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Although he didn't rack up as many acting credits as his friends Kris Kristofferson and Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash was no stranger to the screen. From gritty thrillers like 'Five Minutes to Live,' to TV movies such as 'The Pride of Jesse Hallam' and 'Murder in Coweta County'- not to mention a string of westerns- Cash proved himself a capable, charismatic actor. He also made memorable appearances on television, showing up in 'Columbo' and 'Little House on the Prairie', as well as making one of 'The Simpsons' most unforgettable guest appearances as Homer's spirit guide.

One of his more overlooked, curious roles is in the Billy Graham funded, Masahisa Sadanaga directed 'Kairei,' or 'Adrift at Sea.' Based on a fascinating true story, the drama follows three Japanese castaways whose ship, the Hojunmaru, sinks, drifting across the Pacific. They eventually reach America, centuries before modern trans-Pacific voyages, becoming the first Japanese men to visit the Western world.

It's an intriguing premise, though Sadanaga doesn't serve it particularly well. Earnest to a fault, the film carries a faintly evangelical tone- gently moralistic, but dramatically underpowered. Flat and oddly lifeless, it plays like a bargain-bin Hallmark drama. Characterisation is thin, and the dialogue is frequently stilted and awkward. What's most frustrating is how little narrative weight or urgency the film brings to such a remarkable historical event. The film rarely leans into the cultural dislocation, emotional stakes or broader historical resonance of its premise- instead reducing a genuinely fascinating story to something curiously inert.

Further, expository narration pops up intermittently, seeming less like a storytelling device and more like a last-ditch attempt to hold the plot together- duct tape voiceover, if you will. One suspects it was added in post, long after the horse had bolted. Indeed, it is heard just often enough- and yet so infrequently- that you're left wondering why it's there at all. While occasionally clarifying certain plot-points, it's largely jarring and unnecessary. This all results in a film that knows it has a compelling story, but never quite figures out how to tell it- like someone nervously recounting a dream they only half-remember.

Unfortunately, the film's weaknesses extend beyond storytelling. The cinematography is flat and uninspired, doing little to elevate the material or evoke the epic scope of the castaways' journey. Although some seafaring sequences impress, more often than not they look like they were shot on cheaply constructed sets under a time constraint, with artificial backdrops and awkward staging undermining any sense of scale or realism. The production design is serviceable at best- period detail is present, but rarely persuasive- and the overall aesthetic feels akin to a hastily produced historical reenactment video.

The soundtrack and score fail to make much of an impression, drifting into generic, forgettable territory, neither enhancing the mood nor deepening the emotional impact. Although Cash is given the opportunity to perform a song, it feels like a token gesture rather than an integral part of the film's atmosphere. The editing is also quite choppy- scenes often linger too long or cut abruptly, disrupting any natural rhythm and further sapping the film's momentum.

The cast are a bit of a mixed bag. Teruhiko Saigô, Junichi Inoue and Hideto Matsumoto do fine work as the three castaways, carrying the film's emotional weight with quiet dignity. As Uncle John, the leader of the Americans, a white-wigged Cash brings a gentle energy and easy authority to proceedings- although it's not exactly a challenging role. Generally, he seems more focused on remembering his lines than giving anything resembling a dramatic performance. He's competent, though not particularly compelling. Unfortunately, the supporting cast fares far worse, sinking into painfully wooden territory- none impress.

Masahisa Sadanaga's 'Kairei,' or 'Adrift at Sea,' boasts a remarkable true story at its core, though struggles under the weight of uninspired storytelling, flat visuals and uneven performances. While Johnny Cash's presence adds a curious footnote and a touch of gentle charisma, the film as a whole drifts without clear direction or emotional depth. It's a missed opportunity to bring a fascinating historical voyage vividly to life- leaving viewers adrift, searching for something to hold onto amid the cinematic fog.

In 2022, Joseph Kosinski's 'Top Gun Maverick' took the world by storm. A sequel to Tony Scott's 1986 classic, the Tom Cruise starrer took in over $1.496 billion worldwide, the highest grossing Cruise vehicle to date. Praised by critics and audiences alike, it was widely seen as the film that reignited the global box office after the COVID-19 shutdowns, with Steven Spielberg calling it the saviour of "the entire theatrical industry."

