted angles, dark shadows, as well as bizarre, surrealistic sets and just about anything else that could assault the normal perception. Cinematic Expressionism (often referred to as "Caligarism") fundamentally involves images speaking for themselves more than any text or speech. This film abides by said law. To design the stylised décor of the movie, director Weine hired Hermann Warm, Walter Rohrig and Walter Reimann. These men turned to the paintings of Edvard Munch and the Expressionist stage designs of revolutionary impresario Max Reinhardt to find inspiration for the cramped, crooked town of Holstenwall. It's a fairly dated film, but the sheer audacity of the film's physical and psychological conceit will haunt you forever.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is a film that boasts numerous firsts - the first horror film, the first psychological thriller, and the first German Expressionist film. This is a true classic of international cinema, and one of the most avant-garde horror films of its generation. The horror may be superficially insipid and tame, and the acting is unsurprisingly relatively hammy, but the eerie and unsettling atmosphere in addition to the eccentric imagery generates a lingering feeling of haunting unease - and that's what horror films should do.

This chilling tale is of a fairground barker who misuses his hypnotic powers to compel a mournful cipher into doing his evil bidding. Beginning with a harmless day of fun, Francis and his good friend Alan (Von Twardowski) attend a fair that recently rolled into town. The fair's main attraction is the enigmatic Dr. Caligari (Krauss) who's exhibiting a Somnambulist named Cesare (Veidt). Cesare has been in an uninterrupted sleep for twenty-three years, and he knows the secrets of the past and the future. A curious Alan inquires when he will die...and Cesare reveals he'll be dead by dawn tomorrow. The small town is held under a grip of fear when the prediction proves true and Alan is murdered. However, this is not the first in recent days. Caligari and his Somnambulist soon become the prime suspects in a series of killings. Francis vows not to sleep until he catches the killer.

"You fools, this man is plotting our doom! We die at dawn! He is Caligari!"

For a time during pre-production, Fritz Lang was originally assigned to direct. He claims he worked extensively on the screenplay, although this has never been proven. Given the brilliance of Lang's work (he went on to make masterpieces such as M and Metropolis) it would be fairly interesting to see what he'd have done with the film. If anything, the film could've used stronger direction. Robert Weine's direction is competent, but occasionally lacking solidity. Weine never made a masterpiece like this again, though he tried.

The final screenplay was written by Czech poet Hans Janowitz and Austrian artist Carl Mayer. A copy of the original shooting script disproves Janowitz's contention that the film's remarkable visual appearance had been devised by the writers. The design of Holstenwall was conceived by a separate creative team (whose names were mentioned before). On a more pragmatic level, an electricity shortage meant it was more efficient to paint in the lighting effects as opposed to using precious power. This subtle touch generates a heightened sense of menace.
Krauss and Veidt (who played Caligari and Cesare, respectively) were both Reinhardt alumni and were capable of fashioning their own grotesque make-up and exaggerated gestures.

German Expressionism can be perceived as inspiration for the depiction of supernatural images due to the techniques in relation to lights, shadows, out-of-focus images, and image juxtaposition. In spite of the surrealism depicted in Expressionistic movies, they always told a story related to common matters of human society. For example: the outsider (as shown in Murnau's Nosferatu) as well as prejudice and ignorance (Metropolis). The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari conveys a theme in relation to corruption that can easily affect humans, compelling them to act foolishly.

Robert Weine's The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari has always been considered a keystone of the horror genre. This is mainly a moody film, with its tone set by grotesque art direction. The deliberately ambiguous twist ending will come as a substantial jolt for a viewer. Rather than providing visceral shocks (ala Hostel, Saw, etc), Weine's masterwork plays games with the mind. It's interesting that while Germans created films with artistic merits, Americans were cranking out brilliant slapstick comedies (like the works of Charlie Chaplin) or morality tales. Thanks to the subversive nature of their films, the Germans ushered in a new era of filmmaking. Whether or not the film works depends entirely on your tolerance for silent cinema. If you have an interest in cinema in general, or if you're a horror fan keen to visit the roots of the genre, I recommend you check this one out. Robert Weine literally wrote the book of screen horror in 1920, and filmmakers have poured over it ever since.

"I must know everything. I must penetrate the heart of his secret! I must become Caligari!"

8.2/10

John Farley: "You have a father?"
Mr. Woodcock: "Of course I have a father, Farley, I'm not Jesus."

If you verbalise the title of Mr. Woodcock out loud, does it make you giggle? You see, applying the word "cock" to the title is ostensibly intended to be a humorous entrée to the juvenile, immature main course of laughs to follow. If you don't find the title at all funny (I mean it uses the words wood and cock...isn't it just so original and hysterical?), then it's recommended you give this one a miss. If the title makes you laugh uncontrollably, clearly you have the underdeveloped sense of humour and mental capacity that will therefore allow you to enjoy the trite humour within.

Mr. Woodcock had irrefutable potential. Billy Bob Thornton is an Oscar-winning, first-class character actor who has shown his talents as a comedian and as a serious performer. Highlights of his career include A Simple Plan, Sling Blade, Monster's Ball, Bandits and the excellent dark comedy Bad Santa. Even though Billy Bob handles everything thrown his way with equal aplomb, Mr. Woodcock is one irascible comic character too many and perhaps the actor's biggest misstep of nearly twenty years in front of the camera.

At face value, Mr. Woodcock should be perfect for Thornton. A merciless and hard-assed P.E. teacher with a sizeable sexual appetite? It's hard to imagine any actor but Billy Bob taking this role. Even without seeing the film one can easily imagine Billy Bob Thornton bombarding young children in the head with basketballs or clobbering little boys in the groin with a bat. For the first few minutes of the movie, Mr. Woodcock works. Thornton's sense of comedy is impeccable and his sadism is hysterical. But after a while the single-note movie fails to establish any degree of true depth outside mushiness and clichés. In the space of a few minutes, all potential is irreparably shattered.

The story tracks self-help guru John Farley (Scott) whose latest book has sparked a cult following worldwide. Due to this unexpected success, John's hometown offers him the prestigious honour of the "Corncob Key to the City". Delighted with the notion of receiving such an award, John is more than happy to return home and visit his widowed mother (Sarandon). Alas, upon arrival, John discovers his mother is dating his jackass former P.E. teacher - Mr. Jasper Woodcock (Thornton). Adding insult to injury, Woodcock's harsh and inhumane methods don't faze anyone else...and he's about to be rewarded with the title of "Educator of the Year". John remembers the physical and mental anguish he suffered in high school thanks to Woodcock. After all, Woodcock is a man who delights in torturing students and anyone else who strays within his sphere of influence. He physically beats up his students, he psychologically demeans them as well (calling them names and humiliating them in front of others) and he generally behaves like a total jerk to everyone around him. John doesn't want his mother mixed up with such a man, and sets out to reveal what a jerk Woodcock truly is.

