Film Review | Toy Story 3 (2010)

Combining both the rule of diminishing returns and the inverse relationship between the length of time you leave between installments in a film franchise and the quality of the newest entry, Toy Story 3 should be awful. Add to that the fact that both Toy Story and Toy Story 2 were beloved modern classics of animation by the time of Toy Story 3's release and it could have become the most derided third film of a trilogy since The Godfather Part III. Surely if any studio could manage to steer clear of this minefield of cinematic failure, it was Pixar? Simply put: yes, it surely was.

Toy Story 3, like Toy Story 2 before it, retains many of the successful elements seen since the series' first installment. All the key voice cast members return sounding as fresh as ever (aside from Jim Varney as Slinky Dog due to his death in 2000, but whose role is ably and respectfully filled by Blake Clark). A wealth of new talent join them, each as perfectly fit to their animated counterparts as the franchise veterans. Ned Beatty as Lots-O'-Huggin' Bear deftly creates the series' most finely crafted and performed antagonist, with Michael Keaton providing strong and often laugh-out-loud support as Ken. Additional supporting roles are filled by seasoned performers including Whoopi Goldberg, Bonnie Hunt and Timothy Dalton (as one of the series' most brilliant minor characters, Mr. Pricklepants: a lederhosen-attired plush hedgehog with a propensity for Shakespearean performance), which lends the film an essence of cinematic eminence.

After piloting the first two installments, John Lasseter receives credits as story writer and executive producer here whilst handing over control to Lee Unkrich in his directorial debut. Unkrich proves to be a worthy successor staying true to the style and passion Lasseter infused into his films; Toy Story 3 takes in a great deal of cinematic heritage including classic prison escape thrillers and an opening sequence which trumps both of the previous films' magnificent efforts. Unkrich blends the best elements from the franchise's past whilst keeping his film feeling original and contemporary. Even a handful of sequences clearly designed to take advantage of the film's 3D release in cinemas work just as well with one dimension removed. Pixar's ability to make the design of their characters, initially restricted by 1995 animation technology, still feel as crisp and appealing as ever is easy to overlook but simply cannot be understated.

Whilst Toy Story 3 at its core tells the story of a rescue mission once again, it manages more ably than its predecessor to bring an entirely original slant to proceedings. But perhaps most impressive of all is Unkrich's ability to make Toy Story 3 the most emotional entry of the trilogy. An early scene involving the toys effecting an elaborate ploy to get the attention of the now young adult Andy (John Morris) using his mobile phone is heartbreaking, and the film's final sequence will have you blubbering like a baby, especially if you've been with Woody and co. since the beginning. Elsewhere the film touches on areas that lesser animated films wouldn't dare go near, with existential questions surrounding death and the reasons for being etched within some of the film's most moving sequences.

Toy Story 3 therefore rounds off Pixar's flawless trifecta, one of the greatest film trilogies ever accomplished. All three deserve recognition in history as masterworks of animation and cinema, and their influence will undoubtedly resonate through the years and decades of film far into the future. Or as Buzz Lightyear would say more succinctly: "to infinity and beyond".

10/10

Film Review | Toy Story 2 (1999)

After the overwhelming success with both critics and audiences of Toy Story, it's no surprise that Pixar chose to create a sequel to capitalize on its success only four years later. No other franchise from the studio would receive a sequel until Cars 2's release in 2011. It could be that Pixar didn't want to emulate the dead-horse-flogging antics of rival studio Dreamworks, churning out one sequel after another no matter how low the quality sank. Or maybe the masters of computer animation were anxious that any future sequels made by them matched up to the incredibly high bar set in Toy Story 2.

A great deal of Toy Story 2's success comes from returning director John Lasseter's decision to carry over many positive elements from the original film. Hanks and Allen again deliver first class vocal turns as Woody and Buzz, as do the rest of the returning cast. New additions to the acting roster are just as excellent: Joan Cusack as cowgirl doll Jessie fits the character to a tee with a larger-than-life performance; Kelsey Grammer as Stinky Pete draws on his thespian roots, as well as his well-known television role as the pretentious Dr. Frasier Crane, to create a classic cinematic villain; and Wayne Knight is a perfect fit for ruthless toy collector Al McWhiggin.

Lasseter's direction here is in many ways even more impressive than in Toy Story. The advances in Pixar's animation in the four years since the first film are regularly obvious, but always used with subtlety and panache by the director. Toy Story's opening was intentionally low key and all the more powerful for it; the start of its sequel sits at the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of flamboyance, delivering a breathtaking action sequence that takes in a great many cinematic nods and references along the way, but at the same time Lasseter once again crafts a compelling and entertaining sequence. Elsewhere we see refined examples of something Pixar are now seasoned experts of ingeniously crafting from computer code: pathos. I defy anyone to watch Jessie's flashback sequence without experiencing a pang of genuine emotion within themselves.

Arguably, Toy Story 2 doesn't avoid every pitfall many sequels often fall into. The story here revisits some of the key beats of that seen in Toy Story with a rescue mission at the core of both films, only with Woody and Buzz's roles reversed from the first film to the second. But this never takes anything away from Toy Story 2, and the richness of the craft and depth of the ideas on display here mean that any repetition can be wholly forgiven. Toy Story 2 is every bit as accomplished, imaginative and entertaining as its predecessor, deserving recognition as one of the best animated films ever made.

10/10

Film Review | Toy Story (1995)

It's in no way an understatement to say that Toy Story is a cinematic milestone: one of the most important films ever made. It transformed the landscape of animated cinema forever and managed to do so slap-bang in the middle of the Disney Renaissance, one of the most critically and commercially successful periods for the animation giant. But whilst being a watershed moment in CGI, eighteen years after its release Toy Story still feels as fresh, vibrant and masterfully crafted as it did in 1995.

Toy Story perfects that synthesis of performance, direction and art so rarely seen and so precious when it happens. The vocal performances consummately fit their animated counterparts without fault. Both Tom Hanks and Tim Allen as Woody and Buzz Lightyear respectively cease to be actors, inhabiting their characters absolutely and sublimely. The chemistry between the two is pure cinematic gold, making the journey the two toys make from rivals to odd couple to double act an intoxicating mix of childhood fantasy and raw authenticity. The supporting characters too are fleshed out superbly, their voices expertly cast and each as entertaining as the next.

The script is spot on, with joke after joke hitting the mark. Toy Story effortlessly blends wordplay with visual humour, as well as providing what is now seen as a Pixar trademark - comedy that will entertain the kids, but will also draw genuine laughs from the adults. There are numerous subtle references and in-jokes littered throughout, and each is a winner.

The directorial craft from John Lasseter is consistently stunning. Shot after shot shows a passion and gift for storytelling influenced by some of the finest cinema ever made. Within Toy Story you'll find sequences of high emotion, heart-pounding action and unsettling horror, underpinned by one of the best buddy stories ever told. It's also to Pixar's credit that, nearly two decades on, the animation within their debut feature is still just as impressive as ever, the design of their characters effortlessly retaining a timeless yet contemporary quality.

