That scream you just heard was everything we'd just written disappearing from the screen before our very eyes.
It was brilliant. Honest.
Typical isn't it? First review in years...
Anyhoo, onwards. My takeaway will be here soon.
So, right, yes. Joker Folie a Deux. Or Joker 2 as the kids will be calling it by the end of the month.
Did we need this film? Does it take the character any further? Is it telling a story we need to hear?
Yes. Yes to all of that.
Initially we weren't keen on seeing this. Not having been near a cinema since the pandemic (people are just the worst) combined with not being a massive fan of the first instalment meant we almost certainly had something better to do on a Sunday.
Floss. Wash the cat. Prune our knees. Literally anything would have been preferable when the idea was mooted.
Plus, ya know, People (again) had been saying Things. It's a musical. There are cartoons in it. The Jews are controlling the weather.
Granted the last one has sod all to do with the film, but seriously - HOW????? And if they could, would they not make it warm and sunny? Why the hell would they create hurricanes???
Honestly, People....
But the other stuff was also relevant. Reviews have been bad. It hasn't made as much as it 'should' have done within 10 minutes of release (whoever decides the parameters of that rule needs locking up). IT'S A MUSICAL!!! CARTOONS!!!
To be honest, the last two there were reasons to risk People and actually go and see it.
So in the spirit of adventure/anything for a quiet life, off we went.
And once we'd got over the shock of the new look cinema (we fear change), revelled in the reclining seats, lost our phone down the side, retrieved our phone from underneath, got all reclined and comfy again, we were ready to find out what all the fuss was about.
And in a shocking turn of events, the noise was all - if you'll excuse the lurch into Olde Englishe - bollocks.
Cartoons? Yes. One. At the start. Which is both funny and relevant, setting up as it does the rest of the film. Warren427 was losing his shit over nothing again.
Musical? Also yes. Kinda. And as someone who saw people walk out of Sweeny Todd back in the day, I'll concede this can be a problem. But it's not Les Mis, ya know?
The characters break into song at times. But it's a device. It serves a purpose. If you can't see how the scene unfolds, what the song is telling us in the context of the whole 'bit', what purpose it is serving, then I'll be honest - this isn't the film for you.
I suspect you turned up wanting more victim porn, more confirmation for your theory that the world is against you.
In which case, go back to the first film and leave this one to the rest of us.
Because what we have in Joker 2 is a dark, compelling court room drama romance prison drama with two actors (Joaquin Phoenix's Arthur Fleck/Joker is joined by Lady Gaga's Lee Quinzel) working in perfect harmony.
It's nasty. It's sinister. It's creepy. It's funny. It's twisted. It's mesmerising. It's a thing of utter beauty.
Yes it's too long. No, we don't need Steve Coogan playing a TV journalist.
But away from that, what we have is another look at mental health. We are asked the big questions – is Fleck genuinely mad, or just evil? Who, in fact, is the real Arthur? Does Lee love him? Or her version of him? Is she part of the problem? Or is she a whole different problem?
These are all things you will be animatedly discussing on the walk or drive home. You won't have answers.
Because where Joker was clear(ish) that Arthur was a victim – of abuse, of circumstances – Joker 2 is far more ambiguous.
And in being so, we are left to ask questions – both of the film, but also about society and the media – about how we all got here.
As well as a raft of fuming enemies, what Joker 2 has is a firm grip on its narrative, an ambition to tell the story in the best way possible, and the courage to challenge its audience.
This film is not for everyone. But I guarantee if you don't hate it you will absolutely love it.
Hello! Remember us? Sorry we've been away for a bit. Life happened, then we sorted that out, than all this happened.
And here we are.
There have been a few posts and memes kicking about the interwebs banging on about how if you haven't learnt 17 languages, redesigned the financial system and invented a new kind of duck then you'll have wasted all this time you didn't ask for.
I mean, we thought the whole plan was to stay inside and just make sure people didn't die - but clearly that isn't enough for some people so they have to hop on their high horse and preach bollox to the masses.
Probably while doing none of the things they're banging on about.
Over here at Popcorn Towers, we've embraced the whole STAY THE FRICK INDOORS mantra with gusto, and seeing as our usual evening escapades of cinema/quizzing/stand-upery have all been thrown in the bin for the foreseeable we thought we'd do something productive.
But, this being us, it's still taken a couple of weeks to get our crap together and actually start hitting the keyboard.
It's almost as if there;'s some big, global event that is kind of overtaking everything and making us focus on bigger issues...
Anyhoo...
As our regular reader (or listener) will tell you, we have a film or two kicking about the place that we've never got around to actually watching - so what better time to tackle that pile, eh?
We can learn Swahili tomorrow...
First up, The Good Liar. A film we'd wanted to see on the big screen, but alas, as ever....
Starring Sir Ian McKellan and Helen Mirren, it's ostensibly a film about a con man who swindles people out of their hard earned. But it's actually far cleverer, funnier and darker than any of that sounds - and has an ending that is just wonderful.
McKellan and Mirren are clearly having the time of their lives, while the supporting cast are also on top form. Sure, The Good Liar won't change the world, but it will make for a great evening.
We followed this up with The Fast And The Furious - the film that ignited the franchise that just won't die.
We'd never seen it, but in the last six months had managed to see Hobbs & Shaw and Fast & Furious 7, so we figured the damage had already been done so we might as well go back to the start.
And d'ya know what? Not terrible.
The dialogue's awful, the cars are ridiculous, Vin Diesel steals the show - and it's just one whole mess of dumb fun.
Again, won't change your life, but watching the whole lot will certainly take care of at least a week.
So, what's next?
Oh shit.
It's She's The One.
In our defence, we only own this film because it was cheaper than owning the Tom Petty-scored soundtrack. Not a mistake we'll be making again.
If you've never seen this film, don't. It has aged badly and it was terrible when it came out.
With sexual politics that were dated in the 90s, Jennifer Anniston plays Rachel, Cameron Diaz gets the only bra available, John Mahoney plays Martin, Amanda Peet looks embarrassed and we all wonder what we're doing with our lives.
If you're arsed about the plot (and you shouldn't be), two brothers don't get on, live very different lives, but fall out over the same woman for Reasons.
Whatever you do, don't go and watch this.
Thankfully Scream 4 has come next to hand, helped in part by a Wes Craven cameo in an episode of Castle.
Bringing back Neve Campbell and Courtney Cox, and heaping in every up-and-coming starlet they could find, Craven again turns the genre upside and inside out while commentating on the nature of fame and social media.
The fourth film in a series has no right to be this good, and yet it grips from start to finish, knows what it is doing, makes you smile and squirm in equal measure and reminds you that Craven still had a trick or two up his sleeve back in 2011.
Right, what's next...?
Turns out, 12 Angry Men. The Henry Fonda one.
A film famous for being parodied as much as being an amazing film. And another one purchased during a blitz through and HMV sale in Bradford more years ago than I care to remember.
On the upside, ripping off cellophane is a lot easier when it's starting to break down due to age...
But we digress.
A beautiful, note-perfect study in human behaviour, 12 Angry Men is a simple idea executed perfectly. After five minutes, all 12 cast members are in one room. And we stay with them for almost 90 minutes.
In that time they go over the evidence of a murder trial, with only Fonda prepared to actually question the facts presented to him.
Back in 1957 this was a great film. In the age of pointless internet debates and people refusing to deal in facts because they saw a YouTube video that confirmed their own innate prejudices?
It's a valuable, essential lesson in critical thinking. And it's gently moving to boot.
