Cinema Review: The Dark Knight Rises (2012)

Hype: it's a blessing and a curse. If a film receives a lot of it, it must be onto something good. But it can also be cruel, building up expectations that no film could hope to meet. When the hype reaches fever pitch levels, as it has for The Dark Knight Rises, there's an even greater height from which to fall, and an even greater potential for backlash from a disappointed fanbase.

The Dark Knight Rises surpasses the hype.

Blu-ray Review: Super 8 (2011)

Super 8 sets its stall out early with its opening logos. After the familiar Paramount peak, we see a boy cycling in front of the moon: the Amblin logo, Steven Spielberg's company, its iconic motif of course spawned from E.T.. Only then is it followed by J.J. Abrams' Bad Robot insignia. Not only does it show just how reverently Abrams regards Spielberg, it also encapsulates the tone, subject matter and even time period of the film to follow. Super 8 is a shameless Spielberg riff through and through - and manages to be the best Spielberg film since the heyday of The Beard himself. A cinematic love child of Close Encounters and E.T., albeit with a rather less friendly alien beastie at its centre, Super 8 encapsulates exactly the sort of exuberant fun, married to real heart and soul, that propelled the young Spielberg to such unmatched heights of critical and commercial success.

Blu-ray Review: Game of Thrones, Season 1 (2011)

Game of Thrones is HBO's latest sensation, and deservingly so. Based on George R.R. Martin's as-yet-unfinished series of novels called A Song of Ice and Fire, it's a fantasy saga that's more medieval than Middle-Earth. The title, taken from the first book of the series, could not be more apt, as the series' main preoccupation is the constant intrigue surrounding the seven kingdoms of Westeros, with numerous contenders claiming their right to the throne that unites them all. (The throne itself, made of hundreds of melted-down swords, is already an iconic image.) There's also the everpresent threat of an invasion of mysterious, demonic 'White Walkers' from the north, a frontier that is protected by a massive ice wall, which is where the pilot episode begins.

Cinema Review: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2011)

The craze for 'Nordic Noir' has been sweeping the nation in recent times, thanks largely to Danish TV show The Killing - already remade in the US - and, especially, Stieg Larsson's bestselling "Millennium" trilogy of novels, beginning with The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Having already been adapted to film in its native Sweden, now Hollywood has jumped on this bandwagon too. Normally the prospect of an American remake of a successful foreign film is likely to induce groans and scorn, but this time things seem a little different, thanks largely to the man in the director's chair, David Fincher. Never a simple director for hire, Fincher evidently saw a story that he felt able to put his stamp on, and financial backers Sony were only too happy to oblige him, coming off the critical heat of The Social Network.

After the departures of The Social Network and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, this does have the air of Fincher getting back to his old stomping ground of the gritty adult thriller. For those who have, like me, managed to avoid both the books and the Swedish films, the plot revolves around a murder mystery. Disgraced journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) is recruited by an elderly corporate magnate (Christopher Plummer) to investigate the unsolved disappearance of his daughter forty years ago. Plummer's Henrik Vanger lives on his own island, which is also home to many members of his dysfunctional family, and Blomkvist moves into an empty house there to commence his investigation. Where the titular Girl comes into it is uncertain for a good half of the running time. During this period, Fincher frequently cuts back and forth between Blomkvist and tattooee Lisbeth Salander, their plotlines remaining separate until he eventually recruits her as his research assistant.

The search for an actress who could play this extremely complex, forbidding character - she's a outcast loner rocking a goth/punk look, declared socially incapable by the state, and a computer genius, her frightening exterior hiding a vulnerable, sensitive soul - was legendarily extensive, but Fincher eventually admitted that the best choice was an actress who he worked with in The Social Network, Rooney Mara. Great choice. She is incredible, completely submerging herself in the character, managing to be completely convincing in her every skill and nuance. There's an incredibly fine line to walk with this character, but Mara balances on it like an expert. Noomi Rapace received stellar notices for her original take, but I find it hard to believe Mara fails to equal her.

Fincher exhibits a confidence throughout that evinces justified faith in the source material. An attention-grabbing title sequence that recalls the similarly creative openings of Se7en and Fight Club starts us off with unexpected gusto, but the ensuing opening of the film proper is a little bewildering, throwing several characters at us, thickly accented dialogue (although Craig keeps his own natural accent) and some apparently unmotivated intercutting. Never fear, though, for we are in the hands of a master: before long the plot chrystallises and its grip tightens like a vice as the temperature plummets. As soon as Blomkvist's interest is piqued on learning of this missing girl, so is ours. Just try turning away from the screen during the next two hours.

