Given some of the hyperbole and vitriol generated by The Tree of Life when it won the Palme d‘Or at this year’s Cannes film festival, I was half expecting this to be a film that would deliver either a life changing experience or 2 hours 20 minutes of pretentious bollocks. While both points of view have their champions, I did in fact find it to be a visually stunning, occasionally flawed, yet always thoughtful film; part spiritual meditation on family and our place in the universe and part beguiling dreamscape providing testament to the power of the cinematic image.

This is a film that sets one man’s reminiscences of growing up in a picket fence suburb of Waco, Texas within a context of nothing less than the creation of the universe and the evolution of the planet earth. For the most part the story is concerned with the childhood of Jack O’Brien (Sean Penn as an adult, Hunter McCracken as a child) and this is depicted through a combination of subdued, everyday scenes of domesticity, along with a series of impressionistic vignettes over which whispered prayers and thoughts are heard.

In particular the film focuses on Jack’s relationship with his father (Brad Pitt stepping into a role originally intended for Heath Ledger), an authoritarian yet decent man from whom the adult Jack is clearly estranged. The contradictions Jack experiences in his feelings towards his father contrast sharply with the love and affection he feels for his mother (Jessica Chastain) and two younger brothers. So far so familiar but what helps elevate this film to another level is that all of this is preceded by and interspersed with a depiction of the big bang, the formation of our solar system and the creation of life on our planet, right up to the arrival of an asteroid that wipes out the dinosaurs. Given this structure, the film invites symbolic readings of its every aspect and it is tempting to see Jack as the embodiment of humanity and his father as God himself, their relationship a mirror of civilisation’s continual struggle with the concept of God and the notion of free will.

However, in contrasting the specific with the universal, and drawing parallels with the life of the planet and that of one man, the film certainly offers redress to the point of view that human life is insignificant when viewed within the context of an ever expanding universe. Instead it counters that human life can’t be insignificant because this is where all of those billions of years of evolution have led. So as far as we’re concerned, that infinite vastness of space and time gives us significance rather than depriving us of it because it has led right to us and the here and now.

As a drama, The Tree of Life frequently dispenses with conventional narrative, the first hour in particular being mostly a succession of seductive imagery and abstract snatches of family life, philosophy and scripture. None of which is to say that there isn’t a story here, as Malick delivers a tale that becomes more involving the longer you stay with it. It’s just that he does things a little differently.

For those of us whose formative years took in 80s franchises like The Karate Kid and Rocky, the mention of the word ‘montage’ will evoke memories of Ralph Macchio waxing on and off or Sylvester Stallone pounding on spare ribs and chasing chickens prior to a world title fight. However, in Malick’s hands, the montage becomes something more than a cinematic device to convey the passage of time, as he utilises it to show us the truth of who these characters are and convey real emotional drama.

For instance, there’s a moment when Jack’s voice over asks how his mother ever managed to bear the death of one of her sons. Malick then delivers such a tender and convincing overview of their relationship, full of glimpsed moments both trivial and monumental, that you can only wonder at the question yourself. It’s a sequence that conveys so much with so little, the camera slowly moving between and around Mrs O’Brien and her boys, gently insinuating its way into their lives. We see a young Jack looking at his brother for the first time and flinching as the baby moves its hand towards him and Mrs O’Brien maintaining the pretence of normality as she shields her son’s eyes from a neighbour who has collapsed and is having a seizure. What dialogue there is, is overheard rather than heard, sounding much like conversations do when listened to through the haze of a mid-afternoon doze in the sun.

In addition to the emotional power of much of the film, the variety of technical skill on display throughout demonstrates why Malick remains one of the few directors whose work really should be seen on the big screen. The scenes set on a prehistoric earth in particular are just stunning as some truly alien looking landscapes evolve and the camera dwells on the formation of life both on land and in the sea. The whole sequence, along with depictions of galaxies forming and cells merging had such a relaxing effect on me that at one point I could feel myself becoming positively New Age. Had this been made in the 60s it may well have been the only show in town for the experimental crowd.

The camera movement is constant, always looking up and outwards at a sky viewed through the branches of trees or the glass ceiling of modern city buildings. Also, the sound design is subtly effective, especially in the earlier part of the film, often employing gentle echoes and distortions that give the impression the universe is continually moving and evolving while these family dramas play out.

The only problem I had with it all was the look and feel of some of the scenes involving Sean Penn, which unfortunately for some audiences may evoke comparisons with those black and white TV adverts for perfume (the ones where serious men wearing designer suits, a white shirt open at the neck, wander on empty beaches or across desert sands looking all angst ridden and moody). The effect was compounded by some of the voice overs, again mostly involving Sean Penn, and the frequency of their use was an affectation the film could have done without.

All of that said though, this is still a unique and important film from a director whose world view is a refreshing counterpoint to much of the cynical and pessimistic fare offered up by much of serious contemporary cinema. As an exercise in film making it is often jaw-dropping, as an emotional drama it is frequently moving and as an essay on life, the universe and everything, it is as ambitious as almost any film I’ve ever seen. It won’t be for everyone of course and without wishing to sound too vague, it’s an experience I found was best absorbed rather than rationalised, its potency lying in how it made me feel rather than what it made me think. In the final analysis some may feel that the message of The Tree of Life is a fairly simple one. However, the experience of watching it isn’t.

