Reviews by PvtCaboose91

From the moment that the iconic opening title crawl begins - accompanied by John Williams' exhilarating, iconic Star Wars theme - it's clear that 2015's Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens is in safe hands. With George Lucas stepping aside, Star Wars is finally being handled by filmmakers who actually care about the beloved franchise and know how to create genuine big-screen excitement. Ignoring all the prequel trilogy nonsense, The Force Awakens is more interested in recapturing the magic of the original trilogy, picking up thirty years after 1983's Return of the Jedi left off and bringing back familiar faces to kick-start a new slate of sequels and spinoffs. Under the watchful eye of director/co-writer J.J. Abrams, who also enlisted the help of The Empire Strikes Back scribe Lawrence Kasdan, it's a phenomenal nostalgia trip as well as an efficacious world-building exercise, and it genuinely feels like Star Wars in all the right ways.

Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) has vanished, and in his absence the tyrannical First Order have risen from the ashes of the Empire, led by the shadowy Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis). A critical piece of information pertaining to Luke's location is discovered, but Resistance pilot Poe (Oscar Isaac) is compelled to hide the map in his droid, BB-8, when stormtroopers destroy his ship and capture him. Finn (John Boyega) is a stormtrooper who feels disillusioned after his first taste of combat, breaking Poe out of his cell in the hope of escaping the clutches of the First Order. After crash landing on the desert planet of Jakku, Finn meets scavenger Rey (Daisy Ridley), who's in possession of BB-8 and feels determined to deliver the droid to the Resistance. Reluctantly teaming up, the pair soon encounter Han Solo (Harrison Ford) and Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew), who have tried to avoid getting involved in the fight against the First Order. Meanwhile, Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) leads a frantic search for BB-8, assisted by General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson).

Undertaking a project like The Force Awakens would be intimidating for any writer. On top of the obvious cultural significance surrounding the production, Abrams and Kasdan were tasked with bringing back old characters, introducing new characters, and establishing a fresh direction for this new trilogy. Hence, the script has ample baggage to deal with, so The Force Awakens does contain a fair amount of set-up that will likely pay off further down the track. Added to this, there is a certain degree of familiarity permeating the material; this is more or less A New Hope 2.0, borrowing elements of the 1977 hit which started it all, as well as aspects of the original trilogy in general. The film does threaten to come apart at the seams due to this, but The Force Awakens overcomes its noticeable shortcomings by concentrating on what matters most: compelling characters, focused storytelling, rousing action, and a sense of humour. There is more humanity here than ever before, with some worthwhile comedy to break up the drama that miraculously comes across as organic rather than cheap.

Abrams is renowned for his "Mystery Box" approach to moviemaking, determined to keep a lid on practically everything in an attempt to restore some of the sense of surprise that movies used to afford before internet spoilers and online gossip. What's particularly remarkable about The Force Awakens is that the returning characters have a bearing on the narrative at large, and they serve a purpose beyond the obvious passing of the torch. This is especially true of Han and his ever-dependable walking carpet, with Abrams ensuring the pair are vital participants in this story - and they also have a part to play in the overarching narrative leading into Episode VIII. Even more critically, Han feels like a three-dimensional character, as does General Leia (Carrie Fisher, who has aged surprisingly well), and their relationship does strike an emotional chord. Ford is an absolute joy to watch, with the aging thespian showing a surprising amount of enthusiasm throughout; he's effortlessly charismatic, and he's a believable man of action. The Force Awakens also finds time for effective fan service, with the characters here perceiving Han, Leia and Luke as legends due to the events of the original trilogy. (Heh, that's subtle.)

The new characters unquestionably work, which is a huge deal in the Star Wars universe, and I already look forward to spending more time with them in future instalments. And despite the strong sense of homage, there is far more nuance and depth to all of the fresh faces, who bely simple labels like "The New Luke" or "The New Han." What's interesting about Kylo Ren is that he's not Darth Vader; he's a disgruntled Jedi student who aspires to live up to the legacy of his personal deity, but lacks the skill and refinement to reach that level. Ren is more fallible than expected, and his character development is intriguing. Also remarkable is new droid BB-8 (an astonishing practical effect), who actually gives a better performance that most of the actors in the prequel trilogy. Through well-timed bleeps and bloops, and some expressive movements, the droid is able to convey humour, frustration, exasperation, excitement, and other emotions. In short, he's an absolute scene stealer.

