Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"Rivers of blood will never bring peace."

Spin-off movies are risky endeavours. Following the enormous success of The Mummy and The Mummy Returns it was destiny that the studio would either develop another sequel or a spin-off. In 2002 it apparently seemed more convenient to develop an adventure featuring an underused and underdeveloped character from The Mummy Returns. In this case, pro wrestler The Rock (whose real name is Dwayne Johnson) had about 5 minutes of genuine screen-time in the aforementioned The Mummy Returns, not counting the extra few minutes when he appeared as a poorly-rendered CGI creation of a hybrid between a scorpion and a man. The Scorpion King attempts to give The Rock's minor character a proper back-story in the form of a swords-and-sandals medieval flick akin to Conan the Barbarian.

The initial worrying factor was that The Rock is a pro wrestler. In The Mummy Returns he really doesn't say anything at all and never showed much acting. This begged the question...could a wrestler carry a movie and display satisfactory acting skills?
Still, in the lead-up to the film's release I had expected some decent results, especially with Stephen Sommers (the writer/director of the first two The Mummy flicks) among those involved with writing the screenplay. The Scorpion King falls into a very unsuccessful genre where swords, axes, bows and arrows are utilised to dispatch enemies. There certainly aren't very many decent flicks in this genre so far. Well...there still aren't. This is not a good movie by any stretch of the imagination.

The story is set roughly ten years preceding the main character's appearance in The Mummy Returns. Already, there is a massive fault in the film's story. In The Mummy Returns he's a villain with plans for world domination. Here, we're supposed to cheer for him as the hero. Oops...
Mathayus (The Rock) is among the last of the Akkadian warriors. These warriors are trained from birth as elite mercenaries who work for a hefty price. As fate would have it, he's hired to kill someone but finds himself in an elaborate set-up.
The plot is trite, clichéd and boring. It wants to be a thrill-a-minute action ride, but it's not. It's lame! Furthermore, it's entirely forgettable with the inclusion of the pointless and irritating action scenes that are poorly shot and difficult to believe.

The biggest flaw of the movie relates to the dreadfully clichéd script and below average actors. The characters in particular are clichéd beyond belief. There's the muscle-bound protagonist who exists to kill as many people as possible, the beautiful woman who spends half the time naked, the annoying sidekick who's supposed to be funny and witty, the big bad guy who sits on his throne and can carry out preposterous superhuman abilities (I mean, he can catch an arrow? Come on!) and of course a strong warrior to fight alongside the big muscle-bound hero. Probably the most disappointing facet of the characters is the poor way they've been written. The central bad guy, played by Steven Brand, never strikes fear or intimidation into the audience. He's a forgettable weakling and does not belong in a film such as this. Looking back at Conan the Barbarian, the main villain was played with sinister gusto by the capable James Earl Jones. Jones had a commanding voice and always seemed threatening. How I miss the days of the 80s.

The Rock does everything he's supposed to do throughout the movie. He delivers corny lines rather well - better than Arnold Schwarzenegger did in his first few movies. But the pro wrestler isn't the problem: the problem lies in everything else the film has to offer. It appears that the script suffered from a dose of committee writing - that is, lots of people insisting their ideas get inserted. Kelly Hu's role is a prime example. One voice says that she must be naked most of the time, while another voice insists that nothing naughty is ever shown because they must get their PG-13 rating from the MPAA. Hu therefore emerges from the water with strategically placed long hair covering up the juicy bits.

There's also the fact of the action. The script includes an abundance of pointless action to cover up for the lack of plot. Then the rating again comes into question. With the MPAA giving the film a PG-13 rating, it means more profitable run at the box office. We hear the gore, but don't see it. Once again I must compare this to Conan the Barbarian: in that film we cheer for the hero and love seeing the villains getting their just deserts as they are very violently offed. Let's face it - over-the-top violence is entertaining! In this case, though, The Scorpion King has no balls. It aims for money rather than quality. With the inclusion of more brutal battle violence the film would have at least been a guilty pleasure. Unfortunately, it can't even achieve that status. It's crap! Pure, genuine, bloodless crap with nothing redeeming!

Another thing: if one looks at Conan the Barbarian it's more entertaining because there always seems to be a sense of gritty realism. The Scorpion King is embarrassingly low-brow because of how unbelievable it is! It defies the laws of physics, and of course must include slow motion fight moves. Like in the final battle when an arrow is shot at a man. We follow the arrow in ultra slow motion, then it collides with a man and he's thrown back several feet. How they hell can an arrow, weighing a little less than a kilo, knock a 90kg man off his feet?! And I have no idea how contemporary directors settle on the inaccurate conclusion that slo-mo fight scenes look cool. Maybe the teenagers enjoy savouring the pathetic concept, but in my opinion it's cheap and unnecessary. It completely takes you out of the movie. It reminds you that it's just a fluffy piece of celluloid. If one wants to see things in slow motion, use the option on your DVD player!

All things considered, The Scorpion King wants to be in the league of the films that spawned it. The Mummy Returns is quite an awful movie, but at least it had an entertainment value. The Scorpion King has too many flaws. Everything is poorly done. Bad directing (director Chuck Russell was quite inexperienced), poor editing, over-the-top special effects, unbelievable plot points and a story riddled with endless clichés. It's so predictable! When it comes to the action genre, things usually are predictable. Be that as it may, the ride should be fun to take. The Scorpion King is not a fun ride to take at all! You'll be sneering instead of enjoying. It's so incredibly stupid!!! Worse yet, Kelly Hu's character of a sorceress appears to be a direct duplication of Jane Seymour's character in the James Bond film Live and Let Die. When filmmakers are taking inspirations from a spy series for a Conan the Barbarian facsimile, you know there's something horribly wrong here.

If only the script and story were as strong as the film's title actor. Followed by The Scorpion King 2: Rise of a Warrior.

2.1/10

"Leaning... leaning... safe and secure from all alarms. Leaning... leaning... leaning on the everlasting arms."

Charles Laughton's The Night of the Hunter is another definitive example of a monochrome masterpiece tragically overlooked and criticised upon initial release. Director Charles Laughton was reportedly so disappointed and saddened by the film's poor critical and commercial reception that he vowed never to direct again...and he never did. Truth be told, every moment of Laughton's film is riveting and thrilling...haunting performances, evocative music and a terrific contrast of light and dark.

Film critics from 1955 have a lot to answer for. Said critics ridiculed The Night of the Hunter: it was continually and collectively criticised as more funny than sinister, and seldom suspenseful. Frankly, one must wonder if they were watching the same movie because, once all these geriatric buffoons were securely ensconced in retirement homes for anguished movie-folk, decent contemporary film pundits have acknowledged the genuine splendour of Laughton's cinematic achievement. The film is certainly corny, and it probably comes across as pretentious and overwrought. Much of the repetitive music has dated and lost its potency. And yes, at times the film is laughable and some facets are impossible to believe...yet every frame is gripping and it's hard to lose interest. Ignored for decades, but now the film is impossible to ignore. Currently it's rightfully regarded as a masterpiece: the title it should have been granted in the first place.

Harry Powell (Mitchum) is a crook disguised as a preacher. Harry travels across America from town to town; convinced he's doing the Lord's bidding as he murders widowed women whom he believes should no longer be a target for the lust of men. He arrives in another small town where he's arrested for car theft. Harry shares a cell with a man named Ben Harper (Graves). Ben stole $10,000 and murdered a number of people, and is condemned to face the hangman's noose. But he hides the money with his two children, John (Chapin) and Pearl (Bruce). Harry Powell learns of this money and desires to get his hands on it. After being released from gaol and witnessing the execution of Ben Harper, Harry then pursues Ben's widow Willa (Winters) with the objective in mind of obtaining the money. Willa doesn't know of the money's location, but John and Pearl do. Harry marries the gullible Willa with a secret agenda on his mind. It soon becomes clear to John of Harry's true intentions...but no-one will believe him.

