Gone Girl - Review

Director: David Fincher Writer: Gillian Flynn Studios: 20th Century Fox, Regency Enterprises, Pacific Standard Cast: Ben Affleck, Rosamund Pike, Neil Patrick Harris, Tyler Perry Release Date (UK): 2 October, 2014 Certificate: 18 Runtime: 149 min

Reviewing David Fincher’s “Gone Girl” is like walking on eggshells -- eggshells filled with explosive spoilers set to blow at the slightest crack. So I’m going to have to choose my steps wisely here, lest those shells break open and those spoilers spill out with catastrophic, movie-ruining consequences. Of course, as any film critic should know, discussion of spoilers should be strictly avoided when reviewing any movie, but the sheer mystery-shrouded, whodunit, don’t-fucking-spoil-it-for-me-or-I’ll-kick-the-shit-out-of-you nature of “Gone Girl” means that one cannot review it in full without risking revealing the juicier details of the plot (and indeed getting the shit kicked out of oneself). Rest assured, I will tread with the utmost of care and reveal as little as possible -- that is, if I haven’t revealed too much already.

The first thing that should be said is that the film is, frankly, terrific -- I’d happily place it among Fincher’s best films, and considering his best films are the brilliant masterpieces “Se7en,” “The Social Network,” “Zodiac” and “Fight Club,” that’s no mean feat. The second thing that should be said is that fans of Gillian Flynn’s original book, among whom I count myself, will be pleased to hear the film sticks close to its source material -- it’s a thorough, faithful adaptation, with only a few minimal changes here and there; though considering it was Flynn who wrote the screenplay, that’s hardly a shock. The third thing that should be said is that Rosamund Pike is sensational: I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she gets an Oscar nomination for this come February, or maybe even a win. And the fourth thing that should be said is that Tyler Perry is actually, genuinely, properly good in this movie. You read that right: Tyler “Madea” Perry gives a good performance here, and he does it without wearing a wig or a flower-patterned granny frock.

The central mystery concerns whether or not Missouri bar owner Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck, on very fine form) killed his beautiful wife, Amy (Pike). On the day of their fifth wedding anniversary, Nick comes home to find smashed glass on the living room floor, an ottoman flipped onto its side, and his wife missing. Concerned (but weirdly laid-back about the whole thing), Nick calls the police, who upon close inspection discover that a pool of blood has been mopped up from the kitchen floor. Coming under the watchful, ever-judging scrutiny of the public eye in the midst of a media frenzy, and with investigators poking more holes in his story the longer Amy is missing, Nick becomes the prime suspect of the investigation -- all the while he stubbornly insists that he had nothing to do with his wife’s disappearance.

As in the book, the film jumps back and forth (albeit not as frequently) between Nick’s perspective and Amy’s diary, which, read aloud by Pike, charts her and Nick’s relationship from their flirty first meeting right up to her disappearance. Both are classic unreliable narrators, often contradicting each other: Nick tells investigators he never once struck his wife; Amy’s diary says he threw her into the staircase banister during an argument about them having a baby. Knowing who or what to trust proves difficult, especially with the certain roles certain characters are playing -- though, as per my no-spoiler promise, I will say no more. On a related note, however, I will say that Flynn’s meaty script, like her book, is full of all sorts of sharp, insightful and witty observations on romance and relationships, and the various roles that one must play in order to keep a “happy” marriage. As a depiction of a modern relationship, it’s scathingly cynical, and in typical Fincher style, delightfully fucked up.

Affleck and Pike just sizzle together, be they sharing their first, sugar-coated kiss or screaming bloody murder into each other’s faces -- sweetly charming yet believably screwed up (with one a teensy bit more screwed up than the other), they’re a great screen couple whose relationship we watch crumble to bits. And Fincher has surrounded them with a great supporting cast: Kim Dickens is steely cool as Detective Rhonda Boney, the sharp-minded chief investigator of the case. Carrie Coon has a lovable snark as Nick’s close, ever-supportive twin sister Margo. Tyler Perry boasts a smooth charisma as Nick’s attorney, a suave Johnnie Cochran type whose main method of prepping his clients for TV interviews is flinging jelly babies at them. And Neil Patrick Harris is slitheringly creepy as Amy’s ex-boyfriend and former stalker, a stinkingly rich weirdo who may or may not be a red herring (*poker face*).

As always, Fincher’s slick and moody direction is absorbing throughout: despite the whopping 149-minute length, the film never drags. And soundtrack duo Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, returning from Fincher’s “The Social Network” and “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” deliver another haunting joy of a score which lingers ominously in the background of almost every scene. The film has a dark energy to it, which works well with its warped sense of humour and especially well when, towards the end, it goes down a spectacularly twisted path. No spoilers, once again, but it must be said, Fincher and Flynn pull no punches with the violent nastiness and disturbing themes -- on three separate occasions, the audience with whom I saw the film audibly gasped in horror (while I giggled internally at the viciousness of it all).

I think I’ll end the review here, before I give the game away. All I’ll say in closing is that the film really is must-see: it's a fabulously enjoyable, brilliantly crafted mystery thriller bursting at the seams with all sorts of dark, delicious secrets. And to think, I almost let slip that it was the butler who did it.

Rating: 9/10

Maps to the Stars - Review

Director: David Cronenberg Writer: Bruce Wagner Studios: Entertainment One, Prospero Pictures, SBS Productions Cast: Julianne Moore, Mia Wasikowska, Olivia Williams, John Cusack, Sarah Gadon, Robert Pattinson, Evan Bird Release Date (UK): 26 September, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 112 min

“Maps to the Stars” is a bleakly funny Hollywood satire from director David Cronenberg, a man who, throughout his whole career, could not be further from Hollywood. From his early body horror in “Shivers” right up to the stubborn impenetrability of “Cosmopolis,” Cronenberg has always been something of an outsider. As such, he’s the perfect man to give Tinseltown an autopsy, to peel off its flesh and expose the dark heart that throbs underneath -- and as we can always expect from him, he does so with a surgical finesse, as well as a delightfully macabre sense of humour.

The film’s setting is the showbiz scene of LA, right under the shadow of the Hollywood sign. It’s a world self-absorbed and cut off from the rest of society, with incessant talk of agents and movie roles and PR tactics. Leading the cast is Julianne Moore as Havana Segrand, an aging actress whose star is fading. In some sort of Freudian nightmare, Havana is desperate to play the role of her dead mother, herself a beloved Hollywood icon, in a remake of one of her mother’s old movies -- all the while the memory of her mother is driving her to madness. Havana is a complete diva, in one scene barking orders from the toilet. In another scene, she sings and dances with glee upon hearing of the death of a five-year-old boy (a death which could give her a significant career boost). She’s the kind of character you just love to hate, a nasty, selfish backstabber, and a completely unapologetic one. And Moore’s performance is a powerhouse, bursting with tears and spitting with venom.

And yet, Mia Wasikowska threatens to steal the show right from under Moore's feet. Wasikowska plays Agatha, a young woman who, soon after arriving in LA by bus, is hired as Havana’s personal assistant. Agatha is intriguingly mysterious, with a vague backstory, burn marks covering half her face, and her arms forever hidden behind long leather gloves. Wasikowska plays her with a bouncy excitement and a subtle craziness, and in a moment in which she performs a bizarre little dance routine in her hotel room, she completely owns the screen. Also among the cast are Robert Pattinson as a limousine driver and struggling actor/screenwriter, whom Agatha befriends; John Cusack as a pretentious TV psychologist; and Olivia Williams as Cusack’s wife, with whom he shares a long-buried secret. Evan Bird also does very good as Cusack and Williams’ son, a bratty, potty mouthed teen superstar with nothing but burning contempt for his adoring fans. Basically, he’s Justin Bieber, but worse.

Cronenberg is known for getting the best out of his actors: he did so with Pattinson in his last movie, “Cosmopolis,” squeezing a terrific lead performance from the “Twilight” star. And he does so with the cast of “Maps to the Stars,” who play up the grotesqueness to thoroughly entertaining, if repulsive, effect. Cronenberg is also known for his emotional detachment, for watching his characters like a biologist observing microbes through a microscope. Here, that detachment is a perfect fit. These are, after all, horrible, vacuous people, about whom there is precious little to like, nor care. Looking through the microscope certainly helps us to stomach them, and allows us to observe them with a clinical mixture of fascination and disgust.

Just as the film exposes Hollywood’s twisted underbelly, there are hints that there’s something going on underneath the film’s Hollywood satire surface: characters are curiously linked through fire and water, mental illness is a recurring theme, a famous movie monologue is repeated throughout, and there’s even some supernatural goings-on, with several characters haunted by ghostly visions. With so many weird and wonderful elements at play, the film is thrillingly unpredictable. And while the ending is not entirely satisfying, there are so many dark delights along the way that that doesn’t really matter. Those delights are pretty damn dark, it should be said: there’s murder, suicide, incest, dead children, pyromania and schizophrenia. But I guess that’s Hollywood for you.

