Reviews by PvtCaboose91

A bit more than a year before Shark Night 3D's delayed release, 2010's gleefully enjoyable Piranha 3D swam its way into cinemas to surprising critical and commercial success. Piranha is a bad movie from a cynical perspective, but the filmmakers "got it," choosing to lather on the R-rated details (boobs, bikinis, gore, hot babes) with infectious joy and a devilish sense of humour. Unfortunately, Shark Night is not nearly as fun as its 3D fish-based predecessor. Neutered by its commercially viable PG-13 rating (though it flopped anyway), it strips away the pleasures commonly associated with B-grade monster movies, instead offering up lousy acting and bad dialogue without any R-rated compensation. Exhaustively stupid and joyless, Shark Night is a catastrophe in every conceivable way that is devastatingly short on shark thrills.

With exams coming to an end and a long weekend looming, a group of fit young students head to a secluded Louisiana vacation island home owned by the attractive Sara (Sara Paxton). Before they settle in, the group are suddenly attacked by an array of blood-thirsty sharks that have somehow made their way into the saltwater lake. Making matters worse, one of the teens loses his arm in an attack, leaving the group racing against the clock to get him back to civilisation for urgent medical assistance. As the night persists, it becomes clear that a pair of shady locals are looking to make big bucks by filming genuine shark attacks. See, as if the "young friends going to a cabin for the weekend" premise wasn't clichéd enough, Shark Night also apparently needs redneck villains. Adding human antagonists to the story is completely misguided.

Shark Night had tremendous potential to be a campy delight, especially with Snakes on a Plane and Final Destination 2director David R. Ellis at the helm. However, the docile rating, a selection of awful actors, and a genuinely terrible script spell doom for the production from the beginning. The script is credited to two individuals (Will Hayes and Jesse Studenberg), but it's baffling to consider that it took two people to write this soulless rubbish. Shark Night is monumentally stupid, with jumping sharks (and no explanation for the ability), wild tonal shifts, moronic plot developments and imbecilic characters. (After getting his arm bitten off, one character insists he must head into the water to kill the shark!) Predictably, the dialogue is dreadful, too, and the tone-deaf chatter is far too plentiful. See, the writers erroneously assume that we want to see these tired archetypes deal with their personal problems, but none of this drama is skilful enough to develop the characters beyond the clichéd shark bait that they truly are. Thus, instead of frequent shark carnage, we mostly get naff drama and tedious character interaction that is only made worse by inept actors, rendering Shark Night, for the most part, intolerable. Interestingly, Avatar star Joel David Moore is in the cast, meaning he has officially betrayed James Cameron by starring in precisely the type of 3D horror movie that the Avatar director abhors...

In the lead-up to its release, Shark Night's optimistic supporters claimed that a PG-13 rating was okay because Steven Spielberg's Jaws is PG. But nobody behind Shark Night can hold a candle to Spielberg in terms of tension and suspense - the film fails as a serious horror movie. To ensure the PG-13 rating, the picture is full of careless shark cam and jarringly abrupt editing, leaving the kill sequences unclear and unsatisfying. There is more blood here than expected, but blood tends to suddenly and awkwardly disappear. For instance, during the climax, a shark is blown apart in CGI fashion, after which the water is clear, and no gory particles are visible. It's not that extra gore, tits, and profanity would automatically make the film better, but there's nothing worse than seeing R-rated material uneasily (and unsatisfyingly) being cut down for the sake of extra box office. Ellis is not in sync with the material, evidently striving to make a "serious" thriller (and failing) while the premise screamed for him to lighten up and provide a fun ride. The movie is too goofy to be a serious horror movie, and it is not ridiculous enough to succeed as a guilty pleasure. It is stuck in a strange middle ground.

Ellis occasionally plays into the 3D gimmick, but the movie fails to take full advantage of the potential for a 3D shark attack movie. Furthermore, to make matters worse, the shark effects are dreadful. Deep Blue Sea was released 14 years before Shark Night, yet the inconsistent shark effects in Renny Harlin's fun-as-hell shark movie remain far more convincing than anything glimpsed in this cinematic turd. The animatronic sharks are barely seen in Shark Night, while their computer-generated counterparts look embarrassingly phoney. The movie does its highlights, particularly an amusing and preposterous scene depicting a jumping shark devouring someone on a jet ski, but these moments can be watched on YouTube without suffering through the rest of the tedious picture. Indeed, the lulls between the shark attacks grow increasingly intolerable with each passing minute.

Shark Night even commences by blatantly ripping off Spielberg's Jaws. The opening sequence features an attractive beach babe doing her best Susan Backlinie impression while director Ellis tries his hardest to emulate the decades-old classic's intense opener. There is even a boat skiing attack scene that's eerily similar to a set piece from Jaws 2. But if Spielberg's handling of Jaws was as inept as Ellis's efforts here, then Spielberg would not have developed into the iconic filmmaker he is now. There's no reason to waste your time on this vile picture. If you must watch it, though, stay through the credits for an admittedly hilarious music video. It's the only thing worth seeing in the entire production.

