'Pacific Rim', 'Monsters University', 'The Bling Ring', 'We Steal Secrets' and 'The Deep': review round-up

'Pacific Rim' - Dir. Guillermo Del Toro (12A)

A clear labour of love for creature feature obsessive Guillermo Del Toro, 'Pacific Rim' marks the 'Pan's Labyrinth' director's first completed film since 2008's 'Hellboy II' and sees the Mexican channeling his fandom of Japanese mecha anime series and kaiju monster movies into something grand and frequently spectacular of the summer blockbuster variety. It takes place in the near-future, where a trans-dimensional portal beneath the Pacific ocean has been unleashing giant beasts upon the Earth for a number of years with city-destroying consequences. Humanity's solution? We created monsters of our own, in the form of Jaegers: towering metal soldiers controlled by teams of specially selected, mentally compatible human pilots, built in a spirit of international co-operation. However, years into this struggle, we are losing the battle: the kaiju are getting bigger, their attacks are more frequent and only a handful of Jaegers remain as governments worldwide abandon the program in favour of hiding behind ineffectual coastal walls. It's down to the last Jaeger pilots, and a pair of eccentric scientists, to cancel the apocalypse.

Packed with jaw-dropping set-pieces, characteristically striking visuals and boasting gorgeous production design, it's a visual treat and the sort of thrill-ride you only get from the very best Hollywood fare. Even the 3D - post-converted, but apparently given more time and attention than usual - is a treat, adding texture to the rain effects in particular, as the Jaegers battle the Kaiju at sea. From a character point of view it's broad, but certainly not dumb or empty: the drama feels humane and ties into the action rather than being a perfunctory afterthought. It's also pleasing how international the whole thing is. Yes: it's an American movie, so the American pilot and American mech win the day. But, on the flip-side, rarely is an action movie of this kind less militaristic or nationalistic than this. There's a Russian mechs, a Chinese mech and we're told the Australian mech is the best of the bunch - the most successful and effective around - allowing a sense that this is truly humanity fighting together in its darkest hour.

Also missing is the traditional antagonism between the military and scientists: the misunderstandings, the distrust, the contempt that's usually a huge part of the sci-fi genre. The human characters are, broadly speaking, all good guys and all on the same page - for the most part behaving rationally and not just shouting each other down. At several key moments the film neatly side-stepped whatever horrid cliche I thought was about to occur in favour of something less frustrating or contrived. There are still cliches, but they are the fun kind: like something out of the best bits of 'Independence Day' rather than 'Transformers'. What's more, the male characters are allowed to be emotional, while the lead actress (Rinko Kikuchi) is capable and not really a love interest in the traditional sense (the bond she shares with Charlie Hunnam's lead is not explicitly based around sexual attraction, and she's certainly never presented as a prize to be won by the hero).

Where the film really shines is in the amount of subtle world-building that takes place, with lots of background details and minor plot-points making the world feel rich and lived-in. This is a world effected in numerous ways - big and small - but the arrival of the Kaiju, and this provides some really excellent moments and imaginative ideas. Ideas that become enigmatic and encourage audience curiosity. If this film was a character, it's Boba Fett from 'The Empire Strikes Back': intriguing, rarely seen, the potential basis for endless hours of thought and fantasy by fans. What it's not is Jango Fett from 'Attack of the Clones': over-exposed, over-explained and under-whelming as a result.

One of the most purely enjoyable films we're likely to see this year and possibly the finest original sci-fi action film since 'District 9'.

'Monsters University' - Dir. Dan Scanlon (U)

Why don't presidents and prime ministers ever do all the stuff they promised they'd do once elected? The cynical view is that they're all cads and crooks: they never intended to do those things. They said what they had to in order to get elected and then they did what everybody does - they protected their own interests. But maybe (maybe) the reason the Obamas of this world don't live up to expectations is that, when you're actually in the chair, you're suddenly seeing different data, hearing different opinions from advisers and faced with a different set of responsibilities and expectations. I think this latter analysis might explain why Pixar - who once deliberately, self-consciously stood as a counter-point to the cynical, sequel churn - has been milking its "franchises" for all they're worth ever since founder John Lasseter got promoted at Disney.

For the record: I love Pixar. I think, not controversially, the people at Pixar are geniuses who have presided over arguably the most consistent run of quality animated films ever delivered by any studio. Unsurpassed in terms of technical accomplishment, story development and animation detail, their films are modern masterpieces. 'Cars' accepted, the nine of the ten films released between 1995 ('Toy Story') and 2009 ('Up') have to be considered among the finest animated films ever made. I say this not to fawn unduly, but to show that I both deeply love and greatly respect what the studio has stood for during the peak years of its existence. But ever since John Lasseter became the CFO at Disney in 2006, all those sequels the studio used to shun have happened or are on their way to happening at the expense of the sort of original ideas we've become accustomed to as devoted members of their audience.

We've had the (and I know I'm in the minority here) lackluster 'Toy Story 3', the embarrassing 'Cars 2' and now - with a sequel for 'Finding Nemo' apparently on the way - here comes 'Monsters University': a prequel no one asked for, from a studio that - less than a decade ago - would never have considered making it. I have all the respect in the world for John Lasseter and, since 2006, the quality of output coming from Disney Animation Studios has increased dramatically ('Princess and the Frog', 'Tangled', 'Wreck-It Ralph'), but I mourn for Pixar after this latest assault on its legacy.

As you may have gathered from the opening three paragraphs of increasingly shrill hysteria, 'Monsters University' - which sees the beloved Mike (Billy Crystal) and Sully (John Goodman) learning to be "scarers" and friends during their college years - is not a great piece of work. It's good. It's perfectly fine. It passes the time. There are moments of great wit and invention, and a few genuinely inspired laughs, whilst the animation and technical side of things is as polished and sophisticated as ever. Yet, overall, it's hollow and unfulfilling - the gags obvious "college movie" stuff punned with monsters the way The Flintstones does with the stone age. Worse still, it's not too indistinct from the sort of unambitious, by-numbers sequel you'd expect of Dreamworks or Fox. That's not say it isn't entertaining, but Pixar are victims of their own great success in this instance: what would represent a creative high-point for one of their imitators is simply not good enough. I enjoyed 'Much Ado About Nothing' last month, but would I have enjoyed it as much if someone told me it was the latest Paul Thomas Anderson movie? Some folks you hold to a higher standard.

