Phonogram: the Immaterial Girl #1 - Review

Writer: Kieron Gillen

Artist: Jamie McKelvie

Colourist: Matthew Wilson

Letterer: Clayton Cowles

After a five year gap since the previous mini-series, Phonogram has finally returned with The Immaterial Girl and - if this first issue is any indication - it continues to get better with each new volume. If the original arc, Rue Britannia, showcased the raw cleverness of Gillen's writing and stylishness of McKelvie's art in the early stages of their collaboration and comic book careers, then the next chapter, The Singles Club, brought with it a new focus and sense of discipline. It was tighter, easier to follow and never felt convoluted or got metatextual to the extent that it alienated the reader.

But whilst The Singles Club was more fun to read and far easier to follow, it was a little less ambitious than the story that had come before - essentially being a collection of one-shots, each focussing on a different character with the entire series taking place over the same club night out. The Immaterial Girl seems like both an obvious progression and combination of everything that came before. It's slick, disciplined and accessible like the second volume, with the ambition and world-building scope of its predecessor.

As a Brighton lad myself, the perfect attention to detail here is appreciated.

This time the story takes previous supporting regular Emily Aster and thrusts her into the spotlight, exploring her backstory. In doing so it jumps between different times of her life and, with them, naturally transports us to different musical 'scenes' with their own affectionately rendered fashions and obsessions - a set-up which plays right into Gillen and McKelvie's interests as they geek out over clothing, music, places, and fictionalised versions of people they knew. [To emphasise the amount of love and care that goes into detail: an offhand reference to the White Stripes having played "across town a few days ago" in the Brighton of November 2001 is completely accurate, according to a quick Google search.]

It could easily be read as smug or self-indulgent but what makes Phonogram (and with it the entire Gillen/McKelvie oeuvre) so great is that it's completely anti-cynical. It's fundamentally a celebration of loving whatever it is you love and doing it with total commitment - and though we see that via a tour through what moves and inspires the creators, you never get the feeling they're looking down on anything else (even if the characters themselves may be on occasion). The best example of this comes when a phonomancer* asks a random guy about his take on pop trio the Sugarbabes only to throw a punch he responds "my real take or ironic?" The guy isn't being punched for not liking the Sugarbabes (well, mostly) but for being pretentious and insincere. He's embarrassed about what he taps his feet to and that is why he must bare the brunt of Seth Bingo's pugilistic fury. Such is the verdict of Phonogram.

So good.

I don't usually care a great deal about spoilers as a rule, but I genuinely don't want to write too much about what happens over the second half of the issue because it's really inventive and surprising (even if it is skillfully foreshadowed earlier in the issue). So go and read the comic because it's great stuff by brilliant creators - including regular colourist Matthew Wilson and letterer Clayton Cowles. I'll just conclude by writing that volume three is shaping up to be something really special and potentially more emotionally satisfying than the previous ones which have largely traded on being clever and funny. The first issue here has it all and is a really good indication of where Gillen and McKelvie are now as creators. Viewing it alongside those other two (still very good) arcs gives a strong indication of how their collaborative voice has matured.

As far as new readers go, I'd tend to echo the creators themselves in saying that The Singles Club is a perfect introduction to the style and humour of the thing, but I'd add those who know them from Wicked + Divine (another current Image title) or their run on Young Avengers at Marvel will have no problem jumping on here. You can probably come in completely cold too, but you'd probably get a bit more from it if you're plugged into their particular sensibilities beforehand.

*In Phonogram the idea that music is magic is made literal, with phonomancers those who can manipulate this power. Incidentally, the idea that songs are spells is best encapsulated in a small backup story in this issue, written by Gillen and drawn by Sarah Gordon, called Everything is Nothing, in which a Taylor Swift song that reminds a guy of a recent breakup is referred to as a "curse song". The man is question is compelled to play it seventeen times back to back and it summons his ex's ghost... because metaphor. It's a really good backup story.

Action Comics #43 - Review

Words: Greg Pak

Art: Aaron Kuder

Colours: Tomeu Morey

Letters: Steve Wands

ALWAYS SPOILERS

It’s fitting that my blogging about comics should begin with a piece about the latest issue of a title that (for better or worse) changed the medium as we know it, especially as the story within is so 'of the moment'. With Action Comics #43, Greg Pak and Aaron Kuder present the third issue in an arc that has been really compelling up till now, as Superman squares off against a group of wholly unsympathetic riot cops looking to beat down a group of assembled ordinary Joes, who’ve peacefully gathered for a pro-Superman rally in Clark Kent’s neighbourhood.

It’s an interesting hook, bearing in mind contemporary US news events, which puts the Man of Steel in his element as an optimistic and inspirational figure and defender of the downtrodden. He may be shorn of his immense power (more on that in a bit) and decked out in jeans and an S-logo t-shirt following his identity having been leaked (more on that in a bit), but this is Superman at his purest: as a form of wish fulfilment and embodiment of ‘goodness’. And it’s been a really fun couple of issues so far.

To briefly recap, issue #42 ended with a genuinely suspenseful cliffhanger moment as, after taking a lot of punches with stoic, good grace befitting the last son of Krypton, Superman finally relented, punching the officer in charge. Of course, this is exactly what the bad guy was hoping for and set up some interesting questions, namely: how is Superman going to deal with the fallout of having assaulted a cop? Especially having provided an excuse for a squad of riot police to beat the crap out of his assembled friends and neighbours. How on earth was he (being Superman the character and Pak as writer) going to resolve this one?

Somewhat anti-climatically this is all resolved by page two of the issue. It begins with a great opening splash, in which Superman realises exactly what he’s done (“Me... punching a cop? In anger? This isn’t what Superman’s all about. This is bad...” ) which further raises tension for the reader, only for Pak and Kuder to reveal that the officer in question – Sergeant Binghamton – is a more literal monster. He's in fact one of the Shadows, a mysterious new enemy currently being established over in the pages of Gene Luen  Lang and John Romita, Jr’s Superman. This has the effect of instantly letting Superman off the hook and also saves the assembled innocents as the riot cops turn their capacity for violence upon their unmasked sergeant.

In a great little character moment, Superman's answer to the cop's "how'd you know. Superman?" is a straightforward and completely honest "I didn't".

This is potentially a problem, for the issue and potentially the whole arc, because the stakes were raised somewhere higher than “will Superman beat the monster?” to somewhere infinitely more interesting. Perhaps there was internal (and quite understandable) reluctance at DC comics to have Clark Kent punch a cop, so it makes sense that Pak and Kuder would go the route of revealing Binghamton as an even less ambiguous monster, eligible for guilt-free punching. Yet it might have been more interesting a problem for Superman if nobody else around had seen the officer’s true nature, with our hero still having to face the consequences of that act with all their teased implications.

Which isn't to say the situation blows over without any moral consequence. Pak is smart enough to have our hero wrestle with what he intended to do - which was to punch a cop in the face in anger - noting his sense of “shame and relief” after the fact. Still the story loses a lot of the momentum and sense of curiosity which had been built up so skilfully in the preceding chapters.

Yet even if it doesn't continue on the trajectory I'd have found most immediately rewarding, over the rest of the issue it becomes clear that Pak wasn't necessarily interested in telling “Superman vs. Police Brutality” so much as a more optimistic and constructive tale about people overcoming their differences and banding together for a common good. It's about a community healing rather than the easy thrills one might derive from Clark punching back – even if the characters are bound by genre convention to do this by fighting somebody else (monsters!). (Sidenote: a superhero title called Action Comics would make an unlikely forum for a tale of peace and anti-violence after all.)

I love Greg 'The Incredible Hercules' Pak's writing as a rule, but this attempt at making Jimmy Olsen seem cool/relevant made me laugh and it's a perfect encapsulation of the 'hip' DC YOU branding. #auto-uploading

In the end the comic is smarter for taking this approach than I had initially given credit on reading that second page reveal. As the police and protesters aligning against Shadow-possessed government officials it suggests a conflict between Superman and the institutional causes of systemic inequality rather than just the foot soldiers themselves. As the "to be continued" text sums up nicely, with a playful hokeyness that's visible throughout the book, "Does Superman Know You Can't Beat City Hall?"

