Reviews by PvtCaboose91

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

The story, expectedly, is simple and direct. Twenty years have passed since John Rambo (Stallone) saved Colonel Trautman from Soviet forces in Afghanistan, and he now lives the life of a recluse in Thailand, working as a snake catcher while desperately trying to evade his personal demons. As the film opens, a group of idealogical Christian missionaries - including Michael (Paul Schulze) and Sarah (Julie Benz) - approach Rambo seeking passage into the heart of Burma, wishing to bring medical supplies and prayer books to the war-town country. Rambo reluctantly accepts the offer, but is wary of the dangerous terrain. Weeks later, Rambo learns that the missionaries were captured by the Burmese military. Choosing to assume his psychologically tattered soldier mentality and launch into battle once again, Rambo joins a group of mercenaries as they head into Burma on a rescue mission.

Stallone prefaces Rambo with authentic documentary footage depicting the actual situation in Burma, which has endured what is described as the longest-running civil war in history. This horrific footage effectively places the story in a real-world context, emphasising that the atrocities taking place in Burma are real, rather than a part of the screenwriter's imagination. In this sense, Stallone and co-writer Art Monterastelli utilise Burma as a framework within which they constructed a typical but effective action/war movie. Yet, layers of appreciable complexity exist within the simplistic framework which may be easily missed. For instance, the Burmese soldiers appear to be the epitome of one-dimensional evil since they slaughter villagers and gang-rape women, but the opening documentary footage reveals that these soldiers are kidnapped boys who are forced into the army and dehumanised into soulless killing machines.

Ultra high body counts are a staple of the series, and Rambo does not disappoint in this sense. The levels of gore push the R-rating to the very brink, yet the unremitting violence is not as joyously self-indulgent as previous Rambo adventures. See, there's more to Rambo than just carnage. The film builds with a palpable intensity, and the first half depicts Rambo reluctantly working his way back to his former self to confront the life he tried to leave behind. Through depicting the Burma atrocities in explicit detail, the film additionally offers social commentary and sheds light on the realities of life in the country (the film has done more for Burma awareness than the UN). Thus, this entry to the series is more about authenticity and gritty realism, mirroring the tone of First Blood. Rambo is not perfect, of course - it's largely generic (at times painfully so), and the dialogue is derisive on occasion - but the positives outweigh the negatives. There is sufficient character development to create a palpable sense of humanity amid the carnage.

Yet, all of this is probably looking too deeply into what is a taut, expertly crafted shoot-'em-up of pure awesomeness. You attend Rambo movies to watch the titular badass lay waste to hundreds of bad guys, and this fourth instalment offers precisely that. In prior Rambo sequels, Rambo was dropped in some hellhole to rescue a bunch of people before he breaks them out, kills the bad guys and escapes. Rambo '08 stays true to the formula, except - as previously stated - there's more grit: Stallone is never shirtless at any point, and Jerry Goldsmith's exciting yet cheesy music is replaced with Brian Tyler's harrowing, exceptional original score. Rambo even works as a member of a team, as opposed to taking down hundreds of soldiers single-handedly. Up until Rambo, Sly had never directed an action film (outside of allegedly ghost-directing some of his classics), but the actor-director's excellent handling of the material here belies his inexperience. Sly may utilise a shaky-cam approach, yet the style benefits the picture and is at no point distracting. And my word, the picture delivers in terms of action - the final battle is a celluloid tribute to the blood-soaked mayhem of the '80s. For all the criticisms Rambo endured, the violence is deserved: it characterises the villains, and provides the audience with a sweet sense of vengeance. It's a superb, insanely effective macho fantasy, and it will appeal to its target market.

Running over 8 minutes longer than its theatrical predecessor, the extended cut of Rambo is the superior edit in this reviewer's eyes. Rather than concentrating on gory additions or amplifying the theatrical cut's boundary-pushing violence, Stallone digs up alternate footage and deleted dialogue scenes to craft more of an character-oriented war film. Through this, Rambo is closer to reaching its full potential of being a harrowing war drama first and a blood n' guts action film second. Restoring an essential, passionate monologue similar in tone to First Blood's climactic speech, inserting a prayer, and even removing a few violent shots, this Rambo adopts a more philosophical tone. The added footage may slow the picture down a tad, but the result is more thought-provoking and emotionally satisfying. In addition, the characters are fleshed out more effectively, and the film as a whole feels more cohesive and complete. In comparison, the theatrical cut feels gutted. However, Rambo's badass monologue whilst forging his machete is sorely missed.