Perhaps Toy Story's finest achievement of all is its transcendence of both genre and target audience. To describe it simply as a "children's film" or an "animated adventure" is to ignore its universal appeal and broad spectrum of influence and ambition. It's a film which has earned its place in cinematic history but, most importantly of all, it's a film which provides pure enjoyment through comprehensively refined cinema. Simply put, Toy Story is flawless.

10/10

Film Review | Shame (2012)

Michael Fassbender has emerged over the last five years or so as a serious talent to watch, bringing to life such memorable characters as Lieutenant Archie Hicox in Inglourious Basterds and more recently the unsettling android David in Prometheus. But to truly see why Fassbender is one of the most outstanding contemporary actors out there, you need look no further than his astonishing performance in Shame.

By the end of the film's opening, wordless sequence, Fassbender has expertly set out his stall, crafting the character of Brandon Sullivan sublimely through suggestion, expression and an intensity that only the very purest acting talent can muster. Brandon is seen making eye contact with an unnamed woman on the New York subway. The subtle flirting is traded back and forth, escalated little by little. And then things suddenly change, the woman sensing threat and becoming flustered before quickly escaping the train carriage at the next stop. Brandon pursues, no longer a man flirting with a woman but a predator desperately attempting to track his prey. The woman eludes him, and Brandon transforms again: a frustrated child who knows he has lost the game and momentarily bewildered, before heading back crestfallen to board the train once again. All the while this is intercut with candid snippets of Brandon's daily routine; his well-to-do but solitary existence in a modern, clean-cut apartment which belies the character's true life as a sex addict.

It's a performance which Fassbender sustains and develops masterfully throughout the film. Brandon is a complex character, simultaneously repulsive and genuinely sympathetic, repressed yet explosive. This is a character more intricate than the entire cast of other films put together, and yet Fassbender's execution of the part is so perfectly balanced between the excruciatingly subtle and overwhelmingly palpable as to appear effortless. It's a performance around which the rest of Shame is built, but the combined skill of both Fassbender as performer and McQueen as director means that it never threatens to overpower the film's many other superb elements.

Under the direction of another, Shame could at any point very easily slip into the exploitative and tasteless realm of cinema, but McQueen is so firmly in control of what he is creating this never even threatens to  happen. His depiction of the sordid elements of Brandon's life is regularly graphic, but never pornographic. A great deal of the sexual activity McQueen shows us is devoid of sexiness, instead manifesting a combination of Brandon's hedonism, dependency and self-loathing. The only time the director allows sex on screen to titillate is during Brandon's seduction of co-worker Marianne (Nicole Beharie), directly reflecting the character's desire to begin a genuine romantic relationship. Without a doubt, McQueen's command over his film is absolute and expert at every moment.

Carey Mulligan, supporting Fassbender as Brandon's capricious sister Sissy, is also deserving high praise. Her chemistry with Fassbender is electric, bringing a volatile and deep relationship to the screen with the two sharing both tender moments and some of the most uneasily tense scenes in the entire film. Her haunting yet beautiful take on a well-known film theme is also guaranteed to stay with you just as long as some of Shame's most hard-hitting sexual images.

Shame is a modern masterpiece: a piece of art where everything is perfectly crafted and exudes excellence. Steve McQueen is a director of substantial talent who will undoubtedly prove to be a name in cinema worth watching very closely in the years to come. But it is the awe-inspiring performance from Michael Fassbender that will imprint itself upon your mind long after the film's conclusion, and rightfully so. It's the most brilliant performance I've seen yet from one of the finest acting talents of the 21st Century. Shame is regularly not an easy watch, but it's a film that without question deserves to be seen.

10/10

TV Review | Black Mirror, Series 1 (2011)

With the second series of Black Mirror due to start tonight on Channel 4 in the UK, along with the news that Iron Sherlock himself Robert Downey Jr. has bought the movie rights to the episode The Entire History Of You, now seems like the perfect time to revisit the original 2011 trilogy of episodes (of course, I couldn't know that RDJ would secure the rights to an episode today, but the timing was too perfect not to mention it here). Black Mirror is the brainchild of Charlie Brooker, known to some as that angry bloke who moans about stuff in The Guardian, and to others as that angry bloke who moans about stuff on BBC3. And whilst a bile-fuelled tirade from Brooker is entertaining, it's in his perceptive and satirical scripts that Brooker shows his most exquisite talent. Nowhere has this been more apparent yet than in Black Mirror.

Brooker himself has stated that "the 'black mirror' of the title is the one you'll find on every wall, on every desk, in the palm of every hand: the cold, shiny screen of a TV, a monitor, a smartphone." However, the title is open to multiple interpretations, with an almost certainly intentional ambiguity. What each of the three episodes, connected through neither narrative, character nor universe, sets out to do is reflect the very worst that humanity can be, or could very easily become. The series holds a mirror up to us as inhabitants of the 21st Century and shocks us, even shows us something we dislike, but at the same time grips us and draws us in because so much of what we see is uncannily, uncomfortably familiar.

The series opens with an episode cryptically titled The National Anthem, focusing on the kidnap of Princess Susannah, a young and popular member of the royal family, and her kidnapper's demand for her safe release: the prime minister, Michael Callow (Rory Kinnear) must have sexual intercourse with a pig live on TV. It's arguably the series' most unsubtle concept, but what unfolds following the "in media res" opening is one of the most tightly scripted and performed political dramas seen in recent times. With echoes of the likes of The Thick Of It and The West Wing, the entire scenario is played out with palpable tension and a genuine "race against time" feel, and the ending is truly haunting in its moral. The performance from the entire cast led superbly by Kinnear as PM is comprehensively highly polished, giving the series an incredibly strong opening.

We move from the parallel yet unsettlingly familiar world of the first episode to a dystopian future with some disturbingly recognisable echoes in episode two, Fifteen Million Merits. This is the story of Bing (Daniel Kaluuya), a resident of a facility where everyone must pedal every day on exercise bikes to power their surroundings and earn "merits", a virtual currency. When Bing meets new resident Abi (Jessica Brown Findlay) and hears her sing, he offers to buy her a ticket to enter "Hot Shots", a talent show in the X Factor mould - an action which doesn't have the positive outcome Bing hoped for. Once again, the performances from the main cast is excellent, making Brooker's plastic-not-so-fantastic future all the more tangible. Aesthetically, the second episode is quite a departure for the first, but the satirical edge is just as sharp. Brooker's perceptive referencing of everything from internet pop-ups to Nintendo Wii avatars is sublime. His ghoulish extrapolation of TV talent shows into a Hobson's choice from hell - complete with an unsettling trio of judges in Ashley Thomas, Julia Davis and a deliciously dark turn from Rupert Everett - is constantly both entertaining and really quite frightening.