But putting current affairs and specific story beats to one side, where this story arc has really shone so far is in its deceptive simplicity and accessibility.

This brings me back round to Superman’s vague, undefined loss of a portion of his power and the aforementioned detail that his secret identity has been leaked to the public, apparently putting him out of favour with elements of the population and government*. That all sounds like business that would intimidate or alienate a new reader, yet happily this isn't the case at all.

There's no convincing some people, apparently.

I jumped onto this series with #41, at the start of this arc (which more broadly forms part of a nominal crossover event called “Truth” taking place over all the Superman books), and it’s written in such a way that makes it very easy to just roll with this status quo. It’s quite amazing in the modern era, but this is genuinely an arc you could hand to somebody completely new to superhero comics and they'd get what’s going on. Better still I think #43 pulls the same feat even as it comes in the middle of an arc. Everything you need to know to enjoy this comic is presented in the pages of this comic and is supported by coherent storytelling. That shouldn’t be such a big deal but it’s far from the norm in comics.

If you'll indulge a little anecdotal case study to support this point: my wife is reading and enjoying this arc, with no prior Superman knowledge (save the general pop culture kind) and zero investment in the broader DC universe whatsoever. This is something even the very best writers at “the big two” find extremely difficult to do and it’s something more comics need to do if they're ever going to attract significant numbers of new readers instead of just selling comics to nerds who already like comics (like this writer). Which I don’t mention as a business problem (although it is) so much as an inclusivity issue. Ultimately, a wider range of people reading comics will translate into a wider range of people writing comics.

So if you know somebody who’s into the movies or TV shows (or the cosplay or the t-shirts or the video games or the action figures) but doesn't know where and how to jump into the books themselves (which was me circa 2011), this issue and this story form a brilliant jumping on point.

It’s smartly written and purely enjoyable - easily one of the best superhero books coming out at the moment.

*There's potentially something about the current immigration debate here but I won't go into it for fear of using up all my SJW tokens in my first comic review.

Review Round-up: 2014 Catch-up

I've not written anything on here in a long while since I've moved to Spain and missed a lot of movies. However on returning to the UK for Christmas I've been on a catch-up binge. Here's some brief thoughts on what I've seen.

'Lucy' - Dir. Luc Besson (15)

The last half-hour is probably a little too action-y - with a full-blown gunfight between an Asian criminal gang and French police which is a lot less fun than everything that precedes it - but Luc Besson's 'Lucy' is otherwise a terrifically paced and entertaining slice of brainless nonsense. In fact it's a rare thing in this age of overblown, bloated Hollywood fare: a zippy little 90 minute movie that manages to wrap up long before it's worn out its welcome. Scarlett Johansson makes a very strong case for that elusive Black Widow solo movie as she kicks the asses of all present as an American tourist who stumbles into the wrong place and winds up overdosing on a new drug that unlocks the untapped potential of the human brain, granting her powerful abilities but also making her seem cold, alien and inhuman. It's a bit like watching her character from Under the Skin parading around with superpowers, which is pretty great.

'The Boxtrolls' - Dir. Anthony Stacchi & Graham Annable (PG)

Not in the same league as 'Coraline' or 'ParaNorman' (the best animated film of this decade so far), but Laika's latest stop-frame animation is still very polished and endearing, with its heart very firmly in the right place. But intention isn't everything, of course, and a cross-dressing villain has perhaps rightly invited criticism that the film is transphobic, which I can't rebuff with any force even if my own view on it more closely aligns with this defense.

This is made all the more unfortunate by the way it undermines the film's great message of tolerance and not being afraid of those who are different from you. This is the studio that presented audiences with an openly gay high school jock character in 'ParaNorman' (revealed in a line which can be dismissed as throwaway, but is actually deeply embedded in that film's message) and 'The Boxtrolls' attempts to be similarly right-on as it tells another story where the great evil is basically intolerance which drives people to scapegoat those who are different to them as the cause of society's ills (something for which there is no shortage of real world parallels). Though as with the recent Batgirl comic controversy, it seems serious errors in judgement have been made here.

'Hercules' - Dir. Brett Ratner (12A)

Could have been fun. The Rock as Hercules! He throws a horse! But it's ultimately just very boring, especially as Brett Ratner's film half-heartedly tries to walk away from presenting Hercules as the literal son of Zeus with the apparent aim of grounding the stories and explaining away their fantastical elements as exaggeration. Yet it neither commits fully to playing it straight or to making a big, brash, campy film about a demigod, existing somewhere unsatisfying between those two points.

'Snowpiercer' - Dir. Bong Joon-ho (TBC)

*SPOILERS*
The first half of 'Snowpiercer, 'The Host' and 'Mother' director Bong Joon-ho's maiden English-language effort, is one of the best things I've seen all year. Smart, funny, with inventive action set-pieces and an oddball sense of humour, the highlight being an inspired supporting turn from Tilda Swinton. However the second half of the film is one of the worst movies I've seen this year, from Ed Harris' 'Matrix Reloaded' style clunky, cod philosophy explanation of how his train-based society works to the film's spectacularly misjudged "I know what babies taste like" monologue (which star Chris Evans does his best to sell but it's not happening).

This isn't helped by a final scene which makes no sense (they get eaten by that polar bear, right?), following a truly superfluous action sequence which sees some sort of fancy dress party revellers attacking Song Kang-ho's character with seemingly no objective in sight. With a premise this convoluted and insane (the last surviving humans all live on a train around the world built conveniently by a mad industrialist before the apocalypse hit) the first half works because it seems self-aware and broadly satirical, but the more po-faced it becomes - the more melodramatic it gets - the harder it is to enjoy.

'Jodorowsky’s Dune' - Dir. Frank Pavich (TBC)

An entertaining if slightly shallow look at one of the great unmade movies, which doesn't lack charm and enthusiasm even if it principally consists of talking heads making grand ("it would have been better than 2001 and Star Wars") statements. Most frustrating the the continual insistence of all involved that this Dune adaptation would have been so powerful in terms of its ideological content that it would change humanity. Indeed Nicholas Winding Refn, of 'Drive' fame, suggests the reason this massively expensive, potentially 8-hour long arthouse film wasn't made by Hollywood studios was a fear of said epoch-bending ideas. Yet all we get in this doc, really, is a lot of (really awesome) concept art, with these nebulous 'ideas' never really explained. An enjoyable watch but I personally didn't fully buy into the cult of this unmade film, which would certainly have been interesting but, on this evidence, I'm not sure would have been good.

'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' - Dir. Jonathan Liebesman (12A)

Ugly, over-detailed CGI characters in a loud and cynical blockbuster re-working of a late-80s cartoon/toy nostalgia property featuring Megan Fox, brought to the screen by Michael Bay. This latest attempt to reboot the 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' for today's kids invites obvious comparison to the risible 'Transformers' franchise. It's not quite as bad as all that though and, with Bay only acting as a producer and Jonathan Liebesman directing, it never gets nearly as offensive. It doesn't quite have the leery male gaze to the same extent as 'Transformers' and thankfully ditches the broad racist caricatures and militaristic politics too, though if you want to go there it's probably guilty cultural appropriation perhaps inherent to the franchise.

So it isn't 'Transformers' level bad, but that's not to say it's good though or that it succeeds on any level. Like their robots in disguise counterparts, the turtle redesigns are overly busy and extremely unappealing and their voices never feel like they fit, whilst the usually excellent Tony Shalhoub is an odd choice to voice their sensei Splinter. Most puzzling is the wholesale lifting of plot points and sometimes specific action beats from 2012's 'The Amazing Spider-Man' (itself not a great movie). There's the convoluted way William Fichtner's villain, Fox's reporter and the turtles are all connected by coincidence, and more directly a scene on a rooftop in which the baddie is thwarted from releasing some chemical McGuffin into the city, ultimately climaxing in a television tower falling down.

