Ilya recommends...

"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.

"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.

"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."

"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.

"In seven days, God created the world. And in seven seconds, I shattered mine."

Every frame of director Gabriele Muccino's Seven Pounds feels manipulatively engineered for one purpose: tear-jerking. On an emotional level, one could decree that this motion picture is satisfying as it indeed contains powerful moments. Yet on an intellectual level, the film is disappointingly shallow as it shamelessly defies logic with ridiculous plot contrivances and unconvincing character behaviour. Seven Pounds is a strange little movie - it's part romance fable, part maudlin study in grief and part puzzle, and it visibly hopes to grab the attention of the Oscar committee. The film is intended to be somewhat depressing in order to move on an emotional level, but as a result of the deliberate pacing and the hollow core (seriously, what was the point of the movie?) it's ultimately a depressing, notoriously unenjoyable cinematic snooze-fest. Seven Pounds suffers from being too earnest and sentimental as well as overdone and grim...even when it's supposed to lift our spirits. As a love story it's substandard and as a redemption story it's pretty ridiculous.

The basic story of Seven Pounds, beyond the narrative shuffle and existential pondering, is fairly interesting. But not much of this plotline can be revealed because the movie has been foolishly designed to make the most fundamental plot point a spoiler!
At its most rudimentary level, the story concerns IRS agent Ben Thomas (Smith) who sets out to help the lives of seven strangers in a journey of personal redemption. Flashbacks gradually reveal why Ben has become so bizarre and solitary, and divulge the true nature of Ben's mission. But all the narrative trickery and emotional manipulation only place Ben further out of the audience's reach as he moves through the plot like an indomitable Terminator devoid of palpable motivations. Seven Pounds is not easy to predict, but the ambiguity of Ben's quest erodes the effectiveness of the overall experience as Ben's enigmatic misery and unclear motivations trigger head-slapping frustration. Eventually the story grows stale and is unable to generate sufficient intrigue as the film progresses. With Ben's motives left in the dark until the end, not everyone will have the patience to stick with the film to learn the answer to its riddle.

Seven Pounds conveys its story in a non-linear and seemingly haphazard manner, confounding and confusing as a means to conceal the "twist" until the final act. Unfortunately, the filmmakers miss their mark - anyone with a brain will be able to decipher the film's final trajectory within the first thirty minutes (particularly because the movie commences with one of the last scenes). Probably the biggest problem is that it's impossible to easily accept Ben's behaviour. Guilt may be a powerful motivator and the quest for redemption can be obsessive, but Ben should pursue his objectives with more believable human behaviour patterns. As it is, his behaviour is downright silly (similar to a lot of the film's contrived proceedings).

By any standard, Ben Thomas is not a nice person. He invades the private lives of critically ill people and collects their personal information under false pretences. Ben runs little con games on these people before judging them, and this is both intrusive and morally dubious. On top of this, his unexpected relationship with Emily is dishonest - he refuses to divulge any information about himself. Seven Pounds also ignores the fact that meddling with the lives of strangers incurs responsibilities. At one point Ben gives his expensive beach house to an abused woman (Carillo) and her young children as a gesture of charity. Ben chooses this beneficiary on the basis of a few endorsements and a brief, unproductive meeting. It may seem like a nice gesture, but this would be doing more harm than good - the woman has no way of paying the taxes on the house, nor will she have money for the house's upkeep. She'll likely run into hassles with suspicious neighbours, lawyers, and perhaps even Ben's family. Chances are the house will be taken away from her, and Ben's gesture will be in vain. On top of this, in a symbolic, stupid subplot, Ben somehow acquires a box jellyfish (!) that lives in a tank filled with tap water (!!) until it's required for its intended purpose.

Here's the unforgivable problem: Ben forces his help on people without their consent or even their knowledge. He gives some of these people gifts that would be morally unacceptable under normal circumstances. Ben's selfless altruism is conceived on the basis of simple math: if you break seven bottles, you must replace the seven bottles. This is, of course, utter simplistic nonsense. One should act out of moral commitment as opposed to some crazy notion of guilt. But more importantly, the "terrible event" that haunts Ben's past was an accident. He was careless, yes, but no more culpable than any other person who does something foolish. Seven Pounds wraps up with a heart-wrenching (or at least they're supposed to be) series of overly mawkish soap-opera epiphanies. The last moment of the film, during which two people are seemingly drawn together by Ben's acts, is extremely tacky - sentimentally flawed and ethically questionable. Unfortunately, the first half of the movie hasn't earned the investment required for a big emotional finish as it's far too boring, and the ending falls flat.

