It shouldn’t be a crime to acknowledge that you do one thing well - especially when you do it as well as Frank Darabont, who has built his directorial career around adapting Stephen King’s stories into arguably the best iterations of the author’s work.  If you don’t know his name, you’ll probably know his films: The Green Mile is a popular choice, but nothing holds a candle to the modern classic charm of The Shawshank Redemption - a movie that actually lives up to its overbearing reputation.  After stepping away from King to make The Majestic, Darabont returns to the well for his most traditional horror to date, finally getting a delayed release in the UK this July.

The plot involves a small town that becomes enraptured by a thick, unexplained mist the morning after a ferocious storm.  For the trapped patrons of a local grocery store, including David Drayton and his son Billy, the mild inconvenience turns to threat when a man rushes into the store with stories of “something in the mist!”.  While a supernatural presence appears unlikely at first, it isn’t long before they must confront the fact that there are bigger forces at work.  For the opinionated Mrs Carmody, a devout Christian, it can only be God who is behind the mystery.  As tensions mount within the store, David and his son fight to survive against both the fantastical creatures, as well as their panic-stricken fellow humans.

Despite making one of the most popular and well-loved films of the last two decades, it’s a shocking indictment of the Hollywood system that Darabont still can’t command a major budget for his films.  Or maybe he prefers working small.  Either way, after The Majestic lost money on its $72 million budget, this time Darabont is left stranded with a paltry $18 million to spend.  Luckily, he’s the kind of director who can make a little stretch a long way, and even on a small budget he manages to squeeze out a palpable atmosphere.

There’s only one area where the lack of budget really shows and that’s in the CG effects which sometimes feel a little unblended with their surroundings.  It’s a typical complaint and, in my opinion, one that actually loses all weight when you consider the money they had to spend against the effectiveness of a majority of what appears on screen.  I actually thought that aside from a few select sequences, the effects did their job perfectly well - impressively well even, given the constraints. 

Anyway, like many of the best horror fantasies, it’s not about what you do see, but more about what you don’t see, and this is where The Mist really shines.  It’s not just the traditional scenes of creeping around in the dark where the incredible tension rears its head; the indoors confrontations also manage to evoke a strong air of anxiety as the occupants turn increasingly hostile.  A fantastic sequence of events that leads up to the final confrontation inside the store is marred only slightly by having been pre-empted in conversation back at the beginning.  It’s a shame that the natural evolution of things wasn’t allowed to play out in its own time, but fortunately this doesn’t ruin the final effect one iota.

Performances are excellent from a rather unlikely cast.  Thomas Jane takes hold of the lead role effectively and is surrounded by equally interesting character actors like William Sadler, Andre Braugher and Laurie Holden.  A sharp-shooting role for Tobey Jones makes for one of the film’s best creations and he gives a strong performance, but at the end of it all there’s only one person you’ll come away remembering: Marcia Gay Harden playing the God-fearing Mrs. Carmody.  She begins innocently enough but you’ll end up wanting to tear through the screen to shut her up - evidence of the strength behind her acting ability.

As a typical genre flick it’s so far, so good - and then there’s the ending.  A decent conclusion is easily the hardest thing to pull off in the supernatural horror / thriller world, since they naturally build up such impossible, incomprehensible situations that there’s almost no way to satisfy the audience in an even half-credible manner.  Here, Darabont has gone for a brave denouncement, and it will no doubt split audiences on its appropriateness.  Personally, I admired its non-conformity, although some will find the depths of human despair just slightly too comical.  A jet black joke on an otherwise sombre tale.

For straight-up scares, this is not the film that will keep you awake at nights - it’s actually much better than that.  Darabont displays an acute understanding of how to bring tense human conflict into a story with debatable fantasy origins, and with it delivers a film that had me gripped, sometimes literally at the chair arms, for its full 126 minutes.  There’s no doubting his ability to adapt and direct King’s work, and even, in the case of the ending, to inject new controversy.  The film’s bottom-line concept holds much truth: There’s something in The Mist - pure talent.

The Mist is on UK general release from today.

As a direct sequel to the smash-hit Bruce Almighty, this film follows Bruce’s rival newsreader from the first film, Evan (played by Steve Carell).  He has just quit the news business after a successful run for senator lands him a place in office - his pledge, to “change the world”.  One night, after encouragement from his wife, he prays for assistance in this aim and gets more than he bargained for as a reply.  God (Morgan Freeman) charges Evan with building an ark and warns him that a flood is imminent.  Evan is left to try and juggle his regular family and work life, along with his construction commitments, against ever more pressing obstacles.

