Reviews by PvtCaboose91

Un Chien Andalou (which translates to An Andalusian Dog) commences with the title card "Once upon a time...". A man is subsequently seen smoking a cigarette while whetting his straight razor. On his balcony, he sees a thin cloud approaching the moon, and proceeds to slice open a woman's pupil with his razor. Why does this happen? Beats me. Virtually every scene in the film defies explanation. To this day, the image of the sliced eye is what people remember most about Un Chien Andalou. It's such a visceral image despite the film's ancient origins, and it can still shock a 21st Century audience. On the topic of the film, Luis Buñuel's son has reportedly noted that it was his father's intention to repulse, shock, and compel viewers to reconsider their viewing habits.

The sliced eye gives way to another title - "Eight years later" - and what seems to be the start of the narrative proper. However, this allusion is swiftly shattered. Un Chien Andalou at no point surrenders to a conventional narrative structure - nor, for that matter, does it provide evidence of a coherent narrative. The film nonsensically rejects cause and effect, as well as the concept of linear time. The titles reflect this, as the film bounces around from "Sixteen years earlier" to "Around 3 in the morning." All of the aggressively disconnected images and sequences are entirely open for interpretation. Boring scholars could probably probe the film for some type of deeper meaning, but this spoils the fun. If you let yourself roll with the punches, you will find Un Chien Andalou to be the most surreal dream sequence ever - perhaps the most admirable filmic representation of what dreams are truly like. And this is precisely what Dalí and Buñuel were shooting for. After all, Un Chien Andalou was born out of a collection of dreams which were recalled by Dalí and Buñuel. This is perhaps the only thing about the film which makes sense.

It is indeed difficult to review a film like Un Chien Andalou for the typical mainstream film-goer. Suffice it to say, this is a motion picture you can admire and analyse, but not exactly enjoy - it's a historical curiosity, not an entertaining time at the flicks. For all its influential surrealism and visual bravado, it never engages on an emotional level. Mind-fuck films are almost always like this; exchanging warmth and emotion for bewilderment. Un Chien Andalou is an often hypnotic, shocking display of surrealism, yet it's still cold. It's doubtful you will want to watch it more than once. It's precisely what Dalí and Buñuel aspired to make, granted, but it won't work for everyone due to its unique demeanour.

7.9/10

A more suitable title for Battle: Los Angeles would be Battle to Stay Awake. A meandering, often tedious instance of blockbuster filmmaking, Battle: Los Angeles appears to have been designed as either a military recruitment video or the ultimate home theatre system "demo disc" (or both). At its most basic level, this is a wearying display of shaky-cam mayhem featuring a cast of cardboard cut-outs; a film eager to go wild with money shots but is negligent in terms of providing a reason to care. Roger Ebert said it best in his hilarious review: "Young men: If you attend this crap with friends who admire it, tactfully inform them they are idiots. Young women: If your date likes this movie, tell him you've been thinking it over, and you think you should consider spending some time apart."

Adhering faithfully to formula, the film commences as cities around the globe become inundated by meteor showers. The meteors are not regular meteors, however, but alien machinery. It isn't long before spacecrafts and aliens begin obliterating global cities with the palpable goal in mind of exterminating human life and colonising the planet. With the invasion intensifying, a Marine squad heads into Santa Monica to evacuate the city before blasting it to oblivion in an attempt to halt the advancing alien activity. Leading the charge is Staff Sergeant Michael Nantz (Eckhart), who is called back into duty after a harrowing tour of Afghanistan. Storming the city with all guns blazing, Nantz's platoon encounters numerous alien warriors and aircrafts armed with superior firepower. Raising the stakes is their discovery of a group of civilians, whom they vow to protect and lead to safety.

Battle: Los Angeles's script was credited to Christopher Bertolini, but it is unclear what exactly he was responsible for. The film is literally two hours of interchangeable, forgettable faces shouting at each other, shooting things, blowing shit up and getting killed. The dialogue is almost entirely made up of people shouting "Watch out!", "Get down!", "Move!", "Fire!", and the derivatives of these screams. The soldiers are one-dimensional stereotypes, and the civilians are bland. The only thing telling us we should care when a character dies is the overbearing music. Once the titular battle gets underway, the soldiers are reduced to random, indecipherable figures without defining characteristics who shoot guns and wear battle fatigues (except Eckhart and Michelle Rodriguez, but only because they are recognisable stars). For fuck's sake, when it came time to assemble a cast list for this review, I did not know who to bill first beyond Eckhart and Rodriguez! All the best action/war movies develop their characters in the heat of battle. Take Black Hawk Down, for instance. Nobody behind Battle: Los Angeles was talented enough to pull this off. Though, credit where credit is due, the actors do seem to try to do something substantive with their underwritten roles, rather than sleepwalking their way through the film for the sake of their paycheques.

There are very few L.A. landmarks to be seen throughout the film, reducing Battle: Los Angeles to a repetitive barrage of sequences depicting soldiers firing weapons in nondescript streets and walking around dank, desolate buildings. Unfortunately, the cinematography is frequently shaky to the point of nauseating - it's as if the cameraman is always wandering around bumping into things. Sure, director Jonathan Liebesman at times delivers in terms of action, and there are a few spectacular money shots thanks to some solid special effects. But there's never any awe to the apocalyptic events - the film feels like a pedestrian video game rather than a harrowing war film. Furthermore, armed with the studio-favourite PG-13 rating, the film fails to deliver on a visceral level. People and aliens are killed, but there is no blood. Hardcore soldiers are thrown into harsh conditions, but never swear. The whole project feels gutless due to this. Worse, Battle: Los Angeles is the kind of action movie which ends with the heroes defeating the enemy by blowing up one magical thing. The climax feels tacked-on and forced, as if the writer realised the film needed to end very soon and sought a fast, easy way out. This denotes another problem - the script rushes from plot point to plot point, making every narrative twist and turn seem convenient and contrived.

