Beau Travail (1998, dir. Claire Denis)

A few months ago I watched a Russian film called Alexandra, directed by the immensely talented Alexander Sokurov. Its ostensibly simple plot of an elderly woman visiting her son at a military camp ruminated on much weightier themes of masculinity and social detachment. Fast forward to the present day (or back 11 years, if you will), and after the recent viewing of Claire Denis' masterful Beau Travail, it's clear to see how Sokurov was influenced; or to put it another way, I'm now aware which is the better, more insightful film of the two.

Beau Travail follows a group of men as part of the French Foreign Legion stationed in Djibouti, spending their day practicing routine military training exercises. These involve unusually long periods of stretching, as well as strange dance moves under the beating heat of the sun. There is almost a mechanical, detached element to the practices of the soliders, as if this is all they know. A failed attempt to dance in a nightclub signifies the shortcomings of these young men in applying what they have learnt to the expectations of modern society. These men seem almost removed from any semblance of outward expression, only waking each day at the crack of dawn to carry out what would, to any neutral observer, seem rather odd. Their way of life is defined by its mascunlinity, yet they perform such feminine tasks as ironing their clothes, and not just occasionally, but as part of a strict daily schedule.

Whereas Alexandra had the concerns of the director channeled through the wearied, watchful eyes of its leading woman, Beau Travail finds its recitation of events in the hands of Galoup, a sergeant with the legion and one whose viewpoint is to be taken with a grain of salt. Denis Lavant plays Galoup with such intensity, emitting hard, cold stares that conceal a greater inner pain. Galoup must have his reasons for being grouchy; the arrival of 'heroic' Sentain (Gregoire Colin) into the legion causes quite the stir, not least because the youthful Sentain, with his social skills and vibrant presence, embodies everything Galoup wishes he could be.

It's worth remembering that we are still under the guidance of Galoup's narration, still seeing everything through his eyes. What we know of Sentain, we have taken from the word of Galoup. His eyes are the lens of the camera and we are living through his version of events. Sentain's only real act of offence comes when he delivers a crushing left hook to Galoup after a moment of deliberate provocation from the sergeant, but until that point we are led to believe, by our narrator, that the boy definitely has something up his sleeve.

Interestingly, Galoup's resentment towards Sentain could stem from two main things. He could either be angry at Sentain for injecting some humanity into the sterile unit, and in turn be repressing some of his own emotions, possibly homosexual. It is his refusal to acknowledge any emotion on either Sentain's part or his own that leads him to take action against the young man.

Or, Galoup could simply be envious of Sentain's popularity, fearing that with the acension of the new personality among the ranks of the unit, that Galoup himself is being further cemented as an outsider. Bruno Forestier (Michael Subor) is the commanding officer, and a man Galoup professes great admiration for. With Sentain attracting the attention of most of the troop, especially Bruno, Galoup must feel further alienated and have his dislike towards Sentain increase tenfold.

Both these scenarios occurred to me and are equally plausible, however, I find the former to be the most fitting in the context of the film's themes. The idea of Galoup suppressing emotion in both himself and another further reinforces Denis' indictment of the sterile, emotionless mechanics of the military, and lends an extra poignancy to events.

The vast desert is the canvas for much of the proceedings, and it's all shot with aplomb by Agnes Godard, but I must give special mention to one of my favourite aspects of the film. The score by Charles Henri de Pierrefeu is sublime; understated when it needs to be, at other times full-blown, without ever ruining the moment. Even some of the diegetic songs such as Rhythm of the Night are well-placed, adding to a scene rather than subtracting from it.

The final ten minutes of Beau Travail are the icing on the cake, feeling almost inevitable and yet so sudden and affecting. Needless to say, Galoup's downward spiral does not lead him to an ideal existence. And yet, he still feels compelled to dance...

10

Snow Angels (2008, dir. David Gordon Green)

You may or may not remember David Gordon Green as the man behind last year's stoner comedy Pineapple Express, depending on how attentive you were during its opening credits. Were you looking? Such a question isn't put forward to highlight the passiveness of the average cinemagoer - I bang on about that topic quite enough - rather it is a remark on how surprising it would be to find such an intimate filmmaker as Gordon Green crafting such a loud, boorish film of this caliber. After all, the attachment of Gordon Green to such a project as Pineapple Express came as a surprise to many; the filmmaker has long stayed on the fringes of the independent scene for much of his career, crafting small underrated films such as All the Real Girls and George Washington, the latter of which cost just $42,000 to make. Coming into 2008, David Gordon Green wasn't exactly the man you'd tip to be directing a Seth Rogen stoner comedy.

Frustration and boredom were my two main feelings toward Pineapple Express, so much that I found myself seeing what the out-of-focus extras were up to as opposed to watching Rogen's char-grilled face. But enough of that. David Gordon Green's move into the mainstream was not as big as sacrifice as first thought, as his second feature of 2008, Snow Angels, was a typical Gordon Green outing as any you'd find, yet entirely of its own qualities. With Pineapple Express satisfying the mainstream crowd and introducing the wider world to his name (though not necessarily his style), along with Snow Angels bringing back the faithful for another round of small-town poetic cinema, David Gordon Green was evidently keen to have it both ways in 2008.

Snow Angels features Sam Rockwell and Kate Beckinsale as just two of many players in an interconnected tragedy. They play Glenn and Annie, a separated couple that can't quite keep the spectre of the past behind them. Glenn is an alcoholic, or was, and it is assumed that this addiction is what drew the wedge between himself and Annie in the first place. He's now found God, or so he believes. He asks questions of God one second, praising him the next. Co-workers have to put him straight on the scripture, knowing that he is more lost than he could ever know.

