Upstream Color - Review

Director: Shane Carruth Writer: Shane Carruth Studio: ERBP Cast: Amy Seimetz, Shane Carruth Release Date (UK): 30 August 2013 Certificate: 12A Runtime: 96 min

Multi-talented indie auteur and all-round filmmaking whiz kid Shane Carruth follows up his confounding, shoestring-budgeted debut feature “Primer” with another fascinating, head-spinning sci-fi guaranteed to turn viewers’ brains to scrambled eggs with its bonkers, high-concept premise and impossible-to-follow narrative. Yet for all its mind-melting similarities to Carruth’s cult time travel drama, which deservedly bagged the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival in 2004, the long-awaited “Upstream Color” is a horse of a different colour: while “Primer” was cold and distant, and intentionally so, as it whizzed its way through its nigh-incomprehensible technical jargon and complex plotting, “Upstream Color” makes for a much more intimate and emotionally engaging viewing experience, even if its uncommonly abstract storytelling proves alienating at times.

Like “Primer,” Carruth’s second feature is an enigmatic and original sci-fi which invites us to solve a puzzle. The story concerns a young, successful graphics production designer called Kris, played by Amy Seimetz, who is one night drugged and kidnapped by a thief (Thiago Martins). Reduced to a catatonic state by a parasitic, identity-absorbing grub, she is coerced into handing over thousands of dollars from her savings account before awakening several days later with no memory of the past week. Months later, she meets Jeff (Carruth), a handsome stranger on a train who, like her, is a lost soul with a troubled past and with whom she shares a growing connection — a connection which may not just be emotional but also mental, with Kris and Jeff discovering soon after starting a relationship together that they share past experiences and forgotten memories.

Close-up, Terrence Malick-inspired images of nature, such as the snouts of pigs trotting about a farm and microscopic views of multiplying cells, will remind many of 2010’s “The Tree of Life,” while the skin-crawling sight of a giant worm visibly slithering its way underneath Kris’ skin call to mind the early body horror of David Cronenberg. But this is Carruth through and through, and the singular, uncompromising vision of a filmmaker unchallenged by tampering studio heads. Self indulgent it certainly is, Carruth’s aggressively exposition-free storytelling resulting in bouts of head-scratching confusion, but it’s fascinating both to watch and contemplate afterwards.

The film’s technical merits are nothing short of sublime: the rhythmic editing, the electrifying score, the impeccable sound design and the crisp, absorbing cinematography mesmerisingly operate together in perfect harmony, which only makes sense when one realises that they were all handled, impressively, by Carruth himself. Figuring out the inner workings of the plot is borderline impossible on first viewing, so repeat viewings are a must if one is attempting to solve the film’s puzzle. And this really shouldn’t be an issue, for to go along with the bewilderment, there’s a great deal of truth and beauty in “Upstream Color” well worth revisiting. My advice, for what it’s worth, is to let this sensuous, visceral experience wash over you rather than getting too caught up in the minor details of the frankly baffling plot. Even then, you might still end up scratching your head to the bone.

Rating: 8/10

Pain & Gain - Review

Director: Michael Bay Writers: Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely Studios: Paramount Pictures, Platinum Dunes, De Line Pictures Cast: Mark Wahlberg, Dwayne Johnson, Anthony Mackie, Tony Shalhoub, Ed Harris Release Date (UK): 30 August 2013 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 129 min

Shifting gears from the clunky mechanics of his deafening “Transformers” cash cows, blockbuster maestro Michael Bay momentarily ditches his rock-'em sock-'em CGI robots to tell a stranger than fiction tale of steroids, blood money and barbecued human hands in fact-based crime comedy-drama “Pain & Gain.” Inspired by the horrifying true story of a gang of Miami-based body-builders who kidnapped, tortured and butchered their way to fortune in the mid-1990s, it stars Mark Wahlberg, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Anthony Mackie as a trio of dimwitted fitness freaks willing to get their hands dirty — and their toes blown off — to achieve the American Dream.

