The Best Films of 2009 (so far)

Placeholder review until I can come up with something longer and more thoughtful, right now I'm still buzzing from the experience.

Absolutely brilliant film. Christoph Waltz is guaranteed an Oscar nomination for his performance as Colonel Hans Landa, I could have sat through another 2 hours of that guys performance. Wonderful and frightening at once.

I was absolutely blown away by how tense several scenes turned out to be (Landa's first scene at the farm, the meeting in the tavern, Landa and Hammersmark) and they were simply characters sat (usually around a table), talking to each other, some marvellous writing at play with those scenes.

Absolutely Tarantino's best since Jackie Brown, entirely because (like Jackie Brown) the characters felt like real characters and not just variations of Quentin Tarantino.

I'll be going to see this again next weekend, for sure. Loved it.

Beautiful, yet horrifying. Profound, yet ridiculous. Thought provoking, yet maddeningly confusing. A sympathetic and affecting portrayal of grief, yet shockingly misogynistic. Unfairly maligned, yet absolutely deserving the controversy leveled towards it.

NOT for the faint of heart, the movie contains some of the most horrifying violence ever perpetrated in cinema, and a slew of equally disturbing images, that are either profoundly symbolic or weird for the sake of weird. This film is a boiling pot of contradiction, but that makes it all the more mesmerizing.

Charlotte Gainsbourg gives one of the strongest, bravest performances of the last decade, absolutely willing to tear herself open and expose every facet of mind, body and soul, like a raw bleeding nerve. It brings to mind the exceptional work Von Trier pushed out of Emily Watson in Breaking The Waves. Dafoe is more than ready to meet Gainsbourg in the battle of wills, he has to balance out her dysfunction and mania with both calm and misguided pride. Without the equally strong performances from both players, the film would fall apart at the seams.

Antichrist is either a work of uncompromising genius or simply Lars Von Trier feeding us a trough of bullshit and seeing how much were willing to swallow, or it could be both. Either way, it is a film you simply cannot ignore and one you will talk about for a long time after seeing it.

Despite having two films to tell the story of Jacques Mesrine, France's very own John Dillinger, there is a great economy of storytelling at work here. Part 1 most certainly does not waste our time dwelling on details, if there is a part of his story that doesn't merit a great deal of screentime we will skim through it, getting all the info we need to understand the man and his story, and then moving on to the next scene.



Many biopics would see fit to drag their feet, dwelling on "humanizing" or reflective moments to give greater weight to their character at the expense of covering the bigger picture; Mesrine Part 1 manages to convey the humanity, the brutality and the complexity of the man without ever slowing down or feeling like a cliffnotes summary of his life; largely in thanks to Vincent Cassel's amazing performance.



I could, and rightly should praise director Jean-François Richet (whose only past credit I have seen is the surprisingly good Assault on Precinct 13 remake) who shows a masterful control of cinematic language in composing and executing his shots, whilst also rallying together all performers to be unifyingly great (with Gerard Depardieu being the obvious standout giving one of his best performances in years as a terrifyingly casual violent mob boss) but the real draw and the real reason Mesrine: L'Instinct de Mort is the modern masterpiece that it is, is down to Vincent Cassel.



An actor who is consistently at the top of his game in everything he does; from his blistering, starmaking turn in La Haine, through his devastatingly naturalistic performance in Irreversible, through his equally great English language performances in Eastern Promises and even the Ocean's Eleven sequels, Cassel has always been someone worth watching and one of the best actors working today but with Mesrine he gives the performance of his career. Every great actor has that one role they were born to play, George C Scott had Patton, Toshirô Mifune had Kikuchiyo (although I do find myself changing my mind on Mifune's best more often than most actors), DeNiro had Jake Lamotta, and now Vincent Cassel has Jacque Mesrine. Flawless, captivating work. He manages to weave together the contradictory nature of this enigmatic and divisive figure and make it feel like a real, whole person. It's impossible to take your eyes off him once he starts.



I can't wait to see Part 2 to see how much further he takes this role.

Forget your men of X, your robots of both termination and transformation, or even your trekkers of the stars, THIS is the real action spectacle of 2009.

Kathryn Bigelow, director of greats like Near Dark and Point Break, has been toiling away in the "Director Gulag" for Widowmaker K-19 but has finally made her prison break in spectacular fashion with The Hurt Locker.

