New Blog! http://greatcatsbyreviews.wordpress.com

The titles says it all really, uploaded all my old stuff along with new blog posts to the site http://greatcatsbyreviews.wordpress.com

Sorry to jump ship but I want a place to post my filmic feels which doesn't have the color scheme of a latvian youth hostel. Adios amigos!

Inside Lllewyn Davis: A folky misfire

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The most recent film from the Coen brothers since their tobacco chewing, gunslinging gem True Grit is an eery folk backed, hipster, road trip odyssey that left me with one overriding emotion. Anger. While yes it's beautiful to look at, every other shot worthy of an indie album cover, and to listen to, for more or less the same reason, the film really got on my tits due to a number of things, common in much of the C-bros recent output, which had me disoriented by the half way point and fuming when it abruptly cut to black.

The story, set in the supremely bleak 1960's Greenwich Village, New York, a mix between Cormac McCarthy's "The Road" and Northern Siberia, follows the folky shenanigans of Davis himself, a talented yet troubled musician, (big emphasis on the second one) and his aimless wanderings from Gaslight gig to strangers sofa with all the urgency and direction of a stoned koala. He is a tragic character, played well by the multi-talented Oscar Isaac, with his knack for self-sabotage, far outstripping his singing and beard pruning abilities, demonstrated on an almost minute by minute basis. From losing cats to ruining dinner parties to fathering scores of illegitimate bastard children he seems almost unerringly compelled, as Carrey Mulligan's incensed baby momma put it, to "fuck everything up". 

He didn't take kindly to the hair jokes

The cyclical narrative structure mirrors the life of it's central protagonist reinforcing further the sense that his personal failure is self-inflicted as it becomes rapidly apparent that Llewyn alone is responsible for his career inertia as he rejects opportunity after opportunity under the guise of "artistic integrity". But it doesn't half make the film dull, unrelentingly downbeat and feel wholly pointless as a result.

For the most part the movie sticks to a single pace, dragging more than a dachshunds manhood, with a collection of characters that stay almost uniformly bitter and depressing throughout, with the exception of the kindly Gorfein's determinedly taking Davis in after his frequent wild nights on the town. The total lack of character development wouldn't be so bad however if Llewyn and much of the supporting cast, while well written, were less unpleasant. I mean, you know there's a problem when your far and away most likable and engaging protagonist is a fucking cat/furry metaphor for Davis' guilt and regret. 

Matching jumpers were the key to success for One Direction's comeback tour

"Inside Llewyn Davis" does have a number of good points however, primarily in the form of the superb, ear-drum massaging sound track curated and produced by the brilliant (and hilariously named) T Bone Burnett. The overall look of the film is stunning as well, each frame filled with a sense of melancholic nostalgia, as it more than earns its Best Cinematography Oscar nod. While it may be more straightforward in terms of narrative than previous works the Brothers retain their unique, signature style whether it's the visual comedy, the odd line of hilarious dialogue - "Where's it's scrotum, Llewyn?!" being a particular fave, or random object POV shots.

I guess my own sense of anger isn't a result of watching Llewyn squander his potential and talent, the movies central theme, but ironically at witnessing the Coens waste theirs. The pair of have been more hit and miss over the last few years than the Korean nuclear program and their brief flashes of genius make it all the more frustrating to watch. While aesthetically please like a celery eating contest on a rainy tuesday "Inside Llewyn Davis" left me feeling cold, empty and wishing I'd made better use of the previous few hours. 

4/10 Stars

Grudge Match: Rocky got wrinkly…

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I decided to take a premature break before launching myself into a month long stint of Oscar movie coverage, because no one's doing that right now!?, to bring you my take on an instant post-christmas classic starring everyones favorite octogenarian power couple.


Grudge Match
The question some might be pondering going into Peter Segal's latest movie, about two boxers ending their three decade retirement to settle a life long feud, may be "But, if I wanted to see a couple of pensioners beat the botox out of each other placing the winning bingo slip onto the floor of an LA retirement home would surely yield similar results?" While this elaborately phrased rhetorical question may indeed be an accurate description of the films final showdown surely you wouldn't want to miss out on its finer selling points i.e. the gently predictable comedy, Stallone's "I just pooped a little face" when trying to conjure up any emotion more strenuous than mild confusion and montages more arthritic than a one shot film of your grandparents constructing Ikea furniture. Its fair to say Rocky is back in business #YouSlyDog.

