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Reviews
Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Better than Death Proof. But then so is every other film.
The problem with Inglourious Basterds is that it's rubbish. Two and a half hours of rubbish. All the ingredients are there for it to be a minor classic on the scale of, say, In Bruges, but these ingredients never add up to the correct amounts. Sure, there is humour, but it's usually incredibly obvious (yeah you, Brad Pitt.) Yes, there is violence, but much of it is reduced to gore shots so prevalent in all horror films at the moment they have no shock value. Then there's the myriad of characters who typically populate Tarantino films but who, in Inglourious Basterds, are never explored beyond a name and an accent. Finally there are the numerous homages that Tarantino shoehorns into every scene because he wants everybody to know what his influences are. However, when a homage consists of imitating Sergio Leone's extreme close up shot technique and replacing Clint Eastwood and Eli Wallach with some German guy and Eli goddamn Roth, the effect is somewhat underwhelming. I mean, when you see the director of Hostel I and II emerge from a pitch black tunnel with a baseball bat in hand, ready to smash some guy's head in with it, you're not exactly thinking, "Wow, this certainly evokes the same kind of tension the original did. And the same Morricone score is being used! I may start clapping at the screen when the film ends."
Some elements do work. The chapter sequences, ripped bodily from the 120 Days of Sodom, are a nice touch. The decision to film half the scenes auf Deutsch was quite brave and far more interesting to watch than Germans speaking in English together with German accents. Tarantino's film-within-a-film, Nation's Pride, was clever as it showed what could have happened to Inglourious Basterds if he'd written it as a typical war film. The audience of Nation's Pride are entirely desensitised to the excessive violence on screen because it is occurring constantly; by contrast, when Inglourious Basterds finally erupts into a maelstrom of shooting, explosions and death, the audience greets it with repugnance. Clever, I think. Finally, the element that works the most, and furthermore almost single-handedly succeeds in overcoming the film's general disposition to be as mediocre as possible, is Christopher Waltz. Not only does he speak fluent German, English, French and Italian, but he also has a gargantuan chin. And he gave a rather puissant performance as a not very nice human being.
What I found most infuriating about Inglourious Basterds was the amount of acting talent Tarantino had to use but chose not to instead. Daniel Brühl, for instance, is relegated to the role of 'plot device.' The only character development he is given is the definitely not contrived "I seem nice, but when I don't get what I want I become a whiny bitch." Til Schweiger faces slightly different difficulties. What's the point in giving him a back-story if the back-story is going to be his only story? "Check out what this guy did! Now's he dead! Next!" Brad Pitt is also wasted. Who asked him to speak like that? Why is he in about six scenes? Not even six cool scenes, just six dull ones (cept wen hez speekin Italian amirite?!). Michael Fassbender is the other one who is criminally underused. Instead of having a revenge story about a Jew girl that nobody cares about, it would have been infinitely more beneficial to follow the exploits of Lieutenant Overtly British. On a related note, why did Tarantino feel as though he had to include Mike Myers showing off his one-note acting abilities and why have him attempting an English accent in the presence of Fassbender, whose own accent could be the archetype for all future English person impressions? Myers just looks and sounds retarded. No different than usual then. Zing.
To conclude this pointless essay, Inglourious Basterds has everything that could make a film great, but is assembled in such a way as to appear only half thought-out. As Colonel Landa says, "Wait for the cream." We're waiting. Where is it?
Watchmen (2009)
I don't hear the Comedian telling any jokes. Even Rorschach told one.
A mere twenty one years after the comic book was first published, the screen adaptation of the greatest graphic novel of all time (obviously I've read them all) is here and, with the exception of the entirely fatuous sex scene and questionable soundtrack choices, Watchman rules. The direction and cinematography is amazing; each scene has been expertly crafted and lavished with colours to mirror the panels in the comic book to such a degree that it would be pretty much impossible for any idiot fan boy to complain Alan Moore's original vision has been changed at all. There is only one major change to the story, the climax, which actually makes more sense. Plus, director Zach Synder hasn't slowed down two thirds of the film just to go "Hey, you guys overtly suppressing their homosexual urges through sporadic outbursts of testosterone fuelled violence! Check out this action sequence! You can literally see everything that's happening, just in a slow and incredibly boring way!" as he did for 300. Instead, every scene flows perfectly and the slow-motion is only used when necessary, like for an unprovoked murder. Plus, the cast personify their graphic novel alter-egos meritoriously, particularly Jackie Earle Haley who takes the iconic character of Rorschach and somehow makes him illimitably cooler than he was in the novel.
However, there is a noticeable problem. It lies in the story. Oh gasp. What resonance does a story involving the impending apex of the Cold War and mutually assured destruction for all have in today's society as it did when it was written amidst the end of détente, the Soviet war in Afghanistan, Olympic boycotts, billion dollar Strategic Defense Initiatives, nuclear stockpiling and so on? It doesn't have any. While there are indeed still problems such as nuclear stockpiling, further wars in Afghanistan and communist threats (referring to the metaphorical abortion that is North Korea), there is conversely nothing like the paranoia that gripped people with regard to these issues twenty years ago. Thus, Watchmen is unfortunately caught in a Catch-22 situation. If it had been made in the 1980s, it would've looked like Howard the Duck. Probably. Being made today, it can offer no substantial critique on society and is merely a series of pretty pictures set in a time that the majority of the audience know nothing about. It doesn't ruin the film, it is just frustrating to see that a film with a story as intelligent as this has had its message reduced to the same comic book level as The Dark Knight.
Returning to the good stuff, it is refreshing to see that Zach Synder has not compromised his film in any way with regard to length and violence. At nearly three hours long the running time may alienate a lot of people but is incredibly rewarding for those who do choose to see it as Watchmen does not become boring even once. Not even the aforementioned sex scene is tedious as it is dealt with so badly (including the use of the pervasive 'Hallelujah' which never needs to be heard by anybody ever again) that it makes you glad Synder tried (but failed) to ruin the film with it. Concerning the violence, it isn't the typical comic-book standard. Incarnadine fountains of life force are routinely expelled across the screen, ivory shafts of splintered bone protrude from bodies like colonial flagpoles from an antediluvian age and people get blown up real good. This is accompanied on the whole by an underlying dark humour which goes some way to validating the gratuity. Pleasing.
As a screen adaptation of an 'unfilmable' graphic novel, Watchmen is visually perfect. Every nuance on every panel has been studied and transferred to film. Everything fits except the story, with the Zeitgeist having little relevance today. But, in answer to the immemorial question "Who watches the Watchmen?", I would say "hopefully anyone who doesn't find a two metre long blue penis funny." So nobody.
Valkyrie (2008)
I think 'contains spoiler' is a little paradoxical in this case.
Well, how excellent and disconsolate was that? First of all, Valkyrie (or, 'The film in which the most evil man in history triumphs over the protagonists, effectively ensuring the further deaths of millions of people worldwide, hooray') heralds the return of the indubitably talented Tom Cruise in his first role worth watching since 2004's Collateral. Secondly, Valkyrie is directed by Bryan Singer, who after purposely destroying most of Superman Returns remembers that he is actually a brilliant director, not a terrible one, and drops the comic books in favour of exploring the original man influenced by the idea of Nietzsche's Übermensch, Adolf Hitler. Thirdly, there is no happy Hollywood ending. Hitler is not killed, the war does not end, and none of the conspirators get away with it. They are all unceremoniously executed. How refreshing.
The story is everything in Valkyrie. The plot concerns Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (Cruise) and a resistance of like-minded civilian and military persons who conspire to assassinate Hitler and place a new government in power before any of his inner circle can seize control. Obviously this fails. You might think that knowing what happens at the end would spoil it, but actually quite the opposite is the case. Despite knowing the outcome, you still find yourself hoping that their plan will succeed and for maybe five minutes it seems to the audience, and to Stauffenberg, that the impossible has been achieved; the coup d'etat has been successful, Berlin is under resistance leadership, and contingents of SS soldiers are being arrested all over Europe. Sadly, the dream crumbles, everybody is put to death, and the audience eat their popcorn somewhat slower than they did a moment ago (although, who still has popcorn at the end of a film? The human/idiot behind me.) What is truly interesting about Valkyrie are the butterfly-effect instances which interfere with Stauffenberg's plot. For instance, the sunny weather means that the room for Hitler's military conference is moved to a place not as susceptible to a bomb blast. A couple of degrees lower in temperature and he would almost certainly have been killed. Similarly, the hesitant decision by the officer in charge of the station which relayed military orders across Germany to side against Stauffenberg and therefore cut off any communication from his headquarters destroys any chance the resistance have of maintaining control. This may or may not be the worst decision of all time (except for that entirely unrelated one in 1933.) Thankfully, the usually espiègle Cruise plays Stauffenberg as entirely serious, a tortured man who can see how Hitler's actions will cloud the world's judgement of "unser heiliges Deutschland" for generations to come. Cruise particularly shines following Stauffenberg's realisation that his plot has failed, as you can see the hope literally draining from his face to be replaced by abject resignation. Bill Nighy as General Olbricht is likewise fantastic, not only because he looks like a zombie, but because he highlights Olbricht's questionable actions during the coup and does not try to paint his character in a sympathetic light, despite his position as a key member of the resistance.
Only a couple of trivial factors detract from Valkyrie. Firstly, why does Albert Speer only receive a one second cameo? "Because he has nothing to do with the film." Fine, but the actor playing Speer looked more like him than the actor portraying Göring, and Göring had numerous close-ups in the Berghof scene. Secondly, which is more of a continuation of the first point, why didn't the casting crew cast the sergeant in the relay room, who played Göring in Hitler: the Rise of Evil, as Göring? "Because you're literally the only person in the world who cares, that's why." Fine.
