popular culture... etc.

Ashes to Ashes: Series 1 (2008)

2009-10-05T15:33:00.010+11:00

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)

2009-09-27T09:52:00.002+10:00

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)

2009-09-09T18:14:00.006+10:00

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)

2009-08-29T21:47:00.003+10:00

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)

2009-08-23T11:17:00.005+10:00

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)

2009-08-13T19:49:00.008+10:00

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)

2009-07-26T16:35:00.012+10:00

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)

2009-07-11T17:35:00.001+10:00

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)

2009-07-04T18:41:00.001+10:00

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.”

2009-07-02T12:15:00.014+10:00

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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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

2009-06-25T19:40:00.004+10:00

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...

2009-06-23T20:47:00.036+10:00

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)

2009-06-20T14:29:00.009+10:00

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)

2009-06-14T20:20:00.005+10:00

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)

2009-06-04T20:17:00.015+10:00

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)

2009-06-01T22:06:00.001+10:00

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)

2009-05-30T15:58:00.002+10:00

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)

2009-05-15T23:18:00.003+10:00

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)

2009-05-09T21:40:00.004+10:00

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)

2009-05-04T11:53:00.005+10:00

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)

2009-04-28T22:10:00.003+10:00

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

2009-04-21T11:51:00.003+10:00

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)

2009-04-20T20:49:00.002+10:00

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)

2009-04-08T10:42:00.007+10:00

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

2009-04-02T13:03:00.004+11:00

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)

2009-04-01T22:10:00.005+11:00

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)

2009-03-24T15:31:00.005+11:00

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.

The X-Files: Fight the Future (1998)

2009-03-17T23:32:00.004+11:00

Revisiting 1998's The X-Files: Fight the Future after the release of the disappointing The X-Files: I Want to Believe only amplifies the strengths of the former and the flaws of the latter.

Unlike the "Is that it?" reaction elicited by last year's long-awaited sequel, Fight the Future proves itself to be one of the best TV-to-film transitions ever, deftly turning an already-cinematic show into a bona fide theatrical film.

Mostly filmed between The X-Files' fourth and fifth seasons, but released and set between its fifth and sixth, Fight the Future represents The X-Files at its creative peak. While fans of the series are no doubt better positioned to understand its tangled conspiracy yarn within the context of the show's ongoing story, the movie also offers a terrific starting point for franchise newcomers.

David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson reprise their roles as FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, believer and sceptic, who discover evidence suggesting a Dallas building was bombed in order to destroy several human corpses infected with an extraterrestrial virus.

X-Files regulars Frank Spotnitz and Chris Carter (who together wrote the script) and director Rob Bowman make the most of cinema's broader canvas, both narratively and technically. Fight the Future expands on The X-Files' ambitious plot, presenting an epic conspiracy tale spanning four continents and 35,000 years in history. Bowman makes certain that every extra cent of the film's sizeable budget winds up on screen. All of the show's staples are present and accounted for – paranormal occurrences, shadowy conspirators meeting to ambiguously discuss their plans, unresolved sexual tension between Mulder and Scully – but on a much grander scale. A Hitchcockian chase through a corn crop is just one of a number of memorable action scenes.

The impact of agents' investigation – which sees them hung out to dry by their own agency – allows the film to examine the issue of trust, a key theme that runs throughout the series, characterised by its popular catchphrase: "Trust no-one". Infiltrating military facilities and chasing rogue tanker trucks, Mulder and Scully find they have only each other to depend on, and the will-they-or-won't-they? romantic subplot is only one aspect of their engaging relationship.

Most of the series' recurring characters appear, including Mitch Pileggi as assistant director Walter Skinner, Tom Braidwood, Dean Haglund, Bruce Harwood as conspiracy theorists The Lone Gunmen and William B. Davis as the show's iconic villain known only as the Cigarette-Smoking Man. In addition, Martin Landau is superb as Alvin Kurtzweil, a paranoid doctor whose suspicions may or may not be founded.

The film falters during an action-dominant third act that fails to give any meaningful payoff to the fireworks, but Fight the Future, in true X-Files style, delivers an open ending that leaves the viewer with an insatiable urge to continue untangling the labyrinthine plot via the popular TV series.

Topkapi (1964)

2009-03-12T23:21:00.006+11:00

I probably should have prefaced yesterday's fairly positive review of Brett Ratner's After the Sunset with the following: I'm a huge fan of the heist flick. Who hasn't been stuck in line at a bank or bored in a museum only to find themselves wondering how they could purloin something valuable from the premises – and get away with it? The closest I've ever come was when I forgot to return my baggage claim card at Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum. I'm counting on that card becoming very valuable one day.

There's something fascinating about a genre that positions a thief as the hero of a film. Ethically, you shouldn't root for the protagonist, but the joy of a heist film – and, particularly, a heist film done well – is that it leaves the viewer with a sense of appreciation. You admire the thief for pulling off what is often a remarkably elaborate crime.

For a superior, genre-defining heist comedy, look no further than Jules Dassin's Topkapi, the 1964 adaptation of Eric Ambler's The Light of Day. It is, quite simply, a heist film with everything: a gorgeous setting, a terrific cast, a good dose of humour and most importantly, a great caper.

Peter Ustinov landed an Oscar for his role here as Arthur Simpson, a bumbling small-time shyster, himself unwittingly duped by all and sundry. After Simpson is recruited by a pair of thieves posing as tourists (played by Melina Mercouri and Maximilian Schell) to drive their car across the Turkish border, customs officers discover a hoard of arms hidden in the vehicle's body. Simpson agrees to act as an informant for the Turkish government, who erroneously believe a terrorist act is in the offing, in order to guarantee his release. In the process, he becomes entangled in a scheme to lift a priceless dagger from Istanbul's Topkapi Palace.

That Ustinov's (deserved) Oscar was for Best Supporting Actor is a curiosity, as his clueless swindler is central to Topkapi's plot. Simpson is the most amateur of the amateurs drafted by Schell's Walter Harper to pull off his heist. He remains consistently flustered, even though he is oblivious to being duped and used every step of the way. It's a terrific performance for a role that could have easily been as irritating as it is ultimately endearing.

Ustinov outshines the rest of the cast, ranging from Mercouri's rather simple temptress to Robert Morley's brilliant mechanical genius (who gets one of the picture's best sight gags involving a greasy rag). Schell's dark good looks work in his favour as the smooth Harper, while Akim Tamiroff has a lot of fun as the gang's drunken cook.

Topkapi's overarching story is a simple one, but Dassin revels in the smaller details of the heist. Monja Danischewsky's script gives the viewer obscure glimpses at Harper's plot – such as the scene in which Simpson proves his worth by dragging a couch attached to a length of rope across a room – but leaves the puzzle incomplete until the final act. The purposes of the other members of Harper's motley crew, including an acrobat and a toy-maker, are also tantalisingly, but ambiguously laid out in the lead-up to the main event.

And what an event! Topkapi's hugely entertaining heist sets a high bar for the genre, as the crew split up over two locations in order to pull off the daring theft. It's a nerve-racking sequence, wisely devoid of music. The sound of a rope tightening or a cog turning becomes deafening in a void of silence, greatly heightening the sequence's realism. It's equally gorgeous to look at, with Dassin never neglecting the stunning Istanbul scenery, even during the film's climax (from beginning to end, Topkapi is imbued with that travelogue feel so rare in contemporary cinema).

While I won't spoil the heist itself, it should be noted that Mission: Impossible's oft-parodied scene in which Tom Cruise suspends from wires above a series of motion sensors, actually has its roots here. In fact, Topkapi is said to have inspired the original Mission: Impossible television series.

Forty-five years after its release, Topkapi holds up surprisingly well. The editing in the film's opening sequence shows its age, the first act has some minor pacing issues and the movie's final scene is reminiscent of a dated sitcom, but these are just a few flawed moments. Topkapi is a landmark in the heist genre, as sharp, stunning and unique as the jewelled dagger at the centre of its story.

After the Sunset (2004)

2009-03-11T17:13:00.003+11:00

Warning #1: the following is a review of a Brett Ratner film – the much-maligned director who ran the X-Men franchise into the ground with The Last Stand and who gave us the cinematic pairing no-one asked for in the Jackie Chan/Chris Tucker-led Rush Hour series.

Warning #2: it's not an entirely negative review.

After the Sunset, a 2004 heist flick featuring Pierce Brosnan, Salma Hayek, Woody Harrelson, Don Cheadle and Naomie Harris, is a film I've always had an inexplicable soft spot for. Deep down, I know it's not a classic. Heck, superficially, I know it's not a classic. But I do consider After the Sunset a success in that overdone "light-hearted film with a cast of good-looking people set in an even better looking location" genre. Best of all, it's devoid of the kind of self-satisfied smugness that makes the Ocean's films so difficult to endure.

After the Sunset begins where most heist films end, as jewel thieves Max Burdett (Brosnan) and Lola Cirillo (Hayek) retire to the Bahamas after stealing a valuable diamond. In pulling off their last caper, the pair elude Max's FBI nemesis, Stan Lloyd (Harrelson), who's spent the past seven years of his life trying to catch him. When Lloyd shows up in the Caribbean, convinced Max is planning to steal another priceless gem on display in a berthed cruise ship, the pair form an unexpected bond.

Pretty much everything in After the Sunset has been done before and done better – for starters, check out Brosnan's superb remake of The Thomas Crown Affair – but it remains a fun, undemanding, inoffensive caper comedy.

The cast has some enjoyable chemistry; Brosnan and Harrelson make an unlikely comedy duo, sharing a number of the movie's best scenes. Meanwhile, Hayek and Harris' characters are more than just (admittedly, spectacular) eye candy (actually, After the Sunset's women are far more balanced and level-headed than the men). Cheadle's Henri Mooré, a local entrepreneurial gangster, is underused as the film's most intriguing character. Before his unsatisfactory exit, he does deliver one of the movie's best lines after Max discovers Mooré is really American: "Yes, actually, it's Moore. I put the little thing on the 'e'. Matches the culture."

After the Sunset's emphasis is clearly on comedy and characters – there's a particularly nifty gag involving Max and Stan attempting to salvage each other's relationships over dinner – but it's at the expense of the film's flimsy heists, the intricacies of which should be the jewel in a caper film's crown. Sadly, both of the movie's heists are lazily undeveloped, which is a fairly damning flaw for a film of this genre.

Ratner makes extensive use of the gorgeous Bahaman scenery and the cinematography is full of rich, vibrant colour. Meanwhile, veteran composer Lalo Schifrin, the musical genius who gave us the Mission: Impossible theme, delivers a slick, low-key score (though it reaches ridiculous heights of cheese during the movie's romantic climax).

After the Sunset is far from perfect, but there are worse ways to spend an hour and a half. It's a bit like one of those holidays where you sit about and don't do a thing – the time whizzes by quite breezily; just don't expect to have gained anything from the experience.

Win, Lose or Die (1989)

2009-03-08T15:14:00.003+11:00

For readers who aren't hardcore James Bond geeks like me, let me preface this post with a brief explanation of the literary 007 canon.

After James Bond creator Ian Fleming died, his estate commissioned Kingsley Amis to write a new 007 novel under the pseudonym of Robert Markham; the book was to be the first of a series of continuation novels written by different authors but published under the same alias.

Ultimately, the idea stalled after the release of Amis' Colonel Sun in 1968, and aside from a fictional biography exploring Bond's life and a couple of Roger Moore film novelisations, the literary 007 lay dormant until the 1980s when British novelist John Gardner was brought on board.

By far the most prolific continuation novelist, Gardner authored 14 original books, plus two film novelisations. Over the past year or so, I've been slowly making my way through these titles and have just finished his eighth original story: 1989's Win, Lose or Die.

In Bond fandom, Gardner is looked upon as the Roger Moore of the literary Bond: both are seen to have dragged 007 away from his roots, and both are considered to have clung to the character for longer than they should have. But while Moore – who remains a legend among 007 fans – still considers himself an ambassador for the character, the late Gardner expressed a dislike for Bond, even during his tenure.

Gardner did deliver a few excellent Bond novels early in his run, including Icebreaker, Nobody Lives For Ever and Scorpius. By contrast, Win, Lose or Die is Gardner at his most pedestrian. The book sees 007 returned to active duty in the Royal Navy after MI6 gets word that a terrorist organisation has planted moles aboard the HMS Invincible in the lead-up to a top-secret onboard summit between the British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, US President George Bush and Russian Premier Mikhail Gorbachev.

Win, Lose or Die's conceit, which sees the bulk of the story take place onboard the vessel, is both its attraction and its weakness. It's great to see Bond in the navy, a throwback to a section of his life that's largely unexplored, but stuck with the limited canvas of a naval ship, Gardner reduces 007 to the role of detective for far too much of the book.

The absence of some of the Bond staples aren't missed, but Fleming's colourful touch is. Gone are the sweeping descriptions of exotic locations, while Win, Lose or Die's villain – and his organisation – are utterly forgettable; where some of Fleming's best work came from the verbal sparring between Bond and his enemies, here Gardner has the villain exchange a mere two sentences with 007 before he's killed in the book's penultimate chapter.