A sequel to Bruce Almighty was probably seen as inevitable by some after its immense success in 2003.  And immense is the right word - this thing was unstoppable, taking in $250 million at the US box office and almost half a billion worldwide.  In comedy terms, that’s huge.  But when both Jim Carrey and Jennifer Aniston refused to come back for a second, the project looked to be on the rocks.  Luckily, in the intervening time there had been a small explosion in the film and TV world: an explosion of talent.  That talent was Steve Carell, who shot to fame after fronting the US version of The Office and starring in Judd Apatow’s defining hit The 40 Year Old Virgin.  Best of all, he had appeared in some of Bruce Almighty’s most famous scenes, which put him in prime position for continuing the franchise.

And so it goes.  ‘Bruce: The Second Coming’ became ‘Evan Almighty’ and everything was back on for another round of box office demolition, or so hoped Universal.  The film benefits from Carell as the lead, his upbeat humour sitting well in a story that has clearly been geared to a family audience.  The problem is everything around him, from the story by Steve Oedekerk, Joel Cohen and Alec Sokolow, to the effects laden but still ultimately disappointing finale, nothing ever really sits right.  And that’s a shame because we know that Bruce Almighty and Ace Ventura director Tom Shadyac can do this kind of entertaining comedy fare when under less restraint.

Speaking of which, there’s a scene where Morgan Freeman tries to PG-up the story of Noah’s ark by saying that it’s not about God’s wrath but about belief and love.  This well-meaning statement is a tough sell though, because any tale that deals in the death of thousands in order to cleanse the land is undeniably brutal whichever way you swing it.  Evan Almighty almost needs to go there just to rid itself of the colourful positivity that plagues the film throughout but, of course, it never does, copping out on the flood big time.  With such a family-friendly disaster and an Ark that achieves little more than a small-scale evacuation, there’s the feeling that story has been sacrificed for an excuse to create some spectacular effects.

And I suppose that the effects sequences are quite good fun, but the knowledge that they took the film way over budget and made it the most expensive comedy movie of all time seems to undermine any slight successes.  Even when Carell is at his best, the other characters around him are sorely wasted - Wanda Sykes’ role appears to be just a series of one-liner cutaways, for example.  Unfortunately, any good that the film does is ultimately overshadowed by a story that, for want of a better explanation, simply fails to achieve anything.  I mean, all the elements are there and the structure is clear, but what was the point of it all?  You feel like God is teasing Evan, dangling his immense power over him just because he can.  Long story short, God’s an ass.

After all this derision you might be amazed to hear that I didn’t hate Evan Almighty, despite its many flaws.  I think I just find the story behind the movie much more interesting than the movie itself - as a postscript, the film barely broke $100 million in the US and scraped towards (but never equalled) its $175 million budget worldwide.  It is a film that offers light-hearted laughs and an easy-going sensibility mainly brought on by its lead.  If you don’t like Carell then drop a star and move on.  Otherwise, you could do much worse for child-quietening, morally clean family fare than this.  The overarching lesson that ‘whatever God does, he does because he loves us’ is well-intentioned.  I can only wonder if Universal executives would still agree.

If the idea of dime-a-dozen comic book movies depresses you, then the knowledge that we’re already remaking them might just tip you over the edge.  That an entire franchise reboot has been developed not five years since the release of 2003’s Hulk [review] shows Marvel’s desire to shake off Ang Lee’s film as the definitive screen translation.  Brushed under the carpet by this new release, it now officially ‘never happened’ - a state that Marvel and Universal would hope proliferates through the cinema-going masses.  But is second time the charm for our big green friend, or will it be a case of once bitten, twice shy?

This time we meet an already isolated Bruce Banner (Edward Norton), hiding out in Brazil while trying to find a cure for his unique disease.  US military forces are on to him though, and circumstances leave Banner no choice but to return home and try to locate vital data about his ‘accident’.  Despite his best efforts to avoid her, Bruce crosses paths with his old flame Elisabeth Ross (Liv Tyler) and the two become close again.  Meanwhile, the military has drafted a respected soldier by the name of Emil Blonsky (Tim Roth) to aide their mission, and he’s willing to do everything it takes – including a new form of bio-engineered drug that turns him into some kind of monstrous abomination.