I love a good action movie as much as the next guy, and I acknowledge that not every action film needs to have well-developed characters. However, Battle: Los Angeles is an incessant sensory assault which becomes tiresome due to a distinct lack of humanity, personality, variety and humour. It has its moments and the production values are faultless, but these qualities are wasted on a film not worth caring about. Battle: Los Angeles is an alien invasion picture as generic as its title, flaunting a bunch of generic actors playing generic roles fighting generic aliens in generic settings in generic ways. If you want to see an alien invasion story with more interest in humanity, see Spielberg's War of the Worlds. If you're seeking an invasion story executed with personality and inventiveness, watch District 9. The existence of these well-known blockbusters renders such a standard film as Battle: Los Angeles rather obsolete.

4.1/10

By serving as an origin story for Marvel's God of Thunder, Thor denotes the next step in Marvel's superhero world-building effort leading up to 2012's The Avengers. Admittedly, the outlook for Thor was never overwhelmingly positive - the title role was given to little-known Aussie beefcake Chris Hemsworth (a soap star glimpsed oh-so-briefly in 2009's Star Trek), and the director's chair was allotted to Kenneth Branagh, who had never been near a big-budget spectacle in his career. Nonetheless, the film denotes another home run for Marvel - it's easily one of the best, if not the best Marvel feature to date. Hemsworth is truly an excellent find, while Branagh's directorial dexterity belies his inexperience with action extravaganzas. The first of four superhero movies to arrive during the 2011 summer season, Thor is a highly entertaining, assured masterpiece which kicks things off in style.

Following an ancient war, the denizens of Asgard develop a tentative peace with the Frost Giants of Jotunheim. However, on the day of Thor's (Hemsworth) ascension to the throne of Asgard, a group of Frost Giants breach Asgard's defences. In response to this, the hot-headed Thor mounts an assault on the home-world of the Frost Giants; an act which threatens war between the two realms. Due to his disobedience, Thor's father Odin (Hopkins) banishes Thor to Earth, leaving Thor's brother Loki (Hiddleston) to seize power of Asgard. After being dropped into New Mexico, Thor meets astrophysicist Jane Foster (Portman) and her colleagues. Stripped of his powers, his hammer and everything he holds dear, Thor is compelled to learn what it takes to be a true hero in order to reclaim his hammer and the throne of Asgard.

From the epic prologue to the climactic action sequences, Thor is brimming with excitement and solid, confident storytelling. The fanboys concerned that this is a Thor film in name only can rest easy - this is ultimately a story about what's at stake in Asgard. The uninitiated can also rest easy, as there's enough leeway for the newcomers to find their footing. What's most commendable about Thor is that it is not a proverbial origins tale which adheres to the standard template, but instead something fresher and more imaginative. Origin tale clichés are usually eschewed, while the rare conventional situations fulfil their purpose magnificently rather than feeling familiar and cringe-worthy. (Take, for instance, the "hero is thought to be dead but comes back with a vengeance" scene - it was handled exceptionally well, yielding a badass set-piece). When Thor arrives on Earth, there are amusing moments and comical fish-out-of-water antics as the God of Thunder adjusts to life as a mortal in a different culture. The culture clashes generate some of the film's best moments. Thankfully, the smart script does not dwell upon these comic moments, nor does it take Thor as a fool - he "gets it" quickly.

Thor transpires in three worlds: Earth, Asgard and Jotunheim, each of which possesses a unique aesthetic and identity. Fortunately, Branagh and his crew worked to create worlds that look and feel real, and it paid off. All of the more fantastical moments throughout the film are perfectly grounded; ensuring that nothing feels silly or bloated. Furthermore, Thor is a home run in terms of technical achievements, from the luscious production design to the bravura visual effects to Patrick Doyle's immersive score. The action, too, is magnificent. An exhilarating, pulse-pounding sequence depicting a skirmish between Thor's band of friends and a bunch of Frost Giants has got to be in the running for best action sequence of 2011. Rather than feeling like CGI overload, Thor is imbued with nail-biting tension. Happily, this quality is retained throughout. Branagh is also of a more classical brand of filmmakers; he and his crew captured the action with inventive, fluid cinematography, without excessive shaky-cam or quick-cutting. Unfortunately, however, the 3-D effects add absolutely nothing to the experience - in fact, they're more of a distraction than an enhancement.

The strongest moments of Thor are not necessarily the big special effects sequences, but rather the dramatic scenes. The dialogue between Thor, Loki and Odin crackles with emotion and intensity, and the sincerity which pervades these scenes allows us to buy this world as being real. Also, the romantic subplot concerning Thor and Jane possesses a spark and a dynamic which places it light-years ahead of standard contemporary romantic comedies. These particular strengths are no doubt thanks to the exceptional Kenneth Branagh, whose career in Shakespearean tales and dramas prepared him well for the film's dramatic elements. Furthermore, Thor takes a number of unexpected twists and turns; focusing more on suspense and clever narrative gyrations than CGI blotation.

The cast is marvellous from top to bottom. Thanks to Branagh's experience with drama, he was able to bring out the best in each actor. Hemsworth is hugely engaging and charismatic as the titular Thor. His astonishing physicality suits the role to the ground, and he delivered his lines with tremendous gusto. The former Aussie soap star is no doubt on his way to true stardom. Alongside Hemsworth, the reliable Anthony Hopkins is, of course, a scene-stealer as Odin, while Tom Hiddleston's performance as the conflicted, ambiguous Loki is flawless. Natalie Portman admirably performs her duties as the token love interest, and she is boosted by solid back-up courtesy of the funny, cute Kat Dennings and the kindly, wise Stellan Skarsgård. Jeremy Renner also appears briefly as Hawkeye. Renner's brief inclusion just amounts to a sly nod to the upcoming Avengers movie for the more perceptive film-goers, but his presence makes sense rather than feeling forced. In fact, this applies to all of the references to other Marvel movies - they feel organic, rather than included for the sheer sake of it.

In an era of summer blockbusters of declining quality, Thor is a refreshing treat indeed. Mere movie-goers can rejoice that this is a masterpiece of blockbuster filmmaking, while fans should rejoice that this is both a great standalone movie and a terrific bridge to The Avengers. The trailers for Thor were admittedly not overly impressive, but this is a real case of the trailer not doing the film justice. Trust me - this is a masterpiece; it's better than Iron Man, better than Spider-Man 2, and it's worthy of both your time and money. And, as usual, stick around until after the end credits for an extra scene.