The cross-cutting between Blomkvist and Salander for the first half does make for an occasionally lurching pace, but the rhythm soon settles down. The tempo feels akin to Zodiac, as does Fincher's masterful use of time-compressing montage, but this is a film whose thrills are more immediate, though no less intense. Its fictional origins also allow its mystery to be solved in a way that Zodiac's couldn't be, and it's a resolution that's unforeseen, satisfying, and slightly convenient all at once. The search for the killer proves, ultimately, to be a little bit of a red herring, as the film continues for a stretch after the big reveal. It is then that the film reveals itself to really be about its lead pairing, whose relationship is fascinating and perfectly judged. Structurally, the shape of the narrative doesn't quite fit the template, but that is presumably down to the source. And anyway, what would Fincher want with something conventional?



Summary
Fans of the novel and/or the Swedish film(s) may have a different perspective, but The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is utterly compelling, and looks a lot like a new Fincher masterpiece. A word of warning, though: its original Swedish title, Men Who Hate Women, gives a clue to its uncompromising content.

Cinema Review: War Horse (2012)

Steven Spielberg has said numerous times that one of his favourite films is Lawrence of Arabia, so much so that he supposedly watches it before starting production on every movie he makes. War Horse is perhaps the first time that Spielberg’s reverence for David Lean has clearly manifested itself on screen. Its moments of Leanesque grandeur – especially a massed cavalry charge that recalls Doctor Zhivago, albeit with less snow – sit comfortably with more intimate character beats, as exemplified in Lean’s epics. Spielberg is a director whose own style is far from anonymous, however, and he adds his signature crowd-pleasing bravado and penchant for sentimentality to the mix. That heady concoction coalesces to form one of the more satisfying films in the director’s recent career, and a pleasing throwback to old-fashioned Hollywood in the best possible way.

War Horse has its origins in a Michael Morpurgo children’s novella, but the catalyst for this film was the acclaimed West End stage play that gave Spielberg the belief that this narrative originally told from a horse’s first person perspective could be transformed into a film. It’s a real weepie too, wearing its heart on its sleeve as to few films have the confidence to do any more; some moments teeter into mawkishness, especially in the early going, but the sheer sincerity wins you over. The story follows horse Joey from birth in rural Dartmoor through battle in the First World War. During this time he is owned/adopted by numerous people, from farmhand Albert (newcomer Jeremy Irvine, endearing if over-earnest at times) – whose father buys thoroughbred Joey despite his being utterly unsuited to ploughing work – who is the film’s main human protagonist, to an English officer, to a pair of young deserting German solders. Keeping its attention for the most part on Joey, the film is unavoidably episodic but it doesn’t prove to be a drawback in this instance as each individual episode is heartwarming and/or gripping within its own right.

Never shy of a barnstorming set-piece, Spielberg delivers some humdingers here. The aforementioned horse charge is superb, as the British cavalry emerge from fields of tall wheat and sweep through a German encampment. There’s also a prolonged detour into the Battle of the Somme, one of the few times the narrative departs from Joey, which, while owing something to Kubrick’s Paths of Glory as with every subsequent film featuring trench warfare, instantly brings to mind Saving Private Ryan: there’s still no-one better in the business at shooting war. Having said that, War Horse doesn’t replicate the gritty, washed out look that everyone copied after Ryan; it takes a very beautiful classical approach, and is probably the most gorgeously lensed film to come from the Spielberg/Janusz Kaminski partnership. Some could criticise it for being too romanticised, with Dartmoor perpetually bathed in golden sunshine, not to mention the most perfectly cinematic sunset since Gone With the Wind, and even the trenches have an eerie, ethereal beauty.

Spielberg may not quite have the box office clout he used to but he’s still a master manipulator of the emotions. He plays the audience like a fiddle throughout, eliciting laughs, shocks, and a few tears with perfect timing and judgment. One standout scene is a quiet one in which an English and German soldier team up to free Joey from some barbed wire is funny but completely natural and human, not to mention really moving, highlighting the basic insanity of war. Seeing War Horse with a full audience is a joy, as the audience gasps and laughs along in unison. Only the best movies sweep you along as War Horse manages to. It never flinches from the harsh reality but remains a cross-generational crowdpleaser. It’s what event movies used to be like.



Summary
Just as with his recent Tintin, I find myself using the word ‘old-fashioned’ when describing Spielberg’s War Horse, but it’s a word I use in an entirely complimentary sense. War Horse is grand, thrilling entertainment, providing the sort of excitement, emotion and catharsis for which the cinema exists.

Blu-ray Review: The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957) / Das Boot (1981) / The Guns of Navarone (1961)

Sony Pictures Home Entertainment have released a range of older films this year on Blu-ray with similar sleeve designs. While the collection has no specific name, its intention is clearly collate the best films of Sony’s back catalogue (i.e. Columbia) and release them in the best possible standard. Three of these – The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957), Das Boot (1981), and The Guns of Navarone (1961), numbered 2, 8 and 9 in the range respectively – are set in World War 2 and form a brilliant trio of war classics, so it only seemed natural to review them together.