It’s worth noting the slight air of negativity surrounding the release of this film over its box-office storming cousin, Iron Man [review].  Of course, audiences have been let down before by the Hulk, so they return here with a deserved scepticism that doesn’t feature in first-time features.  This is a reboot though, and consequently the movie now boasts a new cast, slightly altered origin story, updated CGI, and the firm decision that, this time, it’s an action movie, not a psychological investigation.  The assurance of that last decision is over the final product.

If there’s one area where the nuts have clearly been tightened it’s in the pacing department.  Whereas it took Lee forty minutes to give us a glimpse of the Hulk-y goodness, and a full hour before he began fighting anything (even then it was only some rabid dogs), Leterrier’s Hulk by contrast appears in full smashing glory within the first twenty minutes, and gleefully rages through a number of scenes at regular intervals.  In fact, there are extra points here for the admirable implementation of ‘getting the hell on with it’ – a choice that sees the rebooted origin story flashed in front of you before the director’s credit makes its appearance.

The drive behind the story is also more fully developed.  Where it was difficult to feel a sense of urgency about Banner’s actions previously, the clear-cut reasoning behind the military wanting to get their hands on some Hulk DNA, along with Banner’s resolute intention to cure himself, means the cat and mouse game they play has much more consequence.  Disappointingly, just like in 2003, when we reach the conclusion the film still presents a typical monster vs. monster showdown, but maybe there isn’t another way to really go with a character built solely to brawl.

I wasn’t sure about the casting of Edward Norton, but now I feel like I just underestimated how likeable he is as an actor.  This may not be his finest performance of all time, but he makes for a more than adequate Bruce Banner, dropping some of the Clark Kent-like awkwardness from Eric Bana’s portrayal.  Liv Tyler wasn’t quite doing it for me in the same way, but as love interests go, Elizabeth Ross isn’t the most fascinating anyway.  Meanwhile there’s Tim Roth playing the Russian-born, Englishman who’s also an American soldier.  In the greedy, power-hungry villain stakes, I’ve seen far worse, although he does have to share that title in part with William Hurt, who plays the uncharismatic Colonel Ross with a convincingly cold demeanour.

Louis Leterrier’s direction excels during the action sequences – particularly the chases which are distractingly entertaining, if not always entirely original.  With a patchy resume to his name (Danny The Dog [review] had plenty of things going for it, Transporter 2 [review] had… Jason Statham?), it’s a surprise that he got himself attached to such a high profile Marvel release; although that seems to have been their tactic of late – who would have guessed Jon Favreau for the Iron Man job?  Zak Penn’s script, on the other hand, is a little inconsistent.  The dialogue does exactly what it says on the tin and nothing more.

In an interesting twist, the high expectation surrounding Iron Man may well have dampened my viewing of it, whereas my low expectations for this have significantly helped the overall experience.  In the end, they come out close to even, although I’d still given the edge to Iron Man for setting up the more significant franchise.  I only mention them together because they are, in fact, all cogs in a larger machine called The Avengers, due out in 2011.  There’s a nice little drawstring being threaded through the relevant films right now, all in anticipation of what is it come.  For the first time, Marvel are handling their crossover potential with care and I really hope it’s going to pay off.

As for what is to become of the Hulk, it’s hard to say.  Sequels are a difficult concept for a character whose main elements were all covered by this film, and even if Bruce Banner’s internal conflict makes for the most interesting future direction, at the end of the day that’s not what the fans want on the big screen.  Just ask Ang Lee.  The knowledge that this movie merely exists to wipe the slate and redraw a character so he can be carried through to another film doesn’t sound like the most worthy of cinematic endeavours.  But if you can stomach some fairly mindless popcorn-munching entertainment, don’t let your previous impressions keep you away from this.  It’s officially safe to go back in the water.

He came, he smashed, he pondered.  Ang Lee’s meditative Hulk film was only in our cinemas five short years ago, and although it drew derision from both critics and the fan boy masses as a naval-gazing failure, it at least had a unique sensibility that countless similarly sourced released have let slip into what we now know as ‘the comic book movie’: a formulaic all-action spectacular, emotional depth sold separately.

