Black Mirror: The Entire History of You feels exactly that long.

Imagine all the interesting and horrifying uses of memory grain implant, a kind of infinite external hard drive that allowed you to record and rewatch memories at will. Detectives would be able to analyse interrogations LA Noire style, stalkers could rewatch chance glimpses of their victims and your memories could be hacked by strangers to be used for their own pleasure. And all of these uses, these perversions of our own private treasured memories, would be a far better way to open The Entire History of You than the dull, generic office 'appraisal' Jessie Armstrong decides to go with. It's a bog-standard personal development-style interview utterly devoid of emotion, intrigue or humour. Everything's worded so vaguely it's difficult to even tell what line of work the protagonist is in and never provides the context of his personal investment in the job to allow us to empathise with him. The scene only serves to establish the various everyday use of the memory grain and doesn't even have the decency to simply show this then pull back to reveal Liam watching it in the back of the cab. That sums it up really, it's a scene which wastes both our time.

The worst part is there's more of this clumsy style of story-telling to come, it shares 15 Million Merits's problem of fumbling in the first act. However last time it was merely a murky stain which left things more difficult to assess here it feels more like a shit streak across a large part of the episode. The dinner party is one of the most pivotal sequences in The Entire History of You and also the most excruciating. The sexual tension between Liam's wife Ffione and former oily lover Jonas is beaten about our heads with exaggerated laughing at unfunny jokes and clammy body language. It’s something Neil Marshall got across much better in the first five minutes of The Decent which leads me to wonder how between a quiet mediation on cyberstalking and a film about girls hacking cave monsters to death the latter is the more subtle.

As far as fleshing out the social and cultural impact of the memory grain Armstrong's writing is hit and miss. To its credit The Entire History of You does a lot with very little time, showing the variety of uses for this new technology from enjoying old memories to picking apart the quality of hotels to being reviewed at airport security. It’s even permeated the language, words like 'redo' and 'gauges' are as commonplace as 'Facebooking'. There's even a mild bit of controversy about going 'grainless' which brings me to the decidedly more miss issue of 'gouging' a weird combination of physical violation and phone hacking. We're never told exactly why someone would want to steal the memories of others but the dinner party guests act so casual and saccharin about the whole thing it's disturbing. Everyone seems to have been taking charm lessons from Piers Morgan and it reaches a cringe-worthy peak when the oily Jonas takes pleasure in stroking the gouge victims scars, the equivalent of rubbing a rape victims tearing’s, and everyone coos like it's a kitten with dwarfism.

Naming the protagonist Liam means an analysis of him will inevitably sound self-flagellating, which is a good word to describe him. The memory grain is primarily utilised to torture himself about past failures and fuel his paranoia. Insecure doesn't begin to cover it. Yet for all his vulnerabilities it takes still takes a while to warm to Liam as he continues to drive a wedge between himself and his wife. It becomes contrived when he makes the leap from impotent beta male to the violent jealous husband after never previously showing any undercurrent of hostility.

Despite this the peak of Liam's paranoia actually propels The Entire History of You straight out of shittytown and into a good show. Both the infidelity drama and the technological aspect go perfectly in sync rather than simply running parallel. As Liam physically forces Jonas to erase all memory of his wife his finds some more recent than others, specifically around the time their daughter was conceived. With more evidence thrown onto his suspicions he transforms into something we can generate sympathy for. The memory grain gives him moral justification but takes everything else, his wife, his child and all semblances of warmth and humanity from his life.

Not being entirely driven by its ideas about technology The Entire History of You finds itself the weaker of the three episodes. It could have benefitted from a better look at how this idea could impact the world rather than affect one family. Yes we can all relate to a domestic drama but there are meatier stories to be found in the memory grain. Perhaps future episodes can take a stab at it because, in spite of the criticisms, I want to see more tales from the Black Mirror and in a world where we're surrounded by screens, I think we need to.

The Black Mirror is turned to talent shows in 15 Million Merits

The second part of Charlie Brooker's anthology series is a much harder beast to assess. While The National Anthem was a tighly constructed 24-esque thriller, 15 Million Merits is a more whimsical exploration of a culture driven society. The story of Bing (Daniel Kaluuya), a frustrated young man living in a world surrounded by screens, his sole distraction from the monotony of daily labour. The world of 15 Million Merits is apparently dominated by a series of exercise bikes powering a fully automated world where even a dab of toothpaste comes from the click of a button.

Booker does an excellent job of showing how this horrifying world breaks down for the average individual, from the CBBC style rooster that serves as Bing's alarm clock to the pause function that activates whenever he tries to sheild his eyes from the endless series of obnoxious adverts. In this world colour is demonised and the obese are the underclass. The only hope of escape is an X Factor style talent shot Hot Shots and its trio of judges held up as god-like figures, the only flesh and blood in a world of internet avatars (or dopplers).