Free of the acting vacuum that is George Lucas, the actors here are allowed to emote and express passion, carving out characters we can instantly latch onto. Choosing little-known thespians for Finn and Rey may seem like a calculated attempt to recapture the magic of the original trilogy, but both Ridley and Boyega convincingly knock it out of the park. Ridley is a thrilling screen presence, radiating welcome spirit and emotion, while Boyega can actually act. However, it's Isaac who ultimately steals the show as the pilot Poe Dameron, arguably the best new character. Almost effortlessly, Isaac makes one of those rarely-seen instantaneous turns from "good actor you've seen in a few movies" to "bona fide fucking movie star." Driver is just as promising, essaying a wonderfully nuanced villain, while British actor Domhnall Gleeson makes a great impression as General Hux. A handful of recognisable names do pop up who will presumably return in the future, but the film unfortunately wastes three cast members from The Raid, who aren't even given the opportunity to show off their insane fighting abilities. What was the point?

A large chunk of Disney's marketing campaign has revolved around addressing fan complaints towards the prequels, most notably in regards to the visuals. Indeed, Lucas lathered the prequels in an unholy amount of CGI, but Episode VII harkens back to the old-school approach, with a heavy reliance on practical effects and vast sets. Computer-generated imagery has undeniably reached breaking point due to overuse; blockbusters look too digital, with visual effects shots frequently coming across as workmanlike and phoney. But with a heavy element of practicality and tangibility to the action scenes, there's a level of excitement here that's seldom glimpsed in contemporary blockbusters. We have never seen spaceships look so vivid and utterly real, and it's often impossible to discern what's digital and what's practical. Above all, The Force Awakens is comparatively modest, with realistic physics, and at no point looks like a cartoon. Admittedly, there are a few motion-capture characters who do not look as impressive, including Snoke and Maz (Lupita Nyong'o), but this isn't not a deal-breaker - it's just that the puppetry and make-up is far more appealing. Furthermore, Abrams and cinematographer Dan Mindel elected to shoot on 35mm film stock to emulate the look of the original trilogy, affording a fine grain structure. Better, the picture has not been colour-corrected to death. And by mixing old-fashioned special effects techniques with the new, Abrams and his crew have not only created a film that's aesthetically similar to the original Star Wars trilogy - they have also constructed the most convincing, visually distinctive sci-fi blockbuster in recent memory. 

Compared to the other entries in the Star Wars franchise, The Force Awakens does not have a great deal of lightsaber action, and any fans expecting plenty of heavily-choreographed fights will be disappointed. Ren only crosses blades at the climax, and with the budding Sith and his opponents lacking in training, the resulting battles are rawer than ever, on top of being full of humanity, and it's an utter joy to behold. Furthermore, there is no irritating shaky-cam to speak of. The Force Awakens also sees the return of composer John Williams, which is an exceptional touch. Williams' music is reliably grandiose, though it's perhaps not as impactful as it was in the original trilogy.

The Force Awakens was never going to please everybody. Star Wars fans across the world have already mapped out their dream Episode VII in their heads, and it is simply not feasible for one two-hour motion picture to fulfil millions of different mental checklists. No matter what, there was always going to be a contingency of disgruntled cry-babies. At the end of the day, The Force Awakens is not perfect, and falls short of delivering the same gooseflesh-provoking high that Star Wars provided in 1977, but it is a promising new beginning, an almost "safe" way to launch this new franchise on the right note to win back erstwhile fans and bring in a whole new generation of young viewers. It's accessible without being pandering, deep without being pretentious, and reverent to the original trilogy whilst still feeling fresh. Ultimately, we are now left hoping that Episode VIII will be the Empire Strikes Back of this new trilogy.

