Ashes to Ashes: Series 1 (2008)

With Life on Mars – and the journey of time-travelling cop Sam Tyler – neatly wrapped up after two stellar seasons, the existence of sequel series Ashes to Ashes clearly owes to one thing and one thing only: Detective Chief Inspector Gene Hunt.

Philip Glenister's brutish, scene-stealing cop is back front and centre in Ashes to Ashes alongside Life on Mars sidekicks Ray Carling (Dean Andrews) and Chris Skelton (Marshall Lancaster), who have left Manchester to tackle the criminal scum of London. The trio are brought back to life when police psychologist Alex Drake (Spooks' Keeley Hawes) awakes in 1981 after being shot during the pursuit of a criminal in 2008. Like Tyler before her, Drake finds herself trapped in the past and working with Hunt and his team.

By the time Ashes to Ashes' first season wrapped up on ABC1 last week, it had more or less escaped the vast shadow of Life on Mars. The season's central arc, which saw Drake fighting to prevent the death of her parents in a car bombing, was engaging stuff, and her urge to return to her daughter in the present day meant Drake's even more determined to return to the present day than Tyler was.

Unfortunately, the show stumbles in overcoming the expectations attached to a sequel series. The transition from Life on Mars' gritty depiction of seventies Britain to the glitz and glamour of the 1980s in Ashes to Ashes is accompanied by a jarring tonal shift; at times, Ashes to Ashes borders on a parody of its predecessor. The ingredients are all there (the Ford Cortina is replaced by an Audi Quattro, the pub by an Italian restaurant and the Test Card girl by a very creepy clown) but there's an obvious sense of self-awareness to Ashes to Ashes that was lacking in the original series. While it may be befitting to Hawes' character, who, having read Sam Tyler's files, is convinced that her awakening in 1981 is all in her head, the jokier tone plays contrary Life on Mars' engaging conviction to its conceit.

(Curiously, the lighter Ashes to Ashes would probably have leant itself better to a US adaptation than Life on Mars did, particularly given the in-vogue setting of the 1980s. It also wouldn't have given US producers the ammunition they needed to make a God-awful literal twist in the final episode.)

Glenister still lends great gusto to Gene Hunt who is now aware that his old school policing methods are soon to be a thing of the past (it's ripe material only hinted at in series one – here's hoping it'll be further explored in future episodes). However, Hunt, like Skelton and Carling (sporting an ace perm), seem to be painted in far broader strokes than they were in Life on Mars – witness the bombastic introduction of Gene Hunt in episode one.

Hawes, meanwhile, eventually comes into her own as Ashes to Ashes ultimately does. Her constant (and occasionally annoying) narration in early episodes makes her a less endearing protagonist than John Simm's instantly likeable Tyler, but Drake's tetchy sparring with Hunt becomes a joy to behold. She also develops an intriguing relationship with Montserrat Lombard's Sharon Granger toward the season's end.

It's difficult to assess the first season of Ashes to Ashes as an independent entity (the show even takes its title from another David Bowie song, just one of dozens of funky '80s tunes to feature), and it was always going to struggle to recapture the brilliance and originality of Life on Mars. However, there's still life left in the show's fish-out-of-water premise and with that awkward transitional phase over, Ashes to Ashes should be well placed to develop an identity of its own as the second season begins tonight.

A View to a Kill (1985)

It may be the Bond fan's whipping boy, but I can't help but think A View to a Kill scrapes by on charm alone.

In fact, the fourteenth Bond film is a bit like a doddery old relative among the others in the series. It regurgitates familiar stories (the plot is a virtual retread of Goldfinger), meanders and makes little sense (the film's first third is concerned with an irrelevant horse racing subplot), tries to be embarrassingly hip (see Bond snowboarding to a cover of "California Girls") and is generally as creaking and tired as 57-year-old Roger Moore, who reprises the role of James Bond here for the seventh and final time.

But A View to a Kill is also the swansong to a particular kind of Bond film that, as a product of the seventies and eighties, might never see the light of day again. Watching Roger Moore cock his eyebrow through an endless stream of double entendres and wry one-liners is like watching a stand-up comic perform a tried and tested act. Sure, it's familiar but it remains entertaining – and the same could be said for the film itself.

The plot, for what it's worth, sees 007 encounter Christopher Walken's Max Zorin, a French industrialist scheming to destroy Silicon Valley in order to corner the world's microchip market. He's assisted by Grace Jones' androgynous Mayday, while Bond receives help from Tanya Roberts whose air-headed geologist is only as smart as the rocks she studies.

The casting standout, unsurprisingly, is Walken, whose psychopathic performance is classic Bond villain material. All those Walken tics are present and accounted for ("More... more powah..." he stiltedly cries at one point, just moments before chuckling as he falls to his death).

What A View to a Kill lacks in exotic locations (Siberia, France, San Francisco), it more than makes up for in the action stakes. There's the opening ski chase (not a patch on The Spy Who Loved Me's iconic opening, but then, what is?), a daft but enjoyable sequence in which Bond clings to an out-of-control fire engine and a couple of Hitchcockian action sequences involving national landmarks.

And any film that ends with Christopher Walken battling Roger Moore with an axe atop the Golden Gate Bridge can't be all bad.

Inglourious Basterds (2009)

It was worth the wait.

Quentin Tarantino has been promising to unleash his World War II epic Inglourious Basterds upon us for over a decade. In the choppy wake of the critic-dividing Grindhouse experiment, Basterds is not only a return-to-form for the acclaimed director – it's perhaps his finest film yet.

Tarantino's love and appreciation of cinema is evident in virtually every frame of Inglourious Basterds; the film itself builds toward a finale set during the premiere of Joseph Goebbels' latest propaganda flick. Ostensibly a revenge tale, Basterds serves up an alternate history of World War II that is ultimately a propaganda movie of its own – and arguably a statement on violence in film.

Inglourious Basterds is perfectly paced, playing out like an on-screen novel; indeed, the film itself is split into five chapters during which Tarantino's knack for dialogue flourishes. Unlike those in most films, Inglourious Basterds' lush, natural conversations play out for longer than a mere couple of minutes – few directors could pull off an opening scene that is a fifteen minute conversation as well as Tarantino does here with an engaging sequence in which a Nazi interrogates a French farmer who may be harbouring Jews.

What follows is a sprawling tale as a vengeance-driven daughter of a slaughtered Jewish family, a defecting German actress, members of the British military, the Nazis and a group of OSS soldiers (the titular Basterds) converge, as characters do in Tarantino films, for a violent confrontation.

Although an ensemble picture, Inglourious Basterds benefits from just one megastar in its cast: Brad Pitt as beefcake Lieutenant Aldo Raine, who leads the Basterds on a mission to collect 100 Nazi scalps each. The rest of the cast (with the possible exception of Mike Myers, whose British general has overtones of Austin Powers) is mostly rounded out by a troupe of capable unknowns.

Two of the movie's stars shine particularly bright: Mélanie Laurent as Shosanna Dreyfuss, a Jewish girl whose family was murdered by the Nazis, and Christoph Waltz as Hans Landa, the man who ordered the deaths. Laurent's moving performance grounds the film in some semblance of reality, while Waltz, quite simply, is phenomenal; his nuanced performance as Inglourious Basterds' main antagonist is indescribable – a dead certainty for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination.

There are a couple of jarring additions, including one of two sequences narrated by Samuel L. Jackson that overtly explains the explosive properties of nitrate film, but in the wake of some brain-crushingly moronic summer blockbusters, Inglourious Basterds is a gust of fresh air.

As expected for a Tarantino flick, violence abounds, and if you're likely to get squeamish at the sight of Raine and his cronies hacking the scalps off of evil Nazis, you have been warned. But when Tarantino (via Brad Pitt) professes during the film's final scene that Inglourious Basterds may just be his masterpiece, it's very difficult to disagree.

Brüno (2009)

The phenomenon of the difficult second album is alive and kicking in Brüno, Sacha Baron Cohen's follow-up to the brilliant (and brilliantly titled) Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan. But while Brüno doesn't recapture the magic of watching Cohen's hapless Kazakhstan reporter navigate conservative America, it's often hilarious, which is more than can be said for most comedies that wind up in cinemas.

