Reviews

The oddest thing about this film to me was how heavily it borrowed from Max Headroom: 20 Minutes Into The Future. A whole section of it was almost a straight lift from Bruegel and Mahler cruising the ruins in search of lucrative deposits to be cashed in at Nightingales Body Bank. This couldn't have been an accident, as the end theme music was almost identical. Elsewhere it was a hotchpotch of borrowed themes, probably starting at Eraserhead and working its way through any number of long-forgotten dark films and TV episodes.

Of the cast, only Johann Myers was immediately recognisable to me, from his underplayed yet still chilling role as David Harewood's enforcer in the truly terrifying Criminal Justice. One or two others looked vaguely familiar, probably having bit-parts in The Bill in the 1980s. This didn't matter, as no stars were needed or even wanted in this film, for which the main requirement was to invest in the project with the slightly bewildered detachment required to pull it off. The party scene was strangely reminiscent of the currently popular style of many TV comedies, which instead of good old-fashioned jokes, rely on provoking feelings of extreme embarrassment and discomfort.

The film itself seems to have come to life in a strange and unusual way, being an Estonian project but using a mixture of British and European actors with National Lottery Funding. I thought the original Max Headroom film was a ground breaking classic, but I can't make my mind up whether it being flattered in this way should be viewed in a positive or negative way. I can't even make my mind up whether being a homage to one of my favourite films made me mark it up or down.

This was recommended to me by somebody on their Facebook timeline.

It began promisingly with the restraint our 'hero' showed during a raid on his home.

That was the best bit. I had thought it was going to be superior to all the usual American rubbish but it went downhill from that point. It made The Punisher seem quite believable by comparison. Simply sexist, racist rubbish. Our 'hero's wife suddenly started fancying him again when he came home covered in stab wounds. From then on it descended into offensive rubbish which made The Punisher seem utterly believable by comparison.

American violence porn at its worst.

I couldn't make my mind up whether to give this one star for its sheer awfulness, or a 10 for being a comedy classic. I kept looking for signs that this was deliberately tongue-in-cheek, but none came. How on earth did John Travolta and very weirdly, Karen Gillan, become involved in such a hilariously bad film?

The dialogue was unintentionally hilarious (at least I hope it was unintentional), and was worthy of being an episode of The Comic Strip Presents. I find it difficult to express how bad this was, but it will definitely join the in the unwanted accolade of being one of the worst films ever made.

I simply had to keep watching to see how dreadful it might become, and the final scenes were like a parody of High Noon, played by the Dulwich Amateur Dramatic Society. Indescribably bad, but I suppose that makes it a must-watch film for fans of the genre.

If it hadn't been for a brief iPlayer promo of this series after a tribute to Caroline Aherne I would never have known it even existed; it's as if the BBC likes to keep some of its best shows well hidden.

It starts off as warped, then progresses through some very black comedy into filth; sheer, utter filth, but very, very funny. At times it strays into territory that even The League of Gentlemen (or Something About Mary if you're American) might have shied away from, but the writing is so incredibly sharp and witty that it casts aside the usual boundaries with ease.

It wasn't until I looked them up on here that I discovered that one of the sisters (Kat Sadler) was actually the writer, with no previous acting credits at all. Then, stranger still, it would appear that Lizzie Davidson, who plays her sister Billie, has never previously featured in anything of any kind. Completing this wildly dysfunctional family is the rather desperate mum, wonderfully played by Louise Brealey, who somehow seems incredibly familiar to me, but not from in anything that I recognise.

Paul Bazely, as mum's prospective suitor Dev, seems one of those characters who you have seen pop up in minor roles for years, without ever really taking much notice. His character is a seriously creepy widower/divorcee/fraudster/murderer - who knows? With his odd lifestyle and strange behaviour, he is the one thread which remains loose and unexplained.

This is of of those very British comedies which could almost certainly never be shown in America, where exploding heads are fine, yet subjects such as abortion within the context of comedy are completely out of bounds. Also ruling out a US showing is the absence of a laughter track, which is thankfully absent here and would have killed it stone dead.

There are probably enough loose ends to make a second series if there was sufficient demand, but I feel it might be better to leave this as a true classic of a one-off (see also Bridget Christie's The Change). I feel that one thing we can be sure of though is that we certainly haven't heard the last of those involved.