The release of Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back in 1980 solidified Star Wars as one of the greatest franchises in motion picture history, as well as one of the most profitable. And with The Empire Strikes Back managing to surpass the quality of its excellent predecessor, expectations were understandably even higher for 1983's Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi, which was directed by Richard Marquand while George Lucas co-wrote the screenplay with Empire scribe Lawrence Kasdan. Alas, Return of the Jedi is easily the weakest entry in the original Star Wars trilogy, and anybody who genuinely believes that it's a masterpiece on the same level as its forerunners must be blinded by nostalgia. However, while it's not the knockout conclusion that it should have been, Return of the Jedi is nevertheless a thrilling final chapter which closes the original trilogy on a sufficiently satisfying note.

A few years have elapsed since the events of The Empire Strikes Back, and the Galactic Empire are in the process of constructing a new Death Star under the supervision of Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid). Han Solo (Harrison Ford) is still frozen in carbonite and being held at Jabba the Hutt's seedy palace on Tatooine, while Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew) is also captive. Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) has grown in his Jedi training thanks to the teachings of Yoda (Frank Oz), and spearheads a rescue attempt, enlisting the help of Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher) and protocol droids C-3PO (Anthony Daniels) and R2-D2 (Kenny Baker). With the new Death Star nearing completion, the Rebel Alliance seek to destroy the space station before it becomes fully functional, with Han leading a strike team on the forest moon of Endor to take out the Death Star's shield generator. Meanwhile, Luke also has unfinished business with Lord Darth Vader (David Prowse).

Star Wars producer Gary Kurtz ended his collaboration with George Lucas after The Empire Strikes Back, as he was concerned that Lucas was too blinded by marketing prospects and toys, with his priorities shifting away from story and character. Screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan also clashed with Lucas, as Kasdan wanted to further explore the themes of Empire, but such a dark tone did not suit Lucas' vision. The original script draft for Return of the Jedi was much darker: it was free of Ewoks, it fulfilled Ford's longstanding wish to kill off Han Solo, and Luke would have walked off alone at the end, "like Clint Eastwood in spaghetti westerns" as Kurtz himself puts it. But none of this appealed to Lucas, who was afraid that this chain of events would harm toy sales.

Ultimately, a lot of Return of the Jedi's flaws do stem from its screenplay, which plays things overly safe and panders to merchandising. The fucking Ewoks are still as irritating as ever and the film has its idiotic moments (Boba Fett's demise is embarrassing, Chewie swings on a vine yelling like Tarzan, and so on), while the ending is far too sappy, saccharine and upbeat. The problems with the Ewoks stretch beyond being simply annoying; it's also not believable that these furry Care Bear lookalikes could fight against armed Imperial stormtroopers and come out on top. And who else finds it a little bit disturbing that the Rebel victory is literally all attributable to Han accidentally stepping on a twig? Furthermore, another assault on the Death Star does carry a bit of a "been there, done that" feeling, an issue that Kurtz even brought up with Lucas in pre-production. But while these issues are bothersome, they are thankfully not enough to sink the entire enterprise.

With The Empire Strikes Back having grossed more than A New Hope at the global box office, another budget increase was permitted for Return of the Jedi, and it's easily the most visually impressive of the original trilogy. The film may be marred by its mediocre script, but this Star Wars instalment really delivers in terms of big-screen entertainment, and it's still downright tremendous in 2015. Marquand reportedly received help from Lucas throughout shooting due to his inexperience with special effects, and the two men reportedly clashed numerous times on set, yet the finished product looks astonishingly assured. As with its predecessor, the practical effects are simply sublime, and the 35mm photography affords a tangible aesthetic that's easily superior to the glossy, digital-looking movies that are produced so often in the 21st Century. Puppets are also used to great effect, with Yoda coming across as a believable, flesh-and-blood character, while Jabba's palace is populated with colourful specimens brought to life through excellent make-up and puppetry. And as per usual, John Williams' enrapturing soundtrack is the cherry on top.

Return of the Jedi received a whole heap of egregious changes courtesy of Lucas, culminating with the borderline unwatchable Blu-ray edition. One of the worst offenders is the addition of a hugely irritating song at Jabba's palace which replaces a far grimier musical number in the theatrical cut. The new song is grating, while the digitally-created singers are hard to look at, especially with the shonky '90s CGI that has dated tremendously. It's also far too upbeat, standing in stark contrast to the unnerving disposition of Jabba's dangerous palace. Worse, Lucas fucks up Vader's epiphany by repeating the "Nooo!" sound-byte from Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith (seriously, he must be trolling), on top of changing the celebratory music at the end, adding a shot of Naboo (from The Phantom Menace), and even inserting the ghost of Hayden Christensen, which is one of the biggest betrayals in Star Wars history. Other superfluous CGI shit is added, too, including a bewildering digital extension of the door to Jabba's palace. Ultimately, the original unaltered version is the one and only way to watch Return of the Jedi, for my money.

