Repo Men – Review
Films reflecting our social/economic climate certainly aren’t hard to come by of late. Whether it be the frustration of the Iraq crisis in Green Zone, or the rise of evil banking corporations in The International, you can pretty much guarantee that there is at least one movie for every one of society’s grumbles. It is fitting, therefore, that just weeks after Barack Obama passed a historic healthcare bill, a sceptical movie focusing on the horrors of widely available organ transplanting is let out into the wild.
This movie is Repo Men, directed by relative newcomer Miguel Sapochnik, and starring Jude Law and Forrest Whitaker as the two protagonists, whose job it is to recollect organs transplanted into patients often without their consent in the first place. The patients are therefore essentially bribed into paying for the organs over several monthly payments, and if they fail to do so, this is where the ‘repo men’ come in, whose typical days tend to consist of hacking and cutting away at people to reclaim the organ they couldn’t pay for.
As a premise, Repo Men is promising, but like so many movies, it slips into mediocrity as the narrative progresses. The not-so-subtle hints of the dangers of taking out loans seems a nice ideology with room for development when placed into a literal context, but Repo Men slips into ‘generic gore fest’ far too often. There is just too much focus on the actual removal of organs, and not enough intelligent plot development, which is a shame because it really is a concept with a lot of room for exploration. Instead, Repo Men too offers attempts to appeal to the gore crowd, losing any sort of individual identity in the process.
Unfortunately, this leads to another shortcoming with Repo Men, in that it just doesn’t really know what it wants to be. Ideological drama? Gorenography? Action sci-fi? Blending genre, when done carefully, can be a huge success. Repo Men, however, metaphorically picks a plethora of genres out of a hat and just hopes for the best. This is again a terrible shame, as it feels as if the film is attempting to adhere to mainstream values far too frequently. The sheer amount of gratuitous gore is completely unnecessary, and tarnishes what would be a decent ideological thriller otherwise.
On the other hand, one area that Repo Men does shine is the performance department, with Jude Law fitting the role of the anti-hero, Remy, perfectly. Supporting performances are solid too, with Liev Schreiber’s sinister Frank proving the standout; a positive sign after the misfire of X-Men Origins: Wolverine in 2009. On a whole though, the cast are forced to make the most of a muddled script, dampening the performances somewhat.
The cinematography is rather standard here too, with breakneck paced editing and classical shots adhered to at all times. This is hardly a complaint; Repo Men never pretends to be a wholly clever film, and the shots actually work to the film’s advantage in places. Establishing shots of a dystopian, Blade Runner-esque near-future set the gritty scene nicely, as does the soundtrack, which is generally solid, particularly scenes where upbeat music runs contrapuntally with images of grotesque nature.
One thing that has to be noted is that despite a promising exposition, Repo Men really does fade into the realms of stupidity in the latter half. The ending twist is cheap and left me wholly unsatisfied with the resolution, but at risk of revealing the ending, I won’t say anything more on the matter other than it is fairly pointless. The protagonist’s relationship with Beth (Alice Braga) is also rather illogical, as Remy effectively ditches his family and falls for a drug addict just because he liked a song she sang. No, really. Its moments of sheer narrative confusion like this that overshadow an interesting expository premise, which again, is a terrible shame. Hopefully a bold lesson will be learned from this, in that a film doesn’t need to be a mish-mash of genres or ideas, when often the most important part of a movie is focus.
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Despite an interesting premise and a solid cast, Repo Men suffers from a confused narrative and bland scripting. Not even Jude Law’s standout performance can save what could have been a successful film from being decidedly mediocre. A shame, seeing as the exposition is so promising.
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Wednesday is review day!
All reviews will be published on a Wednesday from now on. Check out the site this week for a review of Repo Men.
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Kick-Ass – Review
Hyper-violence, child abuse, and a 12-year-old girl saying the ‘C’ word; not three traits typically associated with the comic book superhero genre. Throw in a two-hour running time, Nicholas Cage, and Christopher ‘McLovin’ Mintz-Plasse, and it immediately becomes apparent that Kick-Ass really is something different. In spite of such contents, the most surprising thing about Kick-Ass is much simpler: how shockingly brilliant it is.