Enter Abi (Jessica Brown-Findlay), a young woman with an angelic voice who approaches Amanda Seyfried levels on the Naifometer. Bing sees in her talent beauty and authenticity and immediately wants the best for her, offering up his titular merits to buy an audition on Hot Shots. This is where the story fumbles in comparison to its fast paced predecessor. It necessitates introducing Bing, exploring his world and the beginnings of this tentative romance, though a sweet romance it is. For this reason the first half hour never flows as smoothly as The National Anthem, monotony may be the point but that doesn't mean it has to be monotonous to watch.

You might recognise Daniel Kaluuya from BBC Three's supernatural drama The Fades and whatever you might think of that show Kaluuya's easily the best thing in it. Here he shows he can do a lot even when given very little, though it does help matters later when allowed more dialogue. In the first half hour he never sounds off against the constant barrage of screens or his drab work wear, like all dystopian drones he's far too comfortable but the dissatisfaction is in the performance. Knowingly awkward, hoping for better Bing carries the limb first half and downright shines in the climax.

Ah the climax, once things go tits up with Abi, finding herself in a thinly veiled Babestation parody, Bing spirals into depression and eventually righteous anger. Determined to set things right he scrimps and saves to earn a spot on Hot Shots and when he's there, with the millions watching, he sounds off against the injustice of it all. Then what happens...is probably the hardest thing assess, not because it’s not good but because it's been done before. The judges at Hot Shots find a way to package and distribute his anger in a daily broadcast, a carbon copy of the plot to the 1976 film Network. Brooker himself has commented on the film, comparing Peter Finch's descent into madness to roughly anything Glenn Beck says. In this day an age you can't call fault using the ideas of another work but it leaves bitter stain on an otherwise clever turn of fate.

Not as tight, nor as funny as The National Anthem, for all its flashy surroundings 15 Million Merits is one of the bleakest things you are likely to see this year. It's a fully fleshed out dystopian future which brilliantly reflects our modern day screen addiction but in terms of story it unfortunately comes out half-measure even if it's still the most intelligent thing on telly right now.

Black Mirror: Assemble for The National Anthem

If you read this blog then chances are that, like me, you know who Charlie Brooker is i.e. the most biting and blackly funny TV Critic working today. But there are few critics capeable of writing so well in a medium they frequently condemn (Mark Kermode has vowed never to try). It takes work to write good television, truly engrossing stuff, especially something that can tear me away from my smartphone. I watched the first installment, a satire on mass media and the court of public opinion, without pause. Compare to any given episode of Torchwood: Miracle Day, which I would repeatedly pause and you see the importance of being able to grip an audience.

The first edition, entitled The National Anthem, does this within the first few minutes. The setup, like the best, is simple but with complicated consequences and distinctly Brooker in its grim absurdity. Princess Susanna, the nation's sweetheart, has been kidnapped and will be killed unless Prime Minister Michael Callow (Rory Kinnear) has sex with a pig. Sounds like a joke and the PM thinks so too, but outside Whitehall the wheels effortlessly turn to drive this 'joke' into the only option.

Over the course of the show we see the media supressed despite the situation already trending on Twitter. The information age is allowing every Tom, Dick and Harry to give their view regardless of how intimate the issue or foul their opinion. While the public supports the PM in the early stages when the grim reality sets in the tide turns. In one glorious scene Lindsay Duncan as the PM's Press Advisor lays everything clear. If Callow does not sacrifice dignity to save the life of a beloved young woman he will be destroyed. The press will condemn, the public will riot and no one will be able to garuntee his safety or the safety of his family.

While it is interesting to watch how the freedoms of Twitter, Facebook and other social media have lead to this shift in the influence of public opinion over politics The National Anthem still struggles with the plausibility of it all. When massive outrage and rioting cannot influence a descision of tutition fees how can we believe a Prime Minister would sacrifice anything just because the world calls for it. Almost makes Brooker sound naive but the man's genius is not in creating a believable scenario but in crafting a world driven by its absurdity. The story takes on a national scale encompassing politics, the press and members of the public all of whom act exactly the way you'd expect in such an event. Every character stands out as entertaining, pitiable, funny and above all real. They carry The National Anthem from start to finish culminating in a beautiful montage of mutual disgust.

The first installment of Brooker's trilogy definately deserves a watch, more thrilling than 24 and darker than Tramadol Nights, it sets the bar high for next weeks reality satire 15 Million Merits.

The Three Musketeers get the Transformers treatment (i.e they're the C-Story in their own movie)

                Oh come on people, we both know this film is a piece of shit. If this was even a passable bit of popcorn schlock we wouldn’t be watching it in the fucking fall. The Three Musketeers, stupidly, is the story of one little shit who has little to do with the Musketeers themselves. In 17th Century France the young and cocksure D’Artagnan (Logan Lerman) travels to Paris to join the elite band of mercenaries known as the Musketeers only to find that the titular three have fallen from grace. What’s worse is that France all but under the rule of the sinister Cardinal Richeliue who plots to drive the country to war with England by convincing the young King Louis (Freddy Fox) of an affair between the young mini-Queen (Juno Temple) and the Duke of Buckingham (Orlando Bloom). To save France D’Artagnan must embark on a swashbuckling adventure and force the Musketeers to become the heroes they once were. Also it involves motherfucking Steam punk Airships, sounds like a good movie to me!

So what went wrong?

