But what if he were dressed in costume like he’s come fresh from the set of Sesame Street? It’s hard not to in Four Lions, an audacious satire about the inner trials of a suicidal jihadist quintet.

The concept behind the film is certainly not easy to swallow, especially given the state of the world since, say, September 11th 2001 or July 7th 2005. Fortunately, the feature film debut of UK satirist Christopher Morris – England’s equivalent to the Chaser boys – is just as hilarious and heartfelt as it is controversial. Sure, you might find it insulting to think that the pride and might of England could crumble at the hands of five bumbling idiots, none of whom are competently schooled in their own radicalist ideology. But the one thing Morris and co-writers Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain constantly remind us is that you don’t have to be an evil genius to blow yourself up.

Hailing from Sheffield and ingrained with a culture more English than they would like to admit, ring-leader Omar (Riz Ahmed), confused sheep Waj (Kayvan Novak), Islamic convert Barry (Nigel Lindsay) and the highly sensitive Fassal (Adeel Akhtar) meet their inabilities and inconsistencies head-on with skewed visions of martyrdom. While aiming their aggression toward the West and voicing disdain for capitalism and McDonalds amidst a haste to off themselves and take as many as they can with them, the four realise they are out of their depth. While attending a “wedding”, code for terrorist training in Pakistan, Omar and Waj discover how unprofessional they are at the Jihadist business and return home determined to find infamy as holy warriors. In their time away, Barry recruits Hassan (Arsher Ali), an angry, directionless college boy that serves as easy prey for their cause. The win over his loyalty by promising that the afterlife is like a wild ride at a theme park. Minus the queues, of course.

These five ‘lions’ come together alarmingly well, evoking a team spirit with their original mix of loyalty, pride and playfulness. Despite their horrific displays of racism and malice, they are strangely sympathetic characters — mostly through our pity and their inability to see the great life afforded to them by the very society the plan to attack. Omar, as the most intense and seemingly capable of the group, is blinded by his misguided objective and fails to see how beautiful his wife is and how much his son could do with a father on earth, rather than in ‘heaven’.

As the laughs pile high, time runs out for these would-be terrorists who have an explosive date with destiny. We watch with unease as their nerves get the better of them, causing their plans to crumble under the weight of their own incompetence. Still, Morris plays devil’s advocate during the film’s tense climax where the reality of the situation sinks in, resulting in a powerfully emotive punch line that is far from being as tasteless and inane as you might expect. Four Lions is a provocative gem that doesn’t glorify terrorism as much as it does smart, courageous filmmaking.

Lovers of action movies, however, are in luck; this full-tilt espionage thriller from Australian director Philip Noyce hits the sweet spot neglected of late by bland genre mash-ups such as Killers and Knight and Day. Unlike these films, Salt doesn’t mess around trying to be funny or romantic, instead focusing solely on the one thing that counts: pulse-pounding action.

So who, exactly, is Evelyn Salt (Angelina Jolie)? At first, she would appear to be a devoted CIA agent happily married to a German arachnologist (August Diehl). But that’s before a Russian defector named Orlov (Daniel Olbrychski; Taras Bulba) accuses her of being a KGB sleeper agent left over from the Cold War. Rather than refute the claims, Salt decides to make a run for it. Not a good look for someone who says they’re innocent.

While on the run, Salt might as well be the sister of Jason Bourne, daughter of James Bond and cousin to MacGyver.  They’ve clearly taught her everything she knows, from creating makeshift bombs to jumping off bridges and onto speeding trucks in order to evade her CIA trackers, Agent Winter (Liev Schreiber; Defiance) and Peabody (Chiwetel Ejiofor; 2012). Like the rest of us, they just want some answers. Answers she’s not prepared to give.

Having helmed a number of 90s suspense thrillers such as Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger, director Philip Noyce reaffirms his ability to capture exhilarating action, thankfully resisting the urge to resort to rapid-fire editing and nauseating camera jerks. Somewhat fitting for a dated Cold War-era paranoia plot, Noyce restores some classic sensibilities to the action genre that, nowadays, seems to think it has to wink at the audience every time something cliched or unbelievable happens. Salt doesn’t bother to point out just how silly it gets, retaining a straight face even when it goes from depicting the improbable to the downright impossible. It works because Noyce employs few CGI effects — the action is all in camera — and Jolie,  remarkably, does all her own stunts. Such visual authenticity makes it surprisingly easy to suspend disbelief and just get caught up in the moment.

If Clint Eastwood’s Changeling flexed Angie’s acting chops, Salt just about flexes everything else. Jolie spends most of her screen time dodging death and swatting down whoever dares stand in her way, delivering all of about four lines of dialogue in the process. The lack of exposition is a deliberate attempt by screenwriter Kurt Wimmer (Law Abiding Citizen) to keep us guessing as to Salt’s true identity — is she the protagonist or antagonist? — but it partially backfires in that we never really feel any sympathy for her plight. How can we care when we’re told so little about who she is or what her motives are?  Thankfully, Jolie makes for such an exciting and energetic action hero that her shallow characterisation is hardly the detractor it should be. Whether she’s Russian or American, blonde or brunette, Angie’s an absolute blast to watch.

At just 100 minutes long, Salt doesn’t overstay its welcome, wrapping up in a semi-satisfying way that leaves plenty of room for a sequel. If they end up calling it Pepper, I bet it’ll be a real… *ahem*…cracker.

I regret nothing!

The year is now 2010, and I have discovered to my great delight that The Expendables essentially is Fight Team. It’s a straightforward action flick with a simple but well executed plot, stunning fight scenes, giant explosions and some killer one liners. It’s also one of the most enjoyable movies I’ve seen this year (a surprisingly close second to Inception – who would have thought!). The driving force behind the project, Sylvester Stallone (Rocky) — who directs, co-writes and stars in the movie — has assembled an all-out who’s who of testosterone-oozing, bulked up, gun-toting, kick-ass action stars for the brawl flick of the year.

