Review - Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

“It is deliciously complicated”, muses Robert Downey Jr’s sleuth whilst elucidating a cunning plot development mid film. The same could be said about Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, Guy Ritchie’s sequel to the sleeper hit of 2009, an enjoyable action romp frequently marred by lengthy chunks of over exposition. A bit of a contradiction though, for a film based on fiction’s greatest detective.

Shadows sees Sherlock Holmes investigate a series of bombings across mainland Europe, leading him to suspect the renowned Professor Moriarty (Jared Harris), a man as brilliant as he is ruthless. Along the way Holmes enlists the help of mysterious gypsy girl Sim (Noomi Rapace), who may be an integral part in undoing Moriarty’s terrorist plans, and the ever reliable Dr. Watson (Jude Law), who would rather be enjoying his honeymoon in Brighton.  

Perhaps the biggest problem with Ritchie’s movies is how far they depart from the source material. Take Robert Downey Jr. for example, who plays Sherlock as Jack Sparrow: brilliant, foolish, charming and outlandish all at once. It is an affable performance that will win audiences over, but leave purists unimpressed and immensely frustrated at how Holmes’ genius is used less to detect clues at the scene of a crime and instead more often employed to predict the outcome of intricate combat sequences. A less charitable critic might argue that Conan Doyle’s work has been given the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen treatment, and anyone who has seen Steve Norrington’s film will know that is not a compliment.

But look past the alterations in tone and character and you’ll see there is a lot to love about A Game of Shadows. The chemistry between Law and Downey Jr. is worth the price of the ticket alone, as the two chums bicker and banter like an old married couple even during the most unusual of scenarios (Watson being caught between Holmes’ thighs whilst in a drag is a sight to behold). Jared Harris is suitably malicious as Moriarty, although he is far from being the menacing figure cloaked in shadows that the posters initially made him out to be. Sadly, Noomi Rapace’s gypsy feels like an afterthought, as she is given very little to do other than adorn the screen in exotic garb.

If anything, the Sherlock Holmes films serve as proof that Guy Ritchie, who has always operated better in his comfort zone made up of Brit mobster flicks, is perfectly capable of handling a big budget franchise. He may have a mild case of the Snyder (too much slow-mo can inadvertently kill an action scene), but should also be commended for delivering a climax that is both visually inventive and highly intellectual in its nature. Now that’s the sort of finale even Conan Doyle would approve. 

3/5

Review - Another Earth

In Mike Cahill’s Sundance crowd-pleaser, a teenage student kills a professor’s family in a traffic collision on the same night of the discovery of a duplicate planet Earth. Four years later she is released from prison and begins insinuating herself into the life of the unsuspecting widow, all the while Earth II is edging closer to our world. Another Earth eschews apocalyptic clichés and ponders instead on hefty themes like loss and redemption, the sci-fi element being a mere backdrop to what is essentially an existential drama. Compelling food for thought, although the overall tone may be a little too cold to keep viewers hooked throughout those lugubrious 92 minutes.   

3/5  

Review - Hugo

Those who caught a glimpse of the trailer for Hugo earlier this year must have had a hard time believing it was Martin Scorsese’s latest offering. With its light tone, mild slapstick and prepubescent characters racing through an old station, it felt like watching a preview of the next Narnia film.

Yet while he’s more renowned for his flicks about the mob, it’s very easy to forget that Marty has always been one for exploring new genres. Throughout his long, varied career he has flirted with psycho horror (Shutter Island, Bringing out the Dead); immersed himself in religion and spirituality (Kundun, The Last Temptation of Christ); and tackled the historical epic (Gangs of New York). Hugo sees the diminutive filmmaker’s foray into another unexpected subgenre: the Christmas family film. Who’d have thunk it, eh?

Set in a 1930s Parisian railway station, the film follows young orphan Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield), a resourceful mechanic who spends his time maintaining the building’s clocks and tinkering with a childlike automaton left by his father. Whilst the station itself is a gallery of vibrant characters, Hugo is particularly fascinated with a taciturn shopkeeper (Ben Kingsley) who may be linked to his late father. Aided by the shopkeeper’s daughter Isabelle (Chloe Moretz), the boy sets out to uncover the mystery.

Impressive use of 3D aside (Marty shooting in 3D?? Never!), the first act of Hugo is somewhat lacklustre. Scorsese’s intent is to take time in setting up his characters and the beautifully nostalgic world they inhabit, but in these early stages the film is brought down by an apparent lack of direction. It is a misstep so flagrant, it actually makes you briefly question whether mainstream entertainment is a natural fit for the director.

But this is Scorsese we’re talking about and he has one hell of an ace up his sleeve. Revealing too much would spoil the plot, but it’s safe to say that what starts off as affable family entertainment gradually turns into a surprisingly personal labour of love for the medium of cinema. As the pace picks up, Hugo starts piling up touching references to pioneers and milestones of filmmaking, such as the Lumière brothers, Douglas Fairbanks and George Méliès’ Le Voyage dans la Lune (even the Gare Montparnasse railway derailment gets the cinematic treatment). It goes without saying that all of the above are great sources of inspiration to Scorsese and the directors of his generation.

While Butterfield and Moretz may not possess the requisite gravitas to carry a film (although this is due to their age and inexperience, not an inability to act) they are ably supported by a talented cast. Sacha Baron Cohen turns in a comically rigid performance as station inspector Gustav, while Jude Law makes a welcome, if a little too brief cameo as Hugo’s father, but the real heart and soul of the film though are Ben Kingsley and Helen McCrory. The two veteran actors share a deeply affecting chemistry as an old married couple and as the climax gently unfolds, their final scenes pack a real emotional punch.    

Herein lays Hugo’s greatest strength: it is a film that moves and educates in equal measure and speaks to viewers of all ages. Now that is a proper family film. Well done, Mr Scorsese.

4/5

Review - My Week with Marilyn

Whether she was an underrated actress perpetually struggling to break out of her shell or a glorified bimbo who just happened to land a career in Hollywood, there’s no denying Marilyn Monroe was a bona fide icon, a starlet destined to dazzle whoever caught a glimpse of her sumptuous figure, golden locks and cheeky little mole. In the case of My Week with Marilyn, many will enter the cinema wondering which version of Marilyn they will be seeing, the bimbo or the actress?

Director Simon Curtis makes the wise decision to explore both sides of his protagonist so that she never feels like a gross caricature. Based on the memoirs of Colin Clark (Eddie Redmayne), the film narrates the latter’s experience as an assistant on the set of The Prince and the Showgirl, where he was lucky enough to embark on a fleeting relationship with Marilyn Monroe (Michelle Williams), much to the chagrin of her co-star Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh) and the rest of the disgruntled crew.