Annie, meanwhile, spends her days doing one of three things: looking after her daughter Tara, working in the restaurant, or having it off with a married moustached man in an out-of-the-way motel. After years of putting up with Glenn's nonsense, she's finally thinking about herself. Maybe in all the wrong ways. And Glenn, he may not even be thinking straight at all.

These aren't the best role models for Arthur (Michael Angarano), a young student who is on the brink of finding first love within the innocent confines of high school. Not only does Arthur have to contend with the overbearing conflict escalating between his parents, but he also has to stand by and watch Annie, his ex-babysitter with whom he once had a crush on, become even more embroiled in the mess she and Glenn created and are currently drowning in.

The landscape of the town in which these characters exist is, as the title would suggest, coated in snow. The whites of the woods are finely captured, the individuals stranded alone in their surroundings, intimating that even in a peopled settlement, one person can feel so isolated spiritually and emotionally. Perhaps some of them, possibly the selfish ones, do exist by themselves.

This is a tale of innocence lost, of the sins of the fathers being put on display for those burgeoning into life to discover and learn from. It is a haunting sequence of events with no implication or reasoning for an uplifting finish. Life isn't always about happy endings. Even when we don't experience our own personal tragedies, the pains of others are eternally present in every passing day. Snow Angels doesn't have anything particularly insightful to say about such instances, but its presentation of such moments is at once elegaic and emotionally resonant.

7

More Bad - Average '07 Films

...but they get better as they go along, honest!

American Gangster (Ridley Scott)
Scott continues to dig himself further into a pit of mediocrity with this unoriginal MTV movie. If anything, 'American Badass' is a more apt title, due to the majority of the 3 hours runtime spent following the apparently 'charismatic' Denzel Washington cruise around blowing shit up.

Eagle vs. Shark (Taika Waititi)
If it wasn't for the fact that this starred the naturally brilliant comic Jemaine Clement from Flight of the Conchords, I'd be pouring a lot more scorn into the gaping mouth of what is essentially a Napoleon Dynamite clone.

The Kite Runner (Marc Forster)
Before he could get his hands on, and ultimately ruin the Bond franchise for the time being, Marc Forster had a little gushiness to serve up in the form of this book adaptation. Annoying kids become annoying adults, take their problems with them and make some dozy bitch in the first row cry by the end credits.

Mr. Brooks (Bruce A. Evans)
This could have been an alright character study were it not for the intrusion of a boring subplot about Demi Moore. Perhaps this was inserted to give the film some more depth, maaaan. Who gives a shit about Demi Moore, anyway? Not me. Probably Ashton Kutcher. Hopefully I need say no more, as the mention of his name no doubt brought forth giggles of pity and disgust within your mind. Here's another one: Dane Cook is in this film. Dane Cook.

Stardust (Matthew Vaughn)
Featuring the most anticlimatic final battle in all of fantasy lore. Robert De Niro's lulzy (yet for him, quite possibly soul-destroying) transvestite cameo aside, there's not enough originality or flair for this to fully charm your pants off. Unless you enjoy watching Michelle Pfieffer walking across many, many fields.

Spider-Man 3 (Sam Raimi)
'Nuff said.

The Namesake (Mira Nair)
So so average, that I just want to claw my eyes out with a rusty fork for even contemplating its existence. On the plus side, it is good to see Kal Penn play a role that doesn't render him a complete joke.

In The Valley of Elah (Paul Haggis)
Aaaaah, no! Mum! Get him away! Shit, Paul Haggis is here. What's that in his hand? It looks like a... oh fuck, it's a script for Quantum of Solace. Well, that explains absolutely everything. On closer inspection, I realise that Haggis does in fact have more than one hand; goshdarnit, he has eleven hands. Some of them are holding Oscars for Crash, the others are copping a feel of Thandie Newton's breasts. Paul, you don't know what you're doing. I feel like I don't know you anymore. Did I ever know you? No, I didn't... but I know your didactic directorial style, and it smacks of proselytising cack. Don't touch me, Paul. I think you should leave.

The Counterfeiters (Stefan Ruzowitzky)
Wow, the fact that I honestly can't remember anything about this film really does speak wonders for its case. Actually quite disappointed, as I'm convinced it isn't as bad as the films it shares company with in this list. What a shame!

Charlie Wilson's War (Mike Nichols)
It's also quite a shame to see Mike Nichols here, but this one is so far off the mark. Everyone tries their hardest, including Philip Seymour Hoffman, who once again steals the show from under the main cast with a storming supporting role. Sadly, his input is not enough to save this tonally confused disappointment.

Away From Her (Sarah Polley)
Felt like a Lifetime Movie, looked like a Lifetime Movie, sounded like a Lifetime Movie - but brother, it ain't a Lifetime Movie! Except, it really is.

Beowulf (Robert Zemeckis)
Entertaining routine, I'd say. We have here a great advertisement for motion-capture, though probably not for 3D; the extra dimension is wasted on typical instances of items being thrown at the audience. Ray Winstone bellows his name constantly to recall the spirit of 300, but at least the hero he plays is aware of his own existence, and isn't just behaving like a violent robot that's only just discovered sentient life a la King Leonidas. Fuckin' 300...

Enchanted (Kevin Lima)
Amy Adams is so beautiful I just want to bash my head against a cobblestone wall. She sings, she dances, she gasps in amazement at absolutely everything. This. Is. Disney.