As with the previous Star Wars pictures, some of the proceedings do border on melodramatic soap opera, especially with Han and Leia's romance, lots of talk about Luke's destiny, and some cheesy dialogue. However, it all comes together nicely thanks to the sincerity of the material and the easily sympathetic characters. And speaking of the characters, it's amazing to witness Luke's character growth across the trilogy, and Hamill sells the transformation magnificently. The Luke Skywalker who battles Lord Vader here is not the same gee-whiz farm boy we first saw in A New Hope, and he has also grown more mature since his reckless actions in The Empire Strikes Back. Equally assured is the perpetually-reliable Harrison Ford, once again an ideal, badass hero as Han Solo, while the rest of the actors hit their respective marks with confidence.

Return of the Jedi undeniably roars to life during its final act, when Luke confronts Vader and Palpatine. The drama throughout the conflict is riveting, and the excitement is amplified by the concurrent battles, as Luke fears for the safety of his friends. And ultimately, the resolution is both satisfying and touching. Return of the Jedi is not a bad movie by any stretch, but it is a tad disappointing when placed alongside the other two entries in the original Star Wars trilogy. Despite the occasionally distracting sense of commercialism, this is still a slick, exciting way to close to the sacred trilogy, and the flaws are overcome by the sheer charm and sense of escapism it manages to generate. And compared to the Star Wars prequel trilogy, Return of the Jedi is perfectly fine.

Long before A&E's Bates Motel premiered in 2013, there was the 1987 telemovie Bates Motel, which was designed to be a pilot for a potential television show. Suffice it to say, the show was never picked up by any network, and it's not hard to see why. Written and directed by Richard Rothstein, the movie disposes of everything that made Psycho so fascinating in the first place, and it doesn't even focus on franchise lead Norman Bates. Rather than a disturbing horror like Alfred Hitchcock's timeless classic, Bates Motel is a bewildering thriller/fantasy concoction with very little merit in its premise or execution. For Hitchcock fans, it's a frustrating insult.

After the events of the first movie, Norman Bates (briefly played here by Kurt Paul) is sent to a mental asylum, where he meets troubled young boy Alex West (Bud Cort) who murdered his abusive stepfather. Norman takes Alex under his wing, essentially acting as his surrogate father. Coincidentally, Norman dies in the same year that Alex is set to be released, and Norman's will specifies that Alex is to inherit the Bates Motel as well as the nearby family home. Travelling to the rundown motel, Alex meets a plucky squatter named Willie (Lori Petty), who convinces Alex to let her hang around. Wanting to honour Norman, Alex becomes determined to renovate the old Bates Motel and re-open the establishment to the public. However, Alex begins to see a dark figure lurking around the residence who looks like Mrs. Bates, and things begin to happen which threaten Alex's dream.

Bates Motel ill-advisedly and inexplicably retcons the Psycho sequels, playing out as a direct follow-up to Hitchcock's Psycho. However, there are fundamental flaws and inconsistencies that cannot be ignored by anybody who has actually watched Psycho, let alone those who know it intimately. For instance, in Hitchcock's movie, the motel resides about fifteen miles outside of Fairvale, but in Bates Motel, the establishment is a half-mile away from "Fairville." Worse, in the movies and in Robert Bloch's Psycho novel, Norman's mother is named Norma, but all the characters here seem to think that Mrs. Bates' first name is Gloria. And while the construction crews are working on the motel here, they stumble upon the body of Mrs. Bates, which makes no sense since her body would have been properly laid to rest after being found in Hitchcock's movie. Unless Norman broke out of the asylum to specifically steal his mother's body again, just to bury it at the motel... See how none of this makes any sense? One has to seriously wonder if Rothstein has even seen the Hitchcock film - in all likelihood, he just read a brief plot outline of Psycho before working on his screenplay.