'Interstellar' - Dir. Christopher Nolan (12A)

*SPOILERS*
If something takes itself seriously enough people will take it seriously in return. That's what 'Interstellar', and the broader Christopher Nolan canon, has taught me based on the reactions of movie fans. Yes, this is cerebral sci-fi. Intelligent cinema. A thinking person's blockbuster. We know that because of the tone, the cinematography and the music. It screams "take me seriously!" Like 'Inception' and the Batman (sorry "Dark Knight") trilogy before it this is something silly dressed up so that people who take themselves very seriously can still enjoy it and not feel too juvenile. Like the bit in 'Batman Begins' where Michael Caine explains how he mail orders Batman's ears in bulk to avoid suspicion, 'Interstellar' follows the proud Nolanverse tradition of explaining and explaining and explaining everything presumably out of a paranoid, insecure fear that somebody in the audience might think the whole thing is stupid. "It's not stupid!", cries 'Interstellar', "it all makes sense! The robot explained how it all worked!"

'Interstellar' is the story of a small-town farmer who breaks into a military installation, is tasered and held prisoner and then refuses to answer any questions or co-operate at all and is then told "we can only answer your questions if you agree to fly this spaceship for us". Because that makes sense. Yes, Cooper (Mathew McConaughey) used to be a pilot before the film's post-apocalypse scenario occurred but that's still an enormous logical stretch. Not that it would matter most of the time: I enjoy films with wonkier premises and crazier logical leaps than that, but they don't tend to take themselves so seriously to such an oppressive degree. Similarly, and I'm going all-out spoilers here, we are asked to believe a man who regrets abandoning his daughter for decades will leave her on her deathbed without argument after about 2 minutes of conversation because she says "you shouldn't have to see this" and he's like "ok then, dying daughter" before rushing off to win Anne Hathaway in spite of the fact there was no romance plot between them in the entire movie. But her never-seen boyfriend has died off-camera so she's his by default now, I guess. Because movies. Oh and he also never asks about his son once when he gets back.

The music is always telling you how to feel in the most overbearing, melodramatic way possible and the dialogue explains everything to the point where there is little room for existential discussion a la '2001' (so much dialogue in the bookcase scene detailing where Cooper is, why he is there, what it means - Nolan would have just explained the obelisk and the bedroom scene at the end of Kubrick's masterpiece would have included a monologue). There's even a moment when you see a spaceship smash into a frozen cloud and before I could finish saying "frozen clouds are a cool idea" in my mind a character on-screen had said "frozen clouds". Again, there's a paranoia there about somebody not understanding exactly what that was and a terrified Nolan had to have somebody explain lest anyone have to think about it too long.

The space stuff is amazing, in terms of the scale of what is rendered on screen and the way it plays with the idea of what time relativity would mean for astronauts, which is pretty mind-blowing. I have no idea if it's accurate (I presume it is based on the latest knowledge of how these things work) but the depictions of a black hole and a wormhole, as well as the planets visited, are pure cinema. It's technically very well made, as you would expect, and as such is not a bad film or a bore even though it is overlong. There's a lot to like about it but not so much that I could ever hope to like it as much as it so transparently likes itself.

'Ida' - Dir. Pawel Pawlikowski (12A)

'Ida' is a European arthouse film du jour. To the extent where you'd only have to modify it very slightly to make it an amazing, pitch-perfect parody of what a festival favourite, black and white Polish film would be. It's 80 minutes long, supposedly, but it must be pulling some of that 'Interstellar' time relativity stuff because it's 80 minutes that feels like two hours. Everybody loves it though so I am probably missing something deep and profound. However I have decided - somewhat facetiously - that positive reviews by critics are akin to the oft-derided spin of estate agents, where "cosy" means "small".

In its round-up of the year's best movies, The Guardian wrote of it: "Pawlikowski never dwells on the social or political points: the aunt is a compromised Stalinist lawyer; Poland is in the grip of cold-war communism; and Ida herself is forced into existential self-doubt. Yet these things lie lightly over the film – nothing is hammered home, or pointed up."

To me this translates as "none of the interesting themes and historical, socio-political context are explored at all". Similarly the claim that the film is "so delicate you are afraid [it] will collapse in the first puff of wind" may mean "it's insubstantial and its premise is stretched thinly over the running time".

I have to admit, for me it's this year's example of that annual film that comes out that makes me feel like I just don't understand cinema - the film everybody else says is amazing and I can't see what they are talking about. It's not that I hated 'Ida' or found nothing of merit in it, just that it didn't personally speak to me or move me very much. I'll say this for it: I liked the off-centre framing of a lot of it, with the characters pushed to the margins. I also thought the idea (spoiler warning) of a nun having a few days of sex, booze and rock 'n roll before returning to the convent was potentially interesting. Is the idea that she is in a better place to make her vow now that she knows what she's giving up? Does that make her vow more meaningful than those of her fellow nuns who have never indulged? Interesting ideas and set at a fascinating time in Polish history, with the second world war and its atrocities a living memory and the socialist government in full swing - I just wish there was more to it.

'Boyhood' - Dir. Richard Linklater (15)

Richard Linklater's 'Boyhood' generated a lot of buzz due to the curiosity of its production: shot over 45 days spanning an eleven-year period, the film dramatises adolescence as we follow Mason (Ellar Coltrane) - who starts the film as a small boy of six and ends it a college student. Not only do we see the young actor who plays him go through physical changes almost from scene to scene, but naturally we also see those changes in the actors around him (like his parents played by Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke). Being a sprawling epic about one boy's childhood there isn't really an overarching plot, but rather it's a series of small developments and micro-plots held together by an emphasis on character development. And it works really well.

As well as the thrill of seeing these characters age and change in such a unique way, the film presents a look at attitudes and lifestyle in Southern Texas - with events likes the invasion of Iraq and election of Barack Obama in the background, as well as obligatory changes to cell phones and video games - as the family move around the Lone Star State. If there's an ongoing plot it's in seeing Mason constantly pressured into not being himself by a succession of douchey stepdads, shortening his hair against his will and taking an interest in sports. You get a sense of what it must be like to be an introverted, creative kid in Linklater's home state and so, in some sense, this might even serve as a semi-biographical film about its director. Incidentally his daughter Lorelei plays Mason's older sister and she steals every scene she's in with natural screen presence.

Not just one of the best films I've seen in 2014, but a genuine contender for a place among the best of the decade so far.

'Two Days, One Night' - Dir. Luc Dardenne and Jean-Pierre Dardenne (15)

Subsisting on the sort of tight concept I tend to love, the Dardenne brother's latest stars the always-excellent Marion Cotillard as Sandra: a severely depressed woman who is ready to return to work only to discover that her colleagues have voted her out of a job. Having learnt they can manage without her on payroll, her bosses decide to cut costs by making staff choose between Sandra and their annual bonus payment. In her absence they overwhelmingly voted for the money, but when Sandra convinces them to recall another vote after the weekend she has the titular timeframe to convince each individual to back her over personal financial gain.

It's an interesting moral question which the film explores in all its complexity as Sandra visits each person in turn and makes the same basic argument with mixed results. Some are outright hostile, some can't look her in the eye, many are sympathetic but insist they need the money, whilst others agree to back her for reasons ranging from solidarity to shame. Perhaps the film treats an attempted suicide too casually and Sandra's apparent defeat of bed-ridden depression by the credits is a little too sudden, but this is a complex and original film which deserves to be seen. Especially as the Dardenne's again display an impressive knack for marrying social realism with something more hopeful and optimistic than that term usually suggests.

'Nightcrawler' - Dir. Dan Gilroy (15)

'Network' for the modern age, 'Nightcrawler' is a darkly comic and very disturbing thriller which casts Jake Gyllenhaal in a potentially career redefining role as Louis Bloom - a sociopath who, lacking in empathy or anything approaching a moral code, is perfectly suited to filming grisly accidents for an unscrupulous TV news network. Riz Ahmed is almost equally impressive as the glassy eyed, vulnerable young intern he manipulates and Rene Russo is perfectly cast as the news director he threatens and simultaneously covets - without hint of warmth or desire - as a sexual outlet. Bill Paxton also makes for an interesting foil as a cocky, alpha male rival in his quest for accident and murder footage, but there's no doubt this is Gyllenhaal's show.

