Reviews

If I'd only known that this was the third in a series when I picked it up, I might have held back until I'd had the chance to study the first two instalments in some depth and subsequently come into Scarecrow Gone Wild fully prepared to appreciate all it had to offer. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson from the whole Kickboxer 4 farce (who is this feckless boy-child? Where's Jean-Claude? Why is Tong Po half his previous size?) - but no. Ah well, not to worry - at the end of the day I can safely say its charms weren't entirely lost on me.

In spite of several dull stretches as the film tries to make the lives of its mouth-breathing teenage sickle-fodder seem deep and involving, SGW is ultimately brimming over with so many top-quality "what the..." moments that it's impossible not to have fun with the damn thing. The Scarecrow drives! The Scarecrow hits the waves! The Scarecrow inexplicably gains the power of electrocution! The Scarecrow's head appears to be made of cast iron when someone clouts him with a fire extinguisher! It's all good stuff. And I'd never even heard of Ken Shamrock before this, but now I think he should be in every film ever made (alongside Christopher Lambert and Steven Seagal).

What's particularly endearing about Scarecrow Gone Wild is that everybody involved plays it as if they've been told it's some kind of intense art-house drama, although we do get the occasional flash of momentary self-awareness (the "watch out for the homicidal scarecrow" line near the end comes to mind). All in all, definitely one to remember, and roll on 10,001 Scarecrows... I think.

It's the name that does it. Not only does it fail to make sense in context, it just plain doesn't work. If they really wanted to go with some kind of Franken-animal they could have at least picked something that started with 'st', like... a stoat. Frankenstoat. Studios, are you listening?

Anyway. Against all odds Frankenfish is actually no worse a giant mutant creature romp than, say, Anaconda - I'd even go so far as to say it could have made a passable cinema release. Everything (with the standard exception of logic) is handled competently, from the acting to the effects, and the tiny bayou community setting of the whole thing actually feels quite novel. It's not even entirely predictable, I guarantee you won't see at least one of the deaths coming...

It's also a fine film for playing Name The Actor They *Really* Wanted. Robert Downey Jr. and Michael Wincott are lock-ins, while Anaconda veteran Jon Voight would have been a fine choice to play the hunter (who is, as it turns out, the most rubbish hunter in the world). Come to think of it, if they'd asked Jon Voight he'd probably have said yes - he usually does.

Overall, it's a surprisingly not-awful piece of work, which still manages to be entertaining despite its not-awfulness. I wouldn't say I'd recommend it, exactly, but you could do worse. Sci-Fighter, for instance. Now THAT's genuinely awful film-making (and as such comes highly recommended).

Much as I wanted to see this film before its release (you don't get many 18-ratings to the pound these days), after finally getting the chance to do so I'm sad to say I've ended up firmly in the camp of the non-believers.

The overall setup and a few of the morbid situations are pretty interesting, but the direction is heavy-handed to the point of being insulting - and when the film tries to go into details it really stumbles, with pointless subplots, gratuitous filler material, bus-sized plot holes and some cringeworthy dialogue and delivery.

Speaking of which, it's been noted plenty of times already, but it really does bear repeating. Cary Elwes, one of the two focal characters, puts in a potentially career-destroying performance. I've always thought he was pretty good in films like The Princess Bride and Kiss The Girls, but in attempting such an emotionally meaty role for once, all he succeeds in doing is bringing his limitations into uncomfortably sharp relief. He's really not up to the job, and ultimately people started laughing during our showing too. Including us.

Worst of all, one of the scenes at the end, which was probably intended to be the most harrowing in the whole film, is totally undermined by the preceding comedy of Mr. Elwes' 'emoting'. And the thing is, he's supposed to be a nice enough bloke in real life - I'm sure he wouldn't have minded if someone had said "Cary, I realize you're the actor here and I don't want to tell you your job, but... YOU'RE RUINING THE FILM, YOU USELESS FOOL."

Ah well. Not a complete waste of time, but still very disappointing.

It's funny - my two clearest memories of this film were off the mark in completely opposite ways. I remembered Matthew Broderick being deeply annoying; as it turns out he's just mildly irritating. And I remembered the soundtrack being bad; but good God, it's *appalling*. Whoever decided that a tragic, touching supernatural romance would be best accompanied by funky 70s synthesisers (I don't think they're fitting enough to even be classed as 80s) should be forced to eat their own afro. Yes, all of it. I can honestly say I have never heard a less appropriate musical score in my entire life. It's not that it's bad, exactly - it'd probably work pretty well if the lead character was, say, Shaft.