And so we move to the final episode, The Entire History Of You. Caught somewhere between the unsettling quasi-present of the first episode and the artificial Abaddon of the second, we find ourselves in a world where almost everyone is implanted with a "grain", a tiny device implanted behind the ear which records every moment of a person's life and allowing them to replay past memories, known as "re-dos". Liam (Toby Kebbell) is a young lawyer who becomes increasingly suspicious and paranoid of his wife Ffion's (Jodie Whittaker) fidelity, in particular fixating on her relationship with her friend Jonas (Tom Cullen) and obsessing more and more over "re-dos" of the two together. This is probably the most subtle of the three episodes in its approach, with many scenes feeling as though they could quite easily be set in contemporary Britain if it weren't for the characters' ability to "re-do" either within their own minds or on TV screens. It's also the only episode not written by Brooker himself, instead penned by Peep Show writer Jesse Armstrong. The satire here takes a backseat to human relationships, with the central pairing of Kebbell and Whittaker delivering two of the strongest performances of the whole series.

It's tricky to rank the three episodes from most to least successful, partly due to the high quality of all three, but also because, despite being part of the same series, each episode feels like a distinct story in its own right. If pressed, I would probably say that I enjoyed The National Anthem the most, with The Entire History Of You feeling least successful if only because it would have been fascinating to see how the world presented affected more than just one couple and a few of their friends and acquaintances. That's almost certainly the opportunity Downey Jr. has seen in obtaining the rights to that particular episode.

Black Mirror ultimately deserves to be judged as a whole. Simply put, this is one of the bravest, most original and expertly crafted TV series of recent times. Brooker pulls no punches in his message and his ambition, forcing you to sit up and take notice of his warts-and-all view of the world. The assembled cast is comprehensively excellent, with a number of genuinely memorable standout performances from key players across all three episodes. The first series of Black Mirror will stay with you long after the credits of each installment fade out, and it deserves to be recognised and remembered as a truly significant television event. I can't wait to see what Brooker has to offer in series two.

10/10

Film Review | Django Unchained (2013)

Promoting Django Unchained in an interview with Playboy Magazine at the end of last year, Quentin Tarantino was quoted as saying that "directors don't get better as they get older. Usually the worst films in their filmography are those last four at the end. I'm all about my filmography, and one bad film fucks up three good ones". Ironically, if there is any contemporary director whose output disproves this theory, it's Tarantino himself. And if Django Unchained ended up being his last hurrah, then what a spectacular way it would be to sew up Tarantino's beloved filmography.

Django Unchained in many ways feels like the spiritual and natural successor to Tarantino's most recent previous work, Inglourious Basterds, with the two films in conjunction feeling as though they hail a renaissance in the director's career. Tarantino is no longer the young upstart on the scene, the indie filmmaker who reshaped 1990s cinema with the one-two combo of Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. That's not to say that his films no longer have the impact they once did. Quite the contrary in fact: Inglourious Basterds was so bold in its execution, so finely mastered by the man behind the camera, that it couldn't help but redefine war films for the modern era. Django Unchained does the same for the western genre, arguably with even greater success.

This is hands down Tarantino's finest story yet. From the opening scenes to the final moments, Tarantino the writer knows exactly where he's taking Django as well as every other character involved; Tarantino the director assuredly takes you along with them every step. This is intoxicating cinema, both brutal and beautiful - Django Unchained shows that the jawdropping cinematography of Inglourious Basterds was no one-off. Tarantino may beg, steal and borrow from his encyclopaedic passion for cinema when crafting his tales, but nobody can deny that he is one of the most artistically proficient filmmakers making movies today.

Tarantino's skill for drawing out the very best work from his actors is as robust as ever here. Jamie Foxx as Django is intense and immeasurably cool, developing the character over the film's effortless 165 minutes without putting a foot wrong. Alongside him is Christoph Waltz's dentist-turned-bounty-hunter Dr. King Schultz. It's almost unfair to compare Waltz's performance here to his enigmatic turn as Hans Landa in Inglourious Basterds, so I simply won't. Waltz is once again superb, immediately creating a captivating curiosity of a character who you can't help but warm to. Waltz regularly makes Schultz a genuinely funny character too, relieving some of Django Unchained's inherent heaviness with a perfectly timed quip or a charming demonstration of the Schultz's gift of the gab. The chemistry between Foxx and Waltz is palpable and rich, two fine actors on top of their game brilliantly glancing off one another wonderfully throughout.

If the film's first half belongs to Waltz and Foxx, then its second is firmly in the joint possession of Leonardo DiCaprio and Samuel L. Jackson. DiCaprio's incomparably vile plantation owner Calvin Candie is a villain for the ages, with the actor imbuing his creation with a heady mix of Southern hospitality and monstrous cruelty. Matching DiCaprio in detestabilty is Jackson as Stephen, Candie's aging Uncle Tom of a house slave. His is a performance as captivating as it is ire-inducing, the actor's finest since his last major role in a Tarantino film as Ordell Robbie in 1997's Jackie Brown.

Django Unchained comes together brilliantly as Tarantino's most mature work yet. The director strides assuredly and masterfully into his third decade of filmmaking with fresh ideas and increasingly impressive cinematic style and craft, whilst at the same time making clear that same burning desire and unbridled passion for every element of every moment of his films seen since his earliest work. During the same interview referenced earlier, Tarantino suggested that he may stop directing after his tenth film. If he follows through with this plan, it means we've got three more films to see from him yet. And if Django Unchained is anything to go by, we've potentially got some of the finest cinema ever created to look forward to.

10/10

Film Review | Inglourious Basterds (2009)

If the 1990s defined Quentin Tarantino as one of the finest directing talents of modern cinema, then the first decade of the 21st Century showed that he is also one of the most unpredictable. The director's '90s trifecta - Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown - all feel decidedly complete, whilst at the same time  exhibiting shared themes and an unmistakable style to the point that all three films arguably take place in the same universe. In contrast, Kill Bill Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 by definition are two halves of one long and bloody epic story that inhabit their own world, whilst Death Proof is an esoteric love letter to a film-making and cinema-going style of yesteryear which shared more than just a double billing with Robert Rodriguez's Planet Terror. Inglourious Basterds is arguably therefore Tarantino's first and only stand-alone film of the 2000s when measured against his 20th Century output. In many ways it signifies a new direction for Tarantino, with a quasi-historical context and a multilingual script. But this is also undeniably a Tarantino film, and moreover one which redefines the director as a breathtakingly skilled auteur.

From its opening prologue-like sequence, Inglourious Basterds is a film which commands your attention. Cinematically this is Tarantino's most mature work, with expertly crafted sequences that segue through historical drama, spaghetti western, romantic melodrama and exploitation with a refinement surpassing even the director's most acclaimed works. Every shot is a work of art, but two sequences within the film stand out as possibly the best ever seen from Tarantino. The first is the opening chapter, exuding quality and making an immediate statement through the subtitled French dialogue and beautiful yet sinister wartime countryside setting: this is at once the director not only away from his usual backdrops, but also out of his comfort zone, and yet making a masterpiece of every moment.

