thediggens Reviews

Sherlock: The Abominable Bride (2016) Season 4, Episode 0

Half is half a plot, half a self-indulgent mess.

[4/10 · 1 January 2016]

Note: Here be spoilers. Also, this is a little long, for which I offer apologies.

For better or worse, Sherlock is a show unique unto itself. That may be why, despite missing most of season 1 and hating season 3, the Abominable Bride was the only Christmas special I sought to watch this/last year. And that was unfortunate, because the result of this episode was underwhelming and frustrating.

This version of Sherlock has always been essentially a fanfic that's long since devolved into a parody of itself. Particularly post Reichenbach Fall, its spent the rest of its time indulging in its own 'coolness' (Sherlock using "I'm a high functioning sociopath" as a one-liner last season finale being merely the most egregious example), and I only emphasise this here because it was prevalent throughout this episode.

Sherlock's first Christmas special takes a trip back to Victorian England, and sets Sherlock and John out to find a ghost bride who won't stop killing. Alongside this is the developing Suffragette movement, which is both heavy handed and abruptly 'concluded'. But it's also a continuation of the season finale, as the Victorian crime is simply Sherlock's way of solving his present day mystery – that of Moriarty's apparent return at the end of Season 3.

The setting was excellent, and I didn't have any trouble with the characters in this setting. I wanted to spend more time with the setting, and so the back and forth switching in the second half became jarring (especially because the present day work is troublesome – more on that below). The acting as always is at least good, and mostly great – fat Mycroft was a surreal treat. And the back and forth dialogue is still mostly witty and charming.

It is however, with the story, the characters, and the choices made, that the episode highlights some of the show's greatest flaws. Firstly and most blatantly, is the use of Moriarty as the show's crutch. Having created so popular and magnetic a villain – though one always a tad too cartoonish for my tastes – the show has tried to have its cake and eat it too, kill him but not let him leave, and consequently not let the show move on. The suggestion at the end that he really is dead undercuts the previous season's twist finale, and not at the least in a clever way. And the result of overuse is that Moriarty's appearances are no longer surprising or very interesting, but just going through the motions.

Secondly, and more broadly, is the show's own love of itself gets in the way of telling any kind of story. Much like 'Empty Hearse' and "Sign of Three", a paper-thin setup of a story is a jumping off point for quips and Sherlock being 'intelligent/sociopath' (the latter is used here like street cred, the former is often achieved not by making Sherlock smart but by making his associates dumb). What counts for character development is Moriarty monologue-ing and things we've seen and heard before (or not at all, see below). This is exacerbated by the fact that this is all at the expense of the episode's plot, not supplementing it. Like in the 2 aforementioned episodes, the episode starts off with a compelling mystery, gets side-tracked by self-referencing, repetition, quips to appeal to 'the fanbase', and then the story has fallen by the wayside, with either a forgone or forgotten conclusion (not quite as lazy about it as Empty Hearse, though still lazy). And it's not like the episode is short for time – the 90 minutes per episode continues to be mostly unnecessary, with few episodes needing the time. The plot is thus forgettable, and what takes up the rest of the time is the show's own meta, its desire for what passes as both intelligent and 'cool', and often (but certainly not always) failing at both.

Last, and certainly the least of problems, the show has often hinted at the particulars of Sherlock's drug abuse, but it has often been the case that the show just tells us he has an addiction – we are told he has an addiction, but we do not see it. Here we see it, but it may be too little, too late, with little to no build-up. The jump is too jarring – like Moffat and Gatiss finally remembered that Sherlock has an addiction! Most of these complaints are not new, but they certainly aren't improving. They are more noticeable here perhaps because – particularly with the dream/mind palace nature of the plot – it was a story which was standalone, without a standalone story. Nothing happened in it that added something meaningful to the overall series, but it was barely half an attempt at a standalone story.

Gone Girl (2014)

A chilling and highly contemporary thriller

[9/10 · 14 October 2014]

David Fincher is rightly regarded as a darling of modern cinema, and he continues this with his fantastic adaptation of Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl. The novel was a best seller for months, and a piercing look at relationships in the 21st century, and the troubles of marriage. Of course, it does this with larger than life characters and a twist filled dark mystery, but its commentary is notable.

Gone Girl focuses on the disappearance of Rosemund Pike's Amy Dunne, wife of the Prime Suspect Nick Dunne, played by Ben Affleck. The potential kidnapping/murder is interspersed with flashbacks to the formation of their happy relationship, and its slow breakdown via Amy's diary entries. To say much more about the plot would be to spoil a modern soon-to-be classic of the genre, and it's certainly a film that benefits from the viewer knowing as little as possible.

With such a necessary limit on discussion of the plot specifics, one can suffice to say that the orderly becomes disorderly, nothing is as it seems, and the progress of the film, particularly its third act, is unexpected. But along the way the film takes aim at much of societies more recent ills. The media frenzy, the 'expert opinions', the social lynching, are all shown to be superficial and contradictory. Yet, they are also acknowledged as powerful and damning. The criticism of falsehood is less aimed at the media, and more of its followers.

Indeed, falsehood is arguably the central theme of the film, and no more so does it tackle this than in relationships. Nick and Amy's relationship over the course of the two and a half hours of the film is put under our intense scrutiny, and they acknowledge the inherent falsehoods that were intentionally present. Along the way there are legitimate criticisms, such as the aspiration of the so-called 'cool girl' male desire. The criticisms strike at society today, and once again Fincher has captured an aspect of society in a time capsule. Relationships in the early 21st century are accurately captured here, albeit occasionally taken to their extremes.

In terms of the cast, this is a a film that focuses on its leads, and Ben Afflect delivers one of his best performances here, ironically placed in a character who struggles to portray genuine emotions. Rosamund Pike however steals the show as Amy, an ex-writer who is buried under an inferiority to her parent's fictionalised version of herself (in children's books called 'Amazing Amy'). The supporting cast is impressive, including a truly creepy turn from Neil Patrick Harris, and Carrie Coon as Nick's rock of a twin sister.

The film's screenplay is penned by the novel's author, and while I haven't read the novel, most accounts are that it is an excellent adaption. The script is where most of the ideas really shine, and it crafts somewhere between a thriller teetering on a constant knife edge and one of the blackest comedies in recent memory. Certainly there was a surprising amount of laughter in the cinema.