Still, when the crazy disco beats aren't violating the atmosphere, there's some good stuff going on. Richard Donner already had serious directing experience under his belt in 1985, and Ladyhawke is beautifully shot and paced with some gorgeous scenery to take in. There's just enough action (they give it some proper welly in those swordfights), John Wood provides a proper boo-hiss malicious villain, the dialogue never quite slips into melodrama despite teetering on the edge occasionally, and it's always a pleasure to watch Rutger Hauer in one of his few good roles before he degenerated into self-parody. (Well, if we're being honest it's a pleasure to watch him in his godawful recent stuff as well, but for different reasons.) Above all the film's got heart, which is more than you can say for 95% of the cack that Hollywood churns out, and it deserves some small credit for that at least.

Having not seen Kickboxer 2 or 3 (or even 5, despite the lure of the Dacascos factor), I thought for a minute I might be confused by the plot of Kickboxer 4. How foolish I was. There IS no plot to Kickboxer 4 beyond the initial setup, and as far as I can tell that leads on from previous instalments in the series about as fluidly as Friday the 13th Part III leads on from Legally Blonde 2.

Anyway, as you might expect Kickboxer 4 is a fine candidate for a bad film session, though it's hard to pin down any specific element as being the out-and-out worst: the acting, script, editing and of course make-up are all award-winningly bad, though at least the fight scenes are diverting (full marks to the overenthusiastic sound effects department) and for once the direction isn't so spasmodic that you suspect Albert Pyun's hand at work long before you've spotted his name in the credits.

Naturally I'm not saying it's good by any means. But it is funny, in its wanton disrespect for both the series it belongs to and simple common sense. Particularly loved Sloan's disguise (a pair of shades) as he cleverly infiltrated the fortress of the untouchable drug baron and demon martial artist who'd killed his brothers, kidnapped his wife, got him banged up in jail and been his obsessive arch-nemesis for years, yet couldn't work out who he was from six feet away. Also loved comparing this film's feeble climactic scuffle in the midst of a tea party on the lawn to the brutal broken glass brawl at the end of the original Kickboxer. It's the best kind of bad sequel there is: a kind of sad, desperate, hilarious spoof of itself. Genius.

Whether it was blind ego or genuine good humour on Seagal's part that allowed this title to be attached to the barrel-shaped action star's latest film, we may never know, as I can't see any interviewers being willing to ask. It's even possible that he came up with it himself, as he's given a writing credit. Though to be honest, a cinematography, direction or casting credit would have been more impressive, as the 'plot' is by far the most hopeless thing about this otherwise surprisingly polished but cliche-ridden corpse-fest.

Then again, it's the script's occasional flashes of sheer madness that make it worth watching. From the random tomato/fish/cleaver death scene early on to the head-spinning ladyboy fight and descent into voodoo lunacy during the climax, it keeps you on your toes, at least. Never seems to bother Seagal, though, whose single expression (constipation) remains fixed in place whether he's frantically fending off gangs of swordsmen with his bare hands, displaying primal fatherly angst over the inevitable kidnapping of his daughter or getting frisky with a hero-worshipping Thai girl less than half his age. Yes, you read that right, and yes, you will feel personally violated when it happens.

The other redeeming feature of the film - apart from the unusually high quality of the direction and camerawork, which gets full mileage out of what must have been a pretty limp budget - is the use of body doubles, which is some of the most blatant ever committed to film and all the more entertaining for it. Seagal *does* actually get more action in this film than in his last three or four combined, but it's still hilarious when he suddenly breaks off from his usual shot-from-the-shoulders-up slappy-hand business to launch into an impromptu flying spin kick, shedding about a third of his body weight in the process.

As long as you're not expecting gritty realism, you'll probably enjoy this as much as any other DTV kickathon on the shelves at the moment, and certainly more than the last couple of brain cell killers that Seagal's put out. Unfortunately Seagal himself is more visibly the weak link in the chain than ever before, with his action chops paling in comparison to those of both his co-star and main adversary, and his acting chops paling in comparison to his fridge. The sight of Thailand's entire criminal underworld taking turns to fly thirty feet through the air and crash into an exploding crate would be far more entertaining if it wasn't an overweight man in his fifties dishing out the damage, especially one who still refuses to take a single scratch in return. Still, one thing you have to give him credit for is not teaming up with any poxy rappers in this one.