Kick-Ass marks Mark Vaughan’s return to the director’s chair, following 2007’s disappointing Stardust (better known for a certain Take That soundtrack), and 2004’s flawed-but-entertaining Layer Cake. The premise is simple enough: a kid, Dave, gets sick of being just another face in the crowd, so decides to pursue his fantasy of becoming a superhero. As the tightly constructed narrative unfolds, Dave watches as his alter-ego gradually becomes an internet phenomenon, but with such recognition comes expectation, therefore thrusting him into a variety of life-threatening situations juxtaposed with comedic gold.
Such juxtaposition of humour with shocks is where Kick-Ass succeeds the most, forcing audiences to subconsciously ask themselves a variety of questions while viewing. It also acts as a brilliantly effective balancing system between the fantastical and the literal, never straying too far into either comedic or serious territory without the two openly acknowledging one another. When it does, then Kick-Ass becomes an even more satisfying experience, with the explosive climax feeling like a deserved reward for a movie veering in neither one direction nor another for the majority of its two hour duration.
This is most certainly not to the movie’s detriment, however. Quite the opposite in fact. The hilarity of some of Dave’s situations, most notably the genius subplot regarding his sexuality being under question by the girl of his dreams, Katie (Lyndsy Fonseca), provide welcome comic relief to some of the more serious subject matter running throughout the film, forcing morals to come under scrutiny on various occasions. Kick-Ass, while viewed on the surface may appear to be a gratuitous action movie with comedy elements, frequently touches on some rather difficult issues, such as a father raising his daughter to essentially become a sheltered killing machine. Amusing it may be, but the great thing is that Kick-Ass hardly sugar-coats such issues, leaving it down to the viewer to make their own judgements regarding the morality of certain areas of the narrative.
Oh, and in case I haven’t already made it clear enough, Kick-Ass really is violent. Like, really violent, to a surprising extent. The majority of this is courtesy of Hit-Girl/Mindy, a brutal twelve year old raised into a world of violence by Nicholas Cage’s psychotic but loveable Big Daddy. Chloe Moretz is fantastic as Hit-Girl, portraying a bloodthirsty kid who swears a lot. The Daily Mail have obviously had a field day with “Okay you c*nts… lets see what you can do now!” being uttered from a twelve year old’s mouth, but then again this is the same Daily Mail that actually believe that videogames transform children into killers, so nothing too surprising here.
Furthermore, the rest of the cast are solid too. Nicholas Cage is brilliant as the loving but twisted father, Damon, pulling off arguably the performance of his career. It breaks the stereotype of Cage only being able to act out the moody one-dimensional character too, so I sincerely hope that Nicholas continues to step into roles where he can let his hair down a little. Aaron Johnson, recently receiving a Jameson Empire Award for his portrayal of John Lennon in Nowhere Boy, is also brilliant, delivering a convincing performance of a hapless teen determined to live out his fantasies. Kick-Ass proves that Johnson boasts versatility, therefore the future is certainly bright for the rising star.
On another note, the soundtrack is fantastic, with tracks ranging from The Prodigy to Elvis, from Mika to (quite fittingly) The Hit Girls. The film is also nicely edited, with some clever reality/YouTube transitions helping to maintain the frenetic pace of the narrative. However, the finest example of cinematography comes in the latter half of the film, with several minutes of continuous strobe-effects testing the willpower of the seizure-wary amongst us. It aids what is one of the film’s many stunning action sequences though, and is a genuinely unique approach to a shootout well worth squinting at.
The main reason that Kick-Ass is such a success is its fine balance of both comedic and serious elements. The soundtrack is fantastic, the characters lovable, and the hyper-violence may come as a surprise to many. Perhaps it was inevitable, but Batman Begins might have just been dethroned as the best comic-book hero movie of all time, and who’d have thought it’d have its crown stolen by such a sleeper hit?
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Kick-Ass is pure cinema gold, combining frenetic action and witty humour with near-perfect execution. It may be a little too profanity-stricken and violent for some, but stunning performances and an engaging narrative help elevate Kick-Ass well above Batman Begins as one of the finest comic-book hero movies of all time.
