Best Movies of 2008...

"Directive?"

To the untrained eye, Disney-Pixar's WALL-E probably appears to be just another ordinary animated family film or just another commonplace Pixar escapade. But WALL-E should not be carelessly dismissed with these misleading labels. Director Andrew Stanton (who was behind 2003's Finding Nemo) has created a masterpiece on the same level as recent films like There Will Be Blood, No Country for Old Men, Pan's Labyrinth and even The Departed. Put very frankly, this is a marvellous film with infinite appeal.

Over the past few years, Pixar's annual line-up usually receives its fair share of acclaim (from critics and audiences alike). In 2007, it was Ratatouille that had the Oscar committee talking. Other memorable titles include 2004's The Incredibles and 2006's Cars. Further animated films (courtesy of DreamWorks) include Madagascar, Shrek and several others. But 2008's WALL-E is an unprecedented event in both animated feature films and contemporary filmmaking in general. Through my eyes, this masterpiece deserves an Oscar nomination for Best Picture at the very least. No, not Best Animated Picture...I'm talking about the daddy Oscar statuette of Best Picture. I'm not the only person discussing this possibility, so that must tell you something.
This is a movie that the critics are raving about, and audiences are warmly receiving. The box office numbers are enough to convince you of that fact. As of late 2008, the film still holds a resounding rank on IMDb's Top 250. As much as it pains me to admit, I thought the hype and acclaim was ridiculous, and I misleadingly labelled the film as childish rubbish. However I'm extremely glad that I took a chance and gave this film a shot.

In the future, humans have abandoned Earth. WALL-E (voiced by Burtt) is the last of his kind: a small robot manufactured by the Buy-N-Large Corporation, created with the objective of cleaning up the rubbish left by humans. WALL-E (an acronym for Waste Allocation Load Lifter - Earth class) lives a lonely life as he carries out the same routine everyday. He's a robot whose vocabulary never stretches past three words, and his sole friend is a mute cockroach. WALL-E spends his entire day rummaging through the rubbish. He compresses mounds of garbage into cubes (he also collects rubbish he finds fascinating - one man's garbage is another robot's treasure) by day, then spends his evenings watching Hello, Dolly! and longing for romance. Things drastically change for WALL-E when a robot known as EVE (Extra-terrestrial Vegetation Evaluator, voiced by Knight) lands on his planet. It's love at first mechanised heart-beep. WALL-E and EVE are soon entangled in an outlandish space adventure with a host of fascinating robot characters.

So what makes WALL-E the masterpiece that has everyone talking? There are a number of reasons.
For starters, the animated is top drawer. All landscapes and locations are gorgeously rendered, to the extent that an audience will be stunned at the technological capabilities of modern computers.
Secondly, the kids will have an absolute ball. Even the adults will sit in awe. WALL-E will commendably keep both the kiddies and adults entertained for its entire running time. Thirdly, the film has great relevance to a modern society that's becoming increasingly reliant on technology. The film essentially acts as a social commentary. While the kids are greatly entertained, an adult will be able to comfortably absorb the film's underlying themes. It's a "green" theme that imbues the proceedings. Humans are depicted as obese, obsolete couch potatoes who rely on technology for their every whim. They no longer walk, and a transparent screen allows them to communicate with each other (even if they're sitting in arm's length). The human race aren't human anymore...in fact the robot characters are more humane. The implication is that this future isn't far off.

WALL-E is also a total blast: it's creative, clever, charming and comedic. You'll be laughing at the Chaplin-esque slapstick on offer, and you'll be sighing at the beautifully tender nature of the little robot. The film conveys a poignant and moving love story. It's an odd-couple romance tale that will strike a tone with its audience depending on generational reference points. There are traces of Charlie Chaplin and Virginia Cherrill in City Lights, Woody Allen and Diane Keaton in Annie Hall, Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet in Titanic, with traces of Star Wars and E.T. thrown in for good measure (there's also a slight dash of Shrek and Princess Fiona). This may be a love story between mechanical robots, but it's incredibly heart-warming and appealing.

The final factor that ensures this film is an absolute masterpiece is that it will never grow outdated. DreamWorks animated movies are filled with pop culture references, whereas WALL-E is devoid of them. The character of WALL-E enjoys watching the musical Hello, Dolly! and at one stage we see him indulging in a game of Pong on an old monitor. Had this been a DreamWorks picture, WALL-E would be watching High School Musical and playing Halo 3 on an X-Box 360. This denotes the difference between the two animation studios: in fifty years WALL-E will play flawlessly to a new audience who will laugh at the timeless slapstick, whereas a DreamWorks film (after the pop culture references lose their potency) will play to almost complete silence. Yes, I do enjoy DreamWorks films such as Shrek (the first one...and the first one only!) and Over the Hedge, but it's doubtful that they'll hold up in later years.

Like Pixar's previous films, the meaning of WALL-E is deeper and more profound than the merchandising prospects found therein. The film is undoubtedly a love story, but it's also a story about staying true to your own heart in the insipidly malevolent face of authority. The film is a moving tale about saving the small things and treasuring the world you exist in, regardless of how imperfect its surface may seem.
Andrew Stanton won an Oscar in 2004 for his previous animation film Finding Nemo. Now the director has unquestionably earned his place in the pantheon of animation pioneers. With WALL-E, Stanton has taken not only the art of animation, but the art of storytelling to new and unimaginable heights. Previous landmark science fiction masterpieces include Star Wars and Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. To me, WALL-E is the next landmark sci-fi masterpiece in the form of a simple animated family feature.
Perhaps the only drawback would be a script that turns formulaic in its final quarter. The concluding few scenes had me riveted in my seat, but in the long run most of it wasn't overly necessary. And the customary happy ending is quite predictable. However 80% of the film cleverly circumvents the clichés.

For an animated movie aimed at an ordinary family audience, WALL-E is unbeatable. The visuals are masterful, the animation is absolutely beautiful, the storytelling is fairly original and there are laughs aplenty. This film has a right to take its place alongside Toy Story, Finding Nemo, Ratatouille and the countless other additions to the Pixar canon. To this day, WALL-E is definitely the best animated family movie in existence!

"I blow a hole in your face and then I go in the house and I sleep like a baby."

Unofficially billed as Clint Eastwood's swansong to acting, Gran Torino is an arresting and poignant drama infused with Eastwood's brilliantly distinctive filmmaking style. Eastwood's second directorial undertaking for 2008 (previously helming Changeling) and his first screen performance since 2004's Million Dollar Baby, Gran Torino is an excellently written, well-performed character study of racism and redemption that fits contentedly beside the rest of Eastwood's cinematic oeuvre. This is a potent, effective and emotionally affecting drama - it's slow-paced yet subtly engaging, moderately unexciting yet it's virtually impossible to lose interest and it's never boring. Working from a script penned by first-time screenwriter Nick Schenk, Eastwood has utilised old-school (albeit somewhat outdated) filmmaking techniques to convey this gripping tale. Gran Torino doesn't offer avant-garde visual effects or glossy action sequences - it offers Clint "I'm still badass at 78" Eastwood, meticulous characters, and first-rate storytelling. It merges compelling drama with terrific subtle humour, and the product is simply outstanding.

Gran Torino stars Clint Eastwood as disgruntled Korean War veteran Walt Kowalski. Walt is a widower; a grumpy, tough-minded, unhappy old man whose family relationships are shaky, and who's openly racist against his Hmong neighbours - maintaining a rich passion for bigotry since enduring dark days in the Korean War. This prejudice explodes when Thao (Vang), the teenage son of the Hmong family next door, tries to steal Walt's prized possession - a 1972 Gran Torino, kept in mind condition - as part of a gang initiation. Several days later, upon observing a violent predicament concerning Thao, Walt feels compelled to intervene (in a classic Eastwood stand-off), and ultimately earns the respect of the Hmong community. Despite initially disliking the culture, this post-9/11 version of Dirty Harry Callahan warily develops a relationship with his neighbours. Walt aims to reform Thao, and soon begins taking steps to protect the Hmong family before the gang activity worsens. Serious questions soon begin to arise...questions of responsibility, of retribution...of the efficacy of blood for blood.

The majority of Gran Torino involves Walt coming to terms with his new Hmong buddies. Despite originally reluctant to befriend them due to his openly racist perspective, he eventually grows respect for them. The movie's supreme moments depict Walt finding his footing at Hmong congregations, failing socialisation prospects, but lovin' the cooking. The crux of the story belongs to Walt and Thao as they develop a special bond. The relationship isn't played for Odd Couple chortles, but as an unlikely father/son partnership with Thao learning to improve his life through gruelling work and learning to avoid the lure of crime. While Bee Vang's performance appears to lack polish, this relationship remains an absorbing central piece of the Gran Torino puzzle.

"If I have to come back here again, it's gonna get fucking ugly!"

Nick Schnek's screenplay for Gran Torino is imbued with textured Midwestern civilisation, utilising the discomfort between aged military vets who refuse to depart from their contented residences and the melting pot that surrounds them. Through this, Schnek has constructed a human story of tentative reverence and the clearing of conscience. Gran Torino doesn't present a scholastic version of race relations; however Schnek evidently understands the rancorous mentality of men like Walt who live and breathe outdated American values, and find their faith rewarded by the degeneration of respect in contemporary youth and the rise of foreign cultures in their own backyard. Schnek and Eastwood's joint efforts have turned Gran Torino into a motion picture that ponders violence, its place and its cost. Perhaps the greatest aspect of Schenk's screenplay is that it enticed Eastwood to finish his self-imposed acting hiatus and bring his unique aura back to the big screen one final time.

Gran Torino is no action movie; this is a lengthy character study that spends the majority of its two-hour runtime developing the characters through dialogue and bonding. Schnek endows his script with witty dialogue and fascinating conversations. Humour additionally plays a key role in the screenplay. However, the comedy isn't restricted to slapstick or juvenile humour...this is sophisticated humour, mainly concerning Walt's relationship with the contemporary world around him. Eastwood's snappy dialogue is guaranteed to provoke a laugh or two. Had this been a straight-up drama, the film would fail to properly engage for its duration. Had Gran Torino been imbued with an onslaught of hilarity, its impact would severely dissipate. The correct balance is achieved, which is certainly among the film's main strengths.

"Oh, I've got one. A Mexican, a Jew, and a colored guy go into a bar. The bartender looks up and says, "Get the fuck out of here!"."

Gran Torino is predominantly naturalistic and grounded as opposed to Hollywood. It eschews the proverbial clichés in favour of producing something original. The film's climax is perhaps most commendable - unconventional, unpredictable and overflowing with emotionality, yet satisfying, symbolic, haunting, and ultimately very appropriate. This is a rare movie that doesn't implode in its final reel; in point of fact its dénouement elevates the flick tremendously. It's evident both Eastwood and Schnek put much thought into the best way to construct the conclusion. It's a credit to the film's ending that Walt exorcises his demons without violence or bogus redemption.

