benjamin_lappin

Going down as the most expensive film in Finnish history, to date, "Dark Floors" is a horror film with an extremely Lynchian narrative that recounts an ever increasingly decrepit series of "Floors" (ironically enough) in an abandoned hospital, in which our protagonists are trapped. Lead by an autistic daughter and her father, himself disenchanted with the hospitals apparent lack of medical progress with his daughter, make their way into an elevator debating the issue with one of the hospitals nurses. Accompanied by a security guard, a businessman and a seemingly intoxicated tramp the collective soon find the complex abandoned, but they are not alone. Directed by Finnish- born Pete Riski, more known for his television work, "Dark Floors" is filmed in English, using mainly English actors but has the notable inclusion of Finland's arguably most famous group "Lordi" (2006 Eurovision song contest winners) as themselves, i.e. in their on stage monstrous costumes, as the films antagonists, yet for all this razzmatazz the production fails where it is needed most, in convincing the audience.

Any film that has their lead character use the phrase "it's too quiet" is already headed down a dubious path, and this Lordi influenced horror does not break that convention. For all the good ideas that are thrown into the mix there are a handful of ripe clichés alongside and worst of all, anything that is interestingly original isn't fleshed out enough for it to resonate. The concept of the degrading floors is initially highly ominous and does provide a sense of inevitable doom as the audience is aware those trapped in the hospital must progress ever further down in the mire. However, there isn't enough atmosphere created to scare and intimidate the audiences into the unknowing fear, the viewer is aware the journey will become ever more dangerous, as the levels degenerate from shiny white through to hellish black, but I don't think the characters are aware enough of this fact for it to be threatening. Also, the entire film taking place in what is essentially its own time bubble is again a very nice touch, a concept not often used in the horror genre, but the characters don't confront the situation with enough fear and trepidation when they stumble across this fact, they continue about their business far too readily and without enough genuine concern for the idea to mean anything to the audience. These initially good ideas are just left to go to waste, as if the director and/or Mr Lordi (who had many of the ideas used within the film) had these thoughts, but couldn't agree or decide on how to best use them and as such lose their purpose and point.

Yet for all the frustration there are large quantities of comedy, yet not for the reasons the creators would have hoped for. Too much is clichéd, too much is recycled and too much is just simply ridiculous. While the lead is amicably acted by Noah Huntley, the characters are mere cardboard cut outs that have been pasted into the story from other films. We have a lead man doing everything possible to protect his daughter alongside a clunkily developed love interest. Accompanying the "couple" we have the traditional token black man as a hard-nosed security guard, with the nigh on infinite clip for his sidearm, and a weasely disbelieving businessman only on the look out for himself. Worst of all though, unfortunately, is the introduction of the cast of Lordi as the creatures of the night that torment our wandering band of misfits, but not for them appearing as themselves. What makes a horror film scary to the viewing audience is contextualising the fear. "The Shining" is scary because it's a member of your own family hounding you, in "Dawn Of The Dead" it's our fear of each other and the primordial cannibalism and irrational thought patterns the zombies possess, in "Alien" the fear is explained, the creature is rationalised and in "Dark Floors" there is none of that. Perhaps it's unfair to compare this production to these monoliths of the genre but when you do it shows it pales significantly and that it's aggressors feel like nothing more than demented Klingons where you can almost see the zip on the costumes they wear, without a build up of any atmosphere "Lordi" just aren't scary.

It's infuriating because we all cheer for the underdog and hope they do well, you want the smaller productions to say that they can create the same quality of film as "Hollywood" churns out, much in the similar way that George A Romero started out, but it doesn't always materialise. I enjoyed the film and didn't feel as if I had wasted the ninety minutes I had just sat through, but I felt enjoyment on a completely hollow level as if nothing that had occurred mattered or affected me subconsciously, emotionally or critically. I felt the almost Lynchian narrative was a standout plus point, but it fades out into nothingness. Why did it happen? What does it mean? Will they go through this all again? Without even the slightest insight into what will happen the film is simply puzzling for the sake of trying to be arty. Was the entire sequence of events real or was it merely a dream sequence? Had the autistic girl watched the Eurovision Song Contest of 2006 and simply had a highly bizarre nightmare given the stress she was under? Who knows? And unfortunately I fail to work up the energy to even care. "Dark Floors" is an infuriating experience that while ultimately shallow hallmarks potential and at the very least shows a plethora of creative energies from Mr Lordi, who perhaps should look into working solo to fully develop his ideas. It's one that fans of the group or the genre should perhaps pursue but will leave you feeling left in the lurch for not having enough light shed on the situation.

The film writing and directorial debut of Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck "Das Leben der Anderen" (The Lives Of Others) is a German drama set in East Berlin in the last years of Communism in the former German Democratic Republic (GDR). Telling the tale of an artistic couple being continually watched, recorded and filmed by members of the "Stasi", the East German secret police, as he is suspected of creating subversive plays undermining the state and she is lusted after by a highly ranked official. Successfully nominated for the 2007 Academy Award for "Best Foreign Film", "The Lives Of Others" is a highly moral and politically charged film that will demand as much emotion and choice from its audience as it does from its protagonists.

While the directorial cinematography is lush and crisp, with "Donnersmarck" using subtle tones of greys and greens to emphasis the drab, bleak existence in East Germany it is the characterisation within the film that makes this such an engaging and emotional experience. The cast is led superbly by Ulrich Muhe who delivers a stunning performance as "Hauptmann Gerd Wiesler" who is charged with leading the investigation into the alleged deviants. He is backed up exceptionally by Martina Gedeck and Sebastian Koch as "Christa-Maria Sieland" and "Geog Dreyman", respectively, who provide the necessary emotional tension to pull entrap the audience. With all three of these performances, each has to deal with and convey different emotions on their moralistic standpoints, in differing fashions when their whole lives are threatened. Muhe finds himself increasingly involved and engrossed by the drama that is the lives of those he is watching, he finds his unwavering dedication to the Stasi to be brought into question when his reasoning is brought into doubt. Through watching and listening to the idealistic principles of the artistic couple beneath him, doubt slowly creeps into his conscious and he must begin to make a decision as to whether he can continue to justify harming the lives of innocent individuals. Sieland and Dreyman, however, must decide whether they can continue to live their lives as lies, will they sacrifice their artistic freedom to avoid persecution and interference from the state. "The Lives Of Others" skillfully leads us down their respective paths as we watch with hope, fear and trepidation at the choices they make.

What separates "The Lives Of Others" from contemporary dramas of the same styling is the subtlety with which the script has been written and the delivery of those underpinning emotions by the actors. The director builds up immense tension from scenes where very little action is taking place, whether it's Muhe simply listening to a telephone conversation through his headphones or Dreyman hiding a typewriter, Donnersmarck ratchets up the heart rate with such delicate ease. Each of the main protagonists delivers their own unique style of performance to enhance the enclosed feel of the investigation. Gedecks' "Sielands" fall from grace is a harrowing and heart breaking affair, as the demure and regal persona falls to reveal a fractured and pained woman, desperately fighting to save her acting career. Koch's "Dreyman" is almost the reversal of his female counterpart, starting off as somewhat of a shell, kowtowing to his communist masters yet internally yearning to express himself as he would want. His increased risky disposition is taken under the naive belief that the state have not got him under surveillance which of course leaves everything in the confused hands of Wiesler. From cold, hard calculating man who claims "the best way to establish guilt...is non-stop interrogation" to having to question himself as a human being, Wiesler's journey is the keystone which holds the rest in place and Muhe's understated motions of raising an eyebrow here to pursing his lips tell so many stories of his internal strife and is an absolute joy to behold.

"The Lives Of Others" is an exceptional film that is not merely worthy of 2007's "Best Foreign Film" Academy Award but of claims that it is perhaps not simply the greatest film of that year, but of the decade as a whole. It in itself is an absolute joke that this and "Pan's Labyrinth" weren't in the "Best Picture" category regardless of their origins, because the skill with which the director and his cast weave their intricate web and have you riveted as an audience, is an art form to never grow tired of. Donnersmarck's debut is a thoroughly engaging affair that highlights not just European cinema, but cinema as a whole. It is a life affirming experience that will warm your heart and bring a tear to your eye, it will have you utterly entranced for its duration and will leave a mark on your character. The tale of others' lives, their strife, their desires, their wants and their dreams is an experience that will greatly affect yours.

"Un prophete", released in the United Kingdom only this passed week, is an epic crime drama told about a young Arab sent to prison who works, fights and schemes his way to the top of the pecking order in a French prison. Expertly filmed by Jacques Audiard (The Beat That My Heart Skipped), it hallmarks a return to form for contemporary French cinema, headed by a director who has carved himself quite the career, with this being his magnum opus to date.

"Mesrine", a French gangster film released in 2009, was a stylised tale of a mans descent into the criminal underworld, but lacked a certain gravitas when needed to push itself into iconic status. Where "Mesrine" failed, "Un Prophete" has excelled. The cinematography is a gritty affair, told in faded greys and blues managing to highlight the drab and claustrophobic nature of incarceration. Jacques Audiard knows how to captivate his audience, from the opening sequence of our protagonist, Malik El Djebena, being taken to jail, peering out onto the world from behind the police vans bars, to feeling surrounded by the prisons inmates, he makes you feel as trapped as the one we are watching. The notable lack of primary colours, while perhaps unoriginal, is pivotal in hammering home the violence and its impact when it does start. Thankfully, there aren't ridiculously over the top shootouts as there were in "Mesrine", which manages to maintain a sense of realism, a sense of believability which in a film such as this the audience desperately needs to feel.

"Un prophete", however, is decidedly non-"Hollywood" and will have many not used to "European" cinema claiming it to be a dull, overly-long affair, yet it is because of its more languid tendencies, that it resonates more. None of the events in nor outside the prison would matter if Audiard did not develop the characters he has on screen sufficiently enough for us to connect with any of them on any emotional level. In "The Beat That My Heart Skipped" Romain Duris' performance carries what is a good yet occasionally uneven film, so it comes as no surprise that the leading men in "Un Prophete" powerfully command the screen with their presences leaving the viewer in no doubt that Audiard has a gift as a director for bringing out an actors' full talent. Tahar Rahim (Malik El Djebena) and Niels Arestrup (Cesar Luciani) play their leading roles perfectly, both carrying off the naiveté and hauteur respectively required for their ying and yang roles.