He Was a Quiet Man (Frank Cappello)
Another one I can't quite remember. Elisha Cuthbert did get her nipples out, though. Or were they the nipples of a double? It's certainly worth pondering. I wonder if this is what the director wanted me to take away from the experience.

The Mist (Frank Darabont)
Annoying Christian woman shouts at everyone. Giant bugs eat everyone. Sounds just like real life LOL. Nah but seriously, this is probably only worth watching for the hilariously bleak ending.

Walk Hard (Jake Kasdan)
Too long, too back and forth but still filled with plenty of punchlines per scene. Memo to the guys behind Epic Movie: this is how you spoof.

Youth Without Youth (Francis Ford Coppola)
Coppola hasn't entirely got his mojo back, though I can't help but admire the man for doing what he was born to do: make art films. Yes, the big dog is shunning mainstream Hollywood for a more personal approach to his filmmaking. Perhaps others should take note, and I won't name names. George Fucking Lucas.

The Nines (John August)
Ryan Reynolds is back in my good books after a competent performance in this Lynch-lite trio of mindfucks. The inclusion of a misplaced musical number did however reek of pretensiousness.

Lars and the Real Girl (Craig Gillespie)
If you love Capra, you should dig this. Myself, I've always believed there's a time and a place for Capra. So if I ever watch this particular film at the wrong time, and in the wrong place, I might just break a table.

Knocked Up (Judd Apatow)
Back when the Judd Apatow troupe was a little more consistent with its output, and Seth Rogen hadn't yet completely saturated our silver screens with his grating f(r)atboy misadventures. This one isn't quite up to the standard set by 40-Year Old Virgin, nor does it pack in as much belly laughs as the superior 2007 Apatow flick Superbad. Given this, it's a damn sight better than most of the year's comedies.


Tonight's blog entry has obviously been a little rushed and poorly written. So I don't enjoy writing extensively on films I don't care about. Sue me.

I'll get to the good'uns in due time!

AwrScawr

The Oscars are almost here! Yeeeeees! YEEEeEEEsesesesslfmgfdgmdfg;m!!!!!


Truth be told, I wish I was that excited.

In fact, I wish I cared.

No wait, I don't care that I don't care. Yes, that sounds about right.

After sitting through the interminable ceremonies for the Golden Globes and BAFTAs, I shall be hard pressed to find any strong motivation to sit through yet another Kate Winslet awards speech. Watching 30 Rock sweep up the television awards was quite the ghastly sight. And don't even get me started on Slumdog Millionaire. *vomits*

So this is the part where I complain about the nominations for the 81st Academy Awards, knowing full well that my opinion is fruitless, has no bearing on the results and will ultimately be respected by noone. Sick.

The Best Picture category is always a topic of hot debate. Last year, the competition featured some astounding cinematic gems in the shape of No Country For Old Men and There Will Be Blood, alongside Brit hit Atonement and surprise (albeit quality) nominee Michael Clayton. Juno was thrown in to lighten the mood, and what we had was a collection of films that the Academy, critics and film buffs could see eye to eye on, for the most part. When No Country picked up the award in late February, there was little complaint. Actually, a few asswipes whinged incessantly, on the grounds that the ending "made no sense". Hey, I hear 10,000 BC is out on DVD.

This year's nominees include The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Reader and Slumdog Millionaire. I have seen three of these films, yet I am more than inclined to make presumptious sweeping statements concerning the quality of those I have still to view. Bear with me here.

Benjamin Button seemed like a shoe-in, and I'm happy it was included. I will see it later in the week, my anticipation currently at high levels. Am I excited? Not in the conventional sense; this is a film so divided between those whose film opinion I trust, whereas such favourites of mine from last year like There Will Be Blood and No Country were universally praised. Heading into a film and knowing it has a mixed reception is an invigorating feeling - you have no idea on which side of the fence you will fall, and for what reasons. The entire aesthetic of Benjamin Button appears to suggest that it will no doubt be an emotional experience, and I just hope that the emotion is honest and not superficial. The cinematography I have witnessed so far from trailers and clips tells me that this could either be a rather ill-disciplined fable of high pretensions, or an honest, good-natured journey aided by a delectable visual style. Either way, it's good news that Fincher got some awards recognition this year, after the shameful Zodiac snub of 2007.

Frost/Nixon and Milk were enjoyable films, although stating how much I appreciated them, and which I find to be superior, would surely spoil my forthcoming Top Films of 2008 list. More on these films to come.

The Reader? Really?? If you're going to honour Kate Winslet at all this year, let it be for the strikingly devastating adapation of Richard Yates' Revolutionary Road. That film screams relevancy, and doesn't make it so apparent that the awards season is in its crosshair.

Rumour has it that Harvey Weinstein bullied the Academy into nominating The Reader. Fair enough, pander to this man, but you're only validating the claim made by Ricky Gervais in his comedy series Extras, that shooting a film about the Holocaust will guarantee you an Oscar. Now, I haven't actually seen The Reader, but it is painfully obvious that the whole thing is your typical Oscar-bait, so-called "imporant film". Everyone I have spoken to has told me that they wanted to turn it off after 30 minutes, and I fear I will wish to do the same. However, for the sake of fair judgement, I will force myself to watch every single melodramatic, maniuplatively cliched moment from start to finish. Hey, this is the guy that was watching The Bank Job with a friend, and requested it be kept on, despite protestations, so that he could give a proper opinion in regards to its quality. It's shit, by the way.

