Doctor Who: Terminus by Stephen Gallagher - Review

Terminus, by Stephen Gallagher, is an odd one. Whenever I go through one of my periodic re-watches of the Whos I never really look forward to this one. I remember it being clunky, awkward, terrible looking and boring. And yet nearly every time I do watch it I'm left with a sense of being genuinely impressed, it's infinitely better than I, and I imagine most people, would give it credit for.

Episode One is fantastic, one of the best openers of this whole period. Plunging us almost straight into the drama without a pause, the sudden effect of having the TARDIS effectively broken in mid-space, and having an aspect of the external world bleeding through, is an excellent concept, and it is portrayed very nicely. The hideous skull decal adorning the door, etching its way through a fog of electrical haze, it genuinely unsettling and nasty. Subsequently, the rest of the episode is an excellent portrayal of mood and atmosphere, an unsettling empty ship devoid of life, and the musical choices done for these bits is superb. 

This is almost entirely ruined the second the glam rock pirates enter the ship. With gigantic rubber, awkward looking fish bowls on their head, ludicrously polished white suits and fluttering little capes, they are a dreadful sight, truly ridiculously images. These are meant to be space pirates for god's sake! They should be rugged, tough, brutal, dressed in black leather gear with a scar on their face. And yet, with their coloured makeup adorned on their faces and Liza Goddard's humongous puffed up 80s hairstyle, they are an embarrassment to look at. It's the invasion of the Bowie pirates, they look like they should be in a New Romantic band singing sad songs about unrequited love, not pillaging ships. The acting also leaves something to be desired, specifically Dominic Guard as Olivr, whose hammy brand of overacting is not particularly convincing (screaming "WERE ALL GOING TO DIEEEEE" while nearly breaking your voice is awful hysterical acting). 

The sets themselves are pretty descent, grim grey slabs of metal going on forever, and there is even some interesting work done on the main bridge set, going up and then going down with stairs and what not. Roger Murray-Leach, of the Hincliffe era, real genius was the way he would try and incorporate a sense of scale and size to the sets. He, rightly, knew that having a flat studio surface with four walls was lethal for dramatic effect, and always tried to elevate it off the dreadful studio floor (see Planet of Evil for this). There's a half-hearted attempt at this going on in the main ship sequences, although ultimately it comes across as rather dull and boring. 

Costume disaster what with the pirates notwithstanding, the Vanir are a mixed bag. Ascetically they look rather good, like hideous skinless skeleton creatures wandering around a death zone, their muscle-armour a grim reflection of the death going on inside them. Yet the hideous, awful, awful clanking and clunking sound that effects them in every scene almost entirely spoils the potential for some real gothic luridness in them. Clank, clank, clank, clank they go in every scene, and it immediately destroys the suspension of belief. Good drama is always trying to convince the watcher that the charade you are watching, whereas the abysmal sound of cheap fibreglass takes us out of it every single time (it's meant to be anti-radiation armour as well! It looks like it could barely keep out wind, yet alone radiation). 

The Garn is another odd thing. Gallagher says he initially wrote it as being nearly always simply the outline of a shape with two glowing red eyes. I'm not sure how they would have communicated that on screen throughout, especially the end, but however they did it I doubt they should have done it like this. For something that (at least in the first three parts) is meant to be a terrifying thing, a pseudo-monster, it looks like it's wondered off the set of Sesame Street. A lumbering, waddling, cuddly dog thing, it is hardly convincing. And yet in some senses it is almost good, it's certainty impressive to look at, and the head movement with voice almost works. In a different setting, like, I don't know, an episode set on the planet of the dog people, it might work, but here, which demands tension, mood and dark shadows, it just doesn't work. 