Returning to his iconic role, Stallone is cold as ice, and brings a sense of menace that is lacking in previous entries. John Rambo is truly scary here; he's a powder keg waiting to explode, and he certainly does explode once the action shifts to the camp where the missionaries are held captive. It's not an Oscar-worthy performance, but it is more nuanced than most will admit. Julie Benz is also effective as one of the missionaries, ably playing alongside Stallone. Rambo jumps through hoops for Sarah, but she is not a love interest - although she is Rambo's prime motivation for battling the Burmese army, it's because she profoundly touched his soul. In the supporting cast there's also the likes of Matthew Marsden and Graham McTavish, both of whom are standouts as mercenaries. Suffice it to say, every actor hits their mark.

Infused with a poignant social commentary to provide sufficient context for the action, Rambo exists to call attention to the atrocities in Burma in addition to providing a fitting end for John J. Rambo. In First Blood, Rambo's breakdown in the film's final minutes left us with the sense that he wanted to discover who he is and put the past behind him. This theme was never brought full circle in the following two sequels, but Rambo '08 does exactly that, providing the ending that fans have yearned for since the commencement of the franchise. One could argue I've read too much into Rambo, but I believe critics are not reading enough. It would be a shame for a viewer's preconceptions to overwhelm Stallone's achievements, which goes for both the cynical critics looking to be critical as well as the action fans seeking a fix. There is a beating heart at the core of Rambo, whether you wish to notice it or not.

8.8/10

In Eclipse, an antagonistic vampire with a grudge against another vampire amasses an army of psychotic vampires to attack the good guys. Meanwhile, a bunch of werewolves team up with the good vampires to fight the evil ones, leading to a total all-out monster-on-monster war. So, why does Eclipse suck? Well, because it's a Twilight movie - the vampires are whiny, angsty, emo-ish brats, the werewolves are bland, buff pretty boys, the romantic leads share no chemistry, and by law it is forbidden for anything interesting to happen. After all, if the stories contained anything interesting, it would stand in the way of what the Twilight franchise is truly about: convincing young girls that true happiness can only be attained through co-dependent submission to emotionally domineering douchebags in the context of traditional marriage. If one eliminates all of the hokey mythology surrounding the vampires and werewolves of author Stephenie Meyer's world, all that's left is an ongoing, angst-ridden hormonal explosion.

With her senior year at high school drawing to an end, Bella Swan (Stewart) is standing on the precipice of all that is to become in the next phase of her life. While still longing to become a vampire in order to be with boyfriend Edward Cullen (Pattinson) for eternity, Bella is nonetheless torn by the dissenting opinions of others. Not to mention, werewolf Jacob Black (Lautner) still clings to the hope that Bella will dump Edward for him. You see, Bella may think she knows what she wants, but the boyfolk assure her that she doesn't really. The lads know exactly what's best for her, and will decide her future for her! Meanwhile, revenge-seeking vampire Victoria (Howard) begins creating an army of powerful newborn vampires. With Bella in imminent danger, the Cullen family and Jacob's (shirtless) wolf-pack put aside their feuds in order to protect Bella (despite her manipulative, whorish tendencies).

There is enough compelling dramatic material in the Twilight concept for only one or maybe two feature-length movies, but no more. Yet, by the time the credits roll on the second Breaking Dawn film in 2012, Bella Swan's existential crisis will have exceeded the 10-hour cinematic mark. I mean what the fuck? Not even Indiana Jones or Toy Story could be sustained for that long, and Twilight is definitely no Indiana Jones or Toy Story. Three films into the Twilight series, and the appeal of this agonising saga remains baffling. The stories are uninteresting, the characters are flat and dull, the mythology is dreary, and the romantic themes are centuries outdated. And this just applies to the books - the films are even worse due to the fact that, while it took only Meyer to write a bad book, Eclipse is the product of hundreds of hours of hard labour on the part of actors, writers, directors, producers, editors, etc. However, at the very least, there are a few self-referential jokes that provoke chortles, including a scene in which Edward asks if Jacob owns a shirt. 99% of the laughs remain unintentional, though.