Rating: 8/10

The Guest - Review

Director: Adam Wingard Writer: Simon Barrett Studios: Picturehouse, HanWay Films, Snoot Entertainment Cast: Dan Stevens, Maika Monroe, Brendan Meyer, Lance Reddick Release Date (UK): 5 May, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 99 min

In “The Guest,” Dan Stevens is tasked with playing a mysterious stranger, a super-cool action hero, a charming gentleman, a psychopathic serial killer, a smoldering hunk, and a terrifying boogeyman. He absolutely nails all six, and plays them all with a smoothly charismatic southern twang and a twinkle in his eye (a twinkle that becomes increasingly menacing the more we get to know him). He plays David Collins, a recently discharged US soldier who one day rings the doorbell of the Peterson family. Claiming to be a good friend of the oldest son Caleb, who died on duty in Afghanistan, David becomes the Petersons’ welcome houseguest, sleeping in Caleb’s old bedroom, helping out around the house and fixing family problems. Most of the family fall head over heels for him, but eldest daughter Anna (Maika Monroe) begins to suspect that he’s not who he claims to be.

As David, Stevens boasts serious star quality and astonishing versatility: with a steely charisma, a sexy swagger and a creeping intensity, he’s in full command, and given how many clashing layers he has to play -- badass, friendly, funny, scary -- he manages to create a surprisingly coherent, and captivating, character. And just as Stevens’ performance is one of clashing layers, “The Guest” is a film of clashing styles. I can imagine many going into the film expecting a straight-forward action movie, based on the rather generic-looking trailers -- I know I did. But like their table-turning horror-comedy “You’re Next,” director Adam Wingard and writer Simon Barrett’s film is full of juicy surprises. Part action movie, part psychological thriller, part black comedy and part horror movie, the film is a delightfully experimental genre mishmash, with Wingard and Barrett playing around with genre conventions along with audience expectations to thoroughly entertaining effect.

You can tell something odd’s going on right from the opening shot, a close-up of a spooky scarecrow with a pumpkin head and a witch's hat. This isn’t the opening shot of an action movie: this is straight out of a horror movie. Combine that with the alarmingly ominous title reveal as David jogs towards the Peterson home, and the film’s off to an unexpectedly chilling start. From there, the film becomes a darkly comic thriller (and a genuinely funny and thrilling one), as David begins solving all the family’s problems in his own special way, coincidentally -- or perhaps not so coincidentally -- while bodies start popping up all over the place. Then there’s the action scenes, most notably a bar fight between David and some school bullies, and a shootout at the Peterson house between David and some men who come looking for him. Both fun set-pieces with style and energy to spare. And then, in the final genre turn, the film goes all-out slasher horror, with a spookhouse finale where David basically becomes a sexy Michael Myers.

Speaking of which, all throughout the film there’s a seriously neat ‘70s/’80s vibe straight out of an old John Carpenter movie. It’s a vibe only enhanced by Steve Moore’s old-school synth score -- a catchy, pulsing joy -- and the raw suspense, the dark humour and the strong heroine in Monroe’s Anna. Not to mention the grinning jack-o’-lanterns scattered all over the place (in another nod to Carpenter, the setting is Halloween). But crucially, it has a firm understanding of genre, something Carpenter excelled at back in his heyday -- the film is four genres in one, and not only is each handled brilliantly, they’re also blended together almost seamlessly. And in Stevens’ David, the film has a fascinating anti-hero/villain. With Sharni Vinson’s badass Aussie heroine Erin in “You’re Next,” Wingard and Barrett created one of the great characters of genre cinema; with David Collins, they’ve created another.

Rating: 8/10

Sex Tape - Review

Director: Jake Kasdan Writers: Kate Angelo, Jason Segel, Nicholas Stoller Studios: Sony Pictures Releasing, Media Rights Capital, Lstar Capital, Escape Artists Cast: Cameron Diaz, Jason Segel, Rob Corddry, Ellie Kemper, Rob Lowe Release Date (UK): 3 September, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 94 min

Well, this is timely. So timely, in fact, that one wonders if all the nude celebrity pictures currently leaking online are actually part of some crazy marketing tactic for “Sex Tape”’s UK release this week. I mean, I'm sure Sony would never do such a heinous thing, but the film does need all the help it can get: for starters, it flopped in the US, failing to make back its reported $40 million budget. And though this doesn’t tend to have much of an effect on box office figures, it is, it must be said, absolute rubbish. Not unlike the ongoing hacking scandal, director Jake Kasdan’s comedy sees a couple who shoot a sex tape falling victim to the perils of the iCloud. Jason Segel and Cameron Diaz star as husband and wife Jay and Annie, who, in an attempt to reignite their fizzling sexual passion, decide to film themselves doing the dirty using their brand new iPad. Unfortunately, the video ends up synced to several other devices owned by friends, family, Annie’s new boss and the mailman. In a desperate scramble to save their dignity, Jay and Annie run all over town to get the iPads back before it’s too late and everyone sees their three-hour love session.

This should be comedy gold: here we have a smutty, screwball premise with the potential for all sorts of hilarious hijinks, and a talented cast of comedy stars, among them Rob Corddry, Ellie Kemper and Rob Lowe. Sadly, with only two or three gags worthy of a chuckle, “Sex Tape” is almost completely unfunny, and its mawkish sincerity in regards to Jay and Annie's dwindling sex life clashes awkwardly with its outrageous plot and goofy slapstick, i.e. Segel fighting off a guard dog with an 11-inch, double-ended dildo and a treadmill (a set-piece which is more sad than funny), and Lowe’s ostensibly conservative boss snorting lines of cocaine and rocking out to Slayer (the highlight). It’s a clash it might’ve gotten away with if it had any kind of charm. But like Kasdan’s “Bad Teacher,” it’s cripplingly bland. It’s a faceless studio product, with no vision, no style, no charm, and pretty much nothing going for it outside of its game cast.

It doesn’t even have the courtesy of being sexy. For a supposedly raunchy, R-rated sex farce, its sex scenes are firmly of the PG-13 variety, with its swearwords naughtier than its nudity: every unclothed private part is hidden behind an intricate arrangement of elbows, bed sheets and coffee tables a la “Austin Powers,” but not played for laughs. And both the opening sequence, where we witness Jay and Annie's early bedroom (and park and library) antics, and the closing sequence, where we finally see the contents of the sex tape, are nothing but cartoonish. Segel and Diaz are at least somewhat likable, but what chemistry they have can’t quite overcome the film’s palpable blandness. The film just kind of sits there, and as its plot becomes more and more unbelievable -- the scene at the YouPorn headquarters is all kinds of stupid -- the only logical response is to let out a long, frustrated sigh. And I haven’t even mentioned the film’s gravest error: Rob Lowe’s in a film called “Sex Tape” and the film doesn’t even make a joke about it. How do you mess that up?

Rating: 3/10

Sin City: A Dame to Kill For - Review

Directors: Robert Rodriguez, Frank Miller Writers: Frank Miller Studios: Dimension Films, Troublemaker Studios, Aldamisa Entertainment, Miramax Entertainment, Demarest Films, Solipsist Films Cast: Mickey Rourke, Jessica Alba, Josh Brolin, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Rosario Dawson, Bruce Willis, Eva Green, Powers Boothe, Dennis Haysbert, Ray Liotta, Jaime King, Christopher Lloyd, Jamie Chung, Jeremy Piven, Christopher Meloni, Juno Temple Release Date (UK): 25 August, 2014 Certificate: 18 Runtime: 102 min

Creamy white blood splattering through the night air. Gun-toting prostitutes in bondage gear prowling the streets of Old Town. Shoulder to shoulder drunks drooling over the dancer Nancy at Kadie’s Saloon. And the big brute Marv growling about his “condition” -- right before crushing some punk’s throat with the heel of his boot.

Welcome back to Sin City. It’s been a while: it’s been damn near a decade, in fact, since Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller’s 2005 neo-noir first burst onto cinema screens in all its twisted, sleazy and hyper-stylised glory. And after year upon year of delay upon delay, a sequel is finally here. So I guess the question is, was follow-up “Sin City: A Dame to Kill For” really worth the 9-year wait? In truth, not entirely: back in the directors’ chairs, Rodriguez and Miller essentially present us with more of the same, but not as good -- hardly surprising for a sequel, but after 9 years, it is difficult not to expect, and indeed hope for, something more. And yet, speaking as a big fan of both the first film and the original comic series (and as someone who may or may not own the entire set of “Sin City” action figures, bought from his local Forbidden Planet), it is, I have to admit, quite thrilling to be thrust back into this comic book world full of anti-heroes, femme fatales, crooked cops and limb-lopping ninja hookers once again -- even if it is a clear-cut case of diminishing returns.

Visually, the film is a striking, electrifying joy. It oozes raw style, with its select splashes of colour against stark monochrome, its noirish shadows and white-against-black silhouettes, its splattering bodily fluids, its CG backdrops, and its ragdoll, Looney Tunes physics. If one were to be magically transported into the panels of Miller’s original comics, this is exactly what it would look like: many of Rodriguez’s compositions are even taken straight from those panels. Of course, we saw all this in the first film, so the element of surprise in regards to its outlandish visual aesthetic has long since passed. But there’s still a pulpy verve to it, as well as a delightfully depraved sense of humour to its OTT violence -- though a moment where an unconscious character has his eyeball viciously torn out rang a little needlessly cruel and sadistic for my taste.