Before you all start rolling your eyes however, don’t jump the gun too fast. A film whose selling point is largely its sprawling cast can often turn unwieldy, incoherent and altogether terrible. Stallone, however, pulls off a surprising mastery of direction and control over such a potentially flop-worthy project that turns The Expendables from a bad-joke into a must-see for action junkies. Harkening back to some 1980s classics such as Predator, Commando and Rambo, the film feels old — but old in a good way, where special effects are live-action stunts and the material is treated seriously with a touch of wryness. The cast is huge; however half are really just cameos, with the core group forming around Stallone, Jason Statham (Transporter 3), Jet Li (The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor), Randy Couture (Big Stan, UFC), Terry Crews (Terminator: Salvation) and Dolph Lundgren (Direct Contact). If that’s not enough (it never is…), there’s also Mickey Rourke (Iron Man 2), Steve Austin (WWF Raw), Eric Roberts (The Dark Knight), David Zayas (Dexter), Giselle Itié (Bela a Feia) and Charisma Carpenter (Angel). Oh, and Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bruce Willis briefly show up too.

The story follows a tough-as-nails mercenary group called The Expendables, a collection of misfit warriors who’ve found themselves in the lucrative world of international private “security”. They bust up targets with high-powered weaponry, plastic explosives, and when that doesn’t work hand-to-hand smack downs. When a new but dangerous job comes their way, the group is hesitant to take it on, until the mission evolves to the point that it becomes not a matter of money but of personal redemption. In fact, one of the film’s more powerful scenes is a surprisingly dark and heartfelt monologue by Rourke, essentially exploring the film’s key theme of the loss of humanity that is practically inevitable in their line of work. Who said B-action movies couldn’t be deep?

Of course, the story, characters and themes are all obviously secondary to the most important aspect of the movie – the action. That’s where The Expendables truly shines. From the choreography to the stunts to the editing to the sheer amount of gunfire, punches and things that go BOOM, Stallone nails exactly how action should look, sound and feel. The effect is surreal, almost spiritual. The largely young male audience in the theatre literally whooped and applauded (myself included) at some of most iconic moments of carnage and destruction. The film’s climax delivers and delivers and just keeps topping itself, making it possibly the most satisfying experience since cheeseburgers after a very big night.

Naturally, The Expendables will not be everyone’s cup of tea. It is designed through and through to be the ultimate action flick. In this respect, Stallone has triumphed beyond all expectation and left me badly craving a repeat viewing. Oh, and by the way, there was even a fist bump at the end. Fight Team lives!

Made specifically for gamers, geeks and indie hipsters, Scott Pilgrim is a giddy adaptation of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s acclaimed series of pop-culture parodying comics that, above all, pays homage to the world of 8-bit videogames. It’s a zany genre-mash that could have gone oh-so very wrong in lesser hands, but under the stylistically gifted eye of British director Edgar Wright, things work astonishingly well; Scott Pilgrim is exciting, innovative and utterly hilarious in ways I suspect many adults will struggle to appreciate.

Michael Cera stars as Scott Pilgrim, a loserish 22 year-old bass guitarist so strapped for cash he awkwardly sleeps in the same bed as his gay roommate (Kieran Culkin). To overcome the heartbreak of a previous relationship, Scott decides to date an excitable 17 year-old schoolgirl named Knives (Ellen Wong), only to have the girl of his dreams, Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), skate into his life shortly after.  Knives is cast aside when Scott falls madly in love with Ramona’s alternative indifference, blissfully unaware that she has some serious baggage; seven evil ex-boyfriends that Scott must defeat if he wants to win her over.

Oh, and each ex has superpowers. As they do.

We’ve seen dozens of comic-adapted movies over the years, but what’s particularly unique about Scott Pilgrim is that it’s the first to truly take the visual stylings of both videogames and comics and reproduce them simultaneously on screen. For instance, scenes are often broken up into comic-book panels. Characters have visible health bars, hit points and power ups. Loud action sounds are accompanied by onomatopoetic words like “WOOOSH” and “BLAM”.  Giant pixelated hammers are inexplicably pulled out from tiny rucksacks.  And, of course, the laws of time, gravity and human anatomy only tend to exist when things are quiet. Which is never.

Simply put, it’s completely absurd. But that’s the point. As he demonstrated with Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, Edgar Wright is the master of capturing and sustaining a hilariously bizarre tone. The screenplay, co-written by Wright with actor Michael Bacall (Inglourious Basterds), wastes no time getting to the punch and doesn’t stop punching once it gets there, discharging jokes – both visual and verbal — like a chain gun with the trigger glued down. It’s only in the last 15 minutes or so that the action grows tiring and viewer-exhaustion sets in. Was it really necessary to have as many as 7 evil exes? Couldn’t it have done with just 4 or 5?

As overused his ‘awkward teenager’ routine is, Michael Cera nails the wry self-depreciating commentary as Scott, grounding a film that is otherwise away with the pixies. Mary E. Winstead (Die Hard 4.0) has her own gravitational pull as Ramona whenever she’s on screen, which is surprising given how little she actually does while she’s there.  Of all the evil exes, Chris Evans (The Losers) steals the show as the bimbo action movie star Lucas Lee, perking the interest of a memorable Kieran Culkin (Paper Man) – yes, Macaulay’s younger brother — as Scott’s promiscuous gay best friend Wallace. Rounding out the primary cast is promising newcomer Ellen Wong as Knives, Scott’s jealous ex-girlfriend who isn’t ready to let go of her crush.

So who will Scott ultimately choose, Ramona or Knives? More to the point, who cares? Their love triangle might underpin the entire movie, yet it’s hardly what drives things forward. Favouring style over substance is generally a dealbreaker in movies like this, but then again, it’s not often you see style this substantial.

