Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"We don't assume the worst of our best people and we don't sell them out at the first sign of trouble!"

One supposes that 2015's Survivor was initially intended for bigger things. With veteran action director James McTeigue (V for Vendetta, Ninja Assassin) at the helm and a cast that features the likes of Milla Jovovich and Pierce Brosnan, one must wonder if the feature might have been originally targeted for a decently-marketed theatrical run. Seeing the finished product, though, it's obvious why it's being dumped in only a handful of theatres. Written by first-time feature film scribe Philip Shelby, Survivor clearly wants to be taken with a straight face, but cooks up far too much narrative ludicrousness to achieve this goal. Moreover, it doesn't even manage to deliver as a B-movie, with minimal action scenes and very little in the way of fun. McTeigue was apparently asleep throughout filming, as the pacing is flat, the action is mundane, and the performances are blank. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Survivor came from the tired mills of Nu Image/Millennium Films and was produced by the likes of Avi Lerner and Boaz Davidson. Did anyone expect quality?

At the United States Embassy in London, Kate (Jovovich) handles the distribution of visas. Upon meeting Dr. Emil Balan (Roger Rees), a few suspicious details stick out to Kate, who begins an investigation that provokes an unexpectedly hostile response from government officials. Despite support from her boss (Dylan McDermott), Kate is pushed out of the job and is soon marked for death when an expert assassin known as The Watchmaker (Brosnan) is assigned to take her out. Kate narrowly avoids death in a bombing intended to finish her off and becomes framed for both the bombing and the subsequent murder of her boss. With the government and her former colleagues trying to track her, and with The Watchmaker prowling around, Kate takes it upon herself to find out what Balan is actually up to.

Due to The Watchmaker's presence, Survivor could have been a smart action-thriller similar to Michael Mann's Collateral, but McTeigue and co. are not sophisticated enough. This should be a sizzling white-knuckler beset with plot twists, especially with a story as labyrinthine as this, but the film boils down to a lot of computer screens and running around whilst we observe the bad guys doing evil things. Thus, there's no mystery here - no tension or suspense to transform the picture into a heated nail-biter. And no amount of overzealous music or repetitive chase scenes can change that. It doesn't help that the screenplay is all over the shop, with verbose exposition and inconsistent characters (James D'Arcy just disappears into the final third). Plus, the fact that Kate is stymied by her boss in the first five minutes openly telegraphs the only twist there is (I think?). Speaking of Kate, she turns into action hero extraordinaire, able to outrun cops and fight trained professionals. It's such a tangible girl power trip that one cannot help but facepalm as she sets off to kill the bad guys alone as if she were Rambo's daughter.

For whatever reason, Survivor is a PG-13 endeavour when the material would be a better fit for an R-rated actioner. Firearm wounds are hilariously underplayed, people expire off-screen, and the movie can never quite find the hard-edged tone that it searches for. Since the movie debuted via on-demand services (and maybe two cinemas), the choice to go PG-13 is really bewildering. Not that excessive violence would've improved the movie much, but at least it might've been a bit more fun. Although Survivor admittedly looks a bit more cinematic than your typical DTV outing, McTeigue is unable to truly bring the material to life, which can probably be attributed to slipshod scripting and the predominantly Bulgarian locations. Indeed, the movie was shot on the cheap in dull areas around Bulgaria, and it shows - no amount of polish can compensate for this. If the reported $20 million budget is accurate, 99% of it clearly went to the actors.

Brosnan's utmost professionalism is a given at this stage, with the aging actor an ideal pick for this assassin role. He gives off a steely, cold demeanour, and you can definitely buy him as the bad guy, but The Watchmaker is the most incompetent screen hitman in recent memory. He has the chance to kill Kate on more than one occasion but mucks it up through nothing more than contrivance. In one scene, he feels compelled to approach Kate who's lying on the ground as if to give her a chance to fight back. The climax is particularly embarrassing, as Kate manages to not only match the supposedly master assassin in close combat but better him. Fans of Brosnan would do wise to stay away from this one, as his appearance amounts to a glorified cameo anyway. Indeed, Survivor is the Milla Jovovich show. Not even the mildly impressive supporting cast are given the chance to shine, with McDermott given almost nothing to do while Angela Bassett pushes papers and talks tough. What a waste.

Survivor closes with a title card to remind us of the heroic actions of the New York City police department in a post-9/11 world, which reinforces that the movie wanted to be a serious thriller about global terrorism. What a shame that the finished product is such a throwaway viewing experience, beset with laughable moments and terrible dialogue, eroding whatever sense of authenticity that Shelby's script apparently wanted to introduce. No wonder the movie is being silently released without any marketing push.

3.2/10

"Nobody likes you. Everybody hates you. You're gonna lose. Smile, you fuck."

Despite being a standalone action movie, 1991's The Last Boy Scout walks and talks like a Die Hard sequel, as it features a foul-mouthed Bruce Willis as a burnt-out cop who finds himself in an undesirable situation. Whereas the disappointing fourth and fifth Die Hard pictures were, ultimately, Die Hard in name only, The Last Boy Scout is Die Hard in everything except name, and will no doubt prove both refreshing and satisfying to any disillusioned fans of the franchise. Penned by the always-reliable Shane Black, the film suffered a troubled production period, with director Tony Scott and producer Joel Silver sharing a tumultuous relationship, and with Stuart Baird being recruited to heavily re-edit the picture to salvage it. Yet, none of these issues are apparent in the finished product - it's an assured, fun romp with sparkling dialogue and superb action sequences.

A former secret service agent who once saved the President's life, Joe Hallenbeck (Willis) has fallen on hard times. Now a worn-out private detective, his daughter (Danielle Harris) despises him and things aren't exactly happily-ever-after with his wife Sarah (Chelsea Field). Assigned to protect a young stripper named Cory (Halle Berry), Joe's skills are tested when she is gunned down by a group of thugs. To resolve the case, Joe reluctantly teams up with Cory's boyfriend, a one-time pro quarterback named Jimmy Dix (Damon Wayans). Digging deeper, they uncover evidence of deep-seated corruption involving a crooked politician and the wealthy owner of a football team.