Win, Lose or Die is also bogged down by some of Gardner's trademark narrative devices; most damagingly, an over-reliance on crosses, double-crosses and triple-crosses. And while Gardner clearly relishes the technical facts in his story, which are fleshed out in complex detail, it's all fairly soulless and mechanical. At times, Win, Lose or Die reads a bit like an instruction manual for a product you never bought.

There's also Gardner's decision to make the three world leaders minor characters in the story, something which doesn't sit right with me. It's a bit too cute. (Nevermind that the last time Margaret Thatcher crossed paths with Bond was during the cringe-worthy final moments of the film For Your Eyes Only.)

It's not a total write-off. Bond's intense relationship with Beatrice Maria da Ricci, the book's heroine, is surprisingly well-handled. There's also some interesting tension between the UK and US and the Russians, as a result of Gorbachev's policy of glasnost; it's an aspect of the story that warranted further exploration. Gardner's choice of location for the book's climactic battle, the tunnels beneath Gibraltar, is a terrific one, but the confrontation itself is perfunctory.

If you're not familiar with the original Bond novels, read Fleming. And if you are familiar with them, re-read Fleming. Gardner's probably only worth a look if you're a die-hard fan like me. Which is why I'll keep reading them until I'm done. As a fan, it's my obligation; win, lose or die.

Watchmen (2009)

2009-03-05T22:19:00.009+11:00

So, yesterday I praised the heck out of Watchmen, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' esteemed graphic novel set in an alternate 1985 in which the world is teetering on the brink of nuclear war. Does the much-hyped film version live up to the expectations that accompany any adaptation of such acclaimed source material?

For the most part, yes. Director Zack Snyder captures much of the spirit of the graphic novel, which offered a refreshingly cerebral take on the "superhero genre". Fans of Watchmen will relish seeing the book's unique imagery represented in live action form. Even as someone who only discovered Watchmen less than a week ago, hearing masked vigilante Rorschach's gravelly narration taken word-for-word from the book, or seeing the action scenes painfully reconstructed shot-for-shot from the graphic novel's frames, enlightened my inner geek.

Watchmen opens with the brutal assassination of a vigilante named The Comedian, whose death sparks theories of a plot against masked heroes. This opening scene, coupled with one of the best title sequences in years (a three-minute montage of moments in the lives of the earliest superheroes, accompanied by Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'"), is arguably the highlight of the film. In just a brief, few minutes, the audience is thrown headlong into the history of this bizarre, alternate reality. It's moving, intriguing and beautifully shot and edited.

Snyder's film remains incredibly faithful to its source material, despite lopping a number of my favourite subplots and sequences in order to get the movie's runtime down to a still-pretty-meaty 161 minutes. Snyder plans to release a director's cut on DVD, containing an extra half hour of footage, which I suspect will benefit the film greatly. (Additionally, an animated film based on the brilliantly dark "Tales of the Black Freighter" story-within-a-story from the original comic is due to be released on DVD in the near future.)

Where Snyder does deviate from the graphic novel (as opposed to excising content due to time restrictions), it's often an improvement. In particular, the villain's ultimate plot, or rather the means by which he aims to achieve it (which I criticised yesterday), is altered here, becoming a tighter, tidier scheme with the same end result. It's difficult to elaborate without spoiling the film, but it's a marked improvement on what was, for me, one of the graphic novel's few flaws. Unfortunately, the absence of the sequences missing from this cut of Watchmen mean we don't fully grasp the scope of the final act's devastation; here's hoping this will be rectified with the director's cut of the film.

Watchmen's faithful transfer to the screen is also due in large part to its cast, which doesn't contain a single A-lister (a major plus). Rather, the film is populated by a very capable group of actors who could only individually be described as "that guy/girl from...". For the most part, all embody their roles with a perfect understanding of the original book's appeal: that Watchmen's characters were not "super" heroes, but rather a random patchwork of real people with real flaws. Standouts include Patrick Wilson (that guy from The Phantom of the Opera) as Daniel Dreiberg/Nite Owl, Jackie Earle Haley (that guy from Little Children) as Walter Kovaks/Rorschach and Jeffrey Dean Morgan (that guy from Grey's Anatomy) as Edward Blake/The Comedian. All of Watchmen's characters are mired in a kind of murkiness and ambiguity that more popular superheroes don't even come close to representing.

My only minor niggles with the cast were Matthew Goode (who's almost too young for the part of Adrien Veidt) and Billy Crudup (though that may have more to do with the difficulty of depicting a character who was vaporised in a radiation accident only to regenerate in the form of a bright blue super human who possesses a range of powers, few clothes and an oft-featured bright blue knob, because he is superb in his pre-accident flashbacks). The fact that Watchmen is one of the best-cast comic book adaptations ever is a major boon in light of the story's ensemble nature.

The cinematography, special effects and costumes are all terrific. Special praise goes to Watchmen's superb soundtrack, which features a fantastic assembly of songs, each beautifully fitting and unfitting for the scenes they accompany.

Yet as much as I found to enjoy in Snyder's adaptation, I can't help but appreciate Alan Moore's snobbery that Watchmen could only ever be pulled off within the confines of the comic book medium. The writer told Entertainment Weekly in 2008, "There are things that we did with Watchmen that could only work in a comic, and were indeed designed to show off things that other media can't." I'm inclined to agree.

Even though Snyder's take on Watchmen is probably as faithful as any adaptation could ever get, everything about the story, including its very context, functions so much better in the comic book medium that any transition to film was bound to live in the shadow of its source material. Many of the book's talky sequences, often dealing with heady existential subjects, are much more engaging on the printed page than on the screen. Moreover, the absence of any equivalent to Moore's engaging and articulate written extracts that close each chapter and contextualise much of the story are sorely missed. Meanwhile, the movie's excessive violence, though accurately translated from the book, at times seems like a bone tossed at fans of the so-called "torture porn" genre. In short, the film version failed to leave me with the same sense of awe at the saga unfolding before me as the graphic novel did.

Like its original format, Watchmen probably isn't destined to be crowd-pleasing fare. I suspect it may even divide fans of the graphic novel as much as it will moviegoers (I'm hoping the director's cut will amend most of my bugbears about this adaptation). It also lacks the psychological resonance that made the graphic novel such a landmark in its medium. Nevertheless, it remains a superior addition to the superhero genre, and one that will hopefully point filmgoers towards its phenomenal source material.

Watchmen (1986-1987)

2009-03-04T21:00:00.004+11:00

I don't read comics.

I don't know how to read comics. Do I look at the text first? The picture? How long do I spend looking at the artwork? Am I overanalysing it? Probably.

I don't really know the point of comics. The written word is amazing – the English language contains more words than any other. I find myself unable to accept that pictures, despite their apparent value of 1,000 words, are a valid substitute – or supplement – to such varied and vast tools for description as the written word. Am I being narrow-minded? Probably.

I don't read comics. And Watchmen, by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, is the exception that proves the rule.

Like most people outside hardcore comic fans, I had never heard of Watchmen prior to the upcoming film adaptation entering production. After hearing how acclaimed the book is, I examined a copy in a bookstore a few months back only to find myself sold by, of all things, the quotes on the back cover.

"A work of ruthless psychological realism, it's a landmark in the graphic novel medium" – one of Time Magazine's 100 Best English-Language Novels since 1923
"Watchmen is peerless." – Rolling Stone
"Remarkable... The would-be heroes of Watchmen have staggeringly complex psychological profiles." – New York Times Book Review
"Groundbreaking..." – USA Today
"A masterwork representing the apex of artistry." – Entertainment Weekly

Very convincing praise from a number of respectable sources, but it was actually this quote from Damon Lindelof, co-creator of possibly my favourite television series of all time, Lost, that sold me on Watchmen: "The greatest piece of popular fiction ever produced."

Lindelof's claim is a strong, but curious one; if Watchmen is so monumentally brilliant, why had I – and, I'm assuming, many others – never heard of it? Having reached its final page, I can safely say that Watchmen's very brilliance is precisely what makes it so inaccessible.

Watchmen is not an easy read. Firstly, it's bleak. Very bleak. Set in an alternate version of the 1980s, in which the Cold War is not thawing and the world is on the brink of unprecedented nuclear conflict, Watchmen is populated by jaded washed-up heroes, who were once inspired by comic book characters to dress up in costumes and fight crime. Briefly famous, the heroes were forced to give up their alter-egos when an act was passed outlawing vigilante activity. Some obliged and hung up their costumes, while others – such as Rorschach, the masked hero whose grim, noir-esque opening narration perfectly sets Watchmen's tone – refused to quit.

Watchmen, originally published as 12 separate editions, possesses a rich, layered narrative. Like Lost, which has clearly sought inspiration from this graphic novel, Watchmen demands a high level of attention to fully appreciate its array of pop culture references, profound musings and parallel storylines. One standout is the story-within-a-story, an instalment from the fictional comic series "Tales of the Black Freighter" called "Marooned", a mirthless tale about a man who becomes shipwrecked on an island, but remains determined to return to his hometown to warn of the impending arrival of the title vessel. It's a captivating story in its own right, but it's also a great parallel to certain parts of Watchmen's story.

I've deliberately not mentioned much of the plot as I found my enjoyment of Watchmen was greatly enhanced by the fact I knew next to nothing about it. Needless to say, it's not your typical superhero story, nor, I imagine, your typical comic book. I'm not quite sold on the ending, thought-provoking as it was, but I may grow to accept it in time. Nevertheless, Watchmen remains a bleak, bloody and utterly brilliant story, rich in subtext and subversion.

But how did I reconcile Watchmen's greatness with my inability to appreciate comics? Quite simply, Watchmen's post-modern genre-bending would not have worked in any other literary format. I'm keen to see whether director Zack Snyder, who appears to have faithfully adapted Watchmen, plays on the conventions of comic book films as much as Watchmen plays on the conventions of comic books themselves.

With The Dark Knight's billion-dollar success proving that Joe Public can handle a comic book film with depth, I'm looking forward to seeing how well Watchmen translates to the big screen, and how well moviegoers will accept it. I was fortunate enough to score tickets to an exclusive midnight screening of Watchmen starting in just a few hours, so expect my thoughts on the adaptation tomorrow.

Slumdog Millionaire (2008)

2009-03-01T23:10:00.008+11:00

Slumdog Millionaire owned last week's Oscars, taking home eight out of a possible 10 statues, including the two big ones: Best Picture and Best Director. The $64,000 – or 1,250,000 rupee – question: is Slumdog Millionaire deserving of such recognition?

My final answer is a resounding yes.

British director Danny Boyle's acclaimed adaptation of Vikas Swarup's novel Q&A recounts the story of Jamal Malik (played at various points in time by Ayush Mahesh Khedekar, Tanay Chheda and Dev Patel), a boy from the Mumbai slums who triumphs on India's version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?. However, when Jamal is arrested, interrogated and tortured on suspicion of cheating, he reveals his life story, which suggests that destiny may have had a hand in his big win.

Slumdog Millionaire's peculiar conceit – film based around a game show that was surely at its most popular nearly a decade ago (Q&A featured a fictional game show) – sounds kitschy at best and downright cheesy at worst; in short, not Oscar material. But the quiz show premise makes the movie's flashback sequences surprisingly fluid, allowing the film to wonderfully explore one man's rise from India's slums and his unrelenting pursuit to be with the woman he loves.

The first thing that struck me after leaving the cinema was Slumdog Millionaire's tremendous vibrancy. The writing, direction, acting, cinematography, editing and music are all pulsing with an energy I haven't seen in a film in years; the film looks and feels completely unique. Compared to the rest of this year's Oscar contenders, including the terrific The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, it's easy to see why Slumdog Millionaire sticks out.

Its cast of unknowns adds to Slumdog Millionaire's charms. While the cast noticeably failed to be acknowledged at the Academy Awards, all capably handle all that their roles require of them. That many of the younger actors – all of whom are superb – actually come from Mumbai's slums (Slumdog Millionaire was entirely shot in India) is another feather in the film's cap. In particular, Bollywood star Anil Kapoor is a standout as the slimy host of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?.

I've seen posters around Sydney proclaiming Slumdog Millionaire to be "the feel-good film of the decade", which, given its predominant themes of empowerment and redemption, might be a fair assumption. Yet Boyle is unafraid to pull emotional punches when the script demands it. The movie's early scenes, set in Mumbai's slums, are simultaneously colourful and upsetting. Slumdog Millionaire's most harrowing sequence – a genuinely sickening moment in which a gangster blinds a small child in order to increase his begging potential – is deftly handled as the culmination of a segment of the film in which the audience, like the children the scene concerns, are oblivious to the gangster's true intents. By contrast, Boyle gives just the right amount – and type – of levity to elsewhere balance the film's tone.

In fact, watching Slumdog Millionaire, I found myself reminded of precisely why I love going to the cinema. If only all films offered this much. The film's outcome is rarely in doubt, but Simon Beaufoy's script is so engrossing that it's perfectly acceptable to question the outcomes of the lesser aspects of the story (particularly during its vignette-esque flashbacks). Slumdog Millionaire offers a quality of romance, suspense and thrills rare in modern cinema.

