Funny Games U.S. (dir. Haneke, US, 2008)

A father, mother and son drive gently down the country road, playfully guessing the name and artist of the song on the radio. It's classical music, perfectly complimenting the breezy feel of a regular, happy family's embarking on an idyllic summer holiday. Then out of nowhere, the shrieks of sinister, deafening death metal blast out, drowning out all sound in and around the car. The family seem oblivious to the peril; they keep looking at each other, smiling. We're into disturbing territory.

Funny Games U.S. is a shot-for-shot remake of Michael Haneke's original foreign language film released a decade ago, the effects of it still having not quite worn off to those that saw it. I haven't seen the original, but those that I've spoken to have told me they needed to watch Disney films for a good while to get over it. Along with this intriguing reaction, and the fact that I had Haneke's very good Cache in my collection, I set off to view Funny Games U.S. at the picture house. I didn't expect to enjoy myself, nor did I intend to. The two labels to conjure up in this scenario are arthouse and torture-porn; the former doesn't have entertainment at the top of its priorities, and the latter shouldn't, but unforunately does in this day and age.

Throughout the film we watch the family settle into their holiday home, peeling potatoes and changing the battery on the phone (fun!!!!) before the arrival of two suspicious, yet charming young men who look as though they've just been for a round of golf. Things don't seem right, and soon a request for eggs turns into a bash on the skull with a golf club. Before long, the family is subjected to horrendous torture for the next 90 minutes. It is uncompromising, difficult material.

Funny Games was brought across the pond because Haneke wanted to make a statement about violence in film. While I do have some problems with his execution (I'll get to that), I can't argue with his message. Why do we delight in films such as Saw and Hostel? Why do we derive entertainment from watching people screaming, being cut in half. Here's the thing: Saw is not famed for its plot, its characters or any sort of depth. It is the Home Alone of horror movies, in which the sole attraction is for its audience to wait in anticipation for the next great trap. To sit as voyeurs whilst the next unwilling victim gets their jaw spilt open or their chest ripped off.

You're probably thinking "well, lots of movies are guilty of this", and I'd be inclined to agree with you. Tarantino uses explicit violence in his movies, and Haneke has been outspoken in pointing the finger at him in particular. However, Tarantino's films are of such great quality that there's a lot more to sink your teeth into. Amazing dialogue, great characters. Likewise, with horror films, the intention of the film is to scare me. Sweeney Todd has Grand Guignol levels of mutilation, but its praise lies mostly on its music, and stylish use of gothic black and white throughout. When it boils down to it, there are no redeeming qualities, or an overall aim to the Saw series. The scripts suck and are reliant on cheap twists, the characters are one-dimensional and the stench of money-grabbing executives is all over the franchise. The audience go to see the people maimed and killed, plain and simple. There's something not quite right with that.

What Funny Games U.S. does it subverts the torture-porn genre. It doesn't show us the violence, instead choosing to focus on the consequences. It wants us to feel the pain of the victims, every agonising second of the aftermath. Therein lies the uncomfortable moments of the film, 5-minute long stretches of a bloodied mother rising helplessly to her feet. I viewed the film as one statement, and I knew I wasn't the intended audience. This was meant for those that went into the cinema expecting something in the Saw mould, wishing to be entertained by the pain of others.

While I take Haneke's side, there is an issue with how he goes about constructing his argument. All elements of the film work fine, other than some choice dialogue from the antagonists when breaking the fourth wall. Their lines to the audience drive the condescending nature of the film to new levels, and it is fully expected that even those who tolerate the film will feel as if they are being talked down to.

I didn't enjoy Funny Games U.S., but I can't deny that it was a powerful piece of cinema, and probably my favourite film of 2008 so far, at least before Wall-E and The Dark Knight come along this week and occupy the #1 and #2 spots, whichever way round. Funny Games U.S. has little flaws depending on how you look at it. Are you the disappointed voyeur, or the wrongly patronised? And if you don't like the basic concept of Haneke talking down to you, just remember that Godard had the utmost contempt for his audience, and we all love him to bits.

I have a question. If I buy the DVD, does that make me a sadist?