If this were a Hollywood production, Gran Torino would conclude with the villains receiving their comeuppance by means of a violent, preposterous shootout (Death Sentence, anybody?). In a Hollywood movie Walt would also magically transform into an old softie; he'd admit his mistakes, and reconnect with his family. These clichés never surface in Gran Torino, therein lying justification as to why it's so damn excellent. By the end Walt and his neighbours share an obvious affection, but at his heart he's still the same callous, pungent, elderly badass and his loneliness is satiated. Instead of Walt becoming changed by his new acquaintances, he intends to change them by taking Thao under his wing and aiming to build character...to transform him into a proper man. It's clear Walt loves both his Hmong neighbours and his family. Nevertheless he continues to call them racist slurs - not out of malice...plainly because it's just Walt's nature. Thao and Sue manage to look past Walt's exterior shell, understanding that they're merely words. They've seen the good in him, and this outweighs the factors that make the old man such a curmudgeon. Gran Torino is NOT Hollywood...this is Eastwood.

"We shot men, stabbed them with bayonets, chopped up 17 year olds with shovels."

In the past, Clint Eastwood has earned two Academy Awards for directing - Million Dollar Baby and Unforgiven. His direction is once again sublime. Outstanding cinematography is employed, capturing the ambiance of suburbia with consummate skill. Music is applied sparingly. Barely 30% (give or take) of the two-hour runtime contains music, yet this approach succeeds remarkably. The Gran Torino song (played in full during the closing credits, with lyric-less notes used at select points throughout the film) is a poignant synthesis of beautiful singing (Clint Eastwood himself even sings!) and subtle, eloquent piano music. I continued to watch until the end credits expired...riveted, moved, and on the verge of tears. Motion pictures rarely, if ever, move me on such a profound level. Top honours to the filmmakers for pulling this off.

Envisage every unflinching, badass character Clint Eastwood has ever played. Now imagine these characters in their twilight years; wrinkled, fatigued, on death's door, and spitting in the face of death one last time in order to help a friend. Eastwood as Walt Kowalski is simply stunning; imposing, intimidating and realistic. Eastwood's raspy, growly acting denotes the actor's return to his teeth-clenched, asphalt-voiced roots - virtually an aged version of Dirty Harry Callahan. Discharging every Asian racial appellation known to man to sell Walt's cruel exterior, Eastwood assembles a character of gun-happy action, beer-soaked contemplation, and passionate defiance that could only be tackled by the screen legend.
Cocking his rifle when gang members intrude on his territory, Walt snarls "Get off my lawn" in a moment destined to become classic Eastwood, comfortably standing alongside "Make my day". Things get better when Walt confronts hoodlums playing grab-ass with Sue... "Ever notice how you come across somebody once in a while that you shouldn't have fucked with? That's me." This "me" isn't just Walt Kowalski... It's The Man with No Name taking aim in those classic spaghetti Westerns... It's Dirty Harry Callahan levelling his Magnum, asking "Do you feel lucky, punk?"... It's William Munny (Unforgiven) digging deep to note "It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. You take away all he's got and all he's ever gonna have"... It's Frankie Dunn (Million Dollar Baby) who knows "tough ain't enough".

Sharing the frame with the screen legend is a mixture of mostly first-time actors. Bee Vang and Ahney Her are watchable as Thao and Sue (respectively), but they occasionally lack a requisite spark to truly elevate their performances. However, as naturalistic actors they succeed. This isn't Hollywood material teeming with overacting...these are actors grounding their portrayals in realism. Despite terrifically playing the naturalism card, the cast do seem contrived from time to time. The worst offender here is Christopher Carley as the concerned young priest.

For Clint Eastwood fans, Gran Torino cannot be missed at any cost. If your admiration for Eastwood is based on the hard-edged characters he's renowned for playing, you'll love Gran Torino. This is a touching farewell and a hell-raising salute to every badass Eastwood character in existence. It's been hinted that this is Eastwood's final movie as an actor, and if so it's an extremely suitable goodbye to such a screen legend. This is a movie you must see - a poignant, touching, gratifying cinematic experience. Gran Torino is far smarter, broader, and funnier than it seems. This is the Eastwood we all remember in a pitch-perfect final performance. Whether you seek humour, drama or an onslaught of touching moments, this film will provide. Gran Torino - named after the 1972 car that Walt polishes like a symbol of his idealised past - is a humdinger of valedictory.

In a nutshell: Clint Eastwood went ahead and made my day.

"Jesus, Joseph and Mary. These Hmong broads are like badgers."

"The boy they brought back is not my son."

An ambitious historical drama helmed by the legendary Clint Eastwood, Changeling is without a doubt one of the best pictures of 2008; a thoroughly engrossing, powerful film able to entertain as much as it provokes. Eastwood's latest masterwork is based on a true story, and it chronicles the appalling events surrounding the Wineville Chicken Coop Murders that occurred between 1928 and 1930. It must be stressed that this feature isn't just a simplistic story of a mother's heroic quest for truth... Beneath its exterior, it's an excellent exposé of crime and corruption during the early 20th Century. Changeling is the first of Clint Eastwood's two 2008 productions (the brilliant Gran Torino being the other), and it is a mature, mesmerising saga made far more compelling by the director's masterful handling of the material. Eastwood has employed the same sparse, unadorned yet exceedingly watchable filmmaking style throughout his several decades as a director, and this style is prominent here. His films rarely drag as well - they're lean and efficient; rarely wasting energy or becoming bogged down in sentimentality. Considering the subject matter, Changeling could've been created as a maudlin, melodramatic mess with exaggerated performances and telegraphed emotion. Under Eastwood's direction, however, it is none of those things. Changeling is unforgettable... It's unforgettable for its extraordinary story, for the cinematography of ethereal beauty, for the haunting performances and for Eastwood's stylistic directorial style. But most of all, Changeling is unforgettable for its sheer impact. This is a devastating and touching story which has been beautifully told by a filmmaker who remains at the top of his game.

The story commences in 1928 Los Angeles. Hard-working single mother Christine Collins (Jolie) returns home from an impromptu shift at work to discover that her 9-year-old son Walter (Griffith) has mysteriously vanished. Five months after Walter's unexplained disappearance, the LAPD - anxious to get some good publicity to help their tarnished image - insists they've found Christine's son. Delight soon turns into horror, however, when Christine lays eyes on the young boy the police have found and instantly realises it's not her child. But the LAPD, worried about further bad press, arrogantly refuse to admit their mistake. As she questions the tactics of the police on an escalating scale of hysteria, the LAPD attempt to silence Christine through iniquitous methods and begin using the press to discredit her claims. But when a campaigning clergyman named Reverend Gustav Briegleb (Malkovich) comes to Christine's aid, the whole rotten system of lying officialdom is tackled and they begin to expose the LAPD's epic web of deception. As the mystery of her missing son deepens, Christine is forced to face an awful possibility about what might have actually happened to Walter...

During 2008, Eastwood turned 78 and still shows no sign of stopping. Most people in any trade retire at 65, but Clint was merely warming up; going on to produce some of the finest work of his directorial career (Oscar-winning films like Million Dollar Baby, Mystic River and Letters From Iwo Jima). The esteemed actor-director has effortlessly segued into a no-nonsense, old-fashioned filmmaker in the mould of John Ford, Sergio Leone, and (his mentor) Don Siegel.
For Changeling, Eastwood allows the events to unfold slowly and quietly without resorting to the over-the-top performances or a roaring soundtrack a lesser director would have employed to highlight the drama - Eastwood recognises that this tale requires no exaggeration. Put simply, Eastwood is the best classical filmmaker working in contemporary Hollywood: his pictures are never flashy or gimmicky, as he recognises these as distractions from his primary job, which is to pay service and respect to a story. However, the man is not a simplistic filmmaker either. Here, Eastwood has crafted a motion picture that moves with ease and grace from potent drama to dark thriller to a tale of corruption echoing such films L.A. Confidential and Chinatown. The ability to work on various levels and shift gears with such skill comes from years of practise...Changeling represents another career high point of one of this generation's finest directors.

Historical relevance notwithstanding, Changeling emerges as a contemporary morality tale as well. After all, Walter is abducted when Christine agrees to work on her day off (a day that she promised she would spend with Walter). By agreeing to work, Christine not only chooses her job over spending time with her son, but she also breaks a promise. The consequence of this decision is that she loses her young boy forever. The film is possibly making a statement regarding single mothers, as well as reasserting that nothing is more important than family and moments spent away from children are moments lost forever.

"I used to tell Walter, "Never start a fight...but always finish it." I didn't start this fight... but by God, I'm going to finish it."

No original book or magazine article exists detailing the Christine Collins case. Screenwriter (and former journalist) J. Michael Straczynski had to conduct meticulous research, developing the story using newspaper files and old records (from city hall, the courthouse, and the city morgue). The extraordinary story of Changeling starts as a flapper Erin Brockovich before turning into Silence of the Lambs by way of L.A. Confidential. Truth is stranger than fiction, as they say. The fact that Eastwood's flick manages to morph from one genre to another is a measure of how truly unusual the story is. It can certainly keep an audience off balance...there are a lot of surprises. Admittedly, Changeling boasts a story far better than the screenplay, as Straczynski's inexperience as a feature film writer is occasionally evident. The one fault of the script is simple: the dialogue sounds a tad too contemporary from time to time. The period detail mixed with this modern-ish dialogue can be very jarring. Dialogue aside, though, Changeling is pervaded with an immense emotional weight that consistently feels earned and sincere as opposed to cloyingly manipulative.

The most striking element of Changeling is the look of the film. With top-shelf production values and excellent visual effects, Eastwood's feature is imbued with an evocative mood of Depression-era L.A. without missing a beat. The digital recreations of 1920's Los Angeles are marvellous, and there are moments when it looks as if Eastwood managed to get his cast and crew into a time machine. Every cent of the $55 million budget (estimated) is used sparingly and put to great use. Tom Stern (Eastwood's expert cinematographer since 2002's Blood Work) paints a muted palette of dehydrated colours reminiscent of the 1920s, punctuated with subtle splashes of colour (like Jolie's red lips) as beacons of hope.
Not only does the aging Eastwood direct his pictures, but he also produces and carries out several additional duties (hence the astounding low-budget nature of his films). Changeling has been beautifully scored by the director himself with lilting pianos and blustery strings. This sweetly melancholic music subtly comforts our souls.
If there's one thing to savour about Changeling, it's the graceful way it transports the audience, taking them back in time to this famous era with traditional Eastwood ease. The 140-minute runtime (approximately) may seem daunting, but it never really seems that long. All pieces of the puzzle merge together, forming a remarkable motion picture which rarely feels its tremendous length.

