11th Feb 09 - Revolutionary Road

Ah the joys of relationships. The flutter of the heart at the early meetings. The gentle expansion of feelings. The rosey complexion that comes from spending time with the one you love. And the slow decline into seething anger and resentment that makes you not only hate your partner with a fiery passion, but hate yourself and your entire life too.

That’s the picture Revolutionary Road paints for you. As Slumdog has been advertised as a “feel-good hit”, Rev Road could surely be summarised as a “kill-yourself punch”. It is essentially two hours watching people argue, and if you think it’s only the one dysfunctional couple in trouble, there are a few other examples of how miserable your life can become - either through forced and pained ignorance or bitter acceptance.

Of course there’s a little more to it than that. Titanic sweethearts Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio return to the screen together, perhaps showing what might have happened if she didn’t selfishly use all the door for a raft and they’d have been given the chance to be together. They play the feisty Wheelers, a couple who always planned not to get stuck in the family rut and mocked those that did, until several years down the line they realised they were rutted just as much as the next guy. Might I point out that their “rut” involves a nice house, nice neighbourhood, and two “nice” children (nice in the sense that they’re literally never around – seriously, where are their children?!) So this terrible woe they feel and bicker over is purely self indulgent. Boo hoo I’m in a nice house. Boo hoo we have reproduced and can afford to look after them. Boo bloody hoo.

You can sense the reasoning behind some of it, though. Life is, after-all, utterly depressing if you think about it too much. It’s the reason why things like money, houses and children are fairly useful – they’re things to strive for and distract from the thought that life is slowly ticking by. Unfortunately for the Wheelers, the penny has dropped that “this is it” and it has resulted in their relationship imploding. Watching the devastation that follows is both uncomfortable and hilarious, Kate and Leo throwing themselves into the slanging matches with gusto. Being an Oscar aimer, there’s lots and lots of Acting, particularly from Kate who sometimes takes a moment just to stare out the window and have a good ol’ Act for a while, before continuing on. Director Sam Mendes’ static approach makes it feel like you’re watching a play at times, which does work on some aspects (letting the explosive arguments speak for themselves) but creates a starched tone in others, distancing you from the characters.

Though the fire between the two leads is engrossing at times, there are a few niggles with this film. The plot is bone-dry, probably left that way to let lots of Acting in and comments on attitudes towards life etc, but with no real depth given to any of the characters it chunders along and leaves you with a bit of a “so what?” feel (if you can push aside the great feeling of despair it conjures). There is also a ridiculous character – just out of a mental hospital, and therefore happy to speak his mind - shoe-horned in to let the simpler audience members know what’s really going on in our leads minds. And the endless score, seemingly composed of only three piano notes, does start to grate after a while.

Still, superb performances mean it’s often riveting, if not dramatic, and will carry you towards the end with a building sense of dread at what’s to come. But how to score this has posed a problem – though it was finely acted, it’s difficult to recommend a “kill-yourself punch” to someone. Therefore it hits the “good film” jackpot of a CF0, but doesn’t gain any further points as I wouldn’t enthusiastically recommend it to anyone, unless I know someone who wants to mock people in relationships.

4th Feb 09 - Frost/Nixon

It’s sometimes difficult to believe that journalism can be used for anything except pointing out the weight of semi-famous people or making us all panic about how much the public / environment / economy is in trouble and it’s all because of youths / the government / immigrants. But among all the shite, journalism (like this) can have a positive impact on the world, or make some sort of change. And so it can be seen when David Frost, flailing TV host watching his career trickle downhill after a flourish of success, unearthed an apology from Richard Nixon, a jowly president with unusual ideas about the law.

It’s an odd choice to make a film about a TV show that has already been aired, where the seminal moment of success has already been filmed and broadcast and relished. You can’t just replicate what’s already been on TV – why watch someone pretend to do an interview when you can watch the real thing? So Frost/Nixon, based on a play by Peter Morgan who also writes this screenplay, instead takes a look behind the scenes, charting the David/Goliath task ahead and attempting to get into each player’s mindset.

Michael Sheen and Frank Langella do superb jobs at embodying their counterparts, Sheen catching the determination and charm in the face of failure, and Langella mixing sparkling intelligence with crumbling defences. Of course, what the hell would I know – I wasn’t alive when these two went head-to-head. Still, it made for some great cinema, director Ron Howard choosing an almost documentary feel with the solid supporting cast (including the sturdy Sam Rockwell and Kevin Bacon) providing background interviews to set the scene, and in some cases explain what was going on. He also thankfully sidesteps the usual pitfall of stage-to-screen, injecting movement into the piece without losing the crackling dialogue.

You could almost hear Eye of the Tiger rumbling in the background as these two chaps came face to face, the ding-ding of the tape-change allowing their coaches time to pep-talk, and as with all sporting films there’s a training montage, then the baddie pummels the goodie, right up until the last minute epiphany that saves the day.

And yet… we all knew what was coming. Frost gets Nixon to admit everything on air – no spoiler there, it’s fact. And though Sheen does cut an impressive figure as the rogue Frost, how he makes a switch from slightly delusional talkshow host to suddenly getting one over the superiorly intelligent Nixon is barely dealt with, save a wedged in monologue from Nixon and a quick montage of people going to the library. Nixon himself, surely responsible for tremendous death and deception, is elevated to Boris status as a bumbling comic, cracking some of the more amusing lines of the film. Ha ha – he’s racist! And was in charge of America! Really funny.

So though it hooks you with some great performances and a premise that is fascinating and true, Frost/Nixon peters out when we reach the conclusion we already knew with no deep exploration into character, or flourishing finale to cap things off. It could almost be a BBC Saturday drama. One of those good ones, mind – the one-offs, or the three-parters. But a TV drama none-the-less, which is what it all started out as anyway. For its meaty drama Frost/Nixon gains an extra point, but for not really telling us anything we didn’t already know (even us yoofs who weren’t even alive then) it fails to go any higher than a CF1.

28th Jan 09 - Rachel Getting Married

Another wedding film staring Anne Hathaway? Is this the same as last week? Does a robot-faced blonde show up to try and scupper lovely Anne’s wedding plans with hilarious japes and photo montages? I think not. In fact, our lovely Anne isn’t even dressing up as a princess. This time she is Acting. That’s right. She smokes cigarettes and has bad hair and cries. A lot. If she filmed Bride Wars after this then it explains a lot – Bride Wars must have been a relaxing break after staring in this one.

Hathaway plays Kym, a recovering drug addict released from rehab to attend her big sister’s wedding (that’d be Rachel). Before you can say “dysfunctional” the family arguments kick off big-style, as details of Kym’s turbulent and tragic past unfold and her rollercoaster moods ricochet off her sister’s temper. Director Jonathan Demme (Silence of the Lambs, Philadelphia) goes for a documentary approach, following characters around with hand-held cameras and allowing actors to talk over each other, giving it a very natural feel.

