Reviews

Billy Hughes is a mute, American make-up artist working on a low-budget slasher in Moscow, directed by her sister's boyfriend. One night, Billy stays later than usual, looking for a prop. She isn't the only one on set, though, as she discovers to her horror. She stumbles upon members of the crew, who are making a snuff film. A frantic chase ensues. Will Billy be able to escape the killers and- if she does- will anyone believe her story?

Written and directed by Anthony Waller, 'Mute Witness' is a tension filled thrill-ride that will have viewers gripped from the get-go. A low-budget affair, it brims with suspense, and is genuinely frightening, though also contains moments of black humour. Waller's narrative is absorbing, despite a weak third act and a rushed ending, containing many unexpected moments of pure petrifying power. Billy, whose struggles to communicate compounds the dread, is a perfect conduit for the audience, as Waller takes us on a journey into fear.

In some ways, it is like Joel Schumacher's '8mm' and John Carpenter's 'Halloween' had a cinematic child; and is just as gruesome as that sounds. Intense and engrossing, it goes in directions one doesn't expect. Although the secondary characters aren't particularly well-written, and some of the dialogue is very stilted, Billy is compelling. We feel for her: isolated in a foreign country, unable to communicate, stalked by murderous thugs- her struggle to survive is engaging. At least, until the third act, when things descend, becoming rather mundane.

The best horrors are usually the ones that make effective use of sound design- such is the case with 'Mute Witness.' Noises- the scraping of a knife on a hard surface, the splatter of blood, footsteps in the dark- create agitation and alarm, while the use of silence heightens the suspense. Furthermore, Egon Werdin's cinematography is eerily atmospheric. His use of irregular angles, shaky cam movements and tracking shots evokes fear and creates tension.

Werdin also makes brilliant use of the sets and locations in the film, employing the lighting team to ominous effect. The shadow-play and utilisation of contrasts makes for a sinister looking picture, while the production design is of a high quality. Moreover, Peter R. Adam's editing is most effective, making a macabre mosaic of a movie, stitching scenes together with a rhythm that mirrors the viewer's racing heartbeat.

Unfortunately, despite the technical expertise behind the camera, those in front disappoint. Although Marina Zudina does strong work as Billy, effectively displaying her fear and agitation silently, her co-stars let her down. As the director, Evan Richards delivers a shockingly hammy performance, seemingly hell bent on chewing as much scenery as he can. Fay Ripley does better than him in the role of Billy's sister, but still doesn't impress much, coming across as quite wooden.

Oleg Yankovskiy is good in a small role as a policeman, deserving of more screen time, while Igor Volkov and Sergei Karlenkov are terrific when silent and unconvincing when not. Furthermore, Alec Guinness- who thought the production was a student film and did not accept, nor was offered, payment for his services- is terrific, for the few seconds he's on screen. Blink and you'll miss him, in this case, is too generous, as even if you don't blink, you might miss him.

Despite a tepid third act, Anthony Waller's 'Mute Witness' is a tense and sinister horror that rockets along at a brisk pace. Boasting striking cinematography from Egon Werdin and creepily atmospheric sound design, it is a stirring picture. However, while it is well-edited and Marina Zudina does strong work as Billy, the supporting cast don't all impress- with Evan Richards' misjudged, over the top performance hampering the film's impact. Despite that, though, 'Mute Witness' is not a film you'll want to keep quiet about.

"A vision had seized hold of me, like the demented fury of a hound that has sunk its teeth into the leg of a deer carcass and is shaking and tugging at the downed game so frantically that the hunter gives up trying to calm him. It was the vision of a large steamship scaling a hill under its own steam, working its way up a steep slope in the jungle..."

So begins the prologue to Werner Herzog's 'Conquest of the Useless,' a compilation of diary entries the director made while shooting 'Fitzcarraldo,' considered by many to be his magnum opus. The film follows Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald- known as Fitzcarraldo- a determined entrepreneur living in Iquitos, Peru. Inspired to attempt the impossible, he plans to haul a 365-tonne steamship over a mountain deep in the jungle, in order to harvest rubber; thereby making enough money to build an opera house in Iquitos. Against the raw power of nature, as well as the machinations of a local tribe, will Fitzcarraldo be successful, or will his scheme prove to be unachievable?

A fascinating, endlessly rewarding piece of work, 'Fitzcarraldo' is a compelling tale examining a multitude of themes. It is a portrait of man's resilience, as well as a metaphor for the human condition and the unwavering struggle to realize one's dreams, no matter how impossible- and improbable- they seem. A profound character study- as well as a thrilling, beautifully shot meditation on the clash between man and nature- there are few films like it; and very few people like its director.

It is a fever dream of ambition. Fitzcarraldo's plan defies reason. As the steamship strains against nature's fury, it becomes more than a mechanical marvel; embodying the indomitable human spirit. Inching upward, it symbolizes man's collective audacity- the relentless pursuit of dreams against all odds. The jungle landscape, meanwhile, is not merely a physical obstacle; it symbolizes internal, as well as external, challenges; be they Fitzcarraldo's inner struggles, doubts or the psychological hurdles he faces on his quest. Its lush greenery conceals danger, while its rivers teem with life and death. Herzog expertly captures the landscape's primal energy- the rustling leaves, the cacophony of unseen creatures- mirroring Fitzcarraldo's inner turmoil.

As the film progresses, the steamship becomes a character in its own right, a symbol of human ambition and folly. The arduous journey up the mountain is fraught with setbacks and challenges, each more daunting than the last. Herzog's direction is unflinching; he does not shy away from the harsh realities of the endeavour, nor does he romanticize Fitzcarraldo's mission. The result is a raw and unvarnished look at the lengths to which one man will go to, to realize his dream.

Moreover, behind the camera, Herzog's commitment to authenticity and his determination to finish the film mirror's his titular character's quest; blurring the line between fiction and reality. He dragged a real steamship over a real mountain, echoing Fitzcarraldo's unwavering belief in- and pursuit of- the impossible. Herzog and his team endured myriad of struggles trying to get the film made, from cast changes to near-fatal accidents. Although he often refers to himself as "clinically sane," with regard to this film, Herzog's total obsession is palpable.

Under Herzog's direction, Thomas Mauch's cinematography is evocative and stunning. Mauch captures the dual sides of the jungle astutely, showing its beauty, as well as its darkness. His clever framing of the steamship highlights the impossibility of Fitzcarraldo's plans, while also serving as a visual metaphor, emphasising the overwhelming power of nature. The jungle surrounds all, dwarfing both man and machine; highlighting the struggle of the individual against an untamed world.

Alongside Mauch's visuals, Popol Vuh's score compounds the dreamlike quality of the narrative. Classic pieces by the likes of Puccini and Verdi are implemented brilliantly, heightening the juxtaposition between the barbarity of nature and the supposed order of man. Epic and distinct, Popol Vuh's original melodies intensify the jungle scenes and underscore Fitzcarraldo's emotional journey. Combined with Mauch's imagery, the score evokes a sense of timelessness, creating a mesmerising audio/visual tapestry that enchants the viewer; weaving threads of eternity into the fabric of Fitzcarraldo's journey.

Furthermore, the production design- from Ulrich Bergfelder and Henning von Gierke- is authentic and atmospheric. Their meticulous attention to detail in the steamship's construction and the recreation of Iquitos captures the era's spirit, enhancing the film's immersive quality. The design team's efforts to authentically depict the Peruvian jungle's daunting environment adds a layer of realism to Fitzcarraldo's quixotic adventure.

Meanwhile, Beate Mainka-Jellinghaus's seamless editing allows the narrative to unfold with a rhythm that mirrors the ebb and flow of the Amazon River itself. This serves to accentuate the contrast between the chaotic jungle and the protagonist's inner turmoil, while also maintaining the suspense that drives Fitzcarraldo's obsessive quest forward. Additionally, Gisela Storch's striking costume design adds depth to the film's visual language, contributing to the overall tapestry of Herzog's ambitious vision.

Klaus Kinski stars as Fitzcarraldo, supported by Claudia Cardinale, Paul Hittscher, José Lewgoy and Miguel Ángel Fuentes. Initially, Jason Robards was cast as the titular character, though left the production soon after encountering the intensity of the Peruvian jungle. Although Herzog flirted with playing the part himself, Kinski was eventually brought on board. As the maniacally determined entrepreneur, Kinski delivers a powerhouse performance, bringing to life perfectly a man of great obsession. Madly magnetic, it is arguably the highlight of his career.

As Molly, Fitzcarraldo's business partner and love interest, Cardinale oozes sophistication and decency. Despite the fact that she has relatively little screen time, Cardinale is excellent, leaving an indelible impression on the viewer. Hittscher and Fuentes both do strong work as members of the steamship's crew, while Lewgoy brings a welcome light energy to his role as a businessman who sparks Fitzcarraldo's interest in the rubber trade.

'Fitzcarraldo' is a fascinating film, an adventure into the Peruvian jungle and the mind of an obsessive personality. Written and directed by the incomparable Werner Herzog, it is impossible to forget, containing imagery and examining themes that stir the soul. Boasting an effective score, detailed production design and powerhouse performances from all in the cast- led by a pitch perfect Klaus Kinski- it is a fever dream you'll always remember.

Trouble is brewing at St. Charles, a Catholic Boy's School. Random acts of violence break out between the students nearly every week, seemingly escalating in intensity. Joe Dobbs, the popular, easy-going English teacher, and Paul Reis, the new gym teacher, aim to find out what's causing the brutality. Meanwhile, Jerome Malley, the grievous Latin teacher who despises Dobbs, begins receiving strange, obscene messages and packages at his home. Will Dobbs, Reis and Malley be able to discover the reason behind the violence at St. Charles, or will the savagery continue?

Directed by Sidney Lumet, and based on Robert Marasco's play of the same name, 'Child's Play' is an intriguing thriller that starts well and has many commendable elements, though fumbles its landing. Leon Prochnik's screenplay- like the source material- examines some interesting themes, such as the psychology of group dynamics, the nature of evil and the power structures within educational institutions. The film deftly navigates these complex ideas through its tight-knit narrative, though it occasionally loses momentum in its latter half, and the ambiguous ending- where nothing at all is concluded- is underwhelming.

However, the principal characters are believable and multifaceted; watching them wade through the seedy, intriguing plot is engaging. The idealistic Reis- an ex-student of St. Charles- serves as a conduit for the audience, taking us on a trip into the macabre. Dobbs seems to be the ideal teacher, warm and kind- though might have darkness beneath his light exterior. Malley, meanwhile, is fascinating, stern and severe with his students, yet he treasures it when ex-pupils send him letters, and always keeps clippings of them if they make the papers. He is, to quote Kris Kristofferson, "a walking contradiction," and a compelling character.

The dichotomy between Malley and Dobbs is the driving force of the film's tension. Malley's severity and isolation are contrasted sharply with Dobbs' affability and popularity, creating a dynamic that is as much a clash of ideologies as it is of personalities. The film uses these characters to explore the impact of authority figures on young minds, and how their differing approaches to education and discipline influence the students' behaviour.

Reis is a relatable character, whose journey back to St. Charles is a poignant reflection on the loss of innocence and the realization that the institutions one once revered may have dark underbellies. The students themselves, though less prominently featured, are essential to the narrative. They are not merely victims or perpetrators of violence; they are shown as complex individuals, shaped by the environment they are in. Their actions, though extreme, are presented not as anomalies but as symptoms of a deeper malaise within the school's culture.

The film's portrayal of these characters is subtle yet powerful, leaving the audience to ponder the nature of evil: is it inherent, or is it fostered by circumstance? Easy answers are not provided- in fact, no answers are provided at all- instead, the film offers a mirror to society's own struggles with these questions. Perhaps, considering the rumination it inspires and the interest it engenders, a more conclusive ending would have made it even better.

On the other hand, Gerald Hirschfeld's atmospheric cinematography cannot be faulted. His expert use of close-ups brings an intimacy to the characters, allowing the audience to see the subtle nuances of their emotions. His utilisation of shadows, meanwhile, creates a sense of foreboding, visually representing the darkness that lurks within the school and its inhabitants. Moreover, Hirschfeld's interplay between light and darkness not only sets the mood but also serves as a metaphor for the film's central themes. The way shadows creep across the walls of St. Charles reflects the insidious nature of the violence pervading the school.