'The Bling Ring' - Dir. Sofia Coppola (15)

Want to make a film? Only got about 15 minutes of actual story (something you read in a magazine article, perhaps?) and worried it might not stretch to feature length? Well, my friend, you've lucked out, because Sofia Coppola's latest provides you answers to this very conundrum! For instance, if the one scene you have sees five vapid teenagers breaking into a minor celebrity's house and stealing some of their clothing and jewelry: just show that same scene half a dozen times! It's easy - just take the teenagers to another house and do the same thing again! They can pick up slightly different bags and say how cool a slightly different house is. If you're feeling adventurous you can shoot this a few different ways to make people think they're watching something different each time. Sofia gives us a few options to play with: night vision, security camera footage, eye of god external shot etc. And make sure your characters say "Facebook" and "Twitter" a few hundred times so we know how hip and young and thoroughly now the whole thing is. You can string out the scenes in between with the kids driving and just, sort of, standing about looking at their phones. Really: if you put a cool enough soundtrack behind it you can even get it distributed and played in cinemas for actual paying customers. It's genius really.

Oooohh! Start with the ending and then... show the ending again later! That's another 10 minutes taken care of. And play some of the same dialogue multiple times - sometimes in a jarring, faux documentary style that's at odds with the rest of the film and then again out of that context. Have the actors say it word-for-word too, so you don't have to re-phrase it even slightly, because that might require more writing and you only have 15 pages to work with after all. If you have the money, you can hire a former child star freshly liberated from a wildly popular franchise. It doesn't matter if they're any better at acting than the other kids who nobody has heard of at all - or even if they have to do an accent. What matters is that you can get free publicity out of their appearance here, maybe halving the marketing budget of your picture. They may even work relatively cheaply because they're trying to break-out and be a "serious actor". Who knows? You can hope. All of this works much better if: 1) your famous family can produce it for you and 2) if you still have goodwill left over from a genuinely great film you made once.

There you go, lazy budding filmmakers of the world. Enjoy!

'We Steal Secrets: The Story of Wikileaks' - Dir. Alex Gibney (15)

An amazing piece of work: balanced, stylish, thrilling, sick-making - sometimes funny and never less than compelling. Alex Gibney takes on Wikileaks and Julian Assange in this revealing documentary that - like many of the contributors - is on one hand in awe of its subject and on the other immensely troubled by him. Bound up with the potentially world-changing and arguably heroic activities of Wikileaks itself - which, among other things, helped bring to light the ugly reality of the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan - is the increasingly odd story of Assange, the organisation's founder: whose behavior has been increasingly antithetical to the ideals the whistle-blowing website stands for in the eyes of supporters. It's neither a hatchet job, nor a celebration, but an examination of flawed human beings. It's a sad portrait of a man who seems equal parts a brilliant idealist, a paranoid loner, and self-styled international celebrity.

As much as it follows the career and recent legal troubles of Assange, the film also looks in detail at Bradley Manning - the US private who disclosed thousands of classified files to Wikileaks and who has subsequently been imprisoned without trial and, it would appear, tortured. There's discussion of war crimes committed by the US military under Obama's leadership. Discussion of how the procedures behind the sharing and storage of intelligence data changed after 9/11. Discussion of the moral grey areas around the entire subject: who is hurt by this freedom of information? What do we lose and what do we stand to gain from it as a society? A lot to chew over and Gibney's film, which features a wealth of interviews with fascinating contributors, does a fantastic job of facilitating and furthering the debate.

'The Deep' - Dir. Baltasar Kormakur (12A)

Iceland's official Academy Award entry for the last Oscars (though it wasn't in the final pool of nominees), 'The Deep' is a dry and slightly boring "based on a true story" account of how one man survived in the Northern Atlantic for six hours when he should have died after 15 minutes. When a fishing boat goes down, isolated and at night, all but one of her crew succumb quickly to the extreme cold - but one overweight man, who isn't even an accomplished swimmer, makes it back home against all odds. He even has to climb a mountain of volcanic rock when he gets there, so understandably he's hailed as a evidence of a miracle and a national hero upon his successful return. It turns out this wasn't a very cinematic feat, even if it would make a mildly diverting story if you came upon it in a newspaper.

However, with a third of the film left to go (most of it's a man swimming very slowly in the dark, talking to a bird), it shifts into a tale of a mostly apathetic man, devoid of charisma, shuffling between dry medical examinations and unconvincing efforts to comfort the families and friends of his fellow sailors. It's basically what a shrug looks like if filmed in super slow-motion.

'The Act of Killing' and 'Stories We Tell': review round-up

We held the sixth edition of the Hold Onto Your Butts film quiz at Dukes @ Komedia last night. As usual, I've posted Joe Blann's fantastic picture round above for your pleasure!

Reviews...

'The Act of Killing' - Dir. Joshua Oppenheimer (15)

Unsettling, bizarre, sometimes oddly amusing and always a challenging watch, documentary 'The Act of Killing' follows a group of Indonesian war criminals as they stage camp and increasingly strange re-enactments of their crimes for a feature film. These men - who carried out genocide on 1 million of the countries communists, ethnic Chinese and their families in the mid-60s, with the backing of their army and Western governments - mimic their favourite American gangster movies and incorporate pieces of Indonesian folklore in order to celebrate their part in the killing of thousands, with executioners among those proudly demonstrating the techniques they used to kill on the very locations where they committed their heinous and unpunished crimes.

What's immediately striking about the film is how frank and open the men are: from the newspaper owner (still running his paper) who declares his job was to "make the public hate communists" and to single out individuals for persecution and death, to politicians (still in power) who boast about their use of violent gangsters and uniformed militia groups to keep dissenters in-line. We witness gangsters in modern day Indonesia as they bully and extort "protection money" from frightened Chinese shopkeepers and hear one political candidate talk candidly to the camera about his plans to use his office to force local business to pay him bribes - or else he'll have their buildings condemned. It's a scale of corruption and celebration of mass murder so brazen the criminals can appear on what looks like the Indonesian equivalent of "Loose Women" to promote their film - and loudly declare that they will kill any communists who speak out against it, to the cheers of the studio audience. Unnerving in the extreme, but so heightened and seemingly exaggerated that it's hard not to laugh: for instance, when the head of a paramilitary organisation brags of his "relax and Rolex" lifestyle.

