Nebraska

There are two things that Alexander Payne does better than any other current filmmaker: family and road trips. It is rather fitting then, that Nebraska is about a son who drives his senile father across the Midwest to claim $1 million dollars the latter naively believes to have won. As is the case with quality road movies, it’s not the destination but the journey that shapes our characters. Shot in iconic black and white and boasting believable performances all around, this is a sincere and affecting study on family ties that reveals just how much we are defined by our parents, no matter how screwed up we think they are.

5/5

Philomena

Philomena is one of those low-key dramedies that gives British cinema a good name. Lovingly crafted and wonderfully acted, it tells the true story of disgraced journalist Martin Sixsmith, who decides to write a human interest story about an elderly Irish woman’s search for the son she was forced to give up during her adolescence. With M now out of the picture, it’s nice to see Judi Dench play a more relatable charming old lady, but it is Steve Coogan’s admirably restrained performance that lingers in mind. A few Partidge-isms do creep in here and there ("Fucking Catholics!"), but there’s enough talent on display to suggest future “serious” performances wouldn’t go amiss.

4/5

Gravity

Gravity is the kind of film that should come with a big flashing health warning during the opening credits, because the likelihood of experiencing multiple panic attacks over the following 90 minutes is decidedly high. And before you jump to conclusions, that is meant as an overwhelming endorsement. Here is an impeccably executed science-fact thriller that harks back to a time when films pulled in audiences on the strength of their premise alone (rather than because they were based on the latest best-selling teen novel or the hottest comic book property) and the set-up for Alfonso Cuaròn’s latest offering is only strengthened by its ruthless simplicity.

Picture the scene: high above the Earth’s atmosphere, a handful of astronauts loom into view, as they casually go about repairing the Hubble Telescope. There’s a joker (Paul Sharma) having fun with his tether in the absence of gravity; there’s the seasoned pro (George Clooney), who’s treating his last spacewalk like a walk in the park; and then there’s the rookie (Sandra Bullock), doing her best to hide all signs of apprehension as she works away on the telescope. Suddenly, they get an urgent message from Mission Control, warning them that a cloud of debris is heading their way with the velocity of a high-speed bullet. Within seconds, huge chunks of shrapnel proceed to slice up the shuttle, the Hubble telescope and crucially, the rookie’s safety lead, who is then hurled into deep space…

Caught your attention yet? Good, ‘cause that’s only the beginning and it only gets better. But revealing more details of the plot would mean spoiling what is surely the most gripping viewing experience of the year, so let’s focus instead on Gravity’s other assets.

For starters, its adherence to realism is remarkable, with real-life astronauts already praising the film’s veracity (despite Cuaròn’s admission that a few liberties had to be taken in the name of dramatic license). The afore-mentioned space shrapnel, in particular, offers a new form of on-screen threat which hasn’t been employed in previous space-set movies, but is just as devastating as a tornado or a tidal wave. The dead silence of open space is also effectively recaptured. There’s something eerie and otherworldly about seeing that level of destruction without the deafening sound of an explosion, with only Stephen Price’s score providing all the cues.

With this much realism going on, you’d be half-inclined to believe Cuaròn actually shot the whole thing in space for real, a theory that is supported by the Mexican director’s long, uninterrupted shots (the first cut clocks in around the 15 minute mark). There’s no point in pretending to know how he pulled it all off, so let’s just say that, thanks to the combination of state of the art CGI and an adrenaline-fuelled performance from Sandra Bullock, you’ll get pretty good idea of what it feels like to be left alone and to your own devices all the way up there.

What’s also pleasing is that, in an age when far too many blockbusters get pointless 3D conversions just for the sake of making a few extra bucks, this is one film that truly should be enjoyed in three dimensions. Not for the novelty of seeing large objects being flung at you from the Earth’s orbit (although there’s nothing wrong with that), but because for once the 3D brings the visuals to vibrant life. After all, if you’re going to see a majestic shot of Earth from outer space, you’ll want to feel like you’re actually there.

So there you have it: Gravity is a popcorn movie that feels like a rollercoaster ride, yet also treats its audience to an original concept and is beautifully put together. The best film of 2013? Oh, go on then.

5/5

Thor: The Dark World

If you happen to be a final year film student, here’s a suggestion for your dissertation topic: movies with colons in their titles should be approached with caution. Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life, GI Joe: Rise of Cobra, Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (come to think of it, steer clear of all “Rise of” flicks too). All films that provide standard Friday night entertainment, but fail to linger in mind shortly after exiting your local Odeon. Which doesn’t exactly bode well for Thor: The Dark World…

It’s not that TDW is a bad film, more like a curiously disappointing one. The God of Thunder’s first outing was well-served by a healthy dose of fish out of water humour to go with the hammer-pounding action and lofty Shakespearian dialogue. The comedy is still present in the sequel – and TDW can be occasionally very funny – but this time it feels like it’s there to cover up the film’s inadequacies instead of working to its strengths. You’ll no doubt get a chuckle seeing Thor hang Mjolnir on a coat hanger or catching the London Underground during rush hour, but they always feel like distractions from the main plot.

Although “plot” is actually pushing it – what we have here is more akin to a “mainstream narrative equation”, i.e. character X must go from plot point A to plot point B in order to save character Y. Throw in also some of the dodgiest movie science ever to grace a blockbuster and you’re onto a head-scratcher to rival the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise in terms of logic and continuity.

In fact, the set-up is so convoluted that an opening voiceover is required, courtesy of Anthony Hopkins’ all-father Odin. Something to do with Christopher Eccleston’s Malekith (a front-runner for the year’s Blandest Villain) trying to steal a MacGuffin, fails, gets jailed, breaks out, wants revenge… you know the drill. It’s the kind of outline put together by a focus group, rather than a visionary screenwriter.

Thank god for Tom Hiddleston’s Loki then, who single-handedly steals the show, runs with it and never looks back. Over the course of three movies Hiddleston has managed to breathe life into the God of Mischief and inhabit the role in the same way Robert Downey Jr and Hugh Jackman did with Tony Stark and Wolverine before him, as opposed to Chris Hemsworth, whose ownership of the role of Thor is more down to his physical resemblance to his comic book counterpart. Loki brings a very welcome blend of sass and menace to the table, thus ensuring Thor is never too much of a bore whenever he’s around and he will no doubt be sorely missed when the next Avengers flick hits the screens.

