What doesn’t call you, makes you a stranger. The average rating is 5.61/10, with film of the month being Tampopo.

4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (2007) – 7.5/10
(Romanian title: 4 luni, 3 săptămâni şi 2 zile)
“I can do it only once. What else did you expect?”
This absorbing Romanian drama follows two students attempting to organise an illegal abortion in 1987 when Romania is still under a Communist regime. The minimalist shots take in the murky surroundings, but build upon the vulnerability of the leads – two lonely friends, full of terror and regret, trying to get to the next day without a hitch.
The film is painful and brutal, and it’s a slow thriller that takes its time – the pacing lets the drama sink even further. It’s important to know that this really isn’t a fun film – while Dirty Pretty Things made a story about organ transplants fairly watchable and heartwarming, there are no love stories here. Instead, you have long corridors with few exits, and a restless fear behind your shoulder. But it’s gripping, with dialogue so tense that you can’t look away, although that’s probably because you’re watching it with subtitles.

The Artist (2011) – 7.5/10
“No, I’m nothing but a shadow. No good for anything but silence.”
It’s a black-and-white silent film and everyone’s talking about it. It’s a gimmick, but done to satisfy mainstream audiences; the orchestral soundtrack means there’s hardly any genuine silence, and a moment rarely passes without a visual gag. It may be about the decline of silent cinema as it sinks in quicksand, but it’s also an old-fashioned love story – a love story regularly overshadowed by a well-trained dog. So, in a way, it’s Sunset Boulevard with more laughs, a funny dog and less dialogue.
The laughs come thick and fast for most of The Artist, but not so much in the middle – the momentary drag suggests there isn’t actually much to the film beyond the surface other than light entertainment. Still, it doesn’t matter, as it’s often hilarious and visually exhilarating, especially in the opening scene when you see an audience clap, but hear nothing in response.
The director’s playfulness keeps you interested. In a standout scene, a silent film actor has a nightmare that objects make sounds, but his voice is muted – the glass clinks on the table, a landing feather creates a cacophony, but his screams can’t be heard. I had that nightmare once – you get used to it eventually.

Bellflower (2011) – 4.5/10
“Dude, I cannot believe you ate grasshoppers to pick up a girl.”
Even Glodell’s debut is a visually thrilling take on an apocalyptic love story. Its idiosyncratic look is down to the director creatively exploring what the lens can do, as well as using a camera he made himself – literally no other film can look like it. So what went wrong?
It’s about two friends who spend their days playing about with flamethrowers (again, made by the director himself) until one of them falls in love. The minimalist storyline wouldn’t be a problem if the actors weren’t so wooden and unconvincing. The beauty of the film’s aesthetic is burst by its unhealthy need for confrontation; after five minutes, there’s a cricket-eating scene, and it slowly turns into an uneasy narrative of violent misogyny and boredom.

The Brothers Solomon (2007) – 3/10
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I just bought your groceries.”
Firstly, it’s terrible. Just terrible. It was such a critical and financial disaster that Bob Odenkirk hasn’t been able to direct a film since. It stars Will Arnett and Will Forte as two incompetent brothers; too often their comical ineptness descends into gross stupidity and, even worse, lazy writing. Still, it’s oddly watchable because of its sketchiness.
The sketchiness isn’t a surprise. It’s written by Will Forte and co-stars Kristen Wiig, who were at the time best known for Saturday Night Live. Furthermore, it’s directed by Bob Odenkirk, mostly known for his work on the sketch show Mr Show. So, as you’d guess, the film plays like a sketch show loosely strung together in a narrative, and it’s mostly unfunny. However, the cast keep it going. Forte and Arnett are demonically committed to their bizarre characters, ignoring the dreadfulness of the script – Forte wrote it, so that seems fair, actually.
Will Arnett: I’m sure he’s looking at this as being half alive.
Doctor: Yes, he was looking very happy for a man who was slipping into a coma.
A few years ago, I heard Bob Odenkirk tell Doug Benson in an interview that fewer than ten decent films have ever been made. He gave a passionate speech about why he rarely watches anything that isn’t Casablanca, and why Blue Velvet is important for how David Lynch uses the medium for its aesthetic potential. Odenkirk has always fascinated me in everything he’s done, whether with Mr Show, the short clip of David’s Situation or in interviews. It genuinely saddens me that he made this.

The Cove (2009) – 7.5/10
“A dolphin’s smile is nature’s greatest illusion. It creates the impression that they’re always happy.”
There’s a startling moment in The Cove when a tide of water turns red with dolphin blood – a poetic image you hope is done with CGI. Instead, it’s part of the documentary’s startling footage of a dolphin hunt that takes place every year in Japan, filmed for the very first time.
The main speaker is Ric O’Barry. The man who wrote You Might Think and produced The Blue Album, you ask? No, that was Ric Ocasek. Ric O’Barry is the guy who captured the original dolphin that starred in Flipper and became a dolphin trainer. He describes his life trajectory in one sentence: “I spent 10 years building that industry up, and I spent the last 35 years trying to tear it down.”
The turning point is when Kathy, the original Flipper, commits suicide in his arms by choosing not to breathe. He remarks on how dolphins in captivity are stressed, depressed and used to travelling 40,000 miles a day – I mean, they are gifted with sonar, so it’s a bit like caging a bird or how I feel right now, in bed, wanting the world to end. The facts are corroborated by other talking heads, and it risks being too one-sided in its approach – although I’m on the side of the activists, even I can see how the hunters were edited to be the film’s villains and aren’t given a chance to make their argument. Still, Ric O’Barry’s presence more than makes up for this, by being a source you feel you can trust, and not someone with too much time on his hands.
And it isn’t just a stream (!) of sad dolphin facts. There’s a plan to film what really happens to dolphins captured in Japan, and isn’t easy – the fishermen aggressively stop anyone from accessing the site, and the government is on their side to cover up any wrongdoing. This makes it more exciting and cinematic than your average documentary, as this is not an average documentary.
It would be nice to live by the water, possibly in a lighthouse. You could wake up to the sounds of the tide, and you can let the waves wash over you until it’s time for lights out.

Cowboy Bebop (2001) – 6/10
“It was not a good day for you to die, so you did not. Know this, swimming bird…”
Disclaimer: I haven’t seen any of the television series that preceded the film of Cowboy Bebop, so the characters are new to me.
It’s important to know that humans live on the planet Mars in 2071. It’s an anime film, so technology has advanced further than the quality of the screenplay’s dialogue. But, it does look like an immersive gallery of shifting styles and textures. Some of the best moments are possibly too shallow to count as building atmosphere, but it’s fun watching someone cruising in a space ship. Shadows move accordingly, and there’s depth in colour, especially when the lights disappear into the cracks.
The thoughtful soundtrack often introduces mournful jazz for fight scenes, and it’s a method that works. The juxtaposition of jazz and war is a bit like the pop music that opens the second act of Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket. Woody Allen also discovered in 1973 with Sleeper that you can find humanity in using jazz as a backdrop for science fiction set in the future; even with scientific advancements, our children’s children are nostalgic for the same values we appreciate and can’t find now.
At one point, a man by a far says, “The eye isn’t seeing reality, but touching the truth.” That’s a typically nonsensical line that represents the downside of the film: the plot and dialogue.

Dead Poets Society (1989) – 7/10
“I don’t care if the world comes to an end tomorrow night. You are through with that play.”
You saw him as an alien called Mork. You saw him as a woman called Mrs Doubtfire. Now you can see him as an unconventional English teacher, encouraging students to express themselves and kick footballs. There are times when you feel like you’re wasting your time – it’s all about school politics, and none of it affects you.
Still, it’s well acted, well written and it grows on you, even if you have difficulty telling some of the characters apart. The camera becomes obsessed with spinning in circles, usually forming a circumference around someone reciting a poem. There’s a message there, which is explicitly repeated: seize the day.
When it finished, I wanted to seize the day, but instead, as Walt Whitman said, I was fallen cold and dead.

Die Hard (1988) – 7/10
“Merry Christmas…”
A good name for a ghost town: Bruce Willisville. If you were a ghost, would you still update your Twitter? Your first could tweet be: I am a ghost! #ghost. Your second tweet could be: I just watched Die Hard. Some terrorists take over a really tall building, and Bruce Willis must stop them. It’s fun, I guess, especially the villains. I don’t really have much else to say, for some reason.

Family Stone (2005) – 2.5/10
“I am the snow.”
It’s Christmas, so Dermot Mulroney wants his girlfriend, Sarah Jessica Parker, to spend the holidays with his family – a gang of one-note characters in a family that’s comically huge to accommodate the ensemble cast. Mulroney also wants to propose to his girlfriend using the family’s special wedding, but has difficulties because his family hates Sarah Jessica Parker, possibly because they saw her performance in Failure to Launch. For some reason, she brings along her sister (Clare Danes). And that reason is a strange mismatch where Mulroney ends up with his girlfriend’s sister, and his girlfriend ends up with his brother. Yes, the plot is that stupid. Remember, when Shakespeare did this with A Midsummer Night’s Dream, he felt the idea was so ridiculous that he had to justify it with Oberon, Titania and Puck collaborating with magic potions and the fairly world.
In the film’s defence, the nonsensical plot developments are supposed to be funny, as evident by the moments of slapstick – if there’s a cake in the kitchen, of course it’s going to slip and hit someone in the face! But there’s also a jarring side-story with Diane Keaton telling her family members that she’s dying of cancer, which sits next to a parade of pointless characters exchanging not-jokes with not-meaningful-looks.
This comedy drama is really an awkward juxtaposition of comedy and drama. It’s like mixing chocolate and rice into an inedible mixture, except it’s mixing thoughtless, clichéd drama with some horrible cheap rice from Lidl’s bargain bucket. Comedy and tragedy can only work well if it makes you laugh and you care about the characters. SJP? RIP.

Fatal Attraction (1987) – 7/10
“If you stayed that second night, then you must have liked me a little bit…”
The killer question is: would you be friends with yourself? It’s my favourite question to ask. I haven’t asked it yet. I only just thought of it a few seconds ago. I see Fatal Attraction as being about two people who wouldn’t be friends with themselves, and how they conceal it.
Michael Douglas has a wife and two children, but has a weekend affair with Glenn Close. However, she’s like a boomerang and he has difficulty getting rid of her. When Douglas realises how a sleazy affair could cost him his family, he discovers he doesn’t like himself. Similarly, half of Close’s aggression towards Douglas is a projection of self-hatred, but she’s an idiosyncratic psychopath; instead of blood, she has fizzy coca cola pumping through her arteries.
Glenn Close’s methods of revenge include:
1) Threatening to take him to see Madame Butterfly (I guess he really doesn’t like opera…)
2) Phoning him all the time (why not send a text message like a normal antisocial person…)
3) Meddling with his car (I think it’s a metaphor for his masculinity, ego, or his preference to not walk…)
4) Giving him cassettes with threatening messages (he’ll never have time to listen to them…)
5) Killing a pet (he’s not a poet…)
What is a fatal attraction? Are all attractions fatal? Is there a sadder moment than when she says:
“I feel I know you already.”
What drives her obsession isn’t so much Douglas, but a fear of abandonment – an irrational fear he accidentally actualises. Except he’s the one at fault. He pays the price, and it’s a mixture of horror and thriller. There are many moments that make you laugh unexpectedly, in the way scary films often do. The link between shock and laughter is burrowed so well that the frequent close-ups of kettles made me chuckle in a good way. (Although not so much with the Watership Down moment.)
Which is scarier: your wife leaving you, or Glenn Close stabbing you?
Could you imagine if you woke up and found out that the last five years were a dream, which means all your new friends never really existed and none of your accomplishments ever happened, and you’ll have to relive the pains of growing old, and maybe you’ve just been wasting your life and you’ll have to waste it all over again? And then Glenn Close kills your rabbit and tries to stab you? I couldn’t think of anything worse.

Funny Ha Ha (2002) – 4.5/10
“Eyes on the stalks of your head.”
Andrew Bujalski’s first film is an example of how to make a film in America with no money, no contacts and no professional actors. It also kicked off the mumblecore movement – a contentious statement that’s less contentious and more of a statement when you consider it was Bujalski who invented the word mumblecore. (If you say the word in the mirror three times, Joe Swanberg jumps behind you, but accidentally faces the wrong direction and with poor lighting.)
In the annoyingly titled Funny Ha Ha, we follow Marie, a demotivated graduate as she tries to find meaning in life and growing up. She doesn’t do much. She has sort-of relationships with two guys, but it’s always awkward – she plays a game of chess, then wonders if she should play five more games. Her aimless life is portrayed in the film as such, with the camera picking up the minutiae that never moves but always complains.

Hannah Takes the Stairs (2007) – 1.5/10
As recommended by nobody. Nobody would ever recommend this film.
“We have until 2 o’clock to do nothing.”
Joe Swanberg managed to use his connections to make a mumblecore film with the main players of the genre – there’s Greta Gerwig, Mark Duplass and Andrew Bujalski. But it’s so disastrously awful that not even Swanberg wants to take credit for the screenplay.
On this site, I have previously called Joe Swanberg ‘the least competent director’ in the industry; Hannah Takes the Stairs is from the period when he was still learning how to use a camera. The mumblecore essence is showing how you can make the most with a small budget, but he seems determined to make the worst film possible with a small budget. I’m surprised he didn’t place himself in the action.
It’s about Hannah, a graduate who is ‘chronically dissatisfied’. It rambles like a rock thrown down a crooked well. When a dramatic scene included Greta Gerwig chewing on an ice cube, I was ready to give up.
Sometimes the actors look at the camera, as if to say to Swanberg: surely you’re not using this take? Or are they looking at him to say: why are you standing with the camera in that part of the room, or do you just not know anything about films?

Lola (1961) – 5.5/10
“I’ve lived like a fool. Ten years ago, I gave up, out of fatigue or boredom.”
Jacques Demy’s first film is ambient in style, slick in performance, and as ‘cool’ as you’d expect from a black-and-white French film from the era of La Nouvelle Vague. Roland, a man in his twenties, has a second shot with the woman he loves when he bumps into her several years after saying goodbye – her name is Lola and she is a showgirl.
“Maybe I’m not a great dancer, but I’m a great mother.”
His sadness comes not from not how peculiarly fleeting his emotions fluctuate, but that Lola is in love with another man. On their date, she can’t stop talking about the man who abandoned her and her and – the hearbreak in his eyes can’t be dampended by black-and-white. Instead, they are complemented by the voice of a crooner that fades in. Like how I found the film, he acknowledges her company is pleasant, but he has somewhere else to go. And then he ruins it by saying, “All sorts of memories came back at me – you’re at the centre of them all.”