Effectively the worst things that can go wrong with a movie, starting with leading man D’Artagnan.  Lerman masters the arrogant shit aspect of the character quite well but fails to imbue him with any semblance of vulnerability, making it actually very satisfying to watch the villains wipe the floor with him in the first act. The problem gets worse when it becomes apparent that his story is to overshadow the marginally more interesting musketeers in their own goddamn movie. This brings us to the second problem; improper use of resources.

 The core of the film is predominantly ignored for the overuse of its supporting elements. Milla Jovovitch is overused as action-heavy titiliation in the director’s never ending quest to make us drool over his ridiculously hot wife in slow motion. James Cordon is overused as the comic relief which is especially damning since the film already has that in spades. As the Musketeers Athos (Matthew MacFadyen), Aramis (Luke Evans) and Porthos (Ray Stevenson) share a strong, funny chemistry that is rarely seen but carries the film’s clumsier elements. Also saddled with the undignified comic relief role is Louis, a childish caricature of French Royalty which cripples much of the film as he becomes integral to the story. That’s right folks, the driving force behind this so-called ‘plot’ is a petulant, effeminate fop worried that his teenage Queen doesn’t want to hold hands with him.

Also it’s distractingly weird that Buckingham is implied to have some past liaison with the Queen when she looks friggin Twelve. I know it’s just because Juno Temple apparently had her pituitary gland removed but it still doesn’t help. And while I’m on the subject, man Bloom is surprisingly good as Buckingham. He walks that difficult balance between menacing and comical better that most villains and while it’s not enough to help the film is certainly shows he can do a lot when offered a role with a little colour in it (even if it is the colour purple).

 While there’s still much to be said of the clumsy, witless dialogue, the vacuous romance between D’Artagnan and his standard issue love interest, and seriously Anderson stop it with the slow motion, the real nail in the coffin is the plotting. Too much time is spent in the prologue, too little on the Musketeers and especially Louis if he’s intended to be so goddamn important. Much of the second act is a joyless guerilla siege with no payoff and, in the most wishful example of franchise baiting, the story is convoluted with a series of secondary villains. As a result it’s difficult to tell who the big bad is actually supposed to be, making the third act feel like a prelude to something bigger and ending on a hollow note.

Has Torchwood lived too long?

                So Torchwood: Miracle Day…bad times. See it wasn’t always like this, in season one Torchwood was just stupid. It took a lesson from Enterprise in how to be more mature, i.e. by being more juvenile (sex addict aliens and the like) but you could see hints of a good show underneath. Season two…well I didn’t really watch season two, lost interest, nuff said but in 2009 something weird happened. See 2009 was the year I really began paying attention to the reviews around TV, Games, Comics and when I stumbled across all the praise for Children of Earth, the five-part Torchwood mini-series, I was flabbergasted. Suddenly the show that was described as ‘Scooby-doo with cumshots’ was being hailed as the science fiction event of the year.

 And you know what? It earned that. Children of Earth was a gripping science fiction thriller intermingled with heartbreaking human drama. While it’s premise may have been that aliens were using human children as beer helmets it was still a horrifying moral choice, excellently paced with standout performances and a shockingly believable insight into the lengths our government would go to in order to protect itself. So when it was announced that the show would return with another miniseries helmed once again by creator Russell T Davies and backed by and American studio, I was pumped. I was skeptical, but also excited.

                One of the things that excited me most about Miracle Day was the premise. One day nobody dies, people still get sick, they still get injured but no one dies. The boost in the human population causes a massive drain of resources, food, water, medicine and soon the human race will no longer be viable. I’ve often considered how most contemporary issues are caused by population, issues like pollution, unemployment, the waiting times in hospital all caused by an excess of people. Like it or not we need people to die to survive as a race. So how would the human race fare when you took death out of the equation?

                Well according to Miracle Day we’d handle it pretty darn well we’d just (Spoiler Warning) bung ‘em in the oven. Towards the end of the series there’s a massive two month leap into the deathless world and nothing’s changed. Where were the larger implications? Where were the two mile cues for water and food rations? Where were the public protests at the Category One camps? Where’s the suffering, the looting, the public backlash? Russell T. Davies I know stuff like this is expensive to show but seriously, make it happen. Cut out a few explosions, redress extras, hell maybe even call upon your fanbase to help but we need to see the impact this would have on the world. 

                One of the biggest problems with Miracle Day is its inability to keep up pacing through its ten-part structure. One of the issues with a mini-series is that everything has to be condensed as much as possible each episode has to take a dramatic turn and move the story along significantly. So why do so many episodes here feel like padding? The series kicks off great, introducing the conflict, dragging our characters in and throwing in plenty of action. Even the second episode keeps things going well even though it’s largely set during a ten hour plane flight. But then the plot really seems to meander through inconsequential territory. Even the episodes set at the death camps go on for far too long and never amount to much in terms of the big picture. A good mystery should be like a jigsaw where each piece is rationed out one at a time. Logically each episode should provide you with a nugget of information that makes the audience feel like they’re getting closer to the truth. Here though we spend entire episodes feeling like the plot is going nowhere. Even the death camps, as terrifying a prospect as they may be, feel like merely a symptom when we should be looking at the cause.