***1/2

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (dir. Spielberg, USA, 2008)

I have a great affinity toward the Indiana Jones series. The original three films served as a trilogy of pure popcorn entertainment not bogged down in carefully constructed mythology (Star Wars) or faithfulness to a source material (Lord of the Rings). When you watched an Indy adventure, you knew you were in for Harrison Ford kicking ass and taking names, running more risks than James Bond and knowing when to say when come the end of his adventure, just as his enemies always took one step further towards their doom. When I heard that a fourth was in the making, I felt assured that the franchise was still in safe hands, primarily down to the involvement of Spielberg. After witnessing the vile assortment of turd that was the Star Wars prequel trilogy, I'd become even more burned out with Lucas' Ewok-movie-producing antics. With Stevey on board for Indy IV, I hoped that George could be kept at bay.

This outing sees Indy travelling with new sidekick Mutt (Shia Labeouf) on a quest to find the crystal skull, and eventually prevent the Russians from utlising its power. Cate Blanchett plays the sexy antagonist, Irina Spalko, and Ray Winstone provides the one excruciatingly annoying performance of the piece as Mac, a fellow adventurer and all-round foolish bastard.

I like Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, with serious reservations. Though it isn't my biggest complaint, there is the huge, looming and inevitable area of the involvement of Mr. George Lucas. You can feel his hand all over this, whether it be in the CG gophers, swinging monkey attackers, or the biggest evidence of all - the aliens. Oh, and that one isn't a spoiler, it's alluded to throughout most of the film.

There's an abundance of CGI used, despite Spielberg promising us the majority of action being comprised of traditional stunt work. Everyone has their individual problem with these action sequences, mainly because they're so unbelievably over-the-top. Well gee, go watch the hyperrealistic Raiders of the Lost Ark. Were you complaining about giant robots thwacking the crap out of each other in Transformers last year? Needless to say, the far-fetched nature of this Indy instalment didn't bother me too much. As a matter of fact, neither did the aliens - I felt it was appropriate that with the franchise adopting a look that brought itself into the 1950s, so too should the threat be updated. We're not dealing with Nazis and biblical peril anymore; this is a new world of nuclear fear, communism, greasers and B-movies. If I wasn't irked by the subjective flaws pinpointed by countless others, then what exactly was my problem with this movie? What held it back from being a great Summer 2008 blockbuster?

The script just sucked, plain and simple. I don't think David Koepp knows how to write these particular characters, even though he fancies himself a big enough Indy fan to take on the screenwriting duties in the first place. The 19 years between Crusade and Skull hinged on whether a great script could emerge, one that ticked the Lucas boxes of having aliens and Mutt. The unforunate irony being that Frank Darabont's script (which I own, haven't read) is said to be better than Koepp's, despite being rejected by Lucas - even after Ford and Spielberg expressed interest in filming it.

I can imagine Darabont's edition being a much more satisfying addition to the Indy chronicles. Koepp's script, on the other hand, aims for something else entirely. It appears to be headed for the target through its first hour, until dropping to the ground before its rushjob of a climax. Like I said, this isn't the fault of the filmmakers. Its Koepp's inability to get a grasp on the character interaction that allows Indy IV to suffer ineroxably come the final act. The first part of the film deals with the exposition involving Spalko, Mac, Mutt at el. This is heavy talk, long stretches of what some might call wearying dialogue (but not me - again, another subjective fault), before we're thrust into the maelstrom.

There's a scene in the back of a truck where the characters bicker amongst themselves over some maternal issues. The only problem being, once that's over and the car chase begins, we never hear these characters converse with one another again, throughout the rest of the film. They literally stop talking as we become subjected to scene after scene of accelerated absurdity that quickly piles up. As I said, my problem is not with the heinous nature of these action scenes, but instead with how the characters quickly have their exchanges dispensed with, and are thereby reduced to carboard figures rushing to the end credits. There isn't a moment's rest left for them to interact. There, ladies and gentlemen, is my problem with this movie.

That aside, it's all good fun. Honest. Everyone has their own problem with it, and then some things they more or less admired. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is not perfect; it's just perfectly acceptable...to some.

