A Christmas Carol 3D

Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol is a story that requires little introduction. It’s a story that’s been interpreted on screen through traditional live action, to cartoons to muppets. And so up steps Robert Zemeckis, following on from his 3D CGI forays of The Polar Express and Beowulf, to take a run at this classic festive tale in his preferred medium.

Robert Zemeckis doesn’t use straight CGI (such as Pixar), rather he uses motion capture that requires his actors to deliver performances that are then stored in computer, overlaid with new cosmetics and delivered all-singing and dancing to the big screen. Jim Carrey here takes on the main role of Scrooge, but is also on duty as the ghosts of Christmas Past and Present, as well as other roles.



It’s a curious style. Jim Carrey is mostly recognisable as Scrooge and delivers a clipped, sneering performance of this most famous of characters. Personally I thought the part was a little under-nourished. His transformation from miserly to generosity is the crux of the story, yet Scrooge here seems to turn around and be open to change from as early as the first ghostly visitation. Frankly, you get the feeling that Scrooge would have been amenable for changing his ways after he had been shown Christmas pasts and they needn’t have bothered going the whole hog with Christmas present and future.

Whilst Carrey certainly takes his lion’s share of the parts he is not alone; Gary Oldman does good work in multiple roles as Bob Cratchett and Jacob Marley, but this is counterbalanced by the likes of Colin Firth and Bob Hoskins who, through know fault of their own, appear on screen as malformed versions of the person you recognise that is more jarring than entertaining.

The real issue with this version of A Christmas Carol is that the 3D CGI thrills and spills of it all are both its biggest draw and biggest drawback. It is, in effect, a display of style over substance. Narrative and character are pencilled in, joining the dots, between the next swooping rush over chimney rooftops, through trees in fields of white snow, even down drainpipes serving as bizarre waterslides.



Zemeckis can take credit for producing a genuinely amazing-looking effect. An early opening sweep over Victorian London, with snow falling in layered depth whilst a boundless ‘camera’ peeks through windows and skirts up close to various people is giddily fantastic. At one point I turned to Mrs. Comet as she turned to me and, with our big 3D glasses on, we grinned at the experience of it.

As a film, in terms of character, script and narrative momentum this version of A Christmas Carol, whilst striving to remain true to the book, doesn’t pack the magic other versions have mustered. The plight of Tiny Tim didn’t strike a chord with me, nor the lost love of Scrooge’s past. It was almost like the film took for granted its audience’s no-doubt familiarity with the tale and so didn’t bother trying to explain every nuance of the story.

But, as a big-screen 3D experience, with its state-of-the-art visuals and menacing scares that will give many a child a scary (but not too scary) time, I can certainly recommend it. Making it a Christmas treat for yourself and your loved ones, making an event of it, that I can endorse. But for any other kind of viewing I say. . . predictably. . . bah humbug!

Up 3D

You can’t accuse Pixar of resting on their laurels. The powerhouse animation success story of the past 15 years, they follow last year’s Wall-E (lone robot on a desolate planet) with a cantankerous old man as their central protagonist. And yet these brave choices are what make Pixar strong – unafraid to defy demographics and simply go with emotional heft and killer ideas. Up, make no mistake, has plenty of both.

The film begins with a wonderfully moving opening sequence, as young Carl Fredricksen meets with the spirited Ellie. The pair are united by a love of adventure, which becomes a love that binds them into marriage, adulthood and old age.



In just a few sumptuous minutes the story of Carl and Ellie unfurls in a dreamy montage, by turns heartwarming and heartbreaking, particularly by its inevitable end (predictable in the sense that Carl, as an old man, is living alone). Not ten minutes into the film your throat will be tight and you’ll have taken Carl into your affections completely. When he refuses to leave his house and defends his mailbox against unscrupulous agents looking to build over his piece of land you’ll understand and sympathise.