Brüno Gehard is Cohen's third creation from Da Ali G Show. In the guise of a fish-out-of-water documentary à la Borat, Cohen sends the extroverted gay Austrian fashionista to America with one goal: to become famous. In our current celebrity-soaked climate, it's a ripe target for satire and Cohen milks it wonderfully. "I'm going to be the biggest Austrian since Hitler," Brüno proclaims.

What follows is essentially a series of sketches/stunts/pranks loosely strung together by Brüno's pursuit of fame and his assistant's assistant's (no typo there) romantic pursuit of Brüno.

In perhaps the film's most cringe-worthy scene (or at least the most cringe-worthy scene that doesn't involve talking male genitalia), a parade of mothers spruik their babies to Brüno in an effort to have their children feature in a photo shoot. Shockingly, the parents show no qualms about their children potentially having liposuction, wearing Nazi uniforms or appearing crucified as long as their child has a shot at stardom. As an diatribe against fame, Brüno frequently hits a bull's-eye.

Of course, Brüno's other target is prejudice. It's an attack that's only partly successful as Cohen's character obviously embodies all the gay stereotype characteristics that the film itself would aim to stamp out. Fortunately, Cohen's unwitting co-stars are well-picked, including a gobsmacking sequence in which US Republican presidential candidate Ron Paul reacts horribly to Brüno's none-too-subtle passes.

Comparisons to Borat are inevitable given Brüno would never have been made were it not for the surprise box office success of the former picture. This follow-up is a much more uneven film, chiefly for the greater proportion of staged set pieces featured. However, Cohen's knack of nailing those stunts in which he would have had just one chance to do so is consistently impressive. This is never more apparent than during Brüno's joint interview with a Palestinian politician and a former Mossad agent, as well as in a remarkable separate encounter with an alleged terrorist leader.

Cohen's slapstick pratfalling is also a joy to behold. A sequence in which Brüno shows up at a fashion show in Milan while wearing a velcro suit is hilarious in its simplicity.

Brüno's crass, controversial and confrontational humour will obviously not appeal to all, but there are more than enough laughs here to justify a watch for fans of Borat's satirical stunt comedy.

Public Enemies (2009)

There's something oddly unengaging about Michael Mann's Public Enemies that keeps the film from achieving greatness. Instead, it's merely good. With the director of Heat and Collateral (we'll overlook that sketchy Miami Vice remake) at the helm, it's disappointing that this tale of John Dillinger, one of history's most infamous criminals, isn't the bona fide classic it had the potential to be.

An adaptation of Bryan Burrough's Public Enemies: America's Greatest Crime Wave and the Birth of the FBI, 1933-43, Mann's film sees Johnny Depp take on the role of Dillinger with a cool, restrained performance that truly sells the character as a real person. It's the central performance Public Enemies needed, given the script itself is rather light on character development; despite clocking in at nearly two-and-a-half hours in length, the film wells too often on plot at the expense of character.

Elsewhere, Christian Bale lends his trademark gruffness to Melvin Purvis, the FBI agent tasked with hunting down Dillinger and his gang, while Marion Cotillard is Billie Frechette, whose romance with Dillinger is sadly underdeveloped.

The real standout, though, is Billy Crudup (last seen all blue and naked as Dr Manhattan in Watchmen) who brings J. Edgar Hoover to life in a minimal amount of screen time.

Stylistically, Public Enemies is a mixed bag. The film is shot in digital which, while visually impressive, is seemingly at odds with the period setting. It's also quite a claustrophobic picture, with Mann often choosing to rely on tight shots to convey a sense of intimacy with the characters; this is at the expense of a feel for the era, which one doesn't get a sense of until some way into the film.

Thankfully, the picture does gather steam as the FBI closes in on Dillinger and his gang – Public Enemies' denouement is as strong as the rest of the film should have been.

One area that scores a direct hit is the film's sound – the Tommy Gun has never sounded as vivid and powerful as in Public Enemies. Each bullet fired is accompanied by a violent crack. If only the rest of the film were as sharp.

Life on Mars (2006-2007)

For those of you wondering whether the experience of enduring Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen had turned me off popular culture, fret not. To detox, I've decided to splurge on all the critically-acclaimed telly I missed over the last few years while I was travelling the world, having life-shaping experiences and all that.

The first DVD box sets to land in my shopping basket? BBC's Life on Mars, the time travel/cop show with a premise so balmy it shouldn't work, let alone work so brilliantly.

The excellent John Simm is Sam Tyler, a Manchester police officer who is hit by a car in 2006 and wakes up in 1973. With no idea as to how or why he is living in the past, Sam struggles to fit in with the archaic, corrupt and thuggish 1970s Manchester police force led by Philip Glenister's eminently quotable Gene Hunt.

Tyler's time warp dilemma is mostly a subplot on the show, simmering in the background of each week's fresh, '70s-set police procedural. It's a time when forensic science is a developing field, when suspects and witnesses are treated with equal contempt and when it's perfectly acceptable to halt a murder investigation on account of it being "beer o'clock".

It's testament to the sheer quality of Life on Mars' that at no point does the concept ever feel naff. Jokes about the past and present are sly and subversive without ever seeming too cute; "There will never been a woman Prime Minister as long as I have a hole in my arse," bellows the sexist, racist, alcoholic, homophobe Hunt, who still remains likeable thanks to Glenister's commanding performance.

Dean Andrews as the boorish Ray Carling, Marshall Lancaster as the likeable Chris Skelton and Liz White as love interest Annie Cartwright are all perfect for their parts, but the real focus is wisely kept on Tyler and Hunt; their relationship represents a fascinating contrast between the morals and values of the 1970s and the present day.

Life on Mars is rich on nostalgia, truly capturing the essence of the seventies – the soundtrack is amazing (led by David Bowie's dizzying title track) and the cinematography drenched in all those browns and yellows commonly associated with the decade. This vivid detail of the 1970s constantly plays on Sam's mind, as he fights off voices and visions that suggest he's actually gone insane rather than back in time.

Both seasons deliver a pitch-perfect cocktail of intrigue, humour, action and drama through their highly successful meshing of the science fiction and crime genres. Thanks largely to the strengths of the show's two main actors, Life on Mars also succeeds in being strangely affecting; I challenge any other viewer not to share Sam's mixture of emotions each time he hears a voice beckon to him from the present day.

The programme's creators chose to follow the great British tradition of ending a show at the top of its game, and while Sam's predicament remains almost as intriguingly ambiguous at the end of the show as it was at the start, the finale is perfectly satisfying.

(As an aside, don't get Life on Mars confused with the gratuitous US remake, the finale of which sounds as awful as it is different from that of the UK version.)

If I sound like I'm gushing, it's because I am. Life on Mars is one of the finest shows of the decade. Thoughts on the show's sequel – the 1980s-set Ashes to Ashes, which recently premiered on ABC1 – will be here in the coming weeks.

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (2009)

Up until last week, I thought I understood popular culture. I knew reality television would never produce anyone but absolute cretins. I believed celebrity gossip to be a driving force behind the spread of mankind's stupidity. And I accepted no film would ever bludgeon my senses like 2005's Stealth, the Jamie Foxx actioner about a talking plane that turns evil.

And then I saw Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen and suddenly the whole world unravelled before my very bleeding eyes.

Where to start? Perhaps by pointing out that the film's robots (and I'm including the so-called humans in this category for reasons that become clearer with each chunk of moronic dialogue mumbled between explosions) are as soulless, boorish, lumbering, clunky, hulking and unnecessary as the film itself.

Granted, this is a franchise based on a toy line (and an inane one at that) and the first film could only be considered passable in a guilty, check-your-brains-at-the-door kind of way, but my God, Revenge of the Fallen is dumb, even by Transformers standards.

It's pointless dissecting the acting, casting, music, cinematography or direction, as all are as subtle as a cannonball to the face. Quite simply, it's a film where the only thing that's special are the effects, and even those are little more than a forgettable mishmash of pixels.

