Reviews

Guillaume Canet writes, directs and appears in 'Tell No One' from Harlan Coben's novel, a dizzyingly complex thriller that will keep you guessing right to the end. There is a big cast of characters to keep track of, to the point that confusion will definitely creep in if you are not concentrating, but Canet's excellent film deserves your full attention. François Cluzet is highly watchable as the pawn at the centre of the mind-boggling machinations that spiral around him (French crime drama pun intended), and there is an excellent array of Gallic thesps all in good form. Worthy of particular note are Marie-Josée Croze very engaging as Cluzet's screen wife; André Dussollier as his terminally grumpy father-in-law; Kristin Scott Thomas his sister; a beautifully laconic François Berléand as the dogged cop; and the wonderful Gilles Lellouche with a convincing gangster turn. The film's plot is every bit as labyrinthine as LA Confidential or The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - if crime thrillers are your bag, this is an excellent example.

Bradley Cooper's character does not evoke much sympathy in the first act, but that is probably the point, he's a rather tiresome nobody, suddenly transformed by the wonder drug that he acquires from his brother-in-law (isn't it always the way). Neil Burger crafts a pacey, good looking film from Leslie Dixon's screenplay from Alan Glynn's novel "The Dark Fields" stimulating some interesting questions in the viewer, as the best films do. It's an interesting idea, played out with great style and high energy. Cooper's narration is well handled, managing not to annoy, allowing us to concentrate on the action. There are some dizzying visuals that are highly effective, adding to a feeling of freshness. The main characters are all engaging, with good support from Robert de Niro (not stretched), Abbie Cornish, Andrew Howard, and the very watchable Anna Friel. There are perhaps a couple of minor gripes - for one thing, there's a feeling of rampant wish fulfilment about some of the sequences which, even in a fantasy film, seems a bit of a stretch. Also, as any writer knows, blank page syndrome in the very literal way it appears here, is utter nonsense. If you are sitting in front of a blank page in the past clichéd way that Cooper's Eddie Morra does here, you are not a writer, but again, maybe that was the point. This film is well worth seeing, meanwhile, I'm off to the pharmacy.

Jon Favreau's film Chef is a simple joy - confirming that less is usually more effective and that it is okay to make a film that leaves the audience smiling, laughing and tapping its feet. However, arguably, Chef is deeper than first glance suggests. It touches on very modern themes of the power of social media (constructive and destructive) and the impact that glib online criticism (positive and negative) can have on real lives, and it's to Favreau's great credit that he does not gloss over these things. The film's use of Tw***er is ingenious and effective, if somewhat similar to at least one previous treatment of texting (the BBC's extraordinary Sherlock), but it is not a throw-away gimmick, rather an important part of the story, showing that - like a loaded gun - social media's power derives from the will of the user.

Chef has a highly likable cast in great form. Dustin Hoffman, Scarlett Johansson and Fav's Iron Man mucker Robert Downey Jr. provide very effective cameos. RDJ is his quirky self, and Johansson is at her most charming, while Hoffman's superbly forceful turn ensures that it's not all sweetness and light, as do chef's scenes with Oliver Platt's restaurant critic. Sofia Vergara, Bobby Cannavale and the excellent John Leguizamo provide enthusiastic and likable support, but it is Favreau and Emjay Anthony's delightful central relationship that is the beating heart of the film, their scenes are so wonderfully natural that you can only root for them both.

The film features something of a flying foodie travelogue through the southern states, but it is much more than that. Favreau's direction feels light and empathetic, a man confident in knowing exactly what he wanted, and Chef is clearly a film made with great care and affection. The soundtrack is superb, infusing the film with a rhythm that makes it difficult not to be swept along, but why would anyone not want to be carried away by Favreau's wonderful film, which tells us it is okay to take pleasure in what we do, feel the rhythm and love life.