Other minor saving graces are two highly surprising cameos (neither of which are Stan Lee) and the most bonkers final battle witnessed so far in a Marvel film, where director Alan Taylor literally chucks everything but the kitchen sink at the screen. It’s mad, it’s confusing and will have you in stiches for both the right and the wrong reasons. And that is probably the best way to sum up Thor: The Dark World.

2/5

Captain Phillips

Anyone who’s seen United 93 will know that sitting through a Paul Greengrass movie can be a deeply unnerving experience. His latest film, Captain Phillips, offers a fly on the wall account of the 2009 hijacking of a U.S. container ship by a young crew of Somali pirates. Tom Hanks turns in a masterful performance as the eponymous captain, a grounded, credible everyman thrust into the most incredible of situations, but it’s Greengrass’ ability to downplay the gung ho heroism and make us gradually empathise with the impetuous and ill-equipped pirates that will catch viewers off guard. Expect Oscar nominations.

4/5

Filth

Let’s cut straight to the chase: if you had a hard time enjoying Trainspotting, you’ll most likely be repulsed by Filth. The comedy is blacker than soot, colourful profanities are frequently spouted, copious amounts of drugs voraciously consumed and for those located south of Hadrian’s Wall, the Scottish accents are as thick as they come. If, however, you’ve been bemoaning the lack of decent Irvine Welsh adaptations ever since Renton walked off into the sunset to the sound of Born Slippy, then you are in for a guilty treat.

That’s not to say Filth is Trainspotting 2.0. Both films may display a brutal brand of humour rooted in Britain’s working class, but the two are radically different in terms of theme. While Danny Boyle’s masterpiece was a portrayal of 90s disenfranchised youth, Jon S. Baird’s impressive sophomore effort is a perverse character study chronicling one man’s spectacular descent into hell. It’s a warped ride, with its ups and downs and the occasional sharp turn that takes you by surprise.

Accompanying us on this journey is DS Bruce Robertson, one of the most irredeemably amoral characters ever to be conceived either on page or on screen. Ostensibly a sociopath with a police badge, Bruce shags, snorts and schemes his way through Edinburgh, all while he foolishly believes an imminent job promotion will reunite him with his estranged wife and daughter. When asked by his pitiful “best friend” Clifford Blades what made him want to join the Force, Robertson says it was police oppression. “Oh, so you wanted to stamp it out from the inside?” asks Bladesey. “No, I wanted to be a part of it”, comes the straight-faced reply. He’s not a protagonist you can empathise with, but you certainly won’t be able to take your eyes off him.

As is the case with most adaptations, not all of Filth’s source material makes its way to the big screen, but to Baird’s credit what he sacrificed from the book was due to the material’s incompatibility on film. The biggest omission is the tapeworm that grows inside Bruce’s intestines (sounds lovely, doesn’t it?), which in the book appears literally on top of the text, highjacks the narrative and effectively becomes Robertson’s conscience. In the film the invertebrate character is replaced by Jim Braodbent’s manic shrink Dr Rossi and while the substitution makes sense somewhat, it would’ve been tempting to see Bruce be psychoanalysed by a literate giant worm.

Having said that, Baird jumps at the opportunity to throw in some elements that couldn’t be reproduced as effectively on paper. Hysterical fantasy sequences pop up in the earlier stages of the film, while Bruce has sudden, grotesque visions of people turning into pigs, as his mental state gradually deteriorates. Even the shocking twist packs a real punch thanks to the ingenious use of flashbacks and psychedelic visuals.

At the centre of this whirlwind of squalor and depravity is James McAvoy, turning in another brilliant performance in the same year he impressed in Danny Boyle’s Trance. Hell, it’s quite possibly his best role to date. On one hand this is because the diabolical “Robbo” is the polar opposite of Robbie, the naïve romantic gardener from Atonement, but that’s too easy a comparison. No, where McAvoy truly stands out is in those rare, brief moments where a twinkle of humanity shines through Bruce Robertson, the ones that seem to suggest that, deep beneath the filth, there might just be a decent human being down there. It’s a tough act to pull off, but the Scottish actor does a sterling job.

All in all, Filth is a glorious adaptation that triumphantly recaptures the book’s anarchic spirit and that shocks, scares and entertains in equal measure. Catch it before it gets banned from your local cinema.

4/5

Blue Jasmine

Blue Jasmine sees a New York socialite relocate to San Francisco after discovering her husband is both a fraudster and a philanderer, except the change in lifestyle does not turn out to be the smoothest of transitions. What sounds like the premise for a half-baked Sarah Jessica Parker vehicle is actually a Woody Allen film about the emotional and psychological struggles of starting anew. Expect anxiety ridden characters and awkward clashes between genders and social classes. Heading a cast on top form is Cate Blanchett as Jasmine, a hopelessly self-absorbed individual who never quite elicits our sympathy, but nonetheless gains our compassion thanks to her fragility and tragic lack of social skills.

4/5

About Time

A Richard Curtis film that isn’t cheap and predictable? There’s a first time for everything. The one sheet and TV ads will have you think About Time is merely Notting Hill with time travel, but there are surprisingly profound twists and themes to be mulled over throughout this enjoyable rom-com (less emphasis on the “com”). Regrettably, Domhnall Gleeson spends the first half doing a '90s Hugh Grant impression, but once he settles into his role and the chemistry with the lovely Rachel McAdams and the ever laudable Bill Nighy blossoms, it will be very hard for you not to fall in love with this film.

4/5

Rush

You’ve got to hand it to Peter Morgan, the man knows how to write a good screenplay about rivalry – especially when it’s between two ambitious male figures. The Damned United centred on Brian Clough’s ill-fated obsession with eclipsing Don Revie’s achievements as Leeds United’s top manager. Frost/Nixon instead told the story of two men down on their luck, desperately trying to reinvent themselves and outsmart each other in a series of fraught TV interviews. And in Rush, the attention is on historical Formula 1 rivals James Hunt and Niki Lauda, two egocentric and fiercely competitive drivers with polar opposite characters.