2.1/10

Popularised by 1999's The Blair Witch Project, the "found footage" subgenre has to date covered a wide array of areas, including exorcisms, ghosts, monsters, zombies, and more. Apollo 18 blasts the subgenre into outer space, mixing thrills, claustrophobia, conspiracy theories and altered history to generate this rather unique attempt at manufactured realism. The movie is also note-worthy due to how aggressive the "authenticity" claims are; producer Bob Weinstein was quoted as saying "We didn't shoot anything, we found it. Found, baby", and Apollo 18's marketing asserts that it presents "the truth" about why NASA abruptly stopped travelling to the moon. Conspiracy freaks are likely to have a fucking field day with the faux facts presented here, but the film is destined to be polarising for average movie-goers - it may satisfy admirers of found footage pictures, but it probably won't impress many others.

It's a well-noted historical fact that NASA cancelled all moon-bound space missions after Apollo 17, and this has fuelled conspiracy theories for years. Apollo 18 posits the possibility that this may have been part of a huge government cover-up. Claiming to have been edited from 84 hours of raw footage long hidden from the public, the film concerns the secret launch of Apollo 18, which was manned by a trio of astronauts: Ben Anderson (Christie), Nate Walker (Owen), and John Grey (Robbins). With John stationed in orbit, Ben and Nate begin studying the moon's surface and collecting rock samples. However, the pair soon discover that there may be more to the mission than originally thought. After finding an abandoned Russian proton lander and a blooded corpse nearby, Ben and Nate realise that something strange is happening, and that the moon may not be as desolate as initially assumed.

With movie-goers now quite knowledgeable about the found footage gimmick after having been duped by The Blair Witch Project, it's impossible to craft another such flick that will actually fool anyone. Therefore, the success of any found footage film is measured by how believably the material is sold. Thankfully, director Gonzalo López-Gallego for the most part gets it right in this respect. The performances here seem remarkably natural, the sets are completely convincing, and the visual scheme competently sells the gimmick. Apollo 18 looks like it was genuinely shot in space back in the 1970s, with a grainy, dated-looking film aesthetic that's free of Hollywood artifice. Better still, the various visual imperfections work extremely well, with scratches, specks of dirt and camera glitches that feel completely organic and further help to sell the illusion. Patrick Lussier's editing, meanwhile, is equally impressive, with multiple-camera set-ups having been cut to ensure maximum coherency. The final touch is the evocative sound mix which further allows us to believe we're watching genuine footage rather than actors on a set.

Like every found footage movie, Apollo 18 is a slow-burn of a thriller, so one's enjoyment of the picture is very dependant on your liking of the gimmick. If you found Paranormal Activity boring, you're destined to lose patience rapidly, but this reviewer found the material to be intensely watchable (even engrossing) as it subtly raises anxiety and tension levels the more the narrative progresses. It also seems that writers Cory Goodman and Brian Miller conducted a lot of research, as the dialogue is full of credible-sounding technical mumbo-jumbo. But Apollo 18 does stumble in its scripting department, as Ben, Nate and John are given merely a job title and a few family references before being thrown into horrific circumstances. The film does not provide much of a chance for us to truly care about these characters, hence the picture's dramatic stronghold is not as powerful as it should have been. And, of course, it takes until the movie's final act before any sort of powerful extraterrestrial threat kicks in, but the payoff is underwhelming. It feels like the filmmakers could have gone further and designed a more terrifying space-based horror film.

At the end of the day, Apollo 18 is a competent enough effort, with top-notch technical contributions and a cast capable of naturalistic acting. However, it fails to leave a lasting impact due to the forgettable, generic characters and the lingering sense that more could have been done with this bone-chilling premise.

6.1/10

The Poughkeepsie Tapes is a faux documentary which recounts the story of a serial killer based in Poughkeepsie, New York who terrorised the local community for over ten years. A killer who constantly changed his modus operandi, he managed to continuously elude police as they were unable to recognise that all of his murders were the work of the same man. Eventually, the killer - dubbed 'The Water Street Butcher' - slipped up, and SWAT teams found his abandoned residence, along with a huge library of ancient VHS tapes containing footage of him torturing and murdering his victims. Extended interviews with FBI agents, police officers, as well as friends and family of the victims is shown throughout, interweaved with clips from the killer's video library that shows us exactly what this disturbed individual did with his victims.

The first problem with The Poughkeepsie Tapes rears its head in the very first scene. We're meant to believe that this is a professionally-edited documentary, but the film opens with an outtake of someone asking "Are you filming?". This type of stuff may be suitable in films like [Rec] which are meant to be unedited, but it's forced and out-of-place here. Another key issue is that the film's minuscule budget is too often obvious. Sure, the tapes are meant to look as if they were filmed with poor quality consumer camcorders, but gore is often awkwardly eschewed, which just gives the impression of lazy filmmaking. The interviews lead us to believe these tapes are disturbing, but they're for the most part incomprehensible. And what can be seen of the torturing and killing is badly acted and badly directed - a typical CSI episode is more shocking. Worse, the effects laid over the VHS footage to make it look dated seems incredibly forced. The effect just doesn't work - you're meant to believe what you're watching and find it chilling... But the tapes never seem real, are ugly to watch, and are not imbued with any degree of tension.

Director John Erick Dowdle (who wrote the script with his brother) also falters in the talking-head interviews, a lot of which feel incredibly phoney. One of the main issues is that the lines seem very scripted, which drains believability from the picture. Even worse is the archive footage of press conferences, news reports and court proceedings which are stiff and flat - you cannot suspend your disbelief for over a second. The acting, too, is primarily off the mark, and the performances lack credibility. The Poughkeepsie Tapes is, in a nutshell, a muddled mess from top to bottom that's unable to conjure up any worthwhile moments of intensity or horror, which is the worst sin any horror movie can commit.