The actors excel in this realistic setting, Hathaway rightly Oscar nominated for her performance as the troubled, bratty and grieving Kym, while her co-stars (particularly Rosemarie DeWitt as Rachel) provide a blanket of emotion, either through jealous sister, mental father or withdrawn mother. When the drama crackles, it really crackles, with fierce battles erupting in between barbed comments and pained glances.

Unfortunately it all becomes a little too realistic. If you’ve ever been forced to watch someone’s wedding video you’ll know the tedium of the endless speeches, or the banality of watching other people enjoying the evening entertainment. For some reason, Demme decided that to add authenticity we should literally observe Rachel getting married, in all its uncut, unnecessary glory. And so we have a third of this film being an absorbing, well acted family drama. And two thirds someone’s poorly shot wedding video, before the editor has got to it.

Ultimately, despite the fancy pants way this film is put across, the plot is too thin. Drug addicts, family feuds, weddings… all seem a bit too familiar, and the flowery ending prompts the question “and the point was…?” It does get points for creating a sense of friendship and warmth, and for the first and only funny dishwasher loading scene, but overall it is one of those films where style takes over from substance and the film tucks itself up its own bottom too far to notice the plot slipping out the back of the trousers. So to speak. It’s proven Hathaway can move away from the Bride Wars slop, but let’s hope she can pick something with a little more weight behind it next time. Rachel gets married, but does so with a CF-1. Sorry to spoil her big day.

24th Jan 09 - Role Models

In the rules of watching comedy, it’s always best to stick to the mantra “never watch comedies featuring children or animals”. Chances are they’ll be annoying, either with a gang of kerrrrazee kids causing havoc for some befuddled adult, or a doggy doing kerrrrazee things like humping legs or pulling people off chairs by running away. Hilarious! If you’re seven years old. And stupid.

Role Models does feature children, but easily side steps the usual child-comedy pitfalls by having its children say stuff like “fuck you”. Neat! It’s co-written by Paul Rudd, the sardonic best friend as seen in Knocked Up, 40 Year Old Virgin, Anchorman and, um, Romeo & Juliet. His incredibly dry humour litters the script, with quips laid out so quickly and flatly they’re often easy to miss. Mixed with naughty toilet humour it makes the majority of Role Models into a deliciously dirty comedy, more so when it features lots of kiddy winks.

Bad boys Danny (Rudd) and Wheeler (a nicely buff Seann William Scott) are forced to carry out community service, being “best friends” for some pretty weird children. There’s Augie, a bespectacled fantasy obsessed teen played by Christopher “McLovin” Mintz-Plasse who is now cemented as the go-to for your general nerdy needs. And Ronnie (Bobb’e J. Thompson – yes, that’s a deliberate hyphen in the middle of Bobbe. He must be pretentious), a foul-mouthed, boobies obsessed young ‘un, who frankly steals the show but could also be verging on a horrendous ethnic stereotype.

There’s a great supporting cast, particularly Jane Lynch as the insane child centre leader, granted playing a character she’s played many times before, but hell she plays it bloody well. There are also some amusing set pieces, such as the camping trip, and Paul Rudd’s bleak take on life always raises a smirk (“It's not that I don't like you, I just don't like to eat with other people”). But – and I’m sure you could detect a ‘but’ coming here – Role Models starts off strong and then suddenly twists into something, well, a bit weak. From dirty adult humour to suddenly a sports-movie-esque quest, with a swift focus on Augie’s role playing battle club type thing. Everyone comes together to help defeat the evil “king” in a big, mock battle scene and… hang on. Weren’t we watching a good comedy on two guys, one a women-obsessed lads lad, and one a dishevelled 30-something depressed at life? Weren’t we laughing at how much they didn’t really care, and how twisted their approach was to looking after two kids? Since when did we care about a fantasy role-playing battle? Since when did it turn into a mushy romance?

Alas, its decline into mediocre battle / romance slosh dampens the comic edge and catapults any real character arc into blando “ooo I do love my woman really” or “um… I haven’t changed at all and was just here for the ruder bits”. Add a couple of unnecessary boob shots and you’ve tainted it with teen boy humour ala “Sex Drive” rather than the suggested quality comedy stock expected from Rudd. As such, Role Models does raise a fair few titters, but by featuring some real life titties and having a plot that goes tits-up it slumps down to a CF0, clinging to a recommendation because it’s a fun Saturday night filler, but failing to raise enough of a chortle to be a great comedy.

21st Jan 09 - Bride Wars

There is a reason why I chose to see this film. I’m not going to go into it, but basically I needed a short film that would take my mind off things without wearing me out mentally. So, in theory, this was the perfect choice. On a normal day this would be a bad choice. Very bad. It has everything I generally dislike: People fawning over weddings claiming they’re the “happiest day in your life”, which is a bold and slightly alarming claim – you mean the ensuing fifty years or so are not going to be as good as today? Nothing will beat sitting in a hot room on small chairs with an Abba mega-mix playing? I may as well kill myself now.

It also has weird photo montages coupled with sage narrative. A plot so thinly constructed a five-year-old could predict what was going to happen (well, maybe not just any five-year-old, but perhaps myself at five, although I was unnaturally clever at that age of course). And it’s set in New frickin’ York. On ordinary days I would have avoided this like Primark on a Saturday afternoon. But I was after something light, and Bride Wars definitely fit the bill without causing too much offence or vomit. I even laughed once, possibly twice, and smiled for at least 50% of the film. A winner!

Well. The leads appear to have a bit of fun with this, but without a huge heap of effort, Hathaway (avoiding my hatred list by being a year older and not smug) winning in the human stakes – that is, being the most sympathetic and also being capable of making actual facial expressions – while Hudson glowers around in the background and raises an eyebrow when describing herself as having put on weight when, quite clearly, she isn’t able to open her mouth wide enough to eat anyway.

The cat fights are fairly fun, but we’ve seen more zing in the few girl spats on episodes of Friends, and the wedding comedy is forever overshadowed by the as yet unbeatable Wedding Singer. As such, nothing particularly shines, the film instead passing by like the consumption of a Milky Way; a not unpleasant but wholly unremarkable sugar injection. No recommendation here, but no real anger either, so a slide into CF-1.

14th Jan 09 - Slumdog Millionaire

Dubbed “the feel good hit of the decade”, Slumdog has been gathering awards and nominations like a squirrel in a nut factory, and caused a stampede of easily swayed pundits to go and see it, expecting a nice, feel good piece on an Indian kid winning Who Wants to be a Millionaire. According to the posters he punches the air in excitement and a woman in yellow falls in love with him, and everyone goes away happy and elated. Feel good!

Slumdog opens with some light torture before moving on to abject poverty, senseless and brutal death, and child exploitation and mutilation. Feel good! It uses the Millionaire questions as a clever way of tracking back through slumdog Jamal’s life, perhaps suggesting that missing an education on a variety of abstract topics does not make you an idiot – life is your education. Nice thought. But Slumdog moves away from that when it’s clear why Jamal went on the programme in the first place, resulting in an overly schmaltzy ending that’s more corny than feel good.

