Reviews

'Love Lies Bleeding (2024)' is a sweaty, grimy, bloody romantic crime thriller about a disillusioned woman who falls in love with a bodybuilding hitchhiker whose steroid-infused rage soon lands both of them in big trouble. It unashamedly - proudly, even - takes the often explicitly cishet, masculine revenge/crime-gone-wrong genre and tells it from a distinctly LGBT+, feminine angle that doesn't feel exploitative despite its graphic nature. It also doesn't box itself in with that 'feminine' label, allowing its female characters to exist with all the complexities and imperfections usually afforded to their male counterparts. It's refreshing to see a story like this be told from a creative team of primarily women, and director Rose Glass continues to impress with her sophomore feature. Filled with palpable texture and peppered with moments of stark surrealism, the feature typically avoids convention despite telling a fairly conventional tale. It's the kind of film you can almost smell, a dirty and down-to-earth representation of small-town America that's the opposite of 'Hollywood' (whatever that term is typically associated with). Its moments of shocking violence punctuate the interpersonal drama at its core and inherently raise its stakes. Kristen Stewart is really good a Lou, with a non-showy performance that feels tactile and real. She's able to hide a real darkness just beneath her shy yet brash exterior, and her initially meek interactions with Katy O'Brian believably bubble into the full-blown immersion associated with head-over-heels love. O'Brian turns in similarly impressive work, portraying a dangerous but vulnerable person whose inner life is layered and messy and likely not all that much more stable prior to her experiments with steroids. She's so ripped she could easily play She-Hulk without the aid of CGI (which, incidentally, I'd love to see), but it isn't her stunning physique that leaves the strongest impression and that's no easy feat. The supporting cast do a good job at making the world feel palpable, with Ed Harris' hair extensions always threatening to outact everyone they share a frame with (Harris himself is good too, of course) and Dave Franco channeling his brother to convincingly play a real creep (and somehow garner a hint of sympathy with a single word in his most memorable scene). Although it's not always as exciting or intense as I'd like, the piece has a strong atmosphere throughout and its world really does feel tangible. Its complex characters constantly reveal darker and darker aspects of themselves, all while its heroes fall deeper and deeper into an all consuming romance that might just doom them both. Its infrequent violence is as shocking as it is affecting, and its confident surrealism gives it a slightly ambiguous air that adds to its overall effect. It's a strong example of female and LGBT+ representation, too. It's not as good as Glass' previous picture, 'Saint Maude (2019)', but it's a really solid follow-up that's effective pretty much across the board.

'The Fall Guy (2024)', a loose reimagining of the television show of the same name, is David Leitch's ode to stunt work and the unsung heroes behind so many of our favourite movie moments (as well as his own stunt team). It's also his best film since his uncredited work on 'John Wick (2014)' for the simple reason that it's a ton of fun. Although its plot has some notable inconsistencies and contrivances, it keeps you engaged throughout and provides ample opportunity for the mixture of action and comedy that acts as the core of the affair. Ryan Gosling's infinite charisma, alongside his palpable chemistry with the great but arguably underused Emily Blunt, allows the feature to float high above its issues; you don't even notice most of its problems until you get home. The crime caper aspects of the narrative often feel like they're getting in the way of the more interesting on-set stunt stuff, and there's definitely a superior version of this that focuses entirely on Gosling and Blunt's rekindling romance amidst the latter's frantic efforts to shoot her sci-fi epic as practically as possible. Still, both sides of the coin are enjoyable. This is the sort of movie that, in a way, shouldn't be as good as it is. It's the sort of thing we've all seen before and probably not liked very much, but here it's been done with so much passion and is generally so well achieved that it just soars above expectation. It's really, really entertaining. It may be predictable, feel-good blockbuster fluff, but sometimes that's just what the doctor ordered.

Martin McDonagh just can't help himself. With the safety blanket of 'bad' characters, he peppers his screenplays with slurs and unnecessarily offensive statements - to the point that they don't actually add anything to the narrative or tell you anything about the on-screen people who say them. The meek meta aspects of 'Seven Psychopaths (2012)' aren't used to genuinely challenge his worst habits, rather to poke fun at them while being allowed to partake in them unashamedly. However, hanging a lantern on his difficulty writing women or his propensity to use outdated language and stereotypes doesn't absolve him of anything. In fact, it makes it clear that he knows exactly what he's doing; if he ever wanted to feign ignorance, he's no longer able to. This may just be McDonagh's weakest film, a pseudo anti-thriller/ neo-noir that aims to be subversive of the tropes it itself identifies via its screenwriter characters. It's still a relatively entertaining experience, though, despite its legitimate issues. Its cast is notably good, each member delivering a strong performance no matter how short-changed they are by the script (Olga Kurylenko and Abbie Cornish, in particular). Colin Farrell sturdily plays the only non-psychopath in the main group, essentially acting as the audience surrogate as he's taken on this wild ride that starts with a kidnapped dog and only escalates from there. A couple of his line deliveries are spectacular and he's a compelling lead considering he's also arguably the least interesting. Sam Rockwell is, as always, a delight as the notably off-the-chain dognapper who brings the wrath of the equally strong Woody Harrelson's character down on his friends. I especially enjoyed the scenes which contrast the latter's utter ruthlessness towards humans with his endearing affection for his dog, and I wish that aspect was explored more as it gives depth to an otherwise pretty stock antagonist. Christopher Walken delivers yet another performance that makes me wonder whether or not he's actually a good actor (iconic, yes, but good?), but he is - of course - really fun to watch and he features in what's easily the flick's funniest yet most suspenseful scene ("put your hands up"). There are some enjoyable sequences spread across the fairly scattershot story, and in general the picture is engaging throughout. It lacks the punch of some of McDonagh's better work, though. Still, it's a decent enough effort overall.

Structured like a play, this mostly single location chamber piece depicts a few meetings between a sexually repressed ex-teacher and a "quite expensive" sex worker. Dealing with themes of body image, confidence, regret, shame, honesty, pleasure and intimacy, the picture basically makes a case for the decriminalisation of its focal profession by portraying it not as an indulgence in 'sins of the flesh' (or whatever archaic terms those opposed to it throw around these days), but as an essential service that can help those in desperate need of a connection - physical and otherwise - get in touch with something they've lost (or perhaps never had to begin with). Furthermore, it posits that sex can be fun and that's perfectly fine. As you can tell, 'Good Luck To You, Leo Grande (2022)' is a very sex positive picture. It's also a rather feminist one. Featuring a brave, vulnerable performance from Emma Thompson (who has described filming a certain scene as being the hardest thing she's ever done) and a nuanced, tender turn from Daryl McCormack, this is an open, honest and sometimes PSA-esque parable about the benefits of open communication that bubbles with nervous anticipation and acts as an exploration of two characters who represent a plethora of emotions that are all too often hushed up in an effort to avoid so-called vulgarity. Things like this aren't often represented in media, and they're important to see reflected on screen. None of us are alone in - or wrong for - feeling the way we do about our bodies, and it's vital for that to be showcased in media because many people simply can't talk about this stuff with people they know in their real lives (for a variety of reasons). Although the movie stumbles into a traditional climax that leans into a stereotype the first two acts feel primed to avoid, the majority of the narrative is refreshingly non-judgmental and effectively naturalistic. It's basically a series of long conversations, but it ebbs and flows to the point that it never feels stagnant. It doesn't repeat itself unnecessarily and the range of topics it covers is impressive, if sometimes a little bit heavy-handed. It's entertaining in a laid-back sort of way, and it's often quite affecting simply due to its willingness to be frank about its subject matter. It's a really solid character study that hits all the beats it needs to. It's not the most exciting film, but it's important and engaging. It's also never exploitative, which is a big plus and kind of rare when it comes to movies prominently featuring prostitution.