Weird as it may sound, the Twilight films are progressively getting worse. The more money spent on them, the shittier they are. 2008's Twilight was bad, but at least had some charm. 2009's New Moon, on the other hand, was a turgid disaster which sputtered out with a tragic non-climax. The decline in quality continues here with Eclipse; a tedious slog that's only fit for the most devoted Twilight fanatics. Dreary, stupid, tragically drawn-out and loaded with tedious dialogue, Eclipse utterly squanders the potentially badass premise of a vampire army fighting werewolves and other vampires. Instead of a film with fertile conflict and legitimate swoon, Eclipse books the bullet train to Dullsville. Once again, the adapted screenplay by Melissa Rosenberg is faithful to the source material to a fault. If Rosenberg were a good writer, she would have reworked the endless scenes of shallow idiots talking into scenes of semi-developed idiots with something worthwhile to say.

Aside from the warring battle, Eclipse is mostly concerned with rehashing the events of New Moon - i.e. the love triangle between Bella, Jacob and Edward. At the end of New Moon, Bella chose Edward, so the story should be over. But Twilight is a woman's fantasy, and Meyer felt that a lot more could be milked from the dreamy notion of a girl being fought over by two young studs. The problem is that Twilight is an undernourished romantic fantasy with little realistic behaviour that spotlights a bunch of completely shallow characters. For crying out loud, Jacob continually tries to forcefully convince Bella that she loves him. Later, Jacob learns that Bella is marrying Edward and refuses to help in the forthcoming battle, meaning he only initially agreed to take part in said battle in a sleazy attempt to impress Bella and win her over. After his tantrum, Bella the evil whore tells Jacob to kiss her. Are you fucking serious?! Edward, meanwhile, is the type of overprotective, jealous boyfriend that girls hate (consider that he sabotaged Bella's truck to prevent her from seeing Jacob). Yet girls still love this douchebag? Thus, the Twilight series is all about a girl's choice between an overprotective, unreasonable, angsty brat, and a clingy, forceful asshole who can't take no for an answer. Bella would be better off marrying her father, for fuck's sake. By the hour mark of Eclipse, one's eyelids become infinitely more interesting.

Honestly, it's still beyond this reviewer's mental parameters as to why Jacob and Edward make a huge fuss over such a dead-eyed, dithering bore of a girl. The film provides no compelling reason as to why these lads put so much on the line for a female who can barely wait to get out of her boyfriend's line of sight so she can cuddle with another guy! Bella may be attractive, but, let's face it, that's all she has going for her. Shouldn't love be based on something deeper? I mean, given the chance I'd probably sleep with Bella a few times, but I prefer not to have relationships with flat wooden tables.

David Slade was the director who took the helm of Eclipse. Slade previously directed the amazing Hard Candy and the visually stylish 30 Days of Night. A genuinely skilled horror director, it made sense for him to tackle a Twilight film. Slade, however, failed to do anything worthwhile with Meyer's insufferable abstinence lecture. What should have been an enthralling, heroic film of affection and protection has instead been reduced to a dialogue-heavy slog which retraces several plot points of its predecessors whilst making barely any headway of its own. Slade had his trusty stylish urges and the most action-intensive Twilight script at his disposal, but the creative effort is indistinguishable - the director was clearly in studio employee mode here; making no effort to shake the actors from their melodramatic comas or to prevent the action from being nothing but a crunching blur of suspect special effects. There are a few entertaining moments here and there, but not enough to salvage this malarkey. The vampires turn to marble or something when they're killed and the film is rated PG-13, denying Slade the chance to orchestrate some gory mayhem.

