Reviews

With seemingly no genuinely humble connection to many of the stories behind the photos, this documentary comes across as particularly transactional and false. Perhaps Jason is the only thing Jason loves more than his photos and this 90 minute documentary exercise in self- love stands as a clear testament to this sentiment. Frankly if Jason had taken my photo I would've ensured he couldn't have profiteered from it, as I could think of nothing worse than enriching and emboldening a man who sees himself as such a martyr.

Whilst reflecting on a day when a man lost both of his legs, serving his country, Jason feels the need to reiterate how valued he was in the ensuing CASEVAC, whilst staring forlornly into the middle distance. They shook his hand! Why couldn't more photo-journo's be like him?!

I'm glad I chose to rent this documentary rather than to buy it outright. I got a chance to see the footage that I wanted to see, although there wasn't much of it - plenty of airtime for monologues in CPs and wide angle shots of Jason putting his kit on, though. A boring and self-absorbed piece of work.

These turtles have bags of attitude. They bend the rules, but never break them; they're committed to their ideals and even to their literal form. Shredder is slightly disappointing as a villain and Krane possibly more-so.

The CGI is great, the story is epic in scale and the eye candy that is M. Fox is the cherry on the cake. From an adult's perspective this was a fun romp with some great throw backs to former TMNT days; the product now feels fresh and well-established enough to supplant it.

If I were ten years younger, this film would be a 8 or a 9, but even as a more mature viewer I found reason to revel in this film's joy.

Did I miss the post-showing brief?! Little exposition leaves non-WoW playing viewers in the lurch; characters, locations and the very crux on the film – the Fell – are given very little explanation of base-building. "Our world has been destroyed" feels cheap and lazy for the whole Horde-invading premise. This poor foundation made the remainder of the film totally uninteresting to me.

The CGI is classically Blizzard-esque and the Orc scenes and settings are the best in the film – character design is colourful and engaging – they all look different. However, the same cannot be said for the Humans – beards are dyed and have such well-groomed demarcation images of the Berlin wall are conjured. Their sets feel unlived-in, clinical and tacky in a Stargate SG-1 kind of way. The casting is equally uninspired – specifically in the plucky mage turned hero – an entirely average, intellectual-type who I imagine the aforementioned players are expected to relate to. A half-breed predictably attractive and buxom female Orc also seems to play to this demographic. The villain is lame and doesn't scare me or even his Human counterparts.

Don't get me wrong, fight scenes and visual effects are certainly high points in what was a drudge in mediocrity, playing far too heavily to its existing fan base.

The production feels legit; Lee Gates is a fully-fledged showman, and I'll profess to Clooney doing a great job given the circumstances of a limited character archetype. "Roll VT on screen 1." Patty is ever the professional – "He's shadowed, move in," - entirely under-utilised and loyal to a fault; Roberts does a great job of walking the line between being the cool-cucumber of reason and expletive-espousing problem solver. O'Connell makes Kyle – the star of the show – feel suitably unhinged but slightly opaque; a somewhat unconvincing martyr with a half open gob, quivering lip in tow. Unlike the Money Monster show and set, the IBIS gimmick feels under-developed with casting choices that contribute to it's flat-feel; the NYPD contingent survives the former but is damaged by the latter and generally uninspired writing. The result is a by the numbers (pardon the pun) shallow hostage thriller with few twists; however, having said that and despite its predictability, the film's setting made it for me.

The film starts strong; amateur-Egyptologists will be creaming their jimmies as the villain of the piece and his cronies hand out MK fatalities like clementines at Christmas. In truth, I cannot remember the story of literally any other X-Men instalment going in to this, despite having ostensibly viewed them all at some junction. This one, I feel, will stick in the memory. It stands in stark contrast to it's recent super-hero competition in the form of Civil War, which suffered from a very disjointed and poorly-edited jaunt into comic book obscurity. Apocalypse feels congruent and the through-line is easy to follow – light touch references to Reagan and the Empire Strikes Back accompanies a tasteful display of 80's fashion – the 80's aesthetic pays dividends. Dialogue is often hokey but forgivable when you consider the subject matter and it's comic origins. Overall, it was a decent 2-hour time sink that hit more often than miss.

On paper this film would appear as middling and unimpressive as the CV of a middle-aged company-man reeling from redundancy. Desperate, predictable and rife with so many buzzwords that HR's spide.y-senses would tingle - eagerly anticipating an opportunity to snuff-out yet another pathetic attempt. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Doe, but unfortunately you were not considered for the position.'

That presumption was wrong - in fact, it couldn't be further from the truth.