Onwards...
Oh look, it's Citizen Kane. The Greatest Film Ever Made.
It's a fascinating thing, owning a film. It often means you'll watch it tomorrow, because you can. And what happens is, as in this case, you get round to it 10 years later because there's a global pandemic and you had nothing else to do.
And I probably wouldn't have got round to it today if my father hadn't mentioned he was about to watch it. So he has his uses....
And it's definitely worth a watch. I mean it's not called The Greatest Film Ever Made for no reason.
The cinematography is stunning - it looks amazing. But, as we've covered several times before, that means it's lacking something somewhere.
In this case, a good editor. At two hours, you could lose half an hour and not miss anything.
The pace is very slow and meandering, and not in a way that keeps you watching. This is clearly an ego project - ironic given the subject matter.
But what is fascinating is the parallels you can draw with figures of today. A rich egotist damaged by events in his childhood? A media mogul who thinks he controls a whole country? It's as if Trump and Murdoch saw this film more as an instruction manual.
Still, looks amazing.
Wonder what will be next...
Oh look, it's From Here To Eternity!
It's funny how you just assume you know some films – not because of any actual research, just because they're so entrenched in modern culture you've heard so many references that you seem to have pieced the film together over time.
This is one such film.
It's a classic, right? A classic love story. They kiss on the beach. It's all romance n that....
No.
We mean, yes, sure, that scene's in there – but it happens so early on in the film it actually throws you and makes you wonder what's coming next. And in fact it's not even the main love story. That's the two people having a quick affair there, getting all sandy and washed over.
It's actually the story of a soldier (Montgomery Clift's Prewitt) who doesn't want to fight but ends up having to. He falls in love with Alma (Donna Reed), who works in a bar as Lorene keeping men company, while standing up against racists who keep picking on his mate Maggio (Frank Sinatra).
And then Pearl Harbour happens.
All of which is a far cry from the film you think you're going to watch. Despite being the poster couple, Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr are the sub-plot.
And finding this out is kinda cool. Having myths dispelled, getting to watch a classic for the first time and finding there's so much more depth and nuance (not to mention hugely uncomfortable sexual and racial politics) is quite fascinating and uplifting.
(Oh, and the trailer is BRILLIANT - tells you absolutely nothing about the movie!)
On to our next Great Epic - The Bridge On The River Kwai, a film dismissed by one parent as 'ooh, I don't like war films'.
Which is silly, because in the same way Jaws isn't about a shark Kwai isn't about war.
It may be set in a POW camp during WWII, but it's about two stubborn men and their egos.
And it's frankly brilliant.
Wonderfully shot and with humour and tension in equal measure, Alec Guinness steals the show (and an Oscar) with a performance of wonderfully understated grace.
The supporting cast shines, the story never sages despite the film being about three days long, and issues with bird noises being heard as bats take flight there is absolutely nothing to fault here.
The fact we were screaming 'press it' during the closing scenes tells its own story.
Over time, 'classics' can become over-hyped, the recounting of them overtaking the quality that was originally on screen - but The Bridge On The River Kwai deserves its place in cinematic history.
A view which I'm sure will delight those involved with the production...
Anyhoo. Onwards....
Three down, four to go - this time we saddle up with The Professionals.
No, sadly not the 70s TV cop classic – this would be the classic western staring Burt Lancaster and Lee Marvin.
If, like us, this one hadn't popped up on your radar before it is the most western of westerns.
Rugged men, horses, guns, the phrase "bad hombres" (so THAT'S where it came from...), sweaty buxom women, more horses, beards, Gringos, cigars, train rides and a chicken.
It's definitely a western.
Four mercenaries are hired to get a rich man his wife back after she was kidnapped and hoiked to Mexico. Probably on a horse.
Gathering on a train that makes request stops (oh those were the days), our fab four canter their way to the bad men's lair, shooting anyone who moves along the way.
Plans are planned, then executed – along with a lot more bad guys – before everyone hightails it back over the border for a bath and a plot twist.
If you like westerns you'll almost certainly know about The Professionals already, but if you don't you'll love it.
The scenery is breathtaking, the cinematography is beautiful, the one-liners are delivered with aplomb and everyone does what is asked of them.
Except the chicken.
If you don't like westerns, however...
Definitely not a western is Lawrence Of Arabia, of course. More a Middle Eastern.
And a film that takes the word 'epic' to the absolute extreme.
We actually worked out we could have flown to Morocco in the time we spent watching the film. Especially as it's bloody hard to actually get three-and-a-half uninterrupted hours around here.
But issues with time aside, bloody hell this is a movie.
We always worry, watching the classics, that either time won't have been kind (and there are a couple of awkward moments here) or history has painted a different picture.
But man. That David Lean fella knew his way around a movie didn't he.
This is also one of those rare movies that loses impact being moved to a smaller screen. Even in a world of 55446464" flat screen wossinames, this is a film that needs to be seen on the big screen.
Because the landscapes and vistas are breathtaking, the shots Lean uses are awesome. This is, in every sense, a big production.
At the centre of it all, of course, is Peter O'Toole delivering a beautifully measured, delicately underplayed performance – and in the process steals the whole show.
Again, we appreciate this is probably not news to fans of the film, but watching this for the first time (having got comfortable, obvs) is a real eye-opener.
The pacing is slow without being leaden or laboured, there are nice touches of humour, there's not a bad performance to be seen and the camels are ace.
These days this would probably be served up as a Netflix four-parter, but to immerse yourself in something this epic, this long, without breaks or (if you're lucky) interruptions is a rare and welcome experience.
Oh, and even the trailer is epic. Of course it is.
Part of the thinking behind this particular run of reviews was picking up a boxset of 'epic' classics from HMV for £2.99.
Which for seven films is frankly a bargain.
Sadly there are clear technical issues with trying to shove fours of movie onto a DVD cheaply, which caused issues with Arabia – and The Guns Of Navarone, which was to be the next film, only for the whole thing to freeze halfway through.
So, while I await the arrival of the BluRay (Two for £12 you say? Rude not to....), I went looking for another classic to watch.
And found Blithe Spirit in the mahoosive To Watch pile.
Call that a win.
Co-written and directed by David Lean and based on the classic Noel Coward play, it's the story of a writer who wants to dabble with the spirit world as research for his book only to have his dead wife rock up.
We've all been there, right?
Front and centre of the small cast is Margaret Rutherford as the medium Madam Arcati, invited to dinner by Rex Harrison's Charles Condomine.
What follows is a beautifully-paced comedy in which everyone delivers.
Almost stealing the show from Rutherford is Kay Hammond as the now dead Elvira, who is quietly amused at being summoned and clearly has dry contempt for her former husband.
Excellent use of lighting, make-up and special effects bring this film to life and help to provide a tight 90 minutes of fun.
This is, however, a film of its time and as such there are moments of dialogue that don't sit well with today's racial and sexual politics – but in a way it's good that they are here, so we can see how far we've come.
Kind of. Still got a long way to go, obviously. Will be interesting to see what they do with the 2020 remake...
One of the fascinating things about The Event and lockdown life in general is how stress etc can effect you.
Film watching, for example, has taken quite the hit as it turns out watching something new is really quite stressful when every day is full of unknowns.
Which is why we're watching every Midsomer Murders we can lay our hands on, but it has taken us a week and three attempts to actually watch The Thing.
Thankfully, once we'd stopped ol' Mr Brain from dancing about like a squirrel on speed, it was worth the wait and effort.