David Fincher is once again a commanding presence behind the screen, and in that sense it's similar to his previous work. It's dark, it's brooding, and it tackles contemporary society (see The Social Network, Fight Club). Fincher often appears at his most comfortable in the thriller territory, and Gone Girl is no exception. Once again the score by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross, making their third film collaboration, and the music's sense of false happiness is true to the film.

The film definitely has the flavour of Fincher's later, more sophisticated nuance- as in Zodiac & The Social Network- rather than the rampant kinetic excess of earlier films (e.g. Se7en, Fight Club). If one must criticise, the end segment winds down awkwardly, and by comparison the film fails to capture the dialogue or tension of some of Fincher's previous work.

It is unlikely that this is Fincher's best, though that's partly because of his consistent high quality. This is a director whose generally worst regarded film of the last decade was an Academy Award darling. Gone Girl is a masterful film that proves his quality.

Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones (2002)

Spectacle, even great spectacle, does not a great film make

[5/10 · 30 July 2014]

By virtue of the insignificance of Episode I in the grand scheme of the narrative, Star Wars: Episode II does not have the burden of middle child syndrome that plagues many trilogy middles. It has a negligible amount of direct continuation from Phantom Menace, particularly because of a 10 year time gap. Because of this, Attack of the Clones starts on a clean slate. It had a chance to carve its own way.

The relationships start afresh. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are new people by comparison, and their relationship forms the core of the first part of the film. Their relationship is visible, if rather clunky. Then they split, and Obi-Wan's journey moves the political half of the film forward. He encounter's the titular clones, and interacts with a variety of sometimes-colourful aliens as he uncovers a 'Federation' plot.

Anakin, unfortunately, splits to 'grow' as a character, by spending the film with Padme. Like most criticism of the film, the word unfortunately is not because of a poor idea, but because of awful execution. George Lucas once again writes and directs, and once again proves that he is not cut out for it. Attack of the Clones features the worst dialogue in the entire saga, and the Anakin-Padme plot, which is significant enough that it can almost be called the 'A' story, literally drags the film down to worst entry status. Hayden Christensen gets a lot of deserved stick for his acting, but with these lines who can blame him? The Anakin-Padme love story is built on cringe-worthy dialogue, clichéd ideas and unbelievable development. They have little-to-no chemistry, and frankly all it serves is to put many viewers off Anakin permanently- he comes across as creepy. For a story envisioned as tragedy this is unforgivable. The scenes are awful enough that they shan't be dwelled upon, but scenes such as Anakin's massacre of the Tuscan Raiders and the fallout show Hayden Christensen can act. But for the most part Anakin falls flat.

Obi-Wan's story is meatier, and certainly has more to like. Ewan McGregor is forced to act almost solely with CGI characters, so credit to him he handles these well. The place-to-place trail isn't complicated (though the plot surrounding it all certainly is) but gives an excuse to put together some impressive and pretty action sequences. Ewan himself does a fine job, much more than what little he had to work with in Episode I, but is certainly 'The Straight Man', albeit with wry wit.

Outside of the two leads, Natalie Portman is forced into dialogue way below her calibre and does not come off unscathed. Samuel L Jackson gets more screen time and is welcome to it, even if merely playing a Jedi version of himself. Ian McDiarmid once again shines, and Frank Oz is excellent, even if some have legitimate complaints about the direction Yoda went in. The major new cast member is Christopher Lee as Count Dooku, the antagonist for this film.

The fight scenes are overall an improvement upon episode I, and the effects are better. Seeing more of the planets was much appreciated. The set pieces are varied (the asteroid scene is a particular standout). The decision to completely CGI Yoda was necessary for the increased workload the character was given, but one does miss the charming simplicity of puppet Yoda. The decision to cast Christopher Lee as the Sith here added gravitas, but at the expense of Christopher Lee being unable to move with the flexibility and finesse of the younger actors.

Both episode I and II come in for much deserved criticism, though their faults may be opposite. Episode I's execution was fine, but the decisions were odd or awful. Episode II had fine decisions, and its ambition is startling, but the worst execution. The undertones of a flawed, corrupt democracy and the political manipulations have a greater resonance than the shallow tax blockade of Phantom Menace. Even the Jedi's relationship with Anakin is an illuminating idea. But it never works as it should, which is the greatest shame. Even the idea of Anakin's love story could have worked.

The film features the bubbling of great ideas which never come to boil. The political developments are intriguing, but they are incongruous with most of the film and are handled roughly. The Anakin parts are the trough of the saga. There is some enjoyment to be had, and the world building is welcome. Indeed, the film is still entertaining enough on a base level to be watchable. But it's little else.

Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace (1999)

Potential, but fails to escape its trappings

[6/10 · 30 July 2014]

Prequels are always dangerous. One has to tell a story where anyone familiar with the franchise knows where all the main pieces end up. Even The Hobbit, which had a relatively easy time with it, bloated the film(s) unnecessarily. Star Wars though had a very clear start point in Episode IV; there's little that one can be surprised with by the end of the prequel. In the case of Phantom Menace this is even more difficult, as it is more 2-hour prologue than prequel.

Star Wars Episode I is the renowned disappointment of the Star Wars saga, with massive build-up and let down expectations (it certainly didn't help that The Matrix was released the same year). Yet certainly the hype has hurt it- it's certainly no worse than Attack of the Clones.

George Lucas once again returns to the helm for Episode I, as well as writing the story and screenplay. Which brings the good and the bad. Gorgeous locales, fantastic character and creature design, and some truly great action scenes. Yet it also brings dodgy dialogue, weak characterisation, pacing and story.

Episode I has two Jedi- Obi-Wan Kenobi and his mentor Qui-Gon Jinn- attempt to negotiate trade, before getting trapped on a planet and meeting a talented young boy, Anakin Skywalker, and the return of the Evil Sith. The plot would be more interesting if we knew why things were happening- there is a trade blockade, but we are never fully aware of what is trying to be achieved or wider motives. This ties in with a plot which builds Ian McDiarmid's future emperor as he rises through the Republic Senate. Ian McDiarmid shines and steals scenes under both his guises, but the Senate 'beauracracy' that characters are quick to criticise is a caricature without the depth needed for that form of plot.

The trade blockade develops into a ground assault against the planet Naboo, but the two races on Naboo are either underdeveloped (Humans) or loathed (Gungan). The latter is especially problematic, as our tie is the infamous and thoroughly annoying Jar Jar Binks, an unnecessary attempt at cringe-worthy 'comedy'. A battle between faceless droids and faceless/hated Gungans lacks impact.