There are several themes running throughout "Un Prophete" the most obvious being a subtle social commentary on multiracial interaction in France. There is a keen sense of the director commenting on the strained relationships between the Caucasian French and their Arabic cohabitants, deliberately remarking on the way the Arabic population are deliberately looked down upon as inferior beings. This is brought up on numerous occasions with the Corsicans open distaste for the Arabic inmates but Audiard shows their racial prejudice to be their downfall as the population swells and their faith becomes a binding force, perhaps in itself a call to arms for French politicians to address what is a time bomb in their own country. Another theme is a keen sense of old replacing the new it terms of crime syndicate circles. Luciani is the Godfather of the Corsicans, though is never called as such. His position and means of dictation hallmark Pacino's "Godfather", to a time of crime which in a contemporary setting seems outdated. This point is again made when Malik is asked to be the Godfather of his friend Reyeb's child, yet the terminology is meant in its religious sense as opposed to the mafia one.

"Un Prophete" is a stunningly good film full of crisp, composed, cinematography that moves at a good rate, developing and fleshing out characters while being able to keep the story flowing. Audiard has his audience engrossed from the opening sequence and never lets go, from Malik's "induction" into the Corsican camp through to the protagonist sense of bewilderment and awe on his first flight and visit to a beach, that is almost childlike in its innocence. Unfortunately, "Un Prophete" while making all the right critical noises will never have the same impact on the cinematic masses that films such as "Avatar" are having and is somewhat disheartening, despite its Cannes "Grand Prize de Jury". Purchasing a ticket for the screening I was "warned" the film was subtitled to which I replied "do you have to warn us that it's not in 3D as well?", which may have been a jokingly snide quip but is a sad indictment of the times. Nevertheless, for those that get the opportunity to view this film you will not be disappointing as "Un Prophete" is a powerful production carrying some stellar performances from both cast and director. It is an engrossing crime drama that manages to be both brutal and shocking yet humane and heart warming that will convert even the most ardent disbeliever.

South African director Neil Blomkamp's debut is the ultimate fusion, and homage-payer, to nearly every sci-fi film over the passed twenty or so years, that tells the tale of an alien species stranded on earth and herded in a slum outside Johannesburg. Blomkamp got this opportunity by creating his own five minute live action sequence taken from the, now somewhat defunct, "Halo" film project. Viewed by, and obviously having impressed, Peter Jackson, the New Zealander promptly gave his backing, both in critical and financial terms to his new protégé to create this intergalactic tale of discrimination and very big guns.

Comparing both the aforementioned five minute "Halo" trailer and "District 9" you cannot help but notice Blomkamp's delicacy when it comes to the implementation of special effects into a film. Too often are films overloaded with computer generated effects, both from other worlds and this, that do not convincingly real, despite all the money that is pumped into them. Blomkamp has a keen eye for being able to blend the virtual with the real in an almost seamless fashion, which in a film where half the cast are non-existent "prawns" from another world is somewhat of a key trait in selling the film. Also, equally as noticeable, is Blomkamp's exceptional directing technique when it comes to shooting, but also editing, the high tension action sequences. He knows how to create tension with the use of long tracking shots, interspersed with crisp cuts that, while chaotic, actually keep you up to breast with the geography of an all-out gun fight. Keeping perspective of where your characters are in the grand scheme of things and creating the heart-pounding tension that the audience needs to be immersed, yet follow proceedings, in the world is not an easy skill but one Blomkamp ensures happen with worrying (for other directors of the same genre) accuracy and style for such a young director.

The cast which carries the story is led wonderfully by Sharlto Copley as the bumbling and out of his depth "Wikus Van De Merwe" as he manages to entice sympathy from the audience and then just as suddenly the reverse, without ever making his character unbelievable. The script, which is very well written for a film of this genre, provides Copley with just the right balance of humour, emotion and as many uses of the word "fok"as an actor could possibly hope for. Copley carries the film extremely well, given he is often the only "actor" on screen at any one time and finds himself wonderfully backed up by a whole host of weasel faced antagonists who provoke the right amount of spite and venom from the viewer, despite them never being fleshed out as anything more than clichéd "bad guys".

Book ended by a documentary styled account of the events in District 9, the action during the middle segments romp along at a great pace, yet while on first viewing is enough to engross the viewer, on second there is a slight problem. Initially there is so much going on, so much that feels fresh and unique that you can't help but be swept away by it, but on second viewing you have to question the longevity of a film such as this. While it is undoubtedly a good piece of action-cinema, the sci-fi element demands more than simply big plastic guns that make people explode. Blomkamp creates his own intergalactic apartheid in "District 9", yet never explores the connotations of the why, when and what for. Science fiction is a genre not simply of aliens, but also of philosophy and meaning. If you look at the classics like "2001" and "Solyaris and a great many anime's there is always an underlying meaning or reasoning, something to get the audience thinking about what is being shown on screen, to delve deeper and explore the film as well as themselves. "District 9"'s only failing flaw, is that it fails to explore the separation of the humans and aliens, why they have been separated, what has allowed it to have come to this, why are the aliens being treated with such disregard? Is it simply because these people are the sort of white supremacists that caused so much damage in South Africa? These and more issues are either glossed over or never addressed at all, and I feel that perhaps if Blomkamp had tackled even one aspect as to "why" there was such discrimination, as opposed to the mere one line "justifier" in the opening montage, that it would push the film into epic proportions.

While the criticism of the film is a heavy one, it does not tarnish what is otherwise a superb science fiction action fest that audiences and lovers of the genres can get their teeth into. Blomkamp delivers on the promise that was his online snippet and has now set himself an even higher bar to which to aim his next project at. He has created a self encompassed world that requires no sequels, prequels, tells its story efficiently and drags its audience along for a ride that hallmarks one of the more impressive films, never mind debuts, in quite a while. My only wish is that while the stylised homages to The Fly and Aliens show a director who has knowledge, and command, of the sci-fi genre, the director continues to progress in the right direction and perhaps for his next challenge includes the gut-wrenchingly profound that District 9 finds itself separated from.

How does one regain credentials as a director after having creating the bona fide disaster piece, that was the typically tedious Hollywood remake, "Assault On Precinct 13"? For a start you return to your roots and you return to what you know, which is precisely what director Jean-Francois Richet has done as he presents the first installment of a two part tale detailing the life of Jacque Mesrine, France's most notorious criminal. The man who was once known as France's "Public Enemy No1" provides an interesting and engaging story, as anyone of such notoriety would, as his life charts an almost unpredictable path across countries and continents but as with all literative adaptations, does it translate onto the big screen?

Well, aside from the fact that no "big screen" has shown this film, and that all viewings have been in smaller independent picture houses reserved for the cine-literate, the tongue-in- cheek answer is no. However, the answer to the serious issue is 'a bit of both'. The irony is the films major interest, that being the protagonists own story, is both its strongest feature, but one of the main contributing factors into the films fall into the category of "entertaining" as opposed to "gripping". What intrigues is that this is the real life tale of a dangerous man, that we get a glimmer into the actual horrors of these crime stories, that everything is truthful, that nothing has been unnecessarily overblown purely for the purposes of revenue. Jacques Mesrine, as frighteningly portrayed by the excellent Vincent Cassel, is a man whose life is a nonstop roller-coaster of carnage and violence, he is a man who is utterly incapable of escaping the life he leads and what's more is that he has no notions of leaving it, not even when the wife of his two children pleads with him to remain on the straight and narrow. Cassel is a commanding on screen presence, managing to evoke a charm and sense of warmth from the audience as we cheer him on in certain circumstances, then being able to switch to a cold, calculating, carefree individual while maintaining the integrity of the character. Unfortunately, while Cassel's acting brings Mesrine to life on celluloid, the story which makes up "Part I" is confined to the existence he experienced and herein lies an issue. Through no fault of the criminal in question, Richet finds himself walking into an unexpected problem that is we, as an audience, have already seen everything. We have seen a man physical abuse the one person who loves him as something more than a hired gun in Goodfellas. We have seen a character return from the army to be corrupted by the lures of the "mob" lifestyle in The Godfather. We have seen fanciful shoot out sequences in Heat. We have seen hostage taking go wrong in Dog Day Afternoon, unfortunately for Mesrine his life is nothing new to those that have already been initiated into the film world, and while retelling these specific events from his own personal standpoint is not a cardinal sin the unoriginality with which it is filmed is.

Having viewed the initial five minute opening segment of "L'instinct de mort" you can be forgiven for expecting something more slick, stylish and, frankly, French than what is presented. Those opening moments hook the viewer instantly as, what we assume to be, Mesrine and a female accomplice cautiously and carefully try and escape from the police in what is an almost Rififi-esquire moment of cinema. No words are spoken, yet a cool bass line pulses in the background as the screen is broken down into boxes which show the two individuals attempting their escape from three different angles, each running a couple of seconds out of sync with the other. It is an engrossing opening, which is sadly never followed upon throughout the following duration of the film. Why this is not done is puzzling, because it is quite clearly the most original and stylish aspect of the film. Yes there are dens, mansions and parties that provide for shady, smokey, under lighted set pieces that provide atmosphere, and at the very least a setting, but there is nothing that quite grabs you again. The compositions and angles from a directorial standpoint renege any sense of individualism becoming, in the process, much more generic as the film progresses. Jean- Francois Richet must stand accused of allowing "L'instinct de mort" to disintegrate from crisp and unique to widescreen and Hollywood.

It's difficult to completely write the film off as it manages to tell an interesting story of a man that few in this country will have heard anything about, in a way that is familiar to the westernised audiences yet carrying a hallmark of being slightly different, if not entirely left field. The advent of the gangster film en mass, however, has somewhat deadened the impact this film could otherwise have possessed as they have all in their own ways seemingly taken any originality out of, what is otherwise, a nigh on implausible unbelievable story, only held together by the simple fact that it all occurred. Richet has undertaken a brave and bold project which has been met with generally positive reviews, and rightly so, it is just a desire of the viewer to experience more than a director simply opening a book and retelling the words from within. While "L'instinct de mort" is undoubtedly an enjoyable experience, the slight feeling of disappointment would have been lessened had the director perhaps shown more faith in his film making, been a bit more brave, a bit more stylish, a bit more brutal and shown the "killer instinct" needed to make a classic.

Thus after the searing mediocrity and blatant intermediary qualities of "Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix" we arrive at the "darkest" of all the wizards novel to film exports, "Harry Potter And The Half-Blood Prince". For the second time in the series we have a director undertaking the following instalment of our wand waving hero's tale, which begs the question whether or not the studio executives are at all interested in these films. It seems that any appreciation for cinematic achievement has been jettisoned given that the two stand out films in this tale were those directed by one time only "guest" directors Alfonso Cuaron and Mike Newell. However, that is not to say that David Yates hasn't learnt from the failings of his previous experience, and it's also not to say that he has as well.

