Reviews

I wanted to like War of the Worlds - I really did. I'm convinced that Spielberg still has a few good films left in him, but on this evidence it's hard to see where they are going to come from.

To all extents and purposes, it's just one enormous B-movie that sprawls onto the screen like so many other cumbersome, shallow films have in the past. It's an event movie; the sort of thing you just have to go and watch for fear of being branded a social leper and excluded from most of your friend's conversations for the next six months. Unfortunately, like most other Summer blockbusters in it's genre, it's clunky, emotionless, poorly acted and substitutes style for substance on every level.

The fact that you have a leading man whose name can dwarf the title of the film (both metaphorically and physically) says it all really. Cruise just isn't cut out for this sort of thing any more. Sure, he plays the part of the archetypal arrogant asshole dad pretty well but other than constantly staring, shell-shocked, into the cameras for a good hour there's little else for him to do except be utterly out-acted by his on-screen daughter. Unlike his excellent recent performance in Collateral and his early work as a rouge-ish, likable dick, you just don't have any empathy or sympathy for him here. At times, you're actually hoping the alien tripods cut down the irritating little scientologist in his tracks to allow you to actually try and enjoy the film rather than constantly thinking "oh look, there's Tom Cruise running away from some really expensive CGI". He's got so big that he can't actually play characters any more, and as a result there is no Ray Ferrier in the movie - it's just Tom Cruise.

And then there's the aliens. The reason why the War of the Worlds novel and exquisite Orson Welles-narrated radio play were so good is because they actually instilled some fear into you. Martian invasion was this huge apocalyptic event that brought out the most primitive, animalistic impulses in the people that it affected. Nowadays, of course, we've seen Independence Day. We know that there must be a weakness in the machines and we regard the devastation they cause as unbelievably cool rather than terrifying. In Spielberg's film, the special effects are admittedly top notch but they just lack any emotion. Other than Cruise's (sorry, Ray's) young girl Rachael, you don't really give a monkey's about the thousands - millions, even - of ordinary people who are brutally cut down in an alien wave of terror. Tom and his kids are OK, so it's fine that the rest of the human race has been obliterated. Pah! It may all look very impressive and state-of-the art, but by the last 15 minutes it quickly descends into farce. The aliens' inevitable destruction isn't explained coherently and no-one I spoke to had any idea why the neighbourhood where Tom's ex-wife is visiting had miraculously escaped being destroyed. Did they have their own force filed surrounding their sleepy Boston neighbourhood? Or did the aliens just decide that crushing a white, middle-class suburb would just be too passé for them and their world-domination plans? For two of Hollywood's leading players, this horrible mess of a film is a definite low point of their careers (yes, even more so than Amistad and ET - which still rates as Spielberg's most horribly saccharine alien tale to date, yet it's seen as a masterpiece. Some people have no taste...). If there was any justice in the world, it would have been critically and commercially panned, but of course it won't be.

I'd implore everyone not to watch it, but you know you all will anyway and fill the coffers of a filmmaker and actor who just look like they really can't be bothered trying any more. Just don't complain when you leave the cinema and start to think about asking for your money back.

Oh, and Tim Robbins has really let himself go recently hasn't he? What the hell has Susan Sarandon been feeding him?

There's a little too much Moore polemic in this documentary to make it truly great - especially when you consider his previous track record for making features that are fairly balanced. Early works such as Bowling for Columbine and Roger & Me are great examples of guerilla documentary-making, but at least they show a natural progression which allows the story to be developed by the circumstances that occur during their creation. Who could forget the brutal rabbit slaying in Roger & Me, or Columbine's crippling of K-Mart? What about the final confrontation between NRA member Moore and its president Charlton Heston, which culminated in the previously macho former movie star skulking away in disgrace? These are fantastic scenes that emphasise the importance of each documentary's subject matter.

The problem with Farenheit 9/11 is that Moore has already explored many of the themes in his last two books - Stupid White Men and Dude Where's My Country? Add the fact that he's been pretty heavily involved in the preliminary presidential candidate elections and its a recipie for disaster. Instead of informing (or at least giving an unbiased overview of the current state of affairs in the US), Moore continuously strives to implant his own opinions and critiques rather than to take a step back and let his audience decide. There's insinuations aplenty as circumstantial events are cunningly linked together to make arguments and analysis - effectively turning Moore into a commentating historian rather than a craftsman - and although its probably all true, there's very little evidence to back up his claims.