The opening scenes also introduce one of Tarantino's, and indeed cinema's, greatest ever character creations in Colonel Hans Landa, played to perfection by Christoph Waltz. The actor's performance is sublime to the point of being almost indescribable, creating an immensely complex and yet starkly straightforward personality it is impossible not to simultaneously despise and be awestruck by. Every moment Waltz is on screen is pure cinematic pleasure, with his introduction as "The Jew Hunter" of the SS in the film's opening one of the finest moments Tarantino, or in fact any director, has committed to celluloid.

As perfect as the film's prologue is, Tarantino's crowning achievement within Inglourious Basterds is undeniably the scene set in "La Louisiane", a basement bar at which a liaison between German double agent Bridget Von Hammersmark (Diane Kruger), undercover Brit Lt. Archie Hicox (Michael Fassbender) and two of the Basterds takes place. The entire scene is laced with tension, and is so finely crafted as to be a microcosmic movie contained within the main film's narrative.

Whilst this may feel like one of Tarantino's more uneven works tonally - consider how far the film changes from its quietly controlled, dramatic opening to its hyperreal, ultraviolence-fuelled finale - that's not to say that the film falters in between the moments highlighted. Tarantino commands the film's multi-plotted narrative as a virtuoso conductor does a concerto through his perfectly-assembled orchestra of superb acting talents, many of whom are bold choices being unknown to English-speaking audiences plucked as they are from European cinema. So high is the quality of the casting and performances throughout that even Eli Roth's subpar turn as Donny "The Bear Jew" Donowitz is forgivable.

Inglourious Basterds is a tour de force from Tarantino: a rip-roaring war epic which straddles genres, delivering entertainment, emotion and extreme violence whilst showing off the director's supreme talent behind the camera in the same way as his early work that first caught popular attention. This may be harder for audiences to take to their hearts in the same way as they did, say, Pulp Fiction, but Inglourious Basterds more than deserves to go down as a true Tarantino classic.

10/10

Film Review | Casino Royale (2006)

I've said before that Casino Royale is topped only by Batman Begins as the most important franchise reboot so far, mainly because whilst 007's previous rejuvenation in 1995's GoldenEye had experienced diminishing returns with every new Brosnan outing, Joel Schumacher had directed the Batman franchise into a place so undesirable as to seem almost untouchable. Brosnan's last outing before handing the Walther PPK over to Daniel Craig had been the so-so Die Another Day, memorable for being both ridiculously over-the-top and incredibly tired at the same time. Die Another Day is nowhere near Batman & Robin levels of awfulness, but it was enough for the Bond franchise to be put on ice as Eon decided how to rejuvenate 007 for the 21st Century. Four years later, they gave their answer in the form of Casino Royale. And what an answer it was.

The film reintroduces James Bond (Craig) at the start of his career as a double-0 agent. After embroiling himself in the dealings of terrorism financier Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen), Bond finds himself playing in a high stakes poker game at Casino Royale in Montenegro, set up by Le Chiffre and in which Bond must bankrupt the criminal.

Casino Royale cannot be seen as anything other than a comprehensive success. Tonally it is a significant shift from the campy cartoonish antics seen towards the end of Brosnan's tenure as 007. Gone are the fantastical sci-fi and flamboyant unreality, replaced with a gritty post-9/11 world in which Bond can operate as a secret agent rather than a wannabe superhero. Director Martin Campbell shows us that Fleming's secret agent may have germinated from the Cold War, but he can be remoulded superbly to fit into the modern day.

The casting of Daniel Craig as James Bond is an undeniable master stroke. It's hard to imagine now that, prior to Casino Royale's release, fans protested against Craig being given the part for a number of reasons, including the fact that Craig is fair-haired. Craig's performance shuts them up for good. He inhabits the role, showing reverence to the cinematic legacy that comes with the part whilst simultaneously doing things his own way. The opening scene depicting Bond earning his double-0 status (shot in black-and-white to show director Campbell really means business) reintoduces the character perfectly and allows Craig to demonstrate both the cool arrogance and intense physicality he will display throughout the rest of the film.

The cast elsewhere are equally spot on in their roles and the performances they give. Mikkelsen's Le Chiffre is in many ways nothing like a "Bond villain", but is unquestionably the ideal choice for rebooting the franchise. His performance is cold and unnerving with just enough strangeness lurking here and there to let you know you're in Bond's world. Mikkelsen's performance is a perfect marriage between old-style theatricality and modern realism making Le Chiffre one of the most effective adversaries of 007 seen in decades.

Eva Green too is superb as Vesper Lynd, the Treasury representative who accompanies Bond to Montenegro and becomes his love interest. Again, the opportunity to blow off the cobwebs and bring Bond into the 21st Century is taken expertly; the secret agent's relationship with Vesper shows a vulnerability and emotional side rarely explored previously, but entirely in keeping with his relative inexperience having just become a double-0 in the rebooted timeline. This Bond is not yet the jaded womaniser of Connery and Moore, and yet we are given more insight into just how he will become this than ever before.

The film feels crafted to an incredible level of quality throughout, something which has not always been the case with Bond films in the past. The cinematography is beautiful, allowing the plot to unfold effortlessly and the action, humour and drama to segue sublimely all the way through. Fleming's story is adhered to faithfully but not to the point of jarring with the modern day reboot. The film keeps the pace going but never feels rushed, expertly balanced and focused throughout.

As I said earlier, Casino Royale succeeds in all it attempts to do. The division from the previous films is firmly established, but this is still clearly a Bond film through and through. The rebooted timeline is potentially the film's biggest risk, but it works to perfection allowing Craig to take the role and make it his own without four decades of baggage to carry with him. As a closing thought, consider this: Brosnan's final Bond film was released in 2002, the same year as Matt Damon's first outing as Jason Bourne. Bourne wouldn't have given that Bond a second thought. Four years later, Casino Royale's Bond would not only match up to Bourne, but would teach him a few new tricks whilst he's at it.

10/10

Film Review | Kill Bill Volume 2 (2004)

Kill Bill Volume 2 is in many ways the yin to Volume 1's yang. Traditionally, yang represents brightness as well as masculinity, both qualities that it's easy to attribute to the first half of Tarantino's action epic. By the same token, yin is darker and more feminine, which again fits much of what we see in Volume 2. After the unrelenting action sequences of the first half of his saga, Tarantino redresses the balance opting for a steadier pace and more dialogue-heavy scenes. Whilst Volume 1 revelled in its audacity, Volume 2 is calculated and sinister in its understatement. And whilst The Bride (Uma Thurman) was the ultimate action heroine cutting her way through any who crossed her path to vengeance against Bill (David Carradine) in the first film, here she takes on multiple feminine roles giving the character a brand new set of dimensions.

Picking up where Volume 1 left off, Kill Bill Volume 2 continues The Bride's mission to avenge the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad that left her fighting for life on her wedding day. Having dispatched of the first two names of her "Death List Five", The Bride sets her sights on the final three: Budd (Michael Madsen), Elle Driver (Daryl Hannah), and finally Bill himself.