Robert Mitchum is mesmeric as the evil pseudo-preacher. Mitchum grinds out an unsettling study in menacing, inveighing malevolence on a par with his performance in the original Cape Fear. Harry Powell is a truly sinister, hymn-chanting "preacher" who roams the countryside as he steals and kills. This psychopath abhors sexuality and all things feminine as he leaves a trail of dead women in his wake. Mitchum is truly incredible at the film's dramatic core. His character of Harry Powell is one of cinema's greatest villains: he's the archetypal evil stepfather that only a child can see through. Apparently Mitchum's performance is so highly regarded that it was among Robert De Niro's chief influences when he portrayed Max Cady in Martin Scorsese's 1991 Cape Fear remake (ironically, Mitchum portrayed Cady in the original Cape Fear). The interminable sound of Mitchum's Harry Powell spitting out a repetitive hymn is haunting. This certain hymn is so unforgettable in Mitchum's performance that it disturbed me for weeks.
The rest of the cast cannot match Mitchum or even come close to his standard. Billy Chapin and Sally Jane Bruce are fairly impressive as the kids considering their age. Director Charles Laughton hated kids so much that he despised directing them throughout the production. Consequently, Mitchum directed the kids a number of times.
Shelley Winters is worth mentioning as the troubled widow. She presents a very impressive portrayal.

As I previously stated, Laughton is terrific at handling the directing duties. The Night of the Hunter is such a suspenseful experience imbued with immortal, haunting images and tunes. Laughton's direction and Stanley Cortez's cinematography creates a banquet of visual delights. There are ambitious helicopter shots, deep focus, underwater photography (an astonishing, virtually surreal picture of a corpse sitting in a car at the bottom of the river, hair streaming in amongst the river weed with throat deeply cut is pure genius) in addition to incredible utilisation of light and shadow. The opening sequence is probably the most memorable image the film has to offer: an arrestingly modern aerial shot, followed by the moment when Mitchum's sociopathic preacher appears on the screen, "LOVE" and "HATE" tattooed on his knuckles.
Like I said before, the film has unfortunately dated as well. There are a few technical imperfections that cause an audience to wonder what just happened. Perhaps if a few things were better distinguished the film would have stood the test of time more effectively. Still, the filmmakers had guts to create a story like this during the 1950s.

All in all, The Night of the Hunter is a suspenseful horror film that succeeds in creating a nightmarish atmosphere for its characters to develop in. It's definitely dated and occasionally comes across as slightly cheesy...nevertheless this is essential viewing. It's also worth noting that credibility is occasionally this film's enemy. It's difficult to believe that a woman would agree to marry a man a mere 24 hours after their first meeting. Robert Mitchum is still magnetic enough to keep his audience enthralled throughout the film's sometimes silly occurrences.

7.9/10

"Go to hell and take your friends with you!"

The seminal rule of sequels to a blockbuster declares that everything must be bigger: bigger special effects, more action, and grander locations. Sequels are the beloved of Hollywood studios who look forward to an easy box office hit. For audience, however, the prospect is often less attractive. Some films shouldn't have sequels. Every once in a while, though, sequels can be worthwhile. Looking at the Indiana Jones franchise, the sequels exist simply to place the central character in a different adventure. Such is also the case with The Mummy Returns.

The film is an excuse to reunite a majority of the original cast for another adventure. However, at times the film is a severe case of déjà vu and it's impossible to shake off the sense of "been there, done that". What made the Indiana Jones franchise so interesting is the originality with each new episode. When it comes to The Mummy Returns, Sommers is just too lazy to develop an entirely new adventure. It's obvious he wants to disguise this laziness as making clever, subtle references to the first film. But it makes things only more predictable.

There are also countless inconsistencies that plague the script. The characters featured in The Mummy charmed their way to our hearts by means of charming dialogue. Unfortunately, though, The Mummy Returns relies entirely on our willingness to follow the same characters. There's no room for them to grow...no solid character development...instead we're tossed right into a lacklustre display of rehashed set-pieces, humdrum visual effects, and an excess of action made up entirely of climaxes. At the end of the day, so many things are thrown at the viewer that it all ends up mattering quite little. Then, as if adding insult to injury, the immensely-hyped appearance of wrestling star The Rock is dreary beyond all conception. The Rock (a.k.a. Dwayne Johnson), playing The Scorpion King, appears only for a few minutes during the film's early moments, and he returns as a completely computer-generated entity during the finale. As a half-man and half-scorpion creature, The Rock looks like he's part of a Z-Grade video game. The CGI is truly awful.

Anyway, The Mummy Returns is set many years following the first film. Rick O'Connell (Fraser) and Evelyn (Weisz) are now very happily married with precocious young son Alex (Boath) to accompany them during their archaeological adventures. Rick and Evelyn investigate the legend of The Scorpion King who's said to exist in myth and legend. Apparently every few thousand years The Scorpion King will rise again with his army and will rule the world. His unbeatable army is available to him or whosoever can defeat him. At the beginning of the Egyptian New Year, rival archaeologists unearth and resurrect Imhotep (Vosloo). The resurrected Imhotep and his reincarnated love (Velasquez) plan to travel to the tomb of The Scorpion King to awaken him. Imhotep then plans to defeat The Scorpion King and gain control of his army. With this army he will rule the world. Naturally, only Rick O'Connell and his comrades have the ability to prevent the instigation of Imhotep's plan.

A central fault in the storyline is the extraordinarily conventional world domination sub-plot. It's incredibly clichéd and has no place in an adventure film such as this. The script also abuses the amount of convenience typically allowed for a blockbuster film. The character of Rick O'Connell is cemented too ridiculously into the back-story of the film. He's destined to become one of the religious warriors in the league of Oded Fehr's Ardeth Bey. Watching him battling mummies with an arsenal of weaponry is really cool, but it's cheap and contrived for him to suddenly become an integral part of the film's mythology. Evelyn also begins having visions and flashbacks of her past life. Apparently she's a reincarnation of the daughter of the Pharaoh from many thousands of years ago. Once again, this is too convenient and exists as an excuse for the ancient puzzles to be easily deciphered. Why did these flashbacks never occur during the events of the first film? It's just lame.

At times the film tends to insult the intelligence of its audience as well. The internal logic makes no sense whatsoever. Like how the hell do the Egyptians obtain Japanese daggers to use during battles? Said daggers aren't even Egyptian and weren't even in existence 3,000 years ago! Sommers also endeavours to make his characters so realistic and down-to-earth. They bleed, they show vulnerability and they generally get scared. Yet he bestows them with superhuman abilities. For instance, Rick is carrying his son while outrunning the rising sun. In order to run faster than the rising sun one must be capable of achieving speeds in excess of 1,000 miles an hour! It's one thing for someone powerful like Imhotep to accomplish this task, but it's entirely unbelievable for a mere mortal such as Rick to run that fast while the sun rises conveniently slowly.