Tony Shalhoub is unashamedly unpleasant as their supposedly deserving victim: slimy, millionaire scumbag and self-made entrepreneur Victor Kershaw (real name and general demeanour changed for artistic purposes), who’s abducted, held captive and forced to sign over his every cent and possession to these scheming knuckleheads. Ed Harris is the retired private investigator tasked with aiding Kershaw’s case when the incompetent crooks’ multiple attempts to kill Kershaw, now crippled, fail miserably and when the authorities refuse to buy a single word he says — after all, who’d really believe that this drunken asshole was actually kidnapped and extorted by a bunch of crazy weightlifters dressed as ninjas?

There’s potential in this strange, almost surreal story for a great, biting satire displaying the futility of short-cutting your way to the so-called American Dream, but Bay is too concerned with the film’s flamboyant stylisation to care about cultural satire — whatever meaningful criticism the film has is murky at best, the film instead settling for flashy, excessive entertainment. Bay’s leery eye for the female figure remains problematic, as does his troublingly mocking attitude towards the homosexual community, plus here we have a truly horrific real-life story, grisly details and all, being told in a bafflingly comedic, lighthearted manner.

But wipe your memory of the real-life case, if your conscience allows you to do so, and “Pain & Gain” is a ton of darkly comic — if utterly tasteless — fun, bolstered by spirited performances from both its central muscle-head anti-heroes and its supporting players — Johnson in particular is an absolute joy as a coked up, bible-bashing ex-con attempting to set his life straight, all the while stealing and murdering his way to the top. Bay’s reliably high-octane direction keeps the story moving forward at an energetic speed while Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely’s sharp, funny script revels in the increasing ridiculousness of the situation (“Sometimes God just fucks up your order and you gotta chow down on that shitty shame sandwich,” narrates Wahlberg as he’s run over by a police cruiser). Morally repugnant it may well be, but it’s Bay’s most all-out entertaining film since 1996’s “The Rock” and, in one of many memorable highlights, it features the glorious sight of Tony Shalhoub’s taco-spewing face being tasered in slow motion — I'll take that over Optimus Prime action any day of the week.

Rating: 7/10

You're Next - Review

Director: Adam Wingard Writer: Simon Barrett Studios: Lionsgate, Snoot Entertainment Cast: Sharni Vinson, Nicholas Tucci, Wendy Glenn, AJ Bowen, Joe Swanberg, Barbara Crampton, Rob Moran Release Date (UK): 28 August 2013 Certificate: 18 Runtime: 95 min

Home-invasion horror “You’re Next,” from “V/H/S/” and “V/H/S/2” contributors Adam Wingard and Simon Barrett, may well be one of the most consistently surprising movies of 2013. You may have seen the trailers and TV spots for the movie, which feature familiar footage of teens being chased around a big house by masked maniacs — typical slasher movie fare, it seems, and the film keeps up this appearance for about its first half or so. But in its second half, when the hacking and slashing really kicks into gear, the film switches gears and transforms into something else: a Friday-night fright flick which is creative, subversive, refreshingly unpredictable and, most surprisingly of all, genuinely, wickedly funny.

The setting, immediately ominous, is a remote country house by the woods, and the victims are a wealthy family reunited for mum and dad’s wedding anniversary. When darkness falls, they are attacked by a gang of mysterious, animal-masked killers armed with an arsenal of crossbows, machetes and razor-sharp wire. Family members are graphically butchered one-by-one in an all manner of gruesome ways, with the words “You’re Next” menacingly scrawled in blood on the bedroom wall. But what the gang of killers don’t anticipate is that one member of this group of seemingly helpless victims is a trained survivalist who’ll give their stalk-n-slash methods a run for their money.