Do the Twilight producers actually advertise for bad actors? Inexplicably, the returning cast members are actually getting worse with each new movie. Kristen Stewart's interpretation of Bella continues to be mopey and completely uninteresting - it seems as if she took a sleeping pill before filming and was perpetually fighting to stay awake. Robert Pattinson, meanwhile, submitted an all-time worst performance here as Edward. Reprising his role of Jacob is Taylor Lautner, who's embarrassing for the most part. Lautner was somewhat decent in New Moon, but he's full-on awful here. The young star merely acted the shit out of every scene, filling every line reading with pulsating, hammy, unearned intensity that's more amusing than effective. Naturally, Lautner preferred to spend most of his time sans shirt to proudly show off his physique.

Despite the filmmaking talent behind Twilight Eclipse (Twishite Ecrapse?), the movie is a dull mess. Instead of finding an artful tone, director Slade merely filled the movie with a plethora of random pop tunes to provide atmosphere while working through a tedious story routine of swoon and quarrel. Plus, is anyone else disturbed by the messages that Twilight preaches to its target audience? It just tells young girls that virginity is important, and that you should marry as early as possible. Fucking hell, it is a blueprint for creating an entire generation of shy, demurring, deferential domestic abuse victims waiting to happen. Fans of Twilight will doubtlessly enjoy Eclipse, but this third go-round will not make Twihard converts of the rest of us. Three movies and more than six hours in, and there's still no reason to care about this godforsaken franchise.

1.8/10

It is absolutely beyond this reviewer's mental parameters as to why Wild Target endured such a ruthless critical reception during its fleeting theatrical run in 2010. Perhaps it depends on mood and expectations, but Wild Target is a wonderfully droll, effortlessly charming and spry action-comedy from the British school of black humour. Rarely less than tear-provokingly hilarious, this movie is a grand, quick-witted slice of entertainment which harkens back to the screwball heist comedies of yore; a time when making viewers laugh was more important than constructing an intricate narrative. Sure, the plot is not at all original and the film is somewhat predictable, but if you need a dose of quality British-flavoured comedy (i.e. offhand, self-deprecating, and coming in equal doses of light and black), you cannot afford to miss this one.

Rose (Blunt) is a con artist and a thief who exercises her significant sexual allure to cheat, lie and steal her way through the average day. For her latest scam, Rose looks to make a killing by selling a forged Rembrandt self-portrait to gangster Ferguson (Everett). Unfortunately, she doesn't get far before the scam is exposed and Rose finds herself face-to-face with legendary assassin Victor Maynard (Nighy). Victor fails to carry out the contract due to unexpected difficulties, however, and soon afterwards he accidentally protects Rose from a second set of hired guns. Leaving town with Rose and impressionable bystander Tony (Grint), Victor takes refuge in his stuffy home. As Rose teaches the uptight assassin to loosen up a tad, another hitman (Freeman) is hired to finish the job.

Directed by Jonathan Lynn (best known for the BBC series Yes, Minister), Wild Target is based on the 1993 French farce Cible émouvante but is so thoroughly and quintessentially English in both spirit and humour that its French origins are hard to detect. The central conceit of a trained killer being domesticated is nothing new, but Lynn and his writers (Lucinda Coxon and Pierre Salvadori) managed to construct a slant on the material that is fresh-feeling. There's a rapid-fire string of clever verbal and visual gags which provide a great deal of laughs, while the script is fertile ground for witty dialogue. One would expect things to become far less interesting once the three fugitives arrive at Victor's stately mansion, but the psychological humour is just getting started and there's almost always something funny happening. The pace is kept welcomely brisk throughout, with only a few moments that sag. Not many movies are capable of delivering quality laugh-out-loud hilarity, but Wild Target succeeds on this front. The humour may not be to everyone's taste, but Wild Target is guaranteed to make you laugh if you adore British comedy.