Moneyball (2011) – 6.5/10
“Yale. Economics. Baseball. You’re funny, Pete.”
That’s Brad Pitt’s reaction to Jonah Hill. In short, Brad Pitt plays the general manager of the Oakland Athletics baseball team, but starts taking advice from Jonah Hill, an economics graduate with little sporting knowledge.
The essence of Moneyball is that the key to baseball isn’t gut instincts, traditions or listening to scouts. No, it’s about being a card counter at a casino. Instead of buying great players, you look for players undervalued because they have a defect, and hope for maximum return for minimum effort. It’s a bit like the sporting version of mumblecore theory.
Except it’s not mumblecore. The sharp script was rewritten by Aaron Sorkin, although there are a few moments that drag. Firstly, momentum is lost because there’s only so far the film can go without sticking to the facts – I should have mentioned it’s based on a true story – and too much of the second half is Brad Pitt driving a car in slow motion. Secondly, it makes you appreciate the humour of Cameron Crowe’s Jerry Maguire, a sickeningly heartwarming sports film that had a better balance. Thirdly, it’s a baseball film that can be enjoyed by people who don’t care for baseball; initially a positive, but dilutes the second half.
It’s an interesting case study of mathematics with decent performances from Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill. (Now that Jonah Hill has lost weight should he change his surname?) It’s a solid film that isn’t what you’d expect, yet somehow becomes too formulaic to truly appreciate. It could have been more ambitious, but instead it has dialogue like:
Jonah Hill’s character: “It’s a metaphor.”
Brad Pitt’s character: “I know it’s a metaphor.”

My Sassy Girl (2008) – 1/10
“Once in your life, if you are very lucky, you will meet the person who divides it – to the time before you met her and the time after.”
Once in your life, if you are very unlucky, you will watch a film that divides it…
The main character is a desperate guy who notices an attractive woman passed out on a train – from that moment, he decides he’s in love and it’s destiny for them to be together. And that is not a joke, but the film’s trajectory. She turns out to be psychotic, but to an obnoxious level – think Bringing Up Baby, then multiply that by 300 – and has ‘adorable’ quirks like physically assaulting him, deliberately ruining his education and job interview, and deciding that they shouldn’t see each other for a year to see if fate will bring them together at a specific tree.
Yes, the film hinges upon whether fate will bring them together at a specific tree.

Never Been Kissed (1999) – 6/10
“All the desks are facing evil.”
There were points when it was veering towards being a bit too Caroline Flack/Harry Styles, but it ended up okay. 60% rufus!

Tampopo (1985) – 9/10
“It’s the soup that animated the noodles.”
The film begins with a man breaking the fourth wall by explaining to the viewer how to watch the film – attentively, in silence, not eating crisps. The second scene is a different man being taught how to eat a bowl of ramen soup – one tip includes tapping the bowl’s contents to display affection. Yes, Tampopo is a slight comedy, but it’s mouth-wateringly hilarious. It consists of several small stories about how Japanese culture treats it food. So, a bit like Love Actually, but funnier, more chopsticks, less love.
Tampopo balances social satire and humour with ease. One example is a woman who momentarily returns from the dead to cook a meal for her family, then dies – the father insists the children should stop mourning and instead eat the food while it’s still warm. Elsewhere, a group of young Japanese women are given an etiquette class in how to eat spaghetti without slurping, so as not to offend any Western men they are trying to court; on a neighbouring table, a Western man slurps his meal like a noisy hoover on a dusty carpet.
The central storyline is about a man who wears a hat in the bath. He meets Tampopo, a woman with a struggling ramen restaurant – her food is allegedly cooked without profundity. He stays to coach her, wondering why he’s bothering, then remembering it’s all about the food. He even introduces a mantra about how soup should always be boiling, which is better than my mantra.
As the film progresses, it remains relentlessly inventive. The smart dialogue is complemented by a director who understands cinema; he keeps it interesting, sharp and not a bowl of ramen with floating ice cubes.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011) – 4/10
“I am loyal.”
I guess you had to see it in the cinema to appreciate it. It was like Broken Flowers without Bill Murray.

We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011) – 8.5/10
“Just because you’re used to something, doesn’t mean you like it. You’re used to me…”
I can assure you that We Need to Talk About Kevin is better than: 1) the title suggests 2) you’d expect 3) the people who loved the book upon which it was based 4) Lynn Ramsey’s previous film Morvern Callar.
Tilda Swinton stars as a mother of Kevin, a teenager who committed several murders one day at school with a bow and several arrows– he also kills his sister and father, all a few days before his 16^th birthday so that in court he wouldn’t be tried as an adult. Swinton not only has to deal with losing her family, but she’s the scapegoat for the community who are still angry at her for a crime she didn’t commit or understand. Yet, she feels guilt.
Various flashbacks show Swinton’s struggling to raise Kevin during a torturous childhood – even as a two-year-old, he played mental games with his mother. The jumpy discontinuity becomes a troubling mystery as the viewer is invited to speculate not only why Kevin became a murderer, but at what point he knew it would happen – was it jealousy of his younger sister’s attention, or guilt at causing his parent’s divorce?
As a child, Kevin displays hostility towards everyone, apart from his father – even then, he develops a close bond with his father just to aggravate his mother. His early joy from the suffering of others isn’t too different from how many five-year-olds behave, but he never outgrows that phase – he becomes a miserable adolescent who attaches a hoover to his sister’s hair, and can’t even enjoy simple pleasures like crazy golf. There is even dramatic irony that the only time he experiences a warm relationship with his mother is when she reads him Robin Hood – she reads a particular passage about an arrow piercing human flesh, while he falls asleep in bed, possibly to dream of himself doing something similar.
Yet, for all these clues, many are just as likely to be red herrings. And speaking of red herrings, there is an incredibly annoying overuse of blood symbolism. It begins effectively with blood thrown at the house; Kevin’s mother frequently has to watch blood from her hands for various reasons, but it becomes nauseating. At one point Kevin makes a sandwich and, I kid you not, it zooms in on his choice of filling – blood-red jam, even zooming in as it spills over the side of the crust onto the plate.
Tilda Swinton is excellent as the mother and manages to convey the moral dilemma of hating your child, but wanting to be a good mother. Before Kevin can even talk, Swinton remarks that motherhood has ruined her life, not knowing how much worse it will become. Lynne Ramsey’s previous film, Morvern Callar, was also about a female protagonist reeling from the death of a love one. The difference is that Swinton delivers a performance that is more than aloofness or a singular reaction, but addresses how loving her son has ruined her life – it’s both complicated and subtle.

1. Cold Weather – 9.5/10
It evolves from mumblecore to crime-thriller without losing its charm.

2. Melancholia - 9/10
A reminder that the end of the world will be slow, painful and a bit like the incinerator scene in Toy Story 3.

3. Black Swan – 8.5/10
Darren Aronofsky finds a dial labelled Polanski and turns it up to 11.

4. Another Earth – 8/10
Beyond the teenage angst is a surprisingly moving story about trying to hear violins instead of guilt.

5. Win Win – 8/10
Paul Giamatti shines as an exasperated family man tormented by guilt.

6. Midnight in Paris – 8/10
You can’t take New York out of the New Yorker, even if you stick him in Paris and introduce elements of time travel.

7. The Fighter – 8/10
A family drama about “heart”, loyalty and using sport as a distraction for the meaningless of life.

8. 50/50 -7.5/10
Very dark and very funny. Like watching the sunrise with your dentist.

9. Source Code – 7.5/10
A smart sci-fi thriller about wanting to die – something we can all relate to.

10. 127 Hours – 7/10
He says, “Thank you,” once his arm is cut off, but he doesn’t become a better person – once he escapes, he takes water from strangers without saying, “Thank you,” and then drinks it in a really wasteful manner, spilling down his shirt. In short: he will show his gratitude to an inanimate rock that has ruined his life, but he won’t say anything to the people who save him from dying of dehydration.

11. The Ides of March – 7/10
A soap opera crafted to fit a mainstream film structure, with sprinkles of digestible politics, which isn’t a bad thing.

12. Contagion – 7/10
Journalist versus biological warfare. A bit like my Christmas holiday.

13. Bridesmaids – 7/10
A funny film with 30 minutes of deleted scenes accidentally tacked on.

14. The Green Hornet – 7/10
An action film about people who can’t fight.

15. Super – 7/10
Surprisingly demented in a dementedly pleasant way.

16. My Idiot Brother – 6/10
Feels like a rehearsal for a brilliant film.

17. Sleeping Beauty – 6/10
Blandness becomes hypnotic.

18. Drive - 6/10
Ryan Gosling saunters through a supermarket aisle like a car, snaking past a row of breakfast cereal, heading towards the fresh fruit.

19. Super 8 – 6/10
Like marrying the first person you see standing outside a church.

20. The Future – 6/10
Sometimes weary, but often beautiful.

21. The Tree of Life – 5.5/10
A woman whispers, “Lord, where were you?” The screen replies with what looks like the default visualisations you get with Windows Media Player.

22. Crazy Stupid Love – 5.5/10
The apt title reflects a savvy take on films cliches without being particularly daring.

23. Paul – 5.5/10
Extremely repetitive. Extremely unambitious. Extremely frustrating.

24. Friends With Benefits – 5/10
Its message: all men are bastards, apart from your ‘fuck buddy’ who just so happens to be Justin Timberlake.

25. Insidious – 5/10
What is the latest, plain, by-the-numbers horror film you’ve seen lately?

26. Like Crazy – 5/10
A film that aims itself at girls with tumblrs.

27. Hall Pass – 4.5/10
It helps knowing the plot a few weeks in advance, to let it sink in.

28. Beautiful Lies – 4.5/10
Further analysis into the plot reveals plenty of nastiness, but it’s to the actors’ credit that your emotions are closer to incredulity than repulsion.

29. Welcome to the Rileys – 4.5/10
Kristen Stewart and James Gandolfini as you’ve never seen them before, and you’ll never want to see them again.

30. Horrible Bosses – 4.5/10
Forced, but watchable, like the QVC shopping channel.

31. My Week With Marilyn – 4/10
A bit like Twilight with the genders reversed.

32. Attack the Block – 4/10
Be careful if eating popcorn while watching, in case you miss something you’ve seen before or already predicted.

33. Limitless – 4/10
Apparently you only use 20% of your brain. Compare this with cucumber, which is 97% water. Am I really making a point? Not really, but neither is Limitless.

34. The Myth of the American Sleepover – 4/10
A bit like reading a stranger’s diary, then finding out they’re into trainspotting.

35. The Inbetweeners Movie – 4/10
It made me so sad about humanity that I didn’t even bother writing a review for it.

36. The King’s Speech – 3.5/10
1. DENIAL The praise for The King’s Speech is a temporary defence for humanity. This feeling is generally replaced with heightened awareness of positions and individuals that will be left behind after the death of Wikipedia.
2. ANGER How dare you say this film is educational.
3. BARGAINING I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed. Perhaps if they could remake it…
4. DEPRESSION It’s painfully tedious. I only watched it because I didn’t want to be left out.
5. ACCEPTANCE [speech] “Thank you for this Oscar.”

37. The Adjustment Bureau – 3.5/10
A film about the lengths Matt Damon will go to for a pretty girl on a bus.

38. Cedar Rapids 3.5/10
Ed Helms, the actor who plays Andy from The Office, branches out into films to stop himself becoming typecast, so he stars in Cedar Rapids as a character remarkable similar to Andy from The Office.

39. Your Highness -3/10
The best way is to describe Your Highness is that it’s like buying someone a birthday card, but forgetting to write a message inside, and it’s also not their birthday.

40. Bad Teacher – 3/10
It doesn’t pick up until the last 15 minutes by rising to a low level of mediocrity.

41. Chalet Girl – 3/10
Things I can’t digest: cellulose and Chalet Girl.

42. A Good Old Fashioned Orgy – 3/10
The film version of giving up.

43. 30 Minutes or Less – 2.5/10
A real tragic death turned into a comedy. The film is arguably a bigger tragedy.

44. No Strings Attached – 2.5/10
Ashton Kutcher cries less convincingly than a robot, or any other household appliance.

45. happythankyoumoreplease – 1.5/10
Josh Radnor, tell us who the mother is, then go away forever.

46. Beastly – 0.5/10
A Disney film where the moral is that you need brute force to make someone love you.

47. Sucker Punch – 0/10
One single sentence can’t explain why this is the worst film I’ve ever seen.

There are other things I missed that I’ve been meaning to catch up on, like Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and Moneyball, but is there anything else I should see?
Do you agree/disagree with anything on my list?
Any general recommendations?
What are you excited to see in 2012?
(I am looking forward to Your Sister’s Sister, The Dark Knight Rises, Damsels in Distress, Martha Marcy May Marlene, Young Adult and Moonrise Kingdom.)
Tonight, will you be swimming to your favourite island?

This month, the average rating is 6.0/10 with film of the month being All the Real Girls.

27 Dresses (2008) – 4/10
In defence of 27 Dresses: it isn’t the worst thing I’ve seen. It sticks with its absurd premise of someone being a bridesmaid for 27 weddings, and the cast never let slip their disappointment with the script. Still, it’s an unambitious film about the tragedy of living alone in a Manhattan apartment, complete with continuity errors when the protagonist changes her hair each scene.

30 Minutes or Less (2011) – 2.5/10
“That vest is packed with C4. The C is for chaos.”
Maybe I’m paranoid, but ever since Judd Apatow found fame, many mainstream comedy films are becoming increasingly more focused on the cast than the script. The cast: Jesse Eisenberg, Aziz Ansari, Danny McBride and Nick Swardson, all directed by the guy who did Zombieland. The plot: A pizza boy has a bomb strapped to him and is forced to rob a bank.
What were the production meetings like?
A: But the script isn’t funny.
B: Don’t worry. We’ll use improvisation. They’re comedians.
A: Jesse Eisenberg isn’t.
B: Don’t worry. We’ll play him out of character. The audience will see the humour in that.
A: Nick Swardson isn’t funny.
B: He’s a big name.
A: His latest film Bucky Larson scored 0% on Rotten Tomatoes and flopped at the cinemas.
B: There’ll be car chases and explosions.
A: It sounds unrealistic.
B: Actually, it’s based on a true story. When it really happened, the bomb detonated and he died.
A: It sounds like it was all done in quite bad taste.
B: All while not sticking to source material.

