Review #876: 'The Imitation Game' (2014)

Benedict Cumberbatch seems to be making a career out of playing troubled and flawed geniuses, following his huge success as Sherlock Holmes in the TV series Sherlock and the upcoming - and hugely exciting - Dr. Strange in Marvel's upcoming film based on the sorcerer supreme. His finest work so far is in The Imitation Game as code-breaker Alan Turing, the unsung war hero who helped crack the apparently unbreakable Enigma machine used by the Germans during World War II, helping to save millions of lives in the process and shaving years off the war.

Turing was recognised as a prodigy from an extremely young age, and his cerebral superiority isolated him from others. He travels to Beltchley Park, where Commander Denniston (Charles Dance) interviews him as part of a recruitment process to form a cryptology team headed by chess champion Hugh Alexander (Matthew Goode), tasked to break the Enigma code. Turing gets the job through sheer intellectual brilliance, but not through his condescending personality, which instantly puts him at odds with the rigid and impatient Denniston. When he joins the team, which also consists of John Cairncross (Allen Leech) and Peter Hilton (Matthew Beard), he wastes no time in voicing his desire to work alone and dismisses the input of the others as simple time-wasting.

Director Morten Tyldum and writer Graham Moore have not created a work of any great intelligence or subtlety here, and The Imitation Game plays very much by the standard biopic rule book. No great care goes into helping us understand the inner workings of the Enigma itself, or the work done by Turing and his fellow code-breakers, and the film very much relies on great acting and a fast pace. The scenes with Turing, Alexander et al hard at work has them with sleeves rolled-up and chewing pencils whilst staring at boards. We don't quite know what they're doing, but we are certainly urging them to achieve their goal, and, of course, this being a film about Turing, there's only so much of his work that can be squeezed into two hours.

The Imitation Game also helps make the story relevant to the modern day. At the beginning of the film, set after the war, Turing is burgled and his flippant dismissal of the investigating Detective Nock (Rory Kinnear) puts him under suspicion. He is arrested for participating in lurid acts with a man, a crime punishable by up to two years in prison back then. It all ties in nicely with the recent official apology from Gordon Brown, then-prime minister in 2009, and his official pardon by the Queen in 2014. Flashbacks of Turing's early childhood at a boarding school and his relationship with close friend Christopher Morcom (Jack Bannon) are peppered throughout. They help gain an understanding of Turing's love of cryptology and his emerging sexuality, and these scenes are finely played by the young Alex Lawther and do in no way hinder the flow of the film.

But the film's trump card is undoubtedly Cumberbatch. Although his delivery at times can border on stage-y, he has a great weight to his voice. His face exudes such intelligence and charisma that you just want to pick it apart to see what's under there. Keira Knightley too, who I haven't even mentioned yet, is a surprise revelation as Joan Clarke, a fellow prodigy puzzle-solver who, being a woman, had to be hidden away as regulations didn't permit women positions of worthy status. She is fierce and full of life, the polar opposite to the withdrawn and work-focused Turing. Yet the two develop an intriguing and entirely convincing platonic love affair, leading to their short-lived engagement in 1941. It's covered with a thin layer of gloss and a longer running time with more careful story development would have been beneficial, but The Imitation Game is consistently thrilling and engaging, bolstered by a great ensemble.


Directed by: Morten Tyldum
Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Keira Knightley, Matthew Goode, Rory Kinnear, Allen Leech, Matthew Beard, Charles Dance, Mark Strong
Country: UK/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #875: 'Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2' (2013)

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs was a pleasant surprise back in 2009, with directors Chris Miller and Phil Lord - before they hit the big-time with 21 Jump Street (2012), it's sequel 22 Jump Street (2014) and The Lego Movie (2014) - taking a rather ridiculous premise based on a slim children's story and making it both hilarious and supremely inventive. It was a story that was wrapped up nicely as not to require a sequel, but with box-office success comes the inevitable follow-up. Miller and Lord lampooned the whole idea of sequels with 22 Jump Street, but decided against helming the next chapter in Flint Lockwood's eccentric world, which makes it all the more surprising that Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs 2 is even more delightful than the first.

With the town of Swallow Falls engulfed by giant food as a result of the events from the first film, Flint Lockwood (Bill Hader), his girlfriend Sam (Anna Faris), his father Tim (James Caan), and the rest of his fellow townsfolk are relocated to California by inventor and TV personality Chester V (Will Forte) while the place is cleaned up. Flint, Chester's biggest fan, is invited to work at Live Corp., where he will be allowed to work on his crazy inventions undisturbed in the hope of landing a permanent job. His 'celebrationator' creation falls flat, but Flint is still summoned by Chester to be informed that the search-parties back in Swallow Falls have gone missing, and the place is now overrun by giant cheeseburger spiders.