Gervais' prescient potshot in Extras is only further proof that the Academy are essentially still a collection of irrelevant old farts, out of step with public opinion, and even critical opinion (The Reader currently sits at around 60% on Rotten Tomatoes' Tomatometer). The nomination is truly an insult to superior films released in 2008, although outside of a win for Winslet, there isn't any need to worry about The Reader scooping up Best Picture. Not when you consider our final nominee...

Slumdog Millionaire. I'm going to save my extensive thoughts for my Top Films of 2008 post (it's coming!), but I will say this much: Slumdog Millionaire is over-stylized, shallow, meaningless garbage. It is packed to the brim with flashy techniques and heart-attack pacing that don't so much highlight the dangers of Mumbai's streets as turn them into a playground for endless swarms of running children gallavanting to the sound of M.I.A.'s entire album. Sure, this film has a pulse, and it has a nice look, but in all seriousness, it is two hours of having your head bashed around repeatedly with so many hackneyed plot devices and manipulations that require no audience response, leaving the nearest braindead cinemagoer ready to stand in applause at the sight of the end credits - which are equally horrific as the film that preceeded them!

There is nothing to take away from Slumdog Millionaire, and it's a shame it has become so well-received, because Danny Boyle has made far superior films in Trainspotting, 28 Days Later and Sunshine. What do these films have in common? They make you feel something, they have a little more to say about humanity. Slumdog Millionaire has nothing to say. It is a shallow fable, and it will sweep an Oscar in addition to its Golden Globe and BAFTA awards because it is, above all, feel-good.

Yes, there's all a perfectly good explanation for this. You see, last year's aforementioned Best Picture nominees weren't exactly uplifting examples of US cinema. Hell, even the token quirky indie Juno dealt with the weighty issue of abortion and adolescent uncertainty. There Will Be Blood told us the story of an oil man who despised himself and others. Michael Clayton was a man on the brink of self-destruction. The romance of Atonement wasn't so much unrequited as it was decimated. The gold medal went to No Country, the final scene of which depicted Tommy Lee Jones' aged sheriff pour his heart out over the despair and helplessness he felt when faced with the darkness of the modern world. Holy fucking shit, bleak or what?

Then things changed, in the USA at least. Obama rose and rose, embedded himself in the hearts and minds of the American citizens, until he finally became the first black President of the United States, inaugarated in January 2009. George W. Bush was out for good, and the spectre of the Iraq war could at least take momentary backseat to the hope for change promised by the charismatic Barack Obama.

Look at the Best Picture nominees. We're back to reflecting upon wars of the past with The Reader, a good few decades from our current turmoil. With Milk, the inspiration borne out of the martyr of Harvey Milk provides hope that more than overshadows his tragic assassination so close to the end credits. Most importantly, Slumdog Millionaire is sweeping the board and will continue to do so because it has the classic fairytale ending. We don't want bleak anymore - we want a ray of happiness.

Well this is all well and good, but I'd prefer an actual good film to be recognised as Best Picture of the year.

So what missed out? I could go for hours on the many wrong decisions that the Academy have made this year... Bruce Springsteen not securing a nomination for his song 'The Wrestler'...Sally Hawkins ignored for her role in 'Happy-Go-Lucky'...no love for 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona'...

However, what peeves me the most is the lack of nomation for Aranofsky's The Wrestler. Yes, Rourke may be getting a lot of attention, but a lot of credit has to go to Aranofsky's direction in this extraordinary tale of a fighter unable to exist within reality.

This is the kind of film that the Academy should be honouring. Utilising 16mm handheld, and refusing to resort to the cue-card tricks of the Oscar-bait melodramas, what results is a painfully honest portrayal of not just Rourke's character, but the experience of a wrestler and the wrestling industry as a whole. This one hit me pretty hard, no pun intended.

You're probably wondering how I got this far without mentioning The Dark Knight. Heh. Fanboys have been bitching about its Oscar snub ever since the nominations were announced, so in a sense I feel my work has been done for me. Interestingly enough, I don't feel The Dark Knight should be given Best Picture. "But Ed, you said it was Film of the Year!" Oh, I know, but that was a week after having seen it, and I sure was excited. Don't get me wrong, me opinion hasn't been lowered significantly, but various rewatches have allowed me get a little perspective long after the dust has settled, and ultimately acknowledge that The Dark Knight is a deeply flawed film in many areas. Haters and hypers be equally damned!

It's still great, though.

Alluding to what I said about the feel-good factor, The Dark Knight may have been a bit too bleak in its subtextual focus on terrorism. A more plausible explanation would be that the Academy are consistently retaining their snobbery in regards to summer blockbusters. Although, it would perhaps have been beneficial for the Academy to hand The Dark Knight its Best Picture nom, for the sake of their own popularity. They really were stupid to ignore it so easily. It's no secret that the ratings for the awards ceremony have been dropping with each passing year, and the inclusion of The Dark Knight amongst the Best Picture nominees, along with its immense popularity ensuring that it had a significant chance of taking the prize, would have had millions tuning in to see the result.

We'll all now be looking for better things to do with our time on February 22nd, instead of biting our nails over the prospects of The Reader.




















Except for me. I'll probably still be watching.

The Worst Films of 2007

2007, haha... "But Ed, it's 2009!" ...shut up! It's my party and I can live in the past if I want to.

The bad news is of course, that I've been so lazy and slow in actually compiling all this pointless, inconsequential information, and that it has reached you a year too late. The good news is that it won't happen again! I'm speeding through 2008 films as we speak and that specific list should be up February. mmm, relevancy.