And then Carl elects to string hundreds of balloons to his beloved home and rip it clear of the ground, to float off to uncharted lands and find the adventure he and Ellie never achieved within their time together.

It’s fair to say the film can’t sustain the sheer depth and sophistication of its introduction. Indeed, I had the same opinion about Wall-E, but when Up does come down it doesn’t fall very far, maintaining interest and excitement and, yes, many more throat-choking tearjerk moments – the scene where Carl turned the page on an old scrapbook to see new additions just about being the clinch moment to reduce anyone to a sobbing mess. You’ll be thankful for the large glasses on your face if you’re watching in 3D to cover your watering eyes.

Carl isn’t alone on his strange voyage. Inadvertently tagging along is Russell – a boy scout looking for a final merit badge, but really looking for a father-figure his real father doesn’t care enough to fill. That Carl becomes the father role, and that Russell re-ignites the child inside Carl is signposted early – but still a pleasure to watch. Meanwhile they are joined by a zanily likable bird (named ‘Kevin’ by Russell, before he learns it’s a girl) and a talking dog outcast from his band of other talking dogs.



Yes, it sounds crazy. But then, in light of the central idea of a house lifted by balloons seeking out lands unfound and mysterious, it’s all in context of the fabulous larger-than-life tone. Whilst Up may feel like it’s losing its way somewhere around the second-third the plot does take an upswing into a deliriously good action climax. It might not have the most despicable (or even sensible) villain, with villainous plot, but that doesn't stop Up from rocketing through a thrill-ride of daring-do to finish with a flourish.

The 3D element is never garishly used, but good use is made of scenic and wide views that gain tremendous depth. There are some images your eyes are plunged into that look good enough to frame. Compare and contrast to those early Toy Story days and the technical leaps displayed here really are on a whole other level. Pixar’s strength, though, has always been about character and story above their medium and here, with Up, they have once again tapped into that creative well to conjure another piece of computer-generated perfection that has more humanity than a hundred other live action films you’ll see.



A pun here for Pixar, saying something like ‘the only way is up’, might be appropriate. But, you know, when they produce movies as good as Up it’s hard to imagine how they raise their game to take things further. The success here, for a children's film, is that I am not even discussing it in terms of how kids will take to it. The auditorium I was in had lots of kids present, and all seemed engrossed and entertained. Same can be said for all the adults with them, me included. That's the magic formula Pixar have mastered. Unlike a house tethered to myriad multicolour balloons, maybe the sky isn’t the limit.

Triangle

Despite never feeling simple the fundamental plot set-up of Triangle is rather basic. Ostensibly a group of friends are joined by Jess (Melissa George), a rundown mother of an autistic son taking a guilty break away on a sailboat jaunt. (The boat’s called Triangle, and they sail into Bermuda Triangle territory, but really the title is derived from the three-way structure of the premise that I shan’t divulge much of here.) A freak storm shows up, capsizes the boat, and the stranded bunch then encounter a large cruise ship, seemingly deserted and from a bygone era.

And then a figure in a sackcloth mask turns up with a shotgun.



To say much of the mechanics of the plot would be to plough headlong into spoiler territory. It’s safe to say that there’s always the sense of something more going on, and the ingenuity of Triangle is in how this concept of repetition is effectively conveyed without exposing all the answers. Throughout the movie questions and observations occurred to me, but heading into the final act I felt like the film had done enough to assuage all my concerns.

The key phrase is ‘felt like the film had done enough’. I don’t know for sure if it really all holds up as robustly as a solid triangle. A last act progression gives way to an excellent further surprise – most audiences will be savvy enough to figure out what’s going on ahead of time, which is where they stop asking fundamental questions that occurred much earlier on and allows Triangle grace to serve up a fine sucker-punch. It’s the kind of movie you’ll want to see again with the benefit of hindsight – particularly the opening scene and credit sequences that slyly wrong-footed you first time around without actually ever cheating.