Clint Eastwood has the ability to coax the best from his actors. Changeling is propelled by an array of wonderful performances, headed by Angelina Jolie whose shattering portrayal of Christine Collins was deservedly nominated for an Academy Award. Choosing to underplay her character's rage and sadness, the actress escapes into her role, painting Christine as a determined woman whose sombre and steadfast nature in the wake of her son's disappearance occasionally gives way to an incendiary temper... Jolie brings every ounce of motherly love and anguish to this part. Appearing in most scenes and carrying the emotional weight of the entire picture, Jolie gives one of the most nuanced performances of her entire career.
There is scarcely a bad performance in the entire film. Jeffrey Donovan is arrogantly loathsome and slimy yet entirely credible as Captain Jones, who seems bereft of humanity as he tries to defend the inexcusable behaviour of the LAPD in unacceptable ways. Playing his superior with gusto, Colm Feore's Chief Davis is equally adamant to push the dirt under the rug without any regard for justice or for Christine. Also first-rate and suitably hateful are the actors portraying the unscrupulous doctors supportive of the corrupt cops - Denis O'Hare as the psychiatric hospital's nasty head doctor, as well as Peter Gerety and John Harrington Bland. Michael Kelly is an especially memorable addition to the cast playing the detective who investigates the dreadful Wineville Chicken Coop Murders. As the psychotic Gordon Stewart Northcott who executed these murders, Jason Butler Harner is exceptional. The moderately unknown actor paints one of the most skin-crawling portraits of pure evil in recent cinematic memory.

John Malkovich is a particular standout as the crusading clergyman who uses Christine's plight to further his own agenda. He's understated and terrific, bringing considerable authority to his character of Reverend Briegleb who's armed with a radio station microphone and rants against the corrupt cops of Los Angeles.

Changeling is one of 2008's best movies. What begins as a simple mystery-thriller soon takes a number of devastating twists and turns, bordering on noir before dipping into dark, bloody horror, and culminating in a courtroom drama for the well-paced and tense climax. Changeling travels to dark places, with scenes and circumstances that will haunt you long after the credits expire. It's not exactly an easy movie to watch, but it's very classy and it adroitly avoids exploitation for the sake of drama. The muted colours, the simple but effective period design and the plot-driven editing grab our attention and emotions with a firm grip as Eastwood tells this elegant story. Changeling is visually sumptuous as well; both its cinematography and art direction were justly nominated for Academy Awards. As long as Clint Eastwood continues to make new movies, this reviewer will continue to pay to watch them. This is a gorgeous, underrated masterpiece and a perfect example of fine art...how the Academy overlooked this tour de force for Best Picture is simply beyond me.

Jamal Malik is one question away from winning 20 million rupees. How did he do it?

A: He cheated

B: He's lucky

C: He's a genius

D: It was written

Slumdog Millionaire is Danny Boyle's magnificent, elating cinematic adaptation of Vikas Swarup's prize-winning 2005 novel Q and A. Boyle's masterwork is simply the essential motion picture of 2008; an exquisite and engrossing filmic experience, infused with a searing portrait of the resilience of human spirit. It's a timeless, Capra-esque tale of adversity and rags-to-riches, told with dazzling passion and stunning visual agility. While housed in a bleak setting inhabited by a congregation of truly vile characters, Boyle's film is almost guaranteed to appease any viewer with a soft spot for beautifully sculpted contrivances. Slumdog Millionaire is a charming, uplifting tale about hope, destiny and love, and it will enrapture those who are willing to venture into its expressively-crafted world. For the record, a majority of the dialogue is articulated in English; however, some large segments are delivered in Hindi. But Boyle - in an utter masterstroke - has handled the subtitles colourfully and playfully, unlike the drab subtitles we're accustomed to reading. Slumdog Millionaire is a feverishly-paced, subtitled picture created with subtitle-phobes in mind. This is a visual and emotional journey that's brash, lively and compulsively enjoyable.

Uneducated 18-year-old Jamal Malik (Patel), a poor orphan from the slums of Mumbai, is poised to win a fortune (a staggering 20 million rupees) on the Indian version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?. Defying all odds and expectations, Jamal has managed to answer every question so far correctly, rapidly approaching the top prize (an unprecedented feat in Indian television history). However, some grow suspicious of how a slumdog could be so knowledgeable, and capable of answering the extremely tough questions. Accused of cheating, Jamal is arrested and brutally interrogated by the police. Proving that life experience is far more valuable than education, Jamal is forced to relive his tumultuous early years for the authorities. The result is a flashback-rich tour into the horrors of Jamal's childhood; his episodic memories relating to each seemingly impossible question put to him on the show. A recurring individual in his memories is a certain Latika (Pinto), whom Jamal is in love with but frequently torn apart from.

"A few hours ago, you were giving chai for the phone walahs. And now you're richer than they will ever be. What a player!"

The structure of Slumdog Millionaire - as scripted by Simon Beaufoy (who also wrote The Full Monty) - may be borderline contrived, but the frenetically-told story amazingly submerges a viewer into its universe and produces suspense despite the outcome being quite obvious from the onset. The point of the story isn't whether Jamal will win the money...it's if he'll get his girl. Make no mistake, there's nothing special about the fairly conventional plot, nor the way it's played out. In this sense, Slumdog Millionaire shouldn't be a great film... But it is a great film. Boyle's direction oozes passion at every turn, offering an energy which keeps the film constantly in motion. The setting in Mumbai is another stroke of genius. To the untrained eye, the location is merely window dressing. But with this dressing comes a unique exotic flavour and an open window into a fascinating culture. The story works on multiple levels - it can be perceived as a romance, a thriller, and a glimpse at the ways in which a fast-developing economy is convulsing the fabric of Indian society.

Fresh from a picture which spent almost a year in post-production in order to get the special effects right, the post-Sunshine Danny Boyle was eager to race onto a project which could be shot fast and furiously. Employing his trademark visual frenzy, Boyle ensnares the viewer in the chaotic motion of Indian street life. Filmed predominantly on bustling locations, Slumdog Millionaire whips along with unguarded authenticity and an understanding of those struggling to survive at the impoverished base of a restrictive caste system. The engaging, agile camera turns the narrow corners of the slums and flies at the high speed of a train on which Jamal and his brother hitchhike. Boyle's collaboration with director of photography Anthony Dod Mantle thrusts a viewer headfirst into the chaotic and despairing world of its three youthful protagonists, wonderfully encapsulating both the excitement of children running amok and the relentless terror they experience on the street that's triggered by authority figures on both sides of the law. Production design is absolutely top-notch, emanating authenticity at every turn. On top of the terrific location work, the set for Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? could be easily mistaken for the real deal. Not just the set design and cinematography, but the sound effects as well as the traits of the host are also spot on. Slumdog Millionaire simply looks and sounds flawless.

"When somebody asks me a question, I tell them the answer."

Movies that tend to get the Oscar community talking are usually thoughtful, introspective films with a heavy dosage of tragedy. Million Dollar Baby, Brokeback Mountain, Crash, Babel, Munich, and Mystic River are examples of Oscar contenders that refuse to leave you smiling once the credits begin to roll. Slumdog Millionaire stands out due to this. It is a movie that draws you in, makes you smile, and ends on an uplifting note. In a way, it's tough to believe a film that commences with such a brutal edge would eventually become so enriching and deliriously joyful. The opening sequence is pervaded with an ominous undertone, featuring scenes of torture taking place in the bowels of a drab police station. But Boyle's continuing sense of humour and decency buoys the moments of darkness and the eventual fairy-tale ending. Scotsman Boyle hasn't travelled to India with the intention of exposing the horrors of the slums at all... He headed to India to shoot an interesting story; one that could only take place in the ever-changing, ever-alive India. The conventional plot may not have succeeded in a more familiar setting. With Boyle's kinetic cinematic energy generating breakneck pace, and the true wonders of an exciting new culture, not to mention the stimulating and vivacious soundtrack, Slumdog Millionaire suddenly becomes sparky and vibrant. It ends predictably, but the journey to its conclusion is consistently extraordinary.

The entire cast shines. From the inexperienced Dev Patel to the veteran Bollywood star Anil Kapoor, talent is omnipresent. Patel is extremely appealing and likable as the protagonist. He's shy and soft-spoken, and we root for the poor little guy from the outset. Ayush Mahesh Khedekar and Tanay Hemant Chheda also excel as Jamal at different stages in his life. Freida Pinto is simply beguiling as Latika. Her chemistry with Dev Patel is extraordinary. Their emotionally-charged performances allow a viewer to become completely invested in their relationship...longing for them to be reunited, and becoming heartbroken when they're torn apart.

Anil Kapoor is remarkable as the smarmy, cunning game show host who patronises Jamal every chance he gets, and whose motives are ruled by his desire for ratings.

Madhur Mittal, Azharuddin Mohammed Ismail and Ashutosh Lobo Gajiwala are uniformly excellent as Salim at different points in his life.

Slumdog Millionaire contains all the necessary elements to ensure it's a winner in general release (although one of the studios set to distribute the film was unsure of its commercial worth and was considering a DTD release) as well as a major Oscar contender. It's superbly acted by an able cast, it's wonderfully photographed, and it's overflowing with rich, unconventional location work. This groundbreaking tour de force has as much heart as it does energy, and it ultimately avoids becoming as formulaic as its premise might have allowed in the hands of a lesser filmmaker. The actors' enthusiasm, coupled with Boyle's passionate exertions behind the scenes, generates pure magic out of Slumdog Millionaire. A story of coincidences, luck and eventually destiny, this is a classic, if slightly clichéd tale, and one that has rarely felt or looked so alive with such astonishing visual flair. Laden with satisfying doses of humour, romance and suspense, Slumdog Millionaire is one of the best and most crowd-pleasing films of 2008, and it thoroughly deserved the honour of receiving the Best Picture Oscar.

"Maybe it's written..."

"After I killed him, I dropped the gun in the Thames, washed the residue off me hands in the bathroom of a Burger King, and walked home to await instructions. Shortly thereafter the instructions came through - "Get the fuck out of London, you dumb fucks. Get to Bruges." I didn't even know where Bruges fucking was."

Highly acclaimed Irish playwright Martin McDonagh accomplishes his feature film debut with the fantastic In Bruges. McDonagh served as both writer and director for this poignant, powerful morality narrative that merges equal quantities of humour and pathos. It seems McDonagh has a fondness for unrelenting violence and brutality, not to mention vibrantly-drawn characters that are predominantly contemptible.
In Bruges is an extraordinarily well-written story that never loses you during its slightly excessive running time. It's an ardently character-driven drama that draws palpable influence from the works of Guy Ritchie and Quentin Tarantino. McDonagh himself even stated that Nicholas Roeg's 1973 film Don't Look Now was among his inspirations while penning his screenplay. On that note the film isn't for all tastes, in fact the violence is hard-hitting and blood is splashed around with sickening realism. There's also sufficient profanity to rival Martin Scorsese! Yet, despite the insalubrious nature of the film's proceedings there's a deep, expressionistic character study lying beneath.