But Danny Boyle’s hyperactive direction mixed with a thumping soundtrack carries you along for most of the film, and you will care what happens to Jamal (a coolly collected Dev Patel) and his older brother (looking weirdly like Michael Jackson in his Thriller days). The story grips mainly during the flashback scenes, following Jamal’s torturous childhood, and it’s only when the past catches up with the present that the foot comes off the accelerator a little, and we are steered towards cheese land.

Still, it’s a nice blend of the Bollywood with the Boyle, whose diversity is impressive given his last film was a claustrophobic horror in space. Perhaps not quite as monumental as the hype machine would have you believe, and very poorly marketed as some feelgood brit-flick (it’s much deeper than that tag would suggest) Slumdog is punchy, original and emotive, slamming you from poo jokes to murder as swiftly as the questions change on Millionaire.

It notches up an extra point for its colourful exuberance but doesn’t really climb any higher for that whiff of cheese, so slumming in neatly with a CF1. Probably the Juno of this Oscar year. Without the pregnancy. Or the strong female character. Or… oh you know what I mean, though.

7th Jan 09 - Changeling

A new year and back to the familiar tone of January and February films in the run up to Oscar season. I.e., long and with lots of “acting”. Changeling was out last year of course, but because all films seem to be half a day long right now, this one won the viewing war by being on at the most convenient time. Yes, I am THAT professional.

So, Mr Eastwood is back behind the camera to direct another leading lady to potential Oscar stardom, replacing Swank with Jolie and boxing for, err, motherhood. He takes the true story of a mother’s fight against the utterly corrupt LAPD back in the 20s, who were so keen to hide their mistakes that they refused to believe they had returned the wrong missing son, despite his mother’s insistence, and instead had her shut away in a mental hospital. Bloody hell! Their attitudes and actions are flabbergasting, prompting amazed laughter in places, which given the subject matter (missing, and most likely, deceased child) is probably a bit in bad taste. Sorry.

Angelina wallops in her performance, showing the distress, confusion and sheer grief that her real-life counter part must have felt. It is, however, a little off-putting that she resembles Skeleton Jack from Nightmare Before Christmas, her willowy frame increasing her vulnerability but unusually large lips and eyes making her a bit frightening too. Much of the time she screams “I want my son”, or “he’s not my son”, and the rest she stares wide-eyed, lips slightly parted in a forlorn pout and a bit of acting-snot glistening in her nostrils. But hell, she does a stirling job and must surely get a nomination at the very least.

The first couple of hours of this film were surprisingly very good (I’m not a massive fan of Eastwood). Gripping, emotional, shocking and nicely paced, the film builds to an almost devastating finale, reigning in the CF points… and then it carries on. For another 40 minutes. The points that could have been summed up in a montage or even those little bits of blurb at the end are shown in full, unnecessary detail, dampening the power of the film and making you wonder when on earth the story will finish. It’s such a shame, because the film seems to naturally build up brilliantly, only to level off and peter out. That’s not to say it doesn’t peter out with a bit of a tear in the eye, but it means a film that could have been “great” becomes a film that is “pretty good”.

Still, for Jolie’s presence and the power of a shocking and compelling true story, Changeling is a fine film and a good way to start the year. It lost points for a lack of control towards the end, and as such comes in at a neat CF1. OK Oscar fodder – what else you got?

The Cinemafool Review of 2008

Who can believe another year has gone by? It seems like only a year ago I was writing the review of 2007, and here I am again looking back over the year and creating the much anticipated top 10, as well as the educational “turkeys”, which should hopefully steer you clear of the cowpats along the way.

Looking back it’s been a belter of a year, throwing out some spectacular films (particularly in the months of February and July it seems) and proving Cinemafool’s dedication by beating last year’s record with 45 new films seen at the cinema. Because you have short attention spans, I will waste no further time and get straight into the first section: what all films aspire to reach, the Cinemafool top 10 of 2008, presented to you in chronological order:

The Top 10 of 2008


12th Jan 08 - Lust, Caution
Rating: CF3
What: Ang Lee’s foray into 1940s Chinese spy drama… with plenty of , errr, “tucking.”
I said then: Gripping plot, scintillating character interaction and an unusual blend of, well, lust and caution.
I say now: Cruelly ignored by the Oscars when this ticked all the boxes – fabulous acting, period setting, beautiful relationship development. Perhaps the porn-eqsue sex throughout may have put the Oscar crew off, though…
I also said: I couldn’t help but notice the audience for this film was made up of an interesting number of boys in their late teens

6th Feb 08 - No Country for Old Men
Rating: CF3
What: The Coen brothers trot in with a meaty award-laden film full of violence and a hunt for that good ol’ bag of money.
I said then: Powerful, thrilling and chock full of memorable performances.
I say now: Rewards further on a second viewing and now sitting in the Cinemafool DVD collection, No Country is the Coens on full form, even though I still haven’t been able to pay attention to that closing speech.
I also said: I’ve just mixed a landscape analogy with a pie analogy

15th Feb 08 - Cloverfield
Rating: CF2
What: Big monster attacks New York (for a change) but this time they’ve given one of the running, screaming extras a camcorder.
I said then: Chaotic, dazzling and down-right frightening…an exciting B-movie done in an entirely new angle.
I say now: The Blair-Witch style cameras have been done to death the rest of this year, but Cloverfield was at the forefront, and this is still a little nugget of shaky terror worth catching.
I also said: You could only get motion sickness if you felt queasy with simple things like rollercoasters, banana flavoured beer, or just generally moving around.

20th Feb 08 - The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Rating: CF3
What: Real life tale of magazine editor suffering stroke, resulting in only being able to move one eyelid. In French! All the hallmarks of something depressing and a bit rah. But…
I said then: This film is both uplifting and upsetting, beautifully shot and acted, altogether emotionally gratifying.
I say now: Not half as rah or depressing as it sounds, this was one of the most moving films of the year and also one of the most creatively shot. Don’t be put off – this should be a definite on your film lists.
I also said: I’ve just bought myself a coffee percolator. It makes noises like Darth Vader underwater and has made me a tad hyper.

23rd Feb 08 - There Will Be Blood
Rating: CF3
What: P. T. Anderson’s whopper about an oil man, with Oscar winning performance from Day Lewis.
I said then: A fascinating character study and an epic tale of greed… you can easily get lost in the depths of this film, with its substantial running time, measured pace and unknown plot directions.
I say now: Cor blimey this is a good film. You have to set aside an entire evening to truly appreciate, but, well, cor blimey this is good.
I also said: I’d even stoop to watching him in a period drama with Knightley, as long as he spent the majority of the film talking in a thick accent about how rubbish she is.

9th April 08 - The Orphanage
Rating: CF2
What: Spanish horror set in a haunted orphanage… mummy!
I said then: Chills with an emotional core... Don your best pair of brown trousers and go watch.
I say now: One of the scariest flicks of the year that still retains a sense of dignity and, well, plot, The Orphanage is one to watch but not with young children who might walk into the room. With pillow cases over their heads.
I also said: Scary enough to make me turn on every light in my house that evening

16th July 08 – The Mist
Rating: CF2
What: Frank Darabont’s done Shawshank, he’s done Green Mile – now it’s time for gloomy monster carnage. Of course…
I said then: Richly satisfying drama meets horror. Oh, and it’s fucking depressing.
I say now: Angry Darabont encapsulates everything Stephen King’s original story had to say about mankind, and throws a bit more welly in to boot. Dark, absorbing, and mighty considering it’s essentially “monsters in the mist”.
I also said: Come out of The Mist and you’ll probably want to sit in your bedroom and poke yourself in the eye in despair.