As in the first film, we are presented with three standalone, occasionally intertwining stories, plus one mini story. The mini story, based on Miller’s “Just Another Saturday Night,” kicks off proceedings in an unashamedly nutty fashion, with Mickey Rourke’s street thug Marv waking up on the highway, surrounded by a bunch of dead men and a crashed police car, and trying to figure out what happened that night. It’s a wickedly fun little short with a punchline that perfectly sums up Sin City as a place packed full of stories, as Marv looks down at his gloves and growls to himself that he has no idea where he got them from. The title story, based on the second of Miller’s graphic novel series, sees Josh Brolin’s tabloid photographer Dwight (previously played by Clive Owen) receiving a desperate cry for help from his ex, Eva Green’s Ava Lord, who fears for her life. Vowing to save her from her seemingly abusive husband, the multimillionaire tycoon Damian Lord (Marton Csokas), Dwight discovers too late that not all is as it seems.

The other two stories are both originals, not based on comics but written by Miller for the film. The first of them, titled “The Long Bad Night,” stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Johnny, a cocky young gambler who enters a backroom game of poker with the menacing and corrupt Senator Roark (Powers Boothe). After draining Roark, Johnny discovers that his opponent is one hell of a sore loser and finds his life in imminent danger. The second original story, titled “Nancy’s Last Dance,” continues the tale of Jessica Alba’s Nancy, who’s gone mad since her one love, Bruce Willis’ Hartigan, blew his brains out to protect her from Roark. Haunted by visions of Hartigan and turning to drink, she plots revenge against Roark, making regular visits to the shooting range and getting closer and closer to pulling that trigger.

Of the three main stories, “A Dame to Kill For” is the strongest, and it’s the strongest for one reason: Eva Green. As Ava, Green is the ultimate femme fatale: sultry, deadly and irresistibly bewitching, she’s a manipulative, man-devouring goddess, and Green’s hamming it up in spectacular fashion. Earlier this year, she was the best thing in “300: Rise of an Empire;” she’s the best thing here too, and every moment she’s on screen she elevates proceedings to a whole new level. For “The Long Bad Night,” Rodriguez and Miller make the odd decision to stop the story halfway through and continue it later on, a tactic which worked well with “That Yellow Bastard” in the first film, but then that was a big, meaty yarn which spanned eight years; “The Long Bad Night” is very slight in comparison, and the split makes it feel even more slight. And the shock revelation concerning Johnny and Roark’s relationship falls flat on its face. Still, Gordon-Levitt carries it with his suave charisma, playing Johnny with a man-about-town swagger worthy of Frank Sinatra, and Christopher Lloyd has an amusing cameo as a heroin-shooting doc. As for “Nancy’s Last Dance,” it’s interesting seeing the harsh blow Hartigan’s suicide had on Nancy, and seeing her transform from the first film’s damsel in distress into a badass killer is certainly fun, but the story as a whole feels too brief, and the big finale doesn’t have the emotional punch it should have.

Though each story is enjoyably pulpy, none of them are nearly as engrossing as “The Hard Goodbye,” “The Big Fat Kill” or “That Yellow Bastard.” There’s a reason Rodriguez chose those stories for the first film: they’re the best and most full-blooded in the whole series. And because “A Dame to Kill For”’s storytelling isn’t as strong or engaging as the first film’s, it too often feels like empty style. But what style! It genuinely feels like you’re walking inside the panels of Miller’s comics, which, for a fan of the comics, is alone worth the price of admission. If you’re going to see the film (and you’d be one of the few, judging by the box office figures), see it for the stylish visuals, the pulpy verve and Eva Green’s magnificent performance -- combined, they’re almost everything a “Sin City” movie should be; it’s just a shame that the stories themselves are rather lacking. It should be stressed, by the way, for those worried, that this is absolutely nowhere near as bad as the Frank Miller-directed “The Spirit;” though to be honest, few things are as bad as the Frank Miller-directed “The Spirit.”

Rating: 7/10

Into the Storm - Review

Director: Steven Quale Writer: John Swetnam Studios: Warner Bros. Pictures, Broken Road Productions, New Line Cinema, Village Roadshow Pictures Cast: Richard Armitage, Sarah Wayne Callies, Matt Walsh, Alycia Debnam-Carey, Arlen Escarpeta Release Date (UK): 20 August, 2014 Certificate: 12A Runtime: 89 min

“Into the Storm” has lots of great big, swirling, town-flattening tornado effects, but not much else going for it. Its characters, who in the small town of Silverton find themselves at the mercy of an unprecedented onslaught of massive-scale whirlwinds, are uninteresting and forgettable, a borenado of empty stereotypes and cliches: there’s a group of unstoppably stubborn storm chasers, a shy teenage boy and his stern, workaholic dad, the shy teenage boy’s love interest with whom he inevitably becomes trapped until dad comes to the rescue, and of course a pair of comic-relief hillbillies. Its script is dumb and without wit or imagination, and it’s never quite risible enough to be enjoyed ironically. As for the shaky-cam, found-footage gimmick, it’s been used for no discernible purpose: director Steven Quale fails to take advantage of it in any way, shape or form, and it’s constantly undermined by random cuts to regular old third-person shots.

Basically, the only thing worth watching in the whole film are those effects, which to their credit are spectacularly destructive -- there’s a great sequence in which a bunch of grounded jumbo jets caught in the path of a gargantuan super tornado are lifted up into the air like dandelion seeds floating away in the breeze (a shot understandably used in all the trailers and TV spots). But giving a hoot about anything other than the VFX, and indeed feeling involved in the story, ultimately proves difficult when our heroes are such dull bores. My advice: if you’re looking for some thrilling tornado mayhem, watch “Twister” instead. It’s not what I’d call a great film, but it has a sense of humour about its own ridiculousness, and its characters and story are much more engaging than what we’re presented with here. Plus, it has Bill Paxton and a flying cow, both always a plus.

Rating: 4/10

Deliver Us From Evil - Review

Director: Scott Derrickson Writers: Scott Derrickson, Paul Harris Boardman Studios: Screen Gems, Jerry Bruckheimer Films Cast: Eric Bana, Édgar Ramirez, Olivia Munn, Sean Harris, Joel McHale Release Date (UK): 22 August, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 118 min

In “Deliver Us From Evil,” what starts off as an intriguing mix of a gritty, urban police procedural and a supernatural horror soon descends into a boringly typical succession of routine bumps in the night and well-worn demonic possession cliches. Inspired by the accounts of a real-life NYPD sergeant, it stars Eric Bana as cynical New York cop Ralph Sarchie, whose paranormal skepticism is called into question following a series of freaky, seemingly inexplicable investigations. When a rugged, unconventional priest (Édgar Ramirez) convinces him that the cases are demonically related, they join forces to defeat the evil, which begins to target Sarchie’s family and his mind.

Director Scott Derrickson does good in cooking up an eerie sense of dread as Bana wanders through dark hallways, armed with a flickering flashlight and being startled by felines of varying sizes (at one point a little pussycat, at another point a zoo lion). But the resulting scares, though reportedly based in truth, are so lacking in originality they’re more likely to elicit yawns than shrieks, and the big mystery surrounding the ghostly goings-on is uninteresting and largely incoherent. In his previous horror movies, Derrickson has shown an interest in asking thoughtful questions about morality and religion, as he did in “The Exorcism of Emily Rose,” as well as executing simple but effective spook house thrills, as he did in “Sinister.” “Deliver Us From Evil” sadly has very little of those, though as a blending of the crime and horror genres it’s not without interest.

Inevitably, it ends with the kind of exorcism scene we’ve seen a thousand times before, with a screaming match between a priest reciting Bible verses and a thrashing demonic entity. The only difference between this and most other exorcism scenes is that instead of a bedroom or a barn, this is set in a police interrogation room; I did laugh when the camera pans to an onlooker staring through the one-way mirror in bewilderment. In this scene, Bana and Ramirez prove themselves a good team-up: the brawny Bronx cop and the devout Hispanic priest. I wouldn’t mind seeing a sequel where they do further battle with the forces of evil together, though the forces of evil would have to be much more interesting than they are here.

Rating: 5/10

The Congress - Review

Director: Ari Folman Writer: Ari Folman Studio: Drafthouse Films Cast: Robin Wright, Danny Huston, Harvey Keitel, Jon Hamm, Paul Giamatti, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Sami Gayle Release Date (UK): 15 August, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 123 min

Ari Folman’s bold and ambitious but flawed vision of the future as seen in “The Congress” is a vision of two halves. The first half sees Robin Wright, star of such films as “The Princess Bride” and “Forrest Gump,” playing Robin Wright, star of such films as “The Princess Bride” and “Forrest Gump.” Only here, in an alternative present, she’s a little more washed up than in our reality: introduced as her agent, played by Harvey Keitel, chastises her poor career choices and difficult attitude, she’s out of work with no one willing to offer her a role. Jeff Green (Danny Huston), the slithering bigwig of the mischievously named Miramount Studios, gives her an offer: in exchange for a hefty sum, her body will be scanned, and her image, her voice, her emotions, and her very being will be uploaded into a computer system, to be used to star in any film they choose. The catch is that while the computer-generated Robin Wright stars in everything from sci-fi blockbusters to Oscar contenders, the real Robin Wright is not allowed to act in anything again for the rest of her life.