'BlackBerry (2023)' tells the (mostly) true story of the meteoric rise and inevitable fall of the world's first smart phone - you know, that phone people had before they got an iPhone. In many ways, it feels like a less successful 'Succession (2018-2023)', taking place over a number of years and diving into the various bits of dodgy business and marketplace management necessary to not only get such a radical idea off the ground, but also keep it floating comfortably in the sky. It really makes you realise just how fast things move; not long ago, the idea I'd be able to write this review on my phone and post it to the internet in a matter of seconds would be inconceivable. In many ways, the movie is a two-hander: Jay Baruchel plays the eponymous device's grey-haired inventor, and Glen Howerton plays its half-haired seller. The former is initially as meek as he is brilliant, but the business side of things eventually wears him down and his ego begins to get the better of him. The latter is aggressive, arrogant and unwilling to let rules get in the way of his potential success. They make a compelling duo precisely because they're so different, at least to begin with, and both actors deliver really solid performances. The feature is a lot more entertaining than you may expect from its relatively dry subject matter. Unlike some other recent 'brand origin' movies, this feels like a story that could have been told even if it wasn't based in reality. It's really enjoyable when it gets going, and it keeps you invested in the journey of its characters by constantly throwing new obstacles for them to overcome... or not. It moves at a good pace, too. It's just a really well-made biopic that rises above a lot of its peers, especially the corporate ones. In fact, and this is a major compliment, it doesn't really feel like a biopic at all (even though it has a a text ending). It's just a really good movie that happens to be about a real-life mobile phone.

'Rebel Moon - Part Two: The Scargiver (2024)' is essentially that episode of 'Game Of Thrones (2011-2019)' season 8 where everyone sits around for an hour waiting for the Night King to arrive, followed by that episode where the Night King does arrive and there's that big battle at Winterfell, except none of the preamble is entertaining and the battle takes place in the day but is no more compelling just because we can actually see it. Following a brief recap by Jimmy the robot, the film picks up with the surviving members of the ragtag rebel crewn/ croon (see what I'm trying to do here?) arriving back on Veldt thinking they aren't in a sequel and won't have to defend the village that hired them after all. However, it soon becomes apparent that they are in a sequel and that the baddies are coming not only to take the grain they were promised but also to capture some high-value targets and likely kill everyone in the community as well. The team must prepare the farmers for the upcoming battle; the supposed 'training' mostly consists of slow-motion farming montages and one or two brief scenes that establish the farmers are somehow completely competent in the art of war despite the fact that most of them have never even held a gun (seriously, these sequences don't show anyone failing at any time, instead portraying them all as just instantly as gun-savvy as John Wick). The movie's first half culminates in a laborious scene in which the main warriors sit around a table and take turns trauma dumping their dreadfully generic backstories that are all essentially the same as each other. I don't think it's a spoiler to say that the film's second half is where its big battle finally kicks off (that's what one-and-a-half film's worth of buildup has been about, after all), and - to be fair - the skirmish itself is fairly entertaining in its own generally subpar way. That sounds like I'm hesitant to admit that it's good, but I just want to make sure I'm not making it sound better than it is. In a more competent film, it wouldn't be up to par; here, it's more enjoyable than you'd expect. Still, it struggles to balance its various elements and plays out like a string of loosely connected vignettes rather than a cohesive sequence. The characters feel like they freeze whenever they aren't on screen and there's no sense of stakes because the movie has never really done any character work (even when it thinks it's doing character work). We just don't know any of these people and the spectacle isn't spectacular enough to truly hold your attention based solely on its aesthetics alone. Like the first film, the experience is entirely inconsequential. It's empty fluff that somehow cost millions of dollars. Its incredibly limp and bizarrely vague sequel-tease ending (which, by the way, does the opposite of get you excited for a potential follow-up) feels entirely contractual and devoid of any real energy on the part of anyone involved. It's emblematic of the odd oxymoron at the feature's core: it's a passion project that seems to lack any real passion. Zack Snyder has butchered his own work here, and it's hard to see how his long-promised "director's cut" (which makes no sense considering he seems to have had full creative control from the moment Netflix got involved with him) will make any of this any better. The problems run too deep for that. This may be better than its predecessor, but it's still not good enough.

'Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child Of Fire (2023)' is just... nothing. This mishmash of much better movies doesn't have an original bone in its body, presenting its well-worn plot in the most plodding way possible and somehow flattening all of its theoretically colourful elements into a single greyscale blob. There's no character to any of it, least of all the actual characters. At times, it's hard to keep track of what's happening and why, as the piece just throws trope after trope at you while hoping its plentiful peppering of sci-fi jargon will cover the stench of familiarity that clings to each and every one of them. Everything vaguely makes sense but most of it just happens in a very transactional, A-to-B kind of way that prevents the overarching plot from feeling cohesive in the slightest. There's no reason to care about anything that happens. Furthermore, the film is straight-up boring even at its most eventful. It's the sort of thing that slips from your mind as soon as it's over; you'll be very thankful of the recap that opens its sequel even if you're watching the two back to back. Zack Snyder is so used to the studio butchering his intended vision that he's decided to do it himself, even after being afforded all the creative freedom he could wish for. It's baffling. I can't imagine anyone clambering for a longer version of this, even if it does fix the blatant butchering of some of the movie's clearly shot-for-R fight scenes. Bleh. I don't know what else to say.

Why does David Leitch exclusively direct sub-par scripts (I haven't seen 'The Fall Guy (2024)' yet, which will hopefully be the exception)? It's clear that he's capable of crafting a specific style conveyed mostly through entertaining, if often tonally undercut, action. He's not the most visionary director, but he injects each of his movies with enough flair and reverence for practical stunt work that they all have elements which are genuinely successful. This only makes their narrative shortcomings all the more frustrating, though. One of the main problems with 'Bullet Train (2022)' is that it just doesn't have enough action in it. It also doesn't have enough Brad Pitt. Instead, both of these elements are often cruelly sidelined in favour of an annoying ensemble of quirky characters who spend more time talking about 'Thomas & Friends (1984-2021)' (because they're on a train, I guess) than kicking butt like the premise promises. With a messy, flashback-oriented structure and often grating dialogue, the picture is honestly a bit of a chore to get through at times. The cast all do what they can with the material (and accents) they're given, but even the most charming amongst them can't stop the film from being a bit boring whenever it isn't focused specifically on its set-pieces. It's not as funny - or clever - as it clearly thinks it is and, despite looking quite nice, a lot of it feels rather hollow. Having said all that, it does improve fairly significantly as it goes on. Whether it's because the thing has already worn you down by then or if it's because it's genuinely improving in pace and tone and energy with each new scene, the final act is surprisingly enjoyable despite its use of intangible digital effects for some of its biggest moments. There are a few enjoyable sequences prior to the finale (in fact, you sort of accept the affair's flaws after its opening movement and lower your expectations accordingly), but it's near the end where everything really clicks. It's unfortunate that it takes so long to get over its growing pains, but the film is ultimately fun enough for what it is. Although it's over two hours long (and doesn't need to be), it's light and fluffy and fairly fast paced. It's kinetic when it needs to be and features a few well-choreographed fight scenes that don't make the protagonist out to be an unstoppable machine, but rather a self-proclaimed bad luck magnet who's clearly out of his depth. This dynamic makes things more interesting than they otherwise would have been, all without robbing the experience of the exciting to-the-death bouts you expect. The occasional moment of pretty extreme gore is undercut by the generally playful atmosphere, but a couple of gags still provoke a wince and act as nice punctuations to the altercations they typically end. Ultimately, this is a fun but flawed experience that alternates between being annoying and being exciting in almost equal measure. You can see what the filmmakers are going for, but they never quite hit the sweet spot and, as a result, the piece is fairly inconsequential. Still, it's entertaining enough.