This is Will Smith's second collaboration with director Gabriele Muccino (the brilliant Pursuit of Happyness being their first) who continually plies heavily dramatic performances from the actor who's famous for featuring in comedic roles. Smith is an accessible and likeable performer, but his charisma seems somewhat forced here...and he looks more constipated than tortured from time to time. Rosario Dawson, playing alongside Will Smith, is fairly credible and natural. But Dawson's character, a terminally ill yet full-of-life patient, is familiar in the cinematic realm of tear-jerkers, and it's hard to find something new to engage with. Woody Harrelson is given a small but crucial role here, and he's fairly memorable. Also look out for Barry Pepper who makes the most of his restricted screen-time.

Muccino and screenwriter Grant Nieporte clearly strived to create an uplifting motion picture, but in the long run Seven Pounds is uncomfortable and depressing. Although initially involving, the story's big reveal occurs too late, and even the most determined viewer will have trouble maintaining interest. Seven Pounds is more exasperating than riveting. While it's refreshing to behold a star vehicle that demands patience and attention, even an extremely enjoyable film needs to be succinct. Seven Pounds is an exercise in self-indulgence - it's a collage of melodramatic scenes (emotion is amplified by intrusive music during these scenes as well) followed by an ending that fails to deliver a big emotional payoff.

"Hitler is dead. Operation Valkyrie is in effect."

Valkyrie is a solid World War II espionage thriller, conveying one of the most staggering true stories in modern history. This is a motion picture infused with a rare story regarding the German Resistance that primarily concentrates on the overlooked heroism of officers and soldiers who actively fought against Adolf Hitler and his regime from within ranks of power. Directed by Bryan Singer (a man blessed with a virtually unbroken run of impressive work; his previous films including The Usual Suspects, X-Men and Superman Returns), Valkyrie manages to thrill and entertain the mass market, but it seems hardly worth the wait and effort. Singer's film is coated in an inevitable layer of thick Hollywood gloss, and is also lacking in vital depth. Screenwriters Christopher McQuarrie and Nathan Alexander employ the historical facts of this remarkable true story (told rather faithfully) to construct the flick, but it comes across as well-oiled Hollywood entertainment rather than a sensationalist chapter of WWII. While not a bad film by any means, Valkyrie would've carried far more clout if it had emerged from the confident German film industry (with home-grown actors and a director to match) as opposed to the tired mills of Hollywood.

Sour industry buzz intensely enveloped Valkyrie as it was slammed unjustly since production commenced in 2007, facing augmented hostility that greeted the shifting release dates as well as the trailers that underlined the bewildering cocktail of British and American accents meant to represent the resistance movement inside the Third Reich. It turns out this bad press was merely conjecture; battling the odds and winning, Singer has handsomely directed this engaging, intense World War II thriller. It's not as bad as the negative pre-hype suggested, but Valkyrie still had the potential to be a superior flick.

The film covers a span of roughly 18 months, from early 1943 until the fateful final day. Valkyrie provides an examination of the workings of the German Resistance movement, wherein high-ranking officials with various levels of access to Hitler collaborate to bring to fruition a plot to assassinate their Fuhrer.

With Germany's loss in the war a predetermined conclusion to nearly everyone except for Hitler himself, these high-ranking German officers valiantly conspire to murder their leader, replace the government as peacefully as possible and implement a new regime during which they'd negotiate a peace. Consequently, a peace would spare the loss of more German soldiers and repair what's left of their country's legacy. The cunning idea is to use the German government's own emergency plan (dubbed Operation Valkyrie) against it. With each officer in the group assigned a different role, they propose to plant a bomb inside the Wolf's Lair (an enclosed bunker where high security meetings were held), killing Hitler and his staff before overthrowing the Nazi government from the inside. However, paranoia grips the schemers as success grows nearer. As anyone with a basic knowledge of World War II knows, Hitler would later die by his own hand.