The cheespiders are just one of many delightful and bonkers 'foodimals' in the film, others of which include shrimpanzees, tacodiles and watermelophants. They're the type of physics-dodging nonsense a child would come up with while bashing plastic figures together, so no doubt children will love them. Adults too, will no doubt get a certain kick out of temporarily switching off the logical side of the brain and turning up the nostalgic side. It's also beautiful to look at, in a hyperactive, blink-or-you'll-miss-it sort of way, with the sheer volume of these bizarre creatures darting in and out of the picture providing a feast for the eyes, and the cheespiders proving to be somehow terrifying and cute at the same time.

Above all, it's laugh-out-loud funny and relentlessly chaotic, and there's probably a 'message' in there somewhere as well. Not that the film is too concerned with preaching morals and not that the audience will call for it; it's too busy being exhaustively entertaining for all that. The returning acting talent (although Terry Crews replaces Mr. T as super-ripped cop Earl Devereaux) is uniformly excellent, and newcomer Forte, along with some loopy character design, helps turn Chester V into a charismatic and ever-bending (literally) super-creep. Like a packet of sweets, it can be like a sugar overdose at times, but you'll most likely keep on eating and feel buzzed for a short time afterwards.


Directed by: Cody Cameron, Kris Pearn
Voices: Bill Hader, Anna Faris, James Caan, Will Forte, Andy Samberg, Benjamin Bratt, Neil Patrick Harris, Terry Crews, Kristen Schaal
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #874: 'Fear in the Night' (1972)

Peggy (Judy Geeson), a recently married young woman, plans to move with her new beau Robert (Ralph Bates) to a secluded boy's school near London where he is set to teach. The night before they travel, she is attacked from behind by a man with a prosthetic arm, who strangles her but leaves her alive. Awakening in a panic, the attack is put down to her recent mental health issues and they later arrive at the deserted school. There she meets the ghoulish headteacher Michael Carmichael (Peter Cushing), a one-armed man with a shadowy demeanour, and his bitch wife Molly (Joan Collins).

Directed and co-written by one of Hammer's driving forces, Jimmy Sangster, Fear in the Night sees Hammer at the very end of their life (before their recent resurgence), when they were struggling at the box-office and failing to bring in their young target audience. Interestingly, the film favours the slow-build, creeping atmosphere of their early thrillers, and not the blood and guts approach they adopted during their most prolific years. Sadly, Fear in the Night's ponderous narrative is not saved by it's more European approach, and the film is a pretty dull affair for the most part.

The notable lack of red-herrings means that it doesn't take long for the audience to figure it all out, and there's plenty of time to piece it together given the length of time dedicated to Peggy plodding around investigating her strange experiences. The performances are as solid as you would expect however, with Cushing managing to steal the film with a relatively small amount of screen time, and Geeson is perfectly charming as the unassuming lead, which makes it all the more tragic that the ensemble weren't handed more to run with. Notably lacking in the gothic atmosphere that audiences used to flock to experience, or any atmosphere at all really, this was one of Hammer's final whimpers before tragically folding.


Directed by: Jimmy Sangster
Starring: Judy Geeson, Ralph Bates, Peter Cushing, Joan Collins
Country: UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #873: 'Whiplash' (2014)

For a film primarily focused on the relationship between teacher and student at a prestigious music school, Whiplash actually feels like one of the best American thrillers in years. Yes, it is about one young man's struggle for absolute greatness in his field and poses questions about how hard one should push themselves to achieve artistic integrity, but it is the verbal sparring between lead Miles Teller and the scene-stealing J.K. Simmons, and the sight of Teller pounding his drums to dizzying effect while his palms gush with blood, that really causes the heart to race.

Andrew Neiman (Teller) is a first-year jazz drummer attending Shaffer Conservatory, playing as an alternative to core drummer Ryan Connolly (Austin Stowell). When his class is paid a visit by notorious conductor Terence Fletcher (Simmons), Andrew is given a brief moment to shine and is bumped up to Fletcher's class with immediate effect. He again plays as alternative, this time to core Carl Tanner (Nate Lang), and believes he's bound for greatness until he is asked to perform 'Whiplash', a particularly tricky - and extremely fast - jazz number. When Andrew struggles to keep to Fletcher's tempo, he has a chair hurled at him and is emasculated in front of the class. And so begins a tirade of mental abuse as Andrew strives for his master's acceptance.

