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!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1: Fun with Harry and friends

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Alright I have to admit the title of this post is a little on the misleading side. Firstly this film is most definitely not fun or particularly enjoyable for the most part, I wouldn't go so far as to say it was "The Road" with wands but it was only a few house elf deaths away. And secondly the "friends" part isn't entirely true as it seems everything with a pulse and a wand wants nothing more than to beat 7 shades of wizarding shit out of Harry and then feed him his glasses.

Both were trying their hardest not to mention the dandruff

So it's rapidly established in the opening seen in which a brutalized teacher is fed to a giant serpent by the pasty faced Lord Voldemort that this is by far the darkest Harry Potter film yet. However this being the darkest Potter adventure yet it manages to appeal to a wider and more mature age bracket subsequently satisfying a larger audience whilst managing to entertain pre-teens, but whilst Harry may never mainline heroine into his eye balls I wouldn't recommend this to your toddler. Deathly Hallows is also one of the best Potter films so far, now thats not setting the bar too high we all remember the steaming pile of goblin shit that was the previous film. Its director (David Yates) has improved massively from his previous magical endeavor, making for a visually compelling and at times genuinely breathtaking film, taking advantage of the army of helicopters at his disposal. The huge sweeping nature shots and gorgeous landscape filming is a geography teachers wet dream. The relationship between the three friends is also delicately developed and there personalities seem to stretch beyond their previously allotted stereotypes of no it all nerd, incompetent ginger funny man and that weird kid with glasses. Harry and Hermione's friendship is further developed in a brilliant, emotionally fragile dance sequence which is as touching as it is cringey. The group is also now more ridden with teenage angst than a particularly emotional episode of "One Tree Hill" and you'd need a magically enhanced chainsaw to cut the overwhelming sexual tension between Ron and Hermione. Despite the relationships of the foremost three protagonists being handled so effectively nearly the entire supporting cast of characters are either given an occasional token line or totally forgotten.

Garlic Bread had been a short sighted lunch choice 

The chemistry between Harry and Ginny is similar to that of two chairs stacked on top of each other and the acting for the most part remains monotonely(it's a word!) dreadful with various lines being delivered with all the emotion and charisma of a tiger woods apology conference. However despite the dismal acting on some parts others are still terrifyingly brilliant, for instance Ralph Fiennes remains spine chillingly frightening as "he who shall not be named" although I maintain he would be as creepy without the Michael Jackson treatment. Dobby is still perfectly realized and will as usual either have you wanting to give him a cuddle or reaching for something heavy to throw at the screen.
However even with the occasional fun filled appearance of Dobby and Voldemort and the brilliant location shooting the hugely unnecessary running time of over 2 and a half hours took its emotional toll. Especially as the story can drag on like a determined marathon runner who's legs have fallen asleep and in order to fully appreciate the vast quantity of Harry Potter in jokes you'd have to have acquired an either encyclopedic knowledge of everything Potter or have aggressively revised the last 6 books the night before.
Although despite feeling soul crushingly bored and confused in places, like a disoriented puppy with a short attention span, I had gotten my Harry Potter fix for the day and I'm looking forward to the final adventure of everyones favorite four eyed rascal.

6 out of 10 It's magic... sort of.

Law Abiding Citizen: Poor Misguided Shitizen

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Ok first and foremost "Law Abiding Citizen" is an incredibly morbid and deranged train wreck of a movie, and most definitely not on screen fun for the whole family. It's predominantly a crime, thriller with a large helping of gore and dismemberment thrown in to lighten up the proceedings.
Rapidly transitioning from the heart warming scenes of ultra-violent rape/child murder(not simultaneously thank God!) to the delightful sequence of  the adorable Gerard Butler brutally torturing his family's killer to death in his own lakeside workshop, striking an uncanny resemblance to Jigsaw's holiday home.
Genuinely the opening scene couldn't have broken more taboos or been more messed up unless a puppy had been shot in the face and then used as a football. It manages to go from aaaaw isn't she cute to, OH MY GOD that doesn't go there!? within a matter of seconds, which when you think about it is quite impressive, and the worst part is you don't even care.

In his defense the bracelet was very interesting.