I really hate to criticise what seemed to been such a well-intentioned film, but somebody has to do it. Right from the beginning, the clichés came so thick and fast that I quickly reached the conclusion that this film had been made as the result of a competition for the best young amateur writer or director, with Timothy Spall generously donating his services free of charge to the winner. Unfortunately this turned out not to be the case, although I it was revealed at the end to have been funced by the National Lottery.

It's a slow road trip, a very, very slow one, in which Tom (Timothy Spall, aged about 120 years old), embarks upon a bus trip from Land's End to John O'Groats following the death of his wife. It has to be said that Spall plays this part with great aplomb, if that is actually the right word to describe such a pained performance. To be honest it also requires a considerable suspension of disbelief, because he seems barely capable of walking the length of his street, let along embarking on a solo trip of this magnitude.

Only a short way into the film it began to look as if there was a long list of boxes which needed to be ticked, with the currently trendy cause shoe-horned in no matter how inappropriately (the Ukrainian party was particularly cringeworthy and unlikely, although the one on the bus featuring the fully-veiled Muslim girl and the racist was contrived almost the point of embarrassment. I'm sure that writer Joe Ainsworth achieved far more realism during his stint at Brookside.

Whether you enjoyed it (and it seems many did), depends on whether you can force yourself to swallow the quite faintly ridiculous storyline. I genuinely tried to, I really did, but it left me wondering how nobody had dared to suggest that perhaps some of the scenes needed a bit of a re-think, If it had turned out to be all for a worthy cause I could have forgiven it, but Sheila Hancock carried off a very similar character in a very similar plot much better in the far superior film, Edie. The most impressive thing about this film was the way that Timothy Spall, then in his early sixties, very convincingly transformed himself into an ailing man in his nineties.

Having watched this recently on Sky Arts, I'm absolutely gobsmacked by some of the comments on here. I thought it was awful to the point of being embarrassing, but most of the blame has to be heaped on Townshend, who gave the impression that he didn't actually know how to play a guitar.

What we got were non-stop bass guitar and drum solos, both being played independently of each other, with Daltrey trying to shout over the top. Townshend was playing as if he was wearing mittens. For instance, compare his inept playing to that of James Dean Bradfield, who really knows how to fill out the sound by seemingly playing lead and rhythm guitar simultaneously.

I have to confess that I only managed to suffer the first four songs, so perhaps missed a dramatic if unlikely recovery later on. The damage had already been done by then and I just couldn't stand any more.

I gave this a 1, but that was purely for its comedy value. It makes a Danny Dyer boxed set look like the collected works of Shakespeare. This either drags down (or elevates - take your pick) hilariously awful films to a new level (or nadir - take your pick). There are few words capable of adequately summarising this steaming pile of excrescence, to the extent that I can only say that, much to my personal shame, I had a fascinated compulsion to keep watching to the end, just to see what further depths to which it could plummet. Perhaps that was the sole intention. An exceptional film. :-D

Whoever wrote the script deserves a special mention.

My lasting impression of this film is that I would certainly have loved to have seen the featured Bunter goes to Roedean film, but something has been nagging me ever since. When searching for Sunil's partner in the aforementioned frolic, the only actress listed who I couldn't account for was Michelle Collins, and nothing will convince me she could ever have looked like the girl I'm referring to. I'm afraid I only caught about he last 20 minutes of this film so need to put that right, but having looked online for clues, any reviews are sketchy in the extreme, with no characted photos to refer to. It was an odd style which reminded me of many of the hour-length films shown during the early (and best days of Channel 4. I must have seen Hugh Cornwell yet didn't recognise him and it was only during the closing credits that I found out that the score was by Bill Nelson. I now know that Sunil more recently played the part of the father in the altogether splendid Blinded By The Light.

First of all a warning ... before you start writing your review, make sure you open it in a separate tab, otherwise if you switch back to the page to check names, everything you have already written will be lost.