Then there's the matter of impeccable timing. All the characters seem to accomplish things in the nick of time. Like the flying contraption that's repaired in time to rescue the characters before they'd be annihilated. Or when the central characters arrive just in time as the mummy resurrection ceremony is taking place. These coincidences are too perfect to be believable.
In addition, director Sommers has succumbed to the plague that's dominating the current action genre: slow motion during the action scenes. This means slo-mo fight moves, and even following a spear in mid-air in ultra slo-mo! It gets tiresome very quickly, not to mention it rapidly kills the film's realistic intentions. The Mummy films have never been Indiana Jones, but they've tried. With the inclusion of slow motion, it just becomes a muddled and tiring mess. To make matters worse, the special effects are bottom-of-the-barrel material. The Scorpion King looks like he's from a video game, his army look extremely unconvincing and the set extensions are painfully obvious. One of the film's highlights is an army of skeletal pigmy warriors. They're an interesting design, but the animation is just appalling.
The script must also be mentioned. The first film featured some fun witty dialogue. None of this wittiness is retained. Very few memorable lines are included. A few times you'll crack a smile, at other times you'll be rolling your eyes at the painful dialogue that references the predecessor or steals a few direct lines from the first film.

James Cameron went bigger and louder from The Terminator to Terminator 2: Judgment Day. He succeeded mightily. Unfortunately for Stephen Sommers, who wrote and directed The Mummy Returns, he does not succeed one bit. Everything is too overblown and overproduced. What was once a horror/adventure/action/comedy that was always grounded in at least a bit of realism has transformed into an adventure/action/comedy without horror elements that throws all credibility to the wind very quickly.
He also doesn't succeed because he digs into the same bag of tricks with little originality present. In The Mummy, Evelyn causes book cases to topple over like dominoes. In The Mummy Returns, her son causes a room of pillars to topple over like dominoes. In The Mummy Imhotep creates a sandstorm imprinted with his face to bring down an airplane. In The Mummy Returns, Imhotep creates a wall of water imprinted with his face to bring down a dirigible-like contraption. In The Mummy Jonathan asks Evelyn to help him decipher an Egyptian symbol while Evelyn is in the middle of a battle. In The Mummy Returns, Alex asks Jonathan to help him decipher the same Egyptian symbol while Jonathan is fighting. D'ya see where this is going?

As a standalone film, The Mummy Returns is an entertaining action/adventure flick. As a sequel, it's a feeble succession of poorly rendered CGI and campy rehashes. It's energetic enough to provide an easy night of entertainment, and believe me I enjoy watching this highly entertaining film, but it's far below the standard of its predecessor and the classic adventure films it tries to mirror. I'm aware that we go to the movies with a healthy suspension of disbelief, but The Mummy Returns takes it way too far. The original The Mummy provided an easy night of fun and entertainment and it never takes itself too seriously. This sequel is ridiculous and unbelievable, flaunting irritating camera work and scarce originality. Followed by The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. A spin-off also exists, entitled The Scorpion King.

4.9/10

"Death is only the beginning."

In tradition with archetypal action/adventure blockbusters such as Romancing the Stone and the marvellous Indiana Jones series, The Mummy is a substantially entertaining and enjoyable tribute to the endearing classic B-movie serials of the 1950s. The film is fundamentally an updated version of the vintage 1932 horror film of the same name that featured Boris Karloff as the central bandaged antagonist. Universal Studios commissioned the new 1999 version as a loose remake in an attempt to create an Indiana Jones-like franchise. Considering the unbelievable lucrative financial success of the Indiana Jones adventures (featuring an ideal Harrison Ford as the title's namesake), a similar series could potentially generate analogous success. With that in mind, Stephen Sommers' action/adventure blockbuster The Mummy commenced development. It's a hokey, jokey, ludicrously over-the-top and stupid action film, but it's one that certainly serves its purpose of entertaining its target audience.

In a nutshell, the film is a special effects extravaganza that's adequately appealing and clever to guarantee enjoyment for repeated viewings. This film was among my favourite movies as a youngster. I subsequently watched the film so often that every scene was committed to memory. Years later it presents itself not as an Oscar-worthy masterpiece, but an action/adventure film that's just so much damn fun to watch!
Celebrated critic Roger Ebert stated in his review that "There is hardly a thing I can say in its favor, except that I was cheered by nearly every minute of it." Ebert's sentiments essentially suggest that the film's only redeeming feature is its entertainment value. This opinion is widely shared by many, myself included. It's big, dumb, loud and riddled with clichés - and proud of it!

The story tracks keen explorer Rick O'Connell (Fraser) in the early 20th century. He's an American commander who foolishly lead his garrison into Egypt in search of Hamunaptra: more commonly known as "The City of the Dead". However, before Rick is capable of completing his quest he's captured with the outlook of execution in his future. Curious nerdy librarian Evelyn (Weisz) and her brother Jonathan (Hannah) come into possession of one of the artefacts that Rick discovered. Said artefact presents itself as a key of sorts containing a map detailing the location of Hamunaptra. Enthusiastic to travel to the city, Evelyn rescue Rick from the noose at the last second. The trio travel to Egypt with the location of Hamunaptra in mind. A group of egocentric American explorers are also en route to the city with the prospect of treasure and money on their minds. Trouble soon imparts itself when Evelyn inadvertently disturbs the tomb of a 3,000-year-old mummy who suffered an unspeakable curse. This resurrected mummy was once known as Imhotep (Vosloo), and he was entombed due to crimes of passion. Imhotep awakens from his mummified state to wreak havoc on the world...bringing with him the ten plagues of Egypt. Now it's up to Rick and his companions to end the curse and send Imhotep back to his grave.

From the first frame 'til the last, The Mummy is intrinsically good entertainment. There's a high amount of energy, an abundance of action scenes, a charming cast and meticulously-crafted sets. However, the film is extremely flawed. For starters, at times it begs its audience to suspend their disbelief too severely. Like the impeccable timing of events, perfect weapon accuracy of the heroes and of course the copious plot holes that don't make a lick of sense (such as Evelyn's character being so poorly written. She's so clumsy in her first scene, and then mysteriously never again is this clumsiness displayed again). This is a summer blockbuster after all, so I guess these flaws are a given.
However, I must digress...there are special effects galore but what's missing is the sense of awe or marvel. Looking back at the days of Indiana Jones the artefacts are amazing and just their screen presence shines like a new coin. Despite the artefacts being well designed here, they are wholly forgettable and aren't exactly mind-blowing. The filmmakers are under the false impression that lots of gold creates staggering images. Unfortunately it doesn't work as well as they want.

The Mummy can't make up its mind about its genre either. It's an action and adventure film for sure, but director Sommers tries his hand at horror. The horror, however, is so poorly orchestrated. Corpses look like fake dolls, the creature's roar isn't spine-chilling and the atmosphere is seldom tense. The special effects may have been cutting edge for their time, but they haven't aged well. At times the CGI looks like an old video game. The tension is therefore alleviated and we are unable to believe what's occurring. Unfortunately, as well, there is a lack of genuine danger. The characters are played out for laughs. Like the fat warden who feeds off stereotypes, for example. At the end of the day, as well, it just goes on forever. The script tries to fit far too many things into the film. Consequently the film feels so irritatingly overcrowded.

Brendan Fraser is no Harrison Ford, but as an adventure hero he's pretty decent. He's an exceedingly likeable hero and he's fun to watch. His one-liners are delivered competently. Fraser can frequently make his audience laugh. This is his greatest quality but also his greatest flaw: frequently smirking with very little depth. The lack of danger is emphasised by Fraser's constant jokes.
Rachel Weisz is a convincing nerd-ish librarian who finds satisfaction in exciting treasure-hunting. Fraser and Weisz have great chemistry together. Despite the characters being so incompetently written, the primary two actors elevate the material to satisfying proportions.
Scottish actor John Hannah is probably the stand-out performer here. He's witty, funny and charming throughout.
Arnold Vosloo is given the extremely difficult job of spending most of his scenes in a motion capture suit. Very rarely does Vosloo appear without CGI distorting his image. In some of his earlier films such as Hard Target, Vosloo has been quite wooden. He's not too bad here, although he lacks any degree of intimidation or authority in looks or voice. The rest of the cast are at a usual standard.
It's worth noting that the significant characters are treated with much sentimentality. We have the heroes who get the blunt end of the stick most of the time, the annoying supporting characters that will obviously die, and then of course the insignificant extras provided merely to get knocked off in different ways. In other words, most of the characters are severely clichéd.