McDonagh has always been talented in creating fascinating, multi-faceted stories in his successful Irish plays. Not to mention his dialogue is clever, engaging and frequently encompass very subtle humour. However, the playwright also displays competency as a director. His script was already extremely effective, but he provides additional assurance for a successful script-to-screen transformation by taking the helm. As a result of McDonagh's directing the film is suitably intense, compelling, entertaining yet also emotionally-affecting. The product is a terrific, provocative black comedy with surprising depth.

Ray: "Bruges is a shithole."
Ken: "Bruges is not a shithole."
Ray: "Bruges is a shithole."
Ken: "Ray, we only just got off the fucking train! Could we reserve judgement on Bruges until we've seen the fucking place?"

In Bruges is permeated with three indelible characters - four if you count the quaint Belgian medieval town in which the film takes place. McDonagh chooses for the film to track two Irish hit-men: Ken (Gleeson) and Ray (Farrell). Said Irishmen are ordered by gangster kingpin Harry (Fiennes) to leave London immediately when Ray's latest hit ends with devastating consequences. Harry sends the two to the well-preserved medieval town of Bruges until he provides further instructions. Haunted with recurring memories of what he did, Ray is profoundly unimpressed with the tourist attractions on offer and finds the town excruciatingly boring.
"If I grew up on a farm and was retarded, Bruges would impress me," Ray whinges. "But I didn't, so it doesn't."
Ken takes advantage of the trip as he spends his time revelling in the fascinating locations and serenity of the town. He acts as a father figure to Ray, trying to let him forget about the past by introducing him to the culture of Bruges. Their experiences progressively grow more surreal as they encounter weird locals, violent medieval art, and potential romance for Ray in the form of Chloë (Poésy) who's working on the production of a European art film featuring racist American midget Jimmy (Prentice).

The real strengths of In Bruges are abundant. First of all, McDonagh allots the film's first half to developing his characters. Moreover, the engaging dialogue creates thoroughly entertaining viewing. It's McDonagh's gift for language that makes this film distinctively succulent. The writer-director even integrates a scene from the classic Orson Welles 1958 movie Touch of Evil to signify where he's at in terms of crime drama, essentially warning a viewer about the rug that's about to be pulled out from under them. In Bruges doesn't concern the narrative logic espoused by television...it's about injuries inflicted on the human heart. McDonagh also peppers the happenings with a child's death, graphic violence, drug use, politically incorrect witticism, irreverent remarks and adequate profanities to fill numerous Rob Zombie movies. The edginess nonetheless is never affected. In Bruges is an energetically character-fuelled tale that seldom misses its mark.

The skilful merging of genres should also be lauded. Throughout the entire duration there's definite dark comedy emerging. This comedy is very subtle, such as the witty dialogue or the amusing scenarios McDonagh has plonked his protagonists into. The second half speeds things up slightly, leaving the audience with a shocking conclusion. It is a testament to McDonagh's screenwriting that such plentiful cleverness never bogs the film into being a self-reflexive intellectual goof. Far from it, in fact. Anchored by Carter Burwell's magnificently melancholy score, In Bruges is an emotional and pungent drama/comedy complete with a lean script and lurid characters. The recurring motif of a fairy-tale is also extremely effective. A viewer should easily find themselves immersed in McDonagh's incredible world, and at the end you'll be so emotionally attached that you'll be left wanting more. This is quality filmmaking, and this standard is rarely seen in an ocean of contemporary tongue-tied Hollywood claptraps.

However it could have done with a trim. It's never boring and you'll be sad when it's over, but it still sometimes feels a tad excessive. Also, it's sometimes hard to suspend your disbelief. Like wondering when the cops will show up during a ballet of bullets, or when someone leaps off a bell tower. Any sirens? Not at all. What about someone driving a boat that doesn't appear to mind when a gun-shot is discharged and a passenger is lethally wounded? A train stopping for a police check in an isolated spot where there couldn't possibly be roads? Silly stuff for sure...still, you'll be entertained enough to overlook this.

At the centre of the film, the performances are absolutely remarkable. Colin Farrell redeems himself for all prior misdoings. After misfiring in such films as Alexander, it was a perfect move to team him up with McDonagh. Farrell's acting is so convincing that words fail me. He competently submerges himself into the character. The emotional edge Farrell brings to his portrayal at times (through either narration or character interaction) is amazing. In one particular scene, Farrell breaks down about the accidental bloodshed in London. Also, Farrell at times is like a child who's reluctant to sight-see. This amusing persona keeps us interested in the character.
Brendan Gleeson also puts forth a believable portrayal. We've never seen Gleeson of this standard before. He's a great father figure for Farrell's Ray as well. At times Gleeson will almost have you in tears.
Ralph Fiennes doesn't appear (we do hear his voice a few times, though) until the second half. He's a psychopathic marvel as the ferocious, relentless gangster kingpin with little affection for anyone ("You're an inanimate fucking object!" he screams at his wife at one stage).
The chemistry between the leads is sensational. Gleeson and Farrell are the unfortunate odd couple who periodically seem displeased to be in each other's company. Then there's Fiennes who appears to like the protagonists, but favours his principals even higher.

"There's a Christmas tree somewhere in London with a bunch of presents underneath it that'll never be opened. And I thought, if I survive all of this, I'd go to that house, apologize to the mother there, and accept whatever punishment she chose for me. Prison...death...didn't matter. Because at least in prison and at least in death, you know, I wouldn't be in fuckin' Bruges. But then, like a flash, it came to me. And I realized, fuck man, maybe that's what hell is: the entire rest of eternity spent in fuckin' Bruges."

Overall, In Bruges is definitely among 2008's best movies. I doubt anyone expected Martin McDonagh's film debut to be this terrific. Similar to his renowned plays such as The Beauty Queen of Leenane, The Pillowman, etc, there's interesting characters and dialogue that's effortless to enjoy. The dialogue feels naturalistic and is loaded with profanity. Without the profanity the film couldn't have made the profound impact it was aiming for. We swear at work, we swear in everyday speech...it reveals character. For the most part we're meant to abhor these men due to their disgusting actions.
All in all the film is haunting and hypnotic in addition to being extremely good entertainment. As it is, McDonagh - with the help of an outstanding cast - has fashioned a knockout movie that I highly recommend.

"Hopeless emptiness. Now you've said it. Plenty of people are onto the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness."

Revolutionary Road, a cinematic adaptation of the novel by Richard Yates, is a compelling character study as well as a brutal, emotionally-straining examination of a marriage in turmoil that denounces the American Dream as a cruel charade. Director Sam Mendes, who had previously helmed the 1999 film American Beauty, returns to his roots in crafting this powerful suburban drama. Revolutionary Road is a truly extraordinary motion picture that harnesses spellbinding emotional discharge and enthralling repugnance, employing two talented and captivating lead actors (Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, reuniting in a movie for the first time since 1997's Titanic) to bring to the screen a masterwork of domestic isolation. Bearing in mind Mendes' penchant for polished hysteria (and considering the source material), it makes perfect sense for Revolutionary Road to linger on the bubbling pot of emotive poison splashing on the marriage of the protagonists. This is a beautifully mounted voyage of discomfort, scrutinising the forever expanding line that divides two individuals who've lost interest in open communication, and who are forced to preserve their decaying lifestyle and status in the name of matrimony. Those keen to reaffirm the transforming power of love may feel like slashing their wrists after watching this bleak drama during which love turns into loathing, defiance and tragedy.

Trying their best to conform to mid-1950's standards of social grace and marital comfort, Frank (DiCaprio) and April (Winslet) Wheeler have settled resentfully into stultifying suburbia but fantasise of reclaiming their lives as free spirits. They're living the American Dream; however their lives are trapped and unfulfilled. April's acting aspirations are sunk beyond salvaging, and Frank works everyday at a job he can barely tolerate. They begin coming apart at the seams, and endeavour to rejuvenate and rescue their marriage.

Concise, carefully placed flashbacks depict Frank and April in happier times, but now they have become stagnant and indignant...at least under the surface. Outwardly the couple are still trying to be happy, impulsively deciding to take the kids and move to Paris. However, a combination of mutual loathing and growing unrest (not to mention infidelity) threatens their lives, and they begin to turn on each other with cataclysmic consequences.

The callousness which pulls Frank and April apart is where Revolutionary Road hits the hardest. Playing with steadfast gender roles and suburban complacency, the film opts to portray the slow burn path, charitably exhibiting the erosion of spirit within the two bickering protagonists. Frank and April were united by cocktail-hour flirtation and promises that were eventually broken...and now the couple are left to cope with their messy lives. They've basically declared war on each other; April's pregnancy and Frank's possible new position (at a company he detests) is exercised as ammunition to unleash staggering diatribes against each other. Revolutionary Road is bursting with searing belligerent situations, but director Mendes never permits the discontent to blur into white noise. The film instead grips tighter with every passing scene, deepening the characterisation as Frank and April challenge their borders for the first time. They slowly come to the realisation that kids, a house in a typical neighbourhood, and prearranged domestic roles have transformed them into mere rats trapped inside a cage.

Frank and April aren't the only despondent ones (as we realise through subdued moments with supporting characters), yet their unhappiness is so immense they've no choice but to lay into each other. They pictured themselves as citified intellectuals, and treated their move to the suburbs (witnessed in a sole flashback) as a grand adventure. Seven years later, however, they've inhabited lives neither of them desired, but neither knows how to escape - Frank is stuck in a low-level position at a machine tooling company (the same company his father was an employee of for twenty years), and April is a lonesome and desolate housewife. They try and fail to keep disappointment at bay by pretending that - despite their suburban address, two small children and a picture window overlooking the perfectly manicured front lawn - they aren't like everyone else... But they are like everyone else. Moreover, they're crippled by the sense that they are superior to the excruciating banality they've fallen into. In order to escape this, their European dream is conceived. They ostensibly believe their troubles will recede in Paris, and that this move would prove they're not "just another American couple". April perfectly explains this at one stage: "Our whole existence here is based on this great premise that we're...special. And superior to the whole thing. But we're not. We're just like everyone else. Look at us, we've bought into the same ridiculous delusion...this idea that you have to resign from life and settle down the moment you have children. And we've been punishing each other for it."