23rd July 08 - Wall-E
Rating: CF3
What: It’s a garbage-collecting robot and his cockroach companion on a desolate planet. What could be better!
I said then: Refreshing, original, beautifully animated and superbly plotted.
I say now: Pixar shows everyone how it’s done with a heart-warming tale and the most endearing robots ever created.
I also said: Its message is as blunt as a donkey punch

30th July 08 - The Dark Knight
Rating: CF3
What: Nolan and Bale return with the man of bat and a media storm following a career-defining performance mixed with upsetting career-ending circumstances.
I said then: Nolan weaves an impressive tale, with plenty of stonking action, suspenseful lead-ups, dramatic interchanges bristling with danger, and the occasional flash of humour.
I say now: Let’s face it, this has set the bar for superhero flicks. It’ll be interesting to see how the hotly anticipated Watchmen fares against it this year.
I also said: A clown that wants to slice your cheeks and ram a pencil in your face. Come on kids, it’s fun!

14th Sep 08 - Burn After Reading
Rating: CF2
What: The Coens are back again with a spy comedy and a host of their favourite faces.
I said then: Funny, fascinating and fully digestible on first-viewing.
I say now: Double whammy for the Coens, offering up a sizeable main course with No Country, and following up with this sharp and sassy dessert.
I also said: I’m still smug in New York. Check me out. Smug.

2008: The Losers

Not too many stinkers this year, but just a couple I have to mention before the big turkey:

2nd Jan 08 - I'm Not There
Rating: CF-1
I said: "This film is the equivalent of someone taking all the ingredients necessary to make the best cake in the world, putting them in a big bowl, mixing them all together, but then by-passing the oven that will unite them into a cohesive sponge and instead using the mixture to write a big, obscure Bob Dylan quote all over the wall."

3rd Sep 08 - Babylon A.D
Rating: CF-3
I said: “Bloody hell.”
“My only guess is the film makers assume their target audience has stopped paying attention by this point.”
“It was shit. A big steaming shit. Lazily created to sit on our screens for a while before slowly sliding off into the trough of shit films that end up on 3-for-2 offers.”

31st Dec 08 - The Day the Earth Stood Still
Rating: CF-3
I said: "Watch the trailer for the cool stadium shot, then just look at a powerpoint slide with the phrase “save the Earth – recycle” and you’ll have the same effect, only more enjoyable."

The Turkey of 2008

Despite the lowest mark being awarded to Babylon Zoo – sorry, “A.D” - the mantle of turkey of the year has to go to another film. One that was highly anticipated but ultimately annoyed, befuddled and confused. I’m talking, of course, about:


25th May 08 - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Rating: CF-2
I said: “Three words: What. The. Fuck.”
“A never-ending car chase interspersed with everything and anything that could exist in the real world (or not).”
“Brings nothing new to the table except a lump of crusty bread that we’ve already seen before, only now it looks like it’s picked up every bit of fluff off the floor and some space dust along with it.”
“No more sherbet, Lucas. Your mother knows what she’s talking about.”

End on a high


Because I don’t want to leave the year with the bitter taste of insane Lucas in my mouth, let’s throw a few special mentions out. 2008 was the year of films that looked rubbish but turned out to be pretty good. Iron Man and Hulk gave a tantalising view of what’s to come from the new Marvel studio, In Bruges demonstrated Colin Farrell’s immense eyebrow acting abilities, Lars and the Real Girl gave soft smiles, Rambo shrieks of unintentional laughter, and Transporter 3 proved there was a reason for living.
There are some exciting films on the horizon for the new year, and an ever challenging new record to beat (45 is the target for 09). Who knows what’s in store. Shall we go and see…?

31st Jan 08 - The Day the Earth Stood Still

In a last ditch effort to beat last year’s Cinemafool record of 44 films, we squeezed in one final cinema trip before the last seconds ticked away on the arbitrary marking of time that is the new year. Throwing caution to the wind, the only film that didn’t involve children’s stories being brought to life was a Keanu Reaves remake, and though it had the whiff of potential poo, what better way to see out the year than with a bit of Armageddon? It turns out there are many better ways to see out the year, or spend two hours of your life. Poking a trifle with a fork. Lying face down on the floor. Watching Pirates of the… well, ok. Not quite that.

But it’s surprising just how bad The Day the Earth Stood Still really could be. On the trailer there were cool money shots that suggested full scale destruction. We could ignore ghost-faced wax-work model Keanu plodding around in the background because lorries were being vaporised! Whole stadiums demolished! Who knew what other death and devastation could await! Well. The answer is, frustratingly, none. This is the most sedentary Armageddon piece I have ever seen. The earth is at threat but our only connection to the world is eyebrow-laden Jennifer Connolly, her token son and a handful of army cut-outs, including the portly government representative (a shamefully wasted Kathy Bates). Who cares if the earth is destroyed? Blast it away, was all I could think, as long as you do it with style. But no. They couldn’t even offer me that. Big spheres all around the world. Massive ass-kicking robot. But what, ultimately, is the method of destruction? Dust. A big cloud of metal dust heading for New frickin’ York. Whoop-de-do.

This is the day time stood still as the plot meanders towards a damp flannel finale and your tolerance towards moronic Keanu lessens the more he stares blankly at the camera, perhaps wondering which film he’s supposed to be doing or what time his tea is. Connolly tries her hardest, widening her eyes and staring into lights at every opportunity, but really no one cares. The only reason to watch this sort of film is to see the earth get blown to pieces - there is no other desired outcome in this genre - but this film stoutly refuses to play ball. Sod action and suspense, let’s have a trip to McDonalds and a nice conversation instead.

No disaster flick has yet to beat the monstrously fun Independence Day, a film littered with everything you need in the genre – likeable characters, mega earth destruction, and a rousing speech with drum rolls tinkling in the background. The Day the Earth Stood still is like taking Independence Day and only showing the opening half hour where nothing really happens. But without any form of tension whatsoever. Watch the trailer for the cool stadium shot, then just look at a powerpoint slide with the phrase “save the Earth – recycle” and you’ll have the same effect, only more enjoyable.

A pants way to finish the year, the only way to cheer yourself up is by reading the Cinemafool review of 2008 and seeing the veritable picnic basket filled with film goodies that we’ve been treated to over the last twelve months. The Day the Earth Stood Still, meanwhile, earns a paltry CF-3, and a place on the turkeys list. I’m now making the sound of a raspberry, which I tried typing out but couldn’t get the vowels right. You know the sound I mean though. Think of this film, make that sound, and go rent a DVD instead.