There's a scene towards the end of the film where, for reasons too moronic to explain, a Decepticon is seen climbing one of Egypt's Great Pyramids. As the camera pans up to reveal the robot, the audience is treated to a bird's-eye view of a pair of giant wrecking balls clanging together. Transformer testicles. Proof positive Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is utter bollocks.

At least I still have the undeniable, unquestionable, irrefutable assumption that no film this vapid will ever become a box office hit. Oh.

24: Season 7 (2009)

Spoilers for 24: Season 7

After succumbing to a touch of the swine last week, and being faced with the horrific prospect of watching daytime television, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to catch up on real-time torture-fest 24, which I'd somehow neglected about a third of the way through its seventh season.

Having painfully watched one of my favourite shows jump the shark in its sixth year, I had hoped Day Seven would mark a triumphant return to form. Sadly, this season was little more than a mixed bag.

First, the pros, led by Annie Wersching's Renee Walker, one of Jack Bauer's most worthy counterparts. If 24's audience were combined into a single character on the show, Walker would be it. Initially disgusted by his controversial and brutal methods, Walker is unable to deny that Bauer gets results. In a season of fumbled character arcs, hers is the most authentic, and her final scene points to a genuinely interesting future for the character.

Walker's increasingly conflicted morals, in addition to President Allison Taylor's strong anti-torture policy, provided a surprisingly weighty analysis of the merits and disadvantages of torture.

Speaking of President Taylor (Cherry Jones), she proved herself to be 24's third best president ever (let's be honest: no one will ever top David Palmer or Charles Logan). Even lumbered with an iffy subplot involving the President's daughter ordering a hit on one of the season's main baddies, Jones ensured the Taylor was one of the most balanced and down to earth characters on the show. I look forward to seeing more of her next season.

Props, too, to Will Patton and, in particular, Jon Voight, for giving us two of 24's best villains. Voight lent to Jonas Hodges a kind of gravitas not seen on the show since Dennis Hopper served up a nice big leg of ham in season one.

Sadly, though, Day Seven was still plagued by the kind of clumsy, contrived plotting that's marred several of the show's earlier seasons. Key among these was Tony's resurrection and subsequent character motivations. Sure, 24 has never been an exercise in character studies, but when Jack confronts Tony during the season finale and tells him that his late wife Michelle would never have approved of his vengeful actions, it only served to highlight how absurd his character arc has become.

Oh, and don't get me started on Kim Bauer's far-fetched airport antics. Even though Elisha Cuthbert is so hot it makes my eyeballs burn, it's simply painful to watch her encounter misfortune absolutely everywhere she goes. It's like watching a Wile E Coyote sketch... whenever she appears, you know there's trouble brewing.

Once again, though, it falls to Kiefer Sutherland to keep the whole damn thing together. The man never gives anything less than 110 percent to his performance as Jack Bauer, and his apparent inability to age makes him all the more convincing in the role. His slow yielding to the effects of the bioweapon that was the season's central MacGuffin gave his character a much-needed dose of humanity, even though he will be predictably revived in the hours following the season finale.

Ultimately, though, the season was plagued by some clumsy, stop-start plotting and an underdeveloped conspiracy arc that was never fully realised. With season eight rumoured to be the show's last, here's hoping the sun sets on a better Day.

Free Agent (2009)

They say you shouldn't judge book by its cover, but the sleek, polished, retro UK dust jacket of Jeremy Duns' debut thriller Free Agent perfectly captures the superb novel lying within.

Free Agent's slow-burn opening chapter (which can be read on the publisher's website) is punctuated by a shocker of a twist that sets the tone that this is no ordinary spy thriller. You can leave any preconceptions about glossy, straightforward Bondian escapades at the door; Free Agent is a bold and refreshing take on the familiar spy genre.

Set in 1969, Free Agent is the first in a proposed trilogy of novels featuring Paul Dark, an MI6 agent whose complicated past suddenly returns to haunt him. When a defecting KGB colonel promises to deliver information to the British about a traitor in their ranks, Dark discovers that a career-changing classified mission he undertook during the final days of the second World War was not all that it seemed.

Dark's mission takes him to Nigeria during the height of the Nigerian Civil War, a rich, untapped setting for a spy novel. Duns paints a vivid picture of the brutal conflict, fleshing out his novel with well-researched chunks of history. Each page drips with atmosphere, as Duns transports his readers to Nigeria's seamy sixties underbelly.

The ace in Duns' hand, though, is his central character. Paul Dark is a fascinating, morally ambiguous protagonist, who remains conflicted by his past allegiances, crimes and loves. Free Agent is told in the first person, providing the reader with a natural insight into the character's actions.

To say much more would be spoiling what is a terrific spy thriller built on tight, fast-paced plotting and genuinely surprising twists. Free Agent's quasi-cliffhanger ending points toward another superior spy novel in Free Country. A must-read for fans of the spy genre.

“I will be missed.”

The Today Show's Richard Wilkins made the big-time this week when his embarrassing coverage of the supposed death of Jurassic Park star Jeff Goldblum was featured on The Colbert Report.

Goldblum was shown the cringe-worthy piece of journalism on Colbert's show and concluded he must be dead after all, before proceeding to eulogise himself.

Great stuff, but a sad indictment on the state of journalism. In an age of websites, blogs and social media, where anyone can spread falsehoods as swiftly and as accurately as a game of Chinese whispers, it's truly a rum state of affairs when these sick hoaxes aren't researched before appearing as fact on national television.

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Jeff Goldblum Will Be Missed
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Naturally, the whole charade prompted Media Watch's Jonathan Holmes to give Wilkins a well-deserved bollocking on air.

Meanwhile, talk show host Jimmy Kimmel hit the street with the question everyone's been asking: where were you when you found out Jeff Goldblum was still alive?

Oscar sees double in 2010

Hollywood will congratulate itself twice as much in 2010, thanks to yesterday's announcement that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will double the Best Picture field from five to 10 nominations at next year's Oscar ceremony.

"After more than six decades, the Academy is returning to some of its earlier roots, when a wider field competed for the top award of the year," said Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences President Sid Ganis. "The final outcome, of course, will be the same – one Best Picture winner – but the race to the finish line will feature 10, not just five, great movies from 2009."

It's a strange move for the Academy, and one that is almost certainly a response to last year's Oscars, which were criticised for overlooking acclaimed genre fare like The Dark Knight and WALL·E.

The last time 10 movies were in the running for Best Picture was in 1943, when Casablanca took home the award. The following year saw the field restricted to five nominees, an imposition that's been in place ever since.

While mainstream films like Pixar's Up – currently enchanting critics the world over – are likely to benefit from the new rules, the widened field will probably only result in the inclusion of a couple of token popcorn flicks that, while critically hailed, have a snowball's chance in hell of actually winning. Such additions may, however, popularise an awards ceremony that is increasingly under fire for only recognising a certain type of film, which may be precisely what the Academy has in mind with this revamp.

In wonder at Alice...

I try to keep this blog for review-ish posts and my Twitter feed for pointing out odd nuggets of pop culture that catch my attention. However, I couldn't resist highlighting these stunning pieces of concept art for Tim Burton's upcoming film, Alice in Wonderland.

If ever there was a story seemingly tailor-made for Burton's eccentric style, Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland must be it. The kooky director looks to be on top form here, coming off the back of the fantastic Sweeney Todd.

In a word, the art is breathtaking. These character images perfectly capture the bizarre dystopia dreamt up by Carroll for the Alice books.

Be sure to check out USATODAY.com for an interactive look at some of the artwork for the film.

Burton's Alice in Wonderland is a live action/stop motion/motion capture adaptation set 10 years after the original stories and sees the title character return to Wonderland with no recollection of her first adventure there. The usual Burton stalwarts are all set to appear, including Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman and Christopher Lee. They are joined by Mia Wasikowska as Alice. The film will be released in glorious IMAX 3-D.

Brokenclaw (1990)

Yes, folks, it's another ho-hum 007 novel by John Gardner. Admittedly, Gardner himself cited Brokenclaw to be possibly his weakest Bond novel, written as the novelist was recovering from major surgery.