"I wanted IN. I just wanted us to live again. For years I thought we've shared this secret that we would be wonderful in the world. I don't know exactly how, but just the possibility kept me hoping. How pathetic is that? So stupid. To put all your hopes in a promise that was never made. Frank knows what he wants, he found his place, he's just fine. Married, two kids, it should be enough. It is for him. And he's right; we were never special or destined for anything at all."

Revolutionary Road is the type of novel Hollywood tends to botch, mainly on account of the story constantly taking place inside the heads of its characters, because the Wheelers aren't particularly affable, and because pessimism without obvious salvation is a tough sell. Considering that the story spends large sections inside the characters' heads, it's remarkable how well Mr. Mendes' motion picture adaptation is able to encapsulate the same truths about the characters. Small gestures are hugely significant, and complete sequences of emotions wash across a face within seconds. All the actors work magnificently to externalise a story all about what's never said. Frank and April lay it all out in their screaming brawls, but the true story lies within the moment Frank's face breaks during their fight, or the sceptically even tone in April's voice when she organises breakfast for him the morning after a major blow-out. In a supporting role, Michael Shannon plays John; the formerly institutionalised son of the Wheeler's realtor. Shannon (nominated for an Oscar) adds a unique energy to the movie, portraying the sole clear thinker of the story. He's a man entwined in mental illness, yet he perceives Frank and April for who they truly are. With a mere two sequences in which he features in, Shannon enriches the film with his cracked mischief, prodding the Wheeler discomfort to detonation.

With master cinematographer Roger Deakins, Mendes has fastidiously recreated suburban Connecticut of the 1950s. Production values are truly astonishing - from the immaculate costumes (drab grey suits & hats for the men, plain housewife clothing for the women) to the spot-on room decoration that creates a uniquely '50s atmosphere. The mood is even evoked through both subtle and obvious characteristics (think cigarettes). It's the equivalent of witnessing the decade through snapshots or newsreel footage. Multiple images are extremely remarkable, and shall forever remain embedded in my memory.

The screenplay (adapted by Justin Haythe) is teeming with dialogue cleverly pervaded by authentic '50s language, including adjectives (like "swell" and "quaint") and telephone numbers beginning with "Klondike 5". The dialogue is extremely well-written, delivered by a wonderful selection of actors. However, the screenplay is undermined by its abridged nature. Following a masterful prologue introducing Frank and April, the script fasts forward several years and the couple are suddenly married. Furthermore, the Wheeler offspring simply appear without an appropriate introduction, and play an unrealistically minor role in the family. The script leaves too many questions about what's behind these unhappy people, but in any case with these top-notch actors it's fairly possible to overlook this fault.

Thomas Newman's score is perhaps most spellbinding. It further establishes the impeccable '50s-style atmosphere and suitably mesmerises during the dramatic arguments. The poignant main theme (recurringly played at various points throughout the movie) is able to move a viewer to tears, especially towards the end when the combination of music and first-rate acting is extraordinary. Without Newman's eloquent music, Revolutionary Road wouldn't be half as powerful. In truth, moments devoid of music occasionally fail to engage.

"You want to play house you got to have a job. You want to play nice house, very sweet house, you got to have a job you don't like."

With its morbid and incisive portrait of a suburban marriage, Revolutionary Road perhaps isn't the onscreen reunion of Kate and Leo that most moviegoers had fantasised about. For the actors, however, it's a challenge - both stars take an audacious leap into characterisations that are emotionally raw and often alienating. They are people we may loathe as chilly and condescending, but we can nevertheless relate to them as representations of unfulfilled yearnings. DiCaprio and Winslet construct a touching portrait of a couple splitting at the seams. Both performers impart a dire quality with minimal moves; internalising the repentance and fury using excellent facial contortions. We are offered little about the marriage of Frank and April preceding their relocation to the cruelly named Revolutionary Road, yet it may not have truly existed either.

Winslet's performance is consistently on target. DiCaprio is far more memorable, though, mostly on account of his commanding screen presence and the believable rage exhibited throughout the main argument scene. It's reasonably effortless to play one emotion...in this film, however, DiCaprio is able to play several at once - hurt, furious, betrayed, humiliated - with raw vulnerability. The actors throttle the pain gently, saving themselves for eruptions of both love and hate, interpreting a marriage assembled on a fleeting memory of passion that flew the coop long ago.

"You're just some guy who made me laugh at a party once."

Completing the Titanic reunion is Kathy Bates, whose work as the Wheeler's realtor is utterly stunning. She perfectly embodies the characteristics we associate with this type of character, such as the love for chatting about dilemmas with a fellow woman and the intricate clothing with not a hair out of place.

Michael Shannon (previously mentioned) earned a Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination for his brilliant and intriguing portrayal as the only one unafraid to speak the truth. He's a commanding scene stealer, and as he provokes Frank and April to confront the truth he never treads a foot wrong.
Other supporting actors make reasonably brief appearances, for instance Dylan Baker as an employee of the machine tooling company.

In the commercial movie marketplace, thematic dramas such as Revolutionary Road are a tough sell. Granted, this won't generate impressive box office receipts and it doesn't offer frivolous entertainment. Revolutionary Road instead offers two fantastic stars surpassing themselves (especially during those fierce confrontational scenes when their grievances turn corrosive) and first-rate filmmaking. The result, while unfortunately missing out on various deserving Oscar nominations, is another Sam Mendes masterpiece - definitely among the best films of 2008. This is a rare classy literary adaptation infused with a beating heart, and it reaches a summit of dramatic gratification and pure emotional mutilation that's utterly mesmerising. According to the women who lived during the mid-1950s, cultural markers (movies, TV, radio, advertisements) assured them happiness in domestic servitude...but they weren't happy at all. One could consider Revolutionary Road a tribute to those women.

"I let them down. I let down my friends, I let down my country, and worst of all I let down our system of government, and the dreams of all those young people that ought to get into government but now they think; 'Oh it's all too corrupt and the rest'. Yeah... I let the American people down. And I'm gonna have to carry that burden with me for the rest of my life. My political life is over."

Frost/Nixon is Ron Howard's cinematic adaptation of Peter Morgan's hugely successful Broadway play of the same name. Morgan (who also penned the screenplay for this motion picture appropriation) based his production on the series of television interviews featuring British journalist David Frost and disgraced former president Richard Nixon (conducted in 1977). Judging from this premise, one would likely expect a dry, historical and contrived drama... But Frost/Nixon is instead a delicious contest of wits, complemented with top-notch acting and a narrative which is both gripping and dramatic even despite the foregone conclusion. Director Howard has crafted a powerful, compelling duel involving two iconic figures, which (in spite of liberties taken with well-known facts) offers multiple hard-earned truths and an intricate portrait of one of the most controversial Presidents in American history. It'd be easy to demonise Nixon, especially in today's political climate, but the makers circumvent this lazy pathway. Howard and screenwriter Morgan have transformed this fascinating tale into something more than an embellished re-telling of modern history. Nominated for five Oscars (Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Editing and Best Director), Frost/Nixon can definitely be counted alongside 2008's best films.

There's so much more to this dramatisation of Frost's televised interviews with Nixon in '77 than one would realise. Beginning with the President's resignation after the Watergate fiasco, the film tracks Frost as he puts his entire life and career on the line to execute the greatest television accomplishment of his career. Howard's picture also pays close attention to the power plays and behind-the-scenes machinations that went into making these interviews which became the most-watched in TV history at that time.

The movie opens in August 1974, presenting a series of news reports and interviews as United States President Richard Nixon (Langella) announces his resignation. For the better part of three years, he remained in exile, disgraced by the Watergate conspiracy which brought down his presidency. Up until 1977, Nixon shunned the media and refused to give interviews. But in this year, David Frost (Sheen), a British talk show host longing to return to his glory days, is given the chance of a lifetime when Nixon agrees to appear in a series of interviews regarding aspects of his presidency. For Nixon, these interviews are seen as an opportunity to rehabilitate his image in the eyes of the American people, and gambled that Frost would only lob him softballs. David Frost, however, perceived the interviews as a chance to establish his credibility and make headlines, especially if he could manage to coax an apology or an admission of guilt out of the former US President. Gathering a squad of investigators (portrayed by Macfadyen, Rockwell and Platt), Frost begins planning his verbal offensive. As the cameras began to roll, a charged battle of wits ensued. Frost finds Nixon (also known to many as Tricky Dick) a shrewd man capable of controlling any room he enters with aplomb. After three catastrophic interview days, Frost fears ruin, but it was in the final day that the foppish interviewer managed to force a moment of honesty in which Nixon gave the confession and apology the public hungered for.

"You have to set up that he has an anti-democratic personality. There's a reason they call him Tricky Dick."

In adapting his own play (not an overly difficult job, as this was a very cinematic script to begin with), screenwriter Morgan wisely converts the direct-to-audience monologues into documentary-style direct-to-camera interviews. Ron Howard is not a director one might consider for this type of material, but he navigates Morgan's script with proficiency and precision. The result is this crisp motion picture; a literate, riveting vocal tango that successfully examines a well-worn historical footprint without ever feeling fatigued. The power of the close-up is something Howard evidently appreciates, and this sole factor alone deems this cinematic adaptation necessary. On stage, small details aren't visible. On film, the camera can capture every brilliant facial expression which conveys a story in itself. It's Howard's willingness to let his camera linger and capture every bead of sweat that affords Frost/Nixon a great deal of its impact. He guides the film with an inspired smoothness that renders the picture quite digestible, even despite the labyrinthine historical backdrop of Watergate which is not sufficiently explained (indeed, one will want to constantly pause the film in order to research facets of the Watergate cover-up, and it will only run incredibly smoothly to an audience with extensive knowledge on the topic).

Approximately 50% of the picture is recreated material from the 1977 interviews, which have been shifted, shaped, and edited to augment the drama. Obviously, a great deal had to be cut given that the broadcasted version of the interviews spanned about six hours (with several additional hours of footage not shown). Howard wisely focuses on the segments that are most remembered and/or that made history. The verbose, dynamite interview portion makes up the film's final hour, and the psychological nuance is simply spellbinding. Most commendable is Howard's ability to engage without much assistance from Hans Zimmer's music. It's during the film's concluding moments in particular (as Frost at last decides to take the interview seriously) that director Howard ratchets up the intensity, slamming home his movie's place in the 2008 Oscar race. Howard's extraordinary work earned him an Academy Award nomination.

In one of the film's most dramatically potent scenes, Nixon calls Frost in his hotel room late at night on the eve of their final on-camera confrontation. For this scene, Frost is depressed over the failure of the interviews thus far, and Nixon has downed a few drinks. As the former President begins to talk, he starts drawing parallels between his inquisitor and himself in regards to their backgrounds and struggles. During this scene he's more or less taunting Frost...but Nixon's motivations are brilliantly vague. Morgan's exceptional screenplay suggests that Nixon was pushing Frost to amp it up...that somewhere deep inside his dark psyche, Nixon wanted to confess, and when he realised that Frost wasn't working hard enough to elicit this confession from him, he pushed the naïve talk show host. According to many sources, this phone conversation is pure fiction...but at least it's compelling fiction.