The trio of stars constituting the main characters - Nighy, Blunt and Grint - lighten up the screen of whatever film they're gallivanting through, and this is unchanged for Wild Target - they all have a lively synergy, and play off one another to deeply hilarious effect. Nobody does constipated English reserve better than Nighy, and in Wild Target he's as uptight as they come; parlaying his scarecrow-like physique into some of the stiffest slapstick imaginable. Alongside him, Emily Blunt is essentially the British Zooey Deschanel - flirty, indie-cute, irresistibly gorgeous, and well-dressed - and as Rose she was given welcome respite from her regular roles in Victorian-era costume dramas. Likewise, it is refreshing to see Rupert Grint - who has spent a full decade as Harry Potter's best friend - outside of the halls of Hogwarts for a change. Grint has real acting chops that he was able to express here. Together, Nighy, Grint and Blunt form a love triangle of acutely comic angles. Playing another hitman, Martin Freeman is in fine comedic form here; his hilariously exaggerated white teeth and spot-on comic timing are huge assets. To round out the cast, Rupert Everett and Eileen Atkins - as Ferguson and Victor's mother, respectively - clearly had an absolute ball playing their characters.

Perhaps Wild Target is a bit too unoriginal and a tad too neutered (consider the PG-13 rating), but it easily earns a recommendation. It did not deserve such a thorough trashing by the critics. Sure, it's no masterpiece, but it's a nice, fun, sprightly British diversion with good actors, a notably lively soundtrack, and plenty of quality gags. With Hollywood churning out masses of heavily clichéd, unfunny studio-produced comedies every single year, something like Wild Target should be intimately embraced.

7.7/10

The Adjustment Bureau is something rare: an enthralling, literate science fiction flick imbued with existential density, thematic texture, humanity and emotional warmth. In a sense, it is the motion picture that Christopher Nolan's over-celebrated, emotionally barren Inception should have been. Admittedly, there is a mainstream-friendly vibe pervading the final third of this picture, and a few clichés are inescapable, yet the movie succeeds due to the fact that the audience can easily become invested in the characters' fates. And, most importantly for a sci-fi thriller, The Adjustment Bureau poses thought-provoking questions and conveys provocative concepts. For a Hollywood product to tick such boxes in an age of brainless action extravaganzas, it's a miracle.

Electoral candidate David Norris (Damon) is on the verge of becoming the youngest congressman to be elected senator of New York. However, due to unforseen bad press on the eve of the election, he is robbed of would-be victory. Prior to his concession speech, David has a chance meeting with spirited dancer Elise (Blunt) and romantic sparks fly, but Elise scurries away before providing any contact details. Yet, it is David's experience with Elise that paves the way for the widely respected speech he delivers thereafter. Three fortuitous years later, David and Elise coincidentally cross paths again on a bus, and David attempts to woo her permanently. Unfortunately, the coupling apparently interferes with the "master plan" for both of their lives. Consequently, the Adjustment Bureau soon enters the picture. A group of formerly-dressed men who take orders from an enigmatic "Chairman", the Adjustment Bureau make sure everything goes to plan, and for unknown reasons they are determined to prevent David and Elise from falling in love.

The premise is derived from Philip K. Dick's 1954 short story The Adjustment Team. Like a majority of the cinematic adaptations of Dick's short stories, The Adjustment Bureau's writer-director George Nolfi was not entirely faithful to the original text, but he did retain the basic framework. Fortunately, before the sci-fi material takes hold, the film goes to great pains to put itself and its protagonist in the real world. There is a tremendous amount of character development during the film's first act, allowing us to get to know David as a flesh-and-blood human. Furthermore, perhaps the most remarkable thing about The Adjustment Bureau is that we can believe this romance from the start. When David and Elise have a leisurely conversation during their first meeting, there's a palpable romantic spark between them. It's easy to understand why the two are interested in each other, since, as humans, most of us can relate to the exhilarating feeling we experience when we meet and are dazzled by someone. Plus, the two characters simply click.

The Adjustment Bureau is a tight, resourceful thriller that's unhurried but does not waste a single second of screen-time. Once the foundation of David's everyday existence is shattered, the film shifts forward at breakneck fluidity with taut exposition and some exhilarating set-pieces. Yet, Nolfi did not forget how crucial the story's human side is. After all, at its heart, The Adjustment Bureau is a poignant, powerful romance between two people who seem right for each other but face a unique kind of force keeping them apart. As a matter of fact, it's genuinely surprisingly that The Adjustment Bureau is more of a romance than a sci-fi thriller. This is not to say that the Twilight Zone aspects are ignored or reduced to background colour, but the film is more concerned with provoking an emotional response than a logical one. The story is about love conquering all, and about people who risk everything for a chance at romantic joy and happiness.