"The point of replacing Hitler is to negotiate the truce with the Allies. The Allies, I suspect would be more amenable to a truce if we offer it to them before they get to fucking Berlin!"

The protagonist of the story, Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (Cruise), initially suffers serious wounds in Africa. Despite (or perhaps owing to) his injuries, Stauffenberg is recruited into the resistance, being introduced to the secret circle of conscientious objectors. The plan itself is complicated and never clearly explained by the characters (dialogue is fairly stilted), but the basic details are straightforward enough. This is a fascinating story to preserve on film as it's all-too-often neglected. It's curious to note, however, that the film eschews the details of the most famous casualty of the July 20 assassination attempt - Field Marshal Rommel, who was mistakenly implicated and committed suicide as a result. This oversight is likely owing to time constraints, but it's an unfortunate exclusion as it would have shown how far and wide the net was spread to obliterate resistance within the military.

"We have to show the world that not all of us are like him. Otherwise, this will always be Hitler's Germany."

The extremely obvious (and well-known) outcome of the story barely affects our immersion. Director Singer competently brews a substantial amount of suspense. A chain of near misses and tense decisions pinch a viewer with anxiety. Following a fairly sluggish opening act, Valkyrie transforms into a taut assassination game, and the suspense levels continue to elevate throughout the second half when the implementation of Operation Valkyrie develops into a battle of bluff between Stauffenberg's rebels and Hitler's media machine. The performances are especially strong here; each man conflicted as they witness the monster they believe they've killed sprout another head and pursue them. The outcomes of such biographical or historical films as JFK, World Trade Center and Malcolm X are also well known but it doesn't detract from the brilliance of those films. Therefore, why should Valkyrie be held to a different and stricter standard?

One of the most widespread criticisms is perhaps the most valid; the cast never speak in German accents, nor do they speak German. Nazi officials articulate faultless English while writing in German. The problem is addressed during the opening few minutes, during which German titles transform into English titles, and Tom Cruise begins talking in German before beginning to speak English. The implication is that the characters do speak German, but for the sake of being a slice of Westernised entertainment a viewer hears them speaking English (a tactic first employed in The Hunt for Red October). Nevertheless, this is a fault too blatant and baffling, and it's consequently difficult to overlook. Once again, German filmmakers should've committed this ignored piece of history to celluloid.

"I'm a soldier, but in serving my country, I have betrayed my conscience."

In different hands, Valkyrie would've been a deep examination of the people involved, their motives and fears, and maybe even their personal lives. If Valkyrie provided further insight into the lives of these fascinating historical figures, it'd be a more thoughtful and therefore better film. Stauffenberg may have been maimed in the war, but his disenchantment with Hitler predated his injuries, and the film hardly explores this. Instead the film spends lots of time trying to prove that he's a great man. However, whether he was nice or mean is beside the point in the long view. Screenwriters McQuarrie and Alexander needed to dig into Stauffenberg's character and explore the reason why he decided to take such risks. They instead give Cruise the WWII equivalent of his character from Mission: Impossible.

Also, were the co-conspirators simply patriotic Germans, or did they have a deeper motivation for committing treason? With a few exceptions, we never really know. Valkyrie simply feels too underdone, as if heavily cut in the editing room. It seems to have been re-cut to be less of an Oscar-bait drama and more of a popcorn thriller; while serviceable as the latter, it might have been a better film as the former.

Singer dives into the material with plenty of zeal, moulding the assassination plot into an eye-catching, jaw-clenching movement of urgency, utilising the characters as chess pawns on the board game of Germany's future. Singer's work has generated a well-directed chronicle of misbegotten patriotism, with emphasis on sharply angled Nazi ornamentation, beautifully photographed by Newton Thomas Sigel. Several scenes were filmed on location in Berlin (using many locations where actual events occurred, including the Benderblock). In some instances where a certain location no longer existed, it was meticulously recreated. However, what's missing here (but effortlessly captured in films like Black Book) is any sense of the horrors of war, the maniacal evil of the Nazi regime, and the corrosive effect on civilians. The Berlin depicted here is too pristine and glossy...it's unmistakably a Hollywood production. The grittiness and brilliance of 2004's Der Undertang (Downfall) should have pervaded a film covering this source material.

