Reviews

If a single trait characterizes Dario Argento's 21st century output, it's its self-referentiality. Always a cine-literate filmmaker, his recent material has verged almost on self-parody. Amid all this, a generation of filmmakers have grown up with his films and been influenced by them, some more profoundly than others. Some, like Tim Burton, have assimilated his visual style into their own. Others have been more flippant in their appropriation of Argentoisms, with Quentin Tarantino lifting the music from The Bird with the Crystal Plumage for use in Death Proof, and Diablo Cody including a conversation debating the merits of Argento relative to H.G. Lewis in Juno. In effect, "Argento" has become something of a buzzword for a certain type of movie brat: a slightly edgy (but not too edgy) name they can mention to show that they're a little off the beaten track (but not too far off).

Oddly enough, Giallo represents something of a hybridization of the director's self-referentiality and the sort of fan idolatry that champions his films for their more superficial elements while ignoring the qualities that truly mark them out. Although the first credit at the end of the film reads "written and directed by Dario Argento", the original script in fact originated from two American fans, Jim Agnew and Sean Keller, with Argento essentially being brought on as a director for hire. This is not the first time this has happened: the two episodes he directed for the largely disappointing Masters of Horror series also originated from other writers, much to their detriment. (If Pelts had been directed by Eli Roth, I doubt it would have been appreciably different.) While Giallo's script is nothing remarkable, the overall execution is handled with considerably more flair than Jenifer or Pelts. This may be because Argento is on familiar stomping ground, with the Italian locations lending an air of natural class. Giallo is far from the bland, anonymous piece of work for hire that many feared it would be. While Frederic Fasano's cinematography lacks the verve of a Tovoli or even a Debie, and Marco Werba's Herrmannesque score alternates between effective and intrusive, there are little Argentoisms throughout, mainly in the lightly humorous moments. Likewise, an early sequence at an opera recalls Argento's 1987 masterpiece of the same name, while the oddly ambiguous final frame is reminiscent of The Cat O' Nine Tails.

That said, Giallo's most direct counterpart is The Card Player, and it's tempting to see them as two sides of the same coin. However, while The Card Player was clinical, high-tech and almost bloodless, Giallo goes in the opposite direction. Its set design hearkens back to the past, from Avolfi's dingy basement office to the foregrounding of Turin's picturesque monuments and buildings. The violence is also ramped up a notch, and it's tempting to view the film as Argento's reaction to the recent spate of so-called "torture porn" movies. The director has made conflicting statements as to his opinion of these films, but the lengthy scenes of Elsa Pataky being menaced and tortured in the killer's grimy underground lair are more reminiscent of Saw or Hostel than anything in Argento's past filmography.

And there's the rub: despite being marketed as a return to the genre that made a name for Argento in the 1970s, Giallo... well, isn't actually a giallo. The plot operates more as a cross between a cop thriller and a gore-soaked torture flick, the title referring solely to the killer's jaundiced skin. His face is seen almost from the start and his identity is ultimately not hugely important. Far more interesting is the way in which he and Avolfi are constructed as two sides of the same coin, both pariahs who operate in dark underground lairs and have suffered violent, traumatic pasts. As with much of his past work, Argento seems to be actively encouraging a Jungian reading. At times, this becomes a little too on the nose, with the casting of the killer... well, it's an intriguing choice but ultimately one that will either baffle people or have them slapping their foreheads at its obviousness.

With one notable exception, the cast acquit themselves reasonably well. The elephant in the room is Adrien Brody, who not only receives top billing but also an executive producer credit, performing uncredited script doctoring duties and making key decisions about the score (including nixing Argento's regular collaborator Claudio Simonetti). His role is an odd one, and it's far from the vanity project I expected. Avolfi is not particularly pleasant: he's distant, smarmy and reckless, and an act he committed in the past further blurs the line between him and the killer. Unfortunately, the specifics of this event, revealed around two-third of the way through the film, sent the audience at the screening I attended into fits of hysterics. More problematic in my mind, however, is Brody's performance. He seems to be imitating any number of 40s film noir detectives, but comes across as a mumbling buffoon whose reactions and line delivery always seem to be at odds with what's actually happening. He's not the first Oscar-winning actor to work with Argento, but he IS one of Argento's least convincing protagonists.