Expected Rating: 5 out of 10

‘The Tree of Life’ is out in the UK on July the 8th

A strange, alien spaceship is discovered on the dark side of the moon. A spaceship which harbours a secret important to the future of the Autobots as well as their arch enemies the Decepticons. So the race is on as the Autobots battle to thwart the Decepticons, and stop them taking over the one thing they need to carry out their evil plan for universal domination – the human race! (A rather simplistic synopsis I know, but what do you expect? We are after all, talking about a film whose whole premise is based around robots which turn into cars!)

The latest instalment (and unlikely to be last) in the Transformers movie franchise, is heavy on crash, big on bang, but light on wallop!

I had never seen a Transformers film before this one, which placed me at a slight disadvantage where plot and characterisation were concerned. However as the film is not heavy on plot, and almost non-existent on characterisation, this minor indiscretion on my part did not greatly effect my overall enjoyment of the film, which was actually great fun in a numbing sort of way.

Nothing much in the way of action (which is after all what you’ve come to see) happens during the first half or so of the film. This lean period involves what I suppose is meant to pass as an introduction to the characters and their relationships. However as this consists mainly of Sam (adequately portrayed by Shia ‘how do you pronounce his surname?’ LaBeouf) feeling downtrodden and threatened by everyone, from his parents and his new boss Bruce (a wonderfully creepy turn from John Malkovich), to his girlfriend Carly (played surprisingly well by Victoria’s Secret model Rosie Huntington-Whiteley – I bet the Americans love her surname) and her employer Dylan (Patrick Dempsey), the obligatory smooth, mega rich and ultimately dastardly human villain of the piece, who tries to side with the invading aliens only to find that everyone, human and alien, are against him by the end, this aspect of the film’s a bit pedestrian.

It’s when the aliens attack Chicago (refreshing that its not New York for a change) during the climax that things begin to pick up, and you actually get what you’ve come to see. Imploding glass towers, exploding metalwork and a giant coiling snake, which looks like a mechanical version of the monsters from Tremors, are enough to quell any misgivings that you might have felt cheated during the first hour and a half of the film.

The film’s numbingness comes in a two pronged attack, both visually and physically. Visually in that the whole film looks like one long advert for pristine, clinical living. Even the dirt and rubble left once Chicago has been virtually razed to the ground by the warring robots, has a bohemian, artistic assemblage. As for Sam and Carly’s loft like apartment. Let’s just say if that’s how unemployed Americans live I’m moving Stateside pronto!

The physical attack comes from the length of the film. At 2 hrs 37 mins, I was starting to feel distinctly dead from the waist down, and felt that losing half an hour would not have made a lot of difference overall, but would have left me more comfortable by the end. It seems that modern film makers believe in quantity over quality (sometimes you get both, but not often), though I guess if you’re paying your stars the gross national income of a small country you want to get your money’s worth.

As I said at the beginning Transformers: Dark of the Moon is great fun, even if it doesn’t provide quite as much wallop as you’d have hoped for. There was only one question I had by the end. How did Ms Huntington-Whiteley manage to make it make it through all the wreckage in vertiginous stilettos and a virtually pristine white jacket. Must be the supermodel in her.

Expected Rating: 7 out of 10

Actual Rating:

Transformers: Dark Of The Moon is out now.

In ‘Transformers: Dark of the Moon’ giant lumps of metal beat the living crap out of other giant lumps of metal and Chicago is smashed to pieces. Oh, and there’s a couple of knob gags too. Knock yourselves out.

Tempting as it is to write the shortest ever film review for Starburst Magazine I’m sensing that you might be expecting something a little more in-depth and, whilst ‘depth’ isn’t what you’d normally associate with a film by Michael Bay – The Man Who Blows Stuff Up – I’ll try to rise to the occasion and give you an idea of what you can expect if you chose to leave your brain at home and toddle along to see the latest in possibly the most inane movie franchise in cinema history.

The Transformers toy phenomenon of the early 1980s came along at least two generations too late for me so I’ve no particular affinity for Decepticons and Autobots and Maximus Primes and Sentinels but I found Bay’s original Transformers film from 2007 reasonably entertaining in a noisy, brain-aching sort of way. Good FX but ultimately just a load of summer cinema nonsense. However, I viciously detested its witless, inane sequel Revenge of the Fallen with every living fibre of my being. Dumb to the point of being neanderthal, this was a film based on a range of kid’s toys which was filled with horribly inappropriate innuendo, a garbled and nonsensical plot and a cast who clearly wished they’d not signed that ‘sequel’ clause in their contract. I approached Dark of the Moon, this second sequel, with not a little amount of trepidation, my hopes scarcely raised by the admission from both Bay and star Shia LaBoeuf that they “fumbled the ball” in the last one and that Dark of the Moon would be much better. Well, I’m here to tell you that Dark of the Moon is indeed better than Revenge of the Fallen (because, let’s face it, it would be absolutely impossible for it to be worse) but it’s actually really not much better. It’s certainly less irritating, it’s certainly much more spectacular and it does deal with some of the main faults of the last film – it ditches the ghastly racist robots, dials back at least some of the more infantile schoolyard smut and – Glory be – jettisons the hopeless Megan Fox (an actress carved out of purest teak) from her role as Shia’s unlikely girlfriend. But other problems remain; a fairly simplistic plot is rendered largely incomprehensible due to an excess of garbled exposition and the film’s tone is all over the place, leaping from slapstick knockabout comedy to moments of huge pomposity and bombast often in the space of a few seconds (a brief ‘comedy’ sequence right at the very sudden ending seems oddly inappropriate considering the carnage and loss of life we’ve witnessed in the previous hour).