9.3/10

Veteran director Wes Craven and screenwriter Kevin Williamson re-energised the horror landscape in 1996 with Scream, a thrilling and hilarious postmodernist commentary on slasher films featuring cinema-savvy characters who wind up in a real-life slasher. After a robust sequel and a disappointing threequel, 2011's Scream 4 (or SCRE4M) continues the franchise in style. Benefitting from a whip-smart screenplay credited to Williamson (who returns to the fold after sitting out Scream 3), Scream 4 is as much a reinvention of the once again worn-out slasher subgenre as the original Scream was in the late 1990s. With the horror genre entering a new phase in the 21st Century, and with both culture and technology having further developed since Scream 3 in the year 2000, Scream 4 has a metric fuckload of new tropes and clichés to deconstruct. Despite a few missteps, this fourth Scream film marvellously juggles humour and thrills without either tone lessening or overwhelming the other.

Hoping to heal and leave behind the trauma of her past, Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) writes a self-help memoir. Meanwhile, the Stab movie series (inspired by the "real-life" events of the previous films) remains popular, with the franchise up to its seventh instalment. As the anniversary of the original Woodsboro murders draws close, Sidney returns to her hometown to promote her book with her publicist, Rebecca (Alison Brie). Unfortunately, a new Ghostface killer chooses to emerge at this time, picking off the local teenage population in a grizzly fashion. This time, the Ghostface killer ostensibly targets Sidney's remaining family and friends, including the friends of Sidney's adolescent cousin, Jill (Emma Roberts). Also back in action is Sheriff Dewey Riley (David Arquette), now the husband of reporter-cum-author Gale Weathers (Courteney Cox). While Dewey works alongside Deputy Judy Hicks (Marley Shelton) to catch the killer, Gale decides to investigate the murders herself.

The first Scream set its satirical sights on scary movies and slashers, Scream 2 took a self-aware jab at sequels, and Scream 3 offered a few meta ideas on film trilogies. Although Scream 4 carries a numerical appendage, it targets Hollywood's most significant horror trend of the past decade: remakes and reboots. With the murders occurring in Woodsboro again and the Ghostface killer targeting a new crop of teens, the characters recognise that a real-life "remake" of the first film is happening. Liberally reusing the familiar Scream formula may seem lazy, but the shrewd execution of the film's whodunit elements combined with the cunning satire ensures the familiarity is not detrimental, and the film keeps us guessing who the killer/s is/are. Employing the same formula is also a splendid way to poke fun at the horror franchises that always recycle the same tiresome formula ad infinitum. In addition, Williamson's script mocks the never-ending stream of torture porn horror flicks that flooded multiplexes after the success of 2004's Saw. Indeed, Scream 4 has its finger on the pulse of modern filmmaking and technological trends, primarily commenting on the rise of social media and the insatiable obsession with internet fame while also incorporating online live-streaming and screenings of cult movies for rabid fans. The film even respectfully tips its hat to Edgar Wright's masterful 2004 gem Shaun of the Dead.

The Scream series is renowned for thrilling, clever opening sequences, and Scream 4 announces its arrival via a brilliantly conceived opening that knowingly mocks another recognisable genre trope. It is a masterful opening that works on multiple levels and immediately promises that the Scream series will continue indulging in postmodernist fun at the expense of contemporary horror clichés. However, the opening half an hour or so following the opening is genuinely lousy, playing out like subpar fanfiction with moments of poor, forced character interaction. Thankfully, things pick up once the killing spree truly kicks off, and the film scarcely sets a foot wrong as it delivers engaging storytelling and thrilling set pieces. Another reason for the enduring popularity of the Scream series is that it mixes satirical humour with genuine thrills and chills. In this sense, Scream 4 delivers once again.

Confidently recovering after 2010's severely panned and bafflingly incoherent My Soul to Take, Craven shows with Scream 4 that he can still shock and thrill despite being in his 70s. Scream 4 is not quite as ferocious as the first film, but Craven pulls no punches - this is an unapologetically R-rated slasher with ridiculous amounts of blood and gore, delivering the type of material that genre fans crave. The attack scenes are vicious and visceral, ensuring audiences feel that, despite the laughs, the characters are still in genuine danger. Scream 4 also brings back franchise mainstay Marco Beltrami to compose the soundtrack, and the resulting original score adds appreciable intensity and excitement. However, despite the competent set pieces, the film lacks genuine moments of skin-crawling, goosebump-provoking terror like the original film's opening with Drew Barrymore, which had movie-watchers gripping onto armrests for dear life. Nevertheless, this is a minor quibble - for the most part, Scream 4 succeeds as a fun thrill ride, especially for the franchise's long-time fans.

The returning trio of Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox and David Arquette effortlessly slip back into their characters after a decade-long absence, recapturing the same verve, zeal and charm. Instead of surface-level imitations, the actors authentically embody their iconic roles, making it feel like no time has passed. The only other franchise mainstay who returns here is Roger L. Jackson, who voices Ghostface. Jackson continues to bring genuine menace and terror to these scenes, making his inclusion feel meaningful instead of tokenistic. Fortunately, the new cast is equally successful, and each character is distinctive in terms of characteristics, personality and appearance. Of the females, Emma Roberts (future American Horror Story mainstay) and Hayden Panettiere stand out the most as Jill and her friend, Kirby. Jill is essentially the new Sidney, and Roberts is up to the task - she is beautiful and vulnerable, but there's also an edge to her performance. Alongside her, Panettiere emanates cool with ease, creating what would become a fan-favourite character. Also of note are Rory Culkin and Erik Knudsen as the film geeks of the picture, Charlie and Robbie, who run Woodsboro High's cinema club. With the pair doling out most of the meta commentary on remakes and sequels, they are the de facto replacement for fan-favourite Randy, who was murdered in Scream 2 but fleetingly returned in Scream 3 for a video lecture. Anthony Anderson also deserves a special mention. The first time that a main cast member from the Scary Movie series has crossed over to the Scream franchise (what a full-circle moment), Anderson is his usual goofy, affable self.