There was a very prolonged and troubled production process for Mr. Woodcock. After initial test screenings were quite negative due to its darker tone, a new director was hired and re-shoots were undertaken. Despite this long process in an attempt to salvage a quality product, the film still fails. With Billy Bob Thornton's prior experience with these types of characters, the screenwriters (first-time screenwriters...by golly it's obvious!) and the director have seemingly left everything up to Billy Bob. As a consequence, the poor actor is left to flounder while cameras capture him doing so. At times, Mr. Woodcock is hilarious. The first few minutes of dark humour (during which Billy Bob physically and emotionally attacks students) provide insight into what the film could've been. It seems these initial few minutes of superior dark humour might've permeated the rest of the film before re-shooting commenced.

Mr. Woodcock fails for two specific reasons. The first (and most significant) flaw is the screenplay courtesy of Michael Carnes and Josh Gilbert. It's the basis for an entertaining film, but a script tidy-up is sorely required. The film is typically an American mainstream studio comedy: clichés breed furiously and predictability abounds. It's a cliché-ridden mess! Seann William Scott's character, John Farley, should have remained the self-helping, uplifting character all the way through. Instead he turns into a total mean-spirited jerk who's impossible to care about. Mr. Woodcock is an awful character. It's stupid, nonsensical, unbelievable and almost offensive that his methods of teaching go unnoticed. The harsh nature of his teaching is illegal. It's not possible for someone to bully students like that while going unnoticed. Every student in his classes would've complained about their treatment to their parents, causing the parents to contact the school and have Woodcock sacked. From experience, I've had bad teachers who got the sack after treating students badly. Compared to Woodcock, these teachers are saints. And it's impossible to think people in the local community just accept such a jerk as Woodcock. He's openly horrible to everyone he meets! He even tells John "I don't do sorry. Sorry is for criminals and screw-ups, and I'm neither one". Uh huh...

The lovely and gracious Susan Sarandon is given a terrible character to work with. What could possibly prompt her to love Woodcock? What do the whole town see in Woodcock? Everyone in the film is an idiot - from the main characters to the supporting players, to John Farley's old friends and the little cretins in a burger joint. The script offers two cruel characters vying for the honour of being the biggest asshole in town. All the dramatic mush should have been axed. Billy Bob Thornton's golden moments as a gym teacher should've been further exploited. If his character hasn't been given the sack for his awful teaching methods, there should at least be additional moments of utter hilarity showcasing Woodcock abusing students in amusing ways. The right actors have been placed in the right roles, but the writing lets them down.

The other substantial problem with the film is the diluted content for the acquisition of a PG-13 rating from the MPAA for heightened ticket sales. If Billy Bob Thornton is playing a mean-spirited, bitter old gym teacher (almost a facsimile of his character from School for Scoundrels) then a few f-bombs and other obscenities must be used. Billy Bob is simply a poet when it comes to profanity. Bad Santa, for example, wouldn't be as brilliant if it weren't for the foul language and explicit content. If that form of dark humour pervaded Mr. Woodcock we'd have a Bad Santa clone...but at least it'd be a fun and enjoyable clone as opposed to this depressing nightmare. There are sub-plots of a heavy sexual nature, and adhering to a family-friendly rating further handicaps the film. In a PG-13 guise, Mr Woodcock is far too tame to be interesting given the nature of the central character. For its short runtime, the film is too bland and meek to be enjoyable. It isn't memorable, and you won't want to watch it again. You'll forget you even saw the film merely hours after watching it.

Seann William Scott basically plays an adult version of Steve Stifler; reprising his American Pie chore of complaining about his mother having sex with someone. Billy Bob appears to sleepwalk...well, sleepact throughout the film. Susan Sarandon is mediocre at best. There's also Ethan Suplee who appears to be putting in an effort, and Amy Poehler who tries but is underused as the film's voice of reason.

Mr. Woodcock had considerable potential, but at the end of the day it's a cheap by-the-numbers Hollywood comedy that lacks bite. The actors try their hardest, but are let down by the mundane screenplay. There's no excuse for anyone to waste their time on this fluffy piece of crap. Not the cast + crew who poured so much effort into it, nor the studio who misused money to fund this, or the audiences forced to endure this irritating experience. It's only more depressing to think of all the endless delays, re-shoots and different directors who tried to do something with it. It's occasionally enjoyable and it passes the time, but it could've been so much more. 40% of the film is watchable (sometimes worthy of a chuckle), but the other 60% makes it too hard to recommend.

3.8/10

"Just close your eyes, but keep your mind wide open."

In an era dominated by children's fantasy movies containing special effects that overwhelm instead of enhance, Bridge to Terabithia is a unique movie that celebrates the virtues of imagination, friendship and family. The marketing campaign for Bridge to Terabithia appeared to suggest the film would be just another juvenile fantasy film ala Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter. Not that the trailers implied something particularly bad - as a fantasy flick for the children you could do worse - but there was a distinct impression that we'd seen it all before. Given that I absolutely abhor the Harry Potter series and was lukewarm towards the first Narnia movie, the concept of Bridge to Terabithia wasn't exactly agreeable. Only those familiar with Katherine Paterson's 1977 novel of the same name knew these initial impressions were false.

As it turns out, Bridge to Terabithia doesn't deliver fantasy yarn with mythological creatures and magic. As an alternative the film offers a story of youths struggling to cope with unforgiving realities by absconding into the realm of imagination. It's infused a lot of heart, and it touches on serious issues. While being marred by numerous script banalities and occasionally preposterous clichés, it could've been far worse.

Jesse Aarons (Hutcherson) resides in a semi-rural community with his poor family. He's the only boy in a family of girls, and the children at school frequently bully him. Suffering from the merciless torment of bullying at school and an irritating family, Jess retreats into the world of his drawings to find solace. During his summer break Jess trains to be the fastest runner at his school. Upon the commencement of school he loses a "boys only" race to a new girl named Leslie (Robb). Despite their awkward introduction, the two begin bonding and realise they have much in common. Leslie opens a new world of imagination for Jess. Together they conceive the secret magical kingdom of Terabithia in the woods behind their homes. This imaginary kingdom (in which Leslie and Jess dub themselves king and queen) functions as a haven to escape the troubles of their mundane school lives. As life begins to look up for the two kindred spirits, reality intrudes.

Authors like C.S. Lewis and J.K. Rowling may write their novels about youngsters, but they also intend for their work to reach an adult audience. Katherine Paterson wrote Bridge to Terabithia aimed at children mainly as a coping mechanism for her son David (who wrote the first draft of the screenplay for this filmic adaptation in addition to acting as a producer). Keep this in mind, and Bridge to Terabithia works on its own terms for the first three quarters. It offers valuable lessons about the power of friendship and handling problems without resorting to violence. It also teaches lessons about growing up, about coming of age, the significance of family and the need for dreams. It's a kiddie flick more reliant on realism as opposed to pure fantasy.

But the film faithfully follows the novel, meaning it ends with a tragedy. Said tragedy is a shocking and powerful reminder of life's unfortunate ironies. Nevertheless, both the book and novel spend their first three quarters establishing a sweet story told in a delightful juvenile tone. The ending seems like a cheap, manipulative gimmick designed primarily to wrench a quick, emotional response from its audience and avoid the clichés. The film could have been fun for the whole family, but it touches on countless issues aimed more at adults. Financial trouble at home, not living up to one's father's expectations, and so on. Children won't even want to think about this...they'll want special effects and mythical creatures of which there is precious little.