Giallo is a decent offering from a director whose work of late has been decidedly patchy. While I'm sure the usual battle lines will be drawn, with fans alternating between branding it a return to form and proclaiming it to be proof that he is a has-been, the truth is somewhere in the middle. No, it's not the next Profondo Rosso, but anyone who expected otherwise would simply be deluding themselves. It's substantially better than either of Argento's Masters of Horror outings, a step up from Mother of Tears, and a superior thriller to Do You Like Hitchcock? It's also more engaging than the overrated Sleepless and about on par with the underrated The Card Player, a film that for me improves with each subsequent viewing. Problems aside, Giallo is surprisingly good fun.

This is an interesting film, and one that is wildly uneven but still ultimately watchable. Many of the flaws are admitted by Farina in his interview on the Blue Underground DVD, especially the casting of Carroll Baker as Baba Yaga, which simply doesn't work, but there are other flaws which he doesn't mention. For one, it has that strange quasi-conservative response to sex that tainted the work of many so-called liberal artists of this period. For all its attempts to be daring and original, it always seems to fall back on a relatively conventional framework, culminating in a deeply disappointing ending. It's also full of bizarre non-sequiturs, such as Guido Crepax, author of the graphic novels upon which the film is based, appearing as himself, and Valentina even reading pages from them at one point (pages which seem to feature herself) - had they been handled better, these ideas might actually have been very effective. Still, the film has a jaunty atmosphere and, despite being savaged by the censors, has a suitably erotic undercurrent.

When taken in the right spirit, this is a pretty enjoyable film, but it has its share of problems nonetheless. Sold as a parody of the way Hollywood tends to treat actual historical events, it doesn't really live up to its promises as it only occasionally does a decent job of lampooning its subject matter. When it does, it's very funny - my favourite exchange being (paraphrased) "It's up to the Americans to save the day again!", "God, I wish I was an American!". The rest of the time, though, it seems content to simply be a wacky slapstick comedy that gets its laughs from making prominent historical figures look a little ridiculous. Sometimes this works - I adored Neve Campbell's performance as Elizabeth, as well as her hilariously overdone accent... in fact she's probably the best part of the movie - but other times it doesn't, for example with Goering and Goebbels. It also has a habit of making its jokes too obvious at times, as if writer/director Peter Richardson was afraid that audiences wouldn't get it: it's not enough for Churchill's fellow GI, an African-American, to be relegated to the role of the stereotypical black comic relief character, he actually has to point this out to us.

Nonetheless, it's a fun movie, although I suspect that it will go down better with British audiences than American viewers. Provided you're not expecting sophisticated comedy or subtlety of any kind I expect you'll have fun. 7/10

After getting almost unanimously negative reviews, I was dreading watching IL CARTAIO. It turns out that the film is not bad at all. No, it's not another SUSPIRIA, but nor is it a PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, thankfully. People keep going on about the absence of Argento's trademark style. Well, I want to know what style that would be? Suspiria's? Phenomena's? The Stendhal Syndrome's? I think you get my point. Argento doesn't have one single style -- he had many, and I think that Il Cartaio's style is different rather than absent. I personally liked the camerawork and the cold look of the film. The use of shadow is really good, and I think this has got to be the only film Argento has done that is obviously set in the winter. It gave everything an eery look.

It's a tightly constructed little thriller with a lot of very tense set-piece scenes. The lack of gore confused me a bit, but everyone seems to forget the impalement of a certain character. That, to me, was pretty gory although admittedly not flamboyant. In many ways it seems a lot like the antithesis of Non Ho Sonno, which was extremely over the top in terms of violence.

I think Tenebre was the last film Argento did that received almost unanimous critical acclaim on its initial release. All of his other triumphs since then have grown on people over the years. I don't think Il Cartaio will be any different.

