The Oh in Ohio
Arclight Films

This pathetically prudish, entirely meritless sex comedy is a monument to imbecility and is crass, infantile filmmaking of the worst kind. Parker Posey irritatingly gurns her way through the film as the frigid Priscilla, whose inability to have an orgasm has turned her husband, a criminally wasted Paul Rudd, into a ragged, desperate shell of a man. There is simply not a laugh to be had here, unless you find vibrators particularly illicit or amusing, and the whole thing is rank with disingenuity and is played out with a graceless witlessness that continues to inexorably stumble from one cringe-worthy scene to another, when frankly youd just prefer it to just grow up and go away.

Cineworld, 23 Aug 8.30pm, 24 Aug 5.00pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp57
tw rating 1/5
[mc]

Al Franken: God Spoke
Pennebaker and Hegudus Films

This entertaining and frequently hilarious film follows liberal comic and political commentator, Al Franken, as he stumps for John Kerry during the 2004 Presidential election. Much of the meat of the film sees Franken eagerly joust with the smug, ignorant bigots of the Right; Bill OReilly, Ann Coulter and Sean Hannity, as his increasingly vocal pleas for sanity sees him become a figurehead for the beleaguered left. As funny as the film is, it is an equally revealing looking at the machinations of a politically divided country, where bitter recrimination often replaces cogent debate. The only really complaint is that they didnt bother to change the ending, so Bush still wins, making this something of a bittersweet, if worthwhile experience.

Cineworld, 21 Aug 7.15pm, 23 Aug 5.45pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp 24
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

This Film Is Not Yet Rated
ICA Films

The MPAA, the American Film ratings board, is, after the CIA, the second most secretive body in America, a situation Kirby Dicks vitriolic documentary aims to change. His film is a revealing look at how a board of parents, who are accountable to no one, control one of the most important aspects of American film with inconsistent, conservative prudishness. Dicks film isnt massively entertaining but it is often fascinating in the way it uncovers the MPAAs double standard with regards to violence and sexuality, in particular homosexuality. With the help of a Private Investigator he unmasks Americas moral guardians, however, though his central arguments remain acute, his Moore-ish stalking of MPAA staffers is problematic, weakening rather than strengthening his case.

Cineworld, 20 Aug 7.00pm; Cameo 1, 21 Aug 9.45pm, £7.95 (£5.20)
tw rating 3/5
[mc]

Twelve and Holding
Lions Gate

A brave and brutal piece of filmmaking that tackles the most problematic of subjects with the deftest of touches. Weve known for a long time that American suburbia is a deeply disturbing place, but Michael Cuestas film somehow works even more insight, dark comedy and desperate humanity out of well-trodden genre. Concentrating on a group of children consistently let down by their parents, it is marked by some fine performances, with Zoe Weizenbaum in particular, recalling Natalie Portman at her teenage best. The handheld camerawork does full justice to the dark subject matter, which while dealing with themes of guilt, tragedy and retribution, does so with frequent hilarity and a warm humanism that makes for a terrifically entertaining film.

Cameo 1, 19 Aug 9.45pm, 20 Aug 5.30pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp 71
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

Wristcutters: A Love Story
Revolver Entertainment

A wonderfully odd, funny film that while not quite making good on its potential, does nevertheless make for enjoyably morbid entertainment. Zia, the always watchable, ever-bemused Patrick Fugit, kills himself after being dumped by his girlfriend only to find himself in a muted limbo, much like the real world only a little worse. The film taps into a mine of darkly comic material with varying degrees of success but is lifted by a delightfully obtuse cameo from Tom Waits, not to mention, Arrested Developments absurdist genius, Will Arnett, as the Messiah. Unfortunately, the film isnt always as brave as youd hope, and even though the end is a bit of a cop-out its charming enough to rise again.

Cameo 1, 20 Aug 10pm, 21 Aug 5.30pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp 76
tw rating 3/5
[mc]

Stephanie Daley
Cinetic Media Inc.

This is perhaps the most interminably dull, witless and self-indulgent film at the festival, and should be avoided at all costs. Incoherently telling the story of Tilda Swintons pregnant psychologist who must investigate a teenage schoolgirl accused of killing her newborn baby, it does so with such a charmless stuffy superiority as to entirely alienate its viewers. It makes no effort to open up its characters, leaving them cold and distant, and scenes that should be heart wrenching are cold, distant and feel vaguely sadistic. The whole thing reeks of worthy pretentiousness and everything about the film is embarrassingly overwrought and badly mishandled, from an entirely unconvincing script to the bungled direction, adding up to a thoroughly god-awful experience.

Filmhouse 1, 21 Aug 7.30pm; Cineworld 24 Aug 7.15pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp 67
tw rating 1/5
[mc]

Little Miss Sunshine
Fox Searchlight

An immensely likeable, often very funny about a family of misfits who manage to find contentment even as their hopes and dreams, nurtured by disingenuous modern American society, collapse around them. Essentially a rather loopy road-trip movie that sees the somewhat dysfunctional family drive from Arizona to California for the youngest daughter, Olives, incongruous beauty pageant, it is a genuinely heart-warning film thats free from trite sentiment and manipulation. The performances are excellent, in particular Alan Arkins outspoken, heroin snorting Grandad, Steve Carrells homosexual, depressive Proust scholar, and most surprisingly the winningly charismatic Abigail Breslin as Olive. In a festival so far notable for its rather downbeat endings, this is a much welcome, if imperfect, ray of sunshine.