                Then there’s the characters, first off Gwen and good old Captain Jack Harkness are great. John Barrowman and Eve Myles are obviously having a lot of fun being back in action and really bring home the emotional conflict between them. Unfortunately the new characters do not fare so well, CIA agent Rex Matheson’s specialty seems to be either collapsing or barking orders. He constantly undermines Torchwood at every turn yet does little of value to the plot himself. And the cherry on top is that he's not even particularly interesting to watch. Esther Drummond seems to be the most human of the group a CIA analyst caught up in the whole thing and now out of her depth. However given the scale of the situation her inability to cope feels less like a fish out of water and more like the pathetic whining of a scared little girl. She never grows as a character throughout the entire series and what’s worse is that she’s seen has having some romantic fixation on Rex. Needless to say the two share little chemistry with almost no scenes showing them as friends as well as colleagues.

                It’s not all bad though. PR mastermind and satanic redhead Jilly Kitzinger may be as inconsequential as half the series but she’s always fun to watch, even if she’s saddled with the disturbingly uninteresting Oswald Danes. On that note, Jesus Bill Pullman, way to phone it in! As a child murderer who survived his own execution thanks to the Miracle, Oswald Danes was hyped up as a Lector-esque artisan killer. But Pullman never sells the role, he's neither frightening nor electrifying and it's made all the worse when the scene demands him to show some semblance of energy. Finally the one good note is CIA bigwig Allen Shapiro played by John de Lancie best known for his role on Star Trek: The Next Generation as the omnipotent Q. While there isn’t much to the character he certainly is entertaining to watch and gets the ball rolling, even if it’s too little too late.

                I do realise that writing this review after the show’s been broadcast will seem a little redundant. Anyone who’s seen Miracle Day will have seen it and BBC Wales along with Starz Entertainment are going to have all the info to decide to keep going. All I can say is that, if Torchwood does return, we need to wait. Just ignore it, unplug the TV, smash your broadband router, just wait until the reviews come out and see if it’s any good. If it’s good, enjoy it. If it’s bad then forget about it. After all for a series about immortality, Miracle Day might be the best evidence that Torchwood has lived too long. Maybe Children of Earth was a last death rattle that got it on life support and if so it might be time to pull the plug.

Cowboys and Aliens

                Cowboys and Aliens is one of those frustrating films to review. First and foremost there's nothing fundamentally wrong with the film it’s. In fact it’s miles ahead of some of the schlock we’ve had passing for a blockbuster this year (not exactly the brightest day for The Green Lantern). From the offset the film drops you right into the old west with Jake Lonergan (Daniel Craig at his leathery best) who wakes with no memory and a hunk of iron on his wrist. You’re invited to share in his confusion and empathise with his predicament as Jake struggles to get his bearings and free himself from his strange new accessory. And the second a couple of eager bounty hunters stumble upon him you realise just as Jake does that just because a bull is startled doesn’t mean it ain’t deadly.

Needless to say it’s a great opening and the film stays on form throughout introducing a variety of western staples, the preacher, the barkeep, the sheriff and the corrupt man in charge Woodrow Dollarhyde (Harrison Ford). Yet none of them ever feel like mere staples of a genre. Jon Faverau has painstakingly recreated the Old West but never allows it to fall to the ridiculous conventions Hollywood used to indulge in. Add this to the rough, down-to-earth performances of a talented cast and the world of Cowboys and Aliens feels real and brutal, giving the film a true emotional resonance when the aliens arrive.

The aliens themselves however are pretty generic. Big hulking trolls that certainly startle but never horrify, you could easily see them in middle-earth or minding the door at the Green Park Tavern. Their technology is suitably huge and greasy for the old west and truth be told the mothership is an impressive sight, though you will find yourself smirking a little at the dragonfly design of the smaller ships.

So why is the film difficult to review despite having so much going for it? Well because it never really does anything with the positive elements to create a true summer blockbuster experience. Jake’s amnesia sets up the man with no name aspect very well but little, if anything, is ever made of it. The film sticks with the adventure and leaves the mystery in the dust meaning that the revelation has neither a significant impact nor any relevance to Jake’s journey from outlaw to hero. Meaning that while the film excites, it fails to uplift.

X-Men First Class faces the Reboot

After an extended hiatus recent events have moved me to restart The Salsa Shark and practice my hand at reviewing mainstream cinema, and it doesn’t get more mainstream than X-Men. X-Men isn’t just a comic book franchise it’s the original comic book franchise, it’s the reason we’re inundated with two hours of spandex-clad CGI every other week. As such the name carries enough brand recognition to guarantee a box office return and the source material has the room to be action-packed but emotionally weighty. The X-Men films have always been solid, entertaining stories but only X2 has risen above average and unfortunately X-Men: First Class just doesn’t match up.

 The primary reason for this it is an inherent lack of focus, obvious enough when you consider this was supposed to be a Magneto’s origin but later changed to encompass the X-Men as a whole.  It doesn’t cost the film any of the central themes of isolation or segregation and turning the Cuban Missile Crisis into the climax plays out surprisingly straight. Chock full of camp straight from the sixties spy genre makes it feel like a comic book come to life without undermining the emotional weight.