The second half sends us 20 years into the future, where an older Wright takes a drug and enters a strange cartoon world, a 2D-animated, psychedelic, pop culture dreamscape where people are not so much people as fantasy avatars. Take a stroll through this hand-drawn gallery of famous faces and you will see such surreal sights as the jackal-headed Egyptian god Anubis walking the streets alongside Elvis Presley and Queen Elizabeth I, a Tom Cruise caricature who’s nothing but a pair of sunglasses and a toothy grin, and Ron Jeremy motorboating Marilyn Monroe. This world, it transpires, is an illusory escape from the bleakness of reality, where many are starving and living in horrible poverty. The people of the future are given a choice: await death or hallucinate something better. Understandably, most choose the hallucination -- and who can blame them when Michael Jackson is serving up lobsters?

I’m not certain that these two halves fit together very well: the film begins as a scathing take-down of the Hollywood system and the soulless direction it’s supposedly headed, then once the animation kicks in, it suddenly shifts gears to a commentary on such topics as the inequality gap, dictatorships, celebrities as products, and the American healthcare system. Combined, they make for a film whose themes are rich but jumbled and whose structure is uneven. Individually, however, they’re fascinating. The second half, in particular, is enthrallingly berserk, an absorbing, kaleidoscopic head trip that’s crudely drawn yet has a fluid, luscious beauty. The first half is also absorbing, a sharp, subtly sci-fi inflected big-studio satire well performed by Wright, Huston, and Keitel, who together make up the three pillars of Hollywood: the actor, the studio, and the agent in between. For a follow-up to “Waltz with Bashir,” Folman’s animated documentary about his experiences as an Israeli infantry soldier, “The Congress” is certainly unexpected, though like it, it shows him as an innovative director with a vision that’s unique, uncompromising, and well worth a watch.

Rating: 7/10

Lucy - Review

Director: Luc Besson Writer: Luc Besson Studios: Universal Pictures, Canal+, Cine+, EuropaCorp, TF1 Films Production Cast: Scarlett Johansson, Morgan Freeman, Amr Waked, Choi Min-sik Release Date (UK): 22 August, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 89 min

“Lucy” is an action movie with real style, verve and high-concept silliness. It works more than it doesn’t, though I wish it didn’t fall victim to so many genre trappings. Its concept sees Scarlett Johansson gaining superhuman abilities as she gradually unlocks the full potential of her brain capacity. This concept is based in bogus science -- that disproved theory that humans only use 10% of their brains -- but for the purposes of the plot, we’ll just have to swallow it. At least Morgan Freeman’s wise, all-knowing exposition is there to make it go down smoothly.

The film is written and directed by French action maestro Luc Besson, who gives it a propulsive flow and the kind of knowingly goofy vibe you’d expect from the guy who made “The Fifth Element.” Johansson is Lucy, a young American woman living and studying in Taiwan who is tricked into being a drug mule and ends up with a strange, blue synthetic drug sewn into her abdomen. The drug, called CPH4, has the ability to increase the user’s brain activity to superhuman levels -- it’s similar to the pills Bradley Cooper popped in “Limitless,” though it’s much more powerful, and it really lives up to that title. Whilst in captivity, she’s kicked in the stomach, resulting in the CPH4 leaking into her system. Soon enough, her intelligence is rapidly increasing, her senses are bursting through the evolutionary roof, and she’s gaining psychic powers which allow her to control the elements around her.

Throughout the film, the level of brain capacity Lucy has activated flashes onto the screen -- 20%, 30%, 40%, etc. -- as she becomes more and more powerful and nears what we can only assume is a state of omnipresent godliness. Johansson is tasked with playing a sympathetically frightened everywoman, a badass action heroine, and a supreme, almighty being -- she nails all three, and remains in complete command throughout. And as Lucy gets closer and closer to 100%, and her pains, fears and desires whither away, Johansson still manages to elicit flickers of humanity through her steely coolness. She and Besson make for an entertaining team-up, and her Lucy is a welcome addition to the list of tough woman warriors in Besson movies, alongside Anne Parillaud’s Nikita, Natalie Portman’s Mathilda, and Milla Jovovich’s Leeloo.

Besson, of course, can’t resist the urge to fill the film with mindless, high-velocity gunfights and car chases, which, some nifty effects aside, are a little routine considering the potential of the premise. Still, the majority of the film is appealingly absurd, and in the end it comes to a finale that’s daringly, refreshingly outlandish. And despite Besson’s philosophical musings and pseudo-scientific hypotheses, the film isn’t really trying to be anything more than a trippy thrill-ride -- in that sense, it’s a solid success. Johansson’s been on a roll recently, with “Her” one of the best movies of last year and “Under the Skin” one of the best of this year. “Lucy” isn’t on quite the same par as either of those movies, but like them, it shows that despite her status as a smoldering Hollywood sex symbol, she picks her projects with a bold adventurousness.

Rating: 7/10

The Expendables 3 - Review

Director: Patrick Hughes Writers: Creighton Rothenberger, Katrin Benedikt, Sylvester Stallone Studios: Lionsgate, Nu Image, Millennium Films Cast: Sylvester Stallone, Jason Statham, Antonio Banderas, Jet Li, Wesley Snipes, Dolph Lundgren, Kelsey Grammer, Randy Couture, Terry Crews, Kellan Lutz, Ronda Rousey, Glen Powell, Victor Ortiz, Robert Davi, Mel Gibson, Harrison Ford, Arnold Schwarzenegger Release Date (UK): 14 August, 2014 Certificate: 12A Runtime: 126 min

Three movies in, and the “Expendables” franchise is starting to have a serious overcrowding problem. Apparently discontent with the already mile-high pile of beefcakes stacked up in “The Expendables 2,” series overlord Sylvester Stallone has stacked it even higher for “The Expendables 3,” and the pile’s beginning to wobble. The newbies are as follows: Wesley Snipes, Antonio Banderas, Kellan Lutz, Ronda Rousey, Glen Powell and Victor Ortiz make up the new Expendables recruits, Kelsey Grammer plays an old Expendables ally, Harrison Ford replaces money-grubber Bruce Willis as the CIA boss, and Mel Gibson is the villain. Add that entire bunch to the original Expendables -- all seven of them -- and you’ve got yourself one hell of a busy crowd. Which is not to say that a cast of this size can’t be done justice; Bryan Singer proved it possible earlier this year with his superhero ensemble “X-Men: Days of Future Past.” But under the direction of Patrick Hughes, much of the Expendables crew, with the notable exception of Stallone’s ever-present leader Barney Ross, end up disappointingly lost in the mix -- ask me to name anything Randy Couture or Dolph Lundgren do in the film and you will be met with a blank stare.

Still, cluttered though it may be, it’s a fun cast of faces fresh and familiar, and most of them give it their all in what limited screen-time they get. Snipes is the stand-out of the new recruits, his ex-Expendable Doctor Death rescued from imprisonment -- geddit? -- in the opening helicopter assault on a heavily guarded, armoured train. A loose cannon who likes to play with knives, he’s enjoyably nutty and intense, though after the opening 20 minutes he’s sadly given little to do. Banderas’ chatterbox mercenary Galgo is equal points lovably and loathsomely manic, with Banderas so springy and energetic he’s like an excited puppy in a woolly hat. And Kelsey Grammer lends dry humour as Bonaparte, who aids Barney in scouting new, younger members (among whom MMA fighter turned actress Ronda Rousey fares best, introduced as she kicks major ass while wearing a pair of stilettos).

But by far the highlight of the cast is Gibson, who’s at his dastardly best as Conrad Stonebanks, a thought-dead rogue Expendable turned ruthless arms dealer. Spotting him while on a mission, Barney embarks on a personal quest for vengeance against Stonebanks, who in turn vows to wipe out Barney and the rest of the Expendables. Gibson is delightfully smug and slimy, and he plays Stonebanks with a mad twinkle in his eye. He’s just hamming his way through the whole film: he’s a maniacal cackle or two away from sprouting horns from his forehead and growing a bright red, spade-tipped tail out of his backside -- though given his reputation as a person, it’s a surprise that hasn’t happened already.

As for the plot, it’s expectedly bare bones stuff, and it barely supports the overstretched 126-minute runtime. And the grand finale, a gigantic action set-piece which runs, leaps and explodes its way through an abandoned Russian complex, though it has its moments of fun, has far too much going on. But for the most part, this is enjoyable junk, with a likeable sense of humour about itself and a script made up almost entirely of banterous one-liners. For a brainless Friday-night diversion, it does the trick well enough, though Sly would do good to think about whittling down that cast for “The Expendables 4,” lest the pile finally topple over.

Rating: 6/10

Guardians of the Galaxy - Review

Director: James Gunn Writers: James Gunn, Nicole Perlman Studios: Marvel Studios, Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures Cast: Chris Pratt, Zoe Saldana, Dave Bautista, Vin Diesel, Bradley Cooper, Lee Pace, Michael Rooker, Karen Gillan, Djimon Hounsou, John C. Reilly, Glenn Close, Benicio del Toro Release Date (UK): August 1, 2014 Certificate: 12A Runtime: 122 min

“Guardians of the Galaxy” is an exhilarating blast of pure sci-fi pulp, stuffed full of thrilling outer space mayhem, driven by a commitment to unabashed nuttiness, and topped off with a kick-ass retro mix-tape soundtrack guaranteed to put a big, stupid grin on Quentin Tarantino’s face. It’s been widely proclaimed that this was a big risk for Marvel Studios, and from the outset it’s easy to see why: among its main characters are a walking, talking tree and a gun-toting, anthropomorphic raccoon, its setting is a bunch of weird whatchamacallit, thingamabob alien planets somewhere, and it’s based on a nerd property hitherto known only to the most hardcore of basement dwellers. Hardly an easy sell for the average Jane or Joe Movie-Goer. Then again, halfway through watching director James Gunn’s action-crammed comic-book space opera, I did begin to wonder, how is a film this stupendously entertaining in any way a risk?