Peter Morgan's script does deviate from reality on several occasions, and there are a few major instances worth mentioning. Nixon's controversial view on presidential power ("When the President does it, that means it's not illegal!") was not part of the Watergate interview (this was apparently uttered in an earlier interview) as portrayed here. Reportedly, the climactic Watergate interview was also not interrupted in exactly the manner depicted in the film. Granted, it'd be impossible for Morgan's Oscar-nominated script to be completely accurate, but the movie would be superior if the screenwriter didn't take these particular liberties.

"You have no idea how fortunate that makes you, liking people. Being liked. Having that facility. That lightness, that charm. I don't have it, I never did."

Truly a tale of two verbal gladiators facing a critical moment of professional and personal candour, Howard's film is right at home with Frost and Nixon as they enter the gladiatorial arena of public scrutiny and face off over several days. The smartest creative decision was retaining Michael Sheen as Frost and Frank Langella (who won a Tony for his performance in the play) as Nixon. Both are magnificent, and make for absolutely riveting opponents. These actors never try to mimic the real Frost and Nixon, but to instead embody their respective characters through sheer force of performance.
While there are issues with Frank Langella's physical appearance as Tricky Dick, his body language is truly mesmerising, and he creates a Nixon of media charisma who's constantly at war with his abrasive instincts. The character is not predicated on surface imitation or caricature. Instead, Langella undergoes an amazing transformation during the film. Especially during the interviews, we feel as if we're seeing Nixon...not an impersonation. In order to make his acting easier, Langella never broke from character on-set and asked the crew to call him "Mr. President". He whole-heartedly deserved the Oscar nomination for Best Actor.
It's extremely tragic that Michael Sheen wasn't given any recognition at the Oscars. The actor's performance is every bit as brilliant as Langella's. Sheen also transforms himself, but his direction is one of cocktail-hour discontent as his character of Frost confronts his own issues of integrity and financial pressure. He portrays David Frost as a playboy and as a dabbler; he's obsessed with celebrity culture and disinterested in politics. Thankfully, Sheen possesses the boyish charm to effectively pull this off and present Frost in the classic role of the underdog. Frost's naiveté allows him to be outmatched in the early rounds of the vocal gladiatorial match, but Nixon's overconfidence ultimately paves the way for his own downfall.

The supporting cast is filled with some of the best character actors working today, such as the impeccable Kevin Bacon as Nixon's post-resignation chief of staff Jack Brennan. Playing David Frost's team of researchers is Sam Rockwell, Matthew Macfadyen, and Oliver Platt, all of which are uniformly superb. Rebecca Hall (who earned a Golden Globe nomination for her role in Woody Allen's Vicky Cristina Barcelona, also released in 2008) is first-rate as Caroline Cushing, Frost's love interest.

The tone of Frost/Nixon is extremely staid, as befits a movie covering this subject matter, yet there are compelling dramatic currents beneath the sometimes calm surface. This is a gripping, unrelenting motion picture that convincingly travels back in time and recalls (albeit imperfectly) how a national nightmare finally faded. Movies for mature adults these days are few and far between, so when a film as stimulating, witty, and smart as Frost/Nixon is released, attention should be paid. Equal parts entertaining and engrossing, masterfully acted, excellently directed and exceptionally well-written, Frost/Nixon is one of the most extraordinary films of 2008; a modern masterpiece laced with tension and potent human drama.

"Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are not alone."

Written and directed by John Patrick Shanley, Doubt - an expert screen adaptation of Shanley's own Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award winning play - is a complex and uneasy moral thriller shaped by words and characters that relays a story of doubt and certainty in direct conflict. This intellectually and emotionally fatiguing experience is a drama of the highest calibre which concerns a nun and a priest caught on opposite sides of an alleged scandal. This sets in motion an inquisition of morals, values, character, and faith - not just faith in God, but in themselves as well. It's also a tale that enters a moral quagmire from which it never fully emerges. Films often provide resolution and catharsis, but these are qualities rarely uncovered in real life situations, and this is mirrored in Shanley's screenplay. With enough dramatic meat to chew on for days, one is likely to finish watching Doubt pondering the plethora of evidence found within the movie but will be no closer to truth than any of the characters. With assured direction, a superior script, and staggering performances, Doubt isn't a comfortable experience, but it's certainly an engrossing one.

Set during the mid-60s at a Catholic School in New York, Doubt centres on the charismatic Father Flynn (Hoffman) and the strict, poisonous Sister Aloysius (Streep). When the naïve young Sister James (Adams) communicates to Sister Aloysius her guilt-inducing suspicions about the possibly inappropriate bond developing between Father Flynn and the school's sole African American child (Foster), the elder nun embarks on an unrelenting personal crusade to expose the truth. Without a single shred of evidence to corroborate her suspicions, Sister Aloysius locks in a battle of wills with Father Flynn as his sanctity and integrity as a priest is brought into question. Based on merely circumstantial evidence and her innate distrust of Flynn, Sister Aloysius first obliquely then directly accuses him of sexually abusing the boy.

The fundamental question at the core of Doubt relates to the nature of the relationship between Father Flynn and Donald Miller (the African American boy). There are several possibilities, and Shanley supplies evidence to support virtually every one of them. Shanley doesn't stack the deck and, crucially, he refuses to present the definitive truth. (Would anyone expect anything different from a movie titled Doubt?) The picture is also set in an era when priests were trusted implicitly but during which such trust was abused in certain cases (according to court cases, news reports, etc).

Lensed with arresting autumnal weight by cinematographer Roger Deakins, Doubt generates an overpowering religious grip immediately, taking the viewer into a Catholic church divided where the line of power was drawn only by gender. Shanley's feature is thinly plotted and is marred by the occasional narrative lull, but it's nonetheless enthralling. Doubt asks a simple question: did Flynn molest the boy? Writer-director Shanley employs the hook of curiosity to keep an audience riveted as the script examines the bigger picture, tackling the responsibility of power and the struggle of faith. This is packaged elegantly, but not easily. Shanley is wise enough to keep building up apprehension as Aloysius insists herself further into the fray, and while Flynn guards his innocence with less power and more desperation as the conclusion draws nearer (an ending which presents new and enduring conundrums).

"You just want things to be resolved so you can have simplicity back."

Red herrings are plentiful in Doubt. Sharp framing as well as other sly cinematic devices are employed to spawn an aura of suspicion surrounding everything. Curiosity is piqued, creating a feeling of discomfort in which the viewer questions every little detail. What did that facial expression mean? Why did that character say that the way he said it? Different viewers can process this information in different ways and reach a different conclusion. This is the beauty of the screenplay and the masterful acting - it does not dictate, but instead asks each viewer to draw their own conclusions. Some may call this approach unsatisfying and manipulative...this reviewer calls it brilliant. Doubt does falter in one aspect, however. Religious allegories are overused, and eventually become intrusive. For instance, Aloysius' light bulb dies during a verbal gladiatorial match and the weather radically changes from time to time.

The world of Doubt is excellently enclosed, and separate from goings-on beyond the boundaries of this Catholic School. With a few minor exceptions, the film plays out entirely within this primary location. It certainly helps that production values are top-notch and the atmosphere is impeccably established. Deakins' cinematography is particularly mesmerising, while Howard Shore's brilliantly gentle, sparsely-used score is the icing on the cake. Shanley is skilled enough to ensure music is an ancillary device to generate power as well...the camerawork and the stellar cast are his primary tools.

Father Flynn: You haven't the slightest proof of anything!
Sister Aloysius: "But I have my certainty! And armed with that, I will go to your last parish, and the one before that if necessary. I'll find a parent."

To say the acting in Doubt is first-rate could be perceived as an insult; the work here is perfection. This is a showcase for the four main actors, all of which were nominated for Academy Awards.
Doubt features yet another superlative performance courtesy of Meryl Streep. The actress always takes the time to understand every character she plays. As Sister Aloysius, Streep is in fine form. She vanishes into her role, and everything - including posture, body language, mannerisms, physical appearance, accent, etc - is nailed by the award-winning actress. Philip Seymour Hoffman is one of the very few actors capable of holding his own in a scene with Streep, and that's precisely what he does. His portrayal of Father Flynn is strong and self-assured, displaying compassion and depth while his characterisation also keeps us wondering. Streep and Hoffman in particular make the film's runtime fly by with their spellbinding vocal combat, yet the interactions involving the supporting cast are equally mesmeric.

Caught in the middle of the verbal battle between the two protagonists is Amy Adams as Sister James. Shanley extracts a truly remarkable performance from Adams. Her role is less showy and more subdued, displaying credible wisdom and despair. The fourth brilliant performance is that of Viola Davis, who is simply a marvel during her 10-minute appearance. She plays the extremely minor role of Donald Miller's mother with such courage and candour that she changes the complexion of the story during the course of ten minutes.

Doubt is a powerful, provocative motion picture...undoubtedly one of the greatest movies of 2008. Vehemently a cautionary tale, it warns of the dangers of blindly following unsupported assumptions as well as displaying the serious outcomes of following such assumptions. Those who enjoy moral dramas not wrapped up in absolutes will adore mulling over what they've seen; ultimately unable to determine the best conclusion. Writer-director John Patrick Shanley's goal was to foster doubt, and he has succeeded tremendously.

"I'm writing a story. I work for the National Desk okay, and it's gonna run tomorrow, and it's gonna say among other things that you are a CIA operative and that you went on a mission, a fact-finding mission to Venezuela."

Nothing But the Truth is rock-solid entertainment devised by adults, starring adults, and intended for adults. The opening moments of this riveting journalism drama emphasise that it's merely inspired by (but not based on) a true story. The plot is a moderate reworking of an event that occurred in 2005 - New York Times reporter Judith Miller served time in gaol for refusing to reveal her source for a story that exposed the identity of CIA operative Valerie Plame. For Nothing But the Truth, details of this true story have been altered (Iraq is changed to Venezuela, 9/11 is changed to an attempted Presidential assassination), but the broad strokes are there. Writer-director Rod Lurie employs the true story's basic elements to craft this compelling political thriller. And in doing so, Lurie has created a powerful examination of the fragility of Constitutional rights as well as the consequences of journalistic integrity. In a contemporary cinematic climate of kid-friendly and action-drenched multiplexes, Nothing But the Truth stands out as something rare - a top-flight drama for grownups. One of the most overlooked and unappreciated movies of 2008, this is an intelligent motion picture which centres on smart characters.

