'Evil Dead' review by Captain Raptor

'Evil Dead' review by Captain Raptor

I've been training for this review for a while, it would seem. Over the past months I've watched Evil Dead II and an assortment of other 80's movies, the idea being to give me a better understanding of the culture the film comes from and what it is to be compared to. That seems to have been a waste of time, as the new Evil Dead is an entirely different beast to what I have already seen. The threadbare plot is still the same, and there's a couple of things they've kept in from the original (would it really be an Evil Dead film without a tree-molestation scene or a chainsaw?), but tonally this film is almost unrecognisable.

The thing is, the new Evil Dead is a horror movie and nothing but. Its predecessors blurred the line between what's so horrific it's frightening and what's so horrific it's hilarious; it was a horror-comedy in the truest sense. Fede Alvarez's latest version has no humour to offer up whatsoever, choosing to go the full horror route. It keep some of the original films's successes, like the intense POV shots, although filming it with a high-resolution camera kind of ruins the atmosphere. The cinematography is very crisp, very effective in all other circumstances, however. The other positive similarity is that both films use the savagery of the demons sophisticatedly. A lot of horror films are content to scare the viewer simply by making them jump, whereas Evil Dead has greater ambitions: any fear comes from a sheer sense of dread, as the tormenting demon does increasingly disturbing damage to both its own and its victim's bodies. It veers on becoming torture porn, but it's nice to see a horror movie attempt to mentally scar the audience rather than merely cause them to twitch. The atmosphere of the film is near-perfect: a foreboding pre-credits scene gives you an idea what to expect from our hellish antagonist, and as you watch the teens innocently use various sharp and electrical appliances at the beginning of the film, you can immediately start to see how badly things are going to go.

The obvious element the film is lacking is one Ashley J motherfucking Williams. It would be nice to see more from our wide-eyed, amputated friend, but all things must come to an end. The real error is that a franchise that produced one of cinema's coolest heroes was incapable of producing a single memorable character. I accept for a 90 minute horror film that characterisation isn't exactly a priority, but I left the cinema only remembering one character's name, and there were times when I could not care less about what was going to happen to somebody because they were so bland. The worst of the bunch is Eric, played by Lou Taylor Pucci. He's the irritating one who accidently summons the ancient hellspawn, because somebody has to (although all I could think of were the wise words of The Cabin In The Wood's Marty: "I'm drawing a line in the sand. Do not read the fucking Latin") and he then has the audacity to criticize the other characters for failing to deal with the situation appropriately. The dialogue is awful, and the decision to treat the film with complete seriousness makes it look foolish, both because it's painfully unoriginal and particularly because they could have drawn some excellent black comedy out of mistaking demonic behaviour for heroin withdrawal symptoms, a key part of the plot treated entirely straight-faced. The characters commit the same clichéd acts that all teenagers in horror movies do, which gives the film a feel of repetitiveness and redundancy.

Some interesting set-pieces aside, Evil Dead brings nothing to the table, and it might have been better to let the franchise rest in peace. The characters are infuriating; you might start rooting for the demon because at least it's interesting, and all the gore in the world (the film uses an astonishing 25,000 litres of fake blood) can't compensate for the ensuing boredom when the film starts acting predictably. Evil Dead is a film with some good intentions that falls flat on its feet, but badly made horror is still watchable. In terms of films about mutilating young adults in the woods, it pales in comparison to the original Evil Dead films and The Cabin In The Woods, but there are jaw-dropping moments and the atmosphere that runs through the piece is enthralling enough to at least make it better than Cabin Fever.

'The Breakfast Club' review by Captain Raptor

'The Breakfast Club' review by Captain Raptor

Due to the upcoming remakes of Evil Dead and Robocop, I've recently taken it upon myself to get to grips with other classic 80's movies. Perhaps the most quintessential film of the 1980's is John Hughes' The Breakfast Club, watermarked by its Human League soundtrack, casual use of homophobic slurs and references to Barry Manilow. This film marks the pinnacle of my voyage into a decade of leg warmers and Rubik's Cubes. 