David Bamber's physical resemblance to Adolf Hitler is effective enough for the few scenes in which he features, but it almost goes without saying that he doesn't come close to Bruno Ganz's astonishing portrayal of the dictator in Downfall (which was a far more gripping and riveting flick, in no small part because of Ganz).

Tom Cruise is adequate as Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg. Much controversy was sparked about Cruise taking on such a role, to the point that the German government forbade filming in their country due to his scientology cult (eventually permission was granted). Cruise is surprisingly strong, infusing his performance with a crucial level of emotionality. The actor never entirely immerses himself into the character, but his appearance is ideal. If only Cruise delivered dialogue in a more German fashion...

Once you accept English Nazis, you can easily accept the great cast - including Bill Nighy, Terence Stamp and Kenneth Branagh who play old-school soldiers with stiff upper lips. Tom Wilkinson is a slimy delight as a Nazi official who turns a blind eye to the operation as opposed to actually helping. Eddie Izzard, Kevin McNally and Christian Berkel also appear (among others), and all hit their marks delightfully.

Carice van Houten, who was so remarkable in the WWII drama Black Book, is given minor screen-time as Stauffenberg's wife. (It's worth noting that another Black Book cast member, Waldemar Kobus, also appears in Valkyrie. In the former film he played a piggish Nazi officer, and here he's a police chief who collaborates with the resistance.)

"Long live sacred Germany!"

Taken merely as a genre piece, Valkyrie is an engaging but incomplete thriller. Its illustrious cast do their jobs adequately, but the story could have benefitted from further insight into the men who tried to kill Hitler. At the end of the day it's a tense, competently-crafted thriller that accurately communicates a story of bravery and betrayal. But when Hollywood has the last word, something dies. It ultimately feels like the story has been taken advantage of, and skilfully repackaged as entertainment for money purposes.

"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.

"My name is Benjamin Button, and I was born under unusual circumstances."

Throughout its undeniably lengthy 160 minutes, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a captivating, heartfelt, jubilant and melancholy experience - beautiful to observe and overflowing with a sense of marvel and wonder. Based on F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story, this strange, ambitious saga of a man who ages in reverse is presented in an immaculate classical style; every detail tended to with fastidious devotion. Director David Fincher has renounced the serial killer/psycho/dark side of humanity movies he's recognised for in order to undertake this stunning drama. It's Fincher's background - not to mention his reputation as a confirmed cynic - that makes him an intriguing choice of director, and the right man for the job. Some directors would have grasped the premise and crafted a hefty Kleenex workout, but Fincher infuses the film's more emotionally touching scenes with an acquiescent acceptance that life simply has its ups and downs. Screenwriter Eric Roth (perhaps most famous for Forrest Gump) uses Fitzgerald's source material as mere inspiration - taking just the idea and name. From there Roth's script follows a path divergent to the one mapped by Fitzgerald. This filmic adaptation is therefore its own entity. Flaws aside, this is one of the most engrossing, intriguing and emotionally resonant features of 2008.

During its three-hour runtime, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button takes its audience on a tour of the 20th century, although it begins in the 21st. The film opens in New Orleans. As Hurricane Katrina closes in, Daisy (Blanchett) - an elderly woman - lays on her deathbed, attended by her daughter Caroline (Ormond). Caroline begins to read the diary of a certain Benjamin Button, who grew younger as the years passed by, and whose life repeatedly intersected with that of her mother's.

Throughout the course of his life, Benjamin travels through such eras as the Great Depression and World War II. His story is no Forrest Gump journey, however - the character isn't placed in any obvious historical or pop cultural moments, nor is he ever on television or globally renowned for his uniqueness. Benjamin's life is one lived out of the public eye, as befits a man steadily growing younger as the years elapse.

Benjamin was born in 1918. His case is a curious one as he was born arthritic, deaf and withered - as if in his late eighties. Unable to cope with the monstrous appearance of his son, Thomas Button (Flemyng) abandons him. Raised under the monument of a train station clock that runs backwards (a brilliant side story, and a Fitzgeraldian metaphor if ever there was one), Benjamin is raised by a caretaker at an old folk's home as he continues to grow younger and learn valuable lessons.

