mikec32001
Iscritto in data dic 2001
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Recensioni29
Valutazione di mikec32001
Just about the best 007 movie since On He Majesty's Secret Service, Skyfall also delivers on the promise Daniel Craig first showed in Casino Royale, but was squandered in Quantum of Solace. Here is a Bond with action to set your pulse racing from the off and a story that makes (almost) perfect sense. Beautifully photographed Roger Deakins and expertly directed by Sam Mendes no less, its great to see the copious talent involved in this long-delayed project has not been wasted. Javier Bardem is Bond villain in the classic mould and the gags are finally back but - and this is the thing - they're great gags (my personal favourite involves an old couple and a Tube train but you'll have your own). I saw it with an audience who cheered and applauded the climax. An absolute pleasure, Mr Bond.
"Kill List" could have been invented for the phrase "don't believe the hype". For many, it was the best film of the bunch at the 2011 Frightfest in London, but 2011 was by far the poorest year for that festival.
In a nutshell then, this is a cheapo, slavishly derivative sub-Shane Meadows slasher pic. This doesn't so much pay homage to as blatantly rip off elements of "The Wicker Man" and "A Serbian Film". It also seems to think its an original idea to use Tarantino-style episode names to separate the various killings, the details of which I have already forgotten even though I only saw this last week.
Having shared the experience with a completely non-plussed audience who laughed out loud a the stupidest ending you'll see all year, I think it's fair to say that's 90 minutes I'll not get back.
If you want real UK genre originality, go back to your DVDs of "Dead Man's Shoes", "Eden Lake" or "Peeping Tom" and give this craven little upstart a miss.
In a nutshell then, this is a cheapo, slavishly derivative sub-Shane Meadows slasher pic. This doesn't so much pay homage to as blatantly rip off elements of "The Wicker Man" and "A Serbian Film". It also seems to think its an original idea to use Tarantino-style episode names to separate the various killings, the details of which I have already forgotten even though I only saw this last week.
Having shared the experience with a completely non-plussed audience who laughed out loud a the stupidest ending you'll see all year, I think it's fair to say that's 90 minutes I'll not get back.
If you want real UK genre originality, go back to your DVDs of "Dead Man's Shoes", "Eden Lake" or "Peeping Tom" and give this craven little upstart a miss.
"Blooming Heck" lisps hapless lead Anthony Way halfway through this flat, poorly acted, poorly directed mess of a film. That's my review in a nutshell if you want to stop reading now. Yep, this isn't going to be pretty, "Garden" fans. What's that? This film has no fans?
Things get off to a bad start the moment (former choirboy, you've been warned...) Way first comes loping and blinking into focus. Based on the book, I'd sort of envisioned the titular Tom as a likable, down to earth sort of boy that most kids could vaguely identify with. As opposed to an awkward, gurning,public school irritant with zero charisma and a terrible hair cut.
Titular indeed.
Because make no mistake, whatever qualities this film possesses (some nice photography and...er), this is car-crash cinema, utterly depth-charged by a central performance so staggeringly poor you'll be agreeing with Elvis (and 78% of all Americans, apparently) that shooting your TV screen with a high-calibre handgun is a a Good Thing. There are scenes in this film where poor Anthony can barely get his words out in the right order, let alone with any semblance of believability. Its as if the director (I use the term loosely)just thought "Sod it, I can't be bothered to re-shoot this idiot, he's not going to get any better..."
But the cross-fade addicted "director" doesn't help himself by fumbling key moments and allowing ham-fisted editing into his final cut. Witness the moment when young Tom comes in from the garden and, blank-faced as ever, drops out of view as the picture quickly fades to black. Has he died? Has he fainted? (probably - he certainly seems the type). What are we supposed to make of this moment? Does anyone making this tosh actually care?
The poor lad is so utterly at sea it must be catching because, whoops, his co-star (as Hattie) is also a total plank. So folks, here's a film centering on two kids and neither of them can act in any way shape or form that convinces. What else is there to rescue this repugnant, BAFTA-courting mess?
How about the music! Ahh the "score"...
You know that saying that the best incidental film music is the unobtrusive variety you don't notice? Well, it's not true, because it it was it would have meant no careers for John Williams, John Barry, Jerry Goldsmith and most of the other great composers. But it still rings true when you have to endure the by-numbers, twee, jingle-jangle hack job of a score that curses this movie's entire running time, without let-up. My poor old teeth are still recovering from the permanent edge this soul-destroyingly trite aural holocaust put them on. This is officially the worst film music of all time, no question, and I've sat through a number of Hans Zimmer/Michael Bay collaborations so I knows da territory folks.
My son is 9 years old and isn't a cynical culture assassin like his Dad; he enjoyed the book and wanted to see this film to see how it came over on screen. At the 10 minute point he turned to me un-prompted and used a colourful adjective (that rhymes with "ducking pit"; I blame the parents) to critique what he was seeing. On this occasion I'll let him off - after all, I've always impressed upon him the importance of telling the truth.
Still, the garden's got hedges shaped like squirrels.
2/10 (for the topiary)
Things get off to a bad start the moment (former choirboy, you've been warned...) Way first comes loping and blinking into focus. Based on the book, I'd sort of envisioned the titular Tom as a likable, down to earth sort of boy that most kids could vaguely identify with. As opposed to an awkward, gurning,public school irritant with zero charisma and a terrible hair cut.
Titular indeed.
Because make no mistake, whatever qualities this film possesses (some nice photography and...er), this is car-crash cinema, utterly depth-charged by a central performance so staggeringly poor you'll be agreeing with Elvis (and 78% of all Americans, apparently) that shooting your TV screen with a high-calibre handgun is a a Good Thing. There are scenes in this film where poor Anthony can barely get his words out in the right order, let alone with any semblance of believability. Its as if the director (I use the term loosely)just thought "Sod it, I can't be bothered to re-shoot this idiot, he's not going to get any better..."
But the cross-fade addicted "director" doesn't help himself by fumbling key moments and allowing ham-fisted editing into his final cut. Witness the moment when young Tom comes in from the garden and, blank-faced as ever, drops out of view as the picture quickly fades to black. Has he died? Has he fainted? (probably - he certainly seems the type). What are we supposed to make of this moment? Does anyone making this tosh actually care?
The poor lad is so utterly at sea it must be catching because, whoops, his co-star (as Hattie) is also a total plank. So folks, here's a film centering on two kids and neither of them can act in any way shape or form that convinces. What else is there to rescue this repugnant, BAFTA-courting mess?
How about the music! Ahh the "score"...
You know that saying that the best incidental film music is the unobtrusive variety you don't notice? Well, it's not true, because it it was it would have meant no careers for John Williams, John Barry, Jerry Goldsmith and most of the other great composers. But it still rings true when you have to endure the by-numbers, twee, jingle-jangle hack job of a score that curses this movie's entire running time, without let-up. My poor old teeth are still recovering from the permanent edge this soul-destroyingly trite aural holocaust put them on. This is officially the worst film music of all time, no question, and I've sat through a number of Hans Zimmer/Michael Bay collaborations so I knows da territory folks.
My son is 9 years old and isn't a cynical culture assassin like his Dad; he enjoyed the book and wanted to see this film to see how it came over on screen. At the 10 minute point he turned to me un-prompted and used a colourful adjective (that rhymes with "ducking pit"; I blame the parents) to critique what he was seeing. On this occasion I'll let him off - after all, I've always impressed upon him the importance of telling the truth.
Still, the garden's got hedges shaped like squirrels.
2/10 (for the topiary)