Unlike Asif Kapadia’s excellent documentary Senna, there was always a risk Rush might turn out like a by the numbers biopic, one that follows the tried and tested from-rags-to-riches-to-rags-and-back-to-riches-again narrative arc. Luckily, Morgan’s script steers clear from such conventions partially thanks to its authenticity (the real Niki Lauda has already commended the film for its adherence to true facts), but mainly due to the fact that it’s fundamentally a two-hander. What makes the film even more compelling to watch is that, like the characters they play, both Daniel Brühl and Chris Hemsworth have a lot to prove to their audiences.

Hemsworth, who in the space of two years has starred in three blockbuster hits and has already garnered a vast female fanbase, is clearly keen to flex his acting muscles and show the world he’s more than just the God of Thunder or a poster on a girl’s bedroom wall. A cynical-minded viewer (or the afore-mentioned girl’s boyfriend) could argue that, as the impeccably chiselled, womanising Hunt, Chris has got little to do other than show up and let his good looks do the acting, but that would be an unfair call. He is gradually acquiring more range with each film he does and while he never truly gets under the Shunt’s skin, Hemsworth does manage to convey the requisite amount of charm and playboy bravado to do justice to the one time maverick. Some might say this is an overall superficial portrayal, but it’s hard to imagine the real James Hunt would complain about being depicted as a magnetic trouble-maker.

On the other hand Daniel Brühl, who has made a name for himself starring in European productions, probably thinks he could do with some much deserved recognition in the American film industry. That said, there’s nothing opportunistic about his approach to the role, as Brühl manages to inhabit Niki Lauda to the point of achieving something of a chameleonic resemblance to the real life Formula 1 veteran. Blunt, anti-social and analytical to the point of resembling a cold-hearted asshole, Lauda could be very easily dismissed as the villain of the picture, the hurdle Hunt needs to overcome by the end of the movie. But in Brühl’s hands, he comes off as an introverted, misunderstood figure who invests all his attention into racing quite possibly as a way to conceal his insecurities as a man. The scene in which he stands up to Hunt by trying to put an eloquent spin on his bestowed moniker, The Rat (“They have great survival instinct!”), is quite possibly the most deceptively heart-breaking you’ll see all year.

Adding further pathos to this compelling rivalry is Ron Howard’s direction of the F1 races, which are easily the most thrilling ever committed to film, as tyres screech, engines rev and water splashes in slow motion in the rain-drenched sequences. And for those who are wondering, the Nürburgring incident is recreated in all pain-inducing detail, with the make-up artists doing an impressive job at recreating Lauda’s third degree facial burns.

But perhaps what makes Howard’s film stand out is its central message, i.e. that a wise man can learn more from an enemy than a fool would from his friends. A tad cheesy, maybe? Perhaps, but when delivered as a bookend to a film this good and supported by two absorbing performances, it certainly doesn’t feel forced. A great Formula 1 film that fires on all cylinders.

4/5

Elysium

You could call it the District 9 effect. Ever since Neil Blomkamp’s prawn-infested masterpiece took its triumphant bow back in 2009, every year we’ve seen similarly themed science fiction films (i.e. low on budget but big on ideas) hit cinemas, usually before or just after the blockbuster behemoths roll into town. In December 2010 it was Gareth Edwards’ Monsters (with a miniscule budget of $500,000), a slow-burning love story masquerading as a creature feature; in April 2011 Duncan Jones retold Groundhog Day as a techno thriller with Source Code ($32 million); and in September 2012 Rian Johnson put a dark spin on the time travel sub-genre with Looper ($30 million).

And now, the man who (arguably) started it all is back with yet another intriguing high-concept SF flick that almost feels like a coda to what has been, quite frankly, a summer of relentless mass destruction – try counting the films featuring explosions and obliterated buildings and you’ll get the picture. True, Blomkamp’s Elysium does feature the odd bang here and there and its $115 million budget is considerably larger than the previously mentioned entries (although still nowhere near the inflated sums of most of today’s blockbusters), yet somehow it still manages to feel like a personal project.

Set in a dystopian 2154, the plot sees the human population split in two factions. The ultra-wealthy live on Elysium, a luxurious satellite orbiting the Earth where every household is fitted with highly advanced medical machines that can cure any injury or disease known to man. The rest of us are confined to Earth, now poverty stricken and emaciated by countless wars. It is here where we meet Max De Costa (Matt Damon), an ex-convict who gets a fatal dose of radiation poisoning during an industrial accident. Given only 5 days left to live, he decides to break into Elysium so he can get a hold of the necessary medical equipment that can save him.

Usually the best science fiction movies are the ones that to some degree reflect the society of the time in which they were filmed rather than the one in which they are set, and in terms of subtext Blomkamp is not exactly being very subtle, as Elysium can be viewed as a social commentary on the financial inequality that plagues many of today’s nations. Factor in that most of the population on Earth is of Hispanic origin, with families trying to reach the divine satellite undetected on small, clunky spaceships and the dots pretty much join themselves. There are no prizes for guessing which real life superpower nation Elysium is standing in for.

So liberals will lap up Matt Damon’s fight for equal access healthcare, but there is also a lot to admire in the amount of detail Blomkamp has put into brining his twisted vision of the future to life. For instance, examining the design between the immigrants’ afore-mentioned derelict vessels and the rich’s slicker, more dynamic vehicles is like comparing a first generation Fiat Panda with the new Jaguar F Type. Another highlight is the suggestion that one day all parole officers will be static dummies playing automated messages and dispensing pain-killers. Even Max’s spindly exoskeleton makes sense, in an implausibly practical sort of way.

Unfortunately the film is lacking in the character department. District 9’s Wikus Van Der Merwe made such a compelling protagonist because he was an insufferable bureaucrat that managed to gradually win us over thanks to his tragic metamorphosis. By stark contrast, Max is your standard underdog on a heroic quest and comes off a bit, well, vanilla. Speaking of Wikus, Sharlto Copley pops up again, this time as a cackling, OTT serial rapist/killer/litterer whose idea of conveying villainy is flipping the birdie to innocent bystanders. And while her presence does not affect the overall quality of the film, Emma Tremblay's character may well be the most photogenic chemo patient ever portrayed on-screen.

What no one is disputing however is Neil Blomkamp’s status as an emerging visionary filmmaker. Watching the opening minutes of Elysium feels like seeing a confident auteur at work and there’s no doubt that, if he keeps up these levels of quality, he’ll someday be mentioned in the same breath as other masters of Science Fiction, such as Ridley Scott, Paul Verhoven or even James Cameron.