Cineworld, 20 Aug 8.30pm, 21 Aug 5.45pm, £7.95 (£5.20)
tw 4/5
[mc]

Air Guitar Nation
Cinetic Media Inc.

This massively enjoyable, absurdly funny film takes in the endearingly daft spectacle of Air Guitar from the American heats to the World Championships in Oulu, Finland. The film focuses on two entirely different personalities, the American Champion C-Diddy who is a funny, likeable character who fully understands the irony, and earnest, delusional fellow American Bjorn Toroque who doesnt. Indeed he could have stepped out stepped out of a Christopher Guest film as he proclaims, with full seriousness, such gems as To err is human, to air guitar, divine. Theres much to enjoy here, from the hilarious stage performances to the bizarre characters behind them, eventually sucking you into the adventure, and rewarding with a surprisingly touching ending.

Cineworld, 22 Aug 10.15pm, 25 Aug 7.30pm, £7.95pm (£5.20)
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

Sherrybaby
Elevation Filmworks

Maggie Gyllenhaal turns in a magnificent performance in this modest, gritty character study about Sherry, an ex-con and heroin addict, who tries to rebuild her life after three years inside. Theres not a whole lot here that you wont have seen before but it just about succeeds due to excellent performances, and an engaging naturalism, and is lifted entirely by Gyllenhaal. Her sexually forthright portrayal of a woman struggling with her own self-destructive nature, whilst trying to reconnect with her daughter, is powerful and nuanced when it could so easily have been showy and hackneyed, eliciting an uneasy empathy and providing a the film with a compellingly unpredictable nervous energy.

Cineworld, 15 Aug 7.30pm, 17 Aug 8pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp 65
tw rating 3/5
[mc]

Clerks II
The Weinstein Company

In between the inter-species erotica, and the usual lowbrow joys of a Kevin Smith movie, hes also snuck in a rather sweet love story that manages to add a rather unexpectedly sweet note of pathos to what may be his filthiest and funniest to date. Dante and Randal are a decade older, and are now doing their bitching and moaning whilst sucking the corporate teat at a Moobys fast food joint, which provides ample material for Smiths disturbing wit. Of course Jay and Silent Bob are also back, this time with God on their side, and with the old gang back in place, the film unleashes a hugely enjoyable and gut-busting feast of chaotic hilarity and enormously comforting puerility.

Cineworld, 18 Aug & 20 Aug, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp28
tw rating 4/5
[mc]


Brothers Of The Head
Tartan Films


Lost In La Mancha directors Keith Fulton and Louis Pepes adaptation of Brian W Aldiss 1977 novel is a complex, ambitious and exhilarating docudrama, retrospectively following two conjoined twins who are whisked from their home for financial exploitation, and shepherded into fictional mid-seventies band Bang Bang, What follows is a compelling explosion of fraternal insecurities and psychoses that are far more profound than those facing most bands. Tommy and Barry, both distinct individuals, are played with extraordinary primal force by Luke and Harry Treadaway, and their often nightmarish, though poignant and darkly funny story is recounted through a combination of talking heads, fake documentary and biopic footage and superbly shot through an enthralling rock and roll haze, with exceptional results.

Cameo 1, 17 Aug 7.30PM & 18 Aug 9.30pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp 89
tw 5/5
[mc]

The Right of the Weakest [La Raison Du Plus Faible]
Tartan Films

Its grim down south, well in Liege anyway, and while Marc Belveauxs enjoyably absorbing thriller shares a common bond with a film such as The Full Monty, it is a far grittier, more emotionally complex experience with a sly eye for the tragic-comic. The film focuses on the lives of three former steel workers and an ex-con, whove been left behind by industrial modernisation, and their struggles to maintain a dignified existence in a society that they feel has betrayed them. Infused with a slow burning tension, it takes a little while to hook the viewer but it soon captivates with warmth, humanity and its quietly captivating study of desperation that leads to a thrilling, emotionally devastating climax.

Cineworld, 18 Aug 7.30pm, 19 Aug 9.45pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp 62
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

The Flying Scotsman

Only the Scots could take a story of triumph and national pride and make a film that comfortably achieves such mediocrity, leading you to hope that Scottish victories continue to remain a rarity, for fear of being inflicted with more of the same. Whilst it makes for a reasonably engaging ninety minutes, it is often a very silly film that never makes up its mind what its attempting to do, evidenced by a wildly uneven tone, and rather facile, frustratingly twee storytelling. Johnny Lee Miller does his best to add some depth to Scottish World Cycling Champion, Douglas Obree, of whom you learn very little, but the film remains a curiously flat, unengaging, and unfocussed affair.