Melissa George as Jess is the central character in every sense. Undoubtedly a good-looking woman, helpfully bedecked in skimpy shorts and vest, she delivers a sexless, fraught performance; the ragged frayed edge of her fatigued devotion to her son is both her driving force and suspicion-raising distrust. Very early on it becomes clear that what’s going on and what’s going on with Jess are somehow inextricably linked.

If all this sounds like a cerebral exercise then it ought to be highlighted that Triangle almost works well enough as a straight stalk-and-slash thriller. Writer and director Christopher Smith returns more to his Creep (underground train network chiller) vibe than his Severance (blackly comic European slasher) style and, barring some buget-betraying special effects, it’s a composed and assured piece. Gore is minimal, but gunshots blast loud and bullets hit with impact, desperate scuffles are sharply choreographed and the roving camera hints and cajoles at sounds and elements and repeating motifs to completely draw you in.

Triangle may not be as wholly clever as it first seems. Amongst the chills and mystery there is a heart-rending character portrayal to sympathise with after the closing credits as well as the head-scratching puzzle to unlock. That I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around the conundrum having enjoyed the dramatic coil unfurl means that even if I eventually arrive at flaws I’ll consider them forgivable for what was a terrifically engrossing experience. A no-doubt enjoyable re-watch lies in store. Heck, Triangle might just be one of those movies where three-times of watching is required to see the full shape of the thing.

Saw VI

Every October for the past six years a Saw movie has (dis)graced the cinema. It’s moved on from the edgy, nasty horror that originally shocked and awed audiences to slowly morph into the biggest horror franchise in town to the point where each new instalment is barely a standalone film, rather a continuation of the series.

Saw VI spares no mercy for anyone that may have rolled up unaware of the previous movies. In my opinion the franchise ought to work in the longer term plots more subtly but the Saw series doesn't seem to agree. Fans know what's going on, and the series has enough of them to ignore the Johnny-come-latelys.



We continue pretty much where the last one left (though in grand Saw tradition the plot flashbacks and timelines overlap to give the impression that each movie is a further piece in some intricate, horrific mosaic). Detective Hoffman (Costas Mandylor) is continuing the work of the deceased (since film 4!) Jigsaw, John Kramer (Tobin Bell, keeping his dead character alive in flashbacks and recordings here); following out orders to claim new victims into playing a game to determine their right to live and test their will to survive.



Chief protagonist is an insurance man and moral blackhole William Easton (Peter Outerbridge), targeted by Jigsaw on account of his unscrupulous life insurance policy formula that merrily screws victims out of their rightful claims. To be fair Easton actually acquits himself to posses more dimension than just some bastard cold-hearted schemer – emerging through the various trials as a resourceful and determined anti-hero, mostly trying to act for the best (but unafraid to make the hard choices when they inevitably turn up).

There are other plot threads ongoing here – Hoffman’s schemes unravelling in the Jigsaw investigation, Kramer’s wife’s piece of the puzzle (and the continuing mystery of what was in the box Jigsaw left her); previously dead characters either turn up alive or have further illumination granted to their actions and, though I am reasonably sure the film’s were never intentionally pre-planned to be this well-crafted, the overall impression is one of a longstanding franchise well-maintained.



It’s the gore that’s the draw here, though. The opening sequence is an absolute stunner – all howling and quick-editing in the name of self-mutilation that sets the grim tone. Elsewhere there are some notable moments of disgust; steam vents blistering skin, barbed wire nooses, acid spikes and a showpiece carousel sequence as bickering, lying, pleading colleagues try and avoid coming to a halt at the barrel end of a shotgun.

Saw isn’t a great film. Ever since the first film it’s never particularly been a great series of films in fact. Yet it would be unfair to accuse each instalment as being worse than the last. Indeed, the previous three or four films have found their own groove and rhythm and, given the success of each movie, sticking to the principle whilst enriching the tapestry is a formula that works and continues to work. It’s no longer scary, and once you get passed the groo there’s more of a wickedly deviant humour at play than an intention to upset. Quietly there's a Rubik's cube of a plot clicking and winding into position with deft precision (even if the sheer confusion of it all masks some dubious consistency issues).