Adult issues aside, Bridge to Terabithia may work for children. For aging teenagers and adults, however, the overuse of clichés is painfully obvious. All characters are stereotyped, leading to a series of predictable and childish events. Jess is constantly bullied at school. Yet he seems like a normal, handsome young kid of regular intelligence and athleticism. Why is there any reason for him to be bullied? It doesn't make sense for the school kids on the bus to ridicule Jess as being a farm boy when the bus is picking them all up from the countryside. Everything at Jesse's school is also preposterously clichéd. The school is shown as a pristine place of higher learning, full of horrible little cretins that appear to bully for the sake of bullying. The English teacher (Wolfe) is a tyrant. The music teacher (Deschanel) is attractive and fun, doing nothing but allowing the kids to join in joyful songs without much learning happening. The school bus driver is a freakish idiot. The school yard isn't even supervised! It isn't possible for bullies to charge admission to students trying to use the toilet without the school personnel realising or being informed. Pranks are played by the main characters, which frankly seems to defeat the message the film tries to convey so frequently. 50% of the film's middle section is based around these absurd conventions. It also continues to bog with repetitive conversations and sub-plots leading no-where that fill up space (such as the animal in the greenhouse and Jesse's crush on his music teacher).

Beautiful New Zealand locations are utilised for the film to gestate within. Director Gabor Csupo is perhaps largely recognised for his Rugrats empire. He handles the material competently. The atmosphere is particularly masterful. There's wonderful music courtesy of composer Aaron Zigman. The film is also extraordinarily shot by Michael Chapman who has twice been nominated for an Oscar (he worked on Raging Bull, for example). Peter Jackson's WETA Digital was responsible for the effects. The special effects wizardry is quite incredible to behold.

In terms of visuals, the film is very appealing. However, the mythical creatures too often mix into the real world too unbelievably. The results are baffling and disjointed. Case in point: how can an imaginary flying creature pick up Leslie? Another example: as Jess falls from the top of a tree, he's saved by a troll who catches him before he hits the ground. Erm...how can something in your imagination stop you from hitting the ground and succumbing to injury? Yes, they are just playing and imagining, but the line between reality and imaginary is too blurred and ambiguous. In addition, actually showing us what the kids are imagining detracts from the imagination of the novel. It'd be fine if the creatures made no contact with the kids, but how are we supposed to believe the intimate interaction? The film sits on the uncomfortable line between all-out fantasy and all-out drama. This mishmash of the two is fairly original, but the management of the material is incredibly poor.

Josh Hutcherson and AnnaSophia Robb both turn in fabulous performances. As the film descends into tediousness and cheesiness, both Hutcherson and Robb manage to keep the film afloat. Robb is particularly stunning. After her irritating performance in Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory one would never expect her to exude such charm and credibility. It's a pleasure to watch this young actress. Robb seems poised to become one of Hollywood's next great child stars. Knowing how to portray Leslie's shrewdness and exclusivity as inadvertent, incidental, or even unwitting, Robb is perfect as the kind of girl who can always beat the boys at sport...and they would still love her for it.
The underused supporting cast are also excellent. Robert Patrick is a particular stand-out. He's a realistic father figure and a focused performer. Also being featured is the beautiful Zooey Deschanel as the fun music teacher. Her character is stereotyped, but she handles her role with great skill. Young Bailee Madison also provides an admirable performance.

Overall, I enjoyed Bridge to Terabithia: aesthetically pleasing imagery, fine performances and only a slight dependence on computer effects. It doesn't rely on primitive humour (i.e. fart gags) to entertain, nor does it turn into an all-out fantasy spectacle. It's a simple story illustrating that the best escape from a less-than-ideal reality is through imagination and dreams. In broad strokes, the film recalls elements of Heavenly Creatures, Pan's Labyrinth and My Girl whilst being distinctively different at the same time. There are severe script troubles, but the first three quarters of the movie are destined to please the entire family. The final quarter is disappointing; nevertheless it'll at least please enthusiasts of the book who are seeking faithfulness to the source material.

"We rule Terabithia, and nothing crushes us!"

5.9/10

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Japan's premier animator Hayao Miyazaki is often described as the "Japanese Walt Disney". Over the years, Miyazaki and Isao Takahata's Studio Ghibli has been responsible for countless animated masterpieces. From the earlier Grave of the Fireflies to the more recent Spirited Away and Princess Mononoke, Studio Ghibli has persistently bestowed audiences with endearing animated features unlike any other. Japanese anime is a genre unto itself. Not being fond of anime can be equated with not being fond of American films. Anime has become far too stereotyped after inane products such as Pokemon and the abysmal Dragon Ball Z. There's such an extensive multiplicity of styles that it's impossible to abhor anime as a whole.

Hayao Miyazaki's My Neighbor Totoro (also known by its original foreign title of Tonari no Totoro) is a delightful film, conveying a wonderful story of childhood innocence, fantasy, and spending time with nature. Miyazaki has the ability to keep any viewer of any age entranced in the potentially mundane happenings. The beauty of My Neighbor Totoro is in its willingness to eschew the clichés. American animation is generally dumbed down, spelling out every plot point with extensive explication in the form of banal dialogue. The sharing of information in this film is limited to realistic dialogue between well-built characters as opposed to blatant trite.

The film also transports the audience to a place where there is no evil. Like the majority of Miyazaki's pictures, My Neighbor Totoro never relies on antagonists for the central characters to defeat. Rather than focusing on conflict, this is a story about a wonderful, magical, fantastical episode in the lives of two young children. This sweet, charming and adorable tale is narratively simplistic, but it's a refreshing movie to revisit all these decades later.

Two sisters named Satsuki (voiced by Noriko Hidaka in the original Japanese version and Dakota Fanning in the 2005 Disney dub) and Mei (voiced by Chika Sakamoto in the Japanese version and Elle Fanning in Disney's 2005 version) are moving with their father to the countryside to be near their ailing mother. Almost immediately the girls are delighted with the house and are intrigued by the strange creatures inhabiting the mystical surrounding forests. They meet a large, furry creature (big, cuddly, fluffy and cute - i.e. a living embodiment of any plush toy a child would love) known as Totoro (apparently Mei's mispronunciation for the Japanese word for "troll") with whom they share several magical adventures.
Throughout the film there's a charming assortment of different creatures. From the cute, smaller critter (which has become the Studio Ghibli logo) to the larger, koala-like creature to maniacally-grinning Cheshire Cat-bus.

My Neighbor Totoro is an enthralling, beautiful film crafted by one of the best animation directors of all time. Those familiar with Hayao Miyazaki's other features will be aware of his ability to construct terrific narratives that warm the heart and feed the mind...My Neighbor Totoro is no different. The art and animation found within the film can be described as relatively simple. There are stunning images of glorious vistas to behold, yet the detail is admirably (and effectively) kept to a relative minimum. The lack of realistic niceties enhances the film's atmosphere as simple but meticulous lines are blended with ornate colours to provide an overall visual warmth that establishes the mood perfectly for the story. The music is particularly amazing. There are glorious, atmospheric pieces of music played throughout the film. Much like Spirited Away, My Neighbor Totoro might be read as a metaphor for Japan itself; keen to reconnect with nature and spirit after war and urban life has made society ill. However the congregation of characters aren't allegories: the children behave exactly as regular children do, with that screwed-face mock courage that becomes panic when confronted with a surprise.

