Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"If you had a chance to change your fate, would you?"

Though a definite improvement over the bitterly disappointing Cars 2, 2012's Brave is destined to be a polarising movie. While visually majestic and fun, it lacks the innovation and sophistication that Pixar is renowned for, leaving us with an enjoyable but formulaic effort that fails to linger or resonate. It's perfectly fine at surface level, but Brave is seldom remarkable, as the filmmakers were clearly more concerned with energy and fantasy than mature thematic density or humanity. This is the cruel paradox of Pixar: because they set the bar so high and established themselves as the pinnacle of animation excellence, a merely decent movie from the studio feels like a letdown. Brave isn't terrible - it's just not as good as one might want it to be. Call it the peril of high expectations.

In the highlands of 10th Century Scotland, ginger-haired princess Merida (Macdonald) is next in line for the throne of Clan DunBroch, but yearns for the freedom to do whatever she wants with her life. While King Fergus (Connolly) and Queen Elinor (Thompson) push for Merida to get married as soon as possible, the adventurous young princess prefers to spend time roaming the forest alone practising her archery skills. When members of nearby clans begin to compete for Merida's hand, the rebellious girl ends up having a shouting match with her mother, ending with Merida fleeing into the woods to escape her destiny. Led deep into the forest by ghostly blue lights, Merida happens upon an old cottage where she meets a witch (Walters). Sensing the chance to change her fate, Merida asks for a spell to make her mother back off. But the spell ends up backfiring, and Merida is left struggling to undo her reckless mistake before the consequences become permanent.

With a princess in the lead, Brave is the closest thing to a typical Disney movie that Pixar has ever produced. Wisely, the writers abstained from conventions like the proverbial wicked stepmother and a prince/princess relationship, instead exploring the complicated bond between a headstrong but loving mother and her stubborn daughter. But Brave's storytelling and structure is wobbly and rote, which is baffling since Pixar is so revered for its commitment to quality storytelling. The film simply does not traverse enough new ground, and this is all the more disappointing considering that other Pixar veterans might have been able to do something more audacious with this premise. The biggest missed opportunity is the witch. Here was Pixar's chance to create a truly unforgettable Disney villain, but the witch is never heard from again after she casts the spell. (As a matter of fact, there is no villain.) Basically, Brave reeks of "committee screenwriting" - there was no singular vision, as three writers were involved in penning the film. So while one writer might have aimed for a mature relationship between Merida and her mother, another writer insisted upon a fluffy montage set to upbeat music to lazily convey the characters' growing bond.

Brave's midsection flirts dangerously with DreamWorks sensibilities, ditching sophisticated Pixar humour and creativity in favour of goofy slapstick and derivative gags. Make no mistake, there are a few strokes of Pixar genius here (everything involving Merida's cheeky little brothers is utterly brilliant), but they are in short supply. Also, the usual zing of Pixar's dialogue is missing. Brave features a cast of lovely, sparkling Scottish accents, yet the dialogue they regurgitate is painfully perfunctory.

On a more positive note, however, the picture looks expectedly excellent. Medieval Scotland was meticulously created by the Pixar team, who rendered all of the gorgeous landscapes in stunning detail. The picture is populated with colourfully-designed characters as well. The most notable character from a design standpoint is Merida, whose blazing red hair must've been a nightmare to animate. Somehow, too, the animators managed to make bears seem cute. Indeed, Brave posed a number of unique visual challenges for the Pixar team, who conquered them all with utmost confidence. Fortunately, there are a number of great moments scattered throughout the film, including a few scenes involving a ferocious bear that are nail-bitingly tense (note the PG rating, parents). But less impressive are the 3-D effects, which are utter rubbish. Brave is dark in terms of lighting and colour palette, and thus the glasses only serve to make the picture even dimmer. It does a disservice to the Pixar animators whose work will not be fully seen or appreciated in 3-D.

The biggest positive of Brave is its voice cast. As Merida, Kelly Macdonald is sublime. Her vocal performance is strong and energetic, giving life to this heroine who's brash, stubborn and sweet. Macdonald is a home-grown Scottish lass (she was in Trainspotting), so her natural accent gives Merida an endearing flavour. As Pixar's first lead female character, Merida needed to stand out and make an impression, and, fortunately, she does. Another masterstroke was the casting of Billy Connolly as King Fergus. With the comedian's touch, Fergus has genuine personality; another essential element of any Pixar production. Digging into the supporting cast, Emma Thompson is expectedly great as Queen Elinor, while Scottish actors Robbie Coltrane, Kevin McKidd and Craig Ferguson all give position impressions as various Scottish lords.

Brave feels like a production that was drastically retooled several times, resulting in a disorganised finished product. Reportedly, original director/writer Brenda Chapman imagined the picture to be dark and mature, but departed the project in 2010 over creative disagreements. One must wonder if Chapman's vision would have resulted in another sophisticated Pixar classic rather than the light-hearted piece of entertainment we've ended up with. Brave's thematic undercurrents show promise, yet the execution is nothing special. Nevertheless, it's easy to appreciate the film's artistry, and it does entertain easily enough throughout its runtime. This will be just fine for some, but others will be left longing for the transcendent Pixar that they fell in love with.

6.8/10

"You'll burn."

A title card prefacing The Devil Inside claims that the Vatican does not want you to see this movie. It's a fictional statement present for dramatic effect, yet it wouldn't surprise me if the Vatican were against the movie due to how fucking awful it is. The Devil Inside is another attempt at a "found footage" exorcist film, arriving two years after Eli Roth's disastrous The Last Exorcism. The found footage gimmick was, of course, employed to generate a sense of immediacy and realism while we watch characters battling the demonic forces of Satan. The reality, though, is that you're more likely to wind up battling boredom throughout this half-hearted horror flick. The premise is full of potential, but the execution leaves a lot to be desired, only occasionally showing slight glimmers of promise.

In October of 1989, seemingly normal wife and mother Maria Rossi (Crowley) murdered three clergy members in her home. Reportedly, Maria is possessed by demons, and the murders took place during an attempted exorcism on her. Not sent to prison over the killings due to an insanity plea, Maria is sent to a mental hospital in Italy. Twenty years later, Maria's daughter Isabella (Andrade) and documentary filmmaker Michael (Grama) travel to Italy to try and get answers about Maria's ailment. While the church refuses to help, rogue priests Ben (Quarterman) and David (Helmuth) agree to become involved in the case.