One of the more notable aspects of The Last Boy Scout is its sensational opening scene, which kicks things off on a high (and violent) note. Black was at the pinnacle of his Hollywood screenwriting career when he penned this movie, with Warner Bros. paying him a record-breaking $1.75 million sum for his efforts. Fresh off his success with Lethal Weapon, Black has devised a fascinating mash-up of classic film genres - this is essentially a contemporary take on the hardboiled film noir private detective story. Black's Lethal Weapon experience served him well, as The Last Boy Scout is a buddy action movie that treads similar thematic ground. To be sure, the screenplay is comprised of several archetypal action movie chestnuts, but it's the execution that shines. Indeed, the dialogue is a frequent source of amusement, with one-liners that remain side-splitting to this day. Black has a reputation for witty dialogue, and this skill is ever-present throughout the movie. Better yet, with an R-rating, profanity is permitted, which gives the bantering an extra sparkle. The final third of Black's original script was retooled and the climax was altered, a choice that irked Black, but the movie still comes together. It works.

Although formulaic on the whole, The Last Boy Scout is enormously entertaining in the hands of the late Tony Scott. In his latter years, Scott's moviemaking revolved around quick-cuts and other gimmicks, but this is an old-school effort - the action is captured through a smooth routine of steady camerawork and masterful composition, courtesy of cinematographer Ward Russell. The Last Boy Scout also shines due to its graphic violence. This is by no means a sanitised PG-13 offering, as Scott relishes the chance to go nuts with blood squibs. It's glorious, with the film emerging as both dark and thrilling. It helps that pacing is strong as well, with Baird's editorial input clearly resulting in a smooth experience. Topping everything off is the soundtrack courtesy of Michael Kamen, who also scored the first three Die Hard instalments and various other classic action movies. Kamen reportedly disliked this film and only participated out of respect to Willis and Silver, yet his contributions are nevertheless strong.

Hallenbeck is, essentially, John McClane from Die Hard, only more bitter and depressed. The role is a perfect fit for Willis' talents, finding the actor right at home with one-liners and insults. Willis cares less and less with each passing movie these days, but The Last Boy Scout finds him in fine form. It's the good old Willis we all love; the reluctant hero who survives dangerous situations by cracking wise. Not to mention, it's possible to care about Hallenbeck, as he has gotten the short end of the stick and tries to be a good dad. Wayans, meanwhile, makes for a sublime sparring partner for Willis - he's a damn sight better than Justin Long and Jai Courtney from the latter-day Die Hard sequels. Together, Willis and Wayans are hilarious and kick a lot of arse. Also notable is Taylor Negron, who's superb as one of the villains here. Negron is a threatening presence, and he's given strong support from Noble Willingham as the shady Sheldon Marcone.

Years on, The Last Boy Scout holds up as a mightily enjoyable early-'90s actioner, supported by strong performances, plenty of humour, and a generous serving of thrilling, violent action. It has real stakes and some sinister villains, yet it also doesn't take itself too seriously. It's cheesy fun with insanely quotable one-liners, Halle Berry as a stripper, and Willis unofficially playing John McClane again. Fans of macho action movies from this period owe it to themselves to watch it.

8.2/10

"I'm the person that's gonna cut your dick off and glue it to your forehead so you look like a limp-dick unicorn, that's who the fuck I am!"

Even though 2013's The Heat was a word-of-mouth success that earned an inexplicable amount of praise, this reviewer found it tedious - an unfocused action-comedy in need of tighter editing, sharper scripting, and a more competent craftsman at the helm. There was not much hope, then, for director Paul Feig's follow-up effort, 2015's Spy. Miraculously, though, the resultant movie is a marked improvement over The Heat, even if it falls short of perfection. To be sure, Spy is definitely overlong and crass, not to mention it panders to a handful of "girl power" tropes (it's more of a feminist action movie than the phenomenal Mad Max: Fury Road). Nevertheless, it is handsomely produced and benefits from the presence of an amicable cast, most notably the always-reliable Jason Statham, the charming Jude Law, and the underrated Peter Serafinowicz.

Despite being a star pupil in training, CIA analyst Susan Cooper (Melissa McCarthy) is stuck in an office all day every day, yearning for the chance to become a field agent. She's a resourceful asset to the team, dedicated to helping the suave Bradley Fine (Law) in every aspect of his life, from helping him through dangerous situations to doing his laundry. During an operation to investigate Bulgarian arms dealer Raina Boyanov (Rose Byrne), it is revealed that the names and faces of all active field agents have been compromised, leaving the CIA unsure of how to proceed. Cooper, however, puts her hand up, volunteering to travel to Rome to provide surveillance on Boyanov. It's not as easy as anticipated, though, especially with the overzealous Rick Ford (Statham) not taking kindly to being excluded from the assignment.

As with The Heat, Spy's narrative is definitely too convoluted, as it meanders around searching for direction before settling on a climax. This episodic structure in itself is not a bad thing, as classic films like The Blues Brothers utilise it, but Feig is not quite talented enough to sustain the movie through to the finish line. It is funny, especially whenever Statham is around, but it's nothing overly memorable. As evidenced in Bridesmaids and The Heat, Feig's comedy is derived from the shock value of crass humour and vulgar language to compensate for the lack of actual wit. While an R-rated comedy is to be cherished in this day and age, Feig fails to fulfil the project's potential. The director also has a tendency to hold onto punch lines and scenes of improvisation for far too long, displaying too much trust in the ensemble. Consequently, pacing is often fairly sedate, and the issue is exacerbated by the undeniable fact that the movie is over-plotted.

It's palpable from the outset that Feig has placed his parody crosshairs on the James Bond franchise, even kicking off with a 007-style opening credits sequence, and establishing an unmistakable spy thriller vibe. Perhaps the king of action-comedy was 2007's Hot Fuzz, a British romp that managed to be both a kick-ass actioner and a side-splitting comedy. Spy lacks the sparkle of wit that elevated Hot Fuzz, on top of coming up short in the action department. Astonishingly, Spy appears to be the first major motion picture to employ digital muzzle flashes as opposed to actual blank-firing weapons, a baffling choice that's incredibly distracting, not to mention the CGI blood is some of the very worst ever seen in cinema (The Expendables included). A few brief shots of digital blood puffs would be acceptable, but Feig lingers, using slow motion for no good reason, allowing us to observe the computer-generated viscera in all its phoney non-glory. Admittedly, though, the movie is elevated to an extent by the fight choreography, with McCarthy given the chance to show off some impressive moves. It's ridiculous of course, but all part of the joke.