"This is the happiest day of my life…"

Stallone is a revelation, testing new waters and stretching himself to his thespian limit, as Henry "Razor" Sharp an um… past his prime boxer on the comeback trail. Pumped full of what appears to be bull testosterone and preserving salts Sly delivers speech after spine tingling speech, philosophizing on unrequited personal glory, lost love and finding himself with all the emotional range and conviction of an extra in a toothpaste ad. So while Stallone may still be ploddingly, plying his trade, the supporting cast are universally solid and enthusiastic with one of the true greats on a return to form in his opposing corner.

De Niro sporting a physique reminiscent of Monsters inc.'s Mike Wizowski and the athleticism of a diabetic walrus appears to be having a great time as Billy "The Kid" McDonnen with much of the films, if not all, its success being owed to the pudgy pugilist. With the occasional face creasing smile or brilliant bout of comedy improv the Bobby D of old shines through and Jon Bernathal is perfectly cast as his estranged son with a matching broken nose and wry sense of humor, while the grandson will have you cracking up and wanting to eat your own face in equal measure with his unintentionally hilarious and simultaneously infuriating dialogue delivery.

Kevin Hart, brimming with more energy than a labrador puppy on speed, is wise cracking fun as the duos sleazy yet lovable promoter although his decidedly one track comedy does start to grate after the fifteenth "White people?! Am'I'Rite!" joke. However the rapport between him and Alan Arkin's urine soaked boxing coach remains chuckle inducing throughout.

An hour in and a punch had yet to be thrown

Like Harts comedy originality isn't Grudge Match's strong suit as every available cliche is shoehorned in to swell the running time from it's rightful duration as a 5 minute SNL skit to a creaking 2 hour bout of Stallone self-parody. The direction is equally uninspired, aside from a surprisingly exciting final fight sequence; in which rapid fire editing is used to great effect, cutting after single punches to create a sense of momentum and drama as well as to disguise the tea and Cash in the Attic breaks that clearly ensued.

Grudge Match draws a number of parallels with Project X. In terms of shit-tasticness and star rating conundrums that is, you'll find no topless bouncy castle montage here (cut out due to age restrictions and a member of the test audience feinting in the pre-screening). While "X" targeted teens looking for cinematic wish fulfillment Grudge Match shamelessly panders to the nostalgia fueled older crowd searching for one last hurrah with their onscreen heroes. But uber-derivative cash grab or not I had a great time watching my two on screen heroes lay into each other like a pair of wrinkly windmills. So if, like myself, you go in with ankle level expectations and an innate fondness for Stallone's weatherbeaten steak of a face you will too.

5/10 stars

American Hustle: Everyday I'm Russellin'

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The stratospheric success of David O'Russell's latest film has made it a must review, if not necessarily a must see, movie. With a nomination haul outstripping Kim Kardashian's nose job count, the notches on Charlie Sheen's bedpost and my own gratuitous pop-culutre references combined, taking places in every conceivable category from best animated short to most hypnotic onscreen combover, the academy's love for this convoluted rom-con truly knows no bounds. The story follows a con artist power couple busted by the police and forced into increasingly elaborate and dangerous deceptions by an overly ambitious, utterly clueless FBI agent for reasons that aren't wholly explained. Throw in a mafia boss cameo by one of the greats and an incendiary nutcase of a wife and you've got yourself one incessant, highly entertaining but surprisingly forgettable cinematic experience.
American Hustle is great in a number of areas. The soundtrack is a combination of irony laced period funk reinforcing the genre and decade of the movie's setting while enhancing the comedy in much of the narrative. The direction is stylish and assured as Russell, clearly relaxed working with a core cast of old faces, uses a point and shoot approach towards filming, adding an almost voyeuristic element to the character interaction making it all the more engrossing.

Retirement had not been kind to Batman...