To its credit, The Devil Inside does have its fair share of creepy moments. The opening 911 call, for instance, is insanely bone-chilling, and the exorcism scenes often have an unnerving punch to them thanks to the freedom of the picture's R rating. Furthermore, Suzan Crowley is genuinely terrific as the crazy, possessed Maria. She looks the part, and gives off a believable devil-possessed demeanour whenever she appears onscreen. These strengths aside, however, The Devil Inside is a total failure. Made on a paltry budget, the money shots are too scattershot, with most of the film concentrating on the mediocre actors as they trade stiff dialogue about church politics. It never really gets into an agreeable rhythm; it's an episodic flick, moving from one segment to the next without generating any tension or developing an engaging story. All of the characters are flat, coming across as generic fodder for whatever generic events befall them. Horror movies need a solid lead actor. Hell, even 2011's The Rite had an incredibly hammy Anthony Hopkins to keep us interested. But alas, there is no amiable protagonist here. And although The Devil Inside runs a scant 75 minutes, it's often too slow.

Also problematic is that, narratively and dramatically, The Devil Inside is nothing new. Instead of concocting an original, twist-laden story of demonic possession, director/writer William Brent Bell and co-writer Matthew Peterman trusted that the "found footage" gimmick would breathe new life into the clichéd narrative. Alas, The Last Exorcism already tried it, and that didn't work either. All the "phoney reality" stuff does is serve to make the film look technically incompetent. Moreover, the ending is atrocious. A solid ending can make or break a movie, and, unfortunately, The Devil Inside closes on a terrible note which brings the entire production down a few more notches. The ending is a lazy copout, as if the writers ran out of ideas and desperately grasped for the easiest solution. Suffice it to say, it does not work. It's also amusing that the film closes with proverbial captions elucidating further info about the film's events as if they was real...right before the lengthy end credit reel revealing who made and starred in the movie. It defeats the illusion. Worse, a caption asks us to visit a website to find out more about the "ongoing investigation" of Maria Rossi. Are you fucking serious? Talk about contempt for your audience...

As with most all found footage productions, the camerawork here is often shaky and irritatingly frenetic. This even extends to the conversational scenes - it often seems like the cameraman is suffering a fucking seizure. Plus, the realism of the documentary technique is at times thrown to the wind. When Isabella first visits her mother, for instance, Michael cannot be seen by the hospital's surveillance camera when he should be in plain sight. And there are a few instances of cuts during talking, as if to imply that two cameramen were present. One must wonder how much better off the film might have been without the found footage approach altogether. If it was shot in a more traditional style, The Devil Inside could have been a halfway decent horror movie since we would have at least been able to see what's happening. What we have instead is a lot of bad lighting, grainy close-ups, and shaky framing. Ho hum.

3.8/10

"Whoa, that's my boy! He moved out when he was eighteen, I haven't seen him since..."

Adam Sandler used to be one of the most reliable funny-men in the business, but he has been stuck in a serious rut lately. After a string of awfulness culminating with 2011's sign of the apocalypse Jack and Jill, the prospect of another Adam Sandler comedy is now about as desirable as a cracked rib. What a surprise, then, that 2012's That's My Boy is actually enjoyable. One would not call this a truly good film as most of the humour is juvenile and there are some unnecessary gross-out gags, but it's an amusing film with plenty of highlights, which is frankly miraculous. It's Sandler's most consistently enjoyable effort since 50 First Dates back in 2004.

At the age of 12, Donny Berger (Sandler) made headlines and developed into a national icon when he had a sexual relationship with his teacher Ms. McGarricle (Martino), resulting in her falling pregnant and being sent to prison. Decades later, Donny is a fading star out of money, and he owes $43,000 to the IRS. If Donny doesn't pay in a matter of days, he'll be arrested. While down in the dumps, Donny learns that his estranged son Han Solo (Samberg) - now going by the name of Todd to avoid association with his dad - has become a successful businessman and is soon getting married. One of Donny's TV friends promises to give him $50,000 if he convinces Todd to visit his mother in prison, and thus Donny crashes his son's wedding party. With people convinced that Donny is just an old friend of Todd's, father and son begin to bond.

David Caspe's script is full of clichés (including a typical "lie plot" reminiscent of Just Go with It) and contains several generic narrative beats (including a break-up-to-make-up scenario). Furthermore, the characters are ripped straight from the Comedy 101 handbook - there's the military badass, the leering boss, the horny grandma, the quirky friend, and so on. These stereotypes are too lazy for comfort. What's surprising, though, is that Caspe's treatment of this material is pretty dark. Armed with the freedom of an R-rating, That's My Boy is much more fun than it would've been as a tame PG-13 comedy, and this helps keep your mind off the story's formulaic nature. Plus, the ending is not entirely predictable, as it introduces a handful of twists and merrily destroys the lives of a few characters without blinking an eye. It renders the experience quite refreshing, though it probably won't work for those who actually like fluffy paint-by-numbers Hollywood filmmaking.

Astonishingly, That's My Boy was not directed by Sandler's go-to guy Dennis Dugan - instead, the director is Sean Anders, who helmed the hilarious (and underrated) Sex Drive. It would seem that a new director has reinvigorated Sandler, as the directing here is not as lazy as films like Jack and Jill or Grown-Ups. Anders was an inspired choice - as exemplified in Sex Drive, he can handle vulgar R-rated comedic material as well as quieter character-driven moments. Not all of the jokes here are original, and pretty much none of them are witty, but they're sold by Anders and co. with wonderful gusto and energy, without the bland flavour that Dugan always brings to the table. If R-rated humour appeals to you, That's My Boy is Christmas - Anders permitted Sandler to let loose in a way he hasn't done in years, turning a painfully clichéd father-son bonding tale into a hilariously crass slice of entertainment. Admittedly, some of the laughs are more uncomfortable than amusing (the horny grandmother is unnecessary, and at one stage Todd's fiancé licks dried semen from her wedding dress...), and the humour is mostly infantile. Nevertheless, the laughs for the most part worked for this reviewer, though others are welcome to disagree due to the highly subjective nature of comedy.