So what exactly’s going on here? We kick off with Shia’s Sam Witwicky (what sort of a name is that??) trying to adjust to a normal life after his experiences saving the world in the previous two films. He can’t get a job but he’s got the girl – his previous squeeze has dumped him but he’s been lucky enough to replace her with one who looks almost exactly the same. Rosie Huntington-Whitely (girlfriend of the multi-talented Jason Statham, apparently) plays Carly; she’s quite a girl even though she looks like she’s been repeatedly punched in the upper lip. Unfortunately our Rosie is no better an actor than Megan but then a pouty, leggy role like Carly doesn’t exactly demand a young Judi Dench; Carly spends most of her time being waaaay out of Sam’s league, getting captured, looking scared and running about. As Sam banters with his irritating free-spirited parents there’s Transformer mischief afoot as the Apollo 11 moon landing is revealed to have led to the discovery of a Decepticon spaceship buried under the lunar soil; before long the evil Decepticon Sentinel is stomping about the Earth, creating a ‘space gateway’ through which pass his Decepticon army of killers whilst planning to drag the dead Transformer homeworld of Cybertron into Earth’s orbit so the human race can be enslaved to rebuild the planet.

It’s a lively and inventive story, threading real 20th century history (Buzz Aldrin gets a cameo confronting Optimus Prime and the Chernobyl disaster is, rather tastelessly, suggested to have been caused by rogue Cybertron technology) with the wild fantasy of the world of the Tranformers, great lumps of extremely-supple intelligent living metal with a propensity for knocking seven bells out of one another whilst randomly destroying everything in their path. I’m not sure the reason why some of the robots speak with Glaswegian and Spanish accents have ever been adequately explained though…

For the first hour of its exhausting running time (the film lasts so long I was in danger of forgetting everything I’d ever done before I started watching it) Dark of the Moon looks like it’s concentrating on character and – more painfully – comedy. This isn’t subtle stuff but some of it raises a smile. John Turturro’s back as the manic Sector 7 agent, John Malkovich seems to be having a good time as Sam’s obsessive employer but it might be best to pass a discreet veil over Ken (The Hangover) Jeong’s hammy turn as Sam’s conspiracy nut co-worker. Even the majestic Frances McDormand has her moments as the uptight Government Secretary of Defence – “Stop with the Ma’am.”

But you go to see a Transformers movie because you want the bangs and the action – and to be fair Bay delivers it here in spades. Once its slightly heel-dragging first hour is out of the way and the Decepticons flood through the ‘space gate’ and start to wreak havoc in Chicago, I think I can guarantee that your jaw will probably hit the floor and stay there until the credits start to roll. By any reasonable standards Bay has created an astonishing hour of cinema here, a tour de force of CGI and special effects which is both pain-stakingly realistic and surprisingly visceral for what purports to be a family film. The Decepticon ships and robots systematically devastate Chicago and casually vaporise its fleeing inhabitants whilst Sam and his military chums tumble down collapsing buildings, freefall through the air, skydive and indulge in spectacular gun battles and dogfights. Through all this chaos stomp the Decepticons and the Autobots and, most impressively, the snake-like Soundwave which twists and smashes its way through the city like some super-annuated sandworm from Dune. This last hour of Dark of the Moon is, whatever you might think of Bay’s very individual style of film-making, an absolute master class in the art of the modern blockbuster. I’m in the ‘no, thanks’ camp when it comes to the current gimmicky vogue for 3D films but, utilising techniques and equipment pioneered by James Cameron for Avatar, Bay has created some genuinely thrilling and immersive 3D imagery here in sequences which go much further than the usual lazy scenes of spears and rocks flying out of the screen. Here for once, the 3D, whilst not exactly enhancing the story, lifts characters and locations off the screen and pitches the viewers squarely into the middle of battle sequences with slow-motion utilised to show off the real tent-pole 3D scenes.

It would be misleading to call Dark of the Moon a good movie because…well, because it just isn’t. But then it’s not really designed to be. It’s meant to impress and entertain you with its spectacle and occasionally amuse you with its one-liners and its broad comedy. Despite my hatred of the second film and the fact that I could quite plainly see that Dark of the Moon really is a bit rubbish, I found myself diverted and entertained by it and utterly gob-smacked by the scale of its visual achievements in the last hour. Go and see Dark of the Moon in a similar, largely-uncritical frame of mind, and you’ll probably have a whale of a time too. Although, like me, you might be reluctant to admit it…

Expected rating: 5 out of 10

Actual rating:

‘Transformers: Dark of the Moon’ is on general release around the UK now.

Somewhere, out there, beyond our solar system, exist other planets, other galaxies, other races. For generations an elite group of superheroes, made up of representatives from these different civilisations, have guarded their worlds, and ours, from any evil which threatens the peace and stability of the universe.  They are ‘The Green Lantern Corps’.  But now, for the first time in their existence, they are facing a new evil – one so powerful, that he threatens the very fabric of the universe.  His name is Parallax.

Just after he is fatally wounded by Parallax, one of the senior members of the Corps manages to crash land his spaceship on Earth, where he passes his transforming ring and its power generating Green Lantern (hey, I know this sounds daft but stick with it, it gets better), to an unwitting all American test pilot called Hal (Ryan Reynolds), who becomes the first human member of the Corps, and whose destruction becomes the sole focus of Parallax.