The 90s was a brave new world in many ways. Emerging from the decades-long Cold War,  both the United States and Britain had finally thrown off the conservative governments and principles of the 80s, embodied in Thatcherism in the UK and Reaganism in the US. Thus began a new kind of relationship between two leaders and two progressive, centre-left governments in the already so-called “special relationship” between the United States and the United Kingdom.

Like any good story – and any good romance – the heart and success of The Special Relationship lies in its leading characters, and in Michael Sheen (Frost/Nixon) as the affable, somewhat dorky Prime Minister Tony Blair, and Dennis Quaid (G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra) as the fiery, charming President Bill Clinton, the movie has struck some serious pay dirt. Both Sheen and Quaid are brilliant in their respective roles, channeling the voices, mannerisms and even the emotions of their subjects with a studied expertise. Quaid, who has recently been a favourite of mine for (generally good natured) ridicule after his entertainingly cheesy performance in G.I. Joe (“We got a lot of Joes in that submarine!”), surprises with a an absolutely riveting and accurate portrayal of legendary Bill Clinton. He mimics Clinton’s Arkansan drawl to sheer perfection, commanding attention with a magnetism and fury the former President was well renown for. Sheen, on the other hand, is the perfect complement to Quaid’s arrogance,as the exceedingly polite, but power-driven Tony Blair.  Certainly no stranger to the role, Sheen eloquently imitates Blair in both expression and voice (not to mention his iconic sheepish smile), but bravely delves right to the heart of who Blair really is – a man of deep conviction, compassion and faith, whose sincere desire to change the world for the better would also lead tragically to his greatest mistake.

The superb acting extends not only to the two lead roles but also their wives, Cherie Blair played by Helen McCrory (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince) and Hillary Clinton played by Hope Davis (Synecdoche New York), both of whom capture the very essence of their characters.

The film moves along at a cracking pace, interspersing intimate private scenes of Blair and Clinton with montages of news snippets, famous speeches and political backroom talk. Combining the documentarian urgency of a Frontline special with the emotional and narrative punch of a powerful drama, director Richard Loncraine takes us through such signature moments as the beginnings of the Northern Ireland peace talks, the Monika Lewinsky scandal, and most compellingly the intervention in Kosovo and the Balkans. Those less familiar with these figures and their political history should have no trouble keeping up and staying engaged as Loncraine captures the atmosphere surrounding these momentous events with great clarity.

It’s important to be very wary of how  political giants are portrayed in films such as this, as too often they hue toward a particular message or agenda they want to promote. Fortunately, The Special Relationship mostly resists such easy temptations and reveals its core characters as fully rounded, emotionally engaging human beings, struggling with the great possibilities and burdens of political leadership in the modern era. Both Clinton and Blair are on full display as they are revealed at their most intimate moments and, both flawed in their own ways, yet often grasping at, and sometimes seizing, greatness.

As a dedicated junkie (and student) of politics and international relations, it’s likely that The Special Relationship resonates with me in a way that it wouldn’t with those not as politically inclined.  But even if you’re just a little fascinated with by these two fascinating figures and their legacies, then The Special Relationship is definitely a film not to miss.

Although Efron proves he’s a capable performer as the ‘Me’ part of the title, he is pushed well out of the limelight by Christian McKay, the British newcomer who portrays 20^th century screen and stage legend Orson Welles.

McKay doesn’t just portray Welles, he becomes him.  His physical likeness to the great man is uncanny, but more importantly, he nails every single aspect of Welles’ notoriously eccentric personality. The booming spit-filled projections. The unreserved, self-declared genius. The rare moments of compassion and camaraderie. And, of course, his spellbinding presence on stage, screen and radio. It’s all there, all brilliantly depicted.

Events take place in 1937 New York where young acting hopeful Richard Samuels (Efron) chances upon a role in Welles’ modernised Broadway production of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Filled with feisty optimism, Richard quickly learns that the production only has room for one ego; Orson’s. While vying to stay in the director’s good books, Richard and the rest of the cast begin to lose faith in the production after a string of setbacks leaves little time to prepare for opening night. In-between rehearsals, Richard spends his spare time backstage with the seductive Miss Jones (Claire Danes), a starry-eyed production assistant who embodies both the best and worst of showbiz.

Undercooked as their eventual fling is, it’s an amiable aside to the main event – Danes has wonderfully matured as an actress since her own brush with contemporary Shakespeare in Romeo + Juliet – but the ample screen time spent with Richard tends to detract from our time with Orson, easily the film’s main draw. That being said, Robert Kaplow’s novel (to which the film is based) was never supposed to be a biopic; it is first and foremost a love letter to the creative industry, celebrating the people of art, power of art and precarious nature of making art.

In that case, director Richard Linklater  (School of Rock, A Scanner Darkly) comes up trumps. Under his playful direction, a disarmingly youthful sense of optimism and enthusiasm spills off the screen, scene by scene. A tight production budget has not crippled the film’s attention to period detail, while a strong supporting cast playing other prominent 20^th century performers  – notably Ben Chaplin as George Coulouris (Watch on the Rhine, Papillon) and James Tupper as Joseph Cotten (Shadow of A Doubt, The Third Man) – adds that extra touch of Hollywood nostalgia without going overboard.

But I cannot say it enough: McKay is magnificent. Not for a moment did I doubt that this was the man who went on to make Citizen Kane. In future roles, here’s hoping McKay can distance himself from Welles’ image, but not his talent.