There are plot-centric shocks along the way, with mounting revelations indicating that not all is as straightforward as it seems, but most surprising is the film’s unexpected shift in tone, as it slowly but surely gains the playful, self-mocking sense of humour of Wes Craven and Kevin Williamson’s “Scream” franchise. What starts off as a tense but generic slasher flick twists itself into a darkly comic thriller in which the killers haplessly fall victim to “Home Alone”-style booby-traps and in which blood-soaked character deaths are played for laughs. The film maintains its horror routes throughout, but audiences may be shocked to find themselves laughing just as much as they’re screaming and squirming.

For horror hounds, the film is appropriately gruesome, with gallons of blood spurting and spraying, and there’s a groovy synth soundtrack which calls to mind the old-school scores of “Halloween" helmer John Carpenter. The film’s stand-out is Australian actress Sharni Vinson, who’s an absolute badass as our butt-kicking, table-turning heroine — she’s not so much cowering babysitter Laurie Strode as she is an Aussie Rambo. The scares, though effective, aren’t particularly original and that wicked sense of humour could have come in handy in the film’s opening third, but it’s great to see a slasher-horror which feels this fresh, is this difficult to predict and is this much of a blast to watch.

Rating: 8/10

Kick-Ass 2 - Review

Director: Jeff Wadlow Writer: Jeff Wadlow Studios: Universal Pictures, Marv Films, Plan B Entertainment Cast: Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Chloë Grace Moretz, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Jim Carrey Release Date (UK): 14 August 2013 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 103 min

There’s something missing from “Kick-Ass 2,” the sequel to the blood-splattered, R-rated 2010 comic-book action-comedy about DIY superheroes doing battle with the mob. Actually, to be more specific, there are two things missing from “Kick-Ass 2,” and their names are Matthew Vaughn and Jane Goldman. The dynamic duo who brought Mark Millar’s transgressive comic to the big screen with style and pizazz, they’ve been replaced by Jeff Wadlow, director of the fight movie “Never Back Down.” Though officially on board as producers, Vaughn and Goldman’s absence in the key roles of director and writer, respectively, is felt as Wadlow’s loyal follow-up mimics but struggles to match the bravura of — and kick as much ass as — the wildly entertaining first film.

But that’s not to say that this second outing for the titular wetsuited, baton swinging vigilante isn’t a fun ride while it lasts: the hyper-violent heroics of Aaron Taylor-Johnson’s wimpish Kick-Ass and Chloë Grace Moretz’s gutter-tongued kid Hit-Girl remain obscenely enjoyable, even if it's lost some of its shock value, and even if Wadlow lacks the deftness of touch boasted by Vaughn — the structure isn’t as tight and the element of surprise is gone, but who’s complaining when Hit-Girl’s slicing off badguys' limbs and calling them the C-word?

Based on Millar’s “Kick-Ass 2” comic and “Hit-Girl” spin-off, it sees crime-busting high-schoolers Dave Lizewski and Mindy Macready joining forces with a newly assembled ragtag team of back-alley superheroes called Justice Forever. Headed by baseball bat-wielding ex-mobster Colonel Stars and Stripes (a tough as nails Jim Carrey, almost unrecognisable under facial prosthetics), these have-a-go Avengers — or should that be Mystery Men? — face off against super-villain gang The Toxic Mega-Cunts. They're led by Christopher Mintz-Plasse’s chain and leather-clad The Mother Fucker, previously known as Red Mist, who’s gunning for revenge after Kick-Ass memorably blew up his crime boss dad with a bazooka at the end of the last movie.

With two rival super-teams comes lots of costumed freaks — including Olga Kurkulina’s eight-packed ex-KGB mega-bitch Mother Russia — but once again it’s 15-year-old Moretz who steals the show and makes leading man Taylor-Johnson the sidekick in his own movie. Though spending much of the film’s length trying to fit in with a gaggle of “Mean Girls"-esque airheads at the behest of her adoptive father, the pint-sized assassin gets to slice and dice in the film’s grand finale, where Justice Forever and The Toxic Mega-Cunts go toe-to-toe, and fist-to-face, in The Mother Fucker’s secret lair — it doesn’t come close to matching the operatic awesomeness of the first film’s high-rise finale, with dodgy CGI blood and cluttered action spoiling some of the fun, but Hit-Girl’s one-on-one punch-up with the 7ft-tall Mother Russia more than makes up for it.