To the credit of the picture, however, it has a few bright spots. Ron Harper is the only interviewee with any degree of charm and believability (perhaps due to his veteran acting status), and his segments seem somewhat real. Keefus Ciancia's accompanying score is also competent enough to make for at least a few engaging moments. But at the end of the day, The Poughkeepsie Tapes is a missed opportunity; a frequently drab horror movie that's unable to fulfil basic genre requirements. As of 2011, the movie is only available on DVD exclusively through Blockbuster, and copies are not readily available. This is for the best.

3.7/10

Quality cinematic spoofing and satire is an increasingly rare commodity, with moronic films like Disaster Movie and Meet the Spartans insulting and degrading a formerly cherished art form. Thank goodness, then, for films like 1999's Galaxy Quest that remind us how satisfying a genuinely well-written spoof can be. Scripted by Robert Gordon and first-timer David Howard, Galaxy Quest is simultaneously a parody and an affectionate tribute to popular science-fiction franchises, most notably the Star Trek universe and its real-world fans. With pitch-perfect casting, razor-sharp writing, spot-on characters and assured filmmaking in every respect, the resulting film is a hilarious blast of sci-fi fun. It's a perfect lazy afternoon movie.

The story explores a simple "what if" premise: what if a race of otherworldly aliens mistook episodes of a fictional sci-fi series for authentic historical documents and built their civilisation around the show? Furthermore, what if the aliens truly believed that the show's cast were actual space explorers and travelled to Earth seeking their help? In the context of this film, Galaxy Quest is a long-cancelled cult television show whose washed-up stars are now middle-aged with no career prospects beyond appearances at fan conventions. The only actor who genuinely enjoys the attention is William Shatner-esque Jason Nesmith (Tim Allen), who played the high-ranking Commander Taggert on the show. Meanwhile, fellow cast members Gwen (Sigourney Weaver), Fred (Tony Shalhoub), Alexander (Alan Rickman) and Tommy (Daryl Mitchell) resent Jason and the dire state of their careers. Following a particularly heated convention, a group of desperate aliens known as the Thermians approach Nesmith, pleading for his assistance to defeat the genocidal Sarris (Robin Sachs). Before long, Nesmith and his fellow cast members, accompanied by convention handler and one-time cast member Guy (Sam Rockwell), are sucked into a genuine space adventure, not unlike something from their former TV program.

Opening with a segment from the fictitious Galaxy Quest show that features knowingly goofy hairstyles, corny dialogue, retro sets and a general air of silliness, it is immediately apparent that the movie's satirical sights are set on Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek universe, as it gleefully sends up the various clichés and tendencies of the old TV show. Additionally, the screenplay playfully pokes fun at washed-up TV stars without malice or cruelty. In the story, the Galaxy Quest cast cannot find any worthwhile paying gigs apart from signing autographs, which happened to a few of the original Star Trek cast members, and aspects of Nesmith's character are even based on William Shatner. But what's so special about the film is that it ridicules the protagonists while also creating relatable, sympathetic characters that are easy to care about. As the narrative progresses, the ostensibly shallow characters develop into interesting, three-dimensional people, which most surface-level parodies fail to do. Another enjoyable quirk of Galaxy Quest is that the show's fans are known as "Questians," which is an obvious nod to "Trekkies."

Galaxy Quest is a "have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too movie", as it parodies a genre while also representing a strong addition to said genre - think Scream, Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead. Therefore, on top of being a hilarious spoof, Galaxy Quest is also an incredibly entertaining sci-fi action-adventure with first-rate special effects, exciting battles, and even remarkably unforced moments of pathos. In other words, it is a proper story with real stakes. Director Dean Parisot admirably acquits himself with the material, showing a superb grasp of comedic timing while also handling the action sequences and the dramatic moments with the confidence of a seasoned veteran. The pacing is exceptionally strong throughout the 100-minute running time, and even when the laughs are not as frequent, the film always remains fun. Additionally, technical contributions are practically flawless across the board, with vibrant, eye-catching cinematography by Jerzy Zieliński, while David Newman's wonderfully cheesy and flavoursome original score perfectly replicates the tone and feel of old Star Trek music. With a generous but not overwhelming $45 million budget, the special effects by Industrial Light and Magic are fantastic, with the picture incorporating excellent miniature work and convincing computer-generated imagery, while Stan Winston's prosthetics and makeup artistry make this sci-fi universe seem entirely real. The writing, however, is the film's key strength - the hilariously quotable dialogue is endless, and the movie features some of the wittiest group banter ever seen in an ensemble movie.