Bizarrely, Rothstein turns Bates Motel into a saccharine supernatural sitcom, with kind-hearted ghosts and no murders. It's a peculiar knockoff of the likes of Twilight Zone and Fantasy Island, involving guests checking in where they confront their fears and emerge as a whole new person. Out of nowhere in the final act, a woman (played by Kerrie Keane) checks into the motel looking to commit suicide, but a group of deceased teens rise from the grave to have a '50s-style party and persuade her to change her mind. Jason Bateman even stars as one of the teens, and all the ghosts pay Alex to rent rooms in the motel. Despite the fact that this subplot is utterly ridiculous, the supernatural has never been part of the Psycho mythology; it's a tale about monsters within. By leaning on this crap, Bates Motel negates the very thing that made the original movie such a unique entity.

The only noticeable tie-in to Psycho is the Bates Motel setting (though it's renovated beyond all recognition), and the brief appearance of Norman, who isn't even played by Anthony Perkins. Worse, the majority of the movie is concerned with the hopelessly humdrum machinations involved in getting the motel up and running again, lacking the type of Hitchcockian suspense that should be omnipresent in a production like this. Even though ostensibly spooky things do happen, such sequences are not scary or unnerving, and climactic reveals fundamentally transform the entire enterprise into an episode of Scooby Doo. On this note, the movie's tone is all over the place, with irritating attempts at comedy - Willie is even introduced wearing a fucking chicken costume. It's an outrage to see such content in a Psycho spinoff, and the film even ends with Alex breaking the fourth wall, because TV.

Things were eventually set right in the Psycho universe with the release of Psycho IV: The Beginning in 1990, which ignores Bates Motel and exists in the same continuity as the other Psycho sequels. Thus, it's easy for fans of the Psycho film series to continue happily ignoring Bates Motel, which is in the same league as the Star Wars Holiday Special - a historical curiosity that's probably better left unseen. Hell, even Anthony Perkins himself detested the film.

It has been stated before and it deserves to be repeated: Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho did not need to be sequelised. But that didn't stop sequels from materialising, leading to the unexpectedly strong Psycho II and the underwhelming Psycho III. Released in 1990, Psycho IV: The Beginning is the final instalment in the Psycho franchise (save for the remake and the recent TV show), and the last motion picture to feature Anthony Perkins in his most iconic role. Although the last two sequels were released theatrically, Psycho IV debuted on cable television, hence it's a fairly low-key affair, for better or for worse. The good news is that this fourth movie is better than Psycho III, and is actually a fairly decent movie in its own right, but of course it falls far short of the timeless classic that spawned it.

Rather than another murder spree for Norman Bates (Perkins), Psycho IV functions as a prequel of sorts, which is tradition for horror franchises. Norman now lives peacefully with his wife Connie (Donna Mitchell), who informs him that they are having a baby even though Norman is vehemently against continuing the Bates lineage. Late one night, Norman calls into a late-night radio show hosted by Fran Ambrose (CCH Pounder) who’s covering the topic of why sons kill their mothers. Calling in under the pseudonym of 'Ed' (presumably a nod to Ed Gein, the serial killer whom Bates is based on), Norman relays the tale of his younger years when he lived with his mother Norma (Olivia Hussey). A controlling, demanding woman with severe mood swings, Norma psychologically abused Norman (played as a teenager by Henry Thomas) and repressed his sexuality, driving him to commit murder. And as he tells his story on the radio, Norman also explains that he has the urge to kill just once more...

For a television film, Psycho IV was a fairly ambitious project. After all, it follows in the footsteps of Hitchcock's immortal classic and was even penned by Joseph Stefano, who wrote the screenplay for the 1960 film (adapting Robert Bloch's novel). Even though there's a IV in the title, one doesn't need to have seen the other sequels in order to watch this one - Psycho IV plays out as more of a direct sequel to Hitchcock's movie, though II and III aren't exactly contradicted either. Whereas Norma has been heavily discussed in previous films, this is the first instalment to feature scenes of her when she was alive, providing a firsthand glimpse of Norman's upbringing. However, the relationship is not as layered and nuanced as perhaps it should, with Norma written as an outright evil character. Psycho IV also misses the chance to do something more novel with Bates' backstory, not to mention Stefano neglects the dark comedy aspect that was most notably present in the prior sequels, making this a very serious affair.