On paper (and even, I suppose, in practice), the obnoxious narration that underscores most of 'Boy Kills World (2023)' should be the most annoying thing in the world. However, it doesn't take too long for the movie's haphazardly off-kilter vibe to win you over, which thankfully includes the constant inner voice of its deaf and non-verbal protagonist (his eardrums and tongue are painfully removed in flashback). It's not perfect, of course, but each unhinged and unrefined aspect of the piece adds up to the overall frenzied, fever-dream aesthetic that makes this ultraviolent actioner stand out from some of its peers (even though that same aesthetic also pushes the piece into that all-too-familiar post-'Deadpool (2015)' blob that so many people find so very grating). If you can get on its level and just go along with its overworked madness, you're likely to have quite a bit of fun despite the genuine roughness of each and every element (mostly when it comes to the narrative and tone, rather than the filmmaking itself). What makes it easier to do that is the balls-to-the-wall brutality of its frenetic fight sequences. Even though some earlier set-pieces are perhaps a little tamer than you'd like (in terms of gore and excitement), the flick makes up for it with a riotous third act that features a phenomenal final fight that amps up the viciousness of the previously sometimes weightless body-dropping by lessening the scale and increasing the stakes. It's a really good climax and it's what clinches the overall experience as one I'd easily recommend. That's not to imply that everything prior to that is bad, of course. There are several enjoyable action scenes that make good use of gruesome gags (that cheese grater bit had everyone in the cinema wincing) and accomplished choreography. Although it's a bit more ragged than some similarly highly designed stuff, it works well for what it is and the filmmaking leans into its desired aesthetic by including some stylishly abstract shots that put the focus on the feel of certain moments rather than their mechanics. This, in turn, helps to keep us locked into the perspective of the protagonist, which itself gives the film's big reveal the weight it deserves. This twist (which I partially - but not fully - guessed very early on) is a little silly, sure, but it's no more absurd than the rest of the purposefully strange picture and it transforms the initially cut-and-dry 'good vs bad' theming into something surprisingly - and thrillingly - ambiguous. The flick ends up finding an unexpectedly strong emotional core, which makes its final fight even more powerful. Ultimately, this is a flawed but fun action film that's as vicious as it is bizarre. Although its quirkiness is overtly manufactured and toes the line between being charming and annoying, its aesthetic and atmosphere end up being what makes it feel as unique and entertaining as it is. It's easy to see why some people wouldn't like it, but I find it really enjoyable.

There's a moment in this where someone makes a move on the eponymous angry Australian, so he whips out his signature shotgun to blast the guy's headdress to pieces and warn him off. This scene is emblematic of the tonal shift from the lonely, R-rated nihilism of 'Mad Max 2 (1981)' to the quirky, PG-13 fluffiness of 'Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985)'. We all know that the real road warrior would have blown that bloke's brains out the back of his skull, but this fifteen-years-older wasteland wanderer opts to generously give him a good old scare instead. I didn't even realise that the flick wasn't R-rated prior to watching (it carries a 15 certificate in the UK, although I'm fairly sure if it was reclassified now it would be a 12 - especially considering the first two movies have been lowered to 15 somewhat recently), but I started to suspect something was amiss the longer the movie went on without featuring any real violence. Of course, violence isn't necessarily what makes the previous pictures feel more 'Mad Max' than this (whatever that truly means), but the atmosphere is notably less hostile and the stunts are considerably less dangerous (at least in terms of on-screen feel). Heck, there isn't even a car chase in the film until the third act, and even that's more focused on a train than anything with four wheels and an engine under the hood. Still, the affair isn't bad by any means. Its first half is actually pretty solid. Although it feels less seedy than you'd perhaps like, Bartertown has a tangible feel to it and acts as a distinct location for Max to undergo a sordid little assassination deal in the hopes of securing transport and fuel from the place's politically insecure founder. That's where the titular Thunderdome comes into play, and it's very unlikely to be what you're expecting. The battle that takes place inside is further proof of the flick's more obvious silliness, as it features bungee cords and chainsaws and secret weapon dog whistles. It's a fairly fun and inventive sequence despite its absurdity, and - like much of the movie - you sort of just have to go with it if you want to have a good time. The Thunderdome fight scene is essentially one of two extended set-pieces, the other being the train-escape finale I mentioned earlier. It's fun enough for what it is, but there isn't any genuine suspense because it feels relatively tame. The same is true for the climax, which lacks the tangible danger of similar scenes from previous entries in the series. It's still enjoyable and is the action highlight of the entire affair, even if it isn't as aesthetically engaging as the early Bartertown sequences. Where the movie really struggles is in its middle, as Max ends up getting involved with a band of desert-dwelling children who mistake him for some sort of pseudo messiah. This is essentially the Ewok village of the 'Mad Max' saga (the film as a whole is to its predecessor what 'Star Wars: Return Of The Jedi (1983)' is to 'Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (1980)', except not as good), with a bunch of characters designed specifically to appeal to a younger audience talking in a vaguely cutesy way (a pet peeve of mine) while supposedly adding stakes to the story. It's easy to see that the feature didn't start out as a 'Mad Max' movie, rather a post-apocalyptic 'Lord Of The Flies' that George Miller and George Ogilvie decided to smush into something primarily focused on the former's most iconic creation. The affair really does feel like two different things callously forced together; it ends up not really being about anything in particular. It's all very slight, but not in a way that feels particularly potent - or, even, purposeful. However, the movie never totally stalls because its lulls in pacing aren't so severe that I'd call it boring. It's a decent enough experience despite its issues, and - if you can get on board with its safer vibe - there are plenty of things to keep you watching. It's arguably a little better than the first 'Mad Max (1979)' simply because it isn't as bizarrely structured (even if it is bizarrely structured) and it's more consistently engaging. It's good enough for what it is.

'Challengers (2024)' is a love-triangle drama focused around three tennis players at various points in their lives and careers as their interpersonal relationships impact upon - and are reflected in - their on-court escapades. Framed through what ought to be the lowest stakes tournament either of the male leads has ever played in, the film slowly peels back the layers behind their match and reveals why it's actually the most important game of either of their lives (or, at least, it feels like it). Although its timeline hopping is occasionally a little clumsy, the film's structure does a good job in keeping you invested in its events by turning them into a sort of puzzle. It keeps you guessing as to why these once friends now seem to despise each other; the more backstory it reveals, the more invested you are in the competition that it keeps coming back to. It's a well-made movie, but it sometimes plays things so straight that it almost circles back around into parody. This is especially evident during the immediate buildup to the climax, which is comprised of so much sweaty slow motion and repetitive techno music that it pulls you out of the experience. At a certain point, you can't help but realise just how silly its melodrama really is. Of course, its melodrama is purposefully over the top and it tends to work really well in most scenes. Some of the interactions between the three leads are straight-up brutal, and - although none of them are really all that likeable - you go back and forth on who you're aligned with (or, more accurately, who you feel sorry for). The drama is generally compelling and the flick does a good job of making its tennis seem plausible, not just in terms of the sport itself but also in terms of the politics surrounding who plays what match where and why. I'm conflicted on the movie's use of its soundtrack when it comes to scoring its more intense off-court scenes, as it makes the unconventional choice to drown out key conversations (mostly arguments) with way-too-loud electro music so that you're literally straining to hear the dialogue. It's an interesting concept and it's effective the first couple of times it occurs, but it eventually gets a little grating because it's way louder than the characters and it makes several scenes physically uncomfortable to endure (again, a strong idea in theory). It doesn't help that it's the same piece of music - or, at least, the same motif - that occurs over each of these scenes, something which again pushes the piece further towards parody than it ought to be. Where the film really comes alive, totally and unequivocally, is during its actual tennis sequences. Luca Guadagnino injects a lot of formalistic flair into these scenes, putting us on the court with the players and making every single ball hit sound like a gunshot that shakes you to your core. The finale, in particular, is a fantastically frenetic, surprisingly experimental and genuinely exciting piece of action-oriented filmmaking that does things with its camera that even the most Avant-garde of directors would find surprising. It's a vital, compelling and almost jaw-dropping culmination to all that has come before, a cathartic explosion that shatters the suspense built up over the previous two hours in an edge-of-your-seat rally that reflects what one of the characters has been after all along: some really good tennis.