50/50 (2011) – 7.5/10
“50/50? If you were a casino game, you’d have the best odds.”
Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen are best friends. Not in real life, but in a film. When Levitt is diagnosed with cancer, it’s up to Rogen to support his friend, which he does by spying on his girlfriend. In response, Levitt makes fun of Rogen’s annoying laugh.
Although 50/50 is based on the writer’s experiences, many elements feel tacked on to commit to film structure. While the maturely handled humour around the dark topic works, some elements don’t: the clichéd moody girlfriend, the inevitable moment the friendship falls apart at the start of the third act, the predictable point the friendship glues itself together ten minutes later, and the romance with Anna Kendrick as a quirky doctor. It’s the little bits in between that are compelling, mainly because it’s rare for the subject of cancer to be handled in film with humour, perspective and little schmaltz.
“Nobody wants to fuck me. I look like Voldemort.”
The bleak optimism of 50/50 is that everyone needs to handle tragedy in their own way. Well, that’s what I gathered from the film. Levitt is practically a straight man while everyone around him falls apart or, more importantly, doesn’t. There’s the overbearing mother. There’s the pithy girlfriend who feels too guilty to dump him. There’s the caring best friend who also wants to use his friend’s illness to get laid via sympathy. There’s the terror of knowing your life could be shortened by chance, yet it manages to wrangle humour from Levitt discovering he’s been sent to a training hospital – he’s Anna Kendrick’s third patient, and she informs him, “I might be using this for my dissertation.”
It’s very dark and very funny.

A Good Old Fashioned Orgy (2011) – 3/10
“So out of the four dudes involved, I don’t even rank in the top two?”
It has a funny title. The screenplay is by ex-writers of The Larry Sanders Show. The cast has the likes of Jason Sudeikis, Lake Bell, Martin Starr and the person who played Valerie in Sabrina the Teenage Witch. So what went wrong?
The script is lazy. The storyline is that a group of friends decide to have an orgy, but the writers never attempt anything innovative – it’s structured to fit in punchlines that never occur, and it ends up curiously empty. The first half of the film is the writers trying to convince themselves that this is a plausible plot line – if they can’t convince themselves, how can they convince the viewer?

All the Real Girls (2003) – 8.5/10
“Sometimes I pretend we only have ten seconds to live.”
Somewhere on this site, I claimed in my review of George Washington that the ‘emotionally confused characters of All the Real Girls strangle the film’ – I rewatched and I was wrong, and what does that sentence even mean, anyway? (And, yes, I googled myself to find that). Now I’ve seen all of David Gordon Green’s films, I get his game: behind the watercolour montages, each shot is a meditative metaphor, as everything moves apart from the characters. The main characters will never leave each other, no matter how hard they try, and they never know what so say – it’s both scripted and real, with a background show of speeding trains and birds, with even the clouds moving faster than Paul Schneider’s voice.
“I had a dream that you grew a garden on a trampoline, and I was so happy that I invented peanut butter.”
Will All the Real Girls become David Gordon Green’s Days of Heaven? It’s a bit of a trite claim, but I’ve put the idea in your head, reader. I’m sure one scene takes place at night for the sole reason of having a bright fire in the flame, eventually replaced by a lit end of a cigarette. Sometimes it’s a bit too much, like Paul Schenider literally punching the ground, but that scene fades into an elegant three minute sequence of time passing and factories producing labour to the sounds of Mogwai.

Another Earth (2011) – 8/10
“He realised the only way to save his sanity is to fall in love with this sound.”
When Brit Marling drives home from a party, she notices a blue sparkle in the sky – a bauble that looks like another planet, synchronising with her reality, like two friends finishing each other’s sentences. This lapse in concentration leads to a crash and four years in prison, although this is a sentence nobody finishes for her. Upon release, she finds the man whose family she killed in the accident, and offers her services as a cleaner. (It’s a metaphor.)
The existence of the unimaginatively named Earth 2 makes the characters ask questions like ‘What if?’ and ‘Why not a better name for a planet?’ It also hangs there, like a sunset that won’t go away. Beyond the teenage angst and clippy directorial tricks, there’s a surprisingly moving story about trying to hear violins instead of guilt.

Citizen Kane (1941) – 8.5/10
“I have money and power. If I don’t look after the interests of the underprivileged, maybe someone else will – someone without money and property.”
A glorious biopic of a man who had everything, then lost it. A bit like me – I had something, and then I kinda lost it. But, really, every shot in Citizen Kane is aware of its greatness – whether stooping high over  a disowned art collection, or a close-up of a man clapping an opera singer out of guilt. Orson Welles astounds as a media mogul driven to loneliness, foreshadowing his own career – the camera captures every combative shudder of doubt and clarity, meditating at the collapse of self-inflicted grandiose as a concept, character and film.

Contagion (2011) – 7/10
“We’re isolating the sick.”
Steven Soderbergh’s latest film is a frightening glimpse into a deathly virus that spreads across the globe faster than vaccines can be produced. It means a lottery is televised so the public knows who will have a chance to live. It’s also a case of journalists versus biological warfare, which is something I know far too much about.
The films use various subplots – none particularly stand out, but each includes a well known actor, which is a bit of a consolation. There’s Matt Damon who must protect his daughter from touching her boyfriend in case she becomes infected. (It isn’t a zombie film.) There’s Jude Law, a blogger who fakes an illness and recovery to boost the sales of a drug. And there’s Gwyneth Paltrow who just dies, slowly and painfully, in the way that only she can, or at least you want her to. As the virus spreads, society crumbles, but you wonder if perhaps the film loses focus having too many extraneous characters.

Dig! (2004) – 7.5/10
“I’ve never seen them eat. All I’ve seen them do is drink liquor and snort drugs.”
In 1993, The Dandy Warhols and The Brian Jonestown Massacre were two bands starting out, dissipating at the idea of a major label. They began as best friends, then became bitter rivals; The Dandy Warhols gradually sold out until they could peak as one-hit wonders, but Dig! focuses on the hilariously pathetic narrative created by The Brian Jonestown Massacre and their frontman, Anton Newcombe.
“I sneeze and hits come out.”
From early on, it’s clear that Dig! will shine a torch on Anton’s self-destruction. Footage of an early BJM gig shows him stopping a song and telling a band member to leave the stage because he played a wrong note – a catalyst for a fist fight and an illuminating shot of a petulant singer dragged onto the streets by security. His girlfriend dumps him, explaining, “Heroin makes him evil.”
“You fucking broke my sitar, motherfucker.”
One flaw within Dig! is that neither band is that good. Yes, BMJ lost out on the mainstream because of Anton’s anti-commercial behaviour, but they were never going to become bigger than, say, The Dandy Warhols. And, even then, seeing a mediocre band just through hoops to make it not-that-big, you understand Anton’s frustration and jealousy.

The Fighter (2011) – 8/10
“Stop calling me an MTV girl. I don’t even know what the fuck that means.”
After a six-year absence, David O. Russell returned with The Fighter, having learned two lessons from I Heart Huckabees: be more patient with the characters, and let someone else write the screenplay. If you remember the ridiculous character developments of Russell’s earliest efforts, Spanking the Monkey and Flirting with Disaster, you appreciate the simplicity of The Fighter – a family drama about “heart”, loyalty and using sport as a distraction for the pointlessness of life.
Mark Walhberg excels in the lead role as a boxer trying to please himself, his girlfriend, his brother and his mother. The supporting cast are exemplary, with Christian Bale in particular as a boxer whose career was ruined by cocaine addiction; he jitters so palely and convincingly that it’s almost frightening – almost, not quite, or else it would be called The Frighter. No, what is frightening is that the role was originally for Matt Damon, who had to pull out because of scheduling conflicts. (Which is odd because I envisage Mark Walhberg as a Matt Damon who can act.)
I sometimes forget boxing is a real thing that happens, and that strengthens the emotional intricacies of The Fighter. The generation gaps make you wonder what will happen to these characters and yourselves, or did you miss the boat? Oh, the boat. Anyway, Bale forever talks about a fight he won in his peak, rather like how I talk about the time RL Stine tweeted that he was scared of me, and it’s sad – he lives through his brother, but so does every other character in the film, whether as an agent, relative or spectator.  It’s a simple truth, deftly told with terrific performances.

Friends With Benefits (2011) – 5/10
“Just a friend going down on another friend…”
The message is that all men are bastards, apart from your “fuck buddy” who just so happens to be Justin Timberlake. The other piece of advice comes from Justin’s father: “Life is goddamn short, and you’ve got to make the most of it.” It leads up to Justin’s declaration of love to Mila Kunis that when something happens to him, he can’t wait to tell her – that’s not love, that’s a blogger talking about how they love writing for their audience.

The Future (2011) – 6/10
“I don’t know anything. I’m just a rock in the sky.”
I never understood the appeal of Miranda July’s first film, Me and You and Everyone We Know. That’s not the case with The Future, but I just don’t understand it. It’s narrated by a dead cat with a computerised voice, and that’s the part to me that makes the most sense. The central couple have their own problems – she judges people by the sound of their footsteps, while he tries to freeze time by sitting as still as possible.
“I’m not getting up. I’m just changing my position.”
There are moments when it’s weary, but it’s often beautiful – the shifting of the moon over an argument on structural formula on what is okay and what is not okay. It is okay.

Like Crazy (2011) – 5/10
“We should be with each other and I feel it so strongly and I feel, like, er….”
Hooray, it’s that guy from Middle of Nowhere and the eponymous star of Chalet Girl. No, I’m being unfair. There’s a lot of potential with Like Crazy, mainly because there’s nothing there – boy meets girl, girl doesn’t have valid passport, then they miss each other. The ensuing musical montages are clichéd and uninspiring, even when they’re interrupting the ineffective shaky camera.
Still, Like Crazy works but it’s so downtrodden. The actors are reasonable enough, and they do make you feel sad, even when they’re just checking the mail. But that can’t hide the short clips of a whimsical line or a snapshot quote of something a teenager would write in their diary, or the irritating looks out of a window while the soundtrack weakly strokes your shoulder. This is a film deliberately aiming itself at girls with tumblrs.

Man on Wire (2008) – 7/10
“My story is a fairytale.”
In 1974, Philippe Petit walked the line between death and being immortalised in a documentary. Man on Wire uses archived footage and reimaginations of when he spent 45 minutes tightrope ‘dancing’ between the Twin Towers. He called it the challenge of doing the impossible, for it doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s beautiful, and it’s giving something to someone. Maybe, but I’m not sure if you want to hear about it for 90 minutes.
The direction is jumpy and creative, which this kind of documentary needs, with some of the footage looking like a scene from Paris, Texas, with wispy, mournful music breezing in the background. Even when it begins to tire, there’s still something breathtaking when you see the photos of a man standing on a wire that high above the ground, looking down upon a crowd of onlookers, laughing to himself. Deep inside, he grabs the moment, whispering under his breath the immortal word: “Lol.”

My Week With Marilyn (2011) – 4/10
“In a while, crocodile.”
I can’t say Marilyn Monroe means that much to me. Still, My Week With Marilyn makes little effort to change my mind. It follows a few days she spent filming in England, while having a brief love affair with a nobody (played in the film by a nobody). The love story is unconvincing and a bit like Twilight with the genders reversed.
Emma Watson provides much needed comic relief, even if unintentionally, and her screen time reminds me of Me and Orson Welles, a far superior take on the same story. Perhaps My Week With Marilyn could have been more like a monster movie, saving up Marilyn Monroe’s appearance until later in the film. Instead, she is demystified with mundane dialogue punctuated with clunky philosophical quotes. I much preferred my 30 seconds on Marilyn’s wikipedia page.

Our Idiot Brother (2011) – 6/10
“Trust me, man – I’ve been other candles.”
The cast for Our Idiot Brother is illustrious, but of what? It centres around a large family and their friends, but the size is possibly to accommodate the impressive cast: Paul Rudd, Emily Mortimer, Zooey Deschanel, Elizabeth Banks, Steve Coogan, Rashida Jones, Katie Aselton, TJ Miller and Adam Scott. And what message does the film radiate? That Paul Rudd has a beard and Zooey Deschanel’s hair is longer than you remember. It’s a collection of loosely performed laidback scenes with an amusingly contrived storyline that allows each star an opportunity to laugh, cry, stare into the abyss, and redeem themself.
“Interviewing is an art form. When you ask someone to be naked and vulnerable, you have to be naked and vulnerable too.”
The actors’ chemistry has its potential only lightly touched upon, like a deft, independent feather; many scenes successfully emulate a rehearsal before a truly great film. So, yes, I suspected the filming was rushed, especially from the zigzag editing between scenes and the difficulties of bringing together such a zeitgest cast without a Hollywood budget. And wikipedia proved me right, with a producer boasting a cut of the film was done less than a year after he first saw the script.
What if your potential was like a polar cap, melting and disappearing as time passes?

The September Issue (2009) – 4/10
“It’s very teethy. And there’s a double filing. But we’re going to fix that.”
Vogue magazine contains staples, and is also one. The September Issue is a behind-the-page documentary following how an issue of Vogue is put together. In the office, they drink bottles of water and pretend the camera isn’t there. Anna Wintour, the editor-in-chief, is frightening, but more in the way you’re scared of heights, rather than the fear that you’re wasting your life.
“Fashion is fun and we all love it.”
A power struggle ensues. The hero is Grace Coddington, the creative editor who battles the “skinny skinny” image of models, must pitch her ideas – Anna Wintour stands in the way. There is a tense moment in a lift, but it’s ruined when Grace accidentally looks into the camera.
“It’s a weird industry and it’s not for me.”
It’s moments like this that made it hard for me to enjoy The September Issue. It isn’t that I don’t read fashion magazines, but the documentary doesn’t appeal to non-readers – the participants are too guarded, and the documentary makes no attempt to zoom in. When Grace says she wants a certain image to be blurred and that it’s a shame that readers want things pin-sharp, I wondered why The September Issue was neither.

Sleeping Beauty (2011) – 6/10
“Your vagina will not be penetrated. Your vagina is a temple.”
Scene one: Emily Browning tests her gag reflex in a medical laboratory.
Scene two: Emily Browning works her shift at a café.
Scene three: Emily Browning snorts cocaine.
Scene four: Two men tell Emily Browning: “We were just arguing over which one of us is going to fuck you.”
This scene pattern continues for the rest of Sleeping Beauty, a cold mystery film about a passive sex worker. It begins as a wooden thriller, and the tension is killed when you realise how little the plot matters – this wouldn’t be such a problem if you believed the central character wasn’t such a caricature.
There are instances of unintentionally laugh-out-loud symbolism – she sets her prostitution money on fire like an Olympic torch, holding it in the air so that the metaphor burns itself into your retina.
But it works. The eerie atmosphere is maintained well, especially as the film gets more disturbing. The film’s central premise is that Browning can earn more money by allowing her drugged up body to be used by old men to fulfil their sexual desires, and there are some truly disgusting shots – a minute is spent with a close-up of her face being licked by a man who looks like the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Much of the dialogue is delivered like text-to-speech computer software, and I’m not sure if this is deliberate, but it certainly creates a nightmarish mood. You could say that the blandness becomes hypnotic. Yes, the film has faults, but the faults are impressively consistent.