John Carpenter's 1985 remake of the 1950s horror, this is the tale of a shape-shifting alien discovered in the frozen wastes of the South Pole and inadvertently brought back to life.
These things will happen, eh?
Delivered at a slow, deliberate pace (very like Alien in some respects), the action explodes periodically and the tension slowly creeps up on you as – like with that Agatha Christie book we don't mention anymore – members of the research team are Happened To.
At the centre of it all is a bearded Kurt Russell, delivering a beautifully understated performance as he leads the crew on a mission to find out who's alien and who's human.
The showpieces here, however, aren't the action scenes or the dogs (good as they are) – it's the special effects.
Made long before CGI, the models and the blood are gore-tastic and there is one brilliant bit where one of the characters loses both hands in a way that will have you squirming and grinning in equal measure.
This may be an '80s classic, but it stands the test of time.
Oscar season invariably brings out the meaningful and the worthy as the world's weightier subjects are slung at the big screen.
Or, adaptations of the classics are foisted on a new audience with the aim of spreading the word and gathering a few gongs.
Or there's Jojo Rabbit.
Giving a weighty subject (Nazis) a lighter touch, writer/director Taika Waititi has adapted Christine Leunens's book Caging Skies into one of the most joyful, touching, heart warming, tense, horrific films you're ever likely to see.
Set in Germany at the tail-end of the war, good little Nazi boy Jojo (Roman Griffin Davis) is forced to question all he knows to be true when he discovers his mother has been hiding a Jewish girl in the house.
Coming at a time when hatred and division are riding roughshod across the land, Rabbit takes us by the hand and shows us a better way.
With lush, warm tones washing over us, Waititi treads his fine line perfectly — capturing the horror of war and the Nazi movement while also getting is to laugh at the absurdity of extremist dogma.
Which, admittedly, does sound a bit heavy.
But thanks to some genius casting and Waititi's deft touch, what you have is a film that will have you laughing out loud seconds after you've been sitting upright holding your breath.
Central to the magic is young Roman.
Putting an entire film on such young shoulders is a brave move, but he owns this film from the off and holds his own alongside Scarlett Johansson, Sam Rockwell and Waititi himself.
Matching him step for goose step is the amazing Thomasin McKenzie as Elsa, the girl hidden upstairs who turns Jojo's world view upside down.
The two young stars you give us characters we love and care about from the opening scenes, adding immense emotional depth to the seemingly frivolous story telling.
Johansson and Rockwell are also on form, delivering vastly different performances (Jojo's mother and an oddball army captain) with a subtlety and grace that allows the two young stars to shine.
Of course, you can't talk about the film without mentioning Adolf (as he's credited on IMDB), Jojo's imaginary friend and leader of Nazi Germany.
Played by Waititi himself, he's given enough comic touches to help you laugh at him while also giving space for the hatred and madness to surface.
As well as making us laugh out loud at times, this also allows us to frame Jojo's world view and see that while his views are abhorrent it's the lies he's been fed that have shaped them.
This is further emphasised when Stephen Merchant and his team of Gestapo officers turn up, further blending drama and comedy so seamlessly that if Waititi was to do a remake of ’Allo ’Allo we'd probably organise a street party in celebration.
There are moments within this film where you are holding your breath, there's one moment that will have you in tears, but there are so many others that will make you smile and laugh you can't help but fall in love with this film.
A water-tight script and a cast on top of their game (only Rebel Wilson falls short) and a vibe reminiscent of The Grand Budapest Hotel, this is a film that is essential viewing.
A member of The Church Of Wittertainment write in to the show and drew comparisons with the classic children's novel The Machine Gunners — and having now seen the film, we have to agree.
In both we see hatred and racism through a child's eyes, and see such views challenged by actual interaction with “the enemy”.
And in both cases we get to laugh and learn a lot while also feeling the impact such views have on the world.
And so, here we are — for the third time in our life The Saga has come to an end.
Until next time, obviously. And let's not rule that out. But already we digress....
It's almost as if we're trying to find reasons not to actually write this review...
Our LobbyCast companions have already voiced their thoughts on the matter, and we get that this is a big moment for fans everywhere.
Or should be.
And yet...
You see, Jedi was far from the greatest film ever made — but within the context of the trilogy it made sense, felt right, and had added euphoria that younger us remembers fondly. Even now.
And sure, Revenge Of The Sith wasn't amazing, but it was the best of those three (OK, low bar...) and had the added nostalgic impact of finally giving is the back story we'd always craved.
Badly acted and with terrible dialogue, but THAT BIT happened so all was forgiven.
Then, because Disney loves a cash cow, we seemingly needed to know what happened next.
I mean, we know what happened next — the Empire was defeated and everyone lived happily ever after. But apparently that wasn't enough.
And so we get a whole new trilogy to have fun with, and to be fair The Force Awakens ticked all the right boxes and hit the right buttons.
By basically being Star Wars again, sure, but it felt right. It felt like the wait was worth it.
And then, of course, we had offshoots we didn't know we needed as a universe we were happy with got expanded beyond all reasonable measure.
Rogue One and Solo weren't awful, but also weren't great — and in the case of Rogue, just re-shot key scenes from Empire.
Or got got by The Last Jedi, depending on your viewpoint. Too long, too confusing, too dull and baffling given how good a writer/director Rian Johnson actually is.
All of which brings us to where we are now. Still wondering why we put ourselves through it. Why we allow ourselves to have our nostalgia and emotions toyed with once again.
If we ever find the answer to that, we'll get back to you.
In the meantime, as the world dashed to the opening weekend, we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
We knew what was coming, we knew what would happen, but like those end of year accounts we were in no rush to face the inevitable.
And then, finally, we trudged to the big screen, sat well away from everyone, and waited...
And the first thing we realised was that no matter how many times we see them, no matter how many parodies exist, those words scrolling up the screen telling us the story so far in excitable, juvenile, over-written English still give us that same tingle.
It would be the last one for a while.
From here on in, it's a long, slow descent into apathy with a few audible 'oh ffs' being muttered along the way.
We're not going to go details of the plot (really, what's the point?), suffice to say Good is fighting back against Bad and there's conflict and angst.
Good angst, too, at times.
But...
And there are few too many buts flying around here...
But....
It just feels wrong.
Old characters return, new ones are clearly there to sell merchandise (a totally unwelcome callback to The Phantom Menace) and action scenes are here ready for the inevitable game that will be launched when the BluRay arrives.
And the dialogue is clunky as all hell.
No, it was never brilliant, but it was better than this.
We very nearly screamed 'WE KNOW YOU'RE THE SPY, YOU DIDN'T NEED TO TELL US', but that would have broken the Code Of Conduct.
And that, ultimately, is the problem here.
Sure, OK, ignore the last film completely, but if you're going to do that then know how you're going o plug the gaps.
And yes, it looks amazing, and is wonderfully dark in places (it is, essentially, Empire and Jedi shoved into a blender), but as we've come to expect Skywalker is entirely style over substance.
Which, granted, is ever as it was, but back then you were given characters to love, you cared what happened, you were given a story to get stuck into (no matter how hack Jedi might look now, we loved it then).
But when you spend most of the film picking large holes (His name wasn't mentioned for three films, so how come it's suddenly all over the place, eh? Oh, and where the hell did he suddenly come from?)* you know something is wrong.
And it's not the lack of plot or terrible lines, or even that they were riding sodding horses in space, it's the fact the emotion has gone.
No one seems to have cared about this film.
Yes, OK, we're world weary, cynical, mildly depressed and watching the world burn — but that was almost the same set of circumstances surrounding Awakens and we loved that.