'Mad Max 2 (1981)' features everything you first think of when someone says "Mad Max". It's set in a post-apocalyptic desert hellscape filled with leather-clad weirdos who ride around in cobbled-together vehicles and terrorise anyone they come across in the hope of stealing the precious petrol that will allow them to continue the cycle of violence that has come to define their new existence. Its protagonist barely says anything and prefers not to get involved, but he's capable of besting almost anyone in vehicular combat and is unafraid to do so if it will net him some much-needed fuel. He wanders through the outback with his dog, always on the move and looking out for nobody other than himself. Between siphoning gas and chowing down on dog food, Max scavenges what he can and kills who he has to. One day, he's introduced to a fuel refinery in the middle of the desert that's being bombarded by attacks from a clan led by a slightly more articulate version of Jason Voorhees known as The Humungus. This proves to be the perfect opportunity for him to strike a bargain and walk away with as much fuel as he can carry, if he can survive the gang that he's competing against that is. The film is much better than its predecessor. Although it has a generally slow pacing and takes a while to get into gear, it's eventually a really exciting and energetic action movie that makes good use of its distinct world to deliver some delightfully tactile carnage. There's a sense of loneliness underlying even the driest of moments, and the less engaging segments are used to compound this sense of being perpetually lost within a vast landscape filled with nothing other than things that want to see you dead. Basically, the film uses the ebb and flow of its pacing to establish an atmosphere, which gives even its least entertaining sequences a valid reason to exist. Plus, when it cooks, it really cooks. The final chase sequence, in particular, is spectacular, filled with cars crushing other cars and people leaping from one vehicle to another. It's chaotic, tactile and really enjoyable. It also strikes the perfect balance between silliness and danger, feeling almost like a much more brutal version of 'Wacky Races'. Some earlier action scenes are also fun, but the climax is clearly the film's zenith. Something else the movie does really well is build up this sense of mythology around its central character, primarily by framing the story from the perspective of someone whose life he wanders into and out of. You get the sense that Max is much more important to those he's involved with than they are to him; he'll be in their stories for far longer than they'll be in his memories. Each entry in the wider series sort of acts as a retelling of the adventures of this wasteland warrior from the perspective of someone who has encountered him, which accounts for the slight inconsistencies between interpretations and timelines etc. He's like a legend of the desert, someone who was once real but has since ascended into fantasy, remembered for eternity by the children of the children of the children of those who really knew him. It's an interesting angle to take, for sure, and it gives the franchise this almost ethereal vibe that acts as a nice counterpart to the wheel-spinning mayhem at its core. Ultimately, this is a really solid action film that's as strange as it is successful. It has its weaker aspects (including once scene that's so dark its majority is literally a black screen), but it's generally a lot of fun and makes excellent use of real stunt work to drive its gear-crunching, metal-scraping, tyre-squeaking, blood-spilling set-pieces.

What's weird - and frustrating - about 'Mad Max (1979)' is that it essentially takes around seventy minutes to get to its inciting incident (or, at least, what every synopsis I've ever read implies is its inciting incident). The pacing is all out of whack, leading to a very rushed finale that's far less cathartic than it could have been if it were allowed a little more room to breathe. It's arguable that the lack of satisfaction found when Max finally gets mad is purposeful, a comment on the inherently unfulfilling nature of vengeance and a reflection of the hateful numbness our hero finds himself drowning in. Even if that is the intention, it doesn't make the finale as is any more powerful, and it also doesn't dilute the disappointment that occurs when you've waited so long for something that ultimately proves to be less spectacular than the sequence which you didn't have to wait for at all (the opening is probably the most entertaining segment of the overall affair due to the sheer carnage it hits you with). The middle portion is necessary so that Max's family is more than a plot device, but it really should've been compressed into the first act so that the bulk of the film could've been about what it has always been advertised as being about. Major pacing issues aside, there is a certain scrappy charm to a lot of the movie. It's a low-budget affair that manages to get by on petrol fumes alone, the palpable stink of its on-screen engines almost leaking from the screen and suffocating you in your seat. Its seat-of-your-pants stunt work seems to have been accomplished by sheer will and a total disregard for safety; it's a miracle no-one was killed during filming. This gives the flick a dangerous atmosphere that blends with its off-kilter and slightly nasty world filled with biker gangs and leather uniforms. It doesn't have the aesthetic one readily associates with this franchise (the sequel solidifies that), opting instead for a pre-apocalyptic vibe that essentially pushes rural Australia just a little bit further away from conventional society. It's still a weird and distinct world, though, and it gives the flick's most memorable moments (one of which literally inspired the entire Saw franchise) a bit of extra flair. The film is never as exciting as it should be, even during its action, but it's entertaining enough to be worth watching at least once (especially if you're interested in seeing where the franchise goes). It has its more obvious highlights and even its slower segments are far from unbearable; it's not bad, by any means. It's underwhelming, though, especially given its reputation as a cult classic. It's a good template for what's to come, the first step in a much larger and more impressive journey. For that alone, it's easy to (somewhat cautiously) recommend.

'Intimate Confessions Of A Chinese Courtesan (1972)' isn't a typical Shaw Brothers picture. Although its wider narrative arc and colourful period aesthetic fit neatly within the studio's oeuvre, its content is far more unsettling. Focusing on a young woman who is kidnapped and forced into prostitution, the film has no hesitation about unsettling its audience. Our hero is imprisoned, beaten, raped and generally forced to do things she doesn't want to do. It's genuinely hard to stomach at times, and even the freeze frames that accompany the most graphic moments of abuse do little to dilute their distressing nature. The piece really does act as a damnation of its central situation, displaying the unfortunate reality of the world's oldest profession. Crucially, though, it isn't against sex work itself, at least not explicitly. Instead, its issues are solely with non-consensual sex work, as evidenced by the fact that it doesn't judge the protagonist for eventually reclaiming her sexuality and using it as a weapon against those who have wronged her. It's a fairly refreshing take, especially for something this old, that goes hand-in-hand with the film's relatively open-minded depiction of same-sex attraction. While the only lesbian character in the movie is the evil brothel overseer who becomes infatuated with the lead, she isn't the bad guy because she's gay, she's a bad guy who just so happens to be gay; a significant distinction that honestly may not even be intentional on the part of the filmmakers.