McCarthy's track record as a lead actress has been shonky, to say the least; she's insufferable in The Heat, Identity Thief and Tammy. Although Spy makes use of McCarthy's typical persona, she doesn't get on the nerves as much here, and she does score a few laughs. But ultimately, Spy works as an ensemble piece, and it helps that McCarthy is surrounded by plenty of talented thespians. This is Statham's first comedy since Guy Ritchie's Snatch. fifteen years ago, yet he displays top-notch comedic timing, not to mention he's completely willing to play an utter cartoon, merrily parodying his own action star image. It's particularly amusing to see the tough guy trying to disguise himself in various get-ups. He thoroughly upstages McCarthy, and though it's a shame the movie didn't centre on him, it's the element of surprise that makes Statham's appearances so hilarious. Also of note is British funny-man Serafinowicz, who's over-the-top in all the right ways, scoring more laughs than McCarthy despite limited screen-time. Australian actress Byrne makes a positive impression as well, shining with her deadpan line delivery and amusing accent. Meanwhile, Law plays a Bond-style secret agent with ample finesse.

Hidden somewhere within Spy's bloated two-hour runtime is an adequate ninety-minute action-comedy, and one cannot help but wonder what the film would have looked like if Feig's script had been revised by a more refined comedy writer. And ultimately, the outlook for Feig's impending all-female Ghostbusters reboot looks all the shakier, as the helmer exhibits none of the comic timing, wit or innovation of the 1984 original, not to mention it remains to be see if Feig can even handle a PG-13 comedy since his humour almost exclusively relies on profanity.

6.1/10

"Great, just great. We're in the worst place in the world and we're not even being paid."

The law of diminishing returns always catches up with popular franchises at some point. While some may contend that Jurassic Park's first sequel, The Lost World, was a subpar follow-up, it remains a robust continuation that deserves more love in this reviewer's opinion. But a similar defence cannot be mounted against 2001's Jurassic Park III, which is nothing more than a big-budget B-movie lacking the scientific underpinnings of its predecessors. With Steven Spielberg relinquishing the director's chair to blockbuster purveyor Joe Johnston, this is a Jurassic Park adventure with many hungry dinosaurs but very little in the way of substance, intelligence or suspense. It's entertaining to a point, but too episodic and clichéd, not to mention it features dumb characters doing silly things, and it suffers from a contrived narrative. There is a reason why this franchise remained dormant for a subsequent fourteen years.

Following the events of the first movie, palaeontologist Dr. Alan Grant (Sam Neill) still lives in the shadow of the experience, being consistently badgered for information about Jurassic Park. Approached by wealthy married couple Paul (William H. Macy) and Amanda (Tea Leoni), he's given a proposition: they will pay him handsomely if he accompanies them on a plane trip over Isla Sorna and acts as their dinosaur expert. Alan reluctantly agrees, bringing along his young, wide-eyed assistant Billy (Alessandro Nivola) for company. As it turns out, however, Paul and Amanda are separated and have travelled to Isla Sorna to search for their son, Eric (Trevor Morgan), who is stranded on the island. Gee, do you think their plane might be destroyed, leaving them to deal with rampaging dinosaurs for an hour?

Michael Crichton only published two Jurassic Park novels, meaning that the trio of credited writers here had to develop an original story, and the result lacks any sort of intelligent backbone. One has to wonder, though, why Crichton's The Lost World wasn't used as a basis for this sequel since Spielberg's motion picture of the same name bears a minimal resemblance to its literary namesake. Crichton himself actually helped the writers come up with ideas but quit when he failed to conceive of something satisfying. Go figure. Jurassic Park III progresses like a bog-standard B-movie, with mostly flat dialogue and a poor structure. Indeed, it lacks a legitimate climax, fizzling out with an odd deus ex machina that cannot hold a candle to the iconic sequences that closed the prior features. Furthermore, it lacks a solid beginning and end, which gives credence to the rumour that there was no finished script in place when filming began.

Johnston and his team seem to have forgotten that 1993’s Jurassic Park only featured fourteen minutes of dinosaur screen-time - and of that, only four minutes was comprised of computer-generated beasts. Jurassic Park III neglects the build-up and the masterful sense of tension that Spielberg was renowned for, with the dinosaurs here starting their rampaging barely twenty minutes into the movie. The less is more approach of the original picture remains far more effective - after all, in that movie, several nail-biting minutes are spent observing the characters in utter terror as they hear the T-Rex approaching. Even The Lost World managed to continue the franchise in an admirable fashion. But none of that deft sleight-of-hand is present here - Jurassic Park III is all about the money shots. It would not be too much of an issue if this was a proper, cheesy B-movie with R-rated violence like Deep Blue Sea, but it's not. Instead, we're stuck with goofy sequences like a talking fucking raptor in Alan's dream. Plus, John Williams did not return to compose the soundtrack, and the resultant score sounds like a limp imitation.

If nothing else, Jurassic Park III does offer brisk entertainment and a handful of action scenes that are admittedly enjoyable. It certainly looks good, with sturdy production values and solid cinematography that masterfully captures the dinosaur action. The animatronic dinos are terrific for the most part, though some sequences look a tad shonky. Surprisingly, the computer-generated beasts are actually a step down in quality compared to its predecessors - they often look surprisingly phoney. This is probably attributable to the fact that the dinosaurs are on-screen so much, making it a case of quantity over quality. Also, the movie commits a cardinal sin by showing the new Spinosaurus battling everyone's favourite dinosaur, the Tyrannosaurus Rex, and coming out on top. It's an attempt to up the stakes and announce the Spinosaurus as the new king, but the sequence doesn't sit right.

Performances are standard across the board, with Neill doing what he can while the other actors are simply there. Jurassic Park III is also predictable with its ensemble; no major characters are allowed to die off, with the unimportant side roles becoming dino fodder. It just detracts a lot of tension from the action set-pieces, which are in need of a more nuanced craftsman like Spielberg. At the end of the day, Jurassic Park III is watchable, but generic and forgettable. And the end result is a crime compared to the majestic motion picture that spawned it.

5.1/10

"I learned something from war... never start a fight you can't win."