3/5

Kick-Ass 2

Matthew Vaughn’s Kick-Ass was a guilty pleasure for comic book aficionados because it managed to strike the perfect balance between parodying and paying homage to the superhero genre. Jeff Wadlow’s Kick-Ass 2 has none of the wit and innocence of its predecessor and instead features balls to wall action and, for some reason, Union J music videos. It is arguably a funnier film than the first installment, but that’s not really the point. Hit-Girl’s awkward attempts to ditch the switchblades and fit in at high school is the only interesting subplot, but even that feels more like a preview to Chloe Grace Moretz’ upcoming Carrie remake.

2/5  

Inception

Every once in a while, there comes a sci-fi film with a premise so mind-blowing, you instantly feel compelled to watch it. The Terminator, Jurassic Park and The Matrix are a few that come to mind, and while Inception definitely shares a shred of DNA with the Wachowski siblings’ cyberpunk thriller, Christopher Nolan’s vision and execution ensure it’s a modern classic in its own right. A heist movie taking place in a dream reality, it packs a multinational cast headed by Leonardo diCaprio and marries breathtaking action sequences with complex notions on the way we perceive reality. A bit of a head trip then, but definitely worth the ride.

5/5 

Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa

Considering that most of the comedic appeal of the TV series derived from the stiff, mundane nature of both the character and Norfolk’s bucolic setting, Alan Partridge really shouldn’t work as a feature film. Yet it’s these very qualities that have somehow made Alpha Papa the most hilarious film of the summer, as the hapless DJ ends up becoming the misguided negotiator during a heist at North Norfolk Digital. Writers Armando Ianucci and Rob & Neil Gibbons know how to tickle the audience’s funny bone, but it’s Steve Coogan’s bumbling, gloriously narcissistic performance as Partridge that will have you quoting this film for some time. Back of the net!

4/5  

The Wolverine

It is somewhat befitting that Wolverine, the poster boy for the X-Men whose regenerative powers allow him to live beyond a conventional human lifespan, has always been played by Hugh Jackman ever since his first on-screen appearance way back in 2000. In the 13 years since X-Men hit cinemas we’ve seen countless superheroes come, go and assemble, yet Jackman and Wolverine have remained a constant presence in our multiplexes. You have to tip your hat to the Aussie actor, who despite his stature and handsome features (many forget Wolvs is supposed to be a 5”3 ferret man) has managed to inhabit the character to the point where the two have become virtually indivisible.

Which makes it an even bigger shame that The Wolverine doesn’t live up to its star’s talent and charisma, because despite lessons have clearly been learnt from the disappointing X-Men Origins: Wolverine, there is something aloof about Logan’s latest solo outing. Paradoxically, in a summer where we've already been treated to Iron Man 3 and Man of Steel, adamantium turns out to be the weakest bond. 

The first issue is mainly a narrative one. Despite being inspired by the popular series by Chris Claremont and Frank Miller, the plot for the big-screen adaptation feels threadbare and more like an excuse to relocate our clawed protagonist to the Far East, just so that he can square off against a series of Yakuza thugs armed with knives, blades and assorted sharp objects. Admittedly, Japan makes for an exotic setting and a welcome diversion from past scenarios overpopulated with fellow mutants, but the novelty does wear off pretty quickly. Also, the curveball we were supposedly thrown in the trailers, i.e. that Logan would become once again mortal and therefore be bereft of his healing ability, turns out to be a damp squib (or is that squid?).

Secondly, there’s no getting around the fact that, hairy protagonist aside, there are no interesting characters to keep us gripped throughout. Tao Okamoto is a gorgeous presence as Mariko Yashida (one of Logan’s true great loves in the comics), but her modelling background means she is cornered whenever she needs to convey emotion. The villains don’t fare any better, with Will Yun Lee required to do little more than shoot arrows from buildings, while Svetlana Khodchenkova’s Viper brings to mind ugly memories of Batman & Robin’s Poison Ivy. Meanwhile, Famke Janssen is back as the ghostly apparition of Jean Grey, just in case anyone had forgotten this is an X-Men film. Why she has to wear a skimpy negligée in all of her scenes is never made clear but what the hell, we'll go with it...

And what about those afore-mentioned blade-on-blade scraps? There is an exhilarating sequence set on top of a speeding bullet train that will keep you on the edge of your seat, but fails to linger in memory like the similarly-themed Spidey vs Doc Ock tussle in Spider-Man 2. A stand-off with an army of ninjas in a snowy village starts off promisingly but ends just as things start to get dicey, while the final showdown with the Silver Samurai is likely to turn off fans of the comic, given the character’s lazy big-screen treatment.  

All of which leads to the conclusion that what The Wolverine lacks in mainly is direction. James Mangold is a perfectly competent filmmaker, but with Darren Aronofsky originally attached to the project, one can’t help but wonder how the movie would’ve turned out with the Wrestler and Black Swan director at the helm. A visionary auteur is always more likely to produce a more inspired and satisfying piece of work, even if it happens to be just a tentpole superhero film.

Nevertheless, the mid credits sequence alone is almost worth the price of the cinema ticket and based on what we glimpse in the space of a minute is enough to get one pumped for next year’s X-Men: Days of Future Past. And the best thing is, it’s shaping up to be Wolverine’s best on-screen adventure yet. Roll on 2014.

2/5

The World's End

Reunions with old friends can be something of a double-edged sword. Go in with no expectations and chances are you’ll feel not a day has gone by since you last saw each other, the bond and chemistry still wonderfully intact. If however you get hooked on nostalgia and try too hard to recreate fond memories that are best left in the past, you are more likely to end up with a crushing disappointment.

The World’s End, which reunites real-life best buds Simon Pegg and Nick Frost with director Edgar Wright six years after they last collaborated on a feature length project, is far from being the crushing disappointment you might have feared, yet somehow doesn’t quite live up to the expectations set by Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead.

The plot sees a group of high school friends being reunited by Gary King (Simon Pegg), former leader of the pack and self-appointed local legend, twenty years after they last tried to complete an epic pub crawl consisting of twelve venues, the final one being the titular World’s End. The problem is not everyone is keen on reliving the past quite like Gary, especially his estranged best mate Andrew (Nick Frost). And to make matters worse, the town of Newton Haven seems to have been taken over by an army of alien robots.

