Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"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

"Other than my eye, two things aren't paralysed. My imagination...and my memory. They're the only two ways I can escape from my diving bell." - Jean-Dominique Bauby

Le Scaphandre et le papillon (in English, the title translates to The Diving Bell and the Butterfly) is a masterful, ethereal, beautiful cinematic composition based on the unbearably poignant memoirs of French magazine editor Jean-Dominique Bauby. This phenomenal novel is impossible to read without frequently evoking knowledge of the monumental exertions Bauby must have undertaken to write it. Painstakingly dictated, one single letter and one sole blink at a time, it's the work of an incredibly ardent and witty mind irretrievably locked in a vegetative condition. Bauby's memoirs served as a ready-made canvas for the artistic indulgences of director Julian Schnabel (who had previously helmed Before Night Falls in 2000 and Basquiat in 1996). Schnabel's cinematic tour de force succeeds equally as a chronicle of one man's triumph over adversity and a document of groundbreaking visual elegance - all of which are emotionally-burdening and inspirational. The film acts as a testament to the indomitable power of the human spirit...not to mention cinema itself.

Schnabel's film expertly conveys Jean-Dominique Bauby's life in the present, the past and through the dreams that facilitate the escape of his torturous existence. The cinematography is ably executed by Steven Spielberg regular Janusz Kaminski who earned as Oscar nomination. Kaminski proficiently creates a magnificent juxtaposition of a vindictive and distorted world with the exquisite imagery of Bauby's imagination. As Bauby's tortured soul witnesses the beach or his family by his side, these exterior events flow seamlessly into beautiful visual evocations of his interior fantasies. This technique frequently imbues the screen: it imparts a mesmerising, seductive effect upon the viewer.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly conveys an inspirational, powerful narrative. For those unfamiliar with the central protagonist, Jean-Dominique Bauby (played here by Mathieu Amalric) was known to his closest friends as Jean-Do and was a man who lived his glamorous life to the fullest. Jean-Do was the editor of the respected French fashion magazine Elle. He was the loving father of two children (three in the film) and led a hectic, albeit somewhat contended, life in Paris. His life is brought to a halt in December 1995 when Jean-Do suffered a massive stroke. This stroke rendered his body completely paralysed...everything except his left eye. The doctors diagnosed him with "locked-in syndrome". With the realisation of his fate that could plague his body forever, Jean-Do finds it difficult to remain optimistic. He even desires for his death to be fast-tracked. His depression slowly eases, though, when attractive female therapist Henriette (Croze) introduces him to a medium of communication. To construct a sentence Henriette recites the letters of the alphabet and Jean-Do blinks when he hears the right letter. This method proved laborious and required patience, but it was the only way to communicate with his family and friends.

"I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed, my imagination and my memory."

Jean-Do had a contract with a publishing company and had planned to pen his own modernised version of The Count of Monte Cristo. As this was beyond him he instead employs his blinking technique to dictate an entire novel that encompassed all his dreams, memories and emotions.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is Julian Schnabel's masterwork. Jean-Dominique Bauby's memoirs were adapted for the big screen by Ronald Harwood (who also wrote The Pianist). Harwood initially deemed the novel as impossible to film and nearly gave up trying. Thankfully the screenwriter then determined the right perspective to work from - within the head of Bauby.
Director Schnabel embraced the concept perfectly and has delivered a stunning film. The film's distinctive tone is established from the get-go. Janusz Kaminski's cinematography immediately thrusts us into the world of Bauby. He shows the proceedings from the perspective of Bauby's left eye so that we see what he sees: blurs, shapes, people, doctors, curtains distorted in sunlight. His initial sensitivity to light and inability to focus accurately is also a frequent conveyance. The first half an hour (approximately) is shown entirely from Bauby's viewpoint as his other eye is sewn up, he learns of his condition bit by bit, people come and go, and he struggles to come to terms with his paralysis. We even hear his interior monologue as he presents a snide commentary on the current happenings. This even shows us that Bauby at least retained his sense of humour despite his condition. This may try an audience's attention span, but there's enough drama to keep us engaged.

A poet once said, "Only a fool laughs when nothing's funny"

This effect, however, is destroyed when the film moves out of Bauby's head. It fundamentally offers a "Get Out of Jail Free" card. Originally we feel the profound pain of a man longing to escape from a prison...then we suddenly feel less for his situation. It's also worth noting that the film sparked controversy from Bauby's closest family. His portrayal in the film is that of a self-indulgent man whose personal life is a mess. Despite the mother of Jean-Do's children faithfully remaining by his bedside throughout his trauma, he still appears to care more for a wife that refuses to visit him. Also there's the fact that Bauby suffered for every word of his art, whereas Schnabel possesses never-ending visual resources. This inevitably makes the film a less intimate, more exterior experience.

Still, the content is moving and touching. By the end you'll almost be crying. When cinematographer Kaminski traps his audience in Bauby's mind it's difficult to keep drawing breathe...we still feel for his situation for the most part and are riveted by his interior monologue as well as those moments of sincere emotionality displayed on the faces of those around him. Paul Cantelon's piano music amplifies the film's delicate, conflicting emotions. When this beautiful music is blended with the gorgeous visual images the result is hard to match, let alone top.
Jean-Dominique Bauby tagged his memoirs with the title of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Essentially this is a metaphor for his existence. Bauby considers himself so secluded and contained, as if he were exploring the deep ocean while wearing an apparatus that allows him to breathe, and little else.