Skyline is an exciting alien invasion piece, clearly made on a (relative) shoestring by Colin and Greg (The Brothers Strause), whose SFX credits are longer than your arm. It's an obviously CGI-heavy affair, but 'things' are kept at a distance, at least to begin with, which emphasises the claustrophobic nature of the situation, and the Bros. have done a good job in creating tension in the characters (and the audience) by their not understanding what is going on. The lack of A-list talent minimises distraction from the action, and keeping survival as the main objective again helps to keep things plausible. Oscar was predictably untroubled by Skyline, but there are no raspberries here either. Not in the league of Gareth Edwards' excellent 'Monsters', but the two make interesting companion pieces, they could almost be the same movie in alternate universes, showing what can happen depending what one spends one's shoestring on. (Edwards' budget for 'Monsters' was considerably less than the Strauses' at $800k vs $10M est.). It feels like most of The Strauses' budget went on CGI which, ultimately, does not better then film, whereas Edwards concentrates on his characters, recognising that it is through them that the audience relates to the situation and to the aliens. In the end Skyline is a better film than much of the criticism suggests, but while it is exciting and tense, Edward's film goes so much further, marking him out as the transcendent effects man to watch.

In The Woodsman, Kevin Bacon gives the most powerful performance of his career in a challenging film about paedophilia, or rather its aftermath. Difficult subject matter for anyone to watch, The Woodsman seems to offer an explanation of this particular case, which feels implausibly straight-forward. Still, the exploration of the subject is highly thought provoking. Bacon stars with his off-screen wife Kyra Sedgewick, whose own performance is adept and nuanced, although sometimes her character feels too tailored to fit Walter, suggesting one has to be damaged to feel anything for someone who is damaged. Mos Def also gives a good supporting performance as the police officer tracking Walter's movements. There is a scene near the end which is the most tense that I can remember watching in recent years, all the more so because the story had generated some sympathy for Bacon's character by that point. Ultimately, The Woodsman's conclusion is too convenient and comfortable, and yet it is the only aspect that lets the film down. Worth viewing if only as reminder that Kevin Bacon is an excellent actor, and that there are many films out there that you have never seen, but probably should and will be well rewarded for seeking out - The Woodsman should be at the top of that list.

The Recruit is a perfectly adequate thriller, lifted from 'just okay' to 'average' by Mr. Pacino's presence. The material is far from challenging however and Roger Donaldson, who we know can deliver a good film (his purple patch surely must be Species (1995); Dante's Peak (1997) and Thirteen Days (2000) - all good stuff), does not have much to work with here. Farrell's status as a computer genius is completely unconvincing, but then anyone who has even a basic understanding of how systems work must find films involving password hacking and creeping download bars annoyingly inaccurate and trite. The outcome is unsurprising, but on the up-side everyone's mortgage is paid for another year.

The Prestige is another masterful directorial outing for Christopher Nolan who has not put a foot wrong yet. The film is sandwiched between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, and serves to once again highlight the wonderful diversity of his work. That he was overlooked for a directorial Oscar nomination for 'Inception' is to the eternal shame of the Academy. The rivalry between Jackman and Bale's characters is loaded with intrigue at every mesmerising twist and turn, and they are supported by a superb cast of characters each presented with an engaging part that the audience cannot fail to invest in. But it is the story that is the true star, brought to life by Nolan, but beautifully imagined by author Christopher Priest. The tricks are all explained but will enthral you nonetheless, as will this excellent film.

Superb 2010 feature debut from writer/director/DP/production designer/vfx Gareth Edwards, this is the kind of work that should give us all reassurance that there are some safe hands on the rise that can offer alternatives/antidote to the output of mainstream Hollywood that bring genuine invention and will provide some new vocabulary for the language of modern cinema. Edwards beautifully captures the sombre and confused mood of a fictional near-future where aliens have arrived on Earth. The journey of his characters across this disorienting landscape is totally compelling due to Edwards' deft touch with situations and dialogue, and the engagingly believable performances from his leads McNairy and Able. In these aspects 'Monsters' is in stark contrast to something like the effects-heavy 'Skyline' (a contemporary piece). Edward's meagre budget and (necessarily) inventive film-making methods, and the wonderful outcome of his process, should be a(nother) lesson to big-bankroll directors and studios that truly substantive creation does not need a mega-budget to demonstrate its value. (See also Shane Carruth's wonderful 'Primer'). 'Monsters' is superb film-making that you really should see if you have any interest in the future of cinema.