It's pretty grim and though not physically violent (with one notable exception in the opening scene) Bloom is a menacing, unsettling presence who seems to threaten an aggressive outburst during every encounter. It speaks to writer-director Dan Gilroy's skill that he never releases that pressure valve. To allow that outburst would grant the character a level of interest in other people and a degree of emotion that he just doesn't have. Much scarier is how coldly and calculatedly he seems to regard everybody in his orbit. There's something of Patrick Bateman in him and maybe a slice of Travis Bickle too. The film itself invites that company not only with its lead character but with its complexity and quality.

'The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1' - Dir. Francis Lawrence (12A)

The theoretically difficult "part one" literary adaptation is by now almost its own sub-genre. As studios seek to eek every bit of profitable life out of popular franchises with limited lifespans (this is based on the third of a trilogy of books) conventional wisdom says the 'Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows Part One's of this world are all set-up and no pay-off - at their worst they could be considered extended trailers for their concluding sequel. However, as with the aforementioned penultimate Potter (the only other film of this trend I have personally seen), I found 'The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1' to benefit greatly from the sort of extended character development and patient build-up stuff this practice lends itself to, whatever its cynical intentions at boardroom level. What we have is a movie that doesn't have to hurtle along towards the action climax but which instead can spend a bit of time (like Potter) moping about in the woods and giving screentime (and still too little) to the film's incredible supporting cast.

Julianne Moore enters the series here, as the president of the rebel organisation that rescued Jennifer Lawrence's Katniss at the end of the second film, whilst Woody Harrelson, Elizabeth Banks, Jeffrey Wright and Stanley Tucci make welcome returns in eye-catching character roles. As does the late Philip Seymour Hoffman who gives presence and integrity to an understated and uncharacteristically calm part as one of Moore's advisors. Then we have Natalie Dormer as a ridiculously cool propaganda filmmaker, with this year's best on-screen haircut. The weak links remain the two love interests: hunky bore-fest Gale (Liam Hemsworth) and wet-blanket bore-fest Peeta (Josh Hutcherson). Neither is the fault of the actor but rather the characters themselves, who are equally boring in the novels. (Sam Clafin's Finnick Odair is far more charismatic and interesting.)

It's not as exciting as the second movie or as focussed as the first, but this is the one where the hitherto wobbly political themes start to actually get interesting and take on added weight. In that sense it's the cleverest so far. It's also refreshing to get moving on the wider plot across Panem - outside of the titular games (this film has none) - which finally takes centre stage after being glimpsed at the margins of the previous films. All in all a satisfying run-up to the final chapter that even manages to craft a decent ending out of the arbitrary half-way point as hewn from the source novel.

'Gone Girl' - Dir. David Fincher (18)

It goes without saying that 'Gone Girl' is technically excellent, gripping, peerlessly made stuff. It's a Fincher movie, for God's sake. The guy knows his craft. The casting is excellent across the board, with some surprising choices (like Neil Patrick Harris as a slightly sinister stalker and Tyler Perry as a slick lawyer with a shit-eating grin). It's all top-level stuff. Only I really didn't like it very much. I've argued with people about whether or not it's outright misogynistic (there are a lot of good arguments that it is and a lot of strong evidence in that direction) but ultimately I come down on the side of this being a black-hearted film that just hates all humans equally. People suck and are bad for each other and are inclined to bring out the worst in each other, it seems to say.

Rosamund Pike's character - the "abducted" wife - is perhaps the most obviously 'evil', but Affleck's husband is almost equally manipulative and not somebody you'd ever want to meet or be friends with. Arguably the only two characters who aren't completely hateful are female, in the form of Affleck's sister (Carrie Coon) and Kim Dickens' detective. Yet these could easily be written off as "some of my best friends are women" plants to support Affleck's consistent mistrust and dislike of (most of) the women in his life (from his wife's mother to the shrill lady on the TV), seeing as they mostly ally with him throughout.

You can discuss the ins and outs of the film's sexual politics all day and never come to an agreement. I'll probably leave it at "they are troubling" for now and just say it wasn't ultimately my cup of tea. I've really grown to like Fincher's output in recent years as he moved away from what I considered the nihilism and nastiness of films like 'Seven' and 'Fight Club' towards films like 'Zodiac' and 'The Social Network' - which were equally grim, disturbing and dark but had more of a human dimension. For me 'Gone Girl' is a step back towards that older stuff. I know a lot of people would rate 'Seven' and 'Fight Club' as his best work, so maybe for those folks 'Gone Girl' is possibly a return to form. Personally, for all its technical prowess I found nothing to like here.

'Mr. Turner' - Dir. Mike Leigh (12A)

A lot to admire, not least of all Timothy Spall's deservedly lauded performance, but Mike Leigh's biopic of the late life and career of famed landscape painter William Turner left me oddly cold. There are plenty of interesting character moments and colourful period details and it's also a rare period piece that doesn't glamourise the past, painting London as very modern, lived-in place, but still (unlike the vast body of Leigh's work) didn't make me feel any way in particular. Perhaps that's born of a lack of investment in the subject matter, I don't know. It's possibly down to the fact that Turner, as portrayed by Spall, is a gruff, grunting, mumbling figure who often seems apathetic towards everything except boats and landscapes. There's something deeper going on with this man who denies the existence of his children and treats his housemaid so callously, but who is depicted as falling deeply in love in his twilight years and who weeps over the loss of his old dad. A nuanced, interesting character study, but lacking something I can't quite identify.

'X-Men: Days of Future Past', 'Godzilla', 'The Wind Rises', '20 Feet from Stardom', 'Blue Ruin', 'Locke', 'A Story of Children and Film', and 'Tracks'

'X-Men: Days of Future Past' - Dir. Bryan Singer (12A)

Regular readers of this blog will know I'm a huge fan of the Marvel Studios movies to date, with my enthusiasm for 'Captain America: the First Avenger' and 'The Avengers', in particular, leading me to become an avid reader of the comics themselves. I like the Sam Raimi 'Spider-Man' series a lot too (even the third one, with reservations) and I even have time for Ang Lee's much-maligned 'Hulk' and, over on the DC side of things, I am overall a fan of the Christopher Nolan Batman trilogy. Yet, even though I'm of that generation that grew up with the Saturday morning cartoon series in the 90s and had parents who owned and loved an extensive collection of the Claremont/Byrne comics, I have never been a huge fan of Fox's X-Men movie franchise. The first one was pretty good - certainly better than I remember expecting it to be after seeing the title characters disappointingly decked out in unexciting black leather outfits - and its direct sequel, 2003's 'X-Men 2', was better still, but I've never been nostalgic about the series at all. And that's in spite of the fact that, with a couple of exceptions, the casting has always been superb.

That cast is probably why the series has limped on within the same continuity for over a decade now, even after the third entry 'X-Men: the Last Stand' killed off several main characters and pissed fans off by being completely terrible in almost every way: how do you recast Ian McKellan as Magneto or Patrick Stewart as Professor Xavier? To say nothing of the fact that Hugh Jackman, a near unknown when he was first cast in 2000, practically is Wolverine. The solution was to go backwards a few years ago with 'X-Men: First Class' (which most seemed to love and I completely hated bar its, again, exceptional casting), keeping the option open of making more Jackman Wolverine movies (2013's 'The Wolverine' was legitimately pretty great, whilst 2009's 'X-Men Origins: Wolverine' is best left forgotten) and enabling the recasting of key roles without inviting the same unkind comparisons that might have persisted had it been a straight-up reboot.

Now, seven movies in to Fox's X-Men movie franchise, they've finally made one I unequivocally love. Bryan Singer, who helmed the first two movies, returned to the director's chair to tell a very X-Men story: one involving not only the comic book series' staple of time travel but also spinning a tale specifically designed to address and repair perceived to an increasingly elaborate and inconsistent continuity. Put that way, 'X-Men: Days of Future Past', which is loosely based on a classic Chris Claremont and John Byrne story, is possibly the most comic book movie ever. The series that once felt the need to make jokes about heroes wearing "yellow spandex" has now fully embraced the madness of comic books and I couldn't have had a bigger smile on my face whilst watching it. Especially at the ending, because here's the thing: Singer and writer Simon Kinberg have done it.