I mean, it’s weird: certainly the weirdest film in Marvel Studios' 6-year, 10-film history. And it’s the most “out there” project they’ve ever embarked upon: it does, after all, take place in the far reaches of the galaxy and it stars a bunch of funky looking extraterrestrials. But it’s *fun*. Like, really, really fun, with an infectious sense of excitement, humour and adventure akin to the original “Star Wars” and “Indiana Jones” trilogies. Our hero, Chris Pratt’s Peter Quill/Star Lord, is even introduced in his adult form as a sort of intergalactic Indiana Jones, shown thieving a mysterious spherical artifact from a ruined temple on a desolate alien terrain -- though it should be said, his roguish swagger and sarcastic tongue come straight from Han Solo. In the opening scene set in 1988, we watch as his younger self is plucked from Earth by a pirate spacecraft. 26 years later, he wanders the galaxy as a self-proclaimed legendary outlaw, stealing goods while his Walkman blares a mix-tape of ‘70s and ‘80s pop tunes.

He’s a misfit, and unashamedly so. And he’s just a flat-out fun character, with quips galore and Pratt nailing both the wise-ass routine and the action-man heroics. And yet, frequently the show is stolen from under his rocket-powered boots by his fellow Guardians, who are brought together in a high-security prison following a very public tussle. They’re your typical ragtag team of misfits, though to call this bunch typical would be to do them a great disservice. There’s Drax the Destroyer (Dave Bautista), a vengeance-seeking, muscle-bound maniac oblivious to his own social ineptness. His species take everything literally -- fling a halfhearted metaphorical quip at him and risk getting your spine ripped out. There’s slick, green-skinned assassin Gamora (Zoe Saldana), who betrays the bloodthirsty radical Ronan the Accuser (Lee Pace) when his thirst for power becomes too much. There’s Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper), a genetically engineered, wise-cracking raccoon with an undying love of explosions and gun violence. And then there’s Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel), a humanoid tree whose vocabulary consists solely of three words: “I,” “am,” and “Groot,” and in that exact order. Anyone not especially into the film’s comic book shenanigans is bound to have their hearts won over by this walking, talking houseplant: he’s equal points adorably sweet and unstoppably deadly -- he’ll slaughter an army of badguys then turn around and flash you the goofiest, most lovable grin you’ve ever seen.

They join forces to defeat Ronan, who seeks the mysterious artifact stolen by Quill. See, that artifact, it turns out, contains an all-powerful orb called an Infinity Stone, which Ronan plans to use in a quest for vengeance against an entire populace. As an embodiment of heartless, power-hungry malevolence, Ronan works well; as a fully rounded character, he’s a little lacking, and Pace doesn’t quite have the gravitas to pull of such an underwritten character. Karen Gillan fares better as Nebula, the blue, mechanical equivalent to Gamora’s green assassin. Not just Ronan’s right-hand robot mercenary, she’s also Gamora’s jealous sister, and Gillan plays her with both sadistic glee and a deadly grace.

But it’s the Guardians who really shine here: they’re such an enjoyable collection of clashing personalities, and watching them butt heads and grow as a team is a real joy. Groot and Drax in particular are a joy: Bautista, a former pro wrestler with little acting experience, makes for a great comic relief, completely oblivious to his frequent insensitive remarks and social misunderstandings; and as he did as The Iron Giant, Diesel proves himself to have a knack for saying so much while saying so little. Gunn, meanwhile, infuses the film with style, energy and a nutty gusto, and handles the hectic outer space spectacle like a pro. The highlight, I would say, is the prison escape sequence, a stand-out set-piece full of thrills, laughs and gorgeous visual effects in a film absolutely bursting at the seams with all three of those. For sheer, unadulterated fun, the film gives “The Avengers” a run for its billion-dollar box office sum. “The Guardians of the Galaxy will return,” is displayed across the screen before the end credits roll. I for one await their return with eager anticipation.

Rating: 9/10

The Purge: Anarchy - Review

Director: James DeMonaco Writer: James DeMonaco Studios: Universal Pictures, Blumhouse Productions, Platinum Dunes Cast: Frank Grillo, Carmen Ejogo, Zach Gilford, Isaiah Pearce, Kiele Sanchez, Michael K. Williams Release Date (UK): 25 June, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 103 min

The trouble with “The Purge,” director James DeMonaco’s dystopian 2013 thriller, was that it started off with a genuinely scary premise -- in the near future, America is once a year plunged into a government-enforced 12-hour period called the Purge, during which all crime including murder is legal -- and for the following 90 minutes proceeded to flush it down the crapper. Restricting the action to a single location, that location being a locked-down suburban home under attack from masked Purgers, DeMonaco wasted pretty much all the potential of that great premise on what was ultimately the most boringly generic home invasion horror imaginable -- here you have a concept that results in widespread panic and carnage across the entirety of America, and yet here we are, stuck between four walls. It’s no coincidence that the opening titles, in which we’re presented with CCTV footage showing all the anarchic chaos going on outside, are the most interesting and entertaining part of the film -- given the premise, that’s the kind of film you’d expect, not a suburban remake of “The Strangers.”

In that sense, sequel “The Purge: Anarchy” is everything its predecessor could and should have been. Clearly taking criticisms of the first “Purge” to heart, and armed with a bigger budget thanks to the first film’s highly profitable box office takings, DeMonaco removes the action from those restrictive four walls and drops it into the streets of Los Angeles. As the annual Purge commences once again, we follow a group of five individuals who find themselves trapped in downtown L.A.: there’s Shane and Liz (Zach Gilford and Kiele Sanchez), a young couple whose car dies on the highway and who are being relentlessly pursued by a masked gang; there’s Eva and Cali (Carmen Ejogo and Zoe Soul), a waitress and her teenage daughter just trying to make it through the night when they are mysteriously targeted in their home by an armed military force; and then there’s Leo Barnes (Frank Grillo), an ex-cop who willingly sets off on Purge Night, armed to the teeth and driving around in an armored car, for reasons unknown.

Brought together, they battle to survive in a city-wide 12-hour warzone, dodging armed thugs, snipers on rooftops, and family members with a grudge. DeMonaco maintains a gripping air of unease as the group are stalked, hunted and attacked at practically every corner they turn, all the while he recalls images of gangland anarchy from dystopian cult classics “Escape from New York” and “The Warriors:” a city bus racing down the road while fully ablaze, the body of a pension-thieving stockbroker strung up outside a court, and masked maniacs running down the streets wielding machine guns and baseball bats. All haunting images which paint a brutal picture of an America torn apart by violence, and violence not only sanctioned by the US government, but encouraged by it, too.

Grillo, meanwhile, makes a pretty damn convincing argument for him to play Frank Castle in a future “Punisher” movie: protective yet stand-offish, grizzled and commanding, and with an intriguingly tragic undercurrent, he’s got the personality down pat -- not to mention, he’s a certified badass, practically unstoppable either with a gun or his bare mitts. All that’s missing is a skull on his chest. His fellow survivors are a mixed bag: Eva and Cali are quick to gain our sympathy thanks to their believable and touching mother-daughter connection, plus the fact that they’re thrust into this horrible situation despite their best efforts. Shane and Liz, meanwhile, are a boring and rather vacuous couple, without much personality or chemistry. Not to be mean, but giving a hoot about either of them proves difficult, resulting in a supposedly heart-wrenching moment towards the end falling flat on its face.

In the scene before that, DeMonaco sees an opportunity to ram home the film's message and rams pretty damn hard, as we witness the top 1% auctioning off the poor for slaughter. It’s this darkly disturbing scene, along with the earlier depictions of city-wide violence among the poor, which makes “The Purge: Anarchy” not just a solidly diverting b-movie, but one with real satirical bite. If “The Purge” merely nibbled on America’s culture of violence and government-enforced class inequality, “The Purge: Anarchy” takes a big, fat chomp out of it and spits it back out in disgust. Sure, it’s hardly the most subtle of messages -- the point about the inequality gap is repeatedly shoved down our throats, and as if to shove it even harder, a stupendously unnerving rendition of America the Beautiful blares over the closing credits -- but in terms of taking advantage of and exploring the satirical potential of its central concept, it boasts an appreciable thoroughness that was entirely lacking in its predecessor.

Rating: 7/10

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes - Review

Director: Matt Reeves Writers: Mark Bomback, Rick Jaffa, Amanda Silver Studios: 20th Century Fox, Chermin Entertainment Cast: Andy Serkis, Jason Clarke, Gary Oldman, Keri Russell, Toby Kebbell, Kodi Smit-McPhee Release Date (UK): 18 July, 2014 Certificate: 12A Runtime: 131 min 

If “Transformers 4” is a big, dumb gorilla flinging its feces at the audience, “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes” is a hyper-intelligent chimp treating the audience with the respect they deserve. The superior being, it’s what all summer blockbusters aspire to be, or at least should be aspiring to be: a rollercoaster ride not just in action but also in drama and emotion, all three of which director Matt Reeves knocks out of the stadium. Recognising that spectacle without heart or purpose is empty and meaningless, he gives “Dawn” a real emotional weight and a robust narrative pushed along by its characters and their clashing ideals. The result is an all too rare breed: an emotionally charged summer blockbuster whose dazzling spectacle has meaning and purpose, and consequently, real, juicy meat on its computer-generated bones.