Sometimes, after you've transcended the reality of physical existence; experienced two-faced deception from a companion and witnessed a 500 foot monster lay waste to the western seaboard, you're ready to sit down in front of a balls-out comedy and laugh your a** off. Enter 22 Jump Street, the latest somewhat manic creation directed by the somewhat manic Phil Lord and Chris Miller of 21 J.St., Meatballs and Lego fame. There's no rocket science going on here, but the chemistry between Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum carries the film, delivering belly laughs aplenty. The screenplay by Michael Bacal (Scott Pilgrim, Project X, 21 J.St.), Rodney Rothman (Grudge Match) and Oren Uziel is chock full of side references, adopting a heavily meta approach that is not new, but has never been so blatant or effective (staying through the end credits is essential). The script on its own could not carry this, and the 'waffer-thin' plot verges on insulting, but that is not the point of course, it's all about the gags and Hill & Tatum deliver these with gusto as their relationship is put under the spotlight to hilarious effect. Lord & Miller deliver a pacey, punchy film that is just plain funnier than any other comedy this year. It's perhaps a tad baggy in places and suffers slightly from a couple of gags stretching beyond the punch line (you know, that awkward moment of standing looking at each other for an instant), but this never detracts from the whole, which sweeps logic and structure aside in a glorious typhoon of uproarious laughter. Don't analyse this film, just let yourself go.

As there is nothing new in Blue Ruin (underdog, violence, revenge, crossbows), it would need to be very good to deserve your attention, and it is. Writer/director Jeremy Saulnier's second feature film is packed with raw tension, inventive quirks and fresh perspectives on its central tropes, also benefiting from Saulnier's evident appreciation of less-is-more in the film's compact 90 minute running time, which generates a lively pace. Macon Blair is another name to watch for in the future. His central turn as Dwight is highly effective, conveying a powerful determination in refusing to accept his own vulnerability and ineffectuality as barriers to reaching his goal. The performances around Blair are good, the off-mainstream cast contributing significantly through Saulnier's direction to the impact of the film, but it's Blair's performance and Saulnier's creative flair that deserve the highest praise. Go and find this film now, because we will all be talking about Saulnier in five years' time.

With his first Monsters, Gareth Edwards proved that he is a capable and inventive film-maker, and it was very pleasing to see Hollywood recognise this so quickly and give him a shot at a major motion picture so early in his career. Edwards has rewarded that confidence by bringing all the skills apparent in his guerrilla debut to a very large property indeed, and making a highly accomplished and enjoyable film. Godzilla has, of course, seen numerous interpretations over the years, but Edwards' take is still fresh. He recognises that the human aspect is how the audience relates to the film and its hero, and there is no better actor working today at carrying the audience's empathy than Bryan Cranston, whose presence and performance ensures that the viewer is on board. The relationship conveyed by Cranston and Juliett Binoche in a few short minutes of screen time is immediately convincing and provides an emotional platform for the film. It's a pity that Aaron Taylor-Johnson does not seem capable of taking this emotion forward, and his stock action protagonist and relationship with his doctor wife Elizabeth Olsen is the most disappointing aspect of the film. Thankfully, we need not dwell on this, as the main event is Edwards' highly effective handling of the monsters. Their design is excellent, clearly the subject of careful consideration, but Edward's peerless talent is in his recognition that these creatures are governed by the same biological imperatives as humans - eat, reproduce and compete. The Mutos' laying waste to human cities is just a by-product of this,. It is the key to the film's success, and the reason Godzilla deserves to be seen, as much for the monstrous performances as the human ones.

Despite writer/director John Michael McDonagh's film being centred firmly on the relationship between Brendon Gleeson's troubled priest and his belligerent flock, you needn't worry about being force-fed a pious stream of catholic dogma. McDonagh ably carries off the heavy allegory, despite peopling his film with caricatures, because they are so wonderfully spiteful, their dialogue so charmingly vitriolic, that it's impossible not to be swept along. McDonagh's second directorial feature after The Guard is just as assured, and there are diverting performances by Chris O'Dowd and a pathologically cynical Aidan Gillen among others, it is Gleeson's Father Lavelle who remains the centre of the film. His relationship with his daughter (played by Kelly Reilly), his attitude to his congregation and his predicament remain all present challenges to him, and yet he persists in trying to reconcile these while battling the prejudices of almost everyone around him. Wherever you stand on the outcome, you'll find it hard not to be affected and there's a good chance you will still be considering this thought provoking film when McDonagh's next effort comes out.