"My diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly."

Actor Johnny Depp was first in line for the title role, but dropped out due to scheduling difficulties (with Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End). There is little doubt that Depp would have been ideal, and to a significant extent I wish Depp did end up taking the role.
Munich star Mathieu Amalric took the role instead. He's simply wonderful! The actor is presented with the challenge of duality: at times we see him as a typical rich man living life to the fullest, but for the majority of the film he's paralysed. Needless to say, his appearance is credible...almost to the point that you'll believe he's actually paralysed in real life.
The females surrounding Amalric in the supporting cast are just wonderful. The girls are deliberately highly attractive to suit the situation.
Max von Sydow is given a small role as Bauby's father. In one particular scene he's reduced to tears over the phone. These few minutes are among the finest in his career.

Overall, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is superb filmmaking in almost every aspect and a true celebration of the human spirit. It's definitely among the best foreign films to be released in recent years. Even though not much seems to happen during the 110-minute running time and perhaps there are a few questionable creative decisions, this is an essential experience that must not be overlooked.

8.7/10

"I love the bones of you, Robert McGregor, but you take too much to heart that canna' be helped."

At its heart, Rob Roy is Braveheart donning a new kilt distinctively suited for the thinking audience. Ultimately the film is an invigorating period adventure criminally buried and forgotten due to its meagre box office reception. In general, critics and audiences collectively bequeathed Rob Roy with acclaim and positive comments. This lavish, alluring, intriguing, brilliantly directed production was unfortunately left for dead when Mel Gibson's medieval epic Braveheart hit the big screen. As a result, the major box office earnings were instead offered to Gibson's film. Eventually Gibson's Braveheart became the talk of the town, sweeping the Oscars and developing into a more frequent recommendation via word of mouth. Rob Roy was profoundly overshadowed, and the studio eventually lost confidence in the film. Consequently this film will rarely appear as a highly regarded recommendation when it deserves to be. The intelligent scripting and solid performances from the lead actors should have guaranteed the film an opportunity to stand beside the greatest medieval-style swords-and-muskets historical adventures.

Rob Roy marks the third filming of a story loosely based on a novel by Sir Walter Scott. Originally Scott's novel became a 1922 silent film and a 1953 Disney production. Director Michael Caton-Jones crafts a spectacular rendering of the source material. He mixes classic elements of betrayal, love, courage and hardship with first-rate production values. Screenwriter Alan Sharp exercises historical facts, elements of the original novel and embellishments by his pen to create this cinematic vision.
As a notorious hero of 18th century Scotland, Robert Roy McGregor is known to have strolled through the mists of the Highlands, living by the code that made his name legendary. For his script, Sharp takes the skeletal myth and constructs a real person around those bones.

McGregor is embodied here by Irish actor Liam Neeson, with McGregor's wife played by Jessica Lange. The setting is Scotland many centuries ago when honour was a rare commodity.
Basically, Neeson's Robert Roy McGregor is an honourable man who endeavours to create a brighter future for his poor town. Faced with increasing poverty, he borrows an enormous sum of money from the duplicitous aristocrat Marquis of Montrose (John Hurt) with which he plans to use to help his clan survive a harsh winter. Enter unscrupulous fop Archibald Cunningham (Roth) who conceives other plans for the money. As the cash is being transported, Cunningham interferes and steals it for himself. This leaves Rob Roy in a massive debt he cannot repay, and the rugged Highlander is forced to take audacious action to defend his integrity.

Liam Neeson places forth a convincing portrayal as the renowned hero. The Irish actor skilfully executes a Scottish accent. Romance and drama are strong points in his performance. Never does he tread a foot wrong as we hang off every word. When it comes to the combat, Neeson's skill with a sword is outstanding. Perhaps the image of Neeson brandishing a blade won him a role in Star Wars: Episode I.
By this time Tim Roth was only chiefly recognised for Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs. With Rob Roy, the Oscar committee rewarded Roth's amazing performance as the vile antagonist with an Academy Award nomination. His screen persona from the outset is soft-spoken yet irretrievably cruel and vicious when it comes to sword-play. Better yet, among his first scenes we are informed that Roth's character penetrated a young boy whom he mistook for a girl. Roth's Cunningham is a sociopath who kills and rapes without compunction or remorse, and whose prime ambition in life is to make the best of an anguished existence in Scotland. Hunting Rob Roy gives Cunningham something to do - something he enjoys doing. While screenwriter Sharp brings much dreary historical facts to the fore in the film, Roth is the furthest thing from dreary: he's exuberant, evil and fun to watch. Flamboyant is an understatement to describe Roth's very entertaining performance.
Jessica Lange brings uncommon emotional intensity to the role of Rob's wife Mary. Both Lange and Neeson bring passion and sensuality to their challenging roles.
Veteran actor John Hurt is worth mentioning as the Marquis of Montrose with a foul agenda.
Eric Stoltz shines above his usual standard, and the forever-trustworthy Brian Cox makes a memorable (if overly brief) performance as he delivers a spiteful commentary on the proceedings.