**1/2

Doomsday (dir. Marshall, UK, 2008)

Ever experience one of those films that makes you want to laugh and cry, all at once? No, not the positive emotions - I'm talking about sheer, venomous anger watered down ever so slightly with shy, mocking laughter. A film that you tell your friends afterwards, "I came so close to walking out" whilst groaning in agony at its image still lingering in your mind, like the memory of a wetting yourself in the cue for the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland?* Doomsday is one of those films.

Neil Marshall isn't this bad, surely? I didn't think that much of The Descent, but despite my rubbish opinion it's been championed as one of the best horror movies of the decade. To its credit, it pushes all the buttons for a uncomfortable viewing experience: a tight, claustrophobic setting; near-darkness with an otherwordly predator; plus heavy breathing - which always feels naaasty. For Marshall to follow up The Descent with Doomsday, this heap of absolute trash, is a real shame for not only himself, but for our nation's cinema. If this is the best we can offer to the action genre, then God help us. Seriously.

In Doomsday, a virus has created a dystopian society in Scotland whereby everyone has sprouted a mohawk and turned into a punk, such is the requirement come the end of times. A government agent (Rhona Mitra) is sent into this hell on earth, forced to leave any semblance of a personality behind. Thus begins the adventure.

Come to think of it, she probably left her personality with Bob Hoskins, who is also a member of the cast and proves, just one year after the release of Outlaw, that everything he touches turns to shit. There's a subplot where he accidentally kills the Prime Minister and tries in vain to apologise, but it's so irrelevant to the bigger picture up north that anyone could fail to care.

Our female protagonist sets off to the danger zone, talking like a robot and asking everyone she meets if they have a cigarette. When she's not doing this, she's leading the biggest team of walking, talking cliches I have ever seen. Here's one for you: the mechanic that enters the introduction stage from under a car. There's also the guy from Hustle...

*tumbleweed*

...once the meets-and-greets are done with, it's full throttle into the heart of darkness as the film sets itself into a pace that never lets up. One could forgive easily because of its relentless energy, if it wasn't simply steamrolling through episode after episode of derivative schlock that steals unashamedly from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, Gladiator, Mad Max etc. The list goes on, because there's so many things Doomsday wants to be, and it can't make its mind up. It's literally like a bored child moving its way through Christmas toys.

It made me angry, though I felt determined to get my money's worth. So I started to laugh. When the guy from Hustle held his gun, standing clueless as the enemy struck a pose in slow motion before him, I chuckled. When the guy from Hustle died in slow motion from a flurry of arrows to the back a la Boromir in Lord of the Rings, I giggled. By the time a man in a gimp suit flew into a billboard and exploded, I was crying tears of laughter.

Maybe I got my money's worth? At the end of the day, I was essentially watching ten films at once. Hey, a lot of shit is surely better than just shit.

1/2*

*actually happened to me

Speed Racer (dir. Wachowskis, USA, 2008)

Why did the critics bestow upon Speed Racer such scathing reviews? Why did they cast such snooty dismissal on the only thing of worth that the Wachowski Bros. have produced since The Matrix? When I endeavoured to find the answer to this question, it lead me to straight to the answer, not to mention a point of hilarious irony. You see, the majority of critics that disliked Speed Racer gave a glowing appraisal to the mind-numbingly average Cloverfield, despite complaining that the former feature gave them... a headache... Hang on?

I felt nauseous during Cloverfield but not so during Speed Racer, but hey, that's just me. You can't account for the unpredictability of critics. Or should that read: grumpy old men critics? It seems that sumptuous visuals with an underlying warmth of heart only work in Pixar films such as Ratatouille and Finding Nemo, whereas elsewhere they are laid under the magnifying scope and heavily scrutinised. I felt fine with what Speed Racer served up to me; it was a suitably friendly tale of guarding your own integrity against the evils of selling out to the corporations, maaan. This was filtered through a familial lens as the likes of Speed himself Emile Hirsch, John Goodman, Susan Sarandon and Christina Ricci co-existed as a strong unit throughout - the only point of irritation being the obligatory annoying younger brother and his pet monkey.