                It’s a shame that the change in direction hits Magneto (Michael Fassbender) the hardest given his place as one of the most fascinating antagonists in the Marvel mythology. Despite an early scene made unintentionally hilarious by one of the worst performances I've ever seen from a child actor, his vendetta oozes badassery. In the end though, his journey loses its emotional weight because we never fully experience his relationship with the two men that created him. Villain Sebastian Shaw (Kevin Bacon) who brought him to the lows of the Holocaust and Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) who showed him his potential. Both men had a hand in what Eric Lehnsherr would become but sadly the film doesn’t have time explore this.

                Fortunately its failing are overcome thanks to a strong central cast. McAvoy conveys all the intelligence of Patrick Stewarts Xavier, without any of the wisdom. His is a flawed Xavier, one who still believes mutants should hide their abilities and puts his faith in the very people that want to hunt him. Fassbender is electrifying as a vengeful Eric Lehnsherr, like a spy gone rogue with a cause you can sympathise with. Finally Kevin Bacon steals every scene as Shaw, giving this one-note villain a surprising amount of depth. The amount of energy he brings to the performance could easily be harnessed into a weapon.

                However the supporting cast does not fare so well. January Jones delights as Emma Frost but utterly fails to intimidate and CIA agent Moira MacTaggart is utterly forgettable(pun not intended). Mystique (Jenifer Lawrence) and Dr Hank McCoy (Nicholas Hoult) are the exceptions, compelling but undermined by shoddy make-up or clumsy dialogue. If the screaming child Magneto doesn’t prove that the film treats subtlety as a foreign concept then the ham-fisted ‘Mutant and Proud’ declaration will.

                While it’s hard to contain my disappointment at X-Men: First Class the good still far outweighs the bad. With a recognizable conflict and entertaining cast of characters the film keeps the momentum all the way up to the impressive climax. The special effects on the lifting of the submarine give a real impression of mass that really communicates the danger of moving such a large object. Made all the more impressive by how much you care about the people in danger. By the end a single bullet has more impact than a hundred missiles but the tragedy still leaves you hopeful for the future of X-Men

A brutally tense session of studel and creme

As the summer winds to a close and we find ourselves finally able to forget the sensory onslaught of the blockbuster season (I mercifully managed to avoid Michael Bay soiling my retinas) we find ourselves facing those films languishing in cinematic purgatory. Too mature for the summer, too coarse for make the grade for awards season these are the films that lack a defined place among the social classes of high-brow and low-brow.  Tarantino, it seems, has evolved over the years into a director who has consistently found himself stuck in this juxtaposition of identity. His name still carrying the intellectual kudos to impress the cinematic authorities at Cannes and western critics but with a noticeable decline in quality post-Jackie Brown which has left him appealing solely to fanboys and indeed fans of himself.  It is fitting then that lack of identity is one of the largest problems with Inglorious Basterds, Tarantino’s long mused over World War Two epic centred on a team of Jewish guerrilla soldiers sent to strike fear into the hearts of German soldiers. However the story is split two ways between that of the ‘basterds’ and of Shosanna Dreyfus a young Jewish girl seeking revenge for the slaughter of her family and inevitably the two threads are destined to collide.

   The largest problem with this is that not enough time is dedicated to either storyline to get the full emotional impact or entertainment value. The Basterds storyline is introduced as a typical men-on-a-mission in the vein of The Dirty Dozen or The Dambusters with Brad Pitt as the inimitable Aldo Raine. Sporting a thick southern drawl and a suspicious scar Raine is clearly another iconic Tarantino character in the making and Pitt plays him superbly. Seething with the internal anger of a man who’d scalp the gods if they crossed him and yet not once loosing his cool, not once does Pitt turn this man into a demented hillbilly parody. Instead Raine is cunning, calculated and determined to see this mission through. However Raine is the only Basterd who we get a fully rounded impression of as a character, aside from a few moments from Eli Roth’s sadistic baseball bat wielding Donny Donowitz (affectionately dubbed The Bear Jew by the Nazis) little is seen of the rest of the team. Many of the original members don’t have lines let alone any degree of character, apparently sidelined halfway through the film for the inclusion of the chillingly psychotic Hugo Stiglitz (Til Schweiger) whose sole job is apparently to sit and look scary. Which is where the film fails as a men-on-a-mission theme, there is nothing seen of the Basterds functioning as a team, no planning of tactics, no casual background exposition. Instead of a group of individuals contributing their skills and ideas to a successful mission they are reduced to a group of faceless, killers standing in the background.