It's hard to argue with Gardner's assessment, as Brokenclaw manages to be a pretty forgettable James Bond adventure; it's evident whatever passion the author had for the character during For Special Services, Icebreaker and his other early, more exciting efforts, is on the wane.

Here, Bond comes up against the enigmatic Brokenclaw Lee, who my paperback copy rather lamely describes as "half-Chinese, half-Crow Indian, all evil". Gardner takes a leaf out of Fleming's book (that book, specifically, is Goldfinger) and has our favourite secret agent first encounter the villain purely by chance while on leave in Vancouver.

Brokenclaw gets off to a pretty dark start, as Bond helplessly witnesses the death of an FBI agent at the hands of the villain's henchmen, but it soon slips into more formulaic territory. 007 is teamed with a token girl and the pair go undercover to infiltrate Brokenclaw's mob in a bid to stop him from selling top secret British submarine technology to the Chinese government.

Gardner's Bond is a more two-dimensional character than Fleming's, possibly because of the success of the more simplified film incarnation. Brokenclaw's supporting cast is a decidedly mixed bag. While the title character is one of Gardner's better realised villains (even with his kooky deformity: two right hands), Bond's lady ally Chi-Chi is entirely unmemorable. 007's boisterous American ally Ed Rushia gives the proceedings a shot in the arm, and the novel does benefit from being devoid of any contrived plot twists, a hallmark of the Gardner instalments.

The novel is nearly salvaged by a gruesome final act in which 007 and Brokenclaw withstand horrific torture alongside one another as a test of endurance. While it would be unjust to draw a similar comparison with reading Brokenclaw, it's clear that Gardner's heart just wasn't in this one.

Star Trek (2009)

In the wake of the bland and forgettable X-Men Origins: Wolverine, J.J. Abrams' Star Trek is refreshing proof that there's still life in the old prequel/origin concept.

The punchy title of this, the eleventh entry in the Star Trek series, reflects the confident, stripped-back nature of the film. Gone are the unattractive roman numerals, indicating an impenetrable byzantine storyline, along with the confusing subtitles referring to incidents and characters that further alienated casual viewers.

Star Trek (re)introduces us to Captain James T. Kirk (Chris Pine), Spock (Zachary Quinto), Dr Leonard "Bones" McCoy (Karl Urban), Nyota Uhura (Zoe Saldaña) and the rest of the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise as they meet for the first time at the Starfleet Academy.

However, the gang's first mission puts them to the ultimate test when they come up against a band of time-travelling Romulans (lead by Eric Bana's Captain Nero) hellbent on destroying Earth by using a drill containing an element called red matter that will open up a black hole when placed in the planet's core. Or something. To be honest, it's too convoluted to even bother taking the storyline seriously.

Despite this, the reimagined Trek (re)creates an entire universe that isn't worlds apart from our own. Wisely setting much of its action on Earth, Star Trek is populated by flawed heroes. Kirk, for instance, is strong-willed but cocky, while Spock is constantly conflicted by his mixed heritage.

The cast do a superb job of resurrecting classic characters, embodied for decades by the same actors. Pine and Quinto are particular highlights; neither opt to ape their predecessors, but both manage to retain the key elements that made the characters so iconic in the first place. Leonard Nimoy gives a heartfelt but contrived cameo as an older Spock, providing a neat link to the franchise's roots. Simon Pegg's hyperactive Scotty and Bana's forgettable Nero may be the only casting bum notes.

Rich in the themes that often dominate J.J. Abrams' TV work – chiefly, destiny – Star Trek's script ingeniously uses its central plot device of time travel to create a parallel timeline that effectively wipes clean anything made canon in the old Trek, and creates great potential for future instalments. Sure, the action and special effects dominate, but Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman's script ensures things move along so swiftly – and with enough humour – that the whole affair is never anything other than fun.

Yes, the geeks-only Star Trek franchise has been given a terrific Casino Royale-esque reboot. But whereas Casino Royale injected new life into a series that was still bringing in the big bucks, J.J. Abrams' Star Trek successfully reinvigorates a franchise that had previously appealed only to an increasingly narrow audience.

And once Leonard Nimoy delivers that immortal voiceover from the original Star Trek series during the film's final reel – like Daniel Craig's triumphant delivery of 007's famous introduction at the end of Casino Royale – it's evident that the series has truly become reborn.

The Chaser become the chased (updated)

Satirical comedy team The Chaser have landed themselves in the media's bloodthirsty spotlight once again thanks to a sketch on last night's episode of The Chaser's War on Everything.

The sketch in question spoofed the Make a Wish Foundation in the form of a mock advertisement for a Make a Realistic Wish foundation, in which the dying wishes of children were turned down in favour of more practical gifts.

The backlash against the comedy troupe now seems to be in full force following last week's episode – the first new show in 18 months – which drew criticism about nearly every segment, most of which was ridiculously misguided.

Likewise, most of the complaints levelled at last night's show seem equally misjudged. It's daft to believe that The Chaser team created the sketch in anything but an absurdist sense, eliciting humour from the blackness of the subject matter and nothing else.

Criticisms have been as varied as charity foundations claiming it will make viewers think twice before enlisting their services to children being upset at the broadcast. Of course the show's creators aren't dissing the work of such charitable organisations, and of course they aren't mocking terminally ill children. The comments also raise the question of why children are being allowed to watch post-watershed programs.

Most of all, though, it beggars belief as to why those complaining would continue to watch a show with a history of pushing the envelope and generating controversy and, in doing so, submit themselves to be so easily offended. Vote with your remote.

I first saw the sketch on Tuesday at the taping of last night's episode – you can catch my brief audience cameo about 17 minutes into last night's show – and would never have imagined the sketch would generate this kind of response. Of course, the media know how to create an outrage; the questions aimed at Chaser member Craig Reucassel during a media scrum this afternoon were as biased and unbalanced as they come. Likewise, was our Prime Minister ever going to express anything but disdain for the sketch, despite never having actually seen it?

It's unlikely the hubbub will end here. It's nothing new, after all – who could forget the reaction to the infamous Eulogy Song? And with a further eight episodes to go, there's little doubt that the media will continue to stoke The Chaser's fire for the sake of shifting more papers, scoring more website hits and grabbing higher ratings.

Update (5 June 2009)

Looks like it's the ABC who has voted with their remote – the broadcaster has pulled The Chaser's War on Everything for the next two weeks pending a review of the show's editorial process. The comedy team have responded to the ban on their official site: "We're disappointed by the decision and we don't agree with it."

In their apology, however, the team state what should have been obvious as they explain why the sketch was unworthy of the scuffle that erupted surrounding it.

We never imagined that the sketch would be taken literally. We don't think sick kids are greedy and we don't think the Make a Wish Foundation deserves anything other than praise. It was meant to be so over-the-top that no one would ever take it seriously.

Precisely. I'm largely opposed to censorship in any form, and this ban sets a dangerous precedent whereby any potentially edgy (and thus, potentially offensive) comedy could be considered unfit for broadcast. It's another victory for politically-correct moral crusaders, bent on taking any kind of free will out of the public's hands and transforming the country into a nanny state as a result of knee-jerk reactions designed to provoke drama. Of all the ills of the world to fight against... Where will it end? Even when the forcibly watered-down Chaser's War On Everything returns in two weeks, I suspect it won't be then.

Personally, I'm a big fan of Charlie Brooker's counter-complaint solution, concocted in light of the Jonathan Ross/Russell Brand ruckus late last year, which beautifully speaks for itself...

Maybe, just maybe, it's time to establish "Counter-Complaints": a method of registering your complaint about the number of knee-jerk complaints. And one should cancel out the other - so if 25,000 people complain, and a further 25,000 counter-complain, the total number of complaints is zero. It might lead to a lot of fruitless button-mashing, but at least we can keep our shared national culture relatively sane.

Just When We Are Safest (1996)

A couple of months back, I wrote of how I often associate the book I'm reading with where I obtained it. That I bought Reg Gadney's Just When We Are Safest in a tiny bookstore in a small English town on a typically rainy day is particularly fitting, given the spy novel's grim, British setting.