This film is worthy of viewing purely for Fanning and Stewart as Cherie Currie and Joan Jett. It is so easy to be gripped by Dakota Fanning’s natural ability to play an over-sexed blonde bombshell. The uneasiness you feel watching this is provoked by her prolific identity as a more commonly known child star, although this accentuates the story – the girls of the Runaways were fifteen upon formation and barely sixteen by the time their record sold. Essentially, Dakota Fanning’s own predicament as a young woman with such a sexually heightened role is a spot-on mirror for the way the girls of the band were sold to audiences, at the hands of screwball manager Kim Fowley. Fowley is a perfect mix of sass and the scary side of sexual liberation thanks to Revolutionary Road actor Michael Shannon. It is Kim Fowley’s gusto in refining their image as jailbait that moulds Currie on Bridgette Bardot and gives the band a pin-up girl to contrast the badass and black leather that is lead guitarist Joan Jett. Oh and there are also a few other chicks in this band but here, they unfortunately do not seem to matter…

In fact, the biggest downside to this film lies in that Arrested Development and Whip It star, Alia Shawkat was cast with less than a cardboard bass playing cut-out in mind; her character of Robin is entirely fictional, a mash up of all five of the girls who played bass for the band at some point or another. Shawkat is left with hardly a word to say, which is crap considering she has already proved she can hold her own acting alongside more accomplished actors. Scout Taylor-Compton does well as Lita Ford on guitar and Stella Maeve hits with sticks as one of the best female drummers ever, Sandy West.

That said, The Runaways truly is Kristen Stewart’s film – her proving ground for shedding her Bella coat and respawning as an actress with actual expression. Instantly it is her bad girl swagger, her slack guitar posture and her growly vocals that take this film to the next level. She portrays the movement, attitude and expression of Joan Jett perfectly as she flexes her character through the foundations of becoming the queen of rock and the inspiration for the Riot Girrrl movement of the 90s. Unlike the “sad face” and jittery nature of Bella Swan, Stewart as Jett appears so comfortable and in control, evoking the character of Shane from The L Word to such an extent that she is destined to break hearts – the hearts of other girls. Whilst the Runaways proved you can revolt with three chords and paved the way for such acts as Bikini Kill, Bratmobile and Peaches, Kristen Stewart shows that this is possibly her big F#@* You to the role as Bella that made her famous; In this one movie, she works with Fanning to display more emotion and true devotion to each other than anything within the awkward love-triangle between the sparkly vamp and what’s-his-name, and they have had three films to try and get it right.

Alright, so Floria Sigismondi has delivered a far from perfect movie here and should probably just stick to directing music videos for Muse and Marilyn Manson unless she learns that yes, complexity in narrative and character are beneficial. However, the harsh consequences of addiction and the sexploitation of young girls are thematically powerful enough to pull fantastic performances from the leading ladies, looking past the reality of leaving the Runaways other true stories AND their band mates behind.

Verdict:
This doesn’t compare to other music films like Crazy Heart or Ray, but if you think of it as the music equivalent of what Whip It was to sports films then you will have a good time.  Dakota and Kristen are almost flawless although twilight fans will be shocked to see them making out – with each other. Kudos for Joan Jett and her role as executive producer.

The Hedgehog is instead a subdued and engaging character story that works its charm and drama with great subtlety and sophistication. Set almost entirely in the upper-class apartment building where Paloma lives, the film begins with the lurking Paloma trailing people about and filming them, commenting with biting insight on their flawed lives. We are also introduced to Renee Michel (Josiane Balasko), the building’s resident janitor who lives and works largely ignored by the apartment’s tenants. Renee, who is deeply private and surly, fits the “hedgehog” motif to a tee, though of course, we soon find there is more to her than her caustic exterior suggests. The film – and the characters of Paloma and Renee – really comes to life when an elderly Japanese man, Kakuro Ozu (Togo Igawa), moves into the apartment. Kakuro is such a breath of fresh air, at once both gentlemanly and boyish, whose warmth and genuine interest in those around him soon begin to profoundly affect both Renee and Paloma.

What follows is not so much a narrative as a touching and subtle exploration of character and companionship as Paloma, Renee and Kakuro find richness and value in one another. The acting is engaging and clever, preferring an understated realism that evokes a deep and more compelling connection with the audience. The film is never heavy handed or melodramatic, and wisely allows the humour and drama on display to flow naturally and steadily. The music by Gabriel Yared supports this restrained style, with simple piano motifs that don’t overpower what’s happening on the screen. The Hedgehog, like the animal theme its title represents, is a strange but ultimately beautiful creature that has great elegance and feeling once it reveals itself.

If you ever wondered what would happen if Russell Brand relapsed into drugs and took off on a ridiculous adventure, then Nicholas Stoller’s Get Him to the Greek might have your answer. Although the strong cast is enough to sell such a simple plot, Greek has a lot to offer in it’s outrageous portrayal of stardom that will rival anything you see on TMZ.

The story is straight forward: Aaron Green (Jonah Hill), a record company assistant, must escort the out-of-control rock star Aldous Snow (Russell Brand) to The Greek Theatre in Los Angles for a comeback performance. With only three days to the show and a schedule to keep, Aaron is soon at the mercy of Aldous’ antics. To make matters worse, Aaron believes his long time girlfriend has broken up with him, making him susceptible to the rock star’s self destructive suggestions. Hilarity ensues.

Aldous is also experiencing a low point after breaking up with celebrity girlfriend, Jackie Q (Rose Byrne). Unfortunately for him, her singing career stayed afloat, while Aldous’ fell apart, after the release of African Child – a grotesquely patronising single they recorded together about poverty in Africa. On this journey away from home (and his beloved mother), Aldous takes the opportunity to fill the gap in his life by contacting his estranged father, nearly killing Aaron and squandering through most of the trip with sex, drugs and rock and roll.

Get Him to the Greek‘s plot feels like a quest, an adventure which consistently leads to entertaining situations for the characters. We see our protagonists travel from Britain to New York, Los Vegas and LA, each location conveying a heightened sense of madness in the celebrity world of Aldous Snow. It really is a treat to watch each scene unfold: easily manipulated groupies, psychotic executives, annoyed Harry Potter stars and philandering singers all make Aaron’s job that much more painful, and (for us) enjoyable. The best part is that none of this feels stupid, or hammy, mostly thanks to the two leads.