What makes the film so extraordinary and thought-provoking is that this isn't the story of a group of mad individuals, but seemingly something that runs much deeper and across the entire country. It's a reminder of many things, not least the fact that it doesn't take much to vilify a group of people and encourage a state-sponsored pogrom, but also that there's no such thing as "good" or "evil" people - that, unpalatable as it may be, most of us are capable of either in almost equal measure, guided by the hand of history as it shapes the society around us. These are men who talk of their love of dancing in the street after watching Elvis Presley movies. Men who collect crystal Tinkerbell statues and wear pink fedoras in earnest. Men who give as much thought to how to choreograph a musical number as they did to finding the most efficient ways to kill.

It's also a monument to the power of art to help people better understand themselves, to encourage empathy and as a vessel for exploring existential questions. A simple dialogue or argument with any of these men would have undoubtedly lead to a stand-off, so ingrained in their culture and past 50 years of myth-making is the rightness of their cause. But in providing them the means to make a film about their exploits - ostensibly celebrating and explaining what they did for posterity - the film demonstrates how art can lead to reflection and, in this case, unearth long-suppressed doubts. It's clear that, in the case of one executioner, re-enacting the events and re-visiting them in this way gives rise to feelings of grief and guilt that he might otherwise never have experienced - let alone expressed. It's usually pompous and empty to brand a film "important", but 'The Act of Killing' is exactly that. A near-perfect example of what can be accomplished by documentary filmmaking.

'Stories We Tell' - Dir. Sarah Polley (12A)

From Sarah Polley - the director of the uneven drama 'Take this Waltz' - comes a surprisingly affecting documentary 'Stories We Tell', in which she examines the life of her late-mother, the truth about her estranged genetic father and the way in which we construct stories. Inviting members of her extended family and friends to tell their version of events from beginning to end, Polley edits together disparate, sometimes contradictory accounts of her mother's life, to tell a nuanced tale that is equal parts sad and joyful in its depiction of a person's life and their secrets. The narration, written and delivered by Polley's (non-genetic) father, Michael, is especially poignant and even beautiful.

It's less effective, however, when Polley takes a more proactive part in events - making her own observations and reading excepts from letters with a humourlessness that's hard to stomach. Especially as she brings the focus of the film onto the making of the film itself, drawing attention to some of the techniques and advantages of its construction in a faintly self-congratulatory spirit that almost spoils things. Almost, but not quite: because 'Stories We Tell' is a fantastic piece of work, even (at times) in spite of its director. A celebration of a person's life that never shies away from the complexity of their character: a humanistic film that explores a woman's infidelity without judgement and with uncommon understanding.

'World War Z', 'This is the End', 'A Field in England' and 'Frances Ha': review round-up

Before I get to the reviews, I should (for once) make an effort to plug the Live at the Essoldo Cinema Podcast - the latest episode of which saw Toby and I joined by our friend Craig Ennis and director Ben Wheatley, to discuss his upcoming film 'A Field in England' (reviewed below). You can download that conversation here. Whilst you're there, check out earlier episodes of "The Essoldo", which launched earlier this year from the ashes of Splendor Cinema.

So... reviews:

'World War Z' - Dir. Marc Forster (12A)

I can only put the relatively kind reception this film has received from critics down to severely diminished expectations. It is profoundly terrible, but maybe not in the car crash fashion everybody had been primed to expect. Shot back in the summer of 2011, and subjected to numerous script changes and re-shoots since then, 'World War Z' was shaping up to be a disaster of notorious proportions: this generation's 'Waterworld' or 'Ishtar'. And it isn't that - at all. In fact, as I write, it's number one at the international box office and, whilst it's apparently still got a way from being profitable for Paramount, not any sort of box office disaster story. But it is completely and utterly rubbish - a film genuinely without redeeming qualities of any sort.

Terrible CGI (it's all helicopter shots of unconvincing computer-generated crowds, flocking through various big cities), non-existent action scenes (the climax involves a nap, a monologue, some meningitis, a can of Pepsi and interminable scenes of staring at a fairly docile zombie), thinly drawn characters (what is Brad Pitt's vital, most-necessary-man-on-Earth UN job supposed to be anyway?), gaping holes in internal logic (zombies that can topple city walls and push over buses, but can't get past a pile of office desks?), dubious politics (peaceful cohabitation between Jews and Muslims in Jerusalem attracts the zombies!), the worst-written child characters ever ("I'm scared!", "I need my blanket!"), plot threads that go, literally, nowhere ("my family aren't safe!!!"... um, well they seem OK) and... I could go on.

It's bad. It's a waste of your time. Writing any more about it would constitute a waste of my time.

'This is the End' - Dir. Seth Rogen & Evan Goldberg (15)

I've written here before, probably numerous times, that it's very difficult to review all-out comedies (as opposed to comedy-dramas), in that whether or not the film succeeds ultimately comes down to one question: "did it make you laugh"? Comedy is probably the most hit and miss genre out there, when you think about it, because there's usually nothing else going on but a string of gags and, if they don't work for you, there's usually nothing else there that's going to keep you entertained. In fact, being in a room full of people laughing at stuff you (at best) don't think is funny or (at worst) think is utterly moronic can be an alienating and irritating experience. Luckily, for me at least, 'This is the End' made me laugh more often than not.

It's got all the hallmarks of the sort of US dude-comedy that I don't usually like: every gag is more or less based around a bunch of slacker, man-child "bros" talking about sex, chicks, drugs and booze - with ample comic millage taken from taboo subjects, such as rape and masturbation - and, aside from a brief cameo from Emily Watson, there aren't any female characters whatsoever to break up the sausage-fest. Yet there is a real warmth to the central male friendships between (co-writer and director) Seth Rogen, Jay Baruchel, James Franco, Craig Robinson and Jonah Hill - all playing exaggerated versions of themselves. It's big, it's silly, it's broad - but the novelty of seeing these stars playing with their screen personas, talking trash about each other's movies and sometimes (in the case of Michael Cera) knowingly going against type, is often really fun.

'A Field in England' - Dir. Ben Wheatley (15)

This bizarre, sometimes unfathomable, mix of pitch black humour and sleep-disturbing horror won't be a surprise to fans of Ben Wheatley's other films - or at least to those who've seen the equally macabre 'Kill List'. Set during the English Civil War, 'A Field in England' follows a group of deserters as they flee a battlefield, stumble upon some magic mushrooms and become embroiled in an unsettling, occult treasure hunt, whilst ostensibly looking for the nearest pub. The performances, from the likes of Reese Shearsmith and Wheatley regular Michael Smiley, are enjoyably exaggerated and thespy, the sound design is magnificent and Laurie Rose's black and white cinematography yields wonders that belie the film's tiny budget - facts that all combine to create a unique sensory experience.