It would be a shame to dwell on what didn't work for the cynical old men (or how they didn't get what they want), but what of the children? After all, this appears on the surface to be one for the
sprogs, and one would not be incorrect in that assumption. As far as youngsters go, the undeniable flaws include the runtime (well over 2 hours), repetition of techniques (broadcasters fly across the screen constantly) and the over-complicated mechanics of corporate evil. When Roger Allam - looking, sounding scarily like David Mitchell in mid-rant - burst into his third monologue in a row on where Speed Racer's interests should truly lie, I'll confess it went completely over my head.

One could count the problems on their fingers, but they wouldn't get past one hand. There's a wealth of enjoyment to be had with this one, and its flaws are easily subsided by frequent action and racing madness that literally feels like you're being raped in the eyes with skittles. The races are squeaky-clean delicious, and one fight scene in particular was bursting with such creativity and innovation that my eyes widened as if to utter the title of Pavement's third album. ;)

When I left the cinema, well, I felt like I'd watched something innocent and charming; something that took my mind off the wrongs in the world. It was a nice-looking film without a debased morality. It was a head-warmer, not a headache.

***

How Bad Is Heroes?

That is the question.

Little under a year ago, after hearing enormous Lost-levels of hype and excitement directed towards this new show entitled "Heroes", I decided it was best to wait until the first season had finished being broadcast on television before I whizzed through it without interruption. I eventually viewed the entirety of Season 1 in little under two weeks, and found it to be hugely inferior to Lost in all aspects of character, depth and pacing. Still, I didn't write it off as a total loss, and I accepted that it was a decent enough standalone tale, a sort of 16 hour movie that had no need to continue due to its cast of characters finding resolution in their individual quests. All was tied together nicely; yes, the villain got away, but above all it seemed that there was nowhere left to go for our heroes, nor did it seem there was anything readily planned for their future behind the scenes.

This brings me to Season 2, which I finished last night. To put it bluntly, this was a total chore to endure, start to finish. So much of a chore, in fact, that I had it on the background for the majority of the time whilst I surfed the internet. I'd be reading the latest record review and I'd be offput by the ever-lasting meolodramatic wails emitting from my speakers. The flaws in the first season are amplified tenfold; firstly, there are new characters, all of them completely worthless and unrelated to the larger picture.

Rubbish character is kidnapped: the world fails to care.

Nicki/Jessica was a character I was never fond of, because she never fulfilled any purpose in the first season, other than punch people in the face when she got really angry. However, the new faces here just take the piss; we're introduced to Micah's cousin, a young black girl that works in McDonalds, but has --OMG-- the ability to replicate any action she witnesses. If she sees someone swing round a pole and kick someone in the face, she'll do it. So it's a pity when we see her newfound ability take a backseat to her incessant moping around, whining about her future.

I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR LIFE.

Go to acting school, bitch.

We also have two fugitives named Maya and Alejandro Herrera, even more needless. I'll get to those two later, because they have the most (unintentionally) funny scenes in the entire show.

This scene falls flat on its face from the off, mainly because there's no realistic chance that a 12 year old boy would read a comic entitled "Saint Joan"

Trash Flavoured Trash

When watching television, I almost never give it the same criticism I would impart to a piece of film. It's a whole different animal; we get fed so much bullshit in the form of reality TV, game shows and cheesy soap operas that's it become commonplace to accept television as the shameful home of trash. It is a form of escape distant from that of cinema, where we easily submit to dumbed down productions such as Strictly Come Dancing, Britain's Got Talent, amongst other countless moronic cesspools of shit that clog up the Saturday night schedule. I've largely given up on television, aside from a few gems that strive to remind us that there does indeed exist a niche of well-written, well-constructed dramas. I'll admit most of these come from HBO, namely Deadwood, The Sopranos and The Wire, but there's also some worthwhile, intelligent comedies like Futurama and South Park; shows that opt to entertain, rather than patronise their audience.

