When we last saw the first and only superhero from New Jersey with superhuman size and strength, he was returning from his journey of self-discovery in Japan to banish the evil Apocalypse Inc. corporation from his home town of Tromaville. The Toxic Avenger Part II was certainly a sluggish affair, but contained enough genuinely funny moments - specifically watching the terrified Japanese public run from the hideous monster - to justify its existence. Troma being Troma, they were never going to let their most famous and bankable character disappear after just one sequel, and in fact they released Part III, subtitled The Last Temptation of Toxie, later the same year. Yet clearly the brainstorming sessions didn't produce anything of note, as this third entry is not only clearly out of ideas, but uses deleted scenes from the previous instalment to stitch together what they obviously feel passes for a plot.
It begins much in the same way as before, with Tromaville living a peaceful existence due to Toxie's successful efforts to banish crime once and for all. While he previously passed his time working at the home for the blind, Apocalypse Inc. saw the end to all that when they blew it up. Now, Toxie (played by Ron Fazio and John Altamura) sinks into a deep depression due to sheer boredom, spending most of his time moping around the junkyard he calls home with his loyal blind wife Claire (Phoebe Legere). When the chairman of Apocalypse Inc. (played by Rick Collins) learns that Toxie needs $357,000 to pay for an operation to restore Claire's sight, he takes advantage, employing the superhero as his assistant and enforcer, manipulating him into keep the town's residents in line and ensure that Tromaville can be used as the company's toxic waste dumping ground.
It's a re-hash of everything that came before, which almost feels like a slap in the face for those of us who stuck with Part II to the very end, despite its exhaustive running-time. There's almost a complete absence of genuine wit, with returning directors Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz relying mostly of goofy slapstick and cheap effects to bulk up the running-time (which again runs at a painful 100 minutes). It's at its best when Toxie is disposing of bad guys, starting with a scuffle at a video store in which the disfigured brute mutilates and executes a gang in various horrific ways, including mincing one of their hands in a VHS player while onlookers scream in terror, in a set-piece that will have you questioning his status as a 'hero'. But with Troma's notoriously tight budgets, these moments are in short supply. The climax aims to up the daftness factor as high as it will go, but after 30 minutes of watching bad gore effects followed by the reactions of the shocked crowd gathering to watch, you'll likely wish that you were the one getting their head smashed to a pulp.
Tony Scott's The Last Boy Scout arrived at a time when the macho action thrillers popularised in the 1980's were starting to die out. This, combined with its odd Christmas-time release, meant that the film would go on to underwhelm at the box-office, although it would prove a hit in the rental market and reignite Bruce Willis' action career after the failure of Hudson Hawk. It also took a beating from critics, many voicing their displeasure at the foul-mouthed dialogue and particularly brutal violence. It's a shame really, as looking back, The Last Boy Scout really represents the pinnacle of this overly masculine sub-genre, even though it arrived at a time when audiences were growing tired with it. Yes, it's preposterous, crude and slightly misogynistic, but it's also funny, clever and features screenwriter Shane Black at his most quotable best.
The movie begins with making a mockery of American Football's televised musical intros, before diving right into the thick of the action on a particularly dark and rainy night. Running back Billy Cole (Tae Bo guru Billy Blanks) is having a great night on the field before outside pressures and a hit of PCP lead him to shoot up half of the opposition before turning the gun on himself. Deadbeat private investigator Joe Hallenback (Bruce Willis) is acting as a bodyguard for young stripper Cory (Halle Berry), whilst dealing with his own marital problems in a cheating wife and brat daughter. When Cory is killed, her boyfriend - disgraced former quarterback Jimmy Dix (Damon Wayans) - finds himself reluctantly buddying up with Joe to slowly unravel a conspiracy that may expose corruption on a massive scale, and offer an explanation for Billy Cole's mysterious suicide. Their snooping isn't appreciated however, and they soon find themselves the target of a criminal gang desperate to cover their tracks and see their plan through to the end.