Evidently, it seems to be the norm for any film which deems itself to be "dark", "brooding" or "foreboding" simply to turn down the brightness of the lights to achieve this feat. No longer must attention be paid to the frivolous ideals of suspense and atmosphere that must painstakingly be achieved through the use of all the cinematic tools at a directors disposal (including the actors) so as to engulf the audience in the sense of despair and emptiness like was felt at the end of The Empire Strikes Back, for example. No, now a film must merely have the reputation for being "dark" to be classified as such. What is, in hindsight, an increasingly annoying trait about this film is its inability to build enough steam to reach the overwhelming sense of dysphoria it aims to achieve. "Harry Potter And The Half Blood Prince" finds its main plot line increasingly usurped by the secondary detailings of the magical castles students romantic affairs, which stagnates the story and does not provide for free flowing gravitas and the all important sense of unavoidable doom. We all know, even those that have not read the books such as I, of the inevitable and impending outcome of the story, but the entire film feels as if it's one hundred and twenty minutes just to watch one character snuff it. The same criticisms I levelled at the last instalment apply just as much, if not more so, to this one because "The Half Blood Prince" shouldn't feel like an intermediary story but comes across precisely as that, as if we somehow only paid money for the conclusion and everything else was surplus.

To give the films helmsman the credit he deserves, Yates is still capable of composing some very crisp looking scenescapes and finds himself backed by an unexpected, yet pleasingly macabre, score which is utilised at surprisingly limited intervals to heighten its impact. However, in a film which finds itself besotted with a ridiculously unassailable amount of inter-character relationships which continuously change more rapidly than it does take the film to spout out a new Latin word, the directors' inability to successfully deal with those individual characters hampers the film significantly. His lack of ambition in challenging the overseer of Madam Rowling to either elongate and make more serious the evolving relationships, or lessen their presence altogether belies a lack of direction from a man whose title implies as such.

Once again, Rickman and Gambon provide substance to roles that would seem ridiculous in the hands of others, while Grint and Radcliffe continue to avoid the on screen pitfalls of puberty to provide decent attempts in their respective roles of Ron and Harry. Unfortunately, Emma Watson once more steals the show as the most grating on screen presence since George Lucas decided what Star Wars really needed was a leaping platypus. In its defence, there is not a great deal wrong with "Harry Potter And The Half-Blood Prince", it tells its tale as it needs to, recounting the major details from the book while trying desperately to retain that sense of mysticism, wonderment and more importantly a connection with the characters. It's just that it does this in an underwhelmingly spectacular fashion that offers the casual viewer nothing more than yet another episode in the Harry Potter series without providing enough context. Perhaps a more in-depth focus on Voldemort may have yielded results, sending cold chills down our collective viewing spines, or maybe provide a greater sense of why it was the dark forces felt the need to eliminate who they did and what it would mean to them as opposed to a mere notch on the killing chart. In all, Harry Potter proves to be yet more inoffensive summer "blockbuster" viewing which will entertain, as they often claim they do, yet deaden the mind and the wallet. I suppose the one thing which sums up the ineptitude of this film the most successfully is that I watched it intently for two hours and still have no idea what the Half- Blood Prince means, or adds to the story.

With a film title such as this, it is unavoidable that Ji-Woon Kim's latest foray will be compared to Sergio Leone's epic masterpiece that is "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly", and while the comparison is not entirely necessary to write a critique without bringing it up is ignoring the obvious. In 2005, Ji-Woon Kim released the highly lauded and severely engaging film "A Bittersweet Life", in which he took the reformed gangster plot device and twisted it wonderfully to create an intelligent action-thriller. It is evident that in the aftermath of his unprecedented international success, Ji-Woon Kim was given free reign to create any film of his choosing, spawning the genesis to his latest endeavour "The Good, The Bad and The Weird".

We all have films that we classify as being in our "top ten" or even "top five", films that speak to us on a level that we are so incredibly immersed within the story being told that we connect on a subconscious level to create unbound admiration. Ji-Woon Kim has a passion for the spaghetti western, and climax to the "Man With No Name" trilogy, "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly" and with his free license has not intended to copy, parody or pastiche Leone's creation but to attempt to create an Easternised Western using the fore-mentioned film as a template. Inevitably, the director has had to update the story and transplant the time line for a completely new audience and to maintain historical plausibility which is admirable but his nature as an action film director proves to be the films Achilles heel.

To say there is little plot in this film is to say there is too much, for after the films introductory, and satisfactory, skirmish the story descends into the chase of a map which is about as flimsy as the glue that, allegedly, holds the plot together. The story hops gleefully, and unashamedly, from one action scene to the next, and while the criticisms that the sequences are fifteen minutes in excess of what they should be are accurate, it is the overwhelming lack of perspective or objective that infuriates the viewer. It is all well and good having a twenty minute battle royale in the middle of a desert, incorporating all the warring factions within the story but to have nothing more than a simply cut and one of the protagonists to be miles away in complete isolation without one of the hundreds chasing him in sight is nonsensical and irritating. Perhaps though, the most frustrating is the lack of development in the three most important pieces of this puzzle. For example Woo-sung Jung, who plays "The Good", has studied the Clint Eastwood films thoroughly mimicking his stance, tone and style in his attempt to recreate the feel of his character, yet lacks the aura and gravitas of Eastwood to pull off the anti-hero role sufficiently. Not simply this, but at this stage in Leone's trilogy the "Man With No Name" while still fixated with obtaining his fortune had softened as an individual making it easier for the audience to connect with him come the final confrontation. With Ji-woo Kim's version it is unintentionally the case that the character traits of all three interchange at varying junctures making it nigh on impossible to sympathise enough with one individual character to make us care about the film in anything more than two hours of mind numbing action.

As not to completely eviscerate the film there are notable plus points which must be mentioned as the score overlaying the film is perfect for a film of this sort carrying along the action elements with a slight undertone of Morriconne's iconic creation. Ji-woon Kim shows he is still a director worth worrying over as there are some luscious landscapes in his rich and vivid cinematography, showing he knows how to capture a film while Kang-ho Song shows his versatility as he adds zany charm to a list of roles which include his undoubtedly iconic revenge driven "Park Dong-jin" in Chan-wook Park's "Sympathy For Mr Vengeance". These noted exemptions aside, one cannot help but feel that "The Good, The Bad and The Weird" is an ultimately hollow experience, a concept which had all the tools to be a success yet escapes into the comfort of an action genre all too frequently. It leaves me personally wishing Ji-woon Kim would have shown the characteristics of his earlier work "A Bittersweet Life" and taken the arguably more pretentious but the more rewarding route of jettisoning some action and slowing the pace of the story down so as to allow the characters the time to develop and flourish and not be the mere cutout clichés that they occasionally turn out to be. What sums this film up perfectly is its ending sequence which utilises the same dramatic tension that Leone so wonderfully created, before shattering that illusion and choosing the most clichéd, ridiculous and unfortunately laughable of all the available alternate endings. "The Good, The Bad And The Weird" goes down in history, as of 2009, as being the most expensive South Korean film made, yet if Hollywood has taught us anything it is that bigger and more expensive does not always mean better. While "The Good, The Bad And The Weird" is unintelligibly watchable you do wonder if this, or another of South Korea's plethora of talented directors could have created a grander cinematic experience for a few dollars less.

"La Habitación de Fermat" or "Fermat's Room" to us English speakers, is a Spanish thriller that focuses a great deal around mathematics and problem solving in order a tense sequence of events in its own unique manner. "Fermat's Room" utilises concepts from various sources, in particular there is quite a similarity between it and the American crime-drama that is "Numb3rs", were you to heighten the interpersonal action and tone down the mathematics. It also features an intertwining story line where characters are not always who they appear to be, in a similar manner to those found in films such as "Fight Club" or "Memento". Unfortunately for directors Luis Piedrahita and Rodrigo Sopeña it leads to the film coming across as highly unpolished and indeed somewhat garbled in parts, as it becomes apparent they clearly had their minds determined to include certain set pieces and key moments without any real idea how to properly link them together through the dialogue to create a coherent plot.

Detailing the meet of four strangers under mysterious circumstances and the promise of solving the worlds most complicated enigma, the mathematicians follow a cryptic series of events which leads them to an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the country. Of the four we have two young protégé's, a grizzled toy manufacturer and an elderly mathematician who is tired of life and is intrigued by the prospect of one last great outing. They find themselves entering an vibrantly decorated room containing a blackboard, table, chairs, sofa, several bookcases worth of material and each other for company as they await their promised enigma by the elusive "Fermat". What follows is a sequence of events where they find themselves locked in this already claustrophobic room being forced to solve puzzles in under a minute and if failing finding the room closing in on them with the aid of four hydraulic compressors.

As a thriller, "Fermat's" does create moments of genuine tension as the score underlining the enclosing room does set the heart racing in a Hitchcockian ratcheting up of nerves which is superbly conveyed by two of the outstanding four cast members, in Lluís (accent included) Homar and Santi Millán. However, despite the promise "Fermat's Room" never delivers on the expectation and finds itself stumbling along without enough plausible gravitas in the dialogue to make the revelation an open-mouthed experience. Once the games begin the film settles into an all too formulaic pattern of when a puzzle is transmitted, one of the four will "begin working" on it while the other three engage in heightened communications to try and push forward the relationships between the four characters and how they may, or may not, be connected. Lacking the necessary x-factor to thoroughly engage the audience, the film itself also falls foul of an unforgivable sin and that is not being tight enough to make such a far fetched story even remotely believable. The film creates its own plot holes and casually drops in lines, one in particular about "Oliva" enjoying illegal activities yet never following through on what those specific activities are. What is the point in having a character say something which potentially could further the interest in that character only to not provide resolution? If Pascal finds out that Fermat is the father of a daughter he accidentally killed, why does it take the photo of his daughter after he has left the room for him to recognise him? How does the culprit plan on escaping the tightening dungeon when his proposed means of escape is perhaps the least subtle that he could imagine? Why do characters pick up pieces of information which would lead to the identity of the culprit and not follow through? The individuals within do not act with any rationale or reason, especially given their logical backgrounds and lead to an all too frustrating experience, indeed, even more so when one of the problems that is presented within the film is answered incorrectly and that's supposed to be its main selling point.