Westerns, it would seem, have suffered an unfortunate decline in the 21st Century, with sporadic gems like 3:10 to Yuma and The Proposition occasionally surfacing to remind us that life still endures in this longstanding genre. Luckily, The Salvation can now be confidently added to the list of great contemporary westerns - it's an instant classic. Rather than breaking considerable new ground, The Salvation is content to be a fairly formulaic tale set in the Wild West, as it's a motion picture more concerned with execution than reinvention. Despite its Danish origins, this is a very American tale of revenge and tragedy, essentially a Hollywood movie with a distinctly foreign verve. By forgoing pretentions, it's a stripped-down, taut action offering that's low on narrative flab, harkening back to the western genre's golden days from decades ago.

After many years of battle as a soldier, Denmark native Jon (Mads Mikkelsen) and his brother Peter (Mikael Persbrandt) move away from their homeland to forge a new life in the American West. Jon is soon joined by his wife and child, but their domestic happiness is not to last: during the trip home, they are brutally attacked by drunken scoundrel Paul (Michael Raymond-James) and his friend, leaving only Jon alive. In a fit of rage, Jon kills the murderous pair, but word of Paul's death soon spreads to his brother Delarue (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), a ruthless gang leader who promises to kill innocent civilians every day until Jon is captured. Jon and Peter attempt to skip town, but Delarue's wrath is soon brought upon them, leaving Jon anxious to hunt down the outlaw himself or die trying.

Rather than a sprawling western epic or a profound historical document, The Salvation is a lean little revenge picture that predominantly takes place in the town of Black Creek. It's more or less a Death Wish knockoff set in the American West, and while that may sound unspectacular, it's unusually refreshing. Director/co-writer Kristian Levring doesn't succumb to a lot of pratfalls associated with modern action films, imbuing the production with genuine gravitas. Dialogue is sparse and effective, and storytelling is focused, with Levring doing a terrific job of maintaining interest all the way through to the end. Do not mistake this gem for some trashy, B-grade junk that might as well have gone straight-to-video, as there's class and restraint here, and it doesn't feel cheap or nasty. It's B-grade material brought to life through A-grade execution. It's not a guilty pleasure - it's just a pleasure.

Levring makes brilliant use of the South African locations, assembling one of the most visually arresting westerns since Quentin Tarantino's Django Unchained. The Salvation may have been lensed digitally (this is more of a celluloid genre), but the cinematography is eye-catching, with Levring and director of photography Jens Schlosser showing a breathtaking eye for composition and colour, with a push towards browns and yellows. The meagre budget is never a drawback, as production values are gorgeous; it looks and sounds like North America in the 19th Century, especially with the astute sound design and the effective, low-key score topping it all off. Levring stages a handful of exciting set-pieces during which he utilises sturdy camera angles, and there's a sense of authority that pervades the movie's entire 90-minute runtime. Admittedly, The Salvation doesn't do everything right, with a few sequences of CGI flames that look atrocious, but this is a minor quibble.

As Jon, Mikkelsen is expectedly brilliant, demonstrating yet again that he's one of the finest thespians working in film and TV today. He's intoxicating to watch, a riveting and charismatic screen presence, and he's ideal in the lead role, portraying grief with laser accuracy and refusing to overplay anything. The rest of the performances are immaculate, with Eva Green deserving a special mention for doing something outstanding without the benefit of any dialogue. Indeed, Green is mute all the way through, but her facial expressions and body language tell her story effectively. Equally impressive is Morgan, playing the most brutal villain in recent memory. Delarue has no time for dilly-dallying around; he pulls the trigger without any hesitation and kills without any compunction. He's a sinister threat, and Morgan absolutely nails it, establishing a subtle sense of danger and menace through understated dialogue delivery.

Viewers seeking genre reinvention are sure to be disappointed, as The Salvation is not that kind of movie. Rather, it's a western which shows tremendous respect for the old spaghetti westerns and Hollywood cowboy films, recapturing the same kind of spirit, and it fulfills its duty admirably. The Salvation is an intense, lean and mightily engaging actioner; one of the manliest productions of the year.

8.6/10

"My world is reduced to a single instinct: Survive. As the world fell it was hard to know who was more crazy. Me... Or everyone else."

In the three decades since the release of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, franchise mastermind George Miller has participated in a number of questionable projects, helming the likes of Babe: Pig in the City and the two animated Happy Feet features. But 2015's long-gestating Mad Max: Fury Road suggests that the Australian filmmaker has found his mojo again, creating an insane post-apocalyptic action movie beset with the franchise's idiosyncrasies; it retains a feral and at times darkly comic edge, and this wasteland is inhabited with perverted supporting characters. Studio involvement is what ultimately led to the misfire of Beyond Thunderdome, and it would seem that everybody learnt their lesson - Fury Road is all Miller, with the crazy filmmaker using a $150 million budget to visualise a genuinely gonzo future. Blockbusters these days are so concerned with the patented Christopher Nolan approach of dour self-seriousness and faux gravitas, which makes it all the more refreshing to witness a purely fun spectacle like this. It's a large-scale, R-rated Mad Max movie, and the best action blockbuster in decades. It's a genuine gift.

With the world now reduced to a stark desert wasteland, former law enforcer Max Rockatansky (Tom Hardy) traverses the wilderness in search for food and water to sustain his existence. But following a chase, Max is imprisoned by maniac Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne), who rules a fortress known as the Citadel, farming water from the ground and giving precious little to the thousands of starving denizens. On a mission to collect gas for Joe, driver Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron) decides to go rogue, smuggling Joe's five wives (Zoe Kravitz, Riley Keough, Abbey Lee, Rosie Huntington-Whitely, Courtney Eaton) out of hell in search of a fresh start. In hot pursuit are Joe and his War Boys, with Max brought along for blood transfusion purposes. Freeing himself after a struggle, Max uneasily forms an alliance with the women, while a War Boy named Nux (Nicholas Hoult) is also keen to help out as Immortan Joe and his marauding army rapidly close in.

Although Fury Road may be perceived by some as a reboot, that's not entirely accurate. These days, reboots feel the need to start with an origin story, in the process negating all the preceding flicks, but Miller wisely avoids this increasingly frustrating trend: Fury Road is more or less Mad Max 4, and although it arrives with a brand new cast, it can easily be considered a sequel to the Mel Gibson films since it doesn't ignore or contradict them. Rather, it simply feels like another movie set in this post-apocalyptic future, which is fitting since the previous Mad Max movies were never inherently tied to one another in the first place. The result is incredibly refreshing; a film that plays equally well for fans as well as the uninitiated. It even opens with a voiceover reminiscent of Mad Max 2 which sets the tone for what ensues.