A war movie utterly lacking in pretense, there is no overriding social or political message, it's the entirely personal story of one of the worst places in the world and the kind of person who could thrive there. Staff Sergeant William James (Jeremy Renner) is one such person. The very definition of a loose cannon. He is a bomb disposal expert in Iraq and he is damn good at his job. In fact, his job is really the only thing he's good at because he has a reckless streak four miles wide and it makes him hard to be around, or hard to feel safe around. He is in his element when his life (and basic physical structure) is inches away from disappearing in a flash of hot light.

The movie is structured in a fairly segmented fashion, with some follow through plot threads, character arcs to connect each segment but the movie is split into scenarios (much like a video game, really), each one involving the team being stuck in the thick of it; there are bombs hidden in the dirt, bombs loaded in cars while hidden insurgents take shots at them, caught in a sniper stand-off in the punishing sun, etc.

Every one of these scenes is intensity magnified, it is the first time in a long time where I was genuinely on the edge of my seat, heartrate jacked, buzzing with nervous energy and excitement with every development. Kathryn Bigelow has built a near perfect construct of tension, it grips you like a vice from beginning to end and you have no idea how it's going to turn out - there is no margin of safety in this movie - anything is possible. The action here is so intense and nerve shredding that I almost feel like I have post-traumatic stress.

It goes to show that you don't need a huge pyrotechnics budget and overclocked ILM computers to create a great action sequence - you just need a good script, great director and a character you care about.

Jeremy Renner first appeared on my radar in 28 Weeks Later, he wasn't given a great deal to do but he made an impression. It was in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford that I really started to pay attention to him. Much like every actor in that film, Renner brought his A-game and made me a fan for life. In a perfect world, The Hurt Locker would represent Renner achieving movie star status. Alas, he's in an indie movie that nobody will see because they're too busy chewing the Transformers cud. There is a cocky/casual ease to his character which makes him joyfully watchable and exhilirating during his bomb disarming scenes, his devil may care attitude to his job brings to mind a more laid back Mel Gibson, with a slow burning intensity running under the surface. He carries this film effortlessly and gives a performance worthy of an Oscar nomination. In fact, given the Academy has increased the number of Best Picture nominations to 10, I would put good money on this being an easy lock for that 10.

The Hurt Locker manages to make a very affecting commentary on a man without purpose beyond his job, but doesn't point fingers or disapprove at the same time, it's almost tragic to watch him utterly fail to connect to civillian life but you cannot help but feel a charge when you see him walk away from it all and back into the fray - because he's the best there is, and the world needs glorious fuck-ups like him to make things safer for everyone else.

Kathryn Bigelow: Back with a motherfucking vengeance, and about time too.

An alien mothership appears over Johannesburg, a monumental moment in human history, the likes of which we as an audience have seen depicted onscreen before, but still no less awe inspiring/terrifying than it would be for the people seeing it happen right above their heads.

For 3 months nothing happens - the ship just hovers there, the blue balls would be immense, can you imagine people still camping out on top of skyscrapers in Independence Day if they knew they had to wait 3 months to get any action? On breaking into the mothership Earth Authorities discover the alien inhabitants are sick, malnourished and living in squalor, hardly the auspicious surroundings of their Close Encounters of the Third Kind counterparts.

The aliens (derogatively referred to as "prawns" due to their anthropoid appearance) are moved from the ship and into slums within the city limits of Jo'burg, where for the next 20+ years they are segregated from human society and become a burden on resources; money and space are pooled into keeping the prawns secure in their own personal ghetto. Human/Alien relations steadily deteriorate with frequent rioting among both populaces, not to mention organized crime creeping in to take advantage of these weakened, disenfranchised creatures; stealing their weaponry, extorting them for cat food (which is a drug to the prawn's unique biology) and even murdering them for witchcraft rituals (the PC can whine about this, but it is a pervading factor of African culture to this day, the things some supersticious Africans do in order to stave off AIDS alone makes the actions in District 9 seem casual. Also, to the critics who say Nigerians are being depicted as cannibals - it isn't cannibalism when it's another species, numbnuts).

As District 9 begins, multinational taskforce MNU are moving the alien refugees from District 9 into District 10, a new camp far from the city limits. MNU's primary interest is in harvesting the advanced alien technology, the weaponry of which is unusable by human's because it only reacts to prawn DNA.