Both Russell Brand and Jonah Hill walk the line between lunacy and subtlety very well. Hill plays a mousey character who maintains an endearing sense of hopelessness throughout the adventure. Aaron’s relationship with his girlfriend is particularly adorable and you do feel genuinely sorry to see things going pear shaped for them. Brand also plays a rather reserved individual for more time than you would expect, carrying the intensity of a rock star with refined confidence in the delivery of dialogue, rather than physical displays of insanity and arrogance. Aldous’ lines are the film’s highlight, with Brand’s eloquent and ever expanding vocabulary analysing the antics with razor sharp accuracy. The fact he exclaims one particularly long hallway as “Kubrickian!” during a chase sequence is on par with the continually unexpected and hilarious take he has on the world.

Another worthy mention is Sean Combs (or P. Diddy as he is better known), who plays Aaron Green’s boss, the record company executive. Combs compliments Brand and Hill, with a truly audacious character that has seemingly limitless energy. Being the only true psychopath in the film, he personifies greed and control through some straight forward and very aggressively delivered comedy. I wasn’t expecting to like his performance from seeing the trailers but, in-context, the styles of comedy gel together nicely.

Amongst the great performances lies some moments of satire relating to the Hollywood entertainment era we currently live in. The film isn’t overly pretentious in making fun of the tabloid celebrity culture, but it most certainly does make fun. New age religion, split celebrity parenting, the relationship rumour mill, selling out, the entourage and self obsession are a few themes that rear their heads.

Technically, the film does nothing special, but like the rather simple story, it doesn’t need to. Characters are the clear focus of the film and the cinematography facilitates the performances as adequately as you can expect. The soundtrack isn’t used too obnoxiously either, particularly during the emotional turning points. Aldous Snow’s own music is actually quite good, especially within the context of the movie and it rocks out enough to make Snow’s position as a star believable.

I must admit, I have always enjoyed Russell Brand’s unique form of humour, which pervades this film. Therefore you may want to take this into account if you inexplicably dislike the comedian. However, for those who are new to Russell, Get Him to the Greek is no better place to start.

Verdict:

Comedy is the central goal of the film and if you keep that in mind Get Him to the Greek delivers.

Joe Carnahan’s follow up to 2006’s Smokin’ Aces changes the awesome foursome from Vietnam to Iraq War veterans – who have to operate covertly on a CIA-run mission to prove to the US military that they were framed for a crime they didn’t commit. It’s action from the get-go as character introductions take little time and background stories aren’t immediately important. That is an invigorating change after the endless ‘origin’ stories audiences are now subjected to, regardless of their strengths or weaknesses. As the story progresses and more characters are woven into the plot, the pace doesn’t change and there’s a strong story with a few neat twists thrown into the mix. The sub-plot between ladies man ‘Faceman’ Peck (real-life ladies man Bradley Cooper) and former flame Charisa Sosa (Jessica Biel) doesn’t interfere with the overall story, and pop culture references are used well for comic relief. The prolonged climactic stoush detracts slightly but recovers quickly to create a general but intriguing ending.

There are plenty of laughs as The A-Team’s kept light. Carnahan uses the four to great effect; particularly newcomer Sharlto Copley (District 9) as Murdock, whose manic nature both surprises and stuns. Cooper, going down the Hugh Grant-inspired ‘charmer’ road, is settling in nicely to big roles, while Liam Neeson as Colonel ‘Hannibal’ Smith presents a friendly-but-badass father figure to Jackson’s inspired ‘BA’ Baracus. There’s a great on-screen team chemistry, and with Patrick Wilson as CIA agent Lynch and Brian Bloom’s villain Pike, the ensemble are engaging – even with a bit of cheese thrown in. Sex and gruesome violence are replaced with near-childish baddies and big explosions to see a return to the action of old, when swearing wasn’t the only sign of frustration. The big explosions at least would no doubt be an influence of the Scott brothers, working as producers on the film with original series writer Stephen J. Cannell. The intrigue of The A-Team comes from genuine (albeit minor) suspense and the appreciation of these males’ special bond after their experiences – much like that other foursome currently on our screens…

Verdict

They say there’s no better; The A-Team succeeds in blasting onto the big screen with big attitude.

That last sentence might seem a little cliché, but with this film it is absolutely true. I found myself questioning many moments throughout, trying to gauge wether the filmmaker’s technique was deliberately or mistakenly leading my suspicions. This is the primary reason the picture is so enjoyable, so I will attempt to give a spoiler-free synopsis for fear of ruining the build-up to its stellar ending.

As a former investigator for the courts in Argentina, Benjamin Esposito (Ricardo Darin) was no stranger to a crime scene. Despite this, one particularly heinous crime and the events surrounding it have stayed with him over the years. After seeing the devastation left by the brutal rape and murder of a young woman and its curse upon her partner Ricardo Morales (Pablo Rago), Benjamin resolves to find the killer at all costs. With the burden of a drunken co-worker and romantic tensions with Irene (Soledad Villamil), a new colleague, Benjamin experiences more than he bargained for in handling the case. Several years later, the events have lingered in his mind so much that he decides to put his memories to paper in the form of a book. Enlisting the advice of Irene, now a court Judge, Benjamin soon discovers the past is catching up with him.

Sufficiently disturbing, while not at all feeling like a gratuitous attempt at shock-value, The Secret in Their Eyes attempts to tell a story about time, as well as an atrocity. Time acts as a strong theme in the film, with its effects on the characters and their philosophy becoming evident as a result of the crime. Living through the past, or the present becomes a major conflict and the movie successfully reminds the audience of this rather strong theme without being overly pretentious or preachy.

The film also plays around with the past and present well. Little details are etched into the scenes, seamlessly connecting the two realms. An example of this is the use of an old typewriter that fails to print the letter “A”, which first appears in the present, but is later referenced several times in the past. The effects of time are also not lost on the characters, both physically and mentally. Thankfully, the same actors are used to portray the characters in both eras by using subtle makeup to show the passage of time. The mental effects of time are also portrayed well by Villamil and Darin, with their character’s composure and confidence changing believably between the two eras. This attention to detail really helps to gel this rather epic story together.

