Mini-budget zombie effort that benefits from having a very good performance from the main player, but suffers from terrible hammery by everyone else. Also makes the mistake of continuing, on an entirely unrelated plot strand, for twenty minutes after it should've ended.
A girl is travelling across America with her mum for agoraphobia treatment when their car is held up by gunmen for reasons that aren't particularly clear but we weren't particularly watching as the film's pretty dull. The moral of the story is agoraphobia specialists should understand their subject better and do home visits.
There's likely a previous scathing Film Plop review but we folk at Plop Towers are apparently the only people on the planet who believe this film to be a sack of overrated old balls. In the fog of meh Heath Ledger's Joker is entertaining in a hammy way but Christian "Whispering Makes Me Intense" Bale's Batman makes me want George Clooney to cape up again. Although Batman & Robin was nothing special it didn't take itself too seriously and it didn't have the entire world think it was a masterpiece of cinema. This film lasts for fucking days and although I was only semi watching Batman doesn't seem to actually feature that much. Does anyone genuinely think the Nolan Batman films are amazing or is it just because an iPhone app said they should? And what happened to Robin anyway? Not even a zero hours contract for the little fella?!
Boy meets girl. Boy dates girl. Boy accidentally shoots girl in the leg with a crossbow (as you do). Boy and girl are in his posh family home when it's raided by crim types. Not badly acted (especially by the standards of the old pony we watch) but beige.
If Hollywood is the
western world's city of films, then London must be a small, distant village.
Every village needs an idiot.
Anyway, this is a
Danny Dyer film.
I'm trying to picture
his face, but all I'm seeing is A pint of lager wearing a West Ham shirt, with
twenty Bensons floating in it as it swaggers around telling people to 'Leeev it
aaaaht, Shirley' and other such rubbish.
I dunno, the film's
actually got an interesting idea going on and I'd be lying if I said it didn't
hold my attention. So, yeah, not bad.
Some, critics have
bigged this film up as a bit of a masterpiece.
Here's why it's not:
The plot. Two
brothers grow up in a small town, the younger one is sensitive and upon
reaching adulthood, goes of to live in the big city. The other, a rather
lesser-witted fellow, stays behind and makes a living as a goon for the local
returns and infiltrates the gang in an attempt to extract dummo from its
clutches. Along the way there's the occasional shooting and beating.
The main activity of
the gang of bad guys appears to be, well, just that, 'Grrr, we're baddies! Be
careful around us!'
Is there anything in
that plot which isn't straight out of some piss-poor Stevan Seagal bollocks?
This doesn't even have the comedy value of that mumbling, tubby pensioner
pretending to beat up people much younger than him.
The acting. I think
Anton Yelchin has been very good in everything I've seen him in, certainly the
ONLY thing of merit in Terminator Salvation. However in this he spends most of
the film squeaking a few lines of dialogue and looking like he's about to cry.
The guy playing his brother is less like a realistic portrayal of someone with
a limited IQ, and more like someone doing a prolonged playground 'spazz'
impression. Vincent Donofrio's gang leader lacks any real sense of menace and
seems rather portly and camp, like a redneck version of Uncle Monty from
Withnail And I.
I think the relationship
between the brothers is meant to be akin to Steinbeck's Lenny and George,
including the sense of trying to avoid inevitable disaster, but instead... Fuck
all this, the film's shit.
The trivia about this
film is that it was based on a book, the sequel to the book was the one that
Die Hard was an adaptation of. Due to some contract law or something, Frank
Sinatra, the star of this, had to be given first refusal to play John McClaine
when Die Hard went into production.
I was going to say
how different a film that would be, but thinking about it, seeing a septuagenarian in a vest leap off a skyscraper using a firehose bungee might
actually have been magnificent.
Hans Gruber "Go
and get McClaine!"
Henchman "How do
we find him?"
"Follow the trail of Werther's Originals wrappers. And piss."
stealthy, Hans. Those carpet slippers make him almost silent!"
Hans Gruber "The
creak of his hip will always give him away if he's close. Or place a bus stop
somewhere in the building, people of his age seem to be magnitised to
when the film's doing the investigative, policey stuff, it's pretty good, when
it's droning on about Sinatra's marriage, it's boring. Also, it's possibly the
only time you'll ever hear Ol' Blue Eyes say the words 'semen stains'.*
*Apart from his
little known 1958 album 'The Mrs Is At Bingo, Break Out The Blast-Sock'.
Fucking hell, you've
read this far? Well done, I would've given up ages ago. Such a load of twaddle.
A recently widowed
chap and his daughter move into a haunted cottage.
Not on purpose of
course, that'd be bloody silly, wouldn't it. Unless you were a hauntologist or
something, then you might choose to move there. Although you'd also probably
want to keep your hauntolgy to office hours.
Anyway, point is they
didn't know it was haunted. They do by the end of the film due to ghost things
It's a pretty
formulaic low budget, spooky house (cottage) film, but the performances from
Pops and daughter are actually pretty decent and they were enough to forgive
some of the more patchy moments.
sequence is silly bibbins though.
Some young lady goes
away on a boat, the same one that her family got murdered on or something.
There's suspicion that she was involved in the murders at some level. Anyway,
there's some ghosts or suchlike on the boat and something that looks like a
microwave keeps telling her to cut her fingers off.
Silly old nonsense about an ethnically confused young fellow who seeks a mystical producer of fortune cookies, a midget mobster/arcade owner with a wannabe pop star wife, and a local street gang who dress like the very gayest of Eurovision acts with a leader called Sho'Nuff.
One of those good old fashioned kids films where violence solves everything.
Not got a clue/10
Undoubtedly William H. Macy's finest moment.
Very threatening. Not gay*
I meditate just like this before writing these reviews.
Nah, not really, I just type whatever old shit falls out.
"Looking good, Terry. Been hittin' the weights?"
"Nah, just the butter."
I won't go into another boring drone about how crap the '80s were.
They weren't fun, just embarrassing and shit.
The inspiration for Apple's 'Siri' feature. But less shit.
I watched this when
it first came out. I was very excited that John Carpenter had come back to
direct a horror film. I remembered being very disappointed and thinking that
the film seemed to be a continuous series of slow moving corridor shots with
nothing in the way of tension or peril.
previous me was correct. If I ever get a time machine, I'll go back and tell
him he was right. I'll probably tell him to get off his arse and watch less
shit films as well.
Are you an
undemanding, mentally soft, fleshcog in the machine of absolute cultural
hegemony? Then you'll love this film! It has a fat lady who wears wigs and
swears! You'll think it's brilliant, then when it's finished drive home in your
four-door diesel car back to your semi-detached house, drink a single glass of
supermarket wine, tut at the late news headlines, then go to bed and possibly
perform unsatisfactory sex with your partner whilst secretly thinking of that
person from work.
Awful film made for
cretins that deserves to have every single copy put into a giant wicker fat lady and
burned whilst spectators perform pagan acts of rutting, invoking the ancient
dark ones who will bring destruction to the writers and financiers responsible
for creating such horrendous sensory assaults.
Missed out on July's
final few entries, so you can have them now. Aren't you lucky?*
decides to start doing dodgy stuff to get noticed. By dodgy stuff I mean
pushing casting rivals down stairs and suchlike, not fisting porn or midget
between a comedy and a drama without being very strong in either, it was still
a fair effort.
Could you imagine if
this was a British film? Rather than pursuing small roles in mega-budget
blockbusters, and drowning their sorrows in balmy, neon-lit bars, it would be
about some actor hoping to get a role in a panto and dipping his fishfinger in
a cup of tea.