All of this doesn't necessarily make Farenheit a particularly bad film, but it certainly doesn't make it a phenomenal one worthy of the coveted Palm D'Or at Cannes. Rather, what we're presented with is a solid 3-star offering that is entertaining, but rarely truly informative. And when you're comparing it to previous work such as Bowling for Columbine, its a bit of a disappointment to say the least.

I love the fact that there's so many comedy critics bemoaning the fact that Scottish comedy is "outdated" and scandalously unfunny. Hmmm, interesting that they're all from places that has produced far worse (After all, England has the dire 'All about me' and 'My Hero' amongst other hideous offerings, whilst the good old USA has given us such tripe as 'Will and Grace'.)

As far as Chewin' the Fat goes, its decent, solid comedy that more often or not hits the spot straight on. OK, it may not pack the mirth ratio of the Fast Show, but when it stumbles it doesn't do so as pathetically ("Hi! I'm Ed Winchester." anybody?). I think the problem is that, unless you've actually spent any time in Scotland and realised that's exactly what its like, you just won't get it. You're not clued into the language, slang or the general ambiance of the country, so you've got nothing to base the series on and just slag it for being what you perceive to be "unfunny". I hate to tell you, but theres more than a million Scots that would probably disagree and hail both Chewin the Fat and Still Game as the best comedy shows to come out of the country since Naked Video. And why? Because believe it or not, both are actually very, very funny if you know what you're meant to be laughing at. (perhaps its a little unfair, but the Scots don't tend to make it very easy for outsiders to get in on the joke. Maybe its all those years of wearing woad on their faces and yelling "Freedom!", eh?)

Rab C Nesbitt was similarly criticised when it made the trasition to mainsteam UK screens - primarily because southernised Englanders couldn't understand the Glaswegian dialect and missed the humour. And to suggest that Scotland hasn't had any decent comedians to come out of it....Billy Connolly anyone? Ronnie Corbett? Phil Kay, Fred McCauley or Rhona Cameron? This little country isn't quite as stagnant as you think - you just need to open your eyes a little and try to understand the humour a little better.

Wonderful comedy from Coogan, who seems to revel in his multi-personality skits much more than his tired Partridge formula.

Paul and Pauline Calf are as hilarious as ever, whilst Duncan Thickett's terrible stand up is a joy in itself (complete with a top notch heckling Steven Hawking impression). Nice to see Simon Pegg and Julia Davis given a bit of freedom as supporting cast too, back in the days when they were unknowns.

Oh yeah, and Tony Ferrino is one of the greatest comic creations of the past century by far. "I want to sing you a song right now - it's called Man Sandwich. Butter me up....."

I don't think the armrests in my local multiplex will ever be the same again after I practically ripped them to shreds whilst watching this pish. I'd read bad reviews, heard the rumours and dismissed the warnings of my peers - deciding to go and see it for myself before passing judgement. I wish to God I hadn't. Connery hasn't made a decent film for over a decade, yet he still believes that at 107 he can still be a Bond-style, suave, action star. In the League..., his quips and one liners clunk to the floor like a third-rate Austin Powers whilst he stumbles around the screen with his ego over-blowing the rest of the production. His companions are one-dimensional eccentrics, complete with appalling CGI to take away any credibility they may have actually possessed in the first place (Titanic-sized Nautilus sweeping through narrow Venician canals? Dorien Gray's final demise that actually makes ILM's 'Mummy Returns' ending look convincing.) It's not even as if you can gain any perverse pleasure at seeing how bad this film actually is. Far from the dark subtlety of the graphic novel it's based on, it just seems to follow the standard action-quip-action-quip-action of Terminator 3 or Armageddon. It's a sorry state of affairs for any movie when Richard Roxburgh turns out to be the best thing about it. It's just terrible. How on Earth Terry Gilliam's Baron Munchausen (which had a better script/effects/actors etc...) could have flopped when this piece of trash looks set to bank some serious box office cash is beyond belief. Don't watch the League. Ever. Not even if you want to giggle at how atrocious it is. You'd be better off renting Sewage Baby.

BTW, anyone who uses the arguments "it's set in an alternate universe" or "it's fantasy - it doesn't have to be realistic" to try and justify the Venice scenes should be shot. Could you imagine if Peter Jackson had made his King Kong actually eat the Empire State Building and then used that to explain why. He'd have been laughed out of Hollywood. Thus, the Nautilus cruising the Venetian canals is also ridiculous.