The film's use of space is also noteworthy. The claustrophobic corridors of St. Charles mirror the oppressive nature of the institution and the entrapment felt by both teachers and students. The visuals are complemented by the sound design and Michael Small's eerie score. The echoes in the hallways, the murmurs of the students and the silence that punctuates the violence all contribute to an unsettling auditory experience, heightening the tension and underscoring the film's themes. Small's work, meanwhile, full of demonic-sounding chants, is evocative, stirring and unsettling.

Beau Bridges stars as Reis, alongside Robert Preston as Dobbs and James Mason as Malley. Bridges does fine work, astutely displaying the emotions felt by one who sees the truth behind the curtain, as it were. Preston is brilliant as Dobbs, making him congenial and likable; though not without a certain seediness. Mason, however, steals the show as the pathetic, mentally disturbed Malley. Delivering a beautifully realized, complex performance; he has rarely been better. Furthermore, David Rounds excels in the smaller role as the disillusioned Father Penny, bringing a touch of levity to an otherwise tense situation.

Engaging and intriguing, though ultimately a little underwhelming, Sidney Lumet's adaptation of Robert Marasco's 'Child's Play' has a lot going for it. The narrative touches on some interesting themes, while Gerald Hirschfeld's cinematography and the excellent sound design are atmospheric and evocative. The cast all give strong performances, especially James Mason, but the ending is anticlimactic. Turns out, unfortunately, it wasn't child's play adapting 'Child's Play' for the cinema.

It is 1939, and Europe is on the verge of war. At a manor house deep inside German territory, Hitler is entertaining guests. From the surrounding woodland, Sir Robert Hunter, an Englishman, watches the party through the lens of his sniper rifle. He means to assassinate the Fuhrer, though at the last moment, his plans are scuppered. With his life hanging in the balance, Hunter must summon all his wit and courage to withstand the Nazis' brutal interrogation methods and plot a daring escape.

Directed by Clive Donner, 'Rogue Male' is an exciting, tense made for TV movie based on the novel of the same name by Geoffrey Household, first published in 1939. A gripping thriller, the tale had been previously adapted for screen in 1941, as Fritz Lang's 'Man Hunt,' which starred Walter Pidgeon and Joan Bennett. Closer to the source material than Lang's version- though still not without differences- it is engaging, with sharp dialogue and a compelling narrative one would be hard pressed to forget.

The film weaves a tale of peril and perseverance, set against the backdrop of a Europe teetering on the brink of war. Frederic Raphael's screenplay showcases not only the external conflict of a continent on the precipice of international combat but also the internal struggle of a man fighting for his principles. Sir Robert Hunter's character arc is a testament to the human spirit's resilience in the face of overwhelming adversity.

The tension escalates as Hunter, a man out of his element but not out of his depth, uses his ingenuity to turn the hunters into the hunted. His journey is not just a physical one, but also a moral odyssey, as he grapples with the consequences of his actions and the true meaning of justice. In the broader context of war thrillers, Donner's film distinguishes itself with its focus on psychological warfare and the survivalist aspect of Hunter's journey. It doesn't rely solely on action sequences to build suspense; instead, it crafts a tense atmosphere through character development and the looming threat of discovery.

As Hunter evades his pursuers, the English countryside becomes a character in its own right, with its rolling hills and shadowed woods providing both sanctuary and peril. The cinematography captures the stark contrast between the tranquil beauty of nature and the dark undercurrents of Hunter's flight; which Christopher Gunning's emotive score compounds. Moreover, Tony Abbott's production design- as well as John Bloomfield's costume design- is grittily authentic, lending a weight of realism to proceedings.

Peter O'Toole stars as Hunter, supported by Alaistair Sim, John Standing, Harold Pinter and Michael Byrne. O'Toole's nuanced lead performance is a standout of his career, deftly capturing the essence of a man driven by conviction and haunted by the moral implications of his mission. Sim, in his final film, brings a gravitas to his role as Hunter's uncle, that underscores the film's serious undertones, while John Standing's work as one of the villains of the piece brims with a witty menace. Similarly, Pinter does fine work as Hunter's friend and lawyer, while Byrne is excellent as a sadistic jackbooted Nazi- a role he has played numerous times and always to great effect.

Clive Donner's 'Rogue Male' is more than a chase thriller; it is a reflective piece on the choices we make and the paths we take when civilization itself hangs in the balance. Featuring a compelling narrative, witty dialogue and strong characterisation; it has a lot to offer. Boasting fine performances from all in the cast- especially those of star Peter O'Toole and Alastair Sim- as well as an effective score and striking cinematography- it is, in every respect, right on target.

It is the 1990's and Tatsuo is a low-level Yakuza. A charismatic Casanova, he is tasked with supplying Domon- a conservative misogynist politician- with prostitutes. After Domon brutalises two of his working girls, Tatsuo decides to rob him. The heist does not go down well, and Tatsuo barely escapes. With his boss Animaru hot on his tail, Tatsuo enlists Kantake- a Peruvian-Japanese taxi driver- as his chauffeur. Along with Tama, one of Tatsuo's working girls, the three take to the road; on the run with nowhere to go.

Written and directed by Masato Harada, 'Kamikaze Taxi' is an original, compelling film, both dramatic, comedic and engaging. Although on the surface a Tarantinoesque tale of revenge, it contains thematic depth, delving into the seedy underbelly of Japan, presenting a society grappling with the intersection of traditional values and the harsh realities of modern life. It also examines the struggles of marginalized individuals, namely Kantake, who faces poverty and prejudice upon returning to his homeland after decades in South America.

Harada poignantly portrays the identity struggles of immigrants like Kantake, who navigate the complexities of being in a society that regards them as outsiders. This theme is intricately woven into the storyline, highlighting the characters' search for meaning against a backdrop of societal indifference. Moreover, the movie critiques the deep-seated corruption within Japan's political and criminal landscapes, examining how power dynamics dictate morality and influence choices.

The road trip becomes a metaphor for the characters' existential journey, as they confront the socioeconomic disparities that shape their existence. Harada's narrative is a stark commentary on the dichotomy between Japan's wealthy elite and the marginalized working class; a compelling study of a society in flux. With the film, Harada has crafted a narrative that is as much about the personal odysseys of its characters as it is a critique of the societal structures they navigate. His characterisation is astute, his dialogue witty and his narrative engrossing.

It is also a visually evocative affair, containing striking visuals from cinematographer Yoshitaka Sakamoto, which complement the film's thematic complexity. He captures the neon-drenched streets and tranquil countryside with aplomb, creating a stark contrast that reflects the inner turmoil of the characters. His use of light and shadow, as well as dynamic camera angles, adds dramatic tension, making the visual narrative as engaging as its storyline.

The cinematography not only enhances the mood but also serves as a silent narrator, guiding the audience through the characters' emotional landscapes and the societal commentary woven throughout the film. In addition, editor Hirohide Abe's masterful work is pivotal, crafting a rhythmic cadence that echoes the film's emotive pulse. His meticulous scene transitions build suspense and deliver potent climaxes, keeping the audience riveted. Abe's adept timing and pacing elevate the film, making it an immersive narrative voyage.

Kazuya Takahashi stars as Tatsuo, alongside Koji Yakusho as Kantake, Reiko Kataoka as Tama and Mickey Curtis as Animaru. Takahashi embodies Tatsuo with a raw yet comedic intensity, capturing the desperate conflict of a man caught between worlds and ideals. Yakusho's Kantake is a study in stoicism, his nuanced portrayal of an immigrant's struggle lending proceedings a poignant gravity. With ease, his thoughtful, measured performance is both compelling and affecting. His presence on screen adds a profound weight to the film, captivating and moving the audience.

Kataoka is similarly understated, portraying Tama's resilience and depth subtly, adding a vital layer to the story. Curtis's performance as the saxophone playing, swordstick wielding Animaru is both menacing and magnetic; rightly winning him the Kinema Junpo Award for best supporting actor in 1996. Additionally, Taketoshi Naitô makes for a fantastically seedy villain as Domon; bringing a perfect blend of sleaze and sophistication to the role, making him a character you love to hate.

An insightful, darkly funny road trip of revenge, Masato Harada's 'Kamikaze Taxi' is gripping from start to finish. Although lengthy, it moves at a fast pace, boasting witty dialogue, an engaging narrative and compelling characters. Skewering 1990's Japanese society, particularly with regard to politics; it's wickedly clever and consistently entertaining. Visually striking and featuring strong performances from all in the cast, 'Kamikaze Taxi' is a wild ride you wouldn't want to miss.

In 1971, Oliver Reed purchased Broome Hall, a picturesque, 56-bedroom manor house nestling on the southern slopes of the Greensand Ridge in Surrey. For the next eight years, Reed was the self-styled Master of Broome Hall; though the cost of the upkeep associated with the building crippled him financially. As such, from the mid 70's onwards, Reed chose to do many films for the pay-check, regardless of their quality; perhaps the only reasonable explanation for his appearance in Peter Collinson's 'Tomorrow Never Comes.'

An impossibly cliched thriller, the film follows Frank, who has just returned to his hometown following an extended business trip. He looks up his old girlfriend, Janie, whom he has been pining for. Rumours abound that she has hooked up with another man, which Frank doesn't like the sound of. After he locates her, proceedings escalate quickly, until Frank finds himself holding her hostage. It is up to Detective Wilson to talk Frank down before any more violence ensues.

Reportedly a tax shelter co-production between the UK and Canada, the film boasts an impressive cast of talented actors; though little else. How the three credited screenwriters- David Pursall, Jack Seddon and Sydney Banks- injected so many cliches and hackneyed ideas into the narrative is actually astounding. Unoriginal is an understatement; the filmmakers seem to think of new ideas as anathema. Moreover, the dialogue is laughably bad, especially the lines spoken by Detective Wilson; who is duller than dishwater. Additionally, to call the characterisation of everyone involved paper-thin would be an insult to paper.

Filmed in Canada, but set in America, it was submitted to the 11th Moscow International Film Festival; where, unsurprisingly, it failed to win any awards. Narratively, the only interesting aspects involve the locals' reaction to the hostage-taking: treating it like a travelling carnival. This creates a few fun moments, satirising the American obsession with true crime. However, it's not an original point, nor is it the focus of the film. We don't care for the main characters, nor the secondary ones; and their story fails to compel, entertain or engage.

In addition, the visuals are uninspired and flat. Cinematographer François Protat fails to create tension or suspense with his compositions, filming proceedings without flair or- seemingly- much interest in the material. There is but one instance where he shows some originality, a scene where he makes clever use of a revolving piece of cut glass; though in a sea of mediocrity, it does little to elevate the impact of his addition to the film. Furthermore, the score by Roy Budd exhibits a tonal inconsistency, which undermines the intensity of the film's violent scenes and subdues the nuances of the actors' performances.

Stephen McHattie stars as Frank, opposite Susan George as Janie and the aforementioned Oliver Reed as Wilson. McHattie is totally credible as Frank, delivering a measured performance of a man overcome by insane jealousy. However, the screenplay lets him down. George performs well, though does overdo it a bit, while Reed's valiant attempts to make his character multifaceted and interesting largely fall flat in the face of the woeful dialogue and his inconsistent American accent.

Additionally, Donald Pleasence seems to be having fun playing a German Doctor, though doesn't provide any for the audience, while Raymond Burr, John Ireland and Paul Koslo do their best to bring life to their roles as cardboard cut-out secondary policemen. Furthermore, John Osborne proves why he is best remembered as a playwright and not as an actor in a thankfully small role.

It is almost impossible to reconcile the fact that Peter Collinson directed both 'The Italian Job' and 'Tomorrow Never Comes.' Narratively uninteresting and unoriginal, featuring inane and stilted dialogue, it is something of a shambles. Visually unremarkable, and with a misjudged score, the attempts by the cast to save this disappointing, dull picture simply aren't enough. In the end, 'Tomorrow Never Comes' makes one wish that, much like its title suggests, the film itself had never arrived. Maybe Ollie should have sold Broome Hall earlier than he did.

In 1942, the wealthy district of Wannsee played host to a gathering of high-ranking officials of the Nazi party. Led by SS-Obergruppenführer Reinhard Heydrich- considered by many to be Hitler's natural successor- the group are there for one purpose: to discuss the method by which they will make the Third Reich free of Jews. As they debate their options, analysing the situation as they see it, the men consider many fiendishly methodical methods of murder, showing themselves to be completely morally bereft in their quest for a final solution.

Directed by Heinz Schirk, 'The Wannsee Conference' is a gripping account of the titular meeting, offering much insight into the personalities and attitudes within the Third Reich. A made for TV movie, it is based on the minutes of the real conference, and boasts strong dialogue and perceptive characterisation from screenwriter Paul Mommertz. His characters are believable, villainously banal and systematic in their approach; making the film all the more impactful.