All I can say is that I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. Wonder how many they'll have time to churn out before Van Damme gets desperate enough to want to do one himself, gleefully shoving aside everything that came before and thus ruining the continuity of the series? (Not many, judging by Derailed.)

Hang on, though - continuity? Not one of Timecop 2's strong points, and at the end of the day the only reason Timecop 1 didn't contradict itself at every turn was because it kept the actual time travelling at a modest level. Timecop 2 ventures into Nazi Germany, the Wild West and various other places, ultimately making only the most halfhearted attempt to imagine (let alone visualise) the consequences of changes made to the timeflow. One of the characters mentions a mysterious war a couple of times. Someone else gets an eyepatch, then loses it again. Oooo! Change my pants.

Worse: it's boring. While small mercies are appreciated - such as Jason Scott Lee being given a new character rather than trying to be passed off in Van Damme's role (which wouldn't have surprised me) and being marginally more charismatic than the total nobody who starred in the TV series - they're not enough to save the film from inconsequentiality. Neither is Lee's hair, which remains rooted in the late 70s. You'd think he'd be able to do something about that at least, being a Timecop and everything.

Queuing up behind the leading man is the usual racially diverse but underused and pointless supporting cast, including a limp Thomas Ian Griffith as the baddie. Any and all attempts to make us sympathetic to Griffith's cause fail because of his fundamental Hollywood Baddieness compounding the gaping holes in the plot and reasoning: on one hand I suppose we should be grateful that the writers tried to ask 'meaningful' questions and stray from the standard good/evil action film templates, but on the other hand, if you can't do it properly then don't bother, because you'll end up with nowt but plot holes, mixed messages and viewers trying to stay awake just for the big fight at the end. Which isn't that good anyway, apart from the bit with the shirt. Tsk.

I can't imagine why anybody would NOT want to see a film with a name like Blood Gnome. However, be warned: while the title and cover might lead you to expect something along the lines of a cheap Critters/Ghoulies rip-off for the 21st century, it's actually more like a BDSM promotional film that just happens to have knee-high bloodthirsty goblins from another dimension scampering about in the background. I'm serious.

The other thing about Blood Gnome is that, while undeniably entertaining in a no-budget, student film kind of way, it doesn't have an ironic or self-aware bone in its body - as evidenced by the 'Making Of' documentary, which you soon realise is a minor gem in itself as the producer and director pour praise upon their stars' "marvellous performances", the lead actors (who come off like the slower cousins of Louis Theroux and Juliette Lewis) ramble on about sleep deprivation method acting, the 'effects' people show off their atrocious puppets which can't even stand up straight yet the film shows in badly-lit close-up every chance it gets...

See it only if you know what you're getting yourself into, and relish the prospect (i.e. if you firmly believe that Slugs is one of the best comedies of all time). Don't bother if you're looking for a genuine horror flick: the only thing that's remotely scary about Blood Gnome is the idea that it could really be someone's labour of love.

"Let's start a production company. What have you always wanted to make a film about?" "Bondage. Oh, and invisible vampire muppets."

Jet Li fighting Mark Dacascos. That's JET LI FIGHTING MARK DACASCOS. Until the day that we see Jean Claude Van Damme and Dolph Lundgren facing off against Steven Seagal and Don "The Dragon" Wilson in a puddle of oil within a ring of fire in the rain while barrels explode in the background, I'll take this as the ultimate face-smashing showdown that Hollywood currently has to offer.

It's just a shame about more or less everyone else involved (mainly scraped from the same casting barrel bottom occupied by Exit Wounds), particularly the dull-as-ditchwater DMX. Someone give the man a career in the straight-to-video market where we can more easily ignore him. But on the whole, as long as you know what you're getting yourself into, this is fantastic fun and probably the best Western showcase for Jet Li's sheer hard-as-nailsness so far.