On top of all that, the eighth film in the 46-year sci-fi franchise is quite simply a rock-solid piece of old-fashioned storytelling. At the conclusion of the previous “Apes” movie, Rupert Wyatt’s surprisingly terrific prequel/reboot “Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” genetically engineered super-chimp Caesar led an ape rebellion against mankind as a deadly man-made virus began its spread across the globe. Now that virus has wiped out most of human civilisation, and Caesar and his apes live in peace away from the few remaining humans. That is, until a chance meeting between human and ape ends violently, sparking a conflict between Caesar’s colony and the humans who survive in a ruined San Francisco.

For the film’s opening 10-15 minutes, we’re with the apes. We watch them as they hunt for food in the woods, look out for each other’s safety, teach their young how to read and write, and bond with their families. This bold, gripping and surprisingly touching opening is like its own little silent film, with the apes communicating not through speech but through sign language, as well as the occasional huffs and grunts. Providing us with an intimate look at their daily activities, it allows us to understand the apes’ way of life and form a strong emotional connection to them. In particular, we form a connection to Caesar and his family: his son Blue Eyes, basically your average stroppy teenager but hairier, we see is still young and learning, and his wife Cornelia we witness giving birth to her and Caesar’s new son. Through their affection and strong sense of family and community, we see that the apes are just like us, if not better -- though common sense tells us these are complex creatures, and this peaceful bliss cannot last forever.

In “Rise,” Caesar shared the lead role with James Franco’s human scientist Dr. Will Rodman; in “Dawn,” he shares it, albeit to a lesser extent, with Jason Clarke’s Malcolm, a human survivor living in San Fran with his new wife Ellie (Keri Russell) and step-son Alexander (Kodi Smit-McPhee). With the human community in need of power, and the only power available requiring the cooperation of the apes, Malcolm bravely enters the ape community to ask for their cooperation. As he and his family stay in the woods and live among the apes, the apes’ initial distrust begins to fade, as ape and human bond like family unseparated by fear, hatred and species. However, Malcolm and his family are joined by one rather nasty human whose hatred of the ape community prevails and soon causes trouble. Here, Reeves shows that the ape vs. human conflict is not simply a battle between good and evil, with the apes good and the humans evil, but one between differing ideals on both sides -- and it’s this complexity which makes it so compelling to watch. In any community, be it ape or human, there’s good, evil and everything in between, something Caesar realises all too late.

Caesar is once again performed by mo-cap whiz Andy Serkis, whose every expression and emotion bursts through the digital effects like they were merely make-up. These effects are so convincing one often feels like one is watching a living, breathing creature -- this is thanks, of course, not just to Serkis’ commanding performance, but also to the painstaking work of the animators at Weta; the sheer level of detail that goes into creating these photorealistic apes is incredible and the results are truly breathtaking. Motion-captured alongside Serkis is Toby Kebbell as Koba, a bonobo chimp whose man-inflicted scars have left him with nothing but burning contempt for the human race. Koba is a frightening beast, his brutish aggression matched with a cunning mind and a thirst for vengeance against mankind.

It’s he whose deception really kicks off the battle between the apes and the humans: unhappy with Caesar’s increasing tolerance and trust of the humans, he takes matters into his own stinking paws. And thus begins an explosively spectacular climax in which we absolutely care about the characters and feel the stakes of the action. Emotionally, we’re fully involved because crucially, the drama at the centre of it all is absolutely working. As a result, this action-packed finale is seriously intense and utterly exhilarating, which ought to be something of a relief for anyone who sat through “Transformers 4.”

If there’s a criticism to be made against the film, it’s that the plot follows a mostly predictable path; most viewers could probably map out the individual story beats in advance with little difficulty. But Reeve’s patient telling of this story is so gripping and involving that knowing what’s inevitably coming doesn’t weaken its impact or raw emotional power. Blockbuster movie-makers would do good to look at how Reeves has made this movie: here’s a blockbuster that’s smart, emotionally resonant and balances spectacle with story in a way that’s both thrilling and utterly compelling. In a year of great blockbusters, with “Godzilla,” “Edge of Tomorrow,” “X-Men: Days of Future Past” and “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” all proving more than worth the price of admission, “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes” is one to really get you pounding your chest in excitement.

Rating: 9/10

Boyhood - Review

Director: Richard Linklater Writer: Richard Linklater Studios: Universal Pictures, IFC Films
Cast: Ellar Coltrane, Patricia Arquette, Ethan Hawke, Lorelei Linklater Release Date (UK): 11 July, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 166 min

Richard Linklater's "Boyhood" is a soaringly epic yet deeply intimate journey through the life of a boy from age 5 to age 18 that is completely immersive and unmistakeably human. Filmed over 12 years with the same actors, it's an extraordinary achievement in movie-making and unlike any film I've ever seen before. Filmmakers the world over aspire to the level of human truth which comes so naturally here, and in such high and heavy abundance; as an ode to human nature, it's simply breathtaking.

Linklater has, in the past, shown an interest in how people change over time; his engrossing "Before" trilogy provided us with glimpses at the evolving relationship between two lovers over the course of almost 20 years. Here, he invites us to watch as young Mason grows through the years, and as he transforms from a watchful young boy into an awkward teenager into a confident young man with his whole future ahead of him. Mason is played by Ellar Coltrane, and he plays him at 5 years old, and he plays him at 18 years old, and he plays him at everything in between. Coltrane gives one of the great child performances, and one of the great teen performances, too; he's completely natural, which makes his 12-year transformation all the more enthralling.

As the film progresses, we watch as Mason goes through the various stages that come naturally with growing up: we watch as he stares at the sky in wonder, as his mother reads Harry Potter to him and his big sister Samantha, as he goes through a long hair phase, as he becomes curious about sex, as his voice changes, as he experiments with drugs and drinking, as he gets his first job washing dishes at a diner, as he has his heart broken for the first time, and as he leaves home to go to college. And we watch as the world changes around him too; not just in terms of technology, politics and culture (though that's definitely in there -- as the years pass by, PS1s turn into Nintendo Wiis, Bush turns into Obama, etc.), but also in terms of his homelife: he moves house three times throughout his childhood; he lives under the roof of three stepfathers of varying fatherly quality; he switches primary schools, goes to high school and then finally is whisked away to college. It's these which shape Mason's character throughout the years, and ultimately shape the man he is to be. And it's all beautifully, but crucially not intrusively, captured by Linklater, who watches this boy's life experiences from his ever-evolving perspective.

It's not just Mason who we watch evolve through the years. His mother Olivia, played by Patricia Arquette, we see raising Mason and Samantha both on her own and with various boyfriends as she puts herself through college. His father Mason Sr., a slacker musician played by Ethan Hawke, we see taking Mason and Samantha bowling, out for a meal and to football games every other weekend, all the while he deals with his own lack of responsibility. And then there's his sister Samantha, played by Linklater's daughter Lorelei, at first a lovable little brat whose mischievous qualities we see fade the more she becomes interested in boys. Along with Mason Jr., these people age, mature and develop before our eyes, and their development tells a story: the story of time, and how things change over time, and more specifically how people change over time -- and it's as riveting, moving and, most importantly, human a story as any you'll see this year.

At 166 minutes, the film is a mere 60 seconds longer than the new "Transformers" movie. But while Michael Bay's vacuous explosion-fest is at the very least a whole hour too long, I would have very happily sat and watched "Boyhood" for another hour or so. If you grew up on the planet Earth, you owe it to yourself to see this movie: somewhere in here is something that will deeply resonate with you, be it through distant memories of your childhood or the one you're experiencing right now. I know that it resonated with me, and I know that it's my favourite film of the year so far. If there's a better film released in 2014, I'll eat my own foot.

Rating: 10/10

Tammy - Review

Director: Ben Falcone Writers: Ben Falcone, Melissa McCarthy Studios: Warner Bros. Pictures, New Line Cinema, Gary Sanchez Productions Cast: Melissa McCarthy, Susan Sarandon, Allison Janney, Toni Collette, Sandra Oh, Mark Duplass, Gary Cole, Dan Aykroyd, Kathy Bates Release Date (UK): 4 July, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 96 min

“Tammy” is one movie trying to be two movies at once: two movies which don't mesh together very well, nor are much good on their own. Beginning as a wacky, pratfall-heavy, screwball road trip comedy which isn’t very funny, it veers awkwardly into straight-faced, borderline mumblecore territory somewhere around the third act. If there’s a balance to be found between the two, first-time director Ben Falcone (Air Marshall John!) fails to find it: with clashing tones, it’s a film that’s confused about what exactly it is and what it’s supposed to be doing. Towards the end, one feels like one is watching a completely different movie from before. Wanting to be the big, loud comedy hit of the summer as well as a grounded indie dramedy, the film tries to have its cake and eat it, and ends up choking.