With Scream 3 deservedly regarded as an underwhelming disappointment, beholding such an entertaining and confident fourthquel is encouraging. Despite its prolonged development period and the behind-the-scenes dramas (Scream 3 scribe Ehren Kruger did uncredited rewrites during production, leading to reshoots), Scream 4 is the best slasher in at least a decade. Although the hit-and-miss quality of Noughties slasher films renders this a backhanded compliment, Scream 4 is a terrific slasher by any metric. Despite the obvious financial motivation to revive the franchise, Williamson and Craven manage to deliver a fresh, intelligent, funny horror film that should please established fans and introduce the slasher genre to a whole new generation of film-goers. Despite Craven passing away in 2015, the Scream franchise continued to live on through a television show and further sequels.

7.4/10

With a title like Hobo with a Shotgun, surely you can easily ascertain everything you need to know about this motion picture. By no means is it an art movie, nor is it a date flick unless your date is a sick-minded gore-monger - Hobo with a Shotgun is a gleefully crazy blast of exploitative fun with the go-for-broke lunacy of your typical Troma picture. And if it sounds like it is the perfect filmic complement for the likes of Machete and Planet Terror, there is a good reason for this - the picture was born out of a faux trailer which won a fake trailer contest that was held to promote the Robert Rodriguez/Quentin Tarantino double bill Grindhouse in 2007. For the easily offended, Hobo with a Shotgun is a film to miss. But for the viewers who "get" this type of flick, Hobo with a Shotgun is a welcome buckshot of grindhouse-style insanity. This is a flick destined to tickle the pleasure centres of those who grew up sifting through the most bizarre, offensive-looking VHS boxes at their local video store.

As the film commences, the grizzled titular Hobo (Hauer) hops off a fright train with the intention of finding a new home and earning money by starting a lawnmower business. However, his chosen town is a scummy hellhole of sadists and whackjobs which is ruled with an iron fist by crime lord Drake (Downey). Drake and his ghouls own the town and the police force, leaving the Hobo disgusted and aching for change. In the shoot-'em-up tradition of Death Wish and Clint Eastwood's Man With No Name westerns, the Hobo starts dispensing justice throughout the town with his shotgun; punishing criminals quickly and violently. A newspaper headline even screams "HOBO STOPS BEGGING, DEMANDS CHANGE". During his quest he also befriends Abby (Dunsworth), a hooker with a heart of hold who provides the human contact he's been craving.

Running at approximately 85 minutes, Hobo with a Shotgun never slows down to the point where the story is tedious or boring. The pacing was well-judged by director/editor Jason Eisener, to the point that the film never lulls but doesn't feel underdone either. The Hobo and his plight are efficiently established within the first act, which allows Eisener the freedom to begin filling the screen with gory imagery of hyperbolic proportions. Morality is swiftly disregarded, but there's fun to be had for those willing to take a trip into this gleefully hedonistic world. Bodies are blown apart, heads are blown off, people are decapitated, wedding tackles are shredded with buckshots, and so on. Interestingly, while Hobo with a Shotgun is replete with sadistic sequences to ward off the easily offended, there is witty dialogue throughout the film in addition to unexpected sentiment and a few smart yet bizarre monologues delivered by the Hobo. Plus, the purposely bad dialogue is hilarious. Unfortunately, the sole flaw of Hobo with a Shotgun is that it only triggers a giddy impression in places. Too often, a metric fuckload of viscera is thrown all over the place, generating a disturbing feeling of sadism as opposed to an aura of schlocky merriment. When the film works, it works. When it fails, however, the film is uncomfortable and borderline agonising.

Eisener evidently grew up watching the low-budget exploitation movies of the '70s and '80s, and consequently replicated the old-school cinematic style with an impressive attention to detail. An opening credits sequence straight out of the '70s prefaces Hobo with a Shotgun, with a copyright date under the title and a Technicolor credit. Eisener and cinematographer Karim Hussain shot the film in vivid Technicolor, meaning the flesh tones appear almost orange and the geysers of blood are deep red. The histrionic, occasionally shoddy camera angles further solidify the aesthetic. Indeed, with these techniques in place, Hobo with a Shotgun possesses the look of a picture which has been sitting in a vault for 30 years. Heck, even the musical score is spot-on. See, Eisener opted for a different type of grindhouse aesthetic - while Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino used scratched prints and missing frames for their throwback films, Eisener chose over-the-top camera angles and a retro colour palette, which affords Hobo with a Shotgun with a sense of freshness.

Of course, the key to pulling off a film like Hobo with a Shotgun is playing it with a straight face. Luckily, Rutger Hauer was recruited to play the titular Hobo, and the iconic veteran actor was up to the challenge. Hauer is simply excellent, and not just by action film standards - in fact, Hauer is more nuanced than all the cast members of Inception combined! Hauer shows in his performance that he knows what the joke is but he also knows not to let it show - he never winks at the audience, but he is not clueless; he gets it. Alongside Hauer is the gorgeous Molly Dunsworth, who submitted one hell of a performance as the kind-hearted Abby. Naturally, a film of this type needs colourful, over-the-top villains. Fortunately, as the bad guys, Brian Downey, Nick Bateman and Gregory Smith were all up to the task. The majority of the performances here are loud, clunky, obvious and exaggerated. Are these good actors pretending to be bad for the sake of the aesthetic, or are they just bad? It's a testament to the film's success that the answer to this is not obvious, and it doesn't matter either way.

In final analysis, Hobo with a Shotgun has more going for it than not. When it's not uncomfortable to watch, the film is a hoot. These days, genre fans have become accustomed to seeing studio action films getting neutered to service a large audience. Meanwhile, 2011's Hobo with a Shotgun is exploitative trash cinema through and through which gives fans exactly what they crave with none of the restraint. That is something which does not happen often. Here's hoping Jason Eisener and writer John Davies will add a few more bloody classics to the trash cinema genre in future years.