Brain-hurtingly awful action sequel from previously well-respected Hong Kong director Tsui Hark. What he thought he was playing at with this monstrosity is anyone's guess. I can only imagine that he rounded up the most clueless people he could find to consult on the matter of which red-hot global fads he should incorporate into his latest vision, and came out of that meeting with "wrestling" and "Power Rangers" scribbled on a Post-It note. Because that's basically what it is. The actual martial arts bits are pretty inconsequential - as is anything established in the original Black Mask, apparently.

While I personally reckon I've seen worse, I will always remember Black Mask 2 as being the film that plunged a hardy co-viewer into a fog of stress for an entire weekend and drove him to claim that "it was so bad it actually made me ill".

Let's look at the facts here.

Straight-to-video. Lower budget. Different director. Cast of nobodies. James Woods: no. Jon Bon Jovi: yes.

You're probably not expecting much. Frankly, it's just as well.

Despite some moody establishing shots, one or two genuinely classy action moments and the odd tenuous attempt to link this film to its predecessor, the whole thing is hamstrung by a total lack of ambition, dismal script and some of the worst acting I've seen in years. It's a poor man's retread of the original on a far more modest scale, and in sequel terms about as necessary as Highlander II.

And... you know... Jon Bon Jovi. What were they thinking? At least his character was called 'Derek'.

The most grim, brutal and unforgiving film I've seen in some time, but also the most refreshing in its total abhorrence of Hollywood sentimentality. You might recognise a few faces here and there, but on the whole the lack of big-name stars definitely works in the film's favour as there really are no guarantees on who's going to make it through the next violent attack.

There are some shaky moments - the opening sequence at the lab occasionally borders on farce, and the 'deeper' sections of dialogue either come across as corny or are clumsily delivered, such as by the actress who plays the young girl Hannah - but on the whole you'll be shocked, you'll be on edge the entire time, and you'll appreciate every minute of it later. The ending does jar slightly, but it's a small price to pay.

This is the British Blair Witch, demonstrating exactly how budget and production values should come second to talent and cohesive vision, and it's the first genuinely unsettling, unpredictable horror film in years. Full credit to Danny Boyle for not taking the easy way out.

Why the UK title had to be changed to Grid Runners I'll never know, unless they were trying to cash in on the Jeff Minter Vic 20 game. Anyway, it doesn't matter - the film's terrible. Funny, but terrible.

Don "The Dragon" Wilson World Kickboxing Champion (as he's referred to in the credits) has so little charisma and acting ability that he must surely be the freakish love child of Jean-Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal, and it's not even as if the filmmakers compensate for that with any particularly dynamic action scenes - the fights are almost as rubbish as the actors. They pick up a bit after the shockingly bad opening scenes in which Don is harassed by men in pink and yellow spandex trousers, but not much.

The central story idea of AI constructs being "copied to living cells" is unoriginal but still interesting, or at least it would have been if the eventual story woven around it made the faintest bit of sense. Everything's either a cliche or happens for absolutely no reason - or both - until the film finally limps to an 'interesting' finale involving some of the worst special effects ever committed to film. Look at that helicopter go! Frame advance that little beauty! Yes please.

Without hesitation, I hereby nominate Invincible's script as the worst of all time. Or at least the worst to somehow make it into a big-budget Hollywood production. "Fight him with love"? What? And that's not even the worst of it...

Billy Zane tries gamely to make some of the junior school Zen, Love & Understanding dialogue sound like it's supposed to be all postmodern and ironic, but he's not fooling anyone. Somebody really thought this stuff sounded good.

Characters are utterly one-dimensional, far too many of the scenes make no sense either in or out of context, and the villain might actually be less menacing than Robert Patrick in Double Dragon, something I never thought possible.

What's really depressing is that the film occasionally looks fantastic. Inventive lighting, great scenery, sharp effects - all you have to do is ignore the over-reliance on pointless slo-mo and you could almost think that you were watching this on a cinema screen, and that you hadn't hallucinated certain famous names in the production credits after all. But at the end of the day, nothing and nobody could make this script work.

Let me put it this way: I watched Invincible in a double bill with Ticker, and left thinking Ticker was actually pretty good.