For a Melissa McCarthy vehicle, it at least allows McCarthy to show off both the comedic and dramatic chops she’s displayed in the past -- presumably deliberate on her part, considering she co-wrote the script -- but given her talents you do wish the material did her any kind of justice, even if she did write it herself. She plays Tammy, a fast food worker who as the film opens is having an extraordinarily bad day: while driving to work, she accidentally runs over a deer, which totales her car; when she finally arrives at work, she’s fired for showing up late one too many times; when she gets back home, she discovers her hubby’s getting busy with a neighbour and was planning on leaving her. In dire need of a break, she decides to embark on a spontaneous, unplanned road trip using grandma’s car -- thing is, grandma (Susan Sarandon) insists on joining her. Turns out grandma’s a bit rowdy: that is to say, she’s a foul-mouthed, sex-mad drunk. Cue crazy, cross-country shenanigans involving motel rooms, dive bars, dangerous driving and run-ins with the law -- y’know, the kinda stuff you’ve seen in every other road trip movie ever, only here it's even less inspired.

McCarthy and Sarandon are a fun pairing, and what few laughs the film offers come from their knockabout chemistry. Sarandon’s no stranger to the road trip movie, of course, though her casting here is odd; considering their mere 23-year age gap, you do begin to wonder why she was cast as McCarthy’s grandmother and not simply her mother. They’re joined by a mighty fine supporting cast -- among them Kathy Bates, Toni Collette, Sandra Oh, Dan Aykroyd and Allison Janney -- who are sadly wasted in thankless bit-parts. Collette and Oh are especially underused, given almost literally nothing to do but stand around, read a few lines and cash their pay cheque. For a road trip movie, the film has a bizarrely vacant sense of setting, adventure and destination -- as a result, it often feels lost and stranded and like it’s not really going anywhere. There’s an appreciable sincerity to the film’s message about being strong and true to yourself, but considering how unsure the film is of itself, that message is rendered rather ironic.

Rating: 4/10

Transformers: Age of Extinction - Review

Director: Michael Bay Writer: Ehren Kruger Studios: Paramount Pictures, di Bonaventura Pictures, Hasbro, China Movie Channel, Jiaflix Enterprises Cast: Mark Wahlberg, Stanley Tucci, Nicola Peltz, Kelsey Grammer, Jack Reynor, Sophia Myles Release Date (UK): 4 July, 2014 Certificate: 12A Runtime: 165 min

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if audience members emerge from “Transformers: Age of Extinction” like Kyle Reese emerging from the electric time-travel ball at the beginning of “The Terminator,” all sweaty and exhausted and writhing in pain, and asking startled passers by what year it is. This is entertainment in the same sense that getting a prostitute to stomp on your testicles with the heel of her stiletto is a sex act: technically it is, but surely there are other methods of physical pleasure out there that result in far less ball-aching agony.

Lasting a baffling 165 minutes, “Age of Extinction” is the longest of Michael Bay’s “Transformers” films and it absolutely feels like it. Rumours that the franchise had finally hired an editor have been greatly exaggerated: there’s at the very least a whole collective hour that very cleary should not be in here. Rumours that the franchise was getting a fresh new reboot are also of the greatly exaggerated variety: though there is indeed an all-new cast led by Marky Mark Wahlberg, Mr. Bay is just up to his old tricks again: that is to say, the plot is complete gibberish, the storytelling is almost entirely incomprehensible, the pace is akin to that of a glacier, and the product placement is insane, so much so that the film basically amounts to the world’s longest Bud Light commercial. Oh, and if you’re able to tell the good robots apart from the bad robots, you should probably look into joining the X-Men: your radioactive super-sight might come in handy.

What’s new? Well, there’s the Dinobots, which have been widely showcased in all the trailers and TV spots. But if you go into “Transformers 4” all pumped up for some Dinobot action, I’ve got some bad news for you: you’re gonna have to wait over 2 hours and 10 minutes for a single Dinobot to turn up. No, I’m not fucking kidding. Then there’s Stanley Tucci, who does good as a smarmy bad’un trying to build his own Transformers for inevitably incoherent reasons -- as is always the case with Tucci, his performance is the most entertaining thing in the film. As for Wahlberg, he’s given little to do outside of cracking witless one-liners, smoldering in front of sunsets, chugging back those Bud Lights, and worrying about the safety of his daughter. Which he probably should be, ‘cos surprise surprise, Bay’s still filming his female characters like glamour models at a worryingly leery photo shoot. Nicola Peltz, playing Wahlberg’s 17-year-old daughter, is treated as nothing but barely concealed cleavage bouncing up and down atop a hot pair of sunlit legs. Her introduction is literally an upskirt shot as she exits a car. Again, I’m not fucking kidding.

Then again, Bay shoots *everything* like glamour models at a worryingly leery photo shoot. His pornographic visual sensibility extends not just to tussling Transformers but to every object on-screen. I’m sure if you were to turn the camera on him during any given scene, you’d see him grinding up against a couch or a lamppost. This guy shouldn’t be directing movies; he should be directing porn, ‘cos everything to him is a money shot. And while yes, some of those shots sure do look pretty, giving a damn about any of it is an impossibility -- when everything is a money shot, nothing is at stake (well, except maybe your sanity).

And that’s all this is: just 165 pulverising minutes of relentless, showboating shots of exploding, nonsensical junk. About halfway through, you’ll look at your watch and discover to your horror that there’s another 90 minutes to go and your jaw will drop and your heart will sink and you’ll finally realise, if you haven’t realised it already, that Michael Bay fucking hates you -- cos “Transformers 4” is almost three hours long and he knows you’ll sit through every damn minute and you’ll go see “Transformers 5” when it comes out in two years. He’s even said as such: “I don’t care, let them hate: they’re still going to see the movie!” he was quoted as saying in a recent MTV interview. And we will: like a battered wife, we keep going back. But I say this: let’s not go back. Let’s stand up against this vacuous franchise and refuse to buy a ticket for “Transformers 5.” Let’s march on the streets and shout, “No, Michael Bay! Not this time!” Let’s say enough is enough, and that we will not stand for anym-- ooh, Optimus Prime riding *two* Dinobots at the same time?! “Transformers 5” *might* be fun...

Rating: 3/10

How to Train Your Dragon 2 - Review

Director: Dean DeBlois Writer: Dean DeBlois Studios: DreamWorks Animation, 20th Century Fox Cast: Jay Baruchel, Cate Blanchett, Gerard Butler, Craig Ferguson, America Ferrera, Jonah Hill, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, T.J. Miller, Kristen Wiig, Djimon Hounsou, Kit Harrington Release Date (UK): 27 June, 2014 Certificate: PG Runtime: 102 min

DreamWorks’ gorgeously animated follow-up to their 2010 hit “How to Train Your Dragon” is a soaring success, a sequel which provides the same level of high-flying spectacle, rib-tickling humour and heartfelt poignancy as its marvellous predecessor while taking us on a new and exciting adventure through its mythical land. Of course, with the once-feared dragon community now trained and fully integrated into everyday Viking life, that fantasy world has gotten a whole lot bigger since last we saw it. Riding on the backs of its titular winged beasts, “How to Train Your Dragon 2” further explores the isles surrounding the village of Berk, and in doing so, widens the scope of its fantasy world, expands on the mythos behind its dragon species and throws new, intriguing characters into the mix. Though to give away too many details would be to spoil some of the surprises in store for one-legged hero Hiccup (voiced by Jay Baruchel) and his dragon companion Toothless.

They’re a delightful pairing, our two intrepid heroes: Hiccup, the awkward outcast turned plucky and adventurous dragon rider, and Toothless, a handsome Night Fury who’s adorably goofy but also brave and unwaveringly devoted to his human friend and master. Together, they share a loyal bond that’s sweet and endearing, and watching them talk, play and ride through the clouds together is a real joy. In “How to Train Your Dragon 2,” they face a powerful threat, a fearsome “dragon master” with the formidable name of Drago Bludvist (Djimon Hounsou). He’s assembling his own dragon army with the aim of conquering all who oppose him. While searching for new land, Hiccup and Toothless stumble upon his plans for domination and band together with the villagers of Berk to put a stop to his evil ways.

As per the rule of the sequel, “How to Train Your Dragon 2” is bigger than its predecessor: it features, for example, gargantuan, ice-spitting super-dragons so phenomenally huge they’d pick up Gareth Edwards’ Godzilla and gobble him up for breakfast. But as he did with the first film, director Dean DeBlois keeps the breath-catching spectacle grounded in the emotions of his characters, whose relationships he maintains a firm grip on. Hiccup and his remarkably burly father, the fearless warrior Stoick the Vast (Gerard Butler), again make a fully believable father-son duo, butting heads in the previous movie but brought closer now that Stoick's not all stabby-stabby kill-kill towards dragonkind (he's actually quite enthusiastic about them now -- he even has them race each other!). And there’s some seriously touching stuff in here, surprisingly so for a film aimed primarily at the younger crowd -- it's great to see an animated movie willing to enter really intimate and emotional territory. On two occasions I actually found myself teary eyed: I won’t spoil anything, but there’s a reunion in the film that’s beautifully handled and is one of the most moving things I’ve ever seen in an animated movie -- or, heck, any movie.