Miyazaki never adheres to the clichés we'd witness in an American animated feature. There is no condescension, especially not from the parents who seem supportive of their daughters' joy in the magic only children can see. Satsuki and Mei are encouraged by their dad to show respect for the great camphor tree and the spirits it holds. American animation is uniformly watchable, but it's generally quite formulaic. Miyazaki creates a new set of rules for this film as evident in the parents who never diminish the children finding enjoyment in the critters. If this was an American feature the parents wouldn't believe in the magical entities, leading to a series of gags where Totoro and his wacky sidekicks would land Satsuki in trouble before turning invisible.

The character of Totoro is also an unconventional creation. He merely growls a few simple syllables instead of talking. Had this been American, Totoro would speak with the wisecracking voice of Ray Romano or Eddie Murphy. The cat-bus (that simply purrs throughout the film) would be voiced by John Goodman.

My Neighbor Totoro also never gets bogged down in sentimental claptrapping. The little boy who's visibly interested in Satsuki acts nobly towards her, but is never given a chance to be preposterously heroic. There is no clichéd love story either. Had this been an American animation film he'd have a bigger part and he'd probably save Satsuki and Mei from an evil forest monster voiced by James Woods or Jeremy Irons. Best of all, the fantastical creatures are never proved to be imaginative or real. The viewer is left to decide. And, unlike Disney features, My Neighbor Totoro was never tainted with a string of direct-to-DVD sequels. Had sequels been devised, the first would likely follow Totoro moving to the big city and join the NBA. In the next sequel we'd visit Satsuki as an adult happily married who begins seeing glimpses of Totoro and his critter pals again. At the end of every sequel, everyone would learn a valuable lesson about the meaning of family.

Following its international release, My Neighbor Totoro received its inevitable English dub. But fear is unwarranted...the English dubs are extremely well-produced. Two English dubs are available, both of which are faithful: the story was not altered, and the translation is reportedly very close to the original. For the 2005 Disney version (I didn't have access to the other dub), Dakota and Elle Fanning provide the voices of the two young girls. They both give their characters satisfying exuberance and adequate charm. Tim Daly, Lea Salonga and Pat Carroll also join the voice cast.

There's no denying that My Neighbor Totoro is a cute, sweet fairytale that'll be enjoyed by adults and children alike. However it does take a fairly simplistic approach towards its central ideas, and it feels a tad lightweight when compared to later features such as Spirited Away. This is a remarkable film that never feels the need to explain every detail or dumb down its message. The film made such an impact that Miyazaki chose an image of a cute little critter from the film as the logo for Studio Ghibli.
My Neighbor Totoro is perhaps Miyazaki's most personal film as it reflects his childhood. The film is utterly brilliant, and it's imbued with various cute moments capable of making an audience howl with laughter. Highly recommended!

Trivia fact: Upon theatrical debut the film was shown in a double-feature with the slightly superior Grave of the Fireflies as the distributor apparently thought it unmarketable.

8.8/10

"Our world as we know it is much simpler... to put to an end than you might think."

Body of Lies is director Ridley Scott's contribution to the multitude of movies concerning America's War on Terror. The film was released in the shadow of similar films such as The Kingdom, Stop-Loss and In the Valley of Elah. Ridley's movie is an intricate little beast composed for a very specific type of movie-goer - the thinking movie-goer. With the release date just subsequent to the 2008 summer season (highlights included The Dark Knight, Iron Man and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) the film practically tiptoed into cinemas with the stealth of the CIA operatives at the centre of this crackling thriller.

Body of Lies is a visceral, gritty, gripping adaptation of the 2007 novel by Washington Post foreign-affairs columnist David Ignatius. Screenwriter William Monahan (who earned an Oscar for Martin Scorsese's The Departed) has constructed an incisive, albeit dramatically uninvolving examination of the War on Terror as conducted on the ground and back in the US in offices, homes, suburban playgrounds and HQs - mostly via cell phones. Monahan's script expresses the stimulating and profound perception that cynicism and hope can subsist alongside one another, and merge into a singular expression of both from time to time. It's this complexity and sophistication that distances Body of Lies from the swarm of other films concerning America's War on Terror. Case in point: Peter Berg's The Kingdom was a mere action film and essentially propaganda. Body of Lies never feels the need to promote America - instead the self-absorbed personalities behind desks back home lie constantly while the poor men in the field face the consequences. Americans are shown as dishonest, deceptive and vulnerable, which is frankly a breath of fresh air. Scriptwriter Monahan refuses to paint any side of the ongoing conflict as good or bad. Americans lie. Jordanians lie. Muslims kill helpless civilians. It's this quality which allows Body of Lies to rise above the stereotypes of preachy left-wing Hollywood. But at the end of the day it usually fails to engage. As a result we're left with Leonardo DiCaprio running around the Middle East for two hours as Russell Crowe lies in his ear.

"Nobody's innocent in this shit."

Roger Ferris (DiCaprio) supervises intelligence in the Far East for the CIA: he's a sophisticated operative negotiating hot zones in the Middle East while no-one close to him makes it out alive. He trusts his life to a dispassionate voice on the other end of a secure phone line. Said voice is that of Ed Hoffman (Crowe). Ed rages war from a laptop in his living room in the suburbs in Washington, dictating Ferris' orders. When a new extremist group begins bombing cities, Ferris is relocated to Jordan. To lure this new terrorist leader out into the open, Ferris penetrates the world of underground financing and frantic martyrs, in addition to forming a shaky alliance with the head of Jordanian Special Ops. The quest takes Ferris across Iraq, Jordan, Washington and Dubai. But the closer he gets to the target, the more he finds himself trapped in a hall of mirrors where allies are only as good as their last deception, and trust becomes the most dangerous tactic of all. Ferris becomes embroiled in a cat-and mouse-game during which the objective is information and the currency is personal integrity.

As well as being an intense drama, Body of Lies also serves as a globe-trotting espionage thriller. At its core, it's the plot of a James Bond film transplanted into the Middle East (without the frequent action). For the most part, Body of Lies works as its tense and competently handled. But the movie is overly talkative without managing to deliver an innovative message. There's more action in a standard episode of 24 than in this two-hour dialogue-driven drama. The dialogue is terse and stilted, with the promising plot too convoluted and uninteresting. This is a listen-up-or-you'll-miss-something, join-the-dots production that won't generate overwhelming ticket sales. Dramatically, the script falls flat into the final third. It follows the conventions of a tradition action movie; however it even fails to satisfy on a pure entertainment level. There's a love interest included for the sake of a love interest. She serves no purpose other than to provide momentum for the finale. It successfully managed to eschew clichés and predictability for a majority of its running time before subsequently succumbing to them late into the game. It's a drastically disappointing shift.

"You Americans are incapable of secrets because of your democracy."