The Last Boy Scout was famously dogged by production problems, where producer Joel Silver was often cited as the cause of it all. Silver and Willis allegedly took over production, forcing Scott to film scenes he didn't approve of and altering Black's script so much that the finally story barely resembled his original idea. Scott would take revenge in his next film True Romance, where the role of a controlling, cocaine-fuelled producer was modelled on Silver. On top of everything else, Willis and Wayans hated each other. Impressively, these troubles somehow can't be seen in the final product. The chemistry between the two leads is one of the movie's strongest suits, and the plot unravels coherently with more car chases and shoot-outs than you could ever hope for. Scott shoots the film with a glossy commercial aesthetic that works well in the context of the tacky world the film is looking to expose. But the real winner here was Black, who pocketed a cool $1.75 million for his efforts after suffering a setback in his personal life. Despite the changes, this still has the writer's fingerprints all over it, even eclipsing what is undoubtedly his most popular work, Lethal Weapon. They just don't make 'em like this anymore.
Ridley Scott's Blade Runner suffered greatly at the box-office when it was released in the summer of 1982, but has enjoyed an astonishing re-evaluation in the proceeding decades as one of the greatest and most innovative science-fiction movies of all time. During the last 35 years, talk of and ideas for a sequel have been constantly thrown around, with Scott often voicing his interest in returning to the future world of Replicants and Blade Runners. After much fan-fretting, the follow-up is finally here, only with Denis Villeneuve at the helm, but seeing what Scott has done to his other masterpiece Alien in the last few years, his departure is most welcome. With 2016's Arrival, Villeneuve hinted that he may just be cinema's next sci-fi visionary, and now with Blade Runner 2049, he has only gone and confirmed it.
In 2049, Replicants are still living amongst us. With many of them retreating to solitary lives outside of the city, Blade Runners such as Ryan Gosling's K are still employed to hunt down and 'retire' any Replicants in hiding. When investigating farmer Sapper Morton (Dave Bautista), K uncovers a shocking secret that will change everything that is known about Replicants and their poistion as dangerous and disposable property. K's boss Lieutenant Joshi (Robin Wright) wants the matter swept under the carpet before the truth starts to leak out, and tasks the highly competent Blade Runner with taking care of it quickly and cleanly. Also taking an interest is Niander Wallace (Jared Leto), the head of the company now leading in the way in the manufacturing of Replicants following the demise of the Tyrell Corporation. He sends his Replicant enforcer Luv (Sylvia Hoeks) to uncover the truth and to stop K, who is having his own identity crisis, before he makes the whole thing disappear for good.
One of the many issues people had with Blade Runner back in 1982 was its pacing. It runs at under two hours, but is certainly in no hurry to rush into the next action scene or to offer any easy answers. Blade Runner 2049 takes the same approach, thankfully, choosing to gently stroll around this world and let you absorb its ugly beauty. The sequel spends less time in the rainy metropolis of Los Angeles, choosing instead to explore the snowier, desolate regions outside of the city and the glowing, inhospitable ruins of Las Vegas. It's all brought stunningly to life by cinematographer Roger Deakins (who must be a shoe-in for the Oscar) and production designer Dennis Gassner. This unhurried approach may explain why Villeneuve's film - despite massive fan and critic anticipation - under-performed at the box office. It also runs at a whopping two hours and 40 minutes, so anyone who failed to bring a cushion to the cinema may have been shuffling in their seats, but Blade Runner 2049 is one of a small collection of movies that justifies its lengthy running-time, numb backside or not.
Resurrecting his third iconic character in 9 years, Harrison Ford also returns as Rick Deckard, the former Blade Runner and possible Replicant who was last seen fleeing with Sean Young's Rachael. Ford appears much later in the film than I was expecting, especially when you consider how prominent he was in the marketing campaign. But Villeneuve has wisely chosen to make this K's story, refusing to re-introduce Deckard until he becomes necessary to the plot. K is a Replicant and knows his place in society, and his journey is one of loneliness, doubt and contemplation. His isolation is highlighted further by Joi (Ana de Arnas), the holographic girlfriend who finds herself in her own philosophical quandary, and who no doubt represents our own over-reliance on technology while we experience less actual human contact. Blade Runner 2049 is bold film-making, refusing to pander to the mainstream crowds or to simply drool over the original, cementing itself as a great work of science-fiction in its own right. It doesn't live up to the original, but it's damn close, and that's an achievement few thought possible.