The impeccable cast is another highlight, with not a single weak spot in the ensemble. The actors fully commit to their roles, playing the characters straight and never seeming in on the joke. Tim Allen is extremely funny here, while the always-reliable Alan Rickman steals the show with a hilarious performance as an embittered actor who outright resents the Galaxy Quest show and believes he has squandered his acting potential. Rickman excels at dry humour, and the script serves him well here, with several side-splitting one-liners. Sigourney Weaver is equally strong, playing the show's thankless sex symbol with pitch-perfect comedic conviction. Meanwhile, Tony Shalhoub delivers an uproariously deadpan performance as the trademark techie, and Enrico Colantoni is funny and likeable as the Thermian leader, Mathesar. Then there's the brilliant Sam Rockwell, who constantly steals the spotlight playing a one-time Galaxy Quest extra who epitomises the traits of a "Red Shirt" crewmember from the original Star Trek series and is in constant fear of death. Also keep a look out for Justin Long, who makes his film debut here as a teen fanboy/geek who is so wrapped up in the old series that he cannot distinguish between reality and fiction.

A rare action adventure with style and substance, Galaxy Quest gets everything right. It's a testament to the team behind Galaxy Quest that being a sworn-in follower of geekdom is not required to appreciate and have fun with the film. The humour cleverly blends surface-level goofiness with sly satirical jabs at the Star Trek universe, engendering its own unique identity and universe. With this in mind, it is frankly astonishing that the film has not developed a massive cult following. Sure, it has its fans and was the subject of a Fandom documentary, but it remains incredibly underrated and under-appreciated. It's consistently laugh-out-loud funny, and the fact that it is a PG-rated film fit for family consumption makes it even more commendable.

9.0/10

If Friends with Benefits sounds somewhat familiar, that's because it's pretty much the exact same movie as 2011's No Strings Attached. Both are R-rated studio comedies with a pair of bankable lead performers, and both are rom-coms concerning the concept of "fuck buddy" relationships. But Friends with Benefits is the superior movie; it's brighter, funnier and more likeable than the earlier picture, and it stars two appealing lead actors who actually feel like best friends. Effervescently directed by Will Gluck, this is a surprisingly decent romantic comedy which is both entertaining and funny. Girls will enjoy the central romance of the picture, while guys will enjoy the presence of Mila Kunis and all of the sexual humour. In other words, it's a rare type of date movie that's not agonising for either gender.

Emotionally damaged following a harsh break-up, Los Angeles-native magazine art director Dylan (Timberlake) accepts a new position for a job in New York City. Faced with no friends in a strange city, Dylan begins spending time with Jamie (Kunis), the chirpy corporate head-hunter who recruited him. Also coming off a bad break-up, Jamie clicks wonderfully with Dylan, and they become fast friends. On a whim, the two soon begin a purely sexual relationship. Of course, the meaningless bedroom fun works for the pair until emotions and feelings start to enter the equation.

One of the greatest successes of Friends with Benefits is the dialogue. Rather than typical vanilla rom-com dialogue, the script is full of witty banter. In particular, the repartee between Dylan and Jamie is well-written, often funny, and engaging. Also refreshing about the film is the way that the characters mock typical rom-com clichés - at one stage, Dylan and Jamie view a fictional romantic comedy (starring Jason Segal and Rashida Jones) that's filled with every last trite genre staple, and the characters openly dissect the predictable nature of rom-coms while watching it. Of course, though, Friends with Benefits is guilty of succumbing to rom-com clichés in both its filmmaking (montages and upbeat pop songs) and structure (in fact the broad strokes are identical to No Strings Attached). While boldness is pretty much forbidden in studio-produced romantic comedies like this, it's nevertheless a shame that the writers didn't shake up the formula or attempt to do something audacious. A bit of daring writing would have been especially refreshing since the uncannily similar No Strings Attached was released just a few months prior.

Admittedly, romantic comedies are always clichéd to some degree, so what matters is the execution. In this respect, Friends with Benefits scores a passing grade. Armed with a directorial zing that one wouldn't expect from the director of 2009's woeful Fired Up, the film is for the most part fast-paced and disarmingly enjoyable, with a soundtrack of catchy songs developing a playful tone. However, some of the editing is a bit choppy and jarring, and the bubbly pacing does momentarily erode once the film hits its second half and the proverbial serious moments begin to kick in. In particular, there are scenes involving Dylan's Alzheimer's-suffering father (Jenkins) that feel awkward in such a light-hearted mainstream romantic comedy. Not to mention, the characters face these types of dramas while a conventional break-up-to-make-up scenario lies in the story's peripheries. This stuff is present to build a sense of maturity, sure, but they aren't handled with enough skill for them to emerge as anything but minor distractions that were thrown in because the formula demanded it.

Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake are a terrific on-screen couple, with their immense chemistry allowing you to genuinely believe that they're best friends. However, Timberlake's performance is not as strong as Kunis', and his limitations as an actor do arise from time to time (which is odd considering Timberlake's terrific efforts in The Social Network). Kunis, on the other hand, truly shines with a vivacious performance. Fortunately, the supporting cast is extraordinarily good. Woody Harrelson (Zombieland) is an utter scene-stealer as Tommy, and he scores several good laughs. Unfailing character actor Richard Jenkins (Dear John) is also terrific as Dylan's father, while Jenna Elfman and Nolan Gould are both likeably down-to-earth as Dylan's sister and nephew (respectively). Meanwhile, recognisable comedic performers Emma Stone (Easy A) and Andy Samberg (I Love You, Man) show up in mere cameo roles at the beginning, playing the exes of Dylan and Jamie (respectively).

Likable as hell and benefitting from a handful of really funny moments, Friends with Benefits is for the most part a romantic comedy done right. If you can overlook the predictable nature and a few draggy moments, there's a great deal of entertainment to be unearthed here. And make sure you stay until the end of the credits for one last satirical jab at rom-coms.

