Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"I expect we're the first white people he's seen."

Enthralling at surface level but challenging underneath, Walkabout is a movie that's more than the sum of its parts. It adheres to a few recognisable subgenres (one could contend it's a mix of a road movie and a coming-of-age tale), yet such distractions are not what this picture is truly about. Director Nicolas Roeg has crafted a deceptively simple film which is primarily about how technology is starting to overwhelm natural beauty, about both the simplicity and difficulty of communication between different cultures, and about how human experiences with unbridled nature have become corrupted by their inherent need for man-made barriers.

While on a picnic in the desert with his children, an unnamed father (Meillon) has a homicidal and suicidal breakdown, shooting at his teenage daughter (Agutter) and young son (Roeg) with a pistol before setting their car on fire and killing himself. Physically unharmed, the teenage girl - known simply as Girl - shields the truth of his father's madness from her younger brother, and they set out into the harsh, desolate landscape of the Australian outback with limited supplies. The future seem bleak for the pair until they run into an Aboriginal boy (Gulpilil) on his "walkabout" (that is, a rite of passage for the Aborigines wherein an adolescent is sent to live in the wilderness and forced to live off the land by himself). Although unable to verbally communicate, the three form an unlikely trio, and the Aboriginal boy shows the naïve city folk how to live off the land while guiding them back to civilisation.

Walkabout is not a film concerned with solid plotting. The minimalist script was a scant 14 pages long, as the movie's predominantly improvised midsection simply follows the trio of protagonists as they aimlessly wander through the Australian outback. Director Nicolas Roeg used this simple premise to construct a mediation on several issues. Most notably, Walkabout is a discourse about mankind's industrial supremacy over nature, as Roeg contrasts shots of animals and nature against areas of Australia overwhelmed by technology and industry. Roeg also highlights that primitive Aboriginal traditions and customs have no place in modern culture due to the rapidly-expanding nature of urban development. Such advancements may make life easier, but life in the wild can sometimes be preferable to the bleakness of modern society. Walkabout additionally points out that city dwellers are ill-equipped when it comes to living off the land. Humans would be utterly lost without technology, so what would happen in the event of technology being relinquished? It's provocative themes like this which make Roeg's movie such a keeper. Surely a technological meltdown is imminent, meaning that Walkabout will never be thematically outdated.

Nicolas Roeg initially worked on motion pictures as a cinematographer. Putting his considerable talents to good use, Roeg both directed and photographed Walkabout. This is very much a picture about nature, as Roeg's shots linger on the varied and vivid landscapes of Australia, highlighting the beauty of a sunset or observing the exotic nature of creatures which are found in the Aussie outback. Additionally, Roeg did not baulk at capturing the harsher, more dangerous side of the desert, and the photography doesn't always paint a pretty picture. Thanks to Roeg's visual instincts, Walkabout could easily work as a silent film, and therefore dialogue is fairly minimal. John Barry's engaging score also represents a strong accompaniment to the visuals.

As Roger Ebert noted in his various writings about Walkabout, this is a movie about communication and human behaviour. By showing that the trio of protagonists for the most part get along despite communicative barriers, Roeg appears to underline that people can live together in harmony without the influence of industrialisation. Such concepts are upheld extraordinarily well by the actors, all of whom submitted strong, intuitive performances. Jenny Agutter and Luc Roeg (the director's son) interact like real siblings, while David Gulpilil's performance has an assured charm to it despite the fact that Gulpilil recited dialogue in his native language without the aid of subtitles. For the record, this has to be one of the most inappropriately-watched arthouse movies in history thanks to Agutter's full-frontal nudity. Yet, none of the nudity feels gratuitous; it shows how comfortable Girl and her brother become with both their Aboriginal companion and the natural environment.

If anything is to be criticised, it's that some of Walkabout's narrative material is difficult to swallow. For example, the father's breakdown seems unmotivated, and it seems odd that the Aboriginal would agree to let two strangers tag along with him. The ending, meanwhile, is dangerously undercut, with missing bridge material. Not to mention, a few cinematic techniques are overdone and intrusive. Such techniques don't enhance the imagery or story in any effective way, so they merely come across as the product of tacky '70s moviemaking styles. Flaws aside, Walkabout is a masterful treatise on communication, culture clashes and the evils of technology. This may be a picture about children, but it feels genuinely adult. Although the pacing is not always immaculate, Walkabout's countless moments of brilliance make it a true must-see.

8.2/10

"You end up being a jaded, cynical asshole, just like me."

The Ides of March represents George Clooney's entry in the 2011 Oscar race. For his third directorial outing, Clooney has adapted Beau Willimon's play Farragut North, recruiting frequent collaborator Grant Heslov and even Willimon himself to help construct this somewhat derivative examination of the today's political zeitgeist. An old-fashioned type of thriller, The Ides of March ostensibly appears to be just another flick about innocence lost in the tumultuous world of politics, but at its heart this is a multilayered exploration of honour and integrity in the face of a career which demands dishonesty. Such messages are nothing new, but Clooney has delivered the material with genuine passion and style, incorporating strong performances and intuitive filmmaking to make this admittedly flawed picture worthy of your attention.

In Ohio, a heated political battle is unfolding to determine who will be the presidential nominee for the Democratic Party. Favoured candidate Mike Morris (Clooney) is being guided in his campaign by seasoned pro Paul Zara (Hoffman) and idealistic young hotshot Stephen Meyers (Gosling). As Paul scrambles to secure local support, Stephen is invited to a lunch meeting with Tom Duffy (Giamatti), the campaign manager for Morris' rival. Intrigued, Stephen attends the meeting only to be offered a job in Duffy's crew. Stephen declines due to his established allegiances, but word of the meeting soon reaches New York Times reporter Ida Horowicz (Tomei) who threatens to release the story. Stephen's paranoia begins going into overdrive, and the situation soon becomes exacerbated by his affair with 20-year-old intern Molly Stearns (Wood) who holds secrets that could potentially bring down Morris' campaign.

