Solo: A Star Wars Story (12A)

And so the franchise continues it's exploration of the stars, looking for new and inventive ways to fill the gaps between the films that actually matter.

Two years ago we got Felicity Jones recreating scenes from The Empire Strikes Back in Rogue One, which while not terrible didn't really add anything to the universe we know and love.

Now, we have Han Solo's story. Whether we wanted it or not.

But you're not here to be badgered by my curmudgeonly musings on the state of modern cinema and the trashing of my childhood memories...

You see, in my day...

Ahh, I jest.

Kind of.

You see, this doesn't feel like they're filling in gaps in a much-loved story, or — as with the new episodes — expanding it. It feels exactly like the film it is.

Just another Star Wars film.

And that saddens me a tad, but also makes me remember the original films and their releases with far more fondness.

Anyhoo, we're not here to dwell on the past daddy-o, this is all about the now. The future. The today and tomorrow.

Or something.

I guess we should actually talk about the film.

Which, to be fair, isn't terrible. It's better than Rogue One, certainly. And is possibly on a par with the last 'proper' film.

But, let's be honest, it exists in a world that has Empire in it.

That's a tough height to hit.

But I digress again.

Solo is a perfectly fine film. The action scenes are cool, at times almost gripping, and while Alden Ehrenreich is no Harrison Ford (although he was brilliant in Hail, Caesar!) he's perfectly fine in this.

As is Emilia Clarke, the erstwhile Game Of Thrones star who ones the screen as Daenerys Targaryen.

Yet, somehow, both leads seem to blend a bit into the background and get over-shadowed by the supporting cast.

Paul Bettany is a delight, Woody Harrelson underplays to perfection, Chewie is Chewie and Donald Glover owns every scene Lando is in.

Oh, and Phoebe Waller-Bridge is absolutely brilliant as L3.

So how the hell the two stars fail to shine is something of a mystery.

Then there's the plot (and I'm being kind here).

The whole thing is basically a vehicle to illustrate a piece of Star Wars folk lore.

Two hours to show you how the famous thing actually happened.

Where there no better ideas out there?

There's a twist of sorts at the end that would have made a much better story, for crying out loud, with far more interesting characters.

And as for all the shoe-horning in of future plot references...

But hey ho, I guess the studio bosses know what the fans want.

There's another one of these things coming, which will hopefully be another upgrade, but one's hopes are not high.

For now, it's best to enjoy Solo for what it is - a not terrible tale of a character we come to love in later films.

And follow it up by actually watching the original trilogy. Because if we're not careful, we'll forget what made us love them as much as we do.

Avengers: Infinity War (12A)

As both of our regular readers will know, we're nothing if not avowed Marvel fans here at Popcorn towers.

We've got the books, we've got the tattoos, we've seen the films — we're not calling ourselves experts, but we'd like to think we sit in the 'serious fan' section at geeky get-togethers.

Which is why we surprised ourselves with our cautious approach to Infinity Wars — this was surely going to be a step too far.

Not only were we going to have sit through another endless round of battles with a HUGE cast, but with the inclusion of the excellent Black Panther AND the Guardians Of The Galaxy, the whole thing got HUGER.

This thing was just going to collapse in on itself from the weight of the cast alone...

Then there's the small matter of the last three Marvel films.

All three — Guardians, Panther and Thor Three — all set the bar so high there was just no way something so weighed down could hope to clear it.

Not a hope in Hell.

But then the first message arrived. There were a lot of exclamation marks.

Then plans were made to see it. Fears aside, it's what we do. We can't miss one, can we?

And it takes just 10 minutes for our tiny little minds to be blown.

Infinity War not only clears the bar that's now been set, it raises it to a whole new level.

Picking up from where Ragnarok left off, Infinity War is dark, complex, funny, shocking and packs so much emotional punch it's like being walloped by an tearful Hulk.

Comic book movies aren't meant to reduce an entire cinema screening to a breath-held silence, but that happens more than once.

It was the kind of silence you can hear. You could tell no one was doing anything other than staring at the big screen with hearts in mouths.

And I still don't know how directors Anthony and Joe Russo pulled this one off — how they got away with what unfolds.

The last time I left a cinema in this state of awestruck silence was T2 FFS...