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Tags: aaron johnson, chloe moretz, comic book, hit-girl, kick-ass, review, superhero
Shutter Island – Review
It is relatively fitting that despite my last review being almost a year ago due to a sincere lack of motivation (might as well be honest, huh?), I return to reviewing ways with a similarly misunderstood movie to 2009′s silly-but-loveable horror-comedy-thing, Drag Me To Hell, with Scorsese’s latest film, Shutter Island, in the spotlight. Although I by no means intend to reveal the marmite-twist, polarising critics and audiences worldwide since release, it is of course a viable discussion point in terms of why it has split audiences to such an extent. So be reassured: no spoilers, as difficult as it may be to restrain myself.
Shutter Island is Martin ‘Criminally Overlooked’ Scorsese’s latest picture, teaming up once again with Leonardo DiCaprio, following The Departed, The Aviator, and… yeah, you get the idea. DiCaprio is fast transforming into Scorsese’s new De Niro, and with reason too. DiCaprio owes his pretty-boy to tough-nut transformation to Scorsese if anyone, and it is comforting to see the rapidly improving actor being provided with a chance to branch out into new territory once again. It isn’t just unfamiliar territory for DiCaprio, however; this psychological mystery isn’t exactly what you’d classify as a stereotypical Scorsese film. In that respect, Shutter Island is an overwhelming success, providing more mystery and intrigue than M Night Shyamalan has managed in his entire career. The film oozes an uncanny sense of foreboding, with the nightmarish cinematography and haunting score maintaining the mysterious atmosphere throughout.
Ah yes, the music. “Over the top”, “obvious”, and “distracting” are three words commonly used by friends and critics alike to describe the sharp score of the movie. Truth is, none of them are right. Very much the opposite. Instead, the score is a stunning ode to Hitchcockian cinema, intended to sound sharp and bombastic in order to further the audience’s sense of discomfort. Initially, I agree that it is hard to adjust to, but in retrospect, it is clearly an intentional semiotic choice. I can understand certain audiences missing the point in this case, but as to how anyone calling themselves a ‘critic’ can, well. I suppose it isn’t all that surprising really. To them, I wholeheartedly reccomend the Alfred Hitchcock Boxset, recently reduced to a bargain £18 by a plethora of internet retailers.
Upon watching the boxset, perhaps critics would have also picked up on the countless homages to Hitchockian cinema too. An innocent man accused; check. Blonde female as an object of desire; check. Characters who cannot be trusted; check. Scorsese openly recycles some of the auteur’s most obvious signature techniques, so again, my only conclusion as to why several critics haven’t picked up on this is sheer ignorance to the most important figure in the history of film. It is the epiphany of postmodern technique, but Scorsese treats the techniques with such care that it simply doesn’t matter.
However, the talking point for many has to be ‘the twist’. “I hated the film; I had the twist sussed in five minutes”, one person told me. “The ending was so obvious”, another. I completely and utterly disagree. We’re simply in an age where audiences are so desensitised to ridiculous revelations (Saw II onwards, I’m looking directly at you) that anything with a guessable twist immediately becomes a ‘poor film’. I concede that I suspected the revelation right from the start of the movie, but the film openly acknowledges that this might be the case, and therefore creates distractions throughout in order to make you wonder whether you are right or not. The reason the twist is so obvious is because you are supposed to expect it. Your interpretation of it, however, depends on where your sympathies lie.
It’s a shame that Shutter Island has received such a mixed response. DiCaprio is a revelation, the cinematography is stunning, and the narrative twists and turns towards an anti-climatic resolution that still manages to evoke satisfaction. Perhaps audiences just expect irrational twists so much that it appeared simply irrelevant, but it is an intricately designed narrative with a solid conclusion.
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An unsettling homage to Hitchcock, Shutter Island has all the ingredients of a classic thriller, in which Scorsese proves he can branch into relatively new territory. The ending will inevitably split audiences, but throw irrational modern expectations out of the window and an early contender for film of the year is staring at you.