It’s terribly unprofessional for a critic to be so blatant when writing about a film – they should try at least to have some neutrality. But I don’t care. I’m going to say it. I absolutely LOVED ‘The Green Lantern’!  Ignore all those scare mongers who have been writing disparaging things about yet another ‘superhero’ extravaganza, because this film is two hours of wham, bam, noisy (very noisy), garish fun.

Although my opening synopsis may seem over simplified, it isn’t really as the film’s storyline is, ultimately, relatively simple.  I managed to follow it, for most of the time anyway, and I’m not even going to start to analyse it here, because actually there’s not a lot to analyse. Strange otherworldly life-force chooses insignificant, weak (emotionally if not physically) human to save his own planet and ultimately the universe from an evil titanic force, out to destroy anything and anyone that stands in it’s way. Suffice to say that  the simplicity of the premise works in it’s favour. The time you’d otherwise waste trying to make sense of a convoluted plot, can be spent wallowing in the sheer exuberance of the film, and it’s sumptuous visuals. There are a few places where the film falters, mainly involving the appearance of the various alien life forms, but it more than makes up for this with the scenes set on Earth. Even I found those involving Hal and his airborne dog fight with the government’s ultimate combat planes exciting (all be it a bit ‘Top Gun’-ish), and I generally hate anything even slightly military in flavour. As for Hal’s apartment! I want that place – how do fictional heroes always manage to live in to die for apartments, while seemingly having little visible means of financing their upkeep.

The other thing I found slight out of keeping with the majority of superhero films, was the fact that the super villains in this one are not particularly attractive. When you think of the foes that Batman and Spiderman come up against, they are usually pretty suave, often with even better outfits that the heroes. But here there is nothing whatsoever appealing about Parallax, and the misfit he chooses as his representative on Earth (who looks like the elephant man on a bad day). Still, who cares. When Hal transforms to his new alter-ego, you are literally left open mouthed that anyone green could look that good.

I hold the view that (sometimes) the less you know about a film before hand, the better. And this is where I feel my advantage lay with The Green Lantern. I admit that I’m not your average comic book fan. I go to the film adaptations when they come out and, most of the time, enjoy them for what they are – popcorn movies, a bit of fun. But this is because I generally know nothing about the stories, the characters, or the mythology, before hand. I come to it fresh and as a result enjoy them (most of the time). Now I don’t wish to upset the legions of comic book fans out there (many of whom read this magazine), or mock their dedication to their heroes – to you this film may well be a travesty, who knows. But please, these films are never likely to win Oscars for the cast’s acting prowess (Heath Ledger aside). They really aren’t designed to be taken that seriously. And this is where ‘The Green Lantern’ wins over other films in the comic book genre, because it doesn’t!

I’m not saying it doesn’t look expensive (it reputedly cost $200 million to produce), or professionally executed (the whole cast, including Tim Robbins as the pre-requisite, unfeeling business tycoon, put in very capable performances). But where other franchises, Batman, Spider-man and The X-Men etc, approach what are (let’s be honest here) situations which would generally only appeal to pre-pubescent teenagers, as if the world depended on it, Lantern boy looks, after some initial misgivings, as though he’s actually enjoying himself. Of course the world does depend on his conquering a despicable evil which threatens to destroy the insignificant and underdeveloped planet Earth (why is the human race always seen as inferior to other species that apparently inhabit the universe?), but he does it with such verve (and a hint of a grin), that you are carried along by his pure joy-de-verve at his new super capabilities, and soon forget the sheer preposterousness of the whole situation. That he doesn’t initially get a warm welcome from his fellow Lanterns, only serves to get the public behind him – go for it boy.  Show those aliens that mankind won’t be stamped out so easily.

I’d give this movie the green light any day, and personally can’t wait for the inevitable follow-up(s)! (Oh, and stay until the end of the credits – there’s a suggestion of things to come.)

Expected rating: 6 out of 10

Actual rating:

Agree? Disagree? Your rating…

If you like your vampire films rare and bloody, then ‘Stake Land’ is for you. Rare in that there isn’t a conventional fanged fiend in sight. And bloody because, well it’s simply awash in the stuff!

After his family have been wiped out by a particularly virulent strain of vampirism which is sweeping across America, turning the population into a horde of life draining, flesh tearing, animalistic fiends, Martin (Connor Paolo) is befriended (though perhaps that’s the wrong word as he hasn’t much choice considering the circumstances) by Mister (Nick Dimici). This stranger, a ruthless and brutal hunter, appears to provide Martin’s only hope for survival, and the two wary compatriots set off through the backwoods and urban outskirts of America’s east coast, heading for the rumoured safety of the north.

There was something about old vampire films (and by old I mean pre-1980’s, with it’s glut of ‘Fright Night’ prepubescent teenagers, old dark houses and abandoned ‘Vamp’ inner-city alleyways, which quite frankly you deserved what you got if you entered), that was beautiful, poetic and almost pastoral. Forget the creatures themselves and the, let’s face it, basically inhuman and in some cases downright disgusting things they did to their victims (all be it in a sanitised, censored way). The settings and environments in which the story lines unfolded, were almost characters in themselves. Somehow open fields, deserted country lanes and remote woodlands or forested hills, were much more chilling than modern housing estates and the sprawls of urban America.