Heydrich and the others, regarding Jews as subhumans on the level of vermin, contemplate mass murder with the casual air of businessmen deciding on their lunch orders. Their discussions about who they consider Jewish, or half-Jewish, makes for fascinating viewing, offering viewers insight into their heinous mindset. Schirk's film shows how the bureaucratization of genocide transformed the unthinkable into the executable. The film meticulously depicts the process by which a group of seemingly civilized men could rationalize and organize the systematic slaughter of millions. The stark, cold meeting room becomes a chilling echo chamber of complicity, where the veneer of legality and procedure masks the monstrous reality of their plans.

By stripping away the dramatic excess often associated with the portrayal of Nazis in media, the film presents a more disturbing truth: that the Holocaust was a product of seemingly mundane administrative decisions made by men who believed they were simply solving a problem. This realization is perhaps the film's most haunting contribution to the historical narrative, leaving viewers to ponder the depths of human depravity and the importance of vigilance in the face of ideology run amok.

Visually, it is filmed as if it were a play, with static shots, minimal camera movement and a focus on dialogue and performance, emphasizing the claustrophobic atmosphere of the conference room and reflecting the oppressive nature of the subject matter. The production design is austere and functional, with an attention to historical accuracy that lends authenticity to the setting. The use of real-time filming, mirroring the actual duration of the Wannsee Conference, creates a sense of immediacy and tension, as viewers are made to feel as if they are there witnessing the events unfold.

Dietrich Mattausch leads the cast as Heydrich, making him seedily suave and chillingly charismatic. Calculating and persuasive, his controlled delivery and cold gaze capture the chilling resolve of a man orchestrating genocide. Gerd Böckmann is similarly impressive as the reserved Adolf Eichman, giving an understated and subtle performance; his matter-of-fact tone and clinical precision revealing the horrifying casual composure with which these men approached the extermination of millions. Peter Fitz does strong work as Wilhelm Stuckart, who has a strange and twisted sense of his own morality, conveying both the intellectual arrogance and the moral bankruptcy of his character; adding another layer of depth to the film's exploration of complicity.

Furthermore, Harald Dietl and Martin Lüttge also shine as Afred Meyer and Rudolf Lange, respectively, highlighting the power dynamics at play and the uncomfortable ease with which they discuss mass murder. Additionally, in the small but pivotal role as the secretary taking down the minutes, Anita Mally subtly embodies the overlooked cog in the Nazi bureaucratic machine. Devoid of any visible emotion or moral conflict, her dutiful transcription of the conference's proceedings encapsulates the terrifying ordinariness that can accompany evil deeds.

Informative and captivating, Heinz Schirk's 'The Wannsee Conference' is an important and effective made for TV movie, documenting a turning point in history. Featuring strong dialogue from Paul Mommertz, this retelling of the titular event explores the situation and characters involved with nuance and insight. Boasting fine cinematography from Horst Schier and authentic production design, as well as powerhouse performances from all in the cast, the film stands as a stark reminder of the banality of evil and the ease with which humanity can slip into darkness.

In 1985, Wim Wenders released 'Tokya-Ga', a love letter to the films of Yasujirô Ozu and the city of Tokyo. In that documentary, Wenders captured a portrait of the city as one under the thrall of Americanized homogenization, in many respects far removed from the Tokyo Ozu put on film. Now, nearly forty years later, Wenders' beautifully subtle 'Perfect Days' can be seen not just as a homage to the work of Ozu but to a Tokyo that once seemed forever lost to capitalist coalescence.

A quiet, poignant character study, 'Perfect Days' follows Hirayama, a middle-aged public toilet cleaner as he goes about his business in Tokyo. A man of few words and great tranquillity, Hirayama leads a simple life, never straying from his established routines. A series of encounters- with his young assistant and Aya, the girl he is courting, his niece Niko and the proprietress of a bar- leads Hirayama to reevaluate his situation; to look with fresh eyes upon his place within Japan's capital.

The film is a fascinating, contemplative piece of depth and heart. The narrative- written by Wenders and Takuma Takasaki- is deceptively simple, commenting on life and society in general, as well as in Japan. By making the central character a toilet cleaner who is, for the most part, ignored by those around him, Wenders seems to be commenting on the callousness of modern society. Most people do not thank Hirayama, nor do they even acknowledge his presence, taking the fruits of his labour for granted.

Hirayama takes great pride in his work, never leaving a toilet less than spotless. As most ignore him, the few, small moments of recognition he receives contain great power; they become amplified. This, in fact, is where the key to the film's impact lies. Wenders and Takasaki make Hirayama's life so endlessly mundane that the slightest change becomes an immense piece of action. He is so reserved; the smallest smile contains bounteous meaning. His lack of a definitive backstory makes him all the more enigmatic, and his relationships with others all the more compelling. Ozu did similarly effective work, weaving rich tapestries of human experience out of the everyday; as Wenders's film does masterfully.

As Hirayama navigates the bustling streets of Tokyo, his experiences serve as a mirror to his inner world. The young assistant, Takashi, represents the new generation's obliviousness to the traditions and struggles of their predecessors, while Aya embodies the potential for connection and change. His niece and the proprietress of the bar offer contrasting perspectives on the role of women in a society that's in flux, caught between past expectations and future possibilities.

The Tokyo that frames Hirayama's existence is a character in itself, pulsating with life, yet marked by the solitude of its inhabitants. Wenders captures the dichotomy of a metropolis that's both alienating and intimate, where the hum of the city can drown out the individual while also drawing out their deepest reflections. Finding beauty in places and things most would overlook, Wenders invites viewers to pause and consider the unnoticed, the unappreciated and the unspoken externals that shape our lives.

Moreover, the film is a visual delight. Aside from the thematic similarities, Wenders incorporates many stylistic elements often seen in Ozu's work, both compounding the impact of the film and its function as a homage. Wenders and cinematographer Franz Lustig subtly honour Ozu's cinematic style through the use of the 'tatami shot,' offering a low, intimate view that draws the audience into Hirayama's world.

Similarly, the utilisation of 'pillow shots'- brief, poetic cutaways to elements of the environment that serve as transitions between scenes- echo Ozu's tranquil interludes, inviting reflection. These techniques not only pay tribute to Ozu but also enrich the film's narrative, highlighting the profound in the ordinary-a hallmark of both directors' storytelling.

Beyond its visual artistry, the film delves into the cultural fabric of contemporary Japan. Through the portrayal of Hirayama's humble profession, Wenders subtly examines the nuances of Japan's work ethic and the societal value placed on cleanliness and order. Set against Tokyo's evolving landscape, the film navigates the delicate balance between cultural preservation and modernization- a universal urban narrative.

The film emerges at a pivotal moment as Japan confronts its global identity. It strikes a chord with viewers, highlighting the quest for purpose in a uniform world and the significance of society's unsung roles. Wenders crafts a tale that, while rooted in Tokyo's reality, speaks to a collective experience, urging audiences worldwide to appreciate their own cultural dynamics.

The film's score further elevates its contemplative atmosphere, while the eclectic soundtrack mirrors Hirayama's internal journey. From the nostalgic strains of 'The House of the Rising Sun' by The Animals to the introspective 'Pale Blue Eyes' by The Velvet Underground, each song is carefully chosen to reflect Hirayama's mood and the changing rhythms of Tokyo. Wenders' selection of music- including tracks such as Nina Simone's 'Feeling Good' and Lou Reed's 'Perfect Day'- not only underscores the narrative but also serves as a homage to the central character's personal history and the city's diverse soundscape.

Koji Yakusho stars as Hirayama, supported by Tokio Emoto as Takashi, Aoi Yamada as Aya and Arisa Nakano as his niece Niko. Arguably the finest actor of his generation both in and outside of Japan, Yakusho delivers a performance of nuance, great profundity and depth. It is a stunning piece of work, that demands attention and deserves plaudits. He carries the film with a remarkable ease and sensitivity, working brilliantly with his co-stars. Emoto brings a welcome comedic energy as the lackadaisical Takashi, while Yamada delivers a subtle yet impactful performance as Aya, adding layers of complexity to the narrative, challenging the protagonist to step beyond his comfort zone.

Nakano, in her third role, is terrific. Like Yakusho, she has the ability to convey deep emotions with minimal dialogue, impressing greatly. Alongside them, Sayuri Ishikawa and Tomokazu Miura are marvellous, as the bar proprietress and Tomoyama, a man who crosses paths with Hirayama. Both do sterling work in small but pivotal roles, appearing in two of the most memorable and emotionally resonant scenes in the film.

In conclusion, Wim Wender's 'Perfect Days' is a remarkable piece of work. A quiet but impactful character study, as well as a homage to the work of Yasujirô Ozu, the film is full of depth and power. Boasting a strong narrative, stunning visuals and a stirring score, it works on every level. The performances from the cast are all excellent, with Koji Yakusho's central one a masterpiece in understatement. In short, this frankly flawless slow burn is about as close to perfect as a film can get.

It is the 1920's and in the picturesque seaside village of Littlehampton, trouble is brewing. Spinster Edith Swan begins receiving anonymous, obscene letters, which her father thinks are coming from their young Irish neighbour, Rose Gooding. Gooding denies sending the malicious mail, though few in the village believe her. It is up to female police officer Gladys Moss, alongside a couple of sympathetic ladies, to prove Gooding's innocence and catch the real culprit before she is convicted.

Based on a true story, Thea Sharrock's 'Wicked Little Letters' is a lightweight comic-drama, neither very funny nor dramatic. Screenwriter Jonny Sweet succumbs to the familiar, false thought that coarse language equates to comedic gold. In addition, the narrative is neither particularly mysterious or suspenseful. Moreover, his characterisation is based almost entirely on cliched stereotypes: prim, proper English conservatives, rowdy Irish women and bumbling policemen included. Furthermore, the world of the film is unbelievable, containing not a trace of racism whatsoever, while the sexism exhibited throughout is utilised mainly as a joke.

In many ways, it is an old-fashioned film, trying to say something clever about misogyny, while also playing into misogynistic attitudes. The women- bar officer Moss- are stereotypes dialled up to the max, with little to no depth or nuance, Gooding in particular. Your typical boisterous, hard-drinking, loud Irish lass; the archaic cliches that inform her character are almost insulting. Although there are some funny moments and lines of dialogue, the film is not as entertaining as perhaps it could have been.

Additionally, it is laden with uninspired visuals. Cinematographer Ben Davis shoots proceedings conventionally, without flair or ingenuity. Although the production values are commendable, and Charlotte Walter's costume design appears period accurate, it is a flat looking picture all the same. Furthermore, Isobel Waller-Bridge's generic score lacks suspense or excitement, sounding as dull and as underwhelming as much of Sweet's dialogue.

Casting director Jina Jay has assembled a talented cast of performers, most of whom do commendable work. Jessie Buckley is great as Gooding, overcoming the cliched characterisation of the role. Olivia Colman is typically excellent as the uptight Swan, although neither she nor Buckley are given much of a challenge, acting-wise. Anjana Vasan does the strongest work of all as officer Moss, while Timothy Spall and Joanna Scanlan are similarly excellent as Swan's austere father and a pig farmer, respectively.

Although it is well acted, Thea Sharrock's 'Wicked Little Letters' is not particularly entertaining, clever or original. With an underwhelming narrative, cliched characters, drab visuals and a generic score, it does not impress much. Although Jessie Buckley and Olivia Colman both give strong performances, they aren't in any way challenged, and have been much better in other projects. Despite the fact that Anjana Vasan and Timothy Spall impress greatly, this film is forgettable and not as wickedly enjoyable as it could have been.

Films about real-life figures are always going to be divisive. All the more so when they are based on the figure in question's autobiography which, naturally, comes from their point of view and is therefore biased, consciously or otherwise. When said figure was a crucial member of the Third Reich- as well as an intimate of Hitler's- it takes a particularly delicate touch to make that film work without inciting offence or condemnation and to appear- at least somewhat- balanced.

A touch director Marvin J. Chomsky demonstrated at the helm of 'Holocaust,' the gripping, poignant 1978 miniseries that helped establish Meryl Streep and James Woods, among others, and brought the titular term into the mainstream. However, his adaptation of Albert Speer's autobiography 'Inside the Third Reich' lacks the nuance of 'Holocaust,' as well as the power. A truncated retelling of the highlights of Speer's book; one wonders how the same director could be behind both works.