There are exceptions (Sam Raimi’s Spider-man films had a decent grasp of their human emotive overtones, as did Christopher Nolan’s Batman reboot), but just think about the others: Catwoman, Fantastic Four, Alien vs Predator, The Punisher, Daredevil, Elektra, (shudder) Ghost Rider.  All examples of movies pushed out to audiences who supposedly couldn’t get enough of this stuff – and, incidentally, failed to realise that ‘this stuff’ meant quality adaptations, like Bryan Singer’s X-Men, not shoddy misinterpretations surrounded by CGI.  It’s here that we find Hulk, a character so easily suited to the crash-bang action movie that the film practically makes a point of rebelling against it.

The opening scenes set the tone for the rest of the film: Bruce Banner, a great scientist from similarly gifted parents, is quietly working on a cell repair project using gamma radiation.  When an accident occurs, he is left exposed to the radioactive materials but mysteriously does not die.  What he does gain is something far worse – a giant green beast that grows from within him whenever Bruce gets angry.  Now the government, and namely lab partner Betty Ross’ father, want to get their hands on the monster, while Bruce tries to figure out why it happened and how it links to his mysterious past.

From homosexual cowboys to oriental erotic intrigue, director Ang Lee doesn’t seem like the type to work in such a restrictive genre, so maybe the decision to have him helm a mainstream blockbuster was never the right one.  His style is more introspective, and so the film takes on this weird mix of would-be action spectacular tethered by self-analysing, talky lab scenes and the kind of character delving that big budget comic book movies usually denounce outright.  As a result, there is lots of chatter about dreams, as well as eerie disjointed flashbacks and visualised memories throughout.  It’s far from art-house, but still probably the most meditative of the Marvel comic flicks.

This isn’t the problem, however.  The dilemma here is that none of it really works.  Bruce Banner’s unwanted rage is maybe due a bit of couch time, and a thoughtfully plotted dissection of his internal conflict should ideally be at the heart of any Hulk film.  Here however, we get a downbeat overview of the uncontrollable anger buried inside Banner, with too much dialogue offering too little insight.  The father-son dynamic is totally underplayed, while Bruce himself seems to gain almost no understanding of the power he possesses.  When he’s not going through the motions of smashing things (an infrequent occurrence in retrospect), he’s quietly pondering his past or being pushed around by military forces.

One moment alone shows Banner’s most interesting depth, an admission that at the point where he loses control, he enjoys the experience.  Part of this is the devilish delivery of Eric Bana, who does a good job embodying the pent-up scientist but never quite convinces that he could have Hulk-like qualities trapped within.  Jennifer Connelly plays fellow scientist and love interest with charm although her appearances never stretch what she is capable of, while Nick Nolte remains his usual bedraggled self as the film’s weakest element - a villain so inadequately set up that he appears merely to give the film an explosive showdown rather than have any baring on the story.

Despite the reservations, what Ang Lee brings to the movie is an assured visual sensibility and maybe the most direct comic-strip-to-screen interpretation we’ve ever seen.  It’s not Sin City with its frame-for-panel recreations, but more of an overall look that includes split screen techniques to create layered panes and a variety of transitions which move between shots in way that maintains a constant flow.  He doesn’t always get it right, though.  The conclusion is completely ruined by an under water setting that makes it near impossible to tell what’s going on - or why.  Plus, his inability to deliver a short movie (his films regularly sprawl way past the two-hour mark), make this a patience testing exercise at 138 minutes.

What Hulk does recognize is the idea that time spent understanding the character is as important as the time you spend seeing that character in action.  The problem here is that it errs so heavily in the favour of its characters, it loses track of the fact that audiences expect at least some spectacular moments of destruction.  After all, “Hulk smash” – that’s just what he does.  Even the distinct visual style can’t hold together a weakly structured story and inconclusive narrative arc that poses questions without coming up with any answers.  It doesn’t pander to the genre, but neither does it break the mould - an activity that Hulk himself would no doubt jump at the chance to do.

From a high profile Bond movie, to a sub-standard xXx sequel, to this: a convoluted future-gazing thriller that fails to live up to its premise.  It seems that director Lee Tamahori is caught in a tailspin of slightly mindless, action-oriented, potential money-spinners - not that Next was a box office success fir him either.  Despite a set-up that’s interesting if you can go along with it, you won’t need Cris Johnson’s time bending ability to keep up with a story that is never as smart as it thinks it is.