Still, despite these obvious and glaring negatives, there's much to be praised. The Vanir themselves, as people, are expertly conveyed, each actor managing to convey such a level of kind of strained desperation. Andrew Butt in particular, playing Valgard, is superb, a jaded, brutal warrior with dark shadows under his eyes and a three o clock stubble, groaning under the weight of his misery. Peter Benson, as Bor, is also absolutely superb. The scene where he reveals his hideous burnt face, and the oddly strained, sing-song way he repeats his lines, is genuinely unsettling and creepy. The way he mumbles and sings when dragging the metal also is a nice subtle hint at the madness settling in, like he's become Ben Gum or something. The way he causally, lackadaisically talks about the ensuring apocalypse as one would the weather on a rainy Sunday is expertly conveyed and very eerie ("It's going to blow and the big bang will happen all over again" - is there anything creepier than that line?") 

Despite the sets being average, some of it actually works well. The huge engine room set conveys a sense of scope and scale not normally seen, like they've plunged themselves into some gaping void, huge areas of blacks surrounding them. It looks like they've filmed on the sides of the studio, which in this case works well. The sight too of this desperate, haggard, crazed man dragging metal to try and cover the radiation leak he knows he can barely stop is a brilliantly creepy image too. There's a kind of underlying sense of desperation and doom the episodes convey which is actually very well done. It's an incredibly bleak story, what with the shambling, shuffling nearly dead sick people left to rot. The captain set too is one of the evocative and creepy images in who, the sight of the mummified captain, left in place where he last once decades, even centuries ago when the first disaster begun, is a starling and amazing image. It recalls to mind the space jockey scene in Alien, an abandoned scene of death, hinting ominously of the future disaster to come, as it's already happened. 

As noted already, the plot also deserves special praise - it's an amazing concept. In such scene, where the dead captain lies ruined before his control mechanisms, we learn that Terminus in fact created the Big Bang, but travelling all the way to the beginning of time, dumping the excess fuel which triggered the chemical reactions used to create everything. It's a terrific idea, and as Gallagher himself says, what other show would allow you the level of creative ambition to even suggest such a thing? It's very nicely teased as well, first with the idea that Terminus is at the exact centre of the universe (which technically doesn't make sense, but ah well), then the drip drip of hints of what happened the first time the engine blew (Bor's line about it happening "a long time ago"), and then the final gut punch revelation. It's marvellously well paced, and laced with menace. The twist in the Garm as well, that he's not a monster but in fact a healer, is a good one, although it's a shame the thing itself isn't better realised to really bring the twist the dramatic effectiveness it needs (the Garn already looked huggable, it's reveal as a non-threat is not that odd). The dialogue too is also sharp. Bor's aforementioned, semi-crazed babbling and warnings of the oncoming disaster is brilliant, but also the small little moments, like when Valgard talks to Olivr, recognising his fight moves as part of the same commander he trained under and wearily remember the backstabbing his received, is an excellent moment of character. 

As for the extras, they shine. Mark Strichtson really is superb in the character of Turlough, a proper actor. His character is sort of like what Adric could have been if he was portrayed by even a semi-decent actor and had even a moment's thought put into his character. Every line he says appears to almost slither out the side of his oily mouth, oozing with cynicism, snark and ill-intention. He's also failry likeable too, in his kind of jaded contempt for the things around him ("YOU HAVE FAILED TO KILL THE DOCTOR" "...I haven't found him yet!" - how can we look like him?) The problem of this entire stupid arc of episodes however comes to the for. The concept of trying to kill the Doctor becomes increasingly absurd as Turlough fails, repeatedly, to kill him. It also makes the Black Guardian look increasingly stupid as he constantly threatens all manner of dreadful punishments if he fails and yet, in the end, is like "alright fair dos i'll give you another try". I mean, why? Turlough is clearly rubbish at doing this. In order to try and give him reasons not to kill the Doctor the writer is forced to come up with arbitrary reasons for him not being able to do so. In this case it involves him being shoved underground with Tegan, which, while not particularly interesting and suffering from the fact that it removes two whole characters from the main drama, actually sort of works in this context. One), it allows the main story to be about the Doctor and Nyssa, which is right for her last story, and Two) it allows them to have some bonding, important considering those two will be the together for the foreseeable future. Janet Fielding is unfortunately rendered as moaning and looking pissed off, which is quite literally the only thing her character has done or will ever do in her entire tenure on the show. 