Volume 2 complements Volume 1 superbly in every way. Whilst the first film focused largely on oriental cinematic traditions and only touching on occidental genres here and there, the opposite is mostly the case here. Tarantino pays homage to Western cinema, most prominently the Spaghetti Western, with maturity and panache, whilst chapters such as The Bride's tenure under sociopathic kung fu master Pai Mei (Gordon Liu) link to the first film's Eastern focus superbly. And whilst Volume 1 favoured action over dialogue, Tarantino redresses the balance with some of his finest writing to date for the actors to weave together as a captivating cinematic tapestry.

Tarantino's skill behind the camera continues seamlessly from the first film with every shot a love letter to cinema. From The Bride's "Texas funeral" at the hands of Budd - still one of the most chillingly uncomfortable sequences I can remember experiencing in a cinema thanks to Tarantino's expert manipulation of visual and audio both together and separately - to the near Tex Avery-esque battle between her and Elle Driver in Budd's trailer, this is the work of one of cinema's geniuses.

Many other excellent features from Volume 1 are present once again here. Thurman continues her career-defining performance as The Bride, developing the character further by adding a greater sense of humanity, present in the first film but rightfully overshadowed by her action persona. That's not to say at all that The Bride has abandoned her Hanzo sword; Thurman still has plenty of fight in her, and it's just as enjoyable as ever.

With The Bride having dispatched two of her former associates in Volume 1, Hannah and Madsen step up from their brief appearances in the first film to fill the gaps admirably. Hannah clearly relishes every moment of her performance as Elle Driver, bringing a tenacity and spite to the character which toes the line between caricature and psychosis perfectly. Madsen's turn here as Bill's estranged brother is his best in any film: brilliantly understated, despicable and pitiful, and yet sympathetic and admirable at the same time. The scenes between Budd and The Bride tell a story that could fill their own four-hour epic; Thurman's character never speaks a word to Madsen's. That's how good the performances are in this film.

To that statement, Carradine's Bill is no exception. Tarantino paid homage to the likes of Charlie's Angels's eponymous dispatcher and James Bond's arch-nemesis Blofeld through Bill in Volume 1 by never showing us his face, making Carradine's performance mysterious and chillingly cool but limiting the layers the character could conceivably have. Lifting this restriction from himself in Volume 2, the director unleashes Bill as one of his most complex, enigmatic characters; Carradine's performance in the role cannot be understated as a pivotal factor in the success of this transformation. Every moment Carradine has on screen is electric, bringing a dangerous unpredictability yet irresistable charisma to the role. His chemistry with Thurman is also a wonderful thing to behold.

After Jackie Brown, Kill Bill Volume 2 is the Tarantino film that comes under the greatest amount of negative criticism. And just as with Jackie Brown, I simply cannot understand why. Volume 2 is mature and steady, finely balanced and expertly crafted. By its very nature as the first of the two films, Volume 1 had to work as both a standalone film and as the first half of an epic story. Volume 2 had the different task of being a satisfying conclusion to that story, as well as a pleasing sequel to its predecessor, and it succeeds on both counts. Volume 2 is the perfect companion piece to Volume 1, and Kill Bill as a whole deserves to be heralded as a landmark cinematic masterpiece.

10/10

Film Review | Kill Bill Volume 1 (2003)

After firmly establishing himself as one of the defining directors of the 1990s, Quentin Tarantino made the world wait to see what he could do in the 21st Century. Long mooted as the director's sprawling epic return, Kill Bill finally arrived six years after Jackie Brown rounded off Tarantino's trifecta of perfect cinematic homages to Western cinema. At least, half of it did. Refusing to cut the film down to reduce its overall run time of over four hours, Tarantino instead chose to make a single cut down the middle and release the film in two volumes. The critical question was for many whether the two volumes could work as independent pieces of cinema as well as two halves of a whole.

Kill Bill Volume 1 relates the story of The Bride (Uma Thurman), brutally attacked and left for dead on her wedding day by her former employee, the mysterious Bill (David Carradine), and his team of killers, the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. Miraculously surviving the assault,  The Bride begins her mission for revenge against her assailants.

Kill Bill Volume 1 is a comprehensive triumph of the action genre. The director's hand is as assured as ever, with Tarantino's skill and passion for cinema coming across stronger than ever before. There are so many flawless sequences contained within this masterwork it's hard to single any out. The opening scene draws you into Tarantino's brutal hyperreal universe in unforgiving style, with monochrome close ups of Bill's intimidating cowboy-booted footsteps intercut with The Bride's bloodied and traumatized face. Throwing us from this, post opening credits, into a multicoloured, almost cartoonish brawl within a middle-class suburban home between Thurman's character and Vivica A. Fox's retired assassin Vernita Green will have you permanently hooked.

Volume 1 is, stylistically, Tarantino's most ambitious work, taking in a huge amount of influences and showcasing everything from Japanese domestic comedy to classic kung fu and samurai cinema to anime; everything the director attempts is a comprehensive success and melds perfectly into a brilliant, immersive whole. The cinematic precision on show is also breathtaking: watch a single camera shot follow Sofie Fatale (Julie Dreyfuss), right hand woman to another former Deadly Viper, O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu), as she walks from O-Ren's private room in The House Of Blue Leaves restaurant to the toilets, panning upwards to give us an aerial perspective of the The Bride concealed in a cubicle, waiting to pounce.

The performances Tarantino captures from the whole cast are once again astounding. David Carradine's turn as Bill, his face never shown in Volume 1, is impressively grandiose yet earthy; Liu's performance as O-Ren is also impressive, the actress showing a severe and intimidating quality not previously seen in her career. Veteran Sonny Chiba as legendary swordsmith Hattori Hanzo brings both class and subtle comedy to his scenes. But, without question, it is Thurman's powerhouse turn as The Bride which is a cornerstone to Volume 1's success. Thurman is captivating in the spectacular action sequences - her showdown against O-Ren's Yakuza army, the Crazy 88, deserves to go down in action movie history as one of the all-time great fight sequences, being as it is a choreographic masterpiece - but also imbues The Bride with tangible emotion exactly when necessary. Watching Thurman wail in anguish when The Bride realises she is no longer with child after waking from a four year coma is genuinely, painfully heartwrenching.

I could go on and on about Kill Bill Volume 1's brilliance, mentioning scene after scene, actor after actor, moment after moment. It remains at this time my favourite of all of Tarantino's works, which considering the cinematic milestones already laid down by the director shows just how highly I regard this film. It has everything. The criticisms occasionally levelled at the film I just don't see. It's often cited as Tarantino's least "talky" film, and yet there are so many lines of dialogue that cut as sharply as a Hanzo sword that I don't even know where to begin. Any fears you might have about this feeling like "half a film" can be firmly assuaged: Tarantino skilfully ensures this stands on its own as well as as the opening chapters of a saga. It's not often I say this of a film, but I actually cannot fault Kill Bill Volume 1, nor can I recommend it highly enough.