After listing the abundance of flaws, there are a number of positives to be pointed out. The action is exuberant, the film moves at a feverish pace and the frame is brimming with authenticity. Costumes, props, locations, etc, create a fairly authentic atmosphere. Jerry Goldsmith's music provides an additional edge as well. For the action it's fairly pulse-pounding and at other times it's foreboding.
All in all, I always have a jolly good time watching The Mummy. It's severely flawed, but it's a summer blockbuster so this is almost customary. It is a daft, albeit grand high-flying action/adventure romp. It must be said that I admire this flick for accomplishing what Hollywood ought to be doing with every release - entertaining audiences to no end. This is precisely the kind of film you bring to mind when you fancy cranking up the volume to give your speakers a work-out, microwaving a bowl of popcorn and relaxing effortlessly to waste a rainy Saturday evening at home. Straightforwardly put, it is just damn good fun. Followed by The Mummy Returns.

6.7/10

"Guns don't kill people! But they sure help."

It is with much confidence that I can state that during my numerous years of viewing movies, never before have I beheld an action film's opening sequence tagged with a hero dispatching a villain by penetrating their brain with a carrot, delivering a baby during an intense, chaotic gunfight, then severing the baby's umbilical cord with a bullet before a rather comical profanity exchange using neon lights. If you're incapable of discerning what this film is about after reading the title and the opening sentence of this review...then you're in trouble. Shoot 'Em Up is a straightforward satirical addition to the action genre. For its entire 80-minute duration, writer/director Michael Davis has crafted a masterful action flick overflowing with silly over-the-top violence and ingeniously witty (hilarious) one-liners.

You know what the difference is between Shoot 'Em Up and an action film from the mind of someone like Uwe Boll? Shoot 'Em Up is a great bad movie...while Uwe Boll produces plain unadulterated bad movies! Boll is somehow so incredibly self-deluded that he sincerely believes he's creating an artistic and inspiring piece of celluloid, and that he's an "industry genius". Truth be told, Boll's films such as BloodRayne and Alone in the Dark are dull and uninspiring beyond all comprehension, not to mention they are also among the worst pile of faeces ever to be committed to film. On the other hand, Michael Davis' Shoot 'Em Up is completely 100% self-aware that it's a noisy, stupendous, over-the-top, leave-your-brain-at-the-door bullet-fest...and it's proud of it. It also only aspires to provide a simple fun time without taking itself seriously at all. This is why I can consciously enjoy Shoot 'Em Up and grant it an emphatic thumbs up, while absolutely detesting creations from filmmakers such as Rob Cohen, Uwe Boll or Michael Bay.

Immature, irresponsible, dumb and insane are just a few words to accurately describe Shoot 'Em Up. It's a film lacking a meaty, cohesive narrative, and it exists merely to exhibit a dozen or so outrageous, awesome action sequences. Astonishing violent and astonishingly stylish, this film is exhilarating fun! It's even complete with a blaring soundtrack featuring Wolfmother, Motörhead, AC/DC, and various other artists. Furthermore, our hero continually munches on carrots throughout the film's duration. The first time we see Clive Owen as tough guy supreme, chewing a carrot at a bus-stop, we know he means business. And yes, there are the obvious Looney Tunes references such as "What's up doc?" followed by "You're a wascally wabbit!". Davis probably inserted these references to remind the audience of the old-fashioned cartoon violence from the Looney Tunes shorts, as it's the kind of comic violence presented in this film.

While the film is primarily about action, it has its fair share of clever one-liners. For example, Paul Giamatti's Mr. Hertz is forever on the phone to his wife.
"You know why a gun is better than a wife? You can put a silencer on a gun."
Clive Owen is also given a number of notable moments, such as when he describes himself as "a British nanny, and I'm dangerous".
In the long run, Shoot 'Em Up is a whole lot of shootouts, sex scenes, and even a shootout during a sex scene. At one stage there's even a shooting gallery, with little time to breathe except for when the characters are reloading. Thankfully, though, Michael Davis has learned to shoot his shootouts (pun intended) in the best kind of style: so that we know what is actually going on (take notes, Michael Bay). In the long run, the film is an extended gun-battle with a concise running time that leaves you hungry for more.

It seems almost redundant to outline the plot. After all, if you watch a film with the title of Shoot 'Em Up searching for plot and thoughtful dialogue...you're in the wrong place.
More or less, the film follows the carrot-chomping, gun-touting Mr. Smith (Owen). Smith is a tired, apathetic bystander who witnesses a pregnant woman being pursued by gunmen. He reluctantly intervenes and gets in on the action. The woman gives birth to a child (during an intense gun battle) before getting killed in the cross-fire. Smith feels compelled to protect the newborn, and recruits lactating hooker girlfriend Donna (Bellucci) while the vicious Hertz (Giamatti) is on the hunt with an army of gunmen. Meanwhile, as Smith eludes Hertz's men, he tries to figure out why the tot was targeted and endeavours to fathom the full extent of what he's got himself into.
The film opens with the New Line cinema logo being shot to bits...it's an indication of things to come. The proceedings get underway when Smith gets entangled in a large-scale gun battle with deafeningly raucous music accompanying the extremely violent visuals. Needless to say, it seldom lets up for meaningful dialogue or a fleshed out story.

Clive Owen is excellent as the title character. Having this rugged, handsome hero in the film really elevates the overall value. Granted, Owen is at times quite wooden. But it's the point: he's a dead-pan character who shows little emotion no matter the circumstances. Like when he's in the middle of sex, he's interrupted by a bunch of hooligans with guns. Still pleasuring his girl, he grabs a pistol and begins rolling into strategic positions with bullets whipping around him. Never does he look remotely scared or threatened. After dispatching said gunmen, he casually remarks "Talk about shooting your load."
Paul Giamatti could be the greatest action movie villain since Alan Rickman as Hans Gruber in Die Hard back in 1988. Giamatti has witty dialogue to deliver and is oozing charm throughout. He's a pleasure to watch for every frame of his screen-time.
Monica Bellucci is angelic and seductive as the lactating prostitute. Her introductory scene shows her breast-feeding an adult male. This establishes her character very fittingly.
The acting from most of the supporting cast is pretty standard. Then again, this is just a straightforward action film where the grunts are dispatched within a few seconds of their introduction...so don't expect Oscar material.

As previously stated, Shoot 'Em Up is unreservedly self-aware that it's insane, ridiculous and definitely not a movie to be taken seriously for a split second. So, logically, it disregards the requirements of physics, character depth or coherent plotting all for the sake of having some fun at whatever the cost. The action scenes are deliberately as idiotic and unfeasible as you can imagine, but they're so exaggerated that there's always a sense of humour. This reminds you that you should be smiling instead of sneering.