Nyssa is given a great story to go out on, making her the central focus of the episode's drama, her sickness from the diseases, her seeing first hand what the conditions of this plague ship are like, and eventually being the only one bright and clever enough to realise how to stabilise the cure, as well as manufacture unlimited supplies of Hydromel (the liquid drug the Vanir are addicted to for their survival). It's a fantastic way to send off the character, as it directly links her experience and abilities to the current situation. In helping cure the disease, using the skills she learnt on Traken, she is able to keep it's memory alive. In her lives the beauty, the wisdom and the magnificence of her dead, forgotten planet. It's beautiful and it's right. It also links directly into the main theme of the show, that the Doctor, through his actions, makes people better versions of themselves, and by distributing his companions across the universe, Susan rebuilding war torn London, Romana freeing Tharill slaves, Jo helping to save the environment, bits of him live on, parsed out in his companions. 

So, as one can see, it's a decidedly mixed bag. It's hampered by really poor production qualities, yet it manages to overcome them most the time with a superb script, some excellent acting, and some genuinely effective displays of uneasy mood and atmosphere. It's a shame Stephen Gallagher didn't do more, he clearly had a brilliant and amazingly creative mind. Warrior's Gate, for my money, is an undoubted masterpiece, and although this doesn't nearly come to that's level of mystic magic, it still shows a writer allowing himself to fully embrace what's best about this show.

7/10 

Doctor Who: Horror of Fang Rock by Terrance Dicks review

I ended up watching this after about 12.00 midnight, and honestly it perhaps is not the best time to watch this, for it is no doubt one of the nastiest and most remorselessly grim and brutal depictions of horror Doctor Who has ever done. The utter relentless sense of foreboding death and misery, that no one will survive the night and there is no way to get away from it creates a fucking horrible sensation. Even the location freaks me out, the sheer utter isolation and claustrophobia, with only one way up and one way down, and if the monster is in the bottom bit your're fucked to get out. It's skin-crawlingly oppressive.

Set on nothing but a lighthouse, the atmosphere is set from the beginning in the water-swept cliffs being battered relentlessly by the waves, the endless fog, and the sound of groaning, moaning, deep swelling noise of the foghorn periodically sounding like some great big monster from the depths of the ocean. And it gets all the more grim from there, as a Rutan crash lands in the nearby sea, and does what it does best - kill everything and get home.

It is quite possibly the most atmospheric, tense and moody pieces of drama Who did. From start to finish the tension involved in the story ramps up to almost unbearable levels, you are hooked watching. The tale of the "beast" of Fang Rock, that supposedly killed three lighthouse men gives the story a kind of terrifying fatalistic edge, a sense that they are doomed just by being there (it's also very odd, just anyway, that three previous lighthouse keepers in the 1820s died in so similar a way as to the events now. It's never explained how they died at all, its presumably not any kind of "beast", and yet the fact that tragedy could strike twice on one island does give it a chilling feel. Perhaps a Rutan came here before even?). The fact that on occasions we are only given a fleeting sight of the monster, crawling up the lighthouse, seen in the distance dragging the corpse of Ben the lighthouse keeper, also gives it a horrible atmosphere. What is it doing? Where is it going? When is it going to strike next?

The characters too were cast to perfection. The old gruff bastard lighkeeper Reuben, moaning about the change to electricity, distrustful of foreigners, his head filled with the ghoulish mythology of the island, is, to an extent, a cliche, and yet it is portrayed so well by Colin Douglas it draws you in irresistibly. He then totally flips that when the Rutan copies his body, becoming an undead hulk stalking the stairs, and my god is he scary. There's one bit in particular, and I swear it's one of the most frightening bits of Who I've ever seen. When the old lighthouse keeper is totally possessed, he tries to smile to the younger guy at one point. And the smile he produces...I mean, it's a grimace more like, but christ, I have never seen a more hideous smile in my life. It's like someone forced fishooks into his mouth to raise them, and his eyes are totally psychotic. Paddy Russell said it scared the willies out of her while he did it, and it did me too. Even the shot of his staring blankly at the bottom of the stairs while the Doctor talks to him creeps me the hell out, the sheer passive blankness while also the notion that he's coming to get you. (shudders). On the other end, the younger-ish keeper, Vince, played by John Abbott, does the opposite, playing country bumkim harmless innocence and sweet filled stupidity, not out for much, just happy light-keeping, is beautifully played, and makes his death all the more sad.