No, sadly, in attempting to bring loose ends together that didn't need it, to create events we know could not have happened, to produce something that is essentially soulless is just wrong.
For the film to only come alive during the final scenes was even worse.
Remember when Guy Ritchie made good films? I mean yeah, sure, Lock Stock was a while back. And so was Snatch. And those Sherlock films. But they were good.
Or at least alright in the case of the second Sherlock one.
But he had his style, he had his cinematic tropes, and on their day they worked.
Sadly, this wasn't his day.
But it's not for lack of trying.
It's clear he remembers what those tricks and flicks were, he's just decided to try different ones.
Plus, he's tried once again to overthink things. And that never ends well.
For those of you who haven't seen the frankly brilliant, fast-paced, action-packed, gag-ridden trailer, The Gentlemen is essentially about film making.
Yeah, the trailer doesn't give that away either...
Hugh Grant plays a private investigator who is trying to blackmail a dope baron because he believes he's uncovered all the secrets.
His method of blackmail is detail the film he has written about what he thinks he knows — and this is how the film unfolds.
Taking the role of narrator, Grant's ludicrously over-blown camp Fletcher explains his plot to Charlie Hunman's increasingly bored Raymond.
And it doesn't take long for the audience to be as bored as Raymond.
Cutting between the 'action' and the conversation should at the very least give you a change of pace, but if anything the result slows down both.
Part of the problem is Ritchie is trying to be too clever. He's trying to make the film he's also telling you about and in the process he loses focus and we lose interest.
Further problems lie in the characters and direction the actors haven't been given.
No one here has any depth or substance, and so it's up to the stars to give themselves something to work with.
Grant is clearly having fun doing a caricature of a crooked, sleazy, gay guy — but he dances a fine line between enjoyably overblown and annoying.
Matthew McConaughey, meanwhile, was also given nothing to work with and so can't be arsed — lazing his way through everything with the offcuts from True Detective.
Hunman is caught between sinister and cool and so fails at both, while the usually brilliant Jeremy Strong is clearly delivering lines he doesn't actually believe in.
The only two coming out of this film with any conviction are Colin Farrell (bolshy, slightly comic Irishman) and Michelle Dockery (channelling every female EastEnders villain ever).
Honestly, without those two this thing would have been a lot worse.
The action itself was fine, but lacking pace and (ironically) punch, while the dialogue aimed for updated Lock Stock but fell woefully short.
(The scene where a white man explains to a black guy why being called a 'black [expletive]' isn't racist is a cringefest rather then the sharp edge Ritchie was clearly after)
Including the offices of the actual production company and posters of Ritchie's previous work just put a tin lid on the whole thing.
Somewhere in here is a cracking, less offensive, sharp, sassy shoot-em-up about posh gangsters.
Instead Ritchie decides to go all 'meta', inserts needless film references in a bid to prove he knows what he's doing, and we all sit there bored waiting for the other two Farrell funny bits.
Oh, and there's a slight plot lift from BBC crime drama Shetland in the mix too. Which was nice.
Walking out of the cinema after watching 21 Bridges was more interesting than usual – asked by our companion if we had enjoyed the film, and answering positively, we were greeted with an incredulous stare.
“REALLY????”
It seems the two of us had watched very different films...
Further discussion led to phrases such as “been done before”, “just a cop movie” and “predictable” being bandied about — and it was hard to argue against them.
But at the same time, they missed the point.
With 21 Bridges, it's not the story that's being told that matters so much as HOW it is being told.
The plot, despite many a twist and turn, is remarkably simple. A botched raid on some stashed coke leads to a mass shoot-out and more dead cops than you can shake a sub-machine gun at.
Cue Detective Davis (Chadwick Boseman) being called in to track down the two hoodlums responsible for the massacre, and promptly being saddled with Detective Burns (Sienna Miller) from narcotics.
And from here, yes, we can't argue, A follows B in the finest of traditions.
But as we said above, it's how the story is shaped and told...
For a start, the decision is made to shut down the whole of Manhattan – including the titular 21 Bridges. A deadline is then added to the mix.
What this does is create a tense, claustrophobic atmosphere meaning no one can take a breathe and the chase becomes beautifully relentless from there on in.
But even that isn't what makes this film what it is.
The use of dark streets, cars racing through the night, the stark contrast of the underground are all utilised beautifully by first-time movie director Brian Kirk (whose work on Game Of Thrones and Luther proves he knows what he's doing).
The use of aerial shots also give an added sheen to proceedings, bringing to mind a grittier version of Welcome To The Punch.
It's the sound design. That's where the real magic of 21 Bridges lies.
From the moment the bad guys drive up to the wine bar in their quiet car, the doors shutting softly, you know you are in the hands of a lover of the craft (sound designer Lawrence Zipf in this case).
Not since Stoker has the sound of a movie got us this excited.
And that his how the tension is quietly, gently ratcheted up during the course of the film.
The score insinuates rather than instructs, during a brilliant chase scene it underpins rather than shouts over the top (in one case allowing the sound of clattering pots and pans to ring clear).
And while the tempo of the film barely changes, the beat of the sound effects and sound track plug themselves into your adrenal glands and take control.
Now obviously this doesn't work for everyone, but when it does....
And to be honest, it needs to.
The characters are rather cliched, Miller's narc cop is paper thin at best and her delivery is somewhat flat, bad guys Stephen James and Taylor Kitsch have been in a million other movies – but once you get lost in the action, once you let the sounds wrap themselves around you, none of that matters.
It helps a lot that Boseman is a commanding screen presence, utterly believable and plays his detective with depth and nuance. A lesser actor could have got lost in this.
The film is not without other flaws, either, and one piece of expositional dialogue could have been replaced by a bunch of pom-pom waving cops singing “THIS IS A CLUE” in full falsetto and it would have invoked fewer tuts.
But the positives outweigh the negatives here.
Has the story been told before? Of course. Has it been told with more depth? Almost certainly.
But has it been told with slick care and attention to the finer details? Not recently.
At the end of the day, sometimes all you want from a film is just to sit back and enjoy it washing over you. And for that, 21 Bridges is perfect.
As the trailer played out before us, glances were exchanged – this looked nuts. Not good nuts, just nuts. And then Daniel Craig appears with that accent...
Yup, no way we were going to see Knives Out.
Until we saw the trailer again. When suddenly it looked a bit more fun...
So naturally, a couple of weeks later we find ourselves at the cinema and Knives Out is the only thing on at the right time. So shrugs all round and in we slump.
Only to emerge two hours later grinning like idiots having had more fun than should be possible sitting that close to a giant screen (our fault, we were running late).
You see, underneath the dodgy accent and slightly two-dimensional characters is a very funny script and a who-dunnit that shows just how bad Murder On The Orient Express really was.
The basic plot is classically simple – an obvious suicide which can only be murder. A family of suspects gather, all of whom had motive, while The Help is dragged around like a queasy Hastings to Daniel Craig's American Poirot.
None of which, we appreciate, sounds like a smashing couple of hours – but thanks to a water tight script and seriously slick direction, writer/director Rian Johnson (yup, the Star Wars one) delivers a huge dollop of entertainment.
Now, as we said, there is nothing original going on here – but when we have Jamie Lee Curtis, Don Johnson, Toni Collete and Craig chewing the scenery with joy and gusto, how can you complain?
Curtis, especially, owns every frame she is in, but her co-stars all step up and deliver fitting performances, all clearly buying in to what Rian is after.