The opening scene is so incredibly short that the character development of the wife and child is non-existent and the audience have no time to become emotionally invested in these protagonists or begin to care about their impending fate. All you know, is the little girl is cute, the wife is... um... a woman and Gerard Butler our hero seems like a vaguely likable bloke, that is, moments before he's, abruptly, hit in the face with a baseball and his entire life and soul is raped and murdered before his very eyes.
So a delightful opening to progressively more light hearted film.
And the characterization sadly doesn't improve from there, with not a single likable protagonist emerging, each failing to inspire an ounce of sympathy from the already emotionally cold audience.
Jamie Foxx is the slimy lawyer bastard, Gerard Butler is the depressed, grieving bastard who quickly transforms into the psychotic murdering bastard and the remaining characters are lifeless filters whose sole functions are to fill out the ranks of fodder characters and spout lines of pointless throw away dialogue, oh and did I mention they were bastards.
Foxx's character alienates the entire audience with his less than ethical actions within the first five minutes making Butler's character the sole relatable protagonist.  However as Butler's protagonist swiftly descends further and further into a vengeful, psychotic rage, in which he brutally murders anyone who didn't so much as open the door for him, all original sympathy for his protagonist's heart wrenching predicament rapidly deteriorates, the last of it vanishing in a particularly gory scene involving a "spork", a gourmet meal and his cell mates face, I'll leave the wrest to your imagination.

They could take his freedom but they could never take his smile.

Sadly the direction and script are disjointed, confused and uninspired, the dialogue conveying the sense that it was the product of a marathon brainstorming session by a group of crime movie addict teenagers who are desperately going for shock value over substance.

And sadder still it's as boring as an all day old folks bingo session where the only prizes are a pat on the head and another round of bingo. Who'd have thought that a cat and mouse crime thriller, with extra gore, in which the mouse constantly mind fucks the cat could be so soul crushingly dull.
The vaguely searching ethical questions asked, and not followed through, by the various characters only help to emphasize the extent of the douchebaggery undertaken by the main protagonists and remind you of how much you already dislike each one of them in the first place.
The final scenes and death sequences steadily escalate in violence and lack of realism, with each attack becoming progressively more ludicrous than the last, until the only way for the final death to up the scale of ridiculousness would be to have Jamie Foxx beaten to death by a clown with a giant cheese string.
Ultimately "Law Abiding Citizen" is a generic and pedestrian crime thriller, devoid of personality and originality, and one who's case file you wont want to be opening any time soon.

2/10 stars  The "Law Abiding Citizen" deserves life!

The Town: I'll See You Again this side or the Other

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As you can see I've decided to take a short break from my Quentin Tarantino blogging marathon to review The Town, a movie that almost every American critic has seen and reviewed already due to the fact that films arrive a good decade later in the UK than they do in the US, but I digress...

THIS MOVIE IS INCREDIBLE! It's easily one of the best action movies of 2010 and possibly the best heist movie since Michaels Mann's balls to the wall cop thriller "Heat", with which it shares more than a few plot details.
The movie opens with a spectacular, ear drum shattering bang and WHAT-A-BANG. From the brutally fast paced opening sequence featuring a brilliantly directed and seemingly realistic bank robbery, in which Affleck has evidently invested a great deal of research. The break neck speed never lets up, except for breif moments of delicate character development and sentimental dialogue, which are brilliantly handled and perfectly balanced by the way.
Those who thought that "Gone Baby Gone" was some kind of one off, beautiful accident, like the night you accidentally walked into your friends mothers bedroom, will have to eat there bitter words. Who'd have thought that the man who brought us the hideous (I just threw up a little) Gigli and reindeer games could have created and starred in a film as entertaining and genuinely thrilling as The Town.

Mittens was coming down from the tree... one way or the other

The Town is set in Charlestown, Boston and contains a variety of set pieces so exciting that half way through the final shoot out I was surprised my heart didn't burst out of my ribcage and start frantically tap dancing on the seat in front.
The second heist in which there is a frantic, tire screeching car chase through the narrow back streets of Charlestown, is a five minute long cinematic laxative. The chase is so tense that after several minutes of frantic chewing I was surprised I had any hands left let alone finger nails. Affleck uses "Bourne" style shakycam shots, where the camera is so unstable the cameraman must've been a spontaneous tap dancer in desperate need of a wee, and various helicopter shots to give a sense of the claustrophobia and tension of the robbers desperate situation whilst never forgetting the geography of the chase.
However none of the action would truly be as gripping, the shoot outs as heart wrenchingly tense if it weren't for the glorious performances by the entire ensemble drawing the audience in like a brightly coloured sweet shop draws in a fat kid with ADH.
Ben Affleck has recovered from the horrible, HORRIBLE performances of recent years to deliver a great piece of acting, taking on the role of onscreen emotional anchor, aaah pretentiousness is fun, and making his character, Doug Mcreel, sympathetic and easily one of the more likable protagonists amongst the assortment of psycho's and general bastards clamouring for screen time.
Rebecca Hall is an utter joy to watch, playing the emotionally fragile bank manager who unwittingly ends up in a relationship with one of the lovely men who recently robbed her bank and emotionally traumatised her.
Blake Lively is good as the grimy, overly used and abused prostitute who just wants a better life for her daughter... oh god I think I'm tearing up.