'Inside the Third Reich' follows architect Albert Speer, a charismatic German who attracts the attention of those in the burgeoning Nazi Party. Although apolitical by nature, Speer finds himself seduced by Hitler's manic magnetism, and soon is working for the party. During the second World War, Speer is appointed as the Armaments Minister for the Third Reich, though his growing disapproval for Hitler's disregard for human life creates a chasm between the dictator and his minister that not even death can bridge.

Unlike the source material, the film is mostly a glossy, emotionless affair, which makes little impact on the viewer. In contrast, the original book makes for a fascinating read. Although most certainly Speer withholds information regarding the breadth of his knowledge of the holocaust, he demonstrates a remarkable ability to separate himself from his history, observing scenes from his past with a critical eye. He does not try to excuse himself for taking part in Hitler's murderous regime, rather attempts to understand how he fell under the dictator's spell, and why he ignored the obvious signs of the coming genocide for so long.

It is a book full of nuance, offering a unique, intimate look at a part of history from the perspective of one of its central figures. However, something was lost in translation, as Chomsky's version severely underwhelms. Rather than examining the reasons Speer and others followed Hitler, the narrative- written by E. Jack Neuman- plods along linearly, following Speer on his rise to power in the manner of countless dull biopics. Although by no means boring, when considering the opportunities Speer's rich, contemplative book allows for adaptation- for an intriguing film to be made- it is rather disappointing.

Moreover, the film doesn't question Speer's claims once- which, it is worth noting, he himself does multiple times in his book, acknowledging the inherent bias that arises when writing one's own story and recalling one's own history. The characterisation involved is one-dimensional, with the on-screen version of Speer lacking the depth and complexity of the real man. Although the dialogue- largely taken word-for- word from the source material- is strong, Chomsky and Neuman's straightforward approach lets this adaptation down, hampering its potential impact.

Conversely, the visuals are impressive throughout, with Rolf Zehetbauer's detailed production design being of a particularly high quality. Alongside art directors Kuli Sander and Herbert Strabel, he creates an authentic reproduction of the time before and during the Third Reich. The set decoration and design are especially rich and evocative, as is the striking costume design, compounding the realism of the venture. While Tony Imi's cinematography is fairly conventional, he utilises close-ups and lighting well, heightening the drama. Furthermore, Fred Karlin's score is stirring, using period pieces to great effect, and proceedings are generally well-edited.

The large cast of talented actors are also utilised well, more or less. John Gielgud does sterling work as Speer's father, who questions the direction his son's life has taken. Ian Holm brims with a witty menace as Goebbels, while Trevor Howard is typically understated and effective as Tessenow, Speer's mentor. Blythe Danner also does commendable work as Margareta, Speer's wife, while Randy Quaid is terrific as one of his associates.

The real stand out is Derek Jacobi, delivering a startlingly intense performance as Hitler. At times, he could be the megalomaniacal murderer's double; so cannily does he recreate his gesticulations and movements. Oddly enough, in the lead, the usually convincing Rutger Hauer is the weakest link, coming across as a bit half-hearted and disinterested; perhaps unsure of how to approach the role in the face of Neuman's scant characterisation.

In conclusion, where Chomsky succeeded with 'Holocaust', he fails with 'Inside the Third Reich.' The former boasted compelling characters whom one cared for, wrapped inside an engaging, poignant story. The latter is more like a summary of a book written by a student who didn't particularly care for the course they were on. Lacking the nuance or insight so prevalent in Albert Speer's book of the same name, the film disappoints. Although the visuals, score and supporting performances are commendable, both Rutger Hauer's performance as Albert Speer and the film around him are forgettable. A shame, considering the subject is one that one should never forget.

It is 1755, and Danish Captain Ludvig Kahlen has just left the army. He approaches the Royal Danish Court with a proposition: he will attempt to build a settlement on the barren Jutland moors in exchange for a noble title. It is a task considered impossible, and though his deal is accepted, the Court thinks nothing will ever come of it. Out on the moors, Kahlen battles the environment, as well as bandits and the machinations of the sadistic local magistrate Frederik Schinkel, in an attempt to realize his dreams.

Directed by Nikolaj Arcel and based on a novel by Ida Jessen- which was, in turn, very loosely inspired by real life characters- 'The Promised Land' is an engrossing, engaging film both powerful and poignant. Arcel's screenplay- written alongside frequent collaborator Anders Thomas Jensen- tells a fascinating tale that offers insight into Danish history, while also functioning as a character study and a compelling drama to boot.

It is a movie that works on many levels, balancing drama with comedy and violence with silence. The narrative- although lumbered with an unnecessarily protracted ending- is strongly written, subtly exploring themes like the cost of ambition and the importance of family. The film presents Kahlen as a complex man who can't see the forest for the trees, so to speak. Over the course of the picture, he undergoes a change of character, realising that there are other aspects to his life he should dedicate his time to, other than his pursuit of dominance over the inhospitable moorland.

Kahlen is reminiscent of other singularly focused cinematic creations, such as the titular characters in Werner Herzog's 'Fitzcarraldo' and Sam Peckinpah's 'The Ballad of Cable Hogue.' Like those two resolute men, he strives to realize his dream in the face of terrible opposition. His perseverance, his assurance that the impossible can be done, makes him a compelling character, while his stoic nature makes him both enigmatic and intriguing.

Toiling through the seasons, tearing up the tough earth of the moors, Kahlen struggles to make any headway, even with the help of a couple, Ann Barbara and Johannes, as well as Anmai Mus, a Romani girl he reluctantly takes into his care. Meanwhile, the villainous Shinkel, who has his eye on the moorland, turns from an irritant into an obstacle Kahlen cannot get beyond. All these characters are well-drawn and believable, with their own arcs and backstories. Although the exploration of Kahlen's personality and ambition is the core of the story, Arcel and Jensen have created rich secondary characters for him to interact with; making the film utterly gripping.

It is a visually evocative affair, boasting atmospheric cinematography from Rasmus Videbæk. By using an aspect ratio of 1.66:1, Videbæk gives the film a wide, epic look, making the most of the rugged Danish landscape; compounding the harsh isolation of the Jutland moors. His use of close-ups heightens the drama of proceedings, while his utilisation of tracking shots- notably during a nighttime raid on a band of thugs- adds tension and suspense.

Moreover, Jette Lehmann's production design is detailed and evocative, creating a period-accurate setting, while Kicki Ilander's costume design contributes to the narrative and its characters astutely. Her juxtaposition of the rich fabrics Shinkel parades around in, compared to Kahlen's simple outfits, accentuates the cultural, societal gap between the men. Additionally, Dan Romer's muted score is stirring, never dominating scenes; complementing them instead. Although Arcel and editor Olivier Bugge Couttélet let proceedings go on a tad too long- there is a natural end point that is followed by an unnecessary extra 25 minutes, an epilogue of sorts- the film has a steady pace as deliberate as its central character.

Mads Mikkelsen stars as Kahlen, opposite Amanda Collin as Ann Barbara, Melina Hagberg as Anmai Mus and Simon Bennebjerg as Shinkel. Mikkelsen demonstrates his incredible talent for saying volumes through the smallest expression or gesture, without the need for words. A nuanced, charismatic performer, he is terrific; his subtle, multifaceted performance again lends credence to the notion that he is one of, if not the best actors around today.

Collin does similarly sterling work as Ann Barbara, delivering an understated and powerful performance full of depth and wit. She shares a fine chemistry with Mikkelsen, while Hagberg- in her first role- is wonderful. Feisty and funny, she has a strong screen presence, working brilliantly with her co-stars- especially Mikkelsen. They share a few scenes full of emotional power; and she impresses greatly with her natural, unostentatious performance.

Bennebjerg creates in Shinkel a villain for the ages, a sadistic cad full of pomp and vanity. Although the character is fairly cliched, Bennebjerg plays him so well one forgets this. Slimy, slick and sinisterly funny; he cannot be faulted. Additionally, Thomas W. Gabrielsson and Jacob Lohmann are both brilliant as Shinkel's right hand man Bondo and Trappaud, an associate of Kahlen's. Furthermore, Kristine Kujath Thorp is commendable in the role of Edel Helene, a noblewoman betrothed to Shinkel who wants to escape his vile clutches.

In conclusion, Nikolaj Arcel's 'The Promised Land' is an engaging epic, a character study and a moving drama all in one. With a strong screenplay examining interesting themes, witty, minimalist dialogue and well-drawn characters, the narrative consistently engages. The cinematography and production design are striking, while the score is subtly powerful. Boasting strong performances from all in the cast- led by the incomparable Mads Mikkelsen- 'The Promised Land' is a fascinating tale about a conquest of the useless that one wouldn't want to miss.

It is the 1930's, and naïve country boy Kuo Cheng-Wah has just arrived in Hong Kong. A violent gang war has broken out over the city, which he finds himself in the middle of. After a gang boss bequeaths him his empire, Cheng-Wah opens a nightclub, featuring the sultry singer Yang Luming as star attraction. Meanwhile, Madame Kao, an impoverished street seller, needs Cheng-Wah's help if she is to convince her daughter she is a lady of means. So begins a madcap tale full of action, comedy and romance sure to leave audiences spellbound.

Directed by Jackie Chan and based on Damon Runyon's short story 'Madame La Gimp,' 'Miracles' is a heartwarming, exciting comedy both fun and fast-paced. Runyon's source material had been adapted for the screen twice before by Frank Capra, in 1933 with 'Lady For A Day' and 1961 with 'Pocketful of Miracles,' but Chan's version is by far the most memorable. Combining clever dialogue with strong characterisation and witty set-pieces, the screenplay brims with comedic inventiveness. The narrative is consistently engaging, full of humorous misunderstandings, idiosyncratic characters and hilarious action that would have made Buster Keaton proud.

As is the case with most Chan fare, the film features stunt work and fight choreography that is awe-inspiring. The martial arts world's answer to Fred Astaire, Chan's incredible physicality is on full display, and the rapid-fire action will leave you breathless- when you're not laughing, that is. A sequence in a rope factory has to be seen to be believed; so incredible are Chan and his Stunt Team. Furthermore, the aspects of the narrative involving Madame Kao are handled brilliantly, bringing additional humour and drama to proceedings, while the musical numbers interspersed throughout harken back to the glory days of Hollywood musicals.

Moreover, Arthur Wong's lush cinematography gives the film a richness and fluidity largely missing from Chan's previous pictures. Making expert use of tracking shots and long, single takes, Wong fosters a sense of realism and immersion. A one take shot at the night club is most impressive, swooping over the heads of the audience from the stage, up into Cheng-Wah's office; plunging the viewer deep into the glamourous world of the film.

Eddie Ma's grand production design drips with textural richness. From the bustling streets of Hong Kong, to the velvet and gold rimmed nightclub, to the dusty rope factory, all the locations are detailed and visually interesting. A stunning feast for the eyes, Ma, art director Sai Kan Lam and set decorator Yiu-Kwong But have faithfully recreated 1930's Hong Kong, with a wry, Runyonesque slant. In addition, Lai-Fang Chan and Sun-Yiu Cheung's costume design is intricate and evocative; adding to the personalities of the characters and their world.

Jackie Chan stars as Kuo Cheng-Wah, opposite Anita Mui as Yang Luming and Ah-Lei Gua as Madame Kao. Charismatic and charming, Chan is brilliant in the role, clearly relishing the chance to play an old timey 'Guys and Dolls' style gangster. His terrific comedic timing- combined with his martial arts prowess- is incredible to behold, while he imbues the character with interesting little quirks- like flipping a hat before putting it on- that make him all the more compelling. As director, stunt coordinator and actor; Chan impresses greatly.

As does Anita Mui, demonstrating her considerable comedic, and vocal, talents. She and Chan share a great chemistry that makes watching them together a joy, while her classy performance of the song 'Rose, Rose I Love You' is close to unforgettable. Ah-Lei Gua brings a touching vulnerability to her role, making her compelling and sympathetic. Additionally, Bill Tung is hilarious as a conman Cheng-Wah brings into the fold, while Chun-Hsiung Ko and Lo Lieh make for excellent villains. Also worth mentioning are Wu Ma, as Cheng-Wah's mentor Uncle Hoi, and Richard Ng, as bumbling Chief Inspector Ho, who both give memorable, humorous performances.

In conclusion, Jackie Chan's 'Miracles' is a funny, heartwarming comedy that does justice to its source material, Damon Runyon's 'Madame La Gimp,' while also paying tribute to the work of Frank Capra and the Golden Age of Hollywood. Showcasing Chan's innumerable talents and vision, it is exciting and entertaining, featuring many pulse-pounding action sequences, striking cinematography and a fine score. Well-acted and fun for all the family, it really is a miracle of moviemaking.