On we go! I saw almost 100 2007 films, and I only really liked about a couple of them. 10 or 15 I thought were great. About 60 of them ranged from mediocre to terrible. Here, I present to you the bottom of the barrel of 2007.

30. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (David Yates)

"So what should we do for the next Potter movie, folks?"
"Ooo, sir, I have an idea!"
"What is it, Jenkins."
"Well, you know how Prisoner of Azkaban was a success with critics and fans alike?"
"Yes, go on..."
"And Goblet of Fire was mildly passable entertainment?"
"Yes, yes..."
"I believe we should go for a different approach with this next one."
"Different! Yes, I like it. Thinking outside the box. What did you have in mind?"
"Well, first we hire a talentless hack called David Yates."
"Go on..."
"Then we get Malfoy, Harry and the Weasley brothers to cut off the girly hair they'd grown for Goblet of Fire."
"Is that it?"
"Yes, sir."
"What does this Yates fellow have to bring to the table, exactly?"
"Excruciatingly bad cinematography, weak battle sequences, flat performances and short hair."
"Jenkins, you're a maverick."

29. Into the Wild (Sean Penn)

Everybody and their grandmother simultaneously blurted in their pants over this sappy tale of a precocious bugger who, dissatisfied with the oh so third world existence of middle class suburbia, decides to pack his things and set off into the wilderness. It's an adaptation of a well-renowned book (based on a true story), which I'm sure is good and probably does a better job at justifying the actions of this seemingly smug arsewipe portrayed by smuggy McSmug Emile Hirsch, in this 2 and a half hour snoozefest. There's plot manipulations abound, with the parents increasingly demonised to make their son appear in the right. This includes scenes of them shouting at each other in a blaze of hissy fits, which apparently didn't happen, yet the real-life parents gave it the go-ahead anyway. Hang on, can we have the truth?

I've also seen better wildlife imagery on the Discovery Channel. How remarkably bland.

28. The Simpsons Movie (David Silverman)

I've attacked this film to the point of exhaustion. There's nothing left to do but repeat myself. Bart's plot resolved in worst way. No laughs. Needless Lisa subplot leads nowhere. No laughs. Rehashed marriage doubts for Marge. Rubbish villain. Springfield characters given a one-liner each. No laughs.

27. Rendition (Gavin Hood)

"Hey Jim, Wolverine: Origins is going to be so totally awesome!"
"Wolverine: Origins?... Why are you my friend?"
"Hey, fuck you. Didn't you like the X-Men films?"
"X-Men 2 was cool. That was directed by Bryan Singer*. Who's doing Wolverine?"
"Heh, doing Wolverine..."
"Answer the question."
"Gavin Hood."
"Gavin Hood? Who's he?"
"OMFG you looooser. He made Tsotsi which is this wicked foreign film where a guy learns how to love and gfpgionmpisenOscarawrsdsiognfk."
"Ok. What else did he do?"
"Rendition. It's this awesome moral tale about extraordinary rendition where Reese Witherspoon shouts 'WHERE IS MY HUSBAND!!!!!!' constantly."
"That doesn't sound like much fun."
"They are sorta cardboard characters. But they have such human emotions."
"You do realise, what you just said makes no sense?"
"...J.K. Simmons and Alan Arkin bark orders at people..."
"Aren't they just the same person?"
"...there's an explosion in there somewhere..."
"This sounds terrible."
"Jim."
"Yeah?"
"I think...I think I love you."
"What, what are yo sayi--"
"WHERE'S MY HUSBAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

*This blog does not endorse Bryan Singer in any way, shape or form.

26. The Ten (David Wain)

The basic premise of this lil comedy is that the ten commandments provide some lulz. Some lulz, not many. Paul Rudd is our narrator, half-heartedly guiding us through ten rushed segments that put each of the commandments into practice. There's a laugh or two to be had, but it all collapses towards the end in a jaw-droppingly horrifying musical number, the participants of which must have been truly embarassed to have had to perform. In multiple takes. A very clumsy, hypocritical waste of (usually) reliable actors.

25. Things We Lost in the Fire (Susanne Bier)

"Boy, it sure is great to work at Empire!"
"You betcha, buddy."
"Ok, now that we've established for the reader what our occupations are, let's get reviewing!"
"Sure thing. What's up first?"
"Well sir, it's Things We Lost in the Fire, starring Benicio Del Toro and Catwoman."
"I see, and what sort of film is it?"
"It's a serious film."
"And you know it's Empire's policy to give 'serious films' four stars, right?"
"What do we give three stars to?"
"Buck up, lad! We give three stars to terrible films that gave us candy, and to great films that didn't."
"Well, what should I give to Things We Lost in the Fire?"
"Was there a press junket, did they give us candy?"
"There was no candy, sir."
"Bah! But it's a serious film, you say?"
"Yes, sir. Lots of melodrama and cheese, good performances wasted by a cliched script."
"And the plot?"
"A woman learns to move on from the death of her husband. A drug dealer learns to move on from drugs or something."
"Sounds serious."
"Mmm, so...?"
"Let's do this the Empire way. Slap four stars on that puppy and let it sit."

24. Disturbia (D.J. Caruso)

This is Caruso's shameful attempt at reimagining Rear Window for the MySpace generation, only he doesn't quite understand what made that film work so well. We open with a car crash to immediately grab the attention of the ADD audience, and the rest of proceedings follow in the same fashion. There's plenty of oohs and aahs, with hardly any suspense to spare in comparison to Hitchcock's masterpiece. In Rear Window, Grace Kelly didn't need to be ogled at in her bikini to attract our attention, and her role was of a woman that Stewart's character almost feared, in a way. Fast-forward to 2007 and Shia LaBeouf's sole intention is to dry-hump the leg of this young blonde neighbour as soon as humanly possible. Such lovely, complex filmmaking.