Eventually, it becomes clear that our hero has a plan in place to get the sweet, sweet vengeance she so deserves. To execute this plan, she plays into her predicament and uses the lust of those she seeks to destroy against them. She doesn't wait for someone to save her, she saves herself - or, rather, enables herself to get her hands bloody enough that she can find some sort of internal peace. It's here where the film starts to get a little more conventional, but even the most tried-and-tested of its genre beats hit just a little differently due to the context in which they're used. What starts out as a fairly slow, one-by-one kind of thing soon escalates into all-out carnage, and the jaw-dropping final act is a cathartic cacophony of chaos soaked in so much blood you'd be forgiven for thinking you were watching a pulpy Kung fu flick from much later in the genre's cycle. The choreography is as impressive as you'd expect from a Shaw Brothers production, but it's slightly more blunt and even scrappy so that it better meshes with the generally brutal nature of the overall film. The camerawork takes a similarly gritty approach, often favouring tighter compositions and even making use of some handheld shots. It makes use of elegant wirework to give its protagonist a somewhat otherworldly feel, almost like she's a ghost who has returned to haunt - or, rather, claim the souls of - those who killed her (perhaps, and this is purposefully reaching, this implies that her spirit, her true self, died when she was sold into sexual slavery and robbed of the life she could have lived). Somehow, these stylised fight scenes don't clash with the affair's dark tone and heavy subject matter, and they're honestly really satisfying in their own gruesome way because we don't have an ounce of sympathy for the baddies our hero is so effectively slicing up. The picture's ultimate conclusions about the indiscriminately destructive nature of revenge feel like something out of a late-stage martial arts movie, which tend to be more nihilistic than their predecessors. The picture is utterly devoid of hope, because even if the lead achieves her goal of killing those who harmed her, she's been irrevocably damaged and entirely consumed by a drive for vengeance. Love and hate have become tangled together, both used solely for murderous purposes, and there's a sense that even the hero has no real concept of coming out of this... well, I would say "unscathed" but perhaps "at all" is better.

I haven't even mentioned yet that the fact that the flick has a female protagonist, let alone one who is never saved by a man, is extremely commendable (especially for the era). While she is placed in sexual situations and treated as an object by those in the film, none of those scenes are even accidentally titillating (there's no on-screen nudity from the main actor) and it's clear that the movie itself does not condone the behavior it's depicting. The lead is a fully fledged character with her own arc and no need to take the moral high ground, every bit as complex and capable as any of her male counterparts in other Kung fu flicks from the time.

Overall, this is a distinct and affecting feature that doesn't feel overly distasteful despite its odd, potentially discordant mixture of genre and subject matter. It makes you uncomfortable, but it doesn't do it for the wrong reasons. It feels ahead of its time in most ways that matter. Blending beautiful on-set scenery and costuming with vicious violence of the most despicable nature, it sheds light on the realities of an industry often glossed over by films of its kind while also delivering on the cathartic Kung fu excellence you'd expect from those same films, all while somehow feeling cohesive.

It isn't perfect, though. The middle portion of the picture is a lot slower than it could have been, but it also speeds through an important transitional period in its protagonist's journey. There is a somewhat unrefined repetition that occurs when its in media res opening is finally caught up to, and some of the background performers who appear nude or semi-nude look uncomfortably young (especially three courtesans who appear in a four-way sex scene later on in the story and genuinely don't seem to have been eighteen at the time of filming based on what little information I can gleam from IMDb). There is also the occasional bit of clumsy choreography that feels like it could have been nailed if just one more take were to have been done.

Still, this is an unconventional and engaging effort that really does have one heck of a climactic massacre. If you can stomach its brutality, it's worth watching.

'Five Element Ninjas (1982)' is a Kung fu flick about a martial arts school whose best fighters win a tournament and, in the process, cause a Japanese opponent to commit Seppuku. The man's fellow fighters send a letter to one of his allies back in Japan, an ally who just so happens to be a master ninja and leader of the eponymous five element ninja clans. Naturally, the ninjas make their way to China to avenge their fallen friend, and their mysterious martial arts skills prove to be very challenging to overcome. That's the basic set-up, even if the synopsis spoils a lot more of the narrative, and what follows is a nuts-and-bolts - but no less effective for it - revenge thriller with sequences of sometimes startlingly brutal combat and an unexpectedly nihilistic vibe. The five element ninja factions all use different methods to defeat their foes. For example, the gold ninjas use copper (?) hats to blind their opponents, the wood ninjas disguise themselves as trees, the water ninjas hide (you guessed it) underwater, the fire ninjas cloud the battlefield with smoke before striking with flaming swords, and the earth ninjas attack from beneath the ground. Each clan has several more tricks up its sleeve, but their common theme is to surprise and disorient their opponents before they viciously carve them to pieces. There are also regular ninjas who can silently infiltrate even the most heavily guarded of places, and they strike with ruthless efficiency using claws and iron fists and daggers and all manner of deadly instruments. They aren't interested in fighting fair and it's this that gives them their greatest advantage over the more traditional Chinese martial artists comprising the film's heroic side. Even though it is essentially a China vs Japan affair and there is an undercurrent of Ninjutsu being less honorable than Kung fu, the flick doesn't really feel interested in the kind of jingoism so often present in its peers (some martial arts movies are literally anti-Japanese propaganda pieces). It isn't really interested in the political implications of its premise, more so in pitting two different styles of combat against each other and making a broad but indicting statement about vengeance - and even violence - in general (one of the characters, after murdering someone who has recently wronged them, says to himself: "I didn't do anything wrong... did I?"). It's arguably uninterested in making any kind of statement at all, but its unwillingness to compromise on its focal violence speaks volumes in itself. This is sometimes downright nasty and it has no semblance of mercy to it. It also has a fairly unusual pacing that puts a lot of emphasis on the things building up to the hero's desire for revenge, rather than on the training process required to achieve it (which still appears but is much shorter so that the following segment can surprise us with the techniques the lead has learned in order to counter the various strategies of the five element ninjas). After a pretty full-on opening movement, the picture slows down significantly to introduce and focus on a kind of femme fatale character, and this somewhat humdrum segment is clearly the weakest. It's narratively important, but ever-so-slightly dull. It doesn't help that the soundtrack features an incredibly repetitive motif that builds and reaches its crescendo literally on a loop as if it's emphasising several major reveals that all occur within minutes of one another. In reality it's used to highlight things like opening a window or delivering a note, and its overused so much that it's genuinely annoying. Despite these issues, though, the film is a lot of fun when it gets out of its own way and does what it's best at: highly choreographed ultraviolence. With a colourful, almost cartoony aesthetic and a willful shunning of reality (it makes excellent use of reversed footage), the movie depicts its impressive combat as frantic, urgent and splattered with blood. Although it still tends to seem more like a painful dance than a duel (not a complaint), the film is considerably more vicious than a lot of its peers and is unafraid to showcase its brutality in shades of gleefully saturated red. People are stabbed, slashed, disemboweled and literally pulled apart, and it's all glorious. It's all in good fun (for us) and makes for some really memorable set-pieces soaked in bodily fluids and punctuated by out-of-place smiles of victory. Overall, this is a highly enjoyable and suitably silly martial arts movie that features some notable moments of gore and a strangely bleak atmosphere that's actually slightly haunting in retrospect. It's good stuff.

'The Spider Within: A Spider-Verse Story (2023)' is a short film focusing on Miles' anxiety and the importance of talking about such things with those close to you. It's essentially one long panic attack as our hero comes home, locks himself in his bedroom and comes face to face with a stylish manifestation of his fears. With some fairly scary imagery and an effectively unsettling tone, the short visually depicts the vibe of a panic attack rather effectively. As expected, its aesthetic is gorgeous. Its narrative, however, is harder to judge primarily because it's so simple. There really isn't much of a story, and it kind of plays out like a bit of a PSA. The cynical read would be that Sony has only produced this in a bid to be 'trendy' and catch up with the anxiety representation that has been (rightly) celebrated elsewhere. However, it doesn't matter why Sony produced this, only that they did; their intentions have no impact on the piece's importance. Perhaps someone will see this and realise that it's okay to ask for help, that you don't need to shut people out and carry your burdens on your own. After all, if even Spider-Man gets scared (and can admit it), why should we be ashamed to accept that sometimes we get scared too? It's difficult to rate the experience because it isn't conventionally entertaining and it's all very muted, a short yet sharp piece with a clear intention but not much outside of it. It's well-made and has a good message, though. It's worth a watch if you like either of the movies it follows.