A lot of people are destined to despise the voice that Adam Sandler espouses here. It's a pretty big obstacle to overcome while enjoying the movie, as Sandler chose to use an over-the-top, ridiculous speech pattern that's frankly grating most of the time. Still, the actor gets credit for at least trying to do something fresh, rather than leaning on his lazy shtick yet again. Meanwhile, Andy Samberg is charming in the role of straight man Todd/Han Solo, whose normality often amusingly clashes with Donny's shameless idiocy. Surprisingly, the highlight is actually Vanilla Ice, who clearly had a ball sending himself up here. Also notable is Milo Ventimiglia, who's unrecognisable as a buff military badass. Ripped to the teeth and adopting a thick accent, you would never guess that this is the same guy who played Rocky's son in 2006's Rocky Balboa. Beyond these actors, there are a handful of memorable supporting turns; Will Forte (MacGruber) is pretty funny as Todd's uptight co-worker, and James Caan provides several laughs as a badass priest.

That's My Boy is admittedly long in the tooth. For a comedy, a runtime nearing two hours seems superfluous, and the film's flabby nature makes it look like a first cut awaiting further trimming. Still, this is a good fun movie with plenty of laughs that will appeal to its target audience. Average filmgoers will probably find the movie utterly horrifying, but the rest of us should recognise it as a fun-in-the-moment guilty pleasure.

6.5/10

"When I saw you, I believed it was a sign... that something new can come into this world."

2012's John Carter was a long time coming. Based on Edgar Rice Burroughs' story A Princess of Mars which was first published in 1912, official development for a John Carter motion picture has started and stopped since 1931. But apparently eight decades was not enough time to do the project justice, as the finished movie is misguided and soulless. It was almost impossible to ignore all of the bad press surrounding John Carter - Disney blew well north of $350 million on it (including marketing), leading to speculation that the studio had an expensive box office bomb on their hands. Hell, the deck was so overwhelmingly stacked against the film (especially with its inexperienced director and lack of big stars) that this reviewer hoped it would be a success out of sheer pity. Yet, John Carter is desperately underwhelming; rather than an absorbing fantasy adventure, it feels like a mash-up of Avatar, the Star Wars series, Gladiator and other such films which, ironically, were actually inspired by Burroughs' original text.

In Arizona, former Civil War captain John Carter (Kitsch) has become a notorious criminal. When arrested, Carter soon escapes with guards in hot pursuit, and accidentally stumbles upon a sacred cave potentially loaded with riches. Inside, an encounter with a holy Martian (known as a Thern) results in Carter being transported to the planet Mars, which is called Barsoom by the locals. Finding that the planet's weak gravitational pull gives him superhuman abilities, Carter begins wandering the planet, eventually happening upon a race of creatures known as the Tharks. From there, Carter becomes entangled in a conflict over dwindling resources between two cities: Helium and Zodanga. Drawn to Helium's princess, Dejah (Collins), Carter endeavours to work towards planetary peace.

When Burroughs wrote his original stories in the early 20th Century, outer space exploration was mere speculation, and nobody knew was Mars was truly like. Of course, now - one hundred years later - we know that Mars is desolate and lifeless, which automatically positions John Carter within the realm of the blatantly fantastical. Indeed, those expecting any plausibility will not find it here, as director Andrew Stanton and his co-writers (Mark Andrews and Michael Chabon) ill-advisably retained Burroughs' (inaccurate) Victorian-era view of the solar system, creating a huge logical obstacle that's difficult to overcome. It is, indeed, quite a cruel paradox. Ironically, too, because Burroughs' stories have been raided by countless filmmakers over the years (including James Cameron, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg), none of the narrative ideas seem fresh anymore, making John Carter feel like a production long past its use-by date. Naturally, Hollywood has recycled old ideas time and time again and made them feel fresh, but this requires a deft touch that unfortunately eludes director Andrew Stanton.

The lifeless nature of John Carter is especially shocking since Stanton was responsible for Pixar hits like Finding Nemo and WALL-E. Whereas those movies had fun characters, tender humour and lots of humanity, John Carter lacks these qualities. This is most likely due to Stanton's inexperience, as this was his first time directing a live-action film and he tried to nail so many different genres (sci-fi, fantasy, action, adventure) that he never entirely succeeds at any of them. In other words, he bit off more than he could chew, which is further exemplified in the fact that the film underwent a month of reshoots in which most of the picture had to be shot again! It's a shame, too, because Pixar veteran Brad Bird made an impressive live-action debut with Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol. What's also ironic is that John Carter looks more cartoonish than any of Stanton's Pixar movies. The CGI is a mixed bag (creatures look impressive but the compositing is skewiff and green screening looks phoney), and the overabundance of digital imagery serves to make it look like the Star Wars prequels. The terrible marketing for the film tried to paint is as the Gladiator of the fantasy genre in which the titular character faces off against monsters in an arena, but this heavily plugged scene constitutes about 5 minutes of the film's mammoth 130-minute running time.

As a consequence of everything, the throwaway action scenes can only conjure up a very mild sense of excitement, no intrigue is generated through the dreary exposition, and it's difficult to care about the superficial characters. Critically, John Carter is poorly-paced - too many scenes waste time over-explaining plot elements which don't really matter, neglecting meaty character development and creating tedious stretches between the action. With Disney having thrown $250 million at the screen, John Carter is a surface-level experience which, despite handsome production values, never introduces human emotion and thus never pulls you in.

The reason why the dialogue is so flat is probably a combination of the subpar actors and Stanton's inexperience directing live-action films. As a result, the acting lacks sincerity, and there's no spark between Taylor Kitsch and love interest Lynn Collins. With Kitsch in the lead role here, John Carter is a sullen, bland empty cipher of a protagonist; a run-of-the-mill pretty boy with a good physique but zero charisma. Carter needed to be played by an actor with more flavour and sass. The character's boring nature is especially problematic since the film is named after him (why didn't Disney use more intriguing titles like A Princess of Mars or John Carter of Mars?). The film also boasts a number of notable actors like Willem Dafoe, Thomas Haden Church, Mark Strong, Dominic West and Bryan Cranston, but they make no impression amid the surplus of CGI and the lack of human feeling, though they at least seem to be trying (it isn't possible for Cranston to be bad in anything).