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Tags: blog, film, generic, generic film blog, hitchock, review, shutter island
Gran Torino
“Get off my lawn”, snarls Clint Eastwood’s war veteran, Walt, as he aims his firearm at the faces of a clearly disgruntled local gang. From this one crucial line, the entire basis of the plot can be deciphered: Clint is no longer a man seeking a bounty based fortune, and is also no longer gun slinging in the Old West. He’s an elderly, retired man defending his property, his privacy, his… lawn. But does this make him any less badass in Gran Torino, his real final acting performance after his previous retirement turned out a four year hiatus? Hell no, is the answer. Whether it be his trademark snarl, or the clear ideological nod to his macho back catalogue, Clint is very much at his acting (and directorial) peak, even at the age of 79.
Gran Torino follows Walt Kowalski (Eastwood), an ex-Korean War veteran, as he struggles to part with his racial prejudices in spite of residing in a culturally diverse neighbourhood, and a Hmong family moving in next door. Expository details provide a wholly archaic, right-wing representation of him, with racially fuelled insults aplenty, most of which are too scandalous to repeat in a critical analysis of the movie. But this is Walt: an older-generation American who, like every age group, let their era-orientated naivety interfere with their views of a shifting society. Amongst these new neighbours is adolescent male, Thao, who as a result of demands from a local gang, attempts to steal Walt’s cherished possession: a 1970s Gran Torino. Henceforth, the problem and complication cycle kicks in, as Walt finds himself not only reforming Thao, but defending him and his family. Cue much snarling, sneering, and profanities aplenty.
On the topic of acting, Clint puts in a typically solid display, and one that should have been considered for more awards. Perhaps it was a political decision, as he carries a plethora of chauvinistic jokes, or perhaps the movie launched a little too late into the Awards season. Whatever the case, there is no denying just how credible he is in his portrayal of Walt. Quite frankly, after seeing Eastwood in the movie, it’s difficult to even consider anyone else for the role of an ageing conservative traditionalist. A key scene sees Walt tumble over as he attempts to identify the attempted thief of his Gran Torino, coming as a surprise, as it simply isn’t something we expect the once invincible man to do, connoting a frail and vulnerable image of a man who is clearly tackling his own personal issues with his age and health, approaching eighty. Furthermore, Bee Vang succeeds in his portrayal of the coming-of-age kid, Thao, maturing from an initially passive character throughout the film. The hairdresser sequence is a fine example of his blossoming acting, as his attempts to develop his conversational skills with Walt’s barber provides one of the more comical scenes in the film. Unfortunately though, the same sort of praise cannot be awarded to the whole of the cast. Ahney Her as Thao’s sister, Sue, provides the majority of the film’s scripting blunders, often subject to some atrocious lines, which of course isn’t completely her fault, but her perseverance doesn’t help make the best of a bad situation.
Clint wasn’t too happy with Parcelforce…
On the other hand, the narrative, whilst extremely linear, is adequately constructed, with a series of unpredictable twists at the climax, making way for a surprisingly downbeat resolution. Without revealing any spoilers, it’s easy to see why Clint has chosen to put forward the resolution in such a way, providing interesting connotations and a clear metaphor. However, courtesy of a second-act dip, the narrative feels a little too stretched, and could benefit from a good twenty-minutes cut off.
Moreover, in terms of direction, Eastwood has followed up from 2008’s Changeling with another successful job. The editing between night and day is successfully achieved, for example, with the morning being temporally established by a sudden relocation in a kitchen. The lack of establishing shots to infer the change in time is just one of the minor touches that make Gran Torino a very aesthetically gratifying little film to watch, another being the sun-soaked high-key lighting used, saturating the suburban neighbourhood with a consistent summer ambience.
“So tenderly your story”, sings Clint Eastwood as the film comes to a conclusion. And he’s right: if this does turn out his final movie, he’s certainly written his final on-screen chapter as a tender metaphor for his career.
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A strong performance from Eastwood, together with an important ideological message makes Gran Torino a fine conclusion to Clint’s acting career. Not even some uninspiring supporting performances or a bloated narrative can take away the fact that this is a intricately directed film, and one well worth watching, Eastwood fan or not.