I’ve always seen Saw. I saw it this year and I’ll no doubt be there next October to see what new grisly games the ever-convoluted plot has to spin. It’s good, clean-cut, harmful fun!

Zombieland

It’s called Zombieland. It’s set in a world not too long after a virus has transformed all mankind into flesh-eating, rampaging zombies and civilisation is all but gone. And yet despite this Zombieland pulls off the amazing trick of making you forget this is a film about zombies at all.

Although that’s not to say there aren’t zombies in it providing zombie-related thrills.



Our narrator and lead is Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg), channelling a slightly more neurotic and fumbling version of his character from Adventureland (seemingly this guy only acts in films ending with ‘land’!). It’s Columbus’ very introverted and fearful nature that has seen him compile a survival list of rules, the first four of which are relayed and explained within the fantastic opening sequence that is quickly followed up with a riotously slow-motion opening titles montage. Zombieland quickly gets its teeth into you, gearing you up for a great time – the good news is that it doesn’t let you down.

The plot ostensibly sees Columbus crossing the country in a bid to get to his family home in the slight chance that they, unlike pretty much the rest of the entire world, are not marauding zombies or just simply dead. En route he encounters Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson) and this unlikely couple encounter sisters Wichita and Little Rock (Emma Stone and the ever-precocious Abigail Breslin) to form an even more unlikely, almost familial, unit.



As stated, there are times during the movie where you’ll forget this is a zombie picture. Sometimes it feels more akin to an indie-romance, with Columbus slowly withdrawing from his shell to find, within these new people, a sense of belonging that he’s never known. But, as stated, what makes Zombieland a blast is that it’s set against a blackly-comic, gore-drenched cooler-than-thou horror. What’s really key here is that due to the time you’ll spend with the characters, and the care with which they are fashioned to life, you’ll really not want any of them to become zombie-fodder, which makes the tension far more effective than your usual run-of-the-mill horror.



Woody Harrelson as Tallahassee clearly had a ball with his role as a man who finally found his true talent in life: zombie-slaying. Dumb and violent with a heart of gold, he’ll end up breaking yours by the finish after he’s stole it away; it’s a role played with relish and it works a treat. Jesse Eisenberg, whilst perhaps not an actor with great versatility, is eminently engaging, his dry resourcefulness and deprecation a winning combination. Perhaps the girls are less well-served – slightly undernourished with backstory and responsible for some frustratingly bad decision-making (chief amongst them being the world’s worst escape plan to evade a pack of zombies).

Zombieland does pack a cameo appearance that you’ll either love or, like me, find slightly too shoed-in but it’s got a payoff to literally die for. I was more impressed by the pulse-racing action beats – zombie-encounters scored with pumping rock accompaniment and filmed with real finesse as good as a ‘real’ horror movie. Therein lies Zombieland’s strength; whilst it is a comedy it doesn’t water-down the nastiness and menace of its zombies and there isn’t any sense, like with other comedies, that things are going to turn out at all well (and yet you’ll seriously hope they do).



I loved Zombieland. I had a thoroughly great time with it; a fresh spin on a couple of genres fused together with intelligence and sly riffs on clichéd staples. It’s got a script littered with zingers, direction unconcerned with breaking through the fourth wall for a knowing gag and as much heart as it has fresh brains. As Tallahassee would say, nut up, shut up, strap in and lap it up. You’d have to be dead not to enjoy it.

Pandorum

Pandorum has an intriguing set-up. In the future Earth and its bloated population has used up all the natural resources and has so sent a large spaceship out to find another planet to settle on. Two men – Peyton (Dennis Quaid) and Bower (Ben Foster) – wake up from a deep cryogenic sleep with little memory of who they are and what they are doing on the ship. More pressingly, they can find scarce trace of anyone else on board, the systems are down, and things look altogether bad.