The only sticking point is Craig's accent – not because it's bad, but because one does not expect a southern drawl to come tumbling out of that face.
Once you get past that, though, he delivers a fine balance of quirk and Sherlockesque sleuthery.
But the excellent, lush, cinematography and great performances would all count for nowt if it wasn't for the writing.
Because the real jewel in Knives Out's crown is the script.
Observing Checkov's Gun to the letter (“If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise don't put it there.”), not a word, scene or clue is wasted.
Nothing happens by accident, nothing is forgotten, and even when you think you've spotted something Rian missed, the traditional recap in the final scenes will tell you that you were wrong.
And that is the key to why this film is just so damn enjoyable – the attention to detail.
Everyone brings their A game, no shot is left to chance and every tiny detail matters in the whole scheme of things.
And it's been a while since we've been able to say that.
Oh, and there are more than a few subtle political jibes in there too. Which was nice.
In an era when big blockbusters are causing angst for the likes of Scorsese, it's genuinely refreshing to happen upon a film that just takes a good story and has fun with it.
It proves that both good storytelling is alive and well, and that if your film is good enough (and not four days long) it can still be made.
The fact it's still on several screenings a day also proves that if you film it, they will come.
As anyone who has so much as stepped outside in the past few years can tell you, we do not live in the easiest of times.
The far right on the rise, politicians lying with impunity to serve their own egos... And down at the bottom, the hard working people of this country getting stiffed by companies who happily (and legally) circumnavigate employment laws.
Fun it isn't.
And, as a rule, Ken Loach isn't known for his farces and slapstick comedies – so put the two things together and what you have is likely to be a seriously tough watch.
And to be honest, that description doesn't come close.
Where Loach's previous film – I, Daniel Blake – dealt in bleak truths but had warmth and heart at its core, Sorry We Missed You beats you repeatedly over the head with its relentless message that all is not well.
That's not to say this is a film to avoid – far from it. This is as important as Daniel Blake and should be watched by anyone who thinks the gig economy is liberating and zero-hours contracts give people freedom.
So treat this is as much as a friendly warning as a review. Nothing about this film is fun. And we're still not totally sure it was enjoyable.
But the key thing to remember is we get to walk away from this. The characters, and the people they represent in the real world, can not.
At the centre of the story is the Turner family. Dad Ricky has turned to being a delivery driver for work, mum Abbie is a care worker, son Seb is going off the rails and daughter Lisa is struggling with everyone else's stress.
From the start we are treated to the crap certain courier firms tell their drivers (“you're your own boss”) before we are given a warts-n-all portrayal of the stress the drivers are subjected to.
Through Abbie, meanwhile, we see how zero-hours contracts work in the care industry – how people paid to take care of the elderly barely have the time to do everything asked of them during each visit.
And this is very much Loach's message – that the humanity has gone and people are being treated as nothing more than commodities, to be worked til they break and then replaced.
Now, there is no way of sugar-coating this story – not that Loach tries – but what such a bleak story needs is strong performances to carry it, to carry us through the storm.
And it's here that Sorry We Missed You fails to deliver.
In keeping with Loach wanting his cast to give real performances to deliver his messages as naturally as possible, he's turned again to relatively untested talent in Kris Hitchen (Ricky) and Debbie Honeywood (Abbie).
Sadly both look a little lost, with their performances coming across more as rehearsals than a final take.
That's not inherently a bad thing, but it can detract from the overall feel of both a given scene and and the film as a whole. Especially when key blocks of dialogue are clearly Loach's message and get delivered as such rather than natural conversation.
And Loach himself doesn't help matters by wanting to shoe-horn a wide agenda into less than two hours.
Stress of modern employment? Tick.
Humans treated as trash? Tick.
The burden of the modern working woman? Tick.
The plight of the NHS? Tick.
The effects of all of the above on the family unit? Tick.
All of which are hugely important topics and need highlighting in the hope those responsible finally wake up and see what they're doing to the rest of us – but it feels here like he's trying to force a quart into a pint pot.
And the effects of this are a loss of focus and a loss of a true narrative arc within the film, and audience who stumble back outside feeling bereft and beaten.
Comparisons with I, Daniel Blake are inevitable, as it's Loach again and the state of the country has only got worse between the two films – but what such comparisons do is show in stark relief just how good the former was and how short the latter falls.
And I hate having to say that. I really do.
This is an important film for so many reasons, and Loach again has something important to say that the whole world needs to hear – but the award-winning movie maker seems to lose his way here and things just come to and end with no sense of any conclusion or sign of hope.
With a UK election now underway, the timing of Sorry We Missed You couldn't be better as it shows how bleak working life is for so many these days.
And we would urge everyone to go and see this, because the messages and themes are too important to be ignored.
Just maybe set up a double-header with something fun, and see that film straight after this one.
So, let's be clear about this. This isn't a sequel to 2015's terrible Genysis thing. No no, that would be too easy.
It doesn't even pick up the action from T3 (Rise Of The Machines). I mean, why do that eh?
No no. Much better to ignore the third film in the franchise, and the two subsequent films (although to be fair that's no bad thing) and just create a sequel to a film that came out in 1991.
And you thought they left it a while before doing Zombieland 2, eh?
So, throw everything you know in the bin and off we go again.
We now live in a world where Sarah and John Connor made it to a tropical island, only for Arnie to pop up and finish the job before buggering off.
This has left the world Johnless and with a royally pissed off Sarah.
Into this world drops Grace, an augmented human from 2045 who has to save young Dani from a new, more terrifying terminator.
Which basically means we've waited 18 years for the same story to be told.
And therein lies the problem here.
We have robots chasing humans, we have an human who will be the saviour of mankind and lots of running, hitting and explosions.
It's a nuts and bolts action film. With a dash of Robocop thrown in for good measure.
And given that T2 was the coolest film around way back when, to bring all that back (and there are homages and references all over the shop) in such a limp, drawn-out, bloated way is just a crushing disappointment.
Now, let's be clear about this - we were stocked to be going to see this. Almost giddy in fact.
I mean, Connor's back (and Linda Hamilton is still the coolest badass gun-toting chick around), Arnie's back (not a spoiler, it's in the trailer), and in places it is genuinely funny.
And in other places the action and tension are great.
But it's clear the script just wasn't up to snuff and they hoped to save everything with bigger and bigger set pieces as the whole thing dawdled on.
Well, sorry, it's not enough.
It's also not fair on the two central characters.
Mackenzie Davis (Grace) and Natalia Reyes (Dani) are strong, commanding screen presences and they basically make this film.
The action and drama is handled with power and panache and in lesser hands we'd have an even worse film.
What makes their performances even more outstanding is the dross they have to deal with. The dialogue is perfunctory at best, and the supporting and incidental characters are so paper thin you can almost see through them.
There is, however, one big plus to this movie — and it's genuinely something we hadn't thought of, but thankfully our viewing companion did.
This is a film with strong central female characters. No cleavage is needed. No smiling and twirling hair to get a thing done. No.
These three (kinda have to include Hamilton here) take no crap and shoot and punch their way through every bit of trouble.
The result on the female members of the audience (well, the one we were sitting with anyhoo) was to put a big grin on their face.
And if it can do that to a cynical, world weary woman - imagine what it will do to a younger generation of film makers.
Which, frankly, is brilliant.
And saves the film.
This is boring, action-by-numbers piffle with a plot looking for a story and dialogue in need of life support.
But this is also a film showing women can be as strong as men, can handle all the stuff they traditionally get sidelined from, and it should be applauded for this.