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Martyrs
My body language said it all. “How was it?”, a close friend enquired, as I stared into space and repeatedly glanced over my shoulder, clearly shaken. On the outside, I appeared agitated; every little noise provoking an immediate response. Inside though, I was truly shocked at what I’d just witnessed. A new archetype of contemporary horror? The scariest movie of the decade? Possibly, although these clichés are thrown around far too often nowadays. However, to truly elaborate how scared I was, I genuinely found my pause-breaks to write review notes therapeutic, juxtaposing the immense tension I was enduring. Welcome to the latest French-horror craze, Martyrs: Pascal Laugier’s brutal, unforgiving ode to art-house terror.
After opening with a shocking exposition of a child, Lucie, running down an industrial road, evidently abused, Martyrs throws you right into the deep end, jumping forward fifteen years to a seemingly ordinary family of four going about their everyday routines. They appear normal enough, although if you leave the cinema with only one moral issue in your head, it’ll be the fallibility of normality. Then, the narrative throws us off track as they are all (including a girl of around thirteen) brutally shot in the safety of their own homes in what appears to be a revenge killing. But this normal, civilised family surely didn’t deserve this… right? Surely these killings are just the actions of a disturbed young adult, haunted by her flashbacks, seeking retribution for her horrific childhood experiences? This is a question that I must abstain from answering, for it would not only spoil the tremendously intelligent narrative, but is actually genuinely difficult to answer.
And that’s what is so beautiful about Martyrs; it provokes debate and discussion, regardless of your overall response to it, long after the credits roll. One of the more interesting quotes I read recently stated that the movie is ‘gorenography for Guardian readers’, and I couldn’t concur more. The movie blends masses of gore for the contemporary generation, whilst still providing an intellectually and emotionally charged narrative, together with some beautiful editing to cater for the niche art-house audience. One of the more horrific scenes in the movie sees our protagonist (or at least we think she is) repeatedly beat a woman’s head to a pulp, cutting between close-ups of the mutilated head giving way to the tension, and mid-shot’s of the killer as she forces her hammer into the poor soul’s skull. This really is genuinely unsettling stuff, making even the more recent Saw films seem lean in comparison. But this isn’t just gore for the sake of gore; film fanatics will take note of the stunning, unpredictable cuts in editing, with a complete absence of non-diegetic sound in the sequence making it all the more visceral.
However, it isn’t just explicit gore that makes Martyrs as disturbing as it is. In fact, compared to the sheer sense of foreboding created by the more psychological fear prominent, the grotesque sequences don’t even come close. No amount of fancy lexis can sum up the sheer intensity formed by Lucie’s horrific visions, with an unknown inner-assailant pursuing her throughout the first act of the movie. Loneliness for Lucie brings connotations of an encounter with her horrific antagonist, and in ‘Pavlov’s dog’ style, the minute we are exposed to a voyeuristic sequence with Lucy, the fear factor cranks up several notches. My mid-sequence notes of “Bathroom scene is just too intense – I’m nearly in tears – if it wasn’t for pausing to write notes Id have shit my keks” should be enough to illustrate just how horrfic this movie can be, especially coming from a man who is rarely genuinely scared by psychological means nowadays.
Nevertheless, Martyrs just wouldn’t but quite as chilling if it wasn’t for two fantastic performances from Mylène Jampanoï as our first-act ‘red-herring’ protagonist, Lucie, and Morjana Alaoui, as Lucie’s only friend, and lifelong guardian, Anna (the real protagonist). In portraying two characters that spend the majority of the film either crying, being tortured, or venting their fury, Jampanoï and Alaoui remain strong throughout their indisputably fatiguing roles. Furthermore, the on-screen chemistry between the couple is amazing, inferring that both girls equally need one another, acknowledging the dominant theme of companionship in horror, or more so how the lack of it essentially leads to your downfall. Martyrs digs even deeper than usual, with implications of a romance between the couple; another topic promoting post-film debate.
Moreover, despite an unpredictable combination of linear and restricted narration being high on the agenda, the plot somehow finds itself progressing from a first act psychological-mystery to a shocking torture montage with a constant religious semantic field. However, it is in this climax that Martyrs hits its first stumbling block, as a 20-minute montage of a girl enduring horrific torture for ‘the greater good’ doesn’t only juxtapose the revenge-thriller of the first half, but it’s at this point that the plot becomes just a little bit nonsensical. It just feels as if a movie already established as exceedingly clever is aiming just a little too high. The resolution is surprisingly upbeat though, and the religious themes touched upon, although unoriginal, are nice little touches.