   But the Basterds were never intended to be the primary focus of the film, in all the articles and features that circulated about Inglorious Basterds Tarantino always asserted that it was Shosanna and not Aldo who was the film’s central protagonist.  Yet Shosanna suffers the same lack of attention that the Basterds do, first encountered briefly as she flees for her life through the fields of rural France and not seen again until the films third chapter, now living in Paris under a false identity as the owner of a cinema. As a result the audience does not get nearly enough time to empathise with her as a character at the beginning. Its only following a brutally tense session of strudel and crème with the man who murdered her family (apparently now oblivious to her identity) that Shosanna once again becomes the terrified and venerable femme fatale truly worthy of our sympathy. Yet her vulnerabilities remain concealed throughout the film as she begins to plan her revenge from manipulating her projectionist and lover Marcel to threatening an unwilling collaborator at axe point leaving her role as the emotional heart of the film slightly diminished.

   Furthermore the film lacks many of the distinctive qualities we have come to associate with a Tarantino film. The lengthy tracking shots that follow the characters like a companion, the 70s exploitation style music and the scenes of lengthy character dialogue (or at least ones with characters who won’t be dead by the end of the scene).  Which will not only disappoint the fanboys but also deprives the film of engaging qualities that made his earlier work so engaging and as a result some scenes do drag on. However Tarantino still proves himself as a skilled director in several scenes, more specifically displaying a skill for suspense to rival Hitchcock himself. The opening chapter for example sees antagonist Standartenfurer Hans Landa, The Jew Hunter, skilfully interrogate a French dairy farmer who may or may not be hiding Jewish fugitives. As Landa subtly tiptoes around the subject with metaphors of hawks and rats I implore anyone not to be on the edge of their seats throughout. As well as the aforementioned scene between him and Shosanna where he casually discusses the upcoming Nazi premiere over strudel, telling her to “attendez la crème” just forcefully enough to keep their friendly dessert rife with tension. Indeed if the film has one quality that redeems its other flaws it is Landa himself, one of Tarantino’s most memorable creations to date. Disturbingly creepy yet undeniably charming Landa provides the perfect foil to Aldo as a man who looks out purely for himself. His opinion on his unofficial title of The Jew Hunter changing depending on how it serves the conversation be it intimidating victims or persuading potential allies. Christopher Walz plays the character to perfection and does so with relish, giddy as a schoolboy when repeating western phrases “That’s a bingo!” or taking the piss out of the Basterd’s attempt to pose as Italian filmmakers.  Comical and terrifying, complex and yet single-minded Landa is possibly the best thing the film has to offer. In the end the biggest problem with Inglorious Basterds is that you leave the cinema wanting more, as strange as it sounds for a problem. More of Tarantino, more of the Basterds and so, so much more of Shosanna the film is still entertaining but inevitably unsatisfying. By no means it is Tarantino’s masterpiece nor is it entirely a piece of shit but rather a good sign of things to come.

Nut up or shut up!

   It’s possible to say that there is no genre in cinema more versatile and malleable than the Zombie Film. As a writer you can do virtually anything with the undead and judging Hollywood’s output these days it seems people often do. Be it is using them as dark reflection of human nature in Romero’s Dawn of the Dead, a nostalgic and hilarious homage in the for, of Shaun of the Dead. Or, in extreme cases, just plain abused for the sake of low-budget seventies skin flicks like Nudist Colony of the Dead, a VHS abomination I encountered at a truck stop in Reno*. The reason zombies are put to such a variety of uses lies in the simplicity of their premise, i.e. ‘the dead are rising, lets run away’, you wouldn’t exactly need Jane Austen to fill out a movie on that notion. Zombie films also have the advantage of an antagonist already existing without the need to write a half-compelling villain. Although in fairness some of the better writers carve antagonistic forces out of their survivors that are more despicable than a zombie could ever hope to be. Charlie Brooker’s mini series Dead Set saw the creation of Patrick, the foul mouthed, egotistical producer of Big Brother, hell-bent on escaping the confines of his own show in the midst of a zombie rampage. More than willing to put his fellow survivors at risk for his own sake all while ridiculing and humiliating them, Patrick may be one of the foulest creatures in television and its satisfying to see him face the unstoppable force of an undead horde.  

  Because the simplicity of the genre zombie films are in abundance throughout cinema history however only a select few stand out as being significant. Zombieland might be the most significant addition since Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, which is not the same as saying it is as good or as compelling. But in terms of what they both do with the genre, both films are essentially not Zombie films*. 28 Days Later is not a Zombie film or even a Sci-Fi film but in fact a human drama set within the world of a Zombie film. Occasionally yes, the zombies do affect the narrative but the focus of the film remains on the relationship that develops between the characters. In a similar vein Zombieland is a character driven comedy that happens to take place in an equally zombified setting. And while sometimes the zombies do get mixed in with the comedy the biggest laughs in the film undoubtedly come from this eclectic cast of characters. The first being a much beloved stock character, the socially neurotic Columbus, played lovingly by Jesse Eisenberg (Michael Cera watch out, he can do the awkward- kid thing and we’re not sick of the sight of him!). Eisenberg is on form as Columbus, a hapless college kid now thrown in the deep end of shit creek, surviving only on a rigorous set of rules which he sticks with all the dedication of a nerd. In fact it’s the rules which become one of the films strongest points, a series of recurring gags that break the fourth wall not only for a quick laugh but also as a clever commentary on the genre. The rule of double tapping for example, a fairly blunt nod to those moments in horror films where the killer is shot down but undoubtedly still alive and we, the audience, are screaming for someone to blow their brains out.  