The First World War has just ended, but peace is far from the Italian village of San Giovanni Rotondo. As families welcome back their loved ones from the battlefield, a new conflict brews between the socialist peasants and their oppressive landowners. Meanwhile, in the village convent, Capuchin friar Padre Pio is having a crisis of faith. Encountering demons and suffering from vivid, dark hallucinations, will the friar overcome his troubles, and will the villagers find their freedom?

Directed by Abel Ferrara, 'Padre Pio' is a witless Frankenstein's monster: a strange, plodding drama that feels like two vastly different films spliced poorly together; neither of which are very good. Written by Ferrara and Maurizio Braucci- alongside whom Ferrara wrote the far more interesting 'Pasolini'- the film aims to explore themes of spirituality and politics in post-war Italy, but ends up saying nothing at all. The links between the story involving the villagers and the one concerning the titular character are tenuous and poorly explained, while the complete package is so slow and tedious it would be more worthwhile watching paint dry.

Moreover, the dialogue is stilted and cliched, with the villagers' arguments for and against socialism being especially trite and banal. Often, it sounds like bad improvisation- and the fact that the mostly Italian cast struggle to deliver their lines in English doesn't help matters. Additionally, although Ferrara tries to juxtapose the suffering of Pio with that of the villagers, it doesn't work, feeling ham-fisted at best. Furthermore, his portrayal of the friar isn't sympathetic, nor interesting, with no backstory or characterisation. There's no reason to root for him, and his dull journey towards stigmata simply isn't engaging.

Having said that, there are moments throughout that hold interest, even if they're too few and far between. An all-too-short scene involving a character confessing his lust for his daughter brims with an intriguing menace, while the opening sequence- in which soldiers return from the war- is well realized, with minimal dialogue. Unfortunately, scenes like those are rare gems in a sea of mediocrity, and the majority of the narrative is a slog.

On the other hand, Alessandro Abate's muted cinematography adds a dose of realism to proceedings, and is consistently striking. Tommaso Ortino's production design lends additional authenticity to the picture, while the set and costume design is of a particularly high quality. However, Joe Delia's score- incorporating, at one point, Southern chain-gang music- is overblown, lacking subtlety or power.

Shia La Beouf stars as the titular character, delivering a performance of staggering self-indulgence, going so over-the-top he makes Nicolas Cage in 'Vampire's Kiss' look like a masterpiece of understatement. It is a misjudged attempt to outdo Daniel Day-Lewis in the intensity department, making Padre Pio look petulant, insane and dour. His Italian co-stars all do more nuanced work, but the impact of their performances are severely hampered by their having to speak in English. Worth mentioning, however, is Asia Argento, who plays the incestuous father, injecting some much-needed energy into a lifeless film.

In conclusion, Abel Ferrara's 'Padre Pio' is a failure, both as a biopic of the titular character and as a drama concerning Italian socio-political history. Drab, dull and disappointing, the narrative lacks wit, insight and entertainment value, while the dialogue is consistently contrived and unnatural. While the cinematography and production design are commendable, the score is poor and the central performance from Shia LaBeouf is terribly over-the-top. In short, it's a boring waste of time, deserving Three Hail Marys, and nothing more.

Wilson is an aging assassin recently arrived on Fuerteventura. After discovering that his hit has left the island, he decides to stay and relax, ostensibly until the target returns. Waiting and wandering, Wilson befriends Gloria, a bartender, and finds he has a connection with Max, a young boy staying at his resort. However, the arrival of Ryan, a figure from Wilson's past, makes it clear that he has broken his cardinal rule: never get attached.

Directed by Gonzalo López-Gallego, 'American Star' is a reserved thriller telling a familiar tale- but telling it well. Nacho Faerna's screenplay relies on silence, as much as dialogue, to further the narrative, and is an effective character study about a man past his prime, struggling to find something worthwhile left in a violent life. It is a subtle, quiet film, at times reminiscent of Jean-Pierre Melville's 'Le Samourai' or- perhaps more so- Stephen Frears' 'The Hit'.

Like Frears' film, the central character is a world weary assassin who begins to question himself while on his latest job. Similarly, both characters are reticent- in Frears' case, John Hurt's Braddock- though not without humour or emotion. The subplot involving Max is particularly heartfelt and well-handled, verging on the cloying at times, but not getting there. Building up to a memorable, surprising conclusion, the narrative packs a punch.

As does José David Montero's cinematography. As cool and clean as the central character, Montero's assured work complements the narrative, capturing the beauty and stark isolation of Fuerteventura. He makes excellent use of close-ups and tracking shots, compounding the suspense and tension of proceedings, while letting audiences peek into the minds of the characters; seemingly reading their thoughts through their expressions.

Moreover, Óscar Sempere's minimalist production design is striking, making Wilson's world feel cold and harsh. Leire Orella's muted costume design contributes both to the characters and the mood of the piece, while the score- from Remate- adds a quiet power and pathos to proceedings. Additionally, the film is well-edited, and rockets along at a brisk pace, though never seems rushed; feeling to be the perfect length at an hour and 47 minutes

Ian McShane stars as Wilson, opposite Nora Arnezeder as Gloria, Oscar Coleman as Max and Adam Nagaitis as Ryan. McShane delivers a masterclass in understatement, and is utterly compelling, creating in Wilson someone to root for. With deft, he displays the character's complexity and vulnerability, sharing an easy chemistry with Arnezeder. She makes Gloria- who is, to be fair, a little underwritten- interesting and sympathetic, while Coleman and Nagaitis are both excellent as the young Max and Ryan, respectively. In addition, Fanny Ardant does fine work in the all too small role of Gloria's mother, while the talents of Thomas Kretschmann are wasted entirely in a walk-on part shorter than the time it takes to write his name.

A worthwhile slow burn, Gonzalo López-Gallego's 'American Star' is an entertaining, evocative story, boasting stunning, crisp cinematography, an engaging narrative and compelling characters. Headlined by the incomparable Ian McShane, the film is quiet and full of nuance, and therefore might not be to everyone's tastes. However, for fans of McShane, Jean-Pierre Melville or Stephen Frears' 'The Hit,' it is worth taking a shot at.

It is 1949, and American teenager Priscilla Beaulieu is in Germany with her parents. At a party one night, she meets Elvis Presley, who is stationed in the same military base as her father. The King is drawn to her, while she is smitten by his down-to-earth charm and seemingly genuine humanity. As time goes on, the two forge a relationship, and by 1963, she is living with him in Memphis. However, being The King's wife proves more difficult than she imagined, and far more lonesome.

Written and directed by Sofia Coppola, and based on 'Elvis and Me' by Priscilla Presley and Sandra Harmon, 'Priscilla' is a visually evocative drama both striking and flawed. Firstly, the title is something of a misnomer, as this is not the story of Priscilla Presley's life, rather an overview of the years she spent with Elvis (one wonders why the source material's title was not retained). The narrative focuses on her growing isolation, trapped in Graceland, at the beck and call of her controlling husband. However, due to Coppola's cold approach to the themes of agency and control, her examination of same leaves one oddly unmoved.

Moreover, despite the fact that she is ostensibly the central character, we aren't offered insight into Priscilla's motivations, or aspirations, nor does she have much of a personality. She is a soft-spoken, kind-hearted girl at the beginning and- for all intents and purposes- the very same at the end. Coppola's dialogue lacks wit, while Sarah Flack's ponderous editing leaves proceedings feeling lethargic- all the more so due to the dearth of characterisation and dialogue therein.

Some critics are quick to state that the film is purposefully superficial, that Coppola is interested only in the surface level. By focusing on the skin, as it were, and not the heart beneath, she re-enforces the idea that everything in Elvis's life was an easily purchasable object, even Priscilla. However, as the title would suggest, this is not meant to be a movie about Elvis. Therefore, the scant character development or depth with regard to Priscilla is alienating. We don't have much reason to root for her, except as a result of the obvious distaste engendered by Elvis's mood swings and controlling behaviour.

As a result, the audience feels detached from proceedings, disconnected from the characters both emotionally and psychologically. Although Coppola creates a more human version of The King than viewers saw in Baz Luhrman's 'Elvis' or Liza Johnson's 'Elvis & Nixon', by demythologizing and bringing him down to earth, much of his charisma is diluted. The film's version of the man is a brooding, volatile control freak, without much magnetism or charm. Furthermore, secondary characters are barely more than shadows in darkness; you can hardly make them out at all.

Conversely, Coppola - and frequent collaborator Philippe Le Sourd's - cinematography is stunning. Their composition makes Priscilla appear small and out of place compared to Elvis, like a China doll discarded in a playground. Their use of juxtaposing colours adds to the luxury of Graceland, as well as to Priscilla's isolation, while the soft lighting throughout lends the film an air of romance and intimacy. Everything in the film drips with textural richness, immersing the viewer in a lavish, decadent world, where every surface glistens with silk, velvet and gold.

In addition, Stacey Battat's costume design contributes to the personalities of the characters astutely (perhaps more so than Coppola's screenwriting), heightening the visual contrast between Elvis and Priscilla. Her costume, makeup and hairstyle changes, in particular, mirror her evolution from a shy girl to an independent woman- even if Coppola's screenplay doesn't detail that journey; Priscilla's varying appearance does. Additionally, Tamara Deverell's intricate production design- as well as the set decoration from Patricia Cuccia- lends the film authenticity and realism.

Moreover, the soundtrack is stirring, utilising both modern and period pieces. Although Elvis's estate refused permission for any of his songs to be used, Coppola makes excellent use of tracks by the likes of Dolly Parton and The Ronettes, bolstering the narrative's themes. Contemporary music is interwoven cleverly into proceedings, never feeling as jarring and out of place as it does in the aforementioned Luhrman's efforts, complementing things nicely.

Cailee Spaeny stars as Priscilla, opposite Jacob Elordi as Elvis. Spaeny displays Priscilla's innocence subtly, being nuanced and understated. Although there really isn't much for her to work with, she overcomes the limited characterisation of the role, while handling dull dialogue with ease. Similarly, Elordi makes Coppola's angsty, moody version of Elvis an interesting, multifaceted character. He might not really look like The King, but he shares a good chemistry with Spaeny. Unfortunately, a parade of supporting actors- notably Dagmara Dominczyk and Ari Cohen as Priscilla's parents- are largely wasted, given little to do.

In conclusion, Sofia Coppola's 'Priscilla' is trying to say some interesting things about fame, agency and control, but never gets around to saying them. Coppola's narrative is too cold and calculated, while her characterisation and dialogue are too minimalist to make much impact. Conversely, the cinematography and production design are striking, while the stirring score complements proceedings cleverly. Cailee Spaeny does fine work as the titular character, as does her co-star Jacob Elordi as Elvis. Although it has its moments, it's a moody blue film that suspicious minds might want to return to sender.

Shohei Sugiyama is a dispirited salaryman who has lost his lust for life. Despite having a wife and daughter, a nice house and a steady job, depression grips him. One day, while riding the train home, he spots a beautiful, forlorn looking woman-Mai Kishikawa- gazing out the window of a dance studio. Although not really interested in dance, Sugiyama plucks up enough courage to take lessons in the studio, in order to get to know her. Under the tuition of the elderly Tamako Tamura, however, he begins to fall in love with dancing, finding meaning in his life once more.

Written and directed by Masayuki Suô, 'Shall We Dance?' is a heartwarming comic-drama that works on multiple levels. Funny and sad both, it can be viewed as a critique of rigid, conformist Japanese society, which is contrasted with the expressive, liberating Western dance practiced in the studio. It also shows how one's life can become better and more meaningful by following a dream or goal, and how purpose can be restored by doing so. Conversely, it also illustrates how communication and honesty are vital for relationships to prosper, shown through the clashes and confusions between Sugiyama and his wife Masako, as well as those between Mai and her old dance partner.

Above all else, it is a love letter to ballroom dancing, and those that practice it. Sugiyama's stale existence is given colour and excitement after he joins the studio. Not only does he have something to live for, but he begins meeting people who genuinely affect him. Whether it is his mentor Tamura, or his friend Tomio Aoki, everyone he meets while dancing brings something to his life, not least of which is Mai, who- perhaps inadvertently- teaches him to love again. Suô's screenplay is full of depth, as well as great, witty dialogue, and is compelling and captivating.