A lot about the film is incredibly simple: there's no complicated cinematography, the plot is essentially 'five people go to a room', and the characters are deliberately stereotyped. However none of this is detrimental towards the film in any manner as Hughes has chosen to make the film about dialogue and emotion rather than storytelling. The five teens that comprise the titular Breakfast Club are 5 high school stereotypes (The Jock, The Beauty, The Geek, The Recluse and The Rebel) to which everybody should relate to at least one of, and it's remarkable the way the in which film seamlessly develops from having the five sit in silent contempt of each other to bearing their heart and soul completely. It's a great teenage movie, championing the idiocy and individuality found in adolescents, and the film comes to an emotional climax that simply involves the five characters sitting in a circle and being completely honest about their feelings towards themselves and their parents. The corniness of the film's message that deep down we are all alike is overruled by the intelligence and surprise with which it is revealed, as seemingly socially harmonious individuals show astounding insecurities and people whose problems appear to be minor are shown to be a worthy of sympathy as anybody else. 

The film's sense of drama and emotion lends it a lot of credit and is done to near perfection by a superb script and cast. The comedy doesn't quite reach the same high level, particularly in the earliest stages of the film, but there are funny moments, mostly provided by the kooky goth Allison (Ally Sheedy) and socially inept nerd Brian (Anthony Michael Hall, playing the same role he always did in those days). Even when its not funny, the dialogue is still entertaining, littered with hints about the backstories and lives of the wonderfully developed and realised characters. My only real problem with the film is the damp squib of an ending, which despite a touching voice over by Brian feels a little anti-climatic - after an hour and a half of arguing and bonding, I don't feel the ending has any real sense of closure, but I suppose leaving me wanting more is a sign of the film's success. My other irritation (skip to the last paragraph to avoid spoilers) is that while most of the characters learn a lesson of accepting others and being proud of themselves, poor gothic Allison's resolution is to completely change her appearance and attitude to win the affection of another, which comes across as 'Oh, we're all good people really. Except you. You have to change' which would seem to be an exercise in self-defeat in relation to the message of the film.

The Breakfast Club contains so much 80's culture that it should feel alienating, but the story of teens lacking self-confidence is so universal that it resonates just as strongly in the modern world as it did back in the day. There's some laughs, and a few tragic implications, but the main thing I've taken away from this genuinely beautiful and moving film is that we're all the same on the inside. That and some awesome dance moves.

'Jack the Giant Slayer' review by Captain Raptor

'Jack the Giant Slayer' review by Captain Raptor

It's not a sterling sign of success that Jack the Giant Slayer has made so little money that it might possibly bankrupt Digital Domain, the production company that financed it. I wouldn't have gone to see it myself if the director of the first two X-Men films Bryan Singer wasn't helming the project. It's stuck in a profit-making dead zone; a little too much violence and the occasional swearing means it isn't a kids film, but the childish premise means that it can't be marketed as a full-on blockbuster either. But a film's profit does not denote its quality, and I'm definitely willing to give a Singer/Ewan McGregor team-up a chance.

Saying that, Jack the Giant Slayer is stupid, lazy and incredibly clichéd. Following the age-old plotline of 'man saves princess from monsters' means the film isn't off to a great start, and the strongest part of a fairytale is supposed to be its narrative. Characters take courses of action for no justifiable reason (in particular Stanley Tucci's villainous Roderick, who kills an ally without motivation just in case the audience wasn't capable of grasping the fact that the man dressed entirely in black who sneers at everyone is in fact the bad guy), and in various instances contradict themselves entirely. An early scene shows the princess Isabelle getting frustrated that she is treated different because of her gender and says she wishes people would let her be independent. This would all be well and good if the character didn't spend the next hour and a half screaming, getting repeatedly captured, crying for help and literally not helping anybody in any way at any point. It's also hard to root for our hero Jack, as the script tries to make him so ordinary and everyman that he's totally lacking in any personality or charm. There's a saving grace in Ewan McGregor, hamming it up to perfection as the noble warrior Elmont, quite possibly the poshest character in the history of cinema, but one enjoyably overacted performance is not enough to compensate for an entire cast of poorly written characters. Even the nominally badass one-liners after giants get slain are limp and laughable.

So, as is too often the case with major movies, storytelling, dialogue and characters are sacrificed to showcase action and set-pieces. The giants themselves look and act as you'd expect - stupid and ugly creatures, with a lot of childish humour about their bodily functions, but they get the job done and certainly feel like a viable threat. The action is routine, with nothing interesting or inventive enough to warrant specific mention, although I would like to point out the scene where a metal bell collides with a stone wall to cause an implausible explosion. In a similar notion of calling the film's stupidity, there is a bald character whose name is Bald, and this disproportionately irritates me. The film's not entirely without its positives: the large-scale destructive rampaging of the giants is an impressive sight to behold, and there's a wisp of humour gained from McGregor's Trainspotting co-star Ewen Bremner as an idiotic manservant, but none of this can elevate Jack the Giant Slayer any higher than 'OK' at best. 