If you can ignore the fact that the world of physics is completely overlooked here, you shouldn't have any difficulty going along for the ride. This is what makes Shoot 'Em Up such a fun flick. The shootouts are so outrageous and will have the audience laughing and cheering at the preposterous proceedings. Furthermore, the filmmakers have purposely made the special effects look awful. The sky-diving action scene is so ridiculous and looks so unbelievable that you can practically see the green screen. It's the point! Or when Smith's car flips over, then flips upright again and he isn't even scratched. The internal logic is meant to be nonsense. On these merits, Michael Davis has scored a winner. For its entire 80-minute duration it's a total blast! It's a bloody good, entertaining, nonsensical low-brow satirical take on the action genre. Lighten up, leave you brain and common sense at the door, and you'll have a great time! For those that hate the film...remember that it's supposed to be a completely stupendous, silly flick and it's 100% proud to be as such!

8.3/10

"I thought my ideas were so clear. I wanted to make an honest film. No lies whatsoever. I thought I had something so simple to say. Something useful to everybody. A film that could help bury forever all those dead things we carry within ourselves. Instead, I'm the one without the courage to bury anything at all. When did I go wrong? I really have nothing to say, but I want to say it all the same."

Out of all the films from the imaginative mind of legendary director Federico Fellini, 8½ is possibly his most celebrated masterpiece. When it comes to entrancing and mesmerising surrealism, Fellini's talents remain unparalleled. 8½ is strictly an art film that certainly is not for all tastes. It conveys a fascinating autobiographical narrative through thoroughly artistic visuals and intricately written dialogue. Fellini's film also embodies everything a wannabe filmmaker aspires to achieve. While some regard the film as self-indulgent and ultimately without meaning, the fact remains that this is a seminal slice of world cinema.
On top of this, Fellini spawned several contemporaries who were downright inspired by his cinematic creations. Terry Gilliam is a prime example whose attempts at surrealism are evident in such films as Brazil. David Lynch and Woody Allen are other obvious students. Naturally, though, the artistic qualities will not be happily devoured by all. 8½ is undeniably an enigmatic creation bursting with bizarre metaphors and overt allegory. To genuinely appreciate the film it's essential for it to be viewed on its own terms - the outrageous product of an immortal director trialling the medium, taking advantage of everyone surrounding him, and satirising his very profession.

Federico Fellini's 8½ is highly autobiographical. The bafflingly cryptic title in fact refers to the fact that this is his 8½th film. Prior to taking the reigns for the film, he'd directed six feature films. In addition he'd also co-directed one and directed episodes of two others, making the extra 1½. The story had been languishing with Fellini for years. It's a priceless tale that has been widely copied ever since its release.
A film director named Guido Anselmi (Mastroianni) recently completed a film that developed into an incredible success. Following this hit, he's struggling to conceive a movie to further establish his desired reputation. His latest project promises to be a science fiction film featuring a spaceship. Aside from that aspect, no other features of the plot are revealed. This is probably because Guido has no clue regarding the story either. Guido is never given a moment of peace. He's endlessly hassled by colleagues and friends eager for more work and anticipating the commencement of production. Slowly but surely, Guido begins to lose his inspiration for ideas. Not only is he having trouble getting the script written and a story worked out, but those surrounding him are constantly pressuring him about different things. As a last resort, Guido retreats into his surreal fantasies and childhood memories.

There is much irony surrounding the naivety of Guido. Throughout the course of production for 8½, the script was incomplete. The actors were given their lines for the day each morning before the cameras rolled...often verbally as well.

8½ is an unmistakably unique slice of foreign cinema. The subject matter of a filmmaker reflecting in a fictional way on his own creative process was unfamiliar to the world of cinema, and especially so with the story being derived from the material of the director's own life. The film was also greatly influential for its fantasy elements. The opening sequence is a peculiar dream, with Guido being drawn up into the sky after being hopelessly trapped in a smoking car in the middle of heavy traffic. Throughout the course of the film, Fellini moves seamlessly between reality, dream sequences and memories. The film also benefits greatly from the superbly stylish and extravagant cinematography, as well as the stunning score by Nino Rota.
However, the film's length is excessive. It's a painfully long film, clocking at about 140 minutes. It's long and difficult to get through. Despite the marvellous technical wizardly on display, I also felt constantly sleepy and irretrievably lost. One probably needs to watch the film constantly in order to properly follow the events.

Mastroianni presents an absolutely wonderful performance as the troubled director. As 8½ is more or less a portrait of director Fellini, Mastroianni dresses and acts like the man he's representing.
As we're looking in-depth at the film industry, the supporting cast is of course filled with attractive performers. There are several ladies that play a role in Guido's life throughout the film. His marriage is in trouble, he obviously enjoys the company of numerous beautiful girls, etc. All in all, the film is very well acted. Everyone looks the part as respective producers, designers, mistresses, and so on.

Overall, 8½ is an above-average art film that has been endlessly analysed and critiqued. It's impossible to absorb everything during a single screening due to the cryptic and bizarre nature of the proceedings. Director Fellini conveys a very fascinating narrative underneath a coat of fantasy elements and entrancing dream sequences. Not quite the masterpiece that it was made out to be...but then again, only rarely do films live up to their accolades. For example there are some who abhor Citizen Kane while conventional critics still hail it as the greatest film of all time. In the end, it's a matter of what you expect. In my opinion it needed a stronger story instead of the overabundance of dream sequences.

7.6/10

"If only I could go down that river. To love her in the wild, forget the name of Smith. I should tell her. Tell her what? It was just a dream. I am now awake."

The New World is director Terrence Malick's take on the story of Pocahontas. Over the decades, Malick has certainly developed multitudes of faithful and loyal fans that devotedly lap up anything Malick releases, no matter the actual quality of the product. Malick's last movie, The Thin Red Line, was a spectacular war film flaunting visually beautiful visuals. However, he misses the mark with The New World by a country mile. It's an irritatingly lengthy, unfocused, pretentious, irretrievably boring mound of elephant dung supposedly disguised as "true cinematic art". While Malick presents visually arresting cinematography and eye-catching scenery, there's a gargantuan lack of focus when it comes to a solid story or narrative. This unfocused story results in a disjointed, mindless, nonsensical, shallow succession of shots passed off as a movie. This is an abysmal film that runs at roughly 150 minutes, yet honestly feels like 4 hours!

The story was not properly told, instead it was shown. If done right it could yield wonderful results, yet Malick's script is truly awful here. The script jumps from one scene to another with HUGE plot holes and unforgivable gaps in the timeline. The New World is so difficult to get into because it's impossible to follow with a non-existent plot driving the proceedings. I was constantly wondering what just happened and more importantly WHY?! To me, it seemed every shot was as unnecessary as the one preceding it. Malick appears to be so self-deluded that he's under the false impression that his stunning visuals create a masterpiece. Predictably, his loyal fans appear to take his side. But in the long run, films are made to tell an important story and/or to entertain. The New World suffers so severely because it doesn't tell a story...it doesn't even have a story! It's certainly not a slice of entertainment either. The result is a ponderously-paced film with a transparent story that's incoherent beyond all comprehension.

The love story feels so artificial as well. It's supposed to be beautiful, but the payoff at the end is simply not worth your time. It's a build-up to absolutely nothing! Furthermore, there is no hook to keep an audience engaged. We're dropped into a world we have no prior knowledge of and are expected to lap it up effortlessly. There is just no spark!