They have fixed the X-Men movie franchise and in a classy way that makes it possible to make new movies with the 'First Class' cast (primarily James McAvoy, Michael Fassbender and Jennifer Lawrence) without fear of bumping into any of the old baggage that once lay in the way. It's a smart movie that celebrates the past, but definitively makes way for the future. It's a rare sequel/prequel that actually elevates everything that came before and makes it all seem, finally, like it all sort of makes a certain fuzzy kind of sense. I like problem movies, which is to say movies which seem to have set themselves a problem and solved it. It's partly why I liked Joss Whedon's 'Avengers' as much as I do. By all rights that movie should have been a huge mess: too many characters to juggle, too many egos on set, too much extended universe baggage to make it appeal to new audience members - yet it all clicked into place.

The same applies to 'Days of Future Past' in that this movie seems to have been conceived as a way to address continuity mistakes and to help rejuvenate and reboot the franchise. It's a placeholder movie, paving the way for new stories with a couple of hours of energetic rebuilding work, basically. Yet it also works on its own terms somehow, and is fast-paced, fun and contains terrific fight scenes not matched by any X-Men movie and, possibly, by any superhero movie to date. For the first time I'm excited to see a new X-Men movie. In fact, now I'm excited to see the recently announced Channing Tatum Gambit movie. It's not often movie number seven is the best in the franchise, but Fox's X-Men just got really good and it only took about 15 years to get there. Oh, and Quicksilver is awesome.

'Godzilla' - Dir. Gareth Edwards (12A)

Can't talk about this one without a mild SPOILER that won't be a surprise to anyone who's seen the more recent trailers, but some may want to avoid until they've seen the film.


The obvious way to reboot 'Godzilla' for a modern audience would be to re-tell that great original story from Ishiro Honda's 1954 classic, with all its post-war nuclear paranoia and pitch-perfect melodrama, as scientists work against hope to prevent the gigantic scaley metaphor from wiping out humanity one city at a time. He emerges from the sea, we get terrified, he fights the army, we somehow beat him back, the end. That first movie is popularly acknowledged to be the best of a series that, depending on who's counting, now extends to around 40 entries all sticking to a tried and tested formula which typically sees Godzilla fighting other giant kaiju whilst we humans look on helplessly. It's a "proper movie" that still holds up, in other words, whilst the sequels went the way of 'Rocky'. So it's fascinating to me that Gareth Edwards, director of DIY critical darling 'Monsters', has effectively bypassed this obvious route to respectability and gone straight into this prospective franchise in the spirit of those sequels. It's a weird choice but he more or less pulls it off with an entertaining monster smash-up even if it's not the more grounded and cerebral film many were expecting.

Godzilla is, charitably, a supporting player here, arriving around the hour mark and seldom seen until the big final showdown in which he rescues hopeless humanity from no less than two other gigantic terrors, after which he is declared the "king of monsters" by the TV news and celebrated in the streets. He's not the main hero and nor is he the epic antagonist, but instead serves as an elemental force of nature who sweeps in and, as Ken Watanabe's scientist has it, "restores balance" when things are at their bleakest. Until that happens we have to make do with a bunch of really good actors with varying degrees of little to do (Elizabeth Olsen, Juliette Binoche, Sally Hawkins, Brian Cranston, David Strathairn) and a lot of Aaron Taylor-Johnson as a military guy who, for one reason or another, follows the monsters around the world, acting as witness to a lot of city destruction and a number of futile US military attempts to thwart the beasts.

It lacks a little on the human side, but one thing Edwards' movie gets spectacularly right is the special effects on the monsters, which pull of that difficult trick (notoriously hard with CGI) of giving the creatures weight and scale. These are impressive things that easily dwarf aircraft carriers and skyscrapers. One of the most fun aspects of this movie is that Godzilla and his kaiju cousins are completely indifferent to us, only attacking when we get in their way, something best shown by scenes which show the American navy travelling alongside Godzilla as he makes his way inland. He could smash them up in moments were he bothered, but we're insects to him - which is probably the clearest way the film retains any of the original's fear of destructive forces outside of our control. Despite the cheering at the end, there is little indication that Godzilla has gone out of his way to save humanity, just that his vague objective matched up with our own this time around.

Far from perfect and not as complete or fully realised a vision as last year's more ambitious and imaginative 'Pacific Rim', Edwards' latest monster movie is a strange inverse of his last one: great at delivering epically sized beasts laying waste to civilization in suitably entertaining ways and a little bit shoddy when it comes to character work. Perhaps if a supporting player like Bryan Cranston were the star instead of the bland Taylor-Johnson then things would be very different, but as it stands this is a film that has just enough thrills to make you forgive its shortcomings.

'The Wind Rises' - Dir. Hayao Miyazaki (PG)

Supposedly representing the final film from legendary writer/director Hayao Miyazaki, co-founder of Japanese animation powerhouse Studio Ghibli, 'The Wind Rises' is a relatively low-key affair which serves partly as a biopic of aircraft engineer Jiro Horikoshi - designer of the famous 'Zero' fighter plane during the Second World War - and, oddly enough, also as a loose adaptation of a short story by Tatsuo Hori called The Wind Has Risen, which concerns a woman suffering from tuberculosis. It's a strange blend, especially as it means half the story (the part concerning Jiro's love for his sickly wife Naoko, which becomes increasingly pronounced in the final third) bares no obvious correlation with the life of the person the film is directly about, but it works in injecting what might have been a fairly dry tale about an aviation pioneer with the heart and romanticism associated with the filmmaker.

In almost every Miyazaki film to date his passion for machines, engines and, especially, aircraft has loomed large - most notably in 'Castle in the Sky' and 'Porco Rosso' but also visible in the joy of flight experienced on the catbus of 'My Neighbour Totoro' or the broom in 'Kiki's Delivery Service' - so in many ways, though it is less fantastical and magical (and it does still have those qualities stylistically), 'The Wind Rises' does have the air of a great passion project and represents an extremely personal sign-off. In the dream sequences, which are many, Miyazaki indulges his childish imagination, creating wondrous and impossible aircraft and contriving to have two of his heroes converse in what is ultimately aviation hobbyist fan fiction, as Jiro regularly checks in with the Italian airplane designer Giovanni Caproni, who forms his imaginary mentor. Miyazaki's obsessions enter the film in other ways too, with Jiro's drive and single-minded dedication to pursuing his chosen profession, perhaps at the expense of his personal life, another recurring theme.

At its core it's a film about choosing to pursue your creative dream even if it might be appropriated for nefarious purposes. Some have criticised the director for not going far enough to address the fact that Horikoshi ultimately designed efficient engines of war and destruction which were quickly put to devastating purpose in expanding the Empire of Imperial Japan - and it is fair to say he doesn't admonish Jiro for anything more severe than maybe not paying his (fictionalised) ailing wife enough attention. That said, given some of that negative reaction I was surprised how much the oncoming war underpins the entire film from its opening dream sequence (interrupted by bombs and destruction) to it's bittersweet final moments as Jiro finally perfects his plane only to be suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of what it will be use for next.

I'd argue Miyazaki effectively creates an air of menace and unease for most of the running time, with the foreshadowing of the coming destruction keenly felt during a haunting portrayal of the Great Kanto earthquake of 1923, as it levels Tokyo amidst an eerie sense of calm and quiet resignation of defeat in the face of a greater power - one of the greatest sequences he's ever conceived. The anti-war theme also comes to the fore in Jiro's dreams and the question of whether to "live in a world with or without pyramids", as Caproni puts it to him, is central. Then there's the kindly German traveller who (voiced to great effect by Werner Herzog in the English language dub) speaks gravely about the great evils being perpetuated by Japan's Nazi allies in Europe and who is suddenly forced to flee from the secret police. Ultimately this distaste for (though never outright rejection of) war is what sours Jiro's greatest achievement.