Overall, everybody should see Valkyrie because it is an important film that does not shy away from telling the truth about a number of Germans who actively opposed Hitler's totalitarian regime. As some colonel says, "Every second we stand here is a second lost!" So...go and see it quickly.
Yes Man (2008)
We all prefer your serious roles, Mr Carrey
With a Jim Carrey comedy you know what to expect, namely facial expressions and funny noises being emitted from a man who, at forty-six years old, should possibly know better. Yes Man employs these qualities to their fullest extent throughout in a vain attempt to hide the fact that the plot is essentially non-existent and merely consists of a bunch of non sequiturs whose only connection is Captain Malleable doing his magical face changing trick in each of them. But whatever. As long as Carrey is allowed to shout things like "I've got blisters on my fingers!" in Ringo Starr's voice, some source of enjoyment can always be gleaned from Yes Man's lifeless, decaying corpse.
The story involves Carrey's protagonist Carl Allen, a banker who lives alone, spends his free time watching endless DVDs, shuns his friends and says no to every offer that comes his way. After attending a self-help seminar, Allen then decides to say yes to every offer that comes his way. Who saw that coming? Even more unbelievably, his saying yes to everything leads to him meeting a girl and they both fall in love. And he gets a promotion. And everybody thinks he's great, even though he's essentially lying to everybody. It's all so fresh. I can only assume the screenwriters took Danny Wallace's original novel, read the synopsis, possibly urinated on it before throwing it in the bin, laughed, and then set about writing their own screenplay based on the last film they'd both recently seen and thought the world needed more of, which was Bruce Almighty. Thanks guys.
The only actor who actually seems like they're having a good time is Rhys Darby, who plays Carl's boss, Norm. Sure, he might be an imitation of David Brent, but considering the screenwriters enjoy reusing ideas so much they managed to weave a whole film out of doing this, at least with Norm they stole an idea which is funny. However, they don't stop there. Later in the film, Norm holds a party which, in its execution is such a blatant rip-off of Rick Moranis' gathering of his neighbours in Ghostbusters that I'm sure Moranis is probably spinning in his grave. If he were dead. Which he isn't. Other than Norm, the only character worth remembering is the love interest, Allison, who isn't memorable because of anything she does (Oh look! She's quirky! Look at her running and photographing! Only Juno is quirkier!), but rather because she's played by Zooey Deschanel, who may or may not be an angel. Any scene she is in goes some way to alleviating the hebetude the film tries so hard to induce, and in particular the ones where she wears the cutest faux-military jacket in the world.
Of course, if you don't happen to like Zooey Deschanel then you're a little stuck. You may take comfort in seeing a 78 year old woman remove her dentures moments before engaging in oral sex with Carrey, which is possibly the highlight of his career after anything else he's ever done, including the Cable Guy. Solace may also be found in an excruciatingly lengthy fight scene between a 'drunk' Carrey (hello silly voice/funny face combination) and a muscle-bound cliché. Happily, it never seems to end, allowing one pun after another to fall flat on its face while the audience watches on reticently, kind of like slowing down to see a car crash.
In all, Yes Man is only offensive in the sense that it doesn't try at all to create something even slightly original, choosing instead to rely on tried and tested mediocre formulas in order to deliver a mildly amusing diversion for an audience that will forget the film the moment they leave the theatre. So, while Carl Allen would unequivocally say yes to the question, "Do you want to go and see Yes Man?", I know that he's really thinking "No, obviously not."
Transporter 3 (2008)
An exercise in Brechtian hyper-realism.
This hasn't been verified (yet), but I think Transporter 3 is an attempt to make the stupidest film of all time on every single level, from the characters to the editing to Jason Statham chasing an Audi S8 on a BMX. Even the tag-line makes no sense. "This time, the rules are the same. Except one." What do you mean, the rules are the same, except for one of them? They're not the same at all then are they? They're different. "This time the rules are the same except they're different." More honest.
The plot for Transporter 3 is utterly illogical. Dome-headed Frank Martin (Statham) is forced against his will by evil contractor Johnson (Robert Knepper) to transport Valentina, a kidnapped girl from Marseilles to Odessa in order to make the girl's father, a Ukranian official, sign a document allowing a faceless US corporation to dump hazardous waste in his country. Why does it make any difference whether the girl is in Marseilles or Odessa? It doesn't. So why is she being moved? Because otherwise the story wouldn't exist. There, the film has no meaning. Considering the threats to the Ukranian official are made by phone anyway, the girl could be kept in a room next door or across the other side of the world and it would not affect her father's decision. Now, hypothesise that there was actually some reason for her to be in Odessa. Would it not make sense for the corporation to merely hire a private plane to fly her there instead of strong-arming a professional killer (Frank's transporting skills are constantly secondary to his punch-a-guy-through-a-wall abilities, despite what the titles of the trilogy would have you believe) into taking her there by car with a promise of certain death for Frank when he reaches his destination, thereby giving him the ultimate impetus to change these plans in a way that would ensure his survival and the deaths of those who made his involvement in this nonsensical exercise in Discordianism compulsory? The answer is yes.
Jason Statham does well in his role as "any character from any film he's ever been in." Except one (I can do it too, tag-line). He actually achieves his career nadir here, when he does a striptease for Valentina, the most annoying character ever committed to film. Played by Natalya Rudakova (her first and, if God/Buddha/contract killers exist, her last), the character embodies everything wrong with the movie. She is incredibly shallow, talks perpetually, finds Frank stabbing a metal pole into somebody's throat a turn on, and tries desperately to look sexy by pouting or arching her eyebrow in every scene. The attempt to provide her with any sort of dimension beyond 'cardboard cut-out' by interspersing every Frank/Valentina conversation with an elaborate description of what she would like to eat at that given moment is not cute, it makes me wish Frank had left her seat-belt undone and driven into a bollard at 80mph. In fact, the only instance where her screen presence is appreciated is when she gets punched in the stomach by the villain and falls to the floor crying. It was almost worth enduring the prolix runtime for.
Miscellaneous instances of brilliance include Frank smashing head first through the window of his Audi to oust the guy driving it and then a second later we realise Frank has one of those new 'self-repairing' cars where windows fix themselves and nobody mentions it again. The magic car also manages, in true X-Wing style, to lift itself out of a lake using only the force (or a handy bag of air), before summoning an old man on a tractor to somehow lasso it and pull it to shore whereupon the flooded engine starts first time. Other than the car, the highlight of the film is Frank's inexplicable decision to attach an explosive device to the antagonist, trigger its timer, and then stand next to him looking confused before jumping behind a chair a second prior to the explosion. For an anguished moment I thought Transporter 4 was a no-go, but then Frank emerged totally unscathed and I punched the air in unbridled delight.
To conclude, Transporter 3 is the worst action film of 2008, an ineffable feat considering this is the same year that spawned Wanted. Natalya Rudakova takes it upon herself to make the film unwatchable, and not even the ridiculous stunts that would never happen, even in a monkey-Shakespeare infinity, can provide anyone with an excuse to see it.
Quantum of Solace (2008)
"The name's Bo-" NO! We're still not doing that.
Well this is disappointing. Despite Quantum of Solace's best interests, it has fallen into that "Revamp the James Bond series by introducing a new actor and placing emphasis on realism but only for one film before reverting back to the previous ostentatious formula that the majority of Bond films employ even though nobody, except morons, wants this to happen." Therefore, QoS is heavy on explosions, vehicle chases, one-dimensional megalomaniacs and things that would never happen, and light on plot, characters and most of the qualities that made Casino Royale such a success.
Quantum of Solace picks up mere hours after Casino Royale left off, and director Marc Forster immediately foists a badly executed car chase onto the audience. It is like he is basically saying "Seriously, it is going to be variations on this for 104 minutes. Transformers is my favourite film." Forster seems to have graduated from the Bourne trilogy school of directing, which means audiences have to pay fastidious attention in order to discern any concrete happenings from the shaky cameras filming it. There's action going on there, sure, but we cannot see it.
Following the car chase, serious Daniel Craig Bond flies to several destinations around the world (whose names are announced every time in a variety of different fonts and colours, which makes it look like the Powerpoint presentation of a twelve year old), shoots people without hesitation to show the audience how emotionally detached he is, saves a girl for no reason who by the law of film coincidence turns out to be the centre point of what little story there is and finally ends up in a trademark explosive house in the middle of nowhere filled with nothing but catwalks, propane tanks and bad guys. At many points it is difficult to know or care why Bond is going to Russia or London or Germany and Forster's lame attempts to misdirect the audience with yet another close up of Bond's face after he disarms and kills somebody within 3 seconds does nothing to appease this confusion. The political ambiguity and underhandedness between the USA and UK is perhaps the only aspect of the story that works, although the implications are never properly explored as that would be making some sort of statement and may offend at least four or five people.
Daniel Craig plays Bond like he did in Casino Royale; it worked then because there was an underlying humour to many of his lines. This time around, the scriptwriters evidently decided time spent being funny and cool could be spent not talking and killing instead. He is still the best person in the world ever to wear a tuxedo though. Bond girl Olga Kurylenko makes about as much impact as she did in Hit-man, which is none at all, although she does get thrown head first through a glass table and shakes it off like it was a minor irritation. Fish-eyed Mathieu Amalric on the other hand, who plays evil genius Dominic Greene, is instantly memorable as the Bond villain whose mêlée fighting abilities include unintentionally hilarious screaming. He sounds like Björk.