21st Dec 08 - Yes Man

“Yes” is a useful word, particularly in response to such questions as “would you like a piece of cake?” “Would you like a free holiday?” or “Is Cinemafool the most stunningly intelligent web site you’ve ever read?”

When Danny Wallace employed the word to every single thing he was asked, it took him on a journey of wonder and, well, what I imagine was self discovery and new horizons – someone borrowed the book off me before I finished it and I haven’t seen it since (no hint there for its return…) Mr. Hollywood thought this concept was genius, threw away the non-fiction aspect and added Jim Carey. From the trailers this film walked a tightrope between guffaw-filled pre-Christmas joy, or a big sloshing bucket of steamy shite.

Thankfully the bucket remains mostly empty, Carey pulling out another Liar Liar-esque performance with a stable comic creation spattered with familiar Carey madness, particularly when he was introduced to the product-placement wonder of Red Bull. There’s a nice message about not wasting your life away by refusing all new experiences and allowing yourself to plod on towards the end in a boring and miserable way. Plus Rhys Darby from Flight of the Concords adds fresh quirk, mixed with a few gross-out moments (saying yes to the advances of a little old lady was particularly disturbing).

Unfortunately there is a little bit of shite in the bottom of the bucket, and that’s largely down to the lazy choice to fall in line with similar comedies, with cliché after cliché in terms of the strange but beautiful love interest (Zooey Deschanel) who must follow the usual track of falling in love – misunderstanding – fall out – get back together in dramatic gesture, plus the side-kick best mates, one quite good looking, the other a bit of a weird nerd. The yes situations do provide some originality, including some neat touches with Zooey’s random band, or the Harry Potter party, but ultimately the question becomes “can you see what’s coming?” and the answer, obviously, is “yes”.

It’s a shame that a high concept non-fiction (ish) book has been turned into more of a run-of-the-mill Saturday night comedy than something fresher, wittier, or just a bit funnier, but if you’re going to churn out a familiar old flick then it’s at least thankful they’ve picked the Carey to head it up. His energy is enough to carry the film, and though it can’t match the greatness of the Ventura, it at least matches up to, if not surpasses, the likes of Liar Liar. Which isn’t exactly the most devastating of compliments, to be honest. Still, it passes the time, raises a chuckle, and may even make you reconsider some life choices, so for that it gains the recommended CF0. A good one to sit in front of when you’ve said yes to one too many mince pies.

10th Dec 08 - Transporter 3

It’s one of life’s greatest conundrums. Alongside thought provokers such as why is a teaspoon always left in the washing up bowl, how can you lose one sock in every wash, and who on earth actually likes Pirates of the Caribbean 2, there is one mystery that is yet to be solved. Transporter 2: is it intentionally funny? Did the makers genuinely believe that the best way to take a bomb off the underside of a car was to flip it upside down mid-air, and use a crane hook? Did they honestly think a jet-ski vs bus chase was plausible? Or the best way to survive a plane nose-diving into the sea was by leaping towards the tail-end?

The thing is, if they tried to make it tongue-in-cheek, it would fail. It’s not funny enough and such spoof genres have been done to death. Transporter 2 will go down in Cinemafool history as one of the most enjoyable films ever, because it seems to be genuine and yet is utterly, utterly stupid. The news of a third instalment was the source of much excitement, and it is with great pleasure that I can announce it is indeed stupid – perhaps not quite as stupid as two, but there are new conundrums thrown into the mix that make it just as special.

Plot-wise, Jason Statham is Frank Martin, a no-questions Transporter (he drives things places) who can also happily handle a fight against twenty massive blokes. There are some foreign mwuhahaha baddies who have something vaguely to do with being bad to the environment, which instantly makes Transporter 3 contemporary and, like, issues-laden. But a new twist features Frank tagged with an irremovable bracelet, which means if he gets too far away from his beloved Audi (buy one today!) he’ll explode! So Frank has to deal with the cruel beasts who came up with this rather elaborate and, if the plot is considered in any detail, completely unnecessary device, all the while trying to keep his female passenger safe and figure out what the hell is going on.

The fresh conundrum comes in when trying to consider who this film is aimed at. It has all the hallmarks of a big, brash action, with Frank beating people up on wires, driving really fast (who knew tilting your body weight would result in your car going on two wheels!) and lots of big explosions. Transporter 2 had all that, plus a female lead who spent literally all of her time in underwear, aside from the bits when she was naked. Pretty obvious who we’re aiming at there – pre-pubescent boys too dumb to realise the film is nonsense, and people like me who relish the nonsense and have a good old chuckle for 90 minutes. But the third instalment… here we have one female lead who retains her clothing throughout, meanwhile our beloved Frank gets half naked not once, not twice, but three times.

Now, I’m not complaining. Jason Statham can be semi-naked all the time if he so wishes – I would in fact encourage it. The fight scene that involved him taking off various items of clothing, one-by-one, resulted in me actually shouting “take your pants off” at the screen, like a menopausal monster at a hen party. But the main demographic who enjoys such naff action films is not the same demographic you’d imagine lapping up a strip-tease from the butch hero. So “who the hell is Transporter 3 aimed at” could well be the title of a PhD, and if anyone wishes to give me £20k a year I’d gladly go off and re-watch the strip scene over and over and over in order to try and find out.

Seriously.

Anyway, if you smirk at the thought of a car successfully driving off a bridge on to a moving train, then this is the film for you. If you roll your eyes and ask for your money back when someone manages to leap feet first through the passenger window of a moving car, then you shouldn’t watch this. And should also try finding a sense of humour.

So, not exactly a comedy, but still managing to elicit shrieks of laughter, Transporter 3 manages to be both a parody and a straight-player, a gaudy action flick and a piece of homoerotic fantasy worth analysing further. Jason Statham has stumbled into an absolute corker and if you’re the sort of person who’d enjoy this sort of ride, the Transporter3 is the right way to get you there. For sheer enjoyment factor, Transporter 3 gets itself a CF1. Bring on Crank 2, is all I can say.

3rd Dec 08 - What Just Happened?

Who knew how much trouble a dog and a beard could cause. Granted, if you applied some imagination you could come up with all sorts of scenarios – “stray bit of sausage caught in beard attracts big scary dog”, or “excited puppy spoils child’s Christmas by running away with Santa’s fake beard”. Perhaps there’s a film somewhere in those thoughts…

Anyway, the original question should have added “for a Hollywood producer”, because that’s the focus of this film. Based on the exasperated book by producer Art Linson , What Just Happened looks at two weeks in the life of big-time producer Ben, played by a calmy collected Robert De Niro. Poor Ben has to deal with beards and dogs, and neither of them make his life easy. In fact, they sort of ruin it, leading to the question of the film. It’s fascinating to see such bizarre power-plays and politics, but also ever so slightly depressing when you see how money can easily beat any form of artistry. Or facial hair.

So we have a sort of behind the scenes film, latched on to Ben’s complicated lifestyle as a double ex-husband and father. There are some neat touches, with Ben listening to his latest film’s soundtrack which cleverly matches various pieces of action in his life, and a cracking performance from Bruce Willis playing himself as an angry, bear-like buffoon, crashing around sets and intimidating the staff.