All technical aspects of the film deliver an atmosphere that sufficiently compliments the story. Some of Benjamin’s memories are presented with a hint of melodrama, including the use of stylized open shutter photography, special effects and rather emotive music. But this sort of drama is momentary and relative to the story, as we soon discover memories can be romanticised – as in real life. As for the rest of the film, the photography is unintrusive and large in scope without becoming alienating. Beautiful static wide shots of the countryside or the judicial halls add atmosphere to the film, while more intimate scenes make use of superb lighting. As the film progresses, the passage of time seems to be represented in a more bleak and colourless world, with the palette being reduced near the end of the film. Overall, there are no major flaws with the technical presentation, which serves only to add to the story.

This picture feels like it has the tension of Zodiac, but the great ending of Se7en. Because its subtlety and realism fits snugly between these two films, it’s neither too realistic nor too showy. It does everything it needs to deliver something special, without belonging to David Fincher. In fact, director Juan Jose Campanella would do wisely to keep an eye on Fincher, just in case someone has the “bright” idea to fund an American remake. I jest, of course, but if you are a fan of those films, The Secret in Their Eyes should be the next on your list to see. And if you haven’t seen those films, The Secret in Their Eyes should be the next on your list to see.

Verdict:

A brilliantly crafted, well presented crime drama, The Secret in Their Eyes is a movie you have to see for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which its stunning plot.

And ‘almost’ as fun is more than good enough for me, especially given how highly I regard the video game. In fact, The Sands of Time is one of my all-time favorite games; a masterful blend of fluid action, innovative gameplay, stunning atmosphere and memorable characters. Director Mike Newell (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), with the distinct blockbuster touch of producer Jerry Bruckheimer (Pirates of the Caribbean), has faithfully bought many of these attributes to the big screen with just the right amount of cheese, the only real disappointments being some unexceptional performances and a patchy framework. Qualms aside, Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time remains an all-out action spectacle that, in terms of pure entertainment value, puts recent historical epics Robin Hood and Clash of the Titans to shame.

The story pertains to a number of the concepts of the original game, but it certainly isn’t quite as gamers will remember it. Living as a street urchin in medieval Persia, young Dastan (Jake Gyllenhaal) is adopted by King Sharaman (Ronald Pickup) after showing courage in the streets, making him the titular prince. Thirteen years later, Datsan and his brothers — Garsiv (Toby Kebbell) and Tus (Richard Coyle) — decide to invade a holy city under their Uncle Nazim’s (Ben Kingsley) authority that they are harbouring WMDs (being advanced swords and arrows, of course). However, the spirited princess of the city, Tamina (Gemma Arterton), insists there are no such weapons stock (sounding familiar?). Before she can prove it, she’s reluctantly exiled from the city with Dastan after he is framed for his father’s murder.

As Dastan soon discovers while devising a plan to prove his innocence, Princess Tamina was hiding a super weapon after all; a powerful dagger that grants the wielder the ability to turn back time for a single minute. This godly power drains a portion of the sand contained within the handle of the dagger, a rare grain only obtainable from an ancient hourglass (of sorts) known as the Sands of Time.  With the power of the dagger to help him out of tricky situations –  yes, it can be a bit of a narrative cop-out — Datsan won’t stop until he has cleared his name and saved the crown from corruption.

The video game was always more interested in delivering exciting action than a memorable story, a trait that has somewhat carried over to this film adaptation. However, that’s not to say the Prince’s big screen adventure is uninvolving. It’s clear a great deal of thought has been put into the screenplay by co-writers Boaz Yakin and Jordan Mechner in making an adaptation that is both faithful to the game, yet accessible to a new audience (although they could have done without the Iraq war allegory). The writing can be little clunky at times when divulging the plot – there’s a lot to convey, and it’s often repeated, so expect a few exposition-heavy scenes  – but the film never loses its rhythm as it weaves its way to a predictable yet entertaining climax.

What really shines about Prince of Persia, however, is that trademark Bruckheimer dynamism. The epic soundtrack, luminous set pieces and impressive CGI provides plenty of eye and ear candy, but it’s the action that really brings this film to life.  Just like the video game, each chase sequence and sword fight is a stunning spectacle, all of it beautifully choreographed, impressively animated and fluidly edited under Newell’s direction. Cinematographer John Seale (Poseidon, Cold Mountain) has clearly done his research, emulating the game’s feel in the way he captures the action, while clearly having fun with numerous stylistic techniques to punctuate some of the Prince’s more breathtaking moves. There’s plenty of “Wow!” moments here, and they didn’t even have to resort to 3D.

It’s a shame, though, that this energy is sometimes at odds with the cast. No, the fact that none of the actors are actually Iranian isn’t what bothers me;  the English accents don’t distract, and I don’t recall anyone blaming Pirates of the Caribbean for not having any Caribbean pirates in the cast. It’s rather that the usually standout Ben Kingsley frequently looks as though he’s got somewhere better to be, while Jake Gyllenhaal (Brokeback Mountain, Brothers) — physically a perfect fit for the Prince, doing most of his own stunts — doesn’t quite possess enough charisma to sell his character as a true hero, which is surprising since he often exudes charm in the low-key dramas he’s done in the past.  That said, there’s definitely some chemistry between Glynnenhall and the alluring Gemma Arterton (Quantum of Solace, Clash of the Titans), and while their romance plays out almost exactly like Orlando Bloom’s and Keira Knightley’s in Pirates of the Caribbean, it’s amusing to watch their frivolous relationship develop.

Speaking of Pirates of the Caribbean, one can’t help feel that this film is missing a key character like Jack Sparrow. While Johnny Depp’s brilliant performance is what made the swaggering and self-serving pirate a pop-culture phenomenon, Prince of Persia doesn’t have a comparable character that audiences will remember as fondly and, most importantly, will devotedly come back for more in subsequent sequels.  Alfred Molina (Spider-Man 2, An Education)  as the dodgy broker Amar is the closest the film has to Sparrow, and while he’s genuinely hilarious and steals nearly every scene he’s in, he isn’t integral enough to be considered a main player.