And this is what ‘Stake Land’ goes back to, using the deserted byways and abandoned roads of backwoods America to create the depressing, almost despairing gloom, which hovers over the main protagonists and film as a whole (this is definitely not the film to go and see if you want your spirits lifted). When the narrative does require the characters to enter towns (or what’s left of them), things aren’t much better. These areas, like so many in modern movies which try to imagine what the world would look like post apocalypse, are reminiscent of a bomb site, where anarchy has set in, and those that have survived live in communes, cut off from the outside, suspicious and hostile towards anyone who stumbles across their path.

But what of the other main characters in the film, the humans themselves?  The central story revolves round Martin and Mister, and their journey to a supposedly safe area up north, which has managed to keep the vampire plague at bay. It is this theme which reminded me of that other blood sucking epic, Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot’, one of the few King tomes I have managed to read to the end. Its depiction of two people brought together by a kindred hatred of the evil which they see as slowly taking over their world, is eerily similar to that of ‘Stake Land’, the main difference being that in ‘Salem’s Lot’ they are chasing the vampires, instead of running away from them. There are other similarities too, not least that both are set along America’s east coast and inland environs. In a similar way to King’s duo, you also find it hard to feel for Martin or Mister. By the very nature of their fight for survival they have become introverted loners, wary of everyone and everything, particularly in the case of Mister. You never really get beneath their skin, which makes it hard to have empathy with them on anything more than a superficial level.

Any colour that there is in their grey struggle for survival, is added by various unfortunates whom they happen across, both human and vampire, brief lovers, religious fanatics and cult following zealots. However these (on the whole) secondary characters, are there mainly to provide fodder for the increasingly gruesome ways of despatching them, and an excuse to let the blood flow. And boy does it flow!

Those of you who have read my writing before, will know that subtlety and atmosphere usually wins over in your face splatter. However even I enjoy slam-bam stomach churning visuals now and again. Though ‘Stake Land’ uses suggestiveness and atmosphere to build the tension effectively, when it lays on the gore it does so in a no-holds-barred fashion seldom seen in today’s politically correct cinema. The film’s wonderfully tortured death scenes are so grimy and penetrating, that it’s hard to differentiate between the dirt and mud in which the poor victims of the vampiric pestilence wallow, and the blood which pumps from their wounds in visceral fountains. I don’t want to spoil one of the most original elements of the film, but suffice to say the remaining humans have discovered a new way to rid themselves of the undead. Forget stakes in the heart, decapitation and dousing with holy water, the only way to despatch the latest embodiment of haemoglobin sucking freaks is to literally sever the chord which connects them to humanity. As a result they’d be well advised not to turn their backs on any human hunter.

I mentioned earlier that this was not the film to go and see if you wanted your spirits lifted. Perhaps I was a little hasty in that prognosis. For ‘Stake Land’ leaves the viewer with hope. Hope that there is still life in the old vampire movie corpse, and with teams like those behind this film, we might just be seeing its resurrection.

Expected rating: 6 out of 10

Actual rating:

‘Stake Land’ is out in UK cinemas now.

Three brothers are on the run from the law, after their latest bank raid has gone disastrously wrong. With one of them seriously injured, they head to the one place a good son would – back home to mama! The only problem is that the bank repossessed the family home and mama, along with the boy’s teenage sister, was forced to leave. However due to some confusion over mobile phones (don’t ask – I didn’t really get this point either), the boys didn’t find out about this slight mishap, and arrive at the house to be greeted by the new residents who are in the middle of a party. Understandably upset by this sudden change in the family fortunes, the three misfits hold the unfortunate revellers hostage, and contact the only person whom can help them in their predicament. Enter the mother from hell, who will do literally anything for her boys, and I mean anything!

I can find absolutely nothing to say in favour of this cinematic abomination. Calling it a horror film is, in my opinion, misleading. Even the worst of them (and believe me I’ve seen some bad ones) usually have something in their favour, be that acting, storyline, effects, photography – something (though seldom all together). However anything Mother’s Day might have had going for it, for instance De Mornay puts in a very capable and undeniably chilling turn as the demented mother in question, is lost in the utter gratuitousness of this vile spectacle.

Though I had mixed feelings about going to see the film, I thought I’d give it a go. I was under the misconception that it would be along the lines of some of those 1980’s teenager in peril films, something like Happy Birthday to Me (please don’t ask why that particular slash fest came to mind, as I know it bears no relation whatsoever to mothers or their happy celebration – but there again neither does this film (suffice to say that the horror genre can play funny tricks on the memory). Neither did watching the trailer putt me off 100%. We are all aware that trailers can be misleading – just how bad could the film be? After the recent news that Human Centipede II has been refused a certificate by the British Board of Film Classification, you could be forgiven for thinking that if a film has been deemed viewable, all be it with an 18 rating, it must have some merit? However Mother’s Day proves that even the board can get it wrong. It reminds me of those films of the 1970’s like Last House on the Left and I Spit on Your Grave, where vengeance upon those who wronged them seemed to give the victim carte blanche to take revenge in whatever form they liked no matter how extreme. During that infamous period of cinema history such films were banned as part of the ‘video nasty’ cull. Now similar, if not worse, have found acceptability under the umbrella of ‘torture porn’! But is there really any difference?