This month, the average rating is 6.08/10, with film of the month being Melancholia.

American Splendor (2003) – 7.5/10
I’ve never read Harvey Pekar’s comics. After watching American Splendor, a biography of his life, I instead went to Youtube for clips of his David Letterman appearances. Pekar laid out his life in his writing, yet never stopped his hospital day job; he takes offence when Letterman suggests he can’t welcome fame because it would end his comic. It’s a fascinating limbo to be stuck in, halfway between a daily drudgery and the ticket to just off the cliff.
As a film of Pekar making a comic about himself, there’s enough analysis as it is, but it mixes actors with the real people they’re portraying. It shouldn’t work, but it does. The interspersing of Paul Giamatti and the real Harvey Pekar exaggerates the fear that an autobiographical writer sacrifices his life by becoming a character, whether on Letterman or day-to-day business. The cameras remain still, taking in the silence of the walls, trying to find a crack in the panels.

Bad Teacher (2011) – 3/10
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
“I could totally go for a walk right now.”
Everyone’s seen more Cameron Diaz films than they realise. I’ve seen eighteen. Yet, has anyone ever watched a film FOR Cameron Diaz? Despite its short length, Bad Teacher is as tired as the idea that Cameron Diaz can still carry a film.
Diaz plays a ‘bad teacher’ surrounded by loosely distinctive characters who share no chemistry. Disappointingly, the best line is, “I want to sit on his face,” and it doesn’t pick up until the last fifteen minutes by rising to a low level of mediocrity.

Chalet Girl (2011) – 3/10
Things I can’t digest: cellulose and Chalet Girl.

Crazy, Stupid, Love (2011) – 5.5/10
“Fuck. Seriously? It’s as if you’re photoshopped.”
A few coincidences can go a long way, but Crazy, Stupid, Love takes it a bit too far. The partially apt title reflects a savvy take on film clichés without being particularly daring, but hitting the right spots, even if the disjointed timeline is covered by the fingerprints of script doctors. Let’s get out of here.

Drive (2011) – 6/10
“I don’t carry a gun. I drive.”
I have seen Drive twice and it’s way better when you’re drunk. For instance, the awful soundtrack is awfully good when the drum machine synchronises with your headache. “It’s hard to explain/They’re talking about you, boy…” It’s as if she’s singing about me, and I don’t even have a provisional driver’s license!
Is context everything? It’s certainly something. Slate’s website did a feature where you had to guess if a short clip was from a nature documentary or a Terence Malick film. Pretend Drive is the latest from David Lynch, and not just from the car motif. It’s all there, with the heavenly organs and Carey Mulligan smiling more than that scene in An Education where she realises that it’s not a dystopia where you’re raised to be an organ donor and be friends with Keira Knightley and Andrew Garfield. Also, Albert Brooks is far from his huggable characters in Broadcast News and Modern Romance.
But what is it? Is it ‘cool’? If Drive jumped off a cliff, would you chase after it? The truth is that it’s okay, but not much more. It’s style over substance, but in an admirable way – like when Kate Moss did a dance in that video for The White Stripes.
Ryan Gosling saunters through a supermarket aisle like a car, snaking past a row of breakfast cereal, heading towards the fresh fruit.

Horrible Bosses (2011) – 4.5/10
“Mr Motherfucker, please don’t shoot us – let’s just talk it out.”
Instead of a review, I have written a poem:
Bland, bland, bland, boss, boss, boss, Jamie Foxx.
Poorly edited – shots don’t match up,
And you can see where dialogue was cut.
The actors carry the film, like a tortoise
Doing work experience at a film
Studio. Forced, but watchable,
Like the QVC shopping channel.

The Ides of March (2011) – 7/10
The opening of The Ides of March glorifies posters and banners. Signs are everywhere, carrying slogans and political opinions abbreviated into three words. George Clooney is not only the film’s director and co-writer, but plays a Democrat presidential candidate spouting liberalisms like a student protestor trying marijuana for the first time. Clooney’s character’s campaign is plotted behind the scenes by Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Ryan Gosling – it makes you wonder if Hoffman and Gosling secretly did the writing and directing for The Ides of March.
Surprisingly, there’s no obvious “good Democrat versus evil Republican” storyline, but just Democrat infighting and backstabbing – who else will know how to drop eco-friendly sentences into speeches attacking capital punishment? Paul Giamatti attempts to lure Gosling into another Democrat’s campaign with Machiavellian intentions – it’s a cynical angle, but neither biting nor acidic. Perhaps if Clooney was less intent on twisting Hollywood conventions and let loose on Republicans, he wouldn’t feel so restrained. He still manages; it’s slick, smart and engaging, even if ultimately underwhelming. The world of politics is painted with dark colours – enjoyably dark colours.
Gosling drives around, has sex with a younger woman, yet this isn’t Drive. No, it’s about broken promises and no way near as political as advertising suggests. It’s a soap opera crafted to fit a mainstream film structure, with some digestible politics sprinkled now and then, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Inland Empire (2006) – 7.5/10
“I’ve been hypnotised. Or something.”
If Inland Empire turns out to be David Lynch’s final film, it’s a fitting conclusion. Over its spiralling 179 minutes, it’s the most “David Lynch”, by which I mean the surreal interludes never stop, even continuing through the end credits. Like the feedback that runs through the Wilco song “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart”, an unseen threat is always present in Inland Empire. It’s possibly because Lynch uses digital video instead of film; often when someone speaks, the camera goes out of focus, or it zooms in on a face for too long with a shot that’d be rejected as a passport photo.
“Brutal fucking murder.”
There are some moments that really drag, but this essentially makes the surreal sequences that more memorable, even if it isn’t always a pleasurable experience. Still, there’s a thrill in really not knowing what’s coming next, as you could be watching a woman under interrogation saying she was ‘hypnotised or something’ into killing with a screwdriver, and the next scene is a family of rabbits performing a sitcom, followed by prostitutes who suddenly turn into choreographed pop dancers. I don’t know where Lynch wants to go next, or if he wants to live here forever.

Lost Highway (1997) – 8.5/10
“I haven’t been feeling too good.”
It took two viewings until I finally understood Lost Highway, or, at least, understood how I felt about it. The first hour is possibly my favourite section of a film by David Lynch, with Bill Pullman wondering who keeps sending anonymous brown parcels with a videotape inside – the video is of him sleeping in his bedroom. It gets stranger, and Pullman looks as if he’s shrinking and a few seconds from disappearing; he recoils and jumps under the blanket as if part of a magician’s vanishing act. It may be a clue or a red herring, but he hates video cameras, preferring to remember things his own way, rather than the way it happened – this leads to an extraordinary twist in how to relive your life without guilt, without memory, until a lightning bolt reminds you of an electric chair.

Melancholia (2011) – 9/10
“Don’t nap. It’s your wedding. You’re not even halfway through yet.”
Is Kirsten Dunst shooting electricity from her fingers the greatest twenty seconds in the history of cinema? Possibly, but probably not. After all, Melancholia begins with its climax – the end of the world.
After that opening, modernity is put into perspective. When a castle holds a wedding, you wonder why they bother talking about PR salaries, let alone the ceremony, especially when a planet called Melancholia is approaching. The idea perpetrated by Lars von Trier is that a depressive is at peace with the end of the world, welcoming the flames of an incoming planet. It’s depression versus anxiety, and they’re both riding horses.
In the last few hours before Earth’s destruction, even a peaceful shot of running water is ruined by the camera slightly shaking. Dunst’s blank face is a mystery, yet everything you need to know; it’s her best performance since The Virgin Suicides (or Crazy/Beautiful if we’re revealing secrets). The sci-fi concept enables von Trier to pinpoint melancholia as an emotion, and it’s everywhere – when abstract art makes sense, when a planet draws a naked body, and when breakfast tastes like ashes. It’s also a reminder that the end of the world will be slow, painful and a bit like the incinerator scene in Toy Story 3.

Midnight in Paris (2011) – 8/10
“I’m jealous and I’m trusting. It’s cognitive dissonance. Scott Fitzgerald talked about it. You can fool me, but you cannot fool Hemmingway.”
You can’t take New York out of the New Yorker, even if you stick him in Paris and introduce elements of time travel. Owen Wilson takes the main role in the style of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, finding a Parisian time tunnel that transports back to the 1920s, away from modern anxieties like global warming and Rachel McAdams.
“A man in love with a woman from a different era? I see a photograph…”
Owen Wilson speaks like a Beat poet, so it doesn’t seem so contrived when he gets lost and drinks wine with Pablo Picasso, Salvador Dalí and the Fitzgeralds. The film’s concept may be a little irksome, but where else can you see a fanboy tell TS Eliot, “Prufrock’s like my mantra!” or Ernest Hemmingway as a great comic character: “If you’re a writer, you must declare yourself the best!”
“How long have you been dating Picasso? (My God, did I just say that?)”
Crucially, Midnight in Paris benefits from its European setting, whereas Allen’s other attempts have noticeably missed a New York spark. In fact, the peaceful tempo suits the whimsical conceit – unlike other ciphers, Owen Wilson channels Allen’s personality without over-reliance on a stammer or fake anxiety. Sometimes I get so anxious that I crawl into a ball in my bedroom until the sun goes down and I can’t remember if the curtains are open or closed.

The Tree of Life (2011) – 5.5/10
Terence Malick’s The Tree of Life has been dividing critics like a semi-denominatable fraction, with its defenders calling it ambitious, but is it really? It’s long, plotless and has dinosaurs, but ambitious? There are some beautiful images, but nothing particularly haunting – more soothing. Even the best moments (the evolution of Earth, with the asteroid and dinosaurs) is fake David Attenborough.
A woman whispers, “Lord, where were you?” while the screen replies with what looks like the default visualisations you get with Windows Media Player. After half-an-hour, I didn’t know if this was a work of art, or just some computer screensavers set to opera. Can you get screensavers where Brad Pitt says something now and then?
I couldn’t say I was enthralled, but I wasn’t bored; the camera’s always moving, and you don’t know what to expect. It’s a bit like the lyrics of the Talking Heads song “Once in a Lifetime”, with water running through confusion. At one point, the mother reads out the last line of a children’s book: “…admiring his beautiful new coat.” So, maybe Malick does have a sense of humour.

Undertow (2004) – 4/10
After the one-two punch of George Washington and All the Real Girls, David Gordon Green plays a thriller like a poetic fairytale, except it’s over-the-top, overwrought and over far too late – or, as I like to call it: Overtow. David Gordon Green’s best work has always been about inert characters over-emoting while the world moves around them, such as Eastbound & Down’s slow conversations in fast cars; Undertow goes the other direction, with ridiculous action located in a dead forest, and I feel like one of those trees, dead and watching everything.

Are these reviews becoming too long? Do you remember when they were each mostly two sentences? Is this a forum for discussion, or just leading up to an admission that I nearly watched Prom so that I could make a joke about Prom: Legacy? This month, the average rating is 6.17/10, with film of the month being Cold Weather.

Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972) – 7/10
For ninety minutes, Werner Herzog soaks in the jungle, like a baby tiger with its whole future ahead; the sounds of waves punching rocks, birds playing vocal percussion, and strange dubbing from post-production. Spanish soldiers look for El Dorado to find fortune and spread the word of God, and possibly see a few tourist attractions if there’s some spare time. When they get lost and hungry, it becomes apparent they’re being led by a madman, and the soothing voice of David Attenborough isn’t there to help. It’s fairly breathtaking, but I admit that there were a few times I felt bored – a doomed expedition is a bit like a gun in the first act – although that quickly subsided when someone bared their soul with a look of starvation, or an arrow spewing their guts.
I think the jungle would be an excellent place for a mumblecore film. Think about it…
Mark Duplass: Dude, I’m so talented and hilarious, and I only work with gifted improvisers, so why are my films always so bad?
Katie Aselton: Dude, it’s because you’re too firmly locked into three-act bullshit, which goes against the weirdo aesthetics you’re otherwise going for.
Mark Duplass: And to think it took being stuck in the jungle for me to realise that.

Alexander the Last (2009) – 3/10
I found the director Joe Swanberg on Facebook. I was going to ask him a condescending question so that I could publish his response in this review. I decided against it. Out of the big names in the mumblecore movement, Swanberg is surely the least competent director as some of the camera angles make no sense; it’s as if the cameraman couldn’t be bothered to move a sofa, so stands in the wrong spot for an entire scene.
For a film seemingly built around a surprisingly thought provoking sex scene, Alexander the Last is watchable for the performance from Amy Seimetz who will probably become our generation’s Parker Posey/Catherine Keener, or maybe I’m just trying to get the attention of Nancy, the stranger who sent me a complaint about something I said about not liking Rachel Weisz. Still, every mumblecore film has one person who can’t act – it’s usually Greta Gerwig, but this time it’s Barlow Jacobs, who I’m guessing was hired because he looks enough like the director to provide wish-fulfilment. Ah, Barlow – we won’t be hearing from you anytime soon.

Attack the Block (2011) – 4/10
“My fucking hero.”
If there was an alien invasion and we only had a few hours left to live, let’s be honest: those of us with Twitter accounts would totally live-tweet the final moments of civilisation.
I don’t really know what people mean when they call something a ‘popcorn movie’, but this is an example. I guess they mean that it’s fun enough to earn a snack for an accompaniment, but keep eating so you don’t get bored. Attack the Block follows the formula of Snakes on a Plane, except with aliens in London, and thinks that’s enough – it’s underwhelming and uninspired, with no sense of danger, excitement or playfulness. Be careful when eating popcorn as you might miss something you’ve seen before or already predicted.

Barbarella (1968) – 4.5/10
“I will be your eyes.”
“I do not believe it is possible. We’ll be shot down by the black guard patrols.”
“Not with my mini missile projector, we won’t.
While it doesn’t particularly overstay its welcome, Barbarella plays its best cards in the first 30 minutes, when the camp sci-fi designs and dialogue are at their peak, after which it drags and drags. The infamous opening credits, in which physics play tricks with female clothing, might be the most well-known aspect of Barbarella, but it should be the prospect of being eaten by birds in a cage – she looks at the bite marks emerging on her skin, comically pauses, then complains, “This is really much too poetic a way to die.”

Big Fan (2009) – 6.5/10
“I can’t tell you how sick I am.”
Robert Siegel wrote the screenplay for Big Fan while he was still editor of The Onion. Like many of the articles on The Onion, Big Fan has a fantastic premise that runs out of mileage.
Comedian Patton Oswalt takes the lead role and will surprise many by his confidently restrained performance as a sports fan who lives with his mother, has a dead-end job, and can’t afford tickets to see his favourite team. When he’s assaulted by his sporting hero, he refuses to sue, knowing that the Super Bowl is just around the corner.
“Is it worse for me to say the sentence, “Jeff fucked his secretary,” or for Jeff to actually fuck his secretary?”
Instead of big laughs, Big Fan goes for pathos; sports fan are portrayed as angry losers, living their lives through sports radio. Oswalt’s character is both frustrating and invigorating because of his refusal to change, yet Siegel doesn’t build on this (lack of) progression. Once a foot is stuck in the sand, you wonder what the next hour will bring; the perplexing ending dribbles, rather than finishes.
“You don’t care about justice. You care about money.”