While Shaun was presented as “a romantic comedy with zombies” and Fuzz tried to transpose the buddy cop action movie conventions to a rural British setting, TWE positions itself as a coming of age film spliced with Sci-fi DNA. The first act is heavily invested in establishing the relationship between the core characters, so much that we’re introduced to them twice: first as teenagers and then as their older, mellower selves… except Gary is still clinging onto his glory years with the same firm grip he has on his outdated Goth wardrobe.

He is easily the most complex character we’ve seen Pegg play to date, especially as he’s always been the straight man to Nick Frost’s goofy sidekick, but this time the roles have been switched. The latter is a family man with a successful business, all too happy to have put his boozing years behind him. The former is a world class jerk with Peter Pan syndrome, desperately trying to conceal hidden, disturbing layers. It’s this role reversal that proves to be TWE’s biggest strength, the on-screen relationship between the two actors proving far more compelling than the chummier and straightforward versions seen in Shaun and Fuzz.

But herein lays the key problem with TWE. Because so much time is spent on the backstory and relationship between these characters, the sharp turn into sci-fi territory feels like a distraction from a more grounded and interesting narrative. In Shaun of the Dead the horror storyline feeds into the plot gradually by teasing the imminent arrival of the zombies with sight gags. Here the alien invasion is signalled by a sudden and very messy scrap with a group of chavs in the men’s room, which feels abrupt and forced in comparison.    

That’s not to say TWE isn’t as funny or as action-packed as its predecessors. If anything, the gag-rate is impressive and of the rapid fire kind, so much that you’ll struggle to remember all the stand-out lines (although “we’ll always have the disableds” is a contender for best of the bunch). The decision to follow through with a pub crawl in the midst of an otherworldly threat may be baffling from a logic point of view but it does make for demented action set pieces due to the characters’ increasingly inebriated state, with Nick Frost at one point coming off as a drunk Hulk/Jason Bourne hybrid, as he batters hordes of adversaries with the aid of stool chairs. If anything, it proves Edgar Wright has become just as comfortable directing fight scenes as he is at doing comedy, which bodes well for his upcoming Ant-Man gig for Marvel. And, this being a Wright/Pegg screenplay, you can expect a Cornetto reference and cameos abound.

It’s just a shame yet somewhat fitting that, keeping in theme with aliens being invasive, the film disappears up its own arse like a giant anal probe in its’ closing minutes (MILD SPOILERS FOLLOW). Is it really necessary to justify the invasion with an overlong exposition scene? Isn’t the epilogue a little too Mad Max for its own good? By this point it seems the filmmakers have already moved onto aping yet another movie genre instead of wrapping up nicely the one they’ve been focusing on for the past 100 minutes.

To adopt the reunion metaphor one last time, The World’s End feels like a pleasant enough catch-up where everyone has a good laugh, but there’s an underlying sensation you’re getting too old for this shit, or rather, that this shit is starting to get old. But we’ll raise nonetheless a glass to Pegg & co. for their valuable effort. After all, completing a well-loved trilogy is a feat just as impressive as completing a twelve venue pub crawl. Cheers to that.

4/5 

Pacific Rim

In the not too distant future planet Earth is invaded by a rapid succession of Kaiju (“giant monster” in Japanese) who emerge from a trans-dimensional portal at the heart of the Pacific Ocean and wreak havoc along the coasts of the surrounding continents. In the face of such devastating attacks, mankind responds to the otherworldly threat by constructing towering robots, Jaegers (“hunter” in German), that are capable of taking on the beasts head on, mano a mano.  

After skimming through the above synopsis it would be very easy to dismiss Pacific Rim as brainless schlockbuster entertainment. Giant robots? Decimated landmarks? It’s the sort of movie that Michael Bay and Roland Emmerich could pull off with their eyes closed (‘cause let’s be honest, there probably wouldn’t be much difference if they were open) and that they’d do in a heartbeat to pay for their new pool. But as it turns out, this actually happens to be the newest film by Guillermo Del Toro, the Mexican horror auteur who gave us Pan’s Labyrinth and that was, lest we forget, in line to direct The Hobbit until Peter Jackson took over the reins.

Now this nugget of information may not necessarily change your preconceptions on Pacific Rim, but if you like your summer entertainment with a bit more style to go with the all explosions and mayhem, you’ll find there are plenty of moments of beauty – yes, beauty – to behold here. The Kaiju, for one, look like they’ve been directly lifted from surrealist paintings, each one a different shape, size and character to match their grotesque appearance. This shouldn’t really come as a surprise, given Del Toro likes to personally sketch his creatures and he’s had plenty of practice on Pan and the Hellboy franchise. But while the Jaegers obviously aren’t as expressive as their scaly opponents, they remain awe-inspiring creations to marvel at – an early shot of a damaged Jaeger falling to its knees on a snowy Alaskan beach conveys the sense of scale a film like this requires, as two miniscule on-lookers helplessly survey the scene.

Perhaps amid all these monumental figures, it only seems natural that the human characters are dwarfed by comparison. Charlie Hunnam and Rinko Kikuchi headline an international cast that is likeable enough, but the only actor who stands shoulder to shoulder with the Kaiju and Jaegers is Idris Elba, as the ludicrously named Stacker Pentecost, a gruff general prone to portentous monologues and who raises a menacing finger whenever someone dares to touch him without his permission. However, del Toro has an ace up his sleeve: every Jaeger must be manned neurologically by two pilots, whose brains must be “drift compatible” in order to control the colossal machine, which is why couples, siblings and relatives tend to make the ideal recruits thanks to their deep bond. Not only is this an ingenious plot device that keeps us emotionally invested in the characters, it also allows us to make sense of the hulking robots’ movements during combat.

And what great combats they are, indeed. With fighters this big, you’d be forgiven for thinking you won’t make much sense of what’s going on when the carnage begins, especially after being scarred by the chaotic mess that were the Transformers films and, it has to be said, this year’s Man of Steel. But in Pacific Rim the action scenes are used sparingly, play out more like clunky wrestling matches (no doubt influenced by the director's and Mexico’s fascination with luchador movies) and are all the better for it. The shot of a Jaeger dragging an oil tanker across a devastated Hong Kong before brandishing it like a sword is a sight that needs to be seen on the big screen.