John Carter is not a terrible movie by any stretch, as there are several memorable images of widescreen wonder to behold from time to time. It's somewhat watchable, but most will ultimately find it too cold. Without solid leading actors, a stirring story or anything genuinely distinguishable, John Carter feels like just another CGI spectacle. We expected and deserved a lot more from this production. After all, if you're finally going to make a movie after 80 years of pre-production, shouldn't it be perfect?

4.8/10

"I will eat your stinking soul!"

Stylistically and tonally different to its 2007 predecessor, 2012's Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance is presented as less of a sequel to Ghost Rider and more of a reimagining/reboot. Nicolas Cage is reportedly a huge fan of the Ghost Rider comics, and he wanted a second attempt at making a movie which does justice to the source material. Thus, Crank directors Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor were recruited to bring their frenetic style to the production. Theoretically, Neveldine/Taylor's style should be the perfect complement for Cage's over-the-top acting sensibilities, and the collaboration should have resulted in a deliriously enjoyable comic book flick. Instead, while it has a few semi-exciting action set-pieces, Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance is a generic bore. It's a rabid movie, yet it's loud, obnoxious, drab and often startlingly incoherent.

To save his dying father, stunt biker Johnny Blaze (Cage) signed his soul over to the devil, and as a result was bequeathed with a supernatural curse which sporadically transforms him into a flaming skeleton. In order to keep his curse in check, Blaze chooses to hide out in Eastern Europe and live off the grid. Until, that is, he's tracked down by an old friend - alcoholic warrior priest Moreau (Elba) - who offers Blaze the opportunity to get his curse removed. Blaze's task is to protect a young boy named Danny (Riordan) who's on the run with his mother (Placido). As it turns out, Satan (Hinds) wants Danny, and has sent out several mercenaries to retrieve him.

While flimsy plotting is almost customary in action movies, Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance is worse than most; its story is poorly-structured, and most narrative beats don't make much sense. Not to mention, for some reason the film leans hard on its hackneyed plot rather than cutting loose with feverish action, which completely kills all sense of momentum. Sure, screenwriters Scott M. Gimple, Seth Hoffman and David S. Goyer probably aspired to focus more on storytelling than mindless action, but the problem is that the storytelling is incompetent. Spirit of Vengeance is in sore need of humanity, as well. Great comic book films create genuine weight by concentrating on central characters and their arcs (see Sam Raimi's Spider-Man films), but the writers here were clueless about how to properly achieve this. It's clear that Danny was included to humanise Blaze, but the subplot fails to gain much traction. It doesn't help that all of the dialogue throughout is so painfully stiff and uninvolving. With the titular Rider receiving a scant 10 minutes of screen-time, Spirit of Vengeance mostly involves boring characters spouting boring dialogue.

To the credit of Neveldine and Taylor, the look of Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance is just right. Stripping away the glossy, overly Hollywood demeanour of the 2007 picture, this is a grittier film ostensibly aimed more at adults. Not to mention, the Ghost Rider character (which looked utterly cartoonish in the 2007 film) looks spot-on here with a black and charred skull. But this is about the only aspect where Spirit of Vengeance succeeds. Neveldine and Taylor retained their proclivity for batshit insane antics, but what's missing is the sense of energy that they brought to the Crank movies. Furthermore, as violent as the film sometimes is, it's clearly marred by the restrictions of its PG-13 rating. Neveldine and Taylor excel as directors of R-rated junk food, not neutered comic book movies. Some action beats do work, but the 5 minutes of worthwhile awesomeness does not make the film's other 85 tedious minutes worth enduring.

To keep budget costs down, Spirit of Vengeance was shot in drab locations in Eastern Europe. As a result, it looks ugly and cheap, more like a direct-to-DVD movie than a theatrical experience. And as fun as some parts can be, Neveldine and Taylor's efforts are incompetent at times. Take, for instance, a scene towards the beginning in which the Rider stares at a mercenary before eating his soul - Blaze stares at the guy for so long that it's unclear what's happening and it actually looks more like the two are about to kiss. In another scene, Blaze attempts to hold back his inner demon while riding his motorcycle. It's a scene which drags on and on, filled with shots that may look cool but fail to further the plot or develop the character in any worthwhile way. Also odd are the inconsistencies relating to the Rider's tolerance to injury. He's knocked unconscious by a grenade at one stage, but later on another grenade only causes him to spin horizontally while levitating in midair (a huge "WTF?!" moment). We never find out how the Rider can be killed, and this strips the film of emotional stakes.

As Johnny Blaze/Ghost Rider, Nicolas Cage clearly gave it his all; he chews the scenery with hammy gusto and endlessly mugs the camera. At times it works, but Cage's insanity is often more grating than entertaining. Idris Elba is the only acting bright spot here. Elba has genuine movie star charisma, and he seems to match the tone of the material. None of the other cast members merit a mention, though it's interesting to note that Highlander star Christopher Lambert has a minor role as a priest...and he's utterly wasted.

From the trailers, Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance looked like it was going to be a fun movie, but it really isn't much fun at all. While there are a few nifty action beats here and there, they fail to compensate for the bland storytelling and woeful scriptwriting. It's a misguided, empty-headed mess which fast becomes a test of endurance. Maybe third time will be a charm for Ghost Rider...

3.4/10

"You still don't understand what you're dealing with, do you? Perfect organism. Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility."

A benchmark in the science fiction genre, 1979's Alien is a simple "Jaws in Space" idea that comes to life through the phenomenal filmmaking prowess of legendary filmmaker Ridley Scott. Alien arrived two years after the first Star Wars, serving as a hard-hitting reminder that not all journeys through space are heroic, exciting flights of fantasy. And, besides being a top-notch depiction of space's mundane disposition, Alien is one of the most hair-raising horror films of its era. In fact, this is not strictly a science fiction movie - it's more of a skilful exercise in sheer visceral terror that happens to take place in a futuristic space setting.

While en route back to Earth, the seven-person crew onboard the commercial vessel known as the Nostromo is prematurely awoken from cryogenic stasis. The ship's central computer picks up a transmission of mysterious origins coming from a nearby, unsurveyed planet, and the crew, led by Captain Dallas (Tom Skerritt), are summoned to investigate. But when they land on the desolate planet, eggs containing alien organisms are discovered, one of which latches onto the face of the ship's executive officer, Kane (John Hurt), and cannot be removed. With no choice but to bring the life-form back onto the Nostromo, a deadly alien soon breaks loose, taking up residence within the labyrinthine corridors of the vast ship and hunting the crew.