With Lost, I'm in the mind that it's brilliantly crafted, but poorly written. Watching shows like Deadwood really do reinforce this fact. But Lost is a gimmick show, and it aims for different goals than those from the HBO stable. I can't judge Lost like I would a film, I don't want to fault it; it keeps me guessing, and I respect any show that encourages thoughtful guesswork in its viewers. The same can't be said of Heroes. Not only do I care little in anticipating the endeavours of its many, many unnecessary characters, I also can't help but watch it with a critical eye. It does so much to rub me the wrong way, that I happen to notice every annoying camera movement, every hint of grating melodrama, every unintentionally hilarious moment - of which there are dozens, might I add.

This girl has the ability to heal herself, yet she's still crying? Ungrateful cunt.

The camera mostly sits below the characters, making them seem bigger and more prominent, like...heroes, I guess. When something OMFG occurs, the camera will then swoop straight into their agonised faces whilst we're forced to listen to them talk to their family in a way no real-life family converses with one another. What kind of world are they living in where a mysterious boy can enter the family home at early morning and make waffles with the mother, despite them having never met before? Why is Claire so emotionally open with her father, Noah? Have they had sex? Why has Peter Petrelli reduced his persona to that of Anakin Skywalker, walking round with an ingrained scowl, talking like a man squeezing out a cold, hard shit?

Peter Petrelli channelling the thespian talents of Hayden Christensen.

A key strength of Lost is the unpredictability of the island itself. There's always an impending sense of doom, a reminder that the environment is consistently dangerous. Any cast member could be killed off at any point, without warning, without remorse. Heroes, on the other hand, hates to take risks with its characters. It's remarkable that a show has presented its characters with no depth of interest, yet at the same time is scared to rid itself of them. The creators love their characters so much that any time one happens to be ceremoniously killed off, you can expect them to find some cheap trick to bring them back almost instantly. My favourite one is the regenerative cell skillz - it's an ability whereby the host can bring their limbs back to full health, no matter how much damage it's taken. Noah Bennett gets shot in the eye, dies. No wait, he's alive~! Oh, but...Adam Monroe has just got a sword through the chest...looks like he's...no, oh my, he too is seemingly immortal!

This poor soul's just been told he can't leave the show and return to his family, because
NO ONE MUST DIE.

Foolish Mortals

My last complaint is of the jaw-droppingly absurd variety. Sylar, the villain of Season 1, is another fella that got completely merked by the good guys, yet somehow managed to survive and fall down a drain, causing him to end up in Mexico by the time Season 2 rolls around. Whatever. He happens to meet the horribly unnecessary Maya and Alejandro, as I mentioned before, and decides to hitchhike with them. Discovering they have the ridiculous ability to make people's eyes bleed, he decides to trick them into taking him somewhere where yadda yadda yadda. Before I continue, I must state that this trip in the car takes up ELEVEN EPISODES.

The best, most laughable part of this scenario is the complete willingness of Maya to surrender herself to Sylar (going under his guise of Gabriel), no matter how sinister he acts around her. When they first meet and exchange introductions, she tells him he is their saviour, because he is named Gabriel, 'like the angel'. Sylar then looks out of the window, adopts a mighty evil grin, and murmurs in a highly suspicious tone of voice, 'Yes...like the angel...' Look, I'm sorry, but if I was in that car with him, I sure as hell wouldn't respond with an admiring gaze. I'd boot him out! No, Maya treats him like a demi-god...only it gets worse, read on.

"Yes...like the angel...mwahahhahahaaa."

Sylar makes it perfectly clear he's one evil sonofabitch. Meanwhile, Maya looks on as if she's always wanted a serial killer for Christmas.

Alejandro is a bit of a wise guy you see, since he cottons on that Sylar, or Gabriel, has no such good intentions and is actually plotting to kill them both. Actually, Sylar tells him this straight up, just to rub it in, y'know, a 'I'm gonna kill you, then screw your sister in the ass' kind of way. Why Sylar feels the need to wait through eleven episodes of car-pooling to carry out this deed is really beyond me. Countless scenes go by of Sylar saying blatantly evil things, even so far as suggesting that Alejandro be left behind to allow him and Maya some alone time (not a good idea), until we reach the eventual murder of Alejandro.