Rather than going for the overfamiliar (and frankly quite tiring) rise and fall trajectory seen in countless Hollywood biopics, Adrian Hodges’ script opts for a more contained and intimate story that manages nonetheless to touch upon Marilyn’s quirks and demons. Despite her status as a movie star and sex symbol, a role she is often seen enjoying to some degree, Monroe spends most of the film crippled by self-doubt and in awe of her theatre trained colleagues, especially uber-thespian Olivier, who shows no mercy when it comes to undermining his naïve co-star. These are the scenes where the movie star disappears and instead we see Norma Jean, the scared little girl who is forced into playing the role of this fascinating woman the world expects her to be.

The fact that Michelle Williams makes a stunningly believable Marilyn just goes to show how far she has come since her days on the Creek. We know from her turns in Brokeback Mountain and Blue Valentine how well she can handle repression, but the fact that she convincingly pulls off Monroe’s slinky mannerisms as well is a personal triumph for the rising star. In the film’s standout moment, after spending an afternoon touring Windsor Castle with Colin in childlike wonder, Marilyn is confronted by a group of fans. “Shall I be her?” she tentatively asks her young beau, before impeccably slipping into her on-screen persona and striking a series of her iconic poses for the cheering crowd.

The inevitable downside of having such a talented actress playing a legendary figure means that the rest of the cast barely registers on the radar. The possible exception may well be Branagh’s cantankerous Olivier, but Eddie Redmayne, Dominic Cooper, a post-Potter Emma Watson and even Judi Dench cannot compete with Williams on fine, Oscar-baiting form.

The end result is a film that is small in scope and made worthwhile purely thanks to the charms and efforts of its leading lady. Expect nominations galore for Williams, but My Week with Marilyn is unlikely to register in Best Film polls.

3/5

Review - 50/50

It’s a difficult thing, pulling off a cancer comedy. Yeah, you read that right. Jonathan Levine’ film ditches the drama and tear-jerking from other tumour-themed entries in favour of sex, weed and Seth Rogen’s potty mouth. But try get past the sour premise and you’ll be surprised to find a film that is actually very sweet without being saccharine.

50/50 tells the story of 27 years-old Adam Lerner (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), who is unexpectedly diagnosed with a rare form of spinal cancer and must go through chemotherapy. Rather than dwelling on the negative, namely a 50% chance of survival, Adam is talked into enjoying life to the max by his best friend Kyle (Rogen), who proceeds to set him up with hot girls and procure copious amounts of medical marijuana to take the edge off.

The fact that it is based on screenwriter Will Reiser’s own experience with cancer may be a get-out-of-jail-free card, but there are times when 50/50 risks venturing too much into stoner-com territory and one or two gags do seriously blur the line of political correctness (“Loads of celebrities get over this cancer shit: Lance Armstrong, the guy from Dexter, Patrick Swayze…”).

Fortunately, Reiser’s script always knows how to rein in the characters and when to drop the laughs and focus on the more serious matters at hand. At one point Adam admits to his therapist (Anna Kendrick) that he is actually freaked out by his loved ones’ reluctance to address the possibility he may not actually survive this surreal ordeal. Another scene sees Adam inadvertently stumble upon a “Facing Cancer Together” book lying around Kyle’s apartment, shortly after chastising his best pal of being a selfish asshole. The overarching theme of confronting our mortality is present throughout.   

Joseph Gordon-Levitt does a quietly impressive job as the cancer-stricken protagonist. His impressively mature and restrained handling of his unfortunate condition is oddly a frequent source of humour, until he eventually explodes into a fit of desperation that is deeply heart-breaking. He also shares good chemistry with a lusciously eccentric Anna Kendrick (who is just waiting to be cast in a Woody Allen film) and more importantly with frequent on-screen co-star Seth Rogen. The latter may be rehashing his usual slob shtick from the Judd Apatow films he’s been starring in for the past few years, but it does provide welcome respite the film’s more melancholic moments.   

Essentially, it is the script’s ability to prompt tears and laughs in equal measure that elevates 50/50 from cancer comedy (a tag that will sound increasingly misjudged by the end credits) to an affecting flick about people struggling to find humour in difficult circumstances.

3/5         

Review - Senna

The great thing about Asif Kapadia’s documentary about F1 driver Ayrton Senna is that it doesn’t feel like a documentary at all. Despite the grainy 80s archive footage and the off-screen testimonials, Senna plays out like an epic biopic made for the big-screen. All the cathartic ingredients are there: Ayrton’s blind religious faith, his complex rivalry with fellow champion Alain Prost and of course, the roaring, riveting races caught on his vehicles’ mini cameras. The San Marino Grand Prix makes for a tragic finale, but also highlights how beloved and respected Senna was as a human being. Expect this to pick up a Best Documentary Oscar at next year’s ceremony.

5/5   

Review - Breaking Dawn Part 1

Ever since the first installment back in 2008, the Twilight films have seriously struggled to win over film critics. It didn’t help that the central love story in the first chapter played out like a rehash of the Buffy and Angel ballad seen in Joss Whedon’s cult show, while New Moon, one of the dullest blockbusters in recent memory, spent most of its running time searching for its male lead and a decent plot.

But then Eclipse came along. The schmaltz and mopey self-pitying were still there, but a healthy dose of pathos was added to the Edward/Bella/Jacob triangle, while the climactic smackdown between the vamps and wolves made for a satisfyingly action-packed finale. By the end of the threequel, Twilight almost started to feel… cool (GASP!).

Trust Breaking Dawn to bring it all down. What should’ve been the dramatic finale to a popular saga has turned out to be a frustratingly unremarkable entry marred by baffling plot points and what feels like a mash of incompatible genres.

We start out with Bella and Edward’s wedding and honeymoon. While the former is enjoyable in a quirky sort of way, the latter is an unintentional laugh fest. Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart do what they can with the material they’re given, but even their best efforts cannot prepare you for one of the most ludicrously puritan takes on nuptial sex you’ll ever see in mainstream cinema. By the time Edward takes a vote of abstinence (on his honeymoon), you’ll feel as awkward as a third wheel in a sexually stale relationship.

Speaking of third wheels, Taylor Lautner phones in yet another whingey performance, despite having what is theoretically the coolest role. Jacob should be a wisecracking, lovelorn smartass, but Lautner’s apparent inability to act makes him come off as a horny, petulant teen (with his very own singles club in one scene, nonetheless).