'Perfect Days (2023)' is a narratively loose picture centred around a public toilet cleaner who spends his days meticulously following a well-established routine and appreciating the little moments of beauty he finds within it. Wim Wenders' latest is anchored by an absolutely phenomenal, mostly non-verbal performance from Koji Yakusho that finds truth in its subtlety. The film is essentially about the often overlooked joy that can be found in everyday mundanity, making a point to show the parts of life that usually don't make it to the big screen. It can be important to see a 'normal' life represented in film because it reminds you that your own, likely similar existence is no less important simply because it doesn't have the makings of a traditional motion picture. It doesn't just romantasise the simple, seemingly quite lonely existence of its lead, as it also showcases the hardships that come with such a life and has a focus on how even the smallest of interruptions to one's day-to-day pattern can have longer lasting, sometimes negative effects. However, it also acts as a celebrations of all things real, perhaps positing that most of what happens to you can be positive - or, at least, not overtly negative - with the right mindset. The protagonist often has a little smile on his face at even the dullest of moments, signifying that he finds contentment in the life he has built for himself. However, he also has moments of sadness, and these are presented as being entirely natural. The picture is unwilling to spoon-feed you his backstory or inner thoughts, providing enough hints for you to generate your own ideas without setting anything in stone. Yet, it's somehow able to feel incredibly poignant, and includes scenes that we lack the full context for but feel deeply nevertheless. It's a surprisingly emotional experience at times. The flick isn't willing to paint its events with a broad, idyllic brush. Instead, it finds a balance between the good and the bad, showing that one cannot exist without the other and that both happiness and sadness are vital emotions that aren't mutually exclusive. It hints towards the fairly existential idea that no matter how satisfied you are with your life, there's always something deep down that keeps you wondering what might have been. After all, for every life lived, there are a million lives not lived. Although it's arguably a little too long and its lack of narrative drive could turn some people off, it's surprisingly compelling throughout and just feels... peaceful. It's sweet without being saccharine, which is rarer than you might think. Once again I have to mention just how good its naturalistic central performance truly is. So much of this is carried by gesture and expression, and it's all the better for it. It's hard to imagine it working as well as it does with any other actor in the lead role. Ultimately, although it isn't perfect, this is a really solid effort that cuts to the heart of an experience many of us identify with and has the courage to present it with hope and love. Who'd have thought I'd be able to say that about a movie focused on cleaning toilets?

'Anatomy Of A Fall (2023)' is all about the ambiguities of life... and, by extension, death. Refusing to conform to expectation, this courtroom drama plays out in a delightfully unencumbered way that makes it feel decidedly more realistic than others of its ilk. Although the trial scenes aren't actually all that believable in terms of how'd they play out in real life, they have a naturalistic feel and somehow manage to keep you glued to the screen despite their comparative subtlety. The direction is masterfully restrained, only delving into flashbacks on occasion and framing them as entirely subjective visualisations of often pure speculation (as so much of the case is). There's an argument scene in this that perfectly encapsulates what it's like to be involved in a spat with someone close to you, with both parties struggling to communicate their feelings as they take it in turns being unreasonable and often following one thing with the total opposite thing as if it's part of a single cohesive thought. It's loud and it's heated but it isn't excessive or, worse, silly as these scenes so often are, and it encapsulates what's so excellent about the overall film. It's a really well-made and compelling experience that plays with time-tested tropes in a way that makes them feel fresh. Its acting is also absolutely sublime across the board, with Sandra Hüller and Milo Machado-Graner giving awards-worthy performances and very good boy Messi giving us a heart attack with his standout scene. It's a really strong effort that makes you feel like one of the spectators so often featured in the background of its courtroom scenes, voyeuristically watching a small part of a full life be dissected in the desperate hope that it'll all make sense in the end. Even though it gives us and its jurors the same information at the same time, it doesn't feel concerned with having us come to a conclusion regarding its central mystery. It's about the process, not the result. Some questions simply don't have a definitive answer. If a man falls out of a window and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

'Abigail (2024)' sucks... the blood of her enemies in this enjoyable horror flick from the yet-to-miss Radio Silence filmmaking team. While this might be their weakest effort to date, it's still a fun and delightfully gooey slice of B-movie goodness that may suffer from an occasionally stilted screenplay but makes up for it with its willingness to embrace its inherent absurdity. It's not scary, but it doesn't need to be; it's wholly concerned with keeping you entertained, and is all the better for it. The strength of its opening act is dramatically lessened by the unfortunate fact that the marketing not only spoils a fairly major twist but also makes sure it's the one thing you definitely know about the movie before you watch it. The first segment is wholly concerned with building suspense, so there's the inevitable sense that we're three steps ahead of it simply because we've seen the trailer. In turn, this makes the already leisurely build-up feel even longer than it is. It's not the film's fault, though, and it's difficult to even hold a grudge against the marketing department considering the USP of the piece is meant to be a reveal. The flick finds its footing almost as soon as its eponymous villain drops her little act and starts tearing people to shreds with glee. Even the somewhat lacklustre finale - which is based around a fairly unbelievable heel turn - is still really enjoyable and as blood-soaked as you could hope. It's perhaps a little unconfident, seeming as though it feels like it needs to finish up a certain way just because that's the done thing, but it's not a major step down from the more consistently compelling middle portion. Ultimately, this is as entertaining as it is unrefined. With a strong cast (Dan Stevens and Alisha Weir are the highlights), a simple yet effective premise and a confidently pulpy aesthetic, the flick hits the right tone and emerges as a bloody good time that will have you baring your fangs throughout.

'Man With A Movie Camera (1929)' is a revolutionary silent film that pioneered so many cinematic techniques - including (but not limited to) extreme close-ups, shaky cam, tracking shots, slow motion, fast motion, stop motion, split framing, double exposure, canted angles, fourth-wall breaks, and so much more - that it's impossible to overstate its influence in the almost hundred years of cinema that followed it. It was so unprecedented that it drew criticism from even the most forward-thinking of its director's contemporaries, not to mention from the Soviet Union itself; Dziga Vertov was sadly forced into obscurity not long after its release, relegated to anonymously editing news reels. The picture is presented as a day in the life of a Russian city - even though it was actually filmed in several cities, most of which are in modern-day Ukraine, over a period of a few years - and it's split into six parts which explore different aspects of daily life and occasionally delve into deeper topics such as mortality itself. The majority of the movie works on the concept of contrast, as it juxtaposes images of people and places and nature and machinery and marriage and divorce and birth and death to craft its central thesis that we're all connected and that cinema has the power to widen that connection across space and time itself. After all, here we are discussing a movie that's almost a hundred years old, one that allows us an insight into the lives of people we've never met in a place we'll never be able to visit (a location, while usually permanent, is intrinsically tied to time, so in some ways it changes irrevocably as life carries on in and around it). With a pacing that ebbs and flows perfectly, the experimental picture's 68-minute runtime flies by even though it has no traditional narrative (and no intertitles to guide you through it). It's often an arresting, impressively vital experience that's utterly compelling. It's occasionally moving, and even sometimes frightening, in a totally unexpected way. Frankly, it's brilliant even today; I can't imagine what it would have been like to see it in 1929. It's a gripping effort that often makes you smile simply because of how bold and inventive it is. It's genuinely great.