As you'd expect by now, the animation is peerless and beautiful, rendered all the more majestic by Joe Hisaishi's sweeping score. Miyazaki always nails small character moments and this film is no exception, from the effortless poetry of Naoko pulling her quilt over the sleeping Jiro as he rests at her side to his light and joyful depiction of something as simple as a paper airplane drifting on a breeze or a group of kids squeezing cartoonishly into the narrow confines of a giant biplane. Without much in the way of conflict to power the narrative, or anything like the fantasy of 'Howl's Moving Castle', 'Spirited Away' or 'Princess Mononoke', this is a film of small moments and wonderful details, no less joyful than those he's given us in the past. He threatened retirement in the past and then came back with some of his most celebrated work, so here's hoping this isn't the last of Hayao Miyazaki. But, if it is, this personal and intimate film is a great way to go.

'20 Feet from Stardom' - Dir. Morgan Neville (12A)

Controversially taking the Best Documentary Oscar earlier this year when it beat the fancied critical favourite 'The Act of Killing', '20 Feet from Stardom' may not be as exceptional a film in terms of form or content, but it's still a very entertaining doc, especially for those with a predilection for the girl groups of the 50s and 60s. The great Darlene Love is probably the best known of the film's subjects, as it explores the careers of remarkable singers (more often than not black women) who found themselves, for one reason or another, working as back-up rather than making the breakthrough as solo acts. There's all the expected VH1 Behind the Music style accounts of the highs and lows of fame and fortune, as some make it and others fall into obscurity and even out of music altogether, but it's pretty shallow when it comes to insight and is far from a definitive account of any era or artist. The main reason to watch is to see and hear these brilliant singers given a long overdue spotlight, and to learn anecdotes about their careers in music which saw them working behind everyone from Ray Charles to Stevie Wonder via Springsteen and Bowie.

'Blue Ruin' - Dir. Jeremy Saulnier (15)

With a low budget crowd-funded on Kickstarter and a very slight plot, 'Blue Ruin' is a taut thriller that mostly gets by on atmosphere, with the camera often uncomfortably close to Dwight (Macon Blair) who, when we first meet him, is a soft-spoken, reclusive vagrant - apparently sleep-walking through the past several years of his life in a traumatised stupor and living on a beach in a rusted, blue Pontiac. This changes when a local cop informs him that the man who killed his parents is due to be released from prison, prompting Dwight to start moving with a zombie-like single-mindedness on a quest for revenge. He starts up his old car, gets himself a gun, and heads out on a path of endless and empty ultra-violence with no clear winners.

Whilst clearly relishing the imaginatively executed scenes of violence, and clearly taking influence from the black humour and dark-hearted menace of early Coen Brothers movies, director Jeremy Saulnier also makes revenge seem appropriately childish. His baby-faced protagonist seems stuck in infanthood after losing his parents and seems perpetually afraid and incompetent, as opposed to cool and in control, a fact which serves as a nice counterpoint to the place revenge now seems to occupy in media in a post-Tarantino world. He gets his guns from a similarly childish old school friend, who displays a juvenile male's love of firearms and murder that is without conscience or understanding of consequence. That's not to say Saulnier isn't perhaps having his cake and eating it, with part of the thrill of 'Blue Ruin' definitely coming from the well-crafted scenes of death and violence, but it's an interesting and welcome aspect and one which elevates this interesting film above the crowd.

'Locke' - Dir. Steven Knight (15)


A masterclass in terms of showing what you can achieve with one (admittedly world class) actor and a tight, disciplined screenplay, 'Locke' is literally a film in which Tom Hardy drives down a British motorway for around an hour and a half, juggling problems at home and work on his phone. It begins with him getting into his family car in Birmingham and ends with him taking an exit ramp off the M40 and, though hugely important to Hardy's Ivan Locke and to the disembodied voices we hear on the other end of his carphone, the problems he faces are refreshingly down to earth. If given a small budget, one actor, and the brief to make a film entirely set in a moving car, it would be tempting to inject high-octane drama by making, say, something about a man with a bomb on his backseat who is having to deal with terrorists as he drives against the clock to rescue his wife and kids - but Locke gets a lot out of far less. It's consistently tense and thoroughly gripping even though it's about a man who's simply trying to get to resolve marital problems whilst also trying to co-ordinate what we're told is the "biggest concrete pour in Europe" (outside of military and nuclear). High stakes on both fronts, but on a relatable, human scale.

The only criticism I have of 'Locke' is that some of the voices on the other end of the phone sound theatrical and exaggerated rather than naturalistic, which is jarring when Hardy's adopted Welsh accent comes across as conversational and a little more nuanced, which has the effect of making it feel like the two sides of the conversation are coming from different films. Though that's a minor quibble at most because Hardy delivers a central performance that is captivating from beginning to end, even as/especially when he monologues about the minutiae urban planning and the construction industry in great detail. In fact his Alan Partridge-like fixation on pedantic, humdrum details lends the film a lot of humour even as you find yourself on the edge of your seat wondering if he can get the council to approve a vital 'stop and go' on a minor road at short notice.

'A Story of Children and Film' - Dir. Mark Cousins (PG)

In the vein of his celebrated television series 'The Story of Film: An Odyssey', critic-turned-filmmaker Mark Cousins turns his encyclopedic knowledge of cinema onto films from around the world depicting children, shining a spotlight on a number of little-seen gems and forgotten classics along the way. Using footage of his young niece and nephew playing in his front room as a sort of framing device, he identifies what he thinks are true expressions of childhood on camera and then uses films - ranging from the blockbuster 'E.T' to Iran's 'The White Balloon' and the Albanian 'Tomka and His Friends' - to illustrate how these traits and ideas have best been depicted on film.

It's as much a celebration of cinema and childhood as it is a work of criticism and film history, with the definite article in the title of his aforementioned series replaced with a more subjective 'A' this time around. Admittedly, some of the links Cousins draws between the films feel like a stretch (I'm still not sure what his segways to the art of Van Gogh have to do with anything) but it's primarily made up of clips from some truly beautiful films, presented here with an enthusiasm to match the intellect.

'Tracks' - Dir. John Curran (12A)

The based-on-a-true-story tale of one young woman's nine month trek across the best part of 2,000 miles of inhospitable Australian desert, from the Northern Territory town of Alice Springs to the Indian Ocean on the west coast, John Curran's 'Tracks' struggles to convey a sense of either time or distance. Like many walking films before it, such as Peter Weir's 'The Way Back' or even John Hillcoat's adaptation of 'The Road', the great swathes of land covered by the protagonist are lost in the edit in the name of brevity, with the film instead taking us from incident to incident - which seems antithetical to the nature of the story being told. The ever-watchable Mia Wasikowska plays Robyn Davidson as a loner who prefers the company of animals to people, yet the film - even with frequent flashbacks to a traumatic childhood - never really gets to the heart of why that is, or why it is she decides upon this arbitrary and extremely dangerous goal.

We don't really even get to see her deal with isolation for any great stretch of time, as the film bumps Robyn into numerous people seemingly every other scene - from Adam Driver's well-meaning photojournalist to empathetic aboriginal elders and bemused white settlers. It's ultimately a movie hamstrung by an apparent belief that the only way to advance the story or develop its central character is through dialogue and contrived drama. I can't help but imagine Robyn Davidson's months in the outback must have, in truth, consisted of very little of either. Her biggest struggle, perhaps after ensuring a reliable supply of drinkable water, must have been against boredom and madness. This should have been a tale of remoteness, quiet self-reflection and perseverance, but what we have instead is a fairly conventional romance story about a woman who just needs to learn to let people in, principally by learning to love Driver's manic pixie dream-boy.