Movies regarding the war in Iraq have been a difficult sell for the most part. Body of Lies appears more attractive due to its substantial star power. Ridley Scott at the helm, Russell Crowe and Leo DiCaprio (fresh from his acclaimed performances in Blood Diamond and The Departed which earned him several prestigious award nominations) being featured as the primary acting talent? Suddenly things are more interesting. Even better: William Monahan penned the script.
Ridley Scott is one of the select A-list directors capable of infusing a blockbuster with a certain level of artistry and depth. He makes every single shot count. Somehow, though, all the ingredients don't coalesce into anything overly brilliant. To be frank, it's a bit of a snoozer. It fails to engage or rivet a viewer on a significant level. On occasion, for instance the enthralling helicopter chase, the film boasts moments of sheer brilliance. However there just isn't an adequate quantity of these moments. 2006's Blood Diamond is of the standard Body of Lies should've reached. Edward Zwick's Blood Diamond contained great dialogue, searing action and a coherent story that flowed satisfyingly. Body of Lies is too boring too frequently. Ridley Scott's direction is competent and meticulous for sure, but the dialogue underwhelms and the film concludes with a muted whimper. At the end of the day, 60% of the story seems utterly pointless.

Russell Crowe reportedly gained 63 pounds for his role. Honestly, one has to wonder why. It seems like the most useless body transformation in history.
There's a lethal problem in the interaction between Crowe and DiCaprio - it's usually via phone. Nevertheless, Crowe is amusing as he embraces his inner cad and barks orders to DiCaprio's Roger Ferris while driving kids to soccer practise. Crowe's performance is fairly subdued, but he's acceptable and credible. DiCaprio is sufficiently charming and intense. But the role never gives him anything challenging, and ultimately he never seems like someone capable of seamlessly blending into the Arab culture. Mark Strong is the particular stand-out of the cast.

Overall, Body of Lies is a mediocre picture that, despite fantastic visuals, lacks dramatic momentum. There's an unfortunate failure to keep an audience involved in the sprawling, overlong, confusing saga. Be that as it may, there are numerous strong points such as Ridley Scott's artistic direction, nail-biting suspense and incredible action. At times it's truly dazzling. Other times it's too dull and boring for words.

"Ain't nobody likes the Middle East, buddy. There's nothing here to like."

6.8/10

"You take the trouble to construct a civilization, to build a society based on the principles of... of principle. You make government and art and realize that they are, must be, both the same. You bring things to the saddest of all points, to the point where there is something to lose. Then, all at once, through all the music, through all the sensible sounds of men building, attempting, comes the Dies Irae. And what is it? What does the trumpet sound? Up yours."

One of the greatest directorial debuts in cinematic history came from Mike Nichols who helmed this 1966 firestorm of emotion and gripping drama, faithfully adapted from Edward Albee's famous play. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is a compelling, powerful character study of four contemptible characters brought together for an unforgettable night of booze, cigarettes, tension and the edification of secrets. Nichols' auspicious debut feature is a microcosm of human relationships in all their arduous complexities.

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is a moral modernist fable that hits a raw nerve in audiences for its sheer emotional brutality and the utilisation of profanity (as a matter of fact, this was the first film in history to have the term "bugger" spoken in its dialogue).
This is undeniably a love it or hate it affair. The film is strangely riveting and potent, but it won't likely brighten one's day. It's all-out drama from the first frame 'til the last. It'd be fair to say it gets quite excruciating at times due to the lack of variety and the occasionally head-aching nature of the proceedings. It's relentless realism, infused with heavy adult themes and a depressing inversion of the idyllic 1960's married couple image. By all accounts, it's extremely hard to swallow. Even Kathleen Turner (who starred in a Broadway run of the play) wrinkled her nose at the mere mention of the film version. While not particularly enjoyable, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? boasts four fine performances (all of which were nominated for Academy Awards) and the atmosphere is masterful.

This noir-ish drama chronicles one profane and agonising night in the pathological marriage of two tortured souls: middle-aged History professor George (Burton) and his carping wife Martha (Taylor). After a party, George and Martha return home before welcoming another couple for a late-night nightcap: Biology professor Nick (Segal) and his naïve young bride Honey (Dennis). The night soon transforms into a harrowing descent into the private lives of these two couples. Over the course of this night (fast becoming early morning) the polished veneer of the hosts deteriorates grotesquely, and the character begins to crumble both mentally and physically. As Martha becomes brutal and abusive, and as George responds in questionable ways, the horrified Nick and Honey realise they could be witnessing a troubling preview of what their married lives may eventually become.

Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton had appeared together years earlier in the failed epic Cleopatra. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? denotes the finest filmic hour of Taylor and Burton (together, that is). Their searing chemistry burns up the screen. Violent tempers flare and abusive insults fly across the room. The production period was far from easy. Elizabeth Taylor struggled to cope with Nichols' exacting direction and his frequent use of intrusive close-ups to capture every vindictive jibe and wounded riposte as she and Burton cut deeply into each other's private misery. Indeed, it has been claimed that the filming of this picture placed the couple's marriage under considerable strain, and their relationship never recovered. It's powerful watching the performances of Taylor and Burton while considering the production troubles. Taylor is particularly electrifying; transforming from a joking, carping house-wife to an emotional wreck. Taylor earned an Academy Award for her performance (Burton was additionally nominated), while both of them earned BAFTA awards.

Sandy Dennis also won an Oscar for her compelling performance. The shoot was most troubling for Sandy, who suffered a tragic miscarriage shortly after production wrapped. George Segal (also nominated for an Oscar) and Sandy Dennis as the young couple convey an idealism and naïveté that make them emotionally malleable - ideal victims for the hosts. The film is utterly transfixing for its two-hour duration thanks to these sublime performances.

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is an emotionally-straining, gripping and poignant film featuring strong direction, precise editing and beautiful black & white photography. This filmic version is specifically separate from the play due to its symbolic camera angles. The filmmakers have the advantage of emphasising the upper hand in a power struggle by employing low or high angle shots. There are also skewed angles and intriguing hand-held camera movements. These wonderful visuals are accompanied by an eerie sound mix and melancholy music.
The script contains gritty realism in its dialogue. It's ugly, haunting and stirring listening to these peculiar personalities exchanging insults and verbal abuse. This is a brilliant film that has a powerful impact on its audience all these years later. The film was vigorously rehearsed like a play over a gruelling three-week period before the cameras rolled; hence allowing the actors to more easily immerse themselves into the characters.

Overall, Who's Afraid of Virginian Woolf? won't ever be regarded as an entertaining or bright experience. It's firmly positioned in a disturbing reality, permeated with seemingly insane characters and tragic occurrences. It builds to a fine conclusion that's beautifully acted and touching. This is strong stuff and it's intensely watchable...but it ain't for children and it's not a film you'll want to watch again anytime soon. If anything must be criticised, it'd be the use of pure drama. It's also grossly overlong, stretching things into agonising monotony at times.

This was the first film in history to carry the MPAA tag "No one under 18 will be admitted unless accompanied by their parent" during its theatrical run. It was also the first movie to successfully challenge the Production Code Office and eventually force the MPAA to overhaul the Production Code Seal with the eventual classification system in 1968.

"Martha, in my mind you're buried in cement right up to the neck. No, up to the nose, it's much quieter."

7.8/10

"Yesterday, we received a call from a vet who had a dog brought in with an unknown disease. The dog went into a coma and a few moments later came to, and was extraordinarily aggressive. He started attacking all of the pets at the clinic. We had to give him several tranquilizers and then put him to sleep. We followed the chip in his ear, which led us to this building."