Opening with faux-documentary footage, we are appraised of the situation regarding District 9 and the Prawns and meet our protagonist, MNU agent Wikus Van De Merwe (played by South African newcomer Sharlto Copley). Van De Merwe is something of a joke nickname in South African culture, used as the butt of it's own brand of jokes, much like Britain's "Englishman, Irishman & Scotsman" jokes. Van De Merwe is shorthand for bumbling idiot, and it's no coincidence that Wikus shares that surname, he's the epitome of "nice but dim". An idiot, a nuisance, getting under everyone's skin and not even realizing it. Wikus is given a promotion to oversee the eviction of Prawns from District 9, entirely because his father-in-law is the head of MNU. Immediately he is pissing people off and becoming a figure of ridicule. The film makes no attempt to endear us to Wikus early on, he engages in illegal/immoral acts (engaging in illegal evictions, performing "abortions" on Prawn egg sacs) and displays almost unaware specism, casually joking about the sound Prawn babies make when they're burned ("It's like popcorn!"). Wikus is a rather unpleasant man, but it is a testament to the deft touch of writer/director Neil Blomkamp and the amazing abilities of Copley, that we are soon on Wikus' side for the entire film and feel real, raw empathy for him.

Things go wrong for Wikus, and continue to spiral downwards, when he is exposed to alien nanofluid extracted from prawn tech by "Christopher", one of the prawns who is attempting to salvage enough nanofluid to power their technology and get back home. The nanofluid alters Wikus' DNA and soon he is turning into a prawn. This makes him both a problem and an asset to his masters at MNU, and as he descends into a body-horror hell that would make Seth Brundle nod his head in sympathy, his sinister bosses are experimenting on him to get a full understanding of the alien technology they hope to mass produce for profit. The cruelty that he suffers at their hands is devastating, thanks to Copley's brilliant performance. He wins audience sympathy quickly and effortlessly.

On escaping his captors, Wikus, teaming up with Christopher, has to escape from MNU operatives and Nigerian gangsters, who all want to capture Wikus for their own ends, in order to gather the nanofluid and help Christopher and his little boy get back to the mothership - where they will then help turn Wikus back into a human.

What follows is an immense, genuine, scifi action spectacle that confidently stands next to Robocop as a bona fide genre classic.

There is intelligent, truthful social commentary which attacks both corporate greed and immorality as well as the almost inate flaw of prejudice that humanity as a whole suffers from, this is not supposed to be a 1:1 allegory for apartheid, the prawns are not synonymous with black people, they are merely here to explore how the majority treat "others" in society. We struggle to treat our own kind with anything resembling humanity, yet we are expected to believe we would greet alien life with kindness? No. Blomkamp's vision of alien integration into earth society is horrifying in that it is entirely realistic, almost too realistic for some audience members to accept, perhaps.

And, like Robocop, there is a genuine humanity hiding beneath the grand scifi concepts and ultraviolence (and, yes, there is plenty of ultraviolence on offer in District 9: it doesn't hold a candle to Robocop, but it's close enough); Not only does Wikus' suffering carry great emotional weight, right up to the final shot which is both haunting and absolutely heartbreaking, but in the coverage of the prawns we begin to see some of the most empathetic CGI creations since Gollum. They are shot as if they were real actors, this gives the film a realistic tone that makes the special effects blend into their surroundings and feel less "special" and more like a real component of the film, as real and as vital as the sets or the extras. There is a soul in their eyes which makes it painful to watch as they suffer in poverty and from the cruelty of their humans "superiors". It is among the best effects work this year because it imbues heart and soul into that which shouldn't have either. And that such amazing visuals are achieved at a fraction of the cost of heartless, soulless crap like Transformers 2 is another marvel that this film achieves.

This is intelligent, thought provoking, socially-conscious science fiction on par with the likes of Children of Men. It also finds time to kick unholy amounts of ass, with copious gore and stripped-down action sequences that may not have a 100 million dollar pricetag but they carry an emotional weight that makes them that much more exciting than a pricier, more elaborate scene in a movie with no heart.

If this is the level of action and scope that Blomkamp can achieve on a relative shoestring budget, I can only imagine what he could pull off on a LOTR-level production (obviously complete with the freedom that Jackson felt had during that production, devoid of the micromanagement that cripples most big budget films). I almost hope they make a sequel, just to spend more time in this brilliantly realized world, but I also feel this would be a hard experience to top, but whatever Blomkamp does next, he's a talent to follow.