Button's relationship with Daisy functions as the fulcrum on which the film rests. We observe Benjamin's journey through life as he experiences different occupations and situations, but it's his recurring bond with Daisy (whom he meets when they're both technically children) that provides the film with its heart...and heartbreak.

"And in the spring, 2003, he looked at me. And I knew, that he knew, who I was. And then he closed his eyes, as if to go to sleep."

Eric Roth's screenplay is comprised of three major segments. The first main component of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button chronicles Benjamin's infancy, when his ostensibly deteriorating physical appearance is belied by his escalating agility. Benjamin is astonishingly well adjusted considering his peculiar disability, but this is largely owing to his loving surrogate mother. The film's subsequent act transpires before, throughout, and after World War II. During this particular section, the main character enters into an affair with a middle-aged British woman (Swinton) and works onboard a tugboat (even lending a hand on said tugboat as the Pearl Harbor conflict unfolds). Upon his homecoming, Benjamin is far healthier, stronger and looks much younger. The third and final piece of the puzzle tracks Benjamin from middle age 'til his twilight years, during which he learns a number of things about sacrifice as well as redefining life and happiness. Similar to the character of Forrest Gump, Benjamin Button is an outcast of society, and history marches by him in a succession of vignettes. But director Fincher's darker side is in evidence here...

"Your life is defined by its opportunities... even the ones you miss."

The world of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is achingly exquisite, ethereal and abundant in luxuriant visual mastery. Fincher spends almost three hours telling the story of Benjamin Button, and for the most part the time flies by effortlessly - there is little sense of dawdling, waste or indulgence (not to say there isn't...occasionally there is). It's as rich as any novel covering the scope of a man's life. Some feel the length is detrimental while others argue the length is entirely necessary to facilitate a satisfying conveyance of the life of this peculiar individual. Throughout its runtime the film evinces a steady hand that sustains narrative self-assurance, stability of tone, as well as a ripe consciousness of the mundane temperament of life's opportunities and the ephemeral quality of contentment. The frequently depressive atmosphere is occasionally lightened by humour. A recurring joke of a character being struck by lightning seven times, for instance, will definitely instigate a few giggles.

"Did I ever tell you I was struck by lightning seven times?"

The film features remarkable recreations of Depression-era New Orleans, the oceanic battles of World War II, and 1950s Paris. Director Fincher paints across the screen like a vast canvas. A sunset beheld by Benjamin and his ailing father, for example, is a dazzling portrait of light and shadow, of water vs. sky. Similarly stunning are images of destroyed battleships or of Daisy merrily dancing, silhouetted in night and fog. In these moments Fincher encapsulates the mood of Fitzgerald's prose; his visuals evoking the words in the way Fitzgerald's words so acutely created pictures.

Every scene is filled with astoundingly intricate detail, from the nooks and crannies of the sets created by production designer Donald Graham Burt to the flawless, century-bridging costumes by Jacqueline West. Alexandre Desplat's exquisite score provides divine and unobtrusive dramatic support. Fincher and cinematographer Claudio Miranda have lensed the film mainly in deep focus images to amplify the information inhabiting each frame. The depth of the blacks they achieve as a result of shooting on digital is extraordinary. In spite of the rich tapestry on offer, the film maintains a slightly remote feel. Even with so much emotional power being exuded by the actors, it is possible that the visuals may have been warmer and more accessible had it been lensed on film. Perhaps these nitpickings are a tad too extreme; nevertheless, however speculative this may be, the desired emotional impact could've been better achieved had it been committed to celluloid.

Despite its existence as a mainstream movie, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button triggers a high level of meditation regarding our own mortality and the inevitability of everyone's fate. It also presents the intriguing concept of not being scared about our own demise. "Scared?" asks a daughter to her mother on her deathbed. "No. Curious. About what happens next" is the reply. Personally, this confrontational masterpiece provoked thought in me regarding what happens after death. Will we be reincarnated? Will we never exist in any form again? Do we become ghosts, wandering the planet for eternity? No other film has ever prompted such questions with such power, nor have I ever truly contemplated the possibilities of "the afterlife" until I viewed Fincher's masterwork.