Into Columbus’s secure little, loner world comes a bizarre surrogate family to keep the momentum flowing. Starting with Tallahassee (Woody Harrellson) a veritable badass utterly relishing the chaos around him. Shortly following is Wichita (Emma Stone), the standard-issue love interest and her sister Little Rock (Abigail Breslin) dragging the protagonists on a road trip that involves a hilarious celeb cameo and a mind-boggling trip to an amusement park. Leading to a climactic showdown and perhaps one of the best directed zombie massacres in recent years. The writing is exceptional here with Harrelson taking all the best lines as a Twinkie loving zombie-killer. It is the chemistry between him and Eisenberg’s character which is the films lynchpin, the neurotic little waif pedantically trying to push his rulebook on a man whose only response is: “Do you wanna see how hard I can hit”. As a result however the relationship between the girls feels underwritten by comparison and by extension Wichita’s chemistry with Columbus feels forced. Furthermore the film’s final moral about the nature of family feels overly sentimental and hardly in keeping with the tone of the film. Regardless the film is a hilarious, action packed zombie romp, skilfully written without venturing into the darker territory of traditional zombie films. Some may pick fault at the logic of the films finale in which the characters seek refuge in a wide open area filled with lights and loud music. But this is not a film about logic it is a film about people; stupid, crazy, annoying people just trying to enjoy the little things in life and seeing them do it is well worth the trip.

*It’s currently enjoying wide circulation in New Zealand thanks to one Alex Clark

*And not just because they don’t use the traditional slow moving zombies

Skins and other reasons why I drink.

The people that know me best will be able to tell you that Skins, for me is a bittersweet issue to say the least. Now I am willing to admit that I quite contentedly watched the first two seasons of Skins, the 1st Generation if you will. But more than that I enjoyed the series, it was one of the few shows left that I actually looked forward to its broadcast. No one will deny it was a coarse, inaccurate and sensationalist view of teenage life. But beyond that the show was an intelligent and funny portrayal of the struggle of the teenage years. The learning curve between the arrogant, self-centred piss-weasel you once were into the relatively well adjusted adult you may become. Lead protagonist Tony Stonem suits this to a tee, spending much of the first season manipulating and abusing his closest friends only for them to reject him outright. It takes a bus to the face for Tony to learn humility and that’s exactly what happens. As you can imagine the characters are not totally likeable but it would take a saint to be their age and be totally likeable. Which is beside the point because the characters had depth to them, they were shallow and self-serving but also vulnerable, ambitious, lonely and in rare cases actually nice. But eventually season 2 came to a close and the characters we had come to love were leaving. For me this was where Skins ended, when all but one of the main cast moving on to uncharted horizons. Though I knew it wasn’t really the end, the show was to continue with an entirely new set of characters but I didn’t hold out much hope. To end it at the second season seemed the logical place, going out with a little dignity and anything more would have been beating a dead horse. But in the face of naysayers I kept a thread of hope that the 2nd Generation could hold its own. So when the day came I tentatively opened my laptop and clicked on the link to 4OD.

So how was my faith rewarded? Well basically the writers decided to shit on everything that made the show good and toss it out like a soggy tissue. And I’m not just talking about the characters here, but the wit, the visual montage. All that was replaced it with anything cheap and ostentatious to get the attention of anyone with the mental age of ten. These weren’t characters they were caricatures, there were no scenes just random events that culminated in all of nothing. And what’s worse many of the characters were despicable and manipulative, I know our protagonists are supposed to have flaws but these were people I wanted to see dead. Now some of you familiar with the series will recall that Tony was also a manipulative sociopath who behaved in a truly despicable manner. But he was the sole exception in the previous cast, the worst you could say about any of the 1st generation is that they were self-obsessed. None of them held any actual malice towards each other, Chris just wanted a good time, Michelle just wanted to be loved and Sid just wanted to get laid. There is nothing however which excuses the actions of these characters and if you don’t believe me look at the first few minutes of the third series, our introduction to the 2nd generation.

We start with Freddie, an unassuming young man, skateboarding down Park Street in Bristol. Now if you’ve ever been to Park Street you know it’s a near-vertical incline as well as an important part of Bristol’s traffic infrastructure. So by riding a fucking skateboard down in the middle of rush hour Freddie is likely to, at best land flat on his face or at worst cause a car accident. Instead Freddie flies past a police officer on a bike knocking his ice cream cone into his lap so that it looks like a cock. And then Sid James laughs lecherously before molesting Barbara Windsor, oh wait I’m sorry this isn’t a Carry On film, its just Skins now has all the humour of one. So the officer gives chase, because being annoying is apparently a crime, sure why not, and for his trouble he goes flying into a nearby garbage truck that Freddie was able to avoid. The camera now follows Freddie to spare us the image of the massive metal teeth of the truck compacting on the cop crushing him to a horrific, painful death. Seriously is there gonna be any continuity with this scene, like later in there series Freddie has to apologise to the officers family, that because he was being all cool and rebellious his children no longer has a father to support them? Probably not but it’s a nice thought. But anyway Freddie joins his mates Cook and J.J. (ugh we’ll get to him later) for a few pre-college drinks and drugs, which is perhaps the least reprehensible thing they actually do.