7.3/10

For those who are familiar with the controversies surrounding the MPAA, this exposé will not offer much in the way of surprising revelations. On the other hand, for those who naively believe that the MPAA are valuable public servants providing a useful helping hand to filmmakers and parents, This Film Is Not Yet Rated will shock you. Over the duration of 90 entertaining minutes, documentarian Kirby Dick delves into the hypocrisy of the MPAA in addition to providing insight into the arbitrary, secretive ratings process. Another of Dick's goals was to uncover the secret identities of the ratings board members. In order to achieve this, he employed a trio of private detectives. Thus, the film often follows Kirby and the private detectives as they go on stakeouts, follow cars, and rummage through trash cans. However, the film's weakest moments are those concerned with providing background about the detectives. Their overinflated presence dilutes the focus of Dick's thesis.

Thankfully, This Film Is Not Yet Rated was assembled in a skilful, entertaining manner. Kirby cuts between statistics on the MPAA, interviews with filmmakers, and footage from offending movies which received an NC-17 rating. Several directors like Kevin Smith, John Waters, Matt Stone, Kimberly Peirce and Wayne Kramer provide testimonials throughout, and express concerns that the ratings board constrains and censors them. An especially interesting point which is raised is that realistic sexuality and violence usually earns an R or NC-17 rating, whereas unrealistic (i.e. bloodless) violence is given a docile rating to allow for more of the public to see. Former MPAA ratings board members and other distinguished individuals are also interviewed throughout. On top of this, there is a particularly effective sequence showing a side-by-side comparison of sexual sequences removed from indie pictures (in order to obtain an R rating) contrasted against almost identical footage from R-rated studio releases which made it into the final cut.

As it turns out, not all of the ratings board members of 2006 are average American parents with teenage children. The majority of them are in fact older Americans whose offspring are in their 20s. Also, since the members were selected from a small geographical region in South California, one cannot consider them to represent an accurate cross-section of the country. It also begs the question of who does represent the "average American parent". Essentially, the MPAA are a bunch of anonymous individuals whose cynical judgments impact how motion pictures are created, marketed and distributed. Not to mention, their judgments affect box office performances. Am I the only one who finds this notion disturbing and scary? Without a doubt, This Film Is Not Yet Rated affirms that the MPAA system needs a complete overhaul.

To the credit of Kirby Dick, This Film Is Not Yet Rated is not a mere angry diatribe against the MPAA, but instead a thoughtful documentary which raises legitimate questions about the ratings process. Of course, it will be interesting to see whether the movie will cause the organisation to take a look at its policies, realise the problems, and revise their modus operandi. Perhaps the death of Jack Valenti will eventually allow for a revision of the system.

8.2/10

2010 developed into yet another defining year for filmmaker M. Night Shyamalan, whose fan-base continued to decline and whose reputation was further sullied. On top of the fact that his monster-budgeted Hollywood adaptation of Avatar: The Last Airbender was greeted with immense derision from both critics and movie-goers, Shyamalan's Devil was also subjected to ridicule throughout its marketing campaign (reports even spread of theatre-goers laughing and booing at the trailer). Even so, Shyamalan did not write or direct the film - he instead conceived the story and served as producer. Nevertheless, Devil is the first of a proposed series of genre films called The Night Chronicles, all of which are to be based on Shyamalan's ideas. If this first entry is intended to be the quality yardstick, it's difficult to remain optimistic about the future of The Night Chronicles. With that said, though, Devil - which is inspired by a parable about Satan walking among sinners on Earth - is at least slick and engaging on a basic level despite the empty-headed script.

The proceedings take place in a Philadelphia high-rise, where five apparent strangers - an elderly pick-pocket (O'Hara), a temp security guard (Woodbine), a mechanic (Marshall-Green), a sharply-dressed young woman (Novakovic), and a shady mattress salesman (Arend) - become stranded in an inoperative elevator. The group gradually grow uneasy of each other, however, especially when they start getting mysteriously killed one-by-one. On the outside, a couple of security guards monitor the happenings within the elevator and attempt to help them get out. These security guards are eventually joined by a recovering alcoholic detective (Messina). As the tensions within the elevator continue to grow, logical explanations begin to dwindle and the characters gradually come to the realisation that the Devil may be along for the ride, and that the sinners aboard the elevator are meant to pay for past transgressions.

If Alfred Hitchcock was handling the premise behind Devil, it could have been a tightly-wound, enthralling, pulse-pounding suspense movie (consider Hitchcock's Lifeboat; an excellent film with a somewhat comparable plot). Unfortunately, Hitchcock has passed on, and the crew who brought Devil to fruition are not nearly as adept. Shyamalan handed the writing and directing duties to Brian Nelson (Hard Candy) and John Erick Dowdle (Quarantine) respectively, but Shyamalan's unwelcome fingerprints are nonetheless all over the crime scene. Alas, Devil denotes yet another shameful, mawkish retread of Shyamalan's favourite messages and themes regarding fate (Signs), destiny (Unbreakable) and how all of us are connected (Lady in the Water). Added to this are several Shyamalan trademarks: quirky characters with dark secrets, a twist ending with an overinflated reveal, quasi-religious themes slathered in hackneyed genre conventions and clumsy dialogue, etc. What's even worse is the abysmal ending, which transforms what could've been an effective chiller into something preachy, eye-rolling and painfully clichéd.

Added to this, Devil is plagued by a laundry list of awkward devices. For instance, rather than the characters figuring out the Devil is among them through clues, storytelling and clever dialogue, the tired racial stereotype emerges in the form of a solemn, devoutly religious Latino security guard who straight-up declares they are dealing with Satan. The guy clearly knows everything about the Devil and his modus operandi, and therefore he jabbers about it incessantly. He is even given a largely unnecessary voiceover narration. At times it sets the stage and introduces some of the film's underlying concepts, but too often the commentary is akin to watching a movie with an obnoxious guy who likes to spoil the story and predict things out loud. Furthermore, a number of questions entered this reviewer's head throughout the film. For example, why would the Prince of Darkness imprint his visage on a surveillance camera for the security team to see? Why is the Devil so bored that he wants to kill off two-bit sinners with over-the-top theatrics? Not to mention, it seems silly that Satan is killing unrepented sinners before they have had the chance to repent.