The production values are top-notch: extraordinary costumes, extravagant cinematography and lavish landscapes breathe spectacular life into the script. Although Rob Roy is a sometimes irritatingly lengthy epic, there are some remarkable battles to behold. The final sword-fight is competently executed by the performers and filmed excellently. This fight is also riveting and moves at lightning pace.
To compliment the film's setting, there's an atmospheric musical score by composer Carter Burwell. A combination of traditional Scottish folk songs and original music form an audio tapestry that perfectly suits the wonderful visual feast on offer.
The film also benefits from Alan Sharp's smart script. The dialogue is moderately gratuitous at times, and the scenarios such as the violent battles are relentless, yet there's a poetic and lyrical sense to uncover as well.
Despite the film's reasonably brisk pacing and adequate amounts of exciting action, the length could have been trimmed down. In the long run it excessively prolongs the lead-up towards the obligatory, predictable conclusion. There's also a deficiency of subtlety in the script, i.e. we know who to root for and who to wish dead. Nearly all can be forgiven for the final sword-fight.

Overall, Rob Roy didn't stand a chance on its theatrical release due to the unreasonable overshadowing courtesy of Mel Gibson's Braveheart. By all means Rob Roy is the inferior film, but it deserves more recognition than it received. Boasting a profusion of lush scenery and high-intensity action, the film should almost certainly become an enduring classic. It's also well crafted with expert editing, solid direction and impressive cinematography. It's marginally marred by the lack of tightness in the script and perhaps it resorts to a few too many clichés too often.

"I haven't seen Berlin yet, from the ground or from the air, and I plan on doing both before the war is over."

John Sturges' The Great Escape is debatably the greatest World War II adventure film in cinematic history. Multitudes of film buffs will collectively agree that Sturges' classic action/adventure masterpiece is highly deserving of its reputation, everlasting acclaim and endless accolades. Through my eyes, The Great Escape is a rare film that undoubtedly justifies a score exceeding 5/5, 10/10 or 100%.

In the 21st century, blockbuster action films are characterised as cinematic creations flaunting masses of CGI and an abundance of action. Back in the 1960s, films such as this were the paradigmatic definition of an epic blockbuster. It's also a definitive blueprint of an action/adventure movie. Although many may not realise it, this production certainly is an action film. It's just gruelling to categorise it as such in light of recent action films like Rambo and Face/Off where things are blown to pieces and bullets are frequently dispatched. With The Great Escape it isn't the quantity or regularity of the action, it's the quality. Motorcycle chases, tense escapes and nail-biting foot pursuits are among the film's highlights.

How does one ascertain that they're watching a great film? Personally, there are two factors that typify a great movie. Firstly, you never get sick of it regardless of how many times you watch it. Secondly, the running time never feels as long as it actually is. The Great Escape clocks as a whopping 170 minutes yet it never feels that long. It's a lengthy saga for sure, but the excellence of the filmmaking and the brisk pacing never permits the audience to feel bored. Although made in 1963 (45 years ago at the time of writing this review), John Sturges' war epic has stood the test of time. While watching the movie, the transfer indicates that it's an old movie. However, the filmmaking is top-notch and every frame is lovingly crafted. Not to mention the high level of authenticity in the period depiction. These factors are rare occurrences in contemporary filmmaking. To be sure, some things have dated and there are a few anachronisms. These insignificant imperfections simply do not matter and can be easily ignored. Why? The filmmaking is masterful, to the point that everything else stands up during close scrutiny. This cinema master class is virtually impossible to match these days, not to mention effectively impossible to top.

The Great Escape is based on a true story of a truly remarkable and inspiring war tale. It's based on an escape that occurred in March 1944 during which 76 POWs escaped from a German POW camp, Stalag Luft III in Poland. The elaborate preparation and extraordinary implementation of this escape is truly mind-boggling and unbelievable...it must be seen to be believed. The film is primarily based on a novel by a former Australian prison of war, Paul Brickhill. Brickhill helped plan the escape, but due to claustrophobia he did not go through the tunnel. Instead Brickhill recorded detailed accounts of the event, later penning his novel that was then transferred into this engrossing movie.

The film is introduced with this prerequisite:

"This is a true story. Although the characters are composites of real men, and time and place have been compressed, every detail of the escape is the way it really happened."

The film's central characters are an assortment of nationalities. Australian, American, British, etc. The true story didn't include Americans as they were moved to another prison camp. However the filmmakers felt obliged to provide American characters as it would boost the film's popularity with an American audience.
Basically the Nazis opt to move all their worst prisoners to a single POW camp. In essence, the POWs that have a notorious history of escape attempts are bunched together.

"We have in effect put all our rotten eggs in one basket. And we intend to watch this basket carefully."