J.K. Simmons quite rightly won the Best Supporting Actor at this year's Oscar's for his terrifying portrayal of a passionate yet sadistic man. His drive is his desire to a find a new Charlie 'Bird' Parker, who, as the legend tells it, had a drum symbol hurled at his head during a disastrous early career performance. Rather than being deterred, Bird practised his arse off and, of course, the rest is history. Fletcher beats down on his students, shattering them with verbal assaults as they try to prove themselves worthy. Only Fletcher doesn't seem to have a limit; they are not on his tempo, as he repeatedly tells them. He wears black t-shirts, has muscly arms, and a giant, zig-zagging vein pulses on his forehead. He is a formidable presence, highly charismatic and, in the end, almost sympathetic.

Teller is impressive too. A drummer in real life from a young age, he appears in every scene of the film, and pours his blood and sweat (literally) into the extremely physical musical performances. His showdowns with Fletcher provide the spine of the film, but the intimate moments with Andrew alone, pounding his drums as his face twists and turns, that provide the brain. Is the sacrifice truly worth it? We see Andrew push his body to dangerous limits, isolate himself from his family and his concerned father (played by Paul Reiser), and call for an early day on a brief relationship with a girl from his local cinema (Melissa Benoist). Just when the plot seems to be steering into conventional territory at the finale, director Damien Chazelle provides one of the most satisfying climaxes in recent memory. It's a dizzying orgy of cuts, close-up's and sheer style, which is as toe-tapping as it is awe-inspiring.


Directed by: Damien Chazelle
Starring: Miles Teller, J.K. Simmons, Paul Reiser, Melissa Benoist
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #872: 'Blood Rage' (1987)

Made in 1983 but not released until 1987 under the title of Nightmare at Shadow Woods, Blood Rage is one of many forgotten slashers given a limited cinema run, only to be cut of a lot of its gore and released in various butchered versions on home video. Also like a lot of slashers, Blood Rage is terribly acted, badly written and features a plodding narrative in which we get to witness lots of boobs and blood-spraying. It's also an evil twin movie, beginning with two young identical siblings, Todd and Terry, escaping their car at a drive-in while their mum gets it on with a man in the front seat. Terry inexplicably hacks a young, dry-humping couple to death, wipes the blood on Todd, and blames his shell-shocked brother for the crime.

Todd is locked away in a mental asylum, and years later, the grown up Terry (Mark Soper) is preparing for a Thanksgiving meal with his smothering mother Maddy (Louise Lasser), her new beau Brad (William Fuller) and his girlfriend Karen (Julie Gordon). They learn of Todd's escape and are soon joined by Dr. Berman (Marianne Kanter) and her assistant Jackie (Douglas Weiser) from the institute. Terry, seeing an opportunity to release his suppressed homicidal tendencies and frame Todd even more convincingly, embarks on a killing spree, stalking the estate and the surrounding wooded area with machete in hand, using his clean-cut mommy's-boy image to divert any attention from him.

There's a clear oedipal theme running throughout Blood Rage, similar to but not to the same extent as fellow obscure horror (and video nasty) Night Warning (1982), but this is not explored with any care or intelligence. Decent slasher movies are extremely difficult to come by, and this is no exception. The horror is particularly gory, and alarmingly frequent, especially in the early stages.  The make-up and effects (by Oscar winner Ed French) are also quite decent, but in between these moments are the same stretched-out chase scenes and clunky dialogue seen in a thousand films of its ilk. Soper is equally terrible as Todd as he is as Terry, but special mention must go to Lasser (who actually had a half-decent career), whose frankly bizarre performance is so awful that it may cause your ears to bleed. A true Thanksgiving turkey.


Directed by: John Grissmer
Starring: Mark Soper, Louise Lasser, Julie Gordon, Marianne Kanter
Country: USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #871: 'Westworld' (1973)

The late Michael Crichton was a busy man. As well as being a prolific novelist, he has worked in TV and film for three decades, and had more than a few of his books, to varying degrees of quality, adapted for the screen. Some have been enormously successful (Jurassic Park (1993) and its ongoing franchise), and some have been quite diabolical (I'm looking at you, Congo (1995), the film I was subjected to as a child while my older brother went into the next screen to watch Pulp Fiction). One of his most intriguing ideas was his first stint as a feature-film director, Westworld, the tale of a futuristic theme park turned bloodbath.

Company Delos have created a trio of parks based on celebrated historical periods, in which their customers are allowed to roam freely to indulge their darkest fantasies. Medieval World and Roman World are self-explanatory, as is West World, their most popular attraction. Park frequenter John Blane (James Brolin) treats his virgin friend Peter Martin (Richard Benjamin) to a fortnight of gun-slingin', whore-frequentin' and whisky-drinkin' in West World, where robots disguised uncannily as humans play out their roles as bandits, saloon owners, and various other Western stereotypes. Peter is at first reluctant to get into the spirit, until he is bad-mouthed by the mechanical 'Gunslinger' (Yul Brynner) and blows the dead-eyed cyborg away. His inner primate is awoken, until the robots start to malfunction and begin to hunt every human in the parks.