Credit where credit is due, though - Devil sort of works from a technical perspective. Dowdle is a decent director with a skill for building tension and establishing an apprehensive atmosphere. Complementing his efforts are the contributions of composer Fernando Velázquez and director of photography Tak Fujimoto. Running at a scant 80 minutes, Devil also benefits from its brevity and a perfectly judged pace. Furthermore, there is something inherent intriguing and engaging about watching a group of people caught in such a situation, and it is fun seeing where the narrative takes them. On top of this, there are a few phantom shots of the skyline throughout which suggest the malevolence at work is more considerable than elevator murders. The character deaths are astonishingly grim as well, and almost always violent - this is a rare case of a PG-13 slasher for which the docile rating is not a hindrance. Admittedly, too, Devil is a somewhat exciting game of guessing which person is Satan. The acting, for the most part, is quite good and surprisingly believable as well.

Unfortunately, while Devil is not completely sans merit, the fact that we know about Satan's involvement from the outset strips the movie of intrigue and mystery. We know from the beginning that each character is going to be a flawed lost soul, and that one of them is going to be the Prince of Darkness in human disguise. Also detrimental is that Devil is not exactly scary. It's intense, sure, but the picture is more of an Agatha Christie-style mystery than a horror movie.

5.0/10

Emerging from the imagination of filmmaker Darren Aronofsky, Black Swan is a psychological thriller pervaded with insanity and madness which is juxtaposed with the graceful, gilded world of professional ballet. Unfolding with palpable intensity and nightmarish logic, the movie denotes the continuation of Aronofsky's study into the resilience of the human body which was kicked off by his stunning 2008 picture The Wrestler. Additionally, just as The Wrestler was primarily a character study, Black Swan is a competitive ballet tale on the surface only, as Aronofsky instead exhibits more interest in exploring the corrosion of reality than the everyday routine of a ballet dancer. Originally, Aronofsky planned for Black Swan and The Wrestler to be one film. Because of this, Aronofsky considers Black Swan to be a companion piece to his earlier flick.

At the centre of the film is young, passionate ballet dancer Nina (Portman). Raised by her mother to be a ballet star, Nina is virtually flawless in her technique, but this comes at the expense of raw emotion and passion. Ballet director Thomas (Cassel) begins sensing a burgeoning fire within Nina's porcelain shell, though, and decides to give her the lead role in the company's upcoming production of Swan Lake. Startled by the decision, Nina begins a punishing rehearsal regime in order for her to nail the role's complicated duality. See, the part requires somebody who can dance both the White Swan and her evil twin, the Black Swan. While Nina can ably execute the White Swan, she lacks the passion required to pull off the Black Swan. Adding to the pressure is Lily (Kunis), a fresh new dancer whom Nina is convinced is trying to steal her role. As opening night draws near, Nina's mental state progressively unhinges - she becomes constantly plagued by macabre hallucinations, and continually grows more and more like the Black Swan she's meant to be playing.

Like The Wrestler, Black Swan takes place in the competitive, insular world of a particular performance art. Interestingly, while one may not associate ballet with blood sports due to its gracefulness, Aronofsky's perspective argues that dancing in fact may not be too far removed from fighting. In addition to this, Aronofsky opted for similar stylistic traits in both pictures, including raw, handheld camerawork and recurring shots of the camera tracking behind the protagonist as they move through various spaces. However, unlike The Wrestler, Black Swan is a significantly ambiguous and subjective movie - Aronofsky continually blurs the line between reality and Nina's tormented psychological experience. With the narrative always growing in abstraction the further it presses on, it becomes difficult to distinguish reality from mind games. Aronofsky toys with this confusion to the extent that what might be considered a plot hole instead comes off as another piece of the deceptive puzzle.

The look and feel of Black Swan immaculately encapsulates the essence of a major New York ballet production, denoting another great success for the infinitely talented Aronofsky. Throughout the movie, an unsettling, creepy atmosphere pervades the proceedings, at first subtly and later with brutal vigour. By the final third of the movie, grim surrealism has taken control, leading to an enthralling conclusion that's haunting and unforgettably unique. Even so, there is the sense that Aronofsky and his trio of screenwriters could have pushed things even further, but this is mere nitpicking. Further enriching the picture is Clint Mansell's Tchaikovsky-fuelled musical score and the dreamlike, exquisitely detailed art direction courtesy of David Stein. Not to mention, the numerous dance sequences which litter the movie are absolutely stunning. From a technical perspective, the only drawback of Black Swan is a few notably obvious uses of digital effects.

Natalie Portman earned an Oscar for Best Actress for her performance as Nina. Portman was clearly committed to the role 100%; offering an exceptional, visceral performance that affects the actress down to her bones. Playing Nina required depth of emotion, and Portman's portrayal never strikes a wrong chord. She suits the role physically, as well - for months prior to production, Portman endured a gruelling training routine to lose fat and gain muscle tone, and the outstanding results are on the screen for all to see. And as Lily, Mila Kunis is every bit as excellent as Portman; exhibiting the capacity to play more than featherweight roles in comedies and light dramas. In all likelihood, Black Swan is destined to be the most inappropriately watched and purchased art house film since Mulholland Drive on account of a number of erotic sequences involving Portman and Kunis. Meanwhile, in the supporting role of Thomas, Vincent Cassel perfectly embodies the tough, unsentimental ballet director, adding a dash of darkness and edginess to his roguishly charming personality. Credit is also due to Winona Ryder, who's truly chilling in the scenes when she's given the chance to shine.

