Reviews

Katz's third feature is a rather sweet offering about a boy and girl who meet accidentally and form a close friendship over the space of a weekend. It's best viewed without too many expectations - the rough cinematography and absence of plot will disappoint some film-goers, however both the characters and the performances are convincing and endearing, and the mood is suitably quirky throughout.

Yes, the movie is somewhat self-indulgent; some scenes would have benefited from a trimming-down, yet the narrative flow is unhindered by the slower pace. Although Katz doesn't emerge from 'Quiet City' as a director with an agenda, after his tedious comment on teenage rape, 'Dance Party USA', it's perhaps for the best that he sticks to observational film-making, and leaves social commentary well alone.

It's February 2007 and Simon Pegg, Nick Frost and Edgar Wright are back from the undead and bringing in the new year with Hot Fuzz, a crime caper, a rural whodunnit and a Charles Bronson revenge flick all in one neat two hour package.

Sounds too good to be true? It almost is. After the huge success of Shaun of the Dead, the filmgoing community have been hanging on tenterhooks, with little information to go on. And it seems that anyone who doesn't want to watch Hot Fuzz simply wants to appear in it - the film includes some of the UK's most seasoned comedians and RSC actors.

Once again, the movie is expertly made, stretching out what one can only assume was a comparatively small budget. There are funny lines and an involving and amusing relationship between the two leads, Angel and Danny. However, the extra glamour tacked on to the film, in the shape of Hong Kong-style gunfights and heavyweight actors like Timothy Dalton and Jim Broadbent adds very little to the film. The most enjoyable part of all of Pegg and Wright's work has been the interaction between the characters. The complex 'whodunnit' plot is as perfunctory as anything penned by the writers of Midsomer Murders, and merely a distraction from the comedy. And when the final set-piece arrives, it is too late in the film, and possibly too daft to be wholly compelling.

The principal problem with the film however, other than its generous length, is that Pegg and pals have created a product equally disposable as the films they have lampooned. Did they mean to achieve this? Who can say?

Bad acting, bad hair, one-dimensional characters, a truly daft ending...if this film were in English, it would have been laughed out of the multiplexes. As it is, set in pre-revolution Mexico, subtitled from Spanish, it has an authenticity and quirkiness that's missing from most Hollywood features.

The story is familiar - three sisters growing up, struggling with their emotions, repressed by their ghastly mother. Tita, the youngest, cooks for the man she loves, the immaculately blow-dried Pedro, though he's now married to her sister and living at the family ranch. Cue numerous connections between food and eroticism (much in the same vein as Chocolat, or Tampopo) which provide the film's selling point, as well as the inspiration for its title. The food looks fantastic, and if you like the idea of watching a tormented Mexican Nigella Lawson in a long frock, this is the film for you. I'd rather go out for a meal instead.

As I remember, the first series of this was well-cast and good humoured, more immediate than 'Cold Feet', and with less soap-opera situations. Emma Fielding and Steve Nicolson were particularly good, and even Ardal O'Hanlan showed a bit of range.

The second series was horribly sentimental. Most of the cast were replaced by worse-looking, worse actors. All responsible should never work in television ever again. But they probably don't, because it's a fickle industry.

The funniest episode had a German getting high on the herb and vapourising cows with a shotgun. I remember it well.

Most fans of Adam Buxton and Joe Cornish's groundbreaking 'Adam and Joe Show', which played to the student population in the late 90s, were, I'm sure, fully aware of the pair's limitations. Their sets were cheap, their impressions even worse, and most of their skits were performed by poorly animated teddy-bears.

Neither of the pair seemed set to foray into the world of TV drama, so I was surprised to see Adam Buxton taking the lead role in this ho-hum sitcom about a deluded, past-it office worker who despite his years of worthless gigging, a lacklustre fan base, and a band-name that is easily confused with a toilet cleaner, still pines for rock super-stardom.

I've got a bit of a bee in my bonnet about this, so I'll let it fly. Firstly, why are so many music-minded sitcoms so drastically unfunny? The comedy in this show was very, very gentle - the televisual equivalent of easy-listening - and completely missed out on the irreverent, exaggerated spoofing of rock music that made movies like 'This is Spinal Tap' or 'Still Crazy' so enjoyable. Adam Buxton wanted to pull off a David Brent or Alan Partridge-like loser, whilst still maintaining a relatively pleasant character. It didn't work. Secondly, it pains me to see first rate TV-presenters convincing themselves that they can act, when they clearly have no more experience than operating the lighting board for their school nativity play. Adam Buxton's performance was decidedly un-charismatic - an Alan Davies without the charm, an Angus Deayton without the ham. And seeing that he was the leading man, I found this a bit of a turn off. Still, he was five times better than Jamie Theakston. And five hundred times better than Paul Merton. Anyone remember the Paul Merton show? Stick to what you do best, Adam. Just be yourself.