However, it is the dialogue and the actors delivering it that the films success is truly owed to. Christian Bale, sporting the world's most intricate hair piece and the physique of a middle aged trucker, is a brilliant leading man giving a performance on par with his Oscar winning turn in The Fighter. Bradley Cooper is equally great as the springy haired, loose canon FBI agent with many of their scenes together making up the movies best moments. Amy Adams despite putting on an English accent that makes her sound like a drunken Nigella Lawson impersonator for much of the film, is sizzling as the object of both of their joint affections while Jennifer Lawrence as Bales ultra-manipulative adopted baby momma is hilarious in each and every one of her scenes, even if at times they feel slightly unnecessary. Jeremy Renner, with the hair of a young Elvis, the enthusiasm of a golden retriever and the social policies of Mahatma Ghandi, is hugely likable as the everyman mayor of New Jersey, who the rest of the cast are looking to con the shit out of. Although even his boy scout pure persona starts to show cracks as the movie goes on, reinforcing the central theme that appearance is everything but means nothing.

American Hustle's story, however, is where Russell goes wrong. As confusing as a multi-story car park masterminded by M. Night Shyamalan the various narrative strands become more tangled than the tentacles of an Octopus in the midst of frantic Bop-it marathon. The movie and the actions of its characters become progressively more ridiculous and non-sensical to the point where you almost cease to care about the endless web of elaborate cons unfolding before your eyes as the film loses what little discernible direction it had at the start.

Like an out-house made of Picasso originals American Hustle, while fun and functional, is ultimately worth less than the sum of its parts, no matter how well written or beautifully purmed those parts may be. 6/10 stars

Pan's Labyrinth: Not your average fairytale

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If you came to Pan's Labyrinth expecting a charming, hispanic fairytale then you better buckle up because you're in for one traumatic ride. With a narrative more layered than a genetically enhanced super onion, and twice as tear inducing, Guillermo Del Toro's 2006 cinematic effort brands itself on your memory banks and refuses to fade until several group therapy sessions later.

The film is set in 1944 in rural Spain, during the beginning of the end for Franco's fascist regime. The story follows Ophelia as she travels with her pregnant mother to the country home of her military captain step-father in preparation for the birth of his son and her half-brother. Before she can even finish unpacking, Ophelia is enticed down a disused well by a fairy-insect hybrid before being told she is the Princess of the underworld and that she must prove her innocence before claiming her throne. If all this sounds like the familiar story troupes of the fairytale genre think again. Any whimsical elements of Ophelia's tale are quickly dispelled by the accompanying, bloody narrative focusing on a Spanish rebel groups fight for freedom against an oppressive regime as well as the ill-fated members of the Captain's inner-circle that try to aid them. Oh and Vidal, the Captain, turning a man's face into a cup holder with an empty wine bottle in the first 10 minutes of the movie also went some way to dispelling the fairytale cliches.

The movie as a whole is brilliantly crafted boasting both skillful, measured direction and uninhibited imagination. The editing and cinematography subtly reinforce the theme of two opposing worlds, ethereal fantasy and brutal wartime reality, as scenes of Ofelia battling Del Toro's wondrous brain creatures are seamlessly blended with shots of fascist soldiers patrolling the nearby woods for freedom fighters. Everything feels damp, earthy and at times deeply unsettling as Guillermo reminds us of his horror movie roots by providing the audience with more "don't go in there moments" than a drunken hernia operation.

Ophelia wasn't sold on the new morphsuit design

Ophelia, played by Ivana Baquero, with the bravery of a bomb disposal worker who wrestles sharks in her spare time and the innocent naivety of, well, a twelve year old is captivating in the leading role, even if at times her actions do make you cringe harder than a your Gran's thoughts on immigration. The rest of the cast are all solid in their respective roles, with two particular, movie making, stand-outs. Doug Jones is fantastic as the world's creepiest and creakiest faun and terrifying as the famous Pale Man, think Stallone when his Botox and steroid supplies run dry. Seriously, having watched him play Abe Spaien in the Hellboy movies Jones' talent levels could only be upped if it was discovered he spent his spare time juggling live honey badgers and bringing peace to the middle east.
But the true show stealer is the monstrous Vidal, played by Sergi Lopez. The Captain's transition from a vaguely intimidating, grumpy grease ball into a terrifying fascist robot death machine is sudden, brutal and one of the films most memorable moments. The progressively more violent and sadistic actions of this Spanish terminator aim to reinforce one of the key themes of the movie, this being that all the saggy skinned child eating monsters and Anne Widdcombe look-a-likes in Del Toro's fantastical mind hole are nothing when compared with the evils of man and the brutality people are capable of.

