Review - Sucker Punch

I fear I have an apology to make. For many moons I have been talking up Zack Snyder’s latest action effort Sucker Punch to anyone who will listen, pointing out the legacy built up 300 and Watchmen before it and the potential of the creative freedom his first original project allowed him. I was genuinely excited, waiting for the release with breathless anticipation as perfectly crafted trailers and supplementary material helped to draw audiences closer to the day of release. Well that day has come.

Sucker Punch is a disappointment, fundamentally and at every possible level. Perhaps it is precisely because I had built it up so much in my mind that it feels like such a chronic let down but even when I can fabricate a sense of objectivity, I’m finding it impossible to think of a single element which is worthy of recommendation, let alone praise.

It all starts with a proscenium arch – a clever enough touch which makes it clear that what we are about to see has no basis in reality – before launching into a distinctly operatic introduction that plays out silently under a cover of Sweet Dreams. Immaculately shot, these moments are the most effective (and comprehensible) you’ll find in the tangled mess of Sucker Punch – setting up the events which lead to the incarceration of Baby Doll (Browning) in Lennox House and her imminent lobotomy.

But it’s not long before confusion rears its ugly head as we’re quite suddenly transported to an alternative reality where the imprisoned girls are used in a fanciful brothel as playthings for wealthy clients. In this sub-reality, the inmates are forced to dance and when Baby Doll takes to the stage, everyone is mesmerised by her movements. Naturally, this is an opportunity for Snyder to dive inside her head, imagining symbolic action scenes to portray her escape from reality. But first, you’ll have to wade through awkward speeches from token wise man Scott Glenn – who always signs off his appearances with some utterly random comment, seemingly just for the heck of it.

Thus, we’re treated to a series of over the top action sequences, against the likes of towering samurai warriors, steam-powered Nazis and even Dragons, which uniformly end with a return to the Brothel world as Baby Doll stands perspiring lightly while her male viewers stand agog. Firstly, and I may just be speaking for myself, but I wouldn’t have minded seeing exactly what incredible dancing feats she performs to enrapture her audience so.

Secondly, and far more importantly, what the hell? Is this really a movie from the director of 300 and Watchmen which is about a scantily-dressed young woman dancing a bit while her equally draftily-clothed companions try to steal a random collection of items from the shell-shocked audience? The awkward plotting in the brothel sub-reality is bad enough, focussed on procuring said items in the most laborious way imaginable, but Sucker Punch even manages to miss the mark with its action sequences.

Given the set up of the film, Snyder could literally have done anything with his action moments and, theoretically at least, there’s nothing wrong with the situations he conjures up; pitching his female avatars into World War 1 trenches, high fantasy battles against orcs and dragons and into a bullet train speeding across an alien landscape. But why should we care? It’s clear from the first encounter that these moments present no danger to the girls, as Baby Doll is hoofed around like a football by gigantic samurai with no effect. Once she’s joined by Amber, Sweet Pea, Rocket and Blondie, the (mostly) stunning quintet rip enemies to shreds with ease – often aided by unfairly futuristic weapons, including going up against afore-mentioned reanimated Nazis with a heavily armed mech.

By the time we head aboard a high tech train replete with shiny mechanised enemies for a lengthy, one shot, CG heavy melee it’s already beyond tiresome. Further, there’s little artistry in what’s happening on screen – this shot in particular displaying nothing more than skilful CG work to link several sequences together and even at that it’s rarely convincing. By the time the film locates an ending within its own convolutions it’s likely you’ll either be bored, dumbfounded, or both.
Sucker Punch is an overcomplicated mess, populated by spectre-thin characters thrown into a plot which manages to be underdeveloped and confusing at the same time. And even when it settles into the rhythm you expect, with fantasy sequences furthering the ‘real world’ plot, there’s no concrete sense of how the two connect.

Opportunities to bring symbolic meaning to the action escapades are openly ignored and there’s no consequences outside of these moments – until a late on sideswipe which takes the title of the film too literally. There’s almost no point talking about the acting as the dialogue and characterisations are so abysmal there’s nothing for a performer to hold on to. Browning looks well and delivers her few lines with determination while the young cast appear to throw themselves into the action moments, though only the Nazi face-off allows for any takes long enough to see the results of all their training. Scott Glenn is pointless and annoying, Gugino’s accent caused me physical pain, and listen out for an utterly random moment of paddy-whackery from Gerard Plunkett.

This was an important movie for Snyder, marking his move away from R-rated adaptations with his first original script. And this, along with the messy plotting of last year’s Legend of the Guardians does not bode well for his free-wheeling future. There’s no doubt that he’s a talented filmmaker, possessed of a visual verve virtually unmatched in his contemporaries and with careful management his movies can reflect that. But, by the evidence of Sucker Punch, Snyder unchained is nothing less than a liability and the result is almost staggeringly inept.

REVIEW - The Brothers Bloom

Brick director Rian Johnson delivers up his sophomore effort with The Brothers Bloom – a slick and classy con artist pic with some great performances but too many quirks to be a classic of the genre.

Orphaned brothers Stephen (Mark Ruffalo) and Bloom (Adrien Brody) bounced from one foster home to the next as children – a lifestyle spurred on my intricately-planned cons like that which starts the film. 25 years later, the dramatics have reached fever pitch but the same problems remain – Stephen loves the thrill of the con while Bloom is terrified that he has never had a genuine moment in a life of deceit. Together with their mostly mute explosives expert Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi), the brothers take on one last job which Stephen promises will finally give Bloom what he really wants. The target – Rachel Weisz’s Penelope; a rich shut-in with a hundred expert hobbies and no sense of reality.

The Brothers Bloom lays on the charm from the outset – building the symbiotic relationship between the leads through scenes of expertly narrated visual poetry. The first adult con is gloriously unveiled and luring in Weisz heiress is done stylishly and with good humour, as the audience is slowly embroiled in a convoluted plan which sees her join the gang of 'art smugglers' as they set off on a picturesque criminal world tour - taking in Montenegro, Prague and Romania. Inevitable romantic
complications and devilish twists arise as we wend our way towards the dramatic finale.

It’s clear that Johnson has a love of genre films – Brick was his ode to film noir and The Brother Bloom seems just as enamoured with the con movie. The problem is that the best con artist films are as complex as the criminal plans themselves and while the film is technically impressive and all the genre elements are in their proper place there’s one important part missing. The best con films are just as concerned with fooling the audience as the mark, but we never feel that The Brothers Bloom is really getting under our skin.

Thankfully, the cast are excellent - particularly Weisz who captures Penelope's unusual mix of naiveté and experienced hobbyist while looking absolutely stunning and pulling off skateboard and card tricks with aplomb. Kikuchi's near silent performance should be laughable but she brings a huge amount of personality to a mute pyromaniac and Ruffalo seems to be having a lot of fun as the scheming Stephen. Only Brody is a tad disappointing - he's a world class brooder and the intense scenes are note perfect but has some trouble with the films many lighter moments.

The Brothers Bloom is a fun caper flick with some gorgeous images and a memorable performance from Rachel Weisz. But its not as clever as you would like it to be and the endlessly quirky tone ultimately distracts from the potentially dramatic twists of the finale. There's no doubt Johnson is a talented filmmaker but maybe this project was a little too ambitious for an inexperienced director.

3/5

REVIEW - [REC] 2

Sequel to the 2007 shocker, this second film picks up minutes later, as an armed SWAT team is sent in with a medical officer to find out what exactly is going on in the quarantined apartment building.

Rec was a brilliant exercise in first person terror, playing with the limits of a single perspective to create an unnerving action/horror with a genuinely unsettling finale. The sequel ramps up the pace from the very beginning and changes the rules by sending in our heroes armed to the teeth and forewarned about some of the dangers inside. It's a welcome change, ensuring that Rec 2 isn't a typical horror sequel with the same scares in a different location.

But it also robs the film of some of its tension, forcing the directors to fabricate reasons to make the response team vulnerable. Some work, like a moment when one squad member is isolated in a duct and pursued by a shadowy form, but several other contrivances just make this elite team of killers seem like imbeciles. And don't get me started on the idiotic trio of kids who improbably sneak into the building in a parallel story clearly introduced to pad out the running time. The creeping dread is also lessened by endless scenes of exposition made necessary by the new supernatural, pseudo-religious explanation for the horrors taking place. These elements did make an appearance in the first film but when Rec 2 briefly decides to turn into The Exorcist, it threatens to lose its audience.

Happily, there's still a ferocious energy to the proceedings, and directing team Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza clearly had a much bigger budget to play with this time. Squibs explode everywhere, deaths are impressively gory (particularly some underage headshots) and there are several impressively staged first-person moments, courtesy of the SWAT teams helmet cams. But they also overstretch their abilities, particularly as the film draws to a close and nightvision becomes essential to driving the story forward. It's a great concept but, layered on top of so much extraneous narrative and technical feats, it overcomplicates what should be an exercise in pure terror.

Watchable and technically impressive, Rec 2 is so busy trying to impress its audience that it forgets it's supposed to scare them too.

REVIEW - The Losers

Betrayed by their government and presumed dead, The Losers drop off the radar to try to escape from their past. But when the opportunity arises to strike back at the man who tried to kill them, they head home to steal back their lives.

Maybe I was foolish to look forward to The Losers. The polished trailer promised slick pyrotechnics and a some action-packed wit, while a browse of issue 1 of Andy Diggle’s comic promised a gritty revenge thriller with a fantastic array of hard-bitten characters.

The film starts well, despite feeling a pointless need to give us comic book panel versions of the leads, as our five man team waits in the jungle, guiding an air-strike in on the camp of an evil drug-lord. The one note code of honour as they break ranks to rescue a bunch of kids was fine, as was the escape through the jungle in a clapped out school bus and the resulting explosion. It was the cloying sentimentality as the kids are led to a rescue chopper that first weakened my resolve, while the event which directly followed shattered it completely with its vulgarity, leaving me reeling for all the wrong reasons.

And that just the first few missteps by the filmmakers. One minute, the leads will be beating the crap out of eachother as a sublimation of camaraderie or sex while the next Jason Patric will be launching people off buildings and shooting them in the face for laughs. The cast are appearing in wildly different films – Idris Elba thinks he’s in a dark drama, Patric’s in a Naked Gun film while Chris Evans is the comic relief in a competent action film. And Jeffrey Dean Morgan, so effective as The Comedian in Watchmen, is still in his trailer learning his lines while watching reruns of his better performance in ‘Greys Anatomy’.

It’s a shame because when The Losers is knee deep in a halfway decent set piece (admittedly all borrowed from the comic) and the ensemble cast are bouncing one-liners off each other it can be a lot of fun. But even then it too often shoots itself in the foot – first by choosing to go the PG-13 route (some violence and bad language would have least given it a little personality) and secondly due to the barely TV-worthy staging. Apart from the haphazard, freeze-frame heavy editing, each encounter is set up with a minimum of style and shoddy effects work, particularly in a last minute plane crash, further lessens the impact. Stomp the Yard director White simply doesn’t have the experience to wrangle this large cast and deliver a flippant actioner at the same time – instead opting to do neither.

The Losers had great potential as an early summer slice of mindless action. The cast is brilliant (though we would have swapped Elba with Morgan), it’s nice to see Saldana has some range and Chris Evans regains his mantle of a budget-range Ryan Reynolds. But Patric’s take on the supposed evil genius Max is insufferable and the film is scrappily directed. Maybe if co-writer Peter Berg had taken the reins we might have had another guilty pleasure like his underrated 2003 effort Welcome to the Jungle.

If you’ve got a problem, if no one else can help... stick with The A-Team.

Review - A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010)

Freddie's back as the Michael Bay-owned Platinum Dunes production company takes another swing at a horror classic. We had relatively high hopes for this revamp, chiefly because the mechanics of the Nightmare series lends itself perfectly to movies which play with the expectations of the audience as much as the cast. 1984's Krueger was a maniacal trickster, flitting through the early scenes in a barrage of fun and often cheesy effects. 2010's version of the character has transformed into a staid movie monster - walking slowly through dank environments before boringly slashing his perma-tanned victims into mincemeat. The jumps are limp, belonging strictly to the cinema of loud noises = scary and an attempt to explain the psychology behind what is going on comes off as merely laboured pseudo-exposition. Worst of all, the kills are uninspired (though the final sting is a winner), the cast utterly forgettable and the modernisation of Freddie's crime more than a little distasteful.

A nightmare you could sleep through.

2/5

REVIEW - Date Night

Arguably two of the funniest comics working today, Tina Fey and Steve Carell are a comedy match up made in heaven in Shawn Levy's Date Night.

Phil (Carell) and Claire (Fey) Foster are 40-somethings with good jobs, two kids and a slowly crumbling relationship, relieved by weekly date nights to a local eatery. When they find out that two of their best friends are divorcing, they begin to question what is holding them together and embark on a massive date in the city to try to save their marriage. But when they steal another couples reservation and are mistaken for a couple of thieves, their night turns out more interesting than they could possibly have imagined.

Date Night is a very likeable film - the plot is overcooked tosh and action-led attempts to break out of the linear comedy set-up are jarring - but the easy performances of the leads are always there to prop up the sagging direction. It's clear that much of the charm, and most of the laughs, come from the pairing of Fey and Carell - as a series of outtakes over the final credits see them adlibbing rings around the rather staid script.

With a more assured director and a higher age rating, this could have made a fantastic action comedy. As it is, there's barely enough content to fill the 80 minute run time, a bevy of underused cameos (Wahlberg is good but what was the point in having Ray Liotta, James Franco or Mark Ruffalo in there?) and some great comedy moments for the add-libbing leads. Fluffy fun.

3.5/5

Burn After Reading

'Report back to me when it... makes sense'





After No Country for Old Men the Coens brothers no doubt had free rein (and a blank cheque) for their next project. That they chose to waste that potential on something as flaccid and underwhelming as Burn After Reading is bitterly disappointing and proves once and for all that the brothers are not as talented as we would like to believe.

Burn After Reading is about morons and, not incidentally, that also seems to be its target audience. It is a cliched ensemble piece - a panapoly of characters are introduced which appear to have no real connection between them and slowly the links are revealed. This simplicity would be forgivable if there were a single charming or clever element in the piece but sadly it all seems like a bad joke. The characters are composed of nothing but ticks and grimaces; McDormand looks like she is in a no man's land between 2 minor strokes (and is eerily reminiscent of Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka) while Clooney confirms that the sum of his comedic acting ability is his willingness to contort his face. Pitt is the only major player who comes off more or less unscathed (he seems to embrace the absurdity, rather than trying to act through it) but his role is too minimal to save the film. The script is unwieldy, veering from confusing to overly simplistic and has a somewhat peurile sexual focus.

Good points are few are far between. The supporting players are generally good - with J.K. Simmons and Richard Jenkins especially memorable. Indeed the formers interactions with his intelligence community subordinate, as they try to figure out what the hell the main characters are up to, provide the films only consistent humour.

Burn After Reading is a black comedy with too much milk and sugar - the result is anemic and lacking the grown up sensibilities of the brothers' better films. Fargo, for example, is extremely funny at times but laces that humour with a real sense of human desperation and a respect for the audiences intelligence.

It seems pretty obvious to me that this film would not exist without the success of No Country for Old Men, a film which I thought was effective but rather overrated. Perhaps if more people had felt like I did we wouldnt have had to suffer through this flat, laugh free 'comedy'.

Burn After Reading is about morons, for morons and (quite possibly) made by morons. Avoid.

A Review of Deathrace (2008)

Deathrace is a car crash of a movie – you know you shouldn’t watch but you can’t bring yourself to turn away.




Borrowing little but a producer from the 1975 original, it tells the story of a wrongly imprisoned man who is given one chance to win his freedom; compete in and win the Deathrace – armed and armoured vehicular chaos within a maximum security prison.
The director and writer, Paul W.S. Anderson (just so you don’t confuse him with the Paul Thomas Anderson, as if that could ever happen) does a good job with the action but falls flat with the script. Some of Joan Allen’s lines are among the worst you will ever hear. Jason Statham does many physically impressive things while still managing to look like he’s trying to solve a crossword puzzle (his singular talent) and Ian McShane steals the show – something he’s become very good at post Deadwood.

Anderson wisely limits his use of CG here, and the car crashes are satisfyingly meaty and occasionally almost whoop-inducing. The cinematography is crisp and the music is some of the loudest I’ve ever had vibrating my skull.

Deathrace is not a film to be taken seriously but it is also, unfortunately, not quite as much fun as it could have been. It manages to be outpaced in wit and ridiculousness by the original – a film almost 4 decades its senior and with a fraction of the budget.

However, taken on its own, Anderson has got enough reasonable ideas here and enough insanely loud punch ups, explosions and metal on metal impacts to keep me entertained for 90 minutes. If I had one suggestion for the directors cut, it would be to trim that superfluous ending. In a film this vapid, a little mystery at the end would have gone some way towards adding a little bit of John Carpenter-lite to the proceedings.

And I think if you listen very carefully over the credits you can hear the sound of Joan Allen’s agent being slowly roasted over hot coals…

A Review of Rogue (2007)

Greg Mclean’s follow up to Wolf Creek is much more than another belaboured creature feature. It is a wonderful exercise in well-crafted tension, avoiding the horror movie pitfalls of staid and superfluous splatter. The plot is simplicity itself but the direction and generally naturalistic performances keep it from falling into cliché. The initial gentle pacing leads to a genuinely thrilling middle act, with a truckload of tension-creating devices slowly exerting more and more pressure on the dwindling human snacks.

The practical effects are squeamishly impressive and a pulsing vein of pitch black humour provides expertly timed release between the thrills. As with Wolf Creek, Mclean captures the terrifyingly isolated beauty of Australia, with every insect intact and the sense of unrelenting heat truly palpable. Unfortunately, the final act disappoints – having neither the careful pacing nor the plausibility of the previous hour. This, combined with some slightly distracting creature CG, means Rogue is not quite a classic but it has a lot more to offer than the average Hollywood fare.

A Review of Taken (2008)

In Taken, Liam Neeson plays an overprotective father with a violent past whose paranoia is proven right when his daughter is snatched while on a trip to Paris. Mere hours later he is on the ground in the French capital, determined to find his daughter and punish those responsible. What follows is a haphazard series of fights, interrogations, car chases, more fights, several smashed windpipes and an ending totally at odds with the film which preceded it.

The action should have been harsh and brutal and while it is sometimes effective it is crippled by being framed too close and by the PG-13 rating. Who thought that a film dealing with violent revenge, dozens of deaths, torture and prostitution rings should be watched by people in their early teens?

Taken is all the more disappointing given the talent behind the camera. Luc Besson may not always come up with masterpieces when he’s credited as a writer, but he can usually be relied on to churn out something that is fast paced and fun (Unleashed, The Transporter, etc). Likewise the director, Pierre Morrell was last responsible for the ridiculous but exhilarating free running action of District 13. Yet together they have managed to come up with one of the most underwhelming action films in recent memory. As for Neeson, he handles the few emotional scenes with his usual impressive restraint and, with his size and reach, looks like he might actually pack quite a punch in real life. But when the action pulls out a little and he’s forced to run or throw himself through the air to avoid a hail of gunfire his 6’4” frame just looks unwieldy and slow – essentially a really big, easy to hit target. There are also endless moments where Neeson suddenly appears behind another nondescript soon-to-be-corpse which always made me wonder what magic massive closet he had found to hide himself in. He is fine when he’s hitting things and emoting but I think his career as an action star will be rather short lived.

I wanted to like Taken. It had potential as a gritty revenge film with the realistic action so popular since the advent of the Bourne series. Neeson is always a likeable lead and the Besson pedigree with the French setting should have worked in its’ favour. Unfortunately, the weakness of the story and random, unmotivated nature of the violence is simply boring, the potential wasted. Taken also shoots itself in the foot with its choice of subject matter. By delving into the subject of kidnapping tourists for prostitution it appears as though initially Morrell and Besson have some moral lesson for their audience. It soon becomes clear that they were merely looking for a backdrop for the action and the ugly stereotyping of the Eastern European characters in the film is irresponsible, even for a film of this type. Also, for a film rated suitable for young people, the lessons imparted by the hero are less than reassuring – if something bad happens to someone you love you really have no option but to kill dozens of people mercilessly until you reach some kind of resolution. This is fundamentally at odds with the initial plot of the film, as Neeson is trying to leave his past behind in an attempt to reconnect with his teenaged daughter (played with vapid gawkiness by Maggie Grace – proving her vacuous performance in Lost was not an accident). I’m not suggesting every film should have a blatant message of peace and love and there’s no denying that nihilism can be cool but when it is taken to this level it has an effect on the overall coherence of the film.

Disappointing and bland, if this film was kidnapped in a foreign country I’d leave it there.

A Review of Postal (2008)

Postal is the latest movie from the much maligned German director Uwe Boll. It is, like every film he’s made since 2003's House of the Dead, based on a video game and, also like that film, has very little in common with its' source material. Postal follows a rather unique day in the life of a recently sacked factory worker (Zack Ward) who starts out at a job interview and ends up trying to save the human race. Along the way he is aided and thwarted (mostly the latter) by an eclectic mix, including: a bunch of bloodthirsty townsfolk, a cult comprised almost entirely of scantily clad models, terrorists, homicidal policemen, a dwarf who voices a popular (genital shaped) kids toy, Osama Bin Laden and … Uwe Boll! There is no real plot – the action proceeds from location to location seemingly on a whim as the Postal Dude’s day becomes more and more bizarre.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’ve been a champion of Boll’s work but, unlike most critics, I’ve actually watched most of his English language films rather than just jumping on the bandwagon and automatically deriding him. Most are mediocre, and some are stupefying awful (yes In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale, I’m looking at you) but the man is an industry unto himself and, until recently, was making a very healthy business out of it. With Postal, Boll has wisely returned to the openly ridiculous style of House of the Dead, while also turning the comedy dial up to 11. This, coupled with the complete disintegration of any sense of moral decency delivers what can most favourably be described as a unique film.

Boll gets many things wrong here, but the tone, while being his greatest liability, also manages to be his greatest strength. What works here works really well and the way the film unfolds is strangely mesmerising – you literally cannot guess what will happen next. Nothing is sacred and this approach is so all encompassing that he can’t help but hit the mark from time to time. The humour vacillates from quite effectively satirical to utterly tasteless. I would one day like to meet the people who find scatological gags funny. Actually I wouldn’t like to meet them but I would be willing to help sponser the creation of a gulag just for them. Occasionally, to its detriment, Postal crosses the line from tasteless to misanthropic – a moment involving a baby carriage and a fast moving truck comes to mind. However for the most part the content, while undoubtedly crude and misguided, is surprisingly good natured. No segment of society is particularly targeted and Boll’s willingness to make fun of himself (literally) is quite refreshing.

The performances are generally serviceable and sometimes effective. Ward does a good job with some difficult material and manages to strike a balance between playing the clown and the action hero. Verne Troyer is memorable in a bit part which manages to not be demeaning (despite the excessiveness of his eventual fate) and JK Simmons pops up in a strangely unobtrusive cameo. Boll has a reputation for making even talented actors seem terrible (Ray Liotta, get a new agent) but the cast here do a fine job. And even when they don’t, the ridiculousness of the plot and the lightness of the overall tone makes the film practically immune to criticism.

Postal is without a doubt Uwe Boll’s most accomplished movie to date. Some people would say that’s like the difference between doing a frontal lobotomy with a fork or a spoon but it doesn’t change the fact that it represents some maturation in his work. It is by no means a great film, nor by most standards a good one, but it has such boundless, manic energy that you can’t help but get caught up in it. The film is like a huge, mentally challenged, blood-soaked, foul-mouthed Labrador. With a gun. And nuclear weapons. If you are willing to give it a chance and get in the right mind-set (possibly some substance abuse might be helpful) then Postal is a bit of nonsensical fun.

It is also a film in which our hero uses a cat as a silencer.

Yes you read that right.

Enough said.

:)

A Review of Transsiberian (2008)

Brad Anderson is one of those directors who everyone thinks they like until they look him up. Since getting attention with his creepy (but unsatisfying) Session 9 in 2001 his only feature of note was 2004's The Machinist - a movie which will always remain more famous for the extraordinary physical transformation of its star (Christian Bale) than its effectiveness as a creepy thriller. This is partly because Bale's emaciated form was genuinely mesmerising but mostly because the movie just isn't very good. So, after a few years directing TV episodes, Anderson had something to prove with his latest - Transsiberian.

I've never really thought of Emily Mortimer as a leading lady. She’s always seemed either hopelessly insipid or appears to be battling some unrecognisable accent and a cold at the same time. It may come as a surprise then to learn that she is one of the best things about Transsiberian but unfortunately that statement comes with a number of disappointing caveats. In the film Mortimer and a mis-cast, toupee sporting Woody Harrelson play a husband and wife heading home to the US after completing charity work in China. In a decision which screams ‘bad choice’ to the ever watchful audience, they forgo a simple flight home in favour of the famous 8000 km rail journey through the snowlocked Russian wastes. Hence the title of the film.

What results is billed as a twisty action thriller, with multilayered secrets and lies and the familiar device of a claustrophobic location surrounded by scenic wilderness. This may not sound particularly original but, done well, it could amount to an enjoyable few hours of escapism. And, in fairness to the film, it starts well – meandering slowly through the mystery laden landscape of character development, planting seeds of murky histories and maintaining a convincing sense of unease and displacement – 2 American tourists in the time warp of undeveloped Russia. Events occur in a fashion that makes sense, uncomfortable situations get steadily worse and, around the time Ben Kingsley shows up as a Russian detective, everything seems on a wonderfully dramatic collision course with the revelations of the final act.

But then the ‘twists’ begin. Not twists in the normal thriller sense of the word but closer to the M Night Shyamalan meaning ie: twists that spoil a perfectly watchable film. The final act of Transsiberian dispels any sense of tension and unease by blowing the films internal logic to smithereens. I’m not suggesting for a second that the follies here are on the level of the denouement of Signs (or the entirety of Lady in the Water), but they do manage to bring the films momentum to a halt. Both The Machinist and Session 9 had problems with their endings, Anderson seems to believe that if everything doesn’t reach an overedited fever pitch he isn’t doing his job correctly. This is a shame as the deliberate but inexorable pacing of the plot was one of the films strong points.

Ultimately, Transsiberian is a missed opportunity. Some good performances and impressive cinematography are not enough to smooth over the eccentricities of the final act. It cannot maintain the tension well enough to be a thriller but is too mild to fall into the category of suspense/horror. If it is a drama about the fate of foreigners abroad then why does it descend into near Outer Limits territory towards the ending? Brad Anderson may well have potential as a talented filmmaker but so long as he continues to make films which are only halfway effective he will remain in that halfway obscure list of directors-you-have-to-look-up-on-IMDB.

A Review of Redbelt (2008)

'Where can I strike you...
... don't stand there'



David Mamet has had a rather checkered history on the silver screen. As the man responsible for the screenplay of Glengarry Glen Ross and the director of minor classics like Heist he was rightly praised but rambling misfires like Edmond and the taut but slightly ridiculous Spartan have made his move from the theatre less than seamless. Mamet’s latest is Redbelt, for which he assumes writing and directing duties, and it is a mixed bag – indicative of his obvious talent as a storyteller but also his continued unease with the medium of film.

Redbelt tells the story of a martial arts teacher who, through a series of events, becomes embroiled in a morally bankrupt world where his way of life, his personal unwavering philosophy, is threatened. It is an archetypal story in many ways: the lone man with an unbreakable code, often associated with violence but somehow not corrupted by it. Archetypes in movies are necessary, they create shortcuts for the audience, allowing them to accept and understand characters and situations almost instantly. Problems arise when these shortcuts are also adopted by the filmmakers. In Redbelt, the main character is archetypal and nothing else. He is a cipher for the misunderstood hero; reacting to each situation in the most clichéd way imaginable. This would be forgivable if the lead were Steven Seagal or Jean-Claude VanDamme and if we were living in the 90’s but its not and we aren’t. As discerning movie-goers we demand a little more of our martial arts spiced character studies, and Mamet seems unable to deliver.

The worst part is that the movies faults are not that apparent. While the construction of the main character is undoubtedly flawed, Chiwetel Ejiofor's performance is simply mesmerising. He projects a palpable sense of restrained power and wisdom, and this is just the latest in a string of memorable roles. Let’s hope that it gets him the attention he deserves. Likewise the martial combat (when it happens) seems relatively fluid and real, at least by comparison with the stroboscopic editing of most contemporary action. The film is also nicely shot and peppered with a cast of impressive names. But technical competence and a single standout performance are not enough to save it film from its fate of curious mediocrity.

A Review of The Dark Knight (2008)

I was never a fan of Batman Begins (2005). It will forever remain in my mind as the comic book film where the hero escapes from the police during a chaotic chase scene by TURNING OFF HIS HEADLIGHTS! A ten tonne behemoth driving at 60 miles an hour changes lanes and disappears. How in the name of all that is good and mighty did that make the final cut of a major Hollywood movie. Add to this Christopher Nolan's uneasy approach to staging action - particularly in retaining a sense of geography during the fight scenes - and a less than thrilling denoument and I was left distinctly unimpressed. In fairness to the film, it was meticulously designed and the origin story was genuinely engaging but once Christian Bale donned the (rather humourous looking) suit and that hideous carcinogenic drag queen voice I swiftly lost interest. Batman Begins managed to steer the franchise well clear of the cringeworthy excesses of Batman and Robin (1997) but in doing so it went a little too far, and created the unthinkable - it made a comic book film rather boring.

With this in mind I approached The Dark Knight with mixed feelings. The hype machine has been revving away for almost a year, with the first teaser trailer appearing in late July 2007...




Needless to say it didn't do much to change my mind and Heath Ledgers performance of the Joker, taken out of context, seemed destined to be irritating rather than terrifying. Then, on the 22nd of January 2008 Heath Ledger was found unconscious in an apartment in New York. He died later that day. The press reaction was incredible, with the immediate call of suicide echoing around the world. For a time The Dark Knight was lost as the world mourned the passing of a great talent in an acting community which has few enough actors of any real depth.

A Review of Felon (2008)

Felon is a simple, familiar story of a man who is betrayed by the rule of law and finds himself alone in the microcosm of the prison system. The set up is simple but effective and the film is devoid of the usual forced theatrics of prison movies. The focus is not on a thrilling escape attempt or a courageous quest for redemption in the eyes of the law. Instead it is an intimate portrayal of the journey from being free to becoming an incarcerated, institutionalised felon. It is sometimes brutal and unflinching, occasionally pseudo-philosophical but always maintains a connection to the personal cost of a prison sentence.

Stephen Dorff and Val Kilmer head the cast, Dorff as the wronged man and Kilmer as an enigmatic lifer. The relationship is that of teacher and mentor, there is even a voice over with a montage, but the quality of the performances saves it from falling into overwrought cliché. Dorff proves that a slew of underwhelming roles sold him seriously short and Kilmer creates a compelling physicality and presence, despite his relatively limited screen time. To rate one performance over the other would detract from the impressive dynamic they create. The supporting cast are generally solid apart from Harold Perrineau, a man with no discernible acting talent who still turns up in all kinds of places. His character in Felon is supposed to be complex, gorged on power and alienated from his family but Perrineau simply can't pull it off. It is a shame in a film that does little else wrong.

The film was clearly made on a budget but the grainy, mostly hand-held camera work works well in this setting. The shooting style reminded me a lot of Narc (which can only be a good thing) in its low key approach and sometimes arresting imagery.

All things considered, Felon is a well made, impressively acted, tersely plotted drama which deserves to find an audience. It is better than many movies I've seen this year but can only be seen on limited release before being swiftly kicked to DVD where it will probably sink without a ripple in a sea of direct to video dross. If you find it wedged firmly between the latest Seagal pseudo action flick and some dodgy labelled classic that never was or will be, check it out. Its worth a look.

A Review of Wall-E (2008)

Is Wall-E Pixar's greatest film and, by extension, one of the greatest animated films in the history of cinema? The better question is, are these claims even meaningful in an arena as subjective as entertainment. You may love Cars (which I find unlikely) and I have a strange and lasting fondness for oft-ignored A Bug's Life but the use of hyperbole in critical reviews is, essentially, worthless. Rather we should deal in specifics; Wall-E is one of the most consistently entertaining and enjoyable movies I have seen this year. It is exceptionally animated, technically peerless and has a design aesthetic and attention to detail which would be the envy of most live action films. It also has its negative aspects. Some are common to many Pixar films - it is a little saccharine and, to my mind, the music score is a little lacking. Other issues are more or less unique to this film. I found the voice acting for the human characters a little weak and uninvolving (perhaps intentionally) and the plotting was quite one dimensional, despite supposedly dealing with some extremely complex themes (Centuries of isolation and that old Asimov chestnut of the evolution of robotkind).

I make these points merely to allow an element of realism into the proceedings, something which seems particularly relevant in a week where the Dark Knight is being heralded as the most super amazing awesome and exciting thing to ever flicker through mass consciousness. The hype is interesting and, no doubt, commercially important but after those first few weeks it becomes irrelevant. The real test of a films quality is whether people will continue to watch it in the future, whether it stands the test of time.

Is it smaltzy? Yes, but nowhere near as saccharine as the low points of Finding Nemo.

Is it funny? Yes, it beats misfires like Cars hands down and approaches the rapid fire success of Toy Story 2.

Is it surprisingly dark? Yes, but in the good way that The Incredibles did so well.

In these ways and many others Wall-E is emblematic of Pixar’s ability to learn from its mistakes, expand on its successes and highlights their maturation into one of the most deservedly successful movie studios in the world. I for one would love to see Pixar drop the ‘message’ and the constant reach for a g rating (in this way The Incredibles, with its PG rating, was a step forward) but that may just be my selfishness. I don’t want to share these films with anyone else. Sitting in a darkened cinema, I realized that what they managed to achieve is far more impressive. Several hundred people – from six to sixty - were entertained and enthralled for a full 90 minutes. There are very few recent movies, very few movies ever made, that can make the same claim…

P.S. The Presto short at the beginning is rather excellent too. A suberbly animated and insanely energetic tex avery style short.
Enjoy

:)


Wall-E's introduction was one of the best teaser trailers in recent memory.

A Review of Hancock (2008)

Tonight He Comes (Hancocks original, rather humourous, title) is one of the best unproduced scripts floating around Hollywood.
And it should have stayed that way.


Hancock is a superhero film with a difference. The (genuinely clever) conceit is that the protagonist is an amnesia stricken, homeless, mannerless, alchoholic superman clone who is drawn to help people but often manages to cause more damage than he avoids. With personal property damage in his adopted town of Los Angeles spiralling into the tens of millions, Hancock is more of a liability than a defender of 'Truth, Justice and the American Way'. This neat inversion on the standard story works very well, at least for the first act.

Will Smith, as the titular character, flies around drunk, crashes into buildings, destroys fleets of police cars, derails a train and abuses the locals – all in the first 10 minutes. This serves to introduce the initial plot of the movie:Hancock is, according to our definitions, a superhero but he is more or less hated by the regular inhabitants of the city. This is an interesting perspective on the superhero character (though not entirely unique – Spiderman for example has a long history of being presented as martyr and menace) but it is dropped into our laps far too quickly. There is no sense of how this world functions, how day to day life continues with a super strong, inebriated idiot roaming the skies. He has lived in the city for years, so where is the damage? What encouragement is there for us to believe in this world? Yes I know it’s a superhero movie, disbelief is part of the contract between the filmmakers and the audience, but we still need to be enveloped by the internal, fictional reality of a movie world.

The whole film is stricken with a kind of PG-13 Tourette’s. The populace of Las Angeles seem intent on being rude but their lexicon of bad language is less well developed than the average six year old. I understand that it is partly a rating issue (the one use of the f-bomb here is relatively effective in the offhand way its tossed out) but surely someone could have thought of a number of less offensive swear words? I’ve never heard the word asshole used so many times, and to so little effect. It makes Smiths reaction to the word all the more laughable and unmotivated. He should be responding to the hate of the public, not to a particular word and placing the focus of his rage on a couple of syllables is just another example of the films lack of depth.


whats worse is I really thought this trailer had promise...

A review of Iron Man (2008)

"And what do you say to your other nickname, the Merchant of Death?

That's not bad"

Iron Man is the first feature to be made entirely by Marvel – a significant gamble which has paid off to the tune of over $350 million worldwide after just two weekends. For a non-sequel from a fledgling company that is very impressive. It also bodes well for Marvel's second project, the reboot of The Incredible Hulk – due in cinemas in June. Comic book films are big money spinners now but the success of a new series is predicated on the entertainment value of the central character – and in this way Hulk and Tony Stark have similar problems. They just aren't super enough...

Iron Man starts with an unnecessary flashback structure, presumably to ensure some loud action in the first minute or two. Tony Stark (played with now-familiar post-rehab gusto by Robert Downey Jnr.) is the embodiment of the capitalistic, jingoistic American ideal. He has become absurdly rich designing weapons and, more significantly, has no moral qualms whatsoever about the negative effects of his work. Stark is not a nice man. Except he is. This potentially realistic and complex dualistic behaviour is lost in the film's failure to choose sides. This leads us to the first of many problems; what are we, the audience, supposed to think of Tony Stark? He is presented as bright and brilliant; a charming man of the people but also as a womaniser and something of a warlord. This initial confusion is nothing compared to what happens later on. After a brush with death and a subsequent escape (which is accomplished in an ultraviolent fashion) he holds a hippie press conference and vows to stop making weapons for good.

This turnaround is simply too fast and, as presented by Downey Jnr. with his usual twinkly-eyed glazed look, has none of the power or angst we have come to expect from comic book origin stories. His parents are not murdered before his eyes, nor is his home world destroyed. He does not belong to a mutant race of outcasts nor does he inadvertently cause the death of a loved one. He simply comes across as a petulant child who is bored with his old toys. Instead of using his money to work for peace or help starving children he creates a powered battle suit and flies around the world blowing things up. Exactly how this is 'protecting the people he put in harm's way' is slightly beyond me. And the hypocrisy of the double standard is appalling – it is only when Stark realises that (Shock! Horror!) his weapons might be used against American troops that he begins to examine his conscience.

Don't get the wrong idea, there is nothing particularly obnoxious about Iron Man. The performances are light and breezy and the script is a cut about the blockbuster norm; littered as it is with a particularly dry sense of humour. The central performance from Robert Downey Jnr. is the film's saving grace but also its' Achilles heel. His presence is enjoyable on the one hand but, in my opinion, also detracts from the credibility of the whole endeavour. You keep expecting him to wink to camera and finally admit it is some kind of extravagant Saturday Night Live parody. That Jeff Bridges is really being played by Will Ferrell and Terrence Howard is actually just a cardboard cutout. I still don't get Terrence Howard. I've yet to see him raise a palpable, or even guessable, emotion in his roles – his face seems oddly expressionless and his voice almost unbearable. He gets some good lines in this film but sounds like he's reading them from an auto cue. But I digress. As once off summer entertainment this kind of self aware film-making is bearable but I simply can't see the film becoming a much loved classic in the future.

So, what does the film have going for it? The special effects are extremely impressive, with the integration of cg and live action especially so. The set pieces, when they come, run the gamut from almost boring to genuinely thrilling. Stark's armoured escape from captivity is suprisingly dull while some of the later aerial combat sequences are really good fun. Once again though, the use of sfx has positive and negative effects, particularly in relation to the ending. The final confrontation has become a serious problem for the superhero film. In days of yore, special effects were difficult, so typically the best the film had to offer was saved for the ending. Now, every scene is liberally slathered with computer generated gunk. The result is explosive fatigue, a run of overpowering sequences which forgo actual affect for special effect. A dozen astonishingly well-rendered high octane scenes does not create a cumulative effect. There is a new cinematic law of diminishing returns. If the same level of frankly awe-inspiring cg work is applied to the hero designing and dressing in his suit then what is left for the audience to look forward to. What makes a special effect special these days? The ending of Iron Man is another clunky computer-aided brawl, where narrative is suspended for minutes at a time while increasingly unrealistic pieces of metal and flesh beat on each other. This moment is reminiscent of a dozen other recent movie resolutions: from Hellboy to The Matrix Revolutions, all equally unengaging. Without vicarious involvement – a sense that a character we can identify with is in danger – it just amounts to so many polygons.

Perhaps I've been a little harsh on Iron Man. I can't honestly say I was bored by the experience but I do feel its' major mis-steps are a symptom of a greater malaise at the heart of contemporary blockbuster cinema. If, however, your cynicism has not quite reached the pathological degree mine has you could well have some fun with Iron Man. Robert Downey Jnr., Jeff Bridges and Gwyneth Paltrow are amiable enough company (even if the latter seems as though an errant puff of wind would shatter her into a million pieces) and the director, Jon Favreau, keeps things moving at a reasonable pace. Stark's character arc is minimal (more of a character stroll really) but his near trademarked delivery of PG-13 witticisms should be enough to hold your attention. Just.

at the IMDB

A review of The Orphanage (2007)

"Seeing is not believing.
Believe, and you will see."




The Orphanage is not a horror film and it is not directed by Guillermo del Toro.

These two common misconceptions have followed the film around since it's release. The former can perhaps be dismissed as semantics but the latter bears some semblance to the belief several years ago that Quentin Tarantino had directed Hero(2002). The major difference is that del Toro is a genuinely talented director and Tarantino is an over-rated adolescent. But that's another rant for another day.

The Orphanage was actually directed by Juan Antonio Bayona, in his feature film debut, though it could easily be mistaken for del Toro's work. Best known for his comic book movies Blade II (2002) and Hellboy (2004), The Orphanage is more tonally similar to some of his Spanish language work, particularly The Devil's Backbone (2001) and elements of Pan's Labyrinth (2006). However indebted Bayona is to films of this type he still manages to carve out a niche for himself with a suspenseful, emotional and technically accomplished ghost story.

I mentioned before that I did not consider The Orphanage to be a horror film and I stand by that assertion. Although the horror genre has always been difficult to define I would rather refer to this movie as an exercise in suspense mixed with a good old-fashioned ghost story. This does not mean that the film is not scary, far from it. There are jump scares and horror clichés aplenty but the film is smart enough to play with these conventions in a number of smart ways.

A married couple with an ailing, adopted son move to a mansion in the country with the intention of setting up a care home for disabled children. The title of the film refers to the fact that the mother was also an orphan and the house is the orphanage where she spent her youth. An initial flashback to this time shows us that Laura was happy here and she clearly wants to help other young children now. Her son, Simon, seems content in the new house, especially as he finds a number of new invisible playmates. He and his new friends play games, including a frantic treasure hunt, and his parents are generally tolerant of his childish delusions. The initial pacing of the film is gentle, coming to a head with Simon's sudden disappearance and Laura's desperate attempts to find him. She is willing to go to any lengths to be reunited with her son. The events which make up the latter half of the film are sometimes shocking, often intensely creepy and move at a fast pace towards the inevitable but heart-wrenching conclusion. It ticks all the stereotypical boxes for this kind of film - old dark house, creepy children, loud noises, even a surprisingly elaborate sequence involving a medium - but manages to feel fresh through a number of unique twists. The use of children's games is especially effective, with one memorable moment employing just the right mixture of tension and outright fear.

The cinematography is gorgeous but inobtrusive, certain shots are stunning when taken on their own but do not detract from the flow of the film. The use of cg within the film is subtle, something which non-American productions seem much better at. Visual effects are used to add to a scene rather than overpower it, except in the strangely cg-heavy title sequence. It is an anachronism in an otherwise technically sparse film and was most likely tacked on late in the game. The performances are likewise terse. Most notable is Belén Rueda as Laura; managing to play the distraught mother with commendable subtlety rather than the usual perfunctory hysterics. The performances of children are more difficult to critique. Suffice it to say that most of the young cast are blissfully silent and the son, Thomas (Roger Princep) does a fine job with some challenging material.

And there is yet another element which sets this film apart from its' contemporaries. It is in Spanish and, perhaps unfairly, this only adds to the overall sense of mystery. Even with subtitles, there is a more active engagement when we are viewing something that is not in our native language. We are not as focussed on what the characters are saying, instead we really see them, their interactions with their environment and eachother. I genuinely believe that this linguistic divide makes the film more effective and scarier. And make no mistake, this film is scary. True it has more in common with the short, sharp shocks of The Others (2001) than the hysteria-inducing gore and violence of Haute Tension (2003) but the insidious intrusion of the supernatural into the domestic is truly chilling.

The Orphanage is a highly effective ghost story with some interesting twists on the sub-genre that manages to maintain a constant level of dread and suspense. The resolution is shocking but also manages to retain an element of hope, as well as an insight into a possible view of the afterlife. I would strongly recommend this film for anyone who is tired of the assembly line abattoir of American horror – where tanned teens' barely one-dimensional lives are ended in a spray of (usually off-screen) viscera. If you have any brain-cells functioning after being subjected to such films, The Orphanage may give you a few sleepless nights but, after all, isn't that what a good ghost story is for...

A review of The Bourne Ultimatum (2007)

I liked both The Bourne Identity (2002) and The Bourne Supremacy (2004) but I didn’t love them. As espionage thrillers they were a welcome antidote to Bond (especially in the wake of 2002’s bloated Die Another Day), were competently made and, at the very least, consistently entertaining. It seems to be something bordering on blasphemy to suggest this, but I must admit I preferred the Doug Liman directed Identity over its sequel, helmed by Paul Greengrass. The latter’s handheld camerawork (even in scenes where a properly composed, static shot would be more effective) constantly distracted me from the onscreen events. This irritating stylistic choice, coupled with an unnecessary-to-the-plot (though undoubtedly thrilling) car chase in the final act makes Supremacy the weaker film, in my opinion. However, regardless of minor foibles, I enjoyed the two Bourne films thus far and, with this in mind, looked forward to checking out the latest instalment – The Bourne Ultimatum.

Again directed by Paul Greengrass, now with the frankly awe-inspiring United 93 (2006) under his belt, Ultimatum follows on immediately from the events of Supremacy. In fact, the initial action follows Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) as he escapes from the aftermath of the car chase which ended the previous film. It is during Bournes’ escape from the police in Moscow that the first possible downfall of the film reared its head – flashbacks. Though the gradual reveal of Bournes shattered memories has been an element in each of the previous films, it is such a tired cinematic device that I feared its use, so early in the film, might be a symptom of sequel fatigue. A spy film with a central character suffering from amnesia had been done to death 50 years ago, and is a plotline revisited by countless neo-noir and science fiction stories. Here it frames a tale of revenge on the people who created Bourne; echoing backwards to his indoctrination into the ranks as a mindless assassin. The use of this device, and the generalities of the plot which it fuels, are rather crude, rudimentary and extremely familiar. But this is where the disappointments with The Bourne Ultimatum end.

The plot, in complete disregard of its failings, rockets along – taking us on a globe-trotting adventure from Moscow to Tangiers and, ultimately, New York. An ensemble of new and returning characters populate Bournes headlong sprint from one danger to the next. The acting is almost uniformly excellent; Damon manages to meld death-dealing assassin with world-weary everyman perfectly, Julia Stiles makes the most of a chance to flesh out her returning character and David Strathairn is uncompromising as a heavy-handed section chief. The only minor casting blip comes in the form of the other operatives sent after Bourne – they are particularly nondescript, forgettable and almost indistinguishable from one another. Though this is, quite possibly, deliberate it occasionally feels as though Bourne is fighting and running from the same Terminator-like enemy throughout. The events are essentially the same as the previous outings – the only real difference being that this time instead of running away Bourne is taking the fight to his former bosses. The action, in keeping with the series, is short, sharp and brutal. The choreography and execution of the action scenes is near perfect in this film, building on the lessons learned in the previous outings. The hand-to-hand fighting is not marred by the jump-cutting, speed ramping mistakes of the first film and the central New York car chase is both breathtakingly captured and is at least partially integral to the plot. The most effective sequence though, in my opinion, involves Bournes interaction with a British reporter (Paddy Considine). The latter is guided through the rush hour madness of Waterloo Station in London while Bourne moves around the periphery; eliminating the agents who are stalking them. The sequence is relatively action free but filled with the kind of sustained tension and a palpable sense of danger which action films in general, and Hollywood films in particular, generally find impossible to create.

As the third part of a previously competent and enjoyable trilogy, The Bourne Ultimatum had the deck stacked against it – particularly coming at the end of a summer movie season with so many disappointing second sequels (Shrek 3, Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds End, Spiderman 3…). Against all odds it truly delivers. I would not hesitate to say that it is the best of the trilogy; likely the best action film I’ve seen this year and possibly one of the best films of the year thus far. As a film-lover who is more often disappointed than dazzled I am delighted to be able to recommend this film as a triumph of sincere and sustained talent rather than a vacant money-maker, a symbol of studio greed. The Bourne Ultimatum is uncomplicated without seeming shallow, realistically brutal without feeling constrained by its PG-13 certificate, well-acted, impeccably directed and, above all else – it leaves you with that indefinable feeling of post-cinema satisfaction. It’s neither the greatest film ever committed to celluloid, nor even the greatest action film but it succeeds far more than it fails and deserves to be seen and appreciated.

Enjoy.

P.S. And yes, for the record, the ubiquitous shaky handheld camera-work does make an unwelcome return. Though noticeably toned-down it is still consistently distracting, injecting unneeded energy into dialogue scenes and occasionally obfuscating any sense of geography in the action scenes. However, Greengrass pulls off everything else with such panache that he can be forgiven this one, peculiar habit.