The Bridge on the River Kwai is a great war film, a great prison film, a great adventure movie and a great men on a mission film. It adds up to an absolute masterpiece. Its 160 minute runtime may initially seem excessive, but turns out to be fully justified: there’s just so much to enjoy here in a film that just keeps on giving, and the perfectly judged length allows for immense exploration of character, as well as some unbeatable stretches of incredible suspense. The first act is relatively low key: a group of British prisoners of war are marched into their Japanese internment camp deep in the Thai jungle, and a battle of wills ensues between British Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guinness, never better) and his Japanese oppressor Saito (Sessue Hayakawa, wonderful) over whether the officers will be forced to do manual labour, in defiance of the Geneva convention. The manual labour in question is, of course, the famous bridge. As the verbal battle plays out, an American PoW (William Holden) manages to escape, and before long he’s roped into returning to the camp to blow up the newly built bridge with a squad of commandos.

As the film divides its attention between the commando expedition and the building of the bridge, each is equally gripping. Apparently the latter was an addition at the behest of the producer, who felt the bridge building side of the story would not provide enough thrills, but Lean never shows any disinterest in the less cerebral side of the story. The thrills and incredible suspense of the jungle trek – one sequence in particular, where thousands of bats are disturbed by gunshots and cast shadows over a tense chase, is utter genius – are counterpointed by the fascinating character face-off on the bridge. Guinness’ character is curious, and hard to really pin down – is he just extremely patriotic, simply wanting to show the best of British engineering skills? Or is he a collaborator, willingly helping out his captors? The film never answers this fundamental quandary, leaving its legendary ending open to two divergent interpretations. And what an ending it is: a forty-five minute sustained build of suspense that’s practically unrivalled, reaching an almost unbearable crescendo.

The Guns of Navarone feels like a natural follow-up to Kwai, and was surely designed to capitalise on the earlier film’s success (which it did, earning a Best Picture nomination itself and very healthy box office). The films share a screenwriter, Carl Foreman, which partly explains certain similarities, but Navarone is a more straightforward affair. It’s a pure men on a mission film; indeed probably the very apotheosis of the subgenre – driven by star power (Gregory Peck, David Niven, Anthony Quinn) and a simple plot: a group of British special forces have to blow up a massive Nazi gun emplacement on a Greek island. That’s not to say, though, that it has more in common than mindless modern blockbusters that its precursor Kwai - this is an almost equally satisfying, enjoyable and wholly engrossing affair.

Like Kwai, Navarone takes its time getting anywhere, but never feels indulgently slow. The extra length simply adds to the character interaction and suspense. In fact, the mission itself is underway in the film sooner than you might expect, soon running into difficulties in a superbly realised storm sequence. Navarone never stops throwing complications in the way of the heroes, in the form of double crosses, injuries, captures and other hiccups, but that’s not at the expense of the characters’ integrity – it just amplifies how tough their mission is. The setting of the fictional Greek island (the film was shot on location in Rhodes) adds colour and novelty, and makes for some great set pieces. If the finale feels like a slight anticlimax, that’s made up for by the sheer entertainment value of the whole adventure.

Das Boot takes another tack entirely. It's a World War 2 film starring Germans, made by Germans, and telling the German side of the story. While not unique in that respect, it remains the pinnacle of the films that have attempted to expose what it was like to be on Hitler's side. Following exclusively the experience of a U-boat crew on an Atlantic mission, what Das Boot does so brilliantly is humanise these men: they were just as scared as the Allies, and apparently few of them were blindly loyal to their Fuhrer. There's a world-weariness embodied in the boat's captain, played by Jurgen Prochnow, that captures the futility that must have been sensed by the crew; they were fighting a war that many of them had little stake in, and little hope of surviving. Perhaps there's an air of apologetic German revisionism, but Das Boot feels authentic down to the last rivet.

Director Wolfgang Petersen announced himself on the world stage here, making use of the new Steadicam technology to roam the cramped confines of the submarine with unheard of freedom and realism. Never before or even since has a film so effectively conveyed the claustrophobia and exhaustion that such an environment must engender, and also the nerve-shredding terror of coming under attack while stuck in the ocean depths. From a British perspective U-boats have always been seen as invisible instruments of death that mercilessly attacked vital trade routes, but Das Boot exposes that they were far from invincible, opening with a sobering text telling us that 30,000 of the 40,000 U-boat crewmen in the war died before it ended. Despite the film's harrowing message, though, it's also an extraordinarily thrilling adventure, its three and a half hours (in this Director's Cut) positively sailing by in a blur of edge-of-seat intensity.