23. Fracture (Gregory Hoblit)

Would you belive it, yet more derivative dirge from Hollywood's toilet water. Anthony Hopkins channels Hannibal Lecter (geddit!) as he plays a devious game with young gun Ryan Gosling, who is trying desperately to prove that the bald guy killed his own wife. Entertaining in certain parts but ultimately very by-the-numbers, Gosling is really the only one putting any effort here. Hopkins phones it in, reminding us that we're not watching Silence of the Lambs, and this isn't being directed by Jonathan Demme.

22. 30 Days of Night (David Slade)

"Hey, man. I saw 30 Days of Night yesterday."
"Oh yeah? I bet that was scary."
"Nope. Just shit."

21. Black Sheep (Jonathan King)

They tell me to get a sense of humour. They say that this an light-hearted, admirable low-budget horror. Well, to me it was a moronic chore of a low-budget horror, about as painful to sit through as whatever that sheep was feeling when the farmer started bumming it.

Y'know, this has sheep sex in it. There are 24 hours in a day.

20. Bee Movie (Simon J. Smith & Steven Hickner)

True story: Steven Spielberg and Jerry Seinfeld were eating dinner together (probably off each other's chests) when Jerry decided to share his special idea with Steven. The idea was...get this...'Bee Movie'. For those without a brain cell, that's B Movie, and it's about a bee! Genius! Apparently, Steven got out his phone straight away and made a call, it was That. Damn. Good.

Honestly, that is a true story that Seinfeld has testified to himself. What resulted from this dinner was a CGI kids movie with terrible animation, three separate episodes jammed into one film, and the great moral of the story to, as usual, 'be yourself'. Actually, that last one is false. Shockingly enough, the moral of Bee Movie is to remain part of the hive mind. Seriously. Oh, and see what I did there? Jerry Seinfeld, I take your 'Bee Movie' and raise you a 'Hive Mind'.

19. Lions for Lambs (Robert Redford)

How hilarious is it that I had this as one of my most anticipated films of Winter 2007?! I'll tell you: extremely hilarious. The idea was intriguing, yet it's another reel to throw on the heap of 'Iraq films' that desperately need torching. Endless prolysetising by Redford, Streep and co. An eternity of preaching. Ninety minutes you won't get back.

18. Live Free or Die Hard (Len Wiseman)

Die Hard is so awesome because it practically invented most of the action movie cliches, and it's easy to forget this when you're watching it. It's an exciting yet endearing Christmas movie, led by a protagonist that is the everyman, emerging as a true hero by the very end. Focus is pulled and thrown numerous times in several shots as the camera weaves through the carnage-filled corridors of the Nakotomi building. On the other end of this maelstrom? Hans Gruber, one of the greatest villains of all time, portrayed by Alan Rickman in his first ever film role.

Die Hard 4.0, how do you ever hope to match this? Let's see, your villain is Timothy Olymphant as an angry hacker. He's going to spend most of his time at a computer looking mean, you say? What's this on page 78, John McClane...surfing a jet plane? I'll get my coat.

17. The Kingdom (Peter Berg)

You've all seen the disgustingly offensive pile of dog turd that is Hancock, no doubt. This is what Peter Berg did one year prior, sending Jason Bateman, Jamie Foxx and Jamie Foxx's sunglasses off to the Middle East. The mission? Have Jamie Foxx make the arabs look really, really stupid. I think Berg suceeded somewhat as this film is rife with stupidity.

16. Alpha Dog (Nick Cassavetes)

John Cassavetes was a master of cinema, so why is his son an absolute hack? This is a film, based on a true story, that shamelessly manipulates the viewer into having sympathy for a group of young adults that conspired to murder a young boy, then bury his body in the hills. Why the fuck should we side with these people???

Alpha Dog also features a cameo by Bruce Willis, wearing fake liver spots on his head.

15. The Bucket List (Rob Reiner)

Reiner, Reiner, Reiner. How far you have fallen. Predictably, laughably, Morgan Freeman narrates with the same opening line as in The Shawshank Redemption: "I first met ___ when..." This is a film about two old men in their twilight years, staring death in the face, deciding to do all the things they've always wanted to before they finally 'kick the bucket'. What's wrong with all this harmless fun? The family is an afterthought to Jack Nicholson's character, who is so horribly unlikeable that it's hard to comprehend why Freeman's dying fogie would even consider spending time with him outside the hospital. They travel together to locales that are obviously fake, engaging in selfish behaviour considering the circumstances. Cancer isn't serious business, apparently. Don't spend your last days on earth with your family, spend them drinking wine with Morgan Freeman!

14. The Condemned (Scott Wiper)

Let's forget for the moment that the last name of this film's director is an action that you do to your own ass. Let's turn our attention to The Condemned, a film to wipe your ass with. Produced by WWE films (a seal of quality if ever I saw one), this caper sees Stone Cold Steve Austin, Vinnie Jones and other 'roid freaks set upon each other in a reality TV show whereby the winner is the last man left standing. This is all sounding very Battle Royale to me.

There's a great moment where Stone Cold flees from Vinnie, diving into the water. Vinnie fires his gun haphazardly into the water for about 30 seconds, then when Stone Cold emerges to make another runner, Vinnie stops for a breather. At least the man is bringing to his character a semblance of the real life Vinnie, for that we can only applaud his intelligence.