Pan's Labyrinth does have one major flaw however and that is the criminal underuse of the incredible fantasy world that the title and many of the early scenes had promised. Instead the, very worthy, but decidedly generic human conflict takes centre stage and by the time the credits had started to role I felt teased and cheated of a movie that had shown the potential to be truly great, but failed to quite live up to it's early promise.

Pan's Labyrinth is a stunning, though-provoking film, and despite being a little fantasy set-piece light, is a gothic, and at times grotesque, high-point of Del Toro's career that'll rob you of more sleep than a needy newborn and keep you thinking long after its over. 8/10

Project X: The Game Changer... well, not really.

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A drug fueled montage of tequila, rogue twerking and midget rage... but enough about my Tuesday nights, on to the review.

Project X is a simple film. It sets out with a tried and tested premise, a century old "found footage" directing gimmick and a single aim; to have a seriously good time, whether you want to join in or not. And good lord does it succeed. The film follows a day in the life of 3 socially awkward friends, determined to change their bottom of the food chain school status by throwing a county wide birthday bash. Needless to say things get wildly out of hand, but with a premise this revolutionary the film couldn't help but be great, right? Well, yeah actually, it sort of is. The cast are headed by a pre-pubescent Jonah Hill (not actually Jonah Hill), a sentient lizard man (solid actor, one to watch) and Tony Sopranos sexpest nephew (knob).

The war for the sweater-vest had gotten out of hand

The film plays out like a 80 minute long music video on acid; sporadically interspersed with the kind of set pieces, ranging from sleep inducing to eyebrow singeing, that seem to have been the product of a stoned Sunday afternoon brain storming session between director Todd Philips and his dog.
Project X may indeed lack the remotest iota of focus or originality but it does succeed in capturing the pre-party combination of tense excitement and expectant nerves while introducing some pretty thought provoking concepts along the way. "Will anyone show up?" "Will the party be chill?" "Is my blimp sized best friend going to eat all the snacks?" These are just some of the burning, universal questions that it boldly asks - truly a film for our times. The moral of the narrative, if I was pushed to search for one, would probably be that destroying your house, car and much of the surrounding neighborhood is all worth it for 15 seconds of vague acceptance from a group of near strangers who you'll almost certainly never see again, and you know what? I was totally onboard.
While it may be more repetitive than a Mormon fashion show this movie got me feeling excited and party ready, that is, of course before the adrenalin drained away and the depressing realities of my pizza box and red-bull can strewn surroundings killed my momentary buzz.
This is one of those films that really deserves two ratings, with an argument for it being placed at both ends of the star spectrum. The narrative is more predictable than J-beebz' latest album, there's better character development in your average supermarket advert and at times the movie looks like it's been filmed on a toaster but if you push past those significant drawbacks and decided to dive straight in, grab a fistful of ecstasy and join in the body shots (metaphorically speaking) the film is plain, addictive fun.
5/10 stars

Kill Bill Volume 2: The Thurmanator returns…

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The second half of Tarantino's 2 part revenge epic, about a samurai Bride exacting brutal retribution against her former assassin family, treads decidedly similar ground to its predecessor but also manages to develop and improve on it in nearly every way.

QT continues to reference and combine a variety of genres, displayed in the films narrative and his own style of direction; as crime thriller noir, samurai B movie and old school westerns are all blended together in a glorious celluloid smoothie. This is displayed in the black and white prologue, an inspired mash up of pan flute backed Mexican standoff style close ups and hipster foot fetishism. The violence, like a streaking midget at a football match, is equally shocking despite being on a smaller scale, as shots of various bodily mutilation aim to increase the movie's wince factor.

The dialogue is back to it's darkly hilarious best and even the character development has taken a serious step up. Despite much of the supporting cast having the collective life span of a snowman in the Sahara desert some almost border on becoming well rounded, that is, of course, before Thurman rocks up and turns them all into human hacky sacks. An insight is provided into Budd, Bill's brother and a name on The Bride's hit list, played by Michael Madsen, and his quite literally shitty post assassin life. Sporting a rattail mullet dirty enough to keep your average McDonalds stocked in chip grease for a month, Madsen is a whole lot of sardonic, alcohol soaked fun to watch while Darrly Hannah's one eyed Mean Girl, Elle, is equally entertaining if slightly low on the dimensions. 