'The Amazing Spider-Man 2', 'Calvary', 'Noah', 'Muppets Most Wanted', 'We Are the Best', 'The Double', 'The Raid 2', and 'Labor Day'

'The Amazing Spider-Man 2' - Dir. Marc Webb (12A)

Like its immediate predecessor, 2012's 'The Amazing Spider-Man', what's frustrating about Marc Webb's sequel is that it isn't totally, utterly terrible on anything like a consistent basis: it's that the film is sometimes an utterly perfect superhero comic adaptation between the (more frequent) instances where it's completely and utterly terrible. For instance, ignoring the boring opening scene in which it needlessly focuses on the death of Peter Parker's parents, the film starts with Spidey (Andrew Garfield, mumbling less than in the last film) swinging around a sunny New York City (this one isn't entirely set at night like the last) attempting to stop a robbery, aiding police in pursuit of a pantomime villain played by overacting's Paul Giamatti. It's one of the instances where the Spider-Man from the comic book page, and your childish imagination, is right up there on the screen, swinging through the streets with all the joyousness that makes him such an appealing character. He wisecracks the badguy to great effect and the animation is fantastic in that it presents the character in a way which is entirely comic book: he moves and bends like a cartoon character and not like a real person. It's terrific.

Then we cutaway to Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone), Peter's girlfriend, giving the painfully earnest and obviously prophetic graduation speech that Parker is typically late to because that's sort of Spider-Man's entire thing. And the fun leaves the movie for a few minutes. Then Spider-Man shows up again and it's awesome! Then the emo, sub-'Twilight' drama kicks in again. And so on. Now both leads are highly watchable and they have a chemistry that makes some of the straight-up romance scenes work very nicely, but these moments are self-conscious and overwritten, with musical cues that always tell you, right on the nose, exactly how to think and feel at any given moment. What they are not, generally, is fun to watch. Then there's poor Jamie Foxx, a decent actor who is given a truly thankless task as villain Electro, who has some unbearably embarrassing scenes which mostly involve talking to himself whilst the soundtrack starts to rap whatever he just said in the background. The Times Square action showdown between him and Spidey is laughable when it should be, if you'll pardon the pun, electrifying simply because of the terrible dialogue and cringe-inducing musical choices.

So it goes. There are some more excellent bits: Dane DeHaan predictably enough makes for a delicious comic book villain, as Peter's lifelong friend Harry Osborne (absent from the last film) who takes on the mantle of arch-nemesis the Green Goblin here. His late-film team-up with Electro is really fun to watch, as he taunts and intimidates members of the cartoonishly evil Oscorp board. Likewise the climactic action sequence, though hamstrung by its regrettable staging (taking place on the oversized cogs of a giant CGI clock), is tense and its climax emotional, if only because of the quality of the actors involved and prior attachment I feel to these characters. Yet there's so much crap in between the good moments that we're again left with a Spider-Man movie that is neither awful or brilliant or even consistently mediocre, but an unholy hybrid of all three. Which is disappointing and maybe the worst of all possible worlds because of the false hope proffered by the very best moments here.

'Calvary' - Dir. John Michael McDonagh (15)

Hinging on a stunning central performance by Brendan Gleason, as a good man and dedicated priest in a rural Irish town, 'Calvary' is writer-director John Michael McDonagh's typically tragicomic follow-up to 'The Guard'. Behind that great performance is a screenplay which not only boasts a lot of smart and darkly funny dialogue but also a simple yet ingenious premise. The film begins with an unseen person making a confession to Gleason's Father James Lavelle that he was sexually abused by a Catholic priest as a child and that, one week from now, he'll murder Lavelle on the local beach - the logic being that murdering a good priest for the sins of the church (inviting a fairly obvious Christian parallel) will mean more than murdering a bad one. The rest of the film follows Lavelle's daily life leading up to the prophesied event, as he runs into various members of his flock, all of whom have some sort of historic axe to grind with the Catholic church as an institution, which serves the dual function of allowing for some interesting contemplation about the role of the church in contemporary Ireland whilst also handily setting up a half-dozen potential murderers.

Even-handed to a fault, the supporting cast of broad archetypal characters - played by the likes of Aiden Gillen, Dylan Moran and a particularly superb Chris O'Dowd - air a number of popular (and generally justified) grievances against the church's exploits, whilst in return Lavelle is shown to be a pretty smart and witty guy who more often than not has an amusing rebuttal, even if he doesn't always mount a counter-offensive. It's as much about the Catholic church as an institution as it is about religious belief and the very idea of a good priest - or even a good man - as it is a compelling, occasionally tense crime mystery and acidic, jet-black comedy.

'Noah' - Dir. Darren Aronofsky (12A)

Already one of the year's most divisive and controversial releases, Darren Aronofsky has risked alienating both secular and religious audiences with an epic adaptation of the story of Noah's Arc from the Old Testament book of Genesis. On the face of it you'd think there couldn't be much worse in this world than a big screen Bible story starring Russell Crowe, but the director's decision to tell it as a full-blown High Fantasy-influenced myth - complete with rock monsters, flaming swords and magical potions - makes for something highly entertaining, yet also thought-provoking as it becomes something of a discussion about the Old Testament in the post-flood second half. For his part Crowe is perfectly cast as a biblical patriarch in the old mould: an uncompromising zealot who would murder a child if God willed it of him. It's his decision to collaborate with God (referred to throughout as 'the creator') in wiping out the rest of humanity that forms the bulk of the third act soul searching and causes conflict between Noah and his long-suffering family.

Aronofsky is working on a large canvas here, though this succeeds where his previous attempt at something fantastical, theological and expensive - 'The Fountain' - failed, being more coherent and straight forward in a narrative sense, which gives the theological or moral concerns of the film more immediacy. Though none of his visual flair or tendency towards the poetic is diminished by this more conventional approach, with some particularly memorable and magnificent sequences standing out - such as a time-lapse montage of a trickle of water forming a mighty, continent-spanning river and a brilliant 'Tree of Life' style sequence that features the biblical story of creation being told over images of the formation of the universe as we presently understand it through science. And whilst these visuals impress, and the fallen angel/stone golems excite during a 'Lord of the Rings' style battle against Ray Winstone's army of damned humans, where it really excels is in its complex grappling with ideas.

The assumption with religion, at least in movies, tends to be that if you accept the existence of God then you must worship him. By setting this story in a world where 'the Creator' unambiguously exists the film instead seems to ask the question of should you follow him? This isn't the crisis of belief which we see explored time and time again, but an active challenge to God's moral authority. This is a vengeful and violent Old Testament deity who doesn't seem to have our best interests at heart. He damned his angels for helping Adam and Eve - and cast them out of heaven for exercising an innocent curiosity about the world around them. When Noah suggests he has been chosen by God not for being the best man, but for being the one prepared to get things done, what could read as a cliche action movie line actually suggests quite a frightening prospect. Not least that the nominal hero of the movie is actually a callous psychopath, with the sense growing ominously that his family are trapped on the arc with somebody dangerous and unhinged. As a result 'Noah' is a much smarter film than many might be expecting.

'Muppets Most Wanted' - Dir. James Bobin (U)

Disney's sequel to 2011's well loved 'The Muppets' might not hold together as neatly as a movie, lacking that earlier film's pathos and clearly defined character arc, but it's every bit as fun (and possibly more so) thanks to a high gag-count and some typically enjoyable musical numbers from Flight of the Conchords' Bret McKenzie. This time the gang is tricked by Ricky Gervais' Dominic Badguy (amusingly described by Rowlf as "honest and humble") into embarking on a European tour during which Kermit is spirited away to a Siberian gulag and replaced by his evil doppelganger: Constantine, the world's most dangerous frog. Dominic and Constantine plan to use the tour as a cover to steal artifacts from the museums of Berlin, Madrid, Dublin and London.

This great Muppet caper prompts intervention from the year's most surprising and enjoyable comedy double-act as an FBI agent (Sam the Eagle) and an Interpol Detective (Ty Burrell) seek to pin the blame on our framed heroes, whilst mocking each other's crime solving acumen and competing to see who has the biggest badge. Also extremely fun to watch is Tina Fey as the Kermit-obsessed warden of the gulag, stealing the show with her performance of one of the film's most toe-tapping songs and getting some of the best gags. It's a bit baggy in places but made with obvious love and a complete lack of cynicism, something backed up by dozens of celebrity cameos which feel less like an attempt to sell tickets and more like genuine expressions of the affectionate regard held for these fading icons within popular culture. 100% joyful from start to finish.