On the other end to both those two is the surprise arrival, mid-way through the story, of our three new characters. They might be the most appalling people to ever appear in a Doctor Who story. James Skinsale, played by Alan Rowe, is probably the nicest of the lot, genuinely helping the Doctor, but is, still fundamentally to his heart and old aristocrat and snob, concerned with his pride more than anything (how utterly fitting, in a kind of fatal flaw that would make Shakespeare smile, that he is killed trying to grasp scattered diamonds into his open paws). Annette Woollett's Adelaide Lessage manages to flip between almost unbearably hysterical and mawkish, endless fits of tears, and a loathsome screaming bully demanding answers from everyone and insulting them when she can't understand it. And last but not least is Lord Palmerdale, played by Sean Caffrey, who is utterly mesmerising in every scene he's in. A throughout odious and loathsome creature, solely obsessed with winning big back in the stock market in London, utterly uncaring to the lives he lost by crashing the boat, threatens his workers and bribes people. He's magnetically disgusting, and therefore very appealing. But this just adds to the sense of hopeless doom that the story builds too, half the characters are too simple and too folksy too know what's going on and half the characters are to venal and callous to care. There's remarkedly few sympathetic characters in this show and it is extremely bold in that regard, Leela and the Doctor really are quite on their own. It gives the whole thing a sense of utter tragedy - no one will live the night.

It is also shot beautifully. It's a real tragedy that at this point in Who's history they start loosing all their greatest directors, the ones who managed to turn Phillip Hincliffe's run on Who into televisual gold (David Malonely, Chirstopher Barry, Douglas Campwell, Michael Bryant, and indeed Paddy Russell, all of whom managed to produce just stunning work despite the limitations they worked in.) She shines in this, as much as she did in Pyramids of Mars too. The mist drenches landscape bathing everything, the impressive CSO glasshouse which doesn't look out of place at all, the shots of Tom silhouetted in the door-frame calling for Ben's name, the pan shots out of the desperate little lighthouse isolated in a literal sea of darkness. It's so utterly doom-inducing it's wonderful.

Also on commendation is Dudley Simpson's score, either in the shots of the lighthouse from a distance or the loud, almost horn like noises processing the Rueben-Rutan clone, are glorious. His work, I think, is actually sorely underestimated (by me especially, I remember not valuing him much at all in years previously) but listen to any of his scores and each one of them is absolutely pitch-perfect for the show, completely conveying the mood appropriate to each show while being interesting pieces of music in their own right (listen to the slow drumbeat music of Brain of Morbius as Morbius arises from his table being finished by Solon, or the Chinoiserie noises in the Talons of Weng-Chiang as Mr. Sin goes to kill his victim in the first episode, or the tension-inducing clacking noises in Pyramids of Mars as Sarah and the Doctor are on the run - and you'll see what I mean).

Leela is excellent in this too. In her stories from The Face of Evil to now she's consistently been one of the most active and dynamic companions they have. She practically leads half the story in The Talons of Weng-Chiang, and here too her literal rolling of the eyes as Adelaide has a faint, her almost giddy enthusiasm at being able to kill the monster, she was a really good companion. Jameson as well managed to always convey in her this sense of being actually, in her own right, extremely intuitive and smart, while not necessarily having any formal logical capacity or argumentation skills herself. It's a subtle and deft piece of acting she accomplishes, whereas it could have easily turned into an almost comic dumb-dumb role. I just feel sorry that she had to do all this while working with Tom Baker.