Film critics should no longer be talking about unfilmable books, but if any still are, they will consign that tired old epithet to the dustbin after seeing Jonathan Glazer's film Under the Skin. His visualisation of Michel Faber's book of the same name is startlingly bold, both visually and in its vision, it is dazzlingly inventive, challenging and visceral, in other words, everything you would want from a good book. Scarlett Johansson's performance is extraordinary, accomplished and brave, and must have increased her stock no end as an actor capable of so much more than she has been given credit for, certainly by cinema-goers. It is a tribute to Glazer that the BBFC passed Under the Skin as a '15' uncut. There are numerous difficult scenes, several involving nudity, sex and sexual assault - not to mention even more harrowing moments - but never is there even a hint of sensationalism, everything serves the context and the central narrative. Under the Skin is an enthralling piece of cinema, surely the best yet of Glazer's short feature filmography. Not an easy watch, but rewarding and inspirational (if not uplifting) for those willing to push the envelope of their cinema experience. Outstanding.

A classic reminder of the evolution of modern cinema, it's easy to forgive the hokey moments of martial arts director Robert Clouse's film and lap up its honesty and heartfelt enthusiasm. Bruce Lee's 'Lee' is easy to root for, even if the impossible odds don't seem especially insurmountable, while John Saxon and Shih Kien as the suitably dastardly Han contribute nicely to the sum of the parts. The female roles leave a lot to be desired, and give an apt reminder of how far things have come, but still have to go. Viewing the film's exploitation of violence now, it's impossible to avoid thinking of Tarantino (which no doubt would please him), and it's easy to see why the raw violence presented led to the film's original 'X' rating in the UK, even after cuts. The context today is obviously very different from 1973, and the genie of movie violence was well and truly out of the bottle some time ago, due to films like Enter the Dragon, but hopefully the film also can be seen now as having achieved part of Bruce Lee's aim of revealing aspects of the beauty of Chinese culture, even if only in a small way.

The Congress, Ari Folman's film based on the novel by Stanislaw Lem (The Futurological Congress) - follows five years after Folman's equally inventive and thought provoking Waltz with Bashir. Like Waltz... The Congress also combines animation with live action footage to great dramatic effect, propelling the viewer into an increasingly psychedelic other-world that presents huge challenges to Robin Wright's state of mind. She is playing an alternate univers-ion of herself, and is surrounded by a very fine cast including Harvey Keitel; Paul Giamatti; Jon Hamm; and Danny Huston (a stand out) who are joined by Kodi Smit-McPhee (still to cast off the ineffectuality of Let Me In) and Sami Gayle. The Congress is a bold attempt to visualise what clearly must be a challenging novel. There is a lot to admire in the attempt, including some good performances, grand animation and an effective score, again by contemporary composer Max Richter. It's a pity that The Congress did not find a bigger audience, since Folman is a very interesting filmmaker, clearly not afraid to take on what must be difficult projects. His next film should be eagerly awaited.

Actually, LFO is an acronym for Low Frequency Oscillation, but it is also the delightfully Heath-Robinson story of the excellent Patrik Karlson's troubled acoustician and his increasingly obsessive behaviour. Writer/ director Antonio Tublén (who also wrote the electronic score) has fashioned a fine morality tale that (as good writing dictates) is plausible after the initial conceit is accepted. The film's tone is cold, it is almost emotionless and often claustrophobic, but this only multiplies its effectiveness in provoking the viewer's contemplation of increasingly challenging events. Karlson is ably supported by forthright performances from Izabella Jo Tschig and Per Löfberg as his neighbours, and Ahnna Rasch as his wife. In a landscape of modern cinema in danger of becoming dominated by endless high-rise multiplex pap, it's refreshing to discover such oases of intelligent and thoughtful film-making as LFO, and you owe it to yourself to see this film, if only to recharge the batteries of your Bay-sh-t detector.