Some may say that considering the film is from the director of Saw II, III and IV, you should expect strong, sadistic violence. Indeed, though I’ve only seen a couple of the Saw films, I did recognise similarities. Even so, this did not prepare me for the film’s sheer nastiness. De Mornay’s character has little or no redeeming qualities whatsoever, but comes out even worse than her degenerate children because she hides her viciousness beneath a seemingly sweet exterior, at least initially. That she doesn’t have time or sympathy for her unwitting victims is hardly surprising. But we learn as the film proceeds, that she has been just as bad towards her own unsuspecting offspring. It emerges that she has subjected her children to prolonged, subtle mental abuse (which can be just as damaging as physical, some would say more), over a period of years.

Now I’m no prude where films are concerned. I can, and have, stomached pretty much everything over the years. However I defy even hardcore horror buffs not to be nauseated by the unrelenting violence of this film once it kicks in. What De Mornay’s character and her sons subject the unfortunate new inhabitants of their old house, and their friends, to is sickening – this family makes the inbreds from The Hills Have Eyes look like the Waltons! Rape (though this never actually gets as far as full perpetration), burning, mutilation, shooting, stabbing, beating, scalding with boiling water and that’s just for starters. Add to these atrocities a car crash, more shootings, suffocation with cling film, peppering a victim’s face with a nail gun (eat your heart out ‘Pinhead’), battering unconscious with a wooden chopping board, and burning the house down. The possibility of a redemptive finish to the whole sordid business, though admittedly that would have been out of keeping with the previous two hours, is lost in favour of an open ending and a bit of child abduction thrown in for good measure. Anyone with even a shred of morality should pray that they don’t make a sequel.

The film has what could have been one interesting twist. The male characters are for once, not necessarily the strongest, and almost without exception, none survive, while the women come out on top (excuse the pun!). However even this is overshadowed by the fact that it is a woman, in the shape of the mother, who is the real evil force driving her family to carry out their heinous crimes.

I’m sorry if my review has spoilt the film for you. However a critic’s job is to advise as well as criticise.  As a result I see this as a warning against, as opposed to a recommendation in favour of it, and if reading this has made you think twice about seeing Mother’s Day, so much the better.

Expected rating: 6 out of 10

Actual:

Three brothers are on the run from the law, after their latest bank raid has gone disastrously wrong. With one of them seriously injured, they head to the one place a good son would – back home to mama! The only problem is that the bank repossessed the family home and mama, along with the boy’s teenage sister, was forced to leave. However due to some confusion over mobile phones (don’t ask – I didn’t really get this point either), the boys didn’t find out about this slight mishap, and arrive at the house to be greeted by the new residents who are in the middle of a party. Understandably upset by this sudden change in the family fortunes, the three misfits hold the unfortunate revellers hostage, and contact the only person whom can help them in their predicament. Enter the mother from hell, who will do literally anything for her boys, and I mean anything!

I can find absolutely nothing to say in favour of this cinematic abomination. Calling it a horror film is, in my opinion, misleading. Even the worst of them (and believe me I’ve seen some bad ones) usually have something in their favour, be that acting, storyline, effects, photography – something (though seldom all together). However anything Mother’s Day might have had going for it, for instance De Mornay puts in a very capable and undeniably chilling turn as the demented mother in question, is lost in the utter gratuitousness of this vile spectacle.

Though I had mixed feelings about going to see the film, I thought I’d give it a go. I was under the misconception that it would be along the lines of some of those 1980’s teenager in peril films, something like Happy Birthday to Me (please don’t ask why that particular slash fest came to mind, as I know it bears no relation whatsoever to mothers or their happy celebration – but there again neither does this film (suffice to say that the horror genre can play funny tricks on the memory). Neither did watching the trailer putt me off 100%. We are all aware that trailers can be misleading – just how bad could the film be? After the recent news that Human Centipede II has been refused a certificate by the British Board of Film Classification, you could be forgiven for thinking that if a film has been deemed viewable, all be it with an 18 rating, it must have some merit? However Mother’s Day proves that even the board can get it wrong. It reminds me of those films of the 1970’s like Last House on the Left and I Spit on Your Grave, where vengeance upon those who wronged them seemed to give the victim carte blanche to take revenge in whatever form they liked no matter how extreme. During that infamous period of cinema history such films were banned as part of the ‘video nasty’ cull. Now similar, if not worse, have found acceptability under the umbrella of ‘torture porn’! But is there really any difference?

Some may say that considering the film is from the director of Saw II, III and IV, you should expect strong, sadistic violence. Indeed, though I’ve only seen a couple of the Saw films, I did recognise similarities. Even so, this did not prepare me for the film’s sheer nastiness. De Mornay’s character has little or no redeeming qualities whatsoever, but comes out even worse than her degenerate children because she hides her viciousness beneath a seemingly sweet exterior, at least initially. That she doesn’t have time or sympathy for her unwitting victims is hardly surprising. But we learn as the film proceeds, that she has been just as bad towards her own unsuspecting offspring. It emerges that she has subjected her children to prolonged, subtle mental abuse (which can be just as damaging as physical, some would say more), over a period of years.