Sylar, again, taking great pains to remind us that he's evil. Strange how he only seems to do this when Maya is standing right next to him...

This is where the whole ordeal reaches new levels of comedic brilliance. Before Alejandro is killed, he takes Maya aside and shows her a newspaper article about Sylar's reputation as a serial killer, complete with an actual picture of his face on the front page...


...only Maya still doesn't believe the good authority of a broadsheet, and instead professes her love to Sylar/Gabriel, who is stood outside Alejandro's cabin, Sylar currently topless and sweating after having exhausted his energy murdering Alejandro, the butchered brother generating screams of pain that Maya was clearly in earshot of. Selective hearing is a bitch sometimes, isn't it?

To cut a long story short, the naive Maya is eventually shot by Sylar, not long after a complete stranger (a small girl who has spent the entire series stuck in a room and hasn't seen any of the aforementioned events) has to be the one to tell her that Sylar had murdered her brother.

Maya, watching on with a permanent smirk as Sylar, on the phone, more or less implies murdering a 5 year old girl......

...and here, Maya gets completely owned by said 5 year old girl, of superior intelligence.

I can't deal with Heroes anymore. It makes my blood boil, it drives me to cynicism of a violent nature. It makes me cringe. It goes without saying that I won't stick around for Season 3, unless the show's writers do the impossible and gleefully massacre all their characters. It's a shame that won't happen, because Heroes is afraid to take risks in all areas of its execution. If this year brings more of the same, then I won't be taking a risk with it.

I think I'll stick with Lost, 24 - what I like to call 'good trash'.

The Four Star System

I've come to realise that marking movies out of 10 is futile. Below five, which of course stands for "average", are a multitude of numbers and their increments that prove too much in determining just how poorly a film has missed the mark. I concede that above five, there are plenty of helpful stepping stones towards the full mark in which to place a film in reflection of its quality, but when it comes to a film I generally dislike, finding the correct number below 5 is more often guesswork than it is an assured judgement. So I've come up with, or rather, adopted, the four star system; increments, warts 'n' all.

As well as providing less numbers for easier classification, the four star system also allows me to award the full mark of four to films I admire without carrying the hyperbole that one would associate with "five stars" or 10/10. The system also helps me avoid unintentionally ranking in order a select group of films belonging to the canon of a director or genre; this ranking you would ordinarily find in the carefully placed decimal points of a 10-mark system.

Here's how we work:

**** - Excellence. Must-see. Hells Yeah.
***1/2 - Pretty freakin' awesome. Near-perfect. Damn fine.
*** - Swell. Good. Check it, y'all.
**1/2 - Above-average. Ok. Worth a look.
** - Mediocre. Middle of the road. Just tolerable.
*1/2 - Heavily flawed. Unmemorable. Best avoided.
* - Really bad. Flaw-riddled. At its best, terrible.
1/2* - Just awful. Unwatchable. Disgusting.

I'll avoid the "no stars" rating because as aforementioned, there's only so many ways to rate a bad film. The 1/2* is awarded to those films at the very bottom of the barrel; excrement like Pirates of the Carribean 3, Outlaw, Doomsday and The Accidental Husband. To put into perspective just how the four star system relates to the 10/10 system, here's a helper:

**** = high 9 - 10
***1/2 = high 8 - low 9
*** = high 7 - low 8
**1/2 = high 6 - low 7
** = high 5 - low 6
*1/2 = 4 - low 5
* = 2 - 3
1/2* = 0 - 1

I'll go back and convert previous ratings according to this system, and all future ratings will be out of four stars. Oh, and I promise the Top Movies of 2007 list is coming soon.

Son of Rambow, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Joy Division, Smart People, Iron Man

There's a couple of films I really want to talk about in depth, but before I go into those, I thought it'd be best to brush a few others aside. I'm going to briefly touch on the movies listed in the post title, with individual verdicts. Awesome.