Cineworld, 14 Aug, 9.30pm & 9.45pm, £10.45 (£7.70), filmpp35
tw rating 2/5
[mc]

The Sacred Family [La Sagrada Familia]
Horamagica Producciones

Sebastian Campos magnificent debut takes the well-worn cinematic framework of the family holiday get-together and infuses it with raw passion, startling intimacy, and genuine insight. Apparently mostly improvised and filmed over a three-day period, the acute family dynamic is impressively defined by a uniformly excellent cast, giving the film an uneasily urgent nervous energy. The ensuing breakdown of relationships is a compellingly subtle potion of guilt, conscience and desire that never that becomes tiresome or self-indulgent, instead undercutting any pretence with a deft comic touch that draws an eager emotional investment from its audience. This ultimately ensures that this powerful exorcism of Chilean familial insecurities is a massively enjoyable, rewarding experience and a triumph of low-budget filmmaking.

Cineworld, 17 Aug 9.50pm, 19 Aug 7.15pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp 63
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

Colour Me Kubrick
EuropaCorp

This slight, but frequently very funny film, tells the story of conman Alan Conway, who spent the better part of the early nineties pretending to be Stanley Kubrick as a means of extorting the vain and the wealthy. Playing it mainly for laughs, the film happily swaps depth for absurdity, and John Malkovich clearly has a grand old time hamming it up, equipped as he is with an extraordinary wardrobe and more accents than a Meryl Streep retrospective. Its by no means a great film, its uneven and subplots are left to hang, but it is enjoyably daft, and any film that can give Jim Davidson such an incongruously hilarious cameo surely has something going for it.

Cameo 1, 19 Aug 7.15pm; Cineworld, 21 Aug 9.30pm, £7.95 (£5.20), filmpp 29
tw rating 3/5
[mc]

Over The Wall
The Latymer Theatre Company

A clever, vaguely funny social commentary this may be, but its brief length allows time for only a broad-stroke satire of human existence, and whilst writer James Saunders is insightful enough, he does not dig as deep as he might. The play, directed with striking visual invention by Sam Adams, centres on a group of islanders cut off from the rest of the world by a bluntly metaphorical wall, which becomes an inescapable part of their lives and point of debate across the class divides. The talented cast inject such manic enthusiasm and boundless energy into their physical and verbal gymnastics, that whilst the piece remains frustratingly slight, it never becomes tiresome, making for an enjoyably diverting half-hour or so.

Augustines, 7 - 13 Aug, 5.00pm (5.25pm), £5.00 (£4.00) (£3.50s) fpp 195.
tw rating 3/5
[mc]

The Macbeth Conspiracy
Challoner Theatre Company

When an abridged version of Macbeth runs tediously long you know youre in trouble. This interpretation is mystifyingly crow barred into the seventies and whilst the cast are made up to look like theyve stepped out of The Sweeney, they are a curiously insipid, if eager, lot, their performances serviceable, but lacking edge, depth and inspiration. There is no darkness or chemistry from, or between the Macbeths, and the rest of the cast struggle to come to terms with the subtleties of Shakespeare. Moreover, the play lacks energy, and the abridgement is questionable at best, meaning those not familiar with the original will likely find themselves lost in Birnam wood if they follow the direction of this frustratingly pointless affair.

Augustines, 7 - 13 Aug, 9.00pm (10.10pm), £7.00 (£5.00) fpp 185.
tw rating 2/5
[mc]

The All Purpose Monster
Tama

A strange beast, on one hand an energetic, vaguely amusing commentary on the everyday struggles of the human condition and on the other, a wilfully odd and self-indulgent, absurdity. Two beings, perhaps aliens but who knows, find themselves stuck on prehistoric earth and struggle to come to terms with their existence, and each other. The regressive Cro cant quite get past the titular monster of his psychosis, whilst Neah just has trouble trying to get Cro stand up straight. They certainly make the best of their venue, and the performances are game enough, especially the talented Amy Carroll, but youre never quite sure what you are watching, though that may be the charm of this bemusing, though not unlikeable curiosity.

Venue 260@Jurys Inn, 7 12, 14 19 Aug, 6.15pm (7.15pm), £5.00 (£3.00)
fpp 144.
tw rating 3/5
[mc]

Rebus McTaggart
Richard Thomson Festival Highlights

Sometimes a show just goes on a bit too long, and for every gut-busting act of hilarity, there are a few less mirthful moments not far behind. Frustratingly this the case for the amiable, waywardly talented, Richard Thomson, whose riff on everything from the self-important local bobby to crimewatch would have made a superb thirty or forty minutes but carries too much of dubious substance for an entirely satisfying sixty. At his best when bouncing off the audience, when left to his own devices he and his eclectic cast of characters occasionally underwhelm. Benji the sniffer dog is one of the many highs, whilst his musings on terrorism, which lack the insight to escape flippancy, representing one of several lows.

Smirnoff Underbelly, Dates Vary, 3.05pm (4.05pm), £7.50 - £8. 50 (£6.50 £7.50)
fpp 64.
tw rating 3/5
[mc]

Jane Bussmann Bussmanns Holiday
Jane Bussmann Filthy Picture and Richard Jordan Productions

Jane Bussmann has a genuinely fascinating story to tell, which sees her go from Hollywood to Uganda, one moment interviewing Ashton Kutcher, the next, jetting off to search for the most evil man in the world, simultaneously dodging litigious publicists and well-hung men with AK-47s. Trouble is whilst she may be a gifted writer, she appears not to have a natural talent for comic delivery; seeming a little uncomfortable with the persona she inhabits to recount her adventures. The jokes fall flat as often as not, yet, whilst rarely hilarious, it is difficult not to warm to the absurdity of the tale and the teller, even if the inevitable book would likely make for a more profoundly satisfying experience.