Enter the middle-aged bruiser; stubble unkempt; dress - functional and straight off the rack; imposing. Short on time and patience - he doesn't get paid by the word. Surely he's inaccessible, you posturi.ze? Long uninterrupted monologues provide momentary glimpses into the 'inner- workings' of the veteran. By the end it's clear that all symptoms have dissipated, Doctor - the emotional constipation has passed. A man of action; of professionalism; he's the guy you want to be. Russell Crowe's physical attributes, his rasp and his charm sell, sell, sell on this one.

The yin.g to this yang: a young, good-looking, well-put-together slick-ster; fast-talking, confident and full of good intentions. It helps to be witty when you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag - he often succeeds in-spite of himself. He will always give it the old college try and somehow it works. There's being lucky and then there's being Holland March. He's lovable and totally flawed; he's the guy you can relate to. I don't have time to even mention his child prodigy - and what a performance.

Both work in people - one person, in particular, puts them on a collision course of confrontation, collaboration and eventual conspir.ation. A mutual ruthless entrepreneur-ialism brings them together - money talks, after-all; a unwavering moral compass binds them. They bounce off each other so naturally and with such comedic success that it's easy to buy-in - effortless even. OK, so you get it - it's the unlikely friendship that results in a win. Not quite. The film perfectly paints a picture of transition. The team that can't seem to catch a break ends up being the only two people you'd consider capable of doing the job - in fact every main character reaches their own personal summit in the end. It's satisfying. The plot escalates onwards and upwards and without my consent - these sudden points of inflection, a literal moment of turning on one's heels, keeps the plot's focus in a constant state of flux. It scraps the 'beginning-middle-end' formula in large part by making the scenes timeline feel continuous - I sat down and BANG... Roll credits. Now that's engagement, folks.

Frantic; from the outset the pace is awe-inspiring. Every single inch of screen real-estate is utilized, as is character airtime; witticisms and one- liners feel necessary; cuts and transitions have purpose; foreshadowing is constant and, ultimately, all of the above feature solely in aid of the narrative through-line that will keep you on your toes. There's no excess fat to trim. Is this how a buddy-cop tribute, set in a 70's L.A manages to feel fresh? I think so. *CLIFF HANGER* Quick cut. Cue: Curious funky bass- line. Scoring infallible. Any film set 50 years ago is at risk of hanging it's hat on prevailing modernist perspectives of the past - not in this case. Nixon, Earth Wind and Fire, porno-staches and bell-bottoms make cameos, but it happens so naturally and feels so credible that the fourth wall comes off unscathed. If you could put this film in a time-capsule and watch it 20 years from now, or even 20 years removed, I feel it would still work - this one will age very well indeed. Even the 'action' feels sincere - the 'Jason Bourne' effect is thankfully absent and yet the sense of realistic physicality rings just as true when such moments are called upon. Nothing in this film feels heavy-handed once you accept that the premise itself - and the premise alone - is a dime a dozen. Hey, Hollywood - this is what tip-top writing and execution can get you. Go figure!

To summarize: this movie manages to flip the script on an old classic. The cobwebs weren't blown out, they were vanquished. Maybe I'm a mark, but when the lights came on and I looked around the theater my immediate feelings were ratified - I wasn't the only one smiling from ear to ear. I will give you my money - right now - now give me a sequel. Don't label this a 'love- letter'. I'm hip, man - consider it an exercise in purely self-indulgent hyperbole. And remember: 'For the birds'.

Peace + Plants, JR.

An amalgam of every first-person YouTube skit you've ever seen, albeit on a chunky budget. Hardcore Henry is helped by its impressive physicality and unique perspective, but hindered by its juvenile humour, over the top bloodshed and child-like writing.

In true video game fashion, Henry is mute; the silent protagonist shtick grows old, fast - most of the slack is picked up by a plucky British side piece providing occasional comic relief. A hyperactive electronic soundtrack, with some periodic licensed tangents, accompanies a string of loosely related scenes and set pieces littered with abrupt jump cuts. Later scenes, and particularly fight scenes, quickly become cluttered and difficult to follow - not to mention nausea inducing for those that may suffer from motion sickness.

You want gore? It's in. Female nudity? In. Lavatorial humour? Hardcore Henry decides early on that homosexuality is a pejorative; even the evil villain kisses men! Set in Moscow, the Slavic influence runs deep - it feels cheap, and not just because it looks like it has been shot on a GoPro.

In summary: 15 year-old me would've had a hoot - and this isn't to say I didn't have fun. On the whole, production values are relatively high throughout and, at times, it can even feel fresh - some moments even made me question, how did they do this? (Especially in the Parkour scenes.) Having said that and on balance this film hasn't supplanted its internet hobbyist origins and for that it pays the price. Fancy a 90 minutes of a fairly brainless gimmick? This might be for you.