Alien is synonymous with the iconic "chest-bursting scene" that remains an enduring moment in cinematic history, but it does not occur until halfway through the movie. The build-up makes this film so special - we get to know the crew, and such care towards character development augments the sense of tension and peril when the monster is introduced. It helps that Dan O'Bannon's script is so intelligent. Conversations between the characters are engaging and have a naturalistic flow, which builds the impression that these people are real space truckers with lives back home. Furthermore, O'Bannon introduces relevant themes about corporate greed, as the possibility of discovering and studying an otherworldly organism is deemed more important than human life.

In horror films, protagonists are commonly trapped in a claustrophobic space, often a haunted house. Of course, characters can escape haunted houses if they are smart enough, so writers usually invoke supernatural reasons to keep them trapped. But such an approach is unnecessary for Alien, as it's set onboard a spaceship in the empty vacuum of space. It's a vast setting, but there is no escape, and the alien creature can lurk in any nook, cranny or shadow. This increases the sense of claustrophobia, dread and, most terrifyingly, unpredictability. Director Ridley Scott plays on this several times, occasionally lulling us into a false sense of security before unleashing something on the unwitting crew. Scott's directorial approach emphasises tension and atmosphere, taking heed of the "less is more" adage that worked so well for Steven Spielberg's Jaws. All glimpses of the alien probably add up to around 5 or 10 minutes of screen time, and thus, each sighting is scary. Alien is often branded as too slow in this day and age, and admittedly, this criticism is justified to a certain extent. While the slowness does make the movie as enthralling and suspenseful as it is at times, certain sections need tightening, especially when it's obvious that a long, slow patch will eventually yield a xenomorph attack. Plus, there are several pointlessly slow shots examining ship equipment at the film's beginning. For the most part, Alien works miraculously well, but a tighter cut would yield a superior picture.

Alien is almost unrivalled in its visceral horror. We see gory "torture porn" movies so often, yet the gore works here because of how sparingly it's used. The chest-bursting scene is so sudden and tragic, and the fact that this violence arrives an hour into the movie - when we have grown to care about the characters - makes it even more unnerving. Jerry Goldsmith's unobtrusive score is a perfect fit for Scott's visuals. Music is used sparingly, subtly weaving its way in and out of the film to become an extension of the experience. Best of all, Alien is no less effective when devoid of music - in fact, the periods of silence constitute some of the film's most riveting scenes. Most '70s fright movies look dated in the 21st Century (even The Exorcist has started to lose its original punch), but time has not wearied Alien to any degree.

Three decades on, Alien's visual effects and sets remain immaculate. The xenomorph, in particular, is visual perfection. Designed by Swiss surrealist H.R. Giger, the creature is meticulously detailed and terrifyingly inhuman, with the design and special effects confidently standing the test of time. In contrast to the cheesy alien designs of B-grade 1950s cinema, the xenomorph genuinely looks like an otherworldly creature that could plausibly exist. Alien is also a solid demonstration of why practical effects are more effective than CGI. The extensive, exceptionally detailed sets and models look stunning, and the alien itself has an actual screen presence since it was portrayed by a stuntman in a suit. The face-hugger, meanwhile, seems to be alive, and the egg from which it emerges looks remarkably organic. A few effects are admittedly rough-around-the-edges (the creature looks almost comical when it flees across the table after the chest-bursting moment), but there are far more hits than misses.

Yet another of Alien's myriad of assets is the cast. This is a terrific example of ensemble acting, as each performer is recognisable and distinctive. There are no bland faces without names here, which raises the stakes since you do not want to see any of these established characters get killed. As the iconic Ellen Ripley, Sigourney Weaver is pitch-perfect. Inhabiting the role with effortless abandon, Weaver's performance presents Ripley as a woman of sense and resourcefulness who still seems fundamentally human. Also excellent is Tom Skerritt in the role of Captain Dallas. Skerritt's duality is especially brilliant here; Dallas initially seems strong and charming, but he changes once the alien is introduced. Meanwhile, Ian Holm is brilliantly detached as science officer Ash, and John Hurt consistently impresses as Kane. Yaphet Kotto, Harry Dean Stanton and Veronica Cartwright are also great.

Alien is a movie that grows on you. This reviewer found it stilted and boring at age 13, but I've grown to love it after several more viewings in the ensuing years. It's an intoxicating experience that immerses you into Scott's cinematic spell and refuses to loosen its tight grasp until the end credits begin to roll. For amateur filmmakers, Alien serves as a wonderful lesson in tension - at certain times, it is even difficult to take a breath. This is a quintessential watch for film buffs, sci-fi enthusiasts and anyone who just likes good moviemaking.

8.9/10

"A king has his reign, and then he dies. It's inevitable."

In the hands of any other filmmakers, a prequel to Alien would have likely yielded a stale rehash of the franchise's established elements within a generic PG-13 action-adventure. But director Ridley Scott had other plans, and the result is 2012's Prometheus: an invigoratingly original story set within the Alien universe. To merely call Prometheus an Alien prequel is very misleading, as writers Damon Lindelof and Jon Spaihts (with input from Scott) have created a majestic science fiction epic which stands alone as an independent entity while further contributing to the mythology behind the Alien series. Added to this, Prometheus is refreshingly dark and adult sci-fi with more on its mind than cheap thrills. This is a cerebral blockbuster; it's unafraid to pose thought-provoking questions about mankind's origins while also finding time for visceral horror.

Towards the end of the 21st Century, archaeologist couple Elizabeth Shaw (Rapace) and Charlie Holloway (Marshall-Green) discover a series of ancient cave drawings from different time periods and different civilisations. Through studying them, Shaw and Holloway conclude that the drawings could be interstellar star maps drawn by alien gods who might have engineered human life. Taking off in the spaceship Prometheus under Captain Janek (Elba), they follow the map to the far reaches of the universe in the hope of essentially finding God. Also along for the journey is android David (Fassbender) and a sizeable crew of geologists and biologists, all of whom are watched over by Weyland Corporation representative Meredith Vickers (Theron). However, the mission starts to go awry once the Prometheus arrives at its destination. As Shaw gradually realises the significance of her discoveries, staggering secrets become clear which could put Earth in tremendous danger.