I had to carry out some research before writing this, because I knew there would be people who asked how I had the audacity to question the work of such supposedly respected experts in their fields. The one who immediately aroused my suspicions was Prof Dawn Hunter, a Professor of Linguistics apparently, who felt it necessary to don a pair of ludicrous and totally unnecessary, monster headphones in order to let us know that she was an 'expert' in this kind of thing. Well I'm sorry, but you were making up the rubbish you were trotting out as you went along, turning mere hesitation or repetition into virtual confessions of guilt. I have singled her out for special opprobrium, yet every one of the 'experts' presented here were the kind of people usually wheeled out for American minor-channel documentaries about Bigfoot or alien abductions.

The footage shown has all been seen many times before and used very much better, yet they all seem to be very shy of repeating John Lydon's very prescient comments given in a 1978 radio interview which caused him to be banned from the BBC. Overall, the impression given was that the historical footage was there mainly for decoration, basing it mainly on the rent-an-expert waffle.

If ever shown again it will probably be on Blaze or Quest Red at 2am. I clicked the no-spoilers button because it would be impossible to further spoil such a wretched waste of viewing time.

I ended up feeling really annoyed that this was relegated to a TV series of eight half-hour episode. The performances deserved far better than this. I honestly feel that if it had been made into the feature film it so richly deserved, Oscar nominations would surely have been beckoning. Lisa McGrillis was absolutely incredible.

My only gripe was that episode 7 was unnecessary and completely broke the spell. There was no need for it at all and it seemed merely like a box-ticking exercise, forced upon the writer by a mis-guided producer.

If you've ever watched Dead Man's Shoes, this was almost like an alternative take on the story, although pulled off with far more aplomb. For a while, I even thought that the boy's father was being played by Paddy Considine, nut a few years down the line.

Perhaps it's too late now, but I really wish somebody would re-shoot this with the same cast and treat it with the respect it deserves. If they did, I feel sure it would be regarded as a major British film and pick up a bucket load of awards.

This rarely happens to me, but I ditched this after watching up to the point he met the woman on the train. I found I disliked both her and the entire premise we were expected to invest in so utterly stupid and ridiculous that I skipped forward a few times and then jumped ship. It was like one of these silly set-ups that infects films made for Netflix, written by somebody who thinks they're being incredibly clever when it's actually just pure nonsense. I have no desire whatsoever to find out what happened.

Don't believe the reviews of one or two miseries on here; this is a very well written and well acted comedy.

The splendid Katherine Parkinson is the only one I've ever heard of, but it is well acted throughout, aided by some very witty writing. You could perhaps imagine her character as being something that the slightly more inhibited yet potentially reckless Jen in The IT Crowd might have dreamed up in her private, dirty fantasies.

I also noticed how well filmed it is, giving it the feel of production values above those possible on Channel 4's more limited budget. I'm only four episodes in at the moment and am enjoying the way it is thoroughly smutty, yet with no nudity and none of the gross-out moments that lesser comedies might have succumbed to. I think part of the enjoyment is wondering if such moments are just around the corner, yet I certainly won't mind if they never arrive. I don't know whether it's considered okay to make such comments, but I also have to say that Katherine Parkinson looks absolutely great in it.

Although cruelly under-length, this is still one of my favourite films of all time and it never fails to bring a lump to my throat.

I remember hearing, many years ago, that it was actually shot to give it the option of being released as a full-length feature film, but after it was edited down to fit the TV format, the extra footage was somehow lost in the studio. I have no way of verifying this, but it would certainly explain the rather hurried conclusion. It deserved so much better.

I can only think that it has never been repeated, simply because of the inclusion of a Gary Glitter song, which fits the scene perfectly and would be impossible to edit out. If it seems stupid simply to ban such an excellent film because of that there's a simple reason - there are some really stupid people in charge of these things.

You would also think that surely there must be a high-quality version of this in existence somewhere; surely they didn't get Helena Bonham Carter involved and then shoot it only on VHS?

In my opinion this is one of HBC's greatest performances; some people criticised her northern accent, but as I said before, there are some very stupid people about. I thought it was wonderful and I couldn't care less if if it can't be pinned down to a particular postcode.

The Urban Myths series was very hit and miss, but in this one you get a very rare 20 minutes of absolute perfection; there isn't a single thing that I would have wanted to change.

Eddie Marsan might not have seemed everybody's automatic choice to play the great man, but it takes no more than five seconds for any such doubts to evaporate completely. From then on, Eddie Marsan IS Bob Dylan.