10/10

Film Review | The Dark Knight (2008)

The Dark Knight is both a continuation of, and a reaction to, the perfect reboot of the Batman franchise that Christopher Nolan created in 2005's Batman Begins. Whilst furthering the realistic edge of the first film, Nolan goes in an almost entirely different direction in his choice of Batman's enemies. Whilst Batman Begins is notable for featuring some of the Caped Crusader's least theatrical villains who had limited mainstream recognition before their appearance in the film, The Dark Knight features two of Batman's adversaries who are not only amongst his most well-known and extraordinary, but who have also featured prominently on the big screen in the past. Casting the late Heath Ledger as The Joker also appeared to many as a risky decision when first announced considering the acclaimed performance given in the role by Hollywood heavyweight Jack Nicholson in 1989's Batman, not to mention the character being undoubtedly Batman's most notorious and well-loved nemesis.

The film takes place some six months after the events of Batman Begins, as Batman, the crime-fighting alter-ego of Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale), works with Lieutenant Jim Gordon (Gary Oldman) and other members of the Gotham Police Department against bizarre criminal mastermind The Joker (Ledger). Joining the fight is newly appointed district attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), determined to rid Gotham of crime however he can; whilst Bruce sees Harvey as holding the potential to lead Gotham into a brighter future, matters are complicated by Harvey's relationship with assistant district attorney, and Bruce's childhood friend and love interest, Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal).

The Dark Knight is just as successful as its precursor, partly because many of the things that worked so well in Batman Begins are retained. The returning cast again put in superb performances: Bale is given the opportunity to flesh out both Bruce Wayne and Batman further, building on his strong performance in the first film; Michael Caine as Alfred Pennyworth is predictably excellent, the chemistry between his character and Bale's even more palpable and authentic; Oldman as Gordon is again a genuine highlight, continuing the character's development arc with subtlety and humility; and Morgan Freeman as Lucius Fox is, unsurprisingly, a joy. All of these performances tied together by Nolan's captivating direction, adrenaline-charged action sequences and polished script (again crafted with brother Jonathan) gives The Dark Knight a strong foundation upon which to build the film's new elements.

The new cast members are comprehensively excellent, their characters fitting perfectly into Nolan's Gotham. Gyllenhaal takes on the role of Rachel Dawes capably, developing the character and making it her own, to the extent that when recalling the character it is Gyllenhaal who comes to mind first, despite Katie Holmes originating the character in Batman Begins. Eckhart's turn as Harvey Dent is flawless, delivering the many shades of Dent's character effortlessly, and playing out his tragic story arc with such class and pathos that it can't fail to impress on the highest level.

Of course, the film's biggest and most successful addition is that of Ledger's Joker. It's hard to say anything that hasn't already been said about Ledger in The Dark Knight. The character's introduction in the film's opening sequence lets you know that what you are witnessing in the combination of Ledger's performance and Nolan's script is something very special, and once The Joker lays his intentions bare to Gotham's gangland leaders (opening with a simple "magic trick" you'll never forget) neither Nolan nor Ledger let up until the closing scenes. It's a performance which captivates, redefining one of the most iconic antagonists ever created, striking the perfect balance between The Joker's overtly comic book foundations and Nolan's real world aesthetic.

The Dark Knight may be less epic and more episodic in its structure when compared to Batman Begins, but this never counts against it. In salvaging the Batman franchise, Nolan pulled off what many thought impossible and struck gold. Through The Dark Knight, Nolan manages to produce a film against which all comic book adaptations are likely, nay deserve, to be measured. It soars as an action film, broods with psychological drama, and reaches heights neither this comic book franchise nor any other has achieved before or since.

10/10

Film Review | Batman Begins (2005)

Batman Begins is arguably the most important reboot of a franchise made so far. Only Casino Royale, 2006's restart of the Bond series, contests it for that title. But in hindsight, with twenty Bond films in the can, 007 was merely hitting a stale patch, something which had happened before and the secret agent had managed to come through. Bat-fans will be well aware that Bruce Wayne and his crime-fighting alter-ego were firmly in the doldrums at the turn of the 21st Century thanks to Joel Schumacher's so-bad-it's-painful 1997 effort Batman And Robin. Batman was seen by many as an untouchable, irreparable commodity. Neither was Christopher Nolan likely to be at the top of anyone's list in 2005 to helm the reinvigoration of the character; after his breakout feature Memento, Nolan's most recent work had been 2002's Insomnia, a skillful remake of a 1997 Norwegian psychological thriller with Al Pacino and Robin Williams. The risk factor seemed through the roof to many; they may have been right, but the risk was well worth it, and the payoff was phenomenal.

Batman Begins takes us right back to the hero's roots. Witnessing the murder of his parents at the hands of a petty criminal, a young Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) exiles himself from Gotham City and travels the world, cutting himself off from all who know and care for him including butler to his parents Alfred Pennyworth (Michael Caine and childhood friend Rachel Dawes (Katie Holmes). After being rescued from a prison in the Himalayas by Henri Ducard (Liam Neeson), Wayne is trained as a member of the League Of Shadows, a mysterious organisation utilising ninjitsu and advanced martial arts techniques. It is this training which Wayne uses to develop his vigilante persona, Batman, upon his return to Gotham, a city now swathed in fear and corruption.

Batman Begins is successful in pretty much everything it attempts. Nolan's script, written with brother Jonathan, brings depth to the story of Batman, something which hasn't really been seen before in the franchise, even in Tim Burton's acclaimed efforts in the late '80s and early '90s. In fact, this isn't really the story of Batman at all; this is Bruce Wayne's story told with notes that are epic and extravagant as well as intimate and personal and in which Batman is one aspect of the character. Wayne's masked alter-ego isn't actually seen until around halfway through the film, and it makes his entrance all the more thrilling.

Nolan's choices for the film's antagonists are spot on, shying away from the caped crusader's most notorious and flamboyant enemies in favour of a rogues' gallery more grounded in reality. Carmine Falcone, portrayed by an excellent Tom Wilkinson, is a superb choice as the first genuine criminal threat to Gotham seen in the film bringing a largely real world, mafioso flavour to proceedings. Cillian Murphy as slimy, corrupt criminal psychiatrist Dr. Jonathan Crane is also fantastic, marrying the more flamboyant comic-book style of the character perfectly with Nolan's more realistic take on the franchise. And, without revealing too much about the plot's twists and turns, Neeson's character provides a fantastic counterpoint to both Bruce Wayne and Batman, underpinned by the actor's strong performance.

With so many bad guys in attendance, it would be easy for a lesser film to fall into the trap of losing focus and denying any of them enough development or screen time; Nolan however interlinks the antagonists brilliantly, fitting them together in such a way that each feels genuine and worthwhile on their own, but also allows the creation of a criminal hierarchy within Gotham that adds depth to the city not seen on screen before.

Things are just as impressive on the side of good. Bale is excellent as both Bruce Wayne and Batman, bringing a complex cocktail of emotions and facade to the former, and palpable power and ingenuity to the latter, finding the right balance of drama and humour in both personas. The supporting good guys are also strong, with Caine and Morgan Freeman reliably excellent and Holmes doing well as Wayne's estranged love interest. The strongest support however, and arguably the performance of the film, comes from Gary Oldman as police officer Jim Gordon, rising through the ranks to lieutenant as the film progresses. Understated, sympathetic, and charged with an incredibly strong sense of right and wrong, Oldman's Gordon is perfect, and will surely go down as one of the actor's most memorable performances.