To the Germans it's the perfect plan, but they don't realise that they've effectively assembled the most efficient and talented escape crew in history. Hence all the POWs spend over a year planning an escape that results in 76 prisoners disappearing into the night. All the prisoners are allocated a job to complete, such as people to build the tunnel, people to forge documents, and even people to assemble outfits for the prisoners to don after their escape.
The film chronicles the POW camp's inauguration until the eventual execution of the escape, then the following manhunt and subsequent recapture of a majority of the POWs (during the real event, only 3 out of 76 remained at large).

The events depicted in The Great Escape are significant as it portrays the biggest and most famous escape from a POW camp in history. It also must be noted that the POWs weren't conducting the escape just to get back to their families, as they also aimed to create a diversion for the German army who would utilise their resources during the manhunt while invasions took place.

The Great Escape is a masterpiece for several reasons. I stated before of its entertainment value, but there are additional features that elevate this into the competition for a perfect movie, primarily the film's authenticity. All costumes and props mirror the period in staggering realism. The film was also lensed in German locations. The extensive POW camp recreation is another thing. It's intricately designed, with credible characters inhabiting it. More importantly, the Nazis are actually humanised. To be sure, no-one ever took Hogan's Heroes seriously with the humour and down-to-earth soldiers. Remove the bumbling antics as well as the humour, and what remains is what we see on the big screen here. Surprisingly, there's a faint camaraderie shared by the Germans and specific POWs. The proceedings are therefore more engrossing and charming.

Director John Sturges apparently tried to get this film off the ground for 13 years. It was only after he directed The Magnificent Seven that the film finally received the green light. Sturges' determination is obvious as each scene is crafted amazingly. His lens delicately tracks his actors through the convincing sets. There are only very minor technical glitches to be found amongst the otherwise faultless filmmaking. Sturges has the drama balanced with a great blend of subtle humour. Character interactions are filled with witty and fascinating dialogue. The final act of The Great Escape is a masterfully sustained quantity of action and tension as the assorted escapees strive for freedom via train, bicycle, motorbike, row boat and hitchhiking. Sturges brilliantly edits between all their activities and leads us to an inevitable tragedy. This tragic happening sets a new, more foreboding tone before returning to light-hearted humour for the concluding shot.

"Colonel Von Luger, it is the sworn duty of all officers to try to escape. If they cannot escape, then it is their sworn duty to cause the enemy to use an inordinate number of troops to guard them, and their sworn duty to harass the enemy to the best of their ability."

Sturges' World War II extravaganza is also blessed with an ideal cast. These actors are of such high calibre that they could never be replaced in a modern age of filmmaking. Steve McQueen is both cool and tough as the suitably cocky and brash American prisoner.
Richard Attenborough is in an early performance as the co-ordinator of the escape. If one is familiar with Attenborough's subsequent performances, such as Jurassic Park, it's almost impossible to recognise him. Here his acting is absolutely top-notch.
Charles Bronson is also worth noting for his portrayal of a rugged Polish tunnel king.
Donald Pleasence is most likely recognised for his performance as Blofeld in the James Bond film You Only Live Twice. Here, Pleasence puts forth a magnificent performance as a forgery expert.
Beyond these names, the entire supporting cast is sensational. Director Sturges scarcely lets a faulty performance slip through the cracks in spite of a few embarrassingly phoney accents (James Coburn's Aussie number takes a bow).

Eventually the definitive final element was added during post-production: the music. Composer Elmer Bernstein's famous theme music is instantly recognisable. The Great Escape is perhaps most commonly known for its wonderful theme. It always sets the proper atmosphere. Even during the opening sequence depicting the arrival of POWs, Bernstein's theme hits a defiant note. Bernstein is even dexterous with every other note of music. There are endless segments of music that you'll be humming for days due to how memorable and cheery it is.

Overall, The Great Escape is a sublime masterpiece of almost unrivalled quality. It's unbelievable that it took me so long to finally watch this movie. Its influence on cinema is profound and obvious. Films such as the animated Chicken Run shamelessly borrow the formula. This is yet another testament to the superiority of this masterpiece. It's a textbook example of a great film: even after numerous decades, almost everything holds up. Additionally, repeated screenings will only further increase your respect for this classic. The great cast, sharp storyline, astute directing, and humour manage to pervade an ultimately tragic tale, simply making this an unmissable film. It's not solely for war movie buffs, but for anyone that appreciates a story depicting the strength and triumph of the human spirit.

"They may torture my body, break my bones, even kill me, then they will have my dead body. NOT MY OBEDIENCE!"

For decades, Richard Attenborough's sweeping epic biographical film Gandhi has been incessantly subjected to critical acclaim and abject disparaging. The film won no less than 8 Oscars in 1983, including the holy three (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor) in addition to Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing and several others. On top of these exalted awards, Attenborough's biopic collected five BAFTAs (including the holy trinity of Best Film, Director and Actor) and five Golden Globes. Even after acquiring these, Gandhi garnered countless other prestigious awards. With this impressively long list of credentials, it's inevitable that critics and audiences would search for reasons to hate it. Granted, there is some to criticise. However this largely depends on what you expect.