Minor characters are killed almost as quickly as they are introduced. One is Gemma Arterton, who plays Agent Fields, sent to bring Bond back to London but sleeps with him instead (obviously) and then, in a clumsy nod to Goldfinger, is killed after being drowned in oil. KthxFieldsbi! Another is Mathis (Giancarlo Giannini), whose death makes Bond seem callous and unlikeable. Finally, Jeffrey Wright, one of the most versatile and engaging actors around, is criminally underused as Felix Leiter. He is reduced to "man with beard sitting around glowering at everybody" and when he finally gets to say something it is overshadowed by, surprise, Bond being chased.
Quantum of Solace is by no means terrible but utterly fails to scale the heights of intelligence and enjoyment that Casino Royale reached in 2006 and, though Bond argues "You don't have to worry about me", the seeds of doubt in the Bond franchise have once again been sown.
Coming Up: And Kill Them (2008)
Just like Full Metal Jacket....oh wait.
Broadcast recently on Channel 4 as part of its so-called 'Coming Up' season highlighting new and original talent in the media sector, 'And Kill Them' is a short film by Miranda Bowen concerning the tribulations of six soldiers as they complete basic training. Though only 26 minutes long, 'And Kill Them' is filled with stark visual metaphors building on one another to form a somewhat harsh critique against the army, one that would resonate with much of the civilian population given the current anti Afghanistan/Iraq climate and anxiety-inducing reporting by the tabloids.
The story focuses predominantly on Private Lawrence and the lingering doubts he faces after having signed on the dotted line and subsequent immersion into army life. These doubts manifest themselves schizophrenically in the form of an imaginary pin-up model who communicates to Lawrence at inopportune times and lands him, and the rest of his section, into trouble. When the woman breaks the fourth wall and explains to the audience that Lawrence will "be dead in the next five months if he completes his training" (that's right, it only takes 5 months to go from civilian to rifle-wielding badass), it becomes clear that she is trying to prevent him from completing his training. Lawrence overcomes this psychological battle through the formation of a camaraderie with the rest of his section, thus destroying the woman and any fears regarding dying he harbors after joining up. And that's pretty much where it stops being interesting. The remaining ten minutes concerns the typical "Let's be mates forever!" and "Banter! Mostly revolving around sex with homoerotic overtones!" which lowers the standard a little considering how strong the first two thirds of the film were.
Though an overly simplistic outlook on what it means to be a solider (you die quickly in Basra or somewhere...right), 'And Kill Them' is a thought provoking insight into the worries which may beset a recruit during their first weeks in the armed forces and although it eventually loses its footing, this doesn't prevent the final scene in which the six guys lie in their beds with their blankets covering their heads and bodies (representing body bags) accompanied only by the sound of gunfire from being any less haunting or poignant.
The Dark Knight (2008)
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We're tonight's entertainment." You certainly are.
That. Was. Brilliant. Do yourself a favor and go and see 'The Dark Knight' right away. If you've seen it already, go and see it again. It is by far the darkest, most multi-faceted and entertaining superhero movie ever made and the best movie of 2008 so far. All the ingredients are perfect: the cast, the plot (which cannot be summarized without spoiling the story, so I won't), the cinematography, the locations, the dialog, the tone, everything. That's right, fawning over TDK like a fan-boy is my new occupation.
It is perhaps controversial to say this with regard to Heath Ledger's performance, but I actually think that TDK is Aaron Eckhart's film. He plays district attorney Harvey Dent, the 'white knight' of Gotham City, so-called because of his unwavering duty towards eradicating all crime in the city, and is the focus of Batman and the Joker's attention, both looking to use him as a figurehead for the infallible good or the temptation of evil. It can be compared to the 1960s when the United States and the Soviet Union used Vietnam as a battleground for their respective ideologies. Dent cuts a tragic figure; one minute he has it all, the next he has become that which he was dedicated to fighting against. By the climax, the audience may experience something of a malaise regarding his fate.
Mentioning Heath Ledger is difficult without sounding like a sheep. Sure, he plays the role of his life and yes he'll probably earn at least an Oscar nomination for it, but I believe this is down to the direction of Christopher Nolan as much as it is Ledger himself. Nolan doesn't overexpose the Joker (unlike Tim Burton's 1989 original), preferring to keep him out of sight until main events occur. There are no scenes of the Joker's plans being prepared or his mental state being assessed or put into perspective. As Bertrand Russell would say, he "just is", existing as an absolute to test the Batman.
Completing the triumvirate of magnificent performances is Christian Bale's, whose Batman is subtly different from when we last saw him. His thirst for revenge seems to have cooled slightly although his level of brutality remains bordering on the malicious (like when he pushes a criminal out of a window just to break his legs.) Bale shows Batman's rising frustration as he turns to increasingly morally questionable methods in order to combat the organised chaos of the Joker, who presents himself as the id to Batman's overwrought superego. The interaction between the two is electrifying and builds throughout the film, so much so that when the finale eventually arrives, it is literally impossible to avert one's eyes from the screen.
It is clear to see that Christopher Nolan assessed the shortcomings of 'Batman Begins' and actively sought to avoid them this time around. Gone is the utterly misplaced comic relief element in Lieutenant Gordon (played by the ever rewarding Gary Oldman) and the suspension of disbelief elements like the violence-inducing hallucinogen and millennia-old secret ninja society. TDK remains much more grounded in reality. The criminals use firearms to obtain what they want in a city that looks like New York. Deaths are shown unflinchingly and frequently. With the exception of the Joker, every character is shown to be vulnerable. There is no expectation that "Batman will save us" here. It sets a much darker tone than the first film and is ultimately what elevates it from other standard comic book fare.
Overall 'The Dark Knight' not only lives up to expectations, but far surpasses them. Although over two and a half hours long, it leaves you feeling satiated and content but with a willingness to experience it over and over again. This is one franchise that needs more sequels and soon. As Bruce Wayne aptly says, "Batman has no limits."
Meet Dave (2008)
Meet Dave? I'd sooner get kicked in the nuts.
Do you know what would be a smart-ass, succinct way of reviewing Eddie Murphy's new 'comedy' vehicle Meet Dave? Here it is: Don't Meet Dave. But of course, this doesn't address the myriad of idiocies that Meet Dave contains and where's the fun in not ripping a film aimed at children to shreds? Answer: there isn't any, just like the film itself.
The plot, which is as thin as a political prisoner in a North Korean jail, revolves around an Eddie Murphy shaped spaceship piloted by a crew of infinitesimal aliens (who look, sound and act just like humans- that's imagination for you)led by Eddie Murphy who land on Earth in order to drain its seas with a water-sucker-upper MacGuffin which got lost somewhere in New York three months prior to their mission. It turns out to be in the possession of Little Joey Cliché (played by newcomer Austyn Myers), raised by his mother (Elizabeth Banks) since his father died and who finds himself constantly bullied at school by perhaps the stupidest fat child ever to appear on screen. Really, bullies are not like that. People bully the fat kid. Predictably then, the rest of the movie concerns Eddie Murphy Spaceship's gradual integration into the family and kinship with Little Joey, despite persistently acting like a serial killer/rapist, and the alien crew learning that humans are actually compassionate creatures who need water to live, everybody loves everyone etcetera. Sure, there isn't much to work with but director Brian Robbins doesn't even seem to try and inject any sort of drama, tension or enthusiasm into the script. Every scene is played out as though it is a chore (it is), laborious and awkward without a single spark of excitement or innovation evident. It plays like the aborted offspring of Honey I Shrunk the Kids and Fantastic Voyage.
One thing that did make me wonder was a question that was never answered in the film. Do the tiny aliens live on a planet which is essentially a miniature earth, considering their entirely human appearance and ability to breathe freely in our atmosphere, or do they live in a normal sized world and have managed to drain the water supply of their entire planet, despite their diminutive stature? If the former is the case, how did they build that giant spaceship? Considering all the crew's talk of "the academy" and "transfers," it stands to reason that there is more than one spaceship in operation on their world. So where did they get all the resources from? Why do they have little understanding of human culture, despite speaking English, dressing like humans, experiencing the same emotions and having the same social systems in place? This is certainly what all the five year olds sitting nonplussed and probably scared will be asking in the audience and the director does a woeful job of explaining it to them, instead trying to misdirect them with hot dog diarrhoea, 'Lieutenant Buttocks' and the gay stereotype security officer. Perhaps they'll be answered in the hotly anticipated sequel, no doubt starring Cuba Gooding Jr. as the new Dave.
The director similarly doesn't answer why Eddie Murphy was actually willing to do this. His Raw and Beverley Hills Cop days are long gone, and yet he is still only 47 years old. He still has time to turn it around. But just look at his upcoming projects: a comedy about entering his daughter's imaginary world, another film with Brian Robbins, Shrek 4 and finally The Incredible Shrinking Man, a role which he has literally just played in this movie. They are merely a continuation of the ignominious roles Murphy has been playing for the past ten years, fuelling the detestation felt by the general public towards him.
In conclusion, Meet Dave isn't even worth watching on an unintentionally humorous level, as it contains no humour of any kind. It is an exercise in tedium. Taking children will make them wonder why their parents hate them, and with Shakespearean lines such as "Excuse me, my colon is compacted", it isn't hard to see why.
Hancock (2008)
Will Smith suddenly hates the public and gives us Hancock.