 My regard of Bryan Singer has fallen considerably after watching this film, and I thank God for Ewan McGregor to alleviate what would have otherwise been a truly grating experience. Jack may slay giants, but this comes at the cost of boredom, sexism, clichés and stupidity. A more enjoyable final act does not pardon the blandness and lack of thought seen in the film's first hour and a half, and frankly it feels like poetic justice that this film is making such an enormous loss. 

'Serenity' review by Captain Raptor

'Serenity' review by Captain Raptor (contains vague spoilers)

I've had one or two people tell me since I've started this blog that my reviews seem unprofessional and that I'm not harsh enough on the films I critique. Those who know me will doubtlessly be aware of my unending and passionate love for the works of writer/director Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Avengers Assemble), primarily because I refuse to be silent on the subject. Serenity is the movie adaptation of Whedon's quickly cancelled sci-fi/western series Firefly (which I strongly recommend you familiarize yourself with before watching the movie), and follows the exploits of a group of lovable rogues as they attempt to bring down the oppressive regime that rules the galaxy. This plot may seem familiar. 

Cutting to the chase, Serenity is an absolute masterpiece, a funny and dramatic action film with intelligence and thrills in equal measure. A phenomenal cast (there is not a character in this film that isn't vastly entertaining, brilliantly written and beloved by all the fans) is headed up by Nathan Fillion (Castle, Slither) as the vaguely heroic Captain Reynolds; the character is often compared to that of Han Solo but due to a proficient backstory and an excellent performance, Reynolds is a much more realised and developed character, and the script portrays him as a man who has his honour but no real desire to help anybody but his crew rather than a typical blockbuster hero or an all round good guy. This is matched in Serenity's villain, known only as The Operative, a highly religious man who only commits the atrocities he does because he wants to make the world a better place. An understandable villain and a realistic hero is indicative of Joss' methods in the film, trying to subvert clichés at all corners (admittedly he succumbs to some of the more basic tropes).

 The film's other stand out performance comes from cult heroine Summer Glau (Sarah Connor Chronicles, most famous for her role here) as the traumatized and quietly insane River Tam, a psychic whose ass-kicking abilities (when substantially provoked) know no bounds. A constant look of terror and confusion on her face, Summer steals every scene she's in as the odd and frail-looking psychic. There's so much more I want to write about this film's excellence, but that would require an entire novel's worth of words to express, so I shall limit myself to saying that the plot is intelligent, surprising and inventive, the dialogue sizzles with Whedon's typical humour and the action sequences are mesmerising, Glau making sure to fully utilize her training as a ballet dancer while destroying rooms full of enemies. 

Any flaws I have with this film basically come from the fact that it isn't as good as Firefly. Watching the crew of the ship scrape through their weekly encounters almost feels like home, whereas the more advanced camera techniques and variety of sets actually do the film a disservice by making it seem too glossy. Serenity is largely story based, so people who haven't seen the TV series won't know that Wash is incredibly funny and that Shepherd Book is a comforting guiding figure just from watching the film alone, because Serenity's two hour runtime doesn't give it enough time to fully re-introduce and explore all the wonderful characters from Firefly. And obviously, there's the classic fan complaint that he shouldn't have killed any of the characters that we love so dearly, but it certainly adds a lot of drama to the proceedings (a friend who joined me for this re-watching was literally in tears for half an hour, although a lot of that is because somebody reminded her of Forrest Gump).

In short, Serenity is an almost perfect movie, and you can see it serves as a template for Whedon's later success in Avengers Assemble, mixing jaw-dropping action with humour and genuine intelligence. The cast all give their finest ever performances, and really, who could protest to a movie about spaceships, civil war, flesh-eating lunatics, conspiracies and cowboys? As Kaylee so expertly put it, everything's shiny Cap'n. 

'Welcome To The Punch' review by Captain Raptor

'Welcome To The Punch' review by Captain Raptor

I come to this review with a slight bias towards the film's star James McAvoy because he was born in Port Glasgow, which is relatively near to my hometown, and because nobody else of any note was born remotely near us, he's a great source of local pride. But any man deemed worthy to play the great Professor Charles Xavier is surely amazing in their own merit, and I was drawn to this London-set crime thriller by the rest of its strong cast too, including Kick-Ass' Mark Strong and The Walking Dead's David Morrissey. 