Richard Attenborough developed the film over the course of about 20 years and was so enamoured by the man that he wanted the film to be a relentless tribute that focuses less on his weaker facets. In accepting the award for Best Picture, director Attenborough remarked that it was neither the film nor the creative team being honoured by the Academy that evening, but Mohandas K. "Mahatma" Gandhi himself. The little man with a loincloth and a walking stick made a profound impact on his home country. So profound, in fact, that the film holds the record for most amount of extras ever used in a single scene. For the scene depicting Gandhi's funeral, roughly 300,000 extras were used to fill the frame. Approximately two thirds of these extras were volunteers working for no money. They were in attendance for the filming to help Attenborough honour a man who materialised as a prominent representative of India. Attenborough's Gandhi is epic in scope and scale, and these extras further solidify Gandhi's popularity and influence. His thousands (perhaps millions) of followers were prepared to go to the end of the Earth in supporting Gandhi's cause. The people of India would ultimately acknowledge Gandhi with the title of "Mahatma" (meaning great soul) because of his revolutionary method of non-violent civil disobedience, which he initially employed as a young attorney in South Africa to challenge British laws that unjustly made Indians second-class citizens.

Gandhi is an epic creation that chronicles the life and death of Mohandas K. Gandhi: a remarkable man who refused to turn a blind eye to discrimination, yet firmly stood against violence in his methods. The man refused to resort to violence even after the tragic Amritsar massacre during which thousands of Indian men, women and young children were shot mercilessly in cold blood.

"An eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind"

Altogether the film covers roughly 50 years of history, from Gandhi as a young Indian lawyer to an elderly man eventually assassinated by a Hindu extremist. The opening sequence depicts Gandhi's death by an assassin's bullet before telling the story through flashback. Initially we follow Gandhi as a young attorney in 1893, when the unlawful injustice and prejudice is brought to his attention when he is thrown from a train after refusing to move from the first-class seat that he booked. This young Indian man staged a revolution, breaking down the prejudice against him and his coloured followers. His successes proved an inspiration for the entire world: Gandhi was a towering little man, and a motivating figure. Amid the most tumultuous, horror-filled years of war and bloodshed in history, he taught the world an alternative, non-violent method of combating oppression.

The film's beginning is prefaced with a disclaimer:
"No man's life can be encompassed in one telling. There is no way to give each year its allotted weight, to include each event, each person who helped to shape a lifetime. What can be done is to be faithful in spirit to the record and try to find one's way to the heart of the man"

The film truly pushes the envelope with its running time of about 3 hours. Attenborough chooses to focus on the man and the way his spirit shaped world history - not just the UK, but world history. The film is a tribute and a portrait of the man, showing his origins to his full-scale protests. We see Gandhi being imprisoned several times while his faithful supporters continued protests in his honour. We also watch in awe as Gandhi fasts...he refuses to eat until his wishes are accomplished. Attenborough imbues his film with the true spirit of Gandhi.

Ben Kingsley has been endlessly lauded and acclaimed for his unforgettable portrayal as Mahatma Gandhi. Although most audiences only know the historical Gandhi from history books and stories, Kingsley's masterful performance personifies everything we visualise about the man himself. He prepared for his role comprehensively by scrutinising newsreel footage of Gandhi, reading books on (and by) the subject, dieting, losing weight, practicing Yoga, and learning to spin thread. As a result this thorough research is very palpable. He masters the nature of the real man: humble and contrite. Better yet, Kingsley looks the part to stunning effect. His transformation from young man to frail old man is subtle yet effective. You will genuinely believe you're watching real footage of the man. Apparently Indian people believed Kingsley's performance was a reincarnation.
Kingsley is surrounded by a capable supporting cast. Many well-known actors appear throughout the film's duration. Martin Sheen appears as a reporter, and an extremely youthful Daniel Day-Lewis plays a boy who confronts Charlie in the street. There are countless other cast members that evince acting brilliance.

The amazing locations are captured with mind-blowing cinematography. Gandhi borrows techniques from celebrated epics such as Lawrence of Arabia. This exquisite photography was crucial as the entire film is essentially dialogue. The intriguing visuals are marvellous to behold. The pacing is deliberately slow and unhurried as there is much ground to cover.
However, there are criticisms to be pointed out. The politics that fuel the proceedings are confusing. Additional explication is sorely needed in this area. In tradition with most epics, the storytelling is at its best. In spite of this, the second half is marginally less riveting than the first. The running time is occasionally very irritating, but at the same time it's impossible to remove a frame. It's also worth noting that the film frequently canonises Gandhi's philosophies rather than exploring them. His preaching is therefore trivialised and occasionally distorted.

Despite its shortcomings and countless haters, Gandhi is an important film about a great man. In short, this is a film everyone must see at least once. It's an absorbing history lesson as well as deep food for the soul: it gives us inspiration and hope while illustrating the capabilities of a single man. Attenborough tells an amazingly powerful story in this film, with incredible cinematography and an extraordinary period atmosphere that makes it a memorable epic deserving to stand beside Lawrence of Arabia. Gandhi is simply unforgettable and remarkable...watch it without hesitation.

8.85/10

King Konreid: "Gallian is raising armies... Vast armies"
Farmer: "I'll kill him."