Now I’m no prude where films are concerned. I can, and have, stomached pretty much everything over the years. However I defy even hardcore horror buffs not to be nauseated by the unrelenting violence of this film once it kicks in. What De Mornay’s character and her sons subject the unfortunate new inhabitants of their old house, and their friends, to is sickening – this family makes the inbreds from The Hills Have Eyes look like the Waltons! Rape (though this never actually gets as far as full perpetration), burning, mutilation, shooting, stabbing, beating, scalding with boiling water and that’s just for starters. Add to these atrocities a car crash, more shootings, suffocation with cling film, peppering a victim’s face with a nail gun (eat your heart out ‘Pinhead’), battering unconscious with a wooden chopping board, and burning the house down. The possibility of a redemptive finish to the whole sordid business, though admittedly that would have been out of keeping with the previous two hours, is lost in favour of an open ending and a bit of child abduction thrown in for good measure. Anyone with even a shred of morality should pray that they don’t make a sequel.

The film has what could have been one interesting twist. The male characters are for once, not necessarily the strongest, and almost without exception, none survive, while the women come out on top (excuse the pun!). However even this is overshadowed by the fact that it is a woman, in the shape of the mother, who is the real evil force driving her family to carry out their heinous crimes.

I’m sorry if my review has spoilt the film for you. However a critic’s job is to advise as well as criticise.  As a result I see this as a warning against, as opposed to a recommendation in favour of it, and if reading this has made you think twice about seeing Mother’s Day, so much the better.

Expected rating: 6 out of 10

Actual:

Is there a more iconic figure in cult cinema than Franco Nero as Django? He’s a character so cool even with mashed up, bloodied hands, he finds a way to gun down his enemies and claim victory.

Sergio Corbucci’s ultra-violent western has proved an influential work (Quentin Tarantino adores it) and delivers a seemingly revenge-driven tale caked in mud as much as the red stuff. With the advent of Cine-Excess V screening of the 1966 classic and the publication of Any Gun Can Play: A Guide to the Euro Western (FAB Press, 2011)*, Franco Nero came to London on May 27th and proclaimed: “Django was made for the worker.” Indeed, its cult appeal these days belies the fact the movie was a popular hit and sparked numerous cash-ins back then. Further movies with ‘Django’ in the title often had nothing to do with the original movie beyond exploitation of the name.

The opening credit sequence, complete with a wonderful theme song, alters the usual idea of a stranger riding into town on his horse. In fact, there are no horses to be seen for a good fifteen minutes. Django, a former soldier who fought on the Yankee side, appears in a near-ghost town dragging a mysterious coffin.

Corbucci delivers a clever narrative implying Django is out for revenge on the film’s chief villain, Major Jackson (Eduardo Fajardo). It sets itself up A Fistful of Dollars style with a character making a play – divide and conquer – between rival outfits: Mexican revolutionaries versus Southern, Ku Klux Klan-style gangsters. Akira Kurosawa’s samurai classic Yojimbo has proved a major influence on western cinema and Franco Nero admitted as such in the Q&A before the screening.

Django is a screen classic in its own right. It is super-stylish and gives us a morally ambiguous character to root for. This is a clear mark of exploitation cinema. Nothing is ever black and white. Django displays good and bad qualities. He spins us a tale about lost love but seems way more interested in the gold at the fort and riding off into the sunset with the riches. Perhaps Django is telling the truth when he tells hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold María (Loredana Nusciak) he can never love again. But there’s the sense he uses people when he needs to and will cast them aside once they served their purpose.

Corbucci shot his western outside Madrid, in presumably, very bad weather. Yet the film’s barren, dirty, muddy environment gives Django a fatalistic, rotten edge. It reeks of death and decay; and that’s exactly what the lone stranger brings to town: death. Django is rather cocksure about his ability to see out his scheme. He’s got a Gatling gun hiding in the coffin and when he sprays lead into Major Jackson’s gang everybody is impressed.

There are lashes of cinema style from crash zooms, grand wide shots and whip pans: all with precision editing. The saloon fight is noticeable, too, for using handheld camera techniques and rapid montage, lending it an immediacy not often seen in westerns. The famous ear-slicing scene re-appeared just as famously in Reservoir Dogs.

Unlike more laconic Spaghetti Western heroes Django is a talkative chap. Franco Nero plays the character as a romantic figure. Women love him and men want to be him, and that surely is what echoed with the audience. With his electric blue eyes and cool as a cucumber swagger, Django cemented his place in cult film history.

*Any Gun Can Play: The Essential Guide To Euro Westerns by FAB Press is on sale now.

Please meet Adele Blanc-Sec, adventurer, travel writer and, let’s be honest here, general trouble maker. Her publishers have sent her to South America for her latest assignment. However the ever wilful Adele has other ideas, and is now in Egypt, looking for the mummy of a famous doctor who was physician to the pharaohs. She hopes to take the mummy back to Paris, where an eminent scientist has discovered the secret of life. Adele wants to use the secret to bring the mummy back to life so that he can heal her twin sister, who has been paralysed in an accident for which Adele blames herself.

All this would be fine, except that reports are coming in that Paris is being terrorised by a strange bird like creature of prehistoric proportions. When Adele returns to the city she soon discovers that resurrected mummies and angry publishers are the least of her worries!

If ever a film lived up to it’s name it this wonderfully witty period fantasy by the French director Luc Besson (if you remember that he is the genius behind The Fifth Element you will get some idea of what you are in for). Translated literally the title means Adele ‘Dry White’, and like a good French white wine that’s what you have, something dry and sharp but with a pleasant aftertaste.