As the Marvel superhero with the richest history, and linch-pin of The Avengers, Captain America was perhaps the most eagerly-awaited of the comic book behemoth's properties to come to the big screen. The First Avenger resoundingly delivered on Cap's pathos, even pulling off the re-branding Chris Evans from hothead Johnny Storm to the steel-nerved Steve Rogers, chief among an across-the-board casting masterclass, from the spunky Hayley Atwell, thru square-jawed Sebastian Stan; gravel-toned Tommy Lee Jones; specky Toby Jones; via fatherly Stanley Tucci; and dashing Dominic Cooper to Hugo Weaving's devilishly evil Red Skull. Joe Johnston's film nicely evoked a never-say-die attitude and drab wartime aesthetic to the benefit of it's jarring final scenes. So how to follow TFA's success? The challenge was to now deal with a contemporary Cap, and directors The Russos (from the screenplay by Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely - who also penned The First Avenger) manage that with aplomb, not laying on the 'this is weird' shtick too thickly, while still reminding us where Cap has come from. But easily the smartest thing that they did was side-stepping the heroic trappings and big CGI (at least until the second half) to adopt the trappings of the political thriller, to great success. Why make a superhero movie at all? Why indeed, and to this end the presence of Robert Redford is a masterstroke. Scarlett Johansson is also on great form and sparks nicely with Chris Evan's Cap, while Sam Jackson's Nick Fury gets more to do in any Marvel appearance so far as the web of lies plays out. We can only hope that Avengers 2 and Cap 3 can bring such a fresh approach.

In the increasingly regimented parlance of modern film criticism, Bad Neighbours might be described as a post-gross-out, frat house shock comedy. Lowering your expectations to accept casual bawdiness and a careless disregard for the consequences of ones actions will certainly help you enjoy this film. There are plenty of laughs to be had, but most of them are guilty ones. While great comedy is about subtlety, timing and emotional response, Bad Neighhbours is not, relying instead on the current penchant for shock, awe and improv. The film's problems are clear to see. Seth Rogen and Rose Byrne's new parents are not as sympathetic as they could be, and the conflict seems to go from an amiable 2 or 3 to all out war 11 very quickly. This is probably just about dealable with, but seeing the joins in the improv sail past as some gags outstay their welcome is unnecessary. Zac Efron probably emerges with the most credit, eschewing his heart-throb image to get his hands (and mouth) dirty as the frat king, ably supported by Dave Franco, and there are some other familiar faces to spot, including an underused Lisa Kudrow and Christopher Mintz-Plasse, who also has little to do. That Bad Neighbours does not pull its punches is a good thing, and there is sufficient to like and to laugh at (guiltily or otherwise) that shortcomings can be forgiven, especially after a glass of wine (or a keg). Watch out for a blink-and-miss-it cameo from Andy Samberg of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and SNL fame, although fans of Officer Peralta might be left wishing for more of the excellent cop comedy instead of the Bad Neighbours' schlock.

Shooter comes over as a slick, exciting action movie, Mark Wahlberg gives a strong if largely emotionless performance and Danny Glover is suitably menacing, with Elias Coteas playing his trademark man-on-the-edge-of-sanity. Ned Beatty is deliciously evil as the morally bankrupt man in high place and Michael Pena steals numerous scenes as the unassuming but determined FBI agent. The female roles are, as with so many action films, cardboard cut-outs. The problems start when you break the film down and realise that the message is that shooting people solves the problem, which is, of course, a contemptible message to be peddling. It's too late to rescue America's soul, but the rest of us are hopefully not beyond saving - however movies like this do not help.

To me there are two types of film, those that tell a story and those in which things happen because the plot says so. The Tourist is definitely the latter, attempting intrigue and sophistication, but ending up with ham all over its fist and egg all over its face. Depp and Jolie are their beautiful selves, Johnny far too urbane to be a maths teacher from Hicksville. Thank goodness for the locations and the time that Paul Bethany spends on screen, although there is nothing here to stretch his acting chops. It's half decent entertainment if you don't examine the plot too closely, but in the end The Tourist only serves as a reminder that there are any number of films that do this stuff far, far better – see Frantic, Charade, Bourne 1, Ronin, Hopscotch, etc., etc., etc.