The first act of The Ides of March is static and talky, with the reams of complicated political jargon rendering it rather uninvolving. The dry dialogue may be true to the way these people talk behind-the-scenes, but it leaves the rest of us on the outside looking in. It's not that writers Clooney, Heslov and Willimon should've dumbed everything down to Twitter speak - it's that they expected too much of viewers, who are given so many intricate, vaguely-explained political machinations to process and not enough time for them to sink in. Thus, the pace is quick but the film is often unengaging. However, things thankfully heat up once Molly's conundrum is revealed. From there, the proceedings are enthralling and easier to follow. Once the finish line enters the flick's sights, though, The Ides of March falters. The narrative is such a rich tapestry of subplots and intrigue, stacking the deck against the writers who were saddled with the responsibility of resolving everything without senselessly dragging things out. To their credit, they conceived of a neat resolution and the final shot is sublime, but the specifics are too hazy.

Throughout his motion picture career as a director, actor and producer, George Clooney has been part of the creative school who yearn for a comeback of patient, pre-blockbuster cinema. Thus, Clooney enjoys participating in visually sophisticated films more concerned with storytelling and challenging ideas than explosions for maximum box office. Thus, The Ides of March is technically handsome, and was clearly created by consummate professionals from top to bottom. Clooney's direction is also astute. His efforts are especially commendable during the picture's final shot which studies Stephen's eyes as his integrity and soul becomes permanently replaced by dishonesty and rugged political ambition.

2011 is truly a banner year for Ryan Gosling, with The Ides of March marking his third sublime performance in a matter of months. With Crazy, Stupid, Love. and Drive now under his belt, the actor is becoming richer and more exciting, and his performance as Stephen Meyers here is truly superb. His dialogue may be occasionally dry, but Gosling's focus is unbreakable and riveting. Alongside Gosling is an equally impressive supporting cast. As the in-over-her-head Molly, Evan Rachel Wood truly shines in a performance that's both vivacious and affecting. She's a strong companion for Gosling; they share great chemistry, and their exchanges are often a highlight. Meanwhile, both Paul Giamatti and Phillip Seymour Hoffman shine as the campaign managers of the rival parties, and George Clooney is spot-on as Governor Morris. This is not a case of a director filling a part for the sake of his ego; Clooney is genuinely perfect in the role. Rounding out the cast is Marisa Tomei and Jeffrey Wright, both of whom sparkle. Indeed, it's doubtful you will see a more finely-tuned acting machine this year.

The Ides of March does not tell us anything innovative about politicians, and its story is nothing new. Instead of a shocking revelation about modern politics, it concerns itself with the same type of sex scandal plot we've seen done before. Still, this type of stuff does actually happen (Bill Clinton, anyone?), so maybe such criticisms are just nitpicking. The Ides of March is indeed flawed from a script perspective and you'll be left with a very bleak feeling once it ends, but this is the type of movie that you appreciate the more you ponder it.

6.0/10

"Why am I such a misfit? I am not just a nitwit. Just because my nose glows... why don't I fit in?"

Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer was the first Rankin/Bass animated television special to grace airwaves across the world, and it's definitely one of the greatest works of the since-retired studio. A feature-length adaptation of Johnny Marks' 1949 Christmas song of the same name, Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer still remains a cherished part of annual Yuletide traditions for countless families, and it's easy to see why. From its relevant messages and colourful characters to its memorable tunes, this classic TV special is an eternally charming hour of pure Christmas magic.

Warmly narrated by Burt Ives as Sam the Snowman, the plot of Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer is pretty straightforward. The titular Rudolph (Richards) is the son of Santa's lead reindeer Donner (Kligman), and is born with a shiny red nose. However, when the other reindeer see Rudolph's nose, they laugh and make fun of him, so the humiliated reindeer decides to run away from home. During his travels, he meets an elf named Hermey (Soles); a similar misfit who'd rather be a dentist than a toy-maker. As they cross the arctic wilderness, the pair also meet a prospector named Yukon (Mann), and encounter an abominable snow monster on top of happening upon the Island of Misfit Toys. But Rudolph soon realises that he cannot keep running away from his problems...

Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer is chock full of lovably quirky characters. The designs of such characters as Yukon and Hermey are endearing, and the vocal performances are spot-on right down the line. There are also lots of quirks and pieces of tender humour throughout the picture. For instance, a running subplot has Mrs. Claus struggling to fatten Santa up before his big night. Added to this, Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer remains as relevant as ever. Sure, several decades have passed since its 1964 debut, but the movie reinforces a timeless message about misfits and nonconformists. To this day, young children still struggle with the same feelings of inadequacy that Rudolph and Hermey face. The misfit/nonconformist metaphor is extremely malleable, too - you can interpret it however you want (children with disabilities, obese people, homosexuals, etc).

With its tremendous allure and an infectious sense of adventure, Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer is still special even by today's filmmaking standards. The animation is admittedly dated and a bit jerky, but the visuals are nevertheless vibrant and endearing, with creative character designs and sets magnificently bringing life to the flights of stop-motion fancy which were conjured up by writer Romeo Muller. The pacing is immaculate, with the story rarely lagging as it throttles towards the climax without crumbling under the weight of its various subplots. Also excellent is the festive-soaked music; a mix of Johnny Marks' score and various wonderful Christmas songs (also written by Marks). Sure, the movie is exceedingly simple, but directors Kizo Nagashima and Larry Roemer handled the tale with enough sincerity to make it work.