The films of Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos are polarising to say the least, deliberately tailored to the art-house crowd seeking something new and potentially shocking, but rarely sitting well with general audiences. Both Dogtooth and The Lobster were difficult movies to watch for many different reasons, yet what makes Lanthimos so interesting is the skill in which he makes an audience feel uneasy. His latest, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, is his most troubling picture yet, and I mean that in a good way. For the first hour of the film Lanthimos allows us to gaze through the windows of a seemingly happy middle-class family, before peeling back the layers to reveal the dysfunction beneath. Think a touch of Cronenberg, a hint of Bunuel, and a large dollop of Haneke, and your somewhere in the right area.
Highly-skilled surgeon Steven Murphy (Colin Farrell) has battled through alcoholism to maintain a position of respect and authority at the hospital he works. He is happily married to Anna (Nicole Kidman), and enjoys spending time with children Bob (Sunny Suljic) and his teenage daughter Kim (Raffey Cassidy). The impressively-bearded Steven also maintains a relationship with a confident young man named Martin (Barry Keoghan), walking and talking by the lake, and meeting in a diner to eat together. If it was anyone other than the subtly unnerving Martin, it would be easy to interpret their first scene together as some kind of strange first date, but it's clear they share some history together. Out of nowhere, Bob suddenly loses feeling in his legs, leaving both his father and specialists baffled at the mysterious condition. As Bob declines in health, Martin grows in confidence, dating Kim in secret and turning up unannounced at the hospital to see Steven on a daily basis.
To say any more would spoil the 'joy' to be had with The Killing of a Sacred Deer, as you spend the first half of the film out of the loop and likely expecting Steven and Martin's relationship to be revealed as sexual. Lanthimos takes his time to provide answers, carefully guiding you into the blood-drained Murphy household and taking you on long walks via Steadicam down endless, cold-white hospital corridors, before unleashing a revelation that will take Steven to the brink. Not all the big questions are answered however, and Lanthimos makes sure they don't need to be. As the mystery illness worsens and others start to show similar symptoms, the film keeps the focus on the central conflict between the handsome, successful doctor and the quietly menacing teen. Farrell continues to impress as he moves away from the pretty-boy roles that dogged his early career, but Keoghan, last seen in Dunkirk earlier this year, steals the film as the delicately threatening Martin. He's rarely anything less than pleasant, but there's just something not quite right, and Keoghan underplays the role to perfection. It's a touch overlong, and a sexual encounter in a car feels unnecessary, but Lanthimos is only fine-tuning his craft, and it feels like his masterpiece is only around the corner.
Ridley Scott's Blade Runner has had such a profound affect on the science-fiction genre across every medium that we are still seeing imitators today. If the opening shot of the dark, futuristic landscape of 2019 Los Angeles seems at all familiar, it's either because you've witnessed this cinematic masterpiece before, or seen an ill-fated attempt to recreate this grim, claustrophobic future elsewhere. Blade Runner's classic status now seems almost ironic, given the film's disastrous reception upon its original release, and the countless different versions released since. Among others, there was the original 'workprint prototype', the U.S. theatrical cut, the international theatrical cut, the broadcast version, and The Director's Cut. I think most would agree with me when I say the 'Final Cut' is the definitive version, trimmed of Harrison Ford's rambling narration and the tacked-on happy ending that borrowed unused footage from Stanley Kubrick's The Shining.
In the future, the Tyrell Corporation has manufactured bioengineered humans known as Replicants, commonly used for slave labour off-Earth. Granted the intelligence of their makers, the Replicants tend to start questioning their purpose, often resulting in mutiny and violence. To counter this, Tyrell has limited their lifespan to four years in the hope that they will die before such thoughts can even enter their mind. However, four Replicants (Rutger Hauer's leader Roy Batty, Daryl Hannah's Pris, Brion James' Leon and Joanna Cassidy's Zhora) have rebelled against their masters and made it back to Earth. It is the job of 'Blade Runner' Rick Deckard (Ford) to hunt the foursome down and 'retire' them before they can cause any real damage. Deckard questions the morality of his job, especially when he meets Tyrell's latest creation, the stunning Rachael (Sean Young), a Replicant who isn't aware of what she is.