As is common with sci-fi thrillers, the plot has high concept origins.  Here, working magician and part time gambler Chis Johnson (Nicholas Cage) is making an easy living in Las Vegas.  The secret to his success: that he can see two minutes into the future.  Unfortunately for Johnson, the FBI is on to him with tenacious team leader Callie Ferris (Julianne Moore) heading the operation to bring him in.  But all is not as it seems.  The FBI don’t want to just capture their man, they want to use him to help find a terrorist group who have planted a nuclear bomb in Los Angeles.  After meeting the girl of his dreams (a term I use literally in this case) Johnson goes on the run – always one step, and two minutes, ahead.

As a film that’s trying incredibly hard to be stylish and modern, it unwisely chooses to lean on those elements rather than take the time to explain its rather spurious central premise which, if you’re going to get enjoyment out of it at all, you’ll need to accept as given.  What you are subjected to is a constant over-explanation of the limitations of Cris’ ability.  On numerous occasions we hear him explain the two-minute limit and how he can only see events he is personally involved in.  If the filmmakers were afraid that the ’stupid’ audience wouldn’t understand these rules, they could have found a better way to make you understand than just having various characters repeat them verbatim.

When he’s not looking like a Da Vinci Code reject, Nicholas Cage is at half-mast playing the troubled clairvoyant of the piece.  He looks rather disinterested, although, sandwiched between the woeful Ghost Rider [review] and the rather tepid National Treasure: Book of Secrets [review], this is yet another project which offers little in the way of substance for an actor who desperately needs a credibility boost.  Standing alongside him is Jessica Biel, doing very little besides just being there, while Julianne Moore struggles with a standard FBI agent role that’s too cold and lacks any character development - a quality shared by everyone in the film.

The script, by more writers than it deserves, has its origins in a Philip K Dick novel (‘The Golden Man’), and follows the author’s usual penchant for imaginative sci-fi and manhunt-style chases (see also: Paycheck and Minority Report).  Lee Tamahori gives the film a clean visual style, but it can’t make up for the lack of substance.  The best use of the various special effects on show give us a look at how Cris can test out all variations of the future before deciding which to take.  But they are mistakenly saved for the climax, when it would have been more interesting to see that process working right from the start, maybe during the well-choreographed escape from a Las Vegas casino.

And this is not the only problem inherent with the conclusion, which is at the very top end of misjudged intellectualism.  Thinking that an oh-so clever open ending would be enough closure, the film robs you of any storyline and ultimately offers no resolution at all.  Its central character’s sentiment that “whenever you look at the future, it changes - because you looked at it” actually goes some way to explaining why the film is so unsatisfying.  Next has some interesting ideas but they are never sustained, while the chase itself lacks a proper reason for occurring (some filler about becoming a scientific guinea pig is used, but never committed to).  Both Tamahori and Cage need a hit right now - admittedly, this isn’t it, but who knows what the future holds?

As someone who holds dear the memory of the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles TV series and movies, this particular CGI update had plenty to prove to me, a vehement follower of 1980’s children’s entertainment.  Sure, the movies were cut for violence in the UK, while nervous parental groups had the TV show title changed to ‘Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles’ (the word ‘ninja’ somehow degrading the minds of our nation’s youth, apparently), but we loved it all the same.  So it was with a nervous caution that I approached this 2007 update.  With its fancy computer generated character models and special effects, could it possibly live up to the nostalgic charm of its origins?  Or is that missing the point?

Set some time after the defeat of their original nemesis, Shredder, the four sewer-dwellers have become separated by their differing opinions and responsibilities.  However, when a rich tycoon named Max Winters starts hoarding the stone statues of ancient warriors with an eye to using their hidden power for nefarious purposes, there is only one group who can stop him.  Winters hires the now freelancing Foot Clan to aide in his quest and keep the Turtles off his back - but before they can set about saving the world, our green heroes must first learn how to be a team again.

The most important aspect of this film was always going to be its tone, so I’m glad to report that the classic 80’s ‘cowabunga’ attitude is still alive here, with nicely pitched takes on the original characters giving way to an emotional interplay that actually enhances the overall story.  The decision to set this movie after the events of the old films, rather than rehash the origin story again, was undoubtedly the right one, and it helps give the film a sense of pace that only comes with having all the set-up out of the way.  There have been some adaptations to a few of the main players (April O’Neil has taken a rather predictable ass-kicking female role now it’s the 21st century), but for the most part these are the same characters you know and love.