And all the way through, DeBlois impressively maintains the first film’s enchanting sense of wonder: John Powell’s score is again a spellbinding treat, and the scenes of Hiccup and Toothless soaring through the skies together have a real graceful beauty to them. The great Roger Deakins is credited as having been a visual consultant on the film; looking at the results, that’s not surprising in the slightest. DreamWorks have shown a knack for sequels over the years, with “Shrek 2” witty and hilarious, “Kung Fu Panda 2” exhilarating fun and “Madagascar 3” pleasingly brisk. Now in swoops “How to Train Your Dragon 2,” the best of the lot: emotionally resonant, properly thrilling and just plain flamin’ gorgeous, it's a triumph in family entertainment, just like its predecessor was. The question remains, however, as to why all the adults in this mythical world speak with a thick Scottish brogue while all the youngsters speak with squeaky clean American accents. Then again, one is very likely to become too swept up in the magic and majesty of the film to dwell on such silly nitpicks.

Rating: 9/10

A Haunted House 2 - Review

Director: Michael Tiddes Writers: Marlon Wayans, Rick Alvarez Studios: Open Road Films, IM Global Octane, Wayans Bros. Entertainment, Baby Way Productions Cast: Marlon Wayans, Jaime Pressly, Essence Atkins, Gabriel Iglesias, Cedric the Entertainer Release Date (UK): 26 June, 2014 Certificate: 18 Runtime: 86 min

About halfway through “A Haunted House 2,” Marlon Wayans, writing in his notepad, ponders aloud to himself, with no irony whatsoever: “When are they gonna stop doing the Scary Movies without the Wayans? They fucking suck.” Having sat through “A Haunted House” and now “A Haunted House 2,” I have to ask Mr. Wayans, how is what you’re doing here any better? The unasked-for sequel to the found-footage horror spoof written by, produced by and starring Wayans, “A Haunted House 2” is just as depressingly puerile and sloppily put together as the first one, if not more so. The targets this time are as follows: “The Conjuring,” “Sinister,” “Paranormal Activity” (again), “The Possession,” “The Devil Inside” (again) and “Insidious,” though they have nothing to worry about; Wayans doesn’t miss his targets so much as slide the arrow up his ass while pulling a silly face and shrieking at the camera.

Watching Wayans’ performance is like watching someone suffer a mental breakdown: his relentless wailing and gurning is as sad as it is irritating, and the fact that he’s put himself front and centre in every single scene leads one to believe that this is some sort of horrifically twisted vanity project for him. Just wait till you get to the scene where he forces a wooden doll to eat out his asshole; it’s like staring into the fucking abyss. I mildly chuckled twice throughout the film: once when Wayans inflates his recently flattened pet dog and it blows down the street like a deflating balloon, the other when Wayans hits a live chicken over the head with a chair. That those are the comedy highlights should tell you a lot. If, at the end of 2014, this isn’t on my “worst films of the year” list, let it be known that I want “Rocket Man” by Elton John played at my funeral.

Rating: 2/10

3 Days to Kill - Review

Director: McG Writers: Luc Besson, Adi Hasak Studios: Relativity Media, EuropaCorp, Wonderland Sound and Vision Cast: Kevin Costner, Hailee Steinfeld, Amber Heard Release Date (UK): 20 June, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 117 min

If there’s a balance to be found between a gritty action-thriller, a sappy father-daughter drama and a lighthearted crime comedy, “3 Days to Kill” fails to find it -- and then some. This absurdly clumsy spy movie comes from mononymous mega-hack McG, and if you want proof of just how ham-fisted a director he is, look no further than his latest film’s staggeringly muddled tone: one minute we’re watching Kevin Costner’s CIA man with a brain tumour Ethan Renner blowing badguys’ faces off and snapping necks, the next we’re watching a cheery montage of him teaching his estranged teenage daughter (Hailee Steinfeld) how to ride a bicycle (!). To say it's tonally confused would be an understatement: don't get me started on the torture scenes played for laughs or the bit where Steinfeld's character is almost gang-raped in a public bathroom.

French action maestro Luc Besson also produces, and there are echoes of his 2008 hit “Taken” heard throughout: its action hero is, after all, a greying CIA dad who marches through the streets of Paris, taking no names and torturing silly-sounding foreigners, and in amongst the punching and shooting there lies a family conflict. The thing is, “3 Days to Kill” can’t decide if it’s the next “Taken” or a parody of it, with its unfunny comedy scenes sticking out like a broken thumb. On three separate occasions, a tense situation is *hilariously* interrupted by an Icona Pop ringtone blaring from Ethan's pocket. It’s not funny the first time; it’s even less funny the second time; by the third time, you begin to yearn for the good old days when McG was directing the “Charlie’s Angels” movies.

The sole saving grace is Costner, though even he seems confused as to who he’s supposed to be playing: Jason Bourne, Bryan Mills or Disney dad Tim Allen. In a career which includes “Waterworld,” a.k.a. that film where he drank his own piss and had gills on his neck, this just might be Costner’s low point -- for crying out loud, he’s being directed by McG. For an action film, “3 Days to Kill” is nowhere near thrilling enough. For a comedy, it’s nowhere near funny enough. For a McG film, it’s exactly as expected; that is to say, it’s vacuous, empty-headed, boring nonsense.

Rating: 3/10

The Fault in Our Stars - Review

Director: Josh Boone Writers: Scott Neustadter, Michael H. Weber Studios: 20th Century Fox, Temple Hill Entertainment Cast: Shailene Woodley, Ansel Elgort, Nat Wolff, Laura Dern, Sam Trammell, Willem Dafoe Release Date (UK): 19 June, 2014 Certificate: 12A Runtime: 125 min

Lotsa snifflin’. “The Fault in Our Stars,” the new teen-oriented cancer weepy, is, like most teen-oriented cancer weepies, mawkish and manipulative. The difference with this, however, is that unlike most teen-oriented cancer weepies, it earns the right to be mawkish and manipulative. It earns this through the relationship between its central pair of sick (and getting sicker) lovebirds: Hazel (Shailene Woodley) and Gus (Ansel Elgort), two sharp-witted teenagers who meet at a cancer support group in Indianapolis. Hazel has terminal thyroid cancer and walks everywhere with a tube up her nose and an oxygen tank at her side. Gus has osteosarcoma, which is in remission, but it has taken his right leg. Bonding over their sicknesses, they become good friends, then more than friends, even as death approaches their doorsteps.

Like “Marley and Me” (but good), “The Fault in Our Stars” is a film you go into bracing yourself for the emotional sledgehammer. A love story between two cancer patients can end only in tear-soaked tragedy. We know this, so when introduced to Hazel and Gus, some may attempt to resist getting swept away in their doomed romance as a means of self-defense. But resistance is futile: Woodley and Elgort are so good together, and their conversations so enjoyable, and their blossoming romance so engaging and believable, that getting swept away is the only option. Before you know it you’re warming to them, you’re going on an emotional journey with them and you’re falling in love with them. Then the sledgehammer hits, and you’re a blubbering wreck crying on the floor.

Me, I got teary eyed and I was sniffling away, and may have had to blow my nose a couple times. And while yes, the film achieves this partly through the saddest of piano riffs playing in the background, I didn’t feel cheated: the film had allowed me to grow to care about the characters and laugh with them and care about what happened to them in a way that felt natural rather than forced. As far as I’m concerned, the film absolutely earns the right to turn all weepy and sappy towards the end: if you're gonna try and make me cry, first make me care, and “The Fault in Our Stars” did make me care. It’s manipulative, to be sure, almost cruelly so, but it allows us to fall in love with Hazel and Gus in a way that’s anything but.

Rating: 8/10

Devil's Knot - Review

Director: Atom Egoyan Writers: Paul Harris Boardman, Scott Derrickson Studios: Image Entertainment, Worldview Entertainment Cast: Colin Firth, Reese Witherspoon, Mireille Enos, Dane DeHaan, Kevin Durand, Bruce Greenwood, Alessandro Nivola Release Date (UK): 13 June, 2014 Certificate: 15 Runtime: 114 min

“Devil’s Knot” has an astonishing story based in fact, but as a drama it fails to satisfy and it adds little of anything new or worthwhile to an already thoroughly traversed case. Its inspiration is a child murder case from 21 years ago: on May 5, 1993, three eight-year-old boys went missing from their neighbourhood in West Memphis, Arkansas; the next day, their bodies were found in the woods nearby. A month later, three local teenage boys, apparently part of a devil-worshipping cult, were arrested for the murders, though they strongly professed their innocence. In Atom Egoyan’s film, private investigator Ron Lax (Colin Firth, sporting an Arkansas twang), a fictional character, becomes embroiled in the subsequent trial, strongly suspecting that the three accused are in fact innocent.

The case of the West Memphis Three has been widely covered since the trial in 1994, with countless news specials, documentaries and publications made over the years. Famously, there’s the extraordinary, in-depth “Paradise Lost” trilogy, and most recently, Amy Berg made a terrific investigative documentary on the subject called “West of Memphis.” Anyone looking to learn anything new about the case in “Devil’s Knot” is looking in the wrong place. As is anyone looking for an absorbing crime drama akin to “Zodiac:” sadly, the film seems more concerned with the inner workings of the trial rather than the people that surround it. What this really could have done with is a David Fincher type who’d give it a mood, a style, a drive and some insight into the characters; in the hands of Egoyan, it’s like a made-for-TV special airing on a Sunday afternoon. If you’re interested in the topic, do yourself a favour: skip “Devil’s Knot” and watch the riveting “Paradise Lost” instead; it tells the exact same story in much more depth and does so with extraordinary real-life footage.

Rating: 4/10