Blade Runner is simply astonishing on a number of levels. When Vangelis' score - a majestic combination of the classical and synthesised - kicks in early on, Scott's film becomes an experience on a whole other plain. The production design, which is a noir-ish hybrid of choking, rainy streets and golden interiors blackened by shadows, had never been seen before and hasn't been so effectively moulded since. This feels like a wholly tangible future, lived-in and almost familiar, and although we may not have flying cars, super-beings crafted by science or Atari as a thriving corporation, the future depicted in Blade Runner isn't much different to the world we live in today. The sets, special effects, music and editing are all combined by Scott to create a world we can almost touch. The fleeting moments of violence, something the film was criticised for on its original release, are fast, shocking and ugly. There's a scene in which a death occurs in slow-motion through various panes of glass which is almost beautiful to behold, but even this plays out with an air of tragedy. The line between good and bad is certainly blurred here.
I haven't read Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick, but common opinion is that Blade Runner eclipses its source and then some. It's the stuff of dreams for science-fiction aficionados, going way beyond its thriller premise to touch on some big philosophical questions and ponder the very definition of being human. Hauer's masterful portrayal of Batty ends with a monologue improvised by the actor, and his speech is one the most memorable and quoted pieces of dialogue in cinema history for good reason. It is moving and stirring and will catch you off guard, forcing you to reflect on everything you have just seen for days after. Ford is impressive too, downplaying the goofy charisma of Han Solo and Indiana Jones and growing into the beaten-down, conflicted bounty hunter. But the real star here is Ridley Scott himself, who has never made a finer film, crafting a landscape that would go on to be the go-to aesthetic for dystopian futures. It would take either a stupid or unnervingly brave director to make a follow-up, but if any director has the ability to expand this universe into something even more spectacular, it's Denis Villeneuve.
The last of three movies directed by exploitation legend and pioneer of the 'nudie cutie' Russ Meyer in 1965, Motor Psycho is one the filmmaker's few 'normal' movies, that is one not filled to the brim with impressively-breasted babes and scrawny, sex-mad males. It instead falls into the biker gang category, one of the many branches of the 'juvenile delinquent' sub-genre which emerged as parents and the media alike voiced their concerns about the increasingly rebellious youth culture of the time. Similar in many ways to one of Meyer's other 1965 movies (and undoubtedly his most popular film), Faster Pussycat... Kill! Kill! (Mudhoney was also released that year), Motor Psycho substitutes the strong, revenge-fuelled gang of women led by the unforgettable Tura Satana for a trio of tortured men, and the result is actually pretty good.
The gang, led by demented Vietnam veteran Brahmin (Steve Oliver), have taken a liking to antagonising the locals of a small town, firstly terrorising a young, beautiful women trying to relax with her passive, hen-pecked husband, before their intentions turns even nastier. They torment veterinarian Cory Maddox (Alex Rocco, who played Moe Green in The Godfather) before raping his wife while he is away from home flirting with a voluptuous horse-breeder. He returns to find his wife battered and abused, but it is "nothing a woman isn't built for," according to the local sheriff (played by Meyer himself). Maddox decides to take matters into his own hands, gradually tracking Brahmin and his cronies as he follows their path of destruction. He comes across Ruby Bonner (Faster Pussycat's Haji), the wife of a man the gang have just murdered in cold blood, and the two partner up to end the gang's reign of terror once and for all.
Any fans of the director going into Motor Psycho hoping to see a collection of naughty vignettes featuring some of his familiar roster of beauties will likely be disappointed, although the film is another fine example of Meyer's skill with editing, cinematography and use of music. A minimal budget rarely hampered Meyer, and Motor Psycho is fast-paced and jazzy, and surprisingly features a handful of decent performances. This was one of the first times a damaged Vietnam veteran had been portrayed on screen, and Oliver has fun going way over the top as the sadistic, angry young leader. For a film dealing with rape (and Meyer takes the subject matter seriously), it is also very funny in places. Most memorable is a scene in which Maddox is bitten by a snake and demands Ruby to suck out the venom. "Suck it! Suck it!" he screams as he forces her head onto the wound. It would seem that Meyer couldn't resist a little playful innuendo. This is a competent little western revenge B-movie, often released under the more eye-catching title of Motorpsycho!.