Release Information
Country: UK / Region: Free / Version: N/A / Discs: 1 (Kwai and Navarone); 2 (Das Boot) / Distributor: Sony

Presentation
Both Kwai and Navarone have received new 4K restorations, and the results are splendid. In Kwai the details of faces and the leaves of the jungle spring to life with great contrast and definition. Its optical dissolves are hazy, however, momentarily disrupting the experience, but nothing could be done there. Navarone looks even better, with great clarity for an older title, only some of its model effects marginally wilting under the scrutiny. Both retain a fine and entirely beneficial grain structure. They also each receive a DTS-HD 5.1 mix, both of which sound perfectly satisfactory but only erratically provide much impact or weight, with limited use of the surround channels.

Das Boot is a slightly different beast. A documentary on its second disc explains that its negative was in dire shape due to flooding, so this is not a new master; it’s probably the same one used for the construction of the Director’s Cut in 1997. Accordingly, detail is relatively weak, with murky shadows and soft edges. There’s not much grain, too, which suggests possible DNR. Its visual shortcomings may also stem from its origins as a relatively low-budget production, though the set design is exemplary. It looks fine, but not great. The soundtrack was completely remixed and redone in 5.1 for the Director’s Cut (even all-new ambient effects were created), and it’s very good, though does not quite make maximum use of the surround sound potential of a submarine-set film; the soundfield isn’t very densely detailed, but directionality is often well utilised.

Extras
Kwai and Navarone are single disc sets but with their extras being mostly presented in SD disc space becomes less of a concern. Navarone, in particular, comes with a handsome array, including multiple commentaries, documentaries and featurettes, but nothing actually new. A nice touch is that you can watch the film with or without its roadshow intermission. The main attraction among Kwai's extras, meanwhile, is a truly excellent hour-long documentary, which is also accompanied by several archival featurettes and an appreciation by John Milius. There's sadly no commentary, but there is a 'picture-in-graphics' track - basically a simple text-based trivia track, which isn't particularly enticing.

Das Boot, its mammoth runtime occupying the whole of one disc, gets a second disc of extras, many new and in HD too. (The first disc features the very good director's commentary from the original DVD.) Several retrospective docs get together some of the participants to look back at the making of what has come to be a seminal film. Amongst the highlights are a featurette on assembling the Director's Cut, and a visit to the studio where the film was shot; it's clear how personal the film is to Petersen (significantly more personal, you'd have to say, than any of his Hollywood efforts). Strangely, the theatrical cut is nowhere to be found, despite it being housed on the second disc of the otherwise identical US Blu-ray release, but it's no great loss.



Summary
Three brilliant films, with equally powerful - but quite different - impact. The masterful Kwai is the true standout here, but Das Boot is also extraordinary, and Navarone is as good a Boys' Own adventure as you're likely to see. Sony's Blu-ray releases do them all justice; Kwai's and Navarone's meticulous restorations are sights to behold and Das Boot's bonus material makes up for its (perhaps unavoidable) visual shortcomings.

The Bridge on the River Kwai:


The Guns of Navarone:


Das Boot:

Blu-ray Review: Doctor Zhivago (1965)

In retrospect, 1965 was the year that represented the end of the old studio system, before the new blood of the late '60s ushered in a revolution in American cinema. It was in that year that two of Hollywood's biggest ever hits were released, both belonging to defiantly old-fashioned genres: the musical and the epic. The musical in question was The Sound of Music, against which the epic Doctor Zhivago was unlucky to be competing for awards and commercial success: it was one of the biggest commercial grossers of all time, but was topped by Julie Andrews classic (they still lie eighth and third respectively on the list of adjusted box office), which also romped home with the major Academy Awards. Hollywood tried to capitalise on the success of both films in subsequent years, but all those efforts were doomed to failure, proving almost financially ruinous in some cases. What's remarkable looking back now on Zhivago is how much popular taste has changed: it's a great film, certainly, but not an easy one to love, with pacing and moral grey areas from which modern blockbusters would recoil in horror.

Much was expected from David Lean in the wake of Lawrence of Arabia. It was to Boris Pasternak's novel he turned, banned in Russia for being anti-communist and therefore the beneficiary of much publicity and controversy in the years since its first publication in Italy, in 1958. The story provided both the scope and scale to match Lawrence, but also a romantic core that the purely male-centric desert epic wholly lacked. Zhivago is a love story set against the backdrop of the First World War and the Russian Revolution, spanning years, and proved far from easy to adapt (Lean's screenplay was again penned by Robert Bolt). The difficulties of the source novel are evident in the finished film, notably an erratic pace and a romance that barely appears for two hours of the running time, but it is these apparent flaws that in fact contribute to its compelling uniqueness.

Zhivago has been much likened to a Russian Gone With the Wind, which may be an easy comparison to make but remains valid. Structurally they echo one another, in terms of a slow beginning set prior to an outbreak of war, followed by the main characters being thrust into a conflict before returning home to a scene of devastation. (And that's all in the first half.) Similarly the romances are unconventional, never actually coming to fruition until near the end of each mammoth film. Zhivago bests its precursor, however, due to its director's vision and storytelling genius. Many of its most brilliant sequences could come from a silent movie, their power generated entirely through Lean's mastery of technique married to Maurice Jarre's haunting music. Witness the chilling suicide attempt scene, or the famous onset of spring montage in which snow dissolves into a carpet of daffodils. Evident throughout is Lean's meticulous planning; there's barely a cut that isn't perfectly motivated, or a transition not imbued with meaning.