It's not quite perfect. Slumdog Millionaire might be a touch too sentimental, particularly during its final act, in which the entire nation becomes enthralled by Jamal's potential win; the story has enough momentum without resorting to such clichés as people huddling around televisions in shop windows. Additionally, the Bollywood-style dance number that's intercut with the film's closing credits is at odds with the rest of the picture's Hollywood sensibilities. I also didn't quite buy a key moment in Jamal's relationship with his brother, which may have warranted further exploration.

Any flaws are easily overlooked: Slumdog Millionaire is a real winner.

Layer Cake (2004)

2009-02-26T12:24:00.002+11:00

"Layer Cake? Who's in that? Daniel Craig? Nope, never heard of him." – lots of people, circa 2005

Okay, so it's not a quote I can attribute to anyone in particular, but I did hear it a lot after first seeing Matthew Vaughn's enjoyable British gangster flick in mid-2005. Just a few months later, Craig was announced as the sixth actor to take on the role of a certain enduring spy icon, and the rest, as they say, is history.

The actor's new-found fame and hit-and-miss choice of non-Bond vehicles (most recently, the not-quite-good-enough Defiance) makes Layer Cake, Craig's biggest starring role at the time, fascinating viewing. The actor seldom phones in his performances, and this is no exception.

Based on J J Connolly's novel of the same name, Layer Cake sees Craig play an unnamed drug dealer (Mr X) with ambitions to retire on the fortunes he has made in what he considers a legitimate business. However, when Mr X's boss gives him an unconventional assignment, his world is turned upside down by the chain of events it sets in motion.

While the film starts off superficially glorifying the dealing of drugs (though it's not afraid to show the consequences facing drug users), Layer Cake adheres to the gangster flick staple that sees most of its characters shuffling off their mortal coil before the end credits roll, ensuring no-one will leave the cinema plotting an illicit career change.

Vaughn, who produced Guy Ritchie's Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, delivers a film that's tonally similar to Ritchie's acclaimed gangster flicks: there's a large cast of characters, a convoluted story, an absolutely killer soundtrack, some quotable lines and plenty of violence. However, Vaughn succeeds in toning down the excesses of Ritchie's flicks – the editing is slicker and less obtrusive – offering a tighter story in lieu of an abundance of style.

Layer Cake is a movie that warrants repeat viewings to fully unravel its intricate plot. I watched the film this weekend, having not seen it in a couple of years, only to find myself a bit lost in parts; the story takes unexpected diversions before giving us flashbacks later on to fill in the gaps. It's an unusual storytelling style, and one that requires a bit of extra attention.

The performances are all perfectly adequate, but it's clear that Craig carries the film as the enigmatic Mr X. It's another great performance from the actor. I caught Layer Cake as rumours of Craig's casting as Bond were swirling – this film completely sold me on his talents.

As X's potential love interest, Sienna Miller need only have shown up and looked pretty; needless to say, she effortlessly pulls this off. Similar could be said of the rest of the cast (except for the bit about looking pretty), including Michael Gambon, Colm Meaney and Kenneth Cranham: no-one's a revelation, but no-one lets the side down either. They all do what's required of them.

Which, come to think of it, is precisely what Layer Cake does: it might not reach the heights of Snatch or the brilliant In Bruges, but it ticks all the right boxes as a worthwhile addition to the British gangster genre.

Assorted Oscar observations

2009-02-24T12:49:00.005+11:00

I sat up last night watching a delayed telecast of the Academy Awards. Having already read the winners, it was a bit like watching Titantic: not only does it drag on and on, but you already know how it ends.

Random thoughts:

A hugely predictable ceremony with no real surprises. Not that I expected any. The winners for all the major categories lined up with my own predictions, which I should have posted here, so that you'd believe this statement. As a result of moving countries during Oscar season, I'm yet to catch a number of the nominated films, but I look forward to doing so over the coming weeks.
In particular, I really need to see Slumdog Millionaire.
Deserving win #1: WALL•E. With Kung Fu Panda picking up a few recent awards, I was a little worried for Pixar's romantic robot. If it weren't for the film's frenetic second half, I'd have liked to have seen it up for the big award: Best Picture. I also hoped WALL•E would take home Best Song, too, for Peter Gabriel's superb "Down To Earth". Alas, it was not to be.
Speaking of Best Song, did anyone else find it a bit weird that they had there was a great, big sing-off of the three songs in contention? Should they do this for the other categories too? Imagine Sean Penn, Mickey Rourke, Richard Jenkins, Frank Langella and Brad Pitt – all in their respective characters – hamming it up on stage together. Maybe it's not such a bad idea after all...
Deserving win #2: Heath Ledger. A truly touching moment during an evening of what is ostensibly self-congratulatory back-slapping. For those who feel Ledger was only awarded the trophy because of his unfortunate death, go back and watch The Dark Knight again: it's a powerhouse performance.
Alan Arkin called Phillip Seymour Hoffman "Seymour Phillip Hoffman" during his nomination speech. Whoops!
I miss seeing clips from the films when the nominated actors are announced: I don't know if Christopher Walken really thinks so highly of Michael Shannon.
Deserving win #3: Man on Wire. Probably the best documentary I've ever seen.
A note on the host: maybe it was because the sound on the telecast was mixed so that you couldn't hear the audience's reaction, but there came a point during Hugh Jackman's credit crunch-themed opening song when he stuck his head through a hole in a cardboard wall just above a headless baby doll to eerie silence. "This is all a bit tragic," I thought to myself.
Every time the Nine Network cut to an ad break, they played music that sounded suspiciously like Dr Evil's theme from Austin Powers.
Looking forward, there was a pretty neat clip-fest showcasing some of 2009's biggest releases.

The Simpsons’ title sequence gets a facelift

2009-02-22T19:25:00.006+11:00

It's been 20 years since The Simpsons debuted, forever changing the face of primetime television. With the long-running cartoon sitcom finally taking the high definition plunge, its iconic opening title sequence has been given a permanent 21st century makeover.

When I heard the sequence had been changed, I instantly worried that they'd butchered a classic, and the programme's slow but evident fall from grace would finally be complete. However, I'm pleased to report that The Simpsons' makers have actually outdone themselves: it's a winner!

At its core, it's the same sequence, but the opening has been completely updated with characters and gags more faithfully the show's 20-season history. Gone are appearances from early players like Bleeding Gums Murphy (who?), replaced by cameos from regular characters, including Ralph Wiggum, the gun-toting Texan, Apu's octuplets and Hans Moleman. Some of my choice gags to watch out for: a billboard featuring a forlorn Krusty flogging funerals, and the products that comprise Marge's grocery shopping.

Like most people, I used to be an avid viewer of The Simpsons, but its declining quality over recent years, coupled with the dual resurrections of Futurama and Family Guy, has given me less incentive to check out what was once staple viewing. However, I caught a recent episode (in which Nelson befriends Bart) while in transit from Honolulu to Sydney and was pleasantly surprised at its quality (the show is almost always at its best during its more human episodes).

The high gag rate of The Simpsons' new opening sequence actually has me hankering to sit down and watch some new instalments of TV's original dysfunctional, non-prehistoric cartoon family.

Angels and Basterds get trailers

2009-02-21T20:05:00.009+11:00

Trailers for two of my most-anticipated films for 2009 have found their way onto the world wide web this week.

First up is Angels & Demons, the prequel-cum-sequel to Dan Brown's love-it-or-hate-it religious thriller, The Da Vinci Code. As I've written elsewhere on this blog, I really liked Ron Howard's film adaptation of The Da Vinci Code; it's not flawless, but there's plenty to enjoy, and it certainly didn't deserve the critical mauling it received upon its release.

That said, Angels & Demons is the superior book. There's less historical exposition, a tighter story and more action (I'm keen to see how the film handles one particularly fanciful stunt). The trailer's pretty standard for an action flick – it's the usual mish-mash of confusingly out-of-context quotes accompanied by a rising choral soundtrack – but I have high hopes for the film.

Tom Hanks returns as Robert Langdon (sans the hardly noticeable but inexplicably controversial mullet), joined by Ewan McGregor, Ayelet Zurer and Stellan Skarsgård.

With Howard breaking news this week that Brown has finished work on the third Langdon book (working title: The Solomon Key), expect Angels & Demons to be the second of a trilogy if it makes a wad of cash.

Personally, I'm still hanging out for a Deception Point adaptation.

Meanwhile, Inglourious Basterds (yes, that's the correct spelling) is shaping up to be a return-to-form for Quentin Tarantino. After the misstep that was his Robert Rodriguez collaboration Grindhouse (more of a throwaway curiosity than enduring cinema), the controversial filmmaker is back with this long-in-development World War II epic: Tarantino's first self-contained movie since 1997's Jackie Brown.

Inglourious Basterds, partly based on the more literate 1978 Italian film Inglorious Bastards, sees a group of soldiers dropped into Nazi-occupied France posing as civilians. The trailer focusses on a Brad Pitt (who looks to have given a terrific performance) making a long-winded speech to his troops about collecting Nazi scalps. Vintage Tarantino in the making.

Australia’s information roundabout

2009-02-20T23:33:00.006+11:00

Well, I'm back – and even more bitter than before, thanks to the debacle it's been to have our Internet connected.

After faffing about in a fruitless attempt to decipher the phone companies' incomprehensible Internet plans (and I'm kind of tech-savvy – a computer-illiterate person would give up in seconds), we finally went with Dodo, who, I've decided, ought to be as extinct as their moniker.

Earlier this week, we signed up to their extortionate wireless service ($45 for just six gigabytes per month – and that's only because we signed a 24-month contract; it would have otherwise been a paltry three gigs). Today, I awoke (at 9:30 – hey, I'm unemployed!) to the sound of the courier buzzing the intercom: our modem had arrived!

Having been Internet-less for over a week (I'd started getting the shakes), I excitedly tore open the package to see some pathetic little USB stick and a cable; we'd been given a "mobile wireless pack", rather than the Wifi modem we wanted. Consequently, just one of us can use the Internet at a time, and to do so, we need to connect the USB, do a bunch of clicking and enter our password. Even compared to our occasionally-reliable service in Alberta, this has been pathetic.

I spent hours on the phone to Dodo this morning trying to set it straight that this wasn't what I wanted, but with no luck. In fact, I was told that the contract stands and the fact that a mobile wireless modem wasn't what I asked for "isn't reason enough to cancel a contract". Unbelievable.

I'm floored at a) how much Australia's phone companies get away with; and b) how far behind the rest of the world we are in this area. In Canada, we parted with about $20 a month for way more than this; plus, we didn't have to fork out for the modem as well. And there was no contract.

Australia's information superhighway is like one big roundabout. With the amount of companies vying for business, you'd think the competition would drive prices way down. But, no.

Similarly, in the Web 2.0 age of extensive social networking on Facebook, video-calling on Skype and streaming clips from YouTube among an increasing amount of online activity, why are Australia's Internet companies seemingly making zero progress? The industry seems to be going in ever-decreasing circles, driving around a bewildered public, herding us up like helpless lambs to the slaughter.

If I sound frustrated, I am: mind you, if I'd have written about this earlier today, the cyber-air would have been blue. Though I probably would have been charged extra for swearing.

Station break

2009-02-15T12:01:00.002+11:00

We interrupt your completely unscheduled programming as I frantically try to establish a new life in Sydney, Australia.

More shallow ramblings to come as soon as I negotiate the ridiculously complex pricing schemes for wireless Internet in my apartment.

Tropic Thunder (2008)

2009-02-10T18:07:00.003+11:00

First things first: if Robert Downey Jr. ever disappears from cinema again, I will be one unhappy chappy. Despite getting third billing behind Jack Black and Ben Stiller (who is also credited here with co-writing, co-producing and directing), Downey owns Tropic Thunder. He plays an Australian actor who gets so involved in his roles that he undergoes major pigmentation surgery in order to play a black man; it's a unique hook for a character and Downey is incredibly convincing in selling it. Like Heath Ledger's scene-stealing supporting role in The Dark Knight, the hype for Downey in Tropic Thunder is justified. His Oscar nomination is every bit as worthy as Ledger's.

Downey is part of a motley crew of actors abandoned in the Vietnamese forest by their director (an underused Steve Coogan) in an attempt to reign in an over-budget and behind-schedule war film. When the actors come across a gang of real-life drug runners, they debate whether the encounter is all part of the script and a series of fairly amusing misunderstandings ensues.

It's a high-concept comedy that, despite a crowd-pleasing cast of Stiller, Black, Downey, Coogan, Nick Nolte, Matthew McConaughey, and an unrecognisable Tom Cruise in an extended cameo, manages to be pretty offensive on a number of levels; this isn't family fare. The key is to remember that while Tropic Thunder seems to poke fun at taboo subjects such as disabilities, homosexuality and war, it's mostly taking sly digs at the representation of these subjects in Hollywood.

In fact, this is when Tropic Thunder is at its best: parodying Hollywood. Preceded by a handful of superb mock trailers (including one which hilariously juxtaposes Downey's "five-time Academy Award winner Kirk Lazarus" with "MTV Movie Award Best Kiss winner Tobey Maguire", who cameos as himself), Tropic Thunder opens with an extended action sequence from the film-within-a-film. It's a genuinely amusing take on the war genre: the camera lingers for far too long on the gore and dramatic sequences are way overplayed. When Tropic Thunder takes on the Hollywood machine – from Oscar-grabbing fare to blockbuster sequels – it's on fine form.