The second half of the film intriguingly dips into body horror territory in a Rosemary’s Baby’s sort of way, as Bella’s demonic spawn gradually crushes her organs from the inside. Unluckily, even this development is tainted by the presence of shoddy CGI wolves, a canine caesarean and a brief sequence in which Jacob… well, you need to see it to believe it. Let’s just say it borders on pedophilia.

Since the producers have gone and pulled a Harry Potter, Breaking Dawn Part 2 won’t be hitting our screens till next summer. Whether the final installment will be able to recoup some of Eclipse’s cool and end the saga decently remains to be seen, but for now what we have here is an incomplete film in every sense of the word.

2/5  

Review - The Rum Diary

It’s early morning and a sweaty, hung-over Paul Kemp (Johnny Depp) wakes up in a hotel room covered in empty bottles and smashed in furniture. As he barely gains consciousness, he staggers across the floor to open the curtains, where he is greeted by radiant sunlight and a lavish oceanic view. Welcome to Puerto Rico.

As far as openings go, it’s an attention grabber. The first scenes of The Rum Diary, populated with a plethora of drunken, degenerate journalists, promise an anarchic romp to rival director Bruce Robinson’s acclaimed Withnail & I and Depp’s previous stab at debauchery in Fear & Loathing Las Vegas (just substitute drugs with booze and the muddy English countryside with a lush Caribbean isle). Sixties' counterculture and a jazzy rumba score further add to excitement, as does Amber Heard’s Aphrodite-like entrance as a temptress with a penchant for skinny-dipping…

… But then something happens to ruin it all. Or rather, nothing happens at all. See, The Rum Diary is adapted from a Hunter S. Thompson novel that remained incomplete for a long time before the author was coerced into finishing it. This sense of intermittence is also palpable on-screen, with Robinson not knowing what to do with the plot and the characters after a cracking first act.

The end result is a film that feels episodic in structure and thematically incoherent. It is never clear whether we’re supposed to take Kemp’s journalistic crusade seriously or not. He may be moved by the sight of poor Puerto Rican kids living in abandoned cars and at one point attempts to rally his colleagues to rise against the corporate machine, but he never acts upon his words. This may say a lot about Kemp (or Thompson, for that matter) as a character, but it also means we’re left with an aimless narrative that doesn’t reward our patience.

Thankfully, The Rum Diary manages to deliver some comedic value that saves it from total ignominy. A preposterous car chase featuring the most inventive use of an alcoholic weapon is the film’s highpoint, followed closely by the most decadent courtroom scene to grace our screens this year. The fact that Depp carries these scenes just goes to show what a gifted physical comedian he’s become and we all know where he perfected his bumbling buffoon act (hint: it’s a series of films also set in the Caribbean).

Nevertheless, don’t let the sporadic laughs fool you into thinking this isn’t a disappointing achievement. The film may have rum in the title, but that shouldn’t mean you need to be drunk to enjoy it.

2/5 

Review - XXX

If James Bond were American, jacked up on steroids and partial to the odd death metal track, he would look something like Vin Diesel's macho man. From the pornographic-sounding title to the ludicrous notion that an extreme sports enthusiast could become a secret agent, everything about XXX is gloriously silly, to the point that you forgive the poor script and Rob Cohen's uninspired direction. His leading man clearly can't act either, but it doesn't matter. With bulging biceps, a gravelly voice and that name, Vin Diesel is pure action star material. Is it still too late for him to become the new Arnie?

3/5

Review - Twin Town

Bold, anarchic and sporadically unsettling, Twin Town almost feels like a Welsh little brother to Trainspotting, a perception consolidated by the presence of weed and mushrooms in the film’s opening minutes. But Kevin Allen’s black comedy never dwells on the drugs and instead delivers a rambunctious portrayal of Swansea, a “pretty shitty city” populated by a host of uncouth characters you never truly root for yet can’t help take your eyes off. Top of the bunch are real-life siblings Rhys and Llŷr Ifans, who provide the film’s wicked streak, followed by William Thomas as a vile local gangster.

3/5

Review - The Adventures of Tintin

There has been a lot of apprehension surrounding director Steven Spielberg and producer Peter Jackson’s decision to employ mocap animation to bring Hergé’s renowned and widely adored comic series to the big screen. While figureheads from the film industry (such as Robert Zemeckis, James Cameron and of course, Andy Serkis) are hailing it as the next step in the evolution of cinema, purists and punters tend to dismiss it as a soulless publicity gimmick designed to get bums on seats.

Whether a sense of widespread apathy may damage The Adventures of Tintin’s chances at the box office remains to be seen. But as far as fidelity to source material and overall quality are concerned, Spielberg has hardly put a foot wrong, for his on-screen rendition of the intrepid boy reporter is a rollicking flick that successfully recaptures the zesty humour and adventurous spirit of the comics.

Combining the plots of The Crab With the Golden Claws, The Secret of the Unicorn and Red Rackham's Treasure, the plot sees young Belgian reporter Tintin (the age of Hergé’s protagonist still remains an unsolved mystery) investigate the whereabouts of a legendary pirate treasure. Coincidentally, malevolent collector Ivan Ivanovitch Sakharine and his gang of goons also have the same goal. Will Tintin beat them to the plunder with the help of faithful mutt Snowy and cantankerous drunk Captain Haddock?     

As with the comics, Spielberg’s adaptation is essentially a bromance between Tintin and Haddock, the former (Jamie Bell) being the straight man constantly trying to rein in the funny man (Serkis) from his alcoholic temptations so that he can live up to his ancestor’s name. But herein lays a problem: though noble and altruistic he may be, Tintin remains a rather one-dimensional character who is defined primarily by the cases he solves and the relations he keeps. By contrast, Captain Haddock may be riddled with flaws but inevitably emerges as a far more entertaining character. So it’s no surprise the director gradually shifts focus onto the loveable seadog towards the second half of the movie.

Where the film truly shines is in the action department. After the embarrassing misstep that was Crystal Skull, it is refreshing to see Spielberg deliver the kind of set-pieces that can both exhilarate and evoke his credentials as a filmmaker. An uncut, four-minute long chase sequence in a Moroccan town is without doubt the film’s highpoint, with the camera swooping through souks and buildings in a bid to follow our heroes as they chase after a fleeing Sakharine. Also worthy of mention is a flashback sequence featuring an epic, swashbuckling battle that would give Jack Sparrow a run for his doubloons. It is upon viewing these scenes that it becomes clear why animation was the better choice.