7.0/10

The opening moments of Rubber break the fourth wall, with a character randomly climbing out of a car boot to explain the principal of "no reason" which governs movies and real life. The principal essentially states that there are things we do not question because they have no real reason behind them. ("In the Steven Spielberg movie E.T., why is the alien brown? No reason.") Writer-director Quentin Dupieux invoked this "no reason" policy for every single aspect of Rubber's narrative, thus allowing himself the freedom to craft a dark comedy that's completely absurd. How is a tire alive? No reason. Why does a tire have psychokinetic powers? No reason. Why are there spectators watching the "movie" about the tire? No reason. It's a brilliantly innovative style of meta filmmaking which additionally explores the relationship between movie-goers and Hollywood, and functions as a hilariously biting satire of the movie-going climate of today.

The story takes place somewhere in the desert, where a ragtag group of spectators with binoculars are metaphorically positioned as the crowd of theatre-goers watching a "movie". In said movie, a tire named Robert comes to life, rising up from the sands armed with psychokinetic powers to explore the world. As he wanders around the immediate area, Robert uses his powers to kill people by making their heads spontaneously explode. The crowd of spectators, meanwhile, are thinned out, but one of them (Hauser) refuses to stop watching the movie because he wants to know how it will end. His stubbornness compels a police lieutenant (Spinella) to persist in his pursuit of the lethal fugitive tire, though he wants to just go home.

The sneaky marketing implied that Rubber was nothing but a rehash of slasher conventions with a tire instead of a masked killer, but this is another classic case of significant mis-marketing. CHUD's review describes the film as "Roger Corman by way of Samuel Beckett", and that's pretty much an ideal summary of this quirky, postmodern oddity. In amidst the logic-devoid story about the strangest cinematic serial killer in history, Dupieux finds time for satire. With the fictional audience comprised of all the usual cinema-goer stereotypes, Dupieux essentially presents a cultural cross-section of today's movie-going public. It satirises cinema-goer attitudes as well - the geeks break out into discussions at various times, and a bratty kid complains that the "film" is already boring barely a few minutes into the show. A cynical spectator even approaches the actors at one stage to criticise the stupidity of a certain scene. The most brilliant instance of satire, though, involves the audience gobbling up a turkey that's thrown in front them, as the "organisers" know that they'll lap it up regardless of quality. Astute viewers will understand this sly metaphor, which is furthered in subsequent scenes to side-splitting degree. The layers of satire go deeper than this, but suffice it to say this material is best experienced than spoiled.

On top of writing and directing, Quentin Dupieux carried out several additional duties on the film; he was the cinematographer, camera operator, co-editor and co-scorer. It's fair to say that this was his baby, so he gets tremendous credit for making it work as well as it does. He set himself a huge technical challenge by making a tire the central character, but Dupieux rose to the challenge. The visual effects which brought the tire to life are stunningly seamless; guaranteed to provoke murmurs of "How did they do that?". This technical excellence thankfully extends to the gore, which is satisfyingly brutal and for the most part looks like it was pulled off with practical effects. Also worth mentioning are the actors, all of whom understood the type of movie Dupieux was aiming for and delivered appropriate performances. Stephen Spinella stands out the most, which is relieving since most of the humour and the satirical elements are conveyed through his character of Lieutenant Chad. Wings Hauser gets a massive kudos as well for his amusing portrayal of a wheelchair-bound audience member.

It's been a long time since a filmmaker has made such a weird movie for the sake of being weird in a cinematic climate packed with so much mainstream Hollywood fluff. Even though Rubber falters towards the end as it struggles to find a coherent plot and devise the best way to close the door, it's difficult not to like such an original movie.

8.0/10

A cinematic experiment clearly inspired by Alfred Hitchcock (think Rope or Lifeboat), Buried is a 95-minute motion picture which takes place entirely in one cramped location and features only one lead actor. It's an unattractive proposition, but writer Chris Sparling and director Rodrigo Cortés have for the most part succeeded in transforming the concept into an eminently watchable, intense thriller. Buried is not exactly unequivocally enthralling and it never registers as an instant classic, but it nevertheless remains a skilful little film; an interesting exercise in minimalism and efficiency that rightfully stirred up a ruckus when it did the rounds at film festivals.

A civilian truck driver who merely delivers supplies in war-torn Iraq, Paul Conroy (Reynolds) mysteriously finds himself inside of a wooden coffin buried somewhere in the desert. Paul has no clue about his location and has only a handful of supplies, including a lighter, a cell phone with limited battery life, and other incidental items. Struggling for breath, Paul begins using the cell phone to contact the outside world. Unfortunately, his cries for help are largely ignored; people think he's crazy, while government agencies opt to use uncaring stalling techniques on him. Making the situation worse for Paul is finding out that the group who put him in the ground want a ridiculous ransom that he cannot pay in exchange for his release.

It's a natural human instinct to be afraid of being buried alive, and Buried brilliantly plays on this universal fear. Throughout the duration of the flick, the camera stays with Paul Conroy inside his wooden box - there are no prologues, flashbacks or cutaways of any sort, resulting in an intense, visceral sense of claustrophobia. Consequently, Buried is not for the weak of heart, and you may even find yourself gasping for air alongside Paul. It's highly impressive just how many camera set-ups director Cortés and cinematographer Edward Grau were able to achieve while retaining the cramped nature of the box's interior and maintaining a sense of visual interest. The sound design, too, is especially effective, further augmenting the illusion that Paul is genuinely stuck inside of a coffin. While the restrictive setting would ostensibly seem better suited for a stage play, Buried is extraordinarily cinematic.