George Lucas' screenplay certainly has a mixed result for the characters. Liam Neeson's Qui-Gon Jinn oozes wisdom, and brings an older but headstrong figure to lead the film. He fairs better than Obi-Wan, who is sidelined for almost half the film and never really develops. The young Jake Lloyd is serviceable as Anakin, and almost pleasant by comparison to Hayden Christensen's performance. The problem is that while Attack of the Clones layers Anakin's flaws heavy, Phantom Menace has next to none to speak of, giving not a single hint that he will one day be Darth Vader. The incongruity is odd.

Darth Maul gets only a couple of lines of dialogue as the movie's central antagonist, and coupled with his lack of doing...anything, he has nothing particularly memorable for most of the film. This almost pays off however, as the intimidation his silence creates, coupled with a fantastic lightsabre duel works.

All of this is a roundabout way to say that the screenplay is simply the weakest part of the movie. The actors are capable, the technical side is great. But it's marred with shoddy dialogue, an end that is already signposted, and just odd decisions. Jar Jar, the concerning 'Asian' stereotypes of the Federation, the shallow politics, the midi-chlorians, sidelining Obi-Wan. Oh, and Anakin's immaculate conception. That's just awful. It's got all of the pieces, but never puts them in the best places.

However, for all that, one cannot fault the technical side. The effects still look great, the choreography is solid, but its the creativity of the design that shines. Even if it wasn't as pretty looking, it would still be memorable. And John Williams returns for a fantastic score, with Duel of the Fates being the obvious highlight.

It may be one of the weakest of the saga, and certainly the most unnecessary (there's a reason that many Hatchet cuts remove the film), but it's not horrific. Still, a disappointment.

Commando (1985)

Hilariously bad, or hilariously brilliant?

[6/10 · 26 July 2014]

Commando may be the quintessential 80s action movie. The raw machismo, coupled with laughable dialogue, poor acting, one liners, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and more bullet dodging than The Matrix, it's a one-stop-shop action cinema education.

Arnold Schwarzenegger stars as John Matrix, the ultimate killing machine who never forgets to throw in a one liner with a kill. His quest to rescue his daughter (a young Alyssa Milano) takes him through Los Angeles with a trail of bodies in his wake. His villains are South American rebels and a rogue from his elite unit with an impressive/concerning moustache.

One cannot really spend a great deal of time talking about the technical merits of the film- beside the achievement of frequently fitting Arnold Schwarzenegger's entire body in the shot. Everything functions like a film. And it's not meant to be high art. But as Die Hard came out a mere 3 years later, showing an action movie can be awesome and be technically proficient, with great acting and dialogue, it cannot in good conscious get a pass. The score is representative of it redeeming itself by being hilarious. Genuinely, this might be the funniest action film ever. Without how fun it is, this would be sitting at the bottom of the barrel.

Just for some examples of the beauty/horror juxtaposition of the film, Arnold Schwarzenegger is introduced topless, with a tree in one hand and a chainsaw in the other, the peak of Macho. This is next followed with a montage of his relationship with his daughter, feeding a deer and catching fish. It cannot, hopefully intentionally, be taken seriously. The dialogue in the first 10-20 minutes is pure bad exposition, and half of the action lacks any real tension when there seems to be a forcefield around John Matrix.

The lines are legendary, the film might as well have its roots tattooed on its rippling bulging arm muscle, and you will have a blast watching it. Whether that's enjoying the spectacle within the movie, or the spectacle that is the movie's existence, is up to you.

Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi (1983)

Weakest of the original trilogy: still enthralling

[8/10 · 24 July 2014]

Return of the Jedi has a number of difficult responsibilities. It has to wrap up what was, at the time, the most impressive trilogy of films in the history of cinema. It had to follow Empire Strikes Back. All loose ends had to be tied, and be a cathartic conclusion. What's impressive is that it handles such mammoth tasks admirably, and is for the most part let down only by odd choices and vast ambition.

Picking up following the uniquely dark ending of Empire, Return of the Jedi is split into two parts: first, the quest to rescue Han Solo from Jabba the Hutt; the second to stop the Galatic Empire plot to build a second Death Star. The latter part simultaneously shows the rebels fighting to destroy the death star and Luke's confrontation with the dark side of the force.

One can immediately say that Return of the Jedi is an ambitious conclusion. The sheer amount of minor characters across the film develop a much larger world. Even minor additions such as the extra red cloaked guards that accompany the Emperor add depth and world building. Scenes are larger and bolder. The many areas, ships and buildings of Jabba's 'base' show a sense of scale more clearly than the tricks of size that Empire (and to a lesser extent, New Hope) used. Consequently however, the use of effects has to be increased, and in a way that hasn't stood the test of time as well as the earlier two films. 'Green screen' type scenes are somewhat more noticeable, though they in no way detract from the experience.

What certainly does work is the cathartic finale. While making the film the lightest of the trilogy was disjointing after the darker-style Empire, it certainly allowed the conclusion it has. Jubilation doesn't feel out of place. As an aside on 'out of place', one can single out the Ewoks, who -just about- work because of this. And so the general arc, beginning in Episode IV, is satisfying and more impressively works, where so many successful trilogies fall at the later hurdles (Matrix being the most glaring, but also The Godfather, Pirates of the Caribbean).

It's instead the choices that are made elsewhere that are at fault. The most glaring is the 'recycled' death-star idea; the twists in that story don't take away from a lazy feeling. But its more the quasi-retconning (if not factually, emotionally so) that seems odd. The 'sister' revelation seems (and considering the changes from the original drafts, is) out of place. Luke's sudden mastery of the force and his Jedi powers are unexplained, if necessary. The decision to sideline Vader, and make the Emperor the main antagonist, is questionable (though brave) considering how strong Vader's presence has been throughout the earlier two films. The Emperor exudes evil, but without the backstory of Vader appears merely two-dimensional. That's not to fault Ian McDiarmid, who commands the screen.

The most problematic part is the decision to have Lando being the only known character to fight in the dogfight against the Death Star. Already the most minor of the primary characters, it lacks the emotional weight of the original Death Star run. This, and the incongruity between the lighthearted Endor section and the darker Jedi element, mean the final climax is a bumpy ride of frustrating editing.

The film is rightly regarded as the 'weakest' of a successful trilogy, but what exactly does that mean? It's not as much of a criticism as it seems- this is no Godfather Part III. It simply doesn't quite reach the heights of its predecessors. Which was not an easy task in the first place. It may not end on the peak, but it ends on a high note.