"Fermat's Room" was and is an unfortunately disappointing experience which promises the viewer a unique thrilling roller-coaster but presents the metaphorical equivalent of a log flume ride, it's "wishy-washy" and all down hill after the start. It is not polished enough to hit the heights that the directors have wished to achieve it comes across too often as set pieces which have been linked together and a nonsensical run of twists and interactions which are underdeveloped or not worth having been developed in the first place. I truly wished to enjoy the experience, yet the more that you think about the film the more it continues to disappoint, not because it is that awful but simply because it had potential to be much more than the sum of its parts. This Spanish thriller sets itself out to be a thinking mans thriller, to attempt to achieve a cinematic comparison to that of a rubix cube yet after serious critical analysis comes across more like a defunct abacus.

Break out your pen, score charts and clear that throat to complain about "bloc-voting" as we are dragged along like a "puppet on a string" by director Jamie Jay Johnson as he takes us on a journey into the musical unknown of Junior Eurovision. It says a great deal about we English and our collective lack of interest in the post- millennium Eurovision contest not only that we wouldn't be able to name this years winner, but that there was a competition, of the same name, dedicated solely to children between the ages of 11-15, which 23 million people watched, and we knew nothing about it...until now. Johnson's "popumentary" is a light hearted, yet serious affair that asks us to challenge our preconceptions by getting us to peer through the glitz and gaiety of the competition and see the real people that take, perhaps, the biggest journey of their lives.

"Sounds Like Teen Spirit" charts the stories of varying acts from across the European spectrum as they transcend from mere contenders in their homelands, to challenging for the 'perspex' cup that symbolises the true importance behind the competition, the prestige of being Eurovision champion. Johnson's style of filming is a very sympathetic affair as he treats his (not always) miniature subjects with a great deal of patience and compassion, always leaving the camera rolling long enough to pick up a gem of a quote or a momentary caricatural insight. He also has a penchant for picking up, not just insights in what is said, but what is around them with revealing pan-shots giving these characters a greater sense of humanity and that they are as vulnerable as every other "normal" child. But what helps catapult this into a league of its own as an engaging piece of work is the dry wit and timing that our guide has, capturing some unbelievably hysterical moments, even by filming something as ostensibly bland as fruit. Johnson's major skill is the ability to fuse the two fore-mentioned points and create a sense of empathy from the audience, drawing us closer in to a world which belies a sense of simplicity with its use of pyrotechnics and hosts with ludicrously over-the-top floral blasers.

It would be easy to be dismissive of the talent prior to a screening of this documentary as know-it-all, self-indulgent, selfish little devils and madams sporting more make-up than an "Olay" factory but that would be ill-advised. The children followed are surprisingly well- developed and philosophical about their journeys and perhaps give a greater feel of world- weariness than we are used to viewing in children, making it all the more compelling. Each bring a differing approach to the contest and each give a bit to the audience in return. Giorgos, the 11 year old Cypriot with an English accent that wouldn't be out of place in Kensington has been the recipient of taunts that he's homosexual down to his singing and lack of interest in all things football. The way he retells his tale and skulks around the school quietly singing while addressing the camera, wary of onlookers, is a heart warming and saddening affair, how someone with undoubted talent and had won his countries regional selection process, could still be so ill-treated. His philosophy, admirably, is to not pay attention and perhaps one day thank them for their jeering as a means of inspiring him to follow his dream. On the other end of the spectrum are "Trüst", the Belgian entrants that pip the very first child interviewed into the finals, who have an almost worryingly laissez faire attitude to the competition but mask a greater appreciation of the competition. While they may come across to many as "dotish", their drummers' statement that "it doesn't matter where we finish so long as we play well...if we don't play well it could kill our music career" highlights an understanding of the music worlds workings and above all a determination that could go otherwise missed. Accompanying them are Marina from Bulgaria, a member of seven piece "Bon-Bon" that hopes her father may be watching and return to his abandoned family if she puts in a performance to remind him that he's "left something good behind"; Mari from Georgia who believes, and is right to do so, that a stellar turn out of her traditional folk-dance mash up, will catapult her country into having a greater say in European affairs; and a whole host of nonsensical acts involving bright orange jackets, worryingly under-dressed "librarians" and an act solely based on the premise of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"...no prizes in guessing their nationality.

There are many references through this "popumentary" to the history of the European people and the continual battles and battlefields that we have found ourselves engaging in over the countless centuries. From the Crusades through to the Crimean there has been a history of warfare which Johnson now believes has manifested itself in the forms of the respective Eurovision competitions, noting light heartedly that there have been no European wars since the introduction of the "kids" event. While his comments are somewhat tongue-in-cheek there is an element of seriousness to his claim and perhaps leads itself into a serious commentary on current European politics and social-interaction than the mere quip would entail. Regardless, of the intent, "Sounds Like Teen Spirit" will warm even the most anti-miniature flag wavers' heart by showing these children as simply that, and not as shrunken prima donna's inflating their own sense of self importance. It is a skillfully crafted piece of cinema that manages to turn the oddest subject matter into a meaningful voyage of entertainment and self discovery. As Giorgos states in the last moments "I have had such a fun time here, but now I think someone else should have that fun" proving that many here are wise beyond their years. These truly are "Rock N Roll Kids".

The re-imagining (royalties go to Ronald D Moore for that words introduction into sci-fi) of the classic cult science fiction series is nothing short of a Hollywood bonanza, fusing together the sensibilities of the original show with an "updated" and "modern" out look, as Kirk and co's modern counterparts begin their outings as the new standard bearers for the franchise. Normally any Hollywood influence to any prequels, sequels or remakes certifies that it's going to be a money making venture with no real substance as a film, and coming across as an explosion action-packed case study in Michael Bay-ology, however in this instance, for once, it pays dividends.

Firstly, credit must be given to the writers and director who take a very sympathetic approach to the original source material that they are using for their 2009 experience. Star Trek (2009) as a result is not a "remake" but what can be attributed as being a "second generation" creation. J J Abrams, manages to tell a tale where he can use the preconceived characters but yet alter them, the ship and various other aspects ever so slightly to fit his retelling whilst it still being a Star Trek tale, in that it has the characters of Kirk, Spock, McCoy et al. By interlinking the two universes or "generations" through the old science fiction staple of black holes and time travel he justifies his new creation while taking nothing away from the originals which many hold dear to their hearts.

So with the original series careful wrapped up in cotton wool, Abrams gives himself the ability to create his universe as he sees fit, and it possesses a very contemporary feel. It's a very flashy experience, utilising the vast amounts of money that Hollywood can literally warp at the directors but it pays off in its own unique way. The new feel lifts the premise of the film, it takes it from a thing which people would have been mocked for being a fan of into being something cool and attainable by all. This in itself may be a backhanded slap to the Trekkies, and they may feel aggrieved by a new wave of fan that adore this new outing but cannot stand the original, but even they must appreciate that it still harbours the very essence of all things Trekkian. We still have speeches on quantum mechanics, warp fusion cores and all the other facets that comprised many minutes of television time, but it no longer is the driving force behind the story, but more importantly it is no longer the alienating force it once was either. Once again, the "faithful" may find it blasphemous and be on forums the web over typing up how disgusted they are but it makes a much more enjoyable experience, a more inclusive experience whereby invisible answers which have no grounding in our understanding of the world are not used to solve problems far beyond many peoples comprehension. By simplifying the premise they heighten the enjoyment, this does not feel like an extended edition on a television episode, this feels like a thoroughbred film as it oozes coolness from every angle, in basic they've made the franchise more believable.

While the story isn't exactly the deepest ever conceived, a mad man who has been wronged demanding retribution for acts upon him, it is held together by an excellent cast which the production and directorial teams should be commended for. The use of a character from the original series tightens what little plot there is creating a believable experience, but the re- imagined individuals set this apart from many other attempted recreations of famous franchises. Chris Pine's Kirk focuses less on the philosophising action man in space elements of his former self and turns him into more of an Indiana Jones character, a wrong place at the wrong time but always able to get through it - man, which brings out a playful side and endearing quality not previously seen before in the Enterprises' captain. Zachary Quinto is undoubtedly the star performer bringing forth a vulnerability and charm that was not truly seen in Spock until "The Wrath Of Khan" while Karl Urbans' "Bones" is replicated perfection and goes along way into helping the audience becoming absorbed with the outing. The supporting cast provides warmth and charm in their roles reminding us that we don't need to get caught up in the technological and spacial faux pas. In all each other actors make the roles their own, they put a new slant on each while also leaving them still resembling their "generation one" counterparts. It is safe to say they carry a film which is low on plot and make it a thoroughly enjoyable roller-coaster, turning a film that I was worried would be like a Michael Bay film into a sci-fi/action film of space-age substance and charm.

J J Abrams has given Star Trek the "Batman Begins" treatment, taking a concept with a hardcore fan base but a mass appeal that has somewhat waned in those outside that niche grouping. He has taken the very best parts of what made that first series so successful and fused it with a sense of entertainment and willingness to entertain that could have failed, turning it into nothing more than an action-schmaltz, yet succeeded. The 2009 version of Star Trek is more Return of The Jedi than Revenge of The Sith, more Solyaris than Solaris and more Aliens than Alien vs Predator 2. It isn't trying to compete with that original series from which it basis itself, it isn't trying to out do it and it isn't trying to make it obsolete, it's just a fresh spin from a director who has fresh ideas who has made this first installment a highly engaging (pun intended) experience, allowing everyone to join in with the voyages of the Enterprise.

"Tekkonkinkreet", literally translated as reinforced concrete, is an hypnotic experience set upon the kaleidoscopic drop of some truly gorgeous drawings which tells the tale of two street urchins as they do battle with an array of colourful characters in order to defend their city from being taken over. Adapted from the three volume manga series by Taiyo Matsumoto, the film doesn't usually carry the infuriating hallmarks of a manga-to-anime switch over, which can often make the film an unenjoyable experience as the viewer struggles to come to terms with the story and characters and in the process miss the film. In this instance, any preconceptions are staved as "Tekkonkinkreet" absorbs the viewer all but instantly in a cacophony of animation, sound and, perhaps surprisingly, emotion.

Tekkonkinkreets original manga form is what is known as a "seinen" manga, which is a subset of the animated genre which targets males, usually, from between the ages of eighteen and thirty, and as a twenty-four year old male myself, I perhaps enjoyed it more than others outside my demographic bracket. Ostensibly, it is a boys film as the premise bases itself on gangster films as our two street urchin protagonists, the aptly named "Black" and "White" find themselves coming into contact with an ever escalating array of Yakuza as they try to take over the ridiculously sublime "Treasure Town". There is a great deal of violence within the film (which while in my eyes completely justifies the progression of the film is incredibly misleading when you look at the UK Film Certificate Branding of a mere 12) as the battles waged become more intense, more bloody and more important to the survival of our two heroes. Tekkonkinkreet also utilises a much more avant-garde style of animation which we are currently beginning to see more of in the western world as an increasing acceptance of things which are outside of the "norm" are filtering through, and it is certainly befitting of the style. Tekkonkinkreet successfully delivers on appeasing any and all who are looking for high quality hand drawn animation which surpasses the eternally vapid conveyor belt of repetitiveness that is Pixar, but it also delivers on being more than just a "fighting" film.