The ensemble cast tied together with Nolan's script, balancing heroic gravitas with comedic quips, gripping action set pieces with intimate character interaction, makes Batman Begins pretty hard to fault. It is often the sequel, The Dark Knight, which receives greater critical acclaim than this film, unfairly overshadowing one of the most important action blockbusters and comic book adaptations of all time. Without Batman Begins, The Dark Knight would not exist. More importantly, the action landscape now would look quite different, and Batman as a franchise might still be mouldering in a dank corner of Hollywood. In Batman Begins, Nolan not only saved an untouchable commodity, but brought new life into it in a way that many never thought possible.

10/10

Film Review | Jackie Brown (1997)

Jackie Brown is arguably Tarantino's least celebrated film. It was never going to have an easy time, following on from the overwhelming mainstream and critical success of Pulp Fiction which in turn had generated greater attention in the director's first film, Reservoir Dogs. Tarantino had set himself up to incredibly high - maybe even impossibly high - expectations, so no matter how he attempted to meet them there was inevitably going to be at least some of his audience who would be underwhelmed by his third film.

Jackie Brown tells the story of the title character (Pam Grier), an air hostess who helps weapons dealer and gangster Ordell Robbie (Samuel L. Jackson) smuggle money in and out of the USA. After ATF agent Ray Nicolette (Michael Keaton) catches Jackie in the act, she becomes further embroiled in Ordell's business and a sting operation for Nicolette to arrest the gangster, whilst at the same time striking up a relationship with bail bondsman Max Cherry (Robert Forster).

In all honesty, I cannot understand the negative criticism levelled at Jackie Brown. It's almost certainly Tarantino's most "un-Tarantino-esque" film, not containing as many of the director's hallmarks (at least not as overtly). The narrative is by and large linear, and the dialogue is less flagrantly audacious than that heard throughout Tarantino's earlier works. It may be the absence of these features that lead fans of the director to be overly critical of the film; you don't have to scratch the surface too deep to see that Tarantino has created cinematic gold once again.

That Jackie Brown isn't as endlessly quotable as either of the writer and director's previous films doesn't mean that this isn't another stellar script from Tarantino. The intricate story builds perfectly throughout the two-and-a-half hour running time towards a gripping finale and a tense and emotional epilogue. The script is imbued with a subtle pizazz that often rings truer than the poetic style heard in Tarantino's previous films. This is potentially the director's most mature and balanced work.

Tarantino again garners a wealth of top-notch performances from his ensemble cast. Once again, it's hard to pick out one actor above the rest. Grier brings confidence and authenticity to the title role, with Forster's turn opposite her imbued brilliantly with introversion and subtlety. The attraction that builds between Jackie and Max is incredibly well-handled; theirs is a genuine and covert affection that only rises to the surface once or twice throughout, and is the most real romantic relationship seen in any of Tarantino's films. Robert De Niro is reliably excellent as Ordell's criminal associate Louis Gara, again bringing an understated feel to the role. In contrast to Forster's Max, De Niro constantly lets you know that there is fire burning beneath Louis' sometimes bumbling character making his performance captivating yet at times superbly uncomfortable.

Jackson is perfect throughout, giving his best performance of any of his films. Jules Winnfield may be Jackson's most iconic and quotable role, but it is through Ordell Robbie that Jackson truly shows his undeniable brilliance as an actor. Watching Ordell calmly and precisely pull on his leather gloves before preparing to do away with whomever he has deemed necessary to dispatch sends chills down your spine, which is testament to both Jackson's acting and Tarantino's direction. Ordell is  simultaneously calculating and cold-hearted, charismatic and despicable, but always feels completely authentic.

Simply put, Jackie Brown is a film of quality and maturity through and through. If Reservoir Dogs is a shot of tequila and Pulp Fiction a strong, carefully mixed cocktail, then Jackie Brown is a smooth sipping whiskey over ice to be enjoyed slowly. It's Tarantino at his most restrained, but also his most refined. An exercise in subtlety and expertly crafted cinema. The film stands incredibly well on its own, but it also rounds off Tarantino's opening trilogy of works superbly; together with his first two films, Jackie Brown eloquently argues for Tarantino to be considered as one of the greatest cinematic writers and directors of all time.

10/10

Film Review | Pulp Fiction (1994)

In Reservoir Dogs, his feature debut, Quentin Tarantino laid down in raw, unbridled fashion what he is about as a film-maker. Pulp Fiction was his chance to refine this style and prove his first film was not just a fluke. History shows that he more than managed this: Pulp Fiction received seven Oscar nominations, with a win for Best Screenplay, and is regularly hailed as both a cinematic milestone and Tarantino's defining work. Eighteen years on, it's still not hard to see why.

The film relates, in nonlinear style, several different stories set in Los Angeles linked by the characters appearing within them, most prominently mob hitmen Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson), their gangster boss Marcellus Wallace (Ving Rhames), his wife Mia (Uma Thurman) and boxer Butch Coolidge (Bruce Willis).

Pulp Fiction is such a comprehensive success, first and foremost, because of the talent on show here. There  isn't a performance within the film which isn't excellent, and the cast play off each other superbly. It's unfair to single out any individual turn over the others, but there are a few which are so iconic that it's hard not to: this is the film that revitalised Travolta's deteriorating career and that made Jackson a renowned and respected Hollywood star; it also allowed Willis to truly prove he was capable of more than just action roles, his turn as Coolidge being one of the most varied and multi-layered he has ever given, and potentially his best performance in any film. Ironically, the only performance that truly sticks out (although not enough to spoil proceedings) is Tarantino's cameo as Jimmy - his n-word laden speech to Jules and Vincent when we first see him is still cringeworthy, and mainly serves as a reminder as to why Tarantino moved behind the camera in the first place. Thankfully, Harvey Keitel soon shows up to undo any damage with a performance that desperately begs the question as to why the man never made it as a genuinely big star.

The rest of Tarantino's work here is so exemplary that even his dodgy bit part can be wholly forgiven. Part of the charm of Reservoir Dogs is the rough-and-ready feel to much of it; Tarantino showed what he could do with a relatively small budget. With Pulp Fiction, Tarantino had the chance to show off a lot more with a studio behind him. The cinematography here is superb, with every shot considered and crafted to perfection. The director also shows ambition in using more abstract elements in his work - watch Mia draw a square in the air when describing Vincent's attitude, only for it to appear in front of her then disappear with a cartoonish pop. It's kitsch, it's unexpected, it's brilliant.