Reportedly, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was in development for about fifteen years. Directors signed on and subsequently left, as did stars (thank God we were spared a Ron Howard version starring John Travolta!). Development was so prolonged simply because, until recently, technology has been unable to render the crippling effects of old age in the manner required for this motion picture. CGI wizards have long said that if an audience fails to notice the illusion they've created, their job has been properly accomplished. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button flaunts possibly the finest implementation of marvellous visual effects ever seen in a film. The aging techniques applied to Pitt and his co-stars throughout the film's duration are faultless. There's a wealth of top-notch CG wizardry on glorious display in this movie, but never is there a single moment when a viewer becomes aware of it. As an old man, Pitt looks the part - it's the equivalent of visiting an aged Pitt through a time portal. A most unnerving image is that of Pitt looking more or less the way he did back in Thelma and Louise (during the early days of his career). Cate Blanchett, too, is caked in make-up...yet the transformation from youthful beauty to aged woman bears no seams. With the fusion of imperceptible digital effects and incredible make-up, David Fincher has pulled off a remarkable feat.

Credit is also due to the actors, who by no means allow the make-up and digital effects to do the talking - each respective actor expertly walks in the shoes of different eras whilst maintaining the core of who they are.
Pitt inhabits the role of Benjamin Button amiably, tenderly and compassionately. The actor places forth a likable and watchable persona - someone an audience would like to spend so much time with. Cate Blanchett brings vibrancy and spirit to the character of Daisy. After brusquely revealing the egotistic impetuousness of Daisy's youthful self, the thespian fully registers both the passion and timidity of a mature woman.

The supporting cast is uniformly excellent, with performers like Tilda Swinton, Jared Harris, and Julia Ormond making the most of limited screen time. Swinton is particularly wonderful as the calculating adulteress. As Benjamin's surrogate mother, Taraji P. Henson is extremely convincing and congenial. To round out the main supporting cast is Jason Flemyng as Benjamin's biological father. Aging techniques are applied to virtually all the supporting cast, but as their respective characters age, so does their mannerisms and voice. There isn't a defective performance to behold.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button has received decidedly mixed reviews. Certainly, there are multiple missteps. The principal flaw is the mechanism through which the story is conveyed - Daisy's daughter reading Benjamin's intimate diary to her mother on her deathbed. Not only is it clichéd, but it's a key hindrance when the audience is far too frequently removed from Benjamin's tale and placed into the hospital room. Worse, the potentially interesting fragments of Benjamin's life are entirely omitted. His final 20 years flash by in a matter of minutes. Following a ponderous and intimate examination of the protagonist's life over the course of about 150 minutes, it's disappointing to consider the exclusions. The film should've explored interesting oddities in Ben's later life - after all, he's a wise and aged soul trapped in the body of an infant. Instead of exploiting these endless possibilities, the film is limited to telling an occasionally plodding story minus any real twists. Proceedings are perfunctory from time to time as it sails towards its inevitable conclusion...and we all know its finale won't be upbeat. The film occasionally feels its 160 minutes, although it'd be erroneous to begrudge Fincher considering the meticulousness of his direction and the painstaking time the helmer has obviously pumped into this brilliantly atmospheric, eloquent, visually striking production.

It's critical for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button to be viewed on its own terms - as a fairytale - or else it utterly fails. Roth's screenplay provides little grounding for the reverse aging, and consequently it's not particularly convincing. This is a fantasy, however, and it can never be perceived as anything but. It's initially difficult to accept the premise, but once you do...the effects are utterly intoxicating.

"We're meant to lose the people we love. How else are we supposed to know how important they are?"