I also like the monster. Paddy Russell seemed to hate it. I think it looks brilliant, a pulsating, globular, phosphorescent beauty. The shine of it is wonderful, it looks like a living being. The transition effect from Rueben into the Rutan I also think is staggeringly well-done, looks almost seamless. I also think it was a total stroke of genius on Terrance Dick's part to turn it into a Rutan. It transforms it from being simply A Alien for the week into a broader part of the show's mythology and universe, linking things up and making it feel like a broader, truly alive thing. It was equally as genius to turn the Sontaran's mortal enemy into a shape-shifting jellyfish. As Dick's noted, the Sontarans are squat, brutal, unrefined killers - one could draw them using only five squares and one arch. Why not make the Rutans the opposite - ill defined, amorphous. And immediately upon seeing it's kill strategies in this episode one get's a hand on why the war's lasted millenian. The Sontarans grow clones by the million every second, the Rutan are a hive mind race (it calls itself "we" when wounded), dependent on a Rutan Queen (see the Tardis Wiki page for more info). The Sontarans have erased all kinds of individual personality or free will by literally downloading the same fanatical obsession with killing and processing it into every mass produced Sontaran. The Rutan is dependent on a hive mind link with the Queen, meaning they have no individual personality, her thoughts are theres. Both races are incapable of thinking for themselves, both have obliterated individual freedom in different ways. And look at how they fight. There's tons of Sontarans - tons.  They just come in and kill. There might not be as many Rutans (although if it's a Queen, she could produce eggs by the millions in huge hatches, so many not so unequal), but they can hide, copy and then kill. You can't stop the Sontarans, and you can't even see the Rutans. The Sontarans will be trying to kill every Rutan they can find while the Rutans are busily infiltrating inside their ranks, killing Sontarans. Which makes the Sontarans produce more Sontarans, which makes Rutans copy more Sontarans and so on ad infinitum. No wonder they still fight.

So the Doctor and Leela leave, with everyone inside dead. What a grim story. It really is remorseless, perhaps grimmer than anything done in the Hinchliffe era (name the number of times in this story the Doctor jokes and laughs, his face is a stony rock throughout, perhaps reflecting the fact that Baker was having a prolonged sulk and hating everything regardless). Even in a bunch of his stories they were frequent moments of brevity. The setting is so unbearably isolating and claustrophobic it's actually uncomfortable. There's only one way up, and one way down, and if the monster is coming up - you're fucked. Another thing that creeped me about this episode was thinking about aftermath. Imagine finding this light house, completely abandoned, everything where it should have been, with two bodies of lightkeepers missing, one dead and four other dead, with the hole light blow apart. What the hell could you gather from this scene of chaos? Imagine the feeling on unknowable terror for the people who encounter this island. That made it even more sinister to me. It is for that one reason and enormously chilling piece, and one that quite genuinely stayed with me long after I finished watching it.

9/10

The Artist - review

Looking at Wikipedia it describes this film as a “French romantic comedy-drama film in the style of a black-and-white silent film”. So as you see I was expecting something slightly unusual from the usual dreadful blockbuster films that you see. 

So basically the film is about an “artist” called George Valentin who’s essentially a Charlie Chaplin type-figure and here he is one of the biggest comedy stars of the 1920s silent-movie cinema age. It charts his rise and fall and then eventual rise again of his career while having a romantic relationship with an extra turned major movie actress (Bérénice Bejo).

First of all I would commend the lead actor Jean Dujardin who does a perfect job act conveying the aforementioned artist. He fits the role of the charismatic comedian character really well and conveys the charm and humour needed for the role brilliantly. He also has one of the most infectious and wonderful smiles I’ve seen in a while. Not only does he do that well he then flips it on his head and also portrays the tragic downfall of his character with similar impeccability.

As mentioned above Bérénice Bejo as co-star Peppy Miller does a similarly good job and should be praised for her endearing portrayal of a rather vain yet at heart well-meaning and good person. In fact I would extend that praise to all the actors as they all convey the emotions and feelings of the characters they are playing…oh yeah and also do that without speaking. At all. Throughout the film. Okay perhaps a tiny bit at the end but that doesn’t really matter. I’d say that this gets them extra kudos as I can’t imagine it was easy for them and shows what good actors they really are.