Although Westworld clearly wasn't written with any sense of grand satire in mind and the film, for the most part, is certainly entertaining, the gaping plot-holes leave much to be explained. The guns are designed not to work when pointed at humans, so they are told that anything goes. Fists-fights and bank robberies are frequent events, so what is to stop someone from being stabbed or bludgeoned to death without the ability to tell human from metal? The men tasked with repairing the damaged and glitch-y robots comment that as the machine were part-created by computers, nobody really understand how they work, and are left scratching their heads as the malfunction incidents rise and rise. It's convenient writing that almost borders on lazy, so it is pleasing that the plot moves at a brisk pace, becoming gradually creepier by the minute.

The film, ironically, truly comes alive when Brynner is on screen. The opening third focuses mainly on John, Peter and various other tourists frequenting the other parks as they arrive with bright eyes, introduce us to their holiday destinations, and set about seducing, fighting, or whatever debauchery they have planned. These scenes are most comical, so the tone shifts significantly when the Gunslinger starts shooting people dead for real. Brynner's stoic, emotion-free performance is chilling, and his climactic face-off with Peter is suitably nerve-jangling. Yet I feel an opportunity was missed somewhat, in favour of a more accessible, audience-friendly movie.. The story is full of possibilities and the ingredients were there to create a darker, weightier movie about a fantastical threat that we ponder more today than ever before, but I found it merely satisfying, greatly improved whenever Brynner shows his face.


Directed by: Michael Crichton
Starring: Yul Brynner, Richard Benjamin, James Brolin, Norman Bartold, Alan Oppenheimer
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #870: 'Taken 3' (2014)

Taken 3's poster contains what is one of the most reassuring taglines in cinema history - "It all ends here". After voicing doubts over the series' continuity in 2012 following Taken 2, Liam Neeson was convinced by producer Luc Besson and writer Robert Mark Kamen to return to the role of former covert operative Bryan Mills, the overbearing father with skills of a particular kind, once more. The film-makers seem to have learnt their lesson following the previous instalment - which did little more than repeat the events of the first film only with roles reversed - and have changed the formula. Yet, although nobody is 'taken' this time around and Mills faces his foes on home soil, due to sheer bad writing and poor direction, this is quite possibly the worst of the lot.

After discovering she is pregnant, Kim (Maggie Grace) is visited by her father Bryan, who brings an early birthday present. Knowing her father has a gift for overreacting and extreme dramatics, she decides to keep the news a secret. Later, Bryan receives a visit from his ex-wife Lenore (Famke Janssen), who confesses that her marriage to Stuart (Dougray Scott, replacing Xander Berkeley from the first film) is on the rocks, and that she occasionally fantasises about being with Bryan. They decide not to act upon their feelings until Lenore's marital situation is resolved. Bryan is later asked by Stuart to back off as he tries to save his marriage, to which Bryan awkwardly agrees. But after receiving a text from Lenore asking to meet up for bagels, Bryan returns home to (spoilers!) find his ex-wife murdered, and the police closing in around him.

Taking a leaf out of the Fast and the Furious franchise's book, Taken 3 emphasises the themes of the importance and the fragility of family, and even brings Bryan's ex-CIA friends, played by series regulars Leland Orser, David Warshofsky and Jon Gries, to the fore to give the film a heist-y feel. But this requires a subtler brand of film-making, something that Olivier Megaton, director of Transporter 3 (2008) and Colombiana (2011), does not possess the talent to pull off. Everything is played out with all the complexity and grace of a soap opera, as Bryan plods along in a plot that doesn't seem to know where it's going, while the inept police on his trail are routinely battered and out-manoeuvred and lead investigator Franck Dotzler (Forest Whitaker) watches in awe like a child seeing Father Christmas.

As the police never prove to be much of a threat at all, there's no real urgency or suspense to Bryan's innocent-man-on-the-run shtick, and no hint at any form of meaningful relationship forming between he and Dotzler. In fact, this may be the redundant role of Whitaker's career. The dodgy racial stereotypes are present again as ex-Spetsnaz agent Oleg Malankov (Sam Spruell) is thrown into the mix. We know he's Russian because he has ugly tattoo's, wears a gold chain around his neck with an open collar, and sits in hot tubs with each arm around a sexy lady. Megaton hasn't learnt his lesson from Taken 2, so the action scenes are again incoherent and blurred, inducing sea-sickness rather than thrills. There's very little to recommend about this movie at all, apart from perhaps (again) Neeson's performance. Hopefully Taken 3 has killed the franchise for good, and Neeson can move onto projects more befitting his own particular set of skills.