But the struggle with this was in figuring out its tone. Almost slap-stick comedy mixes with abstract moments, sitting against a fairly straight realist backdrop. See, you can’t put it up there like it’s a expose of life behind the camera, keeping soundtrack to car stereos and following characters around docu-style, then throw in a random arty close-up of M&Ms or a superfast edit. Well, you can. And it’s never a bad thing to play with styles. But here it seems to jar, making it difficult to settle into. Just as you’re getting used to watching Ben’s issue-laden relationship with his ex-wife, you suddenly get John Turturro’s flamboyant comedy acting. Separately either would be great, but together they just don’t mesh.

De Niro coasts, playing it undoubtedly well but not particularly tested, and plot-wise the after-effects of “what just happened” would probably have offered more room for exploration than just charting the events that create the thorn in Ben’s side. Still, it’s an interesting peak into the torturous world of a producer, and the dog scene is darkly fabulous. Not much of a comedy, more a wry journey with the occasional titter, What Just Happened is an odd-one but saves itself with its original – and true - subject matter, and therefore slinks in with a recommended CF0.

29th Nov 08 - Body of Lies

Body of Lies is both a secret service spy-type thriller and a startlingly real and relevant punch in the face from Ridley Scott.

Secret service spy-type wise, you have Leonardo DiCaprio running around the Far East, hiding under baseball caps, chasing after people while shouting down a phone, with uber-technology backing him up in the form of big-ass satellites tracking his every move and a Brains-esque techie who sits in his weird house and types random shit into computers to make them do clever stuff.

Punch in the face wise, you have suicide bombers, fundamentalist arse-holes spreading the hatred, fat American officials making decisions that disregard various human lives, and violence that is brutally realistic. Take all your Saw-shite-tripe and shove it in the bin, because the only way to truly rattle an audience with torture is to avoid gore-exploitation but just show the stark reality of such practices. Oh, and use a hammer.

This is a bumper film spanning just over two hours (but feeling a little like four) and taking you to unexpected and, in cases like the hammer, unwelcome places too. DiCaprio is of course excellent, bearded up and freakily sporting brown eyes instead of blue. He melds the action (running, fighting, shouting) with the drama, the poor chap having many and various injury makeup sessions throughout the course of his adventures. Taking on the role of fat American official is Russell Crowe, and even when literally the majority of his scenes are spent on the phone, his intelligent but morally flawed Ed Hoffman is a great character, the harsh grey to DiCaprio’s softer brown, the comedy interlude if you like. Well, until you realise people like him are probably in similar positions in real life, making similarly dodgy decisions. And then that punch in the face happens again.

But for all the points gained in a great cast, thrilling set pieces and some definite brain fodder to chew on, Body of Lies slumps slightly because at times it seems to last for ever. New characters are introduced late and new relationships forged three quarters of the way through, leaving you with no clue of the plot’s direction or upcoming end point. Perhaps that is a good thing in a way, and applause to Ridley Scott for crafting such an elegantly long piece of work. But unfortunately when the bottom-seat-shuffle starts to happen, the CF points start to fall.

However, the points had plenty of room to fall, as for the majority of its running time this film is riveting, either in plot, character, or lip bitingly real moments of terror. DiCaprio and Crowe are backed up by a super-cool Mark Strong (Rocknrolla), and with a cast like that and a deftly capable man behind the camera, you canny go wrong. This is an action thriller with a brain. A message piece that doesn’t ram it in your face, or cast too many lob-sided views. It’s relevant, entertaining. A bit like if the news was presented as a drama, but with some nice bits in between to lighten it up now and then. Body of Lies gets a solid CF2, missing a higher mark only for dragging its heels a teeny bit too long. Go see it. Take a cushion. And don’t play with hammers.

26th Nov 08 - Choke

After a woeful gap in cinema visits, what better way to welcome back the big screen than with a film about a sex addict who thinks he could be the son of Jesus. Super. Based on the book by Chuck Palahniuk, whose name I can’t pronounce let alone spell, Choke is the mashed up tale of Victor, a chap who works as an actor in a historical museum, has an addiction to sex, chokes himself in restaurants in order to scam would-be saviours, and tries to look after his mentally ill mother who resides in a hospital and doesn’t recognise her own son.

If you think that’s a lot of rather disparate components then, well, you’d be right. But this is from the author of Fight Club, whose bleak look on the human condition traipses through the majority of his work, often featuring flawed leading characters that we none-the-less begin to identify with. Take Victor – on the surface he’s a pig, a liar, a cheat, and happy to hump any woman that moves. But with flash-backs to his rather unusual upbringing, some touching moments where he tries to connect with his fading mother, and a charming warmth brought to the role by Sam Rockwell, you will find yourself rooting for Victor. Even when he can’t stop imagining the size of every woman’s boobs.

Alongside Rockwell is Kelly Macdonald, flouting a slightly odd American accent (she’s Scottish) and bringing some sweetness to the proceedings, but stealing the show is Anjelica Huston as Victor’s mother. Though current Orange adverts mock her crazier side it’s still fair to say she doesn’t half play a good mental, whether it’s as a dolled up and dangerous lady in the flash-backs, or an increasingly frail old woman in a hospice.

Like Fight Club there is a streak of sardonic humour (the funniest rape scene ever, believe it or not) and because of the subject matter, a heck of lot of dirty humour too (many boobs and flashes of rude, err, positions). But Fight Club’s edgy nature was matched perfectly by Fincher’s erratic direction, turning Chuck’s work into one of the best films in Cinemafool’s experience. Choke is directed by Clark Gregg (an actor, and his first time behind the camera) with a jaunty backing track as Victor trots through the scenes, dampening the fizz and crackle of some of the dialogue or sentiments delivered.

There’s no doubt this is a good film. Original, funny, engaging with interesting comment on how we might choose to live our lives. But there are a few holes, certain relationships not being given full time to develop, and certain plot strands popping up and then disappearing where you feel the novel would have continued. It’s no Fight Club, but it stands tall among some of the shite out today (too many chirpy sing-a-longs for my liking…) and so gains a CF2. Welcome back cinema. Thanks for having me.

31st Oct 08 - Quantum of Solace

Back in 2006 Casino Royale reinvented Bond much in the same way that Nolan breathed life into the Batman franchise. Both were drowning under the cheesy weight of their predecessors and both benefited mightily from a darker, edgier take, with Daniel Craig storming into Bond’s shoes and creating a character who was more dangerous, more damaged, and more interesting. Plus, as mentioned several times in the Cinemafool review (Nov 2006) he also had lovely thighs.

Second time round Bond had the same challenge as Batman – gone was the shock of seeing a new take on a familiar character, and up were the expectations on where they’d go next. Nolan trumped himself with Dark Knight, building on his foundations and moving further into the new direction with startling results. Bond, however… To put it one way, Bond went to the shops for bread and cheese but got distracted by the magazines and forgot his initial purpose. Bond ended up having dry toast instead of the cheese toastie he so craved. Bond was disappointed.