The first – and apparently, only decent – instalment in Gadney's Alan Rosslyn series, Just When We Are Safest is a far cry from the overblown adventures of 007 and other fantasised spies. Instead, Gadney presents a still-muddied post-Cold War world in which the British secret service is mired in rivalry and corruption.

When Rosslyn, fresh off the back of the arrest of one of the IRA's most dangerous criminals, witnesses the brutal murder of his lover, Mary Walker, he becomes entangled in a terrorist plot aimed at the very heart of MI5.

Just When We Are Safest's characters are well drawn, with Gadney spending a surprising amount of time fleshing out his key antagonist, Anna McKeague. Rosslyn, meanwhile, is a wonderfully conflicted character, battling a case that's becoming increasingly personal.

It's a largely character-driven story, as Rosslyn treks over the British countryside interrogating suspects on the trail of his lover's killers. Gadney is proficient at capturing the novel's moody, sullen atmosphere; there's virtually no levity here. The book's climax, in which Rosslyn wades through murky sewerage in an attempt to access MI5's Lambeth headquarters undetected, is an apt culmination of this bleak, dark and often brilliant spy thriller.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)

I was anticipating a leisurely Saturday afternoon at the cinema. Having left home in good time, I drove to Westfield Bondi Junction to discover utter chaos in the carpark. After twenty minutes of dizzying circling in a desperate attempt to find a parking space, I looked at my watch and questioned whether I would ever make it to see X-Men Origins: Wolverine.

I finally found a spot somewhere in the earth's outer core and did that awkward-looking half-walk-half-run to the movie theatre. Only then did I realise I'd still made it to the cinema in time to catch the last twenty minutes of advertisements before the film began. Enduring countless commercials, each more irritating than the last, I found myself once again wondering whether I would ever see Wolverine.

Sadly, my journey to the cinema contained more uncertainty and more suspense than the entirity of the latest instalment of the X-Men cashcow.

The greatest hurdle of the origin film is to surprise the audience with a story of which they already know the outcome. In the case of X-Men Origins: Wolverine – a prequel – it's a particularly lofty barrier, given we've already seen Hugh Jackman's sideburned mutant slash and scream his way through three earlier (or later, I guess) films of varying quality.

Director Gavin Hood, from a script by David Benioff and Skip Woods, sadly seems to skip over possibly the most compelling period of James Logan's life in a gritty credits sequence that sees the ill-tempered mutant fighting his way through the 20th century's numerous wars alongside his fiery half-brother Victor Creed (Liev Schreiber). Instead, the bulk of the film is concerned with Logan's involvement with a group of forgettable mutants led by Danny Huston's equally forgettable William Stryker (so coldly played by Bryan Cox in the excellent X-Men 2) and his relationship with his half-brother.

In hiring Hood, who helmed the terrific Tsotsi, I'd hoped for a more cerebral superhero film, akin to Christopher Nolan's potential-filled Batman Begins. Unfortunately, Wolverine is lumbered with the kind of overwhelming CGI, over-choreographed fight scenes and underdeveloped characters that are the hallmarks of lesser comic book adaptations (see: Fantastic Four, Daredevil, Spider-man 3). Even Brett Ratner's much-maligned X-Men: The Last Stand contains more panache than that which is on display here.

The film's key moment, naturally, comes when Logan agrees to participate in the surgery that causes his skeleton to be bonded with an indestructible metal called adamantium. Or something. But having already seeing Jackman (and Troye Sivan as a young Logan) brandish his claws and scream skywards several times before this point, the only real transformation the character appears to undergo is aesthetic.

Suitably, this is Jackman's film, and he does a fairly admirable job of carrying it. Unlike the previous films' reliance on an ensemble cast, only Schreiber and Huston could be considered to have supporting roles here, with the remainder of the picture's characters reduced to mere cameos. Lost stars Dominic Monaghan and Kevin Durand make brief appearances as Bradley (a mutant who can manipulate electricity) and the Blob (clue's in the title) respectively, while Lynn Collins plays Wolverine's romantic interest. Ryan Reynolds, who appears in roughly five minutes of film as Deadpool, is reportedly being considered for his own spin-off, though there's little indication here as to why it would be a worthwhile investment of anyone's time. Only Taylor Kitsch leaves any kind of impression with his sassy interpretation of Gambit.

A post-credits scene points towards an already-announced sequel that will take the character to the Far East where he will hopefully meet characters more interesting and have adventures more gripping than those presented here. Whichever film comes first – be it this prequel-spin-off-sequel, the Deadpool flick, or the infinitely more appealing Magneto spin-off – it's apparent that the X-Men franchise needs to undergo a more exhaustive transformation than that which Wolverine endures here.

The Boat That Rocked (2009)

The scent of fresh popcorn wafts through the cinema as a throng of people march their way across the unnaturally sticky floor before getting settled into their seats and noisily wrestling with bags of M&Ms. Everyone's wallets are (a frankly absurd) $16.50 lighter, but no-one is complaining. It could only mean one thing: Summer Blockbuster Season™ is here!

Or there, rather. There being the northern hemisphere. Here, we're lumbered with the somehow less exciting winter blockbuster season. Still, doesn't really matter what the weather's like outside, right? This is the time to sit back, relax and enjoy popular cinema at its most popular.

So, you ask, which balls-to-the-wall, special effects-laden, action-fest did I kick off with? X-Men Origins: Wolverine? Star Trek? Angels & Demons? How about the latest film from the man behind Love, Actually and Four Weddings and a Funeral? Aren't I a good boyfriend?

To be fair, the association with these and the other romantic comedies on Richard Curtis' CV doesn't do justice to The Boat That Rocked, which is an unabashed ode to rock and roll.

It's the mid-1960s, a time of political upheaval, as Great Britain embraces a more liberal lifestyle. One of the key figures is the pirate radio station, Radio Rock, broadcast from a ship in the North Sea populated by a motley crew who burst out one popular track after another to the enjoyment of millions of listeners and the irritation of the country's conservative government.

Our ticket onboard Radio Rock comes via Carl (Tom Sturridge) who is sent there by his mother (Emma Thompson). She claims it's to be with his godfather (Bill Nighy, just being Bill Nighy), but there may be a deeper reason for it.

Essentially an ensemble comedy, Curtis' script flits between the exploits of boat's boisterous male crew members, including Nick Frost, Tom Brooke, Chris O'Dowd, Rhys Darby, Ralph Brown, Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Rhys Ifans. Onshore, Kenneth Branagh (as MP Dormandy) manipulates Jack Davenport's ambitious civil servant, Twatt (the name of whom may be the film's cheapest laugh), into finding some way to legally shut down Radio Rock for good.

Whereas Love, Actually (possibly the only romantic comedy I can stomach) worked by showing its large cast of characters through a series of vignette-type set-ups, The Boat That Rocked isn't nearly as deft in its handling of such a diverse group, even with its bloated 129 minute runtime. There are moments when the story really begins to gather steam before it suddenly changes direction to focus on a different shipmate.

Despite the muddled storytelling, the cast serve as well as one would expect in a light-hearted comedy such as this. While there are no real stand-out performances, O'Dowd, Branagh, Darby and Hoffman are among the most memorable stars. Special mention, too, ought to go to Ralph Brown's early morning DJ Bob, a man so reclusive his fellow crew members remain unaware that he's actually onboard; Brown's understated turn is the picture's real heart.

Props to Curtis for finding a unique premise and setting for a comedy flick, which the film exploits to the fullest extent. Indeed, The Boat That Rocked's final act, in which the ship's crew decide to evade capture by pulling up anchor, is perhaps its strongest.

Fans of the era's music will no doubt find much to enjoy, even if the film is positively slathered in sentimentality. It may be adrift more often than it steers the course, but The Boat That Rocked is the kind of inoffensive gender-mutual date film that will likely entertain most but be remembered by few.

The Da Vinci Code (2006)

In anticipation of Angels & Demons, the prequel-cum-sequel to The Da Vinci Code, a few weeks back, I revisited Ron Howard's adaptation of the second Robert Langdon bestseller.

Unless you've spent the last three years living under a rock, which was, itself, situated under an even bigger rock, you'll be aware of the critical mauling Howard's film received upon its release; the picture was reportedly booed at by critics attending its premiere at the 2006 Cannes film festival.