Uwe Boll's In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale is an overproduced, nonsensical, pale aping of Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy.
It's impossible to start a review of a Boll product without mentioning the man's abominable career. Boll, the purveyor of such "efforts" as BloodRayne, appears to genuinely enjoy vandalising modern cinema. Boll possesses a truly repulsive ego as evident in recent video interviews, and believes he is a great filmmaker. He also dismisses negative reviews as the products of small, jealous minds. He frequently directs video game adaptations with absolutely detestable consequences.

Uwe Boll appears to have no soul, nor does he possess any filmmaking skill or artistic acumen. Yet his company never fails to release endless amounts of appalling films helmed by the German hack director. Renowned filmmakers like Terry Gilliam and David Lynch are suffering in the industry while this German joke persists in the nonstop creation of new projects that yield terrible results. Millions of dollars have been utilised by Boll to create these movies...with embarrassing box office earnings (BloodRayne was his biggest flop - its budget was roughly $20 million, and worldwide it didn't even break $4 million). Uwe Boll's personality and "talent" in filmmaking is so detestable that words fail me. Just to think that out of the trillions of unborn sperm, Boll was granted the gift of life. What a senseless waste!

In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale evokes ideas from several fantasy epics rather than producing something original. In a nutshell: Boll's latest film to stain global TV screens is an everything-must-go yard sale of clichés and proverbial formulas. I have no idea how to recount the plot of In the Name of the King as Boll's storytelling faculties are awful. There are too many inept occurrences during the 2-hour running time that I'd be wasting cyberspace just to list them. Essentially the central character is a labouring chump known as Farmer (Statham). Apparently his name is Farmer because, as his wife quotes, he believes we "become what we do". What a peculiar philosophy, Mr. Talentless-Hack Boll.
Anyway, Farmer's family is torn apart when the Uruk Hai - sorry, I mean Krugs - desecrate his village. Farmer vows revenge on the Krugs and sets out with two companions. Meanwhile, King Konreid (played by Burt Reynolds...yes, you read that right) is amassing an army to attack a powerful sorcerer (played by Ray Liotta...yes, you also read that right) who controls the Krugs.

I honestly haven't a clue how to further elaborate on the plot. The best I can do is list all the films it steals ideas from: the aforementioned Lord of the Rings series (basically all the battle scenes are situations taken straight from these films), Star Wars, Pirates of the Caribbean, The Princess Bride (hero's wife is taken hostage, hero must rescue her), Gladiator, Friday the 13th (yes, it appears to steal from here as well) and many others. Heck, for good measure we have the inevitable "twist" of a long lost father and son. Better yet, they're reluctant to believe the long lost family tie until one of them is on their death bed.

As for the rest, In the Name of the King is a mind-boggling accumulation of random events and non sequiturs. 90% of the film makes little sense. Like why do the Krug warriors - fundamentally pale imitations of Uruk-Hai from LOTR (except less dexterous) - set themselves on fire and get launched out of catapults? Furthermore, why do the flaming Krugs get launched into trees? And how does Ray Liotta's character plan to kill Farmer with a few magically placed books attached to his wrists and ankles? More importantly, where the hell to the ninjas come from? All questions without answers. Uwe Boll's intention is to give his audience mindless action. He forgets that action sequences are futile if the audience has no reason to believe (or care) what's happening. The stupidity increases as Statham's Farmer becomes capable of acrobatic jumps that could never be achieved by a regular human unless a trampoline was in place. The ninjas have no reason to be there either, yet they are...and they descend from the trees halfway through a battle.

Qualitatively, this medieval mess establishes Boll as being in the same league with folks who produce porn. But Boll is unbelievably worse. You see, porn films still give the audience what they want - nudity and sex - while Boll isn't capable of giving an audience the action they yearn for. Boll's films retain a few similarities to the porn universe though...such as the terrible storyline and appalling acting.

There are an abundance of secrets behind the sub-par quality of Boll's movies. Virtually everything is wrong with them and it's a waste of space to list them all! There is one solid logical reason that could provide reasoning for the retarded nature of Boll's filmmaking. This reason is up there on the screen for everyone to see...the man cannot cast a movie properly! It's amazing that despite Boll's horrendous reputation, he can still attract a few decent names. The only true A-List performer is Jason Statham. Statham had delivered solid performances in films such as Crank. Mix him with a bad director and the results aren't anything to write home about.
The rest of the cast are has-beens and never-really-weres. Ray Liotta and Matthew Lillard appear to be vying for the Ham and Cheese Award in each scene they share. Lillard's accent is dismal, to the point that not even Boll was responsible for his awfulness. Liotta is some creepy sorcerer who appears to spend his time in a magical bubble controlling his warriors. These scenes don't make a lick of sense!
Burt Reynolds hasn't done anything good for years. As a medieval king he fails hopelessly. The armour never seems to suit him (the helmet even looks crooked) and he's given embarrassing dialogue.
John Rhys-Davis is further proof of Boll's ambition to place this film in the league of Lord of the Rings. Rhys-Davis hasn't been given much work lately, but surely he has sufficient funds to keep his life going. So why on earth did he agree to defile his career?! At one stage his dialogue grows incredibly clichéd and embarrassing: he's wounded and says "How could I have been so stupid? Forgive me!" Frankly I think his agent was sitting beside him, and Rhys-Davis was talking about his career being ruined by agreeing to appear in the film.
Additionally there are a few females tossed into the mix. Leelee Sobieski, Claire Forlani and Kristanna Loken are as useless as everyone else. Leelee in particular is a vain, emotionless wreck who appears useless.
Then there's Ron Perlman in a career-worst performance! In all fairness, it wasn't his fault. It was the fault of the screenwriter.