Smart, exciting and involving. This is what science fiction entertainment should be like, and this is a genuine classic in the making.

For too long Star Trek has been wallowing in a quagmire of the dour and the dull. It has been a series strictly for the fans with no wiggle room for newcomers, or even the casual fan. If you don't know how to recite Hamlet in Klingon, you would struggle to fully enjoy Star Trek.

I was a fan of the original series, the iconic characters, the humour, the sexiness, the sense of fun and adventure.

It was a pioneering show; innovative ideas driven by clever storytelling and, most importantly, likable characters.

With every passing iteration of Trek, it has moved further and further away from those pillars of Trek. This is why the films have sank at the box office and why Enterprise was more hated than puppy cancer.

JJ Abrams, entertainment juggernaut that he is, has brought Trek bang up to date. It's fresh, modern, exciting and wholly cinematic without losing that vital spirit that drove the original Trek through it's best years. It will never have that visionary quality that has inspired actual science in the decades that follow, but it wants to entertain us and excite us and make us feel good. Star Trek was an overwhelmingly positive show, there was nary a bleak bone in it's body, something the show began to lose sight of - but despite the raised stakes and the danger present in this new Trek, there's an upbeat feeling that really lifts the audience.

This brings to mind last years Iron Man, which was a movie driven by characters, a strong cast and had a great sense of humour.

In the pantheon of Trek, Trek '09 isn't as good as Khan because the screenplay just doesn't have the same thematic weight to it and the villain of the piece, Nero (played by Eric Bana) isn't fit to trim Khan's toenails, but it's a metric fuckton of fun. Fun! That thing Trek hasn't been for as long as I've been alive. This is exciting, funny stuff. Top shelf popcorn entertainment.

The cast is just perfect from top to bottom. This is the kinda cast you build a great franchise with, and everyone had a moment to shine. Chris Pine has made the leap from smalltime actor to movie star with this role, he embodies everything that is Captain Kirk without shamelessly aping Shatner. There is no denying we are watching a new take on Kirk, but its utterly familiar at the same time.

As far as reboots go this has to go down as one of the more ingenius ideas. They set it in the same universe but with a little time travel mayhem they can essentially change every goddamn thing that has ever happened - any canonical nitpick leveled at the movie can be knocked aside by saying history has changed. Brilliant.

That is not to say the movie is flawless - the script is an absolute mess. Filled with contrivances and bafflingly illogical plotholes that by all rights would sink most films the moment you put too much thought into them. The real magic to Abrams' Star Trek is that this terrible, terrible script doesn't affect the film. Abrams, along with his flawless casting, makes this bad material dance across the screen with style and conviction. It works despite its flaws, and it works superbly.

It's actually pretty amazing how a film so full of plotholes and contrivances can be so goddamn good with an untested feature director (frankly Mission Impossible 3 was practically a TV movie in terms of execution) and what appeared to be deeply unpopular casting decisions ("Trek 90210"), whereas Wolverine went in the opposite direction and had an Oscar winning director and a selection of popular, fan-favorite actors in the roles. One film is the smash hit of the summer and the other is hot garbage.

I can only hope Abrams and Damon Lindelof keep a tighter leash on screenwriters Orci and Kurtzman next time. You can tell which scenes had an Abrams/Lindelof polish and which had the Orci/Kurtzman fingerprint smudges. If the writers strike hadn't hit the production I think this film would've been even better. The film looked like it was being shaped into something more coherent, but the strike prevented any midshoot rewrites to bring the scenes together. If a strike-movie can be this good then this is a very good sign for the sequel.

It's a testament to this films greatness that as the whole thing was wrapping up I didn't want to leave my seat, I wanted to sit for another 2 hours and watch these characters go on another adventure. I would have done this gladly.

I feel like a Star Trek review needs at least one obvious wordplay, so why not: Star Trek will, indeed, live long and prosper with JJ Abrams in the Captain's chair!

Pitch black comic genius. The Heathers of a new generation. Full review coming later.

Until now my knowledge Australian cult cinema began and ended with a man named Max who was quite Mad, but having watched the wonderful, hilarious documentary Not Quite Hollywood, I now have a veritable laundry list of bizarre, obscure and downright awesome new discoveries to track down and devour.