Now, if you don't mind, we've got a quadrology box set that needs trimming....
Amazingly, it's been ten years since we first got to play in Zombieland — ten long years.
Back then the thought of a reality TV star becoming president was laughable. The idea that a country would tear itself apart simply because a bunch of billionaire want to avoid tax scrutiny simply absurd.
But we are where we are, eh?
And while no one was champing at the bit for either of those hypothetical situations to become reality, we're not totally sure that anyone was signing petitions or taking to the streets to find out what happened to Columbus, Little Rock, Wichita and Tallahassee.
But hey, we've been wrong twice already....
So ten years on we're back in Z-Land — and because these guys know what they're doing, we pick up the action ten years on.
Little Rock isn't so little, Wichita and Columbus are attempting to be a couple and Tallahassee is... well... ten years older.
And that's pretty much it.
Then Little Rock goes AWOL and the gang have to hit the road to get her back, fighting zombies as they go.
If you saw the first one, you know this is done with equal parts gore and hilarity.
There's no wheel that needs reinventing here.
Which, going in to this, was the big fear.
This first film should not have worked as well as it did. It was geeky, gawky and basically just a few gags linking zombie splattery. With added fun graphics.
And it was great.
So, the hope was that nothing would be tinkered with too much.
And delightfully, it hasn't been.
Yes, the main cast (Woody Harrelson, Jesse Eisenberg, Emma Stone and Abigail Breslin) are all bigger, more established stars than they were before — plus we now have an Oscar and three nominations on screen.
And the additions to the team (Zoey Deutch, Rosario Dawson, Luke Wilson and Thomas Middleditch) all hold their own and add to the fun.
Hell, even Wilson manages not to be too annoying.
And that's really the strength of this film.
It's meant to be fun. It's meant to be quirky. It's meant to have zombies getting splatted everywhere.
And that's what you get.
It's rips along at a cracking pace, doesn't overstay its welcome, and there's no flab on the bones. It's a tight ride and there are no passengers.
OK, maybe Berkley, but even he isn't too annoying.
The other master card Double Tap pulls off is remembering its own history and heritage. A call back to a joke from ten years ago is a brave move, but the writers remembered it and they trust that we do too.
And they're right.
As we may have hinted at the start of this waffle, the world is not the place it was in 2009 — and we need laughter more than ever.
So it's awesome that not only does Zombieland 2 deliver the laughs in spades, but you're still chuckling about things long after you've got home.
Ten years may be a long gap between films, but in this case it was worth it.
As mentioned in our little LobbyCast offshoot, never underestimate our ability to know nothing about a film before we go in to it.
This is quite deliberate, as we try and form a 'fresh' opinion, but also remarkably liberating as we get pleasant surprises.
And yes, we're aware that sounds remarkably wanky.
So, heading to see Joker, we were aware of the star, that the director had said Dumb Stuff, and that the Guardian had described it as the worst film of the year.
Which, along with us wondering if we actually needed a film about Gotham's finest loon, suggested we would probably like it.
Turns out we do and we did.
Largely because we helpfully didn't know what to expect – which is almost where people who have complained about this film have come unstuck.
This film is many things – dark, nasty, violent – but what it isn't is funny or a 'superhero film'.
It's also, possibly, DC's finest film to date. For all of the reasons listed above.
Now, granted, no one really thought we needed this film (apart from DC's accountants, obvs) – we've had three defining Joker performances to date, so a fourth was always going to be a big ask.
And Jared Leto had a go too, don't forget.
But by removing any fighting with Batman and focussing entirely on how Joker came to be, Joaquin Phoenix and writer/director Todd Phillips have given us a gritty, 70s-esque movie which pulls no punches.
Central to this is Phoenix himself, who puts in a perfectly measured performance – pulling for your pity while only hinting at the madness that lurks beneath.
The other masterstroke is setting the film in a very real, very modern Gotham, where cutbacks and job losses have the many on their knees while the few carry on as if nothing is happening.
Sound familiar?
The pace of the film is delightfully slow without being laboured, and the supporting cast do just enough to keep you focussed and interested.
And then there's the small matter of Robert De Niro.
Apparently we were the only people to not register that he was in this film, which was great. As is his performance as TV host Murray Franklin, layered and subtle and perfectly positioned against Phoenix.
Topping the whole nasty mess off is the score – if you're a fan of the cello, then this is the film for you.
Moody, haunting jarring, Hildur Guðnadóttir (Chernobyl, Sicario: Day of the Soldado) has created something here that stays with you long after the credits have rolled.
Sadly, but not surprising given this is a DC film, Joker is not without its problems.
The soundtrack features one song that will make you sit up and almost shout WTF in the middle of the cinema, and the two cops trying to track down Joker (or Arthur Fleck as they know him) are basically lifted from any 80s cop show you care to name.
And while the film has things to say about mental health and inequality, you don't get any sense that Phillips really cares or is interested.
Nor do you get any sense that the story, albeit one with a simple, linear narrative, really knows where it is going.
It's a credit to Phoenix that these things fail to detract from the whole experience.
Perhaps the finest thing about this film is the fact it stands alone. Yes, we know the character, yes we've seen him before, but here he's given his own playground and you don't need to have seen any other DC film to get on board.
In fact, Joker stands so alone that it's hard to see where DC go with him from here – because trying to bolt this version into the current DCU will take a crowbar the size of Gotham itself.
But such fears are for another day. For now, just sit back and wallow in the pain, misery and mayhem Phoenix has brought to life with a rare vulnerability.
It would seem absolutely everyone has now seen the latest, maybe even the last, Spider-Man outing – everyone, that is, except us.
So, a mere 76768686587689686876 days after release, we finally managed to tear ourselves away from everything else claiming our attention and went and sat in a darkened room to enjoy Spider-Man Goes On Holiday.
We'll be honest, though, with a mixture of Jake Gyllenhaal (sadly never a name that makes us rush to the tickets-parking-and-snacks desk) and the whole 'character goes abroad' shtick, this was not a film that we'd been eagerly anticipating.
Especially when the on-off romance between Sony and Marvel seemed to be more engrossing (back on at time of typing, but keep an eye...).
But anyhoo, we digress...
So, where we at?
Far From Home is the post-Endgame universe, and the disappearing of the people is being referenced and discussed, and the state of the Avengers is very much at the forefront of things.
Peter Parker, meanwhile, just wants the summer off and when school plan a trip to Europe this seems to sort things out nicely.
He can take in Venice and Paris, buy a thing, give MJ the thing, not be a hero and all will be well.
Which would obviously make for a short film....
So Nick Fury pops up, Happy is around, bad things happen in Venice and we get to meet a new hero – Mysterio (the aforementioned Gyllenhaal) and travel to other places for Reasons.
For those of us of a certain age, this has the feel of an On The Buses or Are You Being Served, where they took the characters abroad because they couldn't think what else to do with them.
Which, granted, is a tad harsh – this is a much better film than either of those – but you can't shake the feeling it really didn't need to go fighting its way across Europe.
That's not to say this isn't a fun film – it really is. There is a lot of humour, some quality slapstick, and the teenage angst of a boy just wanting to be a normal boy is handled deftly and with poignancy.
It just didn't need to happen abroad.
Or in 3D for that matter.
To be fair, the bits that are entirely done for 3D are far less intrusive than was the case back in Andrew Gardield's day, but in a 2D environment they really don't add anything.
All of which is a shame, because beneath all the bluster and extra trimmings is a damn fine film, and arguably one that is needed after Endgame.