All this is obviously quite morally bankrupt, and there's the token character who disagrees with everything inserted purely to justfiy all the bloodshed. Let's not kid ourselves here guys, this is total macho bullshit.

13. Run, Fatboy, Run (David Schwimmer)

Simon Pegg leaves Thandie Newton at the altar, regrets his decision and decides to run to redeem himself! How predictable. "'Simon', they sneer, 'how could you leave Thandie Newton at the altar? You horrible, horrible man!" Hey, leave him alone, I'd leave that bitch at the altar too. Don't look at me like that. She's a dog! She's crap, she was in Norbit! Oh shit I just spoilt my list.

12. Transformers (Michael Bay)

I couldn't see anything!!!

11. I Am Legend (Francis Lawrence)

The source material for this sounds really interesting. The last man in New York is left with the same gang of undead thingamijgs, and he slays them thusly for self-defence. Only, he's now the minority, and therefore is the monster in their society. He is put on trial by the monsters and given a public execution.

The producers of I Am Legend probably thought this was a bit too bleak and/or challenging for the general public, and they were right, because instead they turned the story into a horrendous Hollywood trash film, complete with a happy ending that had Will Smith save the world for the 112th time. And you know what? It made a shedload at the box office. Fuck you, general public.

10. Saw 4 (Darren Lynn Bousman)

The Saw franchise returned for another year of poor writing hiding under an alleged "genius" twist. Some people find entertainment in watching others die slowly in meticulously constructed torture devices. Not me. Create an atmosphere in your film, then we'll talk.

9. Norbit (Brian Robbins)

I'll never forget the night I saw this in the cinema. Yes, you heard that right. The cinema. The alcohol made me do it! Naturally, I laughed my tits off up until the halfway point, where I got a headache from my frozen fanta/needed the toilet/sobered up and realised what I'd paid for.

8. I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry (Dennis Dugan)

The excellent fondling of Jessica Biel's boobs does not save this doozy from bottom of the pile oblivion. Incidentally, after we saw this we got horribly lost in the gay district of Leeds.

7. The Hitcher (Dave Meyers)

The sight of Sean Benn sitting in the back of car, waving next to a small child and a fluffy dinosaur, is one that I will cherish forever. Perhaps I will also cherish the sight of Sean Bean tearing a young man's torso in half. Why is everything so much more awesome when Sean Bean does it? In the same way, why is a bad film made worse when Sean Bean is in it? I'm not sure, but I know it definitely has something to do with Sean Bean. I hear a faint sound, metal tapping. Clink, clink, clink. A coffin is being prepared. If it is Sean Bean's coffin, does that make it awesome? Or will it be a lacklustre coffin, primarly because Sean Bean is inside it? A moustached man approaches me, whispers into my ear. It is not for Sean Bean, but for his career. I wonder what Sean Bean will do now his access to Hollywood is cut off. I can only imagine his days from here on in will be spent threatening Neil Warnock's children, as it is the second thing he does best, after sitting in the back of car with said children and fluffy dinosaur.

6. Hitman (Xavier Gens)

Controversial statement: Even as the 6th most hated film of my 2007, this still isn't as bad as Quantum of Solace. Ooooooo. Flame away, people.

5. 300 (Zack Snyder)

The true death of cinema: a giant reddish-brown, oily shit smeared on a paint canvas, superimposed with hundreds of muscly, bronzed twats. Homoerotic and homophobic all at once, this fascist myth spends its entirety delighting in slow-motion mutilation, with the intolerable growling of Gerard Butler to break up the monotony. It's still one-note however, and it's truly a crying shame that it has become so popular.

Fun fact: Without the slow-motion, 300 is seven minutes long.

4. Epic Movie (Jason Friedberg & Aaron Seltzer)

The chances of Epic Movie making the Top 5 Worst Movies of 2007 was about as surefire as Amy Winehouse eating her own shit for breakfast each morning. Well, here it is, no surprises. These fratboys need to visit spoof-school to learn that simply placing a Daniel Craig-lookalike in the frame doesn't automatically make it hilarious. You have to do something with it. Go on, what are you going to do with him. Oh, I see, a fart joke.

3. Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem (Colin & Greg Strause)

Thankfully my money wasn't completely wasted when I went to see this abortion; a friend of mine had drunk a bottle and a half of wine before buying his ticket, and the nauseating edits of AVP2 caused him to vomit his gizzards out all over the woman in front of him. Amazing scenes. I think my favourite part of this film was when the little girl askes "Mommy, are the monsters gone?" to which her mother replied, "Yes honey...they're gone." Or maybe the moment when they flew out of a nuclear bomb cloud in a helicopter. Or the bit where the army general looks at the screen and asks "Who are you?" Or maybe the bit where the high school kids cry about their lovelife. Any of those three, but definitely not the bits where Alien and Predator are fighting, because I couldn't see a fucking thing.

2. Outlaw (Nick Love)

Not content with letting The Football Factory show to the world just how astronomically shit he is, Nick Love returned with a delightfully fascist tale of a group of vigilantes, comprised of Sean Bean, Danny Dyer and a goth, who take to the streets to administer some paaaain. This 'justice' amounted to them picking a fight in a pub, and getting beaten up round the back of it. It's filmed in a 'gritty style maaan', with shakycam, although it probably isn't a good idea to give the shakycam duties to someone with Parkinson's disease.

1. Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End (Gore Verbinski)

"Hey, you know what would be a good idea?"
"What?"
"We should make a third Pirates of the Carribean film!"
"Are you kidding?"
"Why not? Dead Men's Chest is one of the biggest grossers of all time!"
"No I meant, are you kidding because it's already been made."
"Huh?"
"It was filmed back to back with Dead Man's Chest, to conclude the shoehorned plot that has no ties to the first film."
"I see. That must be quite exhausting for the cast and crew, did it wrap on time?"
"More or less, which is surprising considering all they had to fit in. It's three hours long."
"Three hours?? Why on earth is it that long?"
"Because we're pretentious fucking wankers, that's why."
"What happens in those three hours?"
"People betray each other. Over and over and over again."
"This all sounds very dark. Is Johnny Depp around to provide comic relief?"
"Oh, he's around. He shows up half an hour into the film."
"Half an hour?? Why would you wait that long?"
"I already told you, we're prententious cunts."
"Goodness, who on earth would put that into the script..."
"There wasn't a script."
"Whaaaa?? There wasn't a script?!"
"Nope, we just made it up as we went along."
"Insanity..."
"The box office says otherwise. Take this response I read online for instance..."
"Yes?"
"Chris Rigby says, 'It was good, decent end to the trilogy like'"
"That's one man's opinion."
"Jenkins, if you want to march over to Chris Rigby's house..."
"er--"
"...and tell him that he is worthless sack of crap..."
"um--"
"...that deserves a bloody, brutal beatdown for enjoying this film, then go ahead, by all means."
"That's not what I meant."
"You're a traitor to this company Jenkins. You're fired. And I tell you what, if tiny Chris is sitting there at home with his special edition of At World's End, watching his favourite actor Orlando Bloom act his wooden heart out, then who are we to deny him this joy? I say to you people, who will join me? Who will join me in making little Chris Rigby's life full of even more joy? I have a dream. Pirates of the Carribean 4, 5 and 6. Each of them seven hours long. This time we'll have a script. Oh, but not one script. We're going to have two scripts per film, mashed together in an orgy of jumbled dialogue and cliched plot twists. And then, only then, will all the Chris Rigbys of the world wear their little smiles of unadulterated joy, their bald heads beaming in the light of our benevolent sun."

I'm Back

Four weeks.

Four weeks since we ordered Broadband, and here it is. Finally, I can scour the internet for latest movie news, Facebook updates and pictures that no one else finds hilarious but me. It feels good to be connected to the world again, to know that I have every snippet of information at my fingertips once more. Shockingly enough, without this blog under easy access, I've found myself writing less and less. My novel has come to a grinding halt as I rework the structure, and an infuriating bout of writer's block has prevented me from cracking on with screenwriting using Final Draft.

It's time to review some films. Since I've been away, I've seen some stinkers. Yes, there were a few gems, but I'm still of the mindset that 10 months in, 2008 has been lacklustre, especially in comparision to the eclectic range of films on offer last year.

Am I watching the wrong films? Hell yeah, most definitely. Yet, now I have returned to the grand city of Leeds for the 2nd year of my degree, I find myself even closer (a five minute walk at that) to the palace of awesome that is Hyde Park Picture House.

And what's this? A film festival? In Leeds? Sweet. You'd never have guessed it, but an avid film fan, yours truly, foolishly neglected last year's event, choosing only to (wisely) attend an advance screening of No Country For Old Men. This is the year to take full advantage, to watch anything and everything. Ican'twait Ican'twait Ican'twait.

The highlight so far looks to be the Korean film The Good, The Bad and The Weird. It is a homage to all things Spaghetti Western; hopefully delivering on its promise of 'weird'. One individual I've spoken to claims it to be superior to Leone's genre-defining classic The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Extreme hyperbole perhaps, though I shall have to see for myself.

Reliving Stalker on the big screen, accompanied by new doc Meeting Andrei Tarkovsky, is another prospect worth salivating over. Watching The Sacrifice earlier today, I remembered just how amazing ol' Tark was, how each of his films were masterpieces in their own right. Hopefully he can enrich my love of his films further at this very festival.

4th-16th November. If you're in the Leeds area, go for it!

Coming Up...

I've got a lot to get through, when I finally bring myself to it. I'm almost ready to compile my Best of 2007 list, with just a few more films from last year to view. I am fairly confident that I've seen the worst that 2007 had to offer, and in the knowledge that I won't willingly allow myself to sit through a film from last year that I know will be utter crap, I have concluded that the time is now to start the prelude to my Best Of list. That is, the Worst Movies of 2007.

There's also four more 2008 flicks to review, yet I feel that the focus of this blog is a little off. Why am I touching on just the films of this year? That was the aim when I first started, but it has begun to feel unsatisfying, the preoccupation of my cinematic thoughts on contemporary garbage like Doomsday and Hancock. I want to write about Chaplin, Cassavetes, Fellini and Bergman.

Hollywood is in a bad place, at the point of no return. Every year we are bombarded with adaptations, remakes and comic book movies. Originality is well and truly dead. I have discovered that there are at least 30 remakes of old horror movies in the pipeline. The most offensive part of this, the fact that all gore will be removed for the sake of a 'safe' PG-13 rating, all in the name of easy profit. Then you have films like Epic Movie chewing up the receipts at #1 in the box-office, signifying a collective all-time low in the IQ of humanity.

This blog needs spicing up. Maybe I should give a weekly film recommendation; I watch quite an ungodly amount of classic, foreign and arthouse films, so why shouldn't I write about these, spread the good word? Or perhaps an artful expansion will help, possibly an album recommendation? All I know is if I keep documenting the 'film of the week', there will be no joy in my writing.

And on that note, Bottom 25 coming soon. *Sigh*