The intrinsic parts of Tekkonkinkreet prove in being the messages the director and original creator are wishing to convey to their audiences, of which there are two major points. Firstly, we have the ying and yang nature of Black and White, how their coexistence is precisely that, how they are mirror images of each other, how in essence they are two parts of the same hole and that you could be forgiven for thinking someone spliced a singular entity at birth to form two. "Black" is the streetwise member of the "Cats", as they are known within the city, as he has a savvy and cunning which has enabled he and white to be high on the Treasure Town food chain. As expected for being orphaned children, each have their issues, and with Black it is the impression that he is only one bad day away from total insanity and mental breakdown, while with "White" the issue is if he were to have a mental breakdown it wouldn't have much to break. White is stated as being eleven within the film yet quite clearly finds it difficult keeping a grasp on reality and his surroundings as his mental age is quite obviously, less than that. However, it is not merely how much White relies on Black for survival with the treacherous confines, but it is also how much Black relies on White, as the director twists the uses of Black and White and indeed Good and Evil as roles interchange in all quarters. Secondly, we have yet again another confrontation, another coming together of two forces yet this time it is more theory based. Treasure Town is a gloriously colourful island sitting sedately in the centre of a river yet its buildings and inhabitants for all their grandeur seem incredibly outdated. Treasure Town isn't exactly a time warp but you could be forgiven for thinking so, it is a place contented in its own time, but for the Yakuza this is not acceptable as they wish to bring Treasure Town forward into the 21st Century, to update the scenery, to turn it into a money making venture of epic proportions . This second theme resonates with a fear of old replacing new, yet the new not being perhaps as grand as everyone believes it to be, it is a fear of traditions being eradicated by a machine which has no need for sentiment, and this feeling, from both points of view, is embedded within characters on all sides of the battle.

Tekkonkinkreet is a highly charged emotional film, which looks at characters interactions and dependence on each other the yings and yangs within the city itself, the coming together of old and new and more evidently, people's desire for power. The phrase "my city" is uttered on numerous occasions as individuals all attempt to lay claim to the treasured turf, yet none truly understanding what the phrase means or why they are saying it. Tekkonkinkreet is a highly successful anime, which blends together elements of crime, violence, humour and fantasy creating a cerebral journey for the senses as director Michael Arias superbly transcribes this moralistic tale with an energetic style of directing which perhaps possesses some of the best and "coolest" "reveal" shots in recent times. Tekkkonkinkreet is an absorbing adventure which transcends genres and blurs styles in a hot pot of beautiful angst and proves itself to be worth a watch for any who allows themselves to be enveloped by a world which is never told in black and white.

An immensely rough experience from a viewing standpoint, and a difficult one to resolve from a critical one, "Bad Lieutenant" is a harrowing tale of a decaying man as his life spirals out of control in a brutal, and often shocking, fashion. Lasting only ninety-six minutes but feeling much longer, "Bad Lieutenant" sucks you in to what you believe at first to be the tale of a crooked cop before the realisation slowly dawns upon the viewer that this is going to be much more unpleasant than any "gritty" 'corrupt police officer' film that you'll have seen before. "Bad Lieutenant" is the systematic and compulsive destruction of the nameless protagonist in a film which can have you feeling as emetic as Harvey Keitel's character does on screen.

Any viewer who watches this film under the delusion that Keitel's character is anywhere near comparable to his "Mr White" in "Reservoir Dogs" will find themselves in for the shock of their lives. In what is undoubtedly his most sublime on screen acting performance Keitel conveys believability by endowing his character with a harsh sense of reality leaving the cinematographic term "gritty" to be definitively redefined. The Lieutenant played is not merely a corrupt cop but a man who has no control over reality, a man who is an addict on all levels as he corrodes his body with the ridiculous amount of drugs consumed throughout, and burns a hole in his wallet as he gambles uncontrollably. He is a man losing his mind minute by minute, who finds himself digging a deeper and deeper pit for what is seemingly an inevitable grave.

While being probably one of the most upsettingly disturbing stories in cinematic history, the one key criticism from most is the perceived wafer-thin plot that accompanies the grandeur of Keitel. In what is ostensibly a side story, but dove tails nicely into the "Lieutenants" tale, a nun is raped by two individuals that she herself teaches and looks after at the Catholic church and school she is apart of. Frankie Thorn as the nun, is the antithesis to Keitel's lieutenant. She commands the screen with a contemplative sense of redemption, a woman that has so little, who is then abused ruthlessly, and yet is still willing to forgive those that committed the horrors against her. As Keitel investigates, interspersed heavily with gambling, drug taking and the occasional abuse of his police powers, the link between our two key characters is slowly revealed, as Keitel is shown watching his daughter receive her first Holy Communion at the Catholic church he attends, all the while orchestrating another bet with his bookie beside him. The interesting juxtaposition is subtle while sledgehammer blatant. Keitel wears a cross around his neck and for him is the cross he bears, the shadowing hanging over him, throughout the film. It is a reminder of a previous life, and also a reminder of what he could, and can be. The further into the mire he sinks, the more he references his religious beliefs and uses them to try and convince others, while mainly himself, of his righteous creed, all the while the recovering nun draws upon her belief as a means of strength, rationale and justification.

"Bad Lieutenant" is not your usual good cop gone wrong tale, and I would heavily warn those that are expecting shoot outs at dawn to stay well clear. "Bad Lieutenant" is a tale of realisation and redemption but primarily of the abuse and corruption of the human body and spirit. Keitel's character comes across as someone that tried to do the right thing yet finds himself spiraling downward while one of the more interesting points is the sense of restraint he gives his character, that for all his drug taking and gambling addiction, that he despises himself for it, that he wishes he weren't doing it, and more importantly that he has no fun doing it, but that it has just come habit. "Bad Lieutenant" is a hard hitting film which will uppercut those not ready for it into a depressive coma, because to be frank, "Bad" doesn't begin to cover how far removed from "Bad" the "Lieutenant" is.

Literally translated into "City of the Persians", Persepolis is a biographical tale following the trials and tribulations of an Iranian born woman named Marjane Satrapi. Set upon the backdrop of contemporary Iranian politics and history, Persepolis charts her young life as she learns about revolution, rock music and the harsh realities that the modern day world has to offer. It is a simplistically complex, fictionally factional story which is at times funny and in others sections touchingly poignant while always being brutally honest, as she brings her unique perspective from graphic novel onto the big screen.

Initially, most striking is the style of animation which is employed throughout the duration of Marjane's story. It is a unique fusion of seemingly simple child-like figures that vary from the normal to almost Monty Python-styled moments of parody and satire, to a delicate understated eye for subtle craftsmanship that interweaves throughout the scenes. Obviously, after the completion of the film, the animation can undeservedly take a back seat in ones mind when compared and contrasted with all the powerful emotions that course through this film, but the most wonderful thing and hand drawn story telling is it opens more options than its live action cousin. Persepolis is a mere ninety minutes in length, yet so much is said and told and not all of it through the use of dialogue. What Persepolis manages to achieve is being able to tell the tales of Marjane and her family and inform us of the historical and political backgrounds of Iran by seamlessly merging into these pictorial vignettes which end up conveying more than a verbal retelling could ever manage. Its animation is as warm and as infectious as the story that unravels, providing a wonderful counterpart to the meat of this piece of cinema.

I've read one or two negative reviews from ultra-liberals that state this is propaganda, claiming it to be a non too subtle means of asking the western world to intervene in Iranian politics, but that is biased unpoliticised nonsense. This is only propaganda so far as that this is one persons tale, from an incredibly strong woman, who has gone against the repressive conventions of her country and managed to document her life and her opinions on the world which she has experienced. Whether these are wholly factual I would suppose is up for debate, but the sincerity, honesty and warmth which is felt when watching Persepolis would lead most rational viewers to conclude that Marjane Satrapi has bared her soul in her work.

While Persepolis may not be a historical document it is certainly informative, and because we know the goings on that are providing the backdrop for this film were and are real it gives a greater sense of importance and meaning than any imagined text possibly could. Charting Marjane, we follow her through the Iranian revolution as the Shah and their royal lineage ruled with an iron fist over the populous before being over thrown and replaced by a government which made the iron fist look like a wet glove. It puts into context how much our protagonist as an individual how to weigh up in her mind, as she fights with her head and her heart, with the former telling her it is essential to leave, while her heart yearns to be with the loving family that lives in her homeland. Persepolis,however, not only shows the repressive, extremist views of the "modern" Iranian state but tackles in an equally unrestrained and delicate manner the uninformed stereotypically infused views and the often self-centrally deluded attitudes of western society, and how we can find ourselves equally repressive in various other ways.

Persepolis is a heart felt, heart wrenching, heart warming and well humoured film of a growing girl whose two most important figures in her life are her God and Karl Marx. It is a unique film which has no contemporaries in the originality stakes which is infinitely charming and should not be missed by any lover of animated films, foreign films or just film as a medium. True to itself and the author who experienced everything from unfaithful lovers to atrocities of war, Persepolis is an excellent film which pummels the pesky rodents of Ratatouille in a rat shaped mush because, to be frank, it is much more deserving than the mere nomination it received for best animation.

The Battlestar Galactica mini-series is a two hour and a half extravaganza that sets itself up as an introduction to the forth coming full series, detailing the Cylon's attack on the twelve human colonies, that leaves the 'Galactica' and her rag tag fleet of civilian vehicles as the only thing between their robotic nemeses and total eradication of the human race. It pays homage to the original series and indeed as well as re-imagining its predecessor, attempts in its own way to gift them both existence in the same plane. More importantly, however, the mini- series sets out to stamp its own authority on the highly lacking sci-fi series universe using its brand of sublime special effects, intense action, gripping storyline and absorbing characters (even if one in particular is, thankfully, never seen again) to hook you from the get go so that you go further and search for its subsequent seasons.