It very quickly becomes apparent that all bets are off, and in making such a bold move a new level of jeopardy is introduced which heightens the tension.

Then there's the way the disparate groups are woven together.

Everyone gets time to shine before being thrown headlong into the blender, with the final groupings not being what you would expect.

For that, full credit must go to writers Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely.

Their use of humour at just the right moments is also worthy of noting.

Because, a Deadpool gagfest this is not.

This is a dark, dark movie from the off, and that's just one of the things we love about it.

That and the fact we lost count of the number of times we suddenly found ourselves holding our breath.

Not to mention sitting bolt-upright, screaming NOOOOOOOOOO silently in our heads.

In fact, there's just so much going on, it's proving really hard to review because there's so much we could talk about but they would all be a spoiler of some kind.

This is actually one of the hardest reviews we can remember writing.

What we can say:

• There's not a single bad performance
• The fight scenes are positively visceral 
• It's gripping
• It in no way feels like its two-and-a-half hour running time
• It has the epic scope of Lord Of The Rings

There are, of course, some negatives. 

At least one character appears to just vanish, and there are times when you wish they'd just kept the camera still for two minutes.

But really, that's it. 

The stand-out performance comes from a very unexpected quarter, and the story is not about what you would think, and what could have been a bloated vanity project is a gripping roller coaster of a movie that pulls no punches and changes the game.

This is no normal Marvel film, but it proves once again just how much work DC have to do to catch up. 

We'll be off to see it again at the earliest opportunity.

Marillion: All One Tonight — Live At The Albert Hall

It is to my eternal shame and embarrassment that I have never — at time of writing — seen Marillion live.

I've been a fan since Sugar Mice tickled my young, tender ears, and like a dutiful geek I hoovered up the back catalogue like a rat in a punnet of blueberries.

Then disaster.

A stunning double live album marked a parting of the ways, the Scottish one left and the young English one stepped into his giant shoes.

And while Hooks In You seemed like a good start for the band, it was the far darker and more complex Vigil In A Wilderness Of Mirrors that held my sway.

And so it was, me clinging to the old band while they went off in a new, alien direction.

Then Brave happened.

Those five lucky folks who shared a flat with me in my first year at university may well remember the album too, as Alone Again In The Lap Of Luxury and — in particular — Hard As Love became part of the soundtrack of my chequered love life.

And so I was reunited with Aylesbury's finest. And so we have kept each other company over the years.

Sure, there have been times when we haven't been so close (I still struggle with Radiation), but when we've connected — Afraid Of Sunlight, say — life has been joyous.

And so it was when F.E.A.R landed in 2016.

An album full of passion and anger, it seemed to be exactly what the world needed to hear at that moment.

It was a dark, complex, wonderful, beautiful piece of work — and one we had no choice but to name our Album Of The Year.

The fact we missed out on getting tickets for last year's Albert Hall show took a bit of the shine off the album's success, but time heals all wounds.

Especially when an e-mail lands, offering you the chance to review the live DVD that was filmed at the show we failed to get tickets to.

Wonderful stuff.

And so, with cuppa on, 'full screen' enabled and the big headphones deployed to shut out everything we settle down for Disc 1...

...and emerge, just over an hour later, wanting to wallow in the whole thing all over again.

It's not always possible to capture the energy and atmosphere of a live show on film — which is the main reason we're not massive fans of them — but on All One Tonight Marillion have managed just that.

With the audience and band sharing a special bond, the love and pride that envelopes this show sweeps off the screen and makes you feel part of the event.

The first disc is F.E.A.R played in full, and live it's a bigger, darker, bolder beast than it's studio counterpart.

The visuals of the live show are also blended well with the band's performance and the audience's reactions.

Everything sweeps, everything soars, the band are on top form and front and centre Steve Hogarth, very much the eye of the storm.

He's not a massive ego fronting a big band, which takes a few seconds to get your head round. Instead, in a beautifully understated way, he's the conduit — the special link between the music and the audience.

And you can tell he thinks both are more important than he is, he just loves being there in the middle of it all.

And that's the other thing that comes across very, very clearly — just how much fun the band is having on this special night.