Unfortunately, once the cast realises the film they're shooting isn't a film at all, the satire makes way for average gags and the movie ceases to be particularly funny. Downey remains captivating, the locations look terrific (Hawaii doubles for Vietnam) and Tom Cruise's cameo stays shocking right until the credits roll (if only because it's Tom Cruise), but without the Hollywood mickey-taking, Tropic Thunder is just a slightly-above-average big-budget comedy.

Put a sock in It

2009-02-08T22:48:00.002+11:00

Beyoncé Knowles' "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)": possibly the most irritating song of the decade. And this is the decade that gave us the Crazy Frog.

Every time I hear Beyoncé's vocalised hyperventilating, I feel like tearing my ears off with my bare hands.

Worst of all, it's one of those annoying songs that's frustratingly catchy, so even after its mercifully brief three minutes has run its course, the torture lingers. It's a bit like getting a paper cut; it's short, sharp and painful, but it hurts like hell for ages.

Oh, you know it does.

The Trial of Tony Blair (2007)

2009-02-06T10:59:00.002+11:00

The year is 2010 and former British Prime Minister Tony Blair is summoned to the Hague to face war crimes charges over his involvement in the Iraq invasion. That's the premise of The Trial of Tony Blair, a satirical Channel 4 telemovie first broadcast in 2007.

The Trial of Tony Blair's "what if?" premise is an intriguing notion, reminiscent of the conceit of faux-documentary Death of a President. However, The Trial of Tony Blair eschews any kind of realism for blatantly opinionated farce. It's a missed opportunity to delve into the mind of the embittered former PM. The film is a political mouthpiece and nothing more.

The Trial of Tony Blair begins with Blair (Robert Lindsay) handing over power to Gordon Brown in the run-up to the 2010 general election. Lindsay's Blair is a far-fetched caricature of the man, obsessed with his own legacy and increasingly tortured over his hand in the war in Iraq. It's a worthwhile performance, but, in light of the script, Lindsay's Blair is reduced to a buffoon of a man. (In the apparent interests of balance, Alexander Armstrong cameos as an out-of-touch David Cameron, but his appearances are too fleeting and disconnected to mask the film's political agenda.)

With Brown elected, Blair spends his days lost, waiting for phone calls from the likes of Bill Gates and Hillary Clinton (who has been elected President of the United States). He longs for the power and importance of his previous position. Cherie Blair, played coldly by Phoebe Nicholls, also becomes discontent with her new life. As it becomes increasingly likely that Tony Blair will face trial, the political forces that brought him to power and that now lie in the hands of others begin to turn against him.

There are plenty of elements the film gets right. Blair and Brown's abhorrence for each other is engaging stuff, particularly when Brown decides to hang Blair out to dry in an attempt to distance himself from the Blair/Bush era of politics. Later in the film, Blair is called to the US embassy hopeful of being offered some kind of position, only to be told that Hillary Clinton, who is due to embark on her second term campaign, will be spouting some nasty things about Blair in order to similarly disassociate herself from the war in Iraq – even though the US will continue to support Blair at the Hague.

When The Trial of Tony Blair makes these kind of jabs at the political scene, it really hits the mark; it's a dirty world where enemies can be anywhere. As if to illustrate this, there's a terrific scene in which Gordon Brown (a pouty Peter Mullan) is put in his place by a pair of children during a media tour of a primary school ("Are you the one my dad says is a born loser?" one child innocently asks).

Though the satire is mostly painted with far too broad strokes, when the movie arrives at the event in its title, the filmmakers skip off without exploring the trial itself. The movie's obvious political stance leaves little doubt as to how the trial would have turned out, but at a brisk 72 minutes, The Trial of Tony Blair feels like it's missing the vital third act.

Where Death of a President presented a bold, compelling and – crucially – neutral examination of a world leader's decisions, The Trial of Tony Blair takes the easy road to deliver a film that, while entertaining, is disappointingly shallow in its execution.

Lost: Season 5 (2009)

2009-02-04T11:32:00.005+11:00

Spoilers for Lost: Season 5 ("Jughead")

It's best to consider Lost as the most demanding – yet rewarding – jigsaw puzzle you have ever tackled. Its story is a rich, growing tapestry of flashbacks, flashforwards and flashes in time that are slowly piecing together to form a beautiful, detailed image. It's a slow, often frustrating process, but when that piece you've been agonising over for so long finally slots into place, the reward is a giddy, euphoric feeling.

Three episodes into its penultimate season and Lost has made finally made the leap into fully-blown science fiction territory, adding another dimension to its already complex narrative. So imagine that lovely flat jigsaw you've been working on is actually one of those funky 3D puzzles.

Casual fans may turn their noses up at this season's principal theme of time travel, but from the moment that thunderous monster began tearing up large patches of jungle in the pilot episode, Lost was showing its sci-fi hand. Its current state is the result of a very natural progression.

While last season's phenomenal Desmond-centric episode, "The Constant" proved that time travel exists in the Lost universe, the fifth season has taken that idea and ran with it. It's a bold move, but the show has danced around the notion for so long that it was an inevitable development.

"Because You Left", this year's season-opener, plunged viewers headfirst into a four-year-long mystery and made no apologies for doing so. If you'd never seen Lost before, lost is precisely what you'd have been. But if you have watched Lost, and watched it devotedly, it was a brilliant continuation of all the themes and characters that have made the show such compulsive viewing.

The second episode, Hurley-centric "The Lie", slowed things down a touch; the cursed lottery winner has always been one of the most relatable characters on the show. It also featured a great expanded role for Hurley's father, played by Cheech Marin. Meanwhile, "Jughead", episode number three, continued the show's run of virtually flawless Desmond episodes. Oh, and I'd like to note that eccentric scientist Daniel Faraday, who I initially felt was overplayed by Jeremy Davies, is developing into one of the most intriguing characters on the show.

Lost has always been an ensemble programme, and that's never been truer than in the fifth season. After just three episodes, there's already been a list of returning guest stars long enough to bewilder anyone but the most ardent of fans. However, as that's precisely what I am, it's thrilling telly. If you struggle to keep up with who's who among the regular cast, good luck remembering returning characters like Ms Hawking, the enigmatic antique saleswoman who convinced Desmond that travelling to the island and pushing the button was his destiny (gibberish to non-fans) in an episode two years back.

If that wasn't enough, this season's new storytelling format that sees the remaining castaways visiting the island at various points in its past really requires viewers to brush up on Lost history (Lostory?). However, that's all part of the fun of unravelling the show's labyrinthine plot. With the island constantly shifting in time, the producers have given themselves the broadest canvas imaginable for exploring the island's past – and future.

Lost has long since become impenetrable for new viewers hoping to make heads or tails of its intricate plot, but that's precisely what makes it such a rewarding viewing experience. Pick up the DVD box sets and get stuck into it. And if you're really struggling with the Lost jigsaw, consider Lostpedia – a wiki entirely devoted to the television series – as the puzzle box from which you can cheat.

Unreal estate

2009-02-02T12:07:00.001+11:00

I can't believe what a spirit-crushing ordeal it is to find an apartment to rent in Sydney.

My girlfriend and I arrived in Australia's commonly-misconceived capital last week full of the hopes and dreams of a couple of, er, hopeful, dreaming people. Within hours of beginning our quest for accommodation, we were dumbstruck at the sheer amount of mind-boggling bureaucracy one needs to negotiate in order to find a home. These tiresome proceedings were compounded by the fact that, like my former home, London, Sydney is bursting with people, all of whom selfishly need a place to put their heads at night.

The first apartment we visited featured – as a poncy real estate agent might phrase it – a cosy interior, well-loved carpet, matured walls, antique bathroom fixtures, great security and a stunning view of some local artwork.

In actual fact, we were viewing a tiny apartment featuring beaten-up carpet, yellowed walls, bathroom fixtures that seemingly pre-dated the invention of bathroom fixtures and steel bars covering all the windows, while the whole thing overlooked some prime examples of possibly the most pointless crime imaginable, graffiti. In short, it was a bit too close to a prison for my discerning tastes.

We were just a handful of nearly 30 people that turned out to inspect this dive. It took approximately 45 seconds before we made a beeline for the front door. A few others did the same, but application forms were still being handed out left, right and centre. People were literally lining up to live in the lap of dilapidation, all for the princely sum of $380 per week! Incredible.

We did end up applying for five places in various Sydney suburbs, including Glebe, Newtown, Camperdown, Rozelle and Waterloo, but the application process is baffling to say the least. I was under the misguided impression that it would be as simple as inspecting an apartment, saying that you'd take it, having them run whatever checks they need to to prove that you're not an axe-wielding maniac on the run from the law and they'd hand you the keys.

I didn't anticipate slews of paperwork interrogating you about the minutiae of your entire life – all for just the application; this isn't even the contract! After a single day's house-hunting, my hand became so overworked from filling in forms that I was beginning to doubt whether I'd be able to even turn the doorknob of the house I may or may not have successfully applied for.

And since when was a passport proof enough of your identification for a government to let you into its country but not for some smarmy real estate agent tosspot to let you apply for a six-month lease?

Nevertheless, we got the call today that we were approved for our first choice of apartment. Makes my vehement rant seem a bit unjustified, but it's my blog and I'll rant if I damn well want to.

My top five cinema pet peeves

2009-01-31T05:11:00.006+11:00

What kind of a world do we live in where people cannot silently watch a movie? We've all paid $10 to sit in a darkened theatre and catch the latest release - we're all in this together. All I'm asking is that people do nothing for two hours. Consider that for a moment. Do nothing. Just exist. That's all I ask. Is that too much trouble?

Watching Defiance last weekend, it occurred to me that people seem to be completely unable to grasp such a straightforward concept. It's only for 120 minutes; a microscopic slice from the pie of life.

Admittedly, we watched the film in the basement screening room of the Princess Theatre; the acoustics of this tiny cinema meant that a pin dropping sounded like the roof was caving in. Even so, the noises eminating from some of my fellow cinemagoers could have been heard in the vast vaccuum of outer space.

Based on this experience, I present my top 5 motion picture pet peeves.

1. Talking. Obviously, this is the most common gripe, but also the easiest to solve. Step 1: close your mouth. Step 2: keep it closed. The couple behind us in Defiance were nattering away throughout the film as if they were in their living room, not surrounded by 80 complete strangers. There are several different breeds of cinema-talkers:

The Line Repeaters: If a character says something you like or find amusing, there's no need to repeat it. We were all there. We all heard it. And it sounded a lot better coming from the trained actor onscreen than it did spilling from your gob.
The Plot Clarifiers: Possibly the most excusable reason for cinema-talking, but there needs to be a line drawn. Let's say, three clarifications per film. A great twist in a movie can be completely cheapened when the dunce two rows in front of you exclaims, "Ohhhh... it's the guy from the start!" two minutes after the fact.
The Subtitle Readers: Unbelievable. Do you sit at home and read a 600-page novel aloud? Do you flip through the Safeway catalogue and recite the specials to strangers? Do you vocalise every road sign you pass? It's like being stuck with someone who considers unneccesary narration a hobby.
The Irrelevant Conversationalists: These are the ones who, I theorise, aren't even aware they're in a movie theatre. Physically, they're fifteen seats along in the tenth row of Cinema 2. Mentally, they're sitting at home, drinking at the pub, wandering around a shopping mall, or any number of places where it's perfectly acceptable to discuss their new washing machine, or verbally remind themselves that they have to call Frank later on, or any other pointless exchange that really doesn't need to be shared at all, let alone during a movie.

2. Using a phone. Fortunately, people seem to have finally paid attention to the notices prior to a film that suggest they ought to put their mobile phone on silent. Unfortunately, those same people seem oblivious to the fact that when they flip open their phone to send a text during a crucial part of a movie - as some girl did during the scene-setting pre-titles sequence of Quantum of Solace - they may as well have brought a full-size lighthouse that desperately tries to steal your attention from the screen. And you just know the contents of that text are pitifully unimportant.

3. Noisy eating. Who decided that popcorn was the food of choice for cinemas? I bet whoever it was reads subtitles. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Scrunch. That was the sound of someone wrestling open a bag of M&Ms with all the grace of a human being who hasn't developed opposable thumbs. That may just be the crux of the problem. The thing is, it is possible to eat popcorn and candy quietly. I propose a system whereby one needs to pass a simple exam that entails sitting in a soundproof room with a small popcorn, a packet of Starburst and a small Coke (crucially, with a straw). If you can polish those off without unwrapping, chewing or slurping over a predetermined volume, congratulations: you've earnt your candy bar licence.

4. Inappropriate laughter. Up until Defiance, I probably would have lumped this in with talking. But Defiance changed all that. Following a bit of light-hearted banter between a couple of characters that prompted some wry laughter from the audience, one character solemnly lamented - by subtitles - that "Jews are only good for dying", at which point the woman behind me continued to laugh. I'm sorry; were you following? Do you understand those subtitles you've been reading aloud?

5. Leaving rubbish behind. Not specifically related to cinemagoing, but still, possibly one of the laziest displays I've ever seen. The effort required to carry an empty cup and a plastic wrapper to the nearest bin is unlikely to burn off the calories consumed from the products they once contained, but every little bit counts, right?