Chungking Express (1994)

Stylish, a rare movie bursting with originality and flair

[8/10 · 19 July 2014]

Wong Kar-Wai's most acclaimed and certainly widespread film, helped by showings to film classes everywhere, Chungking Express is a meandering meditation of loneliness in urban Hong Kong. Told in two separate stories of love, life and loneliness (a third branching off into a separate film, Fallen Angel), they follow two cops dealing with a break-up and a new love interest.

The first, shorter and weaker segment follows a pineapple-obsessed cop falling for a blonde-wigged heroin smuggler. The second watches a depressed cop's ignorance as a girl with a crush revitalises his life.

The first segment is certainly a visual marvel, and Wong Kar-Wai (alongside cinematographers Christopher Doyle & Andrew Lau, the latter of Infernal Affairs fame) blazes through with a frenzy of action in a confined space. The blur, the colours and the contrast are impressive. It's also a poetic segment, but ultimately falls short, emotionally hollow without developed characters to anchor it. One could suppose that your reaction to this segment will depend on your appreciation of the themes and feelings of the main character.

One must spend more time considering the second, which more than makes up for the first ones failings. It adds a wry wit to the -better- romantic undertones, two incredibly charismatic leads (Tony Leung and Faye Wong), and one of the best repeated uses of a single song ever. California Dreamin' will forever for me be associated with this film. More importantly, the second part has a heart, a cute, quirky romance that bubbles, and the incredulity ebbs at its sweetness.

The soundtrack as a whole is full of excellent choices, though 'full' may over-exaggerate, as it's better seen as a few choice selections being repeated. Nevertheless, through the cinematography and the soundtrack, the film develops a dreamlike atmosphere, which is probably its greatest asset. The film keeps itself firmly uprooted in the clouds, and it certainly drifts.

Chungking Express is a unique film, and certainly not one for all occasions. It isn't designed to blow one away. One drifts through it, then thinks about it after its over. As a technical craft, it's a masterpiece. As a poetic piece of storytelling, its a bit more hit and miss, but it hits more than it misses.

Fearless (2006)

An inspiring, if safe, martial arts epic

[7/10 · 19 July 2014]

Prematurely billed as Jet Li's final martial arts epic, Fearless follows the -mostly- true story of Huo Yuanjia who rose to fame defeating foreign fighters in a time where China was facing encroachment from a militant Japan and Western colonials; he also founded one of the largest Wushu organisations in the world.

The story traces his early life as an arrogant, ambitious upstart fighter to an upstanding humble defender of China and the moral values inherent in Wushu. The story told is an inspiring one, of co-operation over confrontation, which unfortunately is yet to become the wide consensus. Though engaging, the beats of the story could be drawn from the book of clichés. Both the imagery and the dialogue lack any form of subtlety, particularly in the first half of the film as Jet Li's character 'matures'.

The film relies on Jet Li to carry the movie, both as the only truly developed character in the film and forced to portray a spectrum of emotions. Amid tragedies that his character faces, arrogance turns to humility in what is a relatively short space of time, yet Jet Li makes it believable and real. He is of course helped along from the already mentioned weathered old storyline. The quiet exile where one 'finds themselves' is particularly trite.

This is still-somewhat- a martial arts piece, and some could argue that in such a film the story is irrelevant. Though with such a strong message that would be an unfortunate conclusion here. Nevertheless, Yuen Woo-Ping is on top form for the fight scenes here, bettering most of his 'Western' work at the least. The fighting switches from flamboyance to raw brutality, and sports a fantastic variety in one-on-ones. The fights between Yuanjia and Master Chin, and against Tanaka, are particular standouts.

There have been some suggestions of 'Chinese propaganda' and a one dimensional role for the 'Westerners'. Of the former charge, I'd say its patriotic and disdainful of colonialism, but neither of these are crimes. Of the latter, I was quite enjoying the portrayal, solely as the evil moustache twirlers. This spoke more to me as a hypocritical attitude from some of the 'West', and the charges are certainly exaggerated.

As a note, and it may be especially relevant to the last point on one-dimensional 'villains', but this is based solely on viewings of the theatrical edition, and not the directors cut, which adds a significant 40 minutes to the length. While it's been said to be unwieldy long, the film could have done with a bit more character development, as the film is a relatively tight 1 hour 40 minutes, and Jet Li's character arc is of significant length.

Certainly, the film looks great, particularly with the action scenes, and the themes are solid. The film is just disappointing for lacking any originality with its themes, and worse, originality in portraying them. It doesn't stray away from the playbook, and repeat viewings serve to make this more obvious. It takes a safe route, but by no means a bad one.

Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

The Golden Middle Child

[9/10 · 17 July 2014]

There's a reason that sequels of a certain breed are complimented as going the "Empire Strikes Back" route. Often described as 'bigger, better and darker', it's certainly an appropriate description of Empire. It succeeds by taking the most successful elements of A New Hope and minimising its weaknesses, while expanding the world.

The main cast of Episode IV returns for Empire, with the major additions being Billy Dee Williams as Lando and Frank Oz providing the voice and charming puppeteer work for Yoda. Wisely, Lucas handed over the direction to Irvin Kershner, who takes up the helm admirably, and Lawrence Kasdan tightens up the screenplay. The latter especially improves the dialogue immensely. Regardless, its a slick production at its finest, with the effects, both CGI and practical, improving as well- the puppet-work being a standout for Yoda's simple yet delightful presence.

Empire's narrative suffers typically from middle-film syndrome, serving primarily as continuation and set up. As such, it lacks a coherent beginning and the cathartic climax of the finale. But in doing so, it skips lengthy exposition and avoids the responsibility of tying up the loose ends. As such, it gets to indulge in its traits. Part of Empire's success is how it jumps from set piece to set piece with nary a quiet moment. From Hoth, through the asteroid field, to the finale in the clouds, it rarely lets up. And the few quiet moments either ratchet up the tension (the cloud city), or succeed in intriguing world building (Yoda on Dagobah). What is essentially a glorified training montage works through the interaction between Luke and Yoda and excellent atmospheric cinematography.

What is often forgotten, simply from cultural osmosis, is that Empire contains a twist ending. Its such common knowledge that its sometimes forgotten that it even is a twist ending. Nevertheless, it's a sucker-punch that still has a kick even without the shock.

Empire does so very little wrong. The characters are memorable, the set pieces are iconic. There's a strong argument for the Luke-Vader duel being the finest fight scene in the entire saga. While it lacks the extravagant stunt choreography of the prequels, the fight has a rawness to it that later flamboyant fights fail to match. And the emotional tension between the characters makes one really interested.