This brings me onto my next point: Boll keeps failing due to the poorly written screenplays. Doug Taylor's terrible screenwriting skills are brought to the fore when it comes to criticising this awful production. Taylor appears to be striving for lyrical dialogue similar to Lord of the Rings. The primary difference is that the screenwriting committee for LOTR also had an outstanding creative team to breathe life into the script. Peter Jackson's transcendent direction totally immersed us into a beautiful universe...instead of achieving this, Taylor reels out endless clichés and archetypes in addition to countless ideas completely stolen from the LOTR trilogy.

During most of the battles it's possible to evoke memories of LOTR. Occasionally shots look like they've been lifted from the trilogy. The only difference is...Uwe Boll has no sense of style! The mayhem is poorly orchestrated due to disjointed editing and shoddy over-the-top conceptions. You will have no idea what is actually going on. Boll's camera zigzagging around the action is comparable to a drunken hobbit with ADD! Just like BloodRayne, Boll's camera movements are as stylish as a monkey with a paint brush...however this probably offers questionable degradation to monkeys.

In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale is simply Boll's late entry into the Lord of the Rings rip-off competition. If you're longing for another woeful copy of every sword-and-sorcery epic ever made, this film is definitely it. Throughout the time between the film's opening to its conclusion, we're dropped into the middle of this unconvincing world and asked to buy every moment of it. Even worse, it's overflowing with pseudo-spectacle swordplay and dull special effects. The pacing is schizophrenic, the editing is clearly from the "meanwhile, in an alternative section of the film" school of cutting, and the stupefyingly stilted dialogue bestows more inadvertent laughs than the actual moments of forced funny business. The violence is also diluted to attain a certain rating in a bid to score big at the box office. This is the kind of crap that makes Eragon seem like the second coming of Tolkien! At the end of the day, the film runs at 2 hours and it's too exhausting to be fun. It's still superior to Boll's usual output, but even that's the furthest thing from praise.

1.9/10

"I'm just a little boy who plays with his penis when he's nervous."

Tropic Thunder was Ben Stiller's most ambitious project yet. The actor/director/writer's career abruptly plummeted after starring in a number of disappointing films such as the tepid Night at the Museum and the lacklustre recent remake of The Heartbreak Kid. The last time Stiller accepted the obligations as a director was for 2001's successful comedy Zoolander (he also directed the 1996 Jim Carrey movie The Cable Guy). Put quite blatantly, Tropic Thunder is bona fide redemption for Stiller. He's returned to form with this zany, wild comedy that's an absolute blast from start to finish!

As many have noted from reviews thus far and from the hyperbolic marketing, Tropic Thunder is a straightforward spoof of the war genre. From Platoon to Apocalypse Now, from Saving Private Ryan to Rambo - no war movie is safe. But additionally, the film is far more than a mere brainless genre parody (we've had enough of Epic Movie, Date Movie, etc) as it's also a thorough satire of Hollywood. The characters in the film represent the clichéd Hollywood actors, cleverly satirising their demented egos and pretensions. In the incredibly over-the-top characterisations and imaginative set-ups, the filmmakers seriously cross the line. In fact, they don't simply just cross the line...they rape the line, kill it, burn it, then urinate on the ashes. It's a full-frontal, no-holds-barred comedy assault capable of making one laugh so hard that you'll have trouble breathing.

In order for the film to work, the script had to be clever. Stiller dons three hats for this film - he serves as director, writer and lead actor. He shares a screenwriting credit with Etan Cohen and Justin Theroux (who's been hired to write the script for Iron Man 2) in the construction of an ingenious composition of unbelievably hilarious moments. Granted the script unnecessarily lulls and occasionally the situations appear irretrievably lost; however it does its job of moving from point A to B, C to D while stocking a high supply of laughs.

Tropic Thunder opens with an intriguing boom. The film's opening is tagged with three fake trailers and a fake TV advertisement. These four segments are indubitable comedy gold. These are included to establish the four protagonists. Without a doubt the best trailer on offer here is Robert Downey Jr. as Oscar-enshrined Australian actor Kirk Lazarus: the mock teaser is a narrative of illicit gay love between two Middle Ages priests (the other cameoed by a famous Hollywood actor whom I won't name)...and it's hysterically evident by meaningful gazes and exaggerated apprehension.