Existence. And a little bit of cleaning up after yourself. I'm not too demanding, am I?

Defiance (2008)

2009-01-29T04:03:00.001+11:00

As far as true stories go, the events that inspired Edward Zwick's Defiance are incredible. The film, based on Nechama Tec's Defiance: The Bielski Partisans, tells the little-known tale of three Jewish brothers who escape Nazi-occupied Poland and proceed to lead a resistance against the Nazis during World War II. It's a piece of history that's well worth exploring in a feature film. Indeed, one of Defiance's major coups is that it's a story that presents the Jews as more than just passive victims: the Bielski brothers and their ever-increasing group of Jewish partisans are testament to man's unwavering will to survive. It's moving stuff.

Daniel Craig, Liev Schreiber and Jamie Bell head up a virtually flawless cast. Craig's Tuvia is precisely the kind of role the actor appears to be relishing in light of his new-found fame: after exacting revenge upon the man responsible for his father's death, the eldest Bielski brother firmly believes that avoiding conflict in order to stay alive is the best course of action. Schreiber's Zus, however, remains adamant that the Jews should be fighting back, ultimately choosing to side with the Russians. Bell is a real standout as teen Asael, whose coming-of-age was worthy of further exploration: it's his finest performance to date.

Unfortunately, the strong cast is held back by a script that never allows us to connect with the Bielski brothers, and some fairly bland direction from Zwick. Some scenes stand out – there's a brutal sequence in which a Nazi is captured by the partisans who proceed to exact justice – and there's the occasional image that's potentially iconic: a wide-angled shot of the partisans wading through wetlands is a hint at what could have been. It may have been an intentional decision to shoot the picture with little flair in order to depict the events as true-to-life. However, the low-key approach is at odds with some decidedly Hollywood-esque heroics, rendering Defiance's dramatic sequences and action scenes as a bit flat, despite some impressive cinematography. The resultant effect means the characters' plights never feel as grave as they ought to. The movie is also sadly over-scored, with James Newton Howard's Oscar-nominated soundtrack weakening several key dramatic moments that would have played better without music.

Defiance's forest setting (Lithuania doubles for Poland) is impressively used, as the story spans roughly one year of time. Throughout autumn, Tuvia remains cognisant of food rationing during Poland's harsh winter. The elements and landscape are also adversaries with which the partisans need to contend.

As is standard for a "true story" adaptation, Defiance closes with a series of title cards revealing what became of the characters' real-life counterparts. It's only during these final seconds that the viewer really grasps the sheer scope of the story they just witnessed. For this alone, Defiance is a captivating tale worth seeing. One just wishes the film itself conveyed this sense of awe.

Wikipower

2009-01-27T03:10:00.000+11:00

If anyone doubts the power of user-generated encyclopaedia, Wikipedia, this video is for you. Social media blog davefleet.com points to a clip showing the first two hours of development of the entry on US Airways Flight 1549, which crash-landed in the Hudson River last week. The page was created within minutes of the plane landing in the river.

We're now at the point where "Wikipedia" has entered our vocabulary alongside "Google" and "YouTube" as commonly-used terms (I use all three websites so often that I completely take them for granted). It's essential to remember precisely where Wikipedia's content originates, and that its veracity is far from guaranteed, but Wikipedia's goal of creating a free database of knowledge for everyone is truly admirable.

This video is a startling reminder of its growing power.

The Swarm (2004)

2009-01-25T06:21:00.003+11:00

"It's plain to see that humanity is going down the drain. We used to be at the centre of the universe until Copernicus moved it. We were at the pinnacle of creation until Darwin pushed us off. Then Freud claimed that our reason is in thrall to the unconscious. At least we were still the only civilised species on the planet – but now the yrr are trying to kill us."

It was a photo finish, but I've finally completed Frank Schätzing's sci-fi epic, The Swarm... just two days before I leave Canada for Australia (I refused to lug this weighty tome across continents).

The bestselling German novel sees humanity face-to-face with an alien force called the yrr, which has been lying hidden at the bottom of the ocean for millions of years. Fed up with humanity's shoddy treatment of the world's oceans, the yrr manipulate the planet's marine creatures to launch a relentless assault on mankind.

The Swarm may well be one of the best holiday reads I've ever picked up – my only advice is that, at almost 900 pages, it better be a long holiday. That said, rarely does The Swarm feel unworthy of its length. It's an eco-thriller rich in scientific detail, enjoyable character development and thought-provoking musings on numerous topics, including evolution, technology, politics and religion. At times, the discussions within the book are so profound that, even if they merely serve as diversions so that the author can explore a particular topic, the reader remains nevertheless compelled.

Schätzing's ability to seamlessly mix educational exchanges, vivid action sequences and detailed technological descriptions are part of the reason why this Michael Crichton-esque thriller works so well. Amid some epic scenes of destruction (the pages-long natural disaster that closes The Swarm's first part is brilliantly topped by a single sentence detailing further devastation), the author juggles the development of over 12 main characters with ease. One hopes that the makers of the upcoming film adaptation are equally deft.

Schätzing is unafraid to put forward his views on these topics explored within The Swarm (there's a fascinating, but thinly-veiled exploration of the effects the yrr's discovery has on religious groups, while the US government's actions are a transparent take on George W. Bush's politics), but the author's views shouldn't be too much of a deterrence, particularly if they don't run contrary to your own.

Most successful is the slow, suspenseful establishing events, which capture a genuinely scary sense of what lies beneath the world's oceans, somewhere we know little about. The Swarm's climax might be a bit action-heavy (its worthy political intrigue ultimately gives way to some pretty incredulous character motivations), but Schätzing admirably avoids anything approaching a complete explanation of the mysterious phenomenon that wreaks havoc on the world's coasts.

A highly-recommended read for fans of environmental thrillers.

The Dark oversight

2009-01-23T09:00:00.015+11:00

The Oscar nominations are in and there aren't many surprises among the contenders.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button deservingly leads the field with 13 nominations, including Best Picture, Best Director (David Fincher) and Best Actor (Brad Pitt).

Best Picture favourite Slumdog Millionaire – a film I've been hanging out to see – comes in second with 10 nominations. Given how it swept the Golden Globes, expect it to put in a good showing here.

Meanwhile, biopic Milk landed eight nominations, putting it in third place alongside Christopher Nolan's triumphant reinvention of the Batman saga, The Dark Knight.

What's disappointing is that, despite an enviable haul of awards nominations and wins, The Dark Knight's Oscar nods are almost exclusively in the technical categories.

The blockbuster comic book flick became a record-setting global phenomenon when released last year, leaving a wave of Oscar buzz in its wake. However, The Dark Knight's lacklustre showing at the Globes, which saw the film land just a single nomination and win for Heath Ledger's awe-inspiring turn as the Joker, seemingly slowed the picture's Oscar momentum.

It's a rare occasion, but the Academy is not entirely averse to acknowledging record-shattering blockbusters. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, perhaps the best parallel for The Dark Knight, managed to take home all 11 Oscars for which it was nominated (including Best Picture and Best Director). That same year, Johnny Depp was nominated for his first nuanced performance as Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl.

Aside from a couple of surprising but worthy nods, including Robert Downey Jr's fantastic performance in Tropic Thunder and a screenplay nom for In Bruges (Colin Farrell's Golden Globe-winning turn somehow failed to be nominated), this year's contenders are typically po-faced. I was also holding out hope that Pixar's heartwarming WALL•E would defy the odds and also score a Best Picture nomination; alas, it wasn't to be, despite the film landing five nominations, including Best Animated Film and Best Original Screenplay.

The Dark Knight is a sure bet for Best Supporting Actor and most of its technical nods, but, like Return of the King before it, a picture with this much atmosphere, a phenomenal cast, some gorgeous cinematography and direction with such obvious respect for its source material, deserves that kind of recognition. It's not quite worthy of a win, but definitely of recognition.

To fans of the film: you have one last chance to relive The Dark Knight in the ultimate format; Warner Bros. are re-releasing the picture in IMAX cinemas around the world from tomorrow.

To the Academy: why so serious?

Lost: Season 5 (2009)

2009-01-22T12:06:00.003+11:00

Spoilers for Lost: Season 4

Can you believe it? Lost is back tonight!

Following its groundbreaking first year, Lost settled in for a bumpy but thoroughly entertaining season and a half. It was then that the show's producers announced that Lost will end in 2010. With just three curtailed seasons remaining, a noticeable shift into focus occurred, and our favourite castaways were no longer wandering aimlessly through the jungle encountering endless random island weirdness.

Lost is in the unique position of being a blockbuster television programme with an incredibly intricate storyline. I think many people were turned off the show during its second and third years, fearing that Lost would become a victim of the kind of protracted, meandering storytelling that ultimately caused The X-Files' flame to flicker out. But ever since the end date announcement, Lost has confidently propelled forward, providing answers to existing mysteries, and tantalising new ones. This viewer has faith that there will be a worthwhile resolution at the end of it all.

For those who gave up on Lost, there's no excuse not to come back. While it makes no apologies if you miss an episode, and the show's producers have openly admitted that those who have never watched the show will be, erm, lost, during the fifth season opener, viewers who do their homework and fervently follow the show will be greatly rewarded. Lost is at the top of its game as one of the most exciting and intelligent shows on the box.

As we prepare to enter Lost's penultimate season, I present you with a brief cheat sheet to brush up on television's most perplexed castaways.

[insert flashback whoosh sound here]

Jack (rescued)
Everyone's favourite doc with daddy issues escaped the island and declared that the other escapees mustn't tell anyone about what happened there in order to protect the other survivors. Since rescue, Jack has been visited by Jeremy Bentham (the man in the coffin) who told him some terrible things had happened on the island since he left. Jack became racked with guilt over abandoning the other survivors, including Claire, who he learned is his half-sister.

Claire (unknown)
Since being all blowed up in an explosion while the survivors battled the freighter folk, Claire's been acting incredibly strange. Her current pasttime seems to be hanging out in that creepy moving shack with her and Jack's dead father, Christian Shepherd.

Kate (rescued)
Upon rescue, Kate went to court for her crimes and was given 10 years probation on the condition she remain in California. Kate and Jack were briefly engaged. Claire's child, Aaron, is living with Kate. Presumably without contributing any rent, the slacker. Kate is living under the pretence that Aaron is her child.

Sawyer (on the island)
Sawyer sacrificed his own rescue so that the other survivors could escape. Before doing so, he whispered something in Kate's ear. He probably asked her to feed his fish.

Juliet (on the island)
Juliet was last seen drinking rum with Sawyer on the beach. Yo, ho, ho, etc.

Daniel (missing)
Eccentric physicist Daniel was last seen ferrying people to the freighter off the island. He has developed a bond with Desmond, who is his "constant", something too complicated to do anything but link to here. Brush up on that, as time travel is set to be a major part of the fifth season.

Miles (on the island)
Ghost-whisperer Miles remains stranded by choice, opting not to ride with Daniel to the freighter. Bit weird.

Charlotte (on the island)
The mysterious Charlotte also opts to stay on the island. Although it transpires she's been there before...

Hurley (rescued)
Hurley's curse hasn't escaped him since being rescued. After seeing visions of the deceased Charlie and Mr Eko off the island, he is readmitted to the same mental institution he was in before the plane crash. He has also been visited by Jeremy Bentham. Oh, and those numbers still haunt him.

Michael (dead)
By delaying the detonation of a large amount of explosives aboard the freighter, Michael sacrificed himself in order to give the survivors the time they needed to escape. Christian Shepherd appeared to Michael moments before he died.

Jin (presumed dead)
Jin's fate is uncertain, but he was seemingly caught in the inevitable explosion of the freighter.

Sun (rescued)
Sun escaped the island but, hopeful that Jin survived, she makes a pact with big baddie Charles Widmore to help him find the island.

Ben (magically appeared off the island after turning a giant, frozen wheel)
Upon instruction from Jacob (overseer of the island), beady-eyed Other Ben assisted Locke to "move the island". To where (or when) remains a mystery. In doing so, he was teleported to the Sahara desert 10 months into the future. After the death of his own daughter at the hands of Widmore's men on island, he swears to kill Widmore's daughter in order to settle the score.

Sayid (rescued)
After escaping, Sayid married his beloved Nadia who was later murdered. Ben finds Sayid and tells him the culprit was one of Widmore's men, leading Sayid to become a mercenary for Ben.

Desmond (rescued)
Desmond's rescue remains unknown to the rest of the world (unlike the highly-publicised rescue of the Oceanic 6). He was swiftly reunited with his beloved Penny... Widmore's daughter.

Locke (dead?)
We recently learnt Locke has been watched from birth by ageless Other Richard Alpert. On the island, he made contact with Jacob, who told Locke to move the island. After the island moves, Locke will become leader of the Others. On the mainland in the future, Ben visits Jack, who tells him that in order to save the stranded survivors, everyone who left the island must return, including the deceased Jeremy Bentham, who, it turns out, is John Locke.

Ooooooo...

Anyway, Lost. Brilliant. Watch it.