It starts off reasonably promising. A slightly chaotic car advert / road chase (which could have had way more impact if the editing had slowed down a little so we could tell what on earth was happening), followed by moody torture and an ooo baddy moment, followed by second chase sequence, only this one’s on foot. Bond is still angry after the ending to Casino Royale (and I am too frankly – it being 20 minutes too long) so he stalks around a lot looking moody with M trotting after him, tutting. So far, so ‘slightly silly but done well’ Bond. But as the plot meanders off into a string of “go here, meet them, chase with transport, fight! Wear new outfit. Go over there, meet that person, run away on transport! Fight. Change outfit,” the novelty of an angry Bond begins to wear off, and he becomes not so much angry as just a bloke who goes places and chases people.

The Big Bad is just some guy who sells stuff and manipulates people and, well, who knows – the plot was either too complicated or not interesting enough for me to bother to pay attention. The big evil master plan isn’t all that evil or master, really, and its connection to Bond’s quest for solace from his hurting heart is flimsy, leaving an ending that’s more “huh…that it?” than “wow” or “ooo he used a naughty word.” Lady interest either lacks the romance or is easily throw-away. And – biggest flaw in the world – not once, not one single solitary time did his lovely thighs come out. No short shorts, no water scene. No lovely thighs. Not a quantum of thigh. Rubbish!

The usual lovely Craig can’t even save this, his brown-beaten moody glare feels quashed somehow, the initial flickers of characterisation from the first are fizzled out. Though he still packs a Bourne-like punch in the one-to-one combat, and his prickly confrontations with Dench, superb as ever as the all powerful M, are good fun to watch, this is a very subdued Bond. Quantum of Solace is not a Bond of old –sexy, suave, silly – nor is it the promised new Bond from the trailer, the one who stalks over the horizon with a big fuck-off gun. This is a blah-Bond. A bland-Bond. A forgot-the-cheese-for-my-toastie-Bond.

With an irritation already ingrained since every single product known to man is clinging to Bond’s feet (phones, cameras, cars, confectionary, computer games, credit cards… fuck off!) and an indifference to the Bond genre to start with, this was already fighting a slightly inclined battle. But having promised a refreshing take in Casino Royale, this next step is backwards and slightly to the side, with less wows, less plot and absolutely no thighs. Though more Bond-happy fans might find a little more to enjoy, Cinemafool (whose opinion is of more importance) gives only a small quantum of praise, and therefore a CF-2. Bad Bond. Go put your shorts on and we might forgive you.

15th Oct 08 - Rocknrolla

Ah good old Guy Ritchie. Back in the 90s he gave us gangster-cool, a wave of swift talking swaggering cock-er-nies who dabble in crime and are dapper at coming up with sharp put-downs. Lock Stock was a roaring success, Snatch was a pretty good romp, but then it all went downhill. “A Guy Ritchie film” stopped being something cool, and was more “Swept Away”.

But with Rocknrolla Ritchie has clawed his way back to Lock Stock heights. This is punchy, cheeky fun, Ritchie almost creating his own genre that consists of numerous characters, several plot strands that overlap and interlink in slightly unbelievable ways, a cockney narrator, a contemporary soundtrack, and jazzy bits of direction. To explain the plot would take forever, but rest assured it contains your usual head boss gangster dude, some side-kicks, a raggedy gang of goons who you’re supposed to side with, and a scary foreign boss man. But no Jason Stratham, which must always count against a film surely?

Stepping up to the play in the mighty Stratham’s place is Tom Wilkinson (awesome as usual), Gerard Butler (the shouty chap from 300, who is suitably easy on the eyes), Mark Strong (could fit in the cast of the Godfather easily) and Idris Elba (the ace chappy otherwise known as Stringer Bell from the Wire, woefully underused). There’s also an exciting skeleton-off between Thandie Newton’s unbelievable “accountant” and Toby Kebbell who cuts an impressive figure as the rocknrolla (that’s what the title is – clever, yeah?) This is a guy who is both insane, dangerously violent but also amazing adept at the English language.

Some might say that the uber cool nature of the likes of Lock Stock glamorises crime and drugs and violence. Rocknrolla may play up to that in places – comedy druggies, comedy violence (the Russians who just won’t die) and comedy car thefts. But there’s also a neat blast of darkness, with an unpleasantly long scene featuring said rocknrolla drugged up to his eyeballs and therefore dribbling and convulsing on the floor, and an attack on a bouncer that's flinchingly violent and not all too impossible in today’s society (or yesterday’s society – we’ve been beating the crap out of each other for as long as we could hold tools).

This is, if you try to take it seriously, a bit shit really. Nonsense plot, unbelievable characters. Silly nonsense. But taken as a blast of entertainment it hits the mark dead-on. Amusing and engaging, it smacks of the 90s Ritchie, the one who was cool and not Madonna’s (now ex) hubbie. It’s Ritchie doing what he does best, and though there must come a point where he needs to drop the genre for fear of cliché, in this stage of the cinema calendar (which is as parched as a desert in the summer) it is welcome relief. Even though it’s been out quite a while, and is probably out of the cinema by the time you read this. In which case, why not catch it on DVD? For sheer entertainment it gets a recommended CF0.

12th Oct 08 - Gomorrah

Although it sounds like a venereal disease, Gomorrah is a bold and bolshy Italian flick, catapulting you into the world of organised crime and leaving you in there with no hope of escape. It’s like the Godfather mixed with The Hills, a film portraying a reality show while teetering on the brink of being a standard documentary.

Before I throw any more genres into the mix, let me explain. Gomorrah is based on a book written by Roberto Saviano, which unearthed the underbelly of a gritty crime syndicate with fingers in pies that were so wide you’d be surprised how close Joe Public is to standing in them. The non-fiction book became a best seller, and the author became the target of death threats. Naturally making a film about it was the next step.

The structure is familiar in the mafia way, a sprawling plot with multiple characters that doesn’t lend itself to things like a narrator, meaning you’re left to fend for yourself as an at first seemingly endless spray of different people are shown to you. It’s only as the film picks up that you start to spot each character group and get yourself embroiled in their stories, each capturing a different component of the massive organisation. Drugs, weapons and violent family wars mixed with waste disposal, property and textile manufacturing.

But director Matteo Garrone goes for an original approach for the mafia genre, wedging his camera among the action, sometimes peeping round corners or over balconies, sometimes failing to capture everything because it’s too dark, or because the car in which you’re situated has driven off. The effect is piping hot reality, which makes the more violent aspects of the story more jarringly explosive. Not that this is a blood fuelled romp, the majority of action being heated conversations or nervous walks with bullet proof vests.

The language barrier does poke a hole in all the fun, some portions of dialogue seemingly left to your imagination, which is a great shame. The banter between two of the characters – young teens who are bigger than their boots – would probably spark off the screen if translated correctly. But hey – that’s the price we pay for not everyone in the world speaking my language. Damn them all.