Bridesmaids (2011) – 7/10
“At first I did not know that it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad, handwritten book.”
Kristen Wiig’s Bridesmaids shares too much with her SNL background: often a series of skits, throw in some celebrity cameos, finish with a musical guest. It’s a shame because you could cut a hilarious 80-minute version (the theatrical release is 125 minutes) focusing on sharp interplay between Wiig, Rose Byrne, Maya Rudolph, Jon Hamm and Chris O’Dowd. There’s too much extraneous humour that misses its targets – not just the ‘infamous’ vomit scene, but an engagement party encapsulating latter-day SNL by repeating the same joke for five minutes without payoff – like someone saying, “Knock knock,” for five minutes, but never revealing who’s there.
Knock knock.

Cold Weather (2011) – 9.5/10
“How do you go from being a forensic scientist to cutting up vegetables in a restaurant?”
Loyal readers of this site will remember when I gave the Duplass Brothers’ Baghead 2.5/10; it was a mumblecore film that turned into horror, both in genre and execution. Unlike other films like From Dusk till Dawn and Life is Beautiful that shift genres, Cold Weather moves seamlessly – it changes from mumblecore to crime-thriller without losing its charm.
“You’ve got to take me to the library. Right now.”
Doug (Cris Lankenau) moves to Portland to work the night shift in an ice factory, and moves in with his brilliantly deadpan sister Gail (Trieste Kelly Dunn) – “They need factories for that?” The first half of Cold Weather is a slow introduction as Doug settles down, makes friends with a DJ who spins 1960s Latino music (“Shit you’ve never heard before!”), bonds with his sister, and gets reacquainted with his ex-girlfriend Rachel. For a while, the most excitement they have is with Carcassonne. That is, until Rachel disappears, and they have a mystery to solve, or, at the very least, an excuse to call in sick.
“Would you mind if I smoked a pipe in here?”
“You have a pipe?”
“No, but I’m gonna go buy one, I think.”
There are similarities with Jonathan Ames’ Bored to Death, but Cold Weather is less desperate for laughs and doesn’t face sitcom limitations. Maybe because it’s not a pure mumblecore film – too much thought has gone into the camera angles, there seems to be a script, and it builds on less likely relationships that move from the background into the foreground. Watching believable characters pretend to be detectives becomes rather like watching a game show when you can play as well, except with Cold Weather you actually care about the contestants; you see yourself in them, and that was me, there, and that’s what was missing all along, now I know.
“I’ve got a question for you. And don’t get offended. I’m not trying to make fun of you.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have any friends?”

Demonlover (2002) – 7/10
In Videodrome, a nightmarish world is deemed to involve torture pornography in its landscape; Demonlover takes this further. The plot of Demonlover is undeniably ridiculous, with too many confusing twists. Yet, the convoluted structure becomes linked by the disturbing images on the characters’ screen, the challenge of desensitisation, and memorable shots of ‘it girl’ Sevigny playing computer games. The uneven edges somehow slot together, capped by a great chase sequence – Connie Nielsen sighs at the head of a serene car chase, driving into a cacophony of blue and flashing lights.

The Fisher King (1991) – 8/10
“Some billionaire’s got the Holy Grail in his library on 5^th Avenue.”
Terry Gilliam is obsessed with heights. At every opportunity, castles and sky scrapers are shown for what they are. If someone falls off a chair, it’s like diving into the abyss.
“A very nice, psychotic man.”
Similarly, Jeff Bridges’ life takes a turn for the worse within a few seconds and a ‘THREE YEARS LATER’ subtitle. He’s introduced as a radio star in the vein of Howard Stern, but loses his career when an irate caller carries out a shooting on innocent victims. When Bridges meets someone who lost his wife from this event, he tries to make amends – by finding him love, and also fulfilling his quest to find the Holy Grail.
“I can’t believe I’m on a first name basis with these people.”
The Fisher King never fully commits to being a fantasy; there’s a clear sideline on what is real and what is the imagination stemming from a catatonic coma. I saw an interview where indie newcomer Brit Marling spoke of what Gilliam achieved in 12 Monkeys, whereby Bruce Willis saw the adult version of himself die. Gilliam does something similar with The Fisher King, except it’s about gluing the fractures; the moon may look so far away, but so did what you lost.

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart: A Film About Wilco (2002) – 7/10
Sam Jones’ black-and-white documentary about the making of Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is far more fascinating that, say, how much cocaine Justin Bieber didn’t take in the studio for Baby. It begins with the band describing their unity and unconditional support from the record company, then leads to Jay Bennett (lead guitarist and co-writer of most of the songs) being kicked out, and being dropped by the label. Terse highlights include Jeff Tweedy and Jay Bennet fiercely arguing over the five second interlude between “Ashes of American Flags” and “Heavy Metal Drummer” followed by Tweedy vomiting, and embarrassing footage of the editor of Rolling Stone magazine explaining how CDs work. You don’t have to be a fan of Wilco’s music, but it obviously helps – if you don’t, you could pretend it’s a satire of what a Joe Swanberg film would look like with a director who understands cameras.

In the City of Sylvia (2007) – 8/10
“Not at first. But, later, I was convinced.”
Outside the coffee houses of Strasbourg, an unnamed male protagonist searches for someone he met six years ago; he has a notebook with a vague sketch, and he remembers her name.
There’s no soundtrack and hardly any dialogue in the 84 minutes of In the City of Sylvia. Instead, meditative shots take in the city, with every footstep and potential “Sylvia” colliding with hypnotic effect. When he finds someone who might be Sylvia, he follows her, but not in a creepy way – more sad and pathetic. He wakes up with regret, beautified by sunlight peeping through the curtains, and then he’s out on the bench, comparing passers-by with his pencil sketch.
“That’s why you should have asked.”
Remember when I gave Somewhere a score of 0/10? I feel that In the City of Sylvia is the introspective landscape roam Sofia Coppola was aiming for. The protagonist wanders around a city that he’s totally lost in, geographically and ideologically, but knows his way around, sometimes just by the faces that appear in window reflections.
He doesn’t know if she’s ignoring him, or perhaps toying with him, but difficulties come when they’re separated by trams, with skaters intertwining like loose darts. It’s a patient chase that’s the antithesis of the absurd ending of Elizabethtown when Kirsten Dunst finds “love”, then creates the worst game show, with the “Sofia Coppola method” of covering up cracks with a soundtrack. There is more honesty with In the City of Sylvia, bathing in the chatter of strangers, the clinking of glasses, or the repetition of graffiti: “LAURE/ JE T’AIME”.
When he doesn’t know where Sylvia is, everyone becomes a candidate; in the city, everyone and everything is Sylvia.
“I called you Sylvia, and thought you answered me.”

Melvin and Howard (1980) – 3/10
“What’d you want to marry me for? You just divorced me…”
Melvin, a milkman helps out a homeless man who had a motorcycle accident. That man turns out to be Howard Hughes, who repays Melvin in his will. Well, that’s the selling point. In truth, Melvin and Howard is too goofy, with horrendously inconsistent characterisation; even Mary Steenburgen is annoying, with Jonathan Demme’s direction to blame.

Middle of Nowhere (2008) – 5.5/10
“Okay, shall we talk about this? I’ve been breaking the law selling drugs so I can have the money to go to college and get away from you, but I still don’t have enough.”
Amusement parks are run by bored teenagers trying to save money for their American colleges, based on Adventureland and Middle of Nowhere. For those who have seen it, I would describe Middle of Nowhere as Adventureland told from Kristen Stewart’s character’s point of view.
As a coming-of-age drama, Middle of Nowhere succeeds, sort-of – its actors are so inherently annoying, they convincingly play the people you want to avoid. Some of the plot is so convoluted, but to a level that corroborates with adolescent confusion – Dorian resorts to selling drugs for money, but gives it away to Susan Sarandon’s moody daughter (Sarandon’s daughter in the film is her real-life daughter). These are all faults, but its ambitions are detrimental, like a snail in the road.
When Grace reveals her father killed himself, Dorian tries to ‘match her pain’ by reacting with how he found out her was adopted from his angry sister who was jealous he didn’t need glasses. This is one of the few ‘true’ moments of Middle of Nowhere, where Dorian is angry with himself for being rude, but also because he competitively lost. From the director of Crazy/Beautiful, you can only expect the emotional impact to come by accident or musical montages.

My Winnipeg (2008) – 7.5/10
“Always winter. Always sleeping. Winnipeg. Winnipeg.”
Thank you to Annabella J. Massey for requesting My Winnipeg to be reviewed. To remind you, I still accept requests and general correspondence through email: notcherhorowitz[AT]gmail.com.
Before I watched My Winnipeg, I came up with the line with which I was going to end the review: ‘You can’t buy memories, but you can make them up.’ I wasn’t sure what it meant, but a search on Google suggested I was the first person to think of that phrase. Really, it’s one of those meaningless aphorisms deluded people use as life mottos, and My Winnipeg deserves more insight.
“My building lies like a heart ripped open in the snow.”
Guy Madding’s puzzling film is a hypnotic reliving of his home town. It mixes stock-footage, hired actors, worded cues and a poetic narrator – like someone talking over a pastiche silent film or a very stylish Power Point presentation. It would be more hypnotic if it wasn’t for the over-anxious score which is more a warning than an accompaniment, for Winnipeg is cold, surreal and miserable. Many of the film’s revelations are absurd and false, unless if Madding’s mother really starred in a daily television show called Ledgeman – every day, she talks her son out of jumping off a window ledge. In one memorable, animated sequence, Madding describes how racehorses escaped and froze to death in a lake like ‘eleven knights on a vast chess board’, with the protruding heads becoming a site for picnics and ‘romantic rambles’ – clearly absurd because eleven black knights in a chess game is impossible, even if all your pawns reach the opposite row, as there’d only be ten, but that’s just a side note.
“The heads stayed this way all winter.”
Most of My Winnipeg is in black-and-white, aside from a few brief scenes. Unlike Europa, Sin City and Pleasantville which use colour to exaggerate images and symbolism, Madding demonstrates how mundane modern Winnipeg has become in colour; a playful way of proving resources were available, but not part of his uncompromising vision. Of course, the black-and-white is about memories, where even stock footage was your life. It reminds me of the second scene of Annie Hall when Woody Allen remembers his house as being directly under a rollercoaster, or present-day Trip Fontaine lamenting Kirsten Dunst in The Virgin Suicides (“She was the still point of the turning world, man.”). (I know that’s incorrect punctuation, but that’s how I feel it should be done.) Without the black-and-white, I might not have noticed the influence of childhood when Madding calls Winnipeg women ‘old biddies’, and how it relates to his complaints that schoolgirls teased him:
“Well, delinquent girls are all in the past for me, Mother…”
After a while, the film begins to repeat itself a bit too much. Madding keeps it interesting, but even Zelig had a narrative. The thread about wanting to escape feels manufactured, when the better ending is when he asks if backgrounds in photos are more important than the people in them. It’s something I’ve also been wondering. It’s as if Madding’s struck an anomaly by having people contextualise the town, rather than the other way round, whereas I tend to look at things like haircuts and band t-shirts. Wedding photos are never about the day, but analysing facial expressions, identifying who wasn’t invited, and wondering how off-the-shoulder dresses work. When people talk of the past, it irks me when anecdotes are slightly altered to become more exciting on a plastic level (such as the disappointingly unfaithful adaptation of Submarine), but a city is malleable – it’s ‘my city’, never ‘my people’. You can’t buy memories, but you sure can make them up.

The Myth of the American Sleepover (2011) – 4/10
“If I yell for my Mum, you’re gonna be in a lot of trouble. If you want to come in and sit down, you can.”
Remember how there were some people made a video faking a Big Foot sighting, but he/she was wearing their watch? Or was that also a myth?
The premise of The Myth of the American Sleepover is almost identical to Dazed and Confused, Can’t Hardly Wait and American Graffiti¸ but without the reckless abandon that made those films so iconic. There are four fairly tame stories, all filled with so many indiscriminate characters that it’s hard to tell them apart; sometimes you watch someone you don’t know reading diary entries about someone you can’t remember – one character jarringly says, “Thank you, sister,” just to help out the film reviews who didn’t make a diagram.
Nowadays, the only real reason to see American Graffiti is for young actors playing roles before they became famous, but I’m struggling to see who’s going to make it big from The Myth of the American Sleepover. I suppose Amy Seimetz steals the film in the two minutes she appears, but she plays a less significant role than the moon in the background; it shines, watching below, but seems bored.

Party Girl (1995) – 3.5/10
“You don’t think I’m smart enough to work in your FUCKING library?”
Parker Posey is arguably the coolest person alive, but she’s disappointingly flat in this terrible comedy about a librarian finding space in her life for clubbing and the Dewey Decimal System. File this one away.

The Proposal (2009) – 3.5/10
When Sandra Bullock is threatened with deportation, she makes her office assistant, Ryan Reynolds, pretend to be her fiancé. Bullock and Reynolds hate each other, but have to pretend they’re in love. It’s not really a valid criticism to point out how predictable the storyline is, but a film with a goofy plotline shouldn’t take itself so seriously. The comic set pieces are so bizarre and jarring, that the laughter comes from the wrong place – an incident involving a dog and a hairdryer leads to Bullock dropping her towel and falling on his naked body; she asks why he’s naked, but he doesn’t respond. No one responds; no one cares.
The humour is as fake as their engagement.

Quiet City (2007) – 6.5/10
“My bouncy ball doesn’t work in the grass.”
After Cold Weather (film of the month, as reviewed earlier), I checked out Aaron Katz’s previous work. The plot lamentably lacks ambition, as two people walk around New York, occasionally visiting art shows and parties. Still, Katz makes a small story seem cinematic, already displaying a talent for showing off visual flair with limited resources. It’s pretty much Before Sunset without the smugness.

The Scenesters (2009) – 3/10
“This is boring. This is pedestrian. Kids need smash cuts to get them out of bed in the morning.”
The Scenesters is a mumblecore parody of a mumblecore film – something nobody wants. Sadly, there’s no sense of knowingness by The Scenesters, which means it unintentionally parodies and criticises itself. The actors look distinctly amateurish in performance, and the sound editing is shoddy – even I noticed.
There’s also a murder mystery involved, although you barely notice; the last throw of the dice, thrown by a scenester into a pile of clothes stolen from American Apparel, soaked by Tao Lin’s tears.
“In actuality, I just do a lot of crying. Yeah, a lot of crying.”