Thankfully, writer Chris Sparling did just enough to allow us to empathise with Paul's plight. Sufficient details about Paul are drip-fed to us in an unforced manner, with the script efficiently using phone calls to establish him as a simple working man with a wife at home and a dementia-suffering mother who doesn't even remember him. He's an innocent Everyman who's been thrown into such an unenviable situation, thus it's difficult not to care. Additionally, Buried spends time commenting on the insignificance of civilian life in a war zone. The cruelty being shown towards Paul isn't entirely derived from the kidnappers who buried him in the first place, but rather from the bureaucrats on the other end of the phone line who don't care whether he lives or dies. However, Buried does succumb to a few forehead-smacking lapses of logic. For instance, it would be impossible for people to return Paul's phone calls since the number is listed as "unavailable". And the person trying to help Paul needs the encoded number of his cell phone, but when he finds out the number, Paul's first call is to his wife, who hasn't been answering her phone anyway...

Of course, the success of Buried pretty much lived and died with Ryan Reynolds' performance because he's the only person on-screen from start to finish. Thankfully, the star pulled it off. Throughout the film, Reynolds believably runs through several emotions, from frustration to hysteria to fear. The range exhibited by Reynolds is truly amazing, especially since the actor spends most of his time handling thankless comedic roles (Reynolds went right onto Green Lantern and The Change-Up after Buried...). Best of all, the actor never goes over-the-top; his performance is grounded in realism. Paul Conroy might not be an angel because his attitude is not always agreeable, but you can still care about him because of the humanity exuded by Reynolds.

While Buried's first half is a bit draggy, the second half is incredibly intense, culminating with an emotionally shattering final few minutes. Due to this, and due to the film's cramped scope, Buried is not a movie for everyone, and it's not exactly an enjoyable experience you'll want to revisit. Nevertheless, this is a brilliantly-staged little experiment which for the most part remains interesting throughout. And perhaps it does have replay value for some, as you may want to study the nuances of the proficient filmmaking.

7.1/10

Employing the same type of "found footage" gimmick made popular by The Blair Witch Project over a decade ago, The Last Exorcism aspires to do for exorcist movies what Paranormal Activity did for haunted house movies. The film's plot is unremarkable, but an effective, authentic-feeling found footage approach could've allowed The Last Exorcism to stand as an excellent genre pic and the first genuinely terrifying exorcism-related movie since The Exorcist back in 1973. Unfortunately, the finished product is a far cry from what it should have been. A common complaint of found footage movies is that they're boring, and The Last Exorcism is guilty of this cardinal sin to an unforgivable extent, with leaden direction and a constant feeling of artificiality.

Southern preacher Cotton Marcus (Patrick Fabian) comes from a long line of ministers but is nevertheless confronted with a crisis of faith, and he maintains that exorcisms are a sham, merely serving as a placebo cure for mentally ill persons. To prove that exorcisms and demons are bogus, he invites a couple of documentarians to join him as he travels to Louisiana to perform what he intends to be his final exorcism. The supposedly possessed individual is a virginal teenage girl, Nell (Ashley Bell), whose anxious father, Louis (Louis Herthum), believes that she slaughters livestock at night under the control of a demon. To provide the family peace of mind, Cotton performs his fraudulent exorcism routine on Nell and prepares to head home. Unfortunately, it seems that Nell might not be free of the demons, and what begins as a mission to prove the nonexistence of demons turns into something more sinister and unholy.

Any found footage movie sets out to achieve a sense of realism and authenticity, or else it just looks like a lousily-filmed student movie using a gimmick to excuse glaring flaws. Alas, The Last Exorcism feels too staged. It even draws attention to its artificiality by blatantly cheating - music is present to underscore "scares", there are too many convenient transition shots, and the cast even contains established actors. Most critically, there is supposed to be only one cameraman, but several sequences are edited in a way that'd be impossible to achieve without multiple camera set-ups or several takes. It's clear that director Daniel Stamm wanted to deploy filmmaking techniques forbidden by the found footage approach, resulting in a picture that lacks the documentary essence it relied on to prevent it from feeling like a cheap Exorcist knock-off. Further compounding these faults are scenes in which it seems ridiculous for the cameraman to keep filming. Not to mention, an actual camera operator would not be so liberal with zooms - indeed, the zooms are so constant and unnecessary that they quickly become an annoyance. Stamm's efforts may be enough for some viewers, but anyone who thinks too deeply about the filmmaking techniques will see The Last Exorcism for the muddled attempt at realism that it is.

However, The Last Exorcism does have its positives, with strong performances from an eminently watchable Patrick Fabian as Cotton and a highly effective Ashley Bell as Nell. There's also a sharp sense of satire permeating several scenes (Cotton's staged exorcism on Nell is especially hilarious), and the film has a few interesting comments to make about religion, faith, and Christianity. However, the film has enormous pacing issues - the first hour is devoid of anything approaching scares, leading to a disheartening lack of tension exasperated by the uninspired script and drab mise-en-scène. Worst of all, the film tries to force the possibility that Nell is mentally unstable, but the filmmakers are not interested in following through with this potentially interesting angle. Instead, The Last Exorcism ends with a complete dud of a finale (with cartoonish CGI) that takes the easy way out and was clearly made for cheap thrills, not the kind of thrills we came here wanting to see. It's a thoroughly moronic way to close the feature, proving that a terrible ending can affect a movie's quality as a whole.