Worst... Stag Night... Ever.

Jon Hamm, Mad Men's Don Draper, perfectly plays the slimy and oh-so unsympathetic Detective, desperately trying to catch and convict Doug Macreel (Ben Affleck) and his bank robbing posse.
Mention should also go to Pete Postlethwaite as the ambiguously accented and repulsively creepy florist.
However for me the true show kidnapping performance was Hurt Locker's Jeremy Renner as the trigger happy best friend of Doug Macreel who's movie you some how can predict from the moment he opens his mouth. Renner is a psychotic, time bomb and a cinematic "gem"(movie in joke). He not only makes you despise and fear his character but towards the end he also encourages the audience to sympathise with him.
However the film isn't perfect. The story's cliched and the father character is under used whilst the helicopter shots of Charlestown depict it as a pleasant and quaint neighbourhood rather than the Boston version of Bagdad that Affleck has been trying so hard to portray.
The ending is also painfully sentimental and a little contrived but really now I'm just unnecessarily nit picking through the luscious hair(yes I know that was gay) of one of the best films of the year.
Affleck has not only redeemed himself of his previous atrocities but also established himself as a talented actor and all round director. Suffice to say I can't wait for his next film.

A message, a moral and kick-ass car chase what more could you want
8/10 stars

Across 110th Street

Bobby Womack's Motown-tastic banger combined with Tarantino's stylish tracking shot opening makes for one hell of a character intro. Succinct yet sublime, well played T-dog.

Jackie Brown: QT try's something new

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Jackie Brown, the painfully stylish, third film from Quentin Tarantino follows the story of a failed flight hostess, a forlorn bail bondsman, a charismatic and fowl mouthed arms dealer and a variety of other more forgettable characters in pursuit of half a million dollars.
Jackie Brown breaks the usual QT mould by doing a number of things differently to it's two predecessors. It is an adaption of the novel "Rum Punch" as apposed to being the normal 100% biological, brain baby of QT, it has a structured storyline as apposed to the usual sporadic collection of intersecting episodes associated with Tarantino's movies. It contains an array of widely recognised and praised actors. Its typically over stuffed like a compulsive eater consuming not only the complimentary diner mint but also the tray that came with it, doesn't make a huge amount of sense, similar to my last metaphor, and most noticeably of all, as the ending credits roll up, doesn't nearly approach the frenetic quality of his previous two movies.

The anniversary had lost some of it's romance

Tarantino evidently isn't quite used to making conventional cinema. Watching him attempt to create an inherently normal film from source material that wasn't born, kicking and screaming, from his own hyperactive "brain womb" is like watching Bambi trying to surf. And when he trys to incorporate character development and the complex, central narrative into the mix it's similar to seeing a quadriplegic try to juggle. It's an admirable sight but he doesn't quite manage to succeed to the extent he and the audience would of liked.
Each of the characters feels as if they could have carried an entire film on there own and even in the lengthy running time of 2 and a half hours almost none get nearly enough screen time.
The shear amount of misused talent is staggering, I know Jackie Brown was primarily a comeback vehicle for Pam Grier, but you'd have thought Tarantino would have found a little more screen time for De Niro and Micheal Keaton and would have invested a fraction more of his time making them more developed than simple 2 dimensional ciphers. They really only seem to be there to fill out the steadily increasing list of amusing crime movie cliches.
Robert De Niro doesn't seem to have an ounce of heart in the performance, looking uncannily like an alcoholic, post sleigh crash Santa, speaking in mono syllables and really only showing a flicker of emotion about 30 seconds before his onscreen demise. Micheal Keaton does his best with what little he's given but permanently has the look of an over enthusiastic Labrador with bladder problems.
Bridget Fonda who's fantastic as the oopa loopa coloured beach bunny bitch is also massively under used.
QT has opted instead for focusing all his twitchy attentions on the three central protagonists and does this well incorporating a degree of character development, some of his classic dialogue and trademark direction style into their scenes.