It's often said to be the most morally ambiguous film, as part of its 'darker' theme. It is likely true, and certainly touches upon these issues. But to say this is only to bring attention to how idealistic Star Wars as a whole is- a betrayal is almost instantly redeemed, and the importance of friendship is at the fore. And it benefits from being able to set up conflicts without having to solve them.

Certainly, it's only real flaw is its middle-child issues. It doesn't plod, but it's still merely placing pieces in position. Chekov's guns are cocked. But damn if it isn't a blast while it does it.

The Usual Suspects (1995)

The Last Great Mystery Thriller

[10/10 · 16 July 2014]

Sometimes the sum is greater than the parts. The parts are good, but when it all comes together, and fits, just right, there's something more. The Usual Suspects might be the perfect example of this. Nothing on its own stands out. But together, all the pieces fit.

Told in flashback by Kevin Spacey, the audience follows the events leading up to a shoot-out and massacre on a boat. Following a group of 5 criminals (alternating lead between Stephen Baldwin and Gabriel Byrne) from job to job, the plot is told straightforward but lays down layers of dense intricacy and relationships. The story becomes increasingly revolved around the mysterious legend, Keyser Soze.

At its heart The Usual Suspects is merely a mystery told incredibly well. No scene is wasted- the film is tightly paced at just over an hour and a half- and the characterisation comes through immediately. Kevin Spacey's purposefully monotone voice-over is often merely exposition, but the framing device and the dialogue make it work without ever seeming dull.

One should take a moment to bring up the dialogue, which is actually a lot better than many give it credit for. While the screenplay is better known for how it comes together at the end, the whole script is full of wit and slick lines. McQuarrie is well deserving of his Oscar.

Yet one cannot really do a review of The Usual Suspects without reference to the ending. It's a film that relies on its ending to enhance the rest of it. Previous scenes have more meaning, and its cleverness becomes apparent. The main criticism one can see is if the ending is spoiled (which given its infamy is increasingly likely), it can neuter the impact.

Aside from that, The Usual Suspects does no wrong. A giant puzzle with satisfying parts, which when complete reveals a jigsaw masterpiece.

Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope (1977)

The Phenomenon

[8/10 · 16 July 2014]

Star Wars may be 'the' cultural event of an entire generation. It's difficult, near impossible to consider reviewing it without being at least slightly affected by the wider effect its had. It revitalised the Sci-Fi genre, created the first truly great Space Opera and solidified the summer blockbuster as the movie event. But one must depart from its cultural status to evaluate a defining movie.

I mentioned above that Star Wars revitalised the Sci-Fi genre. While true, it did this rather coyly. Star Wars is successful because it doesn't jump knee-deep into Sci-Fi. At its heart, Star Wars is a Western in Space, with classical character tropes dating back to Fantasy of the middle ages (farm boy, princess, etc). It's also an homage to Akira Kurosawa's Samurai western "The Hidden Fortress" down to the heavy use of the 'wipe' screen transition and the 'sidekick' characters.

Regardless, A New Hope succeeds both in spite of and because of its derivative core. It blasts past that with a successful mix of great characters and impressive world building. The Force is ambiguous between being science and magic (though Phantom Menace arguably retcons this, regrettably), and it is really the glue of the various quirks that make Star Wars so memorable; the Empire, the Jedi order, the futuristic Samurai Sword that is the light-sabre.

The characters may be clichés, but full enough of life to excel. The main trio are all solid (Hamill being the weakest, but mainly for being stuck with the weakest writing), but the supporting characters make the film. Alec Guinness' Obi-Wan exudes the wisdom of age and the droids bring levity without undermining the film's tone (certain 'modern' films should take note!) Of course James Earl Jones as the voice of Vader steals the show, with a never-beaten level of blockbuster menace.

Indeed, the common theme of Star Wars' success is its excellent use of familiarity. The beats are familiar, but are executed excellently. This is helped by ahead-of-their-time effects, combined with John Williams' greatest score. Without a doubt, the resounding score keeps the audience with the highs and lows throughout, and the fact that it gets better with episode V is all the more impressive.

That Star Wars succeeds is not in doubt. Where does it fall down? Certainly, one doesn't get points for being as derivative as Star Wars unashamedly is. But George Lucas makes it his own. Providing his talents: creating wonderful characters for a wonderful setting. But it also provides his weakness: his writing, specifically the dialogue. It's hit and miss- "may the force be with you" works, but other bits fall flat, and can become cringe-worthy. And it treads on the wrong side of the line of exposition a few too many times. For a film with such impressive practical effects, it's a shame that the 'show, don't tell' maxim is not utilised more.

Star Wars flits between predictability and innovation, and for the most part it keeps its balance, and as a result it has created a mega-blockbuster franchise and a generation of fans and filmmakers. Its influence is undoubted. Its quality should be as well.

Frozen (I) (2013)

Disney's Second Renaissance?

[9/10 · 12 July 2014]

Disney seem to have been doing rather well in the past few years. It's first renaissance (beginning with The Little Mermaid in '89) ended abruptly in the late 90s and was replaced with the meteoric rise of Pixar, which could seemingly do no wrong, releasing hit after hit. Even Dreamworks was more consistent! But 2010 marked Pixar's peak (Toy Story 3) and Disney's return. Tangled was an excellent return to form, and Wreck-it Ralph was great fun. But it is with Frozen that Disney has captured the magic once again, in a wonderful movie deserving of its massive success.

Frozen is a beautiful film where nothing really goes wrong. The music is Disney at its catchiest, the visuals are picturesque, and the characters are irresistibly charming. Loosely based on the Snow Queen, Frozen focuses on two sisters, Elsa and Anna, dealing with Elsa's cold-based magic and its consequences, both physical and mental. Elsa regresses and becomes a recluse while Anna becomes overly hopeful. While it doesn't discuss the psychological issues too deeply, the subtext and emotions are there for pondering.

Along the way the two sisters meet other colourful characters, primarily Kristoff, an ice trader, and Josh Gad's adorably hilarious snowman Olaf, the best sidekick since the Genie of Aladdin. His pleasant naivety is heartwarming, to say the least. The film has been much lauded for its 'progressive' elements, notably that its main relationship is not romantic, but between the two sisters, and other subversions of genre that to state would spoil the plot.