Cook swears and acts boisterously while J.J. analyses the benefits of drinking Carlsberg over eating a Snickers, it’s all so-so. However eventually the three spot the cops bike left in the middle of the road and sure enough a car crashes into it and swerves into a bollard. Who should get out of the car, why it’s Harry Enfield, patriarch of the Stonem household and all round buffoon, who shouts and swears at the situation. Jesus, didn’t we get past his character being this incompetent idiot in the second series, you know, where he proved himself to be an ultimately caring and loving father figure by nurturing Tony in his time of need. Well why have good character development when you can have cheap comedy? After some ranting Cook pretends to be an injured cyclist and cons Harry Enfield into buying him a new bike. And there you have it people, our central protagonists, the people we’re supposed to follow, relate to and eventually come to love. We’re barely five minutes in and they have already murdered a public servant, caused a near fatal traffic collision and then conned the victim.

Now I’ll admit J.J. has not done any of this, he’s just recited a set of statistics and facts in an eloquent manner. It’s all fairly interesting but for all it serves the story he might as well be repeating ‘I’m Autistic, I’m Autistic’ like a broken fucking record. Obviously J.J is meant to represent the kinds of social minorities the writers like to use to cover a broad range of teenage issues. Much like Maxxie and Anwar, being Gay and a Muslim respectively, the difference being while those were a key aspect of their characters they weren’t the only aspect. Maxxie and Anwar were never defined solely by their sexuality or their religion, they were people. With J.J however there’s no such depth, almost all of his character traits are linked to him having Asperger’s Syndrome. Oh and before you go throwing accusations around, let me make one thing clear. I can recognise that J.J. has Asperger’s not because I myself have it, not because friends of mine have it or even because I’ve studied the disorder academically. I recognise this for the simple reason that I’m not a fucking moron. In fact, as if to make it even more blatant later in the episode when asked to introduce himself he outright states that he has a higher intellectual capacity but a reduced social skills. Which if I recall is the…oh what is it again…oh yeah, the dictionary definition of Asperger’s. Good Lord J.J. I know they’re just trying to write you as the oddball, comic relief, but to me you come off like the worst kind of scum.

As much as I hate to contradict myself I’ve got to give the writers credit in constructing Freddie’s character, who on the whole manages to display his personal idiosyncrasies with a subtlety that the others lack. He comes across as collected, happy-go-lucky and unassuming and is obviously not written to be the psycho anarchist his actions imply. What’s more is that he shows the writers ability to craft an effective trio which each of them symbolising the fundamental aspects of a person. The body (Cook), the mind (J.J.) and the soul (Freddie). We can see these three struggling without each other but when together they become a functional unit. It is for this reason that we can accept such radically different people being friends. However there is no such excuse for Cook who is the perfect example of the writers thought process: Flawed Character = Amoral Cunt, and I apologise for the language but there’s no better word to describe him. Cook the cock it seems will literally kick, spit, swear and screw whatever he feels like with no sign of remorse. It’s not hard to see how he came about as a character, the writers clearly noticed that in earlier series that Tony remained popular among viewers despite being wholly unlikeable as a person. So following the same formula they created a protagonist who was utterly reprehensible. The problem is that while Tony was a sociopath who manipulated people for his amusement he never went out of his way to physically hurt people and showed genuine regret when his actions caused the suffering of others. With Cook there is no such contrition nor do people reject him for his violent tendencies. In fact as well as being the most violent of any of the characters he is also the most well-laid, having been balls deep in two of the main cast. Yeah great message to be sending to the impressionable youth of today, beating people up is what gets you the pussy.

Oh and as it happens the one who becomes Cooks most regular fuck-rag is Effy. You remember Effy, the cool, enigmatic, master pupetteer who spent the last series chewing up arrogant piss-weasels like Cook? Well she’s back and thoroughly neutered. Far from the confident, intelligent hedonist who successfully pushed all the previous characters into resolving their differences. She’s now playing silly games, being torn between men/idiots and stating bluntly what the old Effy could tell us with the flicker of her eyes. What’s worse is that most of the conflict in series three comes from Effy’s fragile status as ‘Queen Bee’ of the group, as if her character was torn right out of Mean Girls. Remember this is a girl who subtly manipulated her brother and many others for their own good and did she want an ounce of recognition for her efforts? Did she fuck, she was just happy that the people she loved were bending to her will. Whether for their own good or just her amusement, this displayed a level of intelligence unequalled by any other character and yet is completely absent in the new series. Which pretty much summed up the direction the show was going; the writers had sacrificed intelligence and subtlety for cheap laughs and shock value. The protagonists were only ever one-dimensional and for the most part irritating. Skins had been reduced from a smart, broad dramedy to what everyone first said it was, coarse, sensationalist teen programming. Channel 4’s love letter to the ASBO generation. Was it ever anything else? I do not know, but it was not the show I once fell in love with and I would return to it only one more time to see where it had gone from here.