An intriguing set-up, for sure, but Pandorum doesn’t take too long to devolve into a convoluted plot to explain the situation, which is really a basic nasty things in the dark hunting the few survivors remaining. That’s not to say there’s anything wrong with a derivative thriller, but Pandorum doesn’t generate much tension and fails to muster any standout action set pieces. One brief moment, when a hapless man wakes from his deep sleep to a violent doom is rather disturbing, but it’s only one instance of such under-the-skin unpleasantness.

Dennis Quaid, a usually reliable everyman action man, is contained pretty much in one room for the whole film. He seems an odd fit for his character; whilst he’s solid enough for the main part, when the time arrives to pitch up his performance he’s less than convincing. Ben Foster is more interesting; not an entirely likable guy, his engineer character Bower has a determination that gets him through despite himself and gives us someone to root for.

What a movie like this needs is a compelling ‘baddie’, but the pierced, steampunk-like nasties here don’t quite cut it. They’re vicious enough, for sure, but there’s no real definition given to them – what they are, why they behave the way they do, what their strengths and weaknesses are. Zombie movies, or monster films like Pitch Black, provide more definitive creatures. Pandorum feels more like Alien fused with Mad Max with little coherence.



The term ‘pandorum’ is the state of psychological madness space travellers may experience after awaking from their deep cryogenic sleep. The amnesia and hallucination idea suggests Pandorum has major tricks to pull. When the leads exhibit jittery hands, a telltale symptom, I expected some intelligent surprises to be sprung, formed from the potential unreliable perspective of the main characters. The film does have some tricks up its sleeve, but given the title I can’t help but feel it fell short of really snatching the rug from under the audience’s feet. A killer twist would have made all the difference – the surprises here feel cheap and, given the confusion the revelations produce, lack impact when they land.

If you happened to be suffering from ‘pandorum’ then nothing would be as it seemed. Pandorum, ultimately, suffers the same condition: it seemed like it should have been great, yet the finished product turned out not to be the case.

Away We Go

I must confess some ignorance. I went into this movie thinking it was the latest from Cameron Crowe. You know, the guy that did Almost Famous, Jerry Maguire and stuff. I understood this was his latest – a scaled-back, indie-type project probably evoking that same air of romance and emotional debate Crowe’s films are characterised by, all set to a cool pop soundtrack.

And you know what? Until the director’s name – Sam Mendes – popped up at the end of the film I would have had no reason to question my assertion. But this was indeed the latest from Sam Mendes. You know, the guy that did American Beauty, Road To Perdition and stuff. He’s ditched the arch-style, and beautiful compositions, and instead gone ultra low-key. Aside from the odd eye-catching shot – a plane taking off captured in window reflections, a panoramic view of a cactus-strewn wilderness – this is up close and personal directing with no flash and pizzazz.

The story centres on couple Burt and Verona (John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph). Maya is six months pregnant when they learn Burt’s parents plan to disappear off to Belgium for a few years, thus leaving them with no particular reason to stay in their half-finished, ramshackle home. So they weigh up potential options for other places they could move to and take a trip – visiting old friends and relatives – to try and a find a new place they can call home.

And that’s it. That’s the whole story. The film is somewhat episodic, broken up by each new location and encounters with the people they meet (cameo starring roles from the likes of Maggie Gyllenhaal as the most obnoxiously patronising natural mother, and Allison Janney as a desperately sad inside profane loudmouth) forming chapters of the journey.

The thread is Burt and Verona who are the film and are most remarkable purely on the basis of how charmingly regular they are. They have evidently known each other for years, are committed and in love and, despite Verona’s irritation at Burt’s goofy laidback attitude and Burt’s crass insensitive remarks, their love never falters.