The film is both an education and a delightfully witty, self-depricating and yet affectionate celebration of the Australian underground cinema - everything from softcore porn to bawdy sex comedies to horror movies to hardcharging vehicular action movies - with talking heads from the men and women who made them, and the filmmakers of today who were inspired by them, including Quentin Tarantino, Saw creators James Wan & Leigh Whannel, Wolf Creek director, Greg Mclean.

The film is unabashedly proud of both the derivative and the innovative, both given equal time and equal love, the sheer number of groundbreaking films that came out of this movement is quite surprising but as a film lover it is a real charge to discover fascinating new layers to film history, delivered with such good humour and frank honesty. The ballsy, dangerous shooting style of the era is laid bare and the hilarious and shocking behind the scenes stories featuring disappearing budgets, rampant egos, stunt injuries/deaths, Dennis Hopper insanity (what documentary about 70s cinema would be complete without a story about Hopper acting nuts?) and even some Hell's Angels related violence.

The talking heads come in the form of retrospectives from the talent in front and behind the camera, ranging from misty eyed fondness, dry wit and hysterical bluntness. The other portion is from fans inspired by these films, and this is dominated by Tarantino, which should be no surprise. Tarantino's enthusiasm for these films is positively infectious and played a strong role in inspiring me to see these movies. He knows what he is talking about and he loves the trash and the genius in equal measure.

For any lover of exploitation or any real film lover interested in expanding their knowledge about film history (regardless of whether it is of the B-caliber), this is a real treat. Both entertaining and educational and oddly touching in a nostalgic, but unsentimental way. Excellent work from all involved, sure to be a film I revisit from time to time.

A movie spin-off award winning BBC comedy series, The Thick Of It, doesn't quite meet it's predecessor in it's horrifying vitriol but, in terms of cinema, In The Loop is one of the best political satires ever made.



It makes it's intentions known early on when a up and coming UK Member of Parliament is heard to state, rather definitively, during a radio interview that "war is unforeseeable". In the world of politics decesivieness is as good as a death knell, this is why politicians will never speak frankly, always talking in circles and deflecting questions. An actual stance is a dangerous thing. This sets the ball rolling for what will be a collission of two political worlds (the Washington Senate and the British Houses of Parliament) which shows in methodical and often mundane detail, just how a real war starts in this modern world. Not with a gunshot, but with stacks of paper.



Despite being a film simply about people talking about going to war, and the schemes and misdeeds taken to ensure a result one way or the other, this film is riveting to watch in a way many more po-faced political thrillers fail to be, due to a crackling script and amazing delivery from a cast of versatile actors. Firing abuse and profanity like a Sylvester Stallone with an anti-aircraft gun in Rambo, this movie is almost jawdropping in it's verbal brutality, and that is largely thanks to the sublime Peter Capaldi.



Capaldi is a Scottish character actor whose tyrannical Spin Doctor, Malcolm Tucker, manages to effortlessly sidestep between gutwrenchingly funny to downright intimidating with the most subtle of performance shifts. Despite being almost indistinguisable between one or the other, we're never left wondering whether we should be laughing or feeling uncomfortable by Capaldi's character, he communicates the intent without ever sending up a flare. He treats the humor and the drama with the same level of commitment and makes swearing look like an artform. It's flawless acting and I will go to the bat for Capaldi to get a Best Supporting Actor nomination for these coming Oscars.



The majority of the cast give great performances, giving layered performances and delivering their dialogue with a naturalistic flair, the only stand-out weak link would be Anna Chlumsky who always feels like she is acting in a different film to the rest of the cast; something more traditionally comedic and broad. She never quite connects with the realism that Iannucci has created through the rest of the film.



This film also possesses a screenplay worthy of an Oscar nomination. It's genuinely great comedy which could play as great drama, it's a film truly deserving of Oscar recognition.



Beautifulyl profane and unforgiving political satire. The funniest film of the year so far, and one of the scariest too in it's meticulous plausability. The Dr. Strangelove of our times.

Revised review, there will be spoilers.

Sam Raimi does not make horror films that claw deep into your subconscious, keeping you awake at night, he doesn't want to destroy that last shred of safety or make you fear the shadows in the corner of your room for weeks to come.

Sam Raimi makes horror films that are the cinematic equivalent of a well maintained ghosthouse ride at a fun fair. Easing you through the dark and delivering well timed shocks that will have you laughing as soon as shriek. Drag Me To Hell is a well made ghosthouse ride, and there is no one better qualified to work the levers than Sam Raimi.