But so what if Prince of Persia falls shy of reaching the high expectations set by Pirates of the Caribbean; it remains a feverishly fun adventure flick that will thrill audiences of all ages. Let’s not forget that it’s also a clear cut above all the video game adaptations that have come before it. Not exactly hard, I realise, but it’s still something to celebrate.

Documentaries regarding human life hold a sense of understanding and even belonging as the audience can relate to the unglorified subjects better than in fictional stories. For Armstrong, using young ladies Josie, Kerry and Diana (found at a youth centre function) shows how impressionable adolescents can be. As we see highlights of Armstrong’s first film Smokes and Lollies (1975), the Adelaide trio as best friends act as a source of raw angst and reveal the ideals of the average teenager in the Australian 1970s. Love, Lust and Lies acts as a complete wrap-up of the series, with the first half hour dedicated to a chronological recap; snippets from Fourteen’s Good, Eighteen’s Better (1980), Bingo, Bridesmaids & Braces (1988) and Not Fourteen Again (1996, ladies pictured below with Armstrong) show how life had changed as they went through young adulthood. With the largest gap between films the one preceding Love, Lust and Lies, to see the trio jump from young mothers to middle-aged ladies is intriguing – because of both their current situations and seeing the change in Adelaide suburbia from the 90s to now.

As the film continues, it’s clear that honesty isn’t the best policy within at least one of the ladies’ households as Armstrong delivers one secret exposed after another. It’s hard to grasp just how soap-like the lives of these ladies actually seem, especially towards the film’s end; they may not live in glamorous areas by any means, but these working-class ladies have done enough to earn their own story. As Kerry remains the most, well, stable of the three, we don’t see as much of her because of her relative ‘normality’. Meanwhile, Diana and Josie provide some surprising laughs as we see their roller-coaster relationships with numerous partners and children – to the point where many of the kids become the centrepiece of the story and it’s hard to keep track of who’s who. At the same time, there are a few select moments where Armstrong brings it down to a painfully raw level; it’s sad to see how certain things weigh on their minds as they reflect on regrets and mistakes.

It’s obvious the ladies are no longer the best of friends they were all those years ago, but this appears as a part of life and it’s nice to see the director’s influence bring them together to look back on how the camera has captured and influenced their lives. What makes Armstrong’s delivery of Love, Lust and Lies a fairly strong package is her surprisingly intriguing subjects. For these run-of-the-mill ladies, their personalities don’t change a bit amid the constant bustle (or lack of) in their lives, and as they begin raising their families it’s clear that they each become their own person – but the insecurities they carried as teenagers remain almost identical. Much of this information is piled on towards the end of the film, and this is its weakest point. However, Armstrong makes up for it in changing the shots and stories up so the feel is never the same for too long. Good cinematography by Paul Costello helps to see a film easy to watch, even with a not so glamorous setting.

Verdict

Love, Lust and Lies brings stories that are hard to believe yet somehow not surprising. It’s an interesting paradox, and it shows why we find human lives so fascinating.

Just in case the title didn’t make it clear enough, here’s the setup. The titular Hot Tub inexplicably transports three miserable middle-aged friends — Adam (John Cusack), who continually gets dumped on by girlfriend after girlfriend; Nick (Craig Robinson), who loathes his job as a dog groomer; and Lou (Rob Corddry), a teenager stuck in a balding man’s body – along with Adam’s geeky nephew Jacob (Clark Duke) back to 1986. The three friends appear to everyone else as their teenage selves, while Jacob, who has theoretically yet to be born, looks just as he does in 2010. Jacob fears that if the others don’t repeat events exactly as they happened the first time round, it could cause a butterfly effect and the future might drastically change for the worse (or as he eloquently explains it “you step on a bug, and the f***in’ Internet’s never invented!”). However, the guys start trying and fix their past mistakes instead of repeating them, hoping that their future lives will improve as a result.

This results in string of clichéd sub-plots that it seems no time travel move can possibly be without: Adam decides to go after the girl he let get away, Lou stands up to the bully who demoralised his confidence and Nick reunites with his high-school band and claims some future hits as his own. Unlike the entertaining randomness of The Hangover or Dude Where’s My Car?, Hot Tub follows a tried and true formula that it seldom deters from.

But so long as it’s funny who really cares about the plot, right?

Damn straight. It’s frighteningly easy to dismiss nearly all of Hot Tub’s glaring flaws – including some noticeably tacky production values — purely because it’s frequently hilarious. While there is an overreliance on crude toilet humour, the onslaught of one-liners repeatedly hit their mark and earn solid laughs. Quite simply, Screenwriters Josh Heald and Sean Anders (She’s Out of My League, Sex Drive) know what’s funny, while screenwriter-turn-director Steve Pink (Grosse Pointe Blank, High Fidelity) utilises his expertise in comedic timing to deftly direct his actors. It’s edited together with an infectiously fierce pace and overlayed with a buzzing and blaring pop soundtrack. It’s crude, inane and manic, but boy is it fun.

John Cusack (2012, High Fidelity) might be the film’s biggest name, but he embodies the weakest, most subdued character of the four leads. As Adam, Cusack gets stuck with the tacky romantic side-plot, while Rob Corddry (The Heartbreak Kid, Semi-Pro) and Craig Robinson (Pineapple Express, Zack and Miri Make a Porno) proceed to have all the fun. Corddry in particular is excellent as Lou; much like Zach Galifianakis’ character in The Hangover, he’s the most eccentric, grotesque and funniest of the bunch. He’s also a bit of an asshole, yet Corddry’s performance subtly draws attention to his insecurities and crafts him into an endearing lost-puppy type. Robinson’s provides a perfect counterbalance to Corddry’s in-your-face antics as Nick, his deadpan and self-depreciating sarcasm not to dissimilar to what Michael Cera (Year One, Juno) has made a lucrative career portraying. I must say it’s refreshing to see an African-American actor/comedian not play-up on the fast talking, loud mouthed Eddie Murphy stereotype too often seen in Hollywood films.