Despite its London setting,  Welcome To The Punch has the sensibilities of a classic American cop story: a loose-cannon policeman with a grudge (McAvoy) is given one more chance to catch the criminal (Strong) who evaded and made a fool of him several years ago. This clichéd premise wins no awards for storytelling, but the two leads give very strong performances. McAvoy's cockney copper Max is more Serpico than Lethal Weapon, meaning the darker side of the maverick law enforcer is more prominent, and Strong's villain isn't portrayed as a cackling madman but as a quietly determined man with a moral code. A realistic sense of ethics as opposed to simple 'good vs evil' gives the film a solid grounding, as does Max's leg wound - one shot to the kneecap three years ago is enough to cause him to limp around crime scenes and struggle with running. This weighted sense of accuracy is then tossed on the ground and stamped on by the action scenes, where everybody wields high calibre machine guns apparently set to 'constantly fire in every direction' mode, and the film's final set-piece involves several dozen armed mercenaries rappelling down from the sky.

The action itself is mildly entertaining, caught awkwardly between being either tense and minimal or thrilling and explosive. The performances are all strong and delivered with pathos, but the characters are underdeveloped and generic. As previously mentioned, the plot is unoriginal, but this prevents it from making any mistakes. The whole film smacks of mediocrity, but this doesn't necessarily make it a bad film. All the parts are in working order, and there's nothing that's particularly bad about the film - it's never dull, it's never idiotic, it's never ridiculous. I'd also like to launch a complaint about what appears to be a current trend in movies, in which the talented character actor Jason Flemyng gets cast in an action movie (X-Men: First Class, Clash of the Titans) and only has about 120 seconds of screen time. This isn't as much of an issue here due to the litany of excellent performances by the rest of the cast.

Welcome to the Punch is moody, gritty, entertaining and utterly forgettable. I'd recommend it for pretty much anybody, as it contains enough of both action and drama to sate most audiences, and it's definitely a worthwhile experience. It contributes nothing new to the world of cinema, other than a chance to give James McAvoy more exposure as an excellent leading man. Not that I'm biased or anything.

'Evil Dead II' review by Captain Raptor

'Evil Dead II' review by Captain Raptor

Because I'm such a professional, today I'll be reviewing a sequel to which I've never seen the predecessor. Again. However, my sources tell me that Evil Dead II is essentially a remake of the first Evil Dead movie but with a higher budget, so I don't think I'll be missing any context. Besides, how could I pass up the opportunity to watch the film that inspired Joss Whedon's practically perfect The Cabin in the Woods? Evil Dead II chronicles the dramatic tale of a young man's slow descent into insanity in an isolated cabin after the death of his lover. Oh, and there's also some stuff about slaying the undead hordes with a chainsaw. 

The most immediately noticeable thing about Evil Dead II is how dated all the special effects are. However, that's not a complaint. I understand the film didn't exactly have a lot of funding, and it was made in 1987. So, yes, the CGI looks about as convincing as Pamela Anderson's breasts, but if anything this adds to the film's psychedelic charm. The movie is a head-trip through and through, combining nonsensical humour, anarchic and gory violence and sense of unpredictability unrivalled by any other film I've seen. The film's loose plot of 'people attempting survival in a forest full of the dead' allows director Sam Raimi to fill the screen with lunacy and enough fake blood to drown a giraffe. It's really hard to eloquently capture the insanity of Evil Dead II, reaching ridiculous levels of overwhelming madness while mostly sticking within its simple cabin setting. Despite the over-the-top exuberance that dominates the film, there's also some really intelligent directing present, in particular the tense scene where protagonist Ash is chased by some unseen creature, shot entirely from the point of view of the monster.

Speaking of Ash, I would like to congratulate him on being the most capable character in horror movie history. There's no hesitance, no confusion, no running around shouting 'OH NO WHAT'S HAPPENING', Ash just gets shit done. Within 5 minutes of being on screen he's happily beheading the possessed body of his girlfriend and drenching himself in blood. Bruce Campbell deserves his cult hero status for his brilliant performance as the semi-deranged badass; there's no doubt that he's overacting, but the way he half-laughs half-screams when being covered in blood or mutters a taciturn 'Groovy' when loading his shotgun fits in perfectly with the film's schizophrenic manner. The film's other characters are all forgettable and bland, but they're only there to serve as fodder for the various fiends lurking in and around the cabin. The only flaw I can think of is that the film doesn't spend enough time with Mr Ashley J Williams - the best section of the film is the 20-30 minutes in which we see Ash survive a night in the cabin being tormented by all manner of evil, during which the film never fails to provide laughs with black comedy (probably cinema's funniest dismemberment) or shocks with gore galore. When the other characters arrive later and things start murdering them, it's neither as funny nor as entertaining.