While some moments uncomfortably emphasise that the picture is predominantly aimed at kids (an ostensible character death during the climax feels awkward) and while it does feel a tad dated, this 60-minute television special is brimming with charm. Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer deserves to continue enjoying its reputation as a tried-and-true staple of the Christmas season that parents share with their offspring on an annual basis.

8.1/10

"Happy birthday! Hey, I said my first words. But... But snowmen can't talk. Ha ha ha, come on now, what's the joke? Could I really be alive?"

Although general perception of 1969's Frosty the Snowman seems to suggest that it's a beloved Christmas classic, this 30-minute TV special is astonishingly undeserving of such a reputation. It's a moderately clever expansion of the song of the same name, but this Rankin/Bass-produced slice of Yuletide animation lacks the suitable qualities to make it a holiday mainstay. Frosty the Snowman is dangerously drab, occasionally awkward, without a worthwhile message, and lacking in worthwhile heart and comedy. It has a few charms, but it has not aged gracefully.

As the story opens, it's Christmas Eve and several children are building a snowman together. The kids affectionately name the snowman Frosty (Vernon), and he comes alive when the hat of incompetent magician Professor Hinkle (De Wolfe) is placed atop Frosty's head. But when Hinkle realises the hat's true power, he seeks to reclaim his property. Meanwhile, the weather starts to warm up, so Frosty needs to reach a cold climate before he melts. Thus, Frosty and his friend Karen (Foray) set off to the North Pole, with wacky bunny rabbit Hocus Pocus also in tow.

Frosty the Snowman's story is a tad difficult to get involved in. You see, Hinkle is portrayed as a two-dimensional villain, but the magic hat did rightfully belong to him, who purchased it and who therefore owned it. Thus, Frosty the Snowman seems to be advocating theft to its target audience of young children. Perhaps this is overanalysing what is essentially just a disposable cartoon to be watched and enjoyed at surface level, but the movie failed to work as simple entertainment for this reviewer. A big problem is that the picture tries too hard to pander to kids, leading to rushed, out-of-place emotional moments. For instance, Frosty ostensibly melts during the climax, but this fails to gel with the picture's established light-hearted tone. Not to mention, the emotional note is not allowed to sink in - instead, it's abruptly and jarringly broken. The result feels incredibly clumsy.

Jules Bass and Arthur Rankin Jr. were responsible for several classic Christmas television specials, most notably Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer. But for Frosty the Snowman, the pair eschewed their stop-motion animation techniques in favour of traditional hand-drawn animation, and the results are disappointing. The animation is very dated, with noticeable jumps and jerks in character movement. Frosty the Snowman looks generally dull and ugly as well. While the character designs for Hocus and the titular Frosty are fairly good, the rest of the characters look rather crude and stiff. On the other hand, though, the vocal performances are uniformly good. Narration by Jimmy Durante (in his final role) provides a bit of quirky charm, while Billy De Wolfe and Jackie Vernon submitted lively, rich performances as Hinkle and Frosty (respectively). June Foray is also fine in the role of Karen, though she's not as memorable as her co-stars.

Perhaps the biggest problem with Frosty the Snowman is that it lacks a message. 1966's How the Grinch Stole Christmas! commented on the commercialism of Christmas and reiterated the true meaning of the season, while Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer delivered the perpetually relevant message that perceived societal misfits should not be discriminated against. Alas, there's nothing lying underneath Frosty the Snowman's cold exterior. It's baffling that this movie is held in such high regard.

4.0/10

"Three balls, two sticks, one corked nose. Snowman? No. Much, much more. I am the Wizard of Blizzard!"

Not to be confused with the straight-to-video slasher of the same name that preceded it, Jack Frost is an odd amalgam of Frosty the Snowman, Ghost and E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial. However, don't let the esteemed reputation of these aforementioned movies fool you into believing that this family fantasy is actually any good - on the contrary, Jack Frost is a stiff, aloof snoozer drenched in clichés that isn't overly funny or heart-warming. Perhaps children with low standards may enjoy the exceedingly limited charms of this flick, but it will test the patience of any mature-age viewer forced into watching it with their offspring.

Struggling middle-aged rock musician Jack Frost (Keaton) loves his wife Gabby (Preston) and son Charlie (Cross), but does not spend enough time with them. After years of unprofitable gigs, Jack and his band are at long last on the verge of a career breakthrough, but Jack is forced to cancel his planned family Christmas vacation in order to attend the audition. Jack has second thoughts during the drive to the audition, though, and decides to turn back to go spend Christmas with Gabby and Charlie. Unfortunately, Jack subsequently perishes in a car accident on the way, devastating his family. Fast forward a year, and Charlie is still affected by his father's passing: he no longer plays with his friends and his grades have plummeted. With Christmas approaching, Jack's spirit returns in the form of a wisecracking snowman, and he is given one last chance to spend some quality time with his son before he melts.

More than anything else, Jack Frost is hindered by the distinct lack of any substantial plot beyond the basic set-up. Oh sure, there are a few conventional story elements involving bullies and Charlie playing hockey, but they fail to offer satisfying substance to the flick, and are too quickly wrapped up (don't get me started on the neighbourhood bully...just don't go there). Thus, the premise is sporadically interrupted by snowball skirmishes (which are admittedly clever, as they're staged like war movie battles) and stupid chase scenes, but it's obvious that such set-pieces are mere distractions to pad out the runtime. Jack Frost's premise might have worked as a 30-minute short film or a television special, but as a feature it's low on momentum. Worse, it has barely any worthwhile humour - the dialogue is often worthy of facepalms and cringes.