It may be flawed in places and the mocap debate will divide audiences, but in an age in which most movies tend to be overlong and convoluted, The Adventures of Tintin feels like a breath of fresh air, a film that harks back to an age in which blockbusters were all about fun and thrills for the whole family. Like Raiders of the Lost Ark, then.

4/5

Review - Friday the 13th

If John Carpenter’s Halloween is the daddy of slasher flicks, then Sean S. Cunningham’s Friday the 13^th is without doubt the mummy (now there's a barely concealed hint for you). All the trends and tropes of the genre are present and register effectively: deceptively peaceful location, a bunch of horny teens, jittery forewarning locals and a relentless killer with a personal, unique signature when it comes to disposing bodies. No wonder it launched ten sequels. The production quality may look a tad obsolete when compared to today’s slasher offerings, but it is still way better than Marcus Nispel’s uninspired 2009 “reimagining”.

4/5

Review - The Greatest Movie Ever Sold

“Morgan Spurlock, you’re a shameless whore” says American talk show host Jimmy Kimmel as the documentary filmmaker walks on stage in a jacket covered in sponsor logos. No, the Supersize Me director hasn’t sold out, he’s just making a movie about the legally convoluted nature of advertising and product placement… that is funded primarily by advertising and product placement. The concept is as neat and cheeky as Spurlock’s previous work, but anyone with a passing knowledge of marketing will see this is basically Advertising for Dummies. Still, Morgan’s ludicrous ads for obscure brands such as Ban and Main ‘n’ Tail are worth the ticket alone.

3/5   

Review - Drive

In the first of what feels like a busy season of Ryan Gosling movies (he’s got Crazy Stupid Love and The Ides of March coming up next), the Canadian actor stars as an anonymous Hollywood stuntman who moonlights as a top-notch getaway driver. He also secretly pines for his angelic neighbour Irene (Carey Mulligan), a young mother whose husband has just got out of jail. When the family is suddenly threatened by a gang of rancorous mobsters, Driver selflessly takes on the role of their lethal protector.

There’s a catchy old school quality about Nicholas Winding Refn’s latest work. From the garish pink opening credits over the LA skyline to the ominous electronic soundtrack accompanying the protagonist’s late night outings, Drive looks and sounds like the coolest film noir the 80’s never made.

Plus, throw in a taciturn, commanding character that is highly reminiscent of the Dollars trilogy’s Man With No Name and you’ve got a new poster boy just waiting to adorn film students’ dorm rooms. Admittedly Ryan Gosling, whose young, handsome, chiselled features wouldn’t suit the part of a lone urban cowboy, does not possess the same gravitas as a poncho-clad Eastwood. Yet somehow he manages to find the perfect balance between boyish charm (his wordless romance with Mulligan is the kind that’ll leave indie lovers deeply touched) and cold-blooded menace (there is an elevator scene you won’t be forgetting for some time). It’s an outstanding performance which further cements his reputation as one of the industry’s hottest talents.

And while we’re at it, here’s some food for thought: movies don’t treat us to a good old car chase as often as they used to. Excluding the Fast & Furious franchise, ever since that pesky bus from Speed screeched off the screen, high speed vehicle pursuits have increasingly been tainted either by CGI overload (The Matrix Reloaded) and frantic editing (Quantum of Solace), sometimes both at once. Refn opens his film with a getaway down the midnight streets of LA, as our hero tries to dodge with an almost surgical precision a number of police cars and helicopter searchlights. It’s a remarkably tense scene, rendered all the more effective by its flawless execution, with not one CGI shot throughout.

The only problem with Drive is that while it may be a film that is gorgeous to look at it, it is a tough one to engage with on an emotional level. Like Tarantino’s Kill Bill, its characters are cut-outs from what is blatantly a fictional world, one where the gory violence feels more resonant than the relationships. That’s not to say that all films should feature saccharine segments where everyone shares their feelings before going off to hammer a bullet into a thug’s cranium, but a little extra pathos could’ve made an already really good film into a truly excellent one.  

4/5

Review - City of Life and Death

Lu Chuan’s harrowing portrayal of the Nanking Massacre is the sort of filmmaking Hollywood usually doesn’t feel comfortable making. Shot entirely in monochrome and bereft of musical accompaniment, City of Life and Death makes for unpleasant yet to some extent necessary viewing, as Chuan exposes his audience to the Japanese’ systematic rape and subsequent slaughter of the inhabitants of Nanking, an event that is often overshadowed by World War II. While it would be easy to tag it as a Chinese Schindler’s List, the film’s sole shortcoming is the absence of a commanding protagonist for us to identify with.

4/5    

Review - Tinker Taylor Soldier Spy

London, 1970s. An undercover operation in Budapest goes disastrously wrong, forcing M16 chief Control (John Hurt) and his trusted intelligence officer George Smiley (Gary Oldman) to leave the secret service. But there’s a catch: reckless field agent Ricki Tarr (Tom Hardy) believes a Soviet double agent has managed to successfully infiltrate “the circus”. With the integrity of British intelligence at stake, Smiley is forced out of retirement to uncover the mole, unbeknownst to his former colleagues.

Tinker Taylor Soldier Spy, adapted from John Le Carré’s acclaimed novel, is not an easy watch. It is a film thick on plot, crowded with shadowy spooks and full of spy jargon so obscure, you’d need the right Wikipedia page at hand to figure out what the hell everyone is on about. Plus the title sounds like the opening verse to a nursery rhyme.  So anyone expecting a spy film with explosions and moustache-twirling villains is going to be sorely disappointed.

But if you get past the fact that these spies don’t drive high-tech Aston Martins to work (or dispatch their enemies with a rolled-up magazine, for that matter), you may just appreciate TTSS for what it really is: an espionage thriller that places emphasis on mood, character and a sense of paranoia that is strongly augmented by the Cold War setting.

In the hands of Thomas Alfredson, whose cold photography from Let The Right One In is perfectly suited to the wet lackluster streets of 70s London, a prolonged silence or an inquisitive glance between two inscrutable characters is far more gripping than your traditional Hollywood shoot-out.  Imagine Munich without the action scenes and you’ll get an idea of what you’re looking at. And except that it’s, you know, British.

Speaking of which, screenwriters Bridget O'Connor and Peter Straughan make the wise decision to sprinkle the slow pace with some very welcome dry wit, the stiff-upper lip kind that only true Brits can really pull off (“I’d like to talk to you about loyalty” deadpans Smiley as he begins to lecture a quivering suspect on treason).