To most horror aficionados, the words "found footage" will bring back memories of 1999's The Blair Witch Project and the insurmountable hype surrounding this low-budget independent picture. Due to the popularity and cult following of Blair Witch, the "found footage" genre was swiftly established.
[Rec] is a Spanish addition to the genre. It's a masterful mixture of Blair Witch and Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later... that, simply put, will scare the absolute hell out of you! [Rec] is a relentlessly scary, brilliantly conceived, marvellously executed and laudably effective horror film. It permits little respite, thus little chance for you to catch your breath. By the end you'll be gasping for air and begging for mercy. The movie is completely unyielding from the first frame 'til the last. It's riveting and utterly petrifying at a taut running time of about 75 minutes.

Forget Cloverfield and Diary of the Dead (two other recent "found footage" flicks), as [Rec] is more focused and far more terrifying. In Cloverfield a group of party-goers brave the destroyed streets and subways of monster-torn Manhattan. Diary of the Dead follows film students roaming the back roads of Pennsylvania as they avoid a zombie plague. In [Rec] - as in the record button on a camera - the action is confined to a single claustrophobic apartment block and the nature of the threat is mysterious. The film is a deft combination of blatant gory genre thrills and terror of the unknown. Nothing is more terrifying than being trapped in a pitch black room struggling for light as eerie noises fill the air. It's a thrilling, enthralling, captivating experience and the best of its kind. You want nightmares? You'll get 'em for sure! This is the greatest horror film since Neil Marshall's The Descent.

In tradition with similar films of the sub-genre, the entire flick is merely raw, unedited footage as if someone recovered a tape and viewed the contents. [Rec] opens with a fairly soft, gentle prologue as we're introduced to the crew of a late-night reality TV show called While You're Sleeping - invisible cameraman Pablo (Rosso) and presenter Ángela (Velasco). The two will be covering the activities at a local fire station for the duration of the night. Ángela (with trusty cameraman Pablo) tours the station; examining equipment and interviewing the squad. However boredom sets in as emergencies are scarce and the phone fails to ring. The monotony of the situation is soon broken when the team is summoned by a seemingly innocuous call: an old woman is trapped in her apartment. The news team accompany the firemen in the hope of getting an interesting scoop; instead they become trapped in the apartment building that's suddenly quarantined for mysterious reasons. An infection begins spreading throughout the building...and all hell breaks loose as everyone is soon fighting for their lives while Ángela records a running commentary.

"It's nearly 2 A.M. and we're still sealed in this building that we came to with the firemen earlier this evening, to assist an elderly woman who later attacked a policeman and a fireman. They're both in critical condition. The police won't let us leave and are giving us no explanations."

Cranking the tension up to 11, Spanish co-directors Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza utilise every tool at their disposal to frighten and disturb, from shutting out the lights to the sudden menacing presence of an "infected" individual. This is high-quality horror that terrifies on a truly primal level. This is perhaps the correct antidote to suppress the constant conventional horror outings of the early 21st century. [Rec] is already the stuff of nightmares, but the ingeniousness of the film is telling the story using the news team's hand-held camera. This device was used to great effect in the J.J. Abrams blockbuster Cloverfield, but [Rec] takes things to a whole new level. Cloverfield followed party-goers filming a monster attack on the city because they want to document the event. Diary of the Dead used the technique for the sake of using the technique. In [Rec] the characters have a genuine reason to keep the camera rolling - they're despondent, arrogant journalists sitting on the story of their lives. Beyond that, the camera becomes a method for the victims to record their testimonies and they believe it can be exploited as proof such an occurrence actually transpired.

At about the 50-minute mark, the film's brilliance suddenly elevates once again. For the remaining 20 minutes the film is riveting and fast-paced. It builds to an absolutely incredible climax that refuses mercy to everyone.

"There are incredible security measures in place. We know nothing. They haven't told us a thing. We saw special forces, health inspectors wearing suits and masks, and it's not very comforting."

The film is carried by a remarkable screenplay. In order for us to feel emotionally connected to the characters during the catastrophe, solid characterisations are imperative. Regardless of the film's "found footage" style, the sprawling congregation of characters are adequately developed. Opening with straight-to-camera intros for Ángela's TV show, the writer-directors quickly sketch her character - a sassy, resourceful reporter - before locking us in the apartment block and tossing away the key. Playing the realism card, the journalists wish to interview the residents of the apartment building as the night grows more intense. These interviews function effectively as character development. However, the film is occasionally undermined by the sheer idiocy of the characters. While escape plans are devised late into the game, the most obvious exit is finally mentioned. Every so often it's problematical to connect with the characters on a truly human level as they act like clichéd, one-dimensional horror victims.

The shaky-cam style employed for [Rec] has naturally been subjected to bitter criticisms. There are no prologues or epilogues in the form of text or narration. From start to finish, the zombie-type threat is obscured in anonymity. To be frank, text or voice-over explication would subdue the impact. The film is simply intended to be an unmolested copy of a tape recovered at the scene, and this illusion is never severely ruined. The shaky-cam style works effectively as we are deafened by each gun-shot and are shaken up by each attack or bone-chilling happening. The faux docu hand-held technique amps up the single-location claustrophobia brilliantly. Wobbly-cam shots add to the confusion as [Rec] reels out the customary zombie movie clichés: shouting supporting characters, a kiddie zombie and callous authorities failing to do anything useful (who, in an utter masterstroke, are glimpsed only as silhouettes as they tightly pack the building in biohazard plastic).

The acting is uniformly excellent. This is naturalistic acting at its finest. Never do any actors strike an incorrect note, nor are they contrived. Velasco is particularly convincing as the gormless reporter and her subsequent terror is all the more infectious as a result. There's strong support from the surrounding actors, including Ferran Terraza, Jorge Serrano, David Vert and Vicente Gil. The filmmakers keep the dialogue largely improvisational, elevating the realism. The effective filming approach merged with such brilliant acting allows you to forget that this is just a movie. The edge-of-your-seat tension is sustained until the very last second. Films of this standard are few and far between.

"There's something more to this place. Our cells don't work. Neither does the T.V. or radio. We're isolated."

[Rec] is a consummate brew of high-class shocks and verité, generating one of the best horror films of recent memory. This is a rare cinematic treat - a horror film that relies on suspense created by fear of the unknown as opposed to geysers of blood and gore. This is a runaway rollercoaster of a fright flick that's so scary it'll leave you squirming in your seat. From the gentle opening to the shocking climax, I was riveted. Never did I even glance at my watch or allow my eyes to focus on anything other than the screen. Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza orchestrate a number of nail-bitingly suspenseful sequences as well as some genuine jump-out-of-your-seat moments. Suffice to say, nothing in the previous work of the joint directors could have prepared us for the nerve-shredding intensity of these 75 minutes of perfectly formed terror and peril. This is a sublime, well-done little flick that demands to be seen at the earliest opportunity. It's so good that Sony's Screen Gens snapped up the rights for a US remake entitled Quarantine. Highly [Rec]ommended!

"We have to tape everything, Pablo. For fuck's sake.

8.8/10

Maid Marian: "Why, you speak treason!"
Robin Hood: "Fluently."