Desperate Housewives: Season 5 (2008-2009)

2009-01-21T09:50:00.003+11:00

Minor spoilers for Desperate Housewives: Season 5 ("The Best Thing That Ever Could Have Happened")

Hi. My name's Matt. I'm a 23-year-old heterosexual male and I'm a fan of Desperate Housewives. There. I said it. Wanna fight about it?

I always get some strange reactions when I make the above statement (least of all because I'm threatening people with violence), but you know what? Anyone who judges Desperate Housewives based on its apparent reputation for being a light, fluffy show for women – a kind of primetime Bold and the Beautiful – is dead wrong.

Desperate Housewives might be slick, sexy and comical, but that's all subterfuge, for its overarching stories are dark mysteries with some truly disturbing twists in their unravelling. The subject matter allows the show's trademark black humour to flourish – at times, Desperate Housewives is outright hysterical. Unlike other dramatic serials, Desperate Housewives more or less wraps up every story arc by the end of each season, meaning that each mystery can be plotted out and resolved in a satisfying manner. Most importantly, though, it's smart, addictive television.

The final scenes of Desperate Housewives' fourth season saw the show take an unprecedented five-year leap forward in time that's seen the fifth season re-ignite the spark of the show's first and third years (it seems Desperate Housewives is at its best during the odd-numbered seasons). This year's mystery began with the arrival of Neal McDonough's sinister Dave Williams, husband to man-eater Edie Britt. The psychotic Williams, brilliantly played by McDonough, is secretly plotting revenge against one of Wisteria Lane's residents for reasons unknown. It's a compelling story on par with the mystery of Mary Alice's death and the tale of Orson Hodge's sick past.

"The Best Thing That Ever Could Have Happened", the series' milestone 100th episode, was broadcast this week. Opting to give this year's mystery a back seat, creator Marc Cherry served up a self-contained story based around guest star Beau Bridges' Eli Scruggs, a handyman with a heart of gold. Scruggs dies before the opening credits roll (there is much death within Desperate Housewives), prompting the main characters to reminisce about how he had impacted their lives.

What followed was a series of moving flashbacks that essentially re-engineered key moments in the characters' lives to show the involvement of the generous handyman. It was a neat trick that, like the sudden inclusion of Lost's maligned background castaways Nikki and Paulo, was pulled off effectively, even allowing us to revisit some familiar faces from the show's past.

It was a surprisingly moving episode that may have been light on the comedy, but it proved that for all the dark satire of suburban life, Desperate Housewives' characters are real people with real emotions. Serialised drama episodes are frequently overlooked at TV awards ceremonies, but I'd be very surprised if this standalone tale is doesn't receive a nod at Emmy time.

The Ricky Gervais Guide To... Medicine (2009)

2009-01-20T16:21:00.004+11:00

The team behind the record-breaking podcast, The Ricky Gervais Show, is back with a brand new series of unrelenting drivel so sidesplittingly funny that I strongly advise against listening to it on public transport for fear of giving the impression that you're actually laughing at the creepy-looking guy sitting directly across from you.

I couldn't even begin to succinctly describe Karl Pilkington, but most of my friends will have probably heard me pass on a bizarre piece of unwisdom from him at some point or another. Prodded by fellow podcasters Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant (co-creators of two of the best British comedies of recent years: The Office and Extras), Pilkington shares his uniquely bizarre outlooks on life. Much of what he says is pure, concentrated bollocks, but there's occasionally a strange profundity to what he comes out with.

For those unfamiliar with his nonsensical genius, here are a few of Karl Pilkington's most memorable quotes from The Ricky Gervais Show...

On the mind: "Does the brain control you or are you controlling the brain? I don't know if I'm in charge of mine."
On evolution: "It goes bacteria, fish, mermaid, man..."
On gravity: "Could the world fall?"
On having a doppelgänger: "How would I know which one I was?"
On seeing an ultrasound: "It was an awkward situation because [the mother] was happy with it. I was like 'Oh, God'. It was an odd-looking thing. I couldn't say 'Oh, it looks like you' because that would be a dis."
On getting his girlfriend's attention if he transformed into a slug: "It'd be impossible. I'd chuck myself into the salt pot or something."

While The Ricky Gervais Show was essentially a series of glorious ramblings, The Ricky Gervais Guide To... Medicine is a touch more focussed, maybe even educational. It still contains some hilarious diversions (Karl describing an exhibition on Tutankhamun: "They had some video footage made up; it wasn't from the time"), while keeping in with the theme of medicine (Karl on the possibility that Russia or the US still has a supply of smallpox for military use: "To me, that's like in James Bond, when they don't kill him when they have the chance"). Pilkington summarises the world of medicine with this meaningless gem: "Today's cure is tomorrow's legache."

The Ricky Gervais Guide To... Medicine is occasionally a bit too crass for its own good, but when Gervais, Merchant and Pilkington's ramblings hit the target, it's nearly always a bulls-eye. After nearly eight years of chatter in radio and podcast form, it's amazing that there's still material to be plundered. As amusing as Gervais and Merchant are (which is very), the key to the trio's longevity lies in the fascinating mind of Karl Pilkington.

The show can be purchased from iTunes via the links at rickygervais.com.

Man on Wire (2008)

2009-01-19T04:31:00.003+11:00

Believe it or not, the artistic crime of the century is not considered to be Bride Wars.

Man on Wire is a remarkable documentary about Frenchman Philippe Petit, who in 1974, illegally walked a tightrope between the two towers of New York's World Trade Center. There's no denying that it's a mind-blowing act in and of itself, but the incredible amount of planning and preparations that went into staging the feat, make for equally captivating and empowering viewing.

Told through a series of interviews, original footage and stylish re-enactments, Man on Wire intersperses a brief history of Petit's life with a re-telling of the measures he and his team went to in order to infiltrate the two towers and stage the dazzling performance.

The film's story begins as Petit – who, 35 years on, remains a charmingly eccentric showman, physically re-enacting key parts of his tale during his interviews – shares the amusing circumstances that planted the idea in his mind: as a boy, Petit saw an article about the construction of the World Trade Center in a newspaper in a dentist's waiting room. Fascinated, Petit faked a sneeze while tearing out the article and fled from the waiting room.

A street performer by profession, Petit planned and executed a number of illegal high-wire acts before conquering the World Trade Center, including tightrope walks at Notre Dame de Paris and the Sydney Harbour Bridge, both of which are wonderfully documented here (upon his arrest after the Australia stunt, Petit swiped a policeman's watch, unbeknownst to its wearer). But with one eye constantly on the construction of New York's Twin Towers, Petit set about planning his thrilling act.

With all the excitement of a classic heist film, Man on Wire director James Marsh engagingly retells the complex preparations Petit and his collaborators undertook in order to safely plan the stunt's execution. Part of this film's real thrill – which I won't spoil for you here – is seeing the ingenious plot unfold as the team overcame various obstacles, from smuggling more than a tonne of equipment to the highest floors of the towers to figuring out how to secure a cable between the two buildings over 400 metres above ground level. As a fictional film, it would have made for entertaining viewing; knowing that the whole affair is true makes it spellbinding.

The moment Petit steps out onto the high-wire was sadly not caught on film, but the series of photographs capturing this extraordinary act are breathtaking, particularly accompanied by Man on Wire's brilliant soundtrack. When the police arrived, Petit's collaborators recount how he moved toward the safety of the buildings to give himself over before cheekily turning around and heading back out along the tightrope.

His subsequent arrest and admittance to a mental asylum adds an extra layer to this entrancing documentary. An amazing story amazingly told.

24: Season 7 (2009)

2009-01-17T07:17:00.007+11:00

Spoilers for 24: Season 7 ("11:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m.")

After the two-hour taster that was 24: Redemption, the world's best (and only) real-time thriller series is back in all its day-long glory.

Having been subpoenaed from the fictional African nation of Sangala, Jack Bauer is facing trial as part of the now-disbanded CTU. Within minutes of the trial beginning, he's summoned by the FBI who are investigating a number of technology thefts, seemingly orchestrated by none other than Tony Almeida, Jack's long-dead colleague.

It's been two years since 24's sixth season performed one of television's finest ever displays of shark-jumping, but its creators promised a major overhaul this year. Have we got it?

Four hours in, my answer is: yes and no. The shift of location from Los Angeles to Washington is a welcome move and the show's directors unafraid to show it off with lingering shots of various Washington landmarks. In scrapping CTU, 24's creators have also ditched most of the sixth season cast (wise move: they were mostly insipid).

There are still a few familiar faces; most notably, Carlos Bernard's Tony Almeida has been resurrected as a bad guy only to have his alliance clarified within the first few episodes – he's actually undercover, despite dabbling with the villains for a couple of years after his alleged death (I'm still not convinced that it was always intended to bring Tony back from the dead, but as it looks like we're stuck with him and his annoying facial hair, I'll move swiftly on). Almeida's working with his former CTU colleagues Chloe O'Brian and Bill Buchanan who are operating outside the government in order to topple a far-reaching conspiracy within it.

It's a step in the right direction, but I wish 24's producers had gone further in shaking up the show. Having Jack work outside a government organisation is a neat idea, but he's been disobeying orders for so many years that it's basically the same thing. The FBI, meanwhile, is little more than a stripped-down CTU complete with bickering employees, large quantities of meaningless technobabble, scurrying extras and you guessed it: moles.

Meanwhile, in the White House, President Allison Taylor (played by a slightly-too-grandmotherly Cherry Jones) is faced with the difficult decision of withdrawing US troops from Sangala after being threatened by the terrorist group Tony has been undercover with. Her husband has been investigating the death of their son (last seen alive in 24: Redemption), which was officially ruled a suicide. Oh, and yep: the White House apparently has its fair share of hidden traitors, too.

Season five gave us a brilliant conspiracy story, which was a great culmination of 24's staple plot device of moles. But given we're stuck with it this season, I'd like to see our heroes unearth a slippery organisation (kind of like Quantum in the new Bond films) that are the real driving force behind the copious numbers of traitors found within the government over the past six seasons; something to something to tie this overdone plot device together and prove that the US government's screening process is actually mildly effective.

In any case, it's great to see 24 prove it has a bit more life left in its old ticker.

DVDs of Solace

2009-01-16T02:12:00.001+11:00

For those who girls and boys who like to watch Daniel Craig shirtless and blowing stuff up respectively, Quantum of Solace has been announced on DVD and Blu-ray Disc for release in March.

There's a single-disc edition and a two-disc special edition, but both are a bit light on extras, making it clear that a second, better set will hit shelves around the time the 23rd James Bond flick arrives in cinemas. That said, if the follow-up release is anything like the swanky, extras-laden three-disc edition of Casino Royale, I won't complain.

The artwork, based on the film's posters, is below. I like.

Prison Break’s run comes to an end

2009-01-15T02:52:00.010+11:00

So, Fox has opted to not renew Prison Break beyond its current fourth season. The news shouldn't come as a huge surprise to fans of the show, as it was widely speculated that Prison Break would not return next season.

Guardian columnist Charlie Brooker once described Prison Break as "the quintessential artefact of a civilisation sliding into absolute babbling madness", which, on the face of it, might be a fair assessment of the show's high-concept but patently absurd premise (man deliberately gets caught robbing a bank in order to break his innocent brother out of prison). However, the concept soon developed into a much grander storyline involving shadowy conspiracies and the like.

I'm a big fan of serialised dramas, so Prison Break was right up my alley, even if it doesn't touch the likes of 24 or Lost. The show's first year got a surprising amount of mileage out of its gimmicky concept, while the second season saw the show successfully expand into a Fugitive-esque thriller; special nod to the introduction of corrupt FBI agent Alexander Mahone, fascinatingly played by William Fichtner, instantly joining the hallowed echelons of New-Characters-Who-Join-Existing-Shows-And-Who-Fit-In-Oh-So-Bloody-Brilliantly.

The wheels began to fall off during Prison Break's strike-shortened third season. The new, exotic location (Panama) was the equivilant of giving a fresh coat of paint to a rickety old house. It wasn't bad television, but it was very familiar territory.

I haven't seen any of the fourth season yet, but Fox boss Kevin Reilly's comments that the show would be creatively stretched beyond its current season seem perfectly reasonable to me. Then again, I'm still floored that TV's king of gimmicks, 24, is approaching its eighth season.

Another six or so episodes of Prison Break will be filmed before the show is locked up for good.

In Bruges (2008)

2009-01-14T02:20:00.007+11:00

These days, an original idea is a rare thing in cinema. In addition to the abundance of sequels, prequels, adaptations, remakes, reboots, reimaginings and reinterpretations thrust upon us each week, so many of the remaining films that get served up on screen are the same stale meal reheated and repackaged.

Yet there's a refreshing delight to be found in the occasional film that manages to take the same old ingredients – to continue with this clumsy metaphor – and turn them into something new and tasty. Which brings us to In Bruges, Martin McDonagh's surprising black comedy that breathes new life into the British gangster flick.

Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell play a pair of Irish hitmen instructed by their handler (Ralph Fiennes) to lie low in Bruges for a couple of weeks. Gleeson's Ken is a seasoned assassin with an unexpectedly mild-mannered side, who relishes the opportunity to soak up the atmosphere and culture of the medievil Belgian city. Farrell's Ray, on the other hand, is a novice assassin, tortured by his first botched job, who becomes instantly bored with Bruges.