The story, on the other hand, is less of a victory.  It’s actually made up of two very distinct halves - one, a fantastic tale of internal conflict within the group, the other, a slightly muddled fantasy yarn.  The film really shines in the scenes that detail Leonardo and Raphael’s growing disharmony, a smart direction that really adds some weight to the ongoing Turtles saga.  Starting with the team as all but disbanded gives way to a real sense of accomplishment when they reform to fight again, while a second act rooftop fight between Leo and Raphael is by far the pinnacle of the film - a battle with far more tension than the eventual anti-climatic showdown of good and evil.

It is in the overarching plotline where the cracks start to appear.  The main story, which consists of ancient warriors, portals through time, astrological events and fantastical creatures, is way too overcomplicated.  Getting through the rather rushed prologue is an exercise in tolerance, but the later addition of a number of plot conveniences (thirteen creatures unleashed 3000 years ago have all stayed within the New York area, for example) as well as some quietly underplayed character turns that don’t really make a lot of sense, slowly add up to an infuriatingly messy central plot that never truly engages.

In the vocal department, things are less tumultuous.  There’s a refreshing lack of celebrity focus as professional voice actors Mitchell Whitfield, James Arnold Taylor, Mikey Kelley and Nolan North take the Turtle roles and do them more than justice.  I always thought that while Michelangelo had a defined character, the others were slightly interchangeable, which makes the personality behind each voice here all the more important.  The supporting roles are left free for an influx of celebrity talent (Chris Evans as Casey Jones, Sarah Michelle Gellar as April O’Neil, Patrick Stewart as the misguided baddie and Laurence Fishburne narrating), and for the most part their voices are unobtrusive and well chosen.  This film is also notable for being the last role for Japanese actor Mako, who brings an authentic vocal tone to an important figurehead: Master Splinter.

On the whole, this is a commendable updating of the Turtles franchise which doesn’t always play it safe, but also doesn’t push the boundaries too far.  Director Kevin Munroe succeeds in keeping the characters and settings as familiar as ever, while injecting some perfectly-pitched conflict into the well worn formula.  The CG animation goes for a cartoon look with hints of a Japanese influence in the big eyes and thin waists aesthetic that proliferates through the character models - no bad thing given that the Turtles started life as comic book characters.  Plus, this is more than made up for by the gorgeous night-lit New York locations.  It may not be perfect, but it’s pizza-munching entertainment all the same, and with an updated attitude that will convert viewers both old and new alike.

Jason Statham continues his reign over the Hollywood hard-man genre with this sequel to the unexpectedly successful The Transporter.  It appears that France really likes the car-oriented action flick as Luc Besson, writer of the sequel-spawning Taxi series, once again contributes to the script along with Robert Mark Kamen.  In fact, similarly to Taxi, France has taken a firm control of this franchise, appointing native Louis Leterrier to direct and shoot the film locally where possible.  For the French film industry, this forms a strong bridge to Hollywood and their money-spinning audiences.  But that doesn’t necessarily make it a worthwhile construction.

The story goes something along the lines of this.  Professional driver Frank Martin is back, this time delivering the most precious possession of the wealthy Billings family: their son Jack.  The two form a relationship as he drives the boy to and from school, but it isn’t long before Jack is kidnapped by mercenaries and Frank must put his deadly military training back into action.  Along the way he meets vicious assassins and discovers a biological warfare plan that may just kill the ones he is trying hardest to protect.

This fairly innocuous plotline takes the story from Man on Fire and drains all sense of emotional context and character development out of it, leaving us with little more than an excuse for Statham to drive around and inflict pain.  A bit uninspiring you might think, yet when the film also adds a badly thought-out chemical threat into the mix, you’ll be wishing they had just kept it simple.  Which makes this sequel a kind of PG-13 rated Crank [review] on downers - and anyone who has seen that particular mindless action romp will know that its pace and ‘R’ rating are the only things going for it.

Statham himself does exactly what is required of him and looks fairly comfortable doing it.  Nothing here will stretch his talents beyond the hard-as-nails persona built up through his early roles in Guy Ritchie movies, so there’s really no pressure.  Alessandro Gassman plays a ridiculous villain and never finds the same level of comfort, while Kate Nauta is mean enough to shoot a lot of bullets through gritted teeth, but nowhere near convincing enough to come across as anything but two dimensional.  Everyone else just grins and bears it – undoubtedly aware of the script’s flaws - including François Berléand in a reprised but utterly pointless role as Inspector Tarconi.