Naoki Kayano's cinematography is stylish and evocative, contributing to the mood of the piece. He captures the dance sequences with verve, heightening the emotion with his tracking shots and snappy zooms. He contrasts the dull, dour tones of Sugiyama's office and home with the bright, colourful hues of the dance studio and the ballroom competitions, reflecting the different worlds that Sugiyama inhabits. Lush and memorable, Kayano's work complements the graceful and energetic movements of the dancers, creating a remarkable visual spectacle.

Moreover, the expertly choreographed dancing is incredible to behold. The film makes ballroom dancing- when learnt properly- look like the most beautiful expression of emotion on earth. The soundtrack is stirring, making excellent use of songs by the likes of Rogers and Hammerstein, while Yoshikazu Suo's original score complements the narrative astutely. Furthermore, Kyôko Heya's production design- in conjunction with Kayano's visuals- is full of contrast and realism, bolstering the film's impact.

Koji Yakusho stars as Sugiyama, opposite Tamiyo Kusakari as Mai, Reiko Kusamura as Tamura and Naoto Takenaka as Aoi. Yakusho, as always, makes the character compelling and complex, bringing much humour to the role. We empathise with Sugiyama, and are on his side the whole way through. Kusakiri, a professional dancer in her first acting role, is excellent, displaying Mai's reserve and inner feelings marvellously. Kusamura nearly steals the show as the kind-hearted Tamura, while Takenaka is a source of constant delight as the Salsa-dance loving Aoi. In addition, Hideko Hara does strong work as Sugiyama's wife Masako, sharing a great chemistry with Yakusho.

In conclusion, Masayuki Suô's 'Shall We Dance?' is a delightful, funny film both poignant and powerful. With a strong screenplay full of humorous dialogue and scenes, striking cinematography and production design and a memorable score, it works on many levels. Boasting terrific performances from all in the cast- especially those of Koji Yakusho, Tamiyo Kusakiri and Reiko Kusamura- and featuring much expertly choreographed ballroom dancing, if the question is 'Shall We Dance?', the answer must surely be yes.

Bella Baxter is a woman with the mind of a child- literally. The product of a Frankensteinesque experiment by eccentric surgeon Godwin Baxter, Bella has spent all her life locked in his mansion, surrounded by his other creations. After Godwin hires medical student Max McCandles to be his assistant, Bella begins to develop, her intelligence increasing rapidly. Craving autonomy and wanting to see the world, Bella decides to travel with Godwin's slick lawyer Duncan Wedderburn, although life outside the mansion proves to be strange and harsh; and Duncan's charm only skin deep.

A stylish, off-beat comedy, Yorgos Lanthimos's 'Poor Things' is a witty, original and compelling tale told with verve and panache. Based on the novel of the same name by Alasdair Gray, the film- a fresh approach to the Frankenstein story- is full of Lanthimos's trademark satirical black humour. Examining the nature of identity and exposing the dark, hypocritical heart of Victorian society, Tony McNamara's screenplay works on multiple levels, and his dialogue is consistently hilarious.

Culturally relevant, the picture offers a surreal portrait of a woman trying to escape a patriarchal system, embarking on a journey of self-discovery. Bella's awakening- both psychologically and sexually- is a fascinating, funny exploration of agency, desire and identity, as she encounters people and scenarios that challenge her worldview and sense of self. Never pretentious or overly intellectual, the movie is packed with interesting ideas and dark comedy, both gripping and entertaining.

Much like 'The Lobster' or 'The Favourite', the movie has a striking visual style, although differs from Lanthimos's previous efforts, which relied on naturalistic settings and minimalistic cinematography. The world he has created is bizarre and evocative, harkening back to the Golden Age of Hollywood through the implementation of sound stages and painted backgrounds. At times, cinematographer Robbie Ryan employs a 16mm, fisheye lens, which distorts perspectives, fostering a sense of disorientation and wonder. He creates a dreamlike atmosphere, while his subtle utilisation of zooms and tracking shots intensifies the astounding artificiality of proceedings.

Shona Heath and James Price's production design is intricate and artistic, compounding the absurd inventiveness of the narrative. Furthermore, Zsuzsa Mihalek's set decoration is highly detailed, adding layers of texture and personality to locations. From the eclectic collection of stuffed animals in Godwin's home, to the lavish, decadent costumes and props, Heath, Price and Mihalek's work creates a rich, immersive visual experience. Their work also contributes to the themes at play, creating contrast between the natural and the artificial; the humorous and tragic, which Holly Waddington's striking costume design only compounds.

The first film where Lanthimos has utilised an original score, Jerskin Fendrix's music complements the narrative perfectly. Unique and reminiscent of the work of Dutch composer Ernst Reijseger, Fendrix's eerie, emotionally charged melodies make Bella's journey all the more affecting, heightening the humour and drama therein. In addition, Yorgos Mavropsaridis's smooth editing gives the film a consistent pace, adding to its suspense and momentum.

Emma Stone stars as Bella, opposite Willem Dafoe as Godwin, Mark Ruffalo as Duncan and Ramy Youssef as Max. Arguably, Stone has never delivered a performance so intense and nuanced. She displays Bella's evolution astutely, totally disappearing inside the character. Handling the physicality of the role masterfully, she is never anything other than believable. One can imagine lesser actresses hamming it up as Bella: Stone delivers a tour-de-force performance, both captivating and compelling.

As the seedy, pathetic Duncan, Ruffalo does marvellous work. He is hilariously over-the-top, sharing a great chemistry with Stone. Their scenes together- particularly after they board a cruise ship- are hilarious, thanks to their great working relationship- and McNamara's excellent dialogue. Dafoe is, as always, terrific. He imbues Godwin with a subtle blend of madness, genius and compassion, making the audience both sympathize with, and question, his motives. Youssef also does commendable work as Max, bringing an understated calmness and sincerity to the role.

A wildly entertaining black comedy, Yorgos Lanthimos's 'Poor Things' fires on all cylinders. Boasting a strong screenplay from Tony McNamara that deals with themes- such as patriarchy and identity- with verve and style, great, witty dialogue and a stirring score, it impresses on every level. Visually stunning, and featuring a commanding, compelling performance from Emma Stone- as well as impressive work from the likes of Willem Dafoe and Mark Ruffalo- 'Poor Things' is rich entertainment.

Nicholas Winton is an octogenarian who has devoted much of his life to humanitarian efforts. After his wife goes on a holiday, he is left alone with his memories. As a young man in the late 1930's, Winton travelled to Prague, where the desperate situation of the Jewish children there moved him deeply. Determined to help them escape the advancing Nazi's clutches, he devised a plan to transport hundreds to England. Against all odds, Winton and his associates persevere- but will the public ever know of his bravery?

James Hawes' 'One Life' is an uneven drama retelling this fascinating true story. The film is divided into two parallel narratives: one following the older Winton in the 1980's, the other focusing on his younger days in Prague. The former is engaging and full of pathos, thanks to Anthony Hopkins' thoughtful, nuanced performance. He carries the film squarely on his shoulders, subtly showing Winton's vulnerability and inner turmoil. As he recalls his past, the emotional impact is devastating, Hopkins masterfully displaying the torment the man is going through. As he did in 'King Lear' and 'The Father', Hopkins creates a compelling, sympathetic person, that one cannot help but root for.

The flashback sequences, however, are oddly underwhelming, despite the dramatic potential of the historical events. In contrast to the 1980's narrative, Nick Drake and Lucinda Coxon's screenplay eschews subtlety and depth, and their dialogue is often stilted and expository, telling rather than showing the characters' emotions and conflicts. Moreover, the film fails to explore the complex moral dilemmas and psychological effects of Winton's mission. Unlike 'Schindler's List', which depicts the horrors of the Holocaust and the guilt of the survivors in an intelligent and respectful way, Hawes's film glosses over the fate of the children who were not saved and the impact of Winton's mission.

Nor do we learn much about Winton himself. Why was he motivated to save the children? He claims he is but an ordinary man, though we never learn what compelled him to attempt the extraordinary. Winton's life was truly remarkable, and to call him a hero is putting it mildly. However, Hawes is just going through the motions, telling his tale without verve or impact. While the scenes involving Winton in the 1980's are powerful and compelling- due entirely to Hopkins- the film as a whole disappoints.

Furthermore, it suffers from a lack of visual flair and originality. Zac Nicholson's cinematography is bland and conventional, with dull compositions that lack impact. Lucia Zucchetti's editing is erratic and disjointed, failing to create a good pace for proceedings. The flashback sequences are often interrupted by abrupt cuts to the present, disrupting the flow and tension of the story. The film wastes the opportunity to showcase the contrast between Prague and London, using costumes and props that look similar and drab. Additionally, Volker Bertelmann's muted score is ineffective, hindering the dramatic impact of scenes rather than complementing them.

Johnny Flynn is dull and flat as the young Winton, lacking any charisma or courage; though Drake and Coxon's dialogue didn't help matters. Conversely, Helena Bonham Carter is excellent as his mother, though deserving of more screen time and attention. Her role could have provided more insight into Winton's personality and motivation, but the movie neglects to explore their relationship. Romola Garai does strong work as Doreen, convincingly portraying her determination to save the children.

Alex Sharp also impresses as Winton's associate Trevor, adding some much-needed energy. Jonathan Pryce brings a quiet power to his all too brief scene with the elder Winton, creating a poignant moment. The children involved all give emotive, often devastating performances, compounding the drama of the venture; while Lena Olin is terrific as Grete, Winton's wife, sharing a fine chemistry with Hopkins. In addition, Marthe Keller shines as Betty Maxwell, in another short but memorable scene.

In conclusion, despite the potential for a rich dramatic piece about the horrors of war and the bravery of Nicholas Winton, 'One Life' underwhelms. While Anthony Hopkins is subtle and moving as the elder Winton, Johnny Flynn disappoints as the young version of the character, giving a lifeless performance. The cinematography is generic, there is no tension whatsoever and the score is ineffectual, although supporting actors, such as Lena Olin and Romola Garai, impress greatly. At the end of the day, the film is a missed opportunity, not doing justice to Winton's remarkable humanitarian efforts. It might be worth watching once, but certainly not twice in a lifetime.

Some films are so bad they're good. Tommy Wiseau's 'The Room', or Claudio Fragasso's 'Troll 2,' are hilarious because of their ineptness, and are therefore really entertaining. Others are less enjoyable, but have redeeming qualities, such as the striking visuals in Alex Proyas' overblown 'Gods of Egypt,' for instance. Then, there are films that are just awful, with nothing to offer the viewing audience beyond boredom and disappointment.

Nimród Antal's 'Retribution' is one of the latter. An unoriginal slog, the film follows Matt Turner, a financier and family man. One day, while driving his children to school, he notices a strange phone ringing beside him, and answers it. The caller turns out to be an anonymous fiend, who tells Turner he has placed a bomb under his seat that is triggered by pressure plates and a radio frequency. The caller demands that Turner follow his instructions to the letter, otherwise the bomb will be detonated; sending Turner and his children on an explosive ride through the streets of Berlin.

It is, essentially, 'Phone Booth' meets 'Speed,' with a dash of Steven Knight's 'Locke,' but is no way as fun as that combination sounds. A dull remake of a much better film, Dani de la Torre's 'El desconocido,' Antal and screenwriter Chris Salmanpour fail to make the venture exciting, thrilling or in any way engaging. Salmanpour's dialogue is so stilted and full of exposition it makes that heard in Robert Lorenz's 'The Marksman' sound like Shakespeare. The narrative is predictable, featuring a twist so obvious it may make your eyes actually roll.

Furthermore, the characters involved are all stereotypes with little to no personality. Turner is a wet-blanket, who is difficult to root for, while his children are breathing cliches. Secondary characters are no better, and everyone involved acts without logic or common sense. How the film was greenlit for production, considering it is so boring as to be qualifiable as a sedative, is astounding. It plays like a cheap TV movie from the 90's or early 00's: forgettable, monotonous and hardly worth the time one has to invest in watching it.

It is an unexceptional, tiresome picture in every regard, featuring passionless cinematography from Flavio Martínez Labiano, which does nothing to aid proceedings. He makes Berlin- a notoriously interesting location- look flat and dreary, while his utilisation of shots and angles is conventional and uninspired. Similarly, composer Harry Gregson-Williams seems to be just going through the motions: his bland score reflects a lack of interest in the subject matter.

Moreover, Steve Mirkovich's editing is mediocre, if not downright poor. Mirkovich has cut some films brilliantly in the past: his work on 'Con Air' created tension and momentum, as it did on 'Big Trouble in Little China' and other projects. Here, though, he fails to generate the fast pace required for a thriller to work. The film plods along at a pace that would irritate a snail, going glumly from scene to scene with little to no energy or drive.