In this loose retelling of the 2005 Miller/Plame affair, an ambitious Washington journalist named Rachel Armstrong (Beckinsale) writes an article that divulges incriminating evidence about the United States government. This article also reveals that a local suburban woman named Erica Van Doren (Farmiga) is a covert CIA operative. The axe falls immediately - Rachel's story triggers a swift reaction from the government, who demand to know who gave the reporter confidential information. However Rachel refuses to reveal the identity of her source, and consequently she's thrown in gaol by smooth-talking US prosecutor Patton Dubois (Dillon). As days turn into weeks, and weeks into months, Rachel refuses to talk, which brings about dire consequences for herself and her family.

Director Lurie manages to keep the gripping narrative throttling forward at a brisk pace. The speed and force with which the government come down upon Rachel is as abrupt and startling to the characters as it is to a viewer. As the plot progresses, Lurie continually adds more nuance while also offering a thoughtful commentary on several things - the fleeting media attention for Rachel's plight, the shifting public perception of the media, and even sexism (in the form of criticism against Rachel for remaining in gaol instead of being with her son). These elements culminate in a terrific speech delivered by Rachel's attorney (Alda) at a US Supreme Court hearing. Nothing But the Truth concentrates on Rachel's dilemma while simultaneously displaying the aftershock for CIA agent Erica Van Doren. As Erica is continually grilled by her superiors (who believe that she is either the leak or has carelessly disclosed her identity) and Rachel is threatened with prison time, it becomes possible to sympathise with both of these women.

Lurie's screenplay deviates considerably from the Miller/Plame affair that inspired the film in order to critique the American government and a modern society. One of the picture's strongest points is that those unfamiliar with the real-life story will be easily sucked into the film's narrative, and the movie doesn't contain many exaggerations to distract those acquainted with the story. The filming style adopted by Lurie and cinematographer Alik Skharov is tremendously gritty, and the immediacy is downright staggering from time to time. The thoughtful script is also well-written - heated conversations between the characters are intense instead of over-the-top - and the central narrative is wrapped up with a clever, unexpected plot twist. The film is sharply edited thanks to editor Sarah Boyd as well, and everything is topped off with a powerful, evocative score courtesy of Larry Groupé. Nothing But the Truth has its faults - it's underwritten (more character development would've been beneficial), the politics of the knotty case are oversimplified, and the subplot about Rachel's husband is a dead end (both emotionally and structurally) - but it's nevertheless a masterful effort, and these faults aren't enough to outweigh its abundance of strengths.

One of the strongest points of Nothing But the Truth is the cast, led by Kate Beckinsale who submits one of the best performances of her career. Through Beckinsale we can see Rachel Armstrong's ambition as well as her love for her son, and her shock and outrage at the treatment the FBI subjects her to. Director Lurie relies a lot on close-ups, and this style is advantageous because the myriad of emotions conveyed by Beckinsale are brought out.
As the explosive CIA operative Erica Van Doren, Vera Farmiga is downright excellent. The conviction and indignation that Farmiga manages to bring to her character is startling. Matt Dillon is impeccably nuanced as Patton Dubois. Dillon's restraint in the role (he never plays Dubois as an antagonist) makes it easier to see things from his perspective.
The supporting cast is equally remarkable. Angela Bassett conveys grave authority in her role as Rachel's editor, while Noah Wyle does an excellent job as the newspaper's hot-headed legal counsel. Alan Alda is terrific as the overly dapper but committed attorney, bringing a great degree of gravitas to this challenging role. Meanwhile, David Schwimmer submits understated, engaging work as Rachel's embittered husband.

Unjustly ignored during its brief period in theatres, Nothing But the Truth is a crisply-shot political thriller that's definitely worth checking out.

"Welcome to Australia!"

Epic in the truest sense, Baz Luhrmann's much-hyped Australia is a film that exhilarates with its grand themes and physical grandeur. Fundamentally the Australian response to classic war epics like Gone with the Wind and Lawrence of Arabia, Luhrmann's majestic motion picture is to date the most expensive Australian production in the country's history (with the budget rumoured to have elevated to about AU$160 million). Australia is Baz Luhrmann's ambitious, large-scale vision. The filmmaker has taken heed of his own mantra from Strictly Ballroom - that a life lived in fear is a life half lived. Luhrmann has gone for broke and the product, while true to his vision (which he passionately strived to accomplish over several gruelling years), will undoubtedly divide opinions. The film is marvellously shot and competently crafted (every cent of its budget appears on-screen); however it's also somewhat overlong and periodically ponderous. But bloody oath - Australia is a magnificent movie and an engrossing experience.

The tremendous hype preceding the film's eventual release is practically the ocker counterpart of the hype which engulfed the lead-up to The Dark Knight. The Australian tourist industry had hoped for Luhrmann's film to act as an effective tourism vehicle. The expectations for the movie were beyond preposterous. As much as it pains me to say, Australia doesn't entirely live up to its hype and it isn't an instant classic. To a degree it's fairly disappointing if you consider the continuous delays, its problematic production period, and Luhrmann's complete commitment to his project. But I kid you not - regardless of the slightly disappointing result, Australia is dead set one of the best Australian films of all time. Strewth.

Without being the second coming, Luhrmann's lavish saga of another two star-crossed lovers is everything he always promised - a sweeping, extravagant epic reminiscent of Gone with the Wind and Lawrence of Arabia with a hint of Howard Hawks' Red River. Laughs, tears, action, drama and visual splendour flourish in this genuinely stirring homage to classic war epics. Fear not - despite being a love story set against the backdrop of World War II, Australia never even remotely attempts to emulate Michael Bay's atrocious Pearl Harbor (and it's all the better for it). The script (constructed by Luhrmann with writing mates Stuart Beattie, Ronald Harwood and Richard Flanagan) is a rich tucker bag containing an anti-war message, thematic material about the Stolen Generations, and an abundance of typically Australian material.

Set within a two-year period between 1939 and 1941, Australia chronicles the escapades of two lovers in rural outback Australia. Lady Sarah Ashley (Kidman) becomes suspicious of her husband's stalling with the selling of their newest asset; a property known as Faraway Downs in Australia. Lady Ashley departs from England, bound for the Northern Territory to take matters into her own hands. Upon arrival in Darwin she is met by an unnamed man merely referred to as The Drover (Jackman). During an overland journey to Faraway Downs, the two develop a mutual dislike for each other (their arguing and the apparent culture clashes evoke memories of such films as The African Queen and Rooster Cogburn). Following an unexpected series of events, it's revealed that ruthless station manager Neil Fletcher (Wenham) is plotting with cattle baron King Carney (Brown) to acquire and take control of Faraway Downs. With the intention of saving her inherited property, The Drover agrees to help Sarah drive 1500 heads of cattle across the treacherous, desolate desert terrain to Darwin where they will be sold to the army. However, their herd of cattle must reach Darwin before Carney can sell his herd. In the meantime, the Japanese forces begin mobilising for the devastating attack on Darwin.

Beautifully implemented and absolutely breathtaking in scope, Australia is the definitive feather in Baz Luhrmann's filmmaking cap. Forget Romeo + Juliet, Strictly Ballroom and the surprisingly mediocre Moulin Rouge! - this is the one Baz will be remembered for. Whether Australia is deemed an epic flop or an epic masterpiece, it's still history in the making.
This much-stalled project initially starred Russell Crowe, and then Heath Ledger took the leading role before Hugh Jackman was eventually cast. This was just the first in an extensive succession of quandaries that inundated Australia's production prior to it finally reaching the big screen. Filming was delayed a few times, and then the principal photography period ran for about nine months. As the marketing campaign commenced mid-2008, delicious stories were abundant in relation to the editing process. Despite almost a year of post-production, Luhrmann and his team had to race against time in order to have the film delivered on time for its world premiere. In fact, Luhrmann applied the definitive touches merely days ahead of the premiere. Surprisingly, Australia looks incontestably assured on-screen.

Only dragging every so often during the 165-minute journey, Luhrmann's elaborate Aussie postcard is truly a marvellous visual feast to behold. Luhrmann predominantly avoids overusing CGI. He reserves most of the more expensive special effects for the spectacular bombing of Darwin. For its budget, the film delivers solid CGI. Luhrmann accomplishes the best results, though, from shooting to scale on location. The cattle driving sequences (utilising genuine animals as opposed to computer-generated cows) are reminiscent of the John Wayne golden years (think Red River or The Cowboys).

As we've naturally come to expect from Baz, the director makes maximum use of music. David Hirschfelder's marvellous score is poetic and atmospheric. It suits the mind-blowing cinematography and it perfectly encapsulates the ruggedness of the outback. Not only is Hirschfelder's score included, though... It's a commendable leap of cinematic faith to weave into this rich story the most familiar song from The Wizard of Oz - i.e. Somewhere over the Rainbow. Use of this song makes it an iconic and emblematic glue for the cultures and the dreams of the characters. For my money, this is the film's most sophisticated and complex element; it's a wonderful piece of creative brio. Crikey, it's bloody effective.

Hugh Jackman and Nicole Kidman may be heralded as the film's primary stars, but the actual star of this sprawling epic is the landscape it dotingly illustrates. It's enthralling to witness the majesty of a herd of wild brumbies galloping across the dusty plains... Or stampeding cattle trotting across the barren red earth; pounding hoofs melded with the intense percussion of Hirshfelder's arresting music. The stunning rock formations, the scorched desert, the flocks of hopping kangaroos, the contrasting waterways, and the magnificent sunsets are all shot to perfection by Mandy Walker. Catherine Martin's meticulousness in the costumes and production design is alluring and impressive. A viewer becomes absorbed by the power of the land and the mystical virtues it emanates. Towards the film's conclusion, the majestic scope of Baz's vision never impairs the story. He remembers Australia is all about a solid story, and it's not just a visual exercise. He finds the perfect balance (Terence Malick should take notes).

Luhrmann's three-hour Aussie tourism commercial stars almost every Australian actor that's still working. At centre stage, Jackman and Kidman are an ideal couple. Hugh Jackman exudes charisma and charm, never striking an incorrect posture and never delivering a dud line. With shirt on or off, the actor represents the quintessential Australian bloke...he's the Drover With No Name.
Nicole Kidman delivers her finest performance to date as the snooty upper-class English aristocrat. But the chemistry between Kidman and Jackman is underwhelming. Their spontaneous dance in the outback and kiss in the rain seem merely perfunctory for the sake of a love story. However as individual actors, their respective character portrayals are credible and stunning.
Young twelve-year-old Brandon Walters as young Nullah is indeed a rare treat. It is his voice that tells the story behind Australia - encompassing topics like spirituality, greed, discrimination, love and war. Walters is wholly believable in the role. David Wenham is terrifically sinister and suitably menacing as the villain. Bryan Brown makes an appearance as the scheming King Carney. Also in the cast are such Aussie actors as John Jarratt, Ben Mendelsohn, Barry Otto, Bill Hunter and Bruce Spence. All appear reasonably briefly, but they're recognisable and uniformly excellent. However the performances from the lesser known actors are wonderful revelations.