'Frances Ha' - Dir. Noah Baumbach (15)

Noah Baumbach films have a way of reaching directly, perhaps uncomfortably, into my heart and brain in a way that makes me feel as if they've been made especially for me. If 'The Squid and the Whale' seems to speak directly to my late-teens and young adulthood, then 'Frances Ha' absolutely nails that feeling of post-graduate aimlessness I share with many of my peers... I can only speculate that 'Greenberg' represents some future mid-life crisis!

Co-written by Baumbach and luminescent star Greta Gerwig, the film depicts Frances as she drifts between temporary, low-wage jobs, flits between various apartments and generally struggles to belong in the world of adulthood that she is nominally now considered part of. A wannabe dancer who looks destined to fall short of being quite good enough to really make it, this is the story of a wide-eyed kid who is gradually coming to the realisation that they might not get to be an astronaut and may have to accept being just another normal person. But that's OK. Baumbach and Gerwig deliver this timely and sobering message with a lightness of touch and touching humour that stops it from being in any way bleak: Frances maybe a bit of a fuck-up, but she's a loveable fuck-up and one I can certainly relate to.

This isn't simply one of the best films I've seen this year but, personally, it's the rare kind of film I can see making a lasting impression on my life in the way very few films can lay claim. Usually, at the very best, films find ways to challenge or perhaps just effectively articulate how you feel about the world. But, for me, films like 'The Squid and the Whale' and 'Frances Ha' seem to bring into sharp focus truths about myself that actually help me better understand the world I live in and my own place in it. That's possibly just me, but - in any case - that's a rare thing for a film to do.

'Man of Steel', 'The Great Gatsby' and 'Much Ado About Nothing': review round-up

'Man of Steel' - Dir. Zack Snyder (12A)

I feel like a full-on review of 'Man of Steel' would be pretty redundant at this point, as everything I had to say about what's wrong with it has been said better elsewhere. I'm talking about blog entries by comic book writers like Mark Waid (author of fantastic Superman origin story 'Birthright') and articles from critics like (massive DC comics nerd) Chris Sims of Comics Alliance, who spoke eloquently - and at length - about why it's a bad adaptation of its source material. I wrote a little piece on here about the film's gender politics, though mainly because that was one of the few problems I had with it that I hadn't really seen expressed elsewhere. But between that piece and those other reviews, you pretty much have my feelings on Zack Snyder's cynical, dour and needlessly grimy take on the Superman mythos.

SPOILERS, but it's hard to come away from 'Man of Steel' feeling that anything heroic has taken place given that, in the words of comic writer Brian Bendis: "you basically had Superman save the world but not without causing a worse than 9/11 disaster, make out with his girlfriend in the middle of it, and then murder the bad guy in front of children". When civilians emerge from the rubble and say "he saved us", it's hard to take that seriously given the entire city (and untold millions of lives) seem to have been lost in the meantime. This is not a film in which Superman (Henry Cavill) goes out of his way to save people's lives - at least outside of scenes where that is the express purpose (such as the oil rig and school bus bits near the start). And the aforementioned make-out with Lois Lane (Amy Adams) is even worse when you consider Superman has super hearing: surely he's kissing her whilst hearing the screams and tears of those trapped in the rubble?

For those that think I'm over-thinking that bit or (heaven forbid!) "taking it too seriously", I remind you that Snyder's film - created with 'The Dark Knight' duo David S. Goyer and Christopher Nolan - takes itself incredibly seriously, expending a lot of effort and energy creating a joyless, colourless vision of the hero and his world. A film in which young Clark Kent is bullied by stock movie jerks, when all he wants to do is quietly read Plato. And for a film that takes itself so seriously, it's really odd when it runs headlong into the cheesiest movie cliches - never more so than when Kevin Costner's Jonathan Kent (the film's one genuine triumph) dies trying to save the family dog from an incoming tornado.

Aside from the greatness that was the casting of Kevin Costner as a kindly, middle-American patriarch, Henry Cavill makes for a compelling Superman (speaking with authority but never arrogance) and you're never going to get better than Michael Shannon as an intense, shouty, slightly insane bad guy - but all of the above are wasted by the dreadful movie that surrounds them. It's got more in common with Michael Bay's 'Transformers' than Nolan's Batman: over-loud, tone-deaf, disaster porn and destruction occurring without conscience or consequence. In last years' 'Avengers', we similarly see an American metropolis beset by alien invasion and, whilst the city takes a bit of damage (though nothing on the scale here: it isn't reduced to a crater), there is also emphasis on the heroes saving people's lives and trying to limit that damage. The spectacle in that film comes from all the awesome things the good guys do as they save the day. By contrast, 'Man of Steel' puts emphasis on buildings being punched over as spectacle in and of itself, and Superman rarely comes out of this seeming heroic.

It being a bad movie in its own rite is bad enough, but 'Man of Steel' also makes it extremely difficult to see how DC/Warner Brothers can spin this out into an entire DC cinematic universe of movies, culminating in a Justice League team-up (featuring Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman et al). We've seen seen gritty Superman, and we know gritty Batman can work - and even gritty Green Arrow is currently doing the rounds on TV - but do we really now have to suffer through gritty Flash, gritty Aquaman, gritty Marsian Manhunter, gritty Shazam and gritty Wonder Woman? In the Marvel movies, which thrive on silver age, costumed spectacle and a sense of unabashed fun, it wouldn't be too strange for any character to turn up in all their weird and wonderful glory - a point born out by the in-production 'Guardians of the Galaxy': which features among its heroes a wise-ass, gun-toting Raccoon and an anthropomorphic tree. But with DC's movies to date, it's difficult to understand how this can work - and 'Man of Steel' poses more questions than answers in this regard.

It's also really difficult to see where the Superman franchise itself can go from here: a city got destroyed in this one, during a full-on invasion by dozens of soldiers with, basically, the same powers as Superman. That sounds like the final film in a trilogy, or the perfect scenario for that Justice League movie (with enough stuff going on to keep every hero occupied and necessary), but how can they top it with the next one in this series in terms of pure CGI-fueled spectacle? I'll say this for it: I'm intrigued to find out the answer, though I won't be surprised if the answer is even more explosions and an even higher body-count. Isn't the prevailing wisdom that sequels have to go bigger?

'The Great Gatsby' - Dir. Baz Luhrmann (12A)

This one's been out for ages, but I only found time to see it last week so I'll give my two-penneth a little late.