Pacing is one of Fury Road's strongest suits, as this picture really moves. The first half-hour or so simply flies by, boasting an efficient opening segment that leads into a breathless vehicular chase that's genuinely gripping. Although the picture fundamentally amounts to one long chase, it does feature some downtime to develop the characters, even introducing a hint of pathos as Nux is shown to have retained some semblance of humanity in this crazy world. Moreover, Miller does wisely by developing the characters and plot through visuals, in turn never letting the pace lag. The film has gravitas and a political voice, but a lot of the themes and metaphors are subtly conveyed through the visuals rather than excessive dialogue. It enriches the already extraordinary experience, and also allows the flick to improve on repeat viewings. Admittedly, with Furiosa doing a lot of heavy-lifting, Max does seem almost like a secondary character, but that's always been the case with the sequels - Max simply finds himself in a crises of good vs. evil, and chooses a side. What matters is that Max actually has things to do and has a bearing on the ultimate outcome of the narrative, two boxes that Fury Road ticks.

Miller recaptures the spirit of the earlier movies by relying on grittiness and practical effects, an incredible feat for a blockbuster in the 21st Century. The lunacy is executed using stuntmen and real vehicles, with tastefully-utilised digital effects reserved for removing wires and safety harnesses. In fact, beyond a brief sandstorm sequence, there appears to be no CGI at all beyond a few tiny touch-ups, which generates the type of raw thrills that we haven't seen since the '90s. One has to wonder just how Miller managed to stage and shoot some of the action beats, as they are genuinely off the hook. Miller and cinematographer John Seale sustain the chase sequences exquisitely, building and maintaining a sense of honest-to-goodness tension by refusing to show any degree of sentimentality towards the characters. Beyond Thunderdome's kiddie ensemble were 100% safe from harm, but characters here are constantly killed off. It's sensational, and the mayhem is scored to perfection by Junkie XL, whose thunderous compositions add extra oomph to this phenomenal movie. Fury Road is brutal to boot, and features a few delightfully gory killings. Miller's penchant for realistic injuries (he used to work in a hospital) again surfaces here, though the R rating is not pushed to its boundaries.

The Mad Max series has always featured gaudy production design, and thankfully this aspect is retained for Fury Road. It's a fever dream of details, with Miller obviously having a ball for his return to the Mad Max sandbox. With the biggest budget of the series so far, Miller brings his insane vision to vivid life. Vehicle designs are ridiculously awesome - there's even a car/tank hybrid that looks beautiful - while another crazy character spends his time handling a flame-thrower guitar. And then there's the character names, with awesome monikers such as Rictus Erectus, Immortan Joe, The Bullet Farmer, The People Eater, and The Doof Warrior, to name a few. Fury Road is 100% off-the-rails insane in all the right ways, turning what is essentially one long chase into a showcase of unique screen artistry alive with textures and details. You seldom see this type of innovation in modern cinema. Furthermore, although lensed digitally, Fury Road looks gorgeous, carrying a celluloid aesthetic of scorched oranges, reds and yellows, making this a colourful antithesis to the typical post-apocalyptic look of bleak, desaturated colours. Miller shot the movie in real desert locations, and the result is something that cannot be replicated by computers or sets.

A lot has been made of the ostensible feminist propaganda within Fury Road, as Miller enlisted the help of feminist Eve Ensler to create strong female characters, but such complaints are rubbish. For starters, using female warriors represents a fresh angle for the series, and Furiosa is the only strong woman here outside of a group of elderly warriors who have lost their humanity, just like the men in this harsh world. Miller does not pander to cheap "girl power" tropes, nor does he depict the females as being stronger than the men. If anything, the movie promotes gender equality; both sides suffer casualties, and no gender is given any special treatment. Besides, Ensler was reportedly used to merely enhance the characters, specifically the rape victims, helping Miller to handle sensitive issues with utmost care and attention to detail. The whole "feminist propaganda" argument is being blown way out of proportion.

Arguably, Gibson could still have reprised his iconic role of Max for this go-round, especially since the aging actor is still participating in action films, but Hardy is nonetheless a worthwhile replacement. Hardy does wisely by not mimicking Gibson - he essays his own version of Max. Although the star's British accent does occasionally slip through, for the most part he's top-notch, and more instalments featuring Hardy as Max would be most welcome. Meanwhile, Theron is the most notable newcomer, playing the female lead with real gusto. Hoult is also worth mentioning, as he's very good at playing crazy. Hugh Keays-Byrne played the villainous Toecutter in the original Mad Max back in 1979, and returns here as new villain Immortan Joe. Decked out in an elaborate costume, Keays-Byrne is superb, exuding menace and emerging as a tremendous physical threat.

Despite the extraordinarily assured finished product, the outlook for Mad Max: Fury Road was not always positive. Principal photography was carried out and completed in late 2012, with the production undergoing extensive reshoots almost a year later. Release dates were cancelled and shifted on a constant basis. The budget kept soaring, making a PG-13 rating an almost certainty. Not to mention, it was always going to be hard for anybody to replace the eminently badass Mel Gibson in the titular role. But lo and behold, Fury Road delivers and then some, representing a one-of-a-kind summer treat that will make you bemoan the lack of similar endeavours. If there's anything to complain about, it's the abrupt ending. Both Mad Max 2 and Beyond Thunderdome closed with narration to further solidify the mythological figure of Max, but such a touch is absent here, and the flick feels somewhat incomplete without it. Nevertheless, the very few missteps do not diminish the experience of this deliriously entertaining action flick, which demands to be seen on the biggest possible screen.

9.5/10

"I ain't Captain Walker. I'm the guy who carries Mr. Dead in his pocket."

Released four years after the superlative Mad Max 2, 1985's Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome should have been a home run which closed the Mel Gibson-starring Mad Max trilogy on a high. But alas, it simply was not to be. Although Mad Max 2 received a sizable budget boost, Beyond Thunderdome is the first entry in the series with Hollywood backing, making it a studio effort rather than the vision of an auteur like the previous features. Evidence of studio involvement is present from the outset, lingering throughout the movie and oftentimes slapping you in the face. Beyond Thunderdome loses sight of why the original films worked, swapping out R-rated ultra-violence for a freaking PG-13 rating, and adding too much gloss. PG-13 alone is an automatic fail, but the awfulness of this stinker goes much further than that.