There are a number of missteps, though. At a mammoth 165 minutes it at times seems like a work-in-progress. Even with the endless edits and the prolonged post-production period, there is a lot of narrative flab. Then again, both Gone with the Wind and Lawrence of Arabia suffered similarly from being narratively inept at times. It isn't necessarily boring, but there's a lot of excess. The ending is also contrived and is added for the sake of a happy ending. It's quite unsatisfying, and shows Baz isn't willing to pull the rug out from underneath his unsuspectingly audience. For the final fifteen minutes he plays it safe, which is slightly detrimental.
In addition, Baz overuses slow motion. In all likelihood, the disproportionate amount of slo-mo extends the movie's runtime by approximately half an hour. A majority of the sweeping slo-mo shots of the Australian outback reek of self-indulgence.

Australia has opened to an extraordinarily tough reception. The film will unquestionably be a difficult international sell. Aussie clichés and slang are in large supply. The thematic material may also throw an international audience. The stolen generations, racial tension, and Aboriginal Dreamtime are among the topics weaved into the story. Nulla even uses Aboriginal "magic" at times which may appear silly to those unfamiliar with Aboriginal history. This reviewer abhors the bloody drongos who dislike the film purely for its Aussie themes. You've gotta give it a fair go.

All things considered, Baz Luhrmann's Australia is a stirring ode to his home country that unites kangaroos, didgeridoos, the outback, a cattle drive, Japanese air raids and Hugh Jackman's abs. This anxiously anticipated film isn't a perfect 5-star tour de force, but it certainly isn't the below-average failure several people have dreaded. The detail which permeates Luhrmann's project is staggering, and probably impossible to fully appreciate upon a first viewing. As the credits roll, we take with us the breathtaking imagery of a distinct, vast land, as well as the unforgettable face of an innocent boy whose culture is slowly growing invisible. A lot of people are going to hate the movie, and to an extent their hatred is justified. I, however, respectfully disagree - Australia is a true blue, fair dinkum Aussie masterpiece. You can relax and get some sleep now, Baz. You did it.

The Drover: "They keep out of my way, and I keep out of theirs. That's the way it is."
Lady Sarah Ashley: "Just because it is...doesn't mean it should be".

"A lot of people told me that I'd never wrestle again and that's all I do. You know, if you live hard and play hard and you burn the candle at both ends, you pay the price for it. You know in this life you can loose everything you love, everything that loves you. Now I don't hear as good as I used to and I forget stuff and I aint as pretty as I used to be but god damn it I'm still standing here and I'm The Ram. As times goes by, as times goes by, they say "he's washed up", "he's finished" , "he's a loser", "he's all through". You know what? The only one that's going to tell me when I'm through doing my thing is you people here."

A gritty, compelling character study fuelled by passionate performances, The Wrestler signals a stunning comeback for Darren Aronofsky. The director, whose prior movies have been visually experimental, is surprising here in his superficial restraint - relinquishing the overwrought stylisation he's recognised for in order to helm a raw, straightforward human drama permeated with emotion. The Wrestler is a true tragedy. It aims to bruise the soul and achieves this, primarily because it features a superlative performance by Mickey Rourke that firmly grounds the picture, pushing through the story's inherent melodrama to construct a meticulous portrait of a character an audience can empathise with. It's the role of a lifetime for Rourke who enthusiastically grabs onto the character with both bloodied hands, imbuing Randy "The Ram" Robinson with lashings of anger and self-loathing while also retaining his sense of dignity and humanity throughout. Certainly not an easy motion picture to absorb with a single bite, The Wrestler is a pummelling filmic experience of raw intensity which orbits around the incredible Rourke; his performance a superb presentation of wounded ego within a movie of remarkable observation. An elemental story conveyed simply and exceptionally, Darren Aronofsky's fourth feature film is a winner in limitless aspects.

The Wrestler concentrates on wrestling superstar Randy "The Ram" Robinson (Rourke). Desperate to maintain his career as a professional wrestler after his golden years of the '80s have long passed him by, Randy takes all the work he can get on the small-time amateur circuit; earning money but putting his aging body through severe punishment. Following a particularly brutal match, Randy suffers a heart attack which forces a sudden end to his wrestling career. Randy then attempts to come to terms with a life outside the ring - he takes up a full-time job at a grocery store and tries to repair his relationship with the daughter he abandoned (Wood) while also trying to form a closer bond with a stripper (Tomei) whom he harbours romantic feelings for. However, Randy is incapable of threading together a life of normality, and he's compelled to re-assess things... Is life without wrestling - even for what passes as wrestling at this late stage in his career - any kind of life at all? While pondering this question, Randy is given the opportunity to partake in a high-profile rematch against his wrestling nemesis from the '80s.

The crux of the story concerns Randy's attempts to cope with what he has become and the delusions that keep him going. His sincere but flawed endeavours to reclaim a place in his daughter's life are heartbreaking. As a character study of a despondent soul, The Wrestler is one of the most powerful and compelling motion pictures of 2008. Aronofsky's feature is meticulous in its examination of Randy's tragic life; an examination filled with verisimilitude and lacking in cheesy melodrama. The film additionally provides a profusion of fascinating information regarding behind-the-scenes goings-on at professional wrestling matches, most notably that the violence may be choreographed but is often in fact real. Even if this depiction isn't 100% accurate, it's absolutely convincing.

Rourke as Randy "The Ram" convincingly comes across as an actual wrestler. The man takes the punches, he discusses how a match will play out with his opponent, he cuts himself on the forehead to draw blood (apparently Rourke actually cut his own forehead for added realism), and even takes staples to the chest. Another subtle highlight is how well Rourke gets into the mind of a professional wrestler. Because he's been caught up in the grind for twenty years, not only is he unsure of how to act around his daughter, but a lot of what he does in everyday life also reverts back to his wrestling persona. The Wrestler is definitely not a cheery cinematic experience. The camera follows Rourke's Randy Robinson as he endures some odious practices merely to keep up his appearance. From being pummelled with chairs to using steroids, these are all a major part of the business. Randy is unable to find solace - he is forever at odds with his personality. The man is destructive both emotionally and physically, and both in and out of the ring. He's a wrestler at heart, but his heart is unable to endure it.

After Darren Aronofsky's last film, the ambitious experimental fiasco known as The Fountain, it's a pleasure to witness the director further challenge himself with the low-tech grit of The Wrestler. Superbly crafted with low-key cinematic tools, Aronofsky excels behind the camera; his aggressive, stalwart direction perfectly matching the subject matter. His directorial style is simple and spare, with no attempts to convince us he's a master of his craft. This straightforward approach works best, evoking the down-to-earth nature of a documentary. Shot in a rough, grainy handheld style on the Super16mm format by cinematographer Maryse Alberti, the immediacy is almost unsettling at times. The film is shot mostly from Randy's perspective; the camera usually positioned a step or two behind him. Aronofsky draws a viewer into the life of Randy and one can viscerally experience the man's pains, particularly during one brutal match (in a way it's ironic that one can feel a person's real pain in a "fake" sport). With the increasingly arty characteristics of Aronofsky's previous movies stripped away, The Wrestler is infused with clarity and simplicity, and the dialogue in Robert D. Siegel's first-rate script is inflected with the poetry of the everyday. Clint Mansell's transcendent score also hits all the right notes, the application of 1980's rock music (namely Guns N' Roses) is marvellous, and Bruce Springsteen's song (written for the movie) impeccably closes the feature.

Mickey Rourke makes this a triumphant comeback to remember. Most of Rourke's performances over the past few decades have been total duds, with only a few notable exceptions (such as Sin City). Randy "The Ram" Robinson is Rourke's first fully three-dimensional individual in years. The anguish, pain and inability to adjust for Randy is conveyed in this superlative performance with a fine emotional edge that should have earned Rourke an Academy Award (the Oscar was instead given to Sean Penn for Milk). Rourke fits effortlessly into Randy's faded tights; his muscled, brawny body and mangled face easily embodying this tragic protagonist. This is one of the greatest performances of 2008, featured within a motion picture not about wrestling but about a man whose life is drained and empty. There's not a moment or a single false beat where the spell of Randy Robinson is broken by contrivance. Rourke's commitment to genuinely becoming this gnarled soul is phenomenal, reaching into a nest of frailty to communicate Randy's humiliating ordeals (including a catastrophic part-time job behind a deli counter) and mounting fears.

Randy's only real connection with the world outside wrestling is a stripper named Pam, whom he visits regularly and plies with dollar bills. Marisa Tomei is truly a revelation; really shining here as a stripper past her prime and beginning to truly feel it. Tomei is endearing yet guarded; reluctant to let her sympathetic feelings for Randy become clear. The only hint of a weak link in the cast is Evan Rachel Wood who does what she can, but is ultimately given a fairly thankless role (one of the only sour notes of Siegel's screenplay). Admittedly, Wood never comes off as contrived...she's very convincing...but she's just a thinly-sketched caricature as opposed to a person.

The conclusion of The Wrestler has (expectedly) triggered much controversy - some viewers will definitely dislike the film's abrupt conclusion. Irritatingly, there's no definite closure (we're required to draw our own conclusions), but for this reviewer the ending is fitting, moving and provocative. Randy's final decision (which may likely bring about his death) is a poignant footnote of this remarkable character study. In considering whether Randy's choice is ill-advised or apt, one is asked to glance inside themselves and think about their own mortality. Bear in mind Randy has suffered a sad, brutal life outside of the ring...barely a life worth living. So ponder the question: is it better to live a long, unhappy life or to die happy?

Aronofsky's film is perhaps a bit too straightforward and generic, and it feels overly abridged as well. The director leans so heavily on Mickey Rourke and realises the magic of the performance, but he forgets to infuse the picture with much else. While the wrestling aspect is excellently handled, this indie melodrama also contains a father-daughter relationship which fails to have the reach it ought to.

The Wrestler is undoubtedly one of the best movies of 2008. The main performances are excellent, and they help shed a much-deserved light on two misjudged professions. The filmmaking is focused and evocative, with Aronofsky appearing to be on an impressive trek to discover his humanistic filmmaking reflexes. The Wrestler is an astonishing accomplishment of tone as well as emotional richness and resonance to be pored over long after the credits expire (WWE superstar Roddy Piper reportedly broke down and cried in Mickey Rourke's arms after attending a screening). This is grandstanding stuff, and Aronofsky should continue to mine such rich territory as the results here are utterly riveting.