Even after numerous decades and incalculable subsequent retellings of the Robin Hood legend, Warner Bros.' 1938 production of The Adventures of Robin Hood is still the definitive filmic retelling of the swashbuckling hero. Whether or not you're accustomed to this wonderful 1938 production, you'll discover everything here that you've always remembered about Robin Hood: his fight with Little John, Friar Tuck's rotund rascality, the rescue from the gallows, the romance, the swordplay and even reasoning for Robin's reputation - stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.

The Adventures of Robin Hood contains action and intrigue aplenty, intrepid heroes and beautiful maidens in distress, torrents of flying arrows, exciting sword-fighting, and derring-do galore. This film is the paradigmatic blueprint by which all epic swashbuckling adventure films adhere to. Even if this screen gem is cheesy beyond all belief, it holds up as an entertaining, charming adventure as well as an endearing piece of nostalgia. Kids and adults alike of any age will be immediately charmed by the delightful colours, appealing acting, thrilling swordplay and the enchanting screenplay.

"Men, if you're willing to fight for our people, I want you!"

The familiar tale of Robin Hood is here: King Richard (Hunter) leaves England to fight in the Crusades, and is taken prisoner. Richard's brother Prince John (Rains) aspires to take the throne, and under his power-hungry reign he makes life tough for the Saxons as they are heavily taxed. The valiant Sir Robin of Locksley (Flynn) soon discovers that John is hoarding money for himself as opposed to using it for King Richard's ransom. He's a loyal Saxon and a noble man disgraced at the outrageous behaviour of Prince John. Robin is forced to turn outlaw and organises a revolt, taking his band of Merry Men into Sherwood Forest for hiding to create a resistance movement. Robin and his gang do what they do best: robbing from the rich and giving to the poor while working to ensure the nefarious Prince John doesn't take the throne.

No story of Robin Hood is complete without the inclusion of Maid Marian (de Havilland). At first she thinks Robin is a common thief, but his charm and patriotism soon wins her heart. As Robin and his Merry Men stand up against their oppressors swords are clanged, volleys of arrows are launched, and castle battlements are climbed.

The Adventures of Robin Hood may be the most exciting retelling of any vintage legend ever filmed. With eye-popping, gorgeously saturated reds, greens, yellows, and purples, the movie is an extravagant visual feast. Immersing yourself in all the stimuli of Sol Polito and Tony Gaudio's lush cinematography is entertainment in itself. This film is a beautiful banquet of breathtaking images, but it additionally supplies so much more. There's romance, acrobatic swordfights, thrilling acts of archery, witty banter, and an abundance of astounding stunts (a majority actually performed by Flynn himself) - all faultlessly balanced to garner universal appeal.

Tilting the scales at just over $2 million, The Adventures of Robin Hood was Warner's most expensive picture at the time, and every penny of its budget is on glorious display. Directors William Keighley and Michael Curtiz recreate medieval 12th century England with marvellous gusto, from its voracious feasting and barbaric customs to its garish costumes and portentous pageantry. Thanks to Ralph Dawson's accomplished editing and Erich Wolfgang Korngold's inspiring score (both of which earned Oscars), the film achieves an enviable symbiosis of pace and aura. The Adventures of Robin Hood was Warner's top-grossing production of 1938. Its boundless energy, rousing swordplay, superior production values and watchable performances keep it fresh and entertaining all these decades later.

"It's injustice I hate, not the Normans."

The legend of Robin Hood remains a mainstay in American cinema and global mythology, regardless of the shape he's taken. The outlaw first appeared in the poems of William Langland in the 1300s. His adventures inspired medieval ballads and countless tales. He was transferred to the medium of cinema as early as 1908, when there were competing American and British movies. Then Douglas Fairbanks took the role in a hugely expensive 1920s Robin Hood epic. This silent epic left such an impression that no-one thought it necessary to attempt another version. Over a decade later, a Warner Bros. employee sent a memo to studio head Jack L. Warner, saying "Don't you think Cagney would make a swell Robin Hood?". Absurd as it may seem, James Cagney was first in line for the role. When preparation began for this filmic manifestation of Robin Hood, writer Rowland Leigh was assigned to work on the screenplay. It was subsequently substantially rewritten before the final screenplay was finally credited to Norman Reilly Raine and Seton I. Miller.

Along the way, Cagney left the project in a contract dispute. Almost by default did Errol Flynn land what would become his signature role. Even though Flynn professed to have been bored with the character, no-one else could handle a sword, fly from a chandelier, or charm a lady like Flynn who landed the part after playing comparable roles in Captain Blood, The Prince and the Pauper, and The Charge of the Light Brigade. Flynn couldn't be better suited to Robin Hood: tall, slender, dashing, debonair, impossibly handsome, and (unlike a certain Kevin Costner who played Robin more recently), Flynn was an Australian (born in Tasmania) who had lived in England and had developed a proper accent. Many actors from Sean Connery to Cary Elwes (to be honest, Elwes even he did a better job than Costner) have taken the role, but Flynn is the ultimate Robin Hood as he buckles his swashes in classic style. He oozes charisma from every pore. The moment that really crystallises this is during the castle banquet sequence: Robin sits comfortably, enjoying a fine helping of mutton while sharply and boldly responding to the threats made by Prince John and Sir Guy of Gisbourne (Rathbone). Flynn is eternally charming as the heroic Robin Hood as he makes the audience feel young, invulnerable, noble and virtuous. Forget any other actor as the swashbuckling outlaw - to many this is the Robin Hood and it's almost blasphemy to consider any other actor bettering Flynn's performance.

I've never heard many complaints about the film's cast (except for the forgettable and unremarkable Patric Knowles as Will Scarlett, who's frankly the film's only weak spot). The beatific Olivia de Havilland plays the beauteous Maid Marian. The actress was only year away from her most famous role as Melanie in Gone with the Wind. The chemistry between Flynn and de Havilland is noticeably present as well. Equal parts passion and flirty, the two starred in a total of nine films together throughout the course of their careers (this was their third outing together), but this film is by far their greatest collaboration.
Basil Rathbone is the consummate villain of the picture: Sir Guy of Gisbourne (a character regularly replaced in many versions by the Sheriff of Nottingham, who's reduced to Gisbourne's subordinate here). In the film Rathbone is the very epitome of the evildoer and every bit the match for Robin.
Warner Bros. regular Claude Rains (most commonly remembered for Casablanca) is the corrupt and rather effete Prince John, attempting to usurp the throne in the absence of his brother, King Richard the Lion-Heart. Rains portrays the perfect disdainful creep; a sneering snob who prefers his villainy to be carried out by others.
Eugene Pallette is the essential Friar Tuck. He's perfect for the role. Alan Hale played Little John in three different motion picture versions of Robin Hood. Needless to say, he's also quite impeccable. Then there's Melville Cooper as the comically snivelling High Sheriff of Nottingham, and Ian Hunter as the noble King Richard. David Niven was first in line to play Will Scarlett, but he was forced to drop out. Our loss.