After what was a difficult and drawn-out development process, few would have expected It, an adaptation of Stephen King's novel of the same name and re-imagining of Tommy Lee Wallace's 1990 mini-series, to be such a colossal hit. The project first went into development back in 2009, with David Kajganich penning the screenplay for Warner Bros., who were understandably concerned with adapting such a hefty and thematically complex novel into one feature film. Cary Fukunaga signed on as director in 2012, with the production duties moving to New Line and Will Poulter lined up for the lead, before they both parted ways due to creative differences and scheduling conflicts. Mama's Andy Muschietti signed up as director in 2015, and filming finally commenced in 2016, with Bill Skarsgard on board as the titular alien clown. It was all a bit of a mess, but when the trailer debuted on Youtube and smashed the record for most views in 24 hours, it became clear that It would be a bona fide hit.
Since its release, It has pulled in $700 million off a $35 million budget, and is now the highest-grossing horror movie of all time, and the third highest-grossing R-rated movie. And for good reason. It is happy to deliver jump shocks and conform to the genre's tropes, but this is a handsomely-shot and wonderfully-acted coming-of-age drama too. It is The Goonies meets Stand by Me, only with a child-killing clown lurking in the background. Tim Curry's performance in the 1990 original is iconic and pretty scary, and I'm disappointed we'll never get to see what Will Poulter would have done with the role, but Bill Skarsgard proves to be a menacing presence underneath the thick clown make-up and razor-sharp teeth. The opening scene in which he confronts young Georgie (Jackson Robert Scott) from a storm drain ("You'll float too...") is nastier than Wallace's version, and sets the tone for Muschietti's film. It doesn't shy away from the gruesome side of horror, and certainly doesn't take it easy on the kids at the heart of the story.
A year after Georgie's disappearance, his older brother Bill (Jaeden Lieberher) still hasn't given up hope. Much to his father's annoyance, he maps out the entire sewer system of Derry, Maine to calculate where his brother may be hiding, or where his corpse may have washed up. The stuttering youngster is part of the 'Losers Club', a gang of bullied school kids who enjoy spending their summers exploring the town's surrounding areas on their bikes, but always wary of mulleted bully Henry Bowers (Nicholas Hamilton). Making up the rest of the gang are hypochondriac Eddie (Jack Dylan Grazer), timid rabbi's son Stanley (Wyatt Oleff), and the motor-mouthed Richie (Stranger Things' Finn Wolfhard). They start to piece together an explanation for the alarming number of disappearances in the town's history when tubby new kid Ben (Jeremy Ray Taylor) researches the history of his new home. Everything seems to point to a deadly entity lurking in the sewers named Pennywise, a shape-shifting clown who changes his appearance based on the children's individual fears. It also appears to sexual abuse victim Beverly (Sophia Lillis) and slaughterhouse worker Mike (Chosen Jacobs), who both find a refuge in the Losers Club.
The decision to move the action from the 50's to the 80's seems like a no-brainer, especially for those of us who were born in the decade of perms and massive shoulder pads. It ramps up the nostalgic appeal, and the film is at its best when recapturing the spirit of the best coming-of-age movies. Yet for all of It's positives, Muschietti plays the horror frustratingly safe. It's competently done, but every time Pennywise jumps out from the darkness or contorts his body to an inexplicable degree, it's hard to shake the feeling that you've seen all of this before. Stanley Kubrick, David Cronenberg and Brian De Palma used King's source material to create something more unique and expressive, but it isn't too difficult to spot where Muschietti's jump-shocks will be coming from. It is often creepy, but never scary. I sincerely hope that directors will soon learn that computer-generated ghouls simply don't work, and that practical effects actually add the level of physicality required to frighten. While it may not make you sleep with the light on, It still makes for engrossing drama, unafraid to tackle difficult issues such as bullying, child abuse - both physical and sexual - and primarily the loss of innocence. It's now a long wait for Chapter Two.
After spending much of the 1990's making a name for himself as an intense character actor in the likes of Trainspotting and My Name Is Joe, Peter Mullan announced himself as a director to watch with 1998's Cousins. He followed that four years later with the powerful The Magdalene Sisters, but didn't make another film until eight years later with his most personal project to date, Neds. His tough upbringing in a rough area of Glasgow meant that his talents in front of the camera would normally be employed in tough, intimidating roles, and Mullan drew upon his experiences as a young man for Neds, a social realist drama depicting an academically promising young boy's descent into gang culture and into the footsteps of his notorious older brother.