Directed by: Olivier Megaton
Starring: Liam Neeson, Forest Whitaker, Famke Janssen, Maggie Grace, Dougray Scott, Sam Spruell
Country: France

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #869: 'Taken 2' (2012)

Pierre Morel's Taken (2008), a tough, disturbingly xenophobic thriller in which Liam Neeson's grizzled former CIA operative Bryan Mills took down a gang of sleazy criminals in Paris, was hilariously bad. But, in its defence, it was at least hilarious, etching Mills and his 'particular set of skills' into action lore. Taken was a surprise box-office success, igniting the recent wave of codgers-dealing-out-some-old-school-brutality films which the likes of Denzel Washington, Kevin Costner and Sean Penn have embraced to varying success, and proving that audiences still have a thirst for that kind of thing.

So inevitably came the sequel, and the producers cannot be blamed for trying to squeeze their new franchise for every penny it's worth before the genre naturally reverts back to straight-to-DVD. What they, as well as the writers and director (franchise-newcomer Olivier Megaton - no, not the infamous Decepticon, though he may have done a better job), can be blamed for, is for putting the audience through the same exact experience again, only without the originality (I use that term loosely) or a coherent action scene. There's plenty of running, punching, kicking, shooting, stabbing etc., but Megaton is so busy waving his camera around and cutting every second that we are left relatively clueless about what is going on, or who anybody is.

Not that this matters - unless it's Mills, his ex-wife Lenore (Famke Janssen) or his daughter Kim (Maggie Grace) - then they're toast, especially if they have thick stubble and are wearing a leather jacket. A gang of Turkish mobsters led by Murad (go-to Eurosleaze Rade Serbedzija) vow vengeance for their brothers and sons who died at the hands of Mills during the events of the first film. After completing a routine security operation in Istanbul, Mills is joined by his ex-wife and daughter for some family time. Only, Mills and Lenore are 'taken', leaving Kim alone to locate her father so he can do what he does best and unleash his special skills on the scumbags.

Simply recycling what came before is unforgivable in itself, but going about it in such bland, formulaic and increasingly ridiculous ways make the experience even more torturous. The movie has one simple message - America good, the rest of the world bad. L.A. is shot in glorious sunshine amongst the safety of middle-to-upper class suburbia, while Istanbul consists of dingy alleyways and overweight men puffing cigarettes in cockroach-infested rooms. This casual xenophobia may have waved somewhat if the film delivered any thrills at all, but it doesn't, and fizzles out with a weak climax. Neeson somehow manages to come away from it all unscathed again (and with his wallet no doubt heavier), but his ability to make lines such as "when a dog has a bone, the last thing you want to do is try and take it from him," sound like Oscar-bait does not save Taken 2 from complete disaster.


Directed by: Olivier Megaton
Starring: Liam Neeson, Maggie Grace, Famke Janssen, Rade Serbedzija, Luke Grimes
Country: France

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #868: 'Gandhi' (1982)

The late Richard Attenborough acknowledges the troubles with the biography genre from the get-go with his finest film as director, Gandhi. "No man's life can be encompassed in one telling," the opening credits state, "what can be done is to be faithful in spirit to the record and try to find one's way to the heart of the man." Yet Gandhi manages to achieve more than most biography's by not only portraying the famous historical events that the man lived through, of which no doubt helped form his own ideals, but by showing us the real man behind the speeches and the fasting, who enjoyed spending time at peace with his loving wife or operating his spinning wheel.

Wisely avoiding Mahatma Gandhi's early life, we are first properly introduced to the man as he rides a first-class carriage in South Africa. He is thrown off for being a non-white, even though he possesses a first-class ticket and is a practising lawyer, and this event provokes him to form a non-violent civil rights movement. Through sheer will and stubbornness, the government eventually relents and passes laws benefiting the residing Indians, allowing Gandhi to return to India in the process. When he arrives in his native country as a hero, he witnesses the same prejudicial brutality at the hands of the occupying British Empire. Through more non-violent protests, Gandhi manages to unite millions against the British, causing a divide between the Hindus and Muslims in the process.

Gandhi was a labour of love for Attenborough, who fought for over a decade to get to the film made. Alec Guinness was rumoured to be set for the role of Gandhi when the movie was still in the hands of David Lean, and after seeing Ben Kingsley's portrayal of the great man, such an idea now seems utterly preposterous. Kinglsey's performance is without a doubt one of the finest embodiments of a public figure in history, not only settling for a good impression and an uncanny resemblance, but convincing to the point that you believe Gandhi himself is on screen. It's a quiet, dignified performance, often channelling Gandhi's gentle charisma, shrewd wit and fierce intelligence without saying anything at all.