Though with regards to plot, that may be the weakest part. Frozen went through numerous rewrites along a complicated development process, and it can be seen in the final product. Characters and traits are set up early on that are forgotten or abandoned in the second half- for instance Kristoff is established in the film's first scene as an ice trader whose love in life is ice, yet there is never any kind of reference to this in the proximity of Elsa, who has limitless magical control of ice. Nefarious looking characters never really amount to much, and possibly one too many red herrings are used seemingly solely for the purpose of pulling the rug out from under the audience. And while none can doubt the brilliance of Let it Go, the Elsa at the end of the song is not the same as the Elsa in her next scene. Also, rock trolls.

Yet, this is to complain about minor qualms. The plot works, pleasantly surprises, and is ultimately a backseat to the characters. There have been many plot comparisons to The Lion King (which are well-founded), but the plot in Lion King drove the narrative, whereas in Frozen the characters are the drivers, first and foremost. An equally compelling comparison is to Tangled, except the traits of the single Female protagonist are divided between the two sisters here.

It would be boring to simply state the wonders of the art style and the charm, so one could be somewhat picky. Frozen's soundtrack is great, but has the same problem that a few Disney films suffer from, namely that one great song overshadows both the other songs and the rest of the film itself- the best example being Mulan and 'I'll make a man out of you'. 'Let it Go' is this to a T. Yet it's entirely forgivable, not just for being a great track, but also for being the best looking piece in the film, creating the gorgeous ice palace before the audience's eyes.

Frozen confirms that Disney have returned to form- hopefully something that continues. It's fantastic fun, appeals to all ages, both genders, while being positively progressive in ways that blockbusters seldom are- not just animation or kids films. Disney are still determined to focus on over-privileged Royalty at the expense of commoners, but otherwise Disney are moving full steam ahead. A magical success.

Battle Royale (2000)

A gritty, dystopian slaughter-fest

[8/10 · 10 July 2014]

A blockbuster in Japan and a cult classic in the rest of the world ever since, Battle Royale is a dark, brutal satire bathed in high-concept excess. A class of 42 school-children left on an island with 3 days to kill each other explores relationships, competition and morality.

The film is directed by Kenji Fukasaku, who bravely casts teenagers of the same age (15) to play the violent roles, all of whom do incredibly well at breathing life into the mostly two-dimensional roles given to them. Unlike other, similar films, the school children's' past is always at the forefront, affecting their decisions and actions (references abound to school cliques, past relationships and transgressions). Thrown into the scenario suddenly, the seriousness of the situation doesn't change how they perceive and interact with each other. They all do a marvelous job, which helps mitigate characters blending in to one another.

The violence the characters face is never shied away from; rather, it is extreme and excessive. This does not mean the film itself is overly serious or straight-faced. Indeed, it is precisely this somewhat over the top display that makes the film perversely and darkly comedic. This succeeds in keeping the film from becoming depressing, deftly mixing in absurdity and playfulness (see the instruction video at the beginning).

The music ranges from appropriate to melodramatic, but the cinematography does a much better job at conveying the attitude. It's a very dark palate, sometimes too drab, but is nicely intermingled with contrasting shots, such as the lighthouse. But the film is at its most successful in claustrophobic night settings, where the tension ratchets up and the characters thrive.

The narrative follows Shuya and Noriko, the former being the most developed character in the film and certainly the protagonist. Regrettably, in a film with numerous strong and diverse female characters, Noriko never develops significantly being object of desire, and occasionally damsel. They later team up with Kawada, another well-developed male, and one of the most likable characters. Other characters come and go, some faring better than others from this tight adaption of a somewhat obtuse book. Kiriyami and Mitsuko, the two 'antagonists' of the film have less developed back-stories than their novel counterparts, but that may be a blessing as they were absurd and over-the-top, respectively. The antagonists perform well, as do others who interact. The pettiness of teenagers is highlighted with the group of girls at the lighthouse.

Yet others fall flat. Hacker Shinji and his group unsuccessfully try and straddle the line between important and irrelevant, and some characters are never given a chance to break out of thin caricatures- the 'fat kid' and the formula-spouting 'nerd kid' come to mind. This, and the aforementioned absurdity sometimes is too much to bear for an audience. Every person in the class seems to be in a relationship or, in 'love' with people (that they've never spoken too). The heightened melodrama is pulled off well enough, but it gets excessive repeatedly. The melodrama and the violence, mixed with the intentionally odd tone, give the film a sheen of trashiness.

Battle Royale is one of the definitive cult films. Some films are cult because of bad timing, being ahead of their time, or simply too quirky to appeal to a mainstream audience. This one may have spatters of many reasons, but the main one may simply be its not a good enough movie to be widely successful. Its sometimes roaring fun, its occasionally thoughtful, but often appears simply trashy, like a bloody 70s B-movie. One will often see (well founded) comparisons to The Hunger Games in discussions of this movie. And while The Hunger Games is slicker, and certainly more ambitious (though it falls short of its own ambitions more than once), Battle Royale is simply the funner film. And for all its flaws, it remains a fantastic action piece.

The NeverEnding Story (1984)

Pleasant and Enjoyable

[7/10 · 7 July 2014]

Based (somewhat loosely) on the book of the same name, The NeverEnding Story takes a young boy into a fantastical world, the aptly named Fantasia, and explores the meanings of fantasy and imagination. It's not the freshest story ever told, but makes up for it with an enjoyable cast of oddities such as the Rock Biter and the Luck Dragon, presented in at-the-time very impressive effects work. The Rock Biter in particular is a colourful creation.

Indeed, without the effects work this wouldn't be nearly as successful, with an efficient but undeniably bland cast of human characters. Atreyu appears out of nowhere and never really develops, and while Bastian is an adorable performance, it's nothing that hasn't been seen multiple times before. It's slightly disappointing that even in a fantastical world, both the saviour (Atreyu and/or Bastian) and the 'leader' (the Empress) are white humans- it would have been very interesting to have a more prominent, less helper-role for a non-human creature.

The film also sports a notable framing device. While the idea of a plot device found in the 'real' world transporting someone into a fantastical one is cliché, the interaction between a single boy and the world notably indirectly, while bordering on silly and certainly cheesy, nevertheless manages to be endearing. Though speaking of cheesy, one will almost certainly cringe at 'Moonchild', and giggle at repeated shouts of 'say my name!' The film is neither a revelation nor an entry into the upper echelons of Fantasy Cinema, but it's enjoyable, with a nice message for kids. It is certainly a film primarily for kids, but can (just about) be enjoyed by all.