As for nice touches in terms of cinematography, well, Martyrs is packed to the brim with contrapuntal sound, juxtaposing edits, and the like. One of the finest examples of editing sees the flicker of a light in the present indicate a temporal change, leading onto a series of flashbacks full of narrative clues. There’s also some serious ‘wtf’ moments in the cinematography, with an extreme close-up of an iris rapidly transforming into a extensive sequence set in the interior of the eye. Martyrs just boasts so many neat little touches, the majority of which also proving the basis for discussion, such as the emphasis of cleanliness, as close-ups show hands being washed a plethora of times during the movie. These also hold individual connotations of cleaning metaphorical hands of blood… but that’s another matter altogether.
If this is the future of horror, then I’m very much prepared to be desensitized to it if classics like Martyrs are born more frequently.
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An intense, visceral art-house horror that puts the viewer through just as much pain as the ill-fated cast… Stunning performances, striking cinematography and a continually twisting narrative establish Martyrs as the archetype for all future horror.
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X-Men Origins: Wolverine
Just about every superhero franchise seems to be following in the wake of Batman Begins lately. Since 2005’s brilliant reboot of the series, more and more of our big-screen heroes are taking a leaf out of the Caped Crusader’s book in an attempt to reinvent themselves. Casino Royale introduced a grittier, colder Bond. The Incredible Hulk saw Edward Norton attempt to restart the franchise after the disaster that was Ang Lee’s Hulk just five years prior. And there’s more on the horizon; McG’s upcoming Terminator Salvation, (which goes as far as actually having the Batman himself, Chrstian Bale, as John Connor), and J.J. Abrams’ blockbuster-isation of cult hit Star Trek. Unfortunately, these reboots don’t always work as intended, hence where X-Men Origins: Wolverine comes into the frame.
Realistically, you could probably work out the story for yourself if I told you that it follows the generic franchise reboot formula we’re now all too familiar with. Without spoiling the story completely, especially with the movie only receiving a public launch in around three weeks time, the exposition of X-Men Origins: Wolverine sees a young Logan growing up with Victor Creed (or Sabretooth), and struggling to deal with his companion’s violent animalistic streaks of rage. After joining, then leaving a special project led by William Stryker (Danny Houston), Victor and Logan go their separate ways, until an unfortunate chain of events and a betrayal sees the duo reunited… only this time out to slay one another.
Already, it’s clear that X-Men Origins: Wolverine is one thing: unoriginal. Not that anything genre-bending was expected, but I couldn’t help but feel a little underwhelmed at the lack of inspiration prominent in the narrative. It follows such a predictable structure that Fantastic 4 all of a sudden appears complex in comparison, relying on a weak series of twists in the climax in an attempt to try and salvage some sort of emotion from the viewer. Fair enough, a linear narrative written and realised successfully can prove rewarding (see the Gran Torino review), but David Beioff, who also wrote the screenplay for The Kite Runner, has suffered a misfire of sorts here. There are just far too many cliché’s prominent in the dialogue, with “Fight to protect America”, “But I’m Canadian now” proving just one example of uninspiring scripting. It may garner some cinema-based laughs, but being realistic, we’ve heard it all before.
Furthermore, the general delivery of these lines is poor on a whole, with sub-standard performances from the majority of the cast. Hugh Jackman, seeking a return to form after 2008’s failed awards hunter, Australia, fails to inject any sentiment into his character, which is a shame since scenes such as the resolution could’ve been a great deal more emotionally fuelled if Jackman just showed a little more human instinct. For a film so obsessed with defining the difference between humanity and animalism, a plethora of the performances do little to convince you of any sort of difference. Liev Schreiber is equally as disappointing as the ruthless Victor, but to be fair, it’s once again lacklustre scripting that contributes to his downfall. Perhaps the only notable performance throughout is Danny Huston’s depiction of William Stryker, and although his wavering motives are far too bipolar to be believable, he remains solid throughout as a despicable control-freak.