With such emphasis on the visuals and scale in a Lean film, the actors could get lost in the scenery, but Zhivago boasts some indelible performances that ensure that doesn't happen. The casting of the Egyptian Omar Sharif was an offbeat choice for the title character, but the actor's commitment and sheer likeability render any concerns about his manifestly non-Slavic origins moot. Julie Christie's Lara, meanwhile, is one of cinema's greatest ever beauties, Lean's camera often lingering on her captivating eyes and golden hair (one of the film's concessions to '60s styling - who knew hairspray existed in revolutionary Russia?). The magnetic Rod Steiger secured an Oscar as the sort-of-villain Komarovsky, but Tom Courtenay is just as good as Lara's brother Pasha, who experiences one of the most dramatic, moving arcs.

Again and again, though, the crux of the film comes back to the core romance, but those expecting a traditional love story will likely be disappointed. Not only do obstacles constantly intrude, preventing their first kiss until well after the intermission, it's an adulterous relationship even once they do admit their feelings. Zhivago is married to Tonya (Geraldine Chaplin), who is portrayed as more or less a saint, so one can't help but feel sad for her despite the chemistry and fireworks of her husband's illicit affair. It's actually elements like these that elevate the film to greater heights: it would have been much easier and more dramatically straightforward to make Zhivago single or even a widower in the purpose of eliminating a difficult moral quandary for the audience.

In fact, it was audiences who saw the greatness of the film first, critics having been unfairly savage. This was in an age when critics actually had influence over a film's success, so the fact that Zhivago was able to weather such scorn is a testament to its hypnotic power. Lean himself threatened to never make a film again after the critics' barbs, but it would in fact be the even more hostile reception of his next film, 1970's Ryan's Daughter (again unjust, but that's another story), that sent him into self-imposed exile.



Release Information
Country: UK / Region: Free / Version: 45th Anniversary / Discs: 1 BD, 1 DVD / Distributor: Warner Bros.

Presentation
For its 45th anniversary, Doctor Zhivago has received the full restoration treatment, but the image and sound quality remains occasionally hamstrung by the source. It's a shame that Lean was not allowed to shoot in 70mm, as he had wished, as it's ironically the quest for the best possible print quality that has caused the original negative to become so worn through overuse (Lean didn't want dupe prints to be used). Nevertheless the restorers have worked some digital magic here, eliminating any sign of print damage or even specks of dust. Detail in many scenes is exemplary. The visuals are mainly hampered by the presence of very noticeable halos around hard edges, such as people walking in snow. Some investigation has revealed that these anomalies seem to be inherent in the print, rather than a result of newly applied edge enhancement, but they remain distracting at times.

The sound, although present in DTS-HD 5.1, sounds thin at times, with limited use of surround channels (the first scene at the train station, when Tonya arrives, sounds particularly tinny). It's a faithful rendering of the source, however, and the wonderful score in particular sounds lush and full-bodied.

Extras
A two-part 40-minute featurette is the only new extra created for this release, but it's a good one, featuring the involvement of many fans of the film from today's Hollywood set. There's surprisingly in-depth textual analysis of certain scenes which offers excellent insight, pointing out things that are easy to miss when you're wrapped up in the story. The commentary, featuring Sandra Lean, Omar Sharif and Rod Steiger was recorded for the earlier DVD but it's still a worthwhile listen, though the 200 minute runtime does make for some gaps, which is reasonable enough. The rest is on Disc 2, which duplicates the second disc of the previous DVD set, the highlight of which being the very good hour-long "Doctor Zhivago: The Making of a Russian Epic" from 1995, which is put together with a little more care and detail than many modern documentaries, which are a dime a dozen. It's only a shame that Julie Christie doesn't contribute. Other than that, there are a handful of vintage featurettes and interviews.

It's nice to have the film contained on a single disc, and not a flipper like the previous DVD, but it's a shame that Warner Bros have left almost 10GB free on the Blu-ray - why not increase the bitrate of the feature, or at least put the rest of the features on the first disc?



Summary
A magnificent recreation of a time embroiled in political upheaval, Doctor Zhivago may not be as acclaimed as Lawrence of Arabia, but David Lean's mastery of his art is still plain to see, producing a typically brilliant combination of scale and substance.