It's light and frothy in places, weighty in others without going OTT, and the central trio of Parker (Tom Holland), MJ (the utterly superb Zendaya) and Ned (Jacob Batalon) steal the show from their more seasoned co-stars.
And the central story is strong and engaging, with twists and turns where you want them, while using existing technology to keep believability levels within a reasonable range.
And it possibly sets up the next wave of Marvel movies, depending on the final deal Disney hacks out with Sony.
In a way, Far From Home feels like it's being thrown out as an after-thought, so huge was the finish to things in Endgame.
But in the other paw, there is a warmth and humour here that feels like Spidey has finally found his own little niche in the movie world (something that never quite happened with the previous incarnations).
Overall, while not up there with the greats, this is a welcome palete-cleanser ahead of wherever Marvel are dragging us next.
One of the good things about running this blog is sometimes, just sometimes, someone you know knows someone really cool and helps to make the introductions.
Take Donald F Glut, for example. The man who wrote, not that he'll thank me for mentioning this, the novelisation of The Empire Strikes Back – a book I loved reading when less old than I am now.
Turns out, he also wrote episodes for Spider-Man, Transformers and Captain Caveman And The Teen Angels (plus loads of others, but I'm seriously and joyously cherrypicking).
Anyhoo, turns out I know someone who knows him.
Also turns out he's produced a new film – Tales of Frankenstein. Four short stories about that Victor fellow (kinda, in one way or another).
Which is why I got to spend a rather lovely Bank Holiday Monday morning watching a screener of said film.
Sometimes, just sometimes, the universe doesn't totally suck...
And, thankfully, nor does the film.
It could have been easy to lose the thread as Donald weaves his four tales, helped by a simply wonderful ensemble cast, but this guy knows his bolts (he's been very busy in the horror genre over the past few years).
Essentially what we have here is a love letter to Hammer House Of Horror.
Not just with the subject matter, but in the periods and locations chosen (Bavaria, Transylvania) and the other genres that get roped in for good measure (Sam Spade-esque film noir was a nice touch).
Each tale has its own style and tone, while still being shot through the Hammer lens — lending a warm familiarity to each story.
And the way the whole thing subtlety wraps back round itself just leaves you grinning and nodding.
In between all that, heads are surgically hacked open, hands come to life, the male fantasy of wanting a younger model is put through the wringer and Dracula... no no, that would be a spoiler.
There is an attention to detail here that is quite wonderful to see, and it's one of the things that helps bring the whole film to life, as it were.
Of course, as mentioned above, the cast more than play their part.
And so, after the overblown wotsits of Mr Tarantino, it was time for something a bit more cerebral, sedate, down to earth...
....or we could let Mrs Popcorn choose...
You know how this ended, don't you...?
Now, through no fault of our own, we have never actually sat down and watched a Fast And Furious film.
We've meant to, sure, always been keen – but then something happened (holiday, bins need putting out, the cinema is too far away, it's a Thursday) and the chance went begging.
So diving in at volume nine (NINE? REALLY????) seemed like a bit of a stretch. What if we weren't up to speed on the overall narrative arc? What if there were lot of in-jokes? What about all the symbolism and subtext built up over the previous eight (EIGHT????) films?
Oh well, dive in eh? What's the worst that can happen?
Turns out, we hadn't bargained for actually enjoying ourselves.
Who knew?
For those who actually care about plot, this is a simple one – world-killing virus is now in body of one person, so she is wanted by the bad guys, so Hobbs & Shaw have to stop bickering and save her. And the world, obvs.
The woman in question, Hattie, is played by Vanessa Kirby – who proceeds to act the two blocks of testosterone off the screen. Three if you count Idris Elba.
Kirby is sharp, funny, a thoroughly engaging screen presence and can hold her own in a fight. Frankly she should have had this film to herself.
Especially as the two "stars" (Dwayne Johnson and Jason Statham, you may have heard of them) are so busy ensuring they get exactly the same amount of dialogue and screen time they forget to actually get on with the action.
OK, that's a tad harsh, but the dialogue thing becomes really annoying about half way through the film.
Although, that's nothing on Elba. He's either a wooden muscle oaf or acting like his Oscar depends on it. It all depends on if he's acting opposite proper thespian Eddie Marsan.
Seriously, it's like he's in two different films.
We'd love to pick more holes in this crash n smash blockbuster, but in truth... we can't.
No, this isn't highbrow entertainment. Yes, John Wick is a better action film. Yes, Bond and Bourne are better spy films (although Statham does his best early on) – but damn it this film is fun.
The car chases, of which there are as many as you would expect, are stupendous and ludicrous in equal measure. The fights are solid, the dialogue fills in the gaps in the plot just as you'd expect.
And from about 10 minutes in, you'll find yourself just grinning like an idiot.
It may be at an actual joke (and there are quite a few), it might be at just how dumb some bits are – but the fact is, you're smiling and enjoying yourself.
And on at least two occasions we found ourselves tensing up and almost holding our breath as epic stunts unfolded.
All of which was not expected as we took our seats.
Yes, there are more plot-laden films out there. There are arguably better action films. But when The Rock and The Other Rock saddle up and give it their all, you just have to strap in and enjoy the ride.
You can't over think these films, they're just fun – and in this case, have the added bonus of some surprise cameos and a stunning performance from Kirby.
Oscar season looms large on the horizon, so take the summer off and just have some petrol-fuelled fun.
There can be any number of reasons why a film review gets delayed around here — sometimes life gets in the way, sometimes it's the film.
On this occasion, it is definitely the film.
A week on, and we still have no idea what to make of Tarantino's latest outburst.
It's not that it's terrible — far from it, he's made worse — or that it's weird.
It's just... well...
Well, for a start it's long. Like arse-numbingly, eye-meltingly long. You'd be seen quicker in A&E on a wet Tuesday.
But let's not start off on a negative footing - Tarantino is one of those directors who commands respect thanks to his body of work.
Which is just as well, looking back at Once Upon A Time...
For the uninitiated, this is the story of fading 50s TV star Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his stunt man/buddy/gopher Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt).
So it's a a buddy western. Very in keeping with his recent output.
Only it's also about Charles Manson, The Family and Sharon Tate (played brilliantly by Margot Robbie).
So it's actually a thriller.
Only it's about the Hollywood machine, film making, life through a lens, life behind the lens, life in miniature, life in a mirror.
So it's Tarantino indulging himself and pontificating on his first love.
Only...
It's all of these things. With some added scenes thrown in just so we can all see how he imagines it would have been if he had got to direct some of his heroes.
Genuinely, at one point it struck us that if Steve McQueen hadn't died back in 1980 this film would not need to exist because Tarantino would have cast him in something and got it out of his system.
As you can probably tell already, this is an epic film. Tarantino has basically taken everything he loves and thrown it at the screen. With some added bits for... well... reasons...
But we'll come back to that. (Don't you hate it when they do that in books?)
While the story is epic, so is the whole feel of the film. This is another monster Western from the maker of The Hateful Eight and Django Unchained — and this is actually a huge positive.
This film looks stunning. It's beautiful. We'd almost go as far as to call it a visual masterpiece.
It's just so huge. And not just from some of the panoramic shots. Even the close-up scenes feel larger than life. On this front, Tarantino has nailed it.
And the performances of the central three are great. Robbie is stunning, weaving silk purses from the various sow's ears she gets handed, while Pitt and Leo are clearly having a blast just hanging out together.
It's just a shame there is no functioning narrative.