At the time, I dismissed the claims as Tall Poppy Syndrome at work. With Dan Brown's books seemingly shifting more copies than there are human beings to read them, the time was right to cast aspersions on the man's work. Bizarrely, Tom Hanks' hairstyle even came under heavy fire. But was it deserving of the attacks? (The film, not Tom Hanks' hair.)

In this viewer's eyes, no. However, it must be said that the film version of The Da Vinci Code, in spite of (or perhaps because of) an unwavering devotion to its source material, is a rather different beast to The Da Vinci Code, the novel. Where Brown's page-turning yarn takes its readers along for the ride, allowing us to solve the book's numerous riddles alongside symbologist Robert Langdon and cryptographer Sophie Neveu as we swiftly precede through one brief chapter after another, Howard's adaptation is comparatively languid in pace.

It's a key difference, and one that it appears many critics were unable to overcome. Audiences, however, flocked to see The Da Vinci Code, prompting the film to rake in over $700 million worldwide. These are the same audiences who fervently snapped up copies of the novel before reading it on trains, planes and buses the world over before telling their friends to do the same. It's obvious that Howard and screenwriter Akiva Goldsman both belong to this readership and, subsequently, made their adaptation for this readership, as the film is steadfast in its faithfulness to Brown's controversial tome.

The result is a rich, thinking person's thriller that will be enjoyed by anyone who eagerly flipped through The Da Vinci Code's pages. For the most part, the characters are brilliantly brought to life with pitch-perfect casting. Indeed, with just one key exception, it's difficult to imagine anyone else portraying the numerous characters populating The Da Vinci Code: Audrey Tautou, Jean Reno, Paul Bettany, Jürgen Prochnow and Alfred Molina bring their respective parts to life with ease, while Sir Ian McKellan steals each and every scene he's in as Holy Grail enthusiast Leigh Teabing.

The one omission from this list is, oddly enough, leading man Tom Hanks. From the moment Robert Langdon is summoned from a book signing to assist in the murder of a curator at the Louvre who may or may not have been a high-ranking member of a secret religious society, Hanks is strangely wooden and disconnected. In one of the novels, Brown likens Langdon to Harrison Ford, whose dynamic persona is at ends with Hanks' apparent staidness. A thriller this talky needs a vibrant lead to carry it, and it's only during the movie's final sequence – a real standout of the film, accompanied as it is, by Hans Zimmer's dazzling soundtrack – that Hanks really comes into his own as Langdon.

Elsewhere, Howard stunningly realises the book's numerous flashback sequences, thanks to some magnificent cinematography by Salvatore Totino, who is also responsible for giving Paris the appealing golden allure it possesses in the film. Indeed, the whole movie has a look and feel that's all its own. The Da Vinci Code truly feels like a unique film; not your typical summer blockbuster.

Perhaps an injection of that blockbuster vigour is precisely what The Da Vinci Code needed. It's all played too straight at times. Ian McKellan offers up considerable energy to the proceedings, as do the sequences in which Langdon uses his eidetic memory to solve the puzzles on his quest to unearth the truth. It's the bits in between that lack in zest. Meanwhile the final revelation doesn't nearly carry the weight that it ought to. Despite its earnestness, The Da Vinci Code remains largely compelling viewing.

For viewers after a simpler, swifter and more explosive thriller, I suspect Angels & Demons will be up your alley. It appears to remedy The Da Vinci Code's flaws in that it's more of a straight, race-against-time type affair that's relatively light on exposition and heavy on action.

I watched The Da Vinci Code's extended edition on DVD, which adds another 25 minutes or so to the theatrical cut. While this may even further put off those detractors who found the film too dry and talky, fans of the novel will relish seeing it all up there on screen. Don't expect The Da Vinci Code to be a traditional blockbuster, overlook its absurdities (and if it's that disconcerting, Hanks' hair), and watch Dan Brown's novel come to life.

Lost: Season 5 (2009)

To celebrate Lost's 100th episode – last week's terrific Faraday-centric "The Variable" – I briefly entertained the idea of writing a post entitled "100 reasons why you and everyone you know and everyone they know should watch Lost".

It's tragic that I probably could come up with 100 different reasons, but I figured I would avoid doing so in order to preserve the thinly-veiled façade that I'm not actually a big Lost geek. In any case, after about the forty-eighth reason, I probably would have descended into some really obscure arguments...

49. I actually consider those funky DHARMA jumpsuits highly fashionable.

50. Ben's beady, unblinking eyes. Say no more.

51. The way the show's title flashes across the screen at the end of each episode (usually following some jaw-dropping cliffhanger) never fails to send a chill down my spine.

52. Frank Lapidus: the most engaging minor character in a show packed with engaging minor characters.

53. Scrap that. Richard Alpert is the most engaging minor character in a show packed with engaging minor characters.

54. No, wait. Lapidus.

55. Alpert.

56. It's a tie.

And so on. But don't worry, aside from the above, this isn't going to be yet another post banging on about how brilliant Lost is (I needn't tell you the answer is "freaking"). I'll let the show's makers do that.

"It's a challenging show. It's not just a cookie-cutter procedural with a new case each week. There's a real depth to it. But I also know people who watch only occasionally and really enjoy it when they do." – Stephen McPherson, ABC President of Entertainment

"There are a lot of things happening with [Locke], and the writers give me a lot of room to do things. I like that they allow a wide range of ways of playing this character. There's a lot of potential for interpretation in how to play this character. I don't feel I'll be typecast when the show ends, because you see this character in so many ways." – Terry O'Quinn (John Locke)

"People often ask us if there are any characters on the show that we wouldn't kill. The answer is no, everyone's fair game. With one exception. The most integral character on the show, the one we could not live without, is the music. And that is all a product of Michael [Giacchino]'s singular genius." – Damon Lindelof, executive producer

"We needed to express to the audience where the bookmark was in the novel. By announcing the end date, we signaled yes, we have a game plan, so you can rest assured that your investment in the show is going to pay off." – Carlton Cuse, executive producer

"There's a huge twist in the season finale. It's the best one to me, and I can't talk about it. When I read it, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It's part of that secret scene. I think it tops everything that's happened before this point. I would love to talk about it, but I can't." – Yunjin Kim (Sun-Hwa Kwon)

There's loads more in 100th episode retrospectives in both Variety and The Hollywood Reporter. There are a few spoilers for anyone not up to date with the previous episode, "Some Like It Hoth". You can also check out Jimmy Kimmel's amusing "guest spot" in "The Variable" below.

With 100 episodes down, Lost is now on the home stretch; a mere 20 episodes remain until the island vanishes for good. I aim to live a long and fulfilling life, but to be honest, I'll be content simply by not popping my clogs until after Lost's final episode.

Newswipe with Charlie Brooker (2009)

Death, crime, war, puppies, the weather. It could only be the news.

I actually began university with the intention of having a career in journalism. However, after sitting through class after class trumpeting fair, balanced and objective reporting as essential, it became clear that real-world journalism was something else entirely.

I remain a news junkie, but my inner cynic always approaches the news with nothing short of an overflowing salt shaker. Quite simply, the news is a manipulative affair, whether it's tugging blindly at its audience's heartstrings, begging for viewers to send in feedback in a bizarre effort to make the news interactive or just plain old scaremongering. As a viewer, it's impossible to feel like anything other than a puppet, the recipient of constant instructions telling us how to think and act. Rarely does the news allow the viewer to come to his or her own conclusions.

What's troubling is the ease with which people do seem to accept whatever the news tells us. Which is what's makes Charlie Brooker's Newswipe must-see television. Brooker writes...

TV news now comes packaged as a dazzling CGI cartoon, with the names of star anchors included in the programme title, and an absurdly theatrical air of bombast underpinning every second of every broadcast. Traditional newspapers, beaten to the punch by the immediacy of the internet and 24-hour news networks, are becoming less and less bothered with breaking actual news than celebrity gossip, or provocative comment, or shouty campaigning. The internet, meanwhile, can be a great source of rapidly updated information, but is also home to an endless range of partisan news sources, paranoid imaginings, and outright hoaxes. Is it possible for anyone to truly know what the hell's going on?