Kosinski's directorial follow-up, 'Spiderhead,' flew under the radar, not offering much (other than a great Chris Hemsworth performance). His newest effort, 'F1' desperately wants to be 'Top Gun Maverick.' The narrative is essentially the same, but swaps the skies for the pits. It follows renegade racer Sonny Hayes, who is brought out of retirement to mentor a hot-headed young prodigy and help turn a struggling team into contenders. Amidst tension in the garage and friction on the track, can Hayes beat the odds?

If it sounds familiar, that's because it is. For a film about one of the most exciting and fast-paced sports there is, 'F1' is shockingly dull and predictable. Clearly aimed at the same audience that loved the electrifying dog-fights of 'Top Gun: Maverick,' it is a non-starter in nearly every regard: a film about speed that never gets out of first gear. The narrative isn't just derivative of the Cruise blockbuster- it also echoes dozens of sports films where a grizzled veteran returns for one last shot at redemption.

Full of cliches, stilted dialogue and cardboard cut-out characters, it lacks the excitement of John Frankenheimer's masterful 'Grand Prix,' the tension of Lee H. Katzin's 'Le Mans', the bravado of Tony Scott's 'Days of Thunder' and the fun of Gordon Chan's 'Thunderbolt,' as well as the emotion of Sydney Pollack's admittedly troublesome 'Bobby Deerfield.'

Although Pollack's film was- and still is- by no means spectacular, it boasts far more interesting, multi-dimensional characters than Kosinski and co-writer Ehren Kruger came up with. Sonny is a walking cliché, who is about as compelling and well-rounded as a blank piece of paper. Neither he, nor any of his supporting characters, display any growth over the course of the film, and the emotional stakes are contrived.

Further, the interactions between said characters lack spark or authenticity, as if torn from a 'Screenwriting Guidebook for Dummies'. Conversations trudge along, weighed down by stilted, on-the-nose lines, hammering home the obvious. Instead of feeling like real people with real conflicts, the characters merely recite plot points, leaving every exchange flat and lifeless. The film's attempts at emotional depth fall embarrassingly short, drowning under a tide of awkward exposition and contrived banter.

Technically, the film has a lot more to offer. Fast-paced and frequently gripping, 'F1' boasts dynamic camerawork from Claudio Miranda, brilliantly capturing the adrenaline of a race. Furthermore, the crisp editing from Stephen Mirrione and Patrick J. Smith heightens the visceral nature of proceedings. Some of the races are pulse-poundingly intense and beautifully caught on camera; they'll have you on the edge of your seat.

Additionally, the atmospheric sound design immerses one fully in the roar of engines and screech of tires. Hans Zimmer's score is evocative and thrilling, amplifying the tension and excitement throughout. The soundtrack also features a handful of great songs from the likes of Led Zeppelin and Queen (though they're never used to their full potential- often dropped in with little impact and quickly faded out). However, all these technical elements combine to create an undeniably exciting sensory experience- if only the story and characters were as finely tuned.

Brad Pitt stars as Hayes, a role that asks little more of him than to look cool. No one can do that better than Pitt, but charisma alone can only carry a character so far. His talents are wasted on a part that offers no real nuance, development or dramatic challenge. His supporting cast- stacked with skilled performers like Kerry Condon, Damson Idris, Kim Bodnia and Javier Bardem (as well as Shea Whigham in a glorified cameo)- is similarly shortchanged, each saddled with one-note roles of little to no depth.

Despite all the noise, 'F1' never finds its footing. It's a film that looks the part, sounds the part and moves like a blockbuster- but under the hood, it's running on empty. Director Joseph Kosinski clearly knows how to orchestrate spectacle, but spectacle without soul only gets you so far. With a flat script and hollow characters, not even a star as magnetic as Brad Pitt can steer it to victory. In trying so hard to replicate the triumph of 'Top Gun: Maverick,' 'F1' fails to blaze its own trail, ending up stalled at the starting line.

In 2002, Danny Boyle's '28 Days Later' stormed into cinemas like a blood-soaked bolt of lightning, electrifying a genre that had begun to shuffle aimlessly through a graveyard of clichés. It didn't just bring zombies back- it made them run. Fast. Ferocious. Terrifying. Suddenly, the apocalypse had a pulse again. Five years later, Juan Carlos Fresnadillo's '28 Weeks Later' picked up the baton, and, although a little more breathless and a little less graceful, it still managed to keep the infection alive without entirely dropping the ball.