Raimi has been out of the game for a while, due to being stuck in the Spider-Man business for so long, but anyone paying attention would know the old Raimi was still there. Norman Osborne's psycological dialogue with the Green Goblin or the Doctor Octopus surgery tentacle attack from Spider-Man 2 carried all the hallmarks of a Raimi horror movie - the energy, the inventive camera work, the sheer sense of glee at the chaos being unleashed. Finally we get to see that energy channelled into a real horror movie.

The film's story operates like a classic EC horror comic - a morality play that takes particular glee with punishing it's hapless victim for their trangressions. If you've read an EC Comic, then you know what to expect.

The beauty of the film being that Christine Brown (played perfectly by Alison Lohman) really did nothing to help herself throughout the entire film. Her initial act of self serving callousness spurs on the curse (one could see it as an overreaction, but consider what followed and Christine actually sentenced the Ganush to death in that scene) and, as the demented trickery of the demon that begins stalking her escalates, Christine just seems to get worse and worse. A very human trait, self-preservation, but it's delightful to think that all of her selfishness and resistance only made her fate even more inevitable.

Raimi really puts Lohman through the ringer in this film, much like he once did to Bruce Campbell to wonderful effect in the Evil Dead movies. He takes an almost giddy pleasure in punishing Lohman for our entertainment but it wouldn't work if Lohman didn't sell the character. Lohman plays the part much like Campbell would, with a dumbfounded, almost baffling lack of self awareness, and this makes her very endearing even when her actions make you wonder if a one way trip to Hell wouldn't be a bad idea to straighten her out.

I cannot imagine how the movie could work, had the original casting of Ellen Page gone ahead, Page would carry the film with more confidence and force than the character necessarily requires - I think the slighter presence of Lohman really works for the character.

All complaints about a PG13 horror movie are unfounded as Raimi finds a way to cram nearly every other foul fluid into this film (usually in Christine's mouth), as well as retaining that demented Evil Dead spirit. The seance scene is 100% Evil Dead; with talking goats, grotesque human puppets dancing a jig and others being thrown around like ragdolls. It's insane and hilarious, which is exactly what the Evil Dead films were. I'm almost convinced this film takes place in the same universe because I'll be damned if the Lamia isn't a Deadite after seeing him work his magic on his victims in the seance scene.

Thanks to Raimi perfectly building the tension during scenes (for instance, when the Lamia is enters the house and begins slowly walking up the stairs) and delivering expertly timed shocks with the assistance of an amazing sound design, he'll have you spending a good 80% of the film an inch off your seat. On that topic, Drag Me To Hell may be the loudest film I have ever seen, and while some will say "loud noises don't make a movie scary" I would have to disagree in this case, an amateur will use a loud noise to get a scare but without tension or atmosphere they won't have the same impact, which is where Raimi succeeds here - every time he wants to ratchet up the tension, he does it perfectly. Whenever he wants to surprise you, he catches you off guard.

Raimi also knows when to just have fun, not every scene needs to dye your underwear a deeper shade of brown, and with his wickedly demented sense of humour he makes us laugh at Christine's torment just as much as he makes us jolt around in fright. The dinner party scene with the demonic cake is one such scene, absolutely priceless, Lohman sells the hell out of that scene, she does the kind of work that would do any Bruce Campbell fan proud.

It seems to balance Evil Dead's sincere (although imperfect in ED's case) desire to scare you out of your seat and Evil Dead 2's manic sense of humour.

Outside of Lohman, the rest of the cast provide a solid background to her suffering; Justin Long convinces as the concerned but supportive love interest. Lorna Raver positively exudes menace as the curse-happy Mrs. Ganush. Dileep Rao gives the film much needed gravitas to mask his job as Mr. Exposition. And David Paymer is delightful as always in a short role that he makes worth every minute: "Did any get in my mouth?"

It's not their show, and Lohman makes every second worth watching while Raimi drenches her in every foul goo he can get away with and tosses her around like a puppy with a new rope toy.

I can only hope Raimi doesn't spend so long out of the spook-game because we really need more flat-out entertaining movies in the horror genre.

To any lifelong fan of Raimi, this film is the real deal. To everyone else, well your mileage may vary.