What would have been impossible to predict on paper, however, is quite how bad the final film would look.  The cinematography is action movie 101 - a revelling in the wild framing and fast-paced cutting that comes served as standard with all films of this ilk.  But this is not where the problem lies.  Rather more disturbing is the terrible quality of the CGI, which renders even the most accepting minds unable to comprehend exactly what the filmmakers were thinking.  Add into this the most ludicrous car stunts ever conceived and you’re presented with a miserable action failure that will have you laughing more often than gasping.

The universal get-out clause here is that “it’s just an action movie”.  The plain and simple fact is that nobody even wants it to be sensible or comprehensive, as long as it’s exciting and diverting.  I don’t think Transporter 2 comes close to either, and you’ll need a really flexible tolerance for realism during all of the major set pieces.  Where the film works best is in its simpler, hand-to-hand fight sequences, which are nicely choreographed and effectively shot.  I enjoyed director Louis Leterrier’s last film, Danny the Dog [review], so I was expecting more out of him here.  But it appears even he can’t get over the inanity of the central character, or the unimpressive plot.  Not that this means it’s over - the aforementioned Taxi franchise reached its fourth instalment in 2007, so news that Transporter 3 is filming should come as no surprise.  The French film industry is clearly not ready to burn this bridge quite yet.

I’ve never really been much of a horror fan, but I can’t quite pin down why.  It could be the cliché-ridden nature of the genre, or maybe the fantastical subjects it often deals in.  I do like action movies however, and you could easily level many of the same criticisms at those.  Where I break from my prejudices is with a fantastic British horror movie from 2005 that used claustrophobic intensity to ramp up its wildly effective tension-filled scares.  That movie was The Descent, and its director, British filmmaker Neil Marshall, recently made his return to the big screen with this fully-fuelled action romp.  I only hoped he could bring the same credibility to an ever-plummeting genre.

The story starts in the present day as a deadly virus known as the ‘Reaper’ breaks out in Scotland, violently killing those who contract it.  The Government builds a wall encompassing most of Scotland in order to contain the effects and even though it leads to a worldwide quarantine of the British Iles, it seems to work.  Three decades pass when the virus suddenly resurfaces in the now over-populated London.  With no other choice, those in charge send a group of trained personnel, lead by Eden Sinclair, to venture into the sealed-off region of Scotland in search of a cure.  What they find inside is a group of rebellious savages, detached from the rest of the world for thirty years, who want nothing more than to hunt down the ‘outsiders’ and feast on their flesh.

Doomsday is many things - most of them other movies.  So, it’s a little bit Resident Evil and a little bit 28 Days Later.  There’s the 80’s dystopian savagery of George Miller’s Mad Max and the techno-revelry of John Carpenter’s Escape From New York.  There’s even twangs of the ill-fated Aeon Flux in its central character, who keeps the tight-fitting black outfit alive and well.  Not that the director is unaware of this - he even names two of his characters Miller and Carpenter in the most blatant nod to these influences.  But having also written the script, this may well be a pre-emptive defence for Marshall, who knows these comparisons are bound to be picked up on.

Part of The Descent’s charm was the knowledge that it was made on a shoe string - reportedly they spent about £3.5 million which, even by the horror genre’s budget-friendly standards, is still a cut-price production, especially given the results.  Now Marshall has been lavished with $30 million and that freedom might have spoiled him just a little.  The cities of a broken civilisation are well crafted, as are the stunts and practical effects work which harkens back to 80’s genre classics before CGI was the crutch it has become today.  What suffers is the story, which is merely a tortuous excuse to leap from one big sequence to the next, with very little sense of character or drive.

If money can’t buy you narrative quality, it can certainly buy you actors.  Luckily, Marshall shuns the really big names in favour of a middle-market British cast.  Bob Hoskins and Malcolm McDowell provide the old stalwart element playing a special forces leader and misguided doctor, respectively.  Rhona Mitra takes the lead, looking not unlike Kate Beckinsale in Underworld, and adequately holds a slightly uninteresting character, while Craig Conway gets to play the unstable punk villain of the piece, doing so with relentless vigour.  There are more to mention, many of whom meet a brutal end as part of the invading task force, but nobody really plays a blinder, let down by some uninteresting dialogue and a focus on delivering thrills over substance.