I haven't read Fitzgerald's celebrated novel - supposedly the masterpiece of American literature - so I can't speak with any authority on whether or not Baz Luhrmann's movie gets it right. But, for my taste, it's a vapid, tacky mess of a film, populated by underdeveloped, yet strangely hateful characters (is there anyone more simpering and with less agency than Tobey Maguire's Nick Carraway and Carey Mulligan's Daisy Buchanan?). A sickening, barely tolerable mix of hyper-active editing, overbearing music and a general busy-ness of aesthetic that drowns out all the details and is the enemy of subtlety. In some ways it feels like a Broadway musical stripped of its songs, and maybe a musical version would have been more watchable, but instead - with the exception of one character-driven scene: a climactic confrontation between Leonardo DiCaprio's Gatsby and Joel Edgerton's Tom - it's a total car crash.

It could be that these problems come straight out of the novel, but there are so many gaps in logic and reason that make this film infuriating. For instance, why is it claimed that nobody has ever seen Gatsby before, when he's constantly shown making the cover of national newspapers? Why are we told he NEVER comes to his lavish, celebrity-filled parties only moments before he makes an appearance at one such event? Why is Nick so instantly enamoured with Gatsby? What is it that Gatsby finds so appealing about the insipid Daisy? Why is it that Daisy and Tom's daughter - mentioned once in passing - doesn't feature at all? Why is it that Nick - the only character with a normal job - seemingly never has to go to work? Why is Jason Clarke's character totally fine with Tom seeing his wife (Isler Fisher) on the side? And why is he immediately enraptured by premeditated, homicidal rage towards a complete stranger when she's killed by accident? I imagine answers to these questions lie in the novel, but they certainly weren't apparent in the film. Which wouldn't really matter if the film was at least a little bit entertaining and not a flagrant abuse of your eyeballs.

And on the Jay-Z soundtrack - which litters the film with anachronistic modern R&B tracks from Beyonce and the like: I'm not inherently against that, even if I think the reasoning (let's show the kids that the excesses of the 1920s were similar to hip-hop culture today!) is spurious and superficial. But where that approach does become a problem is that it has the ultimate, unintended effect of giving the film a very short shelf-life: this is very much 2013's vision of 1925, and it's hard to see how that will have any value - or find much lasting favour - as we get further from the film's initial release.

'Much Ado About Nothing' - Dir. Joss Whedon (12A)

"Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites". Just one of many succinct and perfect lines in Shakespeare's play that really sing coming from the assembled cast of Joss Whedon regulars in this paired down adaptation of the bard. Directed by the 'Buffy' creator, with characteristic wit and lightness of touch, the film sees regular collaborators Amy Acker/Alexis Denisof/Tom Lenk (Buffy/Angel), Nathan Fillion/Sean Maher (Serenity), Clark Gregg/Ashley Johnson (Avengers), Reed Diamond/Fran Kranz (Dollhouse) in front of the camera, whilst brother and sometime writing partner Jed Whedon (Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog) contributes the soundtrack: it's a Whedonverse reunion - all shot on location at the director's Californian house, during downtime from production of 'The Avengers'.

If the idea of a group of wealthy, LA pals, shooting a black and white Shakespeare film whilst on holiday sounds like a recipe for a slightly self-indulgent and incestuous love-in, then it is at least one that works. Not only is 'Much Ado' a really heartfelt and sincere version of the play, featuring stunning performances from Acker and Kranz in particular, it's also riotously entertaining and laugh-out-loud funny in a way most probably won't associate with 17th century iambic pentameter. Without deviating substantially from the original play, Whedon has created something that feels fresh and modern and, in part due to the naturalistic delivery of his cast, is very easy understand for a contemporary audience - giving the old English verse a new lease of life.

Men of Steel - Sexism and the New Superman

From Zack Snyder - the director of the slightly rapey 'Sucker Punch' and nakedly homophobic, machismo-fest that is '300' - Superman reboot 'Man of Steel' is rightly getting a lot of flack from critics for being a terrible movie. I'll post my thoughts on it later in the week, when I get a chance, but today (on Father's Day, no less!) I wanted to write about one particular element that hasn't gotten much attention - and that's the film's abysmal treatment of female characters.

Forget for a moment that "Pulitzer prize winning" reporter Lois Lane (Amy Adams) - the film's only female with any agency whatsoever - only figures out one key plot point/survives an action scene because a hologram of a man literally tells her what to do, step-by-step. Or the fact that a female military officer only exists to say that Superman (Henry Cavill) is hot and to ask dumb questions in the many scenes of Richard Schiff-powered pseudo-science ("what is terraforming?"). Or the fact that the Daily Planet reporter trapped under rubble during one climactic action scene, is also (with crushing inevitability) a helpless lady. Or the cliche scene that sees Clark Kent come to the defense of a helpless waitress, suffering from unwanted male attention. Or the fact that the henchman of the villain we are most encouraged to want to see die is a woman, becoming the default enemy of "cool military guy #3". Forget all of that for a moment, because I want to talk about the parents.

What really bothered me was the film's relegation of Superman's mothers - alien and Earthling alike - to barely relevant supporting roles, whilst emphasising both fathers. A conscious decision highlighted by the fact that both men are played by high-profile leading men (Russell Crowe as Kryptonian Jor-El and Kevin Coster as Jonathan Kent), whilst the women are scarcely of the same high profile. Incidentally that's not to say they aren't of equal talent: the Academy Award nominated Diane Lane (who plays Martha Kent) and Israeli actress Ayelet Zurer (Lara Lor-Van - from whom Superman takes no part of his Kryptonian name) are both talented actors - but they aren't stars. They aren't required to be recognised or loved by the audience as soon as they appear, unlike Crowe and Costner who are expected to exude all the necessary paternal gravitas during the film's many father-son heart-to-hearts.

Comic book writer Mark Waid, author of the fantastic Superman origin story Birthright, penned his own fairly negative review of the film on his blog, after being left "heartbroken" by a midnight screening. But aside from his criticisms, he acknowledged with humility how Snyder's Christopher Nolan produced, David S Goyer scripted movie takes elements from his own telling of the origin story - from visual cues (like the transition from baby Kal-El's spaceship entering Earth's atmosphere to adult Clark Kent - not yet Superman - saving lives) to plot points (Lois Lane scouring the globe writing stories about Superman her editors don't want to publish) and whole chunks of dialogue. And this is true: the film does lift entire elements from Birthright to an almost distracting degree.