Even the most shonky of films (let's take 47 Meters Down as an example here) tends to know what the destination is, where the story is heading — and that feeling is captured and transmitted despite the appalling acting, horrendous special effects and plot holes you could swim a shark through.
But Once Upon A Time? Not so much...
Now, the fact it doesn't take you where you think it is going is fine. That's a delight in a movie.
It's just not quite as delightful when you can't shake the feeling that the director doesn't have a clue either.
As we've already said, Robbie is superb here — but a week down the line we still have no idea why that story line was included.
It is genuinely baffling.
That's not to say there aren't clues. And here, we have to deal with a couple of the trickier areas of the movie.
Obviously, if you have Sharon Tate in your film set in 1969 then you 'have' to have Roman Polanski.
And this is where things get awkward.
The suggestion that Tate liked her men young leaps off the screen like a pre-emptive defence, while the mixed #MeToo messages after Cliff picks up a hitchhiker are enough to make your head spin (yes, good men ask for ID - but it's also, at the same time, not their fault because the woman are such teases...)
In other news, Harvey Weinstein used to produce Tarantino's films. Just, you know, FYI.
And all this is before we get to the final scenes, which is where the film earns its 18 certificate (here in the UK) and the audience loses a little more respect for Tarantino and the treatment of women in movies.
Once Upon A Time should have been the epic pinnacle of Tarantino's Western Trilogy.
Instead, it feels like he threw his whole notebook in the blender just to clear the decks ahead of Star Trek.
As a result, we're left with a mess of a film with questionable sexual politics but one that looks fantastic and has three great central performances.
When the world is quietly residing in the crapper, the arts react in one of two ways — reflecting the horror of it all, or large doses of feelgood smush to counteract the gloom.
And, as a rule of thumb, the worse the world is the bigger the dose of smush.
Be grateful, then, for Blinded By The Light — a bright beaming, er, yes, light in the gloom.
On the face of it, Blinded is a simple film about a young lad discovering the songs of Bruce Springsteen while growing up in Luton.
But there's far more going on beneath the surface.
This is also a film about finding your place in the world, standing up for what you believe in and how some people are not all they seem.
While also being about The Boss, obvs.
And while the narrative arc is a tad flimsy at times, and the film itself isn't really sure where it is going, the main cast have enough about them to make this work.
In Viveik Kalra the film has a young star (in his first film no less) who is engaging and captivating — you feel and share all the angst and joy he rollercoasters through as life throws him lemons and Bruce tapes in equal measure.
In Nell Williams and Aaron Phagura the film also has two brilliant young co-stars who help to capture the energy of those early Bruce songs.
Now, yes, this is a particularly saccharin piece of fluff at times, but as the film goes on you realise just how necessary this is as the grim reality of life under Thatcher in the late 80s — and the accompanying rise of racism — is brought to bear.
Growing up in this era, we remember some of how bad it was — but it seems, racist abuse aside, we got off lightly compared to towns like Luton which were hit with massive job losses.
And that's something this film captures well — the sad beigeness of the times.
Which is why song and dance numbers at the market, running about montages and impossibly-taken photos overseas just make you grin so much.
While this film has its problems, the one thing that writer/director Gurinder Chadha has got spot on is the feel of this film.
This can happily sit alongside Gregory's Girl (made in 1980) thanks to the look of this piece — and it can also hold it's head up alongside the likes of Pride for balancing social and political messages with outright fun.
Now, as we said, this isn't a perfect film — the story has no real sense of a destination, there are continuity issues and characters get shoe-horned into scenes for no reason.
But it's to the credit of the cast and overall script that these things fail to make a dent in your grin.
There may come a time when we don't need films like this, even though we'll still want them.
But for now, as the world burns and tilts to the far right, we're glad we have them.
Sometimes you just need to sit down, wallow in smush and grin like an idiot.
(Oh, and if you're wondering — and some of you will be — the answer is six. We bought six Springsteen albums after watching this)
*Nasal intake of breath* Of course (cough) it's not live action at all you know....
Yeah Brian, we know. Sigh.
And so every online discussion about Disney's revamp of The Lion King begins — a discussion only derailed by the unveiling of the trailer for Cats.
There are days when I think people go online just to prove someone else wrong.
Now, we're not saying we understand the whys and wherefores behind this latest move by the Disney money machine, but let's be kind and put artistic wossinames somewhere on there.
Not near the top, sure, but on there somewhere.
Because, to be fair, underneath the pixels or colouring in (depending which version you now favour), there is a solid little tale being told.
And for once, it would be nice if this is the thing we could focus on (a point made all the more pertinent as people seem fixated on the ethnic make-up of the cast...).
Now we remember going to see this film when first it toddled onto the big screen, Elton John wailing his little socks off and baby lionses never looking cuterer.
Or something.
Since then, Simba's cartoonish adventures have made it to a sequel (if you are too young to remember Disney's foray into straight-to-DVD follow-ups, well done) and a slightly successful stage-show.
And really, that's what this re-telling of the tail (hey, we were going to do this at some point) is all about — bringing the animation (cartoon 1) and live action (stage show) together with the latest graphics.
And, from that perspective, this film is another sure-fire hit.
The new voices are excellent (John Oliver as Zazu, Chiwetel Ejiofor as Scar, Donald Glover as Simba, some young singing sensation called Beyonce as Nala) while James Earl Jones steals the whole show before... well... you know...
And the humour has been updated, and the graphics are beautiful, and Simba's ickle face is just the cutest thing ever.
They could have royally screwed this up, yet somehow Disney dodged that particular poacher's bullet.
That's not to say the film is perfect — far from it.
With great pixels come great responsibility, or something, and by bringing the cartoon 'to life' (shut up Brian, not the time) a key layer has been removed.
You see, back in the day when Simba was drawn using Paint, the very cartoonish nature of the medium cushioned you from the bigger emotional blows — and given Disney's propensity for death and gore, this was a good thing.
Just ask anyone who watched Bambi as a kid.
Oh hell, they're going to do this to Bambi aren't they. Oh sh.... Sorry, where were we? Oh yes, wholesome cartoony goodness.
So, yes, bold colours helped you realise none of this is real. And even then, The Lion King packed an emotional punch.
Now, if by some freak accident you're the person who has never seen The Lion King (OK, other person, Mrs Popcorn won't watch in case she gets upset — she remembers Bambi) we'll skirt round a bit.
But you know when THAT happens, and how the ol' heart strings got tugged? Now imagine that happening with a seemingly real lion you already love because James Earl Jones.
It actually makes The Lion King a darker film.
This is also true of the great Simba unveiling. Suddenly we have real zebra celebrating the very person who will hunt them down and kill them.
That scene's not so cute now...
All of this is, of course, overthinking caused by being all adult and looking at the world through scratched, smashed glasses having lived through the past few years.
For the younger generation, this is a whole new film and it's very important to remember this.
Our youngest nephew was taken to see this version and had the time of his life (well, until he dozed off — two hours is a long time when you're still in short trousers), and that's really the most important thing here.
Disney now own every franchise we've ever loved, and they didn't buy them out of love — these things are cash cows. Or lions.
As such, it's in the corporations best interests to find ways of reissuing the old back catalogue to a new audience.
In doing so here, they have captured the magic of the characters and the songs and made the whole thing look thoroughly modern. Meaning several new generations can enjoy the magic before they become old and jaded like the rest of us.
But it also means we can revisit the magic through their fresh eyes. And maybe, for an afternoon, we can forget the world we live in and instead step into theirs.