Eye spy wasn't as fun as they'd remembered

And don't get me wrong there were many aspects of it that I enjoyed. Samuel L Jackson played his smoother than a aggressively exfoliated baby's arse, character word perfectly and I'm still shell shocked to discover that he didn't even get an Oscar nom for it.
The scene inwhich Ordeal walks his recently bailed out, associate to his car is one of the most memorable and  classically Tarantino moments of the entire film.
And the tentative and brilliantly realised relationship between Robert Foster's crushingly lonely bail bondsman and Pam Griers fiesty flight attendant is wonderful to watch, and both actors are equally brilliant.
The FUN-KEY, oh god i'm a loser, 70's soundtrack is absolutely great and I found myself re-watching the opening credits, a homage to the graduate, repeatedly purely to experience QT's fantastic direction but also for the painfully catchy song "Across 110th street".
Per usual in a Tarantino film it's an entertaining experience yet sadly the entire movie comes across as a rather hollow missed opportunity, with the potential to be so much more.
I'm sorry to break the glorious string of 8's but I feel it's my duty
6 out of 10 stars
feel free to post your comments and opinions below

Pulp Fiction: Royale with Cheese!

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QT's glorious second directorial outing is unashamedly similar to his ultra violent debut in a variety of ways.

The coffee shop, single shot opening has returned, the oh-so stylish direction has remained oh-so stylish, the dialogue is as fresh and inspired as ever and the ultra violence and steady flow of cursing are both still going strong with a constant barrage of bullets and f-bombs being fired at each of the protagonists... and thank god for that! 

In between QT's opening two feature lengths he's lost none of his originality and spark, with his hilarious dialogue as sharp and fresh as ever, managing to draw yet more unbelievable performances out of the cast and giving me even more reason to start spouting phrases like "performance of a lifetime" all over the place, like a cliched water fountain gone mad.  The narrative is slightly less structured this time around and the plot isn't quite as intricate as before, that is to say there isn't a plot at all, simply a series of lovingly crafted, hilariously surreal chapters, similar, that's right you guessed it, to a pulp fiction novel.

The Crap in the coffee gag hadn't gone down well

The pacing similar to that of reservoir dogs constantly changes tempo, randomly going up and down, like an Alzheimer's patient on a stair lift. But again the lack of plot and pacing consistency doesn't seem to matter in any way. The scenes seamlessly transition between an evangelical, bible quoting hit man to a 70's dance montage, and then to a nail shreddingly tense adrenaline injection scene without even giving you cause or concern over how you got there.

Tarantino combines snappily edited, close up shot sequences with lengthy wide angle camera shots of the fronts of houses and derelict motels to great, varied effect.

The gloriously witty dialogue once again brings the characters and set pieces to life providing the viewer with actually sympathetic and vaguely likable protagonists as opposed to the group of psychotic bastards in Reservoir dogs who were a little harder to root for. 
Another nice touch is the interconnecting story lines between each of the protagonists, with many of the characters stumbling into each others stories and either having little or huge effect on the various chapters.
Each of the "colourful" and well rounded characters are stereotypical caricatures, from the rapist, gimp keeping hillbilly to the menacing king pin, Marseillus, spouting lines like, "If Butch goes to Indo-China I wanna n###er hiding in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass." But it's also this abandonment of realism which makes every chapter and character so fun to watch.
The two foremost, show stealing protagonists, Vincent and Jules are played gloriously by John Travolta and Samuel Jackson, each acting as the central performance in  every one of the films most iconic and memorable scenes. 

They had finally found their hair stylist

Lets just say Travolta assassinates all my doubts about his acting talent and Jackson kidnaps my heart and holds it to ransom with his biblical anecdote... well...that was...weird.

But the bottom line is this is Reservoir Dogs with a bigger budget, bigger set pieces and a wider range of more famous actors.

It may not be quite as good a film as Reservoir dogs but it's easily more entertaining. Comparing the two is almost like trying to find a comparison between FHM and the lovely bones, I may enjoy FHM more but the latter is considered to be a slightly better piece of literature, or at least that's my opinion.

In short Pulp Fiction is an overwhelmingly entertaining if slightly empty, moral wise, hilarious and flawlessly acted movie  from one of the most iconic directors of the 90's.

9/10 stars freakin awesome, one of the least thought provoking yet most enjoyable films i've ever seen.
Thanks for reading and feel free to post your comments and opinions below.