Benjamin Button's inverted aging process is merely a conduit; the journey down it allowing a viewer to acquire a slightly distorted insight into the process of living and, perhaps, a better understanding of human nature. To some, this may appear too much for a mainstream motion picture to achieve. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button seems to struggle in its endeavour to take an audience as far down its established path as it might hope to. Its fantastical premise may also difficult for some audiences to believe. Nevertheless, the film's power of compulsion cannot be denied, nor can the sense that it means something when the experience concludes. As it closes with a poignant montage, it's virtually impossible to not be emotionally touched. A majority of viewers will undoubtedly be entertained, rapt and moved, while some will find their intellect stimulated. F. Scott Fitzgerald's source material may be ancient, but the concept beneath The Curious Case of Benjamin Button has been effectively transported into the 21st century with enthralling results. It may be sometimes laborious, but this is an extraordinarily expressive tour de force - a stunning career achievement for director David Fincher. It's every bit as impressive to view as summer blockbusters, but there's also a genuine story to accompany the stunning visuals and potent atmosphere.

"Along the way you bump into people who make a dent on your life. Some people get struck by lightning. Some are born to sit by a river. Some have an ear for music. Some are artists. Some swim the English Channel. Some know buttons. Some know Shakespeare. Some are mothers. And some people can dance."

"If you save a life, you must take responsibility for it."

In making Defiance, director Edward Zwick (whose résumé boasts such titles as The Last Samurai, Blood Diamond and Glory) turns his attention to World War II; helming a loose adaptation of Nechama Tec's novel which chronicled the true-life experiences of the Bielski partisans who waged a vicious guerrilla campaign against the Nazis. This historical action-thriller is a Holocaust movie with a twist - while films like Schindler's List focus on the extermination of the Jews in countless harrowing ways, Defiance concentrates on Jewish resistance fighters who slaughter their Nazi adversaries and generally kick ass (on that note, the Knocked Up boys would love this film). There are a number of battle sequences, but Zwick's film spends the majority of its runtime exploring the difficulties of surviving as fugitives in the midst of a harsh Soviet winter. Defiance is meticulously crafted, sincere and admirable, but while the facts are fresh, the execution (particularly the structure) is exceedingly familiar. The extraordinary true story has also been altered in a typical Hollywood fashion; coming across not as a fascinating history lesson but as a melodramatic, occasionally gripping historical action-thriller. It's certainly solid as the latter, but (considering the facts of the real story) a superior film could easily have been delivered had it been more faithful to the source material.

Set in Nazi-occupied Eastern Europe of 1941 during the Holocaust, the story tracks the Bielski brothers - Tuvia (Craig), Zus (Schreiber), Asael (Bell) and Aron (MacKay) - who manage to escape the slaughter of the Jews and take refuge in a dense nearby forest they've known since childhood. Before long the brothers encounter a growing number of refugees fleeing from the savagery that's being unjustly inflicted on the Jews. In this Belarussian forest a makeshift village is established with its own rules, rituals and internal politics wrapped around one question: can the brothers afford the luxury of revenge on the Nazis, or should they lie low and concentrate on protecting the lives they've already saved?

Out of the Bielski brothers, Tuvia and Zus are the key players, and their intense relationship - beset with sibling rivalry - is as central to the drama as the appalling events of the war itself. The brothers' parents were slain by local police under orders from occupying Germans, and in no time Tuvia has summarily executed the murderers. Indeed, the film's secondary theme primarily concerns the brutalising effect of war on all involved. As the seasons change, the Bielski brothers are tested by the hardships of starvation and enemy patrols; hopeful they can survive the war without losing their humanity. By the war's end, in spite of the incredible hardships the partisans encountered, roughly 1200 people had miraculously survived in the woods.

"We are the Bielski's and we WILL be back!"

Defiance is an amazing motion picture, endowed with excellent craftsmanship and a compelling story of remarkable endurance, courage and unlikely hope. It's an extraordinary tale, and one that deserves to be committed to celluloid. As to be expected, there is violence as the ever-growing assemblage of fugitives struggle to survive against all odds. Animosity flares and tempers fray as the pressures of hunger and sickness begin to set in while relationships start to evolve amidst this chaos as well. Zwick - a sturdy, competent director with a desire to illuminate long-shadowed stories - spent over a decade trying to bring this cinematic adaptation of Nechama Tec's novel to fruition. Yet in the long run, Defiance doesn't go beyond the usual hackneyed narrative of valour and endurance. It's also frustrating to consider how much more dynamic the story could have been with a few narrative tricks, such as flashbacks to reveal the back-stories of the four Bielski brothers. By narrowing the film's focus, Zwick is left with a formulaic tale of survival; the community-building elements of classic Westerns mixed with the guns-and-grit morality of every other World War II movie ever made. On top of this, the historical reality is vastly simplified, telling an abridged version of the story which has been crammed into a very recognisable structure. Defiance is an incredible motion picture, but it's unable to find the perfect balance between telling a story faithfully and ensuring an audience will be kept rapt.