A pristine prison. A gilded cage. A king and his queen. The antithesis of 'Elvis (2022)': quiet, subdued, grotesque in its content rather than its execution. An exercise in restraint. The lonely moments in-between the glamour. The grooming. The controlling. The waiting. A series of moments. Like its focal relationship, it's pretty on the surface but (at least a little) hollow at its core. For a movie supposedly about Priscilla, it doesn't really tell us anything about her. Who is she other than the living doll Elvis decides to bring home one day? Of course, that's the point. 'Priscilla (2023)' highlights the abuse inherent in a relationship built upon this many different power imbalances. It's a sickly movie, one that constantly sends shivers up your spine with its mundane horrors. "Ninth grade? Jesus, you're just a baby" is followed shortly by "shall we go somewhere quiet?"; "She's much more mature than her age" comes just before "I'll find her a good Catholic school"; a dependency on pills, a necessity to stay by the phone, and a requirement to look a certain way all arrive before a high school graduation. A stolen childhood is marked by red flags ignored by a little girl in love with a legend. For this purpose, it makes sense to exclusively show Priscilla trapped by her relationship with everyone's favourite died-on-the-toilet joke. Despite always being in her perspective, we're never really let inside her head. However, surely the point is that the relationship doesn't actually define her as a whole, and if the intention is to show Priscilla's unconventional coming of age, to show her growing into a woman capable of understanding - and changing - her situation, surely the bad must be offset by the good? Surely we must be given an insight into who she can become once she's out from under Elvis' thumb? The film feels like the first half of the story it's trying to tell, which makes its speeding through the latter stages of its central couple's marriage all the more strange. These later sequences would be the perfect opportunity to show Priscilla evolving into the woman she's going to become after the credits have rolled. They're glossed over, though. They're not given the same attention as the grooming and the gaslighting and the generally gross behaviour. While it presents all those things in a low-key yet impactful fashion, it just feels like it's missing something thematically. It's well-performed, well-directed and visually gorgeous, but there's the sense that it's only half of what it needs to be. It's not a bad film, by any means. It's affecting and uncomfortable and mostly engaging from start to finish. It's self-assured and unwilling to dip into caricature. There's something strangely alluring about its beautiful emptiness, too. It feels real, far more real than the other film featuring Elvis I mentioned earlier. It's good, but it's not great. Whether it's vapid is debatable, but whether it's as deep as it could have been isn't.

'The Completely Made-Up Adventures Of Dick Turpin (2024)' is a British comedy series exclusive to AppleTV+. It focuses, unsurprisingly, on the completely made-up adventures of Dick Turpin, a legendary highwayman from the 1700s. The title role is filled by Noel Fielding, who portrays the eponymous criminal as a gentle, forward-thinking and charming ex-Butcher who stumbles into his newfound gang by accident but enjoys applying his own unique approach to robbing people. The show features a litany of appearances from some of Britain's best comedic actors - including (but not limited to) Mark Heap, Asim Chaudhry, Tamsin Grieg, Joe Wilkinson, Guz Khan, Hugh Bonneville, Greg Davies and Connor Swindells - but it actually isn't all that funny. To be honest, it doesn't get more than mildly amusing. At the same time, though, it's fairly consistent in the amusement department. Fielding makes for a strong, fairly unconventional lead, and the supporting cast (including those I haven't mentioned) all do a good job with the material they're given (Swindells steals the entire show, and Davies comes in close second during his singular episode). It almost feels like a CBBC show, in a way, albeit ever-so-slightly more mature (there are some swear words here and there). It's all just very... slight. That's not to say it's bad, of course, but it certainly isn't as strong as you may like. It's a fluffy, inconsequential slice of good-humoured television that would be far more at home on something like BBC One than on a 'premium' streaming service like AppleTV+. It's a decent time, but not much more.

Horrible. Just horrible. The worst thing about 'Argylle (2024)' is that it goes on forever. Seriously, it just keeps going. It's so much longer than it has any right to be. The second worst thing about it is that it's profoundly stupid. How stupid? Well, let's just say that Henry Cavill's haircut doesn't even make the top twenty stupidest things in this mess of a movie. Of course, stupidity by itself isn't necessarily an issue... so long as it's fun. This isn't fun. It isn't boring, but it isn't fun. The feature throws twist after twist at an audience it clearly doesn't respect, taking far too long explaining things we've just seen and even flashing back to them just to make sure we get it. None of the reveals are particularly complicated either, even if the tapestry they weave is definitely dense, so it's entirely unnecessary to call this much retrospective attention to moments which are often obviously obfuscated in the first place simply so they can be the subject of a flashback that occurs later on (sometimes literally in the next scene). Not all the twists are obvious - or even particularly bad - but there are only one or two that have any real merit (and not much merit at that). Furthermore, some of them are entirely contradictory to one another, meaning that the overall narrative isn't cohesive in the slightest. When looking back on the story, it isn't even clear why any of it kicks off in the first place. It feels like its screenplay was created in a stream of consciousness, with no rereading or - god forbid - rewriting. That's likely not very fair, as I'm sure Jason Fuchs tried his best, but it's the impression the final film gives. For all its energetic excess and undeniable on-screen and behind-the-scenes talent, it just seems lazy. It moves so fast and loose that it's never boring, but it's also never inspiring or, even, entertaining. It's as dull as it is hyperactive. It just washes over you, at best provoking an eye roll and at worst provoking absolutely nothing. The action, which ought to be its clear highlight, is so obviously fake that it's hard to take seriously. Even an early(ish) fight on a train, easily the most practical set-piece in the entire picture, is marred by the overuse of a visually interesting effect that would be really cool if it was given time to breathe and not treated like a bludgeon to hit the audience over the head with until they're no longer certain of what they can and can't see on screen. Some later sequences are so over the top that they're theoretically a riot, but they come long after we've stopped caring about anything we see unfold and aren't good enough to jolt us out of the malaise we've inevitably fallen into. The cast is, thankfully, consistently good. The actors sometimes manage to elevate the scenarios they're placed in, and emerge mostly innocent even when they can't. Bryce Dallas Howard is a strong fish-out-of-water lead and Sam Rockwell is as effortlessly charming as ever. Samuel L. Jackson looks like he's having fun with the very little he has to do (and the large paycheck it's probably getting him) and Bryan Cranston crafts a compellingly generic baddie. It's also nice to see Catherine O'Hara chew the scenery when she gets chance to. It's a shame that Henry Cavill and John Cena don't kiss given where the plot takes them, but they do what they need to and they're perfectly fine doing it. I'm a little sad that Ariana DeBose and Richard E. Grant don't get more to do, but Dua Lipa - as much as I love her - is clearly given all she can manage at this point. If this had a less talented cast, it definitely wouldn't be as good as it is (i.e. Not very). I'm not sure what Matthew Vaughn's doing here, to be honest. This clearly wants to be a somewhat meta variation of the irreverent spy satire he's essentially made a career of, but it doesn't say anything about either the genre itself or his entries within it. It doesn't say anything at all, really. That would be perfectly fine if it was entertaining, but it just isn't. It's entirely inconsequential, which might be why I can't quite bring myself to rate it any harsher than I have. Perhaps its baffling narrative and uncanny aesthetic make it somewhat of a curio, an artefact of modern blockbuster filmmaking that does almost everything wrong. I don't recommend it, but maybe it's worth watching to see what not to do if you ever want to make a movie. I don't know. It's bad.