Tarantino's script fizzes and crackles throughout, his characters speaking in a poetry which oozes cool and perfectly fits the world Tarantino creates within the film. From Jackson's Bible-quoting mobster to Thurman's character saying "disco" where most would use the word "bingo", Pulp Fiction offers some of the finest, coolest writing ever heard in a film. Tarantino imbues his scripts with both contemporary fire and retro ice, making his films simultaneously modern and nostalgic. Pulp Fiction balances this effortlessly, arguably better than any of his other works, giving the film a timeless quality and allowing it to age beautifully.

Pulp Fiction is an incredibly ambitious work and succeeds comprehensively at everything it attempts. It's a film which can be endlessly analysed, interpreted and critiqued, but just taken as a piece of cinema it is purely and simply a masterclass in film-making. There is not a part of this film that doesn't work. Not only that, it cemented Tarantino as one of the defining cinematic talents of the 1990s and showcased both the scope and imagination of his talent.

10/10

Film Review | Reservoir Dogs (1992)

Reservoir Dogs celebrates its twentieth birthday this year. In the year of the film's release, Coppola's The Godfather was twenty years old and firmly established as one of the greatest crime dramas, and the greatest films, ever released. It's my strong conviction that, two decades on from when it was first seen, the same can be said of Tarantino's directorial debut.

The film tells the story of a diamond heist gone wrong, depicting the events leading up to and following on from the heist, but not the actual robbery itself. Most of the men involved don't know each other, using colour-coded aliases to refer to each other. As events unfold, Mr. White (Harvey Keitel) begins to form a bond with Mr. Orange (Tim Roth); at the same time, other members of the group, particularly Mr. Pink (Steve Buscemi), suspect that the heist was a set up with a rat amongst them.

From the very first scene to the very last, Reservoir Dogs is electrically charged cinema that demands your attention and rewards every minute of it. Tarantino's story is simple, often related using simple imagery - the colour-coded names, the black-and-white suits, the minimalist setting of a warehouse feeling almost like a theatrical stage - but also told with intelligence and skill that forces you to stay on your toes. Many of the director's hallmarks are first seen in this film and used to astounding effect. Tarantino is sharp and in complete control, knowing exactly what he wants you to see and how he wants you to see it. The "commode story" sequence is one of my all-time favourite pieces of cinema, and even after seeing it dozens of times it still sends shivers down my spine thanks to the craftsmanship and power behind every moment of the story-within-a-story-within-a-story. The script throughout is sharp, witty, compelling; if you ever needed proof that Tarantino is an artist behind the camera, Reservoir Dogs is it.

The cast are flawless, littering the film with a wealth of perfect performances, to the point that singling out any one performance seems unfair. Keitel and Roth are superb as the veteran criminal who allows his hard exterior to be penetrated by a first-timer; the scenes between these two are packed with genuine heart to the point that you often forget how despicable some of the things they are saying and doing are. Buscemi is a joy as Mr. Pink, frantic yet determined and, arguably, the one with his head most firmly on his shoulders. Michael Madsen's performance as Mr. Blonde is brilliantly unnerving, keeping us guessing as to exactly how demented he might be until a certain scene involving a policeman, a chair and a cutthroat razor lays his character bare.

Many hold up Pulp Fiction, Tarantino's next film, as the director's defining work. But as good as Pulp Fiction is, I will always choose Reservoir Dogs as holding that honour. It signified a new era in cinema of indie and arthouse values brought together brilliantly with traditional Hollywood ideology. It also announced Tarantino as a writer and director of whom the world needed to sit up and take notice. Most importantly of all, it's a piece of cinema as vibrant and aggressively engaging now as it was when it was first released, and one that I find impossible to fault.

10/10

Film Review | The Artist (2011)

It's always nice, after the awards season is over, to seek out the winners and the runners up I haven't yet seen. Sometimes it's clear to see why a film was successful, at others it's hard to see why they were even nominated. When a film wins as big as The Artist did this year, it's pretty much a must-see in order to make up my own mind. With such a hefty haul of golden statuettes in tow, The Artist was always going to need to be something pretty special to feel like its array of plaudits are deserved. And it's with a huge amount of pleasure that I can confirm that they most certainly are.

Set in the late twenties and early thirties, The Artist follows the life of George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), one of Hollywood's biggest stars of the silent era. When the transition from silent films to talkies begins, Valentin's career takes a serious hit; at the same time, the star of actress Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), whom Valentin helped to get started in showbusiness, begins to rise.

The reasons behind The Artist's comprehensive success are several, but not complicated. Often described as a silent film, technically this isn't true - it's an "almost silent film". However, director Michel Hazanavicius shows incredible control and artistry in using pretty much all the hallmarks of silent film-making to wonderful effect. So we have intertitles to relate what characters are saying, which feel entirely natural and never off-putting, as well as antiquated edits and camera effects. It all works masterfully and brilliantly.

The musical soundtrack that accompanies the vast majority of the film is a charming homage to film scores of yesteryear, whilst at the same time feeling fresh and never stuffy. Hazanavicius occasionally chooses to place breaks of a few seconds between musical numbers - just as an orchestra finishing one piece and beginning the next - which not only heightens the authenticity of his film, but also reminds the viewer of the power of the visual element they are continuously beholding.

But that's not the half of it. Like I said, The Artist isn't, in the true sense of the term, a silent film. Hazanavicius does on more than one occasion choose to include diegetic sound, at least once without any warning. In doing this, the director injects an energy and power into the most ordinary of sounds to create some of the most brilliantly effective and original scenes I can remember seeing in a film for quite some time. Hazanavicius takes what most filmmakers take for granted and turns them into the tools of a master virtuoso.

The Artist features the reliable talents of long-serving Hollywood supporting men John Goodman and James Cromwell, who only go to prove even further through the silent medium how genuinely and thoroughly talented they are as actors. But nothing can be taken away from the leading duo of Dujardin and Bejo. The latter infuses Peppy Miller with an innocence and spark that makes her character a joy to behold; we wholeheartedly believe she is a hopeful young girl with big dreams at the start, just as much as we believe she can become a successful Hollywood star when talking pictures take over from silent films.

But if The Artist is defined by one performance it will always be that of Dujardin. He inhabits the role of Valentin, creating an incredibly human character of pride and delusion, but also heart and a natural desire to entertain. Dujardin's performance is mesmerising and flawless, and one that is sure to go down as one of cinema's best ever. The chemistry between Bejo and him is tangible and enchanting. It also helps that both actor and actress have just the right aesthetic to feel like genuine stars of the time. Finally, I can't speak of performances without mentioning one of the most delightful human-canine pairings I can remember in any film, that of Dujardin and Uggie the Jack Russell, an endlessly talented and genuinely charming man's best friend.

The Artist's story of rags to riches and vice versa is certainly not a new one. But the way in which Hazanavicius tells it with such humanity and gusto means that each scene is utterly compelling. Forget any rom-com or family favourite you've seen - The Artist is a strong candidate for the ultimate feel-good film. Hazanavicius deals with some serious, even dark, aspects of the human condition, certainly; but by the time the final credits roll you will be left intoxicated with the warming glow of a truly enchanting piece of cinema that will stay with you, bringing a smile to your face every time you think of it.

10/10