Cinema Review: Super 8 (2011)

Super 8 sets its stall out early with its opening logos. After the familiar Paramount peak, we see a boy cycling in front of the moon: the Amblin logo, Steven Spielberg's company, its iconic motif of course spawned from E.T.. Only then is it followed by J.J. Abrams' Bad Robot insignia. Not only does it show just how reverently Abrams regards Spielberg, it also encapsulates the tone, subject matter and even time period of the film to follow. Super 8 is a shameless Spielberg riff through and through - and manages to be the best Spielberg film since the heyday of The Beard himself. A cinematic love child of Close Encounters and E.T., albeit with a rather less friendly alien beastie at its centre, Super 8 encapsulates exactly the sort of exuberant fun, married to real heart and soul, that propelled the young Spielberg to such unmatched heights of critical and commercial success.

Like E.T., and also fellow 80s classic Stand By Me, Super 8 is a story of childhood, in which precocious young actors are the stars, but, also like them, it is not a 'kids save the world' movie. Rather, it is about a group of friends thrust into an unfamiliar situation, and who deal with it as best they can. Such a movie relies hugely upon its young performers; fortunately, in Super 8 they shine. Their naturalism and ease in front of the camera is a testament to their individual talent, a brilliant casting job, and superb direction from Abrams. A mark of many of the best directors is how well they coax convincing performances from children; in that respect Abrams excels. What's more, each of these kids feels human and fully developed - sure, they do slot into broad types (the chubby one, the geek, etc.) but they feel like friends you could have had in high school. Their behaviour and interplay comes across as entirely authentic, spontaneous and often hilarious. It's a mark of the sheer entertainment value of these scenes that the science fiction stuff almost feels like a sideshow.

That's not to say that Abrams drops the ball when it comes to the thrills. Not a bit of it. Super 8 is as tight and intense an experience as you could hope for, propelled by pitch perfect pacing and numerous moments of great suspense. The plot kicks off when our central band of boys (and girl), filming their own zombie movie, happen to get front row seats to a mammoth train crash. Naturally, it's not just any train crash - it's a US Air Force train, whose contents are a closely guarded, and now missing, secret. Cue the military invading the small town of Lillian, and some déjà vu for fans of Close Encounters. The crash itself is an absurdly extended cacophony of chaos, which sets the wheels of the plot into inexorable, gripping motion. The way Abrams drip-feeds the mysteries is reminiscent of Lost - the TV show he co-created - but this time, you don't have to wait six years for an answer that may not even be given. Here, the script is honed and polished enough that every element has a payoff and a reason for existing, making the resolution all the more satisfying.

The heart of the film lies with Joe (Joel Courtney) and Alice (Elle Fanning). At the beginning of the film, Joe has just lost his mother; his subsequent difficulties with his lone parent father (Kyle Chandler, receiving deserved exposure) form an emotional backbone to his arc. Alice is the outsider of the group, invited into the boys' inner circle by their need to have a leading lady in their homemade film. She's slightly older and wiser than them, so the casting of the experienced Fanning is ideal. Her story too is tremendously moving, reaching a tearful, beautifully performed moment late on that may tug on the most sceptical heartstrings. Abrams proves an assured hand at balancing such emotional peaks with visceral action, his prowess in the latter already having been shown in his two previous features (Star Trek and Mission: Impossible III). Super 8 feels his most fully cinematic venture yet, the director relaxing his propensity for shaky, tight close-ups and having the confidence to pull back to wider shots with fewer cuts when called for.

If there's a misstep, it's in the alien itself: a malformed jumble of undiscernable body parts, once finally revealed. Its closest cousin is the Cloverfield monster (another Abrams producing gig). Basically, it's neither memorable or clear in its design, the director having apparently prioritised anatomical originality over anything relatable. Thankfully, the creature is not lingered on much, never even quite receiving a clear wide shot, so it doesn't prove to be damaging, and it's more of a plot catalyst than an integral component. This is a film driven by a childlike sense of wonder and lack of cynicism - traits all too rare in both films and reality these days - and demonstrates the inspiring potential of the blockbuster, reaching back to the days when it was not a dirty word.



Summary
Driven by nostalgia but not dependent on it, Super 8 is the best film of the summer, the best film of the year so far, and one of the best blockbusters in many a moon.

Blu-ray Review: Network (1976)

The below was written by Joel for his review of the original DVD release. My Blu-ray verdict starts below...

Nowadays, among the constant influx of sequels and formulaic blockbusters, films rarely make audiences think. The odd episodes of exposé rarely shock contemporary moviegoers as various outlets from E! Entertainment Television to the National Enquirer keep us up to date with everything going on in the showbiz industry. When scandalous gossip is more hidden, for example, when The Simpsons make jokes about Fox and the control Rupert Murdoch's company try to exercise over the hit show, the more worldly wise among us pretend we understand the behind the scenes tittle-tattle and guffaw accordingly. Back in the 1970s though, being an average citizen with an insider ticket into the business was a new phenomenon. The public knew little about the strength of studios and how, when certain executives decided to throw their weight around, the ripples of their sometimes shocking decisions caused many repercussions.