In a film that invests so much in character, a big chunk of its credibility rests on the performances. Fortunately TTSS’s cast reads like a who’s who of today’s best talent in British cinema. Colin Firth, Mark Strong, Ciaran Hinds, Toby Jones and John Hurt are all exceptionally well cast in their pompous, uptight roles and led by a mesmerising Gary Oldman, who gives a performance so subtle and restrained, you’d never guess he once played Sid Vicious. But special mention should also go to emerging stars Tom Hardy and Benedict Cumberbatch, who excel as MI6’s younger, brasher operatives.

Tinker Taylor Solider Spy is guaranteed to divide audiences. Some will be put off by its complexity and accuse it of being self-indulgent or just plain boring. Others will love it for its old school sensibilities. But there will be also a third group. These are the viewers who might not understand the film first time round, but will be inexorably drawn to this fascinating world of Cold War espionage and will want to revisit it, so that they can fully appreciate just what an enthralling piece of cinema TTSS actually is.

4/5    

Review - The Change-Up

Take two guys with radically different lifestyles, get them to piss in a magic fountain whilst wishing they had each other’s lives and you’ve got a standard set-up for yet another entry in the body swap subgenre. Dave (Jason Bateman) is a hapless workaholic and dedicated family man who wishes to catch a well-earned break. Mitch (Ryan Reynolds) is a frivolous slacker who enjoys the lothario routine but secretly wants to achieve something meaningful in his life. When the two mysteriously switch identities, it’s only a matter of time before they start subverting their respective existences.    

Like Horrible Bosses (which also starred Jason Bateman), The Change-Up could’ve been a contender for comedy of the summer. While Bosses displayed a serious lack of gags, Change-Up suffers from an overload of crass antics. We have barely made it to the opening credits when Dave is hit with projectile baby poo in the face. Director David Dobkin may as well have done the same to his audience.  

Or take for instance the scene that introduces Mitch, who tries to squeeze as many profanities within a two-minute window frame. It’s like watching a twelve year-old who thinks combining swear words with assorted vocabulary is comedy gold. Holy fuck knuckles indeed.

Admittedly, the idea of Bateman (po-faced, perennially mild-mannered) swapping bodies with Reynolds (usually seen as the witty, yammering charmer) is a rather neat one, as it implies the latter gets to play subdued while the former is let off the leash. If seeing Michael Bluth prance around the bedroom naked whilst feeling his third testicle is something you’ve wanted to see ever since Arrested Development was cancelled, then this is the film you’ve been waiting for.

Other than that there is very little to recommend. Sure, the horny teenagers will agree that the nude shots of Leslie Mann and Olivia Wilde’s body double are worth the price of the ticket alone, but the rest of us who were hoping for something more gratifying will feel short changed, or even outright conned.

But you’ve got to feel bad for the movie’s two stars. Both Bateman and Reynolds have confirmed themselves as deft funnymen and they’re even not half bad at the whole “proper acting” spiel (just watch Juno or Buried, if you need proof), but in terms of box office and film quality, 2011 has not been kind to them. Here’s hoping next year will be a better one for the two of them.

1/5

Review - Troll Hunter

Three students set out to make a documentary about an elusive poacher known solely by the name of Hans (Otto Jespersen), who is suspected of slaughtering a number of bears in Western Norway. After tailing him for a couple of days, the amateur filmmakers soon discover there are bigger, more dangerous creatures wandering the woods and that Hans is in fact a government agent assigned to secretly track down the mythical beasts. In a bid to uncover the truth, the students decide to document the troll hunter’s work firsthand.

The found footage genre has been stripped of all its originality and sensation in recent years, so chances are you will know exactly what to expect from André Øvredal’s movie: minimal dialogue, characters directly addressing the audience, an obligatory night vision sequence and camerawork so shaky it’ll feel like you’re having an epileptic fit. Judged purely on these merits, Troll Hunter is derivative and would have profited significantly had it been released in a pre-Cloverfield market.

Where Øvredal succeeds is in transposing fairytale creatures to a modern setting, before effortlessly using them to generate both chills and laughs. The moment the clueless students first hear monstrous roars and thunderous footsteps coming from the woods is as foreboding as the T-Rex's terrifying entrance in Jurassic Park. The ensuing sight of Hans emerging in full combat gear screaming: “TROLL!” raises an impromptu guffaw. The material works because Øvredal approaches it with his tongue firmly in cheek.

The trolls themselves are an impressive achievement and each one of them boasts distinguishing traits. The three-headed Tosserlad is maniacally erratic, the golem-like Ringlefinch has a penchant for chomping on goats and the mountain king, who delivers the film’s deafening final set-piece, could easily challenge King Kong to an arm-wrestling match.  Not bad for a country whose film industry isn’t particularly renowned for high-quality CGI and blockbuster entertainment.

But the human element isn’t lacking either and Norwegian comedian Otto Jespersen ably carries the film as the titular hunter. He impeccably nails the deadpan humour (Hans’ occasional “I hate this crap” quips have a touch of Lethal Weapon’s Danny Glover), but is also credible in his more poignant moments. At one point the gob smacked students hesitantly call him a hero. “There is nothing heroic about what I do”, is Hans’ quiet response.

Troll Hunter may not bring anything new to the found footage canon but, with its impeccably-rendered creatures and chilling Nordic landscapes, still manages to make a lasting impression. Set to gain cult status (and eventually be remade by Hollywood).

3/5

Review - Exam

Exam is the kind of film Alfred Hitchcock would’ve made were he still alive. The minimalist set-up sees the action take place exclusively within the walls of an examination room, where eight candidates compete for a job they know nothing about. The rules are simple: they must not spoil their papers, talk to the armed guard by the door, or leave the room for any reason. Then the paranoia kicks in… Stuart Hazeldine keeps the suspense high by having his dysfunctional ensemble suspect, taunt and attack each other through eighty minutes of tense drama. The ending’s a massive letdown, though.

3/5  

Review - One Day

Anyone who’s read David Nicholls’s international best-seller will know that One Day the movie has colossal shoes to fill. We first encounter Dexter and Emma on the night of their graduation, as they share the kind of one night stand that manages to be both cringeworthy and remarkably endearing at the same time. From there on the plot chronicles the lives, loves and losses of the two protagonists, whose paths occasionally intertwine over the following twenty years and often with heartbreaking results.  

As you may have deduced from the synopsis, One Day is a story about the changes and compromises we go through as we grow older and the way they inevitably affect our relationships. It also functions as an insightful expose on the radical changes Britain has gone through between 1988 and 2007 (hard to believe it wasn’t that long ago that cell phones were considered extravagances).  