Imagine Indiana Jones, transported back thirty years, with the main action taking place in ‘gay’ Paris, a female Jones, and you have this enchanting film. The whole thing is simply gorgeous, running like one long, extravagant cartoon (which given that the story is based on the comic book heroine created by Jacques Tardi, is hardly surprising). From the palette of muted browns and dusty oranges which colour Egypt and the rich gem like hues of Edwardian Paris, to the cavalcade of grotesque characters that people the plot, this is a two hour feast for the senses, both visually and mentally.

Though, by the very nature of the plot, there are monsters (human, both alive and dead, and animal), none of them would be likely to give you sleepless nights. There is really very little that would scare anyone – even the pterodactyl is a sweetie once Adele harnesses him up with her feather boa. If i was nitpicking, it is the pterodactyl however which causes the only real problem in the film. It is the melding of real life, animatronics and animation involving this creature, which at one point doesn’t quite gel. However this small fault is excusable when you consider how seamlessly the rest of film comes together. Rest assured after watching this you really will believe in prehistoric creatures. There is also one incident towards the end during which those of a squeamish disposition should look away, but as this is intrinsic to the understanding of the plot, we will allow it. Neither should the thought of marauding mummies put you off. Forget all those brainless, bandage wrapped corpses that have gone before, from Karloff and Lee, to the more recent ones that Brendan Fraser had to deal with. These guys are in a class of their own, and the pharaoh himself gets one of the film’s best lines, when he suggests a use for the large empty courtyard in front of one of Paris’s museums – clearly as architects and innovators the Egyptians were away ahead of their time.

Basically though, to scare, is really not the reason for this film. It is, like so many French films of the fantastic (who can forget classics like Amelie and Belleville Rendez-Vous?), simply there to enjoy. Indeed I found the whole thing utterly charming, in a way that modern Hollywood, with their high octane superhero extravaganzas, or shipwrecked star vehicles, couldn’t hope to emulate. Oh that they would take a look at European cinema (from Britain and the continent) – they might actually learn something. Namely that if the story is strong, and the acting good, the rest follows naturally. There again style, in whatever art form, has always been effortless for the French.

Expected rating: 7 out of 10

Actual rating:

Renai and Josh Lambert (Rose Byrne and Patrick Wilson), move into a new house with their three kids. For a while everything seems perfect, until one of their sons, Dalton (Ty Simpkins), has an accident whilst exploring the attic. As a result the child falls into a coma, and the couple, particularly Renai, find it increasingly difficult to to deal with the pressures of their new home, young family, and a son who is now in a virtual vegetative state, permanently confined to his bed.

 

Things however are about to take a turn for the worse. Renai begins to see and hear things, when she is alone in the house, and as the strange happenings increase she becomes convinced that the house is haunted. Eventually, though still not sure that the problems are supernatural, Josh agrees to move into a rented house, in the hope that a change of environment will help his wife. However, after only a few days in their new house the supernatural occurrences begin again, with even more unsettling manifestations. At the recommendation of Josh’s mother Lorraine (Barbara Hershey), they call in a group of psychic investigators, who have some disturbing news. It’s not their houses which are haunted, but their son Dalton, who is acting as a gateway for a particularly unpleasant demon to enter our world, which he intends to do at all costs.

 

I believe as a critic you should as far as possible do just that, criticise. No film is flawless, and there will always be something to find that lets it down (and believe me, with some modern films that isn’t difficult to do). As a result, I looked desperately for a fault in Insidious. But to no avail. It is quite simply one of the most nerve shredding, edge of your seat, shockers I have seen for… well, ever!

 

There are so many sharp, original and hauntingly beautiful things about this film, that I’m at a loss as to where to begin. I also don’t want to say too much, as to do so would be to spoil the sinister air which the film sets up so effectively. One thing I will highlight though is the clever method it uses to achieve the sense of menace that permeates the film. You never see the same ‘ghost’ twice (except at the end), which helps unnerve the viewer even more. You come to the point that you literally don’t know what to expect next.

 

Having said this, I will admit to a couple of small niggles (well it is as I said my job, as a critic, to find some fault, somewhere). Firstly, from the outset, the character of Renai is irritating. She appears to be rather highly strung, a trait which makes it hard for you as the viewer, to have sympathy for her plight as the story progresses. You almost feel it would be a relief to be spirited away, if just to get a break from her. However I guess being left at home with a screaming baby and a new house, whilst trying to concentrate on your day job as a composer and song writer, would be enough to test the patience of a saint.

 

Then there is the fact that the film as a whole doesn’t quite manage to sustain until the end, the promise of its first two thirds. The problem is that it falls into the trap that so many promising horror movies do, by showing too much. It is much more effective at the beginning, when all you see are fleeting shadows, or the suspicion of something just out of view. One of the most unsettling scenes involves a record player that starts to play an old period song, when Renai knows the house is empty. There’s always a sinister air about empty, sunlit rooms, and old gramophone records, which even the most terrifying monster can’t achieve, and the demon which Josh and Dalton eventually confront doesn’t quite hack it, being reminiscent of the winged protagonist from Jeepers Creepers. The film also loses some of the wonderful tension it has built, when the characters cross to the other world. Poltergeist did a similar parallel dimension thing, but much more effectively because it didn’t show as much, leaving it up to the viewer’s imagination. Finally the twist at the end is a little limp, as I saw it coming a mile off. And believe me, if I can see a twist coming, then it must be weak.

 

If I’m honest though, I’m just fishing for failure. There is really nothing bad to say about this film. I loved every minute of it, and am green with envy that I can’t enjoy it again for the first time.

Expected Rating 7

 

Actual Rating