When Ridley Scott initially joined Prometheus, he opted against a typical prequel approach. The script retains a handful of palpable Alien continuity nods, but the references are downplayed and the story doesn't concentrate on the xenomorph species. It's a genius way to revive the franchise, and Scott was the right man for the job. What's most interesting about Prometheus is how commendably anti-Hollywood it is (in fact it's quite extraordinary that Fox agreed to fund this thing). Mainstream blockbusters often adhere to formulas and spell everything out for viewers, but Scott and his crew tell this story the way that they want to tell it. The film has already garnered criticism for not laboriously explaining every facet, but the point is that it doesn't need to explain everything - we are left to answer questions for ourselves, and devise our own interpretations. Plus, a few things are actually explained in visual terms (pay attention and you'll realise what the black goo is). There's nothing wrong with a science fiction film which begs us to pay close attention to every detail in every shot, and which wants us to engage our brain. Prometheus is not the smartest film since it does feature a few moments of asinine character behaviour, but it's far smarter than 95% of the stuff we see during the summer season. (And a note to internet haters: learn what a plot hole actually is.)

Prometheus provides further verification that Ridley Scott is a visual director to be reckoned with. Lavishly produced on a reported $130 million budget, the film is a breathtaking experience featuring several moments of pure motion picture majesty. Each set feels lived-in and organic rather than a sound-stage creation, and it's genuinely hard to discern what's digital and what's live-action. It's rare to see a film of this scope and budget carry an R rating, and this freedom is a huge asset. Prometheus is not filled with gratuitous gore or excessive profanity, but neither does it feel restrained when dealing with violence or terror; Scott pulls no punches. Furthermore, Scott has not lost his deft touch with set-pieces - the horror scenes here are truly frightening. Prometheus also boasts one of the best uses of 3-D to date. With added depth, dimension and detail, the 3-D serves it purpose: it successfully immerses you into the experience, placing you on Prometheus' decks and inside the dank alien caves alongside the characters. Best of all, the dimness associated with the 3-D glasses doesn't turn the film into an incomprehensible mess (it's never even obvious that the picture is darker at all). Prometheus was filmed with 3-D cameras, serving as a reminder of how good native 3-D is as opposed to a conversion.

Prometheus' only real downfall is its human characters, the majority of whom are underdeveloped and underwritten. 1979's Alien featured a small, tight-knit ensemble who seemed like real space truckers due to the way they often discussed the "little picture" (that is, their personal lives rather than the plot). Here, the characters are always focused on the big picture, and most of the ship's crew aren't even introduced properly. The flick still works on its own terms, but it's a shame that more attention wasn't paid to developing the characters. At least performances are strong right across the board. Noomi Rapace commendably eschewed aping Sigourney Weaver's Ellen Ripley role, and seemingly pulled this off without even trying. Rapace is a strong female lead, and she's highly engaging from start to finish. The standout here, though, is Michael Fassbender as David. This is a performance riddled with nuances and intricacies; Fassbender genuinely seems like a curious artificial being trying to learn human mannerisms. It's such a transformative performance that you would never believe that this is the same guy who played young Magneto in last year's X-Men: First Class. Also terrific is Idris Elba, again demonstrating his versatility here as the gruff captain of the Prometheus. Meanwhile, Guy Pearce has a minor role as Peter Weyland, and it's difficult to recognise the Australian under the thick old-age make-up.

The debate is going to endure for years as to whether or not Prometheus is truly an Alien prequel. Truth is, it's more of a spin-off which tells its own standalone story, and no prior knowledge of the Alien films is necessary (though Alien fans will better appreciate all of Prometheus' narrative details). Film-goers constantly scream for motion picture originality in this day and age, and that's exactly what Ridley Scott has delivered here. How amusing that Scott has managed to create one of the most original sci-fi movies in decades within what was supposed to be a prequel. It's critical to note, though, that how much you enjoy Prometheus does depend on what you expect. This is not an Alien film in a generic sense; it's a moodier, more thoughtful picture which plots its own unique path. And hey - with the way it explores the genesis of the xenomorph species, Prometheus fundamentally erases the Alien vs. Predator debacles from the official timeline.

8.6/10

"What the hell...I'm gonna enjoy what's left of the summer."

Now this is how you make a proper action-thriller! 2012's Get the Gringo (a.k.a. How I Spent My Summer Vacation) is one hell of a film; a stripped-down, gritty actioner reminiscent of the kind of dark, no-nonsense thrillers we saw back in the '70s and '80s. With studios filling multiplexes with so many glossy, CGI-laden blockbusters, it's invigorating to see Mel Gibson - who grows more badass with each passing year - doing what he does best in his first true action-thriller since 1998's Payback. Gibson may be controversial, but those who are open-minded enough to watch Get the Gringo will be rewarded with a visceral, lively motion picture featuring Gibson back at the top of his game.

After pulling off a heist and stealing millions of dollars, American career criminal Driver (Mel Gibson) is arrested south of the border by corrupt Mexican cops. With Driver refusing to reveal his identity, the police incarcerate him in the infamous El Pueblito, a community-like prison where inmates deal drugs, set up businesses and are generally free to carry on as they please. Driver soon begins to suss out his surroundings, realising that powerful kingpin Javi (Daniel Giménez Cacho) essentially rules El Pueblito from the inside. As he learns the ropes of the inmate lifestyle, Driver befriends a young boy (Kevin Hernandez) and his mother (Dolores Heredia). Driver finds renewed purpose when he learns that Javi wishes to use the kid as an organ donor, and he subsequently begins scheming to bring down the kingpin, stage an escape, and retrieve his lost loot.