When Ray stumbles onto a cheap movie being shot in the city centre ("They're filming midgets!" he excitedly exclaims), the duo inadvertantly become entangled with a pair of con artists, hard drugs, prostitutes and a racist dwarf. Things go from bad to worse when their handler, Harry, informs Ken of the real reason behind their exile to Bruges.

It all sounds a bit generic, but McDonagh's script is ripe with quick-witted dialogue and black humour, evocative of a restrained Quentin Tarantino or Guy Ritchie flick. In Bruges is eminently quotable and features some truly hilarious exchanges, including a fiery Harry acting incensed that Ray isn't enjoying himself in Bruges ("How's a fairytale town not somebody's f***ing thing?") and Ray sharing his theory that dwarfs have higher suicide rates (with the exception of "the R2D2 man ... he's still going").

There's also a great sequence in which Ken, alone in his and Ray's shared hotel room, elaborately fakes Ray's exit in order to trick Harry into thinking Ray was there in the first place, only to have to repeat the ordeal when Harry suspects Ray never left at all.

The cast – particularly the starring trio of Farrell, Gleeson and Fiennes – are on top form, clearly energised by McDonagh's unique script. Like Pierce Brosnan, who also brilliantly played a tortured hitman in black comedy The Matador, Gleeson and Farrell succeed in making their assassins relatable, human characters (the latter took home a Golden Globe for his role here). Fiennes, meanwhile, is delightfully intense as the duo's boss. Their strong performances pay off as the film's characters converge for the inevitable shoot-out climax.

The city of Bruges is also as visible a character in this film as the hitmen who descend upon it. Bruges comes in for a right bollocking throughout ("It's in Belgium," the film's characters are frequently informing each other, as if it's the most obscure place on Earth), before its quaint virtues eventually come to light. Having visited Bruges myself, it truly is the perfect city to fulfil its purpose here.

With plenty of swearing and an overly violent climax, In Bruges might not be everybody's cup of tea. But for anyone after a hilarious and inventive black comedy with some star performances, look no further than In Bruges.

Seven Pounds (2008)

2009-01-12T05:33:00.006+11:00

As my girlfriend and I purchased tickets this weekend for Seven Pounds, the attendant instead gave us two passes for Quantum of Solace. Innocent mistake or was she trying to spare us the 123 uneven minutes that comprise this messily-plotted Will Smith vehicle?

Many critics have called Seven Pounds something of a vanity project for Smith. It's difficult to disagree. Released at a time when cinemas are flooded with Oscar bait, Seven Pounds seems to be screaming, "Nominate me!" And therein lies the film's major problem: it screams. Constantly. Nothing about it is subtle. Seven Pounds seems to exist purely to go for the heartstrings; but it does so at the expense of logical storytelling.

Smith plays Ben Thomas, an emotional IRS auditor who sets about altering the lives of seven complete strangers. Ben's motivations are hinted at throughout the picture, but never explicitly revealed until the film's harrowing conclusion. The result leaves the audience either bewildered at the meandering plot unfolding before them, or if, like me, they figure out Ben's intentions and motivations early on, impatiently watching the characters behave in implausibly erratic ways in order to withhold the inevitable reveal.

The picture's climax is simultaneously moving and sickening, leaving the audience confused as to what reaction Smith's character is supposed to ultimately provoke. Most damningly, however, the conclusion of the film – and, thus, the film itself – collapses under any kind of logical or scientific scrutiny. Moreover, its weighty themes of suicide and self-sacrifice aren't handled particularly delicately or explored as well as they could have been.

Seven Pounds does contain some worthy performances. Smith gives a decent, if slightly overplayed turn as the unnecessarily mysterious Ben, while Rosario Dawson and Woody Harrelson are among the able supporting players restricted by Grant Nieporte's heavy-handed script.

Gabriele Muccino, who helmed The Pursuit of Happyness, re-teams with Smith here, but his direction is fairly run-of-the-mill and often uneven; the film's occasional stabs at humour are frequently misjudged.

Seven Pounds isn't necessarily bad, but it's difficult to determine precisely why this film was made and who it was made for. Occasionally moving, it seeks to be empowering, but winds up both baffling and depressing.

24: Redemption (2008)

2009-01-11T04:06:00.014+11:00

After its nearly flawless Emmy award-winning fifth year, real-time thriller 24 returned for the 2007 season with an opening quartet of episodes that culminated in a nuclear bomb being detonated in Los Angeles. What a setup! Tragically, within hours, 24 proceeded to jump the shark in spectacular style. For a show where contrivances are frequent but often excusable, this was no mean feat.

Having squandered a terrific premise, 24 went on to deliver a preposterous storyline about Jack Bauer's heretofore unmentioned father and brother being in kahootz with terrorists. Like a devoted fanboy, I refused to leave 24's side, optimistic that the show would make a recovery. I watched hopefully as big-name veteran actors like Powers Boothe and James Cromwell were brought in and swiftly wasted. 24's condition worsened and the sixth season's final moments saw Kiefer Sutherland's Jack Bauer mournfully looking downwards over the edge of a cliff. Hmm. Perhaps it was time.

Rather than slipping away, 24 – plot threads dangling – entered a coma, becoming one of the major casualties of the 2008 Writers Guild of America strike. Soon after the strike's commencement, 24's producers announced that the seventh season would be postponed until 2009.

Instead of denying us any real-time action in 2008, Fox announced 24: Exile (later retitled, rather appropriately, 24: Redemption), a two-hour telemovie to bridge the gap between the show's sixth and seventh seasons.

Having been served a subpoena by the American government for torture, Jack Bauer is lying low in the fictional African nation of Sangala, helping long-time friend Carl Benton (Robert Carlyle) with missionary work at a school. When the school is raided by militia from a rogue general who is plotting a coup, Bauer springs into action.

Meanwhile, in Washington, the United States is preparing to swear in its first female president, played by Cherry Jones (24 famously ticked the first black president box in its early years). A childhood friend of her son's has just stumbled across evidence that someone within the American government might be bankrolling the coup in Sangala.

I watched an extended cut on DVD, so I'm not sure what was broadcast and what wasn't, but a plot based around child soldiers is fairly dark stuff for American commercial television. Mind you, this is offset by the film's Washington cast who are so ridiculously good-looking, it makes you feel nauseatingly repulsive in comparison. Speaking of attractive things, 24: Redemption makes great use of its fresh locations (South Africa doubles for Sangala), which is promising for the show's Washington-based seventh season.

That said, the Washington-set stuff in this telemovie was probably the only bum note for me (with the exceptions of Powers Boothe and Peter MacNicol briefly reprising their sixth season roles). I have no doubt Cherry Jones will be given something useful to do in the show's seventh year, but her appearance here was primarily to establish her presidency. The subplot involving her son was fairly unengaging, despite Jon Voight popping up occasionally to look all menacing and mysterious.

On the upside, Kiefer Sutherland's devotion to the character refuses to waver (his performance remained the strongest element of the rubbish sixth season). It was fantastic to see Bauer in a location other than the United States. Carlyle gives a similarly enthusiastic turn, as do Tony Todd and Hakeem Kae-Kazim as the telemovie's villains.

Long-time 24 helmer Jon Cassar's direction is adequate, while Sean Callery's score is suitably exotic. Unfortunately, if you're aware of the cast and storyline of the seventh season, it's all a bit predictable. Nevertheless, 24: Redemption fits in the upper tier of Jack Bauer's adventures and points to a brighter future for the show.

Having seen the opening 17 minutes of the season seven premiere (which airs tomorrow), I'm pleased to say the show appears to be back on track. Despite an implausible return from a long-dead character and some extraneous FBI bickering that replaces the extraneous CTU bickering of past seasons, Jack Bauer's seventh day from hell looks to be a return to form for the groundbreaking action series, which is just as well: 24's eighth season begins shooting in April for broadcast in 2010.

Ten films to bet on in 2009

2009-01-09T02:13:00.005+11:00

The cinema gods are vengeful gods, for 2008 was the year we were blessed with The Dark Knight and punished with Mamma Mia!. What does 2009 have in store? Read on for my picks...

Watchmen (6 March, 2009?)
Potentially The Dark Knight of 2009, the film adaptation of Watchmen is currently the subject of a bitter legal battle that may see its release postponed into 2010. I haven't read Watchmen yet, but it's considered to be the most critically-acclaimed graphic novel ever (it even made Time's 100 best novels of all-time). The amazing trailers show that the film appears to do it justice.

This Side of the Truth (20 March, 2009)
Ricky Gervais' feature film directorial debut is a high-concept comedy set in a world where lying was never invented. Gervais has assembled an impressive cast, including Jennifer Garner, Rob Lowe, Tina Fey, Jonah Hill, Christopher Guest, Patrick Stewart and cameos from Gervais regulars Stephen Merchant and Karl Pilkington.

Star Trek (8 May, 2009)
Star Trek! What a geeky recommendation, I hear you cry. Fair point, too. But before you start hurling insults my way, like, er, Trekkie, let me tell you that this instalment is helmed by none other than J.J. Abrams, the genius who gave us TV's Lost and Alias, as well as the enjoyable Mission: Impossible III. Abrams is a master of high-quality popcorn entertainment and if anyone could get me into a cinema to watch a bunch of fellows with pointy ears and bowl haircuts, it's him.

Angels and Demons (15 May, 2009)
The critics predictably bashed it, but I actually loved Ron Howard's adaptation of The Da Vinci Code. Angels and Demons, though, is the superior book. It loses the huge amounts of exposition that were necessary in The Da Vinci Code and opts for a simpler race-against-time plot that sees Robert Langdon (played again by Tom Hanks) trying to stop a plot to destroy Vatican City on the eve of the papal election. Ewan McGregor, Ayelet Zurer and Stellan Skarsgård co-star.

Terminator Salvation (22 May, 2009)
Never thought I'd see a McG film on my most-anticipated list (he's to blame for those God-awful Charlie's Angels flicks), but here we are. Christian Bale is onboard to once again resurrect a dormant franchise and the trailers are looking rather spiffy. Don't expect it to reach the heights of Terminator 2, but with a script by reboot masters Jonathan Nolan (The Dark Knight) and Paul Haggis (Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace), it doesn't look like the write-off it could have been.

Up (29 May, 2009)
WALL•E set a phenomenally high bar for Pixar, but they're notorious for topping themselves. A 3D re-release of Toy Story is also set for later in the year.

Public Enemies (1 July, 2009)
Johnny Depp and Christian Bale team up with Michael Mann (the director who gave us Heat and Collateral) for this crime drama set during the Great Depression. Two actors at the height of their careers and one of the best crime directors around – what's not to like?

Inglourious Basterds (21 August, 2009)
Love him or hate him, Quentin Tarantino is one of the most influential filmmakers around. He's back after the commercial stumble that was his Robert Rodriguez collaboration, Grindhouse, with this clumsily-spelled wartime epic. Brad Pitt, Diane Kruger and Mike Myers head up a huge cast list.

Sherlock Holmes (20 November, 2009)
The more serious of two Holmes films currently in production, Guy Ritchie's take on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous detective sees Robert Downey Jr. as the title character and Jude Law as Watson. Scenes for the film were being shot at London's St Paul's Cathedral when I visited there in October. (For those curious, the second Holmes pic is a comedy starring Sacha Baron Cohen and Will Ferrell...)

Avatar (18 December, 2009)
James Cameron returns to the director's chair for the first time since blockbuster mush-fest Titanic. Sci-fi pic Avatar uses groundbreaking 3D technology that's predicted to finally put 3D cinema on the map.

Runners-up
Coraline (6 February, 2009): surreal stop-motion adaptation from the director of The Nightmare Before Christmas, starring Dakota Fanning, Ian McShane and Teri Hatcher.
X-Men Origins: Wolverine (1 May, 2009): spin-off exploring Wolverine's formative years; can the X-Men franchise bounce back after the lacklustre Last Stand?
Brüno (15 May, 2009): Sacha Baron Cohen's Borat follow-up will also likely offend and entertain in equal measure.
Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (26 June, 2008): more big, dumb action with extra-special effects from Michael Bay.
Green Zone (TBC): Matt Damon and Paul Greengrass reteam for this film about the American reconstruction project in Iraq.

Anyway, those are my bets for 2009. If any of them turn out to be rubbish, I apologise. If all of them turn out to be rubbish, blame the cinema gods.

YouTune

2009-01-08T02:48:00.006+11:00

For the past few days, I've been completely unable to get Weezer's "Pork and Beans" (from their self-titled sixth album) out of my head.

It's got an incredibly infectious chorus and some great lyrics about being yourself, gleefully raising the proverbial middle finger at people who call others down.

The real hook, though, is its trippy music video, which is actually a three-minute tribute to the numerous "celebrities" YouTube has created. Many of the references went over my head, but there were a few I'd come across in the past. Weezer managed to actually round up dozens of these (in)famous faces to star, including the Evolution of Dance guy (YouTube's most watched video ever with over 100 million views!), the Miss Teen USA candidate who gave an incomprehensible answer to a simple question, the Numa Numa bloke, and, bizarrely, the guy who bawled his eyes out at Britney Spears' treatment by the press (which I won't link to because it's all a bit tragic and you know who I mean anyway).