Directing wise this film is also excellent. The black and white look to the film is beautifully stylish and suits the era of the film perfectly. The director Michel Hazanavicius has managed to recreate 1920s America superbly with some shots looking like they were straight out of a documentary. He has recreated the feel of the 1920s golden age of silent films with effortless ease and makes you actually believe in the world he is presenting.

Music I’d say though plays one of the biggest parts in this movie. Rather than it being merely a backtracking to the events on screen it often acts as the main instigator in what you’re meant to feel at a particular moment. This is mostly due to the fact that there is no dialogue, the actors do a part in helping the plot move along but I’d say music is just as important. When George is at his highest and revelling in the love from the audience, the music’s high and upbeat. Yet when he is sitting alone in his little house watching films of his glory days the music is low and melancholy. It essentially acts as a mood changer and is crucial to your enjoyment to the film.  It’s not too surprising then that it won the Academy Award for Best Original Score at last year’s Oscars.

But it has its flaws. One of the biggest reasons this film was so famous was the amount of critical acclaim it got. And I can’t help thinking that it is a touch overrated. It’s a good film for sure and I wouldn’t want to trash it, but is it really one of the best all-time greatest films ever made? Does it really, really truly deserve the sheer amount of awards it got? Hmm, I don’t know. Probably. Perhaps I’m wrong, but I just think compared to some other film this got a near ridiculous level of hysteria surrounding it. Also I think the ending is terribly tacked on and felt very rushed. As if they were desperately trying to shoe-horn all the results in very quickly and try and wrap it up as soon as they could.   

But I think generally I can forgive them for any quibbles I have. The film is so ambitious and bold that I can easily way it’s strengths from its weaknesses (which are very few anyway). You have to admire the sheer bravery involved with this. What the director has done is say “Hey! I am going to make a 1 hour silent movie that relies solely on music and the actor’s performance with little to no text to help the audience understand what’s going on and the audience will like and be interested in it. ” That could off been a recipe for disaster, but y’know what? It wasn’t, it paid off and it paid off spectacularly.

And anyway, for a silent French film to be nominated for ten and to win 5 Oscars including best picture (the first silent film to win that since 1927), 7 BAFTAS including best picture, 3 Golden Globes and featured on countless top 10 best pics of 2011 lists is surely a testimony to this film’s achievements. Funny, smart, captivating, engrossing and solid, concrete proof that risk taking in art can work, and work well. 

Monty Python and The Holy Grail - Review

Monty Python and The Holy Grail was the Python's second film. The first was And Now For Something Completely Different  although the Python's didn't find this to be a very satisfactory movie as it was basically just a "best of" compilation of all their best sketches from the first two series of Monty Python's  Flying Circus. They didn't find this a very satisfactory movie so they decided to come up with something a bit more unique and definite.

Thus, The Holy Grail was born. The film is essentially another movie full of back-to-back sketches but this time there's and overriding narrative i.e to obtain the holy grail. It's a clever technique and gives the movie a sense of continuity and the feel that this is a story being told rather than just being a random higgledy-piggledy collection of sketches with no connection to them.

And it's damn funny in telling that story too. There are so many memorable and hilarious scenes in this film and they come with such skill and speed that there'll be very few moments in which you're sitting there stony-faced waiting for a laugh. Some of my personal favourites are the French people in the castle (which has me smiling thinking about it), The Black Knight scene (who doesn't love that scene?) and their meeting with the Killer Rabbit.

The production of this film was not without it's troubles. The two directors of this film (Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones) had vastly different directing styles with Gilliam feeling that Jones would undermine the scenes with conventional camera shots and Jones getting annoyed with how much of a perfectionist he was. Also by this time Graham Chapman alcoholism was in full swing in which on some occasions Chapman couldn't remember his lines.  But these behind the scenes problems show no signs in the film.