Then we move onto disc two, and we find the band augmented with a string quartet, a french horn player and a flutist.

For the second half of the show, Marillion take you through their back catalogue — with songs old and new given new depth and life with the addition of the extra musicians.

Well, I say old.

What becomes clear as you enjoy the band's back catalogue is that they stop at Easter (the song, not the egg-feasting holiday).

Nothing from the 'old' band is aired — and you don't miss them at all.

Because when you realise watching this lot have so much fun on that hallowed stage is just how many great songs they've amassed in the last 30 years.

You also realise just how good a band they are.

Sure, anyone can sound good in a studio — but to recreate it live? With extra musicians? At The Albert Frickin' Hall????

They're a bit special.

And, humble. And normal.

Which is what comes across so clearly in the half-hour documentary.

As the band talk about putting on the show and the rehearsals and planning, none of them are anything but awestruck by the venue they'll be performing in.

It takes something special for a band to still be going — and producing great new material — after more than 35 years together.

And what this DVD captures is that something special. The chemistry within the band and the chemistry they have with their audience.

And to top it all off, we're finally going to see them live in a couple of weeks. I imagine the band will be delighted...

* The special edition of All One Tonight will be available here once it's back in stock. If you could hold off ordering yours til we've got ours, that would be dandy.

The Shape Of Water (15)

Sometimes it takes you ages to get round to seeing a film. Things get in the way, dates get moved, and anticipation just builds.

Sometimes this results in a crashing disappointment, as the build-up runs headlong into reality.

Sometimes, that film is The Shape Of Water.

Already lauded and feted by the great and good of awards lad, I've been itching to see this since first hearing about it.

The trailers intrigued without giving anything away, and it was good to see Abe Sapien being given a chance to flex his gills...

And then there's Sally Hawkins of course. Never knowingly done a duffer that lass...

And so we settle into our seats, and within moments the rustling of a sweetie bag several rows back drifts into the air as the magic of Guillermo Del Toro wafts over us.

And two hours later, slightly sniffy and damp of eye, we surface back into an unwelcome reality, wishing we could have stayed in the world GDT has created.

In between, a multi-layered fairytale is told, with monsters and love fighting for supremacy.

Honestly, the more you watch GDT's work, the more you wish he'd been allowed to do the Hobbit...

(A point of clarification quickly - Pacific Rim NEVER HAPPENED. Got that? Good...)

The story centres on Hawkins' character, Elisa, a mute cleaner in a top secret lab in 1960s America.

She discovers they have a special creature in a tank (Doug Jones doing his usual bang-up job), and over time a relationship is formed.

When not at work, she lives down the hall from her friend Giles (Richard Jenkins) and his cats.

And she takes baths.

And boils eggs.

All of which become important at various points.

Meanwhile, Michael Shannon is banging about the place as Richard Strickland, a bully who treats funny creatures from odd places with disdain and a cattle prod.

And so, as the film weaves its way, a tale of loneliness, isolation, alienation, humanity, compassion, and cats engulfs you, leaving you warm and fuzzy at the end.

This is fairytale storytelling and film making at it's very best.

Every character is well drawn, every scene thought out, every TV clip in the background (look, there's Mr Ed!) dropped in with a knowing wink...

...this is simply breathtaking stuff.

Hawkins herself has never been better.

Without being able to resort to dialogue she brings to life a character who is alone but not lonely, fragile but strong - and over the course of the film, we all fall in love with her.

Shannon, meanwhile, is brilliantly horrible, the real ogre of the piece, a man you would happily boo if you weren't in a room with 30-odd other humans.

Alongside these two, the wonderful Octavia Spencer and the ever dependable Richard Jenkins and Michael Stuhlbarg provide valuable support - and again, each character is fully rounded and engaging.

Then there's the small matter of the film itself.

Shot with clear passion in lush, warm tones, The Shape Of Water is gentle - but not in a faint, soft way - while also packing some serious punch.

The violence and horror, when they come, are jaw-clenching without being shock and gore, while the nudity is handled with care rather than a lewd eye.

Something the guys over at Red Sparrow could learn about sometime.

This is, then, a film that works on many levels.

You can take it at face value - the beauty and the beast parallel is hardly hidden.