But herein lies the film's big problem. One Day the novel is a profound experience because it allows pause for reflection and the luxury of returning to the next chapter the following night once the thought-provoking themes have sunk in. In stark contrast, Lone Scherfig’s film (which David Nicholls happened to adapt) must wrap up twenty years of desire and inner turmoil in just 108 minutes and as a result, it feels like a rushed and largely unfocused affair.

Gone are the inner monologues that made Dexter and Emma’s story a beguiling joy to read, as are a number of set-pieces and supporting characters that would’ve made for a more memorable rom-com. The hilarious excerpt in which an inebriated Dexter haplessly tries to put his baby daughter to sleep is sadly absent, while the character of Suki Meadows (a ditzy TV presenter so deafening, her dialogue in the book is written ALMOST EXCLUSIVELY IN CAPITALS) is reduced to a mere cameo. At least Emma’s boyfriend Ian has not been dropped from the ensemble and Rafe Spall has the part of the doleful wannabe comedian down to a T.   

In all fairness, the performances can hardly be faulted. Sure, Anne Hathaway’s accent may be all over the place (what is that, Yorkshire via SoCal?) but whenever she’s on screen with Jim Sturgess they’re a perfect match. She’s the naive idealist who wants to make a difference in the world but is perennially stuck in disheartening jobs and half-hearted relationships. He’s the swaggering toff with a drinking problem and an attachment to his mother that occasionally borders on Oedipal. Yet somehow, like in all great romances, these two flawed individuals seem to perpetually bring out the best in each other.

If you are a loyal fan of the book, chances are you’ll think Nicholls hasn't done his own work any justice. What’s been lauded as a deeply affecting modern romance in literary circles has unfortunately translated into an average Brit rom-com. By all means, if you are a sucker for average Brit rom-coms, you will not be disappointed. Just don’t think you’ll be remembering this one for the next twenty years.

3/5  

Review - The Inbetweeners Movie

The transition from small to big screen is never an easy one. Take Sex & the City, for example. What was once a provocative yet undeniably infectious show about the sex lives of four women from Manhattan was translated into two vapid film adaptations that failed to replicate the spark that made the series such a hit. It comes as great news then that The Inbetweeners Movie, based on the extremely provocative yet undeniably irresistible show about the sex lives (or rather, lack of) of four sixth form students, is just as hilarious and filthy-mouthed as its TV counterpart.

The perfect marriage of lewd acts and social embarrassment has always been one of the show’s milestones and it’s great to see that writers Iain Morris and Damon Beesley are not holding back for their big-screen outing. The opening minutes set the tone perfectly, as Jay (James Buckley) is seen masturbating to sliced ham and wearing scuba goggles, just before his mum walks in to inform his grandfather has passed away. It’s the kind of comedy that induces belly laughs and makes you want to cover your eyes in shame.

From there on Jay, Simon, Will and Neil decide to celebrate the end of their exams by going on a trip of sexcapades and debauchery in Malia, Crete. To say their plans go tits up is putting it mildly. Excruciating dance moves, projectile vomiting, public nudity (there's no shortage of male genitalia in this film) and disastrous run-ins with exes all work towards 97 minutes of unadulterated juvenile humour. Special mention should also go out to Richard, a hysterical weirdo who pops in and out of the plot and is unbelievably even more of an outcast than the core quartet.   

But surprisingly enough, Morris and Beesley also manage to sneak in a couple of poignant moments among the filth and crassness, but they never feel forced. Jay’s unusually kind offer to let a seriously drunk Will sleep in the comfy bed speaks volumes more than a “I love you, man!” snippet from your average American comedy, as is the scene in which the boys acknowledge that this holiday may be the last time the gang will hang out together.

The introduction of four female companions for the lads to inevitably end up with is admittedly a sweet touch, but somehow betrays the origins of the show. A huge part of the comedic appeal of these characters is that despite all the mishaps they had to endure, they never learnt their lesson by the end of each episode. Having them end the film reformed (well, almost) both morally and romantically feels a tad unnecessary and at odds with their small-screen origins.

Nevertheless, with an impressive gag-rate, buckets of quotable lines (“I stopped worshipping God when I realised it was ‘Dog’ spelt backwards”) and four winning leads, The Inbetweeners Movie is hands down the best comedy of the summer. Now that’s how you do it, Sex & the City.

4/5

Review - 300

Brash, violent and oozing testosterone profusely out of its pores, there’s little wonder Zack Snyder’s film is championed by meatheads around the world. Based on Frank Miller’s graphic novel, this retelling of the Battle of Thermopylae is less Gladiator, more Dynasty Warriors, meaning it is ultimately a string of action sequences held together by an undemanding set-up, never mind plot. Hefty Spartan themes such as honour and sacrifice are tragically wasted, as Snyder is too busy playing around with the slow motion button to tedious effect. It may have coined that catchphrase, but 300 is nowhere near the modern classic some will have you believe. THIS... IS... RUBBISH!!

1/5       

Review - Battle: LA

Ever watched a friend play Call of Duty for two hours straight and you never get a go? Battle: LA pretty much elicits the same uncontrollable urge to bang your head in frustration on the furniture closest to you. Apart from ripping off the plot and aesthetic design of every alien invasion movie the past two decades have had to offer, Jonathan Liebesman’s film is a loud, rushed and jittery affair. Worst of all there are no discernable characters to root for whatsoever, other than Aaron Eckhart’s mildly flawed sarge and Michelle Rodriguez’ butch army gal (now there’s an actress stretching herself). Total misfire.

1/5       

Review: Project Nim

In 1973 Herb Terrace, a professor in psychology at Columbia University, set out to prove that humans were not the only creatures capable of language. In what was a ground-breaking experiment at the time, he placed a baby chimpanzee called Nim in the care of a human family and attempted to teach the primate to communicate in sign language. James Marsh’s documentary chronicles the quirky and at times very turbulent life of the aptly-named Nim Chimpsky.

As far as real life stories go, Project Nim is a winner. It has a unique set-up, a guaranteed emotional arc and an adorable protagonist at centre frame. As the dated footage reveals, Nim was not only a dungaree-wearing chimp, but one who could communicate his penchant for hugs and cats through a series of clumsy hand gestures. The clips are both unbearably endearing and laugh-out loud funny. Basically, Project Nim would work wonders as a Disney film.