Assembly@St Georges West, Dates Vary, 8.00pm (9.00pm), £9.50 - £10.50 (£8.50 - £9.50)
tw rating 3/5
[mc]


Whoopee! Laugh Out Loud With Scotty & Lulu
Scotty & Lulu

Much like the majority of their audience, Scotty and Lulu are not inclined to stay still for long, as their infectious, gaudy mayhem jumps from one song or sketch to the next. Their tunes are unlikely to win plaudits for complexity, but thats not the point, the kids are dancing in the aisles and the adults are behaving in a manner you fear is not entirely respectable. Nor are the sketches particularly demanding, but they are lively and inventive enough to keep the kids thrilled, and adults amused, with their blend of pirates and magic suitcases. Along with some excellent support from kids of the Twenty-First Century Dance Group, Scotty and Lulu provide much appreciated, superior entertainment for young kids.

George Square Theatre, 4 -7, 9 14 Aug, 2.45pm (3.45pm), £7.50 (£5.50) (£22.00f)
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

The Improvability Drive
Mayday Players

You never know quite where you are with improv, but at least with The Improvability Drive you soon know you are in safe hands with the Mayday players. A supremely versatile and inventive quintet who confidently navigate their way through a series of increasingly bizarre sketches like, on this particular day, Big Mommas Waterworld.
Each member of the cast brings something different to proceedings, but each are also blessed with acute comic instincts and an endearing glint of mild insanity. Taking direction from an eager and mischievous audience certainly strikes of lunacy, but the Players rarely break stride, and the material stays at surprisingly consistent level making for a tremendously entertaining, and very funny hour.

Roman Eagle Lodge, 4 6, 7 27 Aug, 1.10pm (2.05pm), £5.00 (£4.00) fpp42
Tw rating 4/5
[mc]

The Family Semianyki
Teatr Licedei

This ingeniously entertaining, vaguely off-putting Vaudevillian clown show carries its confrontational oddness around as a badge of honour, and while it may take a wee while to work out, it eventually gets under your skin by sheer enthusiastic force of will. Played out with anarchic, yet, poignant conviction, this is essentially a live action Warner Brothers cartoon except longer, perhaps too long. Expertly choreographed, the set-pieces are ripe with daft invention, and are gamely played out by a quintet of genuinely talented physical comedians, at times you may find the overeager gurning a little tiresome, but youll soon be more concerned that the mayhems spilling off the stage, and heading towards you, pillow in hand and mischief in the eye.

Assemby@St Georges West, Dates Vary, Prices Vary, fpp 165
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

Magic@ Cafe Royal
Ian Kendall and Friends

Remember your old Physics teacher? The vaguely creepy, annoyingly patronising one whose soporific classes where painfully punctuated by the jokes hes learned off last years Christmas Crackers? Well he packed in the day job, after getting a How To Do Magic book for Christmas, did a short stint in Butlins and then turned up at the Fringe as Ian Kendall and inflicted his classroom antics on a paying audience. Youve seen all the tricks before, their nothing special, only performed with a wit, charisma and aplomb absent here, and Kendalls smug, disingenuous stage persona ensures that by the time he reaches the end of whatever trick hes attempting, youll no longer care enough to be bother feeling under-whelmed.

Café Royal Fringe Theatre, 4 27 Aug, 5.20pm (6.10pm), £7.00, fpp 53
tw rating 2/5
[mc]

Russell Howard Wandering
Russell Howard

Russell Howard bounces around his stage like a small child who has eaten a few too many sweets and is making the most of the high before he has to go throw up. He doesnt, instead he unleashes his little ball of unassuming hilarity for the entirety of the hour, with little let up. Building an instant rapport with his audience with his quick wit and nimble intellect and wrapping his routine around them with warmth and spontaneity. This is glorious entertainment, the audience guffawing with unrestrained glee at Howards incisively brilliant, observational humour, refreshingly absent of ego or self-indulgence, borne out of a genuine desire to make people laugh, now, later, and just before bed, which you will.

Pleasance Courtyard, Dates Vary, Times Vary, fpp 67
tw rating 5/5
[mc]


Kieran Butler In Che Guevara on the Fringe 2
Kieran Butler With Austin Low

By now, a week into the festival, chances are you are getting fed up and beginning to question the logic of shelling out ten to fifteen quid for a show that only lasts an hour. Well so is the amiable, deeply amusing Aussie, Kieran Butler; hes fed up of rising ticket prices, rising performers debt and rising corporate profit. So Butlers starting a thoroughly unpretentious, highly entertaining, politely middle class revolution to reclaim The Fringe for performers and audiences. With wittily reinvented show tunes and staunch support from Austin Low youll soon find yourself marching the streets of Edinburgh, demanding change, hugging downtrodden performers, and thoroughly enjoying yourself. Even better, the cost of spiritual cleansing in 2006: absolutely free.