It's a little cheesy, not particularly scary, and the visual effects are more outdated than a ZX Spectrum, but I implore you to watch this film, unless you have an aversion to blood, in which case you'll hate it. It's a madcap romp, an insane blend of ridiculous gore and smart humour. It's highly revered amongst the horror community, and serves as the masterpiece of director Raimi and star Campbell. Rarely have I had such an invigorating and memorable experience with a movie. 

'Midnight in Paris' review by Captain Raptor

'Midnight in Paris' review by Captain Raptor

Midnight in Paris is about one man's appreciation for the past, which ties in nicely with my current theme of not reviewing new films. It's certainly an interesting concept for a film - a struggling writer on holiday finds himself whisked away to 1920's Paris and meets various historical figures, like a time-travelling Forrest Gump - and it comes with a great deal of talent working on it, most notably the renowned writer/director Woody Allen and the Oscar-winning actress Marion Cotillard. On a separate note, it also stars Owen Wilson. I'll state from the start that a lot of my problems with this film probably stem from the fact that I am totally unfamiliar with the majority of the culture and famous figures that make up the crux of the film. I've never read Hemingway or spent much time looking at Picasso, so you could say that this was a poor choice of film for me, but we'll dive right in.

The crucial error that this comedy makes is that it doesn't seem to attempt to be funny. It isn't unfunny in the same way as something like Year One, where gags are thrown at you constantly to no effect, there's just very little here that could actually be considered an attempt at humour. I guess it's trying to seem as sophisticated and dry as its subject matter, but surprisingly a lack of jokes leads to a poor comedy. The opening sequence is the worst of all. For the first two or three minutes of the film we are treated to what is essentially a slideshow of the Parisian streets - no dialogue, no movement, not even any credits to look at. I understand that Woody Allen made this film because of his personal love of Parisian culture, but to an outsider the film's constant enamoured gushing at French architecture and the reiteration of history feels like a particularly uninteresting museum lecture. Aside from the obsession with its subject matter, the film is also poorly written, or at least relatively poorly for a man of Allen's stature. Owen Wilson's character has to resort to speaking his thoughts out loud when he's alone to communicate his reactions and emotions on various occasions,  which is jarring and unnatural. Of course, this may be compensation for the fact that Owen Wilson has the same ability to emote as flaccid watercress.

The film's cast is impressive and expansive, as one should expect from a Woody Allen film. The quality of the parts they were given is however incredibly variable. There are terrible roles (Martin Sheen playing one of the most irritating characters to ever grace the silver screen. The character is intentionally aggrivating but that doesn't make him any more pleasant to watch), needless roles (Why bother casting Kathy Bates if you're not going to give her a chance to act?), and the occasional great role (Adrian Brody's spot-on and amusing portrayal of Salvador Dali - the only figure in the film that I actually know much about - is my highlight of the film). Aside from Dali, the film's other saving grace comes in the form of the Fitzgeralds: Tom Hiddlestone's unstoppable natural charisma shining through as the infamous author and Scott Pilgrim's Alison Pill as his audacious wife. Again, they have no particular comic material to work with, but their sheer magnetism as performers elevates them above the rest of the cast, forced to try and wring out some comedy from a lifeless script. The film's sense of whimsy and the stylish 20's visuals are certainly enough to make the film watchable, but rarely does it actually qualify as entertaining. The film's best scene by far and away is the only scene in which Brody's magnificent Dali appears; Owen Wilson describes his absurd situation of being lost in another time period to a group of surrealists in a café, who thing he's being interpretational and proceed to plan works of art based on his supposed metaphor.  It allows Wilson to showcase that exasperated look of confusion that is his one emotion, gives Adrien Brody the chance to be completely ridiculous as Dali ("I see... a rhinoceros" is a line so well-delivered you'll forget it isn't actually funny) and it's one of the few times the film tries to actually have any fun with its subject matter, as opposed to basking in its glory.  

Like history, the film repeats itself. You slide comfortably into the pattern of 'Owen Wilson is in the modern world and hates it, Owen Wilson is in the 1920's and loves it' like an aggressively dull version of Groundhog Day. Overall, this is definitely a film for the specialists - if you're an expert on the culture of the 1920's you'll have a ball, and some of the most loyal Woody Allen fans may be able to trick themselves into thinking they're enjoying the experience, but for everybody else, I'd recommend you avoid this like the plague. Because if this film isn't terrible, the only alternative option is that I'm too much of a philistine to appreciate it, and we all know that's impossible.