A spin-off of the superb Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe, Newswipe takes an acerbic, hilarious, eye-opening look at the news. Like his terrific Guardian columns, Brooker hits the bull's-eye on pretty much every issue – adding a healthy shot of humour to the proceedings.

Because I'm a kind soul, here is the entire fourth episode of Newswipe (in three bite-sized chunks) dedicated to the recent G20 summit in London. If you're a news junkie like me, this is fascinating viewing. If you're not, watch it anyway. If anyone should tell you how to think and act, it's Charlie Brooker.

Da Vinci Code sequel announced

It's hard to believe that it's been nearly six years since The Da Vinci Code first hit bestseller lists worldwide. Probably because during those six years, every living soul on the face of this planet seems to have read the real-time thriller, keeping it at the top of said lists for most of that time. At the height of the book's popularity, airlines may as well have substituted their in-flight magazines with copies of the controversial thriller. A money-raking film adaptation boosted sales even further.

With next month's film adaptation of Angels & Demons set to bring Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon back into the limelight, Brown has today cannily announced the long-awaited follow-up to The Da Vinci Code.

The Lost Symbol will be released this September with US publishers Doubleday giving it a massive five million copy print run. According to the press release, the third Langdon thriller will take place over a 12 hour period, rather than Brown's four previous books, which were all set over 24 hours.

Until today, the novel possessed the working title of "The Solomon Key", which, though evocative of The Da Vinci Code, is a bit less generic than The Lost Symbol. Though the press release announcing the novel's publication doesn't give any clues as to its plot, previous reports suggest the book would see Langdon on US soil for the first time, entangled in a mystery involving the Freemasons.

Variety reports, rather unsurprisingly, that Columbia Pictures is moving forward with a film adaptation of The Lost Symbol set to follow the release of Angels & Demons.

Speaking of which, Columbia have released a sneak peek of Angels & Demons highlighting Hans Zimmer's soundtrack. For me, one of the highlights of the underrated Da Vinci Code adaptation was Zimmer's score, which culminated in the breathtaking "Chevaliers de Sangreal". The Angels & Demons score will take this track and expand upon it as a theme for Langdon. Sounds like it could be one of the soundtracks of the year for this film geek.

The Living Daylights (1987)

Despite being a bit of a James Bond geek, I have to confess to having not seen most of the films in several years. To be fair, I've been living overseas for a few years, far away from the massive 20-film DVD box set that weighs down the fourth shelf of my new bookcase. But perhaps most crucially, since the arrival of Daniel Craig's superb 007, it's tough to settle for anything less.

That said, if there's one era of films it's worth revisiting in light of Craig's brooding, bloody and brilliant Bond, it's Timothy Dalton's. While Dalton has a sizeable following among hardcore fans, his two 007 outings are largely overlooked by the general public. Now that audiences have accepted a Bond who doesn't raise an eyebrow or offer up a groan-inducing quip at every opportunity, it's as good a time as any to return to revisit Dalton's debut Bond film, 1987's The Living Daylights.

The fifteenth 007 film was initially conceived as a Casino Royale-esque origin story exploring James Bond's roots. Despite this idea being shelved, The Living Daylights is a clear return to the character's edgier roots. Shying away from the excesses of the Roger Moore era, The Living Daylights is a great send-off as the series' last Cold War thriller.

Ian Fleming's "The Living Daylights", one of several short stories posthumously collected in Octopussy and The Living Daylights, is niftily used by screenwriters Michael G. Wilson and Richard Maibaum as a launching pad for the movie's fairly down-to-earth plot, which sees 007 assisting with the defection of a KGB agent. When the defector is subsequently abducted from British hands, Bond discovers a plot by a war-obsessed arms dealer to frame a Soviet general for the murder of a number of British spies.

Dalton, a Shakespearean-trained actor, has a fine understanding of Fleming's character, imbuing him with a dark, often nasty streak (witness the violent way in which he uses General Pushkin's mistress as a distraction). The actor had previously turned down the part in 1968 before vying for the role in The Living Daylights alongside Sam Neill and Pierce Brosnan (who accepted the role before NBC renewed his Remington Steele contract); both of whom lack Dalton's steely seriousness.

The film isn't entirely devoid of humour, and, unlike Dalton's violent follow-up Licence to Kill, most of it is well-placed. Dalton's grim delivery of Bond's one-liners – sparingly used here – lends some black humour to the proceedings.

The supporting cast is led by Maryam d'Abo as Kara Milovy, a professional cellist with whom Bond shares a surprisingly deep relationship. D'Abo makes the most of a pretty beefy Bond girl role. John Rhys-Davies is enjoyable as the underused General Pushkin, a part originally written as General Gogol, Walter Gotell's recurring KGB boss (the role was re-scripted when Gotell fell ill, though he does cameo during the film's final scene). Robert Brown, Geoffrey Keen and Desmond Llewellyn all reprise their recurring roles, outshining an embarrassingly wooden Caroline Bliss in her first appearance as the new Miss Moneypenny.

Where The Living Daylights does flag is in its lack of a strong – or even lead – villain. While Jeroen Krabbé has lots of fun as the slimy Koskov, Andreas Wisniewski's Necros is little more than a diet Red Grant, and Joe Don Baker, who would later return to the series to play a CIA ally in two of Pierce Brosnan's films, fails to leave an impression as arms dealer Brad Whitaker.

Director John Glen, who previously helmed Roger Moore's last three Bond films, is reinvigorated by the series' more serious approach. Despite a character-intensive script, the film does deliver some knockout action sequences. A training exercise gone awry on Gibraltar's rocky landscape makes for a memorable pre-credits sequence, while a Tangier-set rooftop chase and a thrilling climax involving a drugs-laden cargo plane are also among the action highlights.

Veteran Bond composer John Barry returns to compose his final 007 score, an unusually electronics-heavy soundtrack that ranks among his best. The most successful Bond soundtracks always use a great song as a base, and The Living Daylights has not one, but three. In addition to a-ha's catchy title song, The Pretenders contribute two excellent tracks that also form the basis of Barry's score: the brash "Where Has Every Body Gone" and "If There Was a Man", a sweet romantic ballad that also closes the film.

For fans of Daniel Craig's Bond who may not be acquainted with some of the earlier films in the series, The Living Daylights is a great place to start.

Duplicity (2009)

A twist can make or break a film. The success of an entire movie can hang on the employment of this simple but overused plot device. It's incredibly difficult to pull off a twist that not only blindsides the audience, but also makes narrative sense. In short, a truly successful twist is a rare occurrence.

Writer-director Tony Gilroy makes it clear from Duplicity's first act that the film will offer audiences more twists than a Chubby Checker album before the closing credits roll. Gilroy, the screenwriter behind the Jason Bourne films, has created a slick, genre-defying romantic/comedy/thriller set in the cut-throat world of corporate espionage. It's relatively virgin territory and the film is richer for being set in it.

Clive Owen is Ray Koval, an MI6 agent who was once duped by Julia Roberts' Claire Stenwick, a CIA operative. Both leave their jobs for the private sector. When the pair cross paths again five years later, they concoct a scheme to pull a sting on their employers. Though all is not what it seems, and the duo's convoluted history is revealed throughout the film by a series of flashbacks.

Neither Owen nor Roberts are flexing their acting muscles here, though both well suit their respective roles. Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson, meanwhile, are terrific in their supporting roles as the heads of the two corporations Ray and Claire are attempting to swindle.

Duplicity is refreshing as a talky low-key thriller, which could have been just as easily brimming with violence or explosions or explicit sex – and probably be more marketable as a result. Instead, Duplicity spins an engaging yarn reliant solely on the sparky dialogue between its two main players.

Oh, and its abundance of twists. Do they work? For the most part, yes. Once it becomes clear that the film's title refers not only to the relationship between Ray and Claire but also to that between Gilroy and the viewer, we are better positioned to follow Duplicity's convoluted story. With this knowledge, however, it's easier for the viewer to attempt to remain one step ahead of the story. Fortunately, the movie's final twist is left-field enough that only the most prescient of viewers will guess it.