Instead what we have is a very engaging documentary which appears less concerned with the simian’s progress and more intent on exposing through a series of interviews the flawed and contradictive nature of the humans surrounding him. Stephanie LaFarge, Terrace’s protégé who functioned as a tender mother to an infant Nim, gradually let slip a naïve and deluded conviction that was symptomatic of the hippie era of the 70s. Animal rights activist Cleveland Armory may have been benevolent to let Nim spend his final years on a ranch, but clearly lacked both the knowledge and the resources to maintain him properly. Worst of all is Terrace himself, a man devoid of significant compassion, who refused to refer to Nim as anything other than a “scientific project” and seemingly had relationships with a few of his female students.

But Marsh’s goal is not merely to vilify human beings, as he doesn’t shy away from documenting some of Nim’s more unpleasant episodes, such as his feral and totally unprovoked attack on one of the kinder caretakers, or the time in which he inadvertently killed a poodle by slamming it against a wall. Apparently he just wanted the pooch to stop barking. It is moments like these where the underlying message transpires: man cannot and should not monkey around with nature.

It is a lesson which is heavily emphasised until the film’s final moments, as a greying Nim is locked away, betrayed and abandoned by the human race and suddenly it starts to become clear why Project Nim may have been released a few weeks ahead of Rise of the Planet of the Apes.

4/5      

Review: Super 8

There’s no point in tip-toeing around the issue, so let’s just get straight to the point: Super 8 is the film of summer 2011. Forget robots, superheroes, boy wizards and horrible bosses. JJ Abrams latest work harks back to a time (the late 70s and early 80s, to be precise) when Hollywood was capable of producing movies that displayed heart and innocence, regardless of the budget and special effects involved. It’s a film that oozes nostalgia and, unlike many of today’s blockbusters, is driven by a plot that is wonderfully simple and linear.

It’s the summer of 1979 in Lillian, Ohio and a group of school friends are filming a homemade horror flick on their Super 8 camera. As they sneak out one night to shoot a pivotal scene at the local station, the kids witness a disastrous train crash. Soon after locals go missing, electrical appliances go kaput and the town is swarmed by the US military, which seems hell-bent on retrieving the train’s undisclosed cargo…

It’s not hard figuring out the inspiration behind Super 8. A sleepy Midwestern town. Absent parental figures. A bunch of prepubescent heroes dealing with what may be an extra-terrestrial case… You can almost hear the teenage Abrams solemnly bellowing “When I grow up I wanna be Steven Spielberg!” Detractors will accuse him of ripping off most of The Beard’s early back catalogue, but truth is, if you’re going to mimic someone, you might as well mimic the greats.

Besides, JJ has earned his right to walk in Spielberg’s shoes. With enough cult TV shows (Alias, Lost, Fringe) and high profile movies under his belt (director of Mission: Impossible III and Star Trek, producer on Cloverfield), the man has proven to be not only a big player in the film industry, but one with smarts and savvy to spare. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Abrams understands that shrouding your creature in the shadows and using the CGI sparingly will have far bigger impact on the viewer’s imagination.    

Most importantly, he understands the importance of having relatable characters and the young cast is without doubt Super 8’s greatest asset. Gawky, doe-eyed, potty-mouthed and terrified by puberty as much as they are by what’s creeping around their hometown, these kids are a joy to be around. Imagine if the cast of Stand By Me had stumbled onto a joint production of ET and Close Encounters and you’ll have a rough idea of what to expect. Best of the lot are Elle Fanning (Dakota’s lil’ sister) and Joel Courtney, whose blossoming relationship is the film’s warm, tender core, while the rest of the boys provide brilliant comic relief in some of the more dramatic scenes. Here’s hoping they don’t end up wasting their talent on teen gross-out comedies.

The film’s sole drawback is that when the creature is finally revealed, it doesn’t appear particularly striking. This may due to a mild case of CGItis or probably because when compared to the Cloverfield monster it looks generic and uninspired, but chances are the final product was never going to compare to the image you’ve concocted in your head. And while Abrams may have learnt a few neat tricks from the school of Spielberg, the genuine emotion that permeated throughout Super 8 starts bordering on saccharine in the final minutes. Great film JJ, but go easy on the schmaltz.  

5/5      

Review: The Rules of Attraction

Think of it as Dawson’s Creep. With a cast headed by James Van Der Beek (who shamlessly flushes his 90s teen heartthrob image down the toilet), Roger Avary’s script ditches all farcical notions glimpsed in Van Wilder and American Pie in favour of a darker, deeply upsetting depiction of the college experience. Essentially a film about emotional rejection, the twist is that the protagonists are either deluded misfits or sex-crazed sociopaths, with neither party afraid to experiment with the odd illegal substance. Not exactly light material, but with a killer soundtrack and trippy, chronologically-reversed segments, you’re in for a mind-blowingly psychedelic ride. Rock’n’roll.

4/5        

Review: Captain America: The First Avenger

It’s been a tough summer for superheroes. Apart from causing comic book fatigue to a large percentage of worldwide audiences (the ones that don’t plan their annual calendars around Comic-Con), 2011 was the year in which every spandex-clad do-gooder that landed in our multiplexes seemed to come with a different set of problems. Thor’s Shakespearean pomp risked widespread derision, the X-Men propositioned yet another origin story and most viewers could not tell their Green Lantern from their Green Hornet.

Captain America: The First Avenger, the last in this summer’s line of superhero flicks, faces a different obstacle altogether: political controversy. Ostensibly a movie about an all-American war hero who likes to dress up in the US flag while dishing out justice, Joe Johnston’s film would have proved a tough sell had it been released at the height of George W. Bush’s war on terror or the occupation of Iraq. Even in the more eloquent Obama era, it seems unlikely that foreign viewers will take kindly to Steve Rogers like they did to Peter Parker.

The fact that Captain America never feels like an allegory for US propaganda comes as good news. Part of it may be down to the WWII setting (a time in which American intervention in the struggle against the Axis powers was highly praised), but mostly boils down to the characterization of the protagonist. In the film’s terrific first half Steve Rogers is introduced as a scrawny underdog with a heart of gold, who wishes to join the war not because he wants to kill nazis, but because he hates bullies, no matter where they are from. It’s these early scenes of unyielding determination which make his transformation into a physically enhanced, virtually flawless ubermensch worthwhile. It is thanks to Chris Evans’ tender portrayal that Cap never comes off as self-righteous; he is simply a very nice guy who has a knack for kicking ass.