Or, you can delve a little deeper, and see how those who are alone are often not lonely, how people can be aliens in their own world, how humans can be animals while animals can be humane.

We, unsurprisingly, took the latter path and just writing those words down has us grinning warmly once more.

This is a film that doesn't need to shout in order to be heard or make an impact.

It's an anti-Michael Bay film, if you will.

There will be some, I know, who poo poo this movie as artsy faff, as style over substance - and that's fine.

To them, it is.

To those who fall under its spell, however, it's a world that needs revisiting as often as possible.

Game Night (15)

"Clever, whip-smart script", "like "Deathtrap" recast as a megaplex thriller", "hilarious gonzo comedy" — WOW! 

My kinda film (I thought, after reading these reviews). It's got Michael Bluth from Arrested Development. It's on at 11am whilst my cleaner does her fortnightly flick through. 

I can go to The Queens for lunch after. A lunchtime pint of DRAFT Old Peculiar as well! 

I arrive in an almost skittish mood (more akin to skipping school than anything remotely approaching excitement) and settle in for a fun two hours. 

I mean I love gonzo comedy and I am secretly proud of myself for stepping outside the front door. 

Bring it ON.

Now, to be fair, there are a few good one-liners which bring a chuckle to the surface. The scene setter is, well, a scene setter, so you let them off. 

Bring on les comedy gonzo! 

The minutes leading up to the plot twist are a bit of a drag...again a few chuckles but...the twist is coming. 

WOW. Seriously...I did not see that coming. 

I really, really...OK, yes i did. 

OK. Give it a chance.

I'm now thinking an early lunch is a good idea but no, I am here to review this thing...see it out. 

So I manage to get to the schmaltz that the Americans just can't avoid. I mean...COME ON!!!!!. 

Fek's sake...that's it I'm off to lunch.

Look. Do not pay good money to see this. 

Just don't. 

Wait until, say, a wet Sunday afternoon when you've had a lovely lunch and shared a few bottles and you have this recorded. You just might think it OK. 

Hopefully, you will have a lovely post-lunch sleep.

One other thing. Tell me I'm being picky. Go on. Tell me. OK. Look. 

The car chase. 

Put our heroes in the transit van and the villains in the three litre Audi and I will let you off, but please don't ask me to believe that the transit can keep overtaking the Audi. 

Just don't. 

But to then compound this by having a classic 76 Stingray being able to catch up and take out a private JET which is getting up to take-off speed? 

You are pushing my good nature Mr Director, sir!

Oh and one other thing...

When someone is losing pints of blood (I bet that scene sounded hilarious at the script meeting) don't, just don't, ask us to indulge any more holes...jeez, talk about a script disguised as a packet of polo's. 

You ask too much sir. TOO MUCH.

The lunch, however, was - as usual - excellent. Thanks for asking.

Gavin King

Red Sparrow (15)

There are many reasons to see a film - the trailer looked good, it's part of a franchise you've been following, it's got a great cast, it's on at a convenient time...

You know, lots of factors come into play when you decide to head to your local multiplex.

And you are left rueing most of them when the film is so steamingly boring you are actually considering stabbing yourself with your keys just to liven things up.

Fortunately, Red Sparrow is a spy film and you've got to go some to make a spy film dull.

I'm not saying it's impossible, just that it takes a lot of effort.

Thankfully, the team behind Red Sparrow were more than up to the challenge...

In simple terms, a ballet dancer gets recruited into the Sparrow programme, gets trained and goes on a mission.

The Sparrow programme? Well, I'm glad you asked.

Here the Russian secret service train recruits to kill, maim, torture, seduce, shag, bonk, fondle and fumble their way to their designated goal.

And if you're unsure how any of that would look, fear not - it's all laid bare for you so you don't have to tax your imagination.

It's probably worth pointing out at this juncture that Red Sparrow is a 15, although how it got away with that rating is beyond me.

The Sparrow on this occasion is one Jennifer Lawrence. Who, to be fair, hung on for a bit after winning her Oscar but is now doing the curse full justice.

And she's... good. Ish. I think.

She does cold and detached well, handles the action scenes well and looks as awkward as the audience feels when getting her kit off.

Which, to be fair, is almost certainly the point.