'Neds' stands for Non-Educated Delinquents, a term I heard often during my time living in Edinburgh, and one applied to the sort of tracksuit-wearing hooligans also labelled as 'scallies' or 'chavs', depending on which area of the UK you're from. The 'ned' here is John McGill, played by Greg Forrest as a youngster growing up in 70's Glasgow who hopes to use his intelligence to make something of himself, but finds himself pulled onto the streets due to a number of factors: from his disinterested, cane-happy teachers to the pressure of living up to his brother's reputation. He grows taller and broader (to be played by Conor McCarron) and quickly makes a name for himself, participating in petty crime and street fights, and rebelling against his school education. His home isn't a happy one, and the family live under the tyrannical rule of John's father (played by Mullan). Mr. McGill isn't much to look at, but he has a presence terrifying enough to silence a room when he enters, and a tendency to come home drunk and bawl abuse at his long-suffering wife.
Mullan has a real talent for staging tense situations, with some of the events played out in Neds no doubt taken directly from real experiences. A booze-fuelled neighbourhood party quickly deteriorates into smashed windows and a mass brawl, with the thugs brandishing the ugliest of weapons designed to cause maximum harm. There's heart and humour too, and Mullan manages to keep John sympathetic throughout, despite his questionable behaviour. Despite his concentration, Mullan drags the film out longer than is needed, and a number of the climactic scenes are suited to be the film's final moment. A swerve into drug-fuelled surrealist territory is well-intended but doesn't really work when wedged into the film's ultra-realist aesthetic, and the scene feels out-of-place and unintentionally amusing. Still, this is raw, unflinching film-making from a director clearly hoping to draw attention to the plight of youngsters growing up in such grim working-class surroundings, where respect is earned through brutality and allegiances are decided by which side of the bridge you live on.
Say what you will about George Lucas and the way he took the Star Wars franchise dangerously close to laughing stock territory with the prequels, but he was certainly a man with a plan. The original trilogy told a satisfying story, but Lucas always knew what came before, and what would come after. As stilted as the prequels were, they never faltered in telling the story that The Phantom Menace had mapped out. When the rights to the franchise were sold to Disney in 2012, Lucas passed on his ideas of an all-new trilogy, set after the events of Return of the Jedi and bringing in characters both old and new. Although elements from these early drafts made their way into J.J. Abrams' The Force Awakens in 2015, it became clear that Disney had their own ideas, which are, as Rian Johnson's The Last Jedi would suggest, to make it up as they go along.
The Force Awakens set up plot threads and introduced shady characters to be explored in future instalments, such as just how Maz Kanata got her hands on Luke Skywalker's lightsaber and just who the hell is Snoke, the new Emperor-like big bad? Fans were foaming at the mouths dreaming up theories to tie the strands together, and The Last Jedi was the film that would answer at least some of the questions. In hiring an independent filmmaker like Rian Johnson, they have hired a man intent on delivering his own vision, and it becomes clear quite early on that the events of The Last Jedi will not bring everything into place. It takes ideas conjured by The Force Awakens and makes a point of throwing out of the window. The result is an emotional sci-fi extravaganza which has divided audiences down the middle, with one half calling for te film to be removed from canon, and the other marvelling at Johnson's balls in turning a billion-dollar franchise on its head.
I can confidently say that I am in the latter category. While The Force Awakens was a fun shout-out to the original trilogy, even following the story of A New Hope almost to a tee, The Last Jedi is determined to make you care for the previously one-dimensional characters of Rey (Daisy Ridley) and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), and question everything you knew about old-hand Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill). Skywalker is now so beloved within the annals of pop culture (both in universe and in our world) that there's almost a regal quality to Hamill's presence. When he first appears on screen, it's like seeing somebody dead brought back to life, and his reaction to Rey's passing of the lightsaber will likely catch you off guard. With the knowledge of Carrie Fisher's tragic passing a year ago, you'll likely be choking back the tears as Leia Organa first graces the screen. The Last Jedi has the power to make you feel in ways you would never think possible from the Star Wars franchise, especially when you remember those uncomfortable romantic scenes with Anakin and Padme from Attack of the Clones.
