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| David Cameron takes a long time in make up |
SAW 7 (2010)
Dir: Kevin Greutert
Released 7th March
The sadistic morality tale continues as Jigsaw’s ex-wife Jill Tuck (Betsy Russel) battles Detective Hoffman (Costas Mandylor) for the serial killer’s violent legacy. Meanwhile fellow survivors gather to seek solace in each other’s experiences, aided by self help counsellor and fellow Jigsaw escapee Bobby Dagen (Sean Patrick Flanery). Can the guru temper their fears or will his own dark secret catch up with him in hellish style?
Let’s get over the 3D garbage first. Warning: Intestines will fly out at you in this movie. A comedic aside to a largely vacuous script and appallingly acted farce. The tedium in which the movie lurches from one death scene to another left me hurt and daydreaming fondly on what was an originally terrifying and genuinely inventive concept film Saw, and disgusted at the
prostituted franchise that followed.
A plus point in this fiasco of a movie is the ingenuity of the traps used. But the mental leap one must take to accept how the various protagonists ended up ensnared in the first place is so prodigious it only serves further to demonstrate the lack of any realistic narrative. The opening sequence has three promiscuous ne'er-do-wells trapped in what looks like a shop window, or could be a David Blaine style glass box? Didn't any passer by notice when this freak show was being erected in the middle of a busy city square?
I obviously miss the point. The film jumped on the bandwagon of 3D and was rushed out. Who cares how they got there, let’s see how they get their comeuppance! The Saw the franchise has become a parody of itself. This is a B movie cast in what seems a made-for –TV grotesque drama. The Twilight Zone meets dodgy cops on The Bill, all on strong hallucinogens, all using brutal S&M equipment for your viewing pleasure. (Put like that it all sounds rather watchable).
Just hope Twisted Pictures aren’t flirting with us when they say it’s the final chapter and they close the book on this tired format.
Verdict: This is one Jigsaw that should be placed on top of a wardrobe to gather dust and never be seen again. A genuinely terrifying movie monster has had his memory snared in a reverse bear trap and the pin pulled.
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| I'm A Despicable Me Get Me Out Of Here! |
Dir: Pierre Coffin, Chris Renaud
Released: 21st February 2011
The worst follically challenged criminal mastermind since Doctor Evil in Austin Powers, Gru (Steve Corell) dreams up a masterplan that will plant him on to the criminal map, but he needs 3 orphan girls to hatch it. Can he complete his mission of a lifetime or will the innocence of his new house guests show him there’s more to life than being bad.
It’s hard when referring to evildoers as ‘the worst’ not to conjure up images of a man at the top of his game, hatching the most wicked of plans and generally being a meanie of the highest calibre. In the introduction my description was more literal than complimentary. Gru really is the worst baddie.
He needs to find other means, other more despicable means, like using 3 orphan girls to unwittingly help him complete his grand scheme. And he can’t do this alone. He has the help of an evil professor, Dr. Nefario (Russell Brand appearing to do an impression of his dad) and of course, hundreds of what look like walking tic-tacs, his Minions!
Despicable Me is sharp, witty and achieves the Grail of having the parents laugh the loudest. But it seems to have all been done before. The film seems to borrow notions and jokes from the likes of Austin Powers, Shrek, and The Grinch. But that kids aren’t going to care, there’s a Fart-Gun in there. Neither are the parents as the story develops on a typical trajectory of baddie meets orphans, baddie begins to like orphans, but peppered with enough gags to carry the format.
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| The B+B wasn't as he remembered in the brochure |
Dir: Rodrigo Cortés
Released: 14th February 2011
...Black screen. Muffled, acoustic grunts. The sharp, high concept thriller has you enclosed with Paul Conroy (Ryan Reynolds) from the beginning, right through 90 minutes to its climactic close. Conroy is a truck driver ambushed in Iraq by insurgents and wakes up in to a claustrophobic living hell with only a mobile phone and cigarette lighter in his pocket.
The story unfolds for Conroy as it does for us posterior-clenched in the audience. Keeping the suspense so successfully on this limited stage requires masterful cinematography and it is provided so skilfully by Edward Grau. Try shining a torch in to a shoe box for 90 minutes and see how long it takes before you get bored and turn the kettle on. Grau finds every interesting crevice, splintered corner and dark fissure. But Reynolds also shows he can go beyond the smirking, grandiloquent character he was in danger of being typecast. His panic etched on his face as deep as the claw marks in my armrest.
We are kept acutely on edge by the excellent dialogue with the interaction over the mobile that keeps Conroy in touch with the world beyond his shallow grave. Corporate duplicity and political double entendre are intertwined with heart wrenching calls to home. In one of his calmer colloquy’s home is to his mother, now living in a rest home coping with Alzheimer’s his situation is mirrored half way across the world, trapped in her own living hell, she frustrates Reynolds with her suppression but both find a glimmer of light in memories of happier times.
At times the story loses traction for the desire to keep 90 minutes of incident. There’s an unnecessary interaction with an uninvited guest shoehorned in to maintain the anxiety.
But when on track the tale is a Hitchcockian in its examination of anxiety on the human mind through a simple set piece.
Verdict: Indie feel to this high suspense thriller makes for an excellent exploration of everyone’s worse nightmare. Claustrophobic and uncomfortable this will leave you wanting to stick your head out of a window and take a deep breath.