It's just totally unnecessary.

But then there's a lot of that here.

The Russian accents also fall into this category.

As do the many torture scenes.

And some of the dialogue.

And the bit at the end where they explain everything that happened.

To be honest, if my viewing companion wasn't "kind of" enjoying it, I don't think I'd have made it to the end.

Essentially, the problem is one of pace. This is a film that never gets out of second gear.

It's a thriller at heart, and yet it lacks thrills and thinks cheap sex antics will get the pulse racing.

Jeremy Irons seems to be amusing himself while playing a top Russian bod, and Joely Richardson appears puzzled about her involvement. Joel Edgerton, meanwhile, just continues to play Joel Edgerton.

Ultimately, this is one massive mess of a missed opportunity.

We could have had a an action-fuelled thrill chase, we could have had tension and drama - instead we get dubious sexual politics and a film so dull I got RSI from checking the time.

The biggest problem here, however, is one of vision - in that director Francis Lawrence didn't have one.

There's also no depth, no substance, and no suggestion the hugely talented cast were told to do anything more than say words at each other.

Red Sparrow should have flown, but instead... Oh screw it, you finish the analogy, I've lost the will to live.

The Post (12A)

We live, if you'll permit me to bugger about with an ancient proverb, in interesting times.

In America, we currently have a laughable, ego-fuelled show pony who kicks out when people don't say nice things about him, no matter how true they are. Including journalists doing their job.

Meanwhile, here in jolly old England we have a Foreign Secretary — essentially Britain's face to the world, our top diplomat — who utters complete, and at times racist, balderdash but refuses to apologise or even to be held to account.

In both cases, and it could be argued Donald Trump and Boris Johnson are hewn from the same shabby, repugnant cloth, they don't think they should be held accountable by anyone.

Especially not a free press.

In fact, especially in The Donald's petulant perceptions, a free press has no business being free. They are there to simply reiterate his lies and bullshit.

Dissension will not be tolerated.

Which makes parallels with the Nixon era both chilling and fascinating.

And brings us nicely to The Post.

Essentially the story of a woman in a man's world, The Post is both a tale of press freedom and government bullying and the prequel to Watergate.

Directed by Steven Spielberg and starring Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks, it's a film Spielberg felt so passionate about he worked on it while also finishing off Ready Player One, feeling it was a story that needed telling now.

And he's right.

With "fake news" becoming a by-word (OK, two) for stories Herr Drumpf doesn't like, the press has never been so under attack - especially The New York Times and The Washington Post.

The story itself looks at the Pentagon Papers scandal — papers that disclosed the truth about the Vietnam War — from the perspective of The Washington Post, a story that was breaking just as The Post was trying to raise much-needed capital through floating on the stock exchange.

Now, to those of us too young to know what happened, the skewing of history isn't too big an issue — but for those who were, namely the NYT journalists who actually broke the story — it's a bit of an issue.

But in a way, for this story, that doesn't matter too much.

Matters when you were the guy who actually broke the story, I'll admit, but this is a film not a historical archive.

And to be honest it makes a nice change for Hollywood to be pissing about with America's history rather than ours.

But I digress.

As for the film itself, it's totally fine — an important one to watch for the message if not the cinematic experience.

It's well written (history issues aside), Steep and Hanks do their stuff well without really breaking sweat and the assembled supporting cast all do what is needed.

It would have been nice if the other female members of the cast had more to do than answer the phone and hand round sandwiches, but hey ho. It was a different time...

The pacing is a bit off at times, and while there are sections that are nail-biting and gripping, there are other bits which lag and feel out of step with the main thrust of the movie.

And the opening war scenes do feel like they're from a totally different movie.

On a personal level, the shots of papers going through the press are beautiful. You could easily lose them, but as someone who always got a thrill watching the presses roll and taking those first copies off...

...ahh, those were good days.

But I appreciate that's an entirely personal reaction.

Overall, The Post is a perfectly good film — probably the very definition of 6/10 — with some fine performances.

It needed more of an edit, but gets kudos for not spending time explaining what's going on and just expecting the audience to be intelligent enough to follow events.

It also needs watching by anyone, just so we can all see that Trump is basically my generation's Nixon.