Reviews

An intriguing idea for a film whose claustrophobic set-up appealed, let alone the more obvious danger facing our protagonists.

Made by the people behind one of my 2015 Top 20 films, Landmine Goes Click.

What can go wrong? Actually not that much technically, but still a terrible waste of a good idea.

It manages to turn the premise of three people stuck in a sauna trying to avoid melting into an incredibly dull and uninvolving experience. There is little tension generated and it's hard to care about these people.

The short prelude promises something interesting that goes nowhere. The Wade red herring was a predictable but welcome distraction until it was resolved way too soon and with zero audience satisfaction. Seemed very much an afterthought.

Overall this is an OK time-waster. My enjoyment nosedived as time wore on, but it's not the worst way to spend 90 minutes.

A reasonably entertaining two hours (better if trimmed by 20/30 minutes) and lovely to look at, as you'd expect from the director.

But what was it trying to be? As Edith says when she's hawking around her novel, this isn't a ghost story but a story with ghosts in it. The ghosts mainly served only to provide clues and move the plot along. If the aim was to scare, Crimson Peak missed its target by a mile.

So that leaves us with the core story, which was probably old-hat when my granddad was still a kid.

This is a personal indicator but I'll tell you anyway. My wife isn't a big film fan, she just can't sit still for two hours. But she sometimes comes in when I'm watching something and after a few minutes she'll ask what it's called - a giveaway that she's gripped. Crimson Peak ticked all the boxes for her; ghosts, costumes, a big house in England. She gave it ten minutes and went back out without a word.

I did like Crimson Peak while I was watching it, and that's why I've given it a possibly generous 7/10. But, as soon as it ends, you can't help but feel guilty about enjoying what is an insubstantial piece of work.

A decent film in which mumblecore enlivens the tired camera footage genre.

You're never quite sure where this film is going, which propels it along its short running time.

It was very low-key, and the better for it. I've seen reviews that refer to cheap jump scares. That wasn't the film I saw. In fact it seemed to delight in not putting in sudden shocks when you were waiting for them. There was a gratuitous one towards the end, but the makers were entitled to that one after their earlier self control.

If you're still with me, now the reason for the spoiler alert. Despite the attempt at ambiguity and mystery, it ends up going exactly where you thought it would go from about 3 minutes in.

I'm being slightly harsh on a film I enjoyed because the outcome didn't wow me. Worth watching though.

Michael Winterbottom has a track record of telling stories in a different and interesting way. He adapted, along with long-time collaborator Frank Cottrell Boyce, the apparently unreadable novel Tristram Shandy into the outstanding 'A Cock And Bull Story'. This was after his novel approach to telling the story of Manchester music guru Tony Wilson in '24 Hour Party People'.

So you know not to expect a straightforward telling of the Meredith Kercher tragedy, or a proposed solution to what actually happened. Instead Mr Winterbottom concentrates on a director's artistic dilemmas in trying to make a film about the story.

An admirable intention, but unfortunately this film is more interesting when it is just telling the basic story from the viewpoint of the media covering it. I had high hopes forty minutes in that I would be starting my list of 'great Michael Winterbottom films not starring Steve Coogan.'

But it starts to drag and becomes less focused. The Dante references were lost on me I'm afraid, and they seemed to become increasingly important.

I'm a shallow guy, and I sometimes measure how much I've enjoyed a film by when I first look at my watch. I didn't look at my watch during 'Face Of An Angel', but I guessed a running time of well over 120 minutes and was surprised it was only 100.

A decent film, but could have been more. I did like the end though, and the poignant significance it gave to the title.

RIP Meredith Kercher.

Paul Tanter hasn't got a great CV. In fact it reads like a list of crimes against British Cinema.

So it pains me to say that Shame The Devil isn't truly terrible. Its ideas aren't original, but to condemn it as Saw-lite is unfair. The influence of Saw and Seven is clear, not that there's anything wrong with that. I'd be surprised if anyone could point me towards an original serial killer movie made in the last 10 years.

There are many ridiculous moments. A favourite was when a character hands over a note he has received from the killer - 'I think he could be sending us a message.' Another was when the cop from London is in the presumably yet-to-have-internet-access city of New York, and he phones his partner in London to ask him to google something for him. Then there's the pointless Transatlantic commuting.

And the end. Because my fast forward doesn't work, I had to watch 40 minutes again to find out who the hell Victor was!

Yes, it wasn't original, I laughed in the wrong places and the end made me want to kick the cat. But it kept me watching, and I didn't look once to see how long was left. I'd have gone 5 if it hadn't been for the lazy way the mystery was wrapped up.

The first 60 minutes of The Double Hour were spellbinding. I knew next to nothing about the plot and so was gripped by the twists. It wrong-foots the viewer at every turn and compels you to continually revise your expectation of who's doing what to who, and why. You can't help but get involved with the character of Sonia, a magnetic performance from Kseniya Rappoport

Then, about an hour in, something happens that killed the film from then on for me. It slowly limped to its conclusion over the next half hour with little to match what had gone before.

And that's my main gripe. If this had been a mediocre film throughout I would not have bothered posting a review. I see enough of them that it's not worth 10 minutes of my time to comment on OK films.

The Double Hour sustained the promise of being great for a long time, and that wasted opportunity possibly unduly affected my overall view of the film. I suppose it sounds as though I'm saying I'd rather watch a completely average film than one that is two thirds great. Of course I wouldn't. But the plot device and the dull way in which The Double Hour plays out from then on makes it a frustrating experience.

I suppose I'm hypocritical in that I would happily watch a porn film, but unnecessary sex scenes and nudity in more mainstream movies annoy me.

The 'it was central to the plot' argument hardly ever holds up. But here it does. By recent standards, where it seems almost anything can be shown, the sex scenes in Complices are by no means explicit, but nonetheless the situations are still quite shocking.

Without those scenes though, there's no film. We needed to see what went on between Vincent, Rebecca and the others, unpleasant as it may have seemed to us.

My only gripe is that Rebecca's willingness to turn to the dark side seemed a bit sudden, although I understand her motivation.

A sad but gripping love story, wonderfully acted and cleverly told.

A slow paced film, a simple plot and an unsatisfying ending for what is ultimately a 'seen it all before' revenge story. The ingredients for a film tailor made for me to hate.

But somehow it worked. Yes, there's not much to it, more atmosphere than story, but it gripped me throughout.

An indication of how much I'm enjoying a film is the first time I check how long is left. I didn't do that at all during Les Salauds.

It's terribly dark and downbeat, and don't imagine things will turn out how you might expect or want them to. But if you're OK with that, and have some patience, this is worth seeking out.

Like most people, I loved Wolf Creek. It introduced us to Mick Taylor, a terrifyingly 'normal' villain that you could imagine coming across, if you were very unlucky.

I didn't see what a sequel could add, other than more of the same.

It lacks the slow build-up to the horrifying climax of Wolf Creek, choosing instead to jump into the gore early on. I suppose that Greg McLean couldn't really take a leisurely approach again, now we all know Mick is a psycho who kills tourists.

The violence is a bit OTT, and I'm afraid I laughed at the kangaroo scene. Mick has turned into a Freddie Krueger type, always with a quip about the carnage he has caused, and that's a great pity. It negates the quiet menace he generated in the first film.

That said, the film was a pleasant surprise. It looks great (although my baby grandson could probably point a camera at that remarkable landscape to the same effect). It was tense, the performances were good, and John Jarrett as Mick clearly had a ball with his role. I loved the final showdown, particularly the quiz. Although I don't think the end was consistent with Mick's previous behaviour.

No Wolf Creek 3 though please. Mick's character has nowhere to go other than becoming even more of a cartoon villain. We get it now, his motivation has been explained, and he's an unstoppable killer. I hope I'm not having to decide whether to watch Wolf Creek 6 on the Horror Channel in ten years time.