There are some misjudged moments along the way — a scene of projectile diarrhoea-vomiting rings a little too juvenile, and although toned down from the nastier source material, a threat of gang rape against a female character is problematic in its comedic tone — but fans of the first film and Millar's comics are sure to find much to enjoy in the bone-snapping carnage and testicle-gobbling mayhem, and of course in Moretz’s unflinching, potty-mouthed performance. If there’s to be a “Kick-Ass 3,” surely it should just be called “Hit-Girl: The Movie.”

Rating: 6/10

Lovelace - Review

Directors: Rob Epstein, Jeffrey Friedman Writer: Andy Bellin Studios: Millennium Films, Radius-TWC Cast: Amanda Seyfried, Peter Sarsgaard, Sharon Stone, Adam Brody, Juno Temple Release Date (UK): 23 August 2013 Certificate: 18 Runtime: 92 min

Co-directors Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman struggle to conjure a compelling human drama from the fascinating life story of legendary adult actress Linda Lovelace in this bog-standard, ironically impotent biopic of the ‘70s porn sensation. Based on Lovelace’s 1980 biography “Ordeal,” it casts Amanda Seyfried as the foxy, freckle-faced Floridian who, at the age of 23, became a pop culture icon when she starred and showed off her — ahem — keen oral skills in the 1972 adult movie theatre phenomenon “Deep Throat.” Epstein and Friedman’s film charts her overnight rise from shy, suburban unknown to world-famous household name, along the way chronicling her increasingly troubled relationship with her controlling and abusive husband/manager Chuck Traynor (Peter Sarsgaard).

Seyfried is well cast in the title role, boasting both the fragility and sensuality, if not the girl-next-door looks, of the real-life Lovelace, while Sarsgaard initially charms before frightening in later scenes when Linda rebels against Chuck’s domineering ways and he viciously bites back. The true nature of their relationship is revealed quite cleverly, when the film rewinds itself halfway through to show us that earlier, ostensibly lighthearted events on- and off-set may not have been as pleasant — nor, indeed, as voluntary —as they first appeared.

It’s an intriguing story, and one littered with contradictions over the years, but there’s little on show here that you won’t already find on Lovelace’s Wikipedia page. Andy Bellin’s script tries but fails to get underneath Lovelace’s skin, instead portraying her as a one-dimensional victim, and whatever insight it has into the ups and downs of the ‘70s porn industry was already explored with much more power and panache in Paul Thomas Anderson’s epic and enthralling “Boogie Nights.” “Lovelace” is certainly not terrible — Seyfried and Sarsgaard’s performances are too good for that — but it’s too basic to be fully satisfying and too “TV movie of the week” to really do justice to such a fascinating figure.

Rating: 5/10

The Lone Ranger - Review

Director: Gore Verbinski Writers: Justin Haythe, Ted Elliott, Terry Rossio Studios: Walt Disney Pictures, Jerry Bruckheimer Films Stars: Johnny Depp, Armie Hammer, William Fichtner, Tom Wilkinson, Ruth Wilson, Helena Bonham Carter Certificate: 12A Release Date (UK): 9 August 2013 Runtime: 149 min

Anyone vaguely familiar with the multibillion-dollar “Pirates of the Caribbean” franchise will feel more than a touch of déjà vu while watching Disney’s “The Lone Ranger:” a $250-million reboot of the vintage ’30s radio show and ’40s TV serial, it sees director Gore Verbinski and producer Jerry Bruckheimer retooling the much-loved, age-old western adventure stories to fit the mould of their enormously successful swashbuckling blockbusters. Once again, we're presented with the same overblown action set-pieces, slapstick comedy, bloated length and overstuffed plot, only this time it’s set in the Wild West rather than the seven seas, and instead of the swaggering Captain Jack Sparrow swinging his sword we have Tonto the noble savage with a dead bird on his head.