'We Are the Best!' - Dir. Lukas Moodysson (15)

A truly special film, Lukas Moodysson's coming of age story 'We Are the Best!' is a rare type of movie. It's uplifting without being schmaltzy, with an infectious enthusiasm for jumping around and generally being a 13 year-old misfit that I would have loved to have seen at that age - even if the film's curious '15' rating by the BBFC would have made that a difficult prospect. The plot concerns a group of young, female social outcasts, Bobo (Mira Barkhammar), Klara (Mira Grosin) and Hedvig (Liv LeMoyne), who decide to form a punk band - more or less with the soul intention of pissing people off. Though they have a passionate interest in music from the start, and take the band increasingly seriously as the story progresses, it's this fearless irreverence and defiant attitude that makes the characters and the film so compelling.

It's an obviously apparent truth to say they don't make a lot of films of this quality about the experience of teenage girls but, more broadly, there just aren't that many films that depict adolescence with the kind of heart and complexity displayed here. The three leads are all incredibly interesting, lovable, fully-formed characters who you really root for in spite of, or rather because of, their naivete, stubbornness and half-formed pseudo-political ideas. As fun as it is, the film also cuts to the heart of what it means to be an outcast: to feel isolated, unloved and alone. We see their daily interactions with cruel classmates, weary teachers and odd parents - with three contrasting family dynamics proving its how you fuck up your children as opposed to if - and glimpse more than a little casual everyday sexism, that's so constant as to be mundane. Yet there is a fierce optimistic streak running through it too and the film is smart enough to also understand (and embrace) how the girls' self-conscious outcast status is to some extent a construction of their own design. A film that says so much about youth, friendship, being an outsider, and the unaffected joy of music.

The Double - Dir. Richard Ayoade (15)

There is so much to love about 'The Double', the second feature film directed by Richard Ayoade following his instant classic 'Submarine'. It has a brilliant cast of intelligent actors, making perfect use of the intense and twitchy Jesse Eisenberg - as both a downtrodden schlemiel and the obnoxious personification of his id who ruins his already crummy life - and Mia Wasikowska as another slightly broken person rendered similarly anonymous by an uncaring dystopian state. The supporting cast is a laundry list of other perfomers I really admire, such as Noah Taylor, Sally Hawkins, Wallace Shawn, Tim Key, Paddy Considine, Chris O'Dowd and Chris Morris, as well as roles for Craig Roberts and Yasmin Paige, the young stars of his earlier film. It deals with themes of social isolation and awkwardness that I tend to enjoy seeing explored and has a brilliant concept as adapted from a novella by Dostoyevsky. It also has a style that seems to me like a blend of 'Brazil' and 'Punch-Drunk Love' - two of my favourite films.

So why did it leave me so cold? Why didn't it connect with me on an emotional level, even as I recognise that it was very clever and quite beautifully executed from a technical standpoint? I ask rhetorically here because I don't know the answer myself, at least after a single viewing. (I'm sort of working it out as I type this.) There's nothing I could point to as being 'wrong' with it and, conversely, so much that I could describe enthusiastically. In particular the staging of scenes and the lighting was really terrific, whilst the fractured, off-kilter musical score by Andrew Hewitt was quietly effective at creating discomfort and tension. So why wasn't I engaged by it? The best I can come up with now is that there isn't enough lightness there, not enough hope or happiness in this world to make you think our heroes have anything worth striving for. In both 'Brazil' and 'Punch-Drunk Love' it's love that makes the world worth living in, despite all the other crap going on that makes you question humanity, and that's what Ayoade is seemingly trying to evoke here with the relationship between Eisenberg and Wasikowska. But it somehow falls flat, perhaps because she never seems like she's into him and he just seems like a creepy stalker.

In 'Brazil', Sam Lowry is able to dream of a life beyond the stale, bureaucratic dystopia he inhabits because of an idealised love affair that he dreams will take place. It doesn't matter that (spoiler warning) it doesn't, because we join him in feeling like it could. We badly want it to happen for him and the ending is a punch to the guts because we don't get our way. Similarly, 'Punch-Drunk Love' has Barry Egan live in a world rendered cruel by his own internal struggles with anxiety and confidence, and he hopes to break free of his inhibitions and give his experience of life meaning - in a frightening and often hostile world - through a love which will validate his existence and give him peace of mind. This works because Emily Watson's character genuinely likes him too and, in fact, initiates contact (making it more about him overcoming his emotional problems than about him "winning the girl"). 'The Double', as I see it, is combining both of those narratives but something has been lost in translation. I feel like the film wants to make my heart soar when the up-tempo J-Pop song comes on in a dingy cafe or when Jesse dances down the corridor, towards the camera (in a shot lifted directly out of 'Punch-Drunk Love') as the lighting cues change around him in harmony with the music and mood. But it didn't and I'm as confused as anyone as to why that was.

'The Raid 2' - Dir. Gareth Evans (18)

There's a scene in the second 'Bill & Ted' film where they're falling into a seemingly bottomless abyss. At first they are screaming, terrified of the expected collision with the ground below, but minutes later they are simply bored - memorably playing a game of 20 Questions to pass the time as they continue downwards. Psychologists might chalk this up as an example of the hedonic treadmill, which sees human beings return to a sort of stable emotional baseline after a while regardless of positive or negative events, in other words: there's only so long you can be terrified for. That might seem like an odd way to open my critique of Welsh filmmaker Gareth Evans' 'The Raid 2', a sequel to his well received 2011 Indonesian martial arts film, but it's the only way I can explain how I felt watching the film's intense but lengthy fight sequences.

Choreographed with imagination and performed with incredible skill, any five minute clip of a fist fight in 'The Raid 2' would be jaw-dropping and pulse-raising. The fights are fast, frantic and brutally violent, and they get more and more extreme as the film continues. Yet there's only so long I can be thinking "wow, this is intense" before my mind starts to wander and I find myself thinking "what's for lunch?" only to pull back and realise the same fight is still going on and plucky rookie cop Rama (Iko Iwais) still hasn't dealt that killer blow we know is coming.

I don't mean to seem so negative about the movie, which I actually enjoyed hugely for the most part. It's spectacular for a good portion of its length and the epic gangster drama which unfolds is consistently engaging (if convoluted and occasionally confusing), even if it lacks the tightness of the original's ingenious concept. But it turns out the film's two and a half hour running time tests the limits of my attention span when it comes to unrelenting, first-driven carnage.

'Labor Day' - Dir. Jason Reitman (12A)

Telling the tale of how one mentally ill woman (Kate Winslet in full-on 'middle-American housewife' mode) falls in love with (and makes hasty plans to move to Canada with) a convict she's just been kidnapped by (Josh Brolin) over one blissful, romance-filled weekend, 'Labor Day' is the unhappy spectacle of lots of very talented people having a very bad day. To start with, Brolin's escaped convict is the most cliche example of a dreamy, manly-man as it's possible to be: fixing the kitchen sink and the car; cooking a mean chili con carne in the most sensual way possible; playing baseball in the yard with her son (Gattlin Griffith) and the nice disabled boy from across the road; serenading Winslet on the acoustic guitar - all in a tight-fitting white t-shirt. Despite his rarely mentioned manslaughter charge, which never seems to bother Winslet & son in the slightest, he's presented as the dream answer to every trite utterance of "that boy needs a man in the house" across the span of American popular culture.

Aside from teaching us, in hyper-incestuous erotic fashion, how to make a mighty tasty looking peach pie (in an extended cooking scene almost pornographic in detail) there is very little of worth to take away from 'Labor Day'. Overwrought drama and convoluted tension playing out over events that (being charitable) very quickly begin to stretch credibility. There's even a teenage romance sub-plot, which gives us a particularly egregious example of the manic pixie dream girl (Maika Monroe) phenomenon. Winslet and Brolin are fine actors and they demonstrate good chemistry together as romantic interests, but that isn't enough to save this from being one of the year's worst so far.