Yet, while Black Swan deserves credit for depicting an extreme case of a psychotic breakdown and painting a picture of the struggle of the creative process, Aronofsky's treatment of the film is more stylish and sensational than emotionally wrenching. Despite Portman's best efforts, the film lacks an emotional core. Nina is committed to dancing, but who is she and what is left to save? Unlike Randy the Ram (from The Wrestler) or Sara Goldfarb (from Requiem for a Dream), Nina's journey remains distant, as if it's happening to a stranger. It is always sad to hear about a terrible ordeal which befalls a stranger, but it's even sadder to those who knew the victim. Mind-fuck films are often like this; investing more in intellectual intrigue than emotional fulfilment. Therefore, Black Swan may be more ambitious than The Wrestler, but one could easily contest that Aronofsky's 2008 picture is more satisfying.

All things considered, Black Swan is a beautifully-crafted picture filled with strong performances, an eye for the art of ballet, and a haunting uncertainty that will stay with you long after the credits have expired. Nevertheless, it fails to grab hold on the emotional level that resonated so strongly in Aronofsky's The Wrestler and Requiem for a Dream.

7.9/10

In 2010, Clint Eastwood reached the ripe old age of 80, yet the prolific filmmaker still unabatedly continues to make motion pictures on a regular basis; accumulating a cinematic oeuvre that is as diverse as it is excellent. Written by Peter Morgan (The Queen, Frost/Nixon), 2010's Hereafter is a supernatural drama which re-teams Eastwood with Invictus star Matt Damon. In typical Eastwood style, the director has fashioned a classy, low-key rumination on mysteries surrounding the afterlife. Eschewing a grand-scale approach, Eastwood adhered to his habitual filmmaking methods: unfinicky camera tricks, gentle scoring, and introspective performances. Viewers accustomed to The Ghost Whisperer or Stephen King novels may be annoyed by the absence of zeal, but those with an open mind or those keyed into Eastwood's previous efforts may be willing to sit back and watch as the filmmaker realises his own vision. While the results are admittedly mixed, there's enough bravura workmanship on offer within Hereafter to make it worth at least a hesitant recommendation.

Babel-esque in plot structure, Hereafter tells the story of three strangers, each of whom live in a different country but are connected by their desire to find solace while confronting questions about mortality. In San Francisco, retired psychic George Lonegan (Damon) is forever weary of the attention that his gift brings him. His opportunistic brother (Mohr) pushes for George to profit off his exceptional abilities, but George craves a peaceful life and gets a factory job. However, he cannot seem to escape his reputation. Meanwhile, French journalist Marie Lelay (De France) endures a near-death experience in Thailand where she was swept away during the Boxing Day 2004 tsunami. Back home in France, Marie cannot put her life back together and is haunted by visions which compel her to begin writing a book. And finally, in London, young Marcus (Frankie McLaren) is devastated when his twin brother Jason (George McLaren) is hit by a car and killed. Placed in a foster home while his grieving, drug-addled mother (Marshal) seeks help, Marcus is faced with questions about the afterlife that cannot be answered via religion or fraudulent psychics.

Hereafter is moving and usually enthralling yet restrained, much like what we have come to expect from a Clint Eastwood feature. The picture touches upon grief, hope and spirituality, but thankfully does not get overly preachy or mawkish about it. In lesser hands, Hereafter could have easily become cheesy and cheaply manipulative, but Eastwood's minimalist approach keeps things in check. This feat is all the more commendable given that Damon's character feels as if he walked straight out of a Stephen King story. However, there is a large flaw with the structure of the film: two of the three stories are less interesting than the third. In this case, George's story is more interesting than the events which befall Marie and Marcus, creating an imbalance. It's therefore somewhat annoying every time George's story is paused in order for the focus to shift to somebody else.

Unfortunately, the repetitious way with which Hereafter's narrative is told grows problematic. None of the stories achieve the vitality or development that they required in order to reach full dramatic liftoff. Instead, it feels as if there is too much repetitious, superfluous narrative flab. Several unimportant scenes could have easily been excised in favour of stronger scenes which could have given each story the aforementioned vitality and development they sorely needed. Also, the characters are not entirely three-dimensional, and their respective journeys barely scratch the surface of the themes that Morgan and Eastwood evidently wanted to meditate over. Hereafter depicts characters as they grapple with profound, life-changing events, but the film itself fails to be as profound as it had the potential to be - rather, it merely remains an elementary study of three individuals confronting universal issues and mysteries. Perhaps this is due to Eastwood's choice to shoot what was essentially Peter Morgan’s first script draft.

Despite Morgan's pages needing a thorough polish, Eastwood handled the material with his typical assuredness. Hereafter begins with a frightening bang; a recreation of the tsunami which ravaged the Indonesian coast on Boxing Day in 2004. Top-notch visual effects work (which earned the film its sole Oscar nomination) and a refusal to treat it like a Roland Emmerich disaster spectacle make this a startling, harrowing set-piece which hammers home the point of how unpredictable the world can be. Apart from this opening sequence, Hereafter possesses an appealingly understated style. Although hired relatively late in the film's development stage (unlike most of his pictures), Eastwood's stylistic stamp is all over the film. Besides directing, Eastwood also contributed to the film's gentle score, which is effective as well. Eastwood's work was also assisted by Tom Stern's magnificent, moody cinematography.

As George Lonegan, Damon's performance is nicely restrained and imbued with humanity. It is not exactly an Oscar-worthy performance like his turn in Invictus, but Damon's efforts are nonetheless effective. Meanwhile, as Marie, Cécile De France is excellent (and is anyone else relieved to see a Westernised film with French characters who actually speak French in their homeland?). The actresses' greatest talent is making all of her actions and lines believable. At the other end of the spectrum, however, Frankie and George McLaren have great, expressive faces but are dreadful child actors. Perhaps the boys will improve with experience, but their acting is uneven - for each genuine moment there are two or three moments which come off as stilted or contrived. Rounding out the cast is Bryce Dallas Howard as George's cooking partner Melanie. Howard is in and out of the film too fast, but her scenes with Damon constitute Hereafter's strongest and most absorbing moments. Not to mention, her almost entirely unspoken past and the brutally abrupt outcome of her relationship with George allows the character to linger in a viewer's mind for the duration of the picture.