Pacific Rim may not be Guillermo del Toro’s most intellectual or profound film and the title admittedly does sound like an activity Russell Brand would engage in behind closed doors, but it sure is the most stylish and unapologetically entertaining blockbuster of the summer. If the thought of monsters vs robots doesn’t do it for you, then you’ll want to avoid this like gout. Those of you who instead grew up on Power Rangers and have always wondered what it would be like to see Megazord take down one of Lord Zedd’s goons on the silver screen in 3D, this is your lucky day.   

4/5

Monsters University

Most studios can’t pull off prequels, as they usually feel like risk-assed films that cynically cash in on the popularity of the original. But then again, most studios aren’t Pixar. After the lackluster effort that was Cars 2, the animation studio has delivered a second installment worthy of the Toy Story franchise, as Monsters University focuses on the college days of loveable critters “Sulley” and Mike Wazowski. With a series of well-timed gags revolving around frat parties and campus-set antics, this can easily be considered Pixar’s Animal House, but animator-turned director Dan Scanlon never takes his eyes off the affecting relationship between his two protagonists. A+.

4/5 

World War Z

World War Z, the 2006 post-apocalyptic novel by Max (son of Mel) Brooks, is one of the finest zombie texts ever written. A collection of interviews and first person accounts, the various chapters record the unfolding of a global zombie outbreak and humanity’s decades’ long struggle for survival. But rather than going for predictable scares and gory sensationalism, the personal accounts are focused more on the effects the outbreak has on geo-politics, military tactics, the world economy and organized religion. In the right hands, a book like this could be adapted into a terrific SF mock-documentary that is heavy on the social commentary in the same vein as District 9, but without skimping on the horror and chill factor so effectively conveyed in George A. Romero’s Dead series.

Trust Paramount Pictures to go mess up such a golden opportunity. Clearly the thought of making an intelligent zombie film is too much of a financial risk these days, so instead what we get is a bland disaster flick not far removed from Roland Emmerich’s back catalogue and directed by Marc Foster (who delivered the frantically edited Quantum of Solace, just to give you an idea of what you’re in for).

The plot, for startes, has been stripped of all substance and given a Spielbergian retooling that focuses on the decidedly cheesier themes of fatherhood and family values, which shouldn’t come as a surprise really, when Hollywood’s busiest dad has been cast in the leading role. The filmmakers involved believe that by making Brad Pitt’s UN operative Gerry Lane a devoted family man, the audience will identify with his pain for being separated from his loved ones. Instead, Gerry’s homesickness makes him a flimsy and occasionally inept hero, as exemplified by the scene where his black ops team is taken out by a bunch of zombies because he receives a phone call from his wife mid-operation.

Speaking of the living dead, if you were expecting the moaning, shuffling kind championed by Romero and actually featured in Max Brooks’ novel, you’re in for another crushing disappointment. The “Zekes” in WWZ the movie are more like twitchy, screeching, coked-up Usain Bolts that sprint across cities and for some reason spend very little time feasting on human flesh (which is the whole point of being a zombie after all, isn’t it?). Admittedly, the idea of the undead moving together like a compact horde of ants makes a stunning visual, but it’s yet another development that distances the movie further from the source material.

The only aspect of the novel that is somewhat faithfully reproduced on-screen is the globe-trotting. With the narrative moving from the US and South Korea to Israel and, err, South Wales, there is something wholly disheartening seeing the world’s capitals being systematically infested. The Jerusalem-set sequence in particular proves to be the best of the entire film, as the undead infiltrate the city by piling one upon another to climb the titanic wall surrounding the Middle-Eastern metropolis. It’s one of the rare moments where the events only hinted at in Brooks’ work are effectively portrayed on the big screen. Other memorable sections of the book however, such as the battle of Yonkers or the clearing of the catacombs of Paris, which would’ve also made for excellent set-pieces, are conspicuously absent.

While these are undoubtedly the rants of a disgruntled fan of the novel, there is no denying that Marc Foster's film is average at best. The action is derivative, the characters lackluster (you’d be forgiven for not noticing Lost’s Matthew Fox as a Navy SEAL) and the plot weakened by the many rewrites the script reportedly went through. And whoever thought that setting a game of hide and seek in a dreary medical centre outside of Cardiff would make a gripping final act should go back to film school.

For those of you who haven’t read the book and have low standards when it comes to popcorn entertainment, you might just sit through this fine. For those who instead were dying to see World War Z on the big-screen, you’ll more likely feel like you’re dying inside by the time you exit the cinema.

2/5

This Is The End

Film concepts don’t get more meta than the one for This Is The End: on the same night James Franco decides to host a star-packed house party in his new Hollywood villa, the end of the world inadvertently begins, prompting a handful of comedy divas to stick together to survive Armageddon. Seeing celebrities play warped versions of their real life personas is always entertaining, although in Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg’s debut film, you sometimes get the feeling the actors are having more fun than the audience. But that’s no biggie, as there are plenty of laughs and hilarious cameos to enjoy, with one in particular marking the most unexpected comeback of 2013.

3/5 

Before Midnight

There are plenty of films about falling in love and rekindling an old romance. Before Midnight instead is brave enough to deal with the challenges of being in a relationship for the long haul. Jessie (Ethan Hawke) and Celine (Julie Delpy) may have got a little older and more cynical about love and life since their last encounter in Paris nine years ago, but whenever these characters are chatting away against a picturesque European backdrop (this time, the idyllic Peloponnese) it feels like catching up with two dear old friends. It might not be the most enjoyable entry of the Before… trilogy, but it is definitely the most mature.

4/5     

Man of Steel

Superman can be a tricky character to nail. Noble, handsome and omnipotent to the point of being near flawless, the character harks back to a time (1938, to be precise) when superheroes were the stuff of novelty and comic book readers would lap up pedestrian displays of superhuman strength and pompous monologues ripe with selfless heroism. But now we live in an age where lifting heavy objects no longer qualifies as pulse raising entertainment, with audiences liking their superheroes to be conflicted, prone to error as they are to the occasional quip and, crucially, a bit more human. Like Batman, basically.