However, and unfortunately there is a however, the very first episode of the first season is an incredibly difficult place to start for those that have not watched the mini-series. Personally half way through the lengthy introduction I went out to purchase both seasons 1 and 2 on DVD as I was hooked, but the seasons do not lend themselves to watching without the introduction. So much happens and takes place and is set up in the preceding film that any one who you have recommended the new look "Battlestar" to simply must view this first, otherwise subtle nuances and plot points will be lost. Why is this such an issue? Simply because the "Mini-Series", while an enjoyable entertaining affair, does not prepare you for how good episode one is, and how you are then catapulted into a world which will eat away hours of your life. This first instalment is unrefined: certain quotations and characters are unnecessarily placed within it to cater to the original fan base (I'm also aware the director and producer are seeing what works within their construct) one of which is so far removed from needed that it almost spoils the experience. The dialogue is also in a rough stage of development, whereby the outlines of characters must be forged so the conversations and interactions don't flow as smoothly as they should, and can provide for a partially cringe worthy affair.

However, I will maintain (as I have to many friends I have recommended it to) that perseverance is the key. You will not appreciate the greatness of the subsequent seasons without ploughing through the mini-series. Not that the mini-series isn't an enjoyable watch, but for those who are still undecided about the concept or not immensely avid science fiction fans, it can come across as turgid and clichéd, which is why I would suggest watching the first episode of the series immediately thereafter. If that doesn't capture your imagination then Battlestar Galactica is not for you. It is a great deal of time to invest in what is nothing more, for the cynics, than a dirge-fest of a 70s show transported into the noughties equipped with blonde bombshells and everything that any prepubescent needs in its sci-fi, but BSG is so much more than that, and to be frank, the quality of the show means that there are not many cynics about. Countless times, before I began watching, I read and read in various television supplements that this was and is the best thing on television, and to be frank they are right, for once you are involved it's a sterling whirlwind, but this two and a half hour affair is a must if you are to fully appreciate the series. If you enjoy or have enjoyed this instalment you will adore the series, for those still undecided I would recommend watching the first episode and judge from there whether you wish to continue, and for those that found this tedious and science fiction twaddle...well...you can just frak off!

A simply stunning anime, "Paranoia Agent" is a thoughtfully thought out trip into psychosis and the darker aspects of the human psyche. With a no holds barred approach to its philosophical and occasionally violent story telling, it highlights the very best that is achievable through the medium of anime with a plot line that is as dark as it is witty and as disturbing as it is intelligent. "Paranoia Agent" is one of those few serial creations that will have you hooked from the very first episode and have your mind salivating for more once it concludes, it is supremely assured from its style to its substance and will toy with your mind in the best possible ways.

Set over thirteen episodes of crisply created animation, "Paranoia Agent" is a paranormal, psychological thriller which charts two men in the Tokyo Police Force investigated the sudden spates of attacks of members of the public by an entity known as "lil slugger". With the first attack having taken place on the creator of popular creator of the sensationally cute dog "Mamori", we discover that "lil slugger" is a metal bat waving, rollerblading teenager. As the investigation progresses and the police become more attached to the case and more victims fall at the hands of this crazed child things take a decidedly more "surreal" turn as things become complicated.

Successfully fusing style, ideas, intrigue and compelling characters, Satoshi Kon has created not just one of the best anime's in recent times, but also one of the most sublime series in recent times. "Paranoia Agent" is a powerful tour de force that will veer from moments of you scratching your head to shocking your eyes, through to putting a knife through your heart. It is a study in humanity and the human psyche, handling characters in difficult positions that would in other programmes feel contrived and forced. It stretches the boundary of its environment and the sanity of your mind as you find yourself falling as deep as the characters into this surrealistically normal construct. Satoshi Kon has not merely created something that every fan of anime must surely possess in their collection, but something that certainly deserves wider recognition and broadcasting than that what is has achieved already. This is thought provoking entertainment that rivals recent animated hits like "Broken Saints" and leaves many others reeling in its wake, but "Paranoia Agent" must be seen to be believed and understood. Rollerblades have never been so scary.

Any film which sets out to make a mockery of the dubious cliques that form the upper echelons of society does tend to lose its satirical poignancy when one of the films stars "banishes" the writer of the source material from set because he tries to aid in the acting process. "How To Lose Friends & Alientate People" charts the rise and fall (or fall and rising depending on point of view) of British journalist Sidney Young as he swaps his role as editor of his niche celebrity-bashing magazine to being one of the grunts at internationally renowned celebrity worshipping magazine "Sharps". "How To Lose Friends" follows Sidney through this process as he fights internally with his own integrity and externally, as his bumbling nature seems to create chaos out of everything in or around him.

"How To Lose Friends" is at its heart a parody of all this associated with celebrity, the severe brown-nosing, the pretend allegiances and self-interest based loyalties that drive all these separate machines into, as the film would seem to phrase it, conning the public. The film attempts to achieve its goal through the usage of what to be fair is a broad spectrum of comedy, ranging from the subtle to the farcical and is very reminiscent of the unofficial "A Fish Called Wanda" sequel "Fierce Creatures". Unfortunately where "Fierce Creatures", while not as good as its "prequel", absorbed you through the verging on absurd plot "How To Lose Friends" comes across as immensely generic, with its story line often feeling forced too frequently. The subtleness of some of the humour, especially that provided by Simon Pegg, is integral to keeping this film on the right side of charming. While he certainly does not carry the film in the way we may have come to expect from his Wright and Frost co-productions, he possesses a unique charm which (and not meant as an insult) is strikingly similar to the affection the public show Boris Johnson. While ironic (or ill-conceived) claims Sidney Young makes that "Con Air" is the greatest film ever, and Fawlty Towers-esqe moments of brilliant cringe worthiness, too much is lost in slapstick that verges towards being more like a farcical "There's Something About Mary" with moments of cringe worthiness, for all the wrong reasons.

Although the greatest faux-pas and ultimately the main contributing factor to the average score attributed to it is the mind boggling genericism and predictability of the film. Not that predictability is in itself a reason to mark down a film, but that "How To Lose Friends" follows a well worn path of self redeeming romantic comedies while providing nothing new or invigorating to that particular genre. 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' director Robert Weide attempts to shake up the story with allegedly unexpected twists and moments of emotional sincerity when in reality they are the same plot devices used in other films of this type, just painted differently.

Simply, "How To Lose Friends And Alienate" for all its originality is concurrently generic, while lacking a strong enough plot to sustain it and make it an absorbing emotional comedy. Sidney Young is highlighted for 90 minutes of the film to maintain his snippy wit and integrity only for it to vanish and be replaced by a ten minute vignette of his new lifestyle before a realisation that he must revert to his old self. His connection to his mother is never pushed hard enough that the change is overly convincing, even though Simon Pegg does his best, and nothing is ever made of the former film star whom says she'll never thank him for his kindness at a roof top party. There is enough going for the film as some of the scenes, in particular one involving Young trying to enter a party with the pig from "Babe 3", do provide for intelligent laughs, while Kirsten Dunst as the counterpoint to Simon Pegg's 'Young' is affable if not over-stretched in here mirroring role. Any film setting out to satirically mock the Hollywood establishment will always be a guilty pleasure for any film critic, but we can't allow our bias to overlook the intermittent weakness of this particular plot. Sadly, for all the parody you get the impression that many of the actors taking part in the production do actually behave as their parodic film counterparts, as proved by Dunst's immature on-set outburst. While this particular viewing won't alienate you from what is an enjoyable if mediocre, story, its rather clichéd nature may cause you to lose hope with it.

The creation of Jim Jarmusch "Coffee and Cigarettes", is an amalgamation of eleven varying in length vignettes that detail interactions between various characters in random places as they sit around a table somewhere and do as the title would suggest, drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. It follows a numerous number of celebrities and in a manner not often seen before in film, they play themselves in bizarre and sometimes improvised little pieces, that have no precise theme linking them but address varying aspects of human interaction.

Coffee and Cigarettes looks at the niche side of human engagement, in detail the director focuses on the little nuances of social etiquette and attitudes. We've all experienced one of the scenes in some form or another, the "No Problem" segment being the obvious one whereby we have all spoken with someone who has something they want to say but do not wish to reveal it. The "No Problem" vignette as a prime example though of how the directors wishes do not always work. It attempts to highlight how frustrating this arduous process of extracting information can be by trying to enforce a naturalistic dialogue through its improvised means, which we can relate to, but from a viewing perspective the tedium grows rapidly.

Jarmusch successfully highlights moments of awkwardness and aspects of life, but often due to the improvised nature of the piece finds that its execution lets it down in a couple of weaker segments. The Tom Waits and Iggy Pop meet, mirrored with the Alfred Molina and Steve Coogan section highlight the best in cringe worthy social awkwardness, where good gestures are misinterpreted and to not risk a silence you often find yourself saying something which is taken out of context. Bill Murray and his Wu Tang compatriots are engaging in their genial comedic slot although the particular sketch, while enjoyable, feels out of line with the trend. Renee French provides the perfect acting lesson in sensuality and solemn dignity, a woman wishing to be left alone bu continually pestered by the waiter that obviously fancies her physical exterior yet cannot express so in words. In contrast, Benigni and Wright provide us with a lesson in surrealism which says less about meeting a stranger than it does suggesting that they are border line schizophrenic through their coffee taking habits, while Buscemi feels completely misused and out of place as he rants about Elvis conspiracies in the "Twins" encounter. My major irking stems from the Cate Blanchett sequence which is undeniably well edited, yet despite opinion that her "cousin" (played by herself) is a tag along annoying draggy little waste I find the opposite. I realise it's self-parody and that Jarmusch is showing that both are at fault for their pseudo-relationship, but I find myself bemused by the insistence that Cate as Cate is the set upon. Each mini-film, each story presents something new about humanity, reflects something different about a situation we may have been in, reflects something different about how we go about talking with people, but not all are enjoyable to watch.

So why the six out of ten mark? Suffice to say when this film hits, it certainly hits its mark. I realise it's been a somewhat overly negative review, but only because there is so much promise in roughly half the segments, that the other half seem such let down as it slows the middle portion of the film to sluggish proportions and has you questioning the improvised nature of some segments. I realise the impromptu nature of the pieces highlights the impromptu nature of civil interaction with a friend, a colleague, a sister or a stranger but had the dialogue been sharper in a handful more scenes this could be a blistering film of severely addictive proportions. It is comedic as we see ourselves fumbling around in the situations are screen counterparts do. When the realism lands its mark its purposeful black and white filming counterbalances the coffee and cigarette pastiche and is an acutely accurate and painfully amusing lesson in the potentials and pitfalls of simple chit- chat. When it fails, it becomes more like a wet cigarette, losing its light and heat, leaving you scrambling for a lighter that turns out to be a remote control fast forwarding to the next scene. It's addictive, and yet leaves you often wanting to quit when it loses its buzz.