In fact, the only half-decent aspect of the film is star Liam Neeson's performance. Neeson does solid work, but Turner is a role that requires nothing from him, and he appears as bored as his audience at times. In the last few years, he has been making dodgy career choices, seemingly lured by big paycheques and nothing more. Although one can't fault him for wanting to make a bundle for relatively easy work; this might mark the nadir of his career thus far, and might actually hurt his bankability.

He should have avoided it like the plague, as should prospective viewers. Alongside Neeson, Jack Champion and Lilly Aspell, starring as his children, do forgettable work, while Noma Dumezweni does the bare minimum as a Europol agent on Turner's tail. Also, slumming it in a thankfully small role, is Matthew Modine, who is over the top when he isn't wooden, and seems embarrassed to be associated with the project at all.

At the end of the day, Nimród Antal's 'Retribution' is a boring waste of time. Based on an exciting film from Dani de la Torre, something was lost in translation when screenwriter Chris Salmanpour penned his adaptation, as there are no thrills, tension or entertainment value whatsoever in the finished product. Although Liam Neeson does solid work, this may be one of the most mundane, unexciting films he's appeared in- and in the last few years, he's been in a lot. Featuring nonstop nonsense and nothing more; this film is so forgettable, you might actually forget it as you're watching it.

Do films about figures from reality need to be entirely factual? The fractious reaction to Ridley Scott's 'Napoleon' seems to suggest that some, at least, think they do. However, in his book 'Hero: The Life and Legend of Lawrence of Arabia,' Michael Korda posits that criticizing a film- in his case David Lean's epic 'Lawrence of Arabia'- for a lack of historical accuracy "misses the point (as) the object was to produce, not a faithful docudrama that would educate the audience, but a hit picture."

A hit picture 'Napoleon' surely is. Retelling the events of the titular Emperor's life from 1793 to his death in 1821, the film is an action-packed, frequently funny epic holding great entertainment value. Focusing on Bonaparte's relationship with his wife Josephine, Scott and screenwriter David Scarpa contend that she was the great woman behind the great man, as it were, and the driving force behind his actions.

Despite the fact that the film is enjoyable, it is this last point that is problematic. Scarpa's screenplay doesn't show us how Josephine inspires Napoleon, nor how she contributes to his military prowess. It is stated that she does so numerous times, but never shown in detail, beyond her giving him the odd compliment. Although she tells Napoleon that he is the greatest man in the world, and that she loves him more than anything, this doesn't really explain how she motivated him to glory and aided him militarily.

Conversely, considering Scarpa and Scott wanted to portray Josephine as a strong, influential presence in Napoleon's life, they could have included some scenes from history where the real Josephine showed her power and intelligence. She was- in reality- a patron of the arts, while her intervention probably saved the life of Madame Germaine de Staël, a fierce critic of Napoleon's. This could have demonstrated how she was a valuable partner for Napoleon, as well as an intelligent, independent woman. By ultimately reducing her to a mere love interest, the film misses the opportunity to explore her complex personality and relationship with Bonaparte. By the time the credits have rolled, we haven't really learnt anything about her; nor do we find her interesting or compelling.

On the other hand, Scott and Scarpa's examination of Napoleon's rise to and fall from power is thrilling and engaging, while their portrayal of the man himself is nuanced. A person of massive ego and ambition, their version of Bonaparte is also something of a wit, despite being brutish and heavy-handed. He is a multidimensional personality, with traits both laudable and deplorable: a realistic, flawed person whose thirst for power could never be quenched.

As we follow on his journey, we are treated to spectacle after spectacle, from the beheading of Marie Antoinette to the carnage of the Battle of Austerlitz. Full of political intrigue, as well as gloriously gory scenes of warfare, the narrative consistently excites. The film also has a surprising amount of comedy, which adds to the charm and appeal the real Napoleon must have had, while also making proceedings more enjoyable.

Scott has always had a fantastic eye for visuals; a fact proven again here. Alongside director of photography Dariusz Wolski, Scott makes the film appear truly epic in scale and scope. Utilising multiple cameras, intricate, contrasting lighting and juxtaposing colours, they enhance the film's tone and impact, while also creating a visually stunning, immersive film. Their use of close-up lenses, high-angle views and warm, soft lighting generates a sense of intimacy when Napoleon is with Josephine, while their employment of wide-angle lenses, low-angle views and bright lighting makes Napoleon seems all the more powerful on the battlefield.

On that point, Scott's handling of the battle sequences is enthralling and gory. He captures the hectic madness of warfare astutely, while the violence is hard-hitting and palpable. The Battle of Austerlitz is particularly memorable, shot with an artistic touch that makes the gruesome scenes therein all the more poignant. In its scenes of battle, it is far more realistic and closer in tone to Scott's previous 'The Duellists' than 'Gladiator,' making it more compelling.

Furthermore, the set decoration and costume design are texturally rich and lavish. Throughout, Arthur Max's production design is visceral and detailed, while also appearing fairly period accurate. From the bedazzled palaces full of ornate furnishings, to the soldiers' decrepit tents, the locations are convincing and atmospheric. In addition, Martin Phipps' stirring score adds drama to proceedings, while his inclusion of songs from the period compounds the realism of the venture. Moreover, the film is generally well edited and has a good, steady pace- although repeatedly cutting to white to mark a scene transition seems a cliched technique far below Scott's level.

Joaquin Phoenix stars as Napoleon, opposite Vanessa Kirby as Josephine. Versatile and charismatic, Phoenix delivers a performance of wit, intelligence and strength. His Bonaparte is compelling and captivating: a more grounded character than we have seen represented before in cinema, be it Rod Steiger in 'Waterloo' or Ian Holm in 'Napoleon and Love.' Kirby gives a solid performance, but there isn't much for her to work with in the face of Scarpa's scant characterization. Despite her best efforts, she fades into Phoenix's shadow- a shame, considering her talent.

Alongside them, Tahar Rahim does fine work as Paul Barras, an early supporter of Napoleon's, as does Mark Bonnar as Jean-Andoche Junot, one of his Generals and advisors. Miles Jupp and Anna Mawn both shine in the all too small roles of Emperor Francis II of Austria and Archduchess Marie-Louise, Napoleon's second wife, respectively, while Rupert Everett is delightfully prim and proper as the Duke of Wellington.

In conclusion, Ridley Scott's epic 'Napoleon' is a solid piece of entertainment. Although questionable in terms of historical accuracy, it is enjoyable and thrilling: does it really matter if some details are fabricated or rearranged? Scott wasn't trying to make a docudrama, but a hit movie, and he has largely succeeded. Despite a dearth of characterization in regard to Josephine, the narrative is engaging and the central character compelling. Featuring lush visuals, pulse-pounding battle sequences and a brilliant performance from star Joaquin Phoenix, this film about a small Emperor is a great success.

It is 2006, and scholarship student Oliver Quick has just arrived at Oxford. He doesn't fit in with the upper-class atmosphere and has no acquaintances. After befriending Felix Catton, a popular and wealthy fellow student, however, Oliver finally seems to find his place at the University. Invited to the Catton family home- Saltburn- for the summer holidays, Oliver is thrust into the dark heart of the blue bloods. Nothing is as it seems though, as the idyllic vacation transforms into one from hell itself.

Written and directed by Emerald Fennell, 'Saltburn' is an initially intriguing, though ultimately irritatingly derivative, predictable psychological comic-horror. Fennell's narrative begins with promise. In the first act, you aren't sure who to trust, nor where the story is heading. However, after the action moves to the manor house, Saltburn, things devolve into a messy and obvious retread of ideas that have been expressed more eloquently in previous films, be they 'The Talented Mr. Ripley, 'Teorema' or 'The Servant.'

Those films examined themes such as class difference, obsessiveness, personality and manipulation with aplomb and ingenuity. Fennell appears content to skirt around the edges of these themes, never going into them with depth. Nor are the characters in her narrative provided with any kind of motivation for their actions. One, in particular, acts in a violent vacuum of self-obsession and jealously- but why? What made this character the way they are? Fennel never bothers to tell us, seeming satisfied to leave audiences in the dark.

Moreover, her characterization is largely based on stereotypes and cliches. Oliver is essentially just a less charismatic, Scouse Tom Ripley, with darkness beneath a thin veneer of awkward shyness. Felix is exactly like Ripley's object of obsession, Dickie Greenleaf, while his eccentric family are people we've seen before in countless films which mock the aristocracy- 'The Ruling Class' among them. Familiar and lacking in depth, Fennell's characters aren't particularly interesting, nor is her narrative particularly original. Further, while her dialogue is frequently funny, it can also be pretentious- particularly during Oliver's intermittent narration.

Throughout the film, Fennell handles the material with great deference- too much, one might argue. She lets uncomfortable scenes linger interminably, seeming to think this imbues them with some kind of raw power. The ending, featuring full-frontal nudity- reminiscent of the music video to Liam Gallagher's 'Once,' starring a thankfully clothed Eric Cantona- seems self-indulgent and, shall we say, cocky. Furthermore, a twist in the last act is neither surprising nor effective, while also sending the film into the realm of fantasy; so completely does it abandon real-world logic.

Conversely, Linus Sandgren's glossy cinematography is striking. Sandgren makes excellent use of colours and unconventional shots and angles, heightening the suspense of the narrative, as well as compounding the decadence of the Catton family. He employs a ratio of 1.33:1, giving the film a top-heavy, boxed-in look, making locations feel daunting. It is work full of contrast- although, a cynical critic might suggest an over-reliance on cliched visual metaphors, such as reflections, or the obvious juxtaposition of characters wearing devil horns and angel wings.

However, Sandgren's visuals generally come as a boon to proceedings, as does Suzie Davies' rich production design. Textured and detailed, her work fosters a vivid, immersive atmosphere, which Sophie Canale's costume design and Charlotte Dirickx's set decoration compounds. In addition, Anthony Willis's score is stirring. His original pieces are seedy and evocative, while songs used throughout- perhaps most notably Sophie Ellis-Bextor's 'Murder On The Dancefloor'- complement the narrative.

Barry Keoghan stars as Oliver, alongside Jacob Elordi as Felix, Alison Oliver as Felix's sister Venetia and Rosamund Pike as Felix's mother Elspeth. Keoghan is a fascinating actor, who plays strange characters with verve and intelligence. Here, however, he gives an inconsistent performance. When playing Oliver as a weird, insular personality, he shines; though when he has to display his dominant side Keoghan lacks conviction and doesn't convince- an oddly played, oddly written night-time scene with Venetia being clearest evidence of this.

Elordi does much more assured work, despite the fact that the character is just a 2006 version of the aforementioned Greenleaf. He impresses though, overcoming the scant characterisation of the role. Oliver is excellent, underplaying the complexities of her character, while Pike steals the show as the eccentric Elspeth. Richard E. Grant also stars, as Felix's father, but is criminally under-utilised, while Archie Madekwe's grating performance as Felix's cousin is smug and one-note.

In conclusion, Emerald Fennell's 'Saltburn' is a film trying to provoke, though isn't as challenging nor original as its creator thinks it is. Though it is funny from time to time, and the first act is intriguing and suspenseful; the film is ultimately an uneven, predictable and derivative affair. While the cinematography is striking and the score atmospheric, the performance of star Barry Keoghan is inconsistent. Although Rosamund Pike is a delight, the film around her is not worthy of her talents, nor can she save it completely. Not to rub salt in the wound, but this film doesn't burn as brightly as it could have.

Bettie Page is a young brunette bombshell from Nashville, Tennessee. Life in her home state was far from pleasant, so the infectiously optimistic Page moved to New York City with hopes of making it as an actress. While at Coney Island one day, an amateur photographer spies Page's good looks and natural style, and asks if he can take a few photographs of her. This starts a new chapter in Page's life, as she becomes a sought-after model and pin-up star. Will Page be able to sustain her celebrity, or will she burn out, or- perhaps worse- fade away?

Directed by Mary Harron, 'The Notorious Bettie Page' is a touching comic-drama retelling the life of a fascinating real-world icon. Written by Harron and Guinevere Turner, the narrative is surprisingly wholesome and light-hearted- considering Page's profession- though also wildly enjoyable. While one who wanted to know the psychological reasons behind Page's willingness to appear topless despite her religious inclinations might be left a little cold by proceedings, the film still entertains greatly.