You will obviously get the most out of this if you are a committed fan, as there are many in-jokes to please the aficionados; however one of two viewings of Don't Look Back should see you sufficiently well primed to join in with the knowing glances. Even for those adopting a neutral stance, don't despair, because every single person in this plays their part to joyous perfection.

Katherine Parkinson (The IT Crowd) will perhaps be the most well known to many viewers and her performance is a delight, playing the polite if initially wary host with the natural innocence of a complete ingenue. Paul Ritter's 'Dave', is actually an acting masterclass, initially baffled and bemused, then slowly unravelling as he gradually cottons on to the circumstances under which they find themselves together in the room.

I've watched in many times now and each time it not only entertains, but is actually quite touching, especially the ending (a bit 1980s but I'll willingly forgive it), which always ends up leaving me genuinely moved. I can't really praise it highly enough.

I forgot to mention that I watched this on the Sky Arts channel on Freeview. All episodes still get repeated, although in a highly unpredictable manner.

I'm sure the director thought he was being immensely clever with the time shifting, but all it did was ruin the film. You couldn't work out who was dead or who was alive at any point and the switches from the escape to prison cells made no sense whatsoever. I became so angry with it that I struggled to force myself to watch it until the end. It didn't help that I was forced to use subtitles to understand much of the mumbled dialogue. A potentially reasonable film completely ruined bu a pointless gimmick.

So somebody please tell me, what the hell was going on with that sequence during the titles? Was it a mistake? Was it a clip they found on the cutting room floor and pasted in at the last moment? It didn't fit in with any of the scenes within the film, was totally out of any possible sequence and only served to confuse. Harry Brown had a similar kind of plot line, but had proper actors and retained at least some kind of credibility.

I started watching it from Series One, Episode One, because it was one the then-new BBC3 and looked a bit 'naughty'. The first series is obviously made on a low budget and doesn't have great production values, but from the first scene with Jenny I knew I was hooked. It was difficult to work out exactly what it was, because although it was funny, well acted and with witty dialogue, it could also take dark turns - at times very dark.

Series Two arrived with a brighter look that made me feel as if I'd just had cataracts removed. The characters were now getting more roundly drawn and the in-jokes were already starting to flourish. Never has there been a sit-com (seems funny to call it that, but that's undoubtedly what it is) which could hold together such a surreal and adventurous plot with so many brilliant characters. Some of the story lines are as truly ingenious as they are outrageous. Few taboos go unbroken and some seriously bad taste is made incredibly funny. It is a credit to the cast how they manage to flit from high comedy to horror and tragedy in the blink of an eye. Somebody said it wasn't funny: there is an episode in Series Two which is the funniest thing I've ever seen on television in my entire life; you'll have to guess which one I'm talking about.

I bought Series One to Four as a DVD box set but missed some of the later ones due to an erratic DVD recorder (remember those?). I seem to remember one of the later series being not quite up to the same standard as the rest, but I don't think I'm giving too much away if I say it was possibly due to the shock of seeing a suddenly-slimline Johnny Vegas, who it has to be said is superb throughout. The entire cast (and you can play, 'Where the hell have I seen him/her before?) wanted another series but it was not to be. Perhaps somebody in the higher echelons of the BBC was getting worried about the popularity of such a wicked programme, but perhaps it's actually for the best for it to end on a high (no pun intended). It seems criminal that it has never been repeated, but with the appointment of the new government puppet of a Director General, the chances of that are slimmer than ever before. It seems that the only way of seeing it now is to buy a complete box set of all sever series for £25. Quite honestly, it will be the best £25 you'll ever spend.

I'm not a sci-fi buff,in fact I normally avoid films of the genre, but Icame to it after catching just a few minutes of a failed TV recording. By sheer coincidence I found it the next day in a charity shop at a give-away price, The best money I've ever spent.

It benefits enormously by not being American; this would have been awful if produced by an American file studio. Instead, its documentary style, with all kinds of political and moral undertones, manages to be both brutal and humane at the same time. Above all it is deeply intelligent and manages to avoid most of the embarrasing cliches that that a US production would have inflicted upon it.