Something is very wrong in Pontypool, Ontario, but don't worry because we've got the media to carry us through the troubled times. The voice of the media comes in the form of the wonderful Stephen McHattie as Grant Mazzy, a former shock jock aging disgracefully and relegated to breakfast show host. McHattie has one of those great actorly voices, the man has a voice you can listen to for hours, which is helpful because he will be carrying the film on the soundwaves of his pitch perfect, gravelled tones.

The film presents what could be considered a zombie outbreak in a format reminiscient of Orson welles' War of the Worlds radio broadcast, we hear the information (and perhaps disinformation?) via television, phonelines and the radiowaves. Words must convey the imagery and the drama, and it does so with great potency, as powerfully as it could have been had it been seen from a big budget staging. Rarely do we see the carnage and that works in it's favour presenting a paranoid, claustrophobic atmosphere that more than compensates for any budgetary constraints that keep the horror under-represented.

Much like Deadgirl, Pontypool is a horror movie about ideas above violence and the idea is an interesting one. The virus is spread through language. The English language is a virus. The infected find themselves struggling with words, then thoughtlessly repeating other people's phrases, words now robbed of context through no real understanding of their meaning. As if the words were being uttered for the first time. Reduced to babble, the infected turn savage. The effect of hearing the infected echo words is remarkably effective in it's creepiness.

It could be argued that language has always been a virus, the day we learned to speak was the day we learned to hate, to lie, to fight. The problem is the conceit is not fully explored or cohesively realized, are they stating that the understanding of words, the exchange of language, is dangerous? Or is it that the loss of that understanding is dangerous? Both are valid interpretations of the impact communication can have on us as a society. It seems to send mixed signals in this regard, but perhaps that is in keeping with it's exploration of information and disinformation via the media. They certainly posit the idea that the media can hinder epidemics with rash reportage without considering the implications of their words. Repeat viewings may yield a more concrete opinion on this, but it works regardless of which side of the coin it lands upon.

McHattie is fantastic throughout, he sways between a detached bemusement off-air and sly, manic energy in his radio personna. He comes alive when the On-Air light goes red and the epidemic gives him a new lease of life from his boring, small potatoes gig. He is the primary focus of the entire film and his marvellous voice lends every update with a greater gravity than a visual interpretation could have managed. It's very in keeping with the film's central concept that all vital information would be processed entirely through language. A particularly haunting sequence recounts the casualties, depicting entirely through McHattie's on-air obituary and a montage of black & white profile shots of all of the victims. We never see their deaths, but the words convey the toll and the horror with incredible effectiveness.

Intermittently paranoid, creepy, thrilling and funny. A meatier exploration of it's theme would have been helpful but it works entirely on it's own terms and is a truly great, original horror film.

It is quite telling that many reviews will mention the film is too "arty", as if beauty, intelligence and soul are bad things. It also reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of this bizarre and terrifying man we've agreed to spend 90 minutes of our time with - the man is an artist, as absurd as that may seem.

Nicolas Winding Refn (genius director of the sublime Pusher trilogy) understands this and has crafted a multi-layered exploration of the man, the myth and the utter fucking psychopath that is Charles Bronson. This is no simple biopic, and some so-called "gritty" straight forward work that a soulless hack like Nick Love would produce would not suit such a fascinating personality. It would have been less challenging and more accessible, but that wouldn't be a work befitting someone like Bronson.

The film is presented through three mediums: There is the one-on-one confessional with a stoic, solitary Bronson, dressed in drab prison clothes, talking frankly and plainly about his life. This is Bronson, the man. Next we have a more theatrical vision of Bronson, dressed in a fine tux, face painted up like an absurdist minstrel show, this Bronson plays to the crowd; boastful, lively, enthusiastic, ready to explode at random. With this we see Bronson's aspirations, the man he wants us all to see, his best and worst aspects amplified but here to entertain and enthrall us all - the center of attention. Next we see Bronson as he was - going through life beating the ever loving shit out of people, doing a lot of soul-searching and a lot more face-punching, in order to find his greater purpose. It's here we see the introspective, thoughtful man meet the highly strung, fame seeking livewire - the results are contradictory, fascinating and frequently explosive.

This is all largely due to Tom Hardy's amazing lead performance, any viewer who is familiar with Hardy's previous work will be doubly amazed by his chameleonic transformation into this rich, complex, larger than life, mountain of a man. This is method acting on par with the best that Daniel Day Lewis has to offer but alas the subject matter and the size of this film will prevent Hardy from receiving the appropriate accolades. The man truly is spectacular and is a dead tie with The Hurt Locker's Jeremy Renner for best performance of the year (thus far) and he has firmly planted himself on my list of talent to follow without question.