So it becomes very telling that when the film takes whole chunks of important dialogue and bonding moments between Clark and his mothers and gender swaps them in favour of male characters. For instance (and these are just a few examples gleaned from quickly flicking through the book again this morning)...

The history of the golden age of planet Krypton is depicted in the film - via a strange, metallic animated background - as quite a traditionally militaristic and very masculine affair. A page from birthright, below (shoddily photographed by me), shows the same historical events: but note ALL the warriors are female. It's a double-page spread and, as you might be able to make out, there's yet another female soldier in the bottom left-hand corner, on the fold. This isn't explicitly mentioned in the text - it's never commented on. It just seems to operate on the logic that Krypton is an alien planet, so who is to say they have adopted the same gender norms? Kudos to Waid and artist Leinil Yu.

Remember in the movie how Jonathan Kent tells Clark that he's the answer to the question of whether or not we're alone in the universe? In Birthright, guess who has that line:

That's right! It's mum. The same mum who, in the film, says and does practically nothing - aside from getting intimated by the bad guy (Michael Shannon's General Zod) and requiring rescue. After which she's completely forgotten about. In fact, Clark leaves her with a bunch of Zod's henchmen and doesn't ever go back to check on her. It's a miracle she survives, because movie Superman's priority in that scene seems to be "punch Zod" rather than "rescue mum".

In any case, Costner's Jonathan Kent gets all of Matha's key dialogue and character moments from Birthright - whilst retaining all his own - and the film is similarly skewed towards the male characters when it comes to the Krypton parents.

In the film, you may recall, it's Crowe's Jor-El who has the courage, scientific genius, emotional detachment and sense of perspective to send his baby son into space toward Earth, and off his doomed planet. Lara presses some buttons to initiate the launch, whilst Crowe has a pointless fist-fight with Zod (action! Please don't be bored kids!), but otherwise she's pretty passive and primarily ruled by emotion. And, when it comes to making the big decision, it's her who is portrayed as reluctant to send the baby into space - whilst Crowe is left to man-up and gets things done.

Here's how the exact same beat plays out in Waid's comic book (below):

That's right: the opposite way. Lara is the strong one, not ruled by emotion, with the courage and hope to send her son into the unknown, rather than leave him to certain doom with them on Krypton. It's Jor-El who wavers in a way that a male movie star apparently can't. Wouldn't that have been interesting in the film? But Russell Crowe had to be shown as the strong one who 1) got things done and 2) actually advanced the story. In the comic it's Lara who actually initiates the entire plot. In essence, she creates Superman as we know him, sending him to our world. And then, on Earth, it's Martha who helps create the man he becomes: the caring, selfless hero and saviour of mankind (incidentally the film makes it very clear - through the line "I'm as American as it gets" - that Superman belongs to the US and not to us). She encourages him and has unshakable faith in him, even whilst Jonathan gives air to doubt.

In fact, part of Martha's role in the comic book is in creating her son's costume and helping to fabricate his nebbish Clark Kent cover identity - both things rendered obsolete in this latest film adaptation, that presumably thought an outfit designed by the hero's mum wouldn't play as especially cool. Instead, in the film, the iconic outfit (or at least a muted and dour incarnation) is bestowed upon him by a holographic Jor-El. That's right: a long-dead father is more useful and relevant in this film than his living mother.

I bring the comic up for direct comparison because it seems clear it was a basis for much of what happens in 'Man of Steel' - and the gender swapping here seems consciously done in favour of the male characters. You can decide whether that's a symbol of patriarchy or the need to give Crowe/Costner more screentime, but either way, I hope you agree: it's pretty rubbish.

Oh and SPOILER WARNING!!!!!!!!!: the film's version of Martha Kent sends her husband INTO THE TORNADO THAT KILLS HIM in order to rescue the family dog. And she's not even shown to feel bad about that. She's a truly wretched character.

Review to follow.

'Populaire', 'A Hijacking', 'Fast & Furious 6', 'Behind the Candelabra' and 'The Iceman': review round-up

A bumper edition round-up this week, as I've not updated for a while. Been busy with other stuff, like hosting/writing the Hold Onto Your Butts film quiz at Komedia (in Brighton). Above is the latest of our picture rounds, as drawn by the excellent Joe Blann. Consensus is that this is the hardest of the picture rounds so far... I don't think anybody got the three point question!

'Populaire' - Dir. Regis Roinsard (12A)

Light, colourful and fluffy in a way that won't surprise those familiar with this brand of whimsical, middle-brow French comedy - 'Populaire' is an affable enough movie, mostly thanks to its supremely watchable leads: Deborah Francois as a clumsy, hapless secretary with a special gift for speed-typing and Roman Duris as her cold and competitive boss. Set in the late-50s, at a time when international typing competitions were apparently the hottest ticket in town, and a source of front-page news, it's a formula rom-com that's also equal parts 'Rocky' (with its heavy reliance on sports movie tropes), 'The Secretary' (in its power-imbalanced, sadomasochistic relationship between boss and employee) and 'Mad Men' (if only in its emphasis on the sartorial glamour of the period, as popularised by that TV show). It's chic and mildly diverting stuff, that provides a few gentle laughs - and just as many truly awful lines to go with its questionable gender politics.

'A Hijacking' - Dir. Tobias Lindholm (15)

An exceptional Danish thriller which takes an almost procedural approach to its realistic portrayal of modern day piracy, this is a tense, tightly-wound piece of filmmaking that explores what happens when a large freighter ship is commandeered by armed African pirates and its crew held for months on the open sea: a fate that's become increasingly common in the last decade. As the pirates haggle for ransom with the company that owns the ship, 'A Hijacking' follows both the struggles of the captured crew (mostly via Johan Philip Asbæk's traumatised cook) and the moral dilemmas facing those in the company board room - with Søren Malling's no-nonsense CEO taking a dangerously hands-on approach in negotiations, against the advice of a piracy expert (played with authority by real-life corporate security consultant Gary Skjoldmose-Porter).

Even-handed and intelligent, director Tobias Lindholm's film doesn't lay the blame at the feet of the corporation - it doesn't present the board as villains for not immediately caving in to all the pirates demands - and doesn't even really vilify the pirates (even if they are often quite frightening and capable of great violence). Instead it seems to simply present the experience as what it is: something terrifying and life-changing for everybody involved, right down the anxious families of those held captive. Malling's CEO is shown as a man under great pressure, who - though not subject to the appalling conditions of the ship's crew - has his life upended by events to a very similar degree. What the film doesn't do is explore any of the political or economic conditions that have made piracy increasingly common, but that's the subject for a preachier, less visceral movie: one potentially less devastating, shocking and emotional.