Sidney Lumet's Oscar-winning film is a dark satirical joy, dismissed by some in 1976 as a paranoid piece, the news-as-entertainment idea is now more significant than ever. Paddy Chayefsky's screenplay is simply exquisite. The critique of television networks (in this case the fictitious UBS) in their quest for Nielsen ratings is engrossing in itself without the need for the intricate main story threads and abundant slight nuances we are treated to, but they are risks which pay off and only enrich this chronicle of media corruption and how the industry's turpitudes manipulate the public. Peter Finch's Howard Beale is the catalyst for the plot and, even though he bagged the Best Actor Academy Award for his performance, the Australian-English hero of the Golden Age is arguably only the hors d'oeuvre to the dramatic turns of William Holden, Faye Dunaway and Robert Duvall in this fine yarn of depression, difficulty and desperation. Beale, an anchorman fired as a result of poor ratings brought on by alcoholism, is a man driven to the edge who is exploited by the network he has helped build. Holden's Max Schumacher has to reluctantly let his friend Beale go but is stuck with a dilemma when his power is threatened by Dunaway's Diana and Duvall's Frank, two studio executives higher up the food chain willing to exploit Beale's insanity for a skyrocket in ratings.

The reason for Network's touchstone status as a bona fide classic is as a result of the various shifts in tone and genre the audience gallops through in two hours without ever losing focus. Beale and the appearance of the annoying liberation army (another group begging to be exploited) are treated with overt excess - Beale's famous speech along the lines of not being able to take anymore still hits home today with its proficient raw emotion from Finch, a real classic dramatic connoisseur. The poignancy of the film also spreads to the Dunaway/Holden/Beatrice Straight (in a Best Supporting Actress turn) romantic love triangle. Dunaway's Best Actress performance echoes the calculation of a noir femme fatale but is more palpable in her intentions - she even talks endlessly about ratings whilst having sex with the smitten Schumacher, a family man caught in her whirlwind rampage on the studio. Diana is such a career woman, a 1990s female power player in a regimented patriarchal world decades before her time. With Schumacher as the glue, the office scenes touch on gritty realism. Holden's interaction with Duvall over the future of the network is electric, Dunaway chips in with wacky ideas which have so obviously influenced the eccentrics we have in charge of television today, and Ned Beatty even steals a scene in the final moments, a monologue David Mamet could have so easily drawn inspiration from for Alec Baldwin's famous role in Glengarry Glen Ross.

A lesser director probably would have crumbled under the pressure of combining all of these factors into a solid cohesive unit, but Lumet transforms Chayefsky's madcap originality into a masterpiece of a media case study. He also delightfully passes on overindulging in his role as director. The talented auteur simply lets the great actors act and the story unfold in an inconspicuous and unassuming manner.



Release Information
Country: USA / Region: Free / Version: N/A / Discs: 1 / Distributor: Warner Bros.

Presentation
Network's Blu-ray presentation is a difficult one to judge in a way: it's fairly soft and grainy, with colours that look slightly washed out, but on the other hand, it looks natural and untampered-with (no evidence of digital sharpening, edge enhancement, or DNR here). It's hard to know whether a full restoration - à la fellow 1976 release Taxi Driver - could have improved things, but I suspect this is about as good as it can look. There's probably no more detail to be garnered from the original negative, due to the film stock used and Lumet's general avoidance of visual splendour.

The soundtrack is rendered in mono DTS-HD. It's slightly tinny and hampered by the recording quality, but never terrible. A 5.1 mix might have been helpful, given how dense the soundfield sometimes is (making the single speaker a little crowded), but purists will be perfectly satisfied.

Extras
Duplicating the extras on the 30th Anniversary DVD that never reached our shores, this US Blu-ray comes fairly well endowed with bonus features. The late Lumet's commentary is sometimes sparse but often feels like a cinematic education, in a good way - this guy knows his stuff and it's a pleasure to glean an insight into his methods. A lengthy retrospective documentary of about 80 minutes in length, divided into six chapters with a play all function, offers welcome context and background information into the film, its reception and its contemporary relevance, with particular emphasis on Paddy Chayefsky.



Summary
Sidney Lumet himself named Paddy Chayefsky as the author of Network, akin to the billing the writer of a stage play receives. Indeed, its emphasis on the acting, dialogue and character interaction bears all the hallmarks of great theatre. Chayefsky's savage satire of TV news has lost none of its biting edge over the years, with its famous line, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it any more!" still resonating as much as it ever did.