The script is highly unfair towards the titular Jack. He's supposed to be one of those stereotypical neglectful fathers we see so often in family movies, but Jack is a fundamentally good dad who shouldn't have to redeem himself for anything. Life is cruel to Jack, plain and simple, and he's put in too many impossible positions. After all, he's a down-on-his-luck musician finally getting his big break, so why should his family begrudge him of this just because it causes him to miss a few events? Shouldn't they support him? Why not blame the people who are putting Jack in such a position? Why can't they understand Jack's perspective? Jack is not being selfish - he's always kind, respectful and loving to his family. Thus, Jack comes across as a good man, while Charlie seems mean-spirited.

On top of this, since Jack has been dead for a whole year, shouldn't Charlie have questions to ask his old man? For instance, "What happens when you die?", "What's it like being a snowman?", or "What did death feel like?". Alas, such queries are thrown by the wayside - the screenwriting committee were more focused on gimmicky action beats in a bid to keep us awake. The film's most humiliating failing, though, is that it doesn't pack any sort of emotional punch. The sappy, sentimental climax is ineffective and emotionally bereft, closing the proceedings on the flattest, most artificial note imaginable. Not to mention, Jack looks intrinsically creepy as a snowman. The special effects are serviceable, but there's no getting around the fact that this snowman looks ready to swallow your soul.

To be fair, the performances are at least respectable enough. It's clear that Michael Keaton tried to lighten the film with his sublime comic touch (his work in Beetlejuice deserved an Oscar), but the script did Keaton no justice. At least he got off easy, though, since he's relegated to a vocal role after the first half-hour. The rest of the cast are decent, with Kelly Preston and Joseph Cross both believable as Jack's family, and with an amiable Mark Addy playing one of Jack's friends. Meanwhile, in the only subplot that actually works, Henry Rollins scores the film's only laughs as a hockey coach who becomes incredibly scared and paranoid after meeting Jack in snowman form.

A slapdash comic fantasy, Jack Frost wanted to be a Spielbergian fairytale that tugs on the heart, but it provides nothing to respond to, and it's doubtful that it will emotionally affect anyone of any age group. The picture might work for unfussy folks in desperate need of a Christmas flick fit for family consumption, but on the whole it lacks the magic to make it a long-lasting holiday classic. Not even the frequently-reliable Michael Keaton can save Jack Frost from meltdown.

4.0/10

"We will try to welcome her back in, like a civilized family might."

It's difficult to pinpoint all of the reasons why The Family Stone is such a disenchanting flick. With an ensemble of talented performers and a promising set-up for a solid dramedy, it had the potential to be a brilliant, poignant Christmas movie. Alas, the resulting flick is a far cry from what it should have been. The Family Stone wanted to be a funny, touching and relevant exploration of familial dynamics, but aspiration is not the same thing as achievement. Perhaps the film's biggest downfall is the tedious storytelling, or maybe it's the leaden pacing or the way it shamelessly manipulates for emotions... Nay, the most glaring thing about The Family Stone is that the characters are so fundamentally unlikeable, even intolerable. A dark comedy exploring the tension between seriously flawed people is fine, but this venture falls short because it's too contrived and too reliant on depthless caricatures to achieve its desired maturity.

Christmas is rapidly approaching, and businessman Everett Stone (Mulroney) intends to bring his girlfriend Meredith (Parker) back to his New England hometown to meet his family for the first time. The Stone family - including parents Sybil (Keaton) and Kelly (Nelson), and their children: the rebellious Amy (McAdams), openly deaf & gay Thad (Giordano), stoner Ben (Wilson), and the pregnant Susannah (Reaser) - take an immediate dislike to Meredith, believing her to be the wrong girl for Everett. As the festive season wears on, Meredith keeps falling deeper in over her head, continuously conflicting with the family. For support and reinforcement, Meredith decides to call in her sister Julie (Danes), further escalating the dramas of the household during what was intended to be a pleasant Christmas celebration.

The Family Stone immediately falters on account of the shallow, detestable characters. It's hard to say who's worse: the Stone family who are so callous towards Meredith, or Meredith herself, who seems to make an effort to justify their contempt. It appears that writer-director Thomas Bezucha specifically designed Meredith to ensure her every characteristic will clash with the family and elicit disdain from viewers, which is exactly why she never seems like a real human being. For instance, she has the innate ability to be offensive and not know it - we're supposed to believe she's accidentally racist, and that she accidentally insults homosexuals without realising how awful she's being. It's cheap, unbelievable characterisation. And when Meredith starts to loosen up a bit, the moment doesn't come naturally: it feels forced by the demands of the script to bring about a new plot point. Then there are the Stones, who are stubborn and arrogant. Who the hell are viewers supposed to root for or latch onto in such a situation? Well, nobody, unfortunately.

Throughout The Family Stone's first two acts, most every scene appears to have been awkwardly formulated to create contrived conflict. Sure, this type of stuff could have worked, but it's entirely ineffective without a sense of humanity. The characters never achieve any semblance of depth; they're all empty ciphers saddled with a stereotype as if Bezucha was working from a laundry list of characters to include. Take, for instance, Thad, who's easily the most likeable of the bunch, but who seems to have been born out of the writer-director's self-congratulatory attitude. After all, Thad is deaf and homosexual, and his life partner is an African American man. The two do not ring as authentic people; it feels as if they were included just so the director could just pat himself on the back. Making matters worse is how contrived most of the proceedings are. Most notably, the Stones instantly spit poison at Meredith but seem to immediately love Meredith's younger sister Julie. Before they even get to know Julie, the family seem fine with the notion of her getting involved with family members. Add to this mixture a major character suffering from a terminal illness for more tear-wringing, and The Family Stone feels far too calculated for its own good.