It turns out that the new Will Smith Summer extravaganza 'Hancock' is actually two films spliced together with all the finesse and care of Dr Joseph Mengele. Half of the 92 minute runtime is a promisingly original concept concerning an "only one of his kind" superhero alienated from the rest of society and existing only as a recluse who occasionally shows up in Los Angeles to save its hapless inhabitants. The problem lies in the fact that Hancock frequently conducts his superhero-ing whilst under the influence of a bottle of Jim Beam or two and thus often causes more havoc than he prevents. One sterling example the movie presents early on is when, upon having his sunglasses destroyed by a car full of criminals, Hancock effortlessly lifts the car up and skewers it like an olive on the spire of a nearby skyscraper. Events like this lead to public outcry and Hancock's semi-voluntary incarceration after striking a deal with public relations man Jason Bateman, who vows to help him change his ways after the Übermensch saves his life. Seemingly, the remainder of the film would therefore consist of Hancock's gradual path to redemption, winning back the admiration of the public and possibly experiencing a climactic 'Boss Battle' where Hancock learns some kind of important moral. Although not a particularly groundbreaking road to take and particularly wasteful of the idea of what it could mean to 'play God,' 'Hancock' would remain an interesting little package. Instead, at around the one hour mark, director Peter Berg inflicts a whiplash-inducing U-turn on the audience and embarks on a totally different story arc. Does this mean that it is less predictable? No. Does it mean that Berg destroys the film in much the same way that Robert Rodriguez did with 'From Dusk Till Dawn?' Yes.
It is difficult to analyse anything about 'Hancock' without relating it to the second half of the movie, like Will Smith's performance for example. It isn't possible to abhor Will Smith. He exists in the collective unconscious of the world's population as one of the coolest and most likable actors around. The second half of 'Hancock' tries its hardest to change this preconception. Willard (yeah, Tonight With Jonathan Ross IS informative) must have known that the movie couldn't work when he read the script for it, so why did he agree to do it? Does he hate us? He seems to be sleepwalking through much of the film, the antithesis of his role in 'I Am Legend' earlier this year. Also, something I've noticed more and more in the past couple of year is the use of the "Will Smith Patented Sad Puppy Eyeballs Look" for whenever Will has to convey a heartfelt emotion. He does it the most in 'The Pursuit of Happiness' but 'Hancock' receives its fair share too. And why is he pouting so much? Constipation, probably.
Jason Bateman and Charlize Theron are pretty much the only other characters in 'Hancock,' unless you want to acknowledge the existence of Eddie Marsan as the thoroughly mismatched antagonist, which I don't. He is about as good at acting as Shane Ryder is at singing. Even if 'Hancock' wasn't a mess already, he would totally ruin it. Luckily for him it sucks, which means he merely makes any scene he is in unwatchable. Bateman on the other hand mellifluously occupies space and does nothing more, although you can't help feeling sorry for him around two-thirds of the way through. Considering Charlize Theron's character is responsible for the abrupt twist (well not really, the writers are), it is difficult not to hate her. So don't even try. Just loathe every moment she spends talking, eating, moving or just breathing. It will make you feel better.
Just because 'Hancock' features the irrefutable king of the blockbuster does not mean that it is good. At one point our hero asks "Do I look like I care what people think?" Clearly, nobody involved in the making of this fiasco does at all.
Kung Fu Panda (2008)
"You wanna go see Kung Fu Panda?" "....Yes."
Since the explosion of computer generated animation onto the big screen in recent years, Dreamworks has been the main perpetrator in overexposing the world to the genre. For every brilliant, nurtured and expertly crafted Pixar creation there is a lazy Dreamworks equivalent, heavily relying on pop culture references and famous voice talent to disguise the fact that the films suck. Yes, I'm including Shrek in this. It is a bad movie and after just seven years looks ridiculously dated. So what does any of this have to do with Kung Fu Panda? Well, because somehow Dreamworks have managed to perform a complete U-turn in their thinking and release an animated movie that isn't just good, it is excellent. I say 'somehow,' although it doesn't take William James Sidis to realise that when Pixar are receiving ten times more critical and commercial acclaim than you are, following their blueprint for success might just be a good idea.
So what is detailed on this blueprint? A good storyline for a start, which in Kung Fu Panda is essentially Star Wars without the stars. A Panda named Po dreams of becoming a martial arts master whilst stuck in his day job at the noodle restaurant (which, you know, is so indicative of Chinese culture.) He gets his shot when Yoda makes Obi-Wan Kenobi take Po as a padawan and train him in the ways of the kung fu force just in time to combat the evil Darth Vader, who has recently escaped from a prison staffed entirely by rhinos and is looking to exact bloody vengeance on his former master and rule the Chinese galaxy. Except in this case Yoda is a tortoise named Oogway, Obi-Wan is...something called Shifu and Vader is a snow leopard named Tai Lung. Additionally, there are five other martial arts masters, the legendary Furious Five (a tiger, a crane, a mantis, a viper and a monkey), who were trained by Shifu and do not take kindly to Po's intrusion into their perfectly balanced lives. Intersperse this with several scenes of ass kicking seemingly lifted from Jackie Chan's 'Legend of the Drunken Master' and you have one potent recipe for success.
However, the characters must be interesting and likable for the story to work. Thankfully they all are. From the initial dream narration of Jack Black's eponymous panda (his first truly funny role since 'School Of Rock') through to the final scene, the excellent voice work coupled with the stellar animation brings each and every character satisfyingly to life. Stand-outs include Dustin Hoffman as master Shifu, Ian McShane, who introduces a sense of dignity into Tai Lung not consistent with bad guys in children's films, and Randall Duk Kim as Oogway, who receives some of the funniest lines. He also pulls the best facial expressions.
The only problem with Kung Fu Panda is the relative under-utilisation of the Furious Five. Here we have characters voiced by the likes of Angelina Jolie, Jackie Chan, Seth Rogen, Lucy Liu and David Crane and they are not really given enough chances to speak at all. Jackie Chan's Monkey, for instance, has about three lines of dialogue. Also, aside from their fantastic fight scene against Tai-Lung, they have little to do. This is clearly something to be exploited for the inevitable sequels, unless the whole word goes mental and decides to see Shrek 4 in record numbers, prompting parts 5 to 8 to be rushed into production instead of KFPII. Luckily, the world will then explode from the sheer irrationality of that event ever happening, so we'll never have to see them.
Basically, Dreamworks have produced a movie that both fans and people that intensely dislike their studio will enjoy. Sure, it probably won't be as rewarding as Pixar's Wall-E but who cares? As master Oogway says, "Quit, don't quit. Noodles, don't noodles." Think about that one. Or don't.
88 Minutes (2007)
88 minutes too long
If you're thinking about seeing this because Al Pacino's in it, go ahead. I shouldn't be the only one (and, obviously, I'm not) that has to endure how far my favourite actor of all time has fallen even in the last decade (Donnie Brasco contained the last truly enjoyable Pacino performance.) It really is gut-wrenchingly painful to watch him reduced to phoned-in performances like that of Dr Jack Gramm, forensic psychologist extraordinaire. The film works really well on a comedic level, resplendently adorned with obvious twists, ridiculously named 'possible' antagonists (Guy Laforge, anyone?), trite and often bemusing dialogue (MILK! Who wants milk? You, do you want some milk? Bring in the MILK!) and a supporting cast of mannequins, the foremost of whom is Leelee Sobieski. Who casts her in films? Why is she alive?
Everything in 88 minutes has been covered before many times and with much more intelligence. Watch it for the unintentional hilarity but don't go expecting anything beyond that. Oh, and watch out for the kamikaze firetruck.
The Incredible Hulk (2008)
It's a good year for superhero movies
Out of the five original Avengers, I always thought that the Incredible Hulk was the least interesting and therefore least likely character to be adapted to film (except Ant-Man, although he'll be arriving in 2010...look forward to that.) However, here we sit in 2008 with not just one, but TWO different portrayals of the less-than-jolly green giant. The main problem that the new film faces is that some people will believe it to be a sequel to Ang Lee's 2003 effort, which upon release was blindfolded, made to stand against a wall and executed by public firing squad. The fact is that it is not a sequel at all. Instead, director Louis Leterrier has pulled a 'Batman Begins' and rebooted the franchise, and not just in name only. Everything about the 'Hulk is excellent. From the special effects to the characters to the reticent nods to other superheroes within the Marvel universe, the 'Hulk succeeds on every level.
The film sidesteps the curse of the tedious 'origin story' by showing it to the audience in the opening credits. That should really be a law within superhero movies. It works so well: Bruce Banner works on a radioactive serum with love interest/scientist Betty Ross (played by Liv Tyler's lips), he injects himself to see if it works, it transforms him into the Hulk. There, that didn't need to take one hundred minutes of screen time did it? This means that director Leterrier has free reign to explore how Bruce Banner lives as the Hulk and the attempts by the United States army to track him down and neutralise him, which leads to several action set pieces involving vehicles being thrown into walls and soldiers firing a nimiety of bullets at the Hulk, even when they can clearly see them bouncing off his body. Really, what is the best they are hoping for in a situation like that? "Keep firing, he might develop a vague sense of moral ill-being and stop!" Ultimately, the film boils down to a brawl in New York City between the Hulk and his evil counterpart, a special-ops soldier (Tim Roth being exemplary as usual) willingly injected with the Hulk genes, much like the climax to 'Iron Man.' The difference here is that the build up to this fight doesn't seem rushed like in 'Iron Man' because Leterrier has been able to utilise the whole of the film's running time to arrive at this natural conclusion, instead of being preoccupied with the origin story and tagging on an antagonist at the end.