Funny one, this. Obviously something of a personal directorial crusade, it's not the sort of film you'd expect to see a big-name star (especially one known for all-out action films) such as Wesley Snipes get involved with. As has been pointed out plenty of times already, once he gets to his dingy little room he never leaves it, putting almost as many limitations on his acting range as the calm, restrained, and unfortunately one-dimensional nature of his character. He's not *bad* in the role, as such, just completely unsurprising. Linda Fiorentino, on the other hand, will obviously never again reach the heights of her Last Seduction performance - here she veers from screaming fits and frustrated tantrums to pleading for her life and suddenly going off on childhood anecdotes with so little fluidity that it actually casts doubts on the film's editing.

And worst of all, the whole thing's boring. Tension levels never run as high as they should, and while the relative lack of action is understandable in a way given the subject matter, the 'right to bear arms' debate is never original or gripping enough to make up for the plodding pace. As a result I was half-asleep by the time it finished, which made the wobbly, inconclusive ending even less satisfactory.

I know it sounds shallow, but let's see you kick some more people really hard in the face next time, eh Wes?

Well, I haven't yet had the good fortune of seeing Driven or Get Carter, so maybe I'm being overly optimistic about the trajectory of Sly's cinematic bellcurve, but D-Tox wasn't quite as bad as I was expecting (and, to be honest, hoping). One part The Thing, one part The Shining, one part The Crimson Rivers and one part Seven (I refuse to call the damn thing 'Se7en'), it unsurprisingly ends up achieving nothing like the sum of its parts... but that doesn't make it a *total* disaster.

The main problem with D-Tox is that it's lazy filmmaking. Cliched situations, cheesy dialogue, inconsistencies, loose ends, severely limited character development, the lot. None of this is exactly surprising given the film's prolonged wallow in post-development hell, of course, but there are still far worse films on the shelves. Sly's game as ever, as is Robert Patrick; the locations and production values are up there with any major thriller of the last few years, and the whole thing chugs along well enough in a by-the-numbers kind of way. It's just that Sly's name doesn't carry enough weight to make this sort of thing a big deal any more. As another poster pointed out, the lead role could have been filled by any old B-list 'celeb', but I suppose you've got to take what you can get these days (you've only got to look at Charlton Heston popping up in the latest direct-to-video Van Damme atrocity to see that).

Give it a go if you can't find anything else worthwhile on the shelves. For God's sake, fall back on this before resorting to Ticker.

Much as I generally enjoy watching good old Mr. Lambert messing about in the usual mindless, middle-of-the-road sci-fi shenanigans that he likes to frequent, I get no satisfaction whatsoever from seeing him jump up and down violently on what's left of his career in a sick-makingly irredeemable cinematic dog such as this.

Like so many reviewers before me, I just don't know where to begin.

Let's see: a shockingly bad soundtrack, editing the likes of which I've never seen, pointless, half-finished subplots, props and costumes that look like they were bought from the joke shop down the road (well, from some comedian in the nearest Bulgarian farming village, anyway), the criminal comparison to Braveheart on the video sleeve, dialogue that makes Hellgate and Slugs sound like they were written by David Mamet, and the most Austrian Austrian they could find to star as the most Roman Roman of all time, Caesar. Worst of all, the "kill me now" plea so obvious in Mr. Lambert's eyes (when you can see them through the hair) from start through to merciful finish.

Easily the worst film I've seen for years. And in the last few years I've seen Octopus, Spiders, Spiders 2, Ripper, Bats, Turbulence 3 and Deathstalker IV. Somebody tell Christopher Lambert that it's not funny any more.

Dignity's a funny thing. While Steven Seagal's only recently allowed anyone to land a single hit on him while he's going through the motions of kneeing their heads in (Exit Wounds), Van Damme's been getting soundly thrashed in everything he does for years now and his latest venture takes this to new extremes. All the Replicant character ever does is get thrashed, usually by Michael Rooker with his 'Beaker from The Muppet Show' face, occasionally by his evil alter ego and sometimes by any old random passer-by with some aggression to vent.

Obviously this is fun to watch, but when it starts leading into scenes that become humiliating for other reasons (the, er, 'abrupt' encounter with the prostitute springs to mind), you can't help but think it's all going too far. Watching Jean-Claude Van Damme getting kicked senseless while chained to a radiator is one thing; watching him cream his jeans is another matter entirely.