The Three Tuns, 3 -6, 9 -13, 16 - 20, 23 - 28 Aug, 2.30pm (3.45pm) (Free Ticketed) fpp49
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

Songs of the Unhinged
Paddy Lannigan

This charmless little show really wants to offend, but the only thing offensive about it is its criminally lazy obscenity and contemptible self-indulgence. The witlessness of Paddy Lannigans show is truly gob-smacking, as is the manner in which he molests the songs he crassly reinvents just by opening his mouth. This is hateful, pretentious puerility of the highest order, whose attempts at political satire are imbecilic and lacking any kind of insight or originality. On the upside he does tell the story of how his entire audience walked out on him the other day, that was bloody hilarious, nice to see the Edinburghs discerning comedy audience is alive and well and turning their backs on this nasty little show.

The Jazz Bar, 7 11, 14 18, 21 -25 Aug, 5.30pm (6.30pm), £5.00 (£3.00) fpp 70
tw 1/5
[mc]

The Bird Flu Diaries
Olivia Poulet and Sarah Solemani

A sharp, satirical sketch show from the abundantly talented Olivia Poulet and Sarah Solemani that speculates on a world, not too far in the future, recoiling in the face of the bird flu epidemic, where Tony Blair opens a competition for citizens of Britain to win survival in the form a place in his bunker. These citizens, from West Country witches, to Manchester teenagers with an eye for crimping, are wittily brought to life through incisive writing and by performers with an astute eye for delivery and superb comic timing. Their commentary on news television is one of the frequently hilarious highs, and even on the comparative lows youll likely find yourself never less than amused, unless youre Kevin Spacey.

Pleasance Dome, Dates Vary, Prices Vary, fpp 22
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

All In The Timing
Ham Yard Tourists

Somewhere off the beaten track of the Fringe you can occasionally stumble across an undiscovered, if unpolished, gem, and in Kevin Bishop and Kevin Stayners All In the Timing, we have one of this years. With a gift for snappy delivery of daft, witty writing, incorporating both gleeful banter and bone crunching slapstick, they inspire any number of deeply satisfying gut laughs. It may be rough around the edges but even when material fades a little towards the end they continue to amuse, making it difficult to tire of their company. The discerning comedy audience would do well to take a risk here and fight the gaudy, disingenuous lure of some across Edinburgh whose publicity budget far outweighs their talent.

ClubWEST@Edinburgh Theosophical Society, 6 26 Aug, 5.00pm (6.00pm), £8.00 (£6.00)
tw rating 4/5
[mc]

The Land Of Enchantment
Deke Weaver

Told through the lens of Somerset Maughams Of Human Bondage, Deke Weavers one man, semi-autobiographical account of broken marriage, broken dreams and poetryslamming through the South West is a victory for entertainment over self-indulgence. Coming off as almost a primal exorcism of insecurity, Weavers insightful and inverted look at life is full of pain, warmth, humour and pathos. He is a charismatic and compelling storyteller able not only draw vivid characters in lurid locales all over America, but also the country itself, only upside-down. Weavers also not afraid to flaunt his media, with music, film and animation adding depth to this richly satisfying tale. And by the end, if youve never read Maugham you will likely be planning on it.

The Zoo, 6 - 19 Aug, 10.15pm, £6.00 (£5.00) fpp 181.
****
[mc]

Garden State

There is a popular point of view that suggests that the leap from small to silver screen stardom is far from easy, as the Friends have found out, and few have completed the jump with the natural assurance that Zach Braff displays in Garden State. Writing, directing and starring, Braff has created a tender, funny and seductively accomplished debut that neatly sidesteps cliché and mawkish sentiment thanks to his skewed and darkly original perspective.
Braff plays Andrew Largeman returning to his hometown for his Mothers funeral, sparking a re-evaluation of his life and relationships as he drifts around trying to find himself, eventually meeting Natalie Portmans extraordinary Samantha while being dry humped by a German Shepherd.
With a witty script, great performances and some gorgeous cinematography, Garden State is a warm, honest and often hilarious film that any established filmmaker would be proud of, let alone a jobbing sitcom star.


Michael Callaghan

X-Men: Last Stand

After a perfectly entertaining opening half-hour or so, its all too easy to point to the moment where Brett Ratners third X-Men movie goes horribly wrong. Emerging from metal cocoon and closely resembling a rusty dildo, Vinnie Joness laughable juggernaut is symptomatic of everything thats wrong with this film.
What little plot there is concerns the invention of a cure that will strip mutants of their powers and leave them as just ordinary humans. Unsurprisingly, the two opposing mutant camps, led by the altruistic Professor Xavier and the scheming Magneto, take issue with this, Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen lending ill-deserved weight to proceedings.
However, while Xavier favours diplomacy, Magneto and his minions, a rather unthreatening bunch of dirty, goth chic teenagers, prefers a more direct approach and things soon heat up. To make things worse they both get themselves all worked up about the resurrected, all-powerful Jean Grey (Famke Janssen), why is not entirely clear, as she spends most of the film standing in the background looking angry, and not doing much else.
The previously electric Hugh Jackmans Wolverine is this time around left only to fume impotently, Halle Berrys Storm seems ready to pack it all in, and Anna Paquins Rogue is left to mope around some ill-considered subplot. Of the new characters Kelsey Grammers potentially interesting Beast is wasted and Ben Fosters Angel is just plain dull.
What subtlety, nuance, humour and depth of character that Bryan Singer wrung out of the impressive first two films has been discarded by the considerably less-talented Ratner in favour of bombastic yet empty set-pieces, heavy-handed sentiment, and a flimsy script that cant wait to drop its next clanger. By the time the film stumbles to its awful conclusion, youll be wondering just how it is Jones isnt the most stupefyingly daft thing on show.