Not everything works however. At two and a half hours, it's too long, and Johnson's decision to take Finn (John Boyega) and his new Rebel pal Rose (Kelly Marie Tran) on a thirty minute detour to a casino in search of a hacker simply doesn't work. It's a sub-plot that doesn't really serve a purpose other than to give Finn something to do while Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) clashes heads with Rebel Vice Admiral Holdo (Laura Dern), and to set up a showdown with fan-favourite Captain Phasma (Gwendoline Christie). This meandering story aside, The Last Jedi is the best Star Wars movie since The Empire Strikes Back, and by a comfortable margin. Many fan complaints about The Force Awakens were due to Abrams' film lacking originality, and although it provided one genuine shock with the death of a major character, it played things very comfortably. So I find the backlash aimed at Johnson's film quite dumbfounding, and personally, having my expectations subverted made for a far more engrossing experience. But with fan presence in every corner of social media, it's clear that you'll never please all the people all the time, but you can please about 50% of us.
With Lo and Behold, Reveries of the Connected World, director Werner Herzog continues his investigations into the nature of man and our influence on the planet. Having spent most of his earlier career exploring the nature of madness and the limits of the human mind with feature films often starring Klaus Kinski, Herzog's career of late has seen him focus primarily on documentaries, and there is perhaps no other filmmaker more naturally suited to the genre. Lo and Behold tells the story of the internet, from its humble birth in a seemingly forgotten office at UCLA, to its recent explosion and rapidly widespread use throughout the world, and Herzog tackles the subject with both excited fascination and trepidation.
Herzog, as usual, plays the role of the viewer, actively participating in conversation with his interviewees. He often interrupts to confirm his understanding, or to offer his own unique philosophical musings. This may come across as distracting to anyone less than familiar with the filmmaker's output, but for us Herzog loyalists, his willingness to vocalise his own feelings or provide idiosyncratic observations throughout the documentary is precisely what makes his films such a joy. His subjects appear to instantly warm to him too, allowing them to relax and open up more, with the helmer only too happy to try and catch them off guard if they veer away from the subject. As one interviewee (who is in an internet rehab facility to cure his addiction to gaming and porn) gleefully bounds across a rickety wooden bridge to greet the camera, Herzog chuckles to himself and states that no further introduction is necessary.
Although the documentary does occasionally ramble, Herzog doesn't allow his own personality to eclipse the subject at hand. He concerns himself with society's increasing detachment from one another as we spend more time in front of a computer screen, and ponders whether or not the internet can dream of itself (some of the reactions to this question are priceless). The film also explores the dark side of the net, telling the story of Nikki Catsouras, the young and beautiful girl who was killed in a horrific car accident, only for pictures of her mangled body to surface on the internet. Nikki's father soon started to receive e-mails with the pictures attached, complete with mocking messages that will make your blood boil. Lo and Behold depicts our brave new world as simultaneously exciting, beautiful and utterly terrifying, reaching as far as exploring our inevitable migration into space. It offers insight into everything from robot development, internet usage and dreams, allowing Herzog to further continue his almost alien fascination with both the beauty and horror of humanity.
It may be difficult to believe now, but there was once a time when Hollywood icon Humphrey Bogart played second-fiddle to a bigger star, usually lumped with the role of deadbeat gangster or short-fused psychopath. In movies like Angels with Dirty Faces, The Roaring Twenties and this, High Sierra, he find-tuned himself into the fast-talking leading man he would later become in the likes of The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. With High Sierra, his name appeared below that of the magnificent Ida Lupino, but the film starts and ends with Bogart, and he appears in near enough every scene. He plays Roy 'Mad Dog' Earle, a career criminal freshly sprung from prison who soon realises that his generation of the respectable, honourable gangster is quickly dying out.
After serving eight years for armed robbery, Roy receives a governor's pardon arranged by his old boss Big Mac (Donald MacBride). He is to use his experience and expertise to oversee a heist of a swanky new Californian resort hotel, and heads into the country to hook up with his new crew. On his way into the mountains, Roy meets the young and pretty Velma (Joan Leslie), and decides to use the money stolen from the hotel to pay for an operation to correct her clubfoot, and win her affections in the process. Only his new team-mates Red (Arthur Kennedy) and Babe (Alan Curtis) are young, brash and green, and inside man Mendoza (Cornel Wilde) can't be trusted to keep his mouth shut. The only saving grace is Babe's sort-of girlfriend Marie (Lupino), who seems to be the only one of Roy's new rag-tag gang of thieves who can be trusted. She falls in love with the old-school Roy, and after the robbery naturally goes wrong when somebody gets shot, the two must flee into the hills and live as fugitives.