Blu-ray Review: Se7en (1995)

Se7en boasts quite possibly one of the greatest endings in film history. That’s quite a claim, admittedly, and of course is impossible to quantify, but it stacks up against any others you could care to mention. For the film’s first 90 minutes, it follows the conventions of the police procedural thriller: serial killer on the loose, numerous crime scenes where the killer seems to be playing games with the cops, even the combination of a hotheaded rookie detective and a weathered old pro on One Last Case™. It’s certainly a very well constructed, intelligently written, meticulously designed example of the genre, but beyond the spectacular grisliness of its crime scenes features little to distinguish it from the merely excellent. Then, though, the third act takes a dramatic left turn into something altogether more chilling, profound and indelible. The genius of writer Andrew Kevin Walker’s climax was spotted at an early stage by Brad Pitt; his proviso for coming on board was that the ending not be changed by studio executives, nervous about its bleakness. David Fincher saw it as the calling card that could reset his feature film career after his troubles with 20th Century Fox on Alien3. Sixteen years later, it amongst his best work.

The premise is novel, but more of a high concept than a framework for potential greatness: this serial killer is murdering his victims according to the seven deadly sins. The dynamic between our two detectives - the week-away-from-retirement Somerset (Morgan Freeman) and the new kid on the block, Mills (Pitt) - is fairly familiar but well-handled, and Pitt's potentially one-note firebrand is given added depth by the exploration of his married life (his wife is played by Gwyneth Paltrow, who does a lot with not very much screen time). The way the detectives' working relationship develops over the course of the week in which the events take place is convincingly handled without need for pseudo-Lethal Weapon wisecracks or anything of the sort; they simply convey a growing mutual respect as they become more deeply embroiled in their case.

Fincher adds a layer of almost mythic resonance with his setting. Is impossible to pinpoint where the unnamed city where it always rains, and yet is an hour's drive from fairly barren desert, actually is (it was shot in LA but any landmarks are avoided). The lack of geographical precision somehow makes the story seem more universal, lending it the quality of an urban legend. Of course it also gives the film an unbeatable atmosphere - a sort of modern noir with added grunge. The depth of cinematographer Darius Khondji's shadows is practically bottomless, but never does that translate into stultifying drabness; rather, it further enhances the oppressiveness of the detectives' grim discoveries, as well as the suspense in certain memorable moments (one word: sloth).

As Somerset delves into reading about the seven circles of Hell, Dante's Inferno, and the like, in an attempt to gain an insight into the killer's mind, Fincher's aesthetic choices seem to be suggesting they already are in some sort of twisted purgatory, the only possible exit from which is compassion and decency - traits that Somerset possesses, but Mills less so. It's from this that the stunning ending arises, which rejects an action finale in favour of an immeasurably more intense impossible moral conundrum. It's brutal, but also an exercise in restraint: very little is actually shown, but it once again proves that the viewer's imagination is far more powerful than anything that can be shown on screen.



Release Information
Country: UK / Region: Free / Version: N/A / Discs: 1 / Distributor: Warner Bros.

Presentation
For a film known for its seedy, grimy look (which Fincher says was inspired by Nine Inch Nails music videos), it's remarkable how crisp and clean this new HD master is. Given the subject matter, one hesitates to call it beautiful, but it really is, in its own depraved way. The subtleties in the texturing and colour palette of the sets and cinematography really shine through as they never have before.

The already healthy DTS 6.1 of the old DVD is expanded still further to full DTS-HD 7.1, and this is one beast of a track. The emphasis is on atmospherics, particularly the rain; it's a full-blooded, pull-no-punches, totally enveloping affair. Occasionally voices from the centre speaker can get a bit lost amidst all the competing noise from the surrounds, but in these instances it's probably a deliberate choice on Fincher's part.

Extras
Replicated from the stone age 2-disc DVD version, the bonus material on offer seems strangely lopsided. On the one hand, you get more commentaries than you can shake a rotting severed hand at: four for the feature, and more for the deleted scenes, production galleries, storyboards, the design of the main title sequence, the soundtrack, and so on. You almost expect to find that the commentaries have commentaries. They're worth wading through, though one's familiarity with the film may exceed healthy levels if you watch the four commentaries back to back. They're divided into categories grouped as "The Shoot", "The Writing", "The Look" and "The Sound", involving people from the relevant departments, with Fincher showing up in all of them. The first is an affable track with Freeman and Pitt alongside their director (Freeman seems recorded separately); the others are a bit drier, but packed with insight. Welcome scholarly insight is offered by Richard Dyer, who features in the tracks for both the writing and the look.

For those less commentary-inclined, there are relatively slim pickings. The deleted scenes are worth seeing, but barring an interesting alternate opening to the film, are mainly extensions of or variations on what remains in the final cut. The only typical behind the scenes doc is a 12-minute EPK featurette. There are detailed examinations of the killer's notebooks - works of art in themselves - and several galleries, as well as a (now outdated) featurette looking at the mastering of the original DVD, specifically how the image and sound were tweaked for the release.



Summary
A stunningly powerful climax elevates Se7en to true classic status. It's no surprise that it has proven influential in the years since; it's as compelling - and as horrifying - as thrillers get, and the Blu-ray shows off all its grim splendour.