Gomorrah’s impact increases when you realise it is fact, and the closing paragraphs detailing the extent of their involvement in the world we know does make you stop and think. But the huge array of characters means we fail to spend the time with them that they deserve, especially compared to the time spent on Mr Corleone (although it would have been five hours long if they’d gone for that approach.) As such, though Gomorrah is fascinating, at times thrilling, and after the initial learning curve embroils your thoughts with its realist style, its closing remarks on each character group has less of an emotional punch. Still, it impresses enough to gain a CF1, possibly for the underpants / weapons testing scene alone. Check it out.

8th Oct 08 - How To Lose Friends and Alienate People

Here’s an idea of how to lose friends and alienate people – say repeatedly that you are more intelligent, experienced and witty than them. Maybe publish it somewhere that the whole world can see. Try it – it works.

Sadly this film isn’t about Cinemafool and all its brilliant nuances. It’s about an annoying journalist whose egocentric activities cause him to be hated by all… Toby Young is a real life Brit journalist, who turned his failed attempts to make it in the big U.S of A into a novel, which now plonks itself on screen for our viewing pleasure (in theory). The first in a duo of films featuring English comedians going to New York (see upcoming Gervais vehicle: Ghost Town), How To Lose Friends catapults our beloved Simon Pegg into the big leagues, staring alongside famous American actors like Kirsten Dunst, Jeff Bridges, and, errr, Gillian Anderson. Hurray for Pegg.

Unfortunately Pegg is just a puppet here, his writing talents kept far away and his comic acting skills tested against mighty jokes involving pigs and small dogs. Great! Although I’m being harsh, because among the slapstick animal gags there are some cutting asides about the biz of show, and the crass nature of that thing called fame and its relationship with the monstrous media. Take these aside and combine them with ace turns from Bridges (with a beautiful mane) and a spicy Gillian, then mix in a surprisingly good moment from Megan Fox (who for the majority is just there for the token boobs, but during a drunken poolside confession actually hits the mark about the price of fame) and you’d probably have a good film.

As it stands, though, How to Lose Friends is patchy, an odd mix of British humour and irritating set pieces (Meet the Parents-esque mistakes) with a guessable plot lacking in true originality – though it’s based on reality, the decision to add a romance element takes off the surprises, and dampens any road to redemption. Sell out your scruples and then have a change of heart, but only really celebrate that by snogging the girl you love? Wow. Plus, choosing to fill the film with the usual New Yorkisms (every taxi ride taking him past Times Square for some reason) only adds to the jaded feel. I’m sure we’ve all had enough of slightly grumpy British people wandering around the Big Apple.

Dunst does her usual Dunst (weird mouth, sassy, dimples) and though Pegg, who weirdly resembles Jasper Carrot, does a great job of becoming one of those horrendously creepy drunk guys who dances really badly and preys on anything female, his character just feels a little too hollow, too stuck in “arse hole” territory to ever really make us route for him. The laughs are few and far between and the romance too blatant to make even the newly soppy Cinemafool care, and considering the cast this is a big disappointment. But not an unexpected one. As such, How to Lose Friends demonstrates the best way to lose CF points, and drops down to CF-1. It's saved from further depths by an ace Yorkshire cave joke, which I won’t spoil just in case you watch it and fancy at least one laugh.

14th Sep 08 - Burn After Reading

If No Country for Old Men was a three course meal, Burn After Reading is a tasty snack. That’s not to disrespect it - by snack I mean something delicious and enjoyable, such as a double chocolate chip muffin or unknown bakery product from Aldi, rather than something worthless like a tic tac or piece of fruit. Like a good snack, BAR is easy to approach, light enough to enjoy all in one sitting but fulfilling enough to stave off hunger for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe you’ll have a lighter tea because of it. Depends on your appetite I guess.

Anyway, after weighty matters in No Country, the Coen brothers return to lighter fare with another dark comedy featuring their favourite Clooney (twitchy and different - the Coens always seem to bring him out of Clooney-isms), Fargo legend Frances McDormand (sparky, superb), a strangely hairless John Malkovich (explosively hilarious), ice queen Tilda Swinton (as an ice queen… but doing it well) and forever chewing Brad Pitt (getting the cheap laughs, but getting laughs all the same).

The plot is too convoluted to even bother to explain, and part of the fun is joining the dots and seeing what picture emerges. While waiting for the dots to cross, the characters wholly engage, each one bright enough to make you want to stick with them until you’re introduced to the next and find them just as captivating. Dialogue, comic facial expressions, twists and turns all pop on screen with confident exuberance, the Coens in comfortable territory and actors given the freedom to let go.

Funny, fascinating and fully digestible on first-viewing, BAR falls under No Country on its score purely for the snack/meal analogy above. While more can be absorbed from repeat viewing of February’s beast, BAR is so cleanly executed you gain everything first-time and lose a richness, a depth, that often accompanies the Coen’s work. But still, Burn After Reading scores an impressive CF2, and threatens a double-whammy for the Coen’s on this year’s CF Top-10. It’s not out until October in the UK, but I’m still smug in New York. Check me out. Smug. And fancying a double chocolate chip muffin.

8th Sep 08 - Tropic Thunder

From my lofty position in New York this week (no monster invasions or hilarious romantic misunderstandings so far) I have had access to newish films and thus become more smug than usual. I’ve seen these before you. Ha ha. Unless you’re American, in which case, um, nerr.

Ben Stiller’s new comedy Tropic Thunder (“TT“) was first on my hit list. With a plot derived from The Three Amigos, Galaxy Quest and Hot Shots Part Deux, TT doesn’t smack of originality, featuring a group of oddball actors attempting to make a Vietnam film and stumbling across some real bad guys in the jungle. But the cast list is enough to make this a worthy contender for your attention. Forget Stiller and Black, though. The real comedy force comes from two non-comedy actors.

If you were to say that the funniest thing in this film is Tom Cruise it’d usually be some sort of witty, cutting Cinemafool insult. But no - Cruisey is by far the best thing in this film, throwing out a belting performance. Who or what he does, I’ll leave to you to find out. Close second is the lovely Downey Jr, genius as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Aussie playing a black-man. D-Jr is, though at times incomprehensible, utterly fabulous, over-acting his face off and making me smirk just thinking about “Satan’s Alley” (you’ll get it). Stiller and Black (that’s Jack) slope behind, doing the familiar. Stiller - slighty goofy but attempting heroic. Black - trying to be overly wild, only occasionally winning a laugh.

The film starts out strong, with faux trailers, faux film and the introduction of Cruisey and Stiller’s agent played by an Owen Wilson-esque Matthew McConaughey. But when we lose the entourage and get stuck in the jungle with the main actor group, the film loses some of its spark, laughs dry up and familiarity sets in. It picks up during the finale, but a promising opening leads to disappointment when you realise your face has stopped hurting from laughing and you have to watch Jack Black in his pants. Again.

Fantastic for the first third, mediocre for the second, reasonable for the third, TT is uneven but enjoyable, poking fun at Hollywood but embracing it all the same. Its saggy middle drops it to a CF1, but it’s still a fun comedy to end the summer with. And I saw it first. Ha ha ha.