Source Code (2011) – 7.5/10
“What would you do if you only had a minute left to live?”
“I don’t know.”
“I would call my Dad and tell him I’m sorry.”
The idea of replaying the same moment in time has been toyed with in Groundhog Day and Run, Lola, Run, but Source Code focuses on the science-fiction element – Bill Murray switches off his alarm clock with a shrug, but Jake Gyllenhaal screams, “Why is this happening?”
Gyllenhaal has to relive the same eight minutes on a train, trying to find who planted a bomb. Of course, it’s only by the third time that he forces his tongue upon an attractive stranger – yes, he lasts 20 minutes before using his situation for inappropriate reasons. Otherwise, Source Code is a smart sci-fi thriller that throws you straight into the action. The repetition of events doesn’t drain the film, but Gyllenhaal receives persistent orders to hurry up – lives are at stake, and he’s spending too much time trying to justify chatting up Michelle Monaghan.

Starter for 10 (2006) – 6.5/10
“Sometimes the people you care about the most, just don’t give a toss.”
Before David Nicholls’ One Day found the hearts of people who read two books a year, he wrote Starter for 10. Yes, David Nicholls – the man who found fame because his latest novel coincided with the end of the Harry Potter books. James McAvoy stars as a Bristol University student who makes it onto University Challenge, whilst being distracted by derision from his old friends, and deciding which girl he loves more – an unreliable blonde on the team, or a passionate protestor who conveniently bumps into him whenever something eventful happens.
The film is set in 1986 and the nostalgia seems forced; there are unnaturally frequent references to the year, such as Rebecca Hall insisting, “We can’t start 1986 with this,” before playing The Buzzcocks. Based on this and One Day, Nicholls thinks it’s revolutionary to change the time setting. Really, it’s just a charming comedy about a university experience that nobody had.

The Station Agent (2003) – 8/10
“I hate phones. I have two.”
Thomas McCarthy’s bittersweet comedy is a drama of fractured relationships, but no one raises their voice. The Station Agent details the friendship of three people in a rural area of New Jersey. Finn (Peter Dinklage) is a reclusive dwarf who avoids social interactions because of unwanted attention from strangers. Olivia (Patricia Clarkson) is less stable, two years after the death of her son and a divorce. They are brought together by Joe (Bobby Cannavale) who runs an ice cream van that sells coffee; he’s annoyingly talkative and central to opening up Finn from hiding in books and videos of trains. McCarthy said in interviews that the diverse parts were written specifically for the actors, with casting being the glue that keeps it all together – that, and Joe’s enthusiasm for everything, whether it’s making videos of “train chasing” or repeatedly asking, “How can you not have a garlic presser?”

Super 8 (2011) – 6/10
“They will kill you. Do not speak of this, or else you and your parents will die.”
Those are some frightening words from a biology teacher to five children half-an-hour into Super 8; it’s also where the film loses it. At its heart, J.J. Abrams has made a coming-of-age story about some 14-year-olds shooting their own movie after school using a Super 8 camera, but he throws in an engulfing, laboured alien plotline.
“He’s in me, as I am in him. So, when you see him next, I will be watching you too.”
The action sequences are fun, but only because underneath there’s a better film taking place about growing up; there’s plenty of humour when the children work on their film in the middle of disaster scenes, and their encounters with a teenaged weed smoker (“No! He’s too stoned!”) who tries to ‘get back into disco music’ to impress a girl.  Not only is the alien unnecessary, the protagonists’ emotional connection towards it is less believable than the Stockholm syndrome developed by King Kong’s victims. The big reveal of the alien is delayed for so long, yet you’re expected to find empathy – like marrying the first person you see standing outside a church, just because you have fifteen minutes before everything will end.

There Will Be Blood (2007) – 8.5/10
“You’re lazy and you’re stupid. Do you think God is going to save you for being stupid?”
I don’t want to say too much that’ll give away any of the plot, even though the title is a spoiler. It had a profound effect on me. I’m not sure what, exactly, but in my mind I’m typing in the voice of Daniel Day-Lewis. It’s slow, but mesmerising; long, but never repetitive or derivative. If anything, it could have been longer, and it was like watching a fire while it burns, burns like oil on a cross. Day-Lewis is an oil man, looking for wealth, but at one point his oil’s on fire and his son is sick, and he doesn’t know which to run. There will be blood, as there’s the promise of something more. There will be blood, as something’s going to happen and nothing’s ever quite right, below appearance and false prophets and demanding someone admits that God is a superstition, Paul Thomas Anderson atones for Magnolia.

Three Kings (1999) – 7.5/10
David O. Russell’s first two films, Spanking the Monkey and Flirting with Disaster, should have killed off his career. Somehow, like latter-day M. Night Shyamalan, he survived, and even had a healthy cast and budget for Three Kings.
From first impressions, I guessed David O. Russell was aware of his make-or-break situation. The adolescent whining of Spanking the Monkey and Flirting with Disaster is gone, as the first minute features Mark Wahlberg shooting a soldier in the head; the Gulf War is over, so everyone wants their photo taken with the dead body.
Russell’s ambitious move into foreign territory (satire, black comedy, entertainment) is equally stylish, with many scenes feeling like a pop music video; by no coincidence, Spike Jonze is given his first acting job in Three Kings. It’s a brave move for Russell to let the more talented Jonze act in his film – it’s a bit like when Charlotte Gainsbourg chose Beck to produce her album IRM.
Now, when I say there are scenes that remind me of pop videos, I mean it. There are segments when characters dance and sing along to the Beach Boys and Public Enemy – I think N.W.A. would have been a better choice, given that Ice Cube is in the cast. In fact, the self-awareness of the casting means Ice Cube’s chooses easy-listening CDs for his car.
The plot, if simplified, is a few Americans try to steal gold from Iraq just after the Gulf War. By casting George Clooney, Mark Walhberg and Ice Cube in the main roles, the Americans really stand out among the civilians and prisoners. At one point, George Clooney picks up a bag of gold, but the gold is so heavy that it tears a whole and falls on the floor – a powerful metaphor for Hollywood.

You Again (2010) – 3/10
Kristen Bell is horrified to discover her brother is marrying the girl who bullied her at school. What follows isn’t smart, funny or believable, as it descends into humourless scenes of slapstick, a reliably irritating cameo from Betty White, overlong dance sequences, and a food fight.
Nevertheless, You Again is responsible for one of the biggest laughs out of these month’s films – Kristen Bell plays a high school video made by her bully for a time capsule, and her brother deems this enough to call off the wedding. Sadly, this more surreal and bleak style of humour is only touched upon at the end, with the final punch line being a two people falling out of a tree house and breaking their bones, while keeping in line with being a family film.

The Unbelievable Truth (1989) – 6.5/10
STARRING: Robert John Burke and Adrienne Shelly.
“You’re in love with that homicidal auto mechanic, aren’t you?”
A mechanic completes a prison sentence for manslaughter charges, then returns to his home town to restart his life. Unfortunately, he becomes the talk of the town when rumours escalate about how many murders he might have committed; he just wants to fix cars.
“I killed a man – I never thought I’d be able to say that.”
Hal Hartley’s debut shows early promise with an eye for small frustrations, such as a slob in a shirt with food stains, playing electric guitar solos in his garage during work break. There are many funny lines, although it treads too much between deadpan and bland. Nevertheless, there’s something memorable about a mechanic calmly sitting next to a girl and, in reference to killing her sister and father, “I just wanted to apologise…”

Trust (1990, not the 2010 film of the same name) – 9/10
STARRING: Adrienne Shelly and Martin Donovan.
“I feel like tearing somebody’s head off.”
In many ways, Hal Hartley’s Trust is a rewrite of The Unbelievable Truth; it’s still about small lives in Long Island, the male and female leads are remarkably similar, and again it tampers with the concept of melodrama – in the first scene, before the opening credits, Adrienne Shelly accidentally kills her father.
“Why have you done this?”
“Done what?”
“Why do you put up with me like this?”
“Someone had to.”
“But why you?”
“I just happened to be here.”
An unusual bond is formed between two losers who agree to marry (“I’ll marry you if you agree that respect, trust and admiration equal love.”), while never sleeping with each other. Martin Donovan plays one of them; he’s demoted from fixing computers to another job fixing televisions, he can’t remember when he was last with a woman, and he carries a hand grenade everywhere just in case. Adrienne Shelly is a seventeen-year-old with problems more intricate than most adolescents; she’s kicked out of her house for causing the death of her father and an unexpected pregnancy, of which the latter makes her boyfriend shirk from responsibilities of fatherhood, and she drinks soda for breakfast. They’re not alone in a town where everyone has troubles, except actually they are alone.
“Sometimes I come home hoping the house has been destroyed by fire.”
The dialogue is rhythmic, playing back-and-forth, with grander statements pronounced more stoically for comic effect. It’s certainly a step-up from The Unbelievable Truth, like a collaboration between Harold Pinter, Samuel Beckett and Woody Allen. I couldn’t stop admiring how Hartley managed to take stories too ridiculous for a soap opera, then build them into a great American poem.
“I respect and admire you.”
“Is that love?”
“No, that’s respect and admiration.”

Surviving Desire (1991) – 9/10
STARRING: Martin Donovan and Mary Ward.
“Listen, pal – you can’t waltz in here, use my toaster and start spouting universal truths without qualification.”
Martin Donovan is frustrated with his life, and his devotion to Russian literature isn’t helping. He finds a giddy solution when he decides he’s in love with a student with a part-time job at a book shop. He creates a mantra out of writing, “KNOWING IS NOT ENOUGH,” when her reciprocation has more genesis with experimentation than desire.
“Love without faith is infatuation.”
The dialogue is sharp and hilarious, with Hartley knowing how to use musical interludes to heighten and broaden emotions, stretching out a kiss into a choreographed dance. It’s incredibly smart and poignant; when Donovan orders a pint, the barman tells him: “We always want a tragedy with a happy ending.”

Simple Men (1992) – 6/10
STARRING: Robert John Burke, Bill Sage, Karen Sillas and Elina Löwensohn.
“What is it that makes a man dangerous, anyway?”
In 1992, Hal Hartley was on a winning streak, following Trust and Surviving Desire; he doesn’t stray too far from the formula with Simple Men, a knowingly absurd tale of two brothers on the run from the police. Whereas Hartley previously used ridiculous storylines with playful stoicism, Simple Men relies on a few too many far-fetched coincidences. However, that’s not my main issue, which is that characters are less thought out than Hartley’s usual standards, and are too noticeably mouthpieces for his dialogue.
”There’s nothing but trouble and desire.”
That’s not to say there isn’t anything to enjoy, as the typical Hartley mechanics are at play, with sly nods and witty dialogue. There’s even an exhilarating sequence when after a shout of, “I can’t stand the quiet!” a dance party ensues, soundtracked by the Sonic Youth song “Kool Thing”.

Amateur (1994) – 8.5/10
STARRING: Martin Donovan, Isabelle Huppert and Elina Löwensohn.
“She said I should not become a nun because I’m a nymphomaniac.”
Hal Hartley’s step into the thriller genre is, as expected, with a wink; while genuinely exhilarating, it’s still full of quirks like a nymphomaniac who’s never had sex because she’s too choosy. It centres on Martin Donovan as an amnesiac with a past so dreadful no one will tell him, although he knows it has something to do with Sofia, the ‘most notorious porno actress in the world’.
“What will you do when you find out who you are?”
Amaterur manages to be both shocking and hilarious, with humour in the bleakest scenes. The early 90s indie rock movement  bleeds into the action, with My Blood Valentine in the stereo of a pornography store, a cafe playing Pavement, and Donovan passes a venue seeping out the sounds of Yo La Tengo as the live band. There’s also the score; Hartley finds musicality behind the violence, and musicality behind the tragedy.

Flirt (1995) – 4.5/10
STARRING: Bill Sage, Dwight Ewell and Miho Nikaido.
“I was shot by the wife of a man I think I might be in love with.”
Hal Hartley makes a frustrating artistic choice by making a brilliant short film, set in New York, then retelling the exact story twice, in Berlin and Tokyo. Each short involves a central character if having many relationships means they’re lucky, or just bad at keeping anything alive, but the same thing happens three times. At one point, some builders discuss the film, saying Hartley has failed but the failure is interesting, yet all I found interesting was how he felt the need to apologise in advance. Just utterly frustrating.

Henry Fool (1997) – 6/10
STARRING: James Urbaniak, Thomas Jay Ryan and Parker Posey.
“Don’t give me that wonderstruck, ‘I’m only a humble garbage man,’ bullshit.”
I believe that Henry Fool is Hal Hartley’s best known feature, and I’m not sure what makes it stand out. It’s a comedy about a garbageman who becomes a famous poet after finding guidance from an ex-cleaner called Henry Fool. There’s insight into how poetry can be written simply by encouraging someone else to write it, and Henry has an even greater talent in being more unreliable than expected; he’s about to have sex with the garbageman’s sister, Fay, but while she’s getting undressed, he wanders into her mother’s bedroom for someone else. There is further juxtaposition of low-brow humour which detracts from bigger themes, such as television discussions over whether the garbageman’s poetry is pornographic or deserving of the Nobel Prize for Literature. Or perhaps both.
To Hartley’s credit, he doesn’t take the obvious route with an overblown satire of literature, as he plays it with a degree of realism, yet maintaining plenty of bitterness from everyone involved. That’s not to say there aren’t any laughs, but too often it dwells on jokes, scenes and moods for too long, which is a shame as you shouldn’t put a fence around that, right?
“A vocation like ours isn’t a nine-to-five job. You can’t put a fence around the soul.”

The Book of Life (1998) – 5.5/10
STARRING: Thomas Jay Ryan, Martin Donovan, David Simonds and PJ Harvey.
“As long as people have hopes and dreams, well, then, I’ll have my work to do.”
Hal Hartley finds a smart concept with The Book of Life; Jesus pays a visit to end the world, and Satan’s sipping vodka at the bar. They’re dressed in suits – no costumes – but Jesus begins to doubt his orders, and any soul-searching must begin from within, even though he’s at a bowling alley. Sadly, the philosophical discussions aren’t particularly thoughtful, with or without the gorgeous soundtrack and blurred images, even when Jesus complains:
“I won’t judge the living or the dead. I hate these exclusive clubs. Who do these Christians think they are?”