It's crucial to note a number of things regarding Malick's army of fanboys. These fans appear to worship the man and every frame he produces. They are convinced that Malick is the final word in filmmaking...the guardian of movie genius. Worse yet, they're under the embarrassing false impression that anyone who doesn't share their enthusiasm for the director's work must be a churlish animal frequently seeking entertainment in the works of Michael Bay. The fact of the matter is that Malick fans are unable to prove adequate reasoning or articulate illumination on what makes The New World a "cinematic masterpiece". Instead they opt for childish and shallow statements...proving that they are lacking as much genuine depth as Malick's cinematic creations. Their insulting pomposity also states that anyone who doesn't like The New World is just an "average movie watcher" as opposed to a "real lover of cinema". These fans place so much faith in their opinions, which of course are impeccable and so much superior to the opinions of others.
Well, this is coming from someone whose favourite movies are generally even longer than this flick: The New World is an abysmally over-hyped, excruciatingly boring, inarticulate, pedestrian-paced mess! When I wasn't relentlessly bored, I was embarrassed to be hearing the ridiculous, childish monotony of the pseudo-poetic inner monologues. Malick passes off his awful dialogue as something lyrical and poetic. He so desperately desires to be taken seriously...to be called an artistic filmmaker...but this yearning creates dialogue lacking any genuine elegance or meaning. Through the eyes of his mindless fans, of course, he's succeeded in being artistic.

"Mother, where do you live? In the sky? The clouds? The sea? Show me your face. Give me a sign. We rise... we rise. Afraid of myself. A god, he seems to me. What else is life but being near you? Do they suspect? Oh, to be given to you. You to me. I will be faithful to you. True. Two no more. One. One. I am... I am."
(I prove my point about the stupid dialogue with the above quote. Did a 13-year-old write this in their daily diary?!)

I find it frankly futile to attempt to outline the film's plot, because at the end of the day there is no plot or story. There is no clear-cut beginning or ending. The credits are the only feature that allows an audience to distinguish the beginning and the end. The film is so poorly structured and the proceedings are so unsystematic. Nothing ever makes sense.
Basically, though, a (surprisingly fully-clothed) Colin Farrell stars as explorer Captain Smith. He and his men travel upriver to trade with the Indians. But Smith is captured and set to be executed. That's when he meets princess Pocahontas (Kilcher) with whom he falls in love. His life is spared, and then an agonisingly boring romantic sub-plot emerges. Cue visually arresting shots of scenery (lacking any coherency), a few out-of-place battles and an unsatisfying conclusion that lethally betrays the viewer. Can you spot anything special in this story? ...didn't think so.

In later years, it seems films akin to The New World were released. Among them, There Will Be Blood and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. These two aforementioned films are wonderful cinematic creations. The pacing is ponderous, but the performances are both riveting and accomplished, providing a much-needed hook to see the film through. In The New World, performances are never up to the required standard.
Colin Farrell usually offers good performances. But he's been partnered with a mediocre director. As a result, Farrell is unconvincing and never given the chance to do any scene-stealing. Had he been given adequate material, his performance would have been riveting and compelling. Instead he looks bored and never attempts to demonstrate otherwise.
Q'Orianka Kilcher is even worse as the love interest. She's always striking the wrong notes. The crux of acting is to strongly engage an audience. Kilcher never does this. As an alternative, Malick places her in mindless scenes of running through tall grass, or getting her hair stroked, etc. All things considered, there's absolutely no point!
Christian Bale is also underwhelming. Not his fault, though.

Overall, The New World is definitely among the worst productions ever committed to celluloid. I actually have no idea how anyone could classify this as a movie either as it never conforms to the criterion that makes a movie. Shots are inserted without sufficient reasoning, with never an attempt to build a story. It's so unfocused that words fail me. Malick fanboys defend the film by proclaiming that he's being subversive and innovative. Once again, this is a comment from appallingly small-minded individuals. On the one hand, Malick has always proved accomplished in creating wonderful, arresting images. This talent resurfaces once again. Be that as it may, after 10 minutes it just grows old. Following that it's like watching paint dry!

1.5/10

"If I have been feeling worried or sad during the day, I have a habit of recalling scenes from childhood to calm me. So it was this evening."

Wild Strawberries (also known by its foreign title Smultronstället) is a surreal, expressionistic creation from renowned Swedish director Ingmar Bergman. During 1957, Bergman directed two of his most celebrated masterpieces: The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries. Both of these exquisite films sincerely delve into themes of life and death. Where The Seventh Seal dealt with the futility of absconding death, Wild Strawberries is a hauntingly beautiful and entrancing meditation on our morality, relationships, faith, and the realisation of death's inevitability. The film is a classic introspective production and a triumph in world cinema. In a sense it's fundamentally a cerebral road movie. Bergman first evoked this concept while standing at the door of his grandmother's house and wondering whether he'd re-enter his childhood by stepping inside. He pervades this concept with thought-provoking messages and surrealistic dream sequences which Bergman was probably most recognised for. Not long into Wild Strawberries are we presented with a nightmarish dream sequence. But this celebrated sequence is much more than a slice of expressionist symbolism: it establishes the tactic of anticipating future events and reveals that the central protagonist is a vulnerable figure who is worthy of our compassion despite all his ego, petulance and bigoted aloofness.

Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries is a bittersweet tale of an elderly college professor's journey from emotional seclusion to salvation and, ultimately, personal regeneration. Professor Isak Borg (Sjöström) is a disillusioned aged physician whose self-indulgent cynicism has left him isolated. As he reaches a tender old age, he begins reflecting on his life and starts perceiving his mortality. Isak is bestowed with an honorary University degree in recognition for 50 years of medical practise, and must travel to Lund to receive it. He travels to Lund by car with daughter-in-law Marianne (Thulin). During this journey Isak is strained to come to terms with his imminent death as he reflects on his childhood memories and life regrets. For the professor, the road trip develops into an otherworldly journey where the present is distorted by shadows from his past, and where the boundary separating dreams and reality has been erased. This is primarily exemplified when the professor wakes from a dream of an idyllic summer past with adored cousin Sara (Andersson) to meet her virtual reincarnation in the form of Sara the hitcher (also played by Andersson) whose two companions remind Isak of himself and his brother who won Sara's heart. Above all, Isak's mind is infested with memories, premonitions, reveries, and nightmares which offer illumination on his cold and empty life which lacks any significant meaning or value.

Gunnar Fischer's stylish, mesmeric black & white photography perfectly captures the wonderful locales and the images that imbue Bergman's wildly inventive imagination. Writer/director Bergman scripted the film while in hospital for two months whilst suffering from gastric ulcers. Bergman's confrontational views on human existence permeate his screenplay. In spite of suffering in a hospital bed during the film's conception, Wild Strawberries emerges as the director's most elegiac and humane production. Throughout the course of flashbacks and interactions with characters (both imaginary and real), Bergman builds a compassionate and poignant portrait of a man coming to terms with sorrows and compunctions of an emotionally constrained existence.
The cinematography creates a moody and atmospheric setting as the film glides from scenes of expressionistic distress to pastoral idyll. This is especially effective during the dream sequence encompassing faceless people and clocks sans hands as Isak moves through haunting, empty streets and eventually encounters a coffin containing his own corpse. This scene is both compelling and troubling. It's a sequence which speaks to our very soul, circumventing all senses and firmly grabbing hold of our deepest fears.

The highlight of Wild Strawberries is the miraculously sensitive performance courtesy of Victor Sjöström. This film marked Sjöström's final screen performance as he died a few years after filming wrapped. The actor portrays Professor Isak Borg as a cantankerous and irascible old man who has proved successful in his professional life, but has failed to connect with family and friends on a personal level. Many close-ups reveal Sjostrom's face expressing his character's inner conflicts, making his performance one of the most memorable in cinematic history. Bergman's allegorical road movie slips between present and past, dream and reality to explore the external and internal worlds the aging central character played by Sjöström. Sjöström's performance of an elderly man who's outwardly content yet internally burdened with disabling scars is perfect...never striking an incorrect note. He's surrounded by a remarkable supporting cast.