For the first two and a half seasons this was an extremely good show, with a small but strong cast and good (if clichéd) writing. During the third season, though, the show made the transition from drama to soap, eschewing medical storylines in favour of trotting out every detail of the characters' private lives.

The show, which now airs every week all the year round, is now a shadow of its former self. None of the cast from the first season remains, and despite occasionally coming up with a reasonably good episode, more often than not it is just a case of mediocrity week after week, with some downright stinkers mixed in for good measure. By attempting to run storylines on four different wards, the writers have dilluted the formula, often introducing storylines for characters only to quickly forget them or end them abruptly with absolutely no consequences. A good example of this would be the character of Ric Griffin, who entered the show as a closet cannabis user. After a few months, this aspect of the character vanished and was never mentioned again.

It is something of a bitter irony that one of the few characters who was at all interesting to watch was the clumsy nurse Sandy Harper, played excellently by Laura Sadler, who sadly died a few weeks ago.

This film has so little going for it, it's a wonder I'm even rating it. With each subsequent viewing, I am becoming more and more disillusioned with Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within. It is an affront to nature.

The film is supposedly based on the video game series of the same title, but in truth I can see nothing which connects the two. A common thread throughout the game series (I think there are 11 games now) is that each one takes place in a completely different world with new characters, and I can therefore see no reason, apart from marketing purposes, to even call this film Final Fantasy.

I'm left cold be this movie. It has no heart whatsoever. Everything is formulaic and lifeless. To be honest, I'm actually left wondering why it was even made. Actually, no I'm not; I know exactly why it was made: it's a technology demo. Well then, way to go, Square Pictures! You managed to prove that you can create semi-convincing computer animation via motion capture that looks realistic. Remind me what the point of this was when you could just have shot it in live action anyway. Seriously, why animate something when you can get the same effect, and cheaper, by doing it in live action? I'll tell you why: because, if this were a live action film, it would be condemned as complete rubbish. Sadly, because it is completely CGI, many critics have been wowed by its impressive visuals... including Roger Ebert and Richard Roeper, who felt compelled to give it their "thumbs up".

When I first reviewed Final Fantasy, I gave it 6 out of 10. In retrospect, I most certainly regret that decision. As it is, I do feel that even 4 out of 10 may be a little over-generous, but there are a few moments within the film that rescue it from the depths of having no merit whatsoever. Despite the overall pedestrian nature of the film, I will admit that Sakaguchi and his cohorts managed to create some pretty atmospheric dream sequences. A nice effect is the way that, as Aki comes more and more under the control of the virus she is infected with, her dreams become more desaturated.

In many respects, Final Fantasy tries very hard to be a computer-generated Akira. Shame on them for even trying. This film doesn't even come close to Katsuhiro Ôtomo's 1987 masterpiece. Many of the same themes are present (well, you can't get much broader than "end of the world"), but none of the imagination or heart. Final Fantasy is cold and sterile, and for me it is adequate proof that if you use machines to make your movie, you'll end up with a very mechanical movie. Especially after listening to the commentaries and watching the documentary, I have become aware that this is obviously an assembly-line product, not a creative endeavor. To reiterate: Pixar can do it. They are able to use their computers as tools to project heart and emotion. In my opinion, Square Pictures cannot do it. They use their computers to hide their own incompetence.

The main character, Dr. Aki Ross, is voiced by the irritating Ming-Na. She gives the most bland, lifeless reading you could possibly imagine. The other voice actors are equally disappointing, projecting their lifeless voices on to lifeless CG models. Special mention must be given to Alec Baldwin, who gives a laughably poor and clichéd performance as Captain Gray (although, admittedly, he's reading a laughably poor and clichéd script).

If proving that they could do lifelike CG animation was the production team's only goal, then they have succeeded. However, that means that Final Fantasy was nothing more than an experiment: a test that was most certainly not ready to be released to the public. They should have spent more time on developing a story, finding better voice actors and actually animating something rather than motion-capturing it all. It's hardly surprising that Square Pictures folded shortly after the film was released.