El Pueblito was actually a real Tijuana prison that was shut down a few years ago, and it scarcely resembled a correctional institute since the inmates constantly committed crimes. It's the perfect setting for an action-thriller, and Gibson's gruff screen persona is an ideal fit for the criminal community that thrives from within the prison's walls. The production hired Alejandra Cuervo to conduct extensive research about El Pueblito, including interviewing former inmates about their experiences, to help shape the movie. Therefore, the screenplay (by Gibson, Stacy Perskie and director Adrian Grunberg) bursts with authenticity, allowing the hellhole to feel like a central character. Get the Gringo is astonishingly ballsy, as well - Driver gives a few cigarettes to the kid, and there's even a prison shootout which results in the deaths of several bystanders. How often do you see that type of stuff in mainstream blockbusters? Admittedly, Get the Gringo lacks character detail since the script reveals nothing about who Driver is, but we do not need to know anything about the man. We get slight hints here and there about Driver's past, but the point is that there isn't much to him. Thus, instead of armchair psychology, we get a pared-down film without any fat on its bones.

Gibson's Driver is very much cut from the vintage anti-hero mould, so director Adrien Grunberg's approach is also somewhat vintage - it is spiritually similar to films directed by Sam Peckinpah and John Frankenheimer. Get the Gringo is Grunberg's first feature film, but he has worked as an assistant director for the likes of Peter Weir, Oliver Stone, Tony Scott and even Gibson himself, equipping him with the experience to craft impressive action set pieces. Grunberg's approach lacks visual pretensions and fancy effects - the filmmaker simply applies sensible judgment to shoot each scene comprehensibly and effectively. Furthermore, the El Pueblito setting is thick in atmosphere and flavour. Filmed in a real rundown prison, Get the Gringo is grimy and gritty; there's no Hollywood gloss here. Also, Get the Gringo is not a PG-13 fare - this is a hard R laced with profanity and graphic violence. It's awesome.

With Mel Gibson adopting his trademark persona of slightly unhinged, wisecracking badass, Get the Gringo essentially feels like an unofficial sequel to Payback. Gibson showed he can be sincere and tender with 2011's The Beaver, so he earned himself the space to have a little fun here. The role of Driver is a perfect match for Gibson, as it is very much tailored to the star's talents. Driver is a bad guy, but he's a villain in a sea of villains, and Gibson's cool, brains and charm make him an anti-hero worth rooting for. Older action heroes like Gibson, Sylvester Stallone and Liam Neeson fit roles like this far better than younger actors ever could, as they afford a level of world-weariness and experience that is just not believable in actors like Taylor Lautner. Meanwhile, Gibson has strong chemistry with Kevin Fernandez as the kid. The rest of the cast is just as terrific; Peter Stormare, Daniel Giménez Cacho and Dolores Heredia all provide solid support in their respective roles.

Get the Gringo may seem like a low-rent B-movie, but Gibson and Grunberg execute it with A-grade proficiency. It even contains a few nice off-the-wall touches, including a scene in which Gibson does a hilarious Clint Eastwood impression. Running at a hair under 90 minutes, this is a wonderfully brisk action-thriller worth watching with a case of cervezas. Mel, it's terrific to see you back.

8.5/10

"The Reich of a thousand years has not been hiding from the likes of you. It has simply been waiting in the shadows."

By and large, sequels are often pointless, as they're usually just produced for the sake of exploiting a successful brand name. 2008's straight-to-video gem Outpost, though, practically begged for a sequel, as it established a fascinating central mythology ripe for further exploration. With the team behind the original Outpost returning for this sequel, fans will no doubt expect Outpost: Black Sun to be of similar quality to its predecessor... But be sure to temper your expectations. While Black Sun had the freedom to be bigger than the first film, this expanded scope has come at the cost of effective atmosphere, tension and storytelling, all factors of which made Outpost so note-worthy in the first place. It's a follow-up worth seeing due to the ideas it brings to the franchise, but the execution is slapdash.

Set more or less immediately after the original film, Black Sun finds Nazi hunter Lena (Catherine Steadman) looking to prosecute the last surviving Nazi generals from WWII. On the trail of the elusive, presumed dead Klausener, Lena encounters physicist and treasure hunter Wallace (Richard Coyle), himself looking to locate a powerful machine Klausener built back in the 1940s. Supposedly, the machine was designed to create an army of unstoppable, undead Nazi stormtroopers...and it actually worked. With Wallace's calculations suggesting that the machine's unified field - and, thus, the vicinity that the Nazi zombies can navigate under the machine's protective influence - is expanding, it won't be long before Eastern Europe may be overcome by the invincible, marauding army.

You've got to hand it to the Outpost guys: they know how to stretch a dollar. The budgets for both Outpost movies were minuscule, to the extent that the cost of the first film couldn't fund a single day of filming on a Hollywood blockbuster. Yet, like its predecessor, Outpost: Black Sun shows no signs of being financially restrained. It's not glossy or extravagant, but it doesn't feel restricted either; its production values never look cheap or chintzy (the interior bunker sets are especially terrific). Director Steve Barker can stage effective conflicts as well, leading to isolated set-pieces that truly shine. Black Sun particularly impresses when characters watch P.O.V. footage of soldiers battling the Nazi stormtroopers, as these sequences possess a riveting sense of immediacy and authenticity. One cannot criticise Barker or cinematographer Darren Tiernan for their top-flight shot composition.

Screenwriters Barker and Rae Brunton commendably avoided the biggest sequel pitfall: they refused to create a straight remake of the first film. Character goals are somewhat similar, but the writers invented a whole new narrative trajectory, expanding the franchise canvas before returning to the claustrophobic bunker. It's a welcome attempt to give further scope to the series, showing that the central Nazi zombie premise extends beyond a small-scale Predator-style film. However, the endeavour is not entirely successful. As a result of Black Sun's expanded scope, too much is happening in the background. While Outpost was simple and focused, this sequel involves military commanders and shady background conspirators, overstuffing the script with non-essential characters and disallowing sufficient breathing room to develop any of them. Lena and Wallace should be interesting, but the script denies them colourful personality traits and back-stories, failing to make us adequately interested in their plight and thus draining the picture of genuine weight.