Winner of the Golden Bear at Berlin, Wild Strawberries is one of the truly outstanding works of post-war European cinema. It may creak in places and it might make an audience sleepy, but its evocation of the nostalgia, trepidation and repentance of old age remains unsurpassed. Gunnar Fischer's luminous lens compliments Bergman's terrific screenplay. In its revelation of human character, desire and chagrin, Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries is a potent and masterful film that cannot be missed.

8.7/10

"After I killed him, I dropped the gun in the Thames, washed the residue off me hands in the bathroom of a Burger King, and walked home to await instructions. Shortly thereafter the instructions came through - "Get the fuck out of London, you dumb fucks. Get to Bruges." I didn't even know where Bruges fucking was."

Highly acclaimed Irish playwright Martin McDonagh accomplishes his feature film debut with the fantastic In Bruges. McDonagh served as both writer and director for this poignant, powerful morality narrative that merges equal quantities of humour and pathos. It seems McDonagh has a fondness for unrelenting violence and brutality, not to mention vibrantly-drawn characters that are predominantly contemptible.
In Bruges is an extraordinarily well-written story that never loses you during its slightly excessive running time. It's an ardently character-driven drama that draws palpable influence from the works of Guy Ritchie and Quentin Tarantino. McDonagh himself even stated that Nicholas Roeg's 1973 film Don't Look Now was among his inspirations while penning his screenplay. On that note the film isn't for all tastes, in fact the violence is hard-hitting and blood is splashed around with sickening realism. There's also sufficient profanity to rival Martin Scorsese! Yet, despite the insalubrious nature of the film's proceedings there's a deep, expressionistic character study lying beneath.

McDonagh has always been talented in creating fascinating, multi-faceted stories in his successful Irish plays. Not to mention his dialogue is clever, engaging and frequently encompass very subtle humour. However, the playwright also displays competency as a director. His script was already extremely effective, but he provides additional assurance for a successful script-to-screen transformation by taking the helm. As a result of McDonagh's directing the film is suitably intense, compelling, entertaining yet also emotionally-affecting. The product is a terrific, provocative black comedy with surprising depth.

Ray: "Bruges is a shithole."
Ken: "Bruges is not a shithole."
Ray: "Bruges is a shithole."
Ken: "Ray, we only just got off the fucking train! Could we reserve judgement on Bruges until we've seen the fucking place?"

In Bruges is permeated with three indelible characters - four if you count the quaint Belgian medieval town in which the film takes place. McDonagh chooses for the film to track two Irish hit-men: Ken (Gleeson) and Ray (Farrell). Said Irishmen are ordered by gangster kingpin Harry (Fiennes) to leave London immediately when Ray's latest hit ends with devastating consequences. Harry sends the two to the well-preserved medieval town of Bruges until he provides further instructions. Haunted with recurring memories of what he did, Ray is profoundly unimpressed with the tourist attractions on offer and finds the town excruciatingly boring.
"If I grew up on a farm and was retarded, Bruges would impress me," Ray whinges. "But I didn't, so it doesn't."
Ken takes advantage of the trip as he spends his time revelling in the fascinating locations and serenity of the town. He acts as a father figure to Ray, trying to let him forget about the past by introducing him to the culture of Bruges. Their experiences progressively grow more surreal as they encounter weird locals, violent medieval art, and potential romance for Ray in the form of Chloë (Poésy) who's working on the production of a European art film featuring racist American midget Jimmy (Prentice).

The real strengths of In Bruges are abundant. First of all, McDonagh allots the film's first half to developing his characters. Moreover, the engaging dialogue creates thoroughly entertaining viewing. It's McDonagh's gift for language that makes this film distinctively succulent. The writer-director even integrates a scene from the classic Orson Welles 1958 movie Touch of Evil to signify where he's at in terms of crime drama, essentially warning a viewer about the rug that's about to be pulled out from under them. In Bruges doesn't concern the narrative logic espoused by television...it's about injuries inflicted on the human heart. McDonagh also peppers the happenings with a child's death, graphic violence, drug use, politically incorrect witticism, irreverent remarks and adequate profanities to fill numerous Rob Zombie movies. The edginess nonetheless is never affected. In Bruges is an energetically character-fuelled tale that seldom misses its mark.

The skilful merging of genres should also be lauded. Throughout the entire duration there's definite dark comedy emerging. This comedy is very subtle, such as the witty dialogue or the amusing scenarios McDonagh has plonked his protagonists into. The second half speeds things up slightly, leaving the audience with a shocking conclusion. It is a testament to McDonagh's screenwriting that such plentiful cleverness never bogs the film into being a self-reflexive intellectual goof. Far from it, in fact. Anchored by Carter Burwell's magnificently melancholy score, In Bruges is an emotional and pungent drama/comedy complete with a lean script and lurid characters. The recurring motif of a fairy-tale is also extremely effective. A viewer should easily find themselves immersed in McDonagh's incredible world, and at the end you'll be so emotionally attached that you'll be left wanting more. This is quality filmmaking, and this standard is rarely seen in an ocean of contemporary tongue-tied Hollywood claptraps.

However it could have done with a trim. It's never boring and you'll be sad when it's over, but it still sometimes feels a tad excessive. Also, it's sometimes hard to suspend your disbelief. Like wondering when the cops will show up during a ballet of bullets, or when someone leaps off a bell tower. Any sirens? Not at all. What about someone driving a boat that doesn't appear to mind when a gun-shot is discharged and a passenger is lethally wounded? A train stopping for a police check in an isolated spot where there couldn't possibly be roads? Silly stuff for sure...still, you'll be entertained enough to overlook this.

At the centre of the film, the performances are absolutely remarkable. Colin Farrell redeems himself for all prior misdoings. After misfiring in such films as Alexander, it was a perfect move to team him up with McDonagh. Farrell's acting is so convincing that words fail me. He competently submerges himself into the character. The emotional edge Farrell brings to his portrayal at times (through either narration or character interaction) is amazing. In one particular scene, Farrell breaks down about the accidental bloodshed in London. Also, Farrell at times is like a child who's reluctant to sight-see. This amusing persona keeps us interested in the character.
Brendan Gleeson also puts forth a believable portrayal. We've never seen Gleeson of this standard before. He's a great father figure for Farrell's Ray as well. At times Gleeson will almost have you in tears.
Ralph Fiennes doesn't appear (we do hear his voice a few times, though) until the second half. He's a psychopathic marvel as the ferocious, relentless gangster kingpin with little affection for anyone ("You're an inanimate fucking object!" he screams at his wife at one stage).
The chemistry between the leads is sensational. Gleeson and Farrell are the unfortunate odd couple who periodically seem displeased to be in each other's company. Then there's Fiennes who appears to like the protagonists, but favours his principals even higher.

"There's a Christmas tree somewhere in London with a bunch of presents underneath it that'll never be opened. And I thought, if I survive all of this, I'd go to that house, apologize to the mother there, and accept whatever punishment she chose for me. Prison...death...didn't matter. Because at least in prison and at least in death, you know, I wouldn't be in fuckin' Bruges. But then, like a flash, it came to me. And I realized, fuck man, maybe that's what hell is: the entire rest of eternity spent in fuckin' Bruges."

Overall, In Bruges is definitely among 2008's best movies. I doubt anyone expected Martin McDonagh's film debut to be this terrific. Similar to his renowned plays such as The Beauty Queen of Leenane, The Pillowman, etc, there's interesting characters and dialogue that's effortless to enjoy. The dialogue feels naturalistic and is loaded with profanity. Without the profanity the film couldn't have made the profound impact it was aiming for. We swear at work, we swear in everyday speech...it reveals character. For the most part we're meant to abhor these men due to their disgusting actions.
All in all the film is haunting and hypnotic in addition to being extremely good entertainment. As it is, McDonagh - with the help of an outstanding cast - has fashioned a knockout movie that I highly recommend.