When filming commenced for The Adventures of Robin Hood, William Keighley was at the helm. Warner Bros. expected big things from the director. However, as rushes began pouring in the studio felt the action lacked vital dynamism. They therefore brought in Michael Curtiz as a replacement. Keighley deftly handled the dramatic encounters, whereas Curtiz mastered the derring-do. There is absolutely no trace of the awkward handover. The result is a dashing, exciting, impressively lavish and energetic piece of screen entertainment. It's astonishing how fast-paced and jam-packed this flick is: the story is as intricate as a Shakespearean comedy and teeming with supporting characters, there's terrific sword-clashing skirmishes and arrow-shooting battles, and it concludes (as all stories should) with the good guys triumphant and lovers united. It may seem cheesy, corny and silly to some, but this is a splendid adventure that will easily win your heart.
The Adventures of Robin Hood is the definitive, quintessential swashbuckler. Whether you call it a swashbuckler, a costume adventure, a comic book romance or a historical jaunt - it's simply the best of its type. Forget Kevin Costner, Michael Praed, Richard Greene, Sean Connery and Disney's fox...this is the only real Robin Hood.

Other versions of the tale include Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and a clever Mel Brooks spoof entitled Robin Hood: Men in Tights.

"Welcome to Sherwood, my lady!"

9.2/10

"The desert is merciless. It takes everything from you."

George Lucas is turning into an enemy of film. After the atrocious Star Wars prequels, I honestly thought the Star Wars legacy couldn't possibly be additionally defiled. Alas, it is this review's despondent duty to report that this animated addition to the Star Wars canon has managed to be worse than all three Star Wars prequels and the earlier Cartoon Network TV series. Star Wars: The Clone Wars even makes the 1980's Ewok adventures look like The Empire Strikes Back in comparison! As soon as it was announced that Lucas was releasing this animated feature, it smelt like a cash grab - and in final analysis this is nothing but a shameless cash grab. Thankfully, it performed disappointingly at the box office. Maybe Lucas will finally realise it's time to stop exploiting the Star Wars franchise.

Sometimes one milks a cow so extensively that the milk turns sour and undrinkable. Lucas has milked this franchise like this for years. The prequels were crossing over into sour milk territory...The Clone Wars enters the undrinkable milk territory. After 10 minutes I was already bored. Unfortunately, things only continued to deteriorate. George Lucas' involvement was minimal. He didn't direct nor write. Never thought I'd ever actually say this, but bring back George! The script for this film is worse than those written by Lucas, the characters are stale, it's juvenile, the animation is putrid and it's dull!

The first 30 seconds of the movie are a warning of things to come: the traditional 20th Century Fox fanfare is replaced with the subdued Warner Bros. logo. The Star Wars theme has also been butchered. After the words "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away" appear, you expect to hear the immortal music followed by the customary opening scrawl to detail the story so far. Instead there's some peculiar, sub-par pseudo-variation of it. The remixed music sounds like contemporary pop music! Following this, the iconic scrawl is replaced by the voice of a narrator. It sounds like a cheesy version of Starship Troopers! As a whole, the music and narration is like nails on a chalkboard. This alone was sufficient forewarning before plunging into the abysmal central narrative... The son of Jabba the Hutt is kidnapped and the Jedi are assigned to get him back. How utterly lame and un-Star Wars!

Remember the unbearable character known as Jar Jar Binks from The Phantom Menace? After suffering every miserable second of character interaction in The Clone Wars, I felt more tolerant towards Jar Jar! Yes, it's that bad! Anakin's new pre-teen apprentice - Ashoka Tano - is the equivalent of Hannah Montana! Not only does this character spend the entire film getting into trouble constantly and cracking bad jokes, but she repeatedly refers to Anakin as "Sky-Guy". And Anakin calls her "Snips". WTF?! After the introduction of this character I foolishly thought things could not get any worse...but they did.

Meet Jabba's son Stinky. Yep, the characters call him Stinky. He's the baby version of Jabba the Hutt who spends the entire film making funny faces and farting. That's right folks...Star Wars now has fart jokes. And Jabba now uses language like "punky muffin".

The credibility of the plot is very quickly damaged. Jabba has a son with no wife or partner in sight? How do the fat slugs even copulate? At least we can be thankful there's no Jabba the Hutt sex scene. Oh, and it also turns out Jabba has an evil, cross-dressing, English-speaking pimp for a cousin who sounds like a cross between Truman Capote and a member of the gay community with throat cancer. Once this character hit the screen, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. For a moment I thought perhaps my coffee was spiked with LSD. But alas, I was not high.

The battle scenes are frequent and on a large scale, yet they're undermined by a number of things. First of all, there's never an ounce of intensity. The battle droids are even played out for laughs. For example, they tell each other to shut up. The clone troopers are also capable of karate. There are several instances when a random clone trooper would transform into Jason Bourne and begin fighting the battle droids in close combat (at one stage a clone trooper punches a droid...then shakes his hand as if to suggest it rather hurt). During the action there are laser bolts and rockets buzzing around like flies, however we know all this artillery won't ever hit anyone important. The intensity is further ruined when Obi-Wan takes a break during a battle to stall the commander by explaining he wants to discuss the terms of a surrender. They're even served soup!
This is unmistakably a movie for the kids and for the kids only. The Force is never mentioned, Anakin's crossover to the dark side is never even hinted at, and the music will make you detest the very concept of music. The grand touch of John Williams is sorely missed. In its place is an incompetent composer who inserts guitar solos during the action sequences! Maybe George Lucas should hire Whitesnake to record new music for the original six Star Wars movies as well...


Star Wars: The Clone Wars features zero characterisation (save the juvenile interaction we're constantly given) and practically no story. The boring voice cast is accompanied by only three recognisable names. Anthony Daniels, Samuel L. Jackson and Christopher Lee are the only members of the original cast to lend their voices. But they're only allotted a few minutes each. Everyone else is pretty much interchangeable. Frank Oz doesn't even voice Yoda. The replacement can only be described as awful. All these actors make you miss the wooden human acting on offer in the prequel trilogy. The dialogue is also dismal...let's not even go there.

This brings me onto the issue of the poor animation. The filmmakers endeavour to make the CG animation appear as unique as possible. The appearance of the characters, for instance, is blocky and chiselled instead of particularised. There aren't any individual strands of hair on heads or any form of facial hair. Instead there's a solid mass that a sculptor might have carved from stone or clay. The animation comes off looking strangely square and very cheap. Maybe that's the point as this movie introduces us to the television series for which, understandably, the filmmakers must cut costs. Nevertheless, The Clone Wars is a major motion picture, and audiences paying big bucks for tickets deserve far better.

Suffice to say, I did not even remotely like this travesty of a film. The Clone Wars is not Star Wars and it isn't worthy to be counted as part of the saga. This is cartoonish to extremes in everything from the script to the appalling animation. If George Lucas disowned Howard the Duck, I'm surprised he didn't do anything similar here. All this film offers is action and non-stop fighting. As I said, this action isn't even exciting. It's dull and subdued, and the animation is too trite for anything to look spectacular. This is merely a monotonous story with repetitive combat sequences that only add to the turgid video-game anonymity of it all.

Okay, so this is a film made for children and perhaps I'm being overly harsh. But the original Star Wars movies were gritty and competently executed. They appealed to a wide audience. Why couldn't this film be created to appeal to all ages? The Clone Wars even fails as a children's film. I've heard reports of children growing restless and sleepy by the time a cinema screening concluded. There is no fun to be had with this film.

2.0/10 (not even sure why I'm being so generous...)