Fifteen years after the events of the previous movie, Max Rockatansky (Gibson) is stripped of all his belongings, left to wander the desolate Australian wasteland on foot. By chance, Max happens upon a crude village dubbed "Bartertown," a place that's overseen by matriarch leader Aunty Entity (Tina Turner). As Max arrives, Entity is locked in a political dispute with Master Blaster; a being comprised of small engineer Master (Angelo Rossitto) and hulking behemoth Blaster (Paul Larsson) who refine methane gas from pig faeces. Aunty Entity offers Max a deal: she will provide him with a full compliment of supplies if he enters the Thunderdome and engages in a fight to the death with Blaster. Max breaks the deal, however, and as a consequence is cast out into the desert. On the verge of death, Max is saved by a group of kids who perceive him as their saviour who has featured in stories and hearsay for generations.

In essence, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome is an attempt at reimagining the story of Peter Pan in a post-apocalyptic setting, adding a dash of Lord of the Flies for good measure. Although it may seem like an interesting idea in theory, execution is slipshod. There are two stories jammed into this one picture, but they are so awkwardly merged that the sudden change in narrative focus may cause whiplash. Beyond Thunderdome should have been all about Bartertown, with Max determined to overthrow Aunty Entity without enlisting the help a bunch of whiny infants. The movie's initial gladiatorial and political underpinnings show promise, as such ideas provide a new area for this post-apocalyptic series to explore, but the movie does fuck all with them.

Chief among the sins of Beyond Thunderdome is that it betrays its predecessors, both of which were hardcore "Ozploitation" flicks that were screened at seedy grindhouse cinemas. This third film, on the other hand, is a PG-13 sell-out of a once-brilliant franchise, retaining the proclivity for colourful production design but toning down the violence and adding a bunch of children, taking the edge off the material. Beyond Thunderdome starts out well enough, but the kids are a deal-breaker, with the Lord of the Flies stuff feeling totally out of place in a Mad Max film. It's humiliating to see the rugged titular antihero as a nanny. If there really had to be children in this tale, they should have all been mute and feral, reminiscent of the Feral Kid from Mad Max 2. Furthermore, the movie features a handful of Tina Turner songs, the most obvious instance of studio tampering. Turner is not a bad singer, but her musical stylings in no way fit the post-apocalyptic landscape of this universe. It doesn't work. Beyond Thunderdome is Mad Max in name only, an outrage on the same pitiful level as RoboCop 3 and Die Hard 4.0.

It would not be fair to blame Miller for the awfulness of Beyond Thunderdome. Following the death of his long-time collaborator Byron Kennedy, Miller began to lose interest in the project, and although he had a hand in the screenplay, he only directed the action sequences. Indeed, the blame for Beyond Thunderdome belongs elsewhere. In all likelihood, co-director George Ogilvie (who went on to direct... absolutely nothing) is the one who fucked it up, though this being a studio film probably didn't help matters. Focus is one of the main things that this sequel lacks - it's longer than its predecessors by about ten minutes, yet it feels twice as long. It meanders all over the place, wandering from one incident to the next before trying to tie everything together with a climactic chase that feels like a case of "been there, done that" after Mad Max 2. And it's nowhere near as thrilling or heart-stopping - in fact, it ultimately grows monotonous. Added to this, composer Brian May was replaced with Maurice Jarre, and the resultant score is just not the same. It's not Mad Max. Especially when the kids are introduced, the music becomes too saccharine, and the soundtrack can never reach the pulse-pounding heights of May's superb work on Mad Max 2. It's closer to The Goonies, for fuck's sake.

The one constant which remains top-notch in Beyond Thunderdome is Gibson as the titular Max. He has the character down to a tee, with minimalist dialogue and his rugged demeanour making him an eminently interesting antihero. It's awkward to watch Max softening up whilst in the company of the children, but Gibson does what he can with the material. It's not his fault. Also starring in the movie is Turner herself... Let's just say it's understandable that she has only had a starring role in one other major motion picture since this movie. None of the other thespians are worth talking about, especially not the irritating kids who ruin the film.

To the credit of Miller, Beyond Thunderdome does feature a few entertaining action beats, and there are scenes and ideas which shine from time to time, but on the whole, this third Mad Max instalment is a dismal misfire. Worse, its narrative eventually comes to an abrupt conclusion that will leave you feeling empty and unsatisfied. It would be interesting to see what the movie could've been with Miller being the sole driver of the ship, and without all of the annoying little brats. Even though the movie was surprisingly well-received back in 1985, it has not dated well at all.

4.2/10

"The warrior Max... In the roar of an engine, he lost everything... and became a shell of a man... a burnt-out, desolate man, a man haunted by the demons of his past, a man who wandered out into the wasteland. And it was here, in this blighted place, that he learned to live again."

It is indeed rare to behold a sequel which surpasses its predecessor, but Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior is a textbook illustration of such a case. Furthermore, this follow-up to the low-budget 1979 Australian grindhouse gem stands as a phenomenal achievement as a standalone motion picture, a gonzo post-apocalyptic action-adventure that remains one of this reviewer's personal all-time favourites. With a bigger budget, Mad Max 2 takes full advantage of its premise, yielding an organic continuation of the original movie as well as an amazing Ozploitation actioner on its own merits. The scope is bigger, the production values are sublime, the filmmaking is more proficient, and plenty of vehicles are wrecked - Mad Max 2 stays true to its B-movie roots whilst adding a bit of polish, and the result is pure dynamite.

Several years have elapsed since Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson) lost his wife and child, and in the interim, civilisation has deteriorated completely. World War III broke out, and its effects on society were irreversible. No cities remain, law enforcement services have vanished, and petrol has become the world's most valuable commodity. Danger and uncertainty have become part of Max's daily routine, with every day a struggle to find sufficient food and fuel to survive just a little bit longer. Traversing the desolate landscape in his V8 Interceptor, Max happens upon a fortified oil refinery with plenty of precious "juice," but a gang of vicious murderers are determined to get their hands on it, threatening to kill everyone if their demands are not met. The colony wishes to take their gas and leave, thus Max strikes a deal with them: he will secure a big rig truck to haul the fuel in exchange for as much petrol as he can carry. However, the marauders - who have set up a camp nearby - are not willing to let anyone escape.

One does not need to have watched the original movie in order to "get" this sequel. Mad Max 2 actually begins with a skilful black-and-white montage of images set to voiceover narration that outlines the events leading up the collapse of society, and effectively re-introduces us to Max by recapping the first film. What's particularly notable about Mad Max 2 is its concise storytelling and breakneck pace, both of which are achieved without neglecting crucial character or story development. It's a model of efficiency, and it's so fast-paced and deliriously enjoyable that its ninety-minute duration simply flies by. It's over before you realise it, and you're left begging for more, a sign that this is one fucking badass movie.

The real star of Mad Max 2 is, of course, the stunt work. Returning director George Miller uses all the extra funds at his disposal (the budget was over $2 million whereas the first movie was produced for barely $200,000) to create a joyously crazy action picture peppered with multiple car chases. There is not a single bit of CGI to be seen here; Mad Max 2 is the result of stuntmen putting their lives on the line for a sake of a shot. It's hard to believe that nobody involved in the production wasn't severely maimed or killed, given how bonkers many of the stunts look to be. (Only one stuntman was injured.) Naturally, it's the twenty-minute climactic chase which closes the picture that really shines, with at least twenty-five vehicles barrelling down a desert highway at insane speeds. Although it's a lengthy sequence, Miller and cinematographer Dean Semlar sustain the chase, continually upping the ante and maintaining an edge-of-your-seat level of tension. There are a few shots which were obviously sped up, but such moments are all part of the feature's goofy charm. It's all topped off by a pounding soundtrack courtesy of Brian May, who also scored the 1979 movie.

Luckily, production design remains as colourful as ever, with imaginative vehicles and awesomely inventive costumes. Max's V8 Interceptor is one of the most iconic vehicles in cinema history, and its inclusion here is most welcome. The Interceptor which was used for the first film was actually salvaged and re-used here, a small detail that's nevertheless appreciated. Mad Max 2 continues the strong western theme of this series, finding Max as the archetypical, morally ambiguous antihero in the same vein as Clint Eastwood's Man With No Name. Max is even more of an antihero here than ever before, as he is no longer bound by his duty as a police officer. Unsurprisingly, Gibson nails the role yet again, relying more on stern facial expressions and restrained dialogue delivery. The cast is jam-packed full of colourful faces, from Bruce Spence as Max's new ally, to Vernon Wells (Bennett from Commando!) as one of the campy bad guys.

The original Mad Max was a niche release in the United States, hence this sequel was renamed The Road Warrior by its North American distributor to avoid any confusion. Miller has actually said that he has always considered Mad Max 2 as a chance to re-do Mad Max properly, with the benefit of a bigger budget and more directorial experience. The first film remains a classic, but Mad Max 2 is definitely superior, an infinitely enjoyable guy flick that's literally never boring. This may be an action movie built on a thin premise, but movies of this ilk are all about the execution, and they do not come much more thrilling or exhilarating than this.

10/10

"What an inspiration to girls all over the country who are too ugly to be cheerleaders!"

Back in 2012, Pitch Perfect defied all rational expectations, turning a can't-win proposition of a Glee-inspired college comedy-cum-musical into pure gold. Fortunately, 2015's Pitch Perfect 2 pulls off a comparable miracle, overcoming the law of diminishing returns for a riotously funny follow-up that stands as a wonderful companion piece to its sleeper hit of a predecessor. Once again penned by Kay Cannon, though this time directed by Elizabeth Banks, Pitch Perfect 2 has a firm grasp on what worked for the original movie: quirky characters spouting witty dialogue, intercut with catchy, well-rehearsed a cappella musical performances. This is actually the funniest movie of 2015 so far, serving up several belly-laughs in the first five minutes alone. From the very beginning, it's clear Pitch Perfect 2 is a winner.

Following a performance in front of President Obama that goes haywire, the Barden Bellas are in disgrace, banned from domestic a cappella competitions. However, the girls are given a shot at redemption; they will be reinstated if they can win the World Championships in Copenhagen, a feat that has never been pulled off by an American team in history. In order to win, the Bellas face stiff competition in the form of Das Sound Machine, a leather-clad, supremely confident German a cappella troupe with a refined sound. As the Bellas work to improve themselves, Beca (Anna Kendrick) begins to pursue other interests, scoring an internship at a local record company that could help her fulfil her dream of being a music producer.

Pitch Perfect 2 takes the series to its next logical step, finding Beca and other girls approaching graduation while long-time Bella member Chloe (Brittany Snow) admits that she has purposely failed her exams multiple times to stay at the University and remain in the group. Beca's personal life is also probed further, as she maintains a relationship with Jesse (Skylar Astin) and feels out her record company internship. To be sure, the storytelling is all standard-order stuff, with a predictable narrative outcome from the outset, but it all works - it's so much fun that you barely notice the clichéd broad strokes, much less be bothered by them. Besides, there is some genuine pathos here, not to mention a strong sense of sisterhood that's achieved not through obvious "girl power" tropes but rather by developing distinct characters who feel like real friends. In fact, barely any time is spent observing the rehearsal process - Pitch Perfect 2 is mostly comprised of vignettes that develop the characters and provide a tonne of belly-laughs. Admittedly, the flick is a bit long in the tooth, running at a rather gargantuan 115 minutes, but this isn't a major issue.

Zippy and slick, Pitch Perfect 2 is actually funnier than the first movie, which might be attributable to having a woman at the helm. For a first-time director, Banks (who produced and had a supporting role in the 2012 film) is astonishingly assured, showing an amazing grasp of comic timing and pacing. Whereas a lot of American comedies like The Heat are notoriously undisciplined and full of overdone improvisation, Pitch Perfect 2 keeps the actors on a tight leash. This is a long movie, yeah, but only because there's a lot of story material to work through, not because performers spend five minutes on one joke. As for the soundtrack, Pitch Perfect 2 does a great job of upholding its predecessor's reputation - covers of songs like Miley Cyrus' "Wrecking Ball" are hugely enjoyable, while the finale features an original track entitled "Flashlight" that's guaranteed to rack up millions of hits on YouTube. One of the big highlights is a five-way a cappella showdown that manages to be both catchy and riotously funny, while the climax is a genuine show-stopper, topping the previous movie with seemingly little effort.

A lot of laughs are provided by the extremely non-PC John Michael Higgins and director Banks herself as a pair of broadcasters who deliver wry commentary on the a cappella performances. And, of course, Australian comedy heavyweight Rebel Wilson is enormously funny as Fat Amy - she delivers at least a dozen one-liners that are destined to be quoted non-stop by fans. Luckily, Wilson is not overused; Banks clearly realises that she's much funnier when utilised sporadically, as opposed to featuring in every scene. Meanwhile, Kendrick remains eminently disarming and occasionally funny, making for a strong dramatic anchor. The newcomers shine as well, with young Oscar nominee Hailee Steinfeld making a positive impression as a new addition to the Bellas. Comedy dynamite is also added in the form of Chrissie Fit as a beleaguered Mexican student who constantly reminds her Bella sisters of the (hilariously) hard life she's had. Further laughs, meanwhile, are provided by Keegan-Michael Key as Beca's new boss. And as the big hitters in Das Sound Machine, Birgitte Hjort Sørensen and Flula Borg happily embrace the caricatures that they are.

Comedy is subjective, but I laughed my ass off during Pitch Perfect 2, with tears streaming from my eyes, which is a big deal. It's a hilarious, enjoyable, skilfully-assembled joke-delivery system, beset with playful songs and plenty of goofy non-sequiturs and good-spirited gags. And it's aca-awesome.

8.2/10

"They say people don't believe in heroes anymore. Well, damn them! You and me, Max, we're gonna give 'em back their heroes!"

Assembled and released at the height of the "Ozploitation" craze of the '70s and '80s, Mad Max was a genuine diamond in the rough, a low-budget dark horse of a movie which developed into a box office smash. Here is a vehemently manly, violent post-apocalyptic action movie notable for the sheer creativity of its construction. The brainchild of George Miller and Byron Kennedy, Mad Max's future world is not full of lavish technology like Blade Runner, instead presenting a bleak, horrifyingly plausible vision of a post-apocalyptic world where the law and order is fading amid pure chaos. It's a movie of eccentric characters, imaginative camerawork, insane action scenes and unique production design, yet it also feels like there's nary a wasted moment - every scene and moment builds to a cohesive whole.

The titular Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson) is a highway patrolman in the future. Although law enforcement still exists in some capacity, civilisation has essentially deteriorated, giving rise to vicious gangs who run rampant, killing and murdering on a whim. After a high-speed car chase ends with the death of a gang member known as Nightrider (Vincent Neil), his comrades take it upon themselves to track down Max and his buddies in the Main Force Patrol (MFP). Led by a thug who calls himself the Toecutter (Hugh Keays-Byrne), the gang eventually set their sights on Max's family, wife Jessie (Joanne Samuel) and infant son Sprog (Brendan Heath), which ignites a vendetta of vengeance for the MFP officer.

For what is essentially an exploitative action flick, Mad Max is not all about car chases, instead spending a fair amount of time with Max and his family to give the antihero a sympathetic edge before he goes, well, mad. Miller, who co-wrote and directed the picture, develops a tender relationship between Max and Jessie, which gives a spark of genuine intensity to the final third when Max looks to exact revenge on the Toecutter's gang. Miller also imbues the feature with a streak of laconic, dark humour to offset how disturbing this future truly is. Additionally, the often unusual character names (Sprog, Goose, etc.) and the quirky costumes add further texture to this highly peculiar world.

An Australian native, Miller is and always has been a complete lunatic of a moviemaker in the best possible way, consistently pushing the boundaries of what's possible on a budget through dangerous camera gymnastics and insane, high-risk stunts. Without much financing, Miller and director of photography David Eggsby get major plaudits for the sheer ingenuity of the picture - Miller himself even rode on the back of a motorcycle for one shot, and cameras were attached to cars in the most budget-friendly fashion possible. The result is pure dynamite, a feature with an understandably limited scope that still has the power to generate a rare kind of thrill all these years on. In an age of glossy, high-budget blockbusters, Mad Max is exhilarating because everything had to be achieved practically - the thrilling car mayhem was executed by real stuntman putting their lives on the line, not CGI.

As the film was created without major studio backing, post-production for Mad Max took place in a small lounge room, with Miller and his collaborators employing a DIY editing machine. It's a genuinely impressive feat, rendered all the better by the truly superb editing - the dramatic scenes may not be the greatest, but the action sequences are fast and furious. Mad Max was a controversial movie upon release, banned in some territories and heavily cut in others. Yet, in comparison to more recent productions, there is not a great deal of graphic violence here. This is a testament to Miller's skill as a cinematic craftsman; he generates a sense of disturbing brutality through creative editing, aided by the overly melodramatic but nevertheless effective score by Brian May.

Mad Max is notable for introducing the world to a then-unknown actor named Mel Gibson. He looks extremely young here, with a smooth face and bright eyes - he was a mere 21 years of age during principal photography. While Gibson's performance is not as robust here as his work on future projects like Lethal Weapon or Braveheart, he's still a charismatic, masculine presence, and there are emotional underpinnings to his work that makes the story somewhat affecting. Max is the very definition of an antihero, as he needs to jettison every vestige of his humanity and become just as cold and depraved as the Toecutter's gang to bring down the monsters. And speaking of the Toecutter, he's a very colourful villain, played perfectly by Keays-Byrne (who will also be playing the baddie role in 2015's Mad Max: Fury Road). The whole ensemble of bad guys steal the show, from Gill's manic Nightrider to Tim Burns' dim-witted Johnny the Boy. The performance are menacing and animalistic yet also amusing, a rare achievement indeed. Mad Max was notoriously dubbed for the American market, as the distributors were concerned about the Australian accents. Of course, the result of such preposterous efforts remains more of a historical curiosity; the best way to experience this Aussie gem is with its original soundtrack.

Years on, Mad Max endures as an Ozploitation classic elevated by insane car chases and stunts, yet the build-up never quite pays off properly. The climax is badass, to be sure, but you can be forgiven for wanting more. Ultimately, the movie feels like a set up for the superior sequel, Mad Max 2 a.k.a. The Road Warrior, though this doesn't diminish this first instalment's merits.

7.9/10