Furthermore, it's impressive to note that the picture dabbles in numerous genres yet manages to be completely airtight in its tone. After kicking off as a politics-laced romantic comedy (WTF?!), The Adjustment Bureau eventually veers towards mystery, sci-fi, fantasy, action, and cat-and-mouse thriller. Also, without using any usual scare tactics that one might typically see in a B-grade horror flick, Nolfi was able to build a disquieting, eerie mood. This is Nolfi's directorial debut (his former day-job was as screenwriter extraordinaire, having co-written The Bourne Ultimatum and other films), and it's a promising one. Commendably, Nolfi managed to handle the exposition with consummate skill; teasing viewers with tiny pieces of godly reveal, and keeping the Bureau's origins playfully ambiguous. Credit is also due to veteran cinematographer John Toll who contributed to the stylish visual flair, and to Thomas Newman for his excellent score. The film's finale is utterly breathtaking, with a unique, pulse-pounding foot chase through the streets of New York. However, the tidy way the film wraps up does admittedly feel too mainstream-friendly. It's a satisfying ending, but perhaps a bit out-of-place in a film that's otherwise so unpredictable.

Matt Damon is pitch-perfect as David Norris. Damon comes across as intrinsically human without ever having to try, and he's an easy protagonist to care about and relate to. Alongside him, Emily Blunt is an excellent match for Damon, and their blistering chemistry fortunately keeps the focus on the characters rather than the mechanics of the narrative. Meanwhile, as members of the Adjustment Bureau, John Slattery and Anthony Mackie are both strong performers, and look as if they walked right out of a black-and-white 1940s movie and into this one. Rounding out the main players is Terence Stamp, who afforded a perfect amount of iciness and regality to his role.

Considering the usual standard for big-budget Hollywood motion pictures in this day and age, it is indeed refreshing to witness a film like The Adjustment Bureau; an assured, smart, creative sci-fi thriller which does not forget about humanity and warmth.

8.2/10

From Rocky to Raging Bull to Million Dollar Baby, boxing films have existed as Oscar staples for decades. Suffice it to say, it's challenging - if not impossible - to find anything new or fresh to mine in the frequently-exploited genre. Hence, 2010's The Fighter does not flourish as an original offering of filmmaking since it's both an underdog story of boxing glory as well as a tale of brutes in a harsh working class corner of Boston. The Fighter retrieves inspiration from deep within its heart, though, as it dissects the true-life story of Irish boxer Micky Ward and his brother Dicky. Much like its real-world inspiration, this is an agitated picture which possesses overwhelming spirit to overcome its dreary familiarity. Plus, freed from any real narrative suspense, a viewer is given the chance to focus on what's fresh and new: the matter-of-fact filming style, the lived-in atmosphere, and a handful of absolutely exceptional performances courtesy of an unbelievably talented cast.

In 1978, professional boxer Dicky Eklund (Bale) was labelled "The Pride of Lowell" in his small Massachusetts town after knocking down the then-unstoppable boxer Sugar Ray Leonard in a much-publicised match. Fast forward to the early '90s, and Dicky now spends his time training his brother Micky (Wahlberg) and doing drugs. However, the combination of Dicky's ineffective training (as a consequence of his crack habit) and the incompetent management of his mother (Leo) results in Micky getting pummelled in the ring. Facing a dire future, Micky is spurred on by his strong-willed girlfriend Charlene (Adams) to make a change and break away from the control of his dysfunctional family in order to begin taking steps towards respectability on the boxing circuit. While Micky's decision sends him to victorious heights, it also threatens to shun Dicky and crush his intense world of brotherly adoration.

