magicwings

With 300, Zack Snyder had the problem of having not enough meat on the bone - Frank Miller's violent graphic novel was short and in-your-face, with director Snyder compensating by spending pretty much all of it's two hour runtime in super-slow motion. Here the problem is reversed: Alan Moore's unfilmable, complicated and very, very deep graphic novel seemed simply too dense for any director to take by the horns and be successful. Hell, even Moore himself deemed it so - so much that he disowned the film entirely.

Here, Snyder has two audiences: those familiar, and those who aren't. If you're the latter, Watchmen is a masterwork of literature, telling the story of a group of masked avengers who, since outlawed, live empty and lonely lives. When one is killed in his apartment, Rorschach, who dons the famous ever-moving mask, takes it upon himself to get to the root of the real reason for the death, but stumbles onto something much larger than he could ever have expected.

It really is a character piece. Each one, filled off-screen with complicated, articulate back-stories is brought to life on screen by some of the most heartfelt acting I've seen in a long time (save perhaps Malin Ackerman as the latex-wearing Silk Spectre II), particularly from Billy Crudup who plays the blue, often naked (and well-hung) demi-god who is the only superhero with real superpowers.

Although the star of the show is Rorschach himself. Despite being behind a mask for the large majority of the film, Jackie Earle Haley is beyond perfect for the role. His husky voice commands the voiceovers from Rorschach's journal (recited in many cases word-for-word from the novel), and plays the psychopathic, paranoid and immensely complex role with such a force that you simply can't tear your eyes away from him.

Snyder made himself known with 300 - the ultra-violent story of the Spartans who went to war (and lost… miserably). However, Watchmen makes 300 seem like Mary Poppins - this has got to be one of the most violent films I have ever seen. All the book's action sequences are there, just… bigger. More badass. Gory as hell. And, for some reason Snyder decided to place a porny, cringy 3 minute sex scene set to Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" slap bang in the middle of the film. Sure, it was in the book, but it was shorter, and the soundtrack was most certainly not this poncy.

However, this… discrepancy… is the only gripe (and this is a very minor gripe) that I have with the film. It's hard to watch in places - a rape scene here, a pregnant woman killed there - and even pulls the heartstrings in others (Doctor Manhattan's backstory most definitely (almost) brought me to tears). The book is majorly complex, deep and meaningful, and in it's transition to screen, a lot of that is lost in translation. But what we get is a fantastically artistic, fast-paced action epic. Snyder was aiming for two audiences who are polar opposites, and comes free with an adaptation of which even writer Alan Moore should be proud.

Looking down the checklist of what you get when you see the name "James Bond" on the poster of a movie, it seems that the electric reboot in 2006's Casino Royale missed out a substantial amount. Gone were the gadgets, the humour and the trophy girls – the post-Bourne Bond was all about the psyche of a thug. "Find Bond" barks M on more than one occasion in this outing and, in all honesty, I think most of the audience are still looking.

Following on just an hour after Casino Royale (marking the first direct sequel in Bond history), the difference is easy to see. Accompanied by a rock soundtrack, we find ourselves jerked all over the place in a flashy albeit very hard to follow car chase that sets the speed for the film and thankfully, it rarely lets up. Why "thankfully"? Well, not because of the lack of good action in movies nowadays. The problem with this film is that we need to have overblown set pieces and lots of things blowing up to keep our minds off the ridiculous and paper-thin plot.

It's a good thing Bond has a passport, because from the opening in Italy, he moves around the world faster than malaria. Moving from A to B with one line of dialogue stringing him along, he quickly destroys anything in his path – and manages to kill any lead MI6 have on the organisation that Mr White is a part of. However, the story really isn't as simple as that; director Forster tries to get inside the mind of Bond after the death of Vesper Lynd in Royale. However, this is where the failure begins, as we rarely see a side of Bond other than the brute, and this makes it very hard for the audience to even like him. There are only a few occasions where this matters, as the incredible set pieces quickly take our minds off the audacious yet faltering storyline and keep them on the adrenaline rush coursing through our bodies. An aerial dogfight is one such piece; there is an unexplainable need to ride a plane a matter of miles to a secret lair in a desert when 007 has a perfectly usable Humvee to drive. But this absurdity is instantly forgotten when he's attacked on all sides and a thrilling chase begins.

But what about the humour? The girls? The gadgets? All humour is lost, save for some – maybe three – one liners ("'We have people everywhere'? That's a bit cliché… I mean, florists say that" says M after interrogating the mysterious Mr White). The girls take a back seat for Bond (not in that way) because of the seeming importance of Lynd, and therefore seem awkwardly shallow – particularly Camille (played by Ukranian model Olga Kurylenko), who enters the scene as a backstabber and continues to manipulate Bond throughout the film. The second girl Bond comes across, Agent Fields, is a nod back to older, classier Bond girls… but it is only a nod, as she barely lasts five minutes in the film before she is found in another throwback to older films (a huge easter egg for Goldfinger fans). The final female lead is the hugely understated M, who has a much meatier role here, and Dench plays it with such a perfect mix of benevolence and impatience that it's hard to imagine back to the days when M was a man.