The third Ghost In The Shell feature length film, deviates as a continuation of the Stand Alone Complex series. While in the same universe as the original feature length motion picture which sparked the franchise into world wide recognition, Solid State Society is quite obviously a follow on from the lengthy complex series (hence the name residing in the title). In continuing the story they have created some interesting side points for those who have followed the series thus far, with development of characters while being brave enough to introduce a number of subsidiary characters to enhance the feel of the universe, to show that it itself has progressed and that it's not merely tied down to just four characters.

Ironically while Ghost In The Shell has progressed in the continuation of the story, Togusa for example making the pleasing and logical step up to 'team leader' the story never progresses much from that of "Innocence". Major Kusanagi is still absent from the 'Section 9' set up as she continues her vigilante exploits through the net, solving crimes when and where she can, where like in the second film she is mentioned more often than not and pined over. The plot set up is still identical, a virtual hacker who has capabilities that are often above and beyond the major and section 9 and how they bring down their opposition, who often has a more aversive and political agenda than is first thought. In essence this is very much a follow on from the Stand Alone Complex, because the plot line feels almost like a compressed first season into the confines of one hundred minutes.

Having established Solid State Society as a undeniable continuation of the Stand Alone Complex universe it must also be noted that in this particular installment there is a notable absence of philosophy. Where the original was crammed with the nature of what it means to be human and "Innocence" tackled the nature of reality there is a discernible lack of here. Personally while appreciating the intelligence of the films I often felt they crammed dialogue unnecessarily throwing philosophers names around like frisbees at the beach purely for referential sake, and often the point itself was lost even when understood. Solid State however all but ditches that mantra, much in a similar fashion to the series, yes there are moments of philosophical debate, but it focuses much more on an intelligently constructed cyber-crime thriller plot line which by chance of it being a Ghost In The Shell film carries the characters we have come to be attached to.

The cyber-crime in itself while possibly mirroring "The Laughing Man" from "Gig One" provides a fresh twist and a new way for the writers to show off their skills at constructing new virtual dramas. Aramaki takes much of a backseat focusing a lot more of the attention on the newly cyberised Togusa and how that has affected him. One minor complaint is, most likely through the anglicised dub, but perhaps not, is the garbled mess of plot development within the first twenty minutes as it establishes the who's what's and why's of the newly emerging case.

Ghost In The Shell continues to deliver entertaining, thought out and thoughtful films and stories to add to its ever increasing world, and do not take the mark and criticism i've levelled at this as a sleight, because I did enjoy it. It's merely that I know they are capable of more than a recycling of noble criminals with the "will she stay, won't she stay" of the majors attachment to section 9, and the "will they, won't they" with herself and Batou. The trouble is they seem unable to fuse philosophy with a cracking crime thriller peppered with action to a stable and progressive dialogue. That having been said, for those accustomed to the franchise it highlights why it is so successful, with interesting characters, a future world not entirely removed from ours and an thought out philosophically tinged action packed story line, which has had a huge impact on the cinematic landscape. While Solid State, however, may not have a similar impact as its initial predecessor for those that know the characters and know the world it is a worthwhile addition, and for those that don't, they need to log on and expand their own ghost.

Attempting to stay clear of, by running parallel to, the clichéd "what is the point of war" motif, Francis Ford Coppola directs a stunning portrayal of loyalty, service and madness during the Vietnam war, perhaps the most surreal and nonsensical of all wars, through his most surreal and the most hard hitting about the condition of men in war, Apocalypse Now. Coppola never glamorises the war, he never shies away from showing the brutal nature of the war, capturing scenes of brutal savagery, the irony of which being that these acts of barbarism were not committed by the Vietnamese that were viewed as savages, but the Americans that came to liberate them.

Through the performances of his three leading men Coppola continually pounds in to the viewer the sheer insanity of the Vietnam war, that these were soldiers sent out to ostensibly protect the South Vietnamese (as well purge the ever spreading threat of communism) but ended up killing them as much as the Vietcong. That these men are trained to be killing machines and are then somehow expected to maintain morality. The jungles provide a wonderful backdrop to the film as they themselves become part of a transcendent blur, where these lines of consciousness and insanity meet, creating the feel of something out of a nightmare, when for many it was real life.

Martin Sheen as Captain Willard gives a memorable performance for as he progresses up the ever narrowing, ever encapsulating ever confining river the degrees of insanity he encounters increases, as does the ever increasing doubt in himself. Encountering Robert Duvall as the bloodthirsty war mongering Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore whose name sums up all that need be said. An officer who enjoys killing "Charlie" with a well executed plan as much as going surfing on a beach still hot with activity and gets his jollies from sniffing napalm in the morning breeze. As Willard learns more about the officer he must confront at the end of the mission the more of the officer he sees in himself, as a surreally erotic U.S.O shows turn the troops into lecherous madmen and he passes encampments where the occupants are permanently verging on schizophrenic he ponders over that line that others have crossed and he feels himself slipping onto.

The final confrontation leaves Willard in a state of moral upheaval, he sees why the men have succumb and understands their reasonings, and he sees that same potential in himself, which makes for the epic meeting between Willard and the seemingly deranged but philosophically poetic Colonel Kurtz. Kurtz is the personification of all that is whispering to Willard from one half of his being, apotheosising the negative aspects, into the god like being he presents before the natives. Finding himself in the uncompromising position of the head to head confrontation he must ascertain whether Kurtz is truly insane or whether he is seeing the world with unclouded eyes. Coppola's adaptation is an engrossing affair shot simply, in a realistically gritty manner. Delivered is a stark and brutal account of the nonsensicalities of war, the oxymorons and dichotomies, how the soldiers are expected to kill and yet somehow remain human. His leads carry the humanist element effectively and make it a convincing and utterly stunning affair into the psyches of men who must risk their all, and often in the process risk losing themselves. This isn't a story about Vietnam, this is the story of a man in pursuit, not of a colonel, but of himself against the forces that surround him.

And alas that is perhaps the only thing wrong with this compilation box set detailing the favourite sketches of Britains, and quite possibly the worlds, funniest comedic troupe. It carries an enormous host of the Pythons greatest sketches, but the famous sketches, the ultra-famous sketches i.e. The Dead Parrot Sketch and The Spanish Inquisition segments are not there in their entirety, so when someone asks to see one of these specific moments, it's incredibly infuriating, simply because they are incredibly funny.

Inside is a six disc collection, one per Python, in which the five remaining Pythons provide comedic introductions to what may ostensibly be a way of getting as many sketches as possible into a collection, but indeed are their personal favourites (hence no "Ministry Of Silly Walk Sketch (again not one in its complete entirety) on John Cleese's disc). The sixth is a wonderfully compiled edition featuring little stories from the five about the deceased Graham Chapman coming across as a truly heart felt tribute.

A couple of the sketches find themselves repeated on multiple discs, such as "The Fish Slapping Dance", even though it's worth it in all it's silly glory, and there's no room for "How Not To Be Seen" which is disappointing to say the least.

The Terry Gilliam disc is a highly interesting feature, comprised of his cartoon sketches. It works as a concept but an episode wouldn't flow entirely made of them, still as with all things Python, they're often funnier and sillier and just more entertaining than they are not.

The greatest thing that can be said about this boxset is that it's Monty Python, a group of comedic geniuses that all but the most abstinent look up to, admire and indeed follow, and one that few match. A few sketches shown from the Hollywood Bowl also remind us all that these men managed to transcend that most difficult of boundaries in the Atlantic and not only break through there but be as comedically revered there as they are in this country. It has a wide range of sketches, ones that you may not have seen and some you may have even forgotten, but they all tickle the funny bone in one way or another, through either their randomness, their silliness or their unabashed brilliance. Nobody expected a comedy troupe to be this funny!

Hollywood continues its ability to tarnish franchises by churning out in this particular instalment what is possibly the most disappointing film since Star Wars Episode I, although the one common factor between those two may have had something to do with it. Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull promised a rip roaring action epic to hark back to the earlier films and an earlier look and feel about cinema, that lent itself to a hugely entertaining experience while maintaining critical integrity, unfortunately when you strip away the bare elements that made the original trilogy so successful you're left with an ultimately hollow experience.

And the link between the two films? Need I say anything more than when I saw the opening introductory title sequence and up flashed "Story Written By George Lucas" I felt like throwing myself on top of my lightsabre and ending the pain, but I persevered, never judge a book by its cover...or author in this case. Having the actors and indeed the mainstay of Harrison Ford all having been aged by time it forgoes the old enemy of the Nazi's for what seems a logical conclusion with a linear progression on to the Soviets and those wretched commies are up to no good as they sniff around for the lost artifact. In essence little has changed in terms of plot premise with the previous outings, Harrison is exemplary reprising the role as he does indeed walk and talk like Indy, but something does not quite settle with the viewer and as such the thing that must be most intensely scrutinised is the script.

The dialogue is a typical Lucasian affair. While I handled the one off quips knowingly mocking his age in a very "wink wink, nudge nudge" style, and gritted my teeth through Lucas's insistence on trying to link the series with glimpses of Arks and various other in jokes, the simple fact is as George W would put it "there's more holes" in the plot "than Swiss cheese". Not only does Indiana survive a test of a nuclear device before proceeding to bathe in the warming radioactive afterglow like it's a tanning salon, but we now discover he's been a secret agent all along...*insert tumbleweed, clock chiming midnight and a wolf howling in the distance*. This could be passable but after the FBI having claimed they're keeping their eyes on him within the first fifteen minutes, not one American agent thereafter is seen, which is surprising given that 'The Reds' have been carting weaponry around Nevada for fun. The introduction of a son is bearable and in certain places brings some warmth to a cold mechanical script, but having him swing through the trees like Tarzan to end up being able to swing into a moving jeep at the most obtuse angle is nonsensical. Yes action in the previous Indy films was zany at times, but always had a grounding in reality, so due to CGIs ability to create whatever nonsense is manifesting in Lucas's mind it can be done, and it's put down as fun, as opposed to just far-fetched filth, which only suspends belief in the "oh my god I actually bought a ticket for this film, what have I done, someone please throw me off a suspended rope bridge" sense.