Indeed, there’s more than a hint of Johnny Depp’s popular pirate captain in his portrayal of the iconic Indian sidekick as he confidently strides between (and hangs on underneath) speeding runaway trains with nary a flinch — his red bandana and long black dreadlocks certainly won’t help quell comparisons, although that lifeless ex-crow perched atop his crown is an interesting addition. But Depp’s Sparrow-mimicking Tonto is the least of this film’s multitude of problems, and I’m not just talking about the disastrously low US box office takings — Depp’s deadpan performance is in fact the film’s most entertaining aspect, even if his casting as a Native American has the slightest whiff of whitewashing about it.

No, the problem with “The Lone Ranger” is that it in refitting the classic adventures of Tonto and Kemo Sabe for the “Pirates” brand, Verbinski and Bruckheimer have robbed the project of anything fresh, new or exciting — we’re now four movies into that mega-franchise, with a fifth arriving next summer, and so in “The Lone Ranger," we’ve seen it all before. This strips the film of any sense of unpredictability and essentially leaves us with a “Pirates of the Caribbean” movie that's not quite a “Pirates of the Caribbean” movie but is sort of “The Lone Ranger” — and who's going to be satisfied by that? On top of that, the storytelling is clunky as Depp’s Tonto and Armie Hammer’s by-the-book lawman turned masked vigilante John Reid, aka the Lone Ranger, partner up to pursue the scar-faced, human heart-eating outlaw Butch Cavendish (William Fichtner) against the sweltering backdrop of mid-19th century Texas.

Depp and Hammer make for an amusing odd couple team-up, even if their constant bickering grates after a while, and Helena Bonham Carter does good in a small role as a gun-legged runner of a whore house. But they, alongside Verbinski’s energetic visual stylings and the excellent costume design, are one of the few redeeming features of this misguided, tediously overlong, two-and-a-half-hour mess, which is sure to leave the target teenage audience feeling bored and confused, and long-time “Lone Ranger" fans wishing for the simple and innocent heroics of the old shows. Verbinski and Depp fared much better in the Wild West with their 2011 computer animation “Rango” — and they didn't lose $190 million while doing so.

Rating: 4/10

R.I.P.D. - Review

Director: Robert Schwentke Writers: Phil Hay, Matt Manfredi Studios: Universal Pictures, Original Film, Relativity Media, Dark Horse Entertainment Cast: Ryan Reynolds, Jeff Bridges, Kevin Bacon, Mary-Louise Parker, Stephanie Szostak Rating: TBC Release Date (UK): 20 September 2013 Runtime: 96 min

“R.I.P.D.” is a supernatural action-comedy in which Van Wilder and Rooster Cogburn run around town busting ghosts, but it’s much more stupid and much less fun than that concept sounds. Ryan Reynolds is Nick Walker, a Boston cop who’s killed during a drug bust and is sucked up Rapture-style to a heavenly light in the sky. There, he’s informed that he is to become a part of the Rest in Peace Department, a police force of the afterlife which recruits recently deceased men of the law to help capture and, if necessary, obliterate fugitive spirits known as Deados.

Nick is partnered with R.I.P.D. veteran Roy Pulsipher, a former U.S. Marshall from the Old West played with a rootin' tootin' southern drawl by Jeff Bridges. Together, they hunt down runaway ghouls hiding on Earth and soon uncover an evil plot to bring about the apocalypse: the legendary Staff of Jericho, a mystic device which has the power to bring the dead down to the world of the living, is being reassembled by a gang of Deados, and it's up to Nick and Roy to stop them. Essentially, this is “Men in Black” without the laughs, the heart or the golden Smith-Jones combo: instead we have Reynolds doing his usual wise-ass shtick while Bridges knowingly regurgitates his Oscar-nominated performance from “True Grit,” except in “True Grit” it was funnier.