The Fighter immaculately fuses the pleasures of a big entertainment with the provocative food-for-thought elements of a movie with loftier goals in mind than being a simple diversion. Like most films of this ilk, this is far more than a boxing picture - it's more of a character drama, and more of an examination of the struggles of life than a look at the challenges inside the ring. The family drama elements are compelling, pungent and brutal, as it's heartbreaking to witness Micky being torn between his desire to pursue a championship and his loyalty to his mother and brother. The script (credited to Scott Silver, Eric Johnson and Paul Tamasy) does an effective job of conveying Micky's emotional and professional trajectory, while helmer David O. Russell and cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema eschewed technical razzle-dazzle in favour of a raw, gritty filming approach to emphasise character and emotion. The in-the-ring action, too, is hard-hitting and well-crafted. The Fighter is also enhanced by an excellent soundtrack of propulsive songs and pounding rhythms, with staple training montages in which you could be forgiven for wondering whether Gonna Fly Now is about to play.

Due to the common theme of boxing, comparisons to Sylvester Stallone's Rocky are inevitable, but perhaps a more apt comparison for The Fighter would be Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler. It's no coincidence that Aronofsky was originally attached to direct but eventually stayed on as producer. See, both The Fighter and The Wrestler are grim, reality-driven pictures which do not shy away from portraying the difficulties of life. Neither The Wrestler nor The Fighter feel like fairytales, and the way things pan out for each film's protagonist is secondary to the lessons learned along the way. Furthermore, the titles of both The Wrestler and The Fighter imply the impersonal; describing a man's title rather than describing a fully-defined individual. Similarly, if both words are taken as verbs rather than nouns, they also imply the struggles of the protagonists who wrestle with or fight off the challenges of life. The ambiguousness of The Fighter's title even extends to the fact that it's unclear whether it refers to Dicky or Micky since both men fit the description.

Amazingly immersive performances courtesy of both Christian Bale and Melissa Leo signify The Fighter's biggest assets, as reflected in the fact that both stars received Academy Awards. During Bale's adult carer, the actor has shown a tendency to take himself way too seriously, leading to the development of a hardened, humourless and drab screen persona (see The Dark Knight and Terminator Salvation). For his role of Dicky, Bale finally let loose and delivered a perfectly-nuanced, phenomenal performance - this is the enormously talented Bale that we remember seeing in American Psycho. Bale spent countless hours with the real-life Dicky to study his mannerisms, and he lost weight to the point of being nearly unrecognisable. Bale won his first Oscar for this role, and it's much-deserved.

Meanwhile, Amy Adams was cast against type. Usually known for sweet and innocent roles, Adams adopted the persona of a confrontational bitch to play Charlene. Adams disperses innumerable profanities and does not shy away from physical violence. Yet, Charlene also has a softer and sexier side. Happily, Adams managed to nail every facet of the character. Alongside her, Mark Wahlberg's performance as Micky is the least "showy". His line readings are simple and direct, yet he's also staggeringly effective, not to mention he represents the anchor that both holds the production in place and allows performers around him to take flight. Wahlberg did not receive an Oscar nomination, but this is among his best work in years. The only place where The Fighter stumbles is in the depiction of Micky and Charlene's relationship, which is underdeveloped. The pair abruptly and bafflingly transition from awkward first date to committed relationship. It may work from a narrative standpoint but not emotionally, which is bewildering in a picture otherwise imbued with so much heart and soul. This is especially disappointing since Micky and Charlene's relationship is the catalyst which helps Micky break free and become his own person.

For several years, Mark Wahlberg worked arduously to try and get this project off the ground, and continued with a strict training and diet regime over said years to ensure he would be in proper shape for whenever the film was green-lit. Fortunately, his hard work and determination has paid off with a film that lives up to his hopes for it. The Fighter is simply an outstanding motion picture. The movie works not only due to its unflinching realism and sturdy writing, but also due to exemplary performances across the board.

8.8/10

Once upon a time in 1998, Bobby and Peter Farrelly pushed the envelope of raunchy comedy with their breakout hit There's Something About Mary. A few years on, the brothers created the equally hilarious Me, Myself & Irene. Unfortunately, since then, the brothers have been stuck in a serious rut - throughout the noughties they directed several subpar comedies which disappointed their fans and showed that the duo has gotten softer. 2011's Hall Pass therefore represented an attempt by the Farrelly brothers to reclaim the crown they lost over a decade ago. Thankfully, Hall Pass is hilarious; denoting a return to form for the brothers. It's not exactly on par with the pair's best movies, but this flick is gut-bustingly funny and the story is more thoughtful than expected. See, the brothers gleaned a few tricks from Judd Apatow's playbook, meaning that there's an element of sweetness buried underneath the nudity, bodily fluid jokes, and faecal matter.