Still, on the whole Replicant's not a bad way to waste a couple of hours, and it's probably the best thing he's done since Timecop. Okay, so the story's got so many holes that it ends up being more hole than story, and that ending is particularly awful, but at least you can see where the budget went (e.g. the low-ceiling ambulance chase near the end) - and credit where it's due, at least Van Damme's attempting to branch out a bit. Legionnaire involved a bare minimum of face-kicking, and Replicant is more a sci-fi-tinged crime thriller than your standard plot-free Jean-Claude vehicle. He's even quite menacing as the greasy serial killer, though that's probably because all he has to do is scowl, stomp around, push people over and not say very much.

Decent effort, then, but I still can't see Mr. VD leaving the murky world of direct-to-video any time soon, no matter how many Hong Kong directors he works with.

Opinion seems to be firmly split on this one, but despite the die-hards protesting that this kind of low-key noir morbidity is exactly what Hellraiser's all about (compared to the messy excess of Hell on Earth and Bloodline), there can't really be much doubt that this is a film which started out with a script completely unrelated to the Hellraiser franchise. It's a cop film. One with supernatural elements, yes, but a cop film nonetheless. Pinhead just doesn't belong here.

It's still interesting, though. Most of the shocks have been seen before, Craig Sheffer's basically a poor man's Tom Berenger and the promising storyline eventually dwindles to an anticlimax, but there are some worthwhile moments along the way. The use of wet, bone-popping sound effects over in-your-face gore works particularly well, and there's generally more structure and depth than your average slasher outing.

However: is it just me, or is the Lament Configuration not even a puzzle any more? I thought it was supposed to be some vast ancient mystery, but all you've got to do these days is rub your thumb over it and you can pretty much wave bye-bye to your dangly bits...

Having read some good things about this film, and being on a bit of a French-Hollywood high in the wake of Brotherhood of the Wolf, I decided to give this classy-looking Jean Reno vehicle a rent. And it turned out to be a perfectly acceptable thriller with an intriguing setting, but from the very outset it was crippled by one thing:

A totally obnoxious American dub track.

Yes, that's right - I'm not sure why I was cursed with this version when every other review that I've read claimed it was subtitled, but I wasn't too happy about it. Even though Jean Reno seemingly provides his own English voiceover (which is pretty surreal in itself), the rest of them - including that of Vincent Cassel, which veers wildly from hip-Californian-detective to hip-Californian-detective-doing-a-bad-French-accent, often in the same sentence - serve to absolutely ruin the atmosphere of a remote, mysterious French university town high in the mountains. Not good.

In those rare moments when I could ignore the jarring dub track, the film rolled along nicely enough and packed in quite a few memorable scenes. The pounding foot chase, for instance, and the fight with the skinheads. In fact one particular moment in this fight, where Vincent Cassel clocks his attacker solidly around the head with a pool cue to a yelp of "Excellent!" from the Virtua Fighter announcer in the background, jumps straight in at no. 2 in the 2001 Comedy Violence League (just behind Sam Neill kicking a pterodactyl in the head then running away in Jurassic Park III).

So it's not bad on the whole. The heavyweight leads are great, though they have had better roles to play with (the obvious ones being Leon and the mad-as-a-bike one-armed huntsman in Brotherhood of the Wolf), and there's at least a suggestion of an intense atmosphere that I'd dearly love to have experienced in full. But that dub track... yeesh.

I mean, come on. Debauched eco-warrior and ninja Native American sidekick lock horns with aristocracy, cults and supernatural killing machines in 18th century France. What's not to love?

I can't think of a single genre that this film doesn't have covered. At its heart, of course, it's a rollicking action film packed with slo-mo face-kicking and all the fantastic lettuce-tearing sound effects you'd expect, but there's also plenty of horror, mystery, romance, costume drama and (gulp) moral and sociopolitical comment stirred into the mix. And the entire thing looks fantastic. Okay, maybe it takes a while to get going after the teaser fight scene and Beast attacks near the beginning, but once it reaches the halfway point this little beauty's steaming along like a runaway train.

At the end of the day this is Europe sticking two fingers up at Hollywood and demonstrating that in no way does it hold the monopoly on the traditional stunt-heavy, SFX-ridden escapist blockbuster. In fact, this one's quite a bit better than most of Hollywood's efforts, as much for the fresh new setting as anything else. For God's sake justify its worldwide release and go see it.