Calving the turkey had been an absolute nightmare.

Even the origins of The Bride's bad-assery (hyphens make anything a word, I promise) are explored, as she embarks on the mother of all training montages under the tutelage of her delightfully abusive, Japan-aphobe (remember what I said about the hyphens!) master Pai Mei. 

It is David Carradine however who steals the show as the most engaging villain this side of Breaking Bad. With a voice that could melt an iceberg or make a wolverine skip the purring stage and go straight to fetal he is simultaneously charming and deadly, making you almost sympathize with him before reminding yourself that the title of the whole movie has already spelled out his fate. (Spoiler alert, I guess) A fate that came to pass, arguably, in almost anti-climatic fashion. After two movies and over 4 hours, of characters exploding like a flock of pigeons in a rice paddy if Thurman so much as breathed on them, the final film should've, by all accounts, culminated in a death resembling a nuke hitting a freshly stocked blood bank however Tarantino is decidedly reserved. And as a result this final kill holds far more emotional weight than the previous 266, 724 (rough figure) combined, making for an almost tear jerking end to the Kill Bill saga.

Kill Bill Vol. 2 was my first experience of Tarantino's films, and despite my love for QT's movies having diminished significantly since starting this collection of reviews a few decades ago, this lesser known and loved sequel (christ, I'm so indie!) has always held a special place in my heart and while I can appreciate it may not be his finest work it remains my personal favorite. 7/10 stars

The Wolf of Wall Street: Leo does all the coke

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"I will hopefully be providing you with weekly reviews..." Ahahaha what a ridiculous notion. Regular reviews?! Surely a mediocre, spur of the moment, film write up every 2 years or so is more than enough to maintain a steady stream of views and subscribers... right? Right?! And who knows, with the inordinate amount of free time I now have on my hands thanks to the combination of a poorly planned gap yeah (finding myself darling!) and a social life that consists of Come Dine With Me re-runs and one man doodlejump tourneys I may even be able to start a consistent stream of film reviews... or at least get them out annually.
Only time will tell if these weekly updates come to regular fruition but for now what better way to kick off this new year of movie coverage than with an epic tale of drugs, sex and despicable greed - I talk of course about pixar's Froze... I mean Martin Scorsese's Wolf of Wall Street.


The Review
The Wolf of Wall Street focuses on Jordan Belfort, a hugely charismatic and morally bankrupt stock broker with a career more turbulent then a hang glider in a thunderstorm. The films twisting narrative details his rise from promising young upstart, working on the lowest rung of the stockbroking ladder, to the head of a Wall Street empire complete with nudist marching bands and staff that inhale cocaine like a fleet of drug addled hoovers. Scorsese quickly establishes the tone and pace of his latest movie monster with a series of opening scenes depicting the surreal, excess of the stockbroking wizard's world. From midget darts to anal coke snorting it is made rapidly apparent that a low key, subtly observed modern fable about the devastating effects of financial corruption this is not. On the contrary, this movie seems to celebrate the dastardly individuals it depicts as well as the world of debauchery they live and thrive in.

Leo couldn't say he enjoyed the spontaneous game of footsie

In the wrong hands it could have turned into a deeply offensive, charmless, suffocatingly excessive mess or worse still, a generic cautionary tale desperately repeating the shopworn mantra of "crime doesn't pay". Luckily close to every aspect of the movie, from the score to the script, is fantastic while each of the actors are at the top of their respective games as is the legendary director at the helm.
DiCaprio gives the most memorable performance of his career in the leading role, delivering epic, inspirational speech after speech, depicting Belfort as some sort of nymphomaniac, tourettes ridden Gordon Gecko and Scrooge McDuck hybrid, while consuming enough drugs on an hourly basis to sedate a herd of wooly mammoth. It is an iconic character, equal parts charming, hilarious and utterly repellent. Frequently breaking the fourth wall and narrating directly to the audience, I couldn't help but be a little entranced by Belfort's life of drug fueled debauchery and millionaire extravagance, however exaggerated it may be.