Kevin Bacon plays the chief villain, Nick’s treacherous former partner who is coincidentally leading the search for the Staff, and phones it in just as much as he does in those bloody EE adverts. A running gag about Nick and Roy’s altered physical appearance on Earth — to avoid detection, Nick is perceived by the living as an elderly Chinese man while Roy is perceived as a smokin’ hot blonde bombshell — is stretched woefully thin by the halfway point, while another concerning Roy's corpse being skull-fucked by a pack of wolves is just plain embarrassing. R.I.P.D.? More like D.I.R.E..

Rating: 3/10

Grown Ups 2 - Review

Director: Dennis Dugan Writers: Fred Wolf, Adam Sandler, Tim Herlihy Studios: Columbia Pictures, Happy Madison Productions Cast: Adam Sandler, Kevin James, Chris Rock, David Spade, Salma Hayek, Maya Rudolph Rating: 12A Release Date (UK): 9 August 2013 Runtime: 101 min

“Grown Ups 2,” the latest insult from Happy Madison Productions, aka Adam Sandler’s House of Pain, is a film so bad even Rob Schneider said no. The unasked-for sequel to the laziest film of 2010, it sees Sandler, Kevin James, David Spade and Chris Rock returning for more perfunctory hijinks and overinflated pay cheques, joined again by their gorgeous wives, their bratty little kids and of course Sandler’s various “SNL” buddies, all of whom are given meaningless extended cameos because fuck it, why not?

Instantly self-indulgent, it opens as Sandler wakes up next to Salma Hayek. He wishes. Sandler turns and, to his shock, discovers that a computer-generated deer has gained access to he and his wife’s bedroom and is staring him in the face. Sandler quietly prods the slumbering Hayek, who awakens, sees the computer-generated deer standing by their bed and shrieks in terror. The computer-generated deer, startled, stands on its two hind legs and proceeds to urinate directly into Sandler’s mouth. That the film gets continually worse from here is nothing short of extraordinary, but it does, as the initial taste of fresh deer piss is soon washed away with a pungent blend of vomit and fart.

The non-existent plot follows Sandler and co as they wander around town for no apparent reason. Crazy antics ensue, which unfold as follows: 1) A trip to Walmart; 2) Kevin James burping, sneezing and farting at the same time; 3) The group excitedly ogling the large-breasted teacher of Sandler’s daughter at the school dance recital; 4) The group being forced to dive off a cliff whilst nude; 5) David Spade rolling around in a giant monster truck tyre; 6) David Spade projectile vomiting after rolling around in a giant monster truck tyre; 7) Kevin James burping, sneezing and farting at the same time, again; 8) Poopy ice cream; 9) Something about a gay car wash; 10) Me banging my head against the wall trying to make it end. They also get into a series of spats with a gang of local frat boys led by a career-best Taylor Lautner, which leads to an inexplicably cartoonish punch-up at an ‘80s-themed house party where Sandler is dressed as Bruce Springsteen and “Stone Cold” Steve Austin is dressed as The Terminator and oh my god I’m losing the will to live.

The film’s sole funny moment comes when Sandler regular Nick Swardson, playing a schizophrenic school bus driver (don’t ask), innocently pulls on the string of a boxed-up inflatable raft and is launched back a good 15ft when it explodes open in his face. I wanted to laugh, but by this point in the runtime — I’d say 20-25 minutes in — the film had already defeated me: my heart had sank, my head was throbbing and my spirit was crushed, and I’d been left bitter, humourless and begging not just for the end credits but also for the end of all humanity — hardly the qualities of a supposedly breezy summer comedy, but hey, that’s Adam Sandler for you. If there’s a worse film to be released this year, shoot me now — I don’t want to know about it.

Rating: 1/10