Perhaps the worst thing about The Last Exorcism is that it has zero replay value. Once you know how the movie ends, you will not want to take the journey again. The film is pretty boring the first time around, but it's a borderline agonising bore when you watch it again with knowledge of how it ends. The brilliance of films like [Rec] and Paranormal Activity is that they sold their documentary conceit extremely well and were engaging and well-written. The Last Exorcism doesn't follow the same rules and is marred by the generally dull filmmaking all around. It has a few nice moments, but they are few and far between. You'd be better off watching free exorcism videos on YouTube than enduring this sluggish missed opportunity.

3.9/10

Drive is the American debut for Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn, who's best known for films like Valhalla Rising, Bronson, and the Pusher trilogy. However, unlike other directors who sold their souls upon entering Hollywood, the transition has not caused Refn to lose sight of the critical elements that constitute a great movie. At face value Drive may seem like a straightforward action movie, but it's far more than that - it's a riveting, multifaceted masterpiece which reinvigorates its ostensibly unoriginal narrative pieces and masterfully draws you into its largely unpredictable narrative. It's sure to give mainstream audiences a thrill, but cinema enthusiasts will no doubt get the most out of the picture and appreciate everything it has to offer.

The film's protagonist does not get a proper introduction and is never given a name; he's known simply as Driver (Gosling). An extremely proficient force behind the wheel, Driver mostly works at a garage with mechanic friend Shannon (Cranston) while also picking up work as a stunt performer on film sets and moonlighting as a wheelman for criminals. However, Driver is preparing to move into stock car racing; a business arrangement organised by Shannon and financially supported by a gangster named Bernie (Brooks). Driver's life drastically changes, though, when he meets his neighbour Irene (Mulligan) and her friendly son Benicio (Leos). A low-key, flirtatious relationship is formed between Irene and Driver, but this is threatened when Irene's criminal husband Standard (Isaac) is released from prison. Standard soon finds himself in trouble with local thugs who demand that he pay off his incarceration protection debt. With Standard's troubles putting Irene and Benicio in harm's way, Driver steps up to help. From this point on, things start to go awry, and Driver is left trying to protect both himself and those closest to him.

Labelling Drive as "the arthouse Transporter" or "The Transporter for smart audiences" may seem like an apt assessment, but the designation ultimately sells both flicks short. I like the Transporter films, while Drive is a whole lot more than just a superior version of The Transporter. Refn's film is its own unique specimen - in fact its closest blood relatives are probably the darker films of the Coen Brothers (think No Country for Old Men or Miller's Crossing) without the self-aware quirkiness. This is vehemently a character-driven story, with a handful of intense action scenes being connected by intense scenes of character development and compelling drama. The narrative flow doesn't reek of Hollywood convention, but rather of innovation and intelligence, and it's hard to predict what will happen next. Refn is also an artistic filmmaker - it seems as if every shadow, every beam of light, every shot, every angle and every frame was subject to heavy consideration, leading to an enthralling sense of authority that pervades every millisecond of the film. With the freedom of an R rating, Refn also refused to hold back in terms of violence, but the unsettling content isn't here for cheap thrills; it instead serves to up the stakes and introduce a genuine sense of danger beyond intimidating dialogue.

The picture's look and feel is purely retro. It feels ripped out of the '70s or '80s, right down to the neon pink cursive font that was used for the titles. The soundtrack bursts with beautiful, moody '80s-inspired synth beats which come courtesy of Cliff Martinez's enthralling score and the perfect song choices. The opening credits follow Driver around Los Angeles to the tune of Nightcall (by Kavinsky), and it's a perfect way to introduce both this world and this character. The film's aural soul, meanwhile, is the recurring A Real Hero (by College feat. Electric Youth) which sounds like an '80s tune (think Tangerine Dream) despite being only a few years old. Meanwhile, Newton Thomas Sigel's cinematography is just as assured as Refn's direction. While the car chases and action scenes aren't frenetic like most modern actioners, they are sleek, clever and quietly gripping. Add to this the engaging sound design, and Drive is a film that's meant to be seen in a cinema. Indeed, this is a true cinematic experience; a motion picture that subtly engrosses and mesmerises you through masterful filmmaking, and refuses to release you from its spell until the end credits begin to roll.

A few years ago, Ryan Gosling was simply seen as "that guy from The Notebook". However, just as Leonard DiCaprio broke away from his Titanic image through star-making turns in films like The Departed and Blood Diamond, Gosling is now taking on complex, memorable roles in films like Lars and the Real Girl, Blue Valentine, 2011's Crazy, Stupid, Love. and now Drive. This role was a perfect fit for Gosling, who delivered an absorbing, almost wordless performance. Most importantly, nothing feels forced; his soft-spoken persona feels entirely organic. Fortunately, Gosling was surrounded by a fantastic supporting cast. Irene could've been a thankless side character, but young Carey Mulligan (2009's An Education) layered her performance with nuances and emotional depth; making so much of such a small role. Mulligan has the right type of innocent look and sweet nature to make the character work, not to mention the right acting maturity. Bryan Cranston (TV's Breaking Bad), Ron Perlman (TV's Sons of Anarchy) and Oscar Isaac (Sucker Punch) are also effective, affording genuine dimension to their respective roles. The real standout, though, is Albert Brooks, who was cast against type as the menacing Bernie. Brooks' role has a genial nature on the outside, which makes his penchant for violence all the more shocking.