A Clockwork Orange (1971)

A difficult, but rewarding viewing experience

[9/10 · 24 June 2014]

A Clockwork Orange is an unsettling exploration of violence within society by the technical master Stanley Kubrick. It is easily his most controversial film, which in a repertoire including Lolita & Eyes Wide Shut, among others, is impressive. The film does not shy away from violence or sex (though certainly its violence is no more graphic than some of its contemporaries, and it is only the sexual content which would still be considered mildly graphic today); indeed, it basks in them.

The film follows Alex De Large (a perfect performance by Malcolm Mcdowell), too depraved to be considered protagonist, too charismatic (and later, sympathetic) to be considered a villain- though one likely would lean towards the latter- as he first goes about his violent escapades with his 'droogs', and later at his incarceration and 'rehabilitation'. What first begins purely as a look at depraved violence takes on a political and social angle as it explores psychology, morality and nature by virtue of the now-infamous 'Ludovico' treatment, and its consequences. While some films merely ask questions, A Clockwork Orange certainly leans towards providing answers. It suggests a firm belief in the artificiality of the treatment's results, and particularly their use as a means to a political end- there are certainly echoes of 1984-style totalitarianism in the treatment's implied purposes.

Like many of Kubrick's filmography, the film is technically a masterpiece. The visuals and the editing are top notch, with nary a wasted shot in sight. But special mention must go to the use of sound, with a soundtrack primarily composing of the work of Beethoven, which Alex is enamoured by. Its use within scenes (the threesome and the riverside fight in particular) is pitch perfect, at times supremely unsettling and at others morbidly comedic.

Yet while as technically perfect as Kubrick ever was, like many of his films it seems emotionally hollow. The characters and story are distant, and one can struggle to immerse oneself in the film. Perhaps more so because of the focus on depravity and extremities, it is possibly even more difficult to gain attachment to it. This isn't necessarily a bad thing- it would likely detract from the entrancing experience- but it is certainly not to everyone's tastes. And repeat viewing does not come easily: with no emotional attachment, and as it implicitly answers the questions it poses there is little left to gain from frequent viewings. The fact that it is also simply a difficult watch, particularly the sexual violence and the treatment, mean many will simply not want to return to it.

For all that, it is deeply engaging, thought provoking, and simply fantastically well made. It is difficult to say that A Clockwork Orange is an 'enjoyable' experience, but it can be a rewarding one.

The Lion King (1994)

A Modern Classic

[9/10 · 5 June 2014]

The Lion King is by general consensus the greatest Disney film from their glorious renaissance period (1989-1999), and is undoubtedly worthy of such recognition. Notably, it is the highest rated Western animation on IMDb's own Top 250, which while flawed and imprecise is a good indicator of quality.

A loose adaption of Shakespeare's Hamlet, The Lion King is visually stunning, the peak of hand-drawn animation, with a strong voice cast and a wide selection of memorable tunes. It is a tight ~80 minutes, and one sometimes forgets just how quick the movie moves, yet it does so deftly. The characters are well defined, and the arc of Simba's growth, the core of the film, evolves satisfyingly. One could question whether more time should have been spent on Simba's growth in the middle act (there is incredulous imagery as Simba grows exponentially next to the stasis of Timon and Pumba), but to meander so would ask it to be an entirely different film.

While it is not uncommon for a side character or two overshadow the main (see the Genie in Aladdin), Matthew Broderick and Jonathan Taylor Thomas (adult and young Simba respectively) are at risk from nearly all of the phenomenal cast. James Earl Jones is a commanding presence, and Jeremy Irons as Scar steals every scene. The 'fools' of the film, be it Timon & Pumba, the Hyena trio or even Zazu, all provide the levity believably, that would otherwise leave an incredibly sombre film. Nala is powerful, though one must note that she seems at times far more capable than Simba to actually achieve anything. Nevertheless, Simba's coming-of-age arc, while predictable, is enjoyable, helped along by fantastic charisma and choice songs.

The fact that the film has spawned a wildly successful musical gives a strong indication of the quality of the music, but what is less said is how beautiful the film is. As The Lion King was being released, works were already moving away from hand-drawn animation, with Toy Story released a year later. And The Lion King might be the peak of hand-drawn, with an enormous palate of creativity and variety. The opening vista for 'Circle of Life', the bursts of colour in 'Can't wait to be King' and the sombre tone of 'Be Prepared' all are gorgeous. Yet, special mention must go to the Stampede scene, one of the finest scenes of animation ever.

One thing I've developed from multiple viewings is how Timon and Pumba might be the weakest part of the movie. First, their 'life lessons' are essentially reversed by Rafiki. Certainly they are qualified to the point of being narratively sidelined. They feel contrived and even a detraction from the meat of the movie. Their role is the fast food portion of the film- the quick fix over more meatier bits of the film. The entertainment provided is enjoyable regardless, and is essential to round off the movie as Disney.

The Lion King is endlessly re-watchable, catchy, fun, while remaining a fantastic piece of cinema and an invaluable part of the Disney canon. Magnificent.

Casino (1995)

Jealousy. Greed. Ego. Desire.

[8/10 · 4 June 2014]

Casino is currently the last film in the legendary De Niro-Scorsese pair-up, and has aged incredibly well, after being underrated and dismissed as a clone of Goodfellas upon release. Indeed, the film sometimes might seem a remake. De Niro is the coolheaded professional, Pesci is the crazed psychopath, as the audience are again taken on a trip into the criminal underworld that predictably falls from paradise to hell.

Yet, it would be more accurate to call Casino a comparison piece to Goodfellas, as they match well while going off in satisfying tangents. The first hour of both is essentially the same setup. A glamorous exposition of their current gangster high-life, setting up the game and the players. Its quintessential Scorsese, with tracking shots, voice over exposition and a brilliant, catchy soundtrack. But here they diverge, as Goodfellas, the much shorter film, continues to deal with the work and its consequences, while Casino really delves into its characters as they lose themselves. Casino is certainly a character driven narrative (one could argue Goodfellas is instead a plot driven narrative made perfect by its characters). Our leading trio, the aforementioned males and Sharon Stone in a masterful portrayal of an enigmatic, destructive hustler, all inflate their egos with a deluded conviction of the correctness of their respective visions. In part because of being the lead, and in part as the least destructive character, De Niro's 'Ace' comes off best to the audience, but all are afflicted by delusions of grandeur and greed.