The ensemble cast is a mixed bag. Craig T. Nelson did a great job as the family's soft-spoken patriarch, while Luke Wilson, Rachel McAdams and Tyrone Giordano are all strong, but everyone else fails to make much of an impact (even Claire Danes is forgettable). To their credit, it looks like the predominantly talented cast gave it their best, but they're ultimately hamstrung by such a laboured screenplay.

Exacerbating the issue of the unlikeable characters is that writer-director Thomas Bezucha has a poor grasp on pacing and storytelling. The Family Stone doesn't ever come alive and engage with lively writing or a sense of genuine momentum; it just sits there on the screen, unfolding in a drab, routine manner. It has a handful of nice moments throughout, but as a whole the film fails to gel. The attempts at comedy often fall flat and the dramatic scenes simply aren't very powerful, while the shifts between these two competing tones are often jarring. As the end credits began to roll on The Family Stone, this reviewer was left with a very sour feeling indeed.

3.7/10

"You better bring your wellies because you'll be knee-deep in clunge."

A beloved sitcom making the leap to a feature-length film is always a challenging proposition, and it does not always work. Fortunately, in the case of 2011's The Inbetweeners Movie, the transition from the small screen to the big screen is, for the most part, a smooth one. Puppeteered by veterans of the original series, including director Ben Palmer and writers Iain Morris and Damon Beesley, The Inbetweeners Movie has all the witty laughs and crude humour that made the show such a hit in the first place, and it introduces unforced depth to ensure that it does not merely feel like a few episodes stitched together. Maturity in a vulgar comedy is a feat that is worth celebrating, but it is even better that it was achieved in the movie adaptation of a beloved TV program. Best of all, while familiarity with the original show is preferred since you will have a better sense of what is at stake, it is likely that Inbetweeners virgins will be equally satisfied with this wholly enjoyable comedic romp beset with heart and side-splitting laughs.

With their school years finally coming to a close, Will (Simon Bird), Simon (Joe Thomas), Jay (James Buckley) and Neil (Blake Harrison) finish their A-levels and prepare to leave Rudge Park Comprehensive to start the next chapter of their lives, including University and full-time work. However, Simon's girlfriend and long-time crush, Carli (Emily Head), breaks up with Simon due to the uncertainty of their impending years of tertiary education, leaving him heartbroken and devastated. To help Simon get over his depression and to celebrate the end of school, the four decide to go on a "lads holiday" together in Malia, Crete, for a fortnight of relaxation, booze, girls and (hopefully) sex. Not long after their arrival, the troupe encounter a group of females with whom they strike up a tentative bond. Unfortunately, though, Carli is also holidaying in Malia with her friends, and Simon is still besotted with his ex, harbouring delusions that they can still patch things up and get back together.

Although some film adaptations feel fundamentally different to their television counterparts, The Inbetweeners Movie carries the same verve and style as the sitcom (right down to Will providing occasional voiceovers) while adding a layer of theatrical polish. With filming taking place in many of the same locations as the show, there is a comforting feeling of familiarity, making this an organic companion piece to the series. Additionally, with Morris and Beesley beginning work on the script before writing the show's third season, The Inbetweeners Movie tells a worthwhile story that follows on from the events of the series. In other words, it is not a forced, redundant continuation. Coming-of-age tales are not uncommon, but we do not often see this type of story that involves patiently developed characters we have come to know and love over several years. While the narrative is somewhat generic, the filmmakers at least handle it with sincerity, and it is rewarding to see this foursome at long last growing up after three seasons of pure immaturity. Thus, their character arcs (although predictable) feel more earned and emotionally satisfying. Additionally, writers Morris and Beesley have the good sense to not treat the story's female characters as mere eye candy or perfunctory plot pawns; instead, they have depth and feelings, adding mirth and emotional intrigue.

The popularity of The Inbetweeners endures because the show displays an astute understanding of the teenage mindset. Thankfully, Morris and Beesley carry these qualities to this feature film, with razor-sharp dialogue and hilarious observations about teen behaviour. Additionally, sending the boys to an island in Greece via a cheap holiday package gives the writers new targets for their humour (including flight delays, grungy accommodation, sleazy holidays representatives, nightclub entrance scams, etc.) while also allowing the boys to do what they do best: drinking alcohol, stripping naked, vomiting, farting, saying the wrong things, and trying their hardest to get girls but failing hilariously. Nevertheless, The Inbetweeners Movie falls short of perfection. There are copious moments of greatness, but the film sometimes does drag, especially in the third act. The plot feels somewhat bloated, diminishing some of the franchise's trademark punch.

Expectedly, all the actors here seem entirely at ease with their characters at this point. Leading the pack is Simon Bird, who perfectly sells the social awkwardness shtick in the role of Will. Like the show, Bird narrates the story, and his spot-on delivery, coupled with the witty writing, makes for several moments of inspired hilarity. On top of this, Bird also shines in the more tender moments, such as when he nervously watches his dalliance undress on a beach. The rest of the boys are equally good; they genuinely inhabit their roles, share remarkable chemistry, and effortlessly alternate between the dramatic and the hilarious. In particular, James Buckley routinely steals the show with his vulgar, rapid-fire one-liners that are an endless source of amusement. The performers are also surprisingly versatile, and their efforts here should serve as a springboard for bigger and better things post-Inbetweeners. Meanwhile, the female ensemble - consisting of Laura Haddock, Emily Head, Tamla Kari, Jessica Knappet and Lydia Rose Bewley - keeps up with the boys every step of the way, placing forth strong performances with ideal comic timing. Also of note in the cast is Greg Davies as series regular Mr. Gilbert, who threatens to steal the entire movie with an opening rant that had this humble reviewer in tears of laughter. It is a bit of a shame, then, that Davies disappears from the film immediately following his uproarious tirade.