All the elegance and style of Royale is lost, all the thoughtfulness of Bond's mind is replenished with anger and a need for over-the-top violence. The girls are hollow, the humour misplaced, and the gadgets gone. So what on earth is there in this movie to watch? Let me put it this way. If the title character wasn't James Bond, agent 007 for MI6, in the 21st sequel to an adapted story, then this would be a hugely enjoyable action adventure film. As it is, the Bond we love is gone, and he's been replaced with a clone of Jason Bourne's younger sister.

There are so many like me who grew up watching the magic of Indiana Jones, those who saw the imagination seep through from just the opening scene of Raiders; who felt terrified watching a man's heart torn out in Temple of Doom; who dreamt of finding the right cup in the room of the holy grail in Crusade.

There was always a presence in those films that made them so special. This was the presence of actors not making a film for money, but for enjoyment; of action sequences for the thrill instead of to boast CGI; of a wonderful, imaginative storyline that was solid throughout, meaning that you could pause the movie at any time and would know where they've been, where they're going, and exactly why. Unfortunately, most of this is missing in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

19 years have passed since Lucas and Spielberg made Harrison Ford don his famous hat, as has the time in the movie world - time has taken its toll and from the opening scene in Nevada we can see that. But that doesn't stop the action pouring in - in the first twenty minutes, an alien body is found, a hidden bunker is broken into, a rocket on rails is unleashed with Jones aboard and a nuclear bomb test blows Indy hundreds of yards into the air... in a fridge. As entertaining as it is, it is equally unbelievable - the trilogy drew you in and its imagination gave you belief, whereas here we just see comedy - but we only laugh at parts that aren't meant to be laughed at. In particular, the story, which explains that the skull of one of the aliens in the Roswell incident of 1947 is in fact a mythical skull from El Dorado.

In fact, we barely see a storyline. It opens with huge action, followed by a gap filled with weak plot filling dialogue that makes no sense, and is preceded by more action. Blasting myths from Roswell to El Dorado and the Nazca Lines inbetween, it really lacks a solid storyline - something that the original trilogy prided itself on.

The film isn't a BAD film, it's just not brilliant. The action sequences are overloaded with CGI almost as an excuse to do it, but nonetheless they are entertaining, particularly a jungle chase sequence in hummers, and the hugely visual-effects overblown finale.

It just seems to go from the unbelievable to the even more unbelievable, whereas what us Indy lovers are really used to is a film that made us believe in what we weren't sure about.

Now we ARE sure. It's definitely not real. The magic disappears the second the title theme stops from the opening of the film, and what we now need to hope is that they don't try and make a fourth.

OK, so I might get slated for calling a film about teleportation implausible, but here goes. Jumper is a film about David Rice who, while trying to impress his high-school crush Millie, falls through ice into a river and, in panic, manages to transport himself in the blink of an eye to the local library. Thinking that he can use this talent to live large, he deserts his father, his friends and everyone else in search of the high life. Basically meaning robbing banks and having lunch on top of the Sphynx.

8 years later and he decides to go after his crush Millie, who after a tiny amount of persuasion agrees to travel with him to Rome, just because. Wait a second... my plausibility-sense is tingling. Without any question of his history, she agrees to travel the world with someone everyone thought was dead.

Just at the right moment, Samuel L Jackson appears wearing a white wig and bearing the spine-tingling name Roland. Right. To be fair, Jackson is the only actor in the movie who shines - Hayden Christensen plays his character more wooden than... a plank of wood, and Rachel Bilson playing Millie is distinctly unabashed when she not only finds her dead friend on her doorstep but when she finds out he can teleport across the globe.

So, more fights, the Sphynx, brief historical backplot about 'Jumpers' and 'Paladins' supplied by a very energetic Jamie Bell who carries the movie into more of a frenzy, which is a good thing, because there is never any real sense of danger at all. Jamie Bell speaking very fast in a Northern accent definitely adds to the excitement, but again we only get more questions and less answers.

Jumper finishes very open-ended and many will feel cheated by the time the credits come up. It all seems like you've been spending 86 minutes gearing up for a final showdown... then the names roll.

However, on an entertainment level it doesn't disappoint. The teleportation idea works very well for some fight scenes - look out for the Colosseum one in particular - but they don't last long and they are few and far between.

But hey, it's only a movie.