Moreover, X-Men Origins: Wolverine once again stumbles in terms of its use of cinematography and film language. The action sequences are exceedingly poorly edited, with non-sensical jump-cuts and the like making the movie feel like some sort of failed art-house flick. Other than the action sequences, it’s all very formulaic, with establishing shots connoting a change in scenery, close-ups in conversations, and the like. There’s just no room for experimentation here, and although seeing a still-shot, tracking shot, then rear-still during a chase sequence is gratifying the first time round, it becomes glaringly obvious as lazy filmmaking to even the least film-articulate of viewers after being repeated six or seven times.
On a whole, X-Men Origins: Wolverine is a bitter disappointment, especially considering 2000’s X-Men made superhero movies cool again. It’s just such a shame that X-Men Origins: Wolverine can’t do the same for the franchise reboot, Batman Begins still deservedly holding onto its righteous crown in that respect.
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X-Men Origins: Wolverine is a hugely disappointing franchise reboot that relies on poorly edited action sequences and sloppy dialogue to drive the underwhelming narrative, bringing not one new idea to the tried and tested rebirth genre. A massive letdown.
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Let The Right One In
Vampires are getting around a lot lately. Whether they’re seducing teen girls in 2008’s Twilight or wowing art-house fans in the critically commended Let the Right One In, Dracula’s ancestors are certainly having a hefty impact on the film industry. It’s just such a shame that of the two films, the wrong one is gathering all the commercial attention, leaving the other to gratify niche audiences worldwide, and it’s certainly a movie that doesn’t deserve overlooking.
Let the Right One In is an experimental Swedish vampire flick homing in on a bizarre love-story between a young outsider, Oskar, and the mysterious Eli. Whilst it’s easy enough to just immediately associate the connotations of a vampire with the horror genre, Let the Right One In breaks conventions regularly. It’s certainly a chilling affair on the surface, but dig a little deeper and you’ll find a beautiful, romantic gem, awash with childhood anecdotes and a very important message about accepting people for who they are, regardless of race/religion/background etc.
The performances are stellar, with Kåre Hedebrant perfectly portraying the role of the protagonist, Oskar; a tormented victim of childhood bullying. Lina Leandersson also puts in a fantastically chilling performance as Eli; a mysterious girl new to Oskar’s neighbourhood, and his first friend. It’s the growth of this friendship that propels the narrative forward, with progressive revelations as to the origins of this girl adding to the discomforting sense of foreboding that gains momentum as the film progresses.
Of course, there’s no doubting that Let The Right One In is, on the surface, a standard vampire-horror movie, making a point to follow the conventions of the genre in serious detail. Whether it’s the paradigmatic choice of an isolated rural neighbourhood, or the context of the title (and how it links closely to the myth of ‘letting the right one in’), Let The Right One In makes no attempt to disguise the fact that it is a clear cut horror. However, one of the key conventions broken is the absence of an antagonist. Instead, a focus on how our inner demons can become our worst enemy essentially becomes the major problem for our characters. In some ways, it can be argued that Let The Right One In has more in common with a family friendly flick than the vampire genre, as the nods to E.T go as far as to show a close-up of hands connecting, resembling the extra-terrestrial’s relationship with Elliot early in the Spielberg classic. This only further elaborates just how much of a hybrid this really is, borrowing from a plethora of genres.
And just when you thought there couldn’t possibly be another positive around the corner, the cinematography is also paramount in Let The Right One In. Practically every establishing shot of the cold, empty mise en scene creates perfect connotations of isolation, and in the more action-heavy scenes, the camera does its best to hide the gore from the audience to leave it to our own individual interpretations. Furthermore, a clever little technique noted throughout is the use of mirrors to reveal several simultaneous angles that wouldn’t usually be possible by the means of just one camera. This allows more versatility in shooting, and saves the need for constant obtrusive cuts.
On a whole, Let The Right One In is a fantastic achievement for first time director Thomas Alfredson, and news of an American remake for 2010 deeply disturbs me as there’s no conceivable way it could possibly improve on this.
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A bold, beautiful directorial debut, Let The Right One In is a benchmark example of film-making at its finest. If you must see any vampire movie this year, make sure it’s this one. I try not to make a habit of giving five-stars away regularly, but for two to achieve this within the space of a month is a fantastic reflection of just how good foreign horror is at the moment.