Real estate agent Rick (Wilson) and his best friend Fred (Sudeikis) are two middle-aged schlubs who are married, respectively, to Maggie (Fischer) and Grace (Applegate). Despite being married, neither Rick nor Fred can help but ogle every good-looking woman they stumble across. Tired of their husbands' perpetually wandering eyes and sensing that the spark of their relationships may have faded, Maggie and Grace opt to take the advice of a neighbourhood friend and grant Rick and Fred a "hall pass" - that is, one week free from marriage in which the guys can do whatever they want (without consequences) in order to get the sexual urges out of their systems. Initially taken aback by the news, they soon become gung-ho at the notion of living it up like college guys. Confronted with their wildest dreams come true, Rick and Fred embark on a weeklong series of misadventures desperate to find willing women.

Naturally, Rick and Fred - and, for that matter, Maggie and Grace - will inevitably realise just how precious their partners are to them, and realise the week has given them a newfound appreciation for their home life. Of course, too, the characters are going to have second thoughts about going through with affairs. And of course, there will be the obligatory climactic make-ups. This stuff is as predictable as the tide. Yet, even though these arcs are in the service of formula and although you can predict them a mile away, at least there is some actual sweetness amidst the vulgarity. Interestingly, the Farrelly brothers have stated that they believe Hall Pass to be a chick flick. While this may sound like a strange possibility for a movie full of gross-out humour, it's almost true since the wives of the movie also undergo eye-opening epiphanies. It's a strange audience to target, though, since middle-aged women are likely to turn off the movie within the first half an hour, and it's doubtful they'll sit through an entire scene of full-frontal penis nudity. As a side note, where the hell did Rick and Maggie's kids go? They literally disappear after the midway point, and are never seen again.

Hall Pass definitely earns its R-rating. It's not as if the movie merely contains a couple of f-bombs and a few nudity shots - rather, it's packed with a constant barrage of low-brow but hilarious gags and quite a lot of graphic nudity. Yet, not all of the comedy here is of the raunchy or gross-out variety (the Law & Order scene transition noise is recurringly used to side-splitting effect), though it's hard to imagine Hall Pass appealing to anybody who does not appreciate silly humour. Admittedly, the biggest laughs are a bit too few and far between, but at least the movie never grows excruciating between the best set-pieces. A major drawback of Hall Pass, though, is that the utter futility and joylessness of the hall pass becomes the focus of the film, which is ill-advised. The Farrelly brothers perhaps played things a bit too safe, and should have instead mined the premise for all its blackest potential. After all, the plot is morally reprehensible enough as it is, so it seems pointless to soften the proceedings.

Owen Wilson is predictably fine and amiable as Rick, though he adopted his stereotypical straight-man shtick and none of the material truly tests his thespian talents. Alongside him, Jason Sudeikis ably slipped into the role of Fred with the demented everyman persona which defined most of his Saturday Night Live oeuvre. The standout performance, though (to the extent that there can be a standout in a production of this sort), was delivered by the perpetually-reliable Richard Jenkins. Jenkins does not appear until the film's final third, but, when he does arrive, he dominates every scene he's in. Never less than hilarious, Jenkins proved here that he's as good with comedy as he is with drama. Another of the feature's highest points is Nicky Whelan (from the terrible 9th season of Scrubs), who's stunningly beautiful and charismatic as the sweet-natured Leigh. Also worth mentioning is Brit comedian Stephen Merchant, whose brand of comedy lightens up several sequences. Stick around momentarily during the end credits, as there's an additional scene involving Merchant that's side-splitting.

Hall Pass lacks the same kick of the earlier films by the Farrelly brothers, but it nonetheless shows enough flashes of '90s-Farrelly magic to make the film worth watching. Considering the usual standard for studio comedies, it is indeed refreshing to witness a comedy which not only has the balls to go the hard-R route but also contains actual moments of inspired hilarity. Nonetheless, one cannot help but wonder what the '90s-era Farrelly brothers might have made of it.

6.1/10