Quite unexpectedly, I rank it as one of my top films of all time.

Thirteen years after this film came out, I've just watched it for the first time, having never even heard of it before. I had no preconceptions about it whatsoever and I can take or leave Eddie Murphy, but it only took a few seconds for me to know that it was going to be a great film for simply sitting back and enjoying.

I suppose it wasn't wasn't totally original, with elements taken from both Starman and Coneheads, but it didn't really matter. It was well made, enjoyable, funny, and at times even rather touching. I honestly can't think what kind of mean spirited person would think it deserved a 1 or a 2. It made me laugh out loud a few times when I was watching it by myself, and let's be honest, very few films genuinely make you do that.

I recorded it off Film 4, so will save it for whenever I want to watch it in the company of friends and family, knowing that it will appeal to people of all ages - there aren't enough true family films like this being made. The effects are smart without being over-clever and getting in the way. I'm pleased that it was made before CGI became too sophisticated and all-pervasive.

When I first saw this in 2008 (the first series) it was the first TV drama I had ever seen which immediately made me buy the DVD so that I could watch it again. The first ten minutes probably wouldn't hook American audiences, but as soon as the guilty verdict was passed I could feel my stomach dropping to the floor. It was the inevitability of getting dragged into the criminality of the prison system and the vulnerability of all those who aren't equipped to keep their heads above water by means of sheer brutality. I wasn't convinced by the authenticity of Con O'Neill's portrayal of a solicitor employed within the rather starchy UK justice system, but his performance was so utterly compelling that I'll forgive that minor deviation. David Harewood was evil incarnate, yet chose understated, intelligent, brooding menace for his character, rather than what could have been a comic book portrayal of a prison kingpin. By the end of it I felt emotionally shattered and it's certainly put me off going to prison.

Seriously, this should be made compulsory viewing for wayward teenagers, although not for any who are awaiting their day in court.

All it needed was the Lincolnshire police with their heat detecting cameras on their helicopter. They'd never have lost that car and a bobby with a stinger would have immobilised it in an instant. All for a few hundred quid. Don't they ever watch Police Interceptors?

What is remarkable about this film is the way in which the characters appear exactly how they were imagined when listening to the original episode's on John Peel's radio show. The casting of Trevor Howard (who IS Sir Henry) was inspired genius, although I suspect Stanshall had him in mind from the moment he wrote the very first lines. It is certainly a very English film, with all kinds of references that very few Americans could possibly understand, although even many of its younger English viewers will probably struggle with the understanding of some of the cultural references, which will be helped by at least a passing acquaintance with some of the post-war comics such as Lion, Eagle and Hotspur, etc.

One viewer criticised the occasional use of words like jungle bunnies and sambo, but context is everything and you would have to be making a determined effort to be offended by them in some very funny scenes.

The film is a rival to Withnail and I for its number of quotable lines: "Bring me Calvin's horse radish, with vicious mustards to pierce the tongue like Cardigan's Lancers" "Do you know what a palmist once said to me?" She said "Will you let go" "If I had all the money I'd spent on drink, I'd spend it on drink"

Personally I didn't have a problem with the sound, in fact most of the actors speak with far greater clarity than in many more modern films. Only Old Scrotum (the wrinkled retainer) might cause a few occasional problems. As for the plot - it seems blindingly obvious to anyone who has ever watched any film written by N.F. Simpson or one featuring The Goons - or is under the influence of hallucinogenics.

The film obviously ran into trouble with its budget, although I doubt if Hollywood millions would have improved it in any way. In fact they would almost certainly have ruined it. It was actually shot in colour, but after begging and stealing any film stock they could get hold of it was impossible to match it together at the editing stage. The rather clever solution was to convert it all to sepia (disappointingly, the DVD is in black and white) which some believe adds a lot to its character. In the scene of The Blazing, the extras are supplemented by staff members of the film's backers, Charisma Records, who were press-ganged to make up the numbers. I was amused by the way the DVD is advertised as being in colour, purely on the grounds of having red lettering in the titles.

Eventually this film will be recognised both as the masterpiece that it truly is, and is a fine tribute to both Vivian Stanshall and Trevor Howard, playing his character to perfection in what must surely be one of the finest roles of his career.