The film juggles the character's conflicts and growths well within the three hour film, which is itself a gorgeous depiction of the 'classical' period of Vegas' history, lamented as a relic today. The design, the visuals, the mood feels a different time, and is arguably Scorsese's most well-realised world. The soundtrack adds further to that. And Scorsese's direction is on top form, as is expected, and one finds it difficult to forget Scorsese's masterful hand guiding the film.

In terms of the performances of the leads, while De Niro is undeniably excellent, he is really the base from which the other two launch. Joe Pesci is at his very best here, surpassing Raging Bull and Goodfellas, and while the role is essentially a retread of the latter, it's expanded, deeper, and thematically goes with the film; the character is still a wild-card, but not nearly as much as a black sheep. His ego, his desire, they fuel him. Sharon Stone rounds it off, deserving of her Academy Award nom, providing a physical manifestation of Vegas: the money, the excess, the greed, the lure of self-destruction. Her relationship with De Niro is the core of the film.

The film is certainly excellent. And one tries not to compare it too much to other Scorsese films, especially Goodfellas. Yet its unavoidable when considering their similarity in theme, style and even cast & crew. Casino basks in its own excesses more than necessary- the length particularly. And it does many things right, but nothing much new. It's Scorsese at his most derivative of self, with the possible exception of being one of the few of his notable films to portray a strong leading woman (who is an independent character of herself) alongside the many men. The film is almost lazy in its unoriginality. And unfortunately it never matches the memorability of, say, Goodfellas.

Nonetheless, Scorsese is on top form, with a fantastic setting and cast, and worth a watch.

The Godfather (1972)

A Timeless Snapshot of Another World

[10/10 · 30 May 2014]

The Godfather is rightly regarded as one of the finest movies ever made, and this review won't seek to be a mere repetition of its finest qualities. Technically, thematically and theatrically, the film is an undeniable masterpiece. It took what is an enjoyable, but pulpy, populist crime novel into a deft piece of art. One can only attempt to highlight some interesting observations here.

Watching this again recently with friends who have never seen it before is an interesting experiment. After seeing the film numerous times one forgets that the story and the characters, while never particularly convoluted, are nevertheless numerous, steeped in a subtly defined hierarchy that for the uninitiated is overwhelming, to say the least. Especially overseas (Britain in this case), the younger generation have to fill in gaps that would have been closer to common knowledge upon release in the US. Notwithstanding its wide berth of characters and relationships, the film's central arc, that of Michael Corleone's (Al Pacino) descent to Don, is never clouded; Part II, while arguably as good if not better than Part I, suffers initially from juggling multiple arcs that while well-crafted and excellent, are not nearly as accessible.

While all remember the set pieces, particularly the wedding and baptism that masterfully bookend the film, on multiple viewings it's the quieter, thematic scenes that really shine. A personal favourite scene is the last scene shared between Michael and Vito (Marlon Brando) discussing Vito's desires for Michael, which merges duty, family and aspiration in a truly touching scene. One can make a serious argument that The Godfather Saga is really an embodiment of the American dream (note the Statue of Liberty in the 'cannoli' scene background), and Vito's entire outlook captures this. The scene is certainly the thematic backbone of the movie.

What has been occasionally discussed in detail elsewhere, but deserves a mention, is the portrayal of Kay. It's a nuanced performance by Diane Keaton, and the costume design is a fantastic touch. In her scenes where she is most distant, Kay's colours are bright reds and oranges, in sharp contrast to the surrounding characters (the wedding; when she looks for Michael at the compound). As she falls in with the family, her colours become muted. In terms of gender portrayal (something the film almost-understandably struggles with; it never comes close to passing the Bechdel test), Kay certainly fares better as a character than Apollonia, who is little more than an object of desire. Her willingness to be there for Michael is almost questionable however. Yet, ultimately this is a quintessential story about men, in a world where women had not yet encroached as individuals separate from men (it's no accident that the women get a greater role in Part III). One can suggest that the fact that all the women are defined by their male connections is less the fault of the material than it is the reality of the profession and period.

The Godfather, possibly by virtue of being a period piece, has barely aged in 40 years. Sure, the issues it discusses and the world it portrays are transformed, but like a painting it captures beautifully a freeze frame, a snapshot period of aspiration and ambition. It will continue to be adored for years to come.

The Heat (I) (2013)

Highly enjoyable, if predictable comedy

[6/10 · 20 May 2014]

The Heat, starring Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy, is another in the long line of buddy-cop comedy, and within its genre the film is a solid entry, maintaining familiar tropes (perhaps too much) while being refreshing enough to be enjoyable throughout.

The film is built on its two leads, so thankfully they're both excellent, and the chemistry is efficient throughout, and provides a bundle of laughs at the sharp end of comedy- vulgar and crude in equal measure. Their back and forth is essential when considering the plot itself is stick-thin and by-the-numbers. Bullock plays the straight-laced FBI foil to McCarthy's take no crap street cop, as they are forced to team up to investigate a drug smuggling operation in Boston. The pair are a cliché, certainly, but the actresses bring the cut-outs to life.

Paul Fieg's directing is solid, if nothing spectacular, but gets the job done. The writing of the comedy and dialogue goes from good to fantastic, though the actual narrative strains credulity more than once, and occasionally can't make up its mind between far-out comedy and drama thats a step too serious for it. Then again, these are common problems of the genre, with the need to show the character's 'skills' obviously making the film incongruous with itself later on. The film opens with both of the characters- particularly Bullock- as being 'masters' of their craft, solving crimes with ease, but then stumble along from one 'clue' to the next, which are really set pieces masquerading as plot.

Yet, to complain about the semantics of plot is to miss the point of the film. It's perfectly enjoyable, and I'd imagine re-playable on a rainy day for the sheer fun you'll have while watching it, but the actual content is entirely forgettable.

On a more serious level, one can only express regret that the two leads- the only women of significance on the law enforcement side of the film- both appear to be intensely disliked by their peers for doing their job, and there are suggestions that they are hated because they are women. Unfortunately, the film does little to suggest that they can be reconciled with male colleagues (with the exception of the token romantic c-plot); the film seems to suggest a permanent gender divide.

Unfortunately, gender must come up here. The film is regrettably, a breath of fresh air in part because the leads are women. This is the only mainstream buddy-cop film with female leads that springs to mind,and the film and its success showed that not only does the idea work,it works incredibly well, and Hollywood have been too long neglecting this potential. Which is fantastic. Just, for a film that came out in 2013, this shouldn't be such a positive. It should be the standard.

The film doesn't bring anything new to the genre, but great while it lasts.