The star of the show for me really is Graham Chapman. The rest of the Python's are as good as they always are, but Chapman just nips the post for me. No one does upper-class outrage quite like Chapman did. Leading in the role as King Arthur he performs his classic role as the pompous twit that is repeatedly bamboozled and confused by the insane events surrounding him.

The film also look visually stunning. The northern Scottish moors where the movie was filmed are ideal for Arthurian Britain. From the moment King Arthur arrives on screen to the ending with the fantatsic looking boat the whole film's setting and direction is wonderfully done.

In short, a very silly film full of lots of silly people doing lots of silly things. That's pretty much the bare essence of all the Python's fantastic work. The second of their films is as funnier and as clever as it gets.  

Update 22/07/12

So basically the books section will be officially dropped from this blog and moved to it'sown blog separately http://booksercise.blogspot.co.uk/. The Stewart Lee book and Great Gatsby will be moved over there to start it off and then I'll upload new reviews. So go over there if you want my reviews of books!

The Dark Knight - Review






Well what with the final part of Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy, The Dark Knight Rises which is going to hit cinemas this Friday on the 20th I decided to take a look at the previous film The Dark Knight.

I have to admit I haven't actually seen Batman Begins so I can't compare it to the previous film but my god this is a good film.

One of the biggest gripes I've had with the Batman franchise in general is that no matter how much you darken it up and no matter how realistic you try to  make it, in the end the premise is always going to be silly. I mean the idea behind Batman, in short, is a guy dresses up as a bat and fights crime. That's a pretty silly premise from the start. But it doesn't really matter in this film as the world and society Batman is in seems believable.

But I guess I should get down to the meat of this movie and say why it rocks hands down. And I can say it only tow words. The Joker. Or if you want a more specific reason - make that 6 words. The Joker played by Heath Ledger.

The hysteria surrounding Ledger's sad death when this movie was being released may have been a little off-putting to most people but I can assure you the praise for Ledger's phenomal performance is rightly justified. Ledger had managed to pull of an incredible feat with his performance. It's one of those characters that I just wanted to keep focusing on and felt disappointed when he was gone and it was all over. He looks brilliant as well. The greasy looking green hair, the badly painted on white make-up, the horrific scaring on his mouth and the wonderful hunched, Kubrick stare in his deep-set panda eyes just add to the sheer horror of the character.

And also most importantly he feels realistic and genuine. Whereas previously he's the "clown prince of crime" here he's an anarchic terrorist wreaking havoc on a huge scale. His personality is really explored as well. With the exception of Alan Moore's superb The Killing Joke I can't think of any other Batman story that's given him such a genuine feel to his character and a good motive behind his actions. In particuar the Joker's extremely cynical and nihilistic outlook on life.  Quotes like:

"You see, their morals, their code...it's a bad joke, which will be dropped at the first sign of trouble. They're only as good as the world allows them to be. I'll show you. When the chips are down, these...these civilized people...they'll eat each other."

Lines like that fit the Joker perfectly and makes him feel so real. Also with this Joker there isn't so much of the annoying wacko performances, it's so much more refined and subtle. He rarely laughs as manically as expected which I happen to prefer. He's so much more sinister and menacing when he's done portrayed as a terrorist threat. And in the real world we sadly are more than ever used to the idea of terrorism. 

"Do I really look like a guy with a plan?"

I also like how they gave him no back story to be lumbered with. Normally in the Batman cannon it goes that he was a low-life criminal who in one rather messy heist got dropped in a huge vat of acid which bleached his skin, dyed his hair green and turned his lips bright red thus turning him into the Joker. In this film that backstory is abandoned. The only real hint we get at the Joker's background is the numerous "why so serious?" speeches. Each of them however are different accounts so there hardly the most reliable accounts.

But having the Joker merely pop out off nowhere, cause as much damage and chaos as he can and then go away is in my opinion much more effective at making as a villain. He's not lumbered with some origin story that he has got to go threw with the whole story, he's his own man and he's free to do what he wants. It's a lot more threatening to have an enemy that you know nothing about that one you do.  