Despite the problematic writing, Psycho IV nevertheless does its job well enough. At the helm was Mick Garris, who also directed the likes of Critters 2 and Sleepwalkers. Working from a modest budget, the movie is fairly basic in its cinematography and direction, lacking the spark of visual elegance previously provided by Hitchcock and Richard Franklin (Psycho II). A defter cinematographer might have made the picture more exciting, yet it’s still competent enough, especially for a TV movie produced in 1990. Murder scenes are often thrilling, particularly the intense scene of Norman poisoning his mother and her lover, and Garris keeps the movie chugging along at an agreeable pace for its modest 96-minute duration. The score, composed by Graeme Revell (The Crow, Sin City), often slavishly recreates Bernard Herrmann's iconic sound, yet it's mostly effective.

Perkins, who had directed Psycho III and was perpetually associated with Bates, is note-perfect as to be expected, effortlessly slipping back into his notorious role as if no time had passed. It's hard not to like Perkins, with his boyish good looks and limitless charisma, which gives the film an edge. Meanwhile, Henry Thomas, who was so adorable in Steven Spielberg's E.T., is a superb young Norman Bates, managing to mimic Perkins' traits without coming off as forced - it's easy to accept that this is the same character. He's one of the film's main assets, and he's sympathetic despite the awful acts he commits. And as Norman's mother, Hussey does her best with the overly one-dimensional role, believable as both a loving mother and a cruel sadist. She's also incredibly beautiful. Worth noting that Hussey actually appeared in 1974's Black Christmas, one of the many slasher films that was inspired by Hitchcock's Psycho. The rest of the ensemble are serviceable, with Pounder making a particularly good impression as the radio host.

Psycho IV is frequently criticised, often unfairly so. Of course it pales in comparison to the first movie, but basically every horror movie does. What matters is that it's not an awful sequel, and it doesn't tarnish the franchise. Added to this, it's an improvement over Psycho III, and it's at least admirable that the movie doesn't turn Bates into a mindless slasher like Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers. Though not scintillating, Psycho IV is a perfectly respectable way to close the series, and a fine way to conclude the story of Norman Bates, who still retains sympathy and humanity thanks to Perkins' fine, nuanced portrayal.

By all accounts, Big Game is a relatively inexpensive, direct-to-video action flick, yet it's more skilful than such a description implies, delivered with unique zeal and flavour. Overseen by the same director responsible for the peculiar Finnish export Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale, this is a short but entertaining throwback to a simpler era of action films, playing out like a movie from the '80s or '90s, reminiscent of Toy Soldiers and Air Force One. It's not original in any way, it relishes in genre clichés, and it's pretty silly on the whole, but it's a mostly effective endeavour thanks to the worthwhile cast, snappy pacing and creative premise, not to mention the plot is enriched by the sense of culture. Be aware, however, that this is definitely an oddity.

The President of the United States, Alan Moore (Samuel L. Jackson), is headed to Finland on official business, travelling on Air Force One under the protection of Secret Service Agent Morris (Ray Stevenson). But the plane is threatened, targeted with missiles by big game hunter Hazar (Mehmet Kurtulus) who has sinister plans for the President. With Moore ejected from the plane in an escape pod, he's left alone in the Finnish wilderness, while Morris reveals himself to be aligned with Hazar. However, the President's saving grace arrives in the form of 13-year-old boy Oskari (Onni Tommila), who's in the mountains by himself to complete an animal hunt to prove himself worthy as he enters manhood. With Hazar closing in, Oskari and the President stick together, with the young boy determined to guide Moore back to civilisation.

Whereas Rare Exports was bolstered by its complexity and sense of imagination, Big Game is a far simpler endeavour, and a number of complaints can be levelled against the movie on a script and storytelling level. Oftentimes, the picture cuts to the situation room with the Vice President (Victor Garber) and his usual entourage, but this aspect of the narrative is so undercooked and at times jarringly on-the-nose that it comes off like a perfunctory footnote. There's a conspiracy angle at play here, but it remains unresolved, and the players involved are at times frustratingly careless. Ultimately, however, it's unclear whether this is the fault of the writing or the editing, as there are reports of a 110-minute cut in existence that might have been severely truncated for pacing reasons. Whatever the case, the film in its finished form is far from perfect.