Early example: Driving in their car, Burt receives a phone call and answers, speaking in a loud voice. Verona winces at how loud he speaks, pulls the car over, gets out and walks away and takes some fresh air and the view, waiting for Burt to finish. She doesn’t shout at him for his loud voice, and neither does he feel any reason to apologise. Theirs is a relationship of absolute acceptance and it’s heartwarming to watch.

Maya Rudolph’s performance as Verona is particularly good. Her best moments involve her saying nothing; from the withering weariness on her expression hearing another of Burt’s dumb chatter, to her restrained reaction to the more insulting ignorance she is consistently hit with (mainly around her being six months pregnant but looking further along) hers is a character you can 100% believe in. John Krasinski is slightly harder to take for real, his Burt being such a lovable lug he’s disarmingly without cynicism, but by the end his character emerges developed and dimensional. The pair form a most unlikely couple and yet, crucially, you can’t imagine them being as good if they were apart.

This is a film about modern day thirtysomething concerns; worries about being responsible parents, about being fully-functioning adults in an increasingly broadening world. It’s equal parts humour (the caricatured people they meet are outrageous, but it’s Burt and Verona’s back-to-reality responses that we, as an audience, can align ourselves with) and sentimental tear-mongering (the deadening sadness in the eyes of a pole dancer after a miscarriage whilst her loving husband helplessly, painfully watches).

Away We Go is the movie equivalent of wrapping yourself in a thick blanket, holding a big mug of hot drink and curling up with an engrossing book. Simple, comforting, enjoyable. Let it take you away.

Adventureland

There’s an enjoyable effortlessness about films like Adventureland. Coming-of-age stories with little plot. Films that focus on a small band of characters over a short period of time, generally with the unspoken point that, whilst the characters themselves may not realise it, what they are experiencing is the most formative and pivotal time of their lives.

Jesse Eisenberg plays James Brennan. Instantly highlighted as a slightly neurotic, virginal student. The summer before he is set to go to a distinguished college his father loses his job and he is forced to find his own funds for a planned European trip. He takes a job at Adventureland – a rusting, humble theme park – presiding over the games area (not even able to get a job in the relatively better position on ‘rides’). Here he meets Em (Kristen Stewart) and assorted other characters, where friendships and romance ensue.

James is a very likable lead – slightly geeky to be outside of the cool clique, yet cool enough to handle himself amongst the cool kids (his status amongst his peers bolstered by a stash of joints he can dole out to gain their friendship and kudos). His character dodges clichés, meaning the tired routine of watching an incompetent outsider come good is avoided.

Ryan Reynolds dodges a similar cliché, being a hunky married man spooling out lines for the young girls he attempts to sweet talk into his affairs. His could have been a one-note, archetype, instead his character Connell has layers of melancholy and deprecation not often seen – Reynolds reigning himself in to deliver a quietly rounded performance.

Kristen Stewart, as James’ moodily cool object of affection, is also given depth; a brooding, repressed soul unable to find affection from Connell, or her father and his new wife, she drinks and smokes and screws her way through self-loathing and still maintains a likable and admirable personality that we can well understand James falling for. Again, like all the main cast, it’s a breath away from cliché and yet manages to avoid the pitfalls of formulaic behaviour.

Adventureland isn’t a comedy, though it does have moments of comedy. Directed by Greg Mottola, who last delivered Superbad, here he takes that movie’s poignant moments, distils and spreads them out evenly to produce a more sophisticated piece. There are laughs to be had but this is a long way away from a gross-out gag or slapstick farce (aside from the occasional punch to the balls attack James is subjected to by his irritating childhood friend). Aside from a comedy duo in the shape of Adventureland’s managers Bobby and Paulette (Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig, comically mugging and reacting in the background of every scene she’s in) everything else is played straight.