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Drag Me To Hell
Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the most misunderstood movie of the year: Sam Raimi’s horror-flick, Drag Me To Hell. I say misunderstood, as never before have I seen as many mainstream popcorn munchers state that “It’s more a comedy than a horror”, totally defying logic. It’s Sam Raimi, d*ckheads; it’s intended to be a comedic horror. Since when was laughing a bad thing? Oh, my mistake, you’re probably the same people who helped the likes of The Unborn and The Haunting in Connecticut invade the top ten of the box office. So if you haven’t yet seen Drag Me To Hell, then yes, it is funny. It’s also scary. Enough ranting, onto the reviewing!
Drag Me To Hell is the latest flick from the man behind the Spider-Man and Evil Dead franchises, Sam Raimi. On the surface, it would appear that the film is a conventional horror movie, however dig a little deeper into the roots of the project and it’s a whole different beast. It seems that following the misfire that was Spider-Man 3, and with Spider-Man 4 waiting patiently to be green-lit, Drag Me To Hell is a therapeutic escape to horror roots for Raimi. Ala Evil Dead, it provides Raimi with an opportunity to forget logic for a little while and just concentrate on scaring the hell out of the audience through a simple narrative, and some typically clichéd voyeuristic shots. Regarding the narrative, the story focuses on Christine Brown (Alison Lohman), a loan officer, who ends up on the receiving end of an ancient curse when she fails to grant the morbid Mrs. Ganush (Lorna Raver) with a mortgage extension. Fair enough, only the curse starts to tear her world apart as poor Christine suffers a bucketload of horrific penances. Oh, and the curse isn’t very keen to negotiate either: it has a three-day deadline, where the victim is ‘dragged’ to hell if they fail to somehow overcome it in this period of time. Heavy stuff.
Over the course of the intentionally straightforward narrative, Drag Me To Hell relies on juxtaposing scares with laughter. For example, it’s fairly jumpy stuff seeing a deranged old woman leap at Christine out of nowhere, gnawing at her chin… only she’s forgotten to put her false teeth in! Speaking of gnawing, now would be a good time to mention how the mouth is a recurring motif as a source of horror in the film. Whether its flies crawling in, or vomit pouring out, the mouth is certainly the most commonly used part of the body to create a sense of disgust in Drag Me To Hell. It’s not just tangible elements in place to make you afraid though; conventional, classic voyeuristic shots will have you screaming, “BEHIND YOU!!!”, at the innocent Christine more times than the average childhood pantomime.
Moreover, Alison Lohman manages to pull off a fairly successful representation of Christine. However, she suffers in sequences with dialogue, failing to portray believable emotion, somewhat ruining that visceral horror experience, and shattering our willing suspense of disbelief. The real show-stealer is Lorna Raver as the deranged Mrs. Ganush, who courtesy of a tremendous job from the costume design department, pulls off a genuinely haunting display. The rest of the cast are fairly so-so, but complete the job successfully enough, with no totally disastrous performances from any of the cast.
In addition, all is fair and good having a relatively successful cast, but a film with a primary objective to shock needs to, well, shock. Fortunately, it does, taking the audience on a rollercoaster ride of the emotions, following the classic foreboding/shock/comedy formula. A prime example comes in the form of a scene where Christine is having her fortune read, with forty-five seconds of silence together with a gradually intensifying non-diegetic soundtrack suddenly broken by a series of flashes and screams. The audience jump, recover, and laugh about it, before returning to the movie to be a victim to the familiar formula once again. Ever seen one of those prank videos on YouTube, making you really concentrate on a serious topic before scaring the hell out of you with the sudden appearance of a horrific image/sound? Drag Me To Hell frequently brings this structure to the big screen, simply because the film realises it works, and boasts about it.
To conclude, it’s always nice to see a talented director back in shape. Let’s hope M Night Shyamalan takes a leaf out of Raimi’s book in terms of resuscitating a troubled career.
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Funny, scary, and easy to follow, Drag Me To Hell is everything you want from a summer-horror flick. Just don’t go into the cinema expecting a deeply engrossing narrative, or rich character development, and it’s a film you’ll most certainly leave with a smile on your face.
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