'Fast & Furious 6' - Dir. Justin Lin (12A)

I haven't seen any of the other films in this increasingly popular series, but I understand the franchise used to be about street racing - something that, save a pointless, mid-film diversion, doesn't really factor in this straight-up action movie. It's all shooting and punching and making things explode, whilst cops hire criminals to catch worse criminals - in a plot that involves some McGuffin weapon that, if sold to an unfriendly nation, could mean war and stuff. It doesn't really matter. What matters is Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson is in it, along with franchise mainstays Vin "The Mumbling" Diesel and Paul "Who Is This Guy" Walker. They drive fast and incredibly shiny cars - and they do ridiculous, physics defying things in the name of punching the bad dudes, scoring with chicks in hot-pants and safeguarding their "family".

That particular F-word gets bandied about a lot here, as the film goes to great lengths to show that it's actually a deeply emotional drama about a group of friends with feelings and character arcs such - just like in a real film. But it isn't and, frankly, it'd be better if they didn't bother pretending otherwise. The film is far more fun when tanks are crushing cars on a Spanish highway than when it's about gruff, musclemen explaining how they've got "to set things right" for some wrong committed five films ago that nobody remembers. Just explode more stuff already. Especially as the film's attempts to have anything approaching a plot always backfire, as our heroes repeatedly interrogate enemies in order to find out stuff they already knew - and one character even travels to another continent, has himself put in prison and very nearly dies, trying to unearth knowledge the rest of the gang seemingly already posses back in England. Very odd.

It's also amusing that nearly every scene in the first half of the film follows the exact same formula: a group of our heroes are ridiculed by unnecessarily rude people after asking a polite question, and respond by beating up everybody in the room. The message seems to be: don't mock Vin Diesel... he's, like, really strong and he'll probably smash your face in until you're unconscious. It's a difficult message to argue with, but it isn't revelatory, even to a 'Fast & Furious' series newcomer like myself. Don't pick on people with big muscles for no apparent reason, y'all.

In all seriousness, it's hard to get over how brazenly sexist this film is in order to sit back and enjoy the popcorn. It's all gyrating women in bikinis, dancing around cars, whilst our protagonists watch and say "damn", possibly whilst bumping bro-fists. At one point a character explains that cars are better than women because "when you trade up for a better model they don't take half your shit". This isn't an ironic statement and it says a lot about who these douche bag characters are and who they think this film is for. The Rock admittedly has a really appealing screen presence - self-aware and charming - but the rest of the lunk-heads that make up the cast, including a sadly under-utilised Gina Carano, are just grunting meat-puppets. Aside from a couple of jaw-droppingly ridiculous set pieces, this is a film that could have been gloriously trashy and over-the-top - in a way that compensated you for the aforementioned stupidity of it all - but ended up merely being a bit dull.

'Behind the Candelabra' - Dir. Steven Soderbergh (15)

Following his supposed "last ever film" - 'Side Effects', released earlier this year - Steven Soderbergh returns to cinemas with this blackly comic and extremely bleak portrait of glamorous entertainer Liberace, which focuses on the famously closeted pianist's peculiar relationship with a man named Scott Thorson, upon whose recollections the film is based. A TV movie in the US, produced by HBO after studios reportedly rejected the film as "too gay" to be commercial, 'Behind the Candelabra' is the fruit of a long-running passion project of the prolific director and sees Michael Douglas and Matt Damon deliver brilliant performances as Liberace and Thorson respectively. Douglas in particular is in inspired form, with his turn potentially career-defining, seemingly coming out of nowhere. In many ways his performance is the obvious joy and appeal of the film, with Liberace an outrageous, larger than life figure, so credit must also go to Damon for being the emotional center that gives meaning to all the mincing.

Even as it follows Liberace in his twilight years, with his peak decades behind him, the film manages to show us the highs and lows of his life: giving us glimpses of his performances on Vegas stages, in front of adoring fans, as well as showing us the loneliness and pitiful sadness born of that mix of hyper-fame/wealth and keeping such a large aspect of his life a (admittedly poorly kept) secret. He's a paranoid figure and a man with few (arguably no) real friends - or meaningful connections of any kind, beyond the revolving door of pretty boys that he keeps in his "palatial kitsch" mansion. We can only speculate about how close to reality the film gets, being based on the memoirs of a man who unsuccessfully sued Liberace, but the film is quite perfect at plunging the viewer headlong into the despair and loneliness we can imagine comes with extreme celebrity.

Where the film really excels is in its portrayal of the power imbalance shown in the relationship between Thorson and his self-described "father, brother, lover and best friend" Liberace. This has a universal quality, as Thorson - so in thrall to, and financially dependent on his partner - has almost no agency. He is in a precarious position, and is all too aware of that fact, which means he is to a certain extent unable to resist much of his cruel and often abusive treatment. He's a man who offers and gives so much to his lover but whose contributions are overlooked and frequently denied the moment there's an argument - a situation that's probably familiar to many. It's this transcendent bit of drama, along with Soderbergh's hauntingly sterile cinematography, the black wit of the script and the fine central performances, that means the film stands up very well next to the director's other minor masterpieces of recent years.

'The Iceman' - Dir. Ariel Vromen (15)

An impressive cast - lead by the intensely watchable Michael Shannon - doesn't stop this "based on a true story" biopic about a notorious hitman from being deadly dull. Basically, it's the tale of a guy who murders hundreds of people in cold blood - seemingly because he has a cold detachment that renders him indifferent to human life, brought on by an abusive childhood and lapsed Catholicism - but who's alright really because he doesn't want anything bad to happen to his young daughters. That's about the depth of it. Chris Evans and David Schwimmer are nearly unrecognisable in supporting roles, which is at least mildly interesting, but otherwise we have Ray Liotta as the schlubby, unpredictable head of an Italian crime family and Winona Ryder as the shiny-eyed innocent who doesn't know where her husbands money comes from. Maybe it's a victim of art imitating life, but it's a story we've seen played out a million times before, and with a lot more vigour and imagination.

For a movie about a contract killer, there's no style or panache to how he does his business. Some key "hits" occur off-screen and most are left to montage - with the only exception being a hit on James Franco, which many may find cathartic in the wake of his extreme over-exposure. This is fine if we aren't being sold the crime as glamour bit we usually get in mob movies, but the film offers nothing compelling in its place. The only consequence to violence and a life of crime that we see is that, eventually, people might be violent towards you and your loved ones. Aside from that it's a passionless film with nothing to offer.