Adventureland as a title could be interpreted metaphorically – as though James’ experiences are an adventure of adolescence – but this isn’t the type of movie to try and look at too deeply. It’s simply one to sit back, unwind with and enjoy. For me it perhaps stayed around for a closing coda that could have been jettisoned for a more ambiguous finish, but in terms of how the movie begins it’s bookended neatly enough. If I were to compare Adventureland to a theme park ride I would say it’s not wild enough to be considered a rollercoaster, rather it’s more like a waltzer – effortlessly smooth, dizzying and enjoyable from start to finish. Oh and, whatever you do, don’t eat the corn dogs.

The Time-Traveler's Wife

I’ve not read the book. I heard it’s good but it seemed a bit girly for me, so I wasn’t interested. To be honest I wasn’t particularly interested in the film for the same reason, but there’s a cine-enthusiast in the shape of Mrs. Comet that likes to drag me away from special-effects laden action fests every once in a while. So The Time Traveler’s Wife it was.

Eric Bana is the titular time traveler (sic), Henry. His capacity to travel through time is explained as a genetic anomaly. It’s an uncontrollable occurrence, like an epileptic fit, wherein Henry can travel to the future or the past (within his own lifetime, Quantum Leap fans!) for an unknown period of time before zapping back to his own timeline. This process always renders him naked, resulting in a lot of fast running, clothes-stealing and breaking and entering.

Rachel McAdams is the titular wife, Clare, who has been visited ever since she was a little girl by Henry as an older man. Apparently “big events” draw Henry back to the same places, and Clare just happens to be one such big event in his life. And so eventually Claire meets ‘real-time’ Henry, to tell him she knows about his life and his secret, and a romance begins that produces a demanding marriage (with Henry disappearing for weeks at a time, sometimes) and a determination to start a family.



The time travel conceit is not used much as a plot contrivance or gimmick, which was actually a little disappointing. When Henry claims that he cannot change the past, that it just happens anyway, it might have been nice to see that put to the test and shown. Interesting ideas about choice, about how Claire was encountered as a child by an older Henry and basically given no free will to avoid becoming involved with him, are skirted around but never tackled head on.

The focus is on Henry and Clare and how they live, and love, with their unique circumstances. Mostly this makes for a dull, plodding kind of movie, but there are occasional interjections that keep things ticking along – such as an older, fatally-injured Henry briefly appearing, suggesting that something terrible happens to him in his relatively near-future.

The trouble the movie has is that it does focus on Henry and Claire when there are faults with both of them. Eric Bana, for one thing, adopts a strange accent and some wooden acting. There’s an unnaturalness about him. Maybe that was the hook he was going for – a man out of time and out of place – but it doesn’t work. And Clare’s psychological state isn’t fleshed out; it’s hard to see past anything other than her love for him being an extended schoolgirl crush (the connotations of sequences with an older Henry and a young Clare aren’t exactly treading safe territory either, morally-speaking!).

The Time Traveler’s Wife is, I believe, catering for an older, probably female audience. Eric Bana is suitably handsome, and there’s a domestic feel to this almost epic love story. There’s certainly room for more sophisticated, adult-oriented cinema so I certainly won’t scoff at that. Personally, however, I found the whole thing just a tad too maudlin and depressing; fair enough aiming to wring out the tears with the lows, but things would have functioned better with a couple more energising highs for balance.

Slow and deliberate, like the steady drip-drip of time in a waiting room, The Time Traveler’s Wife certainly isn’t bereft of a good ideas, but perhaps the execution of them could have used more jigawatts to really set the screen alight.

Inglourious Basterds

Quentin Tarantino couldn’t care less, but it’s fair to say that I was on the outs with him. I thought Kill Bill, due to it’s flabby second part, could have easily been pruned down to one great film, and his part of the Grindhouse project, Death Proof, was nothing short of self-indulgent garbage. If Inglourious Basterds turned out to be another introspective, naval-gazing exercise then Tarantino would have a hard job dragging me along to see anything further of his.