Director Raoul Walsh, working with a script by John Huston and W.R. Burnett, seems to have believed that both the gangster and the gangster movie were slowly dying out back in 1941. This isn't true of course, as gangster films are just as popular today as they have ever been, but this air of melancholy helps distinguish High Sierra from the countless other genre pictures of the era. Lupino and Bogart are both superb as the damaged, lonely criminals. Roy has his heart set on the younger Velma, who represents everything he isn't and never will be, while failing to realise that Marie may actually be the woman he's looking for. Only Marie is just as broken as Roy, and the ageing gangster is looking to make a clean break and a fresh start. When the subjects of gangster movies and film noir crop up, High Sierra doesn't tend to get mentioned much, but it's a terrific and often gripping crime drama, with an engrossing romance at its very core.
It's highly unlikely that anybody was expecting 2014's The LEGO Movie and its spin-off/follow-up The LEGO Batman Movie to be quite as good as they were. The former came out of left-field and took a surprisingly anti-corporate stance in teaching its younger viewers that using their own, raw imagination to have fun will always trump sticking to the instructions, while the latter leaned on the popularity and gravelly charm of Will Arnett's vocals as well as DC's impressive roster of popular supervillains and supporting characters to create a ridiculously entertaining and eye-catching romp. The latest in LEGO's movie franchise is The LEGO Ninjago Movie, based on the popular Ninjago toy line and the various TV series, books and video games to emerge from it. Perhaps we've been spoiled, but Ninjago, with its three directors, six writers, and a noticeable lack of focus,gives the impression that this universe is already running out of steam.
The city of Ninjago is constantly under attack from the evil Lord Garmadon (Justin Theroux), a four-armed brute who lays siege to the metropolis with a variety of wild gadgets and machinery that would put James Bond to shame. Garmadon's son Lloyd (David Franco), who lives with his mother Koko (Olivia Munn), is bullied at school for being the spawn of the evil tyrant, and when his father phones him on his birthday, he quickly realises that it was an accidental butt-dial. Garmadon's efforts to conquer Ninjago are constantly thwarted by a secret gang of ninjas: Kai (Michael Pena), Jay (Kumail Nanjiani), Nya (Abbi Jacobson), Zane (Zach Woods), Cole (Fred Armisen), and the mysterious Green Ninja, who is actually Lloyd battling his own father. When he lets his emotions get the better of him, Lloyd accidentally released a giant - and live-action - cat into the city, forcing him to team up with his deadbeat dad in search of the 'Ultimate, Ultimate Weapon' to take back the city from the clutches of Meowthra.
Justin Theroux is easily the best thing in The LEGO Ninjago Movie, voicing the character with a similar growl to Arnett's Batman and getting all the best lines. He is an ego-maniacal and selfish war-lord, but his relationship with Lloyd (which he pronounces L-loyd) forms the heart of the movie. The film relies far too much on their bantering however, as the rest of the running-time fails to generate many laughs, despite the best efforts of Jackie Chan's Master Wu. Ninjago also has the handicap of being self-contained, without the blink-and-you'll-miss-em cameos from other franchises that added to the whole idea that you can do whatever the hell you want with LEGO and the results may just be wonderful. It's a noticeable step down from the two predecessors, but the message the film is trying to convey is a good one, in that violence is rarely the answer and there is always two sides to a coin. It's certainly the loudest and most action-packed of the series, so kids will no doubt take to it, but many older audience members hoping for another pleasant LEGO surprise will likely wish they'd kept this one in the box.
It begins much in the same way as before, with Tromaville living a peaceful existence due to Toxie's successful efforts to banish crime once and for all. While he previously passed his time working at the home for the blind, Apocalypse Inc. saw the end to all that when they blew it up. Now, Toxie (played by Ron Fazio and John Altamura) sinks into a deep depression due to sheer boredom, spending most of his time moping around the junkyard he calls home with his loyal blind wife Claire (Phoebe Legere). When the chairman of Apocalypse Inc. (played by Rick Collins) learns that Toxie needs $357,000 to pay for an operation to restore Claire's sight, he takes advantage, employing the superhero as his assistant and enforcer, manipulating him into keep the town's residents in line and ensure that Tromaville can be used as the company's toxic waste dumping ground.