No Such Thing (2001) – 3/10
STARRING: Sarah Polley and Robert John Burke.
“The world’s a dangerous and uncertain place. A few moments of helplessness and satisfaction is the most you can get.”
Naivety turns to stupidity with No Such Thing; it’s possibly a satire of the media, but it’s mostly a dull conversation between a monster and a girl who doesn’t believe in monsters. The monster is a man in a coat with heavy make-up, occasionally breathing fire, who speaks eloquently, albeit using phrases like ‘unsuspecting piece of ass’. The film is best summarised in an early scene when the protagonist is late for a plane; she’s told to rush because they’ve held the plane especially for her, but she doesn’t run – she walks, slowly.

The Girl from Monday (2005) – 3.5
STARRING: Bill Sage, Sabrina Lloyd and Tatiana Abracos.
“Listen, I’m not a political man; I’m just greedy. I want to have sex with you so as to increase my stock. It’s nothing personal; I’m not a pervert.”
Hal Hartley isn’t a name you’d associate with sci-fi, in my opinion – too many “H”s, no hard “Ck” sound. He tries, though. It’s the future where people have barcodes on their wrists and are commodities valued by their sexual veracity. Aside from the storyline, The Girl from Monday never feels like a sci-fi film; the dialogue is a crude form of film-noir, and the cinematography is a disorientating experiment in twisted angles, shifting colours and irritating close-ups. With all this ambition, you’d think Hartley could return to his earlier films and concentrate on human relationships, but there’s an alien involved…
I can’t see blurry sci-fi catching on as a genre. The cinematography is always interesting, but I’m not sure if it’s purposeful for The Girl from Monday’s storyline. It borrows the look of his earlier film The Book of Life, but takes it further into an indulgent self-destruction, like someone’s first ever PowerPoint presentation that uses too many unimpressive, special effects.

Fay Grim (2006) – 7.5/10
STARRING: Parker Posey, James Urbaniak, Jeff Goldblum and Saffrom Burrows.
“An honest man is always in trouble.”
Eight years after Henry Fool comes Hal Hartley’s sequel, where Henry’s estranged wife is now the focus, as brilliantly played by Parker Posey. Making it a sequel is Hartley’s idea of a joke; Henry’s now dead, and Fay becomes caught up in an espionage mess by the hilarious reveal that he was a spy all along. Additionally, a bold and bizarre decision is made to only use Dutch angles (where the camera is always slanted), and it somehow works way better than you’d imagine.
“I was just getting used to the idea that he was, you know – dead.”
Its release tremendously mimics post-9/11 paranoia where spies believe innocent families can’t be trusted, and any piece of writing could be an extremist code for destruction. When there’s violence, it’s truly disturbing, especially when juxtaposed with Hartley’s deadpan dialogue – a sign that, despite what critics say, he hasn’t lost it.
“Why? Why do we have to overthrow the government?”

@halfacanyon that would be a kinda awesome culture jam… Im just not sure what it means—
brit marling (@writ_darling) September 03, 2011

Johnny Suede (1991) – 3/10
“If it’s so obvious, then what am I doing standing here?”
Tom DiCillo’s low-budget, static debut would have faded into obscurity if it wasn’t for its cast: Brad Pitt, Nick Cave and Catherine Keener, all before they were famous. It’s a character study that meanders between bland dialogue and embarrassing drama. Brad Pitt plays the titular character as a musician who loves his hair; a caricature that’s neither a comedy not satire – just odd, slow and dull.

Living in Oblivion (1995) – 9/10
“I’ll tell you one thing right now – I am never ever going to do another fucking low-budget movie.”
The further you get into Living in Oblivion, the more it reveals about Tom DiCillo, a man who said: “Making a movie is the most tedious, boring, painful experiences, and that’s just when something goes right.” Living in Oblivion is so low-budget that the actors had to work for free. It’s also  about the making of a low-budget film that also happens to be called Living in Oblivion. Steve Buscemi plays the frustrated director – I don’t think it’s a coincidence his haircut is modelled after DiCillo’s.
 “It’s your call, Nick – his acting or his face?”
“For some reason, I thought that we could get both.”
You instantly know who each character is, just by how they dress and sit, or what their role on set is. It also helps that despite DiCillo’s denial in interviews, Living in Oblivion is clearly a parody of the making of Johnny Suede. The embarrassing bedroom dialogue of Johnny Suede is recreated for the film-within-the-film – it was Catherine Keener and Brad Pitt in Johnny Suede, and in Living in Oblivion it’s Catherine Keener and a character called Chad (played by a Brad Pitt doppelganger) who discuss how ‘love is like champagne’. DiCillo’s pastiche of independent films of that era is particularly effective by the repetition of hackneyed dialogue from the film-with-the-film. It’s incredibly self-aware, even when you ignore parts of the script that reference how DiCillo wrote Living in Oblivion for Catherine Keener, and the fourth wall is stroked when Steve Buscemi’s character is called a friend of Quentin Tarantino.
“Did you know we were filming?”
The final act has an actor walk off the fictional Living in Oblivion for its half-baked depiction of dream sequences – a comment on a film within a film that’s depicting the making of another film. When the sound technician insists that thirty seconds of room ambience must be recorded, everyone’s fantasies are played out – tellingly, DiCillo lets slip his ambition when Steve Buscemi visualises himself winning an award for a brand new category (“Best film ever made by a human being”) and using the speech to list who he doesn’t want to thank.
 “Can I really use this for the dream sequence? That’s the question…”

Box of Moonlight (1996) – 8/10
“He’s just one of those guys who goes through life like a robot. He’s like a damn machine.”
In Living in Oblivion, Tom DiCillo astutely parodied how to make a low-budget indie film, including how to insert dream sequences and record the ambience of room.  One year later, he brought out a new film, Box of Moonlight, a low-budget indie film with dream sequences and room ambience.
“You’ve been lost for a long, long time. Am I right? Have you found Jesus, Al?”
John Turturro pretends to be on a work trip to spend a week away from his family. He hallucinates that time reverses, and wishes his misery would do the same. He makes his son cry over the phone for being poor at mathematics.
“Some people can get an electric shock just by looking at you.”
Turturro revisits a lake his father used to take him on holidays. It’s deserted, but free of his hateful co-workers and resentful family. Given the close proximity to Living in Oblivion, DiCillo exhibits playful self-awareness by introducing life-changing characters without names – Sam Rockwell plays “The Kid” (or just “Kid”, if you prefer), and Catherine Keener has an atypically ‘dumb’ role as a phone sex worker called Floatie. By following DiCillo’s simple vision, even a shot of a lake can bring humour and pathos. At sad moments, the camera slants, as if the camera man tilts his head in sympathy. Turturro has always wanted freedom, and it’s fascinating to see how he handles the looseness of being able to wake up in a lake and sleep by a fire; it all builds up to Turturo shooting a big clock – how’s that for symbolism?
“I don’t believe it. I’ve just spent two days driving in a Goddamn circle.”

The Real Blonde (1997) – 4.5/10
“What are those two going to do for the rest of their lives? Stand around and stare at each other, all loving and unconditional? Do you think they’ll ever have an argument the way real people do?”
Matthew Modine takes the lead role as an actor who can’t get a job because he feels soap operas ‘aren’t real acting’. However, he sort-of gets his break as an extra in a Madonna video. Tom DiCillo steps out of his comfort zone by making it screwball comedy, and he fails – the musical cues are too loud and frequent, and characters laugh at each other’s awful jokes while DiCillo pats himself on the back.
“Oh, I see – you are using Stanislavski’s famous horoscope method.”

Double Whammy (2001) – 2.5/10
“Is that too symbolic?”
At the centre of The Real Blonde is the independent filmmaker’s dilemma: how do you compromise your career as an artist which needing to pay the rent? A few years later, Tom DiCillo made Double Whammy, a film that’s so desperate for mainstream acceptance, you want to look away. At the centre is a policeman trying to make amends for losing a gun, which was found by a child who shot a criminal. It’s sleazy, cheesy and stupid – there’s some commentary in a subplot where two screenwriters argue over violence in cinema, but it’s not as smart as DiCillo thinks, nor does it excuse everything else.
Given that DiCillo tries to grab mainstream audiences with Double Whammy, the irony is that it went straight-to-DVD. DiCillo’s blog is unrepentant about his anger that the promise of a theatrical release was reneged – I couldn’t find anything where he says the film deserves to be seen for its quality.

Delirious (2006) –5.5/10
“Send the crackhead to get us coffee.”
Tom DiCillo’s blog is less an advertisement for his films, but someone who wants empathy from strangers. I imagine a bitter man who spend years wondering why no one would produce his films, while wasting his days on a wordpress blog (hey, he sounds like me!). Delirious details the paparazzi’s relationship with celebrities, but I sense DiCillo’s jealousy and frustrations in every word ; when the film goes in interesting directions, it’s ruined by a rant about the unfair world or strange wish fulfilment – a sexy pop singer picks a stranger standing in public, leading to the film’s ludicrous central romance.
“I’d never play cards with him – fuck him!”
Interestingly, I found out Alison Lohman was born in 1979; I thought her age would be more “Loh, man”. Her character is so two-dimensional that I wonder if DiCillo is capable of writing believable female roles if he doesn’t have the luxury of Catherine Keener. There are enough surreal shots in Delirious to keep you occupied (dutched angles, a close-up of a fly), but DiCillo’s genuine bitterness isn’t utilised – it’s diluted by a mediocre script.

Another Earth
Plot: Another planet Earth appears in the sky. The main character is driving a car when she sticks her head out of the window to have a look, then crashes. She goes to prison, but enters an essay-writing competition for why she should be sent to the other Earth.
Early reviews: Fairly, but not overly, positive.
Kenicky factor: My new favourite genre: sci-fi for people who don’t like sci-fi.
Drawbacks: The trailer looks too sentimental.
Release: It came out in America a few months ago, but I’m here in London where it hits cinemas December 2nd 2011. No DVD release yet…

Damsels in Distress
Plot: Some hipsters (I’m guessing) run dance classes to help depressed students.
Early reviews: Can’t find any.
Kenicky factor: It’s Whit Stillman’s first film since 1998. Whit Stillman wrote and directed the Kenicky favourite: Metropolitan (10/10, y’all).
Drawbacks: Greta Gerwig is one of the leads.
Release: Not even a trailer yet, but filming’s completed.

Martha Marcy May Marlene
Plot: Something to do about escaping a cult.
Early reviews: Extremely positive. It’s been a favourite at every festival screening. It has one of the Olsen sisters (yes, there’s a third one) who only wants to do serious indie films.
Kenicky factor: I like the title.
Drawbacks: The trailer makes me worried there’ll be points where people wake up and the previous scene was all a dream.
Release: October 7th 2011 in America; February 3rd 2012 in UK.

Melancholia
Plot: An asteroid destroys the planet and ruins a wedding (what a horrible way to die, celebrating the happiness of others).
Early reviews: It depends: some call it a masterpiece, others say it’s too slow and long.
Kenicky factor: It’s a collaboration between Kenicky favourites Lars von Trier and Kirsten Dunst. The trailer looks impressive, particularly a shot of Kirsten shooting electricity out of her fingers.
Drawbacks: Can’t think of any.
Release: It’s been out for a few months in Denmark. The UK release is September 30th.

Moonrise Kingdom
Plot: A young couple go missing, so the sheriff and some parents look for them.
Early reviews: I think it’s still in post-production.
Kenicky factor: It’s the new Wes Anderson film with Bill Murray in the lead role.
Drawback: It’s a Kenicky factor AND a drawback, but previews don’t make it seem too different from Anderson’s usual style.
Release: Next year.

Sound of My Voice
Plot: Two documentary makers try to expose a cult, but find themselves absorbed by their subjects.
Early reviews: Positive.
Kenicky factor: When someone says, “I hate the sound of my voice,” you can defend the film, to which they say something about being Jeff Mangum.
Drawback: It’s another cult film about cults.
Release: It was shown last January at Sundance, but there’s still no release date.

We Bought a Zoo
Plot: A family move house to look after a zoo.
Early reviews: Can’t find any.
Kenicky factor: It’s about a zoo.
Drawback: It’s been eleven years since Cameron Crowe last made a good film, during which he has embarrassed himself with Vanilla Sky and Elizabethtown. And it stars Matt Damon.
Release: December 2011.

This month: “The Adjustment Bureau”, “Beastly”, “Beautiful Lies”, “Cedar Rapids”, “Cry Wolf”, “The Grudge 2”, “Hall Pass”, “happythankyoumoreplease”, “Immaturi”, “Insidious”, “Julia & Julia”, “Limitless”, “May”, “The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek”, “Out of Sight”, “Paris, Texas”, “Sucker Punch”, “Sunshine”, “The Terminator”, “Terminator 2: Judgment Day”, “Videodrome”, “Your Highness”, “Welcome to the Rileys” and “Win Win”.

I’ve been reviewing films for the last two years, but this was by far the worst month. It makes me wonder if I’m going to keep it up. This volume, the average rating is 4.67/10, with film of the month being May.

The Adjustment Bureau (2011) – 3.5/10
What would you do for a cute girl on the bus? Matt Damon repeatedly risks his life and takes the same bus every day for years just to see her again. Don’t worry, the plot becomes more stupid. There is a ‘plan’ that Damon will eventually become President of the United States, but, in order to do so, he can’t be distracted by falling in love with a girl on a bus. Yes, there are offices of men with suits spying on him, making sure he doesn’t contact the girl from the bus, and they can also move through dimensions by running through door if they’re wearing a hat. This film is 106 minutes long.

Beastly (2011) – 0.5/10
A very handsome, but unpleasant, young man is put under a curse by a witch – he will be disfigured forever unless he can find someone to fall in love with him before the year is over. The lesson of the film is he finds someone to love him for what’s inside, but actually her exact words are, “I’ve seen worse,” which contradicts the moral message. I say ‘moral message’, when really he just kidnaps an attractive girl, locks her in his house, then uses months of attrition to make her fall in love with him – it’s a Disney film that says disfigured people have to resort to brute force to find love. So, in short, he becomes ugly, but learns a lesson that beauty comes from within, which he shows by refusing to date someone uglier than Vanessa Hudgens.

Beautiful Lies or De Vrais Mensonges (2010) – 4.5/10
Anonymous love letters can brighten up your day (I’d imagine), but for Audrey Tatou it’s just a distraction. She cuts hair for a living, so she knows she did a good job at some point. Except they’re actually written by her assistant, who watches her throw his declarations of love into the bin.
Tatou does the strangest deed by copying out one letter and posting it to her mother, to make her feel better about dying alone. In one of the more contrived moments, Tatou sends her assistant (the one who wrote the letters) to deliver the note to her mother, who catches him – a bizarre love triangle begins, but the comedy wanes.
The laughs are incredibly forced, but with charm. Further analysis into the plot reveals plenty of nastiness, but it’s to the actors’ credit that your emotions are closer to incredulity than repulsion.