The battle sequences are extremely skilful, and contain a sufficient amount of uncertainty to make them both genuinely exciting and riveting. But one should expect nothing less from Zwick; a director who has also overseen Civil War engagements (in the Oscar-winning Glory) as well as Japanese conflicts (in 2003's The Last Samurai). More gripping than the spectacular action is the drama involving the formation and preservation of the Bielski partisans' refugee camp located deep in the Belarussian forest during one of the most inhospitable times of the year. Not only do they encounter problems with famine, but an outbreak of typhus also spreads throughout the community. Zwick recreates each new crisis with utter immediacy while never bypassing other less threatening elements of life, such as faith in God under trying circumstances, the friction between the Bielski group and other partisans in the vicinity, as well as love, sex and marriage. At first glance, Defiance appears to centre on a series of guerrilla attacks against the Nazis. But in reality these moments are merely a small segment of the wider tapestry director Zwick has stitched together out of a mixture of history and dramatic license. The various central themes are tough and substantial, and Zwick treats the subject matter with the gravitas it deserves.

Eduardo Serra's stunning, gritty cinematography of the Lithuanian woods (filmed approximately a hundred miles away from the real location of the Bielski brothers' camp) is a particular highlight of Defiance. The landscape under a thick blanket of snow is captured with commendable brutality and harshness. James Newton Howard's elegant score (nominated for an Academy Award) also adds a stylish texture to the proceedings.

To the film's credit, the actors speak in European accents, and lines are occasionally delivered in foreign languages (like Russian). The authenticity of the picture is elevated by these small factors. Perhaps it's ridiculous for English to be spoken at all throughout the picture, but the approach as a whole is far better than that which was employed for Bryan Singer's underwhelming Valkyrie (also released in December 2008, and contained Nazis speaking English in British and American accents). An undeniable layer of Hollywood gloss envelops both features, but Defiance feels more authentic and gritty.

One of the main flaws of Defiance is that some of the high-minded sentiments articulated by Tuvia in his flowery speeches seem too contrived for the circumstances. Inconsistent accent and general stiffness aside, there isn't much specifically wrong with Daniel Craig's performance, but it's a little difficult to accept the actor as a Jew.
Central to the movie's effectiveness is Tuvia's transformation from idealist to pragmatist. He never quite reaches the level of callousness displayed by Zus, but events force Tuvia to reconsider the price of showing clemency. We can believe this interior struggle and the actor seems quite passionate, but this isn't Craig's best work. It's Liev Schreiber who turns in the best performance here - a memorable portrayal as the least idealistic of the Bielski brothers, and who constantly howls for Nazi blood. Admittedly, Craig and Schreiber have nice chemistry and their brotherly interactions are credible.
Jamie Bell meanwhile exhibits the makings of leading man here. Young Australian actress Mia Wasikowska also continues to display her top-notch acting talents; submitting a well-nuanced and believable performance...and Mia was only 17 years old when production began!
It's difficult to keep tabs on the rest of the cast. Most are quite memorable but (let's face it) names are hard to catch in a movie of this nature.

"Nothing is impossible, what we all have done is impossible!"

A respectable attempt at a Holocaust story with uplifting qualities and plump moral questioning, director Edward Zwick's Defiance is a handsome historical thriller which unfolds in a conventional, old-fashioned way of storytelling. Defiance begins ponderously but steadily grows more engrossing. This is a compelling, absorbing action-thriller with enthralling battle sequences, elevated by the briskness and focus of Zwick's direction. It's hampered, however, by superfluous sentimentality, a few awkwardly-handled love stories, and a bunch of trite ancillary characters (including a clichéd bespectacled intellectual as well as a cynically philosophical rabbi). The themes at the film's core have also been truly done to death. As a heroic drama, Defiance has its clichés and narrative hiccups. As an examination of the cycle of violence, however, this film is utterly harrowing.