In a way it is rather extraordinary to consider that a "man's man" like Eastwood could craft such a tender motion picture. After all, he is best known for such brutal characters as Dirty Harry and The Man with No Name. Yet, as Eastwood's films over the years have proved, the director is able to handle any type of unpredictable material with a consummate skill that most Hollywood directors lack. It's just unfortunate that Peter Morgan's script was not given a few more revisions - there is a lot of untapped potential here, and it's disappointing if one considers what the film could have been if Eastwood was handling a fifteenth or sixteenth script draft.

6.8/10

Collateral was released in the summer of 2004, emerging amidst an onslaught of big-budget, special effects-laden blockbusters. Yet, Collateral does not adhere to the standard summer season template - rather than a brain-dead action fiesta for the mainstream crowd, it's a challenging thriller for mature audiences, puppeteered by the boundlessly talented Michael Mann (Heat, Ali). As was the case with Heat, Collateral exhibits a sense of stark realism rarely witnessed in ordinary Hollywood productions. The film is escapist entertainment at its core, but Mann perpetually insists upon plausible scenarios and a gritty tone to ensure the film never drifts too far into the realm of fantasy. Most commendably, Collateral is a summer picture that eschews big explosions and gunfights for suspense, intrigue, plot twists, and an understated cinematic style.

Working the streets of downtown Los Angeles at night with his taxi, Max (Jamie Foxx) is a soft-spoken man with big ambitions tragically stuck in his dead-end job. After meeting beautiful U.S. Justice Department prosecutor Annie (Jada Pinkett-Smith) during his shift one night, a mysterious fare enters Max's cab in the form of Vincent (Tom Cruise). Vincent explains he has five appointments to attend and a plane to catch in the morning, and offers Max $600 cash if he agrees to be Vincent's personal chauffeur for the night. Seeing this as an opportunity to jump-start his dreams, Max hesitantly agrees. Shortly afterwards, it is revealed that Vincent is, in fact, a contract killer travelling around the city to put several targets on ice. Max is unwittingly pulled into Vincent's world of systematic murdering for this single night, leaving the frightened cabbie with no means of escape.

The narrative is not particularly groundbreaking, and it's predictable to a certain degree, but Stuart Beattie's clever script and Mann's sharp-eyed direction compensate for this. Collateral is not a surface-level flick - there are intelligent layers and nuances to both the story and the characters, which take multiple viewings to pick up. For example, it's initially unclear why Vincent wants Max as his chauffer, but character interaction reveals he is just looking for someone to frame - in one scene, Detective Fanning (Mark Ruffalo) tells his colleagues a story about a cabbie who supposedly killed three people before committing suicide, implying that this is Vincent's plan for Max. On top of this, exploring real ideas and themes is also on Mann and Beattie's agenda. For instance, Vincent ruminates on his personal philosophies about the world and on the insignificance of a single human being. Similarly, Max aspires to start his own limousine company and insists his taxi job is temporary despite being a driver for twelve years, and this relates to the way people realise that their lifelong dreams are slipping out of their grasp through cruel passages of time and inertia. Indeed, Collateral is far more than an excuse for exploitative violence in the name of entertainment.

Of all his directorial characteristics, Mann is perhaps best known for his attention to detail - he makes environments into characters and stages down-to-earth gunfights that are not glamorised but instead based on realistic scenarios, tactics and training. This remains unchanged for Collateral. Predominantly lensing the picture with digital cameras, Mann and his two cinematographers (one cinematographer quit after three weeks, and a second one took over) permeate the film with an immersive authenticity and neglect the typical Hollywood sheen. Indeed, Mann centres his attention on developing atmosphere, building suspense and manipulating tension. Through using digital photography and as much natural lighting as possible, Mann achieves the verisimilitude he clearly strives for, transforming what could've been a cartoonish blockbuster into a masterfully realistic and gripping action movie. Additionally, the soundtrack mixes pop, rock, jazz, and classical tunes to match the mood of each scene. Michael Mann is the furthest thing from an ordinary action director - he is an expert craftsman, and the result is spellbinding.

Another of Mann's strengths here is pace; he clearly understands the need for humanity and character building without boring viewers to death. It is possible to care about Max's predicament after watching some innately human moments between him and Annie, with these scenes efficiently developing Max as a nuanced three-dimensional human being. The extended scene inside Max's cab that depicts Max and Annie's initial meeting is so expertly conceived, natural and charming that it could easily stand as a short film on its own. Beattie's script is another asset in this sense since it gives the characters some sharp, honest dialogue. Likewise, the interactions between Vincent and Max are never anything less than enthralling, and there are appreciable moments of levity throughout to lighten the mood. Also commendable is the fact that this is a Hollywood production where no characters seem safe, no matter how renowned the actors are. The ending may seem pat and clichéd, but it is pitch-perfect; it's ultimately ironic, it underscores themes introduced throughout (such as Vincent mentioning Darwin's theory of evolution and the need to adapt and improvise), and it brings closure to the character arcs.

Though the script is magnificent and the filmmaking is top-notch, Collateral ultimately works due to the pair of performances courtesy of Foxx and Cruise, both of whom disappear into their roles. Embracing the opportunity to flex his antagonistic muscles, Cruise pulls off the complex requirements of the part to fantastic effect - his performance as Vincent is riveting, career-best work for the actor. Likewise, the usually comically-oriented Foxx delivers a superb, warm, understated performance that earned the star a Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination. Both performances also reflect Mann's insistence towards realism - Cruise underwent extensive firearms training and, in turn, demonstrates outstanding pistol-handling skills throughout, while Foxx comes across as a run-of-the-mill everyman. In the supporting role of Annie, Jada Pinkett-Smith is absolute dynamite - she has never been more charming than she is here. Mark Ruffalo, Peter Berg, and Bruce McGill are also highly engaging in the more minor roles of the investigators hot on Vincent's trail.

Whereas most summer movies are action pictures with slight traces of drama and character development, Collateral is an intense, character-oriented drama-thriller with traces of action. And it is directly because of the drama and character development that the movie works so well. Collateral is intelligent, mature and involving, and it is also the best motion picture of 2004, bar none.

10/10