So the first of these is Son of Rambow (2008, UK, dir. Garth Jennings), a nostalgic coming-of-age tale set in the English countryside of the 1980s around the release of First Blood. The film is essentially a retelling of Jennings' own experience recreating the first Rambo feature with his friends, complete with inventive set-pieces all captured on home video. There's a good deal of slapstick and a sense of adventure as the loudmouth schoolboy Lee takes Will under his wing and sets about creating his own amateur mini-masterpiece, generating a warm friendship along the way. There's a distinct charm to Son of Rambow that wasn't present in the similar Be Kind, Rewind, released earlier this year. Whereas that film relied too heavily on Jack Black's buffoonish antics to carry itself to the Capra-on-acid conclusion, Son of Rambow chooses to mix a blend of childhood laughs and drama for a contemplative feel.

However, the two varying tones don't mesh together completely well. In fact, the serious nature - and indeed moral - of the story only fully joins with the comedy in the last 10 minutes, and up until then they're presented in differing measures that don't exactly balance out well. Throw in a subplot about a French exchange student that's extremely ill-judged and irrelevant, and this pleasant lil indie flick falls short of greatness.

**1/2

Next up is Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008, USA, dir. Nicholas Stoller), the latest offering from the Apatow troupe, whom I have been quick to praise on the basis of their recent efforts, such as Knocked Up, Superbad and Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story. Here we have Jason Segel playing a character he wrote, yet another hopeless middle-aged slacker beset with girl problems. Sounding familiar?

To cut a long story short, Peter Bretter (played by Segel) is dumped by his actress girlfriend (Kristen Bell), and proceeds to wallow in depression and one night stands, until his step-brother (played by the consistently funny Bill Hader) suggests that he take a well-deserved vacation. Peter heads to Hawaii but oh noes~! Sarah is there with her new boyfriend: one Mr. Russell Brand.

Now I'm not the biggest fan of Russell Brand. In fact, on a good day I don't find him funny at all. He's a very charismatic and quick-thinking comedian, but not all he throws at the wall sticks terribly well. Having said that, he is honestly the best part of this film, and he's really just being himself. It's amazing, and the same goes for Bill Hader, Paul Rudd and Jonah Hill. The supporting actors, with minimal screentime, steal the show and really show up the main cast.

In Knocked Up, the pigheadness of Seth Rogen's character actually helped lift the film above your typical rom-com fare, adding an edge to proceedings and creating a little admiration for a person we should automatically dislike from the get-go. In Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Segel's character is so pathetic and whiny that it's hard to spend time with him over the course of 120 minutes.

The structure of the film is complete mess; once the one-joke gag is set in place, the story devolves into a series of overlong episodic occurences that further drive Segel into depression, thus furthering our despair at his irritable, helpless personality. In a film such as this, we need to be on the protagonist's side in his quest for the girl(s), but in all honesty, I just wanted to see Russell Brand own this sucker. When Brand packs up and leaves a fair bit from the end of the movie, I felt like there was nothing left to stay for. Another scene with Bill Hader, maybe?

The biggest crime committed by Forgetting Sarah Marshall is its utter lack of laughs. There's so few funny moments that you forget it's supposed to be a comedy, and therein lies the ultimate sin: a comedy that isn't funny. Forgetting Sarah Marshall is a failure, and it left me leaving the cinema feeling pretty downtrodden. Should a comedy do that?

*1/2

Keeping with uplifting cinema, we look at Joy Division (2008, UK, dir. Grant Gee), a well-crafted documentary look at the seminal 1970s post-punk band. If you're not a Joy Division fan, this may do little to keep your attention. If you are a fan, a big fan, it's hard to estimate whether you can take something away from this.

I loved last year's Control, placing it high up in my Top Movies of 2007 list (coming soon, by the way). However, it was obviously a film centred firmly around the illness and impending suicide of Ian Curtis more than the band itself. With this new documentary, Grant Gee helps to fill in the blanks left by Control, and invites the remaining members of the band, nowadays known as New Order, to give a retrospective look at their time spent as Joy Division.

There's plenty of amusing tales to hear, loads of archive footage to sink your teeth into. It's an altogether well-made, well-researched piece of work. The major problem is that I'm unsure that for big Joy Division fans, whilst the film offers a nostalgic, elegaic reflection on the band's short-lived existence, it doesn't really say anything new. Amongst the tidbits and musical performances that fill the runtime, one must leave the screening as I did and wonder what exactly was learned. Are we merely looking back through a photo album?