The thing about The Inbetweeners as a franchise is that the creators wanted to wrap it up while it was still brilliant instead of milking it to exhaustion and risk sacrificing the show's overall integrity. Now that the boys have finished school and seem poised for a bright future, the creators can now safely put the franchise and these characters to bed. Thus, the conclusion to The Inbetweeners Movie feels weighty and poignant, as the foursome are about to head to University and will most likely start to grow apart. Sure, the ending is a bit sappy, but it feels earned; these boys have been through so many humiliations and failures, so they deserve an optimistic ending. Unfortunately, despite no initial plans for further Inbetweeners content, a follow-up film, The Inbetweeners 2, was released in 2014, which ruins many of this picture's story developments.

8.2/10

"Hey, I work for the IRS. Who doesn't trust the IRS?"

The primary creative force behind Lady Magdalene's, J. Neil Schulman, may be somewhat of a successful novelist, but he cannot in good conscience add filmmaking to his list of credentials. While Schulman wants you to believe that Lady Magdalene's is a smart action-comedy satirising today's post-9/11 climate, the resulting picture is an agonising catastrophe; it's a two-hour black hole of tedium from which absolutely no joy can escape. This is not a case of "so bad it's good" like Plan 9 From Outer Space or The Room - instead, Schulman's movie is so bad that it's just really, really bad. As of December 2011, Lady Magdalene's has not been picked up for major distribution. The closest thing to distribution that Schulman could manage was an endorsement from a shady meal supplement company and uploading the rancid movie to YouTube. If that's not a red flag about the movie's quality, I don't know what is.

After IRS agent Jack Goldwater (Ethan Keogh) is humiliated when he tries to detain a suspicious-looking Arab-American on a plane, he is relieved of his Federal Air Marshal duties and busted down to an embarrassing desk job. Jack's assignment is to take control of a Nevada brothel run by Lady Magdalene, a.k.a. Maggie (Nichelle Nichols). As Jack begins to settle in, one of the prostitutes is murdered, triggering an investigation. The murder raises suspicion with Jack, in particular, who soon finds out that it may be tied to a larger terrorist threat to the entire nation.

The technical shortcomings of Lady Magdalene's stick out the most - a sense of amateurism hangs over this frequently ugly-looking film. However, perhaps the term "amateurish" is a bit too flattering since YouTube filmmakers can produce superior movies. Cinematographer Scott MacDonald should never be allowed to work again - various shots throughout the film are too overexposed, blending skin tones with rocks or walls. Additionally, the camera is often shaky for no rhyme or reason, while the framing reveals that the camera operators must have an exceedingly poor grasp of such essential principles as headroom and looking room. It seems the filmmakers also fail to realise that abrupt zooms look incredibly unprofessional. There is absolutely no style or sense of visual flair here. The action is meant to be exciting, yet even parody movies like Hot Shots! have better action. The comedy is intended to be funny, but the flick is obnoxiously laughless. And forget about it being "sexy"...

Lady Magdalene's was apparently produced for $500,000, but you wouldn't know it considering the drab colour scheme and incompetent special effects. The green-screening and digital compositing are notoriously bad, especially during driving scenes. For fuck's sake, rear projection techniques in the '50s look positively immaculate compared to the green-screening here. Compounding this awfulness, the editing is often harsh and jarring, while the sound mixing is pure amateur hour - for instance, ringtones are not properly integrated into the environment, as they sound like a piece of the score added in post-production. Speaking of the soundtrack, the music is often overbearing, grating and inappropriate; Daniel May's compositions would be better suited for a fucking elevator. Of course, technically inferior films can still be entertaining, but Schulman provides absolutely nothing as compensation for his shoddy filmmaking. Lady Magdalene's is poorly-paced, and Schulman has absolutely no understanding of comic timing. Admittedly, a few moments have comedic potential, but the delivery is way off. (The James Bond references are cringe-worthy.) For the most part, the dialogue is tin-eared as well. Nothing ever engages you at any point during the picture's unbearably prolonged 120-minute runtime.

J. Neil Schulman is an untalented hack, not a filmmaker in any sense of the word. The main problem with Lady Magdalene's is the lack of authority that permeates the picture. In great films like The Godfather, every frame feels puppeteered by a director who is in control of his movie. In Lady Magdalene's, scenes routinely unfold in an undisciplined manner, as if Schulman filmed a single take of every slate because he didn't feel comfortable giving his performers strong direction. Schulman's staging and mise-en-scène are often poor, as well - take, for example, a fight in a brothel that literally looks as if Schulman filmed a lackadaisical first rehearsal and called it a day. Fucking hell, even firearm techniques are lax, with performers wandering around half-heartedly brandishing their guns even though their characters are meant to be professionals. Exacerbating this is a facepalm-inducing instance of product placement, as a character reads director Schulman's own book, Escape from Heaven, in one scene. The sense of narcissism is overpowering. We get it, Neil: you love yourself.