Whoever cast Edward Norton as Dr Bruce Banner is almost as much of a genius as the person who asked Robert Downey Jr. To play Tony Stark in 'Iron Man' (who makes an appearance in the film inducing fan-boy erections everywhere.) Norton plays his role with understated finesse, never resorting to overly pained facial expressions, intense eye contact or shouting to display the anguish which is consuming him for the majority of the film. He simply shows that the Hulk sized burden on his back is destroying him, crushing his will to live. He looks haunted and tired, but possesses a steely resolve not to succumb to the beast within, although it would temporarily end his struggle if he did so. He's so good that Christian Bale will have to turn water into wine in The Dark Knight to retain his title as King of the Superheroes (Tobey Maguire? Hahaha, you're kidding...wait, you aren't?) There are many minor elements in 'The Incredible Hulk' that elevates it above most movies in this genre. For example, for nearly half of the film the audience are only provided with fleeting glimpses of the Hulk, much like Batman in 'Begins. His presence is not overused, though it easily could be with the bravura CGI shown at the end. Indeed, the first chase scene does not involve Banner turning into the Hulk at all, it is just an exciting pursuit across rooftops in Rio De Janeiro. Also, the orchestral score lends an air of intelligence to the film and enhances the scenes much more than an overdriven guitar track (hello, Iron Man) would have done.
The Incredible Hulk is one of those minority superhero films; it's good. In fact, with regard to any competition it faces, you (if you were looking to conclude a film review with a dialogue related pun) might be inclined to say "Hulk smash!"
Sex and the City (2008)
More predictable than your mother in the bedroom.
Ah. The most unwarranted film since Lethal Weapon 4 is finally here. Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte are back in all their Prada adorned splendour to deal out powerful life lessons to women over forty everywhere. Taking its cues from the TV show which lasted nearly forever, Sex and the City manages to fill two hours and twenty eight minutes of runtime with break-ups, sex, shopping and drinking. It doesn't exactly break boundaries, but then people who willingly queue up to see this aren't really looking for challenging viewing on the level of Irreversible, are they? However, the core demographic may feel a little short changed by writer/director Michael Patrick King's approach, who does nothing whatsoever to show that the ladies have matured in any way. Carrie is still incredibly narcissistic, Samantha is still a nymphomaniac, Charlotte continues to waltz through her unrealistic life made of candy floss and Miranda remains sarcastic and pessimistic. Is this the message King wants to give? 'People don't change, they just get older until they die and have to be really lucky to find someone who tolerates them enough to stay with them. Chances are that you will die alone. Enjoy!' Also, guys in the audience may feel slightly bemused in the way that King presents all males as either one-dimensional puppets controlled by their girlfriends, cheats or gays. All this shows is that King must have had severe oedipal issues when he was younger.
The performances are essentially the same as the ones the cast nurtured for ten years, which is to say they are neither interesting nor offensive. There is one instance about a third of the way through the film in which Charlotte (Kristin Davis) tries to stretch her acting abilities to include furious anger, but it just sounds like somebody stepped on a small dog's tail. One performance does actually stand out, that of 'Bald Guy Husband' played by Evan Handler, who is so spectacularly bad that I wish there was a spin off film just for him. In a scene where Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) is talking, with a strained attempt at gravitas, to Charlotte about forgiveness, Bald Guy Husband sits there grinning inanely and staring at the side of Charlotte's face. Sometimes he interjects, always with a big smile on his perfectly round head, and then turns back to stare at his wife like a rapist. Magnificent.
It is perplexing that the director felt the need to include three extended fashion commercials in the film, which could only have been there to secure funding and to pad the already so-long-I-wish-I-was-dead running time. The first is a wedding shoot for Vogue which could be argued is necessary to SATC's plot if it wasn't fifty eight minutes long. The second involves Carrie giving a Louis Vitton handbag to her superfluous assistant Jennifer Hudson, which is accompanied by a bizarrely emotional string arrangement indicating that receiving the bag is the equivalent of managing to escape from a concentration camp. Finally there is a catwalk show which is there solely to present a bunch of clothes to nobody in particular. The girls literally go in, watch it, then leave and go back to the story.
Sex and the City certainly isn't a good film, but similarly isn't the fiasco it easily could have been had King decided to introduce a number of new characters and focus less on the awesome foursome. It doesn't contain the characteristic wit of the television series and relies heavily on visual humour to induce laughter, although these jokes are more suitable for three year-olds (Diarrhoea! A dog dry humping stuff! Get it while it's hot ladies!) Samantha's 'fat' stomach IS funny, but only because it will probably offend all the actual fat girls in the audience i.e. the majority. Overall, for fans SATC provides an enjoyable, light-hearted conclusion to the girls' stories while for the rest of us it is more like how Carrie Bradshaw feels about Botox: "Painful and unnecessary."
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)
Fridges were built to last in those days
Do you remember a few years back when George Lucas, in his infinite wisdom, decided to revive one of the best loved movie franchises of all time and proceeded to turn the result into a waking nightmare for all those who saw it? 'Kingdom of the Crystal Skull' is like that. Multiplied by ten. It is so diabolically awful that in a perfect world it would ensure neither George Lucas nor Harrison Ford have anything to do with film again. Unfortunately as THE most anticipated movie of the year people will flock to see it in droves, allowing Lucas total freedom to write and push into production the next sequel, tentatively titled 'Mutt Jones in the Hunt for Hitler's Missing Comb' in which Henry Jones Jr Jr must find the comb Hitler used prior to his appearance at the 1938 Nuremburg Rally in order to style his hair perfectly in time for prom night and the chance to get laid.
I believe the shortcomings of KOTCS can be summarised in one line, describing an act which occurs during the film's main 'action' sequence: Shia Labeouf (playing an arriviste greaser called Mutt) summons a CGI monkey army in the Amazon rainforest and swings with them on vines through the trees fast enough to catch up with a speeding Jeep, at which point he telekinetically unleashes monkey hell on the hapless bad guys driving it while Harrison Ford looks on appreciatively. I'm not making this up. It is difficult to think of something that stupid.
For those requiring further persuasion of how awful KOTCS is, why not take a look at Harrison Ford's so-called 'acting' as he is clearly unable to do anything approaching the definition of that word. His delivery of lines sounds akin to the bit-part detective Michael Madsen played in Sin City, except he was sounding stilted and awkward on purpose. Of course, it doesn't help that the majority of the script has been garnished with a munificent helping of cheese, but that didn't hinder Ford in any of the original Star Wars films did it? Although, come to think of it, there WAS a line from Star Wars in the film. This is because George Lucas is a total idiot.
Need further proof? How about Cate Blanchett turning in a career low performance, or Ray Winstone, superfluous and ridiculous as usual? What about the final scene and Steven Spielberg's perplexing choice to bathe it entirely in a sterile white light? Then there's the unwelcome appearance of ET, the apropos of nothing nuclear explosion, the laughably non-dramatic prologue, and the constant allusions to the amazing feats Indy accomplished or witnessed in the twenty years since we last saw him, which makes one wonder why the story wasn't based around one of those events. Instead we receive a mélange of underdeveloped ideas linked together in the most tenuous way possible, desperately disguised with poor special effects and John William's classic score.
A couple of performances stand out from the drudgery. Sean Connery as a photograph is particularly nuanced, showing off his full range of acting skills. Shia Labeouf (aside from his King of the Jungle tendencies) is actually quite effective and seems to be the only one really enjoying himself. Karen Allen is an interesting case not due to anything she does on screen specifically (she brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'surplus to requirements), but because she shows children how time eventually ravages everything, especially formerly beautiful women. And that's an important moral to learn.
Overall, watching the fourth Indiana Jones film is the equivalent of a grinning George Lucas kicking you in the nuts whilst simultaneously setting fire to your cherished childhood movie memories until they become nothing but a sad pile of ashes. How tired and unnecessary is this film? All you have to do is consider a question Mutt asks Indy: "What are you, like 80?" Yes he is. Time to give it up.
Iron Man (2008)
Yeah, Iron Man can fly.
Unspectacular. Stygian. Tedious. Youth Hostel. These are just some of the terms you will never hear in conjunction with 'Iron Man,' the latest Marvel superhero brought to life with hundreds of millions of dollars for the big screen. Happily, it belongs far more to the 'X-Men' and 'Batman Begins' camp more than it does to the poorhouse inhabited by 'Ghostrider,' 'Daredevil,' and 'The Fantastic Four.' However, 'Iron Man' appears to be holding back slightly throughout (clearly for the sequel), which prevents it from properly cementing its status as one of the frontrunners of the superhero genre.
Iron Man works due to Robert Downey Jr. It is as simple as that. With any other actor in the role (except perhaps Christian Bale; obviously not an option), the character of Tony Stark would have been an annoying, conceited and unfunny idiot with a beard. Therefore, the film could not work. Downey Jr, on the other hand, becomes Tony Stark incarnate. He makes him likable and believable, especially during his transformation from carefree playboy to killing machine. Unlike other superhero movies, where upon gaining their life changing powers the protagonist becomes a total do-gooder with absolute values towards right and wrong, Tony Stark remains grounded in his own world, maintaining his own flawed set of beliefs and essentially continuing to live as the same person. Due to his status as a playboy there is no blatantly proposed love interest which is a relief because nobody goes to see a superhero film to watch the protagonist try to find true love (think about that, Batman.) Sure, eventually Tony will bed his assistant, the outlandishly named Pepper Potts (a shrewd Gwyneth Paltrow), but not in this instalment so nobody has to worry. Also, as much of Terence Howard's role as Colonel Jim Rhodes (the future most imaginatively titled superhero ever, War Machine) was cut, there is little focus on characters who aren't Tony. Downey Jr has all the time he needs to mould his protagonist into a real human being. Conveniently it also leaves much more time for seamless CGI ass kicking which, with the exception of the final battle, leaves you wishing Tony Stark spent more time in the suit than he does designing it. One case in point is when the 'Man is flying at the speed of sound when he is shot from the air by a tank. After falling hundreds of feet to the ground he stands up, sidesteps a second tank shell and then destroys it with a flick of his wrist. It is so cool. Explosions and death for all.