"The epileptic jellyfish" was a D-floor classic

Everyone from Jonah Hill as DiCaprio's fluorescent toothed, sexually deviant side kick Donnie to McConaugheys chest beating, nut busting mentor is memorable, convincing and for the most part hilarious, aided by the brilliant dialogue and character interaction that feels spontaneous and genuine. It is a relentlessly entertaining showcase of acting talent and directing skill as Scorsese combines rapid fire editing with single take scenes unfolding, almost theatrically, in front of the audience. But more than this, it may also be the funniest film of the year; a particular comedy highlight being a crazed DiCaprio determined not to die sober as his 177 foot yacht is caught in the mother of all storms at sea.

"Hey everybody, come see how good I look!"

Wolf of Wall Street is by no means perfect, however. There are frequent instances of awkward editing and clunky scene transitions, a potential result of the movie's rushed post-production. Some of the cast also have the tendency to over do it, with a number of scenes descending into "act-offs" losing what little believability they had. Ultimately however the films main drawback is also the reason it stands out from similar movies made over the years. It lacks any true kind of final, over-arching message or meaning. In a world that invites moral scrutiny and a life that has more peaks and troughs than a Haitian earthquake monitor Belfort seems almost completely devoid of any remorse, other than slight annoyance at being caught and the inconvenience of a few years in a minimum security jail.

There's no denying The Wolf of Wall Street is a hugely entertaining time and it may well be Scorsese's most enjoyable film since Goodfellas. It is a coke fueled, pill popping, debauchery filled 3 hour roller-coaster with a single pace that never lets up for an instant. However much like a roller-coaster the thrill, for the most part is fleeting, and if you don't go in prepared you could end up feeling pretty emptying by the time the credits start rolling. Ok so that last metaphor didn't really make sense but you get the idea... Essentially if you're looking for nothing more than a seriously good time you won't be disappointed. The most ludicrously entertaining film of the year and proof that greed is really f**king good.
7 stars out of 10.

Kill Bill Volume 1: Uma Thurman Kills Bill... and everyone else

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Two years and several reviews later I think it may just be time to return to my not so continuous marathon review chain of Quentin Tarantino's directorial career. And what better way to make my glorious comeback than with a double "bill", see what I did there, review special of the two movies that truly broke QT out into the mainstream, making him an icon of action lovers and the bane of weak stomached movie censors worldwide.

Kill Bill: Volume 1

The story of "Kill Bill" is one of ruthless, beautifully choreographed revenge where Uma Thurman’s enigmatic character, “The Bride”, takes centre stage as she travels the world inadvertently and singlehandedly ending global over-population, whilst all the time enacting brutal retribution against her former friends and fellow assassins for an incident several years before hand that left her entire family dead and a steel plate embedded in her skull. As we quickly come to realize, from an opening scene involving a ninja knife fight, equal parts frantic and vicious, as well as the decimation of a picturesque small town America home "The Bride" means business, as does Tarantino.

From the opening of this thrilling introductory chapter to the closing credits Tarantino's trademark artistic flourishes and constant film references are comfortingly present throughout. The action is ludicrously OTT, or should I say QTT mwahah... sorry. This is especially true during the famed "Crazy 88" fight scene in which Thurman becomes a samurai sword wielding, florescent jumpsuit wearing human blender. This flamboyant spectacle is one of the standout moments of Tarantino’s career with an FX budget larger than most countries GDP. Each cast member is rapidly reduced to nothing more than a ketchup filled sprinkler system as Tarantino ensures that any Jam manufacturers in the area will be getting new Ferraris for Christmas. This particular marathon fight scene along with several others throughout the film display the full extent of QT's technical directing prowess as well as establishing him as a truly exceptional action coordinator, ranking amongst those whose work he is overtly paying tribute to. Uma Thurman gives a cooler than an ice cube with a penchant for madmen suits performance, whilst Lucy Lui is equally cold and intimidating as a mass murdering, racially sensitive Triad Boss decapitating her way to the top of the Hong Kong criminal underworld.

No one. Touched. The jumpsuit.