Unfortunately, Outpost: Black Sun fails to retain the same type of enthralling atmosphere that characterised its predecessor, and Barker completely abandoned the first film's effective "less is more" approach. Rather than scarce glimpses of the Nazi zombies, Outpost: Black Sun ladles on the skirmishes, ignoring the fact that these creatures are supposed to be stealthy beings who can materialise out of the shadows and disappear at the drop of a hat. Here, the Nazis are reduced to the type of dumb brutes one would see in any run-of-the-mill zombie movie, uncoordinatedly running around in broad daylight waiting to be gunned down by nameless soldiers. Without any suspense or horror, Outpost's chilling edge is lost, rendering Black Sun more of an indistinguishable straight-to-video action fare. Perhaps most disappointingly, the film has pacing issues. Very little happened in the original Outpost, yet it was gripping due to the consistent tension and intoxicating sense of atmosphere. Significant narrative events in Black Sun are scarce too, but there's not enough tension or suspense to compensate for the overstretched story. Sure, a lot occurs in the background as previously stated, but Lena and Wallace's narrative is uneventful.

What's also disappointing about Outpost: Black Sun is the cast. The only actor who makes a positive impression is Richard Coyle, annihilating his comedic instincts for an entirely straight performance complete with a gruff voice. It may take a little while to adjust to Coyle's new demeanour (especially for Coupling fans), but he did a great job with the material he was given. Nevertheless, Coyle is not the most assertive lead. Black Sun needed a strong anchor, and Catherine Steadman as Lena underwhelms in this respect. Steadman looks the part, but she never quite inhabits the role, and she's not dominant enough to be a protagonist. Unfortunately, the team of actors constituting the special forces operatives are too forgettable and interchangeable as well, coming up short in terms of characterisation. Hell, most of them come across as nameless fodder for the Nazi zombies with no other purpose. It's a shame too, because the mercenaries in Outpost were instantly identifiable and easy to latch onto.

The original Outpost was lightning in a bottle; a low-budget masterpiece dripping with atmosphere which possessed several layers of mythology to absorb. Its cast was spot-on, and the ensemble dynamics worked magnificently. In fact, it's a great lesson in how to make a great little horror movie without a Hollywood-grade budget. Alas, Outpost: Black Sun is simply not as good. One can sense the filmmakers' reverence for their own work and desire to expand the franchise, but the finished product is destined to leave the Outpost fanbase hungry for something better.

5.1/10

"My mother believes that being of a certain class entitles you to die whenever you damn well please. Don't we wish..."

On account of its dense and lengthy disposition, adapting Patrick White's acclaimed novel The Eye of the Storm for the screen was never going to be easy. In the hands of Melburnian filmmaker Fred Schepisi, though, the adaptation has given rise to an engrossing acting masterclass of a drama. Set in Sydney sometime during the 1970s, The Eye of the Storm possesses an old-fashioned, traditional tenor in all filmmaking aspects, from its gentle score and patient dramatic growth to its grand production design and non-flashy cinematography. Mature, psychologically complex and often sedate, Schepisi's feature is permeated with intricate themes about life, death and wealth. It's wonderful, sophisticated adult entertainment.

In the Sydney suburb of Centennial Park, wealthy matriarch Elizabeth Hunter (Rampling) lies on her deathbed, orbited by housekeeper Lotte (Morse) and nurses Mary (Theodorakis) and Flora (Schepisi). Close to death and with her inheritance needing to be sorted, Elizabeth's offspring come home to visit: Sir Basil (Rush), a famous actor who has fallen on hard times, and Dorothy (Davis), who married into French royalty before ending up divorced and cash-strapped. Regardless of her fading health, Elizabeth remains a destructive force, continually torturing her children who are determined to leave Sydney with a hefty inheritance.

The characters at the centre of The Eye of the Storm are a dislikeable bunch. Elizabeth is often demeaning, while her kids and house staff are scavengers hoping for riches, and even the family's loyal lawyer (Gaden) has his self-serving moments. However, none of the characters are surface-level; there are further intricacies to each of them which are revealed as time goes by, and it's their flaws and nuances which make them so compelling and recognisably human. Perhaps the picture's biggest asset, though, is the dialogue. A high calibre team of actors were recruited for the film, all of whom were fed juicy, engaging dialogue to deliver. Furthermore, the narrative is well-designed - writer Judy Morris has done a sublime job of adapting Patrick White's novel into a screenplay. Morris' script takes no shortcuts, permitting each character and subplot the development that they deserve. But, with that said, the film doesn't exactly reach the profundity or richness that White's novel achieved, although this is probably just due to the restrictions of the medium of film.

The Eye of the Storm is a gorgeous film, magnificently lensed by Ian Baker and elegantly designed by Melinda Doring. Most of the story occurs in and around Elizabeth's mansion, so director Fred Schepisi employed everything in his cinematic arsenal to avoid the static look of a filmed play or a lowly telemovie. Thus, Schepisi's camera tracks and glides, yielding striking dolly and jib shots. The lavish production design of the '70s mansion would have been enough to maintain a degree of visual interest throughout, but Schepisi and his cinematographer went the extra mile, resulting in a skilfully-crafted motion picture. Paul Grabowsky's classy jazz score is equally beneficial, tenderly instilling an evocative sense of time and place. However, the picture does tend to keep us at arm's length from time to time.

It's a rare occurrence to see a troupe of such formidable actors assemble for any film, let alone an Australian production implemented on a modest budget. Yet, The Eye of the Storm features a handful of excellent performers at the top of their game playing meticulously-devised characters. Geoffrey Rush is superb as Sir Basil, giving convincing life to this distinguished theatre actor whose life lacks intimacy. Rush delivers several engaging pieces of narration throughout the film which give unforced insight into the type of man that Sir Basil is. With Rush having wasted too much time on films far below his acting prowess (Green Lantern, Pirates of the Caribbean...), it's great to see the Australian appearing in films of this calibre. Similarly, Charlotte Ramping is a tour de force as Elizabeth Hunter; her performance is effectively dramatic, intense and believable, and Ramping fantastically conveys her character's mental confusions as Elizabeth grows close to death. Judy Davis, meanwhile, is wonderful as Dorothy, and the director's daughter Alexandra easily holds her own as attractive young nurse Flora.

The Eye of the Storm is a classy, grown-up Australian drama. It's magnificently multifaceted stuff, intimately exploring the emotional wreckage of a dysfunctional family with sophistication and acerbic wit. Older audiences who prefer dramatic storytelling over effects-laden blockbusters will no doubt be riveted by the picture, though it's difficult to imagine its appeal broadening much beyond this demographic. It's therefore rather refreshing to behold a film which refuses to relinquish artistic integrity for the sake of box office dollars.

8.1/10