Good news, then, that Tarantino’s latest represents a real return to form (at least for people like me that thought he was recently out of form!).

Inglourious Basterds actually feels closest to Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction - only set in Nazi-occupied France! It’s structured into chapters that feature a small collection of lead protagonists that, although beginning as disparate threads, slowly wind together into one narrative.

The inglourious basterds of the title (mis-spelling is taken from the etched words one ‘basterd’ carved into his gun) are a small band of Jewish-American soldiers, lead by Brad Pitt’s Aldo Raine, to kill as many Nazis as brutally as possible to strike fear into their enemy. As this is a ‘fairytale’ (the film begins with the preface ‘Once upon a time. . .’) historical accuracy is left to the wind. This is a movie where the inglourious basterds, in conjunction with Michael Fassbender’s British soldier Archie Hicox, can hatch a plot that could conceivably kill Hitler and his closest leadership team.

This is just one plot thread running, joined by Melanie Laurent’s Shoshanna, owner of a cinema, who catches the eye of a heroic German soldier which fatefully ties in with the conspiracy plot. The film affords the time and space for each of these stories to play out leisurely. Whilst plenty of time is taken over dialogue and nuance, actual motivation is left by the wayside. The reason and circumstances for all the character’s action play out precisely as the plot requires them to. This may seem an odd critique, but when the film spends so long, potentially too long, allowing characters to stretch their legs and occupy extraordinarily long scenes, to bypass emotional insight feels contrived.

I can’t help but feel that Tarantino, so steeped and knowledgeable about movies, has fine-tuned the craft of movie construction and perhaps lost focus on populating his movies with people we can believe in.

Brad Pitt’s character, for example, is terrifically entertaining yet entirely one-note to the very end. There isn’t a scene where Aldo Raine has a crisis of faith, or concern for his wellbeing, or misgivings over his grisly actions of scalping Nazis or watching them beaten to death with a baseball bat. He’s cocksure and unapologetic in every minute of every scene he features in. As I said, entertaining but lacking depth.

That’s not to say the performances are bad. In point of fact Christoph Waltz as Colonel Landa is an absolutely storming performance. The opening chapter he features in is so compelling, so startling, the slow-pace draws you in with a beguiling, ever-mounting dread. Landa, nicknamed “Jew Hunter”, is played with delicious menace – almost effetely charming but with devilishly sinister intent. It’s a performance you won’t be able to take your eyes off and really ought to garner an Oscar nomination for sure.

There is scope to make accusations that Tarantino’s indulgent streak hasn’t been fully reined in enough. Scenes are protracted and dialogue-heavy (mostly subtitled, too). Potentially they could have been edited, but the length of them is designed to generate impact for a sudden twist or dramatic introduction that ratchets up the tension. From Landa’s unexpected appearance at a meeting, to suspicion raised over the origin of a spy’s accent, these shifts are ushered in smartly and the film takes an equal length of time twisting the knife for maximum discomfort.

I was particularly disgruntled by a plot development in the final act, involving one key character, which felt unjustified and undercut the character’s worth. Again, that sense that clever-clever plotting over-ruled genuine character empathy keeps besmirching my impression, perhaps making me sound too harsh. It’s good! I enjoyed it! I just don’t think I’ll love it the way Pulp Fiction swept me off my feet all those years ago. It’s a long film, and it’s not without a few riffs and licks that are deliberately out of place to prevent any notions of this being a period piece (a David Bowie song; scribbled on arrows and notes pointing out particular people) - there’s no doubting it’s a thing of quality.

Inglourious Basterds is not quite the masterpiece one of the characters cheekily implies it is at the very end of the movie but it’s a fine return for the darling of cinema, Mr. Tarantino. One might even be tempted to remark that it’s nothing short of glorious, but such clumsy wordplay isn’t the kind of thing Tarantino ought to be associated with so I’ll refrain from doing so here.