As a brisk and enjoyable time-killer, Duplicity is great fun. It might be a bit too elaborate for its own good, but if, like me, you like to keep your brain switched on while in the cinema, Duplicity will be right up your alley.

To the Twitter end

I really hate April Fool's Day. Not because I'm one of the gullible saps who invariably falls for some far-fetched goof each year (because I'm not), but because suddenly, everyone considers themselves to be heeeelarious practical jokers who love to get their cretinous chuckles based purely on the concept of lying. How sarcasm became considered a form of wit lower than this is beyond me.

Anyway, The Guardian's annual joke article this year claimed the paper would fold in its printed form and instead be published exclusively via Twitter, the micro-blogging, social networking website that's apparently becoming a rival to the likes of MySpace and Facebook.

I signed up a week or so ago in a fruitless attempt to secure myself a decent username, only to find myself genuinely angry at how many people share my name (and assorted variations based on my initials). Apparently, identity theft is more commonplace than I thought. Ultimately, I settled on a half-hearted attempt at a pun in order to prevent myself becoming known as mweston73416.

For the uninitiated, Twitter asks one simple question: "What are you doing?". Users respond in posts, known as "tweets", which are limited to 140 characters or less in length. It's a bit like Facebook's status feature; indeed, the latest version of Facebook (a step backwards in this humble blogger's opinion) basically rips off Twitter, asking users: "What's on your mind?". You can also subscribe to other Twitter users' updates – known as "following".

The Guardian's a bit obsessed with Twitter, frequently reporting on its rise within the social networking sphere and even covering major events though it. Celebrities and public figures have also taken to the site, offering a unique way to interact with fans that doesn't impede on their privacy in the way that a Facebook page might.

Even though Twitter is undeniably on the rise, I can't help but feel it's a bit of a gimmick that'll fade into obscurity more quickly than the likes of Facebook ever will. Sure, it's neat to read what public figures are up to – I follow John Cleese and Charlie Brooker, though I couldn't be any less interested in what Ashton Kutcher has to say – but Twitter doesn't do anything that Facebook, emails or RSS feeds don't already.

Perhaps my opinion will change, what with mobile internet becoming increasingly popular and Twitter offering the ideal format to share bite-sized pieces of information on the go. But it ultimately strikes me as fairly pointless. Then again, so does April Fool's Day.

Lost: Season 5 (2009)

Spoilers for Lost: Season 5 ("He's Our You")

In previous posts about Lost, I praised the show to the skies and encouraged newcomers to get onboard and see what all the fuss is about.

I take it all back. Why? Because despite the fact that Lost continues to surpass its own lofty standards, it's clearly a show for the hardcore fans. Instead, I urge you – more strongly than ever before – to start buying those DVD box sets and catch up. Lost is brilliant.

Once upon a time, casual viewers could easily tune in to Lost and still have a vague idea about what was going on. A self-contained flashback was more than enough to hold one's attention amid the polar bears and hatches and dead people walking around the island.

Those days are long gone. Unlike Alias (J.J. Abrams' pre-Lost series), which hit the reset button several times during its five-year run, Lost is now in the process of delicately assembling five seasons of stories into an impressively cohesive whole. The side effect of this is that it has separated the true fans from the casual viewers.

If you skipped out on Lost a season or two back and tuned back in now, you may be forgiven for thinking you're watching another show entirely, what with Jack, Kate, Hurley, Sawyer and co. currently ingratiating themselves with the DHARMA Initiative in a 1977-version of the island. The acceptance that time travel is possible in the Lost universe has proven itself not only a great way to finally reveal the island's twisted history, but also to allow our favourite castaways to become inextricably linked with it.

With just 24 episodes to go until Lost calls it a day, the resolutions to the show's main mysteries are slowly shifting into focus: the smoke monster, the four-toed statue, Richard Alpert's agelessness... but there are a few other questions I hope we'll get answered. I hereby present my top five lesser Lost mysteries I hope we see resolved before the island disappears for good...

1. Does Walt have special powers? One of Lost's few disappointments for me was the poor handling of Michael's storyline. Though he promisingly returned last year, the troubled dad was offed shortly after. While Walt, his son, had to be written out of the show (the actor was growing up too fast for the show's compressed timeframe), the death of his onscreen father seems to have sidelined any resolution to the notion that Walt is "special". A recent cameo by the character has given me renewed hope that this will be addressed in the future.

2. Who was Libby? The short-lived tail survivor who captured Hurley's heart before being gunned down by Michael was never treated to a flashback of her own. We've caught intriguing glimpses of her in other characters' flashbacks (why was she in the mental asylum with Hurley? was it just a coincidence that she gave Desmond the boat that took him to the island?), but she's got an almost clean slate for the producers to address her history however they like.

3. What happened when The Swan station blew up? Aside from the fact that Locke lost his voice and Desmond lost his clothes. With The Swan under construction in the show's current '70s setting, the answer to this may be closer than we think.

4. What happened between Benjamin Linus and the real Henry Gale? This was something the producers intended to address during the show's strike-shortened fourth season. It's not essential information, but there's a good story to be told about the hot-air balloonist Ben impersonated after being caught in Danielle Rousseau's trap. Heck, I just wanna see more of the creepy former leader of the Others.

5. What is "The Magic Box"? Remember Locke's father mysteriously appearing on the island back in season three? Ben claimed his sudden appearance owed to a "magic box" that would give you anything you desired. How about some answers to these questions?

The Explosion (1978)

I'm not sure if I'm alone on this, but I always tend to associate (mildly but consciously) the book I'm reading with where I obtained it. While second-hand bookstores are chock-full of tomes, intriguingly from God-knows-where, even brand new books can have a story behind them which will often linger in my mind as I read them. I could probably tell you where each of the novels on my bookshelf have come from (many from the other side of the globe), but Hans Heinrich Ziemann's The Explosion stumps me.

The Explosion has been stuffed away amongst my books for an eternity, its unabashed '70s paperback artwork nestled inconspicuously among novels with far less yellowed pages. While collecting a selection of books to bring with me to Sydney, I stumbled across this forgotten possession and, intrigued, placed it in the box I was packing.

A translation of a German novel, The Explosion is clearly inspired by the disaster film fad that swept through Hollywood during the 1970s. All the clichés are in place. There's a tortured hero in the form of Martin Born, the director of a nuclear power station that's controversially set to open near the West German town of Grenzheim. There's a love interest in Anne Weiss, whose passion for the environment is nearly matched by her new-found (though implausible) love for Born. And there's a misguided but ultimately insane villain, whose plot to create awareness of the fragility of the nuclear station ends up causing an unprecedented catastrophe.

Unfortunately, The Explosion also contains those annoying clichés that often ruin disaster stories. For instance, Weiss spends the bulk of the story attempting to save a busload of schoolchildren, encountering a number of far-fetched obstacles along the way (culminating in a gun-toting, power-crazed mayor). And while the novel doesn't end on an entirely happy note (indeed, it does briefly explore the issue of collateral damage, so brilliantly covered in Watchmen), The Explosion ends with an exciting but far-fetched solution to impending disaster.

The Explosion is essentially a real-time novel, akin to the 24-hour format of Dan Brown's novels. And like Brown's books, The Explosion is told via a series of short, punchy chapters, reminiscent of scenes from a movie. Ziemann's well-researched thriller spends its first half examining the pros and cons for nuclear power, while the second part dissects the gruesome effects a nuclear explosion would have upon society. The Explosion's setting of Cold War Germany adds an extra dimension to the novel once the disaster strikes and Ziemann explores its political repercussions.

There are some pacing issues; while the first half builds a suitable amount of tension over the disaster promised on the book's cover, the disaster itself seems curiously underdeveloped. There's also the strange decision to shift the focus away from the characters developed in The Explosion's first half during its second. It almost feels like a 500-page novel stripped down to under 300 pages (most of which feels lost from the second half), or, perhaps more accurately, the novelisation of an unmade film.

Truth be told, The Explosion was probably an artefact I picked up from a used bookstore while on holiday somewhere. Ultimately, it's a solid if unremarkable page-turner that may well have been what that occasion demanded.