The artifacts in the original trilogy based around the mythical or legendary status of earth bound religious symbols so when "The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull" finally reveals itself as a hybrid fusion of The Da Vinci Code, and Close Encounters Of The Third Kind you better have that empty popcorn bag on standby. The Crystal Skull in itself has no human relation, it's not grounded on this earth so I really couldn't care less about it and or what it does as I can never connect with the item, it means little to the viewer, while attributing thousands of years of Latin American history, El Dorado, The Mysterious Cities Of Gold, The Incas, The Mayans etc to a taller version of E.T. is just preposterous. CGI enables film makers to incorporate things they couldn't before as to make them look more convincing, but when the plot is so utterly unconvincing and nothing more than a device to show off special effects sequences, it ruins what little film remains. What has been put on reel is only Indiana Jones in name, the feel and charm of the films has dissipated but in reality is through no fault of Harrison Fords or indeed Shia LaBeouf. While Cate Blanchett pulls off a Russian accent as well as Hayden Christensen conveys emotion, which only adds to the wreckage. While I never thought I'd say it, I do hope for everyones sanity, that this is Indiana Jones' Last Crusade.

As a later instalment in the continuing Almodovar lineage, Bad Education (La Mala Educacion, in the Spanish) tells not only the tale of abuse and homosexuality within the catholic church but first and fore-mostly a story of fractured lives and relationships. The film is a decidedly thought provoking and thoughtless journey, and the sincere impression is attained that the director has tackled the "issues" of his past, or rather created this film just a means to say "well that's done, now I can move on", and especially in the latter stages it certainly comes across as such.

Typical Almodovar? Well, yes and no. Firstly, yes because as always the director implements his notable and trademarked cinematographic means, as he fuses a sublime sense of style with his stark and brash use of not only primary colours, but those on the "extreme" side of the spectrum, such as bright lime greens in a way no other director would dare. No it's not Almodovar because the focus is strictly removed from the female of the species, in its stead we have a fair few characters dressing up as women, but the presence of a feminine drive is absent. One reviewer claims there is a lack of a bizarre story-line which in turn makes this Un-Almodovarian, but obviously he and I were watching different films. True it's perhaps not quite as outlandish but the goings on, lives being swapped and shattered and the way in which it is gone about, I'd be more than willing to say verges on the silly at times.

Bad Education, is terribly frustrating as its opening half works incredibly well. The tri-tiered interweaving stories and the manner in which they are told, so that we have a film within a film within a film, is highly clever. The storytelling at first is slick and engaging but latterly descends into farce and I think this is down to the way in which the director initially forewent his usual instincts in creating a surrealist story, only to return to them when the story was neither needed nor befitting of one.

Bad Education for all the transcribed faults I believe there to be, is a pretty decent affair, the actors deal exemplary with the roles and circumstances in which they are given, watching Ignacio going through the inner turmoil and the mixed emotions of having to dig up his past and Father Manolo's descent from man of god to bonefide pervert are both unsettling experiences, but in the right way. It's just in the later stages there is this sense that the story, film etc, all of it has been rushed, because the shift in pace of the film is not needed. You get the impression that the director at this stage wishes to get the film over and done with, that it is a mile stone he is happy to tackle on a personal level, but not necessarily one he wishes to dwell upon. The forced and bizarre second half of Bad Education does somewhat lessen the entire experience and almost trivialises what up till this point had been an absorbing account. To summarise in report format, Effort: B, Attainment: 3, Teachers Comments: "Started well but we know he can do better".

Offbeat? This film is so far removed from offbeat, that previous films described as offbeat are marching in military step unison. Innocence is a gorgeous composition of thought, sound and beauty which is utterly compelling to watch but challenges the viewing audience to a hard fought internal battle, raising questions within the viewer, in a William Blake-ish "Songs Of Innocence, Songs Of Experience" manner.

Undoubtedly the cinematography is some of the most striking that has been put to film certainly this side of the millennium, as Hadzihalilovic manages to compose wonderful shots of serene beauty within a hidden sense of malice and darkness. His symbolic use of colours is highly key to the understanding of the events, themes and emotions and aids the viewer immensely in being able to 'try' (and I emphasis the word) and dissect the layers of thought provoking connotations on the nature of innocence.

It's not always the most comfortable film to be viewing, as certain IMDb reviewers would hasten to claim it has "pedophilic tendencies", but I fear they're somewhat missing the point of the entire film; yes it is often at times difficult to view, but there is a purpose. William Blakes collection of poems on innocence and experience charts the replacing of the former with the latter. He shows us how innocence cannot be appreciated til you are experienced, but how experience completely taints any notion of innocence, and the same is with this precise film. These unsettling moments for us are only so because of the experience which we possess and have learnt throughout our existence, to the girls they don't see the same sins, pitfalls and traps we do, to them they are merely acting on instinct, as children do, in an innocent, cares- of the world-free way.

Thus the film charts the fall of innocence from the elder girls at the hauntingly constructed boarding school, and the continuing of the cycle through metamorphic symbolism, the circle of young life. Although it does make me question the use of the word "film". If I had but one criticism of the film, for all its mesmerising viewing and original premise it comes across more as a case study in innocence rather than a fully fledged story. While undeniably engaging and engrossing it lacks a certain spark, becoming more concerned with the ideas than the progression of any one story, to the extent where the ideas will be ringing in your head for days afterwards, but lacking a sense of resolution. Innocence would be an impressive debut solely on the basis of bravery alone for tackling such a notion, and so effectively, but the hallmarking of this 'case study' comes in the directors striking use of colours, symbolism and cinematography which I personally believe to have been unsurpassed in the films I've seen of recent years. Although you have been warned, the film is an intense experience which will not set well with everyone, but given that you have now been warned, so it's not as if you can claim you were innocent of that.

A hugely entertaining and thoroughly enjoyable experience, The Night Of The Sunflowers is a Spanish thriller which hallmarks the great traditions of European cinema, where a focus on characters and their interactions with each other is the prime driving force. Set in a secluded and seemingly serene Spanish village "Sunflowers" weaves a sinister tale of mistaken identity, love, hate and murder, which can only be described as compelling viewing.

What the director Jorge Sanchez-Cabezudo is immediately noted for is his character development within the context of a story. 'Sunflowers' shifts its pace half through way throughout the film from murder intrigue to an entangled web of deceit, but all of this is shown and felt via the superb usage of the varied acting talents at his disposal. Cabezudo knows precisely what he is trying to achieve and does so with an assurance of a director with plentiful more experience, suffice to say his debut is impressive.

Shot in a partially non-linear fashion it manages to portray, through chapter-styled segments, how each particular protagonist, and/or antagonist comes to be involved in this situation, providing for a greater well rounded feel and sense of fulfilment come the films finale.

What is striking, though, is the theme of fractured relationships which runs vividly and often poignantly throughout the course of the film. The archaeologist and his wife and the untold issues they have who are 'seemingly' brought closer together as the shocking ordeal continues, the police deputy and his wife as he struggles through what he perceives to be a turgid and boring existence, and how he is unable to escape the restrictions imposed by his superior, and father-in-law, in all regards. Not just these, but the dealings of the elderly gentlemen on the outskirts and their eternal war of attrition, and even the title itself carries connotations of opposites being juxtaposed, The "Night" of the "Sun"flowers.

The key issue revolves back to a notion of people becoming so infused and becoming so embroiled with their own side-stories, that in turn the key moment of the film is entirely forgotten. What Cabezudo intelligently points out is how we all can become distracted from what is important, that something so explosive came out of initially something so small that it makes you query characters; 'if they had done that', 'if they had done this' it wouldn't have happened. The Night Of The Sunflowers is a frighteningly intelligent, bordering on complex piece of theatre which is cleverly constructed and undoubtedly absorbing upon viewing, that actually gives the audience credit as being somewhat able to put pieces together. It is a truly good Spanish thriller that tackles not only conspiracy and murder, but the people that put themselves into these positions, and allow them to only continue and fester, becoming embroiled in revenge over justice. Whether it be the Sunflowers, roses, tulips or poppies, this is one night worth staying up for.

David Cronenburgs follow up to the brutal "The History Of Violence" is a glossy well choreographed piece of cinematic entertainment set within the streets of London, which while ostensibly is a gangster film is first and foremost, one about the bonds and ties of family. However, when critiqued in its entirety as a film there are some gaping holes which do not lend themselves well to the overall feel of the film, and when compared to its contemporaries, doesn't quite achieve the heights to which it aspires.

Eastern Promises is an absorbing viewing experience with London setting an epic background, composed of grey murky skies and the inevitable rain which couples quite suitably the bleakness of the film. Cronenburg has been viewing films of the genre, that much can be seen, as Eastern Promises resembles in certain circumstances "Leon" or "The Beat That My Heart Skipped", and he quite aptly has been able to create the hybrid situation of the family unit and the gangster surroundings successfully. Naomi Watts manages to project an air of innocence, while at the same time managing to come across world weary, and although she does occasionally slip into a faint Australian twang, for the most part is convincing as Anna, as she is thrust into the dangerous world of the mafia. Counterbalancing her naïveté, is the 'hitman' Nikolai as played by Viggo Mortensen, who oozes charisma on screen with a cold blooded, thick layered Russian accent who becomes entangled with Anna as the two worlds from which they come from collide.

For the most part Promise is, well, promising, it's not a blistering romp but nor does it come across as a right-off, with the bath scene providing much excitement, especially for any females in the audience you may be with (I'm sure you've heard by now), that is until however, it's ripped away from you in the most grotesque manner. With gangster films which attempt to embed a sense of morality into their tale, like 'The Godfather', or like 'Leon', there must be an extended period of time devoted to the protagonist who battles the conflicting values of his better judgement and his 'obligations'. In 'The Godfather' Michael Corleone fights his family and his conscience before succumbing to being what he strived so hard not to, in 'The Beat That My Heart Skipped' Romain Duris' Thomas Seyr battles with the line of work he has fallen into due to his father against the love for the piano bestowed within him by his mother. 'Eastern Promises', sets you up with the potential for this battle being waged, and while dipping in and out of it, we as an audience never thoroughly connect to the point where we end up sweating out the decision Mortensens' Nikolai is to make. Then with the revelation of the inevitable 'twist' all sense of justice is taken from the viewer, and all the hard work is embezzled as the script manages to cheaply deviate around this key obstacle for the genre without a second thought.

Were it not for this glaring violation of the genre 'Eastern Promises' would be a rip-roaring success, but the cheat only cheapens the film in itself and comes across more as an after thought as opposed to an intrinsic part of the story. This isn't to belittle or indeed not acknowledge the talents of not only the actors but the director, cinematographers and all who took part, but with so many films of the type being around and while harbouring and showing so much promise, 'Eastern' delivers something unbefitting of the director, something average.