'I'm So Excited' and 'Star Trek Into Darkness': review round-up

'I'm So Excited' - Dir. Pedro Almodovar (15)

Pedro Almodovar returns to his early trashy sex comedy roots with this unabashedly frothy and disposable little number about an airline cabin crew attempting to calm passengers after it's revealed the plane they are on has a faulty landing gear. In the wake of this news the various colorful occupants of this otherwise routine flight from Madrid to Mexico find themselves diving headlong into hedonistic excess - taking drugs and openly copulating left and right, with three extremely camp air stewards (and their sexually conflicted pilots) leading this descent, both literally and metaphorically.

While it's the Spanish director's least overtly serious movie in some time, there is clearly something else going on here beneath the veil of froth. It's telling that only first class passengers are kept awake for the entire movie, with the rest of the plane put to sleep by the crew before we join the flight - either because the director finds the lives of the extreme personalities and colourful characters at the front of the plane more interesting than those he imagines at the back, or because he is saying something about social class. For the record, I have no idea which. It's possibly a bit of both, but maybe he's saying something about modern Spain and those leading the country to ruin in the wake of a financial crisis that hit his country worse than most.

A real-life scandal surrounding a disused La Mancha airport lingers in the background; a high-profile businessman on the flight is trying to escape fraud charges by heading to central America; one of the passengers is world famous dominatrix; another is a hitman; and all put unwavering, superstitious faith in the words of a spacey and naive clairvoyant. Between these broad, larger-than-life caricatures and the eccentric and debauched goings on of the crew - freely swigging alcohol and staging pre-planned dance routines to their customers bemusement (and anger) - the film paints a picture of a reckless and extremely tacky Spain. A place where nothing works and nobody can be trusted to look beyond immediate gratification (the mechanical fault itself is the result of a distracted and incompetent ground crew in Madrid, as played by Almodovar regulars Antonio Banderas and Penelope Cruz), but where (SPOILER WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) everything somehow turns out OK in the end. It's an affable place, but not without frustration. Much like the film itself.

Beyond a gloriously camp set-piece which sees the stewards dancing to Pointer Sisters' number of the English language title, the whole thing feels strangely flat. It seems to want to be this dizzying, extravagant romp - full of naughtiness and cheeky laughs - but it never quite gets there. Some of that may be lost in translation, with Spanish-speaking friends telling me the English subtitles lose a lot of the humour, which comes from the use of language (comedy is a notoriously tough genre to effectively translate), but from my vantage point it just wasn't funny. And not just because I didn't laugh at the jokes, but because I could rarely see where the jokes were - unless, of course, I'm just supposed to laugh if someone talks about bi-sexuality and oral sex. Ultimately it wasn't nearly as entertaining as its premise or the record of its director would suggest, even if there's potentially some interesting social commentary lurking beneath its perhaps deceptively shallow surface.

'Star Trek Into Darkness' - Dir. J.J. Abrams (12A)

The "re-booted" 'Star Trek' - which "re-imagines" the crew of the original Starship Enterprise as super-slick trendies, each with one distinct personality trait and often also a funny voice - is back, along with the world's least inspiring filmmaker ('Lost' creator and Spielberg super-fan J.J. Abrams) and a script born from the minds that brought us the 'Transformers' trilogy (Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman) and 'Prometheus' (Damon Lindelof). It's promising stuff on paper, especially as this sequel is going the fresh, rarely-trodden path of being "darker and edgier" than what's come before. (Because everything wants to be 'The Dark Knight' so, so badly now.) The director's surely by now self-parodic love of lens flare is back too, along with a lot of others things which return from previous movies and which it would be churlish of me to spoil here.

If I read as unduly cynical about this whole project then I apologise, but I can't take these new Trek films seriously. Or as light-hearted fun. Or as anything else in particular. It's a big bag of ready salted crisps - maybe even those weird old ones where you used to have to add your own salt. It's quite clear that even the makers don't really know who they are trying to please, with fan service and nods to the original series (or should I say "timeline"?) every other second even as they take the bold step of turning it into a straight-up action film - jettisoning all of franchise founder Gene Roddenberry's principles and core ideals into deep space along the way. It's an action flick in Star Trek uniforms and science fiction only because there are spaceships. New Trek (or Nu Trek as I'm now calling it) is superficial and vacuous in the extreme, wearing the clothes of a beloved pop culture icon in quasi-ironic fashion - in crass American high school terminology: it turns the beloved property of bullied nerds into something more suitable for their jock tormentors.

That's not to say there aren't people involved who genuinely love the "franchise", just that these people - like those who made/continue to make the 'Lord of the Rings' films - think faithful adaptation of clothing, character names, places and the so-forth represent what something is about, whilst not thinking any deeper about what's actually at that property's core. So here a series that's always been about an idealised and optimistic idea of an evolved human race, that ventures out into space to spread the love and for the sake of discovery, becomes about horrible humans destroying each other because they're a bunch of dicks. Star Trek is, traditionally, a pop cultural counter-point to knee-jerk revenge fantasies, irrational bouts of anger and massive bodycounts - it was humanist, even to the point where it was sometimes a bit preachy and smug. I don't particularly like Star Trek as a thing, but I like this far less. I might not personally like Star Trek, but I have more respect for what it is and what it means - beyond clothing and laser guns and badges - then these people seem to. If anything about these middling films - and both films are 100% OK - has the power to annoy me, then it's that.

Like I say, the film itself is exactly alright - too bland and inoffensive for me to review without ranting around the subject (see Philip French's barely two paragraph write-up in The Guardian) and, like all of Abrams' work, built around so many twists, surprises and mysteries that you can't really properly talk about what happens either without spoiling it. I'll just say there are moments when it's laughable and some where it's genuinely funny. There are bits where it's exciting and others where it's lame. The performances are pretty solid across the board (Zachary Quinto is an excellent Spock and Karl Urban steals every scene he's in as Bones, whilst Benedict Cumberbatch is predictably good to watch as the baddie), though that depends on your tolerance for dodgy accents in many cases. The action scenes are uninspired on the whole and Abrams has some annoying visual ticks (his constantly zooming camera is one such distraction), but the film is not un-enjoyable for much of its length. Just not particularly memorable either. And (potential SPOILER depending on how sensitive you are!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) it leans uncomfortably on another film's reputation.