But I would add some criticisms that he's too invincible in his film. How does he just get everywhere with such ease? How can he be at one time in a mob hideout, then at a hospital, and then back into an abandoned building. He just zooms everywhere, I mean surely someone would notice him walking around? He's hardly the most inconspicuous guy what with the scars. And how does he manage to wire explosions on barges and a hospital without anyone finding out beforehand? When did he have the time to do it? These holes just stick out for me I'm afraid.

But I digress. I order to not make this just a huge Joker bum-licking I'd like to comment on the others in this movie. Christian Bale, Michael Kane, Gary Oldman, Morgan Freeman and Maggie Gyllenhaal are all their usual brilliant self in this film but I'd like to put a particular shout-out to Aaron Eckhart who plays both Harvey Dent and Two-Face in this movie. He put's on a fantastic performance as the suave, intelligent Dent and then manages to flip it into sympathy and both shock when he's turned into then mad, shrieking monster that is Two-Face. The change is really is really horrific and also tragic to see such a noble guy turned into this abomination. 

Christopher Nolan has made an almost perfect Batman film and has easily shown what lengths you can take the Batman franchise when put in the right world. I look forward eagerly to The Dark Knight Rises.

2001: A Space Odyssey - Review

My first real thought when coming away from this film is "What the fuck was that all about?" And to be honest I think that's most people's reaction when they first see this movie.

So it's not really surprising that this is one of the most debated films in history with many different people trying to work out it's meaning. Kubrick himself said that:

"You're free to speculate as you wish about the philosophical and allegorical meaning of the film- and such speculation is one indication in that it has succeeded in gripping the audience at a deep level- but I don't want to spell out a verbal road map for 2001 that every viewer will feel obliged to pursue or else fear he's missed the point."     

The film has polarized opinion with some heralding it as a masterpiece of cinema that taxes and challenges yourself to think while others call it pretentious, self-indulgent bollocks with a rubbish plot and little to no structure. I fall into the first category.

I really like the movie's inaccessibility. Obtuse would be another good word to describe this as well. The film gives you no easy explanation of the events going on in it and forces you to make your own conclusions of the film. It provokes ideas and debate which is why this film appeals to me so much. Very few movies (as well as books, TV shows, comics...) force to think for yourself these days. Everything is usually hand wrapped, put in a box, and given to you as a gift with all the answers and the meanings laid out for you. To have a film that doesn't simply prepare everything for you in advance is really refreshing. 

But, whatever you think of the film's content you have to agree this film looks absolutely fucking stunning. The directorial work on this film in simply stunning and yet another example of Kubrick's immense skills in imagery. The shots in my mind that stick out for me in particular are the opening sweeping shots of all the space-stations accompanied perfectly with The Blue Danube. And by space-stations- I mean models. Hand crafted models, none of this poxy CGI shit we have these days. Models full of the most intricate and small details that make them all the more believable. Just watching them float through space really is an awe-inspiring sight.

Going back to the directing work, the interior shots of the spaceship are mesmerising. The way that the actors can not only walked in a straight line but also on the walls, over the ceiling and then back down to the floor. Seeing these for the first time truly was one of those "How in the name of fuck did they do that?" moments.

Kubrick's co-writer Arthur C.Clarke was a futurist and had a diverse and intelligent understanding on science and technology. These two factors made him very clever indeed on predicting what kinds of technology we would have in the future. And it's this knowledge that I think gives the this movie such credibility to me. Often with Sci-fi people's visions of the future can look very dated in deed. However with this movie what Kubrick and Clarke did was to say in even though this may not be the actual future it at least looks likes a credible alternate future. 

But sadly it's not all perfect. This film suffers terribly from the 60's scientific optimism, in which everyone thought at the rate the space race was going we most probably would be going to Jupiter in 2001. As we all now know, humanity stopped dreaming and space interest died in the 70s. So looking at this film with the title of "2001" always is a bit of a sore reminder to me.

But still that doesn't get in the way with how fascinating and awesome this film is. Check it out if you have an open attitude to films and are willing to have your minds incredibly taxed afterwards.