Cedar Rapids (2011) – 3.5/10
Ed Helms, the actor who plays Andy from The Office, is branching out into films to stop himself becoming typecast, so he stars in Cedar Rapids as a character remarkable similar to Andy from The Office. He plays an insurance salesman sent from the office to Cedar Rapids for a convention where comedic set pieces are waiting to occur.
Helms is certainly amiable, but he cannot carry a lifeless script that doesn’t seem to care about anything, let alone being entertaining. I guess unmemorable would be an accurate description – I watched it two weeks ago and I can barely remember what happened.

Cry Wolf (2005) – 2/10
A slasher film where there are only two deaths (one in the first scene, one at the end) and the best actor is Jon Bon Jovi.

The Grudge 2 (2006) – 7/10
The basic premise of The Grudge 2 is that there is a haunted house – enter once, be forever haunted by a creepy girl who appears when you’re in a clichéd horror film scenario, such as waiting for your boyfriend to finish his shower, or when you’re in the shower, or when your sceptical friends leave you for a brief moment. To be honest, I don’t really understand the background story – it involves revenge, but it’s mostly superfluous. I’m just here for the shocks.
What I enjoyed about The Grudge 2 was that the same thing happened at the end of each scene. There are only two types of scene that occur. Usually, a frightened person will walk around slowly before the scary girl appears, and the frightened person runs away. Alternatively, a sceptical person will walk around slowly before the scary girl appears hidden in the shadows.
It was deluged by bad reviews, but it’s fun, scary entertainment, which is exactly what you should be getting when you watch a film called The Grudge 2. I was hungry; my stomach rumbled – it made the same sound as the girl who climbs out of the mirror. As Lou Reed said: I’ll be your mirror.

Hall Pass (2011) – 4.5/10
Some context: I’d been awake for thirty hours, and this didn’t send me to sleep.
It helps knowing the plot a few weeks in advance – it’s so incomprehensible, you need time to let it sink in, and then you can allow Hall Pass to act as if a ‘hall pass’ is lexically common and widely practised. A ‘hall pass’ is when a husband is allowed to spend a week cheating on his wife. The reason? To get it out of his system. What does that mean? It means you can guess everything that happens.

happythankyoumoreplease (2010) – 1.5/10
I don’t know what’s your take on child abduction, but I would call it: not good. Bad, even. Josh Radnor (yes, goddamn Ted from How I Met Your Mother) makes his writer/director debut and plays a moody writer who starts looking after a stray child he finds on the street. As you imagine, casual abduction brings many issues which the film doesn’t raise (unlike his eyebrows when a pretty girl walks past). Instead, the film focuses on Radnor moodily chasing after perky women who also have nothing interesting to say.
It takes some time to realise that there are two subplots in the film with two other couples whose lives are so dull you barely notice. I kid you not, but happythankyoumoreplease is an episode of How I Met Your Mother if every character was Ted on a bad day. Tell us who the mother is, then go away!

Immaturi (2011) – 3/10
If I was to spell out the film’s title, I would replace the first letter to make it look a bit like a question mark. What happens? I’m not really sure. Twelve years after graduation, twenty-five students have to resit their exams after it becomes annulled (which they find out from the newspapers). This is strange enough, especially as it doesn’t even focus on its strange hook, instead playing out odd stories that walk themselves into a hole in the ground, somewhere in the vanishing point.

Insidious (2011) – 5/10
Insidious is a pretty good adjective. I try to use it on a daily basis, sometimes sincerely, sometimes ironically, sometimes to break tension, or maybe to answer the question, “What is the latest, plain, by-the-numbers horror film you’ve seen lately?”

Julie & Julia (2010) – 7/10
Charm can make anything endurable. For instance, think about the recent surge in brown bread’s popularity in sandwiches. This analogy is relevant for Julia & Julia, the true story of two cooks called Julia. Meryl Streep has a lot of fun playing Julia Child, a chef trying to make a name for herself in the 1950s. Amy Adams has less fun as Julie Powell, a whiny office clerk who starts a blog in which she cooks 524 of Julia Child’s recipes in 365 days. Not much else happens. There isn’t much tension. You know what’s going to happen. It’s over two hours. So why is it so watchable?
Firstly, the cast are truly likeable (as opposed to falsely likeable) and cheered me up. Secondly, I only needed cheering up because Amy Adams burns a meal – yes, you really get that involved with whether she can cook all the meals. Thirdly, Nora Ephron’s script is bouncy enough to make the time pass, and maybe one day I will forgive her for When Harry Met Sally. Fourthly, it’s hard to watch Julia & Julia without unfairly low expectations, as the story is far more interesting and relevant than you’d expect. Fifthly, when Adams has a panic attack over cooking live lobsters, her husband sings, “Lobster killer, qu’est-ce que c’est fa fa fa far far better…”

Limitless (2011) – 4/10
Apparently you only use 20% of your brain. Compare this with cucumber, which is 97% water. Am I really making a point? Not really, but neither is Limitless
Bradley Cooper plays a novelist with writers’ block, but finds a drug that means he can use all of his brain. He then excels in every water he dips a toe into, including kung-fu fighting, which is convenient for when Limitless turns into a stupid action film that ironically requires only 3% of your brain.

May (2002) – 8/10
“I need a friend. Someone I can hold.”
The message in May is if you can’t find a friend, make one. May is a withdrawn twenty-something who doesn’t have any friends because most people find her ‘weird’ – she considers her best friend to be a childhood doll that has never left its glass casing. She is attractive, but in an awkward way that stops her from standing out, until she finds a man with ‘beautiful hands’. It’s a horror film.
“This boy is different. I like every part of him.”
May’s briefly romantic endeavours begin when they say that they ‘like weird’, but are unprepared for someone who actually is ‘weird’ – she is turned on by cannibalism and talks to her doll. In this surprisingly moving slasher film, she finds a new way to make a friend.

The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek (1944) – 3.5/10
“I’m a doctor, not a gossip sharer.”
In an era where comedies couldn’t portray infidelity without ending in remarriage, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek seems dangerously edgy. After a one night stand, a woman can’t remember who she was with, but is now pregnant and with a wedding ring. In addition, her father is furious and she contemplates drowning herself in the ocean. This is 1944, four years after the ridiculous remarriage in The Philadelphia Story. Yet, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek misses a tonal opportunity by being a slapstick farce, and even these jokes fail.

Out of Sight (1998) – 4/10
George Clooney is smooth – he knows it, but does Jennifer Lopez know it? Yes, she does. Film over.

Paris, Texas (1984) – 5/10
“He hit the bottle again, but this time he got mean.”
When I hear slide guitar, I think of drinking whiskey in the sun. The heat and a sore throat can drain your energy, and so does Paris, Texas. A man returns to his abandoned son and they drive off to find the mother. It’s a simple plot, yet never seems convincing – plot holes go unanswered and too slowly. It’s hard to tell without the distraction of the immersive cinematography, but it’s never as poetic as it should be.

Sucker Punch (2011) – 0/10
“Undo these straps. And don’t forget the ankles.”
The first image of Sucker Punch is a stage with red curtains. Behind them lie what is possibly the worst film I have ever seen.
Firstly, the names of the five main characters are: Babydoll, Sweet Pea, Rocket, Blondie and Amber. Even then, I’m assuming Zack Snyder didn’t realise Amber is a real name.
The first scene is horrible enough – a confusing sequence involving a dead parent’s will, an abusive uncle, gunshots and a dead sister. It isn’t clear if Babydoll accidentally shoots her sister, or if the uncle already killed her and then framed her, but you barely notice because this all takes place in slow motion to a loud, six-minute, gothic-emo cover version of “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)”.
Babydoll is instantly taken to an asylum where she is, of course, going to be lobotomised. Just before this procedure, she enters into a dream world that the asylum is actually a brothel with security guards to stop women from escaping. Yes, really – of all the things one could imagine, she fantasises about being an imprisoned prostitute. The even bigger crime is that the viewer realises the film will all be a dream until she wakes up at the end – except there were red curtains at the beginning, meaning this will all be a dream within a dream, like Inception without the first hour to provide context, narrative or a reason to watch.
Babydoll finds the brothel employs only pretty girls under the age of 25 who spend their days cleaning and working in a kitchen, followed by stripping for strangers in the evening, then getting raped at night. There are high levels of security that mean no one has ever escaped without being killed. If anyone breaks any of the strict rules of conduct, they get raped. In fact, all of the girls accept that they will be regularly raped by any of the men in the brothel, even the chef. Babydoll is upset to find herself here, which raises the unanswered question as to why she chose to fantasise about this place. Given that this is all a pointless dream, it’s hard to empathise with any of the characters, despite how ridiculously awful their lives are.
When Babydoll has to dance sexually in front of a crowd at the brothel, she manages to be so sexy that it hypnotises the men into a trance – all of them, without exception. Yet, you never see this dance because during this time she fantasises about fighting robots whilst dressed in schoolgirl uniform – so, this is a pointless dream within a pointless dream within a pointless dream.
Babydoll convinces her friends they must find a way to escape, so she writes a list on a blackboard for the five things they need:
1) A map
2) Fire
3) A knife
4) A key
5) A deep sacrifice that she doesn’t what will be
There is no explanation for what they will do with these things, or what on earth that last item means. In order to get each item, Babydoll distracts the men by doing a striptease that, as before, sends them into a trance. Again, every time this dance happens, there is a fantasy sequence where all the girls fight dragons and Nazis whilst, for some reason, still wearing their stripper outfits, and these all last for about fifteen minutes each.
Now, to take you away from the dream within a dream within a dream, and to bring you back to the dream within a dream, remember how they used a blackboard? Every time they find something, they cross it off their list. Unsurprisingly, this is found by security who become suspicious when they see the words ‘map’ and ‘key’ written down and crossed off, and they get punished for insolence, or possibly the stupidity of using a blackboard in the first place.
In the end, it turns out the fifth item needed is for Babydoll to allow herself to be raped as a distraction while her friend Sweet Pea can escape the brothel. Interestingly, Zack Snyder has since said that Sweet Pea never really existed, thus making the film even more stupid. Additionally, he also said a sex scene was cut because it looked like Jon Hamm was raping Babydoll. Of course, none of it matters, because five minutes before the end, Babydoll wakes up to find herself in the asylum, then the credits roll. It was all a dream and a waste of time.
Except it isn’t all a dream, because it’s implied that raping did actually take place in the asylum. This film is a 12a (PG-13 in America) meaning that children watched it. In short, Zack Snyder has made adult pornography for children, and spent $82,000,000 on visual cyanide. Quite frankly, he should be imprisoned for crimes against cinema.

Sunshine (2007) – 7/10
In space, nobody can hear you scream. Not true – Sunshine begins brilliantly as an absorbing drama of life in a rocket heading to the sun, raising one particular philosophical conundrum, then collapses when it becomes an action-packed horror. Like the Sun, Sunshine is a beautiful masterpiece, but becomes painful after an hour – as if the writer is afraid his audience can’t handle drama, he throws in a monster. If you’re throwing in a monster, you might as well also throw in the towel.

The Terminator (1984) – 7/10
Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) – 8/10
“Men like you built the hydrogen bomb.”
Ever since James Cameron suggested there could one day be robots who disguised themselves with a layer of synthetic skin, I wonder if perhaps James Cameron is a robot – it would explain why his films have such bad dialogue.
Obviously, the action sequences fare better, particularly in the sequel – having one good and one evil terminator is a stroke of genius, providing some genuinely fascinating fight sequences. These are killer robots, yet they rely heavily on cars – as weapons, as transport, to boost masculinity, to hide an absence of a penis and ability to love.

Videodrome (1983) – 7.5/10
“It has something you don’t have, Max. It has a philosophy, and that is what makes it dangerous.”
There are some strange conspiracy theories in the world, which are, of course, difficult to believe: David Ike’s theory that our world leaders are lizards in disguise; the moon landing was faked; Matt Damon and Ben Affleck did actually write Good Will Hunting.
David Cronenberg plays around with the threat of television; James Woods watches Videodrome on television, which gives him a brain tumour. The show itself is a distorted display of torture carried out as pornography, which he watches as research for his own television channel. Aside from the brain tumour, he starts hallucinating. In a memorable sequence, his stomach turns into a vagina, into which he inserts videotapes of Videodrome – to Cronenberg’s credit, it somehow makes sense.
“I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“Hit me? You didn’t hit me.”
There are powerfully disturbing scenes in Videodrome about sadomasochistic women that cause more unease than the body horror moments. Both aspects are hard to watch, but slot into the world created by Cronenberg – the media is only a voyeuristic as its audience, which just so happens to be a lot.
“I’ve learned that death is not the end. I can help you.”
“I don’t know where I am now.”

Welcome to the Rileys (2010) – 4.5/10
Could you imagine if the scary guy from The Sopranos lived with the girl from Twilight, but she was a prostitute and he was a married man who’s afraid of seeing her naked? As strange as it sounds, not much else happens in Welcome to the Rileys, and that includes character development. Of course, that’s the whole point – it’s Kristen Stewart and James Gandolfini as you’ve never seen them before, and you’ll never want to see them again.

Win Win (2011) – 8/10
For reasons too complicated to explain, Paul Giamatti secretly profits from letting a 16-year-old boy stay at his house. Giamatti is a lawyer who also coaches a local school’s wrestling team, and his teenage housemate is a star. There are many scenes in Win Win where the drama is based around what isn’t being said. Fortunately, this tension is released through wrestling competitions.
Much of Win Win allows actors to display their dramatic talents. In particular, Giamatti delights as an exasperated family man tormented by guilt and a hunger to succeed. However, the 16-year-old boy feels misplaced, as if someone from a Wes Anderson film walked into a real life situation. That’s not to say that there aren’t laughs in Win Win, but there is a clear balance between the family drama and the light relief of the wrestling scenes – it’s a shame that balance sometimes seems arbitrary, because Win Win is otherwise a very fine film.

Your Highness (2011) – 3/10
The best way is to describe Your Highness is that it’s like buying someone a birthday card, but forgetting to write a message inside, and it’s also not their birthday.
There are noticeablyexpensive sets and special effects used by Your Highness, and the visually gifted David Gordon Green is the director, yet the dialogue is entirely improvised. This odd combination is a bold gamble that fails because the pacing feels off-kilter and the actors can’t say anything funny – most of the cast are in straight roles, leaving the humour to Danny McBride, who rarely delivers a punchline that isn’t a normal sentence with the word ‘fuck’ added to it. In fact, the lack of a script makes Your Highness seem like an expensive rehearsal.
David Gordon Green could have been Terrence Malick in his earlier career, but he was always let down by poor scripts (written by himself). His move into comedy started promisingly with Pineapple Express, but it seems he is falling into the same hole – it’s clear a bad script is better than no script, and this can’t be hidden by expensive CGI.