For all it's technical impressiveness - the film is undeniably beautiful, shot with a grandiose David Lean-esque epic feel with extra's numbered in the thousands - it occasionally plods. Although the events in South Africa no doubt shaped Gandhi's attitudes and spirit, we spend far too much time there, and this doesn't allow the complex events in India to unravel with the time and care that they warrant. The aftermath of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, the growing political and social unease between the Hindus and Muslims, and the events that led to Gandhi's assassination are all rushed over the finish line. Without these flaws, Gandhi may have been a masterpiece. However it is still an enlightening experience, and the praise lavished upon Kingsley (as well as his Oscar) is wholly justified.


Directed by: Richard Attenborough
Starring: Ben Kingsley, Candice Bergen, Edward Fox, John Gielgud, Trevor Howard, John Mills, Martin Sheen, Ian Charleson
Country: UK/India

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #867: 'Avengers: Age of Ultron' (2015)

With the Marvel Cinematic Universe growing increasingly larger every year, returning director Joss Whedon was faced with an even more monumental task than he did in 2012 with The Avengers, the movie that finally brought together the superhero collection of huge personalities united by one goal, but each wanting to go about it in their own way. Each standalone film has developed key supporting players necessary to the character whose name is on the poster, and with The Avengers' climax allowing its Earthlings to gaze into a wormhole and last year's Guardians of the Galaxy unleashing aliens a-plenty, Marvel's world has truly become a universe.

The last time a director returned for a Marvel sequel, we ended up with Jon Favreau's Iron Man 2 (2010), a messy let-down of a film that lacked invention, to the point that it felt like the guy behind the camera had lost all interest by the end. In a way, Age of Ultron suffers from some of the same problems. Like all Marvel films, it pits it's leads against a 'new threat', climaxing with a battle in the air that features lots of punches, blasts and quips. But for all it's narrative familiarity, Whedon still finds new ways for his heroes to batter their opponents, keeping the jokes fresh and genuinely witty, and ensuring the ragtag, flawed bunch are always eager to be at each other throats (quite literally - I think every character is grabbed by the throat at some point).

Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) is still suffering from nightmares and flashbacks of his journey through the wormhole and seeing the threats lurking amongst the stars. He and the Avengers, now led by Captain America (Chris Evans), attack the Hydra outpost of Baron von Strucker (Thomas Kretschmann), the monocled Nazy glimpsed at the end of Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) in possession of Loki's scepter. Von Strucker's defences are useless when faced by the Avengers, but that is until he unleashes the twins Pietro (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and Wanda Maximoff (Elizabeth Olsen); the former possessing super-speed, and the latter able to enter people's mind and unleashing their darkest fear. When Wanda screws with Stark, he sees his friends dead, powerless to stop it. She is like the ultimate bum acid trip.

After retrieving the scepter, Stark and Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo) discover an artificial intelligence hidden inside, and use it to kick-start the Ultron program, an independent-thinking army of robots designed to protect Earth from any threats, allowing the Avengers to retire in the process. But Ultron (wonderfully voiced by James Spader), having consumed huge amounts of data through the internet within seconds of being activate, concludes that the only way to save the planet is to eliminate the one's responsible for slowly destroying it - humanity. Upon discovering what Stark has created, Captain America and Thor (Chris Hemsworth) are furious. And so are the public, who are terrified with the amount of carnage taking place around them as Ultron journeys to Africa in search of vibranium, the near-invincible metal that will allow him to create the ultimate body.

On top of the character's already mentioned, the Avengers also consist of Scarlett Johansson and Jeremy Renner. Add to the mix the returning Don Cheadle, Anthony Mackie, Samuel L. Jackson, Cobie Smulders, Hayley Atwell, Stellan Skarsgard, Idris Elba and Paul Bettany - who appears in the flesh for the first time as the Vision - as well as newcomers Linda Cardellini and Andy Serkis, and you have one hell of a hefty line-up. Whedon has juggled large ensemble's before with the tragically cancelled Firefly and it's follow-up movie Serenity (2005), as well as the first Avengers, but he has a noticeably weaker grip on his cast this time around. It jumps from one action scene to another, slightly smothering the quieter scenes in between, failing to allow them to breathe and flow.

The one exception involves a welcome retreat for the Avengers, who choose to lay-low at Hawkeye's (Renner) humble abode after causing more chaos with Ultron. Clearly feeling guilty at the shoddy deal Hawkeye got last time around, who spent most of the movie controlled by Loki, Whedon has finally made him interesting. He acknowledges his inferiority when compared an unstoppable green monster and the God of Thunder, and even comments on the lunacy of fighting off an army of killer robots with a bow and arrow. His warm relationship with his wife (Cardellini) and his children, as well as his various personal face-off's with Pietro, provide a human connection in the midst of a 90 year-old super soldier and a millionaire playboy genius.