Fortunately, Big Game succeeds in other areas, showing more care with the main thrust of the story involving the President and Oskari. There is a degree of heart at play here, with Oskari's journey into manhood a conventional but nevertheless effective story angle. It is worth noting, though, that the movie doesn't play out entirely as expected - writer-director Jalmari Helander eschews obvious mismatched buddy comedy antics, and Jackson's President is not a man of action. To Helander's credit, he does well by briskly burning through the requisite set-up and character development to get into the nitty gritty action stuff. Viewers who enjoy absurd-but-entertaining action flicks of yesteryear should find Big Game fairly satisfying, with Helander showing a deft hand when it comes to the set-pieces. This is a PG-13 movie, and though a full-blooded R-rated movie closer to Air Force One might have worked better, it doesn't knee-cap the picture as much as expected. The budget, though modest by Hollywood standards, is pretty lavish for a Finnish production, thus Big Game is a visually interesting movie, making fantastic use of the eye-catching scenery, even if some of the digital effects shots do look phoney.

Helander has rounded up an impressive ensemble cast of established actors, led by Jackson who is reliably charismatic and watchable. The veteran actor is more grounded than usual, playing it mostly straight, which is appreciated. Alongside him is the young Tommila, a Finnish actor who also appeared in Helander's Rare Exports. Tommila is not hindered by the usual pitfalls associated with child actors, and at no point does he get on the nerves, which is a miracle. He plays well alongside Jackson and he's believable as Oskari, which works in the actor's favour. As Morris, Stevenson sinks his teeth into a bog-standard villain role, which falls right into the actor's wheelhouse, while Garber is his usual disarming self as the Vice President. Also of note is British actor Jim Broadbent, who's something of a highlight as usual.

Big Game is short and sweet, clocking in at under 90 minutes. The movie could have done with more narrative meat on its bones, and perhaps a few additional action beats, particularly for the climax which seems to be lacking something to make it a total knockout. The script is not airtight either, and armchair critics will probably find a fair bit to nitpick. But even if Big Game lacks edge, Helander knows what kind of movie this is, and has created a breezy, easily-watchable action film with humour and excitement. While it won't work for every taste, I had a good time watching it.

2015's The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 2 confirms that the final novel in the trilogy did not need to be split into two movies. The first two Hunger Games films were long, to be sure, but managed to maintain momentum, even if the first picture in particular is an overly flawed piece of work. However, 2014's Mockingjay - Part 1 was a tedious, one-note slog, though it did at least seem to be setting up a grand finale to properly close the door on this lucrative franchise. Alas, Mockingjay - Part 2 is almost as interminable as its immediate predecessor, robbing the once-promising series of a rousing dénouement. Even under the eye of Catching Fire helmer Francis Lawrence, Part 2 is flat-out dull, incorporating every last corner of the source material to pad out the runtime to 140 godforsaken minutes without paying any mind to critical cinematic concepts like pacing or structure. Frankly, I had more fun watching the final Twilight movie.

Picking up right after where Part 1 ended, Peeta (Josh Hutcherson) has been brainwashed after his stay in the Capitol, conditioned to perceive powerful resistance figure Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) as an enemy. Seeing Peeta in his severely tortured state infuriates Katniss, who becomes more determined to fight her way into the Capitol and assassinate President Snow (Donald Sutherland) to end his murderous reign for good. Although President Alma Coin (Julianne Moore) wishes for Katniss to remain away from the fighting to keep safe, she defies Coin's orders, pushing for her unit to infiltrate the Capitol. Joining Katniss is Gale (Liam Hemsworth) and Finnick (Sam Claflin), while Coin also sends Peeta purely for propaganda reasons. Snow is prepared for Katniss, however, with his soldiers setting numerous booby traps.