However the only enemy character development, beyond that of the superficial, comes in the form of a series of awkward anime flashbacks, conveying the sense that Tarantino is trying a little too hard to honour Japanese cinema, not only putting it on a pedestal but offering a back massage and a reach around. The major protagonists are for the most part forgettable, acting simply as an array of human obstacles for "The Bride" to make into racially diverse Sushi in gradually more violent and imaginative ways. The subtle, quirky comedy is also missing, except for a mentally scarring yet darkly hilarious hospital scene. Whilst the action scenes are constant shots of hyper-stylised adrenaline no amount of lighting and visual trickery or Samurai movie homages can make up for the lack of Tarantino's trademark quote it till it hurts dialogue or endearing characters that we've come to love and, perhaps unfairly, expect.

Once all the smoke has cleared and the tsunami of blood and prosthetic limbs has been cleaned away I was left, like many of Thurman's less fortunate victims, feeling slightly hollow. 6 stars out of 10.

HANNA: Wright and Ronan, Together Again

Yes it has been a while. How long has it been? 1... 2 weeks... OK so a couple of years have gone by since my last review and I would like to be able say that up until now no film has truly compelled me to put fingers to keyboard and let flowery metaphor after metaphor erupt from my pretentious "mindhole" like a flamboyant volcanic thesaurus. Sadly however that is not the case. My distinct lack of activity has been down to a combination of work, sadly taking priority over a film blog vanity project, combined with my own heroic laziness(mostly the second one). But I'm back and will hopefully be supplying you, all two and a half of my loyal followers, with almost weekly reviews providing my cramped schedule of angry birds and googling my own name allows... But enough introduction, on with the review!

"HANNA", the 4th feature film of Joe Wright's impressive career, is similarly to its protagonist and namesake entirely unexpected, FREAKIN INCREDIBLE! and... um... strangely attractive. Ok so maybe I'm stretching the comparison between the film itself and its central anti-heroine a little far but it doesn't change the fact that this remains, in my humble blogger opinion, easily the greatest achievement of Mr Wrights up till now stellar, but samey career. HANNA is quite frankly pure unadulterated, often disturbing fun. It's clear from the opening, in which an Arctic based Hanna (Ronan)shoots a deer in the face before having a brutal fist fight with her animal skin clad father figure, that this is not going to be another awkward Victorian flirting and drawing room bitch fest that some may have come to expect from Wright, director of "Atonement" and "Pride and Prejudice".

Eskimos didn't take kindly to cameras

The film focuses on, surprise surprise, Hanna a teenage assassin and her unending pursuit for revenge for the brutal death of her mother. HANNA's relentless, asthma inducing pace is introduced at the beginning and doesn't slow throughout somehow managing to combine an array of face meltingly awesome fight and chase montages with tender at times revelatory character development. This is helped in no small part by Ronan's startlingly effective as well as convincing portrayal of a teenage assassin stuck between being a child and a robot like killing machine with a thing for pointy objects and turning people into human kebabs. In fact its unfair to give all the acting credit to Ronan, however great she was and however huge my nerd crush for her is credit must go to pretty much every member of the cast each giving standout performances and all worthy of a cavalcade of unnecessarily elaborate adjectives to describe their individual character portrayal, with a personal favorite being the heroically creepy Isaacs or "Sandman" played by the ever reliable and in this case eye opening Tom Hollander, lets just say I wont be getting much sleep tonight. However the two greatest aspects of "HANNA" as a whole were more technically focused, these being the cinematography as well as the shot composition making nearly every shot simply look like it should be hanging in an art gallery. HANNA's visuals truly stick in your mind long after you've switched off your TV and, in my case, gone foetul on the floor from sheer sensory overload. The second of these feats of technical wizardry is of course the mind blendingly, seizure inducingly glorious Chemical Brothers soundtrack helping to give each scene its setting, emotional charge and drive as well as beating half of your senses into bloody submission, causing some serious emotional numbness for sometime after viewing. Just listening to the soundtrack now I'm having to intersperse it with "The Archers" omnibus just to balance out adrenaline levels.

Despite a slightly lazily un-concluded family side story and a lack of any kind of moral amongst the continuous waves of stylized violence this is one of the most cohesive, exciting and technically dazzling thrillers I've seen in a very long time.
Maybe its cause it's my first review in a while or the fact that my brain was turned into ready break by the relentless score but I'm feeling generous 8/10!