With Marvel's Phase Three almost upon us (once Ant-Man is finally released later this year), Age of Ultron was always in danger of being little more than a stepping-stone to what's to come. Yet although it certainly hints at upcoming characters (the fictional country of Wakanda, home of the Black Panther, is mentioned) and future events (Thor is troubled by his Wanda-induced apocalyptic visions, which are to take place in Thor: Ragnarok (due 2017)), it also moves the story forward and evolves its characters. Marvel certainly needs to change its formula though (the paranoid thriller twist on The Winter Soldier was a stroke of genius); the smash-heavy climaxes have become tired. Ultron is also not really the threat he was set-up to be, but he's utterly electric when on screen, Spader providing a biting wit to his growls. It is far for perfect, and inferior to its predecessor, but riotously entertaining throughout.


Directed by: Joss Whedon
Starring: Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, Mark Ruffalo, Chris Hemsworth, Scarlett Johansson, Jeremy Renner, James Spader, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Elizabeth Olsen, Paul Bettany
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #866: 'Pit Stop' (1969)

Following work on a couple of Francis Ford Coppola films, directing a couple of cheapie's for Roger Corman, and the delayed but supremely stylish Spider Baby (made in 1964 but unreleased until 1968), man-of-many-talents Jack Hill turned his attention to figure eight racing for Pit Stop, aka The Winner. The subject repulsed the director, but Corman insisted and, during his research, Hill became fascinated by the attitudes of the death-wish men behind the wheels. So, although the topic is pure exploitation, Pit Stop is character-driven, following the exploits of the stoic Rick Bowman (a brooding Richard Davalos) and his increasing obsession with the thrill of the win and the dance with death in every race. As racing promoter Grant Willard (Brian Donlevy) says, a suicide is born every minute.

Shot in grainy black-and-white, Hill employs European, guerilla-esque tactics to film the movie as effectively as possible, squeezing as much out of its obvious budget limitations as possible. It helps achieve a neo-noir atmosphere, heightening the gloom yet amping up the style. Modern racing films tend to be sleek and shiny, but Pit Stop is pure grit. The racing scenes, which consist mostly of footage of real figure eight racing, are insanely entertaining, with every crash, flip and slide unhindered by editing, special effects or stunt work. It puts movies like The Fast and The Furious (2001) to shame, as although said franchise is entertaining in its own right, as a movie depicting the sheer thrill of the race, Pit Stop puts it to shame.

The performances are effective too. Davalos proves to be a charismatic "I play by my own rules"-type, hesitant at first, but eventually unable to resist the lure of the competition. Donlevy, Hammer's Quatermass, delivers reliable support, but the screen is inevitably chewed up and spat out by Hill regular Sid Haig as outlandish racing champion Hawk, putting his usual obnoxious redneck shtick to effective use. This being a Corman production, it often resigns itself to underdog genre tropes, but Hill's direction and screenplay means that there is always something more existential and cynical lurking beneath the surface. It may be one of Hill's lesser known works when compared to his exploitation classics Coffy (1973), Foxy Brown (1974) and Switchblade Sisters (1975), but it is certainly one of his best.


Directed by: Jack Hill
Starring: Richard Davalos, Brian Donlevy, Sid Haig, Ellen Burstyn
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #865: 'Exodus: Gods and Kings' (2014)

There is a moment during the climax of Ridley Scott's latest epic where your mind will drift to the image of a bearded Charlton Heston waving his giant staff and parting the Red Sea in Cecil B. DeMille's The Ten Commandments (1956). Exodus: Gods and Kings tells the story of Moses and Ramses, the familiar Old Testament tale about two former brothers-in-arms fighting on opposite sides of the battle; the former for the Hebrews, long enslaved by the ruling Egyptians, and the latter recently becoming the new Pharaoh in the wake of his father's death. It's the type of story that - even if the build-up lacks dramatics - is destined to be spectacular at the climax, as if there's on thing we do well in the modern age, it's spectacle.

Yet Exodus is an alarmingly bland and stuttering attempt to paint a revisionist's view of an age-old tale, resulting in a mixture of Ben-Hur (1959) and Gladiator (2000) without the scope or entertainment factor. Even Christian Bale, an actor usually of such ferocious intensity, fails to squeeze any dimensions out of Moses, and invites little sympathy during his darkest hours. Scott teases us with his own atheistic views, portraying Moses as a troubled man with possible schizophrenia, an idea which, if fully developed, would have justified this film's existence as a revisionist piece. His personality disorder manifests itself as a mediocre British child actor playing an angry God while Moses skulks on a mountain top, but outside of these moments he is little more than the archetypal command-blaring, sword-waving hero who delivers speeches and observes his men during training montages.