It’s around the halfway mark that Joe Johnston drops the shield and doesn’t quite know what to do with his leading man, other than stick him in a flurry of bust-ups with some faceless goons headed by Hugo Weaving’s one-note psycho, the Red Skull. It is in these moments that Johnston’s shortcomings as a director become apparent. Lacking Jon Favreau’s affinity with dialogue and Kenneth Branagh’s ability to convey hefty themes, Johnston seems content to be merely a clever choreographer. Take for instance the action set-piece aboard a massive aircraft: visually impressive, but rushed into so abruptly, it actually takes a few minutes to realize it is the final showdown.

The film’s saving grace is a healthy dose of light-hearted humour, the kind which made the Indiana Jones films such a joy to watch. Steve may not be good at rapid fire wit like Tony Stark, but there’s fun to be had seeing him awkwardly prance around on stage in a gloriously cheesy USO musical number. Tommy Lee Jones’ innate talent for deadpan is also a very welcome plus.

The end result is little more than a solid comic book caper and a tantalising prelude to next year’s superhero epic The Avengers. However, with its growing reputation in the film industry, Marvel could have easily afforded an edgier, more leftfield choice for director. Like, say, Joe Wright. Remember the five-minute tracking shot of the Dunkirk evacuation in Atonement? Now imagine a scene like that in a Captain America movie…   

3/5      

Review: Horrible Bosses

The idea behind Horrible Bosses is pure comedy gold. Let’s face it, the thought of laying into a heavy-handed employer has crossed thousands of wage-slaves’ minds at one point or another. So the arrival of Seth Gordon’s quasi-black comedy, in which three drinking buddies (Jason Bateman, Charlie Day and Jason Sudeikis) agree to murder each other’s superior, is highly welcome. Yes, it’s as bit like Strangers On A Train, but with more sex jokes and a truckload of drug references.  

The casting of the titular bosses is spot-on. Colin Farrell goes through a hideous physical transformation to play cokehead chemical manager Bobby Pellitt and Jennifer Aniston turns in an astonishingly raunchy performance as dentist and part-time maneater Julia Harris. Meanwhile, anyone who has seen Peter Serafinowicz’s Acting Masterclass sketch will know that Kevin Spacey is at his most hilarious when playing a petty, ruthless, back-stabbing prick and his Dave Harken may just be a close relative of Swimming With Sharks’ Buddy Ackerman.

So far all the ingredients for a riotous laugh-fest are firmly in place, so you’d expect it would take a lot of effort on Gordon’s behalf to mess up what could’ve been the hit comedy to rival Hangover Part II. Unfortunately he goes and does just that. Like his protagonists, you get the feeling the director is out of his depth and never too sure of what he’s really doing.

First of all it would’ve been nice to come up with a half-decent plot to go with the terrific premise. Instead, we get the central trio aimlessly driving around LA trying to come up with gags and one-liners that may induce a few chuckles but never linger in mind.

Bateman and Sudeikis are both amiable and amusing as two average Joes taking their first awkward stab at murder. It’s Charlie Day who’s the problem. Pint-sized and shrill-voiced, he single-handedly manages to stink up every scene he’s in. It is clear from his fuzzy facial hair and quirky outbursts that he is supposed to be filling the Zach Galifianakis role in the picture, but has none of the latter’s charm. Why Jennifer Aniston’s sultry temptress is so desperate to bed him is beyond reason.

Finally, while the script’s lack of belly laughs has already been addressed, it is also opportune to tackle the underlying bigotry which permeates some of the film’s scenes. The one in which Sudeikis’ character drives his pals to a rough bar in search of a potential hitman for hire would’ve been a comedic highpoint had the venue not been exclusively populated by Hispanic and African-Americans. Instead, it comes off as ill-judged and racially prejudiced.

Perhaps Horrible Bosses would have benefited from a rewrite before going into production. Had the screenwriters polished a few gags and got rid of a couple of characters, those thousands of wage-slaves out there would have been treated to the revenge flick they craved so badly. As it turns out, all they get is a so-so comedy in which the bosses are the best thing in it.          

2/5        

      

Review: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

It’s been ten years, seven films and a gargantuan amount of box office earnings since Harry Potter, the spectacled literary hero of JK Rowling’s acclaimed children’s novels, made his big-screen debut in Philosopher’s Stone. What started off as a magical tale about a prepubescent boy learning the ways of witchcraft and wizardry has over the years matured into an epic fantasy saga sprinkled with hefty themes, such as betrayal, teenage angst and fears of abandonment. It’s not difficult to see why Rowling’s work has connected so deeply not just with kids and adolescents, but adults as well.

The Potter films have always been a bit of a hit and miss affair. Chris Colombus’ first two entries are without doubt the blandest and most forgettable of the bunch, Azkaban and Goblet of Fire are generally credited for taking the series’ to more creative and ultimately darker new heights, while Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince cranked up the pathos whilst also injecting a fresh dose of hormones to the mix.

What’s harder to determine is where Deathly Hallows stands. Whether the final chapter would have worked as a three-hour long film is debatable, but the decision to split it in two also has its drawbacks. While the first part released last November only just functioned as an over-padded prelude to the tantalising finale, part two is purely one big final act to the whole proceedings. Granted, it is a gripping climax, one which allows director David Yates to unleash his inner Bay by including jaw-dropping visuals of Hogwarts being obliterated by magic bolts. But there remains the nagging sensation that these action-packed sequences would have had more cathartic oomph had they been tagged onto the previous entry.  

At the centre of all the commotion we find Harry and Voldemort duking it out one last time in grand, OTT style. Much has been said over the years about Daniel Radcliffe’s mechanic delivery and his apparent lack of acting chops but here the young star turns in a quietly heartfelt and vulnerable performance. Meanwhile Ralph Fiennes seizes the opportunity to channel copious amounts of malevolence in his final appearance as the Dark Lord and he doesn’t disappoint (although the brief moment we see a bloody, near-fetal Voldemort sprawled across a white floor may be a tad too extreme for young viewers).

However, with so much attention focused on the two characters, there is little time to dedicate to the support players. Some of them have their deserved moment in the spotlight (Neville Longbottom, take a bow), while others are barely granted a line (Robbie Coltrane’s Hagrid). At least Ron and Hermione get that long-awaited kiss in a moment that is both romantic and highly amusing. And hats off to Alan Rickman, who makes the most of the brief screen-time he is given by revealing an unexpectedly more human side to Snape in a dramatic flashback sequence.

Overall, Deathly Hallows Part II’s main flaw is that it doesn’t quite work as a standalone film, as casual viewers may have a hard time keeping up with the disjointed and occasionally convoluted plot. But as a finale to a much-beloved series it works a treat and fans will be immensely satisfied.

3/5