'Iron Man' does not deserve congratulations all round though. Director Jon Favreau decided at some point that, instead of a final battle between good and evil which would uphold the intelligent atmosphere created by the rest of the film, he would direct the sequel to 'Transformers' instead and shoehorn it in. Because apparently that is what everybody wanted. Iron Man battles the ingeniously named and similarly attired Iron Monger (played camped-up villain style by Jeff Bridges), who take turns to punch each other through buildings. When they tire of this (not soon enough), they fly into the air and punch each other some more. Finally, they fall to the ground, punch each other in the helmets a little and then the entire audience has a seizure and dies. It is such a letdown. Sure, Jeff Bridges' character was a little cartoonish in relation to the darker tone pervading the film anyway, but that doesn't mean that the final twenty minutes of 'Iron Man' should be the equivalent of watching somebody play a video game.
Aside from this, 'Iron Man' is still easily able to support its reputation as the first of this Summer's 'must-see' blockbusters and, with Robert Downey Jr wholly committed to the character and the inevitable sequels, it could supersede 'Spiderman' as Marvel's flagship franchise. The creases just have to be ironed out. As Jim Rhodes says, "Next time, baby!"
Son of Rambow (2007)
The son of Colonel Trautman should at least get equal billing
There are three main problems with 'Son Of Rambow.' The first is that the whole film looks as if it were shot by two eleven year old children, and not just the scenes where this is intentionally the case. The second main problem is that the majority of the dialogue sounds as though it were written by two eleven year olds. The third is that the comedy in the film is entirely unfunny, unless you happen to be an eleven year-old. Aside from those minor issues, 'Son Of Rambow' is great. Yeah.
The story involves, rather unsurprisingly, two eleven year old boys named Will Proudfoot (Bill Milner) and Lee Carter (Will Poulter) who begin as polar opposites of each other. Proudfoot is overly introverted due to his upbringing at the hands of a religion known for being extremely isolated from the rest of society. His only form of entertainment comes from his own imagination, which finds its form through drawings. Carter on the other hand has no such controlling factor in his life and is frequently shown to have a problem with authority and breaks the law for fun, like making pirated copies of films such as 'First Blood' and 'First Blood Part II.' His real passion lies in film-making. Guess who sees the films for the first time, has his imagination stimulated beyond anything he'd previously thought possible and storyboards a sequel to 'First Blood' with an aim to act it out? And speculate who has been conveniently looking for a story to film in order to send it off to a national young filmmakers' competition. That's the story. Two resourceful boys make a film, enduring much laughter and hardship along the way.
Being an indie film, it has to include a number of ridiculous and surreal secondary characters, the foremost of which is a French exchange student who is so cool (read: is a transvestite) that schoolgirls line up to beg to be inseminated by him. Predictably, he becomes the star of Proudfoot and Carter's film, but is finally shown to be a dick following an ostentatious set piece that would never happen in real life. Carter's brother on the other hand is the exact opposite of the French kid, being a dick by bullying Carter throughout the film but gaining redemption by the end. There are plenty of other superfluous morons, including a science teacher who commits a number of un-hilarious pratfalls such as stabbing himself in the nose with a pair of scissors or falling over/screaming comically, Proudfoot's entire family (his disabled Grandmother does not, despite what director Garth Jennings believes, evoke feelings of pity for the sister, the mother or Proudfoot himself) and the villainous member of the religious sect who tries to muscle his way in as 'new father figure and mother servicer' in Proudfoot's family.
A few positive points can be taken from Son Of Rambow. Bill Milner and Will Poulter both give compelling performances throughout, with the one exception of the scene involving shouting at each other, because it sounds as though both actors are practising reading through their lines for the first time. The compilation of Sylvester Stallone clips as a truculent Rambo is welcome in any film and should possibly be made compulsory. Finally, the focus on religion as the root of evil in the story is a brave and somewhat novel move in a film of this kind. So congratulations on cutting through the saccharine and piquing my interest once, Garth Jennings.
In conclusion, by all means watch this if you are, or have the mentality of, an eleven year old boy. It'll give you some great ideas on what to do during a slow summer's day. Also, if you've been struck by uncontrollable giggles, just give Son Of Rambow a look and they'll stop immediately. They actually might not come back for the rest of your life.
The Bank Job (2008)
Don't waste your time
What truly worthwhile aspects can be taken from a film like The Bank Job? Well, 'Mutton Dagger' for a start. Including that is nothing short of immature genius. Lots and lots of breasts is another. Expert alliteration using the world renowned C word is also significant. Aside from that though, there isn't much, leaving The Bank Job a vacuous and unpleasant experience. Anybody expecting another Lock, Stock or Snatch (as the marketing suggests) will be severely disappointed. Sure, director Roger Donaldson attempts to weave an intricate tapestry of lies, double crosses, witty dialogue and interrelated characters who all conveniently find themselves present at the less than satisfying climax, but he utterly fails. So many poorly executed sub-plots and underdeveloped characters are crammed into the running time that there isn't actually any room for anything else. Like interest. Or continuity. Or drama.
The tepid story is based on an actual 1970s bank robbery which took place in London by a team of small time criminals. Amongst the safety deposit boxes in the bank's vault are a number of photographs depicting a member of the royal family in various promiscuous positions and a ledger containing the names of all the corrupt police officers in the city. Various interest groups do not want these items to fall in the wrong hands and so, with little imagination, try to retrieve them from the group of robbers. That's it. That's the whole story. It's VERY difficult to guess the outcome, like whether the cheeky criminals lead by wide boy Jason Statham will get away with it and live happily ever after or if the compromising ledger will fall into the hands of the only honest policeman in Scotland Yard, but I believe anybody not in a persistent vegetative state could probably work it out. A little more problematic though, is how everything actually all works out. The screenwriters noticed this during filming and helpfully included a couple of lines of dialogue in order to resolve any ambiguity which, to paraphrase, went like this: Bank robber: "How did we get away with not getting arrested by the police for stealing millions of pounds, when they CLEARLY knew it was us, even if we did give them the ledger?" Jason Statham: "I don't know." Excellent. No perplexity here. There is also a side story involving Black civil rights revolutionary Michael X (NOT Malcolm) which seems like it was shoehorned into the film during post production when somebody suddenly realised that the entire cast was white.
It is difficult to recall anything about the cast, which consists mostly of cardboard cut-outs with voice-overs. There were policemen, whom you could tell were policemen because they arrived in twos, stood with their hands in the pockets of their flowing black coats and spoke as though they were doing somebody a favour every time they opened their mouths. The antagonists were easy to discern because they looked menacing and used four word sentences which were almost always dripping with malice/stupidity. Finally the good guys were the ones standing around Jason Statham whenever he was in a scene, unless it was a scene in which he was being menaced by the bad guys. It took really solid acting all round to convey this. It would have been mightily confusing otherwise.
See this film either if you don't like money and like to rid yourself of it in the most boring ways you can think of or if you find it amusing to observe Jason Statham struggling through yet another miscast role: JS: Do I need to look angry or confused here? Director: Well, she's your daughter and you're giving her a present. JS: So...angry then? D: No, I'm kind of looking for loving and happy. JS (pulling a face): You mean like this? D: Well...that's more like confusion, don't you think? JS: I...can't tell.
Rambo (2008)
When you're pushed, try to watch something else instead.
John J. Rambo, the latest in a long line of 1980s archetypal action luminaries resurrected from franchise death by some less-than-divine hand, returns with a vengeance in the imaginatively titled Rambo. Sylvester Stallone writes, directs and stars in the fourth and perhaps most charming of the series in which the Vietnam veteran falls in love with a female robot from the future and must win her affection by caring for her magical goat children who only speak in rhyming couplets. Not really, he kills hundreds of people whilst grunting unintelligible phrases. And that's the way we like it. Sure, there's supposedly a message regarding the unremitting atrocities in Burma but if there was, it was so subtle it escaped my detection. Except perhaps the five minute opening montage of disturbing news images showing actual deaths and torture which serves to trivialise anything Rambo does throughout the film. Really, how can anyone derive any enjoyment from the film after seeing what actually happens there? Well I can a little bit.
The entertainment arrives mainly in the final half hour of Rambo where the proverbial excrement really hits the fan. Johnny Boy feels obliged to save a number of Christian aid workers led by Julie Benz and Paul Schulze (Father Food-and-Sex from the Sopranos!) after they are captured by a regiment of mustachioed Burmese soldiers. Initially he is merely employed as a boatman by a number of mercenaries paid to rescue the aid workers. However, Stallone then aims to answer the age-old question after the mercenaries are captured: Who watches the Watchmen? Answer: Rambo does, and he kills literally everyone while he does it, mainly with a .50 calibre machine gun situated conveniently on top of a hill so he doesn't ever have to run anywhere (not that he could because he looks like the human equivalent of a mountain.) Although the deaths do not look particularly good in their CGI splendour, they certainly are visceral and more than satiate the blood-lust of the baying young male audience. Plus there is a British sniper (Matthew Marsden) and he kills people too!