**

Here's another depressing piece of trash. Smart People (2008, USA, dir. Noam Murro) follows a dysfunctional family as they fail to communicate effectively with the outside world, each other, and most importantly, us. Aside from Thomas Haden Church, playing the slacker character he nailed so well in Sideways, every character is toally unlikeable, following unsympathic plights that when they finally reach a resolution, mean nothing. The whole thing is just heinously uninvolving.



Ellen Page grates too easily, Dennis Quaid spends most of the movie mumbling incoherently, and Ashton Holmes is so underdeveloped as the quiet older brother that the only line I even remember him saying in the film was "Shut up", directed at Ellen Page. Bravo, Ashton. I probably felt more depressed coming out of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, but I definitely left Smart People feeling deflated, like the film had nothing to offer and I took nothing away from it.

There was a message in Smart People, but I didn't want to find it, because the whole thing was so detached from its audience. It reeked of self-importance and, in a fitting sense, pretended to be more smart than it was. It should have been called Miserable People. It should have been called People That Chat Balls Whilst An Indie Guitar Strum Kicks In At The End Of Every Scene, Followed By Some Douche Singing About Autumn Leaves.

*1/2


The summer blockbuster season has begun, and our first treat is Iron Man (2008, USA, dir. Jon Favreau), a fantastic origin tale of one of the most overlooked comic characters in history. Robert Downey Jr. plays Tony Stark to perfection, embodying the icon with a level of attitude that couldn't be pulled off by anyone else. There would have been no substitutes; Downey Jr. is Iron Man, he carries the entire film on his shoulders so flawlessly that it's impossible to think of anybody else in the role. Could Iron Man have fallen apart without Downey Jr. in the lead role? Probably not, but it would be half the film it is currently.

I thought Iron Man would be an average by-the-numbers origin tale. I didn't think it could match the excellence of say, Spider-man 2 or Batman Begins. Needless to say, Jon Favreau must have some amazing talent to completely surprise me with the level of quality imbued in Iron Man. It has action, suspense and explosions; yes, all the key ingredients of your summer blockbuster, but it's also really, really funny. The light humour that fills the movie, partly down to the chemistry between Downey Jr., his robots and Gwyneth Paltrow, signifies a larger accessibility to the heart of Tony Stark's persona than the emo-stylings of Peter Parker, or the brooding angst of Bruce Wayne. Stark is a millionaire playboy, one that asks for a cheeseburger first thing after fighting his way out of a hostage situation, so he's pretty chillaxed.

The action doesn't disappoint, mostly because Favreau has the same line of thought as me when it comes to CGI. He isn't keen on the stuff, so he opted to make the action sequences in the movie seem as photo-real as possible. The sight of two iron suits fighting seemed relatively realistic, gleaming with a polished look that made the combat altogether nice to look at. Believe it or not, you could actually see the robots fighting in this one. I'm looking at you, Michael Bay.

Jeff Bridges looks permanently dodgy throughout that it's a wonder they didn't pre-emptively lock him away in the opening minutes. His villainous alter ego, the Iron Monger, is a worthy opponent for a rookie such as Tony Stark. While some were disappointed by the final confrontation between these two, I was left satisfied; I felt that it was a fair match for an origin tale, leaving a much bigger, badder villain to emerge in the sequels...possibly the Mandarin, or even the Hulk.

Villains aside, this was an extremely pleasing superhero origin story, helped along most significantly by the central performances from Downey Jr., Paltrow, Howard and Bridges. I can only hope the chemistry between these actors continues to sparkle into the next few films in the franchise, and that Stark's eventual lapse into alcoholism won't bring about too dark a tone that the series will lose its way. For now at least, I deem Iron Man to be a highly promising franchise.

***1/2

As well as my Top Movies of 2007 to come, I'm set to give my verdict on other recent summer blockbusters: Speed Racer and Indiana Jones and the blah blah blah. On top of that, Doomsday and Funny Games U.S. will get a score out of 10, and I'll leave you to guess which one I loved, and which one I hated.