Brick (2006)

Much has been discussed as to how Rian Johnsons uniquely stylised, High School set mystery channels the spirit of Dashiel Hammett and Raymond Chandler. However, its perhaps less intentionally reminiscent of another kids-as-gangsters film: Bugsy Malone. Its a shame really, because things start so promisingly.

The story follows our young private dick, Brendan, as attempts to uncover what led to the death of his ex-girlfriend and lost love, Emily. While it is ostensibly set in and around their high school and the surrounding suburbs, its locations are shot with such a lonely, otherworldly transience it seems the action is taking place somewhere else entirely. Its almost as if the universe of the film is an extension of the overactive imagination of its teenage protagonists and while the zippy dialogue, noirish characters, and almost total absence of adult authority have no basis in reality it is because they too are products of this.

At first it is as easy to be seduced by the Bricks enjoyably unique energy and atmosphere as it is by Joseph Gordon-Levitts charming, brooding and intellectual central performance. The playfully uneasy score gets under the skin, the black humour frequently finds its targets, and the performances are almost universally enticing. However, characters and set-ups that you may originally give the benefit of the doubt begin to grate and come undone as the film stumbles into its final act.

The convoluted plot soon gets caught up in its own overwrought absurdity and the strained exposition begins to come on so thick that before long you wonder if you ever really cared. And by the time the films competing gangs meet for the climatic showdown, it is likely youll be willing them to pull put their splurge guns in order to prevent things from getting all too silly.

Theatre Of Blood (1973)

One part Carry On Shakespeare, one part black comedy and one part grisly horror. Theatre of Blood is a film that so joyfully revels in its own lunacy that it would be almost impolite to sit without a broad smile on your face for the entirety of this gloriously hammy horror. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the gleefully camp Vincent Price as Edward Lionheart. A veteran Shakespearean actor with a hubristic ego, Lionheart serves up gruesome, homicidal revenge on the theatre critics who denied him the recognition he always felt was due to him.
Lionheart, aided by a ragged, meths swigging Dickensian chorus, plays out every actors wet dream by copycatting murders from the plays of the Bard. And there is something rather disarming watching some of the most beloved stalwarts of English character acting; Jack Hawkins, Harry Andrews, Arthur Lowe, Michael Hordern to name but a few, dispatched in increasingly grotesque, yet magnificently pleasing fashion. This pleasure is only enhanced as this truly bewildering array of talent seem to be having so much fun mugging it up as the pompous critical buffoons. They are more than ably supported by the irresistible Diana Rigg, wilfully exploiting her English sex kitten tag, and Eric Sykes sporting a wonderfully incongruous Irish accent.
Characters names such as Solomon Psaltery, swordfights on trampolines, and a heroically inept police force ensure that none of this is taken too seriously. However, director Douglas Hickox never lets things descend into broad farce, keeping things deliciously atmospheric and creepy. While the quality Anthony Greville-Bells dialogue leaves a little to be desired, its really not why youll be watching, though his co-writer Billy Shakespeare clearly knows a thing or two.
They really dont make them like this anymore, and probably wouldnt know how to in any case.