Whiteout is a perfectly adequate diversion for a couple of hours. The terrain is magnificent and the setting of the base convincing and atmospheric. There are some decent performances, but the characters are somewhat off-the-shelf and, ultimately, the film is let down by its story, which is underwhelming, the motivations of those involved seeming unimportant to the point that you might wonder why they bothered. Kate Beckinsale is as watchable as ever, and there is a genuinely moving scene between her and the underrated Tom Skerrit in which it is easy to become emotionally involved. Beckinsale's back-story is also a convincing attempt to explain why someone might take a long posting in the Antarctic. If you want snowbound action with real scares however you are better with John Carpenter's 'The Thing' - or if it's intrigue in a winter landscape that draws you, the excellent 'Bear Island' from a novel by Alistair MacLean is well worth seeking out.

Disney films have a tendency to be laden with schmaltz but Remember the Titans is not overly hampered by that sickly sweetness. There are genuinely uncomfortable scenes in the first half - with pithy dialogue and plenty of confrontation. The lines and sentiments are very clearly drawn. An inspirational performance from the masterful Denzel Washington holds together what is a moving portrayal inspired by real events. Grid-iron fans should find the football scenes, where many such movies fail, reasonably convincing, and the second central relationship between Julius (Wood Harris) and Gerry (Ryan Hurst) is well handled and sensitively portrayed, every bit as convincing as the rivalry between Washington and Will Patton's characters. The second half does become a bit worthy, and sometimes clichéd, treading the same ground as the majority sports movies that have gone before, but Remember the Titans has an advantage over these in that it confronts much bigger issues. Well worth a look.

The opening credits of Sky Captain and The World of Tomorrow promise exactly what the film delivers, a ripping yarn in the mold of Flash Gordon and Buck Rodgers, with all the suspension of disbelief that those matinée serials required of the viewer. The PG rating is the tell-tale that you should not expect plotting of Nolanian complexity, this is a kids' film, and if you treat it like that, it's good fun. There is the odd gaping plot hole, but there are also some nice touches, like the appearance of Laurence Olivier and a certain recurring camera device for example, which help counteract the patchiness of the jeopardy. If you can accept occasional failings such as the yawning chasm in the lack of resolution of the research subject scene, this can be an enjoyable romp with a watchable cast.

Out of the trap, Death Proof is unmistakable QT dialogue all the way, zippier and hotter than a Zippo lighter. At the end of the day, the film seems to be about little other than fast cars, fast-mouthed women, and the demise of both. It's an assault on all the senses, the big five and also some of the others, like decency, taste, right/wrong. The use of texting is interesting as an incidental , possibly the most effective use in movies to date of one of the most prevalent forms of modern communication. In summary, there are some clever and innovative moments, however those with a weak constitution will probably feel as brutalised as some of the characters. Almost impossible to rate, but against QT's other work it has to be 'Disappointing'.

Perhaps the most stunning feature of How I Ended This Summer is its Arctic setting, the glorious wilderness presenting a grand, yet harsh spectacle every bit as sparse as the film's dialogue. It's a two-hander between Grigoriy Dobrygin's callow youth and the seasoned meteorologist played by Sergey Puskepalis. Writer/director Aleksey Popogrebskiy does an excellent job of conveying the pair's isolation and the monotony of their existence, and there is a convincing tension created by the gap in their ages and experience, although Dobrygin's young adult antics, which highlight the disparity, are a bit 'on-the-nose'. These strands form a solid tripod for the conflict that follows, however it's the catalyst for that conflict that introduces a wobble which, for some, might topple the whole construct, one decision that some viewers might struggle to reconcile with previous events or any kind of sensible human instinct. At this juncture it seems that nothing more complicated than a moral compass is needed to keep their mission on track, but its lack, along with the absence of an actual compass later on, causes no end of ructions. Despite common sense saying that their difficulties could have been avoided by a straightforward conversation, the end result is a convincing escalation and a compelling third act. If you can accept the single, arguably inexplicable (and certainly unexplained) failure to communicate, How I Ended This Summer is a highly satisfying watch and, either way, these three are ones to look out for in the future.