Negative aspects encompass essentially the entirety of Rambo's running time, beginning with the aforesaid news broadcasts and ending with Johnny standing outside a ranch in Arizona, having successfully tracked down his long lost father/brother/whatever. Other excellence includes the dialogue, which ranges from awkward and embarrassing ("Live for nothing, die for something") to stupid ("Burma's a war zone") to laughter inducing ("We need pythons! Not cobras! Pythons!") The supporting cast are quite ridiculous, with each mercenary a pastiche of movie hard men and the aid workers incredibly useless except at providing a higher body count. Special attention must be paid to the "old-school SAS" mercenary played by Graham McTavish who, aside from being not very nice to poor old Rambo, highlights the fact that the SAS do not feel it beneficial to teach their soldiers to camouflage their giant white egg heads during operations in the middle of the jungle. And why would they when he's wearing white trousers anyway?
To conclude, any goodwill Sly earned with Rocky Balboa has been expertly wasted in the space of a year with Rambo. To be honest though, what was he going to do with that goodwill in any case? I just think more attention could have been paid to the story as opposed to the "good supply of body bags" direction the film took (First Blood was one of the best action films of all time and only one person was killed), which would have reduced the gratuitous number of clichés promulgated by Rambo for ninety one minutes and made it actually worth watching. As John J. says, "Nothing does change" and this franchise still sucks.
There Will Be Blood (2007)
There Will Be Boredom
After reading all the hype surrounding There Will Be Blood (Daniel-Day Lewis's Academy Award nominated performance, Paul Thomas Anderson's directing, the cinematography etc) I expected the pièce de résistance of 2007 cinema. However, it was actually more disappointing than American Gangster. Sure I may (and most probably have) missed the point of TWBB, but even if I did get it, I doubt I would have been any more entertained. It really was boring. The story, the characters, the setting, everything. Well, everything except Daniel Day-Lewis. His performance as conflicted small-time oil baron Daniel Plainview is exceptional. So is his mantastic moustache. If the whole film was stripped down to him offering profound monologues on various turn-of-the-century American Midwest sets, it would be acceptable. He really was the only factor maintaining my interest in the film, although he should still lose the Academy Award to Viggo Mortensen. However, if there was an award for hobbling duck walks, Day-Lewis would win by a mile.
One particularly irritating aspect of TWBB is the character Eli Sunday, played by Paul Dano. Yes, I realise he's supposed to be irritating; that does not make his screeching voice or perpetual presence any easier to accommodate. Though evidently supposed to be a focal point of TWBB, his very existence drags the already unpromising premise (Oil! Wow!) into insipid mess territory. I cheered (well I didn't, but I could have) every time something bad happened to him, which was not often enough. Another annoying character is Plainview's 'son', H.W, who we're supposed to feel sorry for, for some reason. Considering his total absence of character development and the way he magically ages about ten years near the end of the film, the only feeling he evokes is puzzlement and indifference. And they're pretty much the only people I can recall. Oh, except for Plainview's long lost 'brother', the human equivalent of a plank of wood with a moustache drawn on by a Biro which has been chewed on incessantly by a moron.
Other than Daniel Day-Lewis, the only positive aspect that can be taken from TWBB is the score composed by Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead. Paranoid and edgy, it fits the bleak atmosphere of the film perfectly. Actually, I would rather just listen to the score on its own. Although then it would remind me that I watched this in the first place. Great, everything is ruined.
So, don't bother watching this turgid shambles unless for some reason you derive some kind of sadomasochistic pleasure from boring yourself stupid. Instead, just download the soundtrack instead and listen to it free from lingering, unwanted vestiges of There Will Be Blood invading your thoughts. To amend a quote by Plainview, "That wasN'T one goddamn helluva show."
Shaft (2000)
Just give it a chance
This review is written as a defence of John Singleton's 'homage' to the 2000 edition of Shaft. The majority of people that I know (6 in all) use similar terms when referring to it: average, mediocre, I-hate-Busta-Rhymes etcetera. However, it actually isn't average or mediocre at all (although Busta Rhymes is indeed a complete tool.) Sure, the story is linear, predictable and doesn't bring anything new to a tired genre (Racial injustice! Rogue cops! Black attitude!) but one has to see past that to the performances, because that's where the real gold lies. Well, three performances to be precise. First, Samuel L. Jackson. Though his roles may lack a certain amount of vicissitude, they are always entertaining. And he seems to restrain himself as the "sex machine to all the chicks." He doesn't actually have sex at all throughout the film, which I see as a good thing. As Shaft, he receives most of the animated and colourful dialogue, kills the most bad guys technically murder seeing as he resigns from the police force at the beginning), and gets to wear nine different varieties of the same jacket, all the while looking effortlessly cool. Plus he throws a police badge into a wall... really fast! Second, Christian Bale. It is no secret that Bale is now objectively the best actor of his generation, but come the dawn of the new millennium he had yet to present himself to a wider audience. Unfortunately, Shaft failed to do so too. However, is performance is superb. Following on from his equivocal turn as Norman Bates in American Psycho (2000), Bale continues his villainous streak as Walter Wade, Jr, a truly horrible character whose racial attack in a restaurant provides the basis for the story. Really the only word that can describe Wade is "a$$hole" and Bale plays this role perfectly. It is rare that one could despise a character this much and that is what makes him so fun to watch.
Third, Jeffrey Wright. If Shaft had had a better storyline and been more popular, Wright's portrayal of drug dealer/gang leader Peoples Hernandez would have been his magnum opus. His type of method acting is similar to that of Bale's, and to see them square off against one another is THE principal reason for watching, especially when Wright stabs Bale in the hand. Exciting and bloody. Wright provides entertainment in every scene, whether through his exaggerated walk, his bastardisation of the English language or simply a facial movement. Plus, he induces an element of sympathy for Peoples after his brother is killed at the hands of Shaft (of course) and provokes the audience into wondering whether his eventual demise was really justified. Really, the film should have been called 'Peoples' and he should have had three sequels.
So there it is. A short and unconvincing advocate of Shaft based on three exemplary performances. Oh, and it features Lynne Thigpen, who played the DJ in The Warriors (1979) and as The Warriors is an excellent and highly realistic depiction of New York in the seventies... that means Shaft is also worth watching? Yes it does.
Juno (2007)
I do try hard to be cool
OK, get this. Juno was written by a lady called Diablo Cody. How cool is that? That's got to be one of the coolest names of all time (after Max Power of course.) It's a shame she didn't channel her coolness into the film's script, which, though charming and fuzzy and consistent, doesn't exactly go for the jugular. Juno tells the story of a sixteen year old girl named Juno MacGuff, played by the breathtakingly beautiful and rather talented Ellen Page, who finds herself pregnant after enjoying spontaneous sex with her best friend. Her eventual course of action is to put the baby up for adoption and soon finds the seemingly perfect couple, Vanessa and Mark Loring (Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman, respectively.) However, and this came as a total shock, things don't all go to plan and Juno finds herself reassessing the situation and her life in general. Now, everybody knows that this type of film (Zach Braff's Garden State also instantly springs to mind) involves a dramatic event prompting the protagonist to meander their way through the film and eventually learn a valuable life lesson, all the while accompanied by an indie-based soundtrack. That is not important. What IS important are the things occurring around the story and for the most part Juno gets it right. The majority of the characters are quirky and funny, the highlights being the eponymous heroine and Bleeker (Michael Cera), the guy responsible for getting Juno in the pudding club, so to speak. Their actions and dialogue may not elicit spasmodic fits of laughter but they are responsible for placing the smile on your face which remains from beginning to end. Plus, I found myself actually caring about Juno's plight. Director Jason Reitman does not shy away from the subject matter (good job too, because he'd have little else to work with) and avoids making the mistake of asserting that teenage pregnancy is funny. The jokes are made parallel to the pregnancy, not at the expense of it. For example, at one point Juno is visiting the prospective adopting couple, staying a while when Vanessa suggests that she should be returning home on account of her parents worrying about her, to which Juno replies: "Nah... I mean, I'm already pregnant, so what other kind of shenanigans could I get into?" It's sentences like that that make Juno a worthwhile film experience.
However, there were a few elements which, though inoffensive enough on their own, when combined over the 96 minute running time annoyed the hell out of me. Why do independent productions always have to have title credits that look like they were designed by somebody who failed to gain entry into art school (Hitler, for example)? And always with the Red House Painters guitar pop played over the top. It doesn't look or sound good. The music all the way through was pretty bad actually, especially the frequent name-dropping conversations between Juno and Mark to firstly show how much of a cool guy Mark is and secondly to show just how damn quirky Juno really is. Mentioning Sonic Youth and/or the late seventies punk movement will never earn you any esteem. Also, the burger phone was irksome. It isn't enough that it appears several times; it has to get a mention too, as though we haven't noticed it. "Oh, sorry I'm on my burger phone, it doesn't work very well." Yes, great. We can see you have a phone shaped like a quarter-pounder, NEXT.
Although Juno does try its hardest to feed the audience a novelty communication device, it is one of those films people should watch now and again to confirm that they are not indeed emotionally dead but are actually still able to remember what happiness, however faint, feels like. Ellen Page seems like a lady who would be cool just to hang out with, the dialogue is intelligent and snappy, a Gibson Les Paul makes a welcome appearance and, of course, the ending is the equivalent to swallowing a tablespoon of sugar while swimming in a bath of syrup. You cannot go wrong.
Eastern Promises (2007)
I bow down to you, Viggo...