Which makes Warner Bros’ decision to hire Christopher Nolan, hot off his acclaimed Dark Knight trilogy, as a producer to shepherd Man of Steel into the 21^st century entirely logical (despite being released in 2006, Bryan Singer’s maligned Superman Returns shared its DNA with the Donner/Reeve flicks from the late 70s, early 80s). Zack Snyder taking the director’s chair also made sense, as he’s had his fair share of experience handling comic book properties like 300 and Watchmen. Throw in a heavyweight cast of Oscar-nominees and you’re onto what Hollywood execs like to call “a sure thing”.

However, anyone who has learnt not to be fooled by a film’s line-up and marketing campaign will know better than to walk into Man of Steel thinking that, like its central hero, it’s going to be bulletproof. In fact, the movie does come with its fair share of flaws, some of which prove more detrimental than others.

The most glaring one that comes to mind is that, in a clear attempt to emulate Nolan’s success with the Batman franchise, MOS strips the character of all Golden Age nostalgia and emerges instead as, yes, a much darker and grittier film, with Superman even sinking among a sea of human skulls at one point. That’s not to say we should get a 2 hour film of Clark Kent picking daisies, but in terms and style and tone it is a bit of a departure from the source material. The similarities to Batman Begins are further accentuated by the film’s re-shuffled narrative structure, as we bounce back and forth between Clark’s troubled childhood and his present day quandaries.    

Another serious issue with the film is pace. Given Kal-El’s (the official name on Supes’ birth certificate) otherworldly origins, a sizeable chunk of the running time is spent on clunky exposition on Kryptonian history, politics and technology. Clearly this is screenwriter David S. Goyer’s way of showing he’s committed to the comic book's mythology, but surely he could’ve skimped on some of the details. And to those of you who thought that Transformers didn’t know when to end an action scene, you might want to bring a stopwatch and some ear plugs, ‘cause it seems like Zack Snyder is out to prove he can direct the longest, LOUDEST and most bombastic set-piece we’ve seen in a blockbuster for a while (seriously, never has so much abuse been inflicted on a metropolitan skyline). You might think it looks brilliant on paper, but the end result is surprisingly exhausting to watch. Perhaps these were the moments where Nolan’s sensibilities as a director would’ve come in handy and Snyder could’ve been reined in a bit more.

But despite its shortcomings, there are elements of brilliance in Man of Steel that are worthy of mention, such as Hans Zimmer’s epic score that brings the flight sequences to vibrant life, or the genius casting of Russell Crowe and Kevin Costner as the hero’s father figures. But the aspect of the character that is handled the best is the humans’ reaction to Superman’s existence. In the original Richard Donner film Lois Lane didn’t bat an eyelid when he revealed he was from another planet. In MOS, the world is understandably shaken by the sudden realization that a humanoid alien with godlike powers is walking among them, their wariness and paranoia completely justified. Superman’s relationship with Lois also gets an interesting retooling, the two sharing a delicate and believable trust before any romance blossoms.

As for the big blue boy scout himself, relative newcomer Henry Cavill turns in a likeable, if uneven performance. He pulls off the look effortlessly and gets to show range in a couple of scenes, but lacks both the innate charisma that Christopher Reeve displayed in his first outing back in 1978 and the gravitas a leading actor requires to carry a movie. Nevertheless, there’s enough work on display to suggest that, should he be back for a sequel (and early box office reports seem to indicate just that), he will grow into his star-making role.

As a device to repackage DC’s oldest property and mainstream him into the 21^st century, Man of Steel is a success. As a fully-rounded film in its own right, it is undeniably flawed. You could say that what we’re left with is not the Superman film we deserve, but the one we need right now. So here’s a challenge, Warner Bros: how about trying to make a sequel that is actually lighter than the origin story?

3/5  

   

The Iceman

With his uncanny ability to play deranged alpha males, you’d suspect Michael Shannon is a closet sociopath who uses his roles to channel his inner psychosis. The Iceman sees him play Richard Kuklinski, a real-life serial killer turned mafia hitman who, unbeknownst to his wife and daughters, murdered approximately 100 victims over the course of twenty years. Ariel Vromen’s film is a biopic by the numbers and while a few interesting names pop up in the supporting cast, none of them can hold a candle to Shannon. His performance is a cold, unnervingly restrained one, the kind that a young Robert De Niro or Christopher Walken would turn in.

3/5       

The Great Gatsby

Like On The Road, The Great Gatsby is one of the American literature classics that deserves – nay, demands – a certain degree of tact when adapting it to film and so far the results have been a little disappointing. Jack Clayton’s 1974 effort made for lackluster viewing despite the presence of Robert Redford in the titular role, while A&E’s 2000 TV version was laughably miscast (Paul Rudd as Nick Carraway? Er, ok…). It seems that, despite the evident love and respect for the source material, most filmmakers fail to successfully transpose The Great Gatsby’s strengths and key themes to the big screen.

The moment Baz Luhrmann was announced as the next director to tackle F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, cinemagoers needed only look at his back catalogue to get an idea of what his approach was going to be like. Romeo + Juliet, Moulin Rouge! and Australia feel less like movies and more like grand theatrical productions that are ripe with musical numbers and place an emphasis on spectacle that frequently borders on camp (which is to be expected, when one of your titles ends with an exclamation mark).

The Great Gatsby is no different. From start to finish, Luhrmann’s movie feels like the most lavish party ever put up on screen, slicked with glossy visuals and beautiful people dancing the Charleston to contemporary music whilst pouring rivers of champagne down their throats. In terms of putting a modern spin on the depravity and inherent materialism of the twenties – a recurring theme throughout Fitzgerald’s work, it must be noted – it’s a roaring success. Purists may not be overly keen on the Jay-Z produced soundtrack, but the tune selection fits in perfectly with the glamourized fictional setting, while some songs even touch upon some of the tropes found in the novel (Florence & the Machine’s “Over the Love” directly references the “green light” that obsesses Gatsby).

However, while Baz has undoubtedly nailed the aesthetics, he doesn’t fare so well in replicating the book’s more profound themes. After all, this is a text about the corruption of the American Dream and how it is reflected in one man’s deluded pursuit for what he thinks is the love of his life. The best way Luhrmann can think of conveying such hefty notions is to have Tobey Maguire’s mediocre Nick Carraway recite lines directly from the book. Not that there’s anything wrong with referencing your source material, but when it’s done too often and unconvincingly, you know you’re not going to win over GG devotees (and it doesn’t help that Maguire delivers the most unintentionally hilarious quote with his typical blank stare).