Three Lessons in Misanthropy

Bloodthirsty, greedy, brutal, cruel; three very different films share an equally dim outlook on humanity. Herman Hesse argued that Without words, without writing and without books there would be no history, there could be no concept of humanity. If the same is true of film, then we must hope that humanity will never be judged entirely on the basis of Roman Polanskis The Tragedy of Macbeth (1971); Todd Solondzs Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995), and Tout va bien (1972), directed by Jean-Luc Godard and Jean-Pierre Gorin. Future civilizations would find a selfish, ugly and indifferent race, and would be mightily relieved that we were no longer around to bother them.
Alas, Polanski was not so fortunate, having experienced the full venom of mankinds propensity for evil. The young Roman escaped the Krakow Ghetto, lost his Mother at Auschwitz, and later in 1969, the Manson Family murdered his pregnant wife, Sharon Tate. It should come as no surprise then to see him, not only warmly embrace, but further fuel the bloody intrigue of Shakespeares Macbeth. From the first, as Macbeth, receives the three witches prophecy that he will one day be King, Polanski creates a deliciously tense atmosphere, grounded in grim period detail. Blood red dawns; howling winds; lashing rain and the blasted, bleak earth, are the backdrop to Macbeths murderous rise to power, always threatening to swallow petty mortals in a sudden elemental uprising.
Polanski clearly relishes the web of plotting, betrayal and murder, and though interweaved with a dash of soul-searching, he brings it to the screen like a brutal, bloody and unflinching exorcism. Scenes kept offstage in the play, such as the murder of King Duncan, are key to Polanski and are brought kicking and screaming to the fore of this adaptation, anchoring it with a grubby tangibility so often forsaken when filming the Bards lofty prose. The higher Macbeth rises, the heavier his conscience weighs, and the more his paranoia fuels killings. The assassination of Banquo buzzes with metallic electricity, threatening to fuse your eyes to the screen; and echoes of Polanskis ghetto experience inform the harrowing murder of Macduffs family.
However, as deep as this crimson river gets, it never quite overwhelms the pure drama of the play. Rarely has Shakespeares verses appeared more alive on screen, with the soliloquies delivered in quiet, immediate, internal monologue. Jon Finch, as the eponymous anti-hero, delivers by turns a performance of gleeful gore and tragic pathos, struggling between conscience, and a temptation lovingly massaged by the ruthless whispers of Lady Macbeth, who Francesca Annis brings to life with dangerous allure.
Watching Polanski revel in the cruel ambition of Shakespeares characters is truly captivating stuff, underlining his scepticism in the power of good to overcome. The good MacDuffs final victory over Macbeth is pointedly undermined in an epilogue mischievously added by Polanski and fellow writer Kenneth Tynan. The circularity of mans greed and brutality is implied, as the film closes on the chilling image of a hapless noble, much like Macbeth before him, entering the witches ruin to discover his corrupt future.
Equally sceptical is Todd Solondzs Welcome to the Dollhouse. The sort of film that would gladly torture its little sisters kitten, and then drown it in front of her, or indeed saw the head off her doll, much like its main character does. Taking a gluttonous, satirical bite into American suburbia, and a welcome tonic to the sentimental drivel of the likes of John Hughes work, Welcome to the Dollhouse is an unrelentingly dark, comedic paean to human psychological cruelty that never lets you get comfy.
What little plot there is, mercilessly charts the downs of Junior High School girl Dawn Weiner, as she struggles through her many humiliations. Weiner-dog, is viciously bullied at school, ignored by her parents, shamed by her geeky older brother, and tormented by her angelic brat of a little sister. On top of this, she shares a sado-masochistic relationship with one of her bullies, and longs after the vain but handsome singer in her brothers band. Played with hideous perfection by Heather Matarazzo, Dawn just wants to be loved. However, Solondz leaves no doubt as to why not even her parents can bear her, presenting her as just as cruel, unattractive and ignorant as the world around her. She happily, if unwittingly, aids the abduction of her little sister, and in one particularly uncomfortable moment, wearing ludicrous pink pyjamas, almost fondles the crotch of the singer sleeping in her brothers bedroom.
An admirably well executed film that eagerly dismantles garish suburbia with its hideous costumes and unflinching direction; it is, however, an unapologetically uncomfortable, joyless experience. While the films jet black comedy often hits the mark, the laughs often feel cruel and heartless, akin to the sadistic giggles of the curtain-twitching voyeur, enjoying a neighbours miserable existence. And indeed, this seems to have been the films intention. The characters are architects of their own tragedies, and it remains impossible to sympathise with them, as innately unlikeable as they all are. They, much like the film itself, are easy to laugh at, cleverly observed, but ultimately hard to love.
Less funny, yet equally unlovable, are Jehovahs Witnesses. Godard and Gorins Tout va bien, closely resembles one of these unwelcome guests handcuffing themselves to your front door, and haranguing you for what may only be ninety minutes, but in fact feels much longer. A truly tiresome essay on the politics of form, lent undeserved weight in the form Yves Montand as Him, and desperate desire to be taken seriously, in the form of a confused Jane Fonda as Her. The anonymity of these characters names underline the films disinterest in humanity, and its dedication to irksome intellectualism.
A plot-less, self-reflexive rumination on the near-revolution in Paris in May 1968, the prologue begins by bemoaning the difficulties of financing a film like this. It shows the Producer writing his cheques, the love story getting shoehorned in, and its stars hired to secure funding. When its quite finished complaining, its starts preaching from contrived, cinematic soapboxes, and through increasingly dehumanised mouthpieces. A factory strike takes places in offices openly built on a soundstage, where its protagonists often pause to spew political vitriol at the camera. Later it seems to encourage further student riots, following a smug rabble of students who cause public disorder in a supermarket. They persuade shoppers to leave without paying, all of whom rather incongruously comply, without clipping the pretentious twits around the ear. The directors capture the scene in one long take that sees the camera move up and down a fifty-foot track, stoically taking in the chaos at each checkout and aisle. No doubt this is meant to somehow represent the noble students rebelling against the mechanical relentlessness of capitalism. In fact, it serves only to remind what a heavy-handed, cold and heartless piece of cinema Tout va bien really is.
George Bernard Shaw once wisely wrote: The worst sin toward our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them: that's the essence of inhumanity. In watching this elitist piece of political pomposity, you discover a film so essentially misanthropic, that it is uniquely abhorrent.

Indiana Jones and the Resurrection of Ford?