Page is portrayed as a sweet beacon of light and hope, who is instantly likable. Charming, slightly naïve but by no means unintelligent, the audience roots for her throughout her journey within the pin-up world. This is not to say that Harron and Turner's characterization is especially rich, however, as- on paper- both Page and her supporting characters are all a little one-dimensional. Further, their handling of themes- such as the gulf between conservatism and liberalism, the rise and fall of fame and the power and influence of media- feel undeveloped and a tad hackneyed.

However, Page- as presented in the film- is someone you couldn't help for fall for, while Harron and Turner's dialogue is generally strong- not to mention comedically sharp. Their wry approach to comedy works wonders: they craft an understated, funny story as well as a compelling one. While slightly lacking in psychological or thematic depth and characterisation, their narrative impresses all the same.

Moreover, Mott Hupfel's cinematography is evocative and atmospheric. He switches between black and white and colour, depending on the tone and context of the scene, in a way that creates a striking visual contrast between Page's vibrant personality and the repressive society around her, as well as between her private and public life. Furthermore, he utilises a variety of techniques and shots- including close-ups, wides, static and tracking shots- to create tension. In addition, his use of lighting creates atmosphere, compounding the drama and suspense of scenes; most notably when Page testifies before the Senate.

Additionally, Gideon Ponte's production design faithfully creates a 1950's visual aesthetic, bolstering the realism of the venture. From the inclusion of vintage cars to elaborate items of clothing created by John Dunn, everything on screen looks period accurate. Alexandra Mazur's set decoration really is impressive, while Thomas Ambrose's art direction uses a retro colour palette, with muted tones, evoking a warm feeling of nostalgia.

Gretchen Mol stars as Bettie Page, delivering a confident performance of wit and energy. She makes Page exceedingly amiable; someone anybody would like to spend time with. Yet she also imbues the character with a thoughtful depth missing from Harron and Turner's screenplay; making her fascinating and multifaceted. Alongside her, Chris Bauer and Lili Palmer do typically fine work as a brother and sister team of magazine peddlers who take Page under their wing, while Sarah Paulson and Jared Harris impress as photographers Bunny Yeager and John Willie, respectively.

In conclusion, Mary Harron's 'The Notorious Bettie Page' celebrates the life and legacy of a woman who defied conventions and expectations, though isn't as insightful as perhaps it could have been. Despite lacking in thematic and psychological depth, though, the film is a delight, featuring strong dialogue, stunning visuals and a spirited central performance from Gretchen Mol. Uproarious, glorious- this film proves Bettie was more than just notorious.

One evening in the 1950's, Albert Einstein is holed up in a Manhattan hotel room, struggling with a calculation. He is interrupted by Senator Joe McCarthy, who wants to ensure Einstein will testify before his committee as a devout anti-communist. As the two converse, Marilyn Monroe is busy shooting 'The Seven Year Itch' across town, with her husband Joe DiMaggio watching from a distance. After she escapes the set with DiMaggio on her tail, Monroe travels to Einstein's room; for she too wishes to speak with the Professor. As these famous faces converge, unexpected, personal truths and fears are revealed; as the long night turns into day.

Based on the play of the same name by Terry Johnson, Nicolas Roeg's 'Insignificance' is a surreal historical fantasy interrogating a multitude of themes, such as fame, identity and the nature of knowledge and reality. With his narrative and his strong, often comedic dialogue, Johnson examines the human condition- as well as the paradoxes of the modern world- through the lens of four iconic figures. He and Roeg deconstruct the familiar representations we have of these celebrities, exposing their insecurities- whether they be about fame, type-casting, the threat of nuclear destruction or impotence. In this way, they offer more nuanced versions of these real-life characters than are typically found in cinema.

However, it is questionable how effective the film is as a complete package. It can be disjointed and confusing, while some of the characters lack depth- McCarthy, in particular. Similarly, the comment being made about how a celebrity's public image is often one-dimensional and far from the truth is not exactly innovative or profound. Likewise, Einstein's fears about an impending nuclear holocaust are not original, nor are they particularly insightful. Although there are some brilliant sequences- one in which Monroe explains the theory of relativity is a stand out- the film seems at times to be trying too hard to say too much.

Conversely, Peter Hannan's cinematography is striking and inventive. Under Roeg's direction, he creates an intimate, almost dreamlike atmosphere for the characters to navigate. His utilisation of shadows and lighting adds tension to sequences, notably during a scene where McCarthy manhandles Monroe. Furthermore, he creates contrast through his adoption of various camera angles, while he cleverly implements creative techniques- such as slow motion, freeze frames and split screens- to emphasize the emotional content of scenes and the conflicts of the characters.

Moreover, the score- from Stanley Myers and an uncredited Hans Zimmer- is immersive and evocative. Although Will Jennings' theme 'When Your Heart Runs Out Of Time' might be a bit kitschy, the score generally comes as a boon to proceedings, enhancing the film's drama. Additionally, Shuna Harwood's costume design adds to the personality of the characters, while David Brockhurst's production design is muted and gritty; looking both period accurate and realistic.

Michael Emil stars as Einstein, opposite Theresa Russell as Monroe, Tony Curtis as McCarthy and Gary Busey as DiMaggio. Emil brings a lightness of touch to the role, which is most appreciated, though doesn't overdo it. Russell is mesmerising as Monroe, capturing her spirit, voice and personality acutely; nearly stealing the film completely. Curtis is seedily slick as McCarthy, overcoming the scant characterisation of the role, while Busey masterfully underplays the part of DiMaggio, making him- perhaps surprisingly, depending on what you know Busey from- the most grounded of the bunch.

In closing, Nicolas Roeg's adaptation of Terry Johnson's Insignificance' is an entertaining historical fantasy, despite its flaws. Though the film's handling of themes feels somewhat familiar, the representation of the four famous faces involved are fresh enough to warrant giving it a watch. Furthermore, Peter Hannan's cinematography is impressive and the score is stirring. Boasting strong performances from all in the cast- especially Theresa Russell and Gary Busey- this film is not an insignificant achievement.

It is 1991, and Somalia is under the iron grip of President Barre's military junta. The good-humoured Han Shin-sung is the South Korean Ambassador, who is often at odds with his North Korean counterpart Rim Yong-su. Shin-sung has a meeting scheduled with President Barre, for which his recently arrived underling Kang Dae-jin has brought gifts from South Korea. However, en-route, they are robbed, missing the meeting. Shin-sung suspects Yong-su, though before he can investigate further, a violent civil war breaks out, forcing the North and South Korean diplomats and embassy staff to work together if any of them are to survive.

A tense thriller, Ryu Seung-wan's 'Escape from Mogadishu' is a powerful treatise about ideology and the human cost of war. Written by Seung-wan and Lee Ki-cheol, their narrative contends that ideological differences must be set-aside in certain situations in order to ensure the well-being of those involved. In the context of the film, the South and North Koreans understand they must transcend their cultural and political divisions- such as their contrasting views on democracy, communism and reunification- if they are to survive; an uneasy task, but one they strive to do nevertheless.

Conversely, the film also reveals the commonalities the two sides share, such as their language, history and humanity. Seung-wan and Ki-cheol's screenplay challenges the prejudices that the characters have about each other, showing acutely how these are gradually overcome through mutual understanding and respect. In this way, it offers a rare glimpse into the nuanced relationship between the two Koreas, which is often oversimplified or ignored by the mainstream media.

The representation of the Korean sides stands in contrast with the brutality of the Somali warlords and militias, who have no regard for the lives of their own people. While the Koreans want to ensure their peoples safety, the Somalis are portrayed as bloodthirsty bandits. Both Barre's men- and those engaging in the uprising- murder and loot with impunity. As the Koreans attempt to escape the barbarity, the true cost of warfare is revealed. It is not Barre, nor the leaders of the uprising, who suffer- it is the common man and woman in the street.

Choi Young-hwan's cinematography is rich in texture and highly realistic. His atmospheric utilisation of differing colours heightens the contrast between the South and North Koreans, as well as with the Somalis, while the variety of camera angles he employs compounds the films tension and drama. Moreover, his use of aerial footage adds perspective to proceedings, while his close ups and shaky camera movements bolsters the action and emotional impact of scenes. Similar in ways to Rodrigo Prieto's work on Ben Affleck's 'Argo,' Young-hwan's handling of the film's visuals is consistently impressive.

Bang Jun-seok's emotive score creates urgency and panic, complementing the narrative astutely; particularly in the last act. Furthermore, Kim Bo-mook's production design is immersive and evocative, making locations look both real and lived-in. Bo-mook's work also compounds the contrast between the South and North Koreans, as does Rabiaa N'Gadi's set decoration and Hyein Ki's art direction. Additionally, Chae Kyung-hwa's costume design is striking, adding to the personalities and cultural backgrounds of the characters.

Kim Yoon-seok stars as Shin-sung, opposite Huh Joon-ho as Yong-su and Zo In-sung as Dae-jin. Yoon-seok impresses greatly, bringing much warmth and depth to the role, making the character instantly likable. Joon-ho delivers a nuanced performance as Yong-su, showing the forbidden humanity of a North Korean government official subtly and with much tact. In-sung is similarly good as the sturdy Dae-jin, while supporting stars Koo Kyo-hwan, Kim So-jin and Kim Jae-hwa cannot be faulted.

In conclusion, Ryu Seung-wan's 'Escape from Mogadishu' is an exciting and poignant examination of ideology, within the context of a civil war not often portrayed in film. Its narrative is compelling and insightful, while the cinematography from Choi Young-hwan continually impresses. Boasting a fine score, detailed production and set design- as well as powerhouse performances from all in the cast- this is one film you'll never want to escape from.

In 2006, Dutch filmmaker Simone de Vries was granted access to one of the most beloved and versatile actors of his generation: Rutger Hauer. De Vries and her team followed Hauer from Los Angeles to his home in Friesland, capturing an intimate portrait of a most enigmatic star. From his early days as a television actor in Holland, to his breakthrough in Hollywood films and up to the present day, Hauer speaks candidly about every aspect of his life. Featuring behind-the-scenes looks at some of his most acclaimed films, as well as his properties; 'Blond, Blue Eyes' is a thoughtful and honest profile of one of cinema's most charming and mysterious people.

There are many documentaries about actors out there. It's sad but true that the majority of the great ones are done after the stars have passed away, as, when the subject is still alive, profiles tend towards the self-serving and underwhelming. The filmmakers are afraid to ask tough questions, while the star wants to protect their image and saleability, and is on guard throughout. This is not always the case, however, as it isn't here. De Vries is not an irresolute interviewer, nor is Hauer afraid to bear his soul and speak truthfully about his life and work.

Hauer, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, tells us that he's only been in a handful of great films, but has enjoyed all of them; being especially proud of his performance in Ermanno Olmi's 'The Legend of the Holy Drinker.' At age sixty-two, he is as energetic and charismatic as ever, and shares an easy-going relationship with de Vries. For her part, de Vries is not afraid to challenge Hauer when she feels he is skimming over an interesting detail, though remains respectful throughout.

We learn of his life growing up in Holland, and the influence parents Arend and Teunke- actors themselves- had on him. Gradually, we understand not just where his passion for acting came from, but his sense of humour and love of adventure as well. Hauer, though at times philosophical, speaks simply and clearly; he does not have an ego-boosting motivation for participating in de Vries' film. Instead, it seems as if he simply enjoys the fact that his fans will take great pleasure in knowing a little bit more about him.

For followers of his work, the sequences where Hauer takes de Vries into his garage-cum-storeroom and his home in Friesland will be most rewarding. In the former, Hauer treats viewers to behind-the-scenes videos documenting the creative process he goes through while preparing for roles, as well as exclusive looks at what goes on on set. A real stand out is footage of Hauer practising an American accent for a film he is not sure was made or not- a comical moment, made all the more so when he mocks the heavy-handed dialogue he was speaking in the scene.

An integral part of the film is Hauer's relationship with his wife Ineke ten Kate, who shares the same sense of humour and appreciation of life as he. De Vries interviews them at their home in Friesland, and both come across as clever, charming eccentrics whose love for one another is as strong as iron. Moreover, through de Vries' conversations with Hauer, one realizes that friendship and family mean a whole lot more to the man than fame or fortune; making one like him even more.

Insightful and illuminating, Simone de Vries' portrait of Rutger Hauer 'Blond, Blue Eyes' is a must watch for his fans, or fans of film in general. Revealing Hauer to be an introspective, gentle man of wit and intelligence, de Vries' film shows a different side of an actor most often associated with dark and mysterious personalities. Viewers learn about Hauer's creative process, getting to know the real man, not the star; peering into a fascinating life full of adventure and excitement. Unlike tears in rain, 'Blond, Blue Eyes' will not easily be forgotten.