Other YouTube phenomena are also paid tribute to, including Daft Hands, the guy who wore 155 t-shirts at once and that brilliant Diet Coke/Mentos experiment. The Sneezing Panda even gets a little cameo during the video's epic finale.

Admittedly, most of those videos aren't worth the time of day. In fact, I'd be the first to admit that YouTube is full of irritating gonks after their five minutes of fame. But the difference with the acts Weezer have selected is that, for the most part, "fame" seems to have been thrust upon them. And it's not the kind of fame most people would pine for; incessant cyber-mocking might be a more fitting description. Which is precisely why the song works.

Even if the video clip's over your head, there's no doubt the song will become stuck in it.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

2009-01-07T03:51:00.007+11:00

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, F. Scott Fitzgerald's 1921 short story about a man who ages backwards, has been adapted into a sprawling three-hour epic... by David Fincher. Yes, David Fincher of Fight Club and Alien³ fame.

There's no doubt that it's a "curious" choice for Fincher (see what I did there?), but this is an engaging film that resonates with genuine emotion.

Told in flashback, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button charts the title character's life from his birth at the end of the first World War and subsequent abandonment by his horrified father, to his difficulties in finding his place in the world, and ultimately his coming to terms with growing younger as everyone he knows is getting older and dying. It's a lengthy film where, for once, the runtime is justified. Eric Roth's screenplay ensures that Button's life is ripe for exploration; the character's fairy tale-like condition never feels like a gimmick.

Brad Pitt roles tend to fall into one of two categories. There are the parts he was born to play (such as his previous Fincher collaboration, Fight Club) and the parts that ooze "Hey, hey! It's Brad Pitt!" stunt casting (like the celebrity love-in Ocean's series or the disappointing Burn After Reading). Benjamin Button lands firmly in the former category. It is, quite simply, an Oscar-worthy turn in what is probably an Oscar-worthy film. It's a tremendously tricky role to pull off but Pitt gives the character a hefty dose of humanity. Button's condition could easily be played for laughs (and there are more than a few in the film, including an amusing running joke involving a man reminiscing about being hit by lightning seven times), but Pitt wonderfully balances the tragedy of Button's condition with a beautiful depiction of his unrelenting joie de vivre. You really believe in his affliction.

Cate Blanchett plays Daisy Fuller, Button's main romantic interest, whom he meets early (i.e. late) in his life and with whom he becomes romantically involved when they approach the same age. Blanchett may be the film's only significant blight. There are times when she suits the part, but the chemistry between the pair isn't quite stellar. I never got a genuine sense of why Daisy was "the one" for Benjamin.

What's interesting is that we are never shown an attempt to diagnose or cure Button's disease. Only twice in the film is he seen in the presence of a doctor – once as a child with the symptoms of an old man and once as an old man with the symptoms of a child. The decision to not focus on the condition itself but rather on living with it pays off. Attempting to explain the disease would have only weakened the film.

The picture also contains some truly standout scenes, including Button's first brush with unnatural death during the second World War and a fascinating sequence in which he details the unfortunate chain of unconnected events that leads Daisy to be hit by a taxi (even if there's no way Button could have known about these).

Technically, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is just as impressive. There's a terrific soundtrack and some gorgeous cinematography, both of which befit the eras that the film spans. The effects used to achieve Button's aged look early in the film are particularly convincing.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a melancholic allegory on life and death, equal parts poignant and uplifting, and a worthy addition to the Oscar race.

Bless you

2009-01-06T03:45:00.010+11:00

During my introductory post on this blog, I implied that tabloid newspapers were completely and utterly 100 percent useless.

The very next day, I was sitting on the bus beside a couple of dishevelled old men, one of whom tore a page out of a discarded Metro (possibly the business section) and furiously blew his nose on it.

I stand corrected.

Elsewhere on the future of humanity, Guardian columnist and God among men, Charlie Brooker, has posted a characteristically optimistic New Year's message, in which he predicts unabated joy and happiness to spread forth among mankind in 2009.

Or not.

Mark my words, you'd be wise to practice your romancing skills now, because
when, circa October, we're huddled together in shelters sharing body heat to
survive, the ability to whisper sweet nothings could prove useful. Come the
dawn, you'll need to pair up with someone to go hunting for supplies with, and
it'll help if you've been cuddling all night. The world outside will be
dangerous, so there'll have to be two of you. One to root through the abandoned
Woolworth's stockrooms and another to stand outside warding off fellow
scavengers with a flaming rag on a stick.

Amen, Charlie.

Quantum of Solace (2008)

2009-01-05T04:32:00.009+11:00

I know, I know. I'm a bit of a Bond geek. But with a new film, the wonderfully-titled-no-matter-what-anyone-else-says Quantum of Solace, raking in cash at the box office, it seemed as good a time as any to share my thoughts.

Daniel Craig returns as the rebooted Bond, now transformed into a ruthless killing machine after the death of his beloved Vesper at Casino Royale's conclusion (Quantum of Solace is the first true Bond sequel). 007 sets off to expose the mysterious organisation that blackmailed Vesper and, in the process, discovers a plot to monopolise Bolivia's water supply.

Having spectacularly overcome the unjustified media taunts that accompanied his casting as Bond, Craig settles back into 007's battered shoes with ease. Quantum of Solace is one of the most action-packed entries in the series, but Craig energetically nails these sequences as well as he does the drama (i.e. very). The man is, quite simply, the best James Bond ever. Forgive me, Sean Connery, for I have sinned.

There are moments when Quantum of Solace exudes brilliance. The scene in which 007 eavesdrops on a gathering of baddies at an Austrian performance of Tosca is beautifully executed, while a dizzying fight on the collapsing scaffolding in an art gallery is a great set piece. Director Marc Forster strives to achieve a distinct feel for the film – from the cutaways that parallel the action taking place on-screen to the unique title cards announcing each location – that results in the Bond series gaining some welcome artistic integrity.

The film also contains terrific supporting performances. Special nods to Olga Kurylenko, as a genuinely different kind of Bond girl, and Dame Judi Dench, in an expanded role for her sixth appearance as spymaster M. Acclaimed French actor Mathieu Amalric gives a creepily understated performance as main villain Dominic Greene. Jesper Christensen's brilliant Mr White returns from Casino Royale, as does Giancarlo Giannini as Bond's faithful ally René Mathis.

The script, from Neal Purvis, Robert Wade and Oscar winner Paul Haggis, is steeped in surprisingly murky politics. The villains operate in plain sight and the British and American governments are happy to get in bed with them so long as oil is promised. It's a refreshing development that gives Craig, Dench and Jeffrey Wright (back as CIA agent Felix Leiter) some meaty scenes to chew on. It's a shame that the strong writing is often drowned out by an abundance of action.

Unfortunately, Quantum of Solace's few flaws disappointingly keep it from reaching the dizzying heights of Casino Royale. The theme song and title sequence are letdowns, while the film itself is far too tightly edited. Quantum of Solace is the shortest Bond flick to date, despite the fact it contains just as much action. A few more dramatic scenes would have helped the audience catch their collective breath. The action sequences themselves also suffer due to overly tight editing. As much as I appreciate the attempt to throw viewers into the thick of the action, some wider shots to establish a context would have made it more engaging.

Despite these blemishes, Quantum of Solace admirably pushes James Bond even further away from the silliness of many of the pre-Craig films. It's a dark, intense and emotional journey and one that improves upon repeat viewings.

Death of a President (2006)

2009-01-04T04:59:00.013+11:00

What if George W. Bush was assassinated?

Before the secret service busts down my door, rifles in hand, this isn't a question posed by me, but rather the premise of the compelling, provocative and controversial faux-documentary, Death of a President.

A seamless mix of real archival footage, doctored material and original film, Death of a President is presented as a contemporary documentary exploring the fictional assassination of the 43rd president of the United States of America in Chicago, Illinois on 19 October, 2007.

The central conceit gives the impression that Death of a President is nothing more than an offensive, headline-grabbing stunt depicting the murder of the controversial world leader. Reaction prior to its premiere on British TV network More4 was predictably outraged. Yet as the film unfolds, it becomes apparent that the assassination of Bush is never celebrated and the repercussions of the event are entirely negative.

The first half of the film deals with the lead-up to the assassination, as Bush attends a conference at a hotel in Chicago where a major anti-war demonstration is taking place. As the President delivers his speech inside, the nearby rally becomes increasingly aggressive. With Bush's death serving as the documentary's midway point, the filmmakers take the time to paint a convincing picture of the kind of meticulous security preparations that would actually take place on this sort of occasion. It's a lengthy set-up, but necessary to give the film the development it needs to prove its premise is not a cheap gimmick.

The inevitable scene in which Bush takes two bullets while walking down the rope line is not dwelled upon. It's a handful of suitably chaotic seconds shot using a range of equipment – digital cameras, handheld cameras, security cameras, even mobile phone cameras – in order to realistically represent how the incident might be captured on film. The shooting is shown only once and in no way is it glamourised or applauded. His eventual death in hospital is leaked to the media; the unconfirmed accounts are shown in a brief montage, but, despite being fictional, the viewer still feels the kind of shock that's strictly reserved for when a major news story like this breaks. Curiously, the White House's confirmation of these reports is never shown.

The film's second half develops into a fascinating whodunit as Dick Cheney assumes the office of the President, and the United States government begins to hastily look for someone to blame for the attack. Hundreds of suspects are detained and dozens of theories are debated, giving the film the opportunity to explore such weighty topics as civil liberties and racial profiling. While the blame is periodically aimed at militant activists, Al-Qaeda, the Syrian government and others, the actual culprit's tragic story is much closer to home.

The impressively slick footage is interspersed with interviews with a range of people involved in the event, including secret service staff, Presidential advisors, members of the press and suspects. The background given to some of the interviewees is compelling, including one forensics expert who walked away from his job after being instructed to draw a premature conclusion on the examination of evidence that wasn't actually conclusive. The actors portraying the interviewees are mostly convincing, and in some cases, exceptionally so. The material with which they're given to work is largely first-rate.

While Death of a President could have been a documentary about the assassination of a fictional world leader, the film would lose much of its resonance. Bush's unpopularity may be prime bait for a script of this nature, but the film's true intent is to explore the repercussions that a President's choices – and death – would have on the world. If you can handle a film about the assassination of a real-life public figure, Death of a President is a unique and provocative docu-mystery well worth checking out.

Unsurprisingly, the film hasn't tapped the US market. However, Death of a President is finally slated for release in American cinemas less than three weeks from today, on 20 January, 2009: the date of Barack Obama's inauguration.

The Swarm (2004)

2009-01-03T03:26:00.006+11:00

For the past week or so, I've been paddling through Frank Schätzing's behemoth marine-based eco-thriller, The Swarm. It's actually a German novel that made a splash when it hit the bestseller lists and stayed afloat there for over two years. The Swarm has been beached on my bookshelf for some time now, so it's been great to finally dive in. Enough aquatic puns? Good.

Anyway, The Swarm is long. Very long. My girlfriend joked that I wouldn't be permitted to take my hardcover copy on the airplane with me because it was a) overweight luggage; and b) a potentially dangerous weapon. Both are fair points. It's massive.

Having passed the 300-page mark (approximately one-third of the book), the book is beginning to gather pace. That's not to say the first third was uninteresting; Schätzing goes to great lengths to flesh out his characters, illustrate his locations (much of the book has so far been set in British Columbia) and establish the seemingly unconnected incidents that spell out a potential global catastrophe.

The book's two main characters who, at present, are yet to meet, are well-drawn human roles; each has their own personal demons with which they're coming to grips as they attempt to nut out the truth behind the mysterious phenomenon that's causing whales to attack ships at sea, jellyfish to descend on beaches in plague proportions and oceanic worms to bring about the collapse of the North Sea shelf.

There's still 600-odd pages to go, but The Swarm is, thus far, swimming with potential. Sorry.

My vision for a utopian society

2009-01-02T12:57:00.010+11:00

So, I've decided to start another blog. Another blog, you say? Yes, another blog. Read carefully next time.

I know, I've tended to neglect blogs in the past, but they were always about trivial things like my travels around Europe or my list of things to do before I die. This, however, will be much more profound, meaningful and character-building.

Okay, maybe not. Still, I love nothing more (aside from my family and friends – I don't want to receive any angry emails) than a good film or an involving book or an addictive television programme. I also love forcing my opinions onto others in a vain attempt to change the world into a kind of utopian society where reading tabloid newspapers is a criminal offence, quality programmes such as Deadwood are mandatory viewing and the filmmakers behind tripe like Meet the Spartans are punished in the most cruel and barbaric ways imaginable. I seriously think we might attain world peace.

Failing that, at least I'll get the chance to put my university degree – which was in popular culture, the media and communications, for those of you playing along at home – to good use. Hopefully, I'll cover a good mix of (quality) popular stuff and some more obscure entertainment you won't have come across. And if I find myself in a few years' time favourably reviewing Celebrity Big Brother (or, indeed, reviewing any incarnation of Big Brother at all), I'll know that my life has completely fallen apart.

Aside from spewing forth my thoughts on all things filmic, literary and televisual, I might also get the urge to rant about more meaningful happenings in life. Consider these minor digressions.

Anyway, it all kicks off tomorrow. Ciao!