Most of the people who've seen and slated Spiders 2 have obviously never seen Spiders 1, as the sequel is practically Citizen Kane in comparison. Most of the actors do a passable job (including Richard Moll - an actor I actually recognised, the last thing you expect from a film like this), and the director even throws in some halfhearted camera tricks - brilliantly stupid shots include the heroine diving through a bit of flimsy webbing in slo-mo as if it were a plate glass window.

However, any and all attempts to build up suspense totally disintegrate when the SFX are brought into play (some of the CG shots near the end are laugh-out-loud hilarious), and, unforgivably, it also suffers from Boring Spider Deaths. It also has absolutely no connection to the original, though I'm not sure whether that's a good or bad thing.

Still impossible to recommend as a good film, then, but it's definitely a cut above the original (if not quite as funny).

Film of the year so far. The only exasperating thing about it is the occasional would-be 'critic' attempting to claw back credibility by spluttering his/her indignation about its unsuitability for "serious filmgoers". Please - spare me.

Proving that Brian Helgeland is a man of many, many talents, he's knocked out a fantastic slice of free-spirited action-comedy here that never, for a single second, takes itself seriously. It'd be an instant disaster if it did, and every single person on the screen and behind the screen clearly knows it, resulting in a film with a contagious sense of manic, all-out fun (and I don't use the 'F'-word lightly) the likes of which you'll very rarely see these days. Yes, it's cheesy. Yes, it's predictable. Yes, it's downright ridiculous. But here's the kicker: it knows all this, and it COULDN'T CARE LESS.

As one of the most cynical people I know, I urge you: see it. Enjoy it. Soak it in. Don't go intending to pick holes in the historical accuracy or the paper-thin storyline to appear 'cool': you're the one who'll end up losing out.

A strange one, this: it's as if they deliberately out to splice together two previous Wesley Snipes films (Rising Sun and US Marshals) to try and make a brand new one. Problem is, at the end of the day only the US Marshals elements (i.e. the bits where Wesley Snipes beats people to within an inch of their lives and makes jumps that would break anyone else's legs) actually work. Basically it would have been a lot more enjoyable as a standard-issue Snipes action-fest, with the running time cut down by half an hour or so through the removal of some convoluted and idiotic triple-bluff political plot twists.

Also, something went horribly wrong with the casting: performances from charismatic actors like Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa and Donald Sutherland usually spice up a film no end, but here they're totally wasted. In fact nobody but Snipes and Michael Biehn (who looks scarily like Joe Pantoliano in his first few scenes) seem particularly bothered about putting in any effort at all.

Still, the action's good, especially that last scrap in the UN building (so what if they ripped off the bullet-time effects? At least they're consistent - they ripped off every other action film from the last ten years as well), so all you have to do is fast forward through all that 'political intrigue' rubbish. In fact, fast forward through any scenes relating to the plot - you'll thank yourself for it. Just get it to see Wesley Snipes kick people in the head as hard as he can. Business as usual, then.

I have to watch at least part of this film every day. Feel my pain.

My 2 and 3 year olds have loved Thomas practically since they were born, and it's one of the few programmes that I can stand to watch over and over again with them (kids' TV is in a pretty rough state these days). And, unfortunately, they also love this film, which is the biggest, most depressing sell-out I've ever witnessed. It only took about ten minutes for every last ounce of my respect for Britt Allcroft to wither and die.

To be more precise, and more telling, the kids love certain bits of this film - the bits featuring the engines. Shame only Thomas has any real screen time, then (and what happened to Edward? Cut out altogether because he's old and boring?), and Diesel 10 probably gets more of the limelight than the rest of them put together. At least they've still got Brit accents as far as I can tell, even if they don't sound anything like they do in the series. The only time in Ringo Starr's life when he's been genuinely needed, and where is he?

Alec Baldwin does a passable job with a role he should never have been offered in the first place, but they should have spent Peter Fonda's fee on someone who could write a coherent script (and got any old tramp in to play Fonda's role, for all the effort he puts into it).

When the kids are old enough to look for something else beyond the simple appeal of the familiar characters, they'll be hard pressed to find anything of worth about this film. The story is ludicrously, unnecessarily complicated, the new characters seem to have been dragged in from a completely different mythos, and international commercialisation has stripped away very nearly all of the original charm - even more so than this Shining Time Station series that I'd previously never even heard of, by the sound of it.

I dread to think what'll happen to Bob the Builder.