The film explores the notion of art and artistic expression, given that Bronson has dabbled in expressionist art and performance art during his time serving under his Majesty's Pleasure, it seems appropriate to view his life story with a more elaborate, experimental eye. Ultimately, though, Bronson's true artistry came from his fists, he doled out violence with such ease and confidence that it became a form of expression in itself. It is an artform in his hands. The violence in the film is delivered with beautiful photography and conflictingly soothing musical accompaniment - very reminscient of A Clockwork Orange in this respect - and helps firm up the overall theme of art and the artist.

Visceral in it's violence but cerebral in it's treatment of that violence, this is a film with more on it's mind than simply rehashing Bronson's greatest hits. This is less a thorough, detailed psychological breakdown of a man and more a scary but jaw droppingly beautiful painting of how he views the world around him. One would assume it just looks like a giant face ready to punch.

Crank was frenetic, strange and wild. Crank: High Voltage makes it's predecessor look like Teddy Ruxpin.

While the film does not tread as much new ground as I would have liked, it does take sequences and ideas used in the original, attach them to Spinal Tap's amp and take them all the way to 11. That is not to say the film is absent of original content, it's got more than enough of that but to properly divulge that information would spoil a lot of the film's best (to use the parlance of the internet age) WTF moments. This will render the review somwhat short, because I could really rail off an epic screed to explain my love for the madness in this movie.

Suffice to say this is a film of pure insanity, it still embraces it's amoral video game roots but infuses them with the absolute unbridled insanity of a Takeshi Miike film, all the while remaining a purely unique vision.

Statham shines once again as the indestructible Chev Chelios, the Jason Voorhees of action movies, a one man juggenaut of bad behaviour and wanton disregard for the safety of others. Statham continues to ground the film despite it's mounting insanity. Dwight Yoakum is excellent as always, and Amy Smart continues to be a refreshingly good sport for a leading lady in an action movie, allowing herself to be objectified and abused for our entertainment and she takes it all with good humor and energy. Efron Ramirez returns, as the twin of his Crank character, suffering from Full Body Tourettes, which provides a great deal of tasteless humour.

Series newcomer, Clifton Collins Jnr, once again makes good use of whatever screentime he gets and is always a pleasure to watch. Bai Ling, however, strains patience as a hyperactive, incoherent syphillitic whore (I assume, she's not given much backstory but she looks the type). She creates some good laughs, but she's used seberal times too many during the film and almost touches on Jar Jar Binks levels of annoying, until her appearance in the film's finale which redeemed her entire character.

The shooting style feels even more frenzied and dazzling, incorporating a nice selection of different editing styles, and picture grades (using a variety of consumer/prosumer cameras to create it's visual pallette). If you take your eyes away from the screen for five seconds you may actually miss a multitude of inventively presented frames. It's exhilirating in it's ADD approach.

The film is so bustling with crazy that it simply cannot match the first film's relentless pace, featuring more slowed down moments, random diversions in the midst of the action, such as a callback to the traumatized doctor from the original film and a flashback to a young Chev Chelios as a guest on a Jeremy Kyle-esque afternoon talkshow. These scenes do not harm the film, they simply add a new flavour to things. What it lacks in pace it makes up for in beautiful lunacy. I can only pray that Crank: High Voltage finds greater success in the home video market, enough so to give us one more (proposed 3D!) ride with Chev Chelios. A 3D Crank movie would likely involve Jason Statham's fist physically breaking through the screen and punching you in the face. I would call that money well spent.

Surprising in it's frankness and humility, James Toback's Tyson is the story of a sporting legend, in his own words. Stripped of the grandstanding and the unstabilizing influence of competetive sports and celebrity, we find a more introspective, honest and oft regretful figure to what many of us grew up seeing.

While never possessing the verbal flair of Mohammed Ali, Tyson does come across as articulate and thoughtful, even if his words don't always match up with the ideas he is trying to communicate. He talks of his insecurities, the arrogance and anger that derailed his life many times, his indiscretions, his triumphs and losses with an openness and awareness that is so often lacking in others.

It may only present one side of a larger story (and thus should not be taken as gospel), but as a complex character study and as both a condemnation of the business of boxing and a celebration of the sport, this is essential viewing.