Furthermore, the glossy visuals don’t always work in the director’s favour. The scene in which Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan finally share a kiss under the moonlight is marred by the abundance of digital make-up on the actors’ faces, while the daytime shots of downtown New York at times feel like the backdrop to a subpar Xbox game. Also, the excessive amount of screen time dedicated to speeding cars and revving engines suggest that Luhrmann is secretly auditioning for the next Fast & Furious gig.

Thank god then that he has the perfect Gatsby in Leonardo DiCaprio. Charming, handsome and with the kind of smile that truly does concentrate on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favour, he more than succeeds in embodying Jay Gatsby as the perfect self-made man. His introduction to Nick Carraway, complete with bubbly in hand and fireworks going off in the background, is the stuff of Hollywood glamour. But Leo is just as good in the character’s more revealing moments. Whenever he is around Daisy (a sweet, if one-note Carey Mulligan), DiCaprio strips Gatsby of his suave, charismatic aura and reveals the childish qualities of a gleeful schoolboy in love. It’s yet another towering performance he can add to his already impressive repertoire. Special mention should also go to Joel Edgerton who, in his brutish yet also surprisingly layered portrayal of Tom Buchanan, is fast becoming one of Australia’s finest talents to watch.

So where does 2013 Gatsby stand, then? Well, it is arguably the strongest of the adaptations to date, but it no doubt remains a lopsided effort. Beautiful to look at but a bit hollow on the inside, with only DiCaprio and Edgerton truly elevating the material whenever it gets bogged down in its own vanity. If anything, there’s fun to be had at counting how many times Gatsby calls someone “old sport” – it will make a terrific drinking game.

3/5

The Woodsman

Every once in a while, we are confronted with a film’s premise that truly puts us to the test. In The Woodsman director Nicole Kassell dares us to sympathise with a reformed child molester (played with a haunting conviction by frequent on-screen psycho Kevin Bacon) as he struggles to find his place in society after a 12 year spell in prison. Needless to say, there are more comfortable ways of spending 87 minutes, but both Bacon and Kassell manage to walk a fine line between subtle and controversial without ever ill-treating the delicate subject. In terms of sheer audacity, this is bold filmmaking that needs to be seen to be believed.

3/5 

Iron Man 3

For comic book fans across the globe, the sensation of seeing their heroes assemble onscreen in The Avengers was, to quote Phoebe Buffay, like “being Santa on Prozac at Disneyland getting laid”. Here was a film that nailed everything right – plot, pace, performances, truly epic action set-pieces – and, most importantly, managed to appeal to those outside of the geek community.

But how do you follow up the most lucrative superhero film of all time? The most instinctive reaction would be to go bigger and up the ante to vertiginous levels, but thankfully Marvel has not hired Michael Bay to helm Iron Man 3, the first in line for the company’s “Phase 2” of superhero adaptations that will lead to Avengers 2. Instead the gig has gone to Shane Black, most renowned for his screenwriting credentials on action classics like Lethal Weapon and The Last Boy Scout. An inspired choice, granted, but Hollywood execs would be forgiven for doubting he was the right man for the job, considering the budget and expectations involved.

They needn’t have worried. While Black has delivered in the set-pieces department (more on that later), it’s his work on the script with Drew Pierce that truly benefits IM3 as a whole, as they peel away our protagonist’s cocksure bravado and reveal a very different Tony Stark to the one we are used to. It turns out Tony is struggling with a bad case of PTSD since his team-up with Earth’s mightiest heroes. “Big man in a suit of armor”, asked Captain America defiantly last time round, “take that away, what are you?” It’s a line that haunts Tony, who has become all too aware of his humanity and now spends most of the time holed up in his basement working on new Iron Man designs, much to the chagrin of his girlfriend Pepper. So when The Mandarin (Ben Kingsley), a shadowy figure prone to orchestrating attacks on western civilization, picks Stark as their next target, matters take a turn for the worse.

After the intergalactic melee of The Avengers it is a smart move to go with terrorism as the big bad in IM3, especially as it is a threat that is made very real by the frequent reports broadcast on our news channels.  Factor in the presence of a serum capable of enhancing an individual’s biology with super strength plus accelerated healing (inspired by the popular Warren Ellis’ penned Extremis arc), and you’d half expect Lance Armstrong to show up as one of the henchmen. Even more intriguingly, Black has Stark spending most of the film sans armor and cut off from his technology, the moral being that perhaps he has grown far too reliant on his suits.

But in case you are now thinking the latest installment in the Iron Man franchise is pulling a Nolan with all this angst and gloom rest assured, this is also without doubt the funniest film Marvel has made so far. Virtually every major character gets a memorable line in and comedy is found in the most unlikely of places, such as War Machine’s password or the last standing henchman’s reaction to Iron Man in full kick-ass mode. As for the aforementioned action set-pieces, there is some truly inventive stuff on display here, whether it is Tony taking on a room of goons with only a glove and boot from his suit, or a spectacular freefall rescue after some particularly nasty turbulence aboard Air Force One.

There are some niggles, though. The battle between the Extremis-powered soldiers and an army of remote-controlled Iron Man armors is less thrilling climactic showdown, more priceless toy merchandising opportunity; Don Cheadle is better served this time as Jim Rhodes, Tony’s straight-talking best pal, but hardly gets to shine when in his Iron Patriot suit; and finally, while the big-screen portrayal of The Mandarin will no doubt amuse the mainstream crowd, it is likely to infuriate avid readers of the comics. One way or another, it will have an impact on you.

But what we should all be wondering right now is whether this will be the last we’ve seen Robert Downey Jr. in what has become his signature role. After all, with Iron Man 3, his four movie deal with Marvel has officially expired… Perhaps it’s best not to dwell on it too much, because what matters is RDJ’s accomplishment: he has single-handedly managed to bring to life a character that, prior to 2008, was unheard of outside comic book communities. Now good ol’shell head is Marvel’s most valuable property, second only to Spiderman. “They may take away my armor, but I’ll always be Iron Man” Tony says at some point. And he couldn’t be more right.

4/5