Once the biggest, and more importantly, most appealing star in the world, Harrison Fords career is in danger of flat-lining, his films are becoming tired, dull and predictable and its a situation that does no good for audiences, cinema or Ford himself.
The other evening I was watching K-19: The Widowmaker on the television, a film I remember enjoying at the cinema, but this time around no matter how much I tried, I couldnt get into it, it just seemed a little stale and clumsy. Nevertheless, I continued to watch, if only because it had Harrison Ford in it, until, that is my friend dryly asked: is he going to talk in that stupid accent for the whole film? I was aghast, how dare you?, I thought, but then I realised that he was right, the accent, and, indeed the film were rubbish. There was a time when if Harrison Ford was in a film, you could, at the very least, be assured of a good time. And where would cinema be without him? For someone whose love of cinema is firmly rooted in hours joyfully watching his charismatic gruffness, he is from the lets pretend school of acting after all, without Han Solo, Indiana Jones and hell, even Jack Ryan, it would seem like much emptier and more miserable place. However, those heady days seem to be a thing of the past, fine theyre infinitely repeatable on DVD, but where are the new characters and performances. Jack Stanfield, Joe Gavilan, Alexei Vostrikov, Dr.Norman Spencer, Sergeant William Van Den Broeck, Quinn Harris, Tom OMeara, are what passes for Harrison Ford characters these days, all perfectly fine in a inexorably dull way, but instantly forgettable. With recent thriller Firewall yet another film that fails once more to excite any interest, much like Hollywood Homicide, Six Days and Seven Nights, Random Hearts and The Devils Own before it; we may well be reaching crisis point.
Cinema misses Harrison Ford, there are no leading men around who can spark anything like as much excitement as when hes at his best, Cruise is too clinical, Crowe too smug and Gibson too Catholic. He has proven time and again adept at intelligent character-led thrillers like Witness, Frantic, and Presumed Innocent as well as the more famous blockbusters, and with a little twist to the persona surely theres room enough for him to rise again? Perhaps its down to idealistic nostalgia, but it seems like theres a gaping hole where Ford should be, even at 63, and at the moment he flirts frustratingly on the edges of it. Has he been misused, ill-advised, made poor choices, or worse just doesnt care anymore? It doesnt matter, what does, is that Harrison Ford is in danger of fading away and surely hes too good for that to be allowed to happen; he has species of Ant and Spider named after him for goodness sake, Peidole harrisonford and Calponia harrisonford.
For every Proof of Life, The Perfect Storm and The Patriot, which he has quite sensibly turned down, there are calamities like Traffic and a Syriana as well. Parts that revitalised Michael Douglas and won George Clooney an Oscar, and parts Ford surely would have thrived in, were allowed to drift away. At least of the latter, Ford admits I think I made a mistake. But its little consolation and something must surely be done before Quentin Tarantino gets his hands on him, and smugly resucitates him.
There are, however, signs of life, signs that potentially more interesting days lie ahead. Ford has signed to star in Manhunt, playing a Colonel who tracks Lincolns assassin, and Battle of Fallujah, which could be the right mix of edge and vitality if hes given something to get his teeth into. It is obviously too early to tell if well care anymore about these films than we do about Firewall, but at least they dont sound as fatally dull as computer specialists and bank robberies. But these films must wait; an old friend is back, for better or worse. The American Film Institute voted him the second greatest hero in American cinema, beaten only by Gregory Pecks Atticus Finch, and it seems Ford is once more ready to don the fedora as Indiana Jones.
Indiana Jones 4, has been gathering dust in development hell for over a decade now, as the consensus from George Lucas, Steven Spielberg and Ford on a script proved illusive. Reports suggest that Lucas has been hardest to please in attempting to find the special mix of Saturday matinee western serial and crypto-spiritual sort of stuff, as Ford eloquently describes it. Efforts from M. Night Shyamalan and Frank Darabont have reportedly failed to impress him, though whether the judgement of the man who wrote The Phantom Menace should be held over the man who wrote The Shawshank Redemption is surely a point of concern. However, with a little tinkering from Spiderman, Jurassic Park and War of the Worlds scribe, David Koepp the wheels once more seem to be turning with purpose, with the film pencilled for summer 2007 release. As Ford himself noted well, it loomsit looms.
The question is, though, does it loom too late? Or does the prankster who coined the prospective title Indiana Jones and the Ravages of Time have a point. Ford though reportedly has no qualms about doing the stunts at 63, and some may feel that the moment has passed. However, the original films hold fond memories for so many and if Spielberg, Lucas and Ford get the special mix right, maybe we can once more revel in the joyous adventures of Dr. Jones. Is it too much to ask that the film will avoid falling as flat as the revival Lucas other beloved franchise, Star Wars? Sure we all went to see the films, but deep down as much as the romantic in us wanted to get excited again, we all knew that they was little more than a life-less, jumped up toy commercial, which would have been fine if the films werent so reprehensibly awful.
After all many thought that what the films missed, amongst many other things, was the presence of a roguish hero like Ford, who brought a cynical humanity to the original trilogy so glaringly absent from the prequels. There just isnt anyone who can bring the world-weary charm to a film like Ford, and it is just entirely wasted on stale thrillers like Firewall. American Cinema needs the cynical charm and humanity of Ford, especially now as film becomes increasingly stale and pre-packaged. His films have taken $5.65 Billion, more than any other actor, we all love him, and as much as some may hate to admit, we need him. Audiences would thrive again after a strong, eager and vital Ford, surely its not delusional and idealistic to believe that, and even if it is who cares? At its best cinema can fuel dreams, and promote wild romanticism, no more so than some of Fords most successful work, and heres hoping that the return of Indiana will herald the second coming of Harrison Ford. Not only is it important, but itd be a lot of fun.