Amidst all this is a cast one can't help but pity. Former Star Trek regular Nichelle Nichols is the most seasoned and professional actor in the cast, but she overdoes her performance as the titular Lady Magdalene, and it looks like she is mugging the camera. Ethan Keogh and Mark Gilvary are the only ones who show a degree of potential here, with Keogh emitting genuine charm and Gilvary scoring the only laughs in the entire picture (one of which is an outtake, mind you). These two aren't perfect, though - Keogh seems frequently bored, and his comedic delivery is flat, while Gilvary's performance is in dire need of discipline since he sometimes rambles. The rest of the actors range from unbelievably bad to merely serviceable. Even writer-director Schulman himself waddles into the frame to play a role, placing forth a performance dripping with unearned egotism and repulsive overconfidence. Schulman spouts his lines with a knowing wink as if to imply that he believes his writing is the pinnacle of excellence.

Somewhere inside Lady Magdalene's is a promising idea for an action-comedy, but the potential is utterly wasted in the hands of J. Neil Schulman. The script is slipshod, the cinematic techniques bring shame to the term "cinematic technique", and the actors often look bored out of their minds. Great films put us under a spell and engage our attention, but during Lady Magdalene's, you'll be left struggling to accept the poor filmmaking and desperately trying to endure the awfulness with your sanity intact. And then, just when you think it's over (and fucking hope it's over, for the sake of your well-being), there's an entirely superfluous 20-minute end credit reel consisting of a few music videos (I think?), outtakes (again, I think?), and maybe some deleted scenes, or something? All of this malarkey only serves to prolong the agonising experience of Lady Magdalene's and remind you that you have just wasted precious hours of your life you will never get back. I'd rather do time in Guantanamo Bay than watch this travesty again. Don't quit your day job, Neil.

0.5/10

"Do you know what this family needs? A mute."

The Ref was released by Walt Disney Studios subsidiary Buena Vista in 1994, but it is not the type of Christmastime entertainment that one would expect from the House of Mouse. By no means family-friendly, The Ref is a dark, mean-spirited, cynical and viciously funny black comedy crime film that does not aspire to generate warmth or fuzziness. Consequently, despite the festive setting, the distributor eschewed a customary Christmas release slot, instead electing to open the movie in March, where it significantly underperformed but later developed a cult following through home video and television airings. A darkly humorous "alternative" Christmas movie, The Ref works thanks to a combination of exceptional performances and the razor-sharp, top-notch screenplay by Richard LaGravenese and Marie Weiss, while Ted Demme's astute direction assuredly guides the material.

A troubled couple undergoing marriage counselling, Lloyd (Kevin Spacey) and Caroline (Judy Davis) constantly fight and bicker, with divorce seemingly a likely outcome. It is Christmas Eve, and nothing but gloom lies ahead for the pair, who will soon welcome their highly dysfunctional extended family. Elsewhere in town, cat burglar Gus (Denis Leary) is on the run from local police after a failed attempt to rob an affluent mansion. With the police setting up roadblocks, Gus takes hostages - and, unfortunately for him, he chooses Lloyd and Caroline. Bad choice. Although Gus should be in control since he has a gun, the thief soon finds himself in an intolerable situation as the couple fiercely argue into the night. Further complicating the situation is the unexpected presence of Lloyd and Caroline's son, Jesse (Robert J. Steinmiller Jr.), while Lloyd's family are still en route to the house to celebrate Christmas. Trying to weather the storm, Gus poses as Lloyd and Caroline's therapist in front of their family while the police expand their search.

A dark comedy inhabited by unlikeable and morally questionable individuals, The Ref is an agreeable reprieve from feel-good, saccharine-coated, family-friendly Christmas pictures. In the vein of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, the movie explores dysfunctional family dynamics and the tensions between families that normally remain hidden. Furthermore, the script takes satirical jabs at the typical, worthless presents that families often gift each other but everyone actually despises (socks, sweaters, and so on). Although The Ref is not necessarily a mature examination of the difficulties of marriage, the screenplay does effectively highlight the ridiculousness of some couples who launch into a full-blown argument over the most minor and insignificant things. Although the movie momentarily slips from the misanthropic to the sentimental as the final act kicks in, the tonal change feels somewhat earned, leading to an agreeably unconventional climax. Demme reshot the ending following negative test screenings, though the director later regretted the change. Your mileage may vary, but this reviewer believes the theatrical ending is fitting and satisfying.

The Ref features a uniformly excellent cast. Kevin Spacey (pre-downfall) and Judy Davis are ideal as Lloyd and Caroline, delivering their side-splitting dialogue with incredible zest and comedic energy. Their verbal sparring also possesses a nasty edge since they do not fight cutely; instead, they ferociously battle with tongues sharp enough to slice someone's fucking jugular. As long as you can overlook the recent allegations against Spacey, the actor is terrific here. Equally funny is stand-up comedian and MTV star Denis Leary, who worked with Demme on MTV spots and a Showtime comedy special. The Ref was Leary's first film project as the top-billed star, and he manages to make Gus both menacing and oddly likeable. With an almost unending supply of uproarious one-liners, Leary is a comedic delight here, and he also plays exceptionally well off his co-stars. In supporting roles, we have Glynis Johns (late of Mary Poppins) as Lloyd's big-mouthed monster of a mother (who even manages to draw Gus's ire), while the always-eccentric Christine Baranski often steals the spotlight as Lloyd's sister-in-law.