'Civil War (2024)' follows a group of journalists who decide that they're going to be the first members of the press to photograph and interview the president since war broke out in the US, something that's more dangerous than it may seem considering journalists are being shot on sight in DC. It's essentially a road trip movie in which the heroes encounter various vignettes of new American life, ranging from negotiating for fuel to surviving off-the-chain racist soldiers. The feature is trying desperately to be apolitical, not so much interested in the specifics of the war it has created as in the ramifications of war as a concept. Specifically, it's about the impartiality of war-time journalism (or, perhaps, journalism in general) and the objectivity of the profession. The argument could be made that the film is attempting to mirror this supposed objectivity, portraying its events without making a clear statement about them in the same way its characters attempt to do. Alex Garland himself has alluded to this in various interviews. Of course, this is an inherently flawed concept as the line between observing and being involved becomes increasingly blurred the longer you purposefully place yourself in any given situation. Even by portraying the events in an apparently apolitical way, showing but not assigning specific meaning to them, you're still conveying a message - whether that's intentional or not (one of the characters even says that the reason they're a war photographer is to "warn" people). This is perhaps the point the picture is trying to land on, but it can't really claim to be both doing this in its narrative and in a more meta way because it has specifically crafted this story. It isn't observing events that would be happening with or without it, it is those events. Curating a story like this inherently makes you involved with it and removes any desired objectivity: it's simply not possible to create something without putting at least part of yourself into it. Obviously, it's fine for a film to be subjective. In fact, it's usually preferred. A movie with a message, or at least theme, isn't uncommon and there's a reason for that. It's just frustrating that this claims - or, at least, strives - to be apolitical, yet in the same breath claims - or, at least, strives - to be anti-war. That in itself is kind of a political stance, and the feature's refusal to acknowledge this means that it may be anti-war as concept but it isn't anti-war as reality. It sort of just vaguely says "everyone should stop fighting" without actually knuckling down into why everyone's fighting or what the reality of stopping fighting could look like. How can you be interested in how a war ends when you aren't interested in how it starts? There is, of course, the argument that the movie doesn't really care about making any sort of statement about war itself, but instead aims to make its statement solely about the ineffectuality of 'objective' - or, perhaps, passive - journalism. It purposefully makes the specifics of its central war as vague and, even, implausible as possible so as to remove all chances that someone will accuse it of being political, possibly in an attempt to reach wider audiences with its actual intention of calling out the kind of reporting that goes on regarding wars that aren't being fought on western soil. It uses home-grown imagery to make the reality of war hit home harder for an audience who isn't used to seeing it take place in their backyards, to people who hold a concept of war as something that happens in far-off countries which aren't depicted in the media outside of that context. The characters often say they're objective observers, but just because they don't usually intervene in the events they witness doesn't mean they aren't a part of them. Inaction, after all, is an action. On top of that, it's unclear why they'd even be recording this war if they didn't intend to show it to people, which again comes back to one of their stated intentions of using their experiences to warn others - something which carries an inherent message with it. In the end, you'll be left wondering what it was all for considering where things leave off. That's likely the intended effect, but it feels as though the picture doesn't quite say the things it wants to say. It may reflect the attitudes of its characters, but it also reflects their failings. When all is said and done, it doesn't seem to fully understand what it's trying to achieve.

It does, however, get caught up in the excitement of its events, much like the characters it follows (one of them literally gets hard at the sound of gunfire). It is a well-made movie that has a much larger sense of scale than most (if not all) of A24's other efforts. Alex Garland knows how to craft a compelling set-piece, and even the sequences which simply depict military vehicles moving from one place to another have an appropriate heft to them. The action has a gritty, grounded feel to it, making use of punchy sound design (the gunshots are almost upsetting) and abrupt moments that make it clear a single second can be the difference between life and death. Most of the film is much more slow-paced than its finale, which escalates into a large-scale battle that really gives you a sense of being immersed in a disastrously dangerous situation, and there's an almost lonely vibe to its across-America odyssey. Its ragtag team of journalists all feel isolated in their own individual ways, and there's an increasing sense that some of them are becoming irrevocably lost in the thrill of their work. The cinematography is vibrant, the camerawork mostly clean and the soundscape all-encompassing. The picture also makes a lot of use of shallow focus and chromatic aberration, which gives it a distinct aesthetic that's a bit heavy-handed at times but is mostly successful. There's a real sense that most of this stuff was captured in camera, even though a lot of it surely has to be visual effects, and that really enhances the believability of its premise. Some of its scenes are also quite distressing, with one in particular being really suspenseful (you'll know it as soon as it happens), and a lot of it has a palpable yet nonchalant bleakness that certainly has an effect. The acting is also (usually) subtle yet powerful; the four leads work wonders even when the script short-changes them a little. Ultimately, it's a formalistically accomplished piece that's typically compelling and sometimes uncomfortable.

It's easy to see why this is such a polarising picture. For me, its technical execution is a lot stronger than its narrative. I think it's worth watching as an in-the-moment experience, but I'm not convinced its intended messages come across all that strongly. It's certainly less impactful due to its thematic weakness. However, it's still an engaging and (in its own, downbeat way) entertaining effort that's well-made and immersive. It escalates into all-out chaos in the best possible way, and it sometimes brings you to the edge of your seat. It's a solid effort, despite its problems.

'Clan Of The White Lotus (1980)' is actually a sequel to 'Executioners From Shaolin (1977)' (which I haven't seen), but it provides a nice recap at the start that means you shouldn't be lost if you decide to watch this without first watching that prior picture. After defeating Pei Mei (or Priest White Eyebrows), two warriors brothers (or maybe just brothers-in-arms) return home to their significant others as a declaration is signed to begin rebuilding the Shaolin temple that was recently destroyed by the recently departed villain. Pei Mei's brother (or maybe just brother-in-arms) Priest White Lotus, head of the White Lotus clan, doesn't take too kindly to the warriors' actions, and decides to showcase his superior Kung fu by attacking them while they eat. This battle costs the life of one of the brothers and the partner of the other, leaving Hung Wen-Ting and his pregnant sort of sister-in-law Mei-Hsaio defeated and in hiding. Naturally, more revenge is in order. It's interesting that the movie is basically about the hero getting revenge for the villain getting revenge, with the death of a brother(-in-arms) being what prompts both men to take action, but this grey morality isn't explored because the antagonist is a proper baddie who also happens to be involved with the slaughter of anyone involved with the Shaolin temple and its rebuilding. The film isn't interested in the ethics of getting even, just the process of doing so against a more advanced opponent. Still, it's an intriguing concept and goes to show the cyclical nature of vengeance in a way that isn't specifically spoken but is certainly felt. The movie is very classic in its structure, with the majority of its midsection dedicated to the training required for its protagonist to emerge triumphant, but it's actually really satisfying. It reminds me of a video-game, more so than a lot of its peers, as the lead refines a new technique and then tries it against his foe, only to suffer a defeat which necessitates the learning of a new technique and prompts the cycle to start over again. It's genuinely engaging stuff, and even the slower segments are entertaining in their own methodical way. The other somewhat distinct aspect of the piece is its approach to crafting a singular villain - kind of like a final boss - who is so overpowered it's borderline silly. With a big personality and even bigger eyebrows, Priest White Lotus (lovingly portrayed by director Lieh Lo) spends most of the runtime smugly dodging every single blow that comes his way, callously laughing in the face of his enemies and striking with fictional pressure point attacks that cause people to die after a certain number of steps (yet another thing Quentin Tarantino stole, alongside the character of Pei Mei, for his own attempt at the genre). He also, like his brother(-in-arms) before him, has the ability to trap people's hands in-between his testicles in a vice-like grip, which he uses to counter the alarming number of below-the-belt shots that come his way throughout the story. He's a scene-chewing baddie with almost mythical levels of strength, agility and power, which gives the feature a fantastical feeling even though it's relatively grounded for its majority. Although he's a bit pantomime, he totally works in this context and is an entertaining on-screen persona, arguably the perfect foil for Gordon Liu's determined yet straight-laced hero. Their bouts are as exciting as you'd expect, and it really does feel like the lead is going up against almost impossible odds despite being a really accomplished martial artist. Their clashes are also quite funny in their own way, as increasingly unconventional fighting styles become necessary and the baddie isn't impressed by any of them. It's a simple, to-the-point experience but it's well-paced, superbly choreographed (by the inimitable Lau Kar-leung, who also pops up as a double for one of the villain's sword-wielding guards a couple of times) and confidently directed. It's a really entertaining affair from start to finish, despite a couple of wobbly moments here and there, and its fight scenes are often absolutely spectacular. It's not the best in its genre, but it's definitely a lot of fun.