The only one appearing to be having any fun at all is Joel Edgerton, the Aussie actor playing the shaven-headed, bronzed-up Egyptian Pharaoh. Though he is kept at a disappointing distance, he at least manages to bring a little swagger to his performance, regardless of how utterly ridiculous he looks. The bulk of the rest of the cast are also played by Anglo's, all either frustratingly underused or comically miscast (or both). The likes of Sigourney Weaver, John Turturro, Ben Mendelsohn, and every director's favourite go-to ethnic actor Ben Kingsley come and go, making little impact and offering no explanation as to why such familiar faces are required to fill such a role. Aaron Paul no doubt gets the worst deal. His Joshua gets the most screen time outside of Moses and Ramses but does little more than watch in confusion or awe at his leader, depending on how the script wants you to feel at that moment.

As a cinematic spectacle, Scott does manage to occasionally enthral. The early battle scene, which has Moses and Ramses charging as comrades, plays like a check-list of war cliches, and you would find better sword-clanking on TV with Game of Thrones. The ten plagues set-piece is extremely CGI-heavy, but the sweeping shots of the city running red with blood and infested with locusts and disease proves to be a beautiful sight, with Scott determined to offer a rational explanation to the events rather than it being the work of a vengeful God (though the jury is still out with the first-born deaths). This idea wouldn't be such a hindrance if Scott didn't make the rest of the film such a formulaic blockbuster and took the time to go deep into the psyche of Moses and his struggles with his belief in a God he sees as barbaric. But Exodus is neither revisionist piece nor a straight-forward Biblical epic, which is why I found myself longing for the simplicity of DeMille's vision, for at least you know where you stand.


Directed by: Ridley Scott
Starring: Christian Bale, Joel Edgerton, Aaron Paul, John Turturro, Ben Mendelsohn, Ben Kingsley, Sigourney Weaver
Country: UK/USA/Spain

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #864: 'The Inbetweeners Movie' (2011)

Based on the immensely successful TV series that ran between 2008 and 2010 on E4, The Inbetweeners naturally made the leap to the big screen much to the appreciation of its fans, who obviously felt that 3 seasons was not nearly enough time to spend with it's four hopeless would-be lothario's. As with most TV-to-movie transitions, the added budget requires moving the setting to something bigger and more exotic, which means its a lad's holiday to Malia for Will (Simon Bird), Jay (James Buckley), Neil (Blake Harrison) and Simon (Joe Thomas), where they hope to find sun, sea and sex. "It'll be like shooting clunge in a barrel," as the ever-sensitive Jay delicately puts it.

After Will's father marries a much younger women, Jay inherits money from his grandfather's death, and Simon is dumped by his girlfriend Carli (Emily Head), Neil books the group a much-needed fortnight away in Crete. Only their accommodation is a run-down squalor with a dead dog in the water well, and the area seems to be populated by a lonesome weirdo, an angry hotel owner and lots of ants. Their first venture into the clubs leads them to a deserted bar where they meet four girls who are staying nearby. Will insults but manages to hit it off with the gorgeous Alison (Laura Haddock); Simon can't stop talking about his ex to Lucy (Tamla Kari); Neil is too interested in the older lady on the dancefloor to talk to Lisa (Jessica Knappett); which leaves Jay "stuck with the fat one" Jane (Lydia Rose Bewley).

I boycotted the show for years due to it's popularity, as I find that it never spells good news if everyone is discussing how funny a show is (see Gavin & Stacy for proof). Yet when I did catch it on late-night TV, it transported me back to my school days. The dialogue is consistently crude and ridiculously offensive, but tragically realistic. The boys' repulsiveness was offset by their naivety and innocence, especially when spoken by Jay, a compulsive liar with a mentally abusive father. The show was less appealing in its relentless cruelty; set-pieces involving shitting your pants during an exam or walking down a cat-walk with one testicle unknowingly hanging out tended to induce cringing rather than laughs.

Operating on a larger scale means that these set-pieces are more dominant, making the film more akin to American teen sex comedies such as Porky's (1982) or American Pie (1999) than the more observational TV show that brought us "bus wankers!", "ah, car fwend," and punching a fish to death. So rather than decent jokes and immature word-play, we get Jay masturbating with chicken-fillets and a gas mask and Neil's fingers working their way into an old slapper's knickers in the middle of a club. Still, while it makes little attempt to work outside the familiar tropes of the genre, it's funnier than most small-to-big screen transitions seen with British shows throughout the decades, with Bird and Buckley especially putting in decent performances.


Directed by: Ben Palmer
Starring: Simon Bird, James Buckley, Blake Harrison, Joe Thomas
Country: UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie