This Year's Big Screen Viewing

New films reviewed in 2005, in reverse order of being seen, are:- Factotum; The Corpse Bride; Land of the Dead; Primer; On a Clear Day; Asylum; Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; 3-Iron; Overnight; War of the Worlds; Batman Begins; Undertow; Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith; Mean Creek; The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy; Der Untergang; The Woodsman; Kinsey; Hotel Rwanda; The Door in the Floor; Les Choristes; Million Dollar Baby; Team America: World Police; and House of Flying Daggers.

Factotum

Factotum is a film which comes with many subtitles attached to its various releases, among them A Man who Preforms Many Jobs. It is never clear whether this is some sort of joke or just a careless translation, which sums up much of the film itself. Although there's some sharp observation and the occasional witty line, it never quite captures the edginess of Charles Bukowski's original work, and so finds the balance between ugliness and humour difficult to maintain. Nevertheless, it's an affecting portrait of the flip side of the American dream.

This is the story of Hank (Matt Dillon), a man who drifts between casual jobs, homes and relationships whilst pursuing an increasing dedication to drink. Hank identifies himself as a writer, furiously producing short stories, convinced that one day his big break will come and he'll be saved, almost deus ex machina, from a life where nothing ever seems to change except for the worse. Dillon has previously touched upon this life in Drugstore Cowboy, though Factotum makes Van Sant's work look glamourous; here he clearly wants to do something different with his role, affording the character little sympathy, though he does have a certain (gradually declining) vigour and charm which make his small successes believable. Audience sympathy for Hank is apt to waver, as he is clearly an agent in his own destruction, though he makes a solid case for drink being one of the few pleasures available to him. For the most part, director Bent Hamer takes an amoral stance, simply watching events unfold; if the film has a moral message, it appears only at the end, in what may be cinema's best ever strip club sequence. Studios are always offering extra finance in return for such scenes, which allegedly draw in extra viewers, but Hamer turns the whole thing on its head, showing us a skilled, athletic woman reduced, like our hero, to a life of squalor. Throughout the film, the only people who escape life in the underclass are those who are successful in selling themselves to the rich.

This may sound a bleak prospect for an hour and half's viewing, and, much of the way through, it is. It begins slowly, awkwardly, and is difficult to get into, the hero's emotional distance threatening to disengage the viewer. What saves it is a strong underlying current of humour and a remarkable talent for observation. Some of the cinematography is superb. The sets are detailed and thoughtfully constructed, with nothing ever seeming false - clearly the whole design team have a solid understanding of the sort of world which Hank inhabits. Dillon and co-stars Lili Taylor and Fisher Stevens seems similarly at home, and their physical acting is impressive. Despite occasional outbursts and speech-making, the performances are never inappropriately showy. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of Dillon's narration, the worst since Blade Runner, which is poorly delivered and crudely overlaid, interrupting several key scenes. This comes across as the product of further uncertainty in translating the novel - perhaps some of it is necessary, impossible to work around, but it's hard to believe it could not have been done better.

Factotum is a deeply flawed film, but an interesting one, a bold stab at addressing subjects usually hidden away. In this regard some viewers will find it very satisfying, but it's unlikely to please a wide audience.

The Corpse Bride

With charming Gilliamesque animation and sculpted landscapes shot in tones of blue, grey and yellow, Tim Burton's The Corpse Bride is as beautiful to look at as its eponymous heroine but, ultimately, just as dead. Based on Eastern European myths about a young man who inadvertently marries a corpse en route to his planned wedding, this suffers from many of the same flaws as Burton's Sleepy Hollow. It follows the themes of the fairy tale fluently, but there just isn't enough story to go round. The characters are underdeveloped and the audience lacks the cultural reference points necessary for a richer appreciation of the narrative. Separated from its historical roots, it totters unsteadily, finally collapsing. The ending, doubtless intended to be moving and poetic, makes no sense for the characters as we have come to know them. Only the fate of the villain provides any real satisfaction.

Fortunate, then, that the film is beautiful, and that it's packed full of humourous asides. Faltering when it comes to the love story, Burton is right on cue with his depiction of a burlesque underground kingdom where zombies and skeletons dwell. The skeleton muscial number is reminiscent of the better early Disnay films, with the skeleton Ray Charles a delight. Danny Elfman's music works well here, though elsewhere it's sketchy and overfamiliar. The Corpse Bride's maggot sidekick is somewhat irritating, but other minor characters provide great entertainment. It's difficult to see why anyone would want to leave this exuberant world for the frigid high society above.

The difficulty with presenting a story like this to a modern audience is that the characters' choices no longer make sense at any stage. It is no longer enough that hero Victor has a duty to marry his original fiancee - we have to believe that the two of them are in love, though they've only met for five minutes and she has less personality than the average nematode. Naturally, it's vital that he also fall in love with the Corpse Bride, but this, too, presents a difficulty - Helena Bonham Carter simply isn't right for the part and and makes her spirited but tragic character sulky and twee. It's difficult to believe in her passion for Victor when she's so strongly focused on herself. Consequently, the final terrible dilemma plays like pantomime. Only those characters originally suited to such a medium pull it off with any style.

Overall, The Corpse Bride comes across as warning that one can have too much of a good thing, and that even the most visionary of directors should not be encouraged to overindulge. A strong editor might have been able to shape this into something really special. As it is, it's a pleasantly atmospheric curiosity, but little more.

Land of the Dead

The fourth installment in George Romero's zombie series, after a gap of twenty years, Land of the Dead is at once the most accessible and the most difficult to approach critically. Whilst these are ostensibly horror movies, it's their philosophical nature, as much as their technical brilliance, which has made them so important. Each has developed in accordance with the popular style of its day, so this time around we get what looks at first glance like a gung-ho action movie. As the story develops, it appears to turn into a tale of revolutionary socialism, complete with a cartoonish autocratic villain played by Dennis Hopper, but there's something far more complex going on underneath.

The story begins with a raid on a small American town. This time around, humans are the attackers. The zombies, who spend their time 'pretending to be alive', are easily slaughtered by soldiers who whoop and cheer as they drive around on their bikes with big US flags trailing off the back. Astute use of old types of film stock unobtrusively draws comparisons with the pogroms of history. But somehing is different in this town; one zombie has figured out where the threat is coming from, and leads his comrades on a campaign of plunder and revenge. Like his predecessor in Day of the Dead, his achievements are centered on his ability to perform unselfish acts. The zombies are 'learning to be us'.

As the zombie march gets underway, humans in the fortified city struggle to make a living, dreaming of overthrowing the rich in their shining tower. If the stereotypes on display seem over the top, it may be because you're unfamiliar with the extremes on display around some of America's real life gated communities. Whilst the rich characters are mostly underdeveloped, we get plenty of chance to sympathise with the poor, though they are not without their vices. One of the film's weaknesses is its flirtation with Mad Max II style displays of depravity, which, like its honest soldier heroes, we've seen too many times before. None of the central characters is particularly interesting, though Robert Joy turns in a fine performance as a mentally disabled man still managing to make his way in the world, and anti-hero Cholo (John Leguizamo) is sympathetically bitter. In presenting believably traumatised post-apocalyptic characters, Romero has unfortunately made them harder to care about.

The really interesting part of this film takes place when the zombie revolutionaries and the poor of the city collide - despite what might be shared ideals, they are still at war, the undead horde still hungry for the flesh of the living. This lack of any real moral resolution, though it makes the movie difficult to sell, is at the heart of the film's message. Fireworks used to distract zombies at the start recall Day of the Triffids, central to which is the motif of the ever-rotating wheel of fortune. The dead have had their day, and one day the wheel will turn in favour of humanity again - though to whom that humanity will belong is more obscure.

Primer

In a suburban American garage, four engineers run a small business making error-checking devices. Their solidarity is broken when two of them stumble upon something too valuable to share - too valuable, in fact, to market. Afraid of exploitation, they let it sit there whilst they try to figure out its possible applications. When they realise that it has the potential to let them travel short distances through time, the temptation to experiment directly becomes too much. Initial ventures on the stock market demonstrate that they could make themselves rich, but as the stakes rise, each of them has to question what it really is that he wants; and meanwhile, they become less and less capable of understanding the damage the machine is doing.

Stories of this sort have been popping up in science fiction anthologies for years, but Primermarks a rare attempt to translate one to the big screen. Its advantage comes from its intimate understanding of the world which its protagonists inhabit. As the engineers remove components from their fridges and cars to try to build their machines on a budget, first-time director Shane Carruth's team have gone through a similar process, bringing in their project for a mere $7,000, using just two cameras. The results are sometimes shaky, but by and large Primer looks as good as most of this year's million dollar movies. Its cold, bleak visuals, innovative without being flashy, expertly complement the atmosphere of day to day lab work, giving the whole thing a down-to-Earth feel which makes the audience much more willing to accept its premise. Enhancing this is some first class technical dialogue which neatly skirts around the precise physics involved without ever giving the impression that those working on it haven't discovered something solid. The characters, too, are very real, though this is perhaps one of the film's weaknesses - work-obsessed and starkly portrayed as they are, it's difficult for the audience to engage with them. This distance makes it harder to care about the suffering involved as the plot takes a darker turn.

The biggest difficulty faced by Primer is that it has been promoted on the strength of its being devastatingly original, which it really isn't. Its naturally fractured narrative throws up a lot of puzzles but no real mysteries; there's no fresh insight into the possibilities of time travel; its real core is the disintegrating relationship between its central characters. The narrative possibilities which this offers are, in turn, limited by a script which sticks too closely to formula when it comes to the exploration of suspicion and grievance. There are interesting things going on here, however, notably to do with the progressive symptoms of poisoning experienced by one of the men, whose physical disintegration parallels the breakdown of the story into interlinked strands hinging on the mechanics of probability. Unfortunately, these strands are explored in a manner which creates more problems than it resolves; here the film does give the impression that it is trying too hard to be clever. This is a particular shame since it is on this level that it is otherwise at its most effective.

Primer is not a film to see if you're not prepared to make an effort. It's the sort of film whose secrets need to be earned; it requires one to pay close attention all the way through, and you may well find yourself feeling the need to discuss it with friends afterwards. For all its flaws, it is a startlingly good first effort, and it'll be interesting to see what Carruth can achieve in the future.

On a Clear Day

Twenty six years ago, shipbuilder Frank's young son drowned whilst playing on a beach. Now Frank is fifty five, and has just lost the job in which he has spent his whole life working. Lacking any purpose or direction, he struggles to relate to those around him, especially his surviving son. These are familiar elements of the sort of grim Scottish drama we have all grown used to seeing, but in the hands of director Gaby Dellal (making her feature debut) they are transformed into something quite different - a story of hope. Inspired by a casual comment from a friend, Frank sets out to find a new way of proving himself by swimming the English Channel.

On a Clear Day is a tremendously endearing film which will have a strong appeal to those tired of the cynicism of modern cinema. It's also a bold political statement, asserting that there can be a positive side to unemployment and examining the changing social roles available to men, but its political agenda is never pushy. There's plenty of story here, and a number of well developed characters, so you can set aside fears that you'll be going to watch a man swim up and down a pool repeatedly - what star Peter Mullan calls "the most boring thing in the world". Mullan's five months of intensive training got him into good shape for the role, and his impressive physical acting shows that he understands the challenges faced by endurance swimmers, even if his stroke is deliberately overelaborate. It's hard to accept that a man spending hours with his head submerged in fifteen degree water wouldn't have contracted crippling hypothermia, and there are other oddities here, like a drive from Glasgow to Dover which seems to be accomplished in well under the standard eight hours, but these are easy enough to overlook when one considers that the core of the film is not a physical journey but an emotional one. Mullan's performance is excellent throughout, and he is ably supported by an accomplished cast. There's also some very good work from children making their acting debuts.

If there is a major flaw in On a Clear Day, it's that the story is a bit too simple, with characters getting what they want a bit too easily. Despite a well-handled twist at the end, it feels more like fantasy than reality, and it might have worked better had it been a bit rougher at the edges. There are relatively few surprises, but Mullan describes it as a film about trust, and the viewer, too, can safely trust in Frank. Anyone who misses old fashioned feelgood movies will find this a delight.

Asylum

Billed as 'a skillful chronicle of mad love', this latest adaptation of the work of Patrick McGrath (following David Cronenburg's Spider) is really something quite different. At its heart is the passionate affair which develops between bored psychiatrist's wife Stella (Natasha Richardson) and asylum inmate Edgar (Marton Csokas), tearing apart Stella's life; behind the scenes, however, each character is being manipulated in a complex scheme which none of them can see. The unfolding story provides a good balance of visceral action, psychological drama, and mystery.

As in McGrath's previous work, the day to day routines of the asylum are fluidly depicted so that the environment becomes almost as influential as the characters. From the very start, the physicality of the characters is presented as an essential part of their identities. Careful choices in lighting and make-up give us characters who seem almost raw, unpolished and the more expressive for it. This is clearly tremendously liberating for Richardson, who turns in one of her strongest performances to date, taking full advantage of her challenging role. Perhaps Stella has always been on the brink of madness; she is clearly not the sort of person who can fit into the role which her damaged marriage has provided her with. Husband Max (Hugh Bonneville, on excellent form as an initially unlikeable but sympathetic man suddenly out of his depth) struggles to hold the relationship together, but their differing expectations appear to have been moulded by different social experiences; he is upper class, she passionate about the notion of the artist, the outsider. When Max's colleague Peter (Ian McKellen, about as far removed from the benevolence of Gandalf as one would care to get) introduces her to a murderer who used to be a sculptor, her reaction is predictable enough. Csokas, in his turn, portrays a man intense but edgy, prone to violent mood swings, with impressive confidence. Their sexual encounters are passionate to the point of brutality, and Stella is not the only one who finds herself vulnerable as a consequence of his overwhelming jealousy.

Anyone who plays strategy games will understand that they develop in phases; such is the case with the story told here, and it is weakest at the points where it links these phases together, seeming at first like a succession of short stories about the same group of people. Its awkward pacing does make sense, but not until the end, so it sometimes drags a little. Emotionally numb characters also present a challenge which it struggles to overcome, its accuracy sometimes a burden. At other stages, however, humour is used to good effect, and Gus Lewis, as Stella's son Charlie, provides the film with an emotional core. As Peter attempts to talk to her about different kinds of love, we see the seesawing influence of her feelings for her lover and for her child. Is her relationship with Edgar merely an obsession? Should one sort of love be considered more real than another? These questions spill over into greater concerns about just what constitutes sanity anyway, and Stella must journey through madness to find out the truth.

As an examination of what it means to be mad, Asylum works very well, packed as it is with personable and (otherwise) reasonable characters who are still cleary dysfunctional. As a moral tale, it is complex and provocative, still darker than it first appears. As a human tale, it is consistently engaging. Highly recommended.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

"It's not very good." said a small boy in the cinema foyer. "It's just like the old one." And, indeed, this adaptation of Roald Dahl's classic children's novel does have a lot in common with the previous version - both present us with a deranged fantasy world presided over by a man at once charming and dangerously unhinged - yet they are subtly different in flavour. With its delapidated buildings, snowy landscapes and gloriously complicated machinery, this is every inch a Tim Burton film. Unlike its predecessor, which presented a confident Willy Wonka easily impressing the young hero, this, in typical Burton style, identifies a fragile outsider whose wonderland has been created because he is unable to deal with the real world. Naturally, the press have drawn comparisons with Michael Jackson, but Johnny Depp doesn't play the part that way. His Wonka, who clearly loathes most children, seems to have more in common with Norman Bates, also channeling Russ Meyer anti-hero Z-Man. He is calculating yet befuddled, fiercely intelligent yet shockingly vulnerable, sinister yet sympathetic. Depp's multi-layered performance is a real tour-de-force.

Though the story here will be a familiar one to most viewers, it is entertainingly told, and has been cleverly updated to bring it up to date and internationalise it without changing its essential atmosphere, even if it is a little odd to see English actors with London accents using exclusively American words. Those who have complained about the altered ending, apparently over-sentimental, seem to have missed something of the deliberate contrasts which Burton is setting up - in Charlie's house, the gloves are off. All the children are well cast and intelligently updated, though it's hard not to feel sympathy for Mike TV, whose frequent erudite protests about science and the impossible are crushed or ignored - still, he is necessary as an example of how logic can underestimate intuitive genius. The portrayal of the Oompa-Loompas is terrifically camp and continually inventive, with every one of them played by Deep Roy. A host of other fine supporting performances from the likes of James Fox, Christopher Lee and (of course) Helena Bonham-Carter round things out nicely.

It's rare to see so much effort and intelligence put into a film for children. There's plenty of child-centered humour here, but there are also lots of jokes purely for adults, including beautifully subtle film references and multicultural camp. None of the jokes are forced; the script is very finely judged, complementing the subtle undertones of Depp's performance. Roald Dahl would have been proud.

3-Iron

After a career focusing on outlaws and sexual violence, nobody would have expected Korea's most poetic auteur, Kim Ki-duk, to make a film about golf; and, indeed, this isn't the sort of golfing film most fans of the sport are used to, despite the hero's obsession with it. This hero is a young man whose way of life consists of breaking into other people's houses, eating their food, sleeping in their beds, listening to their music... and doing their laundry and watering their plants. One day, however, he breaks into a house where somebody else is already hiding. As he spies on the lives of others, the beautiful Sun-hwa spies on him. But Sun-hwa is in trouble. In a scene reminiscent of Blue Velvet, the hero watches secretly whilst her husband beats her. Feeling compelled to take action, he acquires a partner for his adventures, and the two of them embark on a dangerous course which seems to lead them further and further away from reality.

3-Iron is unmistakably a Kim Ki-duk film, most notably because its hero doesn't speak a single line; its heroine only has one, when the story is almost done. Despite this, the communication between them is intense, written into every tiny gesture and action. Often music says what the characters cannot. The narrative is strange and vibrant, full of humour and the sort of horror which comes from watching people get themselves further and further into trouble. There's visceral horror here too, as several characters suffer brutal beatings and observe the almost incidental horror present in everyday events in the world around them. Yet this is as hauntingly beautiful as all the director's work, every shot precisely textured and illuminated, the cinematography breathtaking. It's an interesting format through which to peer into the lives of ordinary Korean families. The hero is not picky about the wealth or social class of those whose homes he borrows. All the sets are superbly detailed, so that there are many more personal stories here than just those of the central characters. Every incidental character is fully rounded, and even the violent husband enjoys some opportunity to redeem himself.

Of course, many cinema-goers will find the idea of sitting through an hour and a half of film whose central characters don't speak to be rather off-putting; yet this is, in many ways, Mr. Kim's most accessible work. Though it can be difficult to keep watching during more intense scenes, neither these nor its subject matter are as distressing as in Bad Guy or The Isle. The central romance draws on strong chemistry between the actors and will, for many people, be sufficient reason for watching in itself. Its greatest strength is its dream-like surreality, which enables it to transcend ordinary expectations. Just as the hero's intrusions into other people's lives can leave them distressed because they are also intrusions into their way of life, this is a story which challenges what we accept as real or realistic. This is a film with a great deal to say.

Overnight

There have been numerous fictional tales about the wide-eyed young film-maker whose dreams are crushed by the pernicious Hollywood machine. Hoping to chart the rise of a major star, Tony Montana and Mark Brian Smith accidentally stumbled on a real-life version of the same story. In 1997, bartender Troy Duffy became a media sensation when his script for The Boondock Saints caught the attention of Miramax's Harvey Weinstein. This documentary follows his experiences as he enjoys barbeques and beach parties, trashes his favourite bar, tries to be a rock star, alienates his friends, and blunders through Hollywood taking the worst possible advice about every contract to come his way.

It's hard to believe that there really are people as naive as this getting involved in the industry. Whilst his talented brother is pushed to the sidelines, all Troy has going for him is confidence, and that seems to be the case mostly because he's too stupid to understand the seriousness of the situations in which he finds himself. The work which he has so much faith in only ever attracts attention as a second-rate copy of something else - his band's album cover is ripped off from Fields of the Nephilim, his movie hyped up as 'the new Pulp Fiction' for as long as anybody continues to care; it eventually found fans in the home video market, from which he didn't earn a cent. Yet for most of the course of this film, he is blissfully unaware of his status, thinking of the famous actors who drop by his bar as real supporters, unable to understand that he's just the latest novelty, a passing fad. In one particularly affecting scene, Billy Connelly tries to explain to him what he might do to remedy his situation, but it's clear it isn't going to sink in. When feeling threatened, all he can do is to raise his voice and swear a lot, proudly reminding viewers of his working class roots.

If watching a film with such a difficult central character sounds singularly unengaging, have patience. Overnight is intriguing in its portrait of one man's downward spiral, but it also has its fair share of humour and of insight into the workings of the film and record industries. Its very plain, honest approach has the effect of making the viewer feel closer to events, so that it's easy enough to feel pity, if not sympathy, for those involved. Unfortunately, this unpolished style has its down side - the constant background noise lends character at first, but soon becomes annoying. The low image quality early on and the lack of proper lighting throughout mean that several scenes are visually confusing. Ultimately, the tragedy of this film is that scenes of a real ale bar being taken apart at the end create a far more potent sense of melancholy than anything which happens to its central protagonist.

War of the Worlds

Few men would have believed that in the last years of the twentieth century, one of the great classics of modern literature was being updated by Hollywood without being ruined. Even fewer would have believed that such a story would have survived the impact of falling towers on the 11th of September 2001. Yet here it is, bold and honest as always, without a trace of modern technological smugness or all-American machismo - at least, nothing which can stand in the way of the Martians. This is the story of a world overwhelmed, and it's told with utter conviction.

Beginning by scrutinising the tiny creatures which swarm and multiply in a drop of rainwater, the film develops with an incisive visual style which communicates with imagery much of what was narrated in HG Wells' original novel, contributing to the sense of inescapable fate and of a story far larger than humankind's. This is a story about being out of control, about apparently superior force humbled by forces it never imagined, and this is reflected in the human story at the centre. Tom Cruise said he wanted to play his character, Ray, like the hero out of Top Gun twenty years later, when he's screwed up his life and gone to seed. After an unexpected intial event reduces human abilities to something not much beyond Victorian levels, Ray witnesses a Martian tripod attack, and his first, very human response is to be crippled by fear. Thereafter, he realises he must look after his children; but his children don't want to be with him, and miss the wife who left him; his failure as a father confounds his attempts to get them to safety. He's not organised, not brave, not especially resourceful; in other words, he's very easier for a viewer to identify with upon being plunged into the chaos of a world where humans are being exterminated. This is all the more effective because, whilst we see plenty of destruction, explosions and death, we don't see any famous historical monuments being blown up; all the action is restricted to small scale, ordinary places. There is nowhere the invaders can't be bothered with. There is nowhere to hide.

The Martian tripods in this film are the best realised yet. Angular and flexible, they make sense as fighting machines, and, as the film develops, their uses for humans provoke a real sense of dread. The alien landscapes evoked by the red weed are stunningly realised. This is War of the Worlds in all its intended glory. Incidental characters are cleverly updated and fitted in to the modern story. The weakness, of course, is the ending, which doesn't go down well at all with a modern audience - not that most of them seemed to have given the matter enough thought to see it coming. Retaining it was a brave decision, and it's been carefully arranged to fit in with the pacing as well as the logic of the narrative. The impression it leaves is of a great story told for its own sake, not just another action movie shaped by audience expectations and demands. Cruise and Steven Spielberg have plenty to say by way of this. Ray has to explain to his children that the thing they are running from is not 'terrorists'. This is a film which puts our real vulnerabilities into perspective. It gives the viewer lots to think about and, most of the way through, really delivers in terms of action and horror. Don't miss it.

Batman Begins

The Adam West Batman was cheerful and fun; Tim Burton's Batman was beautiful to look at; the less said about Joel Schumacher's Batman, the better. Now, at last, the dark knight has really found his calling. To say that this film is in a different class is an understatement; it's practically in a different phylum. I sincerely hope that those disillusioned by the Schumacher movies will set aside their prejudices and give it a try, because this is something which everyone with any interest in the genre ought to see.

What makes this film so much better? First of all, it doesn't approach its story in a flippant 'this is a comic, so nothing has to make sense' manner. Characters develop in a believable way; the choice of the bat image and procurement of bat accessories is utterly logical; the hero's physical abilities are explained; and the scheming villains all have real, understandable reasons for doing what they do. The acting is superb throughout, to the point that one forgets the identity of many of the famous faces on display, seeing them only as characters. Even Gary Oldman acts, his first decent performance for at least a decade. Intelligently constructed sets and good physical scripting mean that we learn a lot about these characters as people, more than just the functions they must enact within the plot. Consequently, it's a lot easier to care about what happens to them.

If there are problems, these are mostly centered on the action, where a 'things are confusing in the midst of battle' approach is taken too far - it's hard to feel involved after five minutes of not being able to tell who's who. This, however, is compensated for by combat scenes featuring Christian Bale and Liam Neeson, both of whom have done dancing and fighting work for most of their lives, so the quality of action is far superior to that achieved in most such films. The sheer scariness of Batman, as perceived by his foes, is also well presented. Likewise, the principal villains work well; I was a little unsure, when this film was in pre-production, about how well it could succeed in portraying the Scarecrow, as his influence depends on the mental state of those who see him, but it's really well done - it makes sense from a character point of view, is wisely kept simple, and subtly references some really nasty real-world practices. It's largely this closeness to the dark side of the real world which gives the plot of Batman Begins its edge. The story also acknowledges the vital contribution - and vulnerability - of lots of little people who don't dress up in special clothes to fight crime. It manages to achieve a degree of moral complexity without ever compromising on drama.

As for the hero himself, the ever-capable Christian Bale, once Bateman, makes the the most convincing Batman so far. One has to remember that, when he was a child starring in Empire of the Sun, Steven Spielberg, anxious to procure the right emotional reaction, told him his mother was dead, and for the remainder of the day no-one remembered to tell him that it wasn't true; so perhaps he understands something of the sense of loss which helped to shape the young Bruce Wayne. He portrays Batman as a human being in extraordinary circumstances, but not without humour, and not without a sense of the mythic. Turn your bat-signals on the clouds, and let's hope he returns soon.

Undertow

An odd, episodic road movie charting the experiences of two boys whose life is turned upside down by the arrival of their father's resentful brother, Undertow is breathless and uneven, by turns intense and meandering. Complemented by experimental editing (which the film mostly gets away with, though it already looks out of date), this seems to be an attempt at realism, a curious endeavour given that the story is essentially a fairytale. Teenaged Chris, a naive and accident-prone rebel without a cause, is forced to set out on what turns into a quest to atone for the sins of his grandfather. In his thoroughly dysfunctional family, his only personal commitment is to the younger brother whom he attempts to care for throughout. This is somewhat hampered by his brother's apparent illness, actually the consequence of the ten year old's commitment to smelling and tasting every new substance he encounters. It is this peculiar child, ably played by Devon Alan, who provides the film's emotional core and also its only truly compelling feature. Though Josh Lucas' steely performance as Uncle Deel conjures up memories of Night of the Hunter, this film lacks that consistent sense of menace. Even as the boys' situation grows more desperate, there is always the sense that they are one step ahead of the threat.

Undertow is a beautifully crafted film, with intelligent use of light and beautifully composed sets. It also scores points for its subtle portrayal of the boys' father, whose emotional and physical retreat following the death of his wife has left his sons so isolated and vulnerable that he can no longer cope with them. The balance between his love and frustration is very well managed, as is the balance between creepiness and humour throughout. Unfortunately, there simply isn't a strong enough script or sense of direction to make this the powerful film it could have been.

Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

After the disappointment of Episodes One and Two, Revenge of the Sith marks a return to form for George Lucas; though it still lacks the edge of the original films, it's an adventure in its own right. Whilst some critics have noted that it is more enjoyable if one endeavours to ignore the acting and the dialogue, the important thing here is that those are not the things on which this film depends. Whilst its predecessors were burdened with clunky exposition, the focus here is on passion and action. Of course, one cannot help but wonder what this says about Lucas' philosophy, these being the virtues espoused by the Sith.

With the exception of one messily interrupted chase scene, the pacing here is good, building up nicely to a dramatic climax. Early scenes seems disorganised, needing a stronger hook to keep audiences caring in the absence of strong characters, but the web of seemingly disparate incidents is soon drawn together as we catch glimpses of the puppeteer pulling everyone's strings. Ian McDiarmid turns in a genuinely creepy performance as Palpatine, and Hayden Christensen is, surprisingly, much improved as Anakin, the awkward young man whose awareness that he is being manipulated can do nothing to preserve him. That we know from the start what the fate of these characters will be does nothing to distract from the intensity with which the story unfolds. It is, after all, just another element in the mythic tradition upon which Lucas has based his films. As a tragedy, this is much darker than his previous work. Fight scenes are more visceral, though he wisely shies away from showing us directly the ugliest events to take place, leaving those to the imagination. It is also much more overtly political. Though unsubtle, it largely gets away with this, because the confidence with which it develops gives it something of the authority of the original films.

Where this film falls down is, as noted, in its often terrible dialogue (though there is no line which Ian McDiarmid can't rescue), and in its choice of cast. Ewan McGregor wanders through the action in a sort of daze, his accent ever more twee, never convincing as the sort of man who could be a significant influence on someone as turbulent as Anakin. Natalie Portman is awful as Padme, stilted and wooden, making it too easy to see how others have objectified her. With the exception of Yoda, the Jedi council is populated by nonentities; even Samuel L Jackson lacks presence. This is unfortunate, as the film would be far more powerful if the audience had reason to care about them.

Where the film excels is in its design work. Large battle scenes are exciting, but still more impressive is the subtle work on prototypes of ships and architecture we'll encounter later in the series. The small sabotage robots at the start are pretty stupid, but later robots and vehicles have been intelligently as well as elegantly created. Scenes with R2D2 and C3PO make a lot more sense than those in the first two films, and are among those details which help to tie the series together surprisingly neatly. A few loose ends from the original films are tied up as this one draws to a close. It may not be a work of genius, but Revenge of the Sith delivers where a Star Wars film really ought to deliver - and finally, we get Darth Vader.

Mean Creek

When young Sam receives a black eye from persistent bully George, his big brother and his brother's friends decide enough is enough. Something has to be done to show the bully the error of his ways. A boat trip is arranged and George is invited along, the intention being to humiliate him in a game of truth or dare. But things go further than intended, and nobody is going to come back the same.

Writer/director Jacob Aaron Estes devoted eight years of his life to this project, and it shows. Though the outline of the tale is simple, its moral implications are not. Each of the characters is complex and well-rounded, and the setting, though apparently benign, takes on a depth of character reminiscent of the films of Peter Weir. To assist in bringing his vision to the screen, Estes has assembled an extraordinary cast of fine young actors, with Josh Peck slipping easily between sympathetic and obnoxious behaviour as George, and Carly Schroeder superb as Sam's girlfriend Millie, caught up in events entirely by accident but much more sharply aware of their implications than anyone else. The chemistry between those playing brothers and best friends makes the intensity of their relationships utterly believable. Yet this is not a story which solves its problems by hiding behind those relationships. In the end, when it comes to making life-changing decisions, each character is alone.

As the bullied Sam, Rory Culkin is suitably cowed and distant, though this limits what he is able to do as an actor. He is interesting as a character who is never in control, always being told what to do by someone else, even when it's well-intended; as such, he serves as a counterpoint to George, whose day-to-day confidence masks a deeper insecurity but who is never hesitant to act, nor short of ambition. The effectiveness of the tale ultimately depends on how well it balances our sympathy for George against our dislike of him. Most of the way through, this is beautifully judged, but it falls down a little in the final scene, diluting the moral message. Would what happens to George be okay if he didn't have those redeeming qualities? Could anything reasonably mitigate the damage it causes to everyone involved?

As a coming of age story, Mean Creek is interesting because of the different ages of the characters involved. Sam and Millie have their first encounter with the complexities of adult life, whilst the older teenagers who think they have life all worked out are in for a shock of a different order. Though it gives us only a hint of the paths this may set them upon, the film does a good job of fleshing out their backgrounds, a jumble of damaged lives where even the best intentioned adults have difficulty communicating with their offspring. Left largely to their own devices, the youngsters have come to exist in a social bubble where the rules are more frangible. Mean Creek is always destined to play out as a tragedy, but the manner of its vulnerable characters' downfall makes it compelling throughout. A real gem.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

I was quite nervous about going to see this film. There've been several excellent interpretations of Douglas Adams' picaresque tale, and the potential for disappointment in this case was great. Just over a decade ago, I corresponded with Mr. Adams as he sought funding for the film, which was his dream. Of course, he's dead now, and I was really hoping this wouldn't let him down. As it turns out, it's not perfect, but it is lovingly made, and it clearly does know where its towel is.

For those unfamiliar with the story, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy recounts the adventures of Arthur Dent, an ordinary middle-class man who is one morning shocked to discover that his house has been scheduled for demolition to make way for a bypass; the more so, a few minutes later, to learn that his planet awaits a similar fate. Fortunately, his best friend Ford turns out to be an alien, and together they hitch a ride which marks the beginning of a spectacular journey through space. Along the way, they are joined by Ford's semi-cousin, galactic president Zaphod Beeblebrox, and by Trillian, his girlfriend, whom Arthur met at a party on Earth and is smitten with. There's also Marvin, a manic-depressive android here voiced with understated brilliance by Alan Rickman.

Here, the similarity to previous versions of the story ends. Douglas Adams wrote a lot of new material for this film, and always said that he wanted to develop the different versions as variations on a theme, rather as Arthur C Clarke did with 2001 etc. Some fans have clearly been disquieted by the changes in a familiar story, but, taken on its own merits, this one still works, and it's certainly more cinematic. It still hinges on strong performances from its ensemble cast. As Arthur, Martin Freeman, probably best known for his appearance in Shaun of the Dead, is disappointingly bland, but Mos Def is superb as Ford, and it's really nice to see a strong Trillian at last - Zooey Deschanel's performance establishes a character whose effect on the men around her is finally believable. Even Zaphod makes sense, and is sympathetic despite his stupidity, though the presentation of his extra head is irritating to say the least, and it's a relief when it's abandoned. The brave decision to shift the dialogue away from witty quips into something more naturalistic is a hit-and-miss affair, depending as it does on the abilities of the cast. Again, Def and Deschanel are the ones who shine, exuding a confidence which strengthens the production overall.

The design work on display here is excellent throughout, and often saves the film when it might otherwise start to sag. Particularly impressive are scenes from the guidebook itself, with Stephen Fry spot on as the narrator. Jim Henson's creatureshop have also done sterling work in the design of the various aliens, who are universally well acted, so that their movements and behaviour make sense and are affectingly pathetic where, in less capable hands, they might have been annoyingly stupid. The overall elegance of the film's construction helps it to get away with its sometimes awkward pacing and apparently random diversions. As any hitchhiker's guide should, it gives one the sense of having seen something of the universe's wonders.

If there is one particular weakness in this film, it is its tendency to stray into sentimentality and to ditch more interesting character interaction in favour of Hollywood-style romance. The actors seem to recognise this and try to work around it; it is occasionally shot down with fierce humour, but still it saps the energy which the story ought to have had. Nevertheless, there are plenty of good things to see here, and the film ultimately succeeds in providing a fitting tribute to a man whose great passion was inspiring curiosity and wonder in others.

Der Untergang

I'm not sure anyone will find my review of this at work - it's a film with as many titles as it has fine actors. On that note, I wish to say only that 'Downfall' is a poor translation of 'Untergang', even if it's the best English has to offer. The original title is all the more potent because so much of this film is set underground.

Set in 1945, as the Third Reich crumbles and Russian troops move in on Berlin, Der Untergang follows the fate of Adolph Hitler and those close to him, letting the audience look on as military, political and personal issues collide. Alexandra Maria Lara plays secretary Traudl Junge, who infamously said, after the war, that the extent of Hitler's crimes came as a shock because he had always been so kind to her. That kindness is very visible here, and has sparked a great deal of controversy, with critics protesting that this film attracts sympathy for a man - and a regime - deserving of none. It seems likely, however, that Hitler would have been more comfortable being portrayed as a ruthless monster than as the flawed and frantic human being he is here. Aggressive and unreasoning aspects of his personality are also on display; this joins the ranks of classic films about military leaders losing their grip on reality as things go wrong; but most impressive are the dinner party scenes where Hitler comes across as the sort of embarrassing relative one wishes one could avoid at Christmas, and it's clear that everyone else is anxious to escape. Bruno Ganz turns in an astonishing performance as der Fuhrer, his physical mannerisms verging on the hilarious but his charisma and fierce temper demanding respect. The fear and pity which his companions feel are undercut by the simple affection he shares with Juliane Kohler's magnificent Eva Braun, whose passion and energy seem to be all that keeps anybody going.

The triumph of Der Untergang arises from the ease with which it moves between history and personal drama. Intermittent scenes of the butchery going on outside - as foolishly deployed troops are massacred and young children die trying to defend Berlin - keep us in touch with the big picture and the consequences of the central characters' actions. More intimately, the film becomes a portrait of a group of people trapped together in desperation, bound by a cult of personality, cracking up in different ways as it becomes increasingly apparent that most of them are going to die. Corinna Harfouch is fascinating as Magda Goebbels, whose belief in National Socialism is so strong that she is prepared to kill her own children in a scene made more affecting by the suggestion that at least one child suspects her intent. As her husband, Ulrich Matthes is a ghostly presence, always present at der Fuhrer's right hand, willing to give up everything in order to be wanted there. Traudl Junge is a rare calm presence, and it is through her eyes that we see much of the drama unfold.

Although it is played absolutely straight, Der Untergang is full of black humour which it would probably never have got away with any other way. Most of this occurs in the form of references to the future, and it has the effect of emphasising the importance of these historical events to the present day. Necessary conversations about military matters, doubtless obscure to many viewers, are astutely managed; after a slow first half hour, the film builds up a sense of urgency which never lets go. Knowing how these characters met their ends does not diminish the story's grip.

From a technical point of view, Der Untergang is superb. Claustrophobic sets full of narrow passageways with low ceilings are lit in a manner at once realistic and incredibly difficult to do. The sound is similarly impressive. This carefully constructed environment makes everything more immediate. Far from being a dangerously sympathetic film, this is a work whose unflinching observations can bring home the ugliness of the war to generations uninterested in fuzzy black and white archive footage. It is a compelling examination of character and a successful presentation of history.

The Woodsman

In one of the year's most thoughtful and controversial films, Kevin Bacon plays Walter, a child molester released back into the community after serving a twelve year prison sentence. Desperate not to end up back inside, he hopes to find a 'cure' for his attraction to pre-pubescent girls. The film follows his progress as he struggles with temptation, the prejudice of others, and his own internalised anger, gradually approaching the realisation that the only person who can change his behaviour is himself. Of course, before he can achieve that, he must face up to the full horror of what he has done.

The Woodsman is a difficult film to watch, and not just because of its subject matter. Bacon's tense, agonised performance makes it as difficult for the viewer to get close to him as it is for Kyra Sedgwick's Vickie, the woman with whom he might have the chance of a normal life. Vickie has a difficult past of her own, and seems to recognise a kindred spirit in this damaged man, but the film is never overly sympathetic to him, maintaining a painful awareness of what he has done and might do again. There to remind us of this is parole supervisor Sergeant Lucas, a man whose upfront antagonism conceals a sharp intellect and a complex psychological initiative. As Lucas, former hip hop star Mos Def is a revelation, turning in a powerful, confident performance which outshines everything else in the film. He provides the perfect antidote to Walter's repression and helps to keep in perspective the fact that there is a wider world out there, the world which Walter is striving to reach.

The Woodsman has been criticised for the number of incidents of paedophilia which it references, giving the impression that adults can never be trusted with children. This seems to be a misunderstanding with regard to the fact that so much of the story is seen from Walter's perspective, and Walter naturally finds it difficult to accept that others don't share his attractions, or that they might choose not to act on them. One of the difficulties in telling a story of this type is, of course, demonstrating the paedophile's attraction without sexualising children from the perspective of the viewer. This is impressively handled. We see pretty children and children in miniature copies of what, on adults, would be flirtatious clothing; yet they are always portrayed as children, human and vulnerable. Hannah Pilkes is particularly good as the lonely young Robin whose encounter with Walter marks a pivotal point in the film.

The titular woodsman, besides being a reference to Walter's work in a lumber yard and fondness for building furniture, is a character from the fairytale Little Red Riding Hood, the man who cuts the wolf open and saves the young heroine even after she has been eaten. In a film shot through with related symbolism, the point seems to be that there is nothing Walter can do to undo his past crimes; for him, there is no simple path to redemption. This is a complex and humane film which never pretends to have all the answers. It raises its fair share of mysteries regarding how people relate to one another. Without ever asking the audience to forgive the crimes of its protagonist, it challenges us to acknowledge him as a human being, with all that entails for him and for ourselves.

Kinsey

Alfred Kinsey, known to his friends as Prok, was an entomologist who specialised in the study of gall wasps and might have expected to spend his whole life in obscurity were it not for a sudden change of direction. In the late 1940s, outraged by the level of ignorance amongst his students, he undertook the pioneering study of human sexuality which resulted in the publication of Sexual Behaviour in the Human Male (to be followed a year later by Sexual Behaviour in the Human Female), and precipitated a social revolution. Even today, his work is controversial. In these circumstances, it's surprising that no previous attempt has been made to dramatise his life for the big screen. This gentle, witty, mercifully understated biopic attempts to combine the personal with the scientific to create an accessible picture of a complicated man.

In focusing its attentions primarily on the personal, Kinsey risks sidelining the importance of its protagonist's academic work, but the balance of the film works very well. By looking directly at the social climate in which he grew up, it is able to communicate the ubiquity of sexual repression and ignorance without lecturing. Liam Neeson turns in a quirky but well judged performance in the central role, portraying an irascible yet well intentioned man with an infectious enthusiasm for science. It is this enthusiasm on which the film depends, and which the script cleverly maintains most of the way through, though some of the montage footage drags. Not everyone will be able to relate directly to the taxonomic geekery which brings together Kinsey and his wife, but Laura Linney is superb as Mac, and chemistry between the two is quite affecting. Less constrained by a duty to history, Linney is more flexible, perhaps more human. She helps to maintain the film's vital emotional warmth as her husband and his assistants become increasingly obsessed with their work.

Due to the nature of Kinsey's work, this film is full of frank sexual conversation and contains some erotic images, but, to its great credit, it never relies on this to maintain audience interest. When interviewees are featured, the focus is more often on their emotional experiences and on the liberating effect for them of being able to talk openly for the first time. In this regard, it takes a strongly positive view of its subject, which is perhaps its greatest weakness - though it shows the fall from grace which came about when the public began to find Kinsey's work distasteful, it does very little to directly address the criticism he faced, preferring to ignore it. Though it does cover his famous interview with a prolific paedophile, there is little examination of the argument as to whether or not he should have turned the man over to the police - whether it could have helped anybody (in a climate where allegations of child abuse were generally disbelieved) and whether or not his greater duty was to the promise of confidentiality which enabled his research to take place. This moral obfuscation is a serious shortcoming in an otherwise incisive, impressively detailed film.

Kinsey remains intelligent and rewarding, full of revelations for those unfamiliar with its subject and dramatically absorbing enough for others. Its little hints at the manner of Kinsey's death, which it chooses not to present, add an element of tragedy to what is, overall, a story of success. For better or worse, it's difficult to imagine now how the world might have turned out without this man, and this film is an important contribution to his remembrance.

Hotel Rwanda

Set amidst the genocide of 1994, Hotel Rwanda recounts the true story of Paul Rusesabagina, a hotel manager who sheltered over a thousand Tutsi refugees from the Hutu militia. Independently produced and eschewing a Hollywood cast, this is at once a documentary-style take on a savage civil war and an intimate portrait of a family in crisis.

The challenges faced by a film of this sort are numerous. How does one show the horrors of such a conflict without quickly desensitising the audience? When there are so many issues to consider, how does one keep the central story in focus? And critically, how does one interest a Western audience in African problems? It is a credit to the intelligence of its producers that Hotel Rwanda surmounts each of these obstacles and keeps viewers engaged even when they may want to turn away, even through the frustrations of a narrative which sees the refugees' hopes raised and dashed repeatedly. The film sticks closely to real events rather than presenting a trimmed-down, more elegant narrative, and this is, for the most part, a good thing: it presents a more realistic picture of war and of the emotional stresses which a constantly threatening environment creates.

The danger with a story of this type is that the enormity of background events will overwhelm the narrative. Hotel Rwanda depends on assured performances from Don Cheadle as Rusesabagina and Sophie Okonedo as his wife. The script centres on their personal experiences as they retreat into and try to defend the hotel, only occasionally venturing outside the compound for direct encounters with the brutality in the streets. The brief glimpses we get of houses burning and bodies hacked apart with machetes are all the more powerful because of their scarcity, and the atmosphere of dread within the hotel is effectively presented. Rusesabagina, like Casablanca's Rick Blaine, starts out as a cynical man with friends on all sides of the developing political conflict, a man who makes his way in the world thanks to natural wit and charm, storing up favours and always ready with bribes. His concerns are for his business and for the small group of people close to him, and it is only with reluctance that he allows himself to be drawn into the wider conflict. As he realises how little the Western world, with whose ambassadors he had considered himself an equal, cares about the plight of Africans, he experiences a political awakening. It is this personal story which makes the film gripping in its own right, rather than simply attracting people to stare at it like a car crash. It is a powerful wake-up call to the West not because it illuminates atrocities but because it demonstrates that those affected by them are human beings with the same concerns as people anywhere else.

This human focus extends to the darker side of Hotel Rwanda's story. Early on, it is explained that Tutsi and Hutu are not ancient tribal affiliations but artificial categories created by Belgian colonists who found it convenient to have one group rule the other. The ease with which many Hutus, living in mixed communities, are persuaded to turn around one day and massacre their neighbours, is apalling, and has a lot to say about human nature in a wider context. Factors like this make Hotel Rwanda a film of immediate relevance to people everywhere. It is far from easy viewing, but it deserves a wide audience.

The Door in the Floor

Based on the first third of John Irving's novel A Widow for One Year, The Door in the Floor is an intimate portrait of the breakdown of a marriage, set amidst the suburbs of Long Island. Jeff Bridges and Kim Basinger are Ted and Marion Cole, still grieving for the teenaged sons they lost in a car crash, trying to do the right thing for their four year old daughter. Into this situation comes well-intentioned but vulnerable teenager Eddie (Jon Foster), who wants successful children's author Ted to teach him how to write. As Eddie develops a passion for Marion, whose life remains centered on her lost sons, Ted's manipulative nature becomes increasingly apparent, but this is a story in which moral lines are never clear.

Fans of the novel will love this film, which has to be the most faithful adaptation of Irving's work to date. The set designers and costumers have gone to a great deal of trouble to precisely recreate the author's images, and it pays off - the Cole house and its surroundings are considerably more solid, more richly imagined than is usually the case in such dramas. The trouble is that - to borrow a line from the film - "it seems true; it just isn't very interesting." Somewhere between page and screen, what made the story so gripping has been lost. Though the performances are top notch, the script simply isn't up to the job of communicating essential internal dialogue. Basinger turns in a career-best performance as Marion, working very hard with what she's given, but she's simply not as electrifying as the structure of the story requires her to be. Elle Fanning is a marvellous find, utterly believable as the child whose familiar world is falling apart, but we don't see enough of her to be truly affected by her suffering. There are too many extraneous scenes and too many false endings, although the real ending works well. Telling the tale so faithfully without what would come after means a lot of time is spent building up jokes and devloping themes which can mean nothing to viewers who haven't read the book.

Jeff Bridges is the highlight of the film, his relaxed performance enabling his character to move easily between showing affection, making threats, experiencing distress and taking advantage of others. This is a remarkably sympathetic portrait of a complex reaction to loss, enabling the audience to identify with Ted in his moments of peril without the need for moral approval or forgiveness. Whoever cast Mimi Rogers as the spurned and angry Mrs. Vaughn obviously had a sense of humour, and the trick works perfectly. The only weak link in the cast is Foster, who is adequate but does little more than sleepwalk through his role.

It would be nice to see what this film might have become with a sharper script and a tougher editor, but it remains an interesting piece of work, at times compelling, with plenty for an audience to enjoy.

Les Choristes

A huge hit in its native France, Les Choristes, inspired by the 1945 film La Cage aux Rossignols, recounts the experiences of a new schoolmaster who attempts to transform the harsh environment of a troubled boarding school with music. Its original score, by Bruno Coulais, was nominated for Oscars and Baftas, and the film has been highly acclaimed on the festival circuit. A successful blend of music and narrative, it tells a story which is, in places, brutal, yet remains uplifting.