Following these four opening segments, the film kicks into action.
Tropic Thunder is fundamentally the story of making a war movie. After a prolonged (hilariously embellished) Michael Bay-esque series of explosions and gun battles set in the Vietnam War, it's established that the focus of the story is actually on a film set. A bunch of over-demanding actors are in the middle of making a film rendering of a novel penned by grizzled Vietnam veteran Four Leaf Tayback (Nolte). However the film is millions of dollars over-budget and a month behind schedule...just four days into filming! Four Leaf is afraid that his story will be ruined by incompetent first-time director Damien Cockburn (Coogan) behind the camera and the cluster of prima donnas in front of the camera. Four Leaf suggests they shoot the movie guerrilla style: by placing the actors in the middle of an actual war zone. This goes ahead, and these actors suddenly find themselves attacked by a dangerous group of drug dealers. Worse yet, some of the actors are still convinced that it's all part of the moviemaking process and they aren't in any actual danger.

The fiery controversy that casts a dark cloud over Tropic Thunder completely misses the point. It's not racist and its intention was not to offend the mentally challenged. Writer/director/actor Stiller spoke in various interviews regarding the controversy. Never was it his intention to offend anyone...he's pointing his insults towards Hollywood and the demented attitudes that dominate today's industry. In the form of an outrageously entertaining action/comedy hybrid, Tropic Thunder merely offers a contemptuous satire. Those groups boycotting the movie and launching protests are embarrassingly narrow-minded.

The highlight of this ambitious production is the impeccable casting. Ben Stiller is easily in his most satisfying role since Meet the Fockers. He's still playing himself to an extent, but it works in the context as the film required the overzealous, egotistical and overconfident character that Stiller provides. Stiller acclimates himself well enough.
Robert Downey Jr.'s performance has been the talk of the town for months. Downey Jr. portrays an Oscar-winning Australian actor who undergoes a pigmentation alteration procedure in order to portray an African-American sergeant. Downey Jr.'s character is a thorough method actor who doesn't get out of character "until after the DVD commentary". In essence, the significance of Downey Jr.'s portrayal is to show what lengths people will go to in order to play a role. The "blackface" routine just never gets old. It's also interesting that Downey Jr. nails the character perhaps too perfectly, to the point that much of his dialogue is almost incomprehensible. Many will also complain about the profanity levels as well. To me it makes the character more realistic by employing stereotypes to convey the point. Unless you know it's Robert Downey Jr. in the role you won't be able to notice. Downey Jr.'s strongest moment, though, is when he goes from African-American to Australian in a matter of seconds. His Aussie accent is laudable. Apparently Stiller allowed Downey Jr. to frequently ad-lib, and this makes the brilliance of his dialogue far more naturalistic. Downey Jr.'s performance in Iron Man was a highlight of 2008; however Tropic Thunder is by far his best performance ever. He steals the show. Golden Globe worthy? Heck yes! Oscar worthy? That's pushing it, but it'd be great to see Downey Jr. earn an Oscar.

Jack Black's performance is terrific, however he's slightly one-dimensional as well as hollow. The drug addiction grows old pretty quickly. If you're a fan of Jack Black you may be disappointed, but there are multiple lines of Black's that are absolutely hilarious.
Brandon T. Jackson is brilliant as rapper Alpa Chino who's annoyed that the role of the African-American sergeant wasn't given to another brother. Much of the film's hilarity is derived from the obvious rivalry between Jackson's Alpa Chino and Downey Jr.'s Kirk Lazarus.
Jay Baruchel is given the most down-to-earth role as an inexperienced actor seemingly baffled by the surrounding big-name actors.
Steve Coogan plays the incompetent director annoyed by his self-centred actors, and he's fantastic.
Nick Nolte is remarkable as the gruff Vietnam veteran.
There's also Danny McBride as the eager pyrotechnics expert. He has fun blowing stuff up.
A surprisingly fully-clothed Matthew McConaughey nails the role as Stiller's agent determined to get his client the TiVo promised in his contract. Owen Wilson was scheduled to take the role, but was forced to back out after the much-publicised suicide attempt.
There are cameos aplenty to find here. The most memorable and funny cameo depicts a well-known actor (not mentioning any names because it's better as a surprise) as a balding, foul-mouthed studio executive. Said actor offers his best performance for years!

Behind the camera Stiller appears resolute and determined. 2001's Zoolander was a textbook example of a zany comedy, and he retains the same formula here. Both movies essentially follow a one-time superstar whose career is on the wane.

The problem with most contemporary comedies is that there are two standards: one that's hilarious and entertaining in order to overshadow the script flaws and lack of creativity, or there's the clever comedy with stifled gags that's boring as a result. Tropic Thunder is a superior version of the former. There are laughs aplenty but it's also clever. Be that as it may, the problem in the script is that it sometimes tosses the characters into a situation and trails off. Essentially the script throws these characters into the air and lets them land where they may. It needed to be far more succinct and to the point. Additionally, there's a large chunk in the middle section that just doesn't work. It acts as a way to get to the final action scene and climax, but it's far too dragged out and it's a lame excuse for a succession of gags. Worse yet, these gags don't work for the most part. Instead things get boring. Once this section is over, though, the film is redeemed by the highly entertaining final showdown.

Overall, Tropic Thunder is possibly the most creative comedy for years. This is also Stiller's most satisfying comedy for a long time. It provides moments for an audience to laugh HARD as they indulge in an extraordinarily entertaining experience. Despite a few minor flaws, the film delivers the laughs and action it promised. Recommended!

8.1/10