Drive is at once a poignant love story, a brutal action pic and a tense crime thriller, but it's not tonally schizophrenic, and each style was nailed with immense dexterity. It's hard to pinpoint all of the reasons why Drive is such a gem. This is simply a case of everything being perfect; the pacing, the direction, the acting, the dialogue, the photography, the editing, the production design, the music...everything is spot-on, combining to create one of the most memorable and brilliantly unpredictable motion pictures in years. This is both arthouse at its finest and action at its finest - in fact this is the only arthouse movie in recent memory that I'd watch again and again.

10/10

My Soul to Take is an utterly bewildering film to experience. And the fact that horror maestro Wes Craven both wrote and directed this hogwash makes it even more head-scratching. Craven must have been pulling an elaborate hoax by making this seriously awful film - he is so far above the material that he must be joking or at least committing an act of cinematic trolling. The premise - a half-hearted mixture of Scream and Nightmare on Elm Street - is ridiculously abstract, and it comes to life with stilted dialogue and awful screenwriting. Trying to explain precisely why the script is so bad is a foolhardy task because recognising the flaws requires one to understand everything happening in the story. Frankly, I cannot make heads or tails of it - and I doubt that any of the actors or even Craven himself could explain it.

As the film opens, a notorious serial killer known as the Riverton Ripper is killed by police, revealing a supernatural presence that continues to live on despite an ostensibly deceased physical body. And on the night of the Ripper's supposed death, seven babies were simultaneously born at the local hospital. The story then fast-forwards to the 16th anniversary of the events; the Ripper's body is still undiscovered, and the seven kids born on the night - known as the Riverton Seven - are well aware of the bizarre events surrounding their births. The anniversary is an evening of tradition for the Riverton Seven, who gather yearly to commemorate the end of the Ripper's deadly reign. However, it appears that the Ripper has returned this year and that his malevolent soul may be living on inside one of the Riverton Seven.

Despite its clichéd nature, My Soul to Take's opening sequence is passable, instilling at least a vague sense that a decent film may be taking shape. But from that point on, the flick takes a massive nose-dive, spiralling out of control to such an extent that it's hard to figure out what the fuck is happening, let alone why. None of the characters make any sense or seem real in any way, scenes drag on and on to the point of tedium, and the dialogue (which sounds like Craven was trying to imitate Kevin Williamson) is horrible. Furthermore, My Soul to Take is not thrilling, funny or even engaging due to unbelievably lousy storytelling. It doesn't help that the story itself is a complete mess. The tone, meanwhile, is all over the map, with what appears to be ineffective humour popping up amidst ineffective horror. The result is 100 minutes of awkward, disjointed, agonising monotony that's not worth sitting through, even as a dare.

The only thing close to terrifying about My Soul to Take is that it was Wes Craven's return to the horror scene after a five-year hiatus. How can the director of Scream and A Nightmare on Elm Street beget such a talentless addition to the same genre that he helped build? In fact, there's not a single scare or creative kill in My Soul to Take at all - the kills are Syfy Channel lame, while some kills even happen off-screen. Making matters worse is the obvious use of CGI blood, which looks monumentally awful and lessens the visceral impact of the murders. Adding insult to injury, Craven seems to channel his own Scream for no reason at all, with the killer calling the teenagers on their cell phones to taunt them just before murdering them (apparently the voice of Scream's Ghostface, Roger Jackson, also voices the killer here). In context, the phone taunting makes no sense - did Craven just include this malarkey in an attempt to be funny and self-referential? If so, he failed. And if he did it because he genuinely thought it would be thrilling? Fail on omega levels.

After an interminable series of thrill-less murders, stiff dialogue and painful scenes of so-called acting, the proceedings come to a head for the exhaustively stupid climax that is prolonged to agony. It's hard to figure out exactly what the fuck Craven was aiming for with the climax - it's completely devoid of tension and thus merely amounts to a few bad actors spurting bad lines of dialogue. Speaking of the actors, they are all terrible - not only do they look too old to be high school kids, but their acting is so forced that it feels like we're watching a low-rent high school play. Zena Grey is a notable offender. Sure, Grey is pleasant to look at, but her religious zealot act is cringe-worthy due to its over-the-top awfulness.

Wes Craven must share the Riverton Ripper's condition of having multiple souls rattling around inside his physical form. The real Craven is a master of horror, but the alternative soul inside of Craven begets nonsense like My Soul to Take. It's impossible to overstate just how abysmal this film is - scenes are haphazardly assembled without any sense of pacing, and all of the talk of souls and soul guardians (i.e. the stuff supporting the central premise) merely leads to a lot of "What the fuck?" moments. Absolutely nothing works here. If this was a student film, My Soul to Take would still be unwatchable. But with Craven having written and directed it, the film is a crime against cinema.

0.5/10