Aside from the cast, the dialogue is the flick's biggest asset. Bursting with razor-sharp, constantly hilarious and incisive dialogue, The Ref continually maintains interest as the actors deliver their witty lines with delightful relish. Late director Ted Demme (nephew of Oscar-nominated director Jonathan Demme) learned the filmmaking ropes at MTV, but he thankfully eschews flashy visual mannerisms here. Thus, The Ref is welcomely free of gimmicky filmmaking, and Demme perpetually keeps the narrative engaging through astute editing and the terrific performances. The Ref's only problem is that the material outside Lloyd and Caroline's household only occasionally works. While it is amusing to witness the incompetence of the bumbling police officers, and Raymond J. Barry is great as a police lieutenant, other material is less successful (Barry's character has a subplot involving infidelity and losing his job that ultimately leads nowhere).

With its perfect cast and uproarious screenplay, plus scenes with It's a Wonderful Life playing on the television, The Ref possesses all the earmarks of a genuine Christmas classic, making it unsurprising that it is a Christmastime staple for many households despite its misanthropic tone. Ahead of its time with its cynical attitude towards Christmas, it is a great companion piece to 2003's Bad Santa, and a double feature of the two would make for excellent holiday viewing for those with a disdain for the festive season.

8.5/10

"My mark...will be left on this world forever."

The marketing team for Immortals want you to believe that the picture is a cross between 300 and the recent Clash of the Titans remake, situating muscular, sword-wielding 300-esque heroes within an action-packed tale concerning Greek Gods and myths. The description is somewhat suitable, but such a comparison would be trivialising Immortals; a film that's brilliant enough to stand as its own unique specimen. Although it won't get any acclaim for its script or human factor, the visual style is what makes this flick such a keeper. Coming from perfectionist Indian filmmaker Tarsem Singh, Immortals is a genuine stunner of a visual feast and an enthralling cinematic experience. This is the kind of stuff we go to the cinemas to see!

The anarchic King Hyperion (Rourke) is looking to conquer mortal men, and begins searching for a God-like weapon known as the Epirus Bow to help him unleash the malevolent Titans. Hyperion achieving his goals would bring about mankind's destruction, as well as the end of the reign of Zeus (Evans) and his pantheon of Gods. After witnessing the desecration of his village and the death of his mother at the hands of Hyperion, skilled peasant Theseus (Cavill) vows revenge. As Hyperion rallies his troops, Theseus prepares for the battle of his life with assistance from thief Stavros (Dorff) and virgin oracle Phaedra (Pinto) whose visions imply that disaster is ahead.

Comparing Immortals to 300 on the basis of how it looks is unfair - Singh's film may share the same producers, but it's not much like Zach Snyder's earlier feature at all. Snyder set out to replicate the look and feel of a Frank Miller graphic novel, but Singh's visual style is inspired by ancient Baroque art (that is, sculptures and paintings which are exaggerated and ornately detailed to convey as much information as possible without words). The exact essence of Baroque has been captured by Tarsem and cinematographer Brendan Galvin, who have used phenomenal shot composition and a gorgeous colour scheme to communicate drama and chaos with minimal lines of dialogue. It's a truly masterful approach. After all, movies are a visual medium and, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Every nickel of Immortals' estimated $75 million budget is accounted for on the screen, with lavish costumes, highly-detailed sets, and plenty of digital effects which infinitely extend the film's scope. While blockbusters with a surplus of CGI usually fail to gel, the technique actually works here because the effects are solid and have weight and inertia, and it suits the aesthetic.

The narrative eventually culminates with a concluding act dedicated to action and warfare, with Hyperion charging the final stronghold of men and looking to breach the Titans' mountain prison. Immortals has isolated action beats throughout the first two acts that leave you breathless, but the climax is a spectacle beyond belief. Tarsem avoided the shaky-cam/rapid-fire editing approach which is notorious for turning action into an incomprehensible blur. Instead, the framing is often wide and sturdy, allowing us to enjoy the carnage and actually watch the terrific fight choreography. There is the occasional use of slow motion whenever the Gods are around due to their superhuman speed, but the technique is not frequent or distracting. If anything, there's not enough slo-mo, because there's so much violent awesomeness to see and so little time to properly absorb it. On this basis, Immortals deserves multiple viewings. Granted, it's difficult to get emotionally invested in the picture's story and characters, but it's also difficult to tear your eyes away from the screen because it's constantly bursting with rich, layered, enthralling imagery.

As Theseus, Henry Cavill (a.k.a. the new Superman in Zack Snyder's Man of Steel) admittedly has difficulties trying to act tough, but he's nevertheless sincere and earnest, and he has a likeable screen presence. (His work here is definitely better than Sam Worthington's performance in Clash of the Titans.) Meanwhile, it seems like Mickey Rourke had a grand old time chewing the scenery as the wicked King Hyperion. Mickey's performance affords the film a genuine sense of gravitas, and the star is not as underused here as he was in Iron Man 2. Digging into the supporting cast, a surprisingly ripped Stephen Dorff is solid as Stavros, while Freida Pinto was a good pick for the virgin oracle. Rounding out the cast is Luke Evans, who's terrific and intense as Zeus' God form.

Perhaps the biggest shortcoming of Immortals is the lingering sense that there should be more - more to the journey, more to the narrative, and more to the scope in general. It leaves you thinking that a bigger budget could have allowed for an extra 20 or 30 minutes of material to leave the film feeling truly epic. However, none of this implies that Immortals is unsatisfying. On the contrary, it's an almost instant classic, and it says something about the quality of the movie if your biggest criticism is that it leaves you wanting more of it. While Immortals fails to pack the emotional punch of 300 or Gladiator, this is a beautifully-rendered flick which delivers what it promised on the tin. In other words, if you're a joyless cynic you'll probably hate it, but if you can embrace the material and appreciate the choice of visual storytelling, you'll enjoy yourself immensely.

7.6/10