9.1/10

"You want to know who killed Dietrichson? Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes.
I killed Dietrichson - me, Walter Neff, insurance salesman, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars...until a while ago, that is.
Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money and for a woman.
I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it?"

Billy Wilder's Double Indemnity has always been regarded as the archetypal film noir. If someone was to ask you what the term "film noir" meant, the simplest answer would be to show them Billy Wilder's 1944 masterpiece. If any movie could perfectly define a genre, it would be Double Indemnity. While some consider The Maltese Falcon as the first of the genre in cinematic history, some critics feel that the first real film noir was Wilder's 1944 film. All the crucial constituents we tend to associate with film noir are present: dangerous dames, robust but ultimately malleable men, expressionistic lighting and mood, as well as an incisive and darkly witty script. Double Indemnity also embodies the fundamental skeletal plot outline for a noir: an everyman falling under the spell of a calculating siren and is thrust into a world of sex, shadows, and crime.

Wilder joined forces with the equally inimitable Raymond Chandler to adapt James M. Cain's novel, and they ultimately produced one of cinema's greatest achievements. Wilder and Chandler indeed hated each other quite passionately, however they tolerated each other for long enough to script this amazing film. Together they flesh out characters so memorable, and dialogue so lethal. It's a film of indomitable cynicism and misanthropic acquiescence; the depiction of a world ostensibly unaffected by global war, but uniformly as degenerate and murderous as anything saturating the sands of Europe. Not only is Double Indemnity the ultimate - and greatest - film noir, but additionally it's absolutely perfect from the opening frame to the last.
This cinematic masterpiece is a study of deception, mendacity, self-indulgence, murder, and sex. If you like your film noirs deep, provocative, riveting and engrossing, then it's impossible to go further than these 105 minutes. How perfect are we talking, I hear you ask? To the point that I genuinely forget I was watching a movie. I became irretrievably immersed in the stylish black & white photography and the killer screenplay.

The film commences with an enigmatic, unforgettable opening image: a silhouette of a man on crutches walking towards the foreground as the credits spill onto the screen. From there, we meet insurance salesman Walter Neff (MacMurray) who wanders into the office late at night with a gunshot wound. Neff is arriving at the office this late at night to record a long confession for friend and colleague Barton Keyes (Robinson). Then the film is told in flashback, hence we're aware that there has been lust, murder and betrayal. Double Indemnity is not a "whodunit" crime film...it's a mesmerising "whydunit" film noir. This technique is innovative, and ultimately more effective. We know the conclusion of the story, but how do we reach this conclusion? It's this thought-provoking mystery that skilfully keeps an audience powerfully engaged.

"They've committed a murder and it's not like taking a trolley ride together where they can get off at different stops. They're stuck with each other and they've got to ride all the way to the end of the line and it's a one-way trip and the last stop is the cemetery."

The crux of Double Indemnity is then revealed: Neff heads to an affluent mansion to visit a client with the intention of renewing his insurance policy. This visit leads him to a fateful meeting with the beautiful Phyllis Dietrichson (Stanwyck). Phyllis appears to Neff at the top of the mansion's staircase (an emblematic position of power), wrapped in a towel. At that point she instantly has him...hook, line and sinker. From there, the scheming Phyllis seduces Neff into secretly setting up a life insurance policy for her husband (Powers). The two plan to murder Phyllis' husband and collect the insurance money. Furthermore, they plan to murder the man under peculiar circumstances that would facilitate double indemnity. Neff uses his expert knowledge of his business to conceive a foolproof plan to execute the murder and get away with it.

Billy Wilder is the master of great stories, and Raymond Chandler is the master of gab. People may remember Raymond Chandler penning stories such as The Big Sleep that were transplanted onto the screen. Howard Hawks helmed this particular adaptation. However, The Big Sleep was so convoluted and complicated. At one stage Hawks asked Chandler who had murdered a minor character...Chandler responded with "I don't know!" Yet, despite his reasonably weak stories, the dialogue he brings to the table is perfect word for word, sentence for sentence.
In the case of Double Indemnity, it was Wilder controlling the story and the proceedings while Chandler handled the dialogue. The screenplay is consequently perfect. The snappy banter between Neff and Phyllis in particular is highly memorable.

Phyllis: "There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour."
Neff: "How fast was I going, officer?"
Phyllis: "I'd say around ninety."

It's difficult for modern ears to become accustomed to the poetry of noir dialogue which has suffered severe parodying over the years. Once one has adapted, the effect is intoxicating. The film illustrates a world of dames and saps, sedition and sex. As some have observed, James M. Cain's original novella was perceived as daring (if not crude). Wilder was accordingly compelled to tread cautiously to avoid censorship. As it is, Walter Neff's fixation with Phyllis' anklet offers the film a fetishistic characteristic, and the atmosphere is constantly somewhat sordid.
Director Billy Wilder managed the production with great perception of every nuance. Wilder and his cinematographer constructed the ideal noir look: contrast of light and dark in every scene, as well as shadows and bars of light leaking through Venetian blinds.
Double Indemnity crackles with authentic hardboiled dialogue and sharp-tongued narration of such a standard that it could only have been conceived by James M. Cain and Raymond Chandler.

"It sounds crazy, Keyes, but it's true, so help me. I couldn't hear my own footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man."

The entire cast gleefully spit out Chandler's words with great conviction. At the time Fred MacMurray was considered a highly unusual choice for the role of Walter Neff. Someone such as Humphrey Bogart would have been the usual go-to guy for such a job, yet Wilder changed his mind about the character and settled for an actor more clean-cut. MacMurray plays a fast-talking, snappy, intelligent character. He really shines in the role and it's impossible to consider any other actor as the crucial protagonist. This statement is further solidified by viewing the 1973 made-for-television remake with Richard Crenna (yes, that guy from First Blood) filling MacMurray's shoes.
By the 1940s, Barbara Stanwyck was the highest paid actress in the world. Stanwyck had already done melodramas and screwball comedies before really displaying her range as Phyllis Dietrichson. Like many others, she of course was a tad hesitant to accept the part until Wilder laid down the challenge..."Are you an actress or a mouse?" Needless to say, Stanwyck was an actress and anything but mousy.
Edward G. Robinson became famous for his gangster roles, such as his performance in Key Largo. Here, Robinson is a pseudo-father figure to MacMurray's Neff. Robinson's character fulfils the job of sniffing out faux insurance claims. Unfortunately for him, his only blind spot is Neff. When Robinson smells something fishy about the murder at hand, Neff would be the last person he'd suspect. The chemistry between the leads is sizzling.

Following the release of Double Indemnity, renowned director Alfred Hitchcock took out an ad to praise Wilder's accomplishment, saying, "The two most important words in Hollywood are 'Billy Wilder'." It's easy to see why, and there's also weighty Hitchcock inspiration painted on Wilder's approach to the film. For example, there's that moment of extreme tension when Phyllis can't get her car started, as well as the effective, succinct conclusion that leaves the audience in hushed suspense.
Double Indemnity is an undisputed masterpiece from an undisputed master of cinema. Personally, the film quickly reached a high position on my list of favourite movies. It's a superlative film noir that single-handedly defined an entire genre.
In one of the biggest Oscar blunders, Wilder's masterpiece was nominated for several Academy Awards but didn't receive any. Instead the forgettable claptrap known as Going My Way earned Best Picture. I guess everyone occasionally makes mistakes.

10/10