Two decades on, the franchise rises again with '28 Years Later.' With Boyle once again at the helm, the film picks up in a United Kingdom where the Rage Virus, long thought to have burned itself out, erupts back into brutal life. The story centres on Spike, a young boy living in the relative safety of Holy Island, off the coast of Northumberland- one of the last outposts untouched by the infection. Circumstances demand that he travel to the mainland with his mother, where he discovers that the infected aren't the only things to fear.

Engaging, visceral and tense, the film more than lives up to the legacy of the original. Alex Garland's narrative grips from the outset, weaving a story feeling both expansive and deeply personal. While it may not deliver nonstop action or relentless chase sequences, it's a powerful film nevertheless. The world-building is rich and immersive, painting a UK that's both eerily familiar and terrifyingly altered, while the characters- flawed and believable- anchor the chaos in something real. It's a film that not only reignites the infection but recaptures the pulse-pounding immediacy that made the franchise so impactful in the first place.

Thematically, the film taps into familiar territory but with fresh urgency. At its core, it's a story about family- the fierce, messy bonds that drive people to risk everything. Spike's relationship with his mother Isla provides the film's emotional backbone, grounding the horror in something painfully human. Grief also looms large, both on a personal and societal scale: this is a world haunted by its own history, where the scars of the original outbreak never truly healed.

Further, and without ever feeling heavy-handed, '28 Years Later' ripples with quiet political undercurrents. In a post-Brexit Britain still grappling with the consequences of division and isolation, the film's focus on borders, quarantines and the illusion of safety feels sharply relevant. Holy Island's precarious safety speaks to a country trying to wall itself off from a world it can't fully control, while the return of the Rage Virus becomes a grim reminder that no border is truly impenetrable.

In addition, the film's mood is charged with a contemporary resonance, tapping into the collective anxiety born from the Covid-19 pandemic. This undercurrent of real-world fear intensifies the claustrophobic tension and heightens the stakes, making the Rage Virus outbreak feel not only terrifyingly plausible but painfully urgent. It's a stark reminder of humanity's fragility and the thin line between order and chaos.

Visually, the film is as striking as its narrative. Anthony Dod Mantle's cinematography crackles with raw energy, blending the immediacy of handheld footage with moments of stark, unsettling beauty. Reportedly shot on iPhones, the film has a jagged, almost documentary-like texture, heightening the sense of chaos and panic. It's crisp, kinetic and unafraid to get messy, with a muted, desaturated colour palette contrasting chillingly against sudden bursts of blood red. The vast, windswept British countryside is used to great effect- its open spaces amplifying the isolation and vulnerability of the survivors, turning nature itself into both refuge and threat.

The production design further immerses viewers in a world that feels palpably lived-in, from abandoned towns to makeshift shelters, every detail grounding the story in harsh reality. Complementing this is an evocative, eclectic score from Young Fathers that pulses beneath the tension, shifting seamlessly between haunting melodies and adrenaline-fueled beats. The makeup and practical effects are equally impressive, delivering gruesome realism that never slips into gore for its own sake, but always serves the story's relentless urgency.

Moreover, Jon Harris's editing is taut and purposeful, maintaining a rhythm that keeps the tension consistently high without ever feeling hurried. Quick cuts during frantic sequences contrast with longer, more contemplative moments, allowing both chaos and character to breathe. This dynamic rhythm keeps one on edge, perfectly balancing bursts of visceral horror with emotional depth. Moreover, the action sequences- though sparse in comparison to other films of the genre- are gory, nail-biting masterpieces of choreography.

In addition, all in the cast perform admirably. Alfie Williams does strong work as Spike, whose portrayal of youthful vulnerability and growing resilience feels authentic. Jodie Comer is typically excellent as Isla, imbuing the part with emotional depth, while Aaron Taylor-Johnson also impresses, adding intensity and complexity to his role as Spike's father Jamie, enriching the film's tense dynamic. Further, Edvin Ryding does fine work as a cocky soldier, and the always-reliable Ralph Fiennes brings a dash of gravitas to proceedings, delivering a nuanced, subtle performance.

Ultimately, Danny Boyle's '28 Years Later' is a powerful revival of a franchise that helped redefine modern horror. It honours the legacy of its predecessors while injecting fresh energy and contemporary relevance. With its unflinching portrayal of human fragility amidst chaos, compelling characters and striking visual storytelling, the film stands as both a gripping thriller and a timely reflection on a world still reckoning with fear and uncertainty. In short: it's frighteningly good.