Before I properly start, it's probably beneficial to point out that this film isn't for those having just eaten prior to the film, pregnant women, people with heart conditions, anybody that feels ill in any way, people under the age of eighteen, Russians, people whose favourite film is either Dirty Dancing or Bridget Jones's Diary or those thinking that Eastern Promises relates to Turkish Delight. Because it doesn't. It relates to a gritty, terrifying world populated by sadistic Russian gangsters who take pleasure in the macabre, eliminating anybody who poses a threat to their privileged existence and generally making other's lives a misery for their own gain.
The focus of the film is mainly on Nikolai (Viggo Mortensen), the chauffeur and partner of Kirill (Vincent Cassel), who is the son of mob boss Semyon (Armin Müller-Stahl) and therefore the heir apparent. Nikolai is a calm and collected customer, in direct contrast to the vociferous Kirill, who throughout the film harbours a sense of inferiority to Nikolai and at one point exerts his authority by ordering Nikolai to have sex with a prostitute. Sure, there are other ways he could have done this, but director David Cronenberg has an affinity for breasts and probably would not have been able to rest had 'Promises not contained at least one pair somewhere. Of course, in this film he has upgraded to showing male genitalia as well which is only fair. Equality for all.
When not focused on Nikolai, the story centres on Anna (Naomi Watts), a nurse who becomes involved in the shadowy world of the Russians through her possession of a diary belonging to a former patient, the contents of which incriminates both Semyon and Kirill in various unspeakable acts. Soon she finds her life, as well as her mother and uncle's, in considerable danger. From the beginning the plot twists and turns and, while it may not culminate in an explosive finale, the various revelations and dramatic ending leaves you yearning for a little more, which I believe is a trait of any good film. However, this pales into insignificance in the face of Viggo Mortensen's performance. He literally steals the show. Any time that he was not on screen, I was just waiting for him to return. His accent, far from sounding annoying and false each time he opened his mouth, is a pleasure to listen to. In fact everything, right down to his razor sharp suit and tie, makes this Mortensen's most memorable character in all the films of his I've seen to date. As for the others, Watts and Cassel perform competently in their roles, though they seem content to let Mortensen overshadow every scene. Müller-Stahl doesn't especially exude menace as the main villain of the piece, except in one scene involving Watts and a baby. Special credit has to go to Anna's uncle, played by Jerzy Skolimowski, who was responsible for all the intentional laugh out loud moments of the film. Finally, it's nice to see Tamar Hassan in any role, even if he does literally find out what the sharp end of the stick feels like.
There is only one minor misstep in 'Promises, when Nikolai has a meeting in a steam room with an associate, Azim. It is clear prior to this that Nikolai is being set up but just to accentuate the point in case the audience hasn't worked it out, when Azim assures him that he'll be right back after going to the toilet he stands up, walks towards the door, says something like "Yes...right back" and then laughs maniacally until he has exited the room. Why not just say "I'm leaving so people can come and kill you"? It just disrupts the flow of the film, which has been effortlessly cool up until this point.
To conclude, Eastern Promises is definitely worth seeing, if only for Viggo Mortensen's possibly legendary performance. People of a nervous disposition take heed: "Now I'm going to do his teeth and cut off his fingers. You might want to leave the room."
I Am Legend (2007)
No way near as legendary as I'd hoped
You have to hand it to the British people for discovering a cure for cancer which involves turning ninety-nine percent of the world's population into either corpses or bloodthirsty zombies who prey on the one percent that remain immune. That's earned us a cup of tea for sure. I Am Legend follows the life of Robert Neville (Will Smith), a Lieutenant Colonel/scientist stationed in New York city in the wake of this global disaster, attempting to develop a cure for over three years while living with his only companion, a dog named Samantha.
Though many elements of the storyline stray dangerously close to ripping off 2002's 28 Days Later (in which the rage-infected zombies were also courtesy of British scientists; congratulations us), 'Legend's execution is so stylish it hardly seems to matter. We are treated to panoramic shots of a crumbling New York, its streets populated with a multitude of rusting cars, fauna sprouting uncontrollably from every crack in the ground. All bridges in and out of the city are destroyed, their skeletal frames still visible in some places. Wildlife from the Central Park Zoo runs freely through the city, unchecked by human hand. And living amongst all this is the Fresh Prince, wearing his cap sideways and shouting "Aww, hell no!" at every opportunity. Not really. Once again, Will Smith delivers in spades. Throughout the film he accurately balances the dramatic with the humorous, with neither (until the final third) overshadowing the other. His conversations with his co-star, Abbey the Dog, are the source of the humour, though they also serve to highlight Neville's fragile hold on his sanity, as is shown further in the movie when he does temporarily lose his grip on reality. Smith portrays all this with veritable aplomb and makes you feel sincerely relieved that you were one of the 99% who were not immune, and thus able to sleep all day and dance all night. The zombies themselves are very similar to the perpetually vomiting cavemen from 2005's The Descent (perhaps director Francis Lawrence really likes British cinema), but for some reason much less terrifying. Perhaps because they've crossed the line from looking scary to looking ridiculous. Yes, that's it. However, the film isn't really about them, it's about one man and his dog. And assault rifle.
Problems in 'Legend begin with the arrival of Anna, a refugee with a ten year old child in tow who heard the message Neville was broadcasting on the radio (Gettin' Jiggy With It I believe), urging survivors to find him. They are rather unnecessary to the plot and seem as if they were included only due to the film's hashed ending sequence. In fact, they are responsible for all the annoying points in the movie. Here's a list: 1) They ate Neville's bacon; he was saving it, 2) The child is responsible for allowing Shrek to take up half the running time of the film as it can be heard in the background, 3) Anna keeps referring to God and His plan for her which just seems out of place and awkward, 4) Anna does not know who Bob Marley is, 5) Neville has to tell her Bob Marley's Legend is the greatest album ever; he's wrong, and 6) Anna is directly responsible for leading the zombies to Neville's safe house, ushering in a watered down, cloying ending. Overall though, this does not affect the entertainment factor in any major sense.
I Am Legend is also full of little extras which make you smile and generally enhance the viewing experience. Sure, the main one comes in the form of a Superman logo/Batman logo cinema poster, kind of like the alien skull in Predator 2, but there are others such as playing golf off a Blackbird jet, a two minute Emma Thompson cameo and the horrific waking deaths of billions of people. Splendid.
To conclude, while some parts may seem a retread of the superior-in-every-way 28 Days Later, 'Legend is still definitely worth watching and Will Smith remains on top of his game, though with gold such as "It's just... I was saving that bacon!", how could he not?
The Bourne Ultimatum (2007)
Extreme in so many different ways
The best trilogy of all time? Let us compare Bourne to other prolific movie threesomes. Star Wars? Nope, Bourne triumphs because it doesn't slap the audience in the face with a homosexual teddy dance to the strains of a John William's reject dance number at the end. The Godfather? I guess if Sofia Coppola hadn't stuck her giant nose into the third part then maybe, though even then the final instalment was not consistent with the other two. Die Hard? I always feel let down that 'Vengeance had to lower itself to join the ranks of the at-the-time burgeoning Buddy Cop genre in order for it to succeed. Indiana Jones? You've got to admit, Temple of Doom was crap. The Lord of the Rings? It is far too long. Leone's Man with no Name trilogy? No, simply due to the ridiculous, overdubbed prospector in the second part, who takes it upon himself to attempt to single-handedly destroy the bad-ass Western genre with a five minute Benny Hill routine. So, in conclusion, does Bourne represent the best trilogy of all time? No. The other films NOT mentioned in the trilogies above more than make up for their lacklustre cousins and stand head and shoulders above anything a buffed-up Matt Damon can offer. However, Bourne is indeed the most consistently rewarding. Ultimatum does not disappoint and in fact is probably the most entertaining of the three. Whereas audiences for 2002's Identity had to tolerate Franka Potente throughout and 2004's Supremacy was so up its own ass it would never see daylight again, 2007 seems to be the perfect year for Robert Ludlum's amnesiac assassin.
The strengths are numerous: a strong performance by Damon (as usual), a good supporting cast (chameleon actor Paddy Considine appears as an unfortunate Guardian newspaper journalist), realistic feeling action scenes and stunts (Bourne versus Desh), non-trite dialogue (Supremacy was full of it) and a bass-heavy soundtrack by John Powell which fits the film perfectly. A particular asset of Ultimatum is its total attention to detail; it feels as though Bourne is a real person living in the world and director Paul Greengrass just happened to be fortunate enough to capture all his movements on film (which would account for the overabundance of the shaky-cam technique...if it was real.) The use of different languages adds to this effect. The product placement does not feel forced, nor does it repeatedly smash the audience round the head with "Look at ME! I'm Staples, the superstore! Come to Staples! Staples rocks!"
In terms of weaknesses there are a couple of points that stand out. Why does Bourne feel as though he has to reveal to the CIA head that he is in his office, thereby making it several times more difficult for him to escape the premises than it would have been had he just said "Oh you're in your office? I'm in McDonalds. Yeah I know, the burger never looks like it does in the picture." Is it some sort of ego trip? "Yeah, I'm in your office, I outwitted you once again. Come and get me." He's like Macauley Culkin in Home Alone. The other problem is that some of the film feels like a retread of the first two instalments. I realise that this is intentional in places, but the cracks are beginning to appear in Bourne's otherwise perfect facade.
In conclusion, please do not destroy the trilogy and make a fourth film, you money-hungry Hollywood producers. Because I know you're definitely reading this. A 'Bourne Legacy' or 'Bourne Betrayal' is simply unnecessary. As Bourne rightly points out near the end of the film, "This is where it started for me. This is where it ends." Besides, who wants to hear yet another revamped version of Moby's 'Extreme Ways' over the credits in a couple of years time?