Character and story development afforded by a lengthy runtime is welcome under normal circumstances, but both Mockingjay movies are completely shallow, with poor dialogue and very little in the way of worthwhile story development. It's a pure slog, a depressing and dour motion picture experience in search of a spark to bring it to life. These movies may cater to the young adult crowd, but it's dangerous comparing the subpar Mockingjay - Part 2 to a proper sci-fi film like Children of Men. And hey, the Hobbit trilogy is frequently criticised for its length, but at least those movies are fun. The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies had little in the way of story material, thus it was almost wall-to-wall action to compensate, and it worked. On the other hand, Mockingjay - Part 2 is extremely thin, but is under some misplaced pretense of being a serious sci-fi drama, serving up such a small amount of action that it barely registers. And it fails. It's not even unintentionally funny or goofy; it's a vapid void of joylessness.

Part 1 spent far too long waiting for events to happen, paving the way for what should've been an epic, fast-paced war movie. Instead, Part 2 is talky to extremes, with large portions of the movie spent in dimly-lit abandoned buildings as the characters endlessly talk about their feelings and monitor news broadcasts. The majority of the dialogue-heavy scenes drag on far beyond their logical closure point, and it doesn't help that the characters rarely say anything overly interesting or insightful. The movie keeps telling us that fighting is happening, but it mostly happens off-screen, which severely limits the sense of scope. Director Lawrence is never able to conjure up any momentum, leaving the effort feeling fatigued when it should be blistering and enthralling. Even the ending is an absolute dud, with a good fifteen-minutes of Katnip staring at the wall and yelling at a cat before the credits finally begin to roll, at long last signifying the end of this franchise. Remember how everybody complained about the extended epilogue to Lord of the Rings? It's a hundred times worse than that. Even the ending itself feels oddly anticlimactic, closing with a resounding whimper.

Apparently, many of the flaws inherent in the two-part Mockingjay adaptation stem from the novel, which was unenthusiastically received. But this is no excuse for poor filmmaking. You can make a great movie out of anything - who the fuck expected Guardians of the Galaxy to be the masterpiece that it is? - but sometimes, in order to achieve that, you need to rip out the guts of the source material and create a standalone cinematic adaptation, rather than a slavish page-to-screen translation which doesn't even try to rectify the flaws of the source. Francis Lawrence and the writers should be challenging the material to create big-screen excitement, but instead the film labours through relentless banality.

The mind boggles when pondering just how the budget soared to as high as $160 million. 90% of the funds must have gone to the actors, because the majority of the movie takes place in drab buildings and tunnels, with no eye-catching sets or special effects shots. Photography is just as dull as it was in Mockingjay - Part 1, with the visuals often looking too dark and muddy. It was a mistake for this series to transition from celluloid to digital photography; whereas Catching Fire looks cinematic as a result of shooting on 35mm film, both parts of Mockingjay look cheap in comparison. The actors do what they can, but are ultimately unable to enliven the material. This is Philip Seymour Hoffman's final screen appearance, though his death was clearly more problematic than the filmmakers wanted to admit, as he's barely in the movie, and a climactic speech from Hoffman's Plutarch is delivered through a letter read by Haymitch (Woody Harrelson). One supposes there isn't much they could do, but it's nevertheless jarring.

Action scenes are lifeless and lacking in thrills, especially a major set-piece in a tunnel involving creatures presumably stolen from a Guillermo del Toro movie, which makes minimal sense and is often confusing to watch. Also, where did these sewer mutants come from? Worse, owing to the PG-13 rating, the entire movie feels detrimentally bloodless and sanitised. Lawrence attempts to stage scenes which show the horrors of war, but the impact is seriously diminished by the need to stick to the commercially-friendly rating. One character presumably has his legs blown off, yet he has no visible injuries and there is not a drop of blood. A bomb attack on civilians is also staged, which should have resulted in bloody corpses and missing limbs, but the victims instead look to be having a nap.

Although it would be unfair to say that Mockingjay - Part 2 is aggressively terrible, it is a lifeless piece of work and it's just disappointing that, at the end of this franchise, two of the four movies in the series are below-par, and only one of them is genuinely good. Whereas masterful film franchises like Lord of the Rings leave you feeling rewarded, The Hunger Games feels like a chore as a whole, and I am seriously relieved that it's all over. You know what? I give up. Catching Fire was a good movie, but it's time to get rid of my Blu-ray copy and forget this series ever existed. For shame.