Last of the leads is 24 year old Clark Duke (Kick-Ass, Sex Drive) as Jacob. Playing the role of mediator between each of the characters respective sub-plots, he risks been seen as a plot device used to tie up all the loose ends of the story, but rises above it with some solid comedic input.

As far as cameos go, former genre king Chevy Chase (National Lampoons, Fletch) is criminally wasted as the hot tub’s mysterious repair man, while Crispin Glover (Back To The Future, Charlie’s Angels) provides the film its funniest slapstick moments as Phil, a creepy bellboy who is constantly on the brink of losing his arm in a freak accident.

Let me be honest here; you really shouldn’t need a review to tell you if you’re going to like Hot Tub Time Machine. The forthright Snakes on a Plane-inspired title is the ultimate sales pitch:
There’s a hot tub. It’s a time machine. If that’s not enough to get you on-board, then this time trippin Jacuzzi ain’t for you.

]]> http://cutprintreview.com/reviews/4-stars/hot-tub-time-machine-review/feed/ 1 http://cutprintreview.com/reviews/4-stars/tron-1982-review/ http://cutprintreview.com/reviews/4-stars/tron-1982-review/#comments Sun, 18 Apr 2010 02:47:23 +0000 Glynn Morgan http://cutprintreview.com/?p=10271

With Tron Legacy on the way after 28 years, the original Tron has clearly left a lasting impression. Whether this impression is worth a tight sequel, with a strong story or a glossy, shallow cash-in, remains to be seen. However, an examination of the original 1982 film may indicate whether Tron Legacy will be worth the price of your ticket in the end. This is why I have decided to review Tron on DVD, as any upcoming sequel deserves at least a small investigation of its origins.

It is the early 1980′s and Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges) has been swindled out of some lucrative intellectual property: video games. During his employment at technology company ENCOM, Flynn’s game designs were stolen by fellow employee Ed Dillinger (David Warner), who used them to gain power in the company. Now ENCOM’s Senior Vice President, Dillinger has created the Master Control Program (MCP), an intelligent system that controls ENCOM’s computer network, while also stealing programs from other companies to increase its power autonomously. Flynn is determined to procure evidence from ENCOM’s network to prove Dillinger theft. But after breaking into an ENCOM laboratory, Flynn is transported into the computer network itself by the MCP.

Inside the network is a visually striking world of programs, bits, memory and data in the form of a society. This society is governed by the Master Control Program, whose tyrannical regime dictates the lives of captured programs. These programs appear as humanoids resembling their programmers (or “users” as they are known), many of which are imprisoned for believing in such “users” and forced to compete in fatal “computer games”. Flynn teams up with an independent security program named Tron (Bruce Boxleitner) to fight the Master Control Program and retrieve the valuable evidence hidden inside the system.

The concept behind Tron reminds me of Pixar films today such as Toy Story, or Cars, in that it brings life and emotion to an inanimate/non-human world. Tron, as Pixar has done, also applies the rules of the inanimate world and translates it into the world of the film. Therefore references to computers and the vernacular are rife, clever and very welcome. I particularly enjoyed the appearance of a ‘bit’ which could only communicate in positive and negative terms.

Tron, of course is not aimed at proficients in computing, it is aimed at the family audience, so the plot itself is quite easy to follow and an enjoyable one at that. The themes are equally mild, despite addressing ideas of religion, faith, truth and authority. Don’t worry though, religious and atheist families will both find something here to teach their kids. I was impressed that the film addressed these themes at all, when the appeal was clearly focused on the visuals at the time of production. Many times films have failed to live up to their visuals with complementary plots, but Tron delivers a simple, yet satisfying 90 minutes of story.

From a 2010 perspective, the visual flair of Tron is still brilliant, for several reasons. Many of the physical sets in the computer world are extraordinary, even by today’s standards. There are moments where everything on screen looks as if it was drawn with a neon marker. Each character is dressed in glowing blue or red suits that fizzle and resonate with vibrancy, while their skin looks monochrome and high contrast. There are also computer generated sequences incorporated within the film that fit almost perfectly. Although it is very dated, the effects could successfully be described as retro CGI, rather than tacky. In fact, the CGI set pieces are extremely well choreographed. They even use real world camera techniques, with tracking and panning shots, making the limited detail in the action very exciting. This is also helped along by some excellent sound effects during the various chase and battle sequences.

Unfortunately, less praise can be said about the music, which was a real disappointment compared to the rest of the film. The problem with science fiction music in the 1980′s is that it is both atmospheric and eerie (e.g. Blade Runner) or it sounds unpleasant and chaotic. Tron fits into the latter category, which is a shame because good music could have really stepped this film up.

The acting is well done overall, although you can’t really expect in-depth performances from people portraying programs. However, Jeff Bridges is really great throughout, adopting a strong sense of adventure and a fun attitude. Bruce Boxleitner’s character, the security program Tron, doesn’t carry the movie as you would expect from the title, but he does come across as a strong, no nonsense individual.

I really did enjoy Tron more than I expected. Although, I feel you do have to watch it with the right attitude. Don’t expect to see a timeless classic, but rather a retro classic. Many younger viewers may find it hard to watch something slower than contemporary science fiction, but if your family has sophisticated appreciation and the capacity to sit through older movies, Tron is definitely worth the trip back in time. Regarding the necessity of a sequel: I think the idea is rather intriguing, although not entirely necessary. I welcome the return of Jeff Bridges though and look forward to seeing how 28 years has changed his character and the film world.

Verdict:

Looking for something 80′s, retro and science fiction? Tron is the film for you.

[Rating: 4/5]