Niel Marshall may well have wanted to reference his genre influences with this movie, but the biggest fault is that his film sticks so rigidly to the old formulas that it also inherits their flaws.  Namely, a certain mindlessness to the plot and the assumption that as long as you are offering some exciting action stimulation that you don’t have to worry about the sci-fi dystopia going on around it.  Doomsday isn’t all bad though, and it provides a good dose of visceral gore to go along with the film’s most entertaining sequences.  It’s a long way from the ingenuity of The Descent, but at least it doesn’t make the mistake of trying to be something it’s not.  The result is a British action movie that actually competes with the American big boys for solid popcorn fun - and maybe that’s a bigger achievement than we’re giving it credit for.

The will of director Richard Linklater to tackle every conceivable genre (and even variations on those genres) is clear at this point, and with Fast Food Nation he ticks the multi-threaded drama box squarely off his list.  In the world of descriptive but irrelevant comparisons it’s Babel meets Super Size Me - a kind of Crash for the fast food industry.  But there’s more than one message here and the complicated nature of trying to affect change through what could be termed ‘factual fiction’, makes this inconsistently plotted dive into the hamburger underworld about as nourishing as the meals its subject produces.

Adapted from Eric Schlosser’s book of the same name, the film peeks into the lives of a range of characters, linked by their dependence on (or resistance to) fast food production.  We meet a Mickey’s Fast Food marketing exec, sent out to check on production issues at a slaughterhouse in Colorado.  Meanwhile, having recently jumped the boarder from Mexico, a group of immigrants are about to start work at the same factory, and quickly discover that their American dream comes with a price.  There’s also a conscientious student who works the tills at a Mickey’s outlet, and a bunch of periphery characters who help form the image of how such a well-loved dining option is, in fact, hiding a world of turmoil and questionable practices.

What’s initially so strange about this film is the range of parts handed out and the calibre of people willing to take them.  Greg Kinnear has one of the biggest roles and after impressing recently in both Little Miss Sunshine [review] and The Matador, remains a strong presence here.  But despite all the time we spend with him in the first two acts, in last half hour he just disappears, seemingly lost under the weight of stories that add even less to the overall narrative.  Those stories are spearheaded by the likes of Wilmer Valderrama and Catalina Sandino Moreno as a couple fleeing across the Mexican boarder for new jobs and a new life in the US.  Meanwhile, Ashley Johnson works hard at a fast food outlet to help out her mother, Bobby Cannavale is a hard-nosed supervisor at a meat packing factory, and Luis Guzmán drives immigrants around for cash.  Their stories are all connected but you could argue that they don’t all get the screen time necessary to make them worthwhile.

Where things get really bizarre though, is in the host of other names that pop up to do a quick monologue or two before vanishing from the film completely.  Bruce Willis has a scene where he debates the modern obsession with hygiene, Paul Dano flips burgers a few times, while Kris Kristofferson owns a big ranch but doesn’t do much else.  Ethan Hawke is the best of these additional characters and plays the buddy Uncle to Ashley Johnson with the most conviction present in the entire movie, despite only having three scenes.  And it would be remiss of me not to mention singer Avril Lavigne in her first live action role, actually doing an okay job.  In fact, the whole cast are fine.  It’s just the very nature of the storytelling that lets the film down.

All the bit-parts and cameos make this feel a bit like a charity movie - the fund-raising telethon for the prevention of cruelty to stomachs.  As celebrities line up to put in their four minutes and show how much they support ‘the cause’ (whatever that may be), you almost expect the donation hotline number to start scrolling across the screen.  But, of course, it never does.  The film isn’t quite as ugly as that description makes out, yet there’s clearly something going on when a drama features Bruce Willis as your voice of logical reason and Avril Lavigne as a conduit for change in future generations.

There are nice moments in Fast Food Nation, but nothing ever sees itself through the whole film, leaving you with questions about the relevancy of certain characters and situations.  Paul Dano, having been in both the marvellous Little Miss Sunshine and, more recently, the profound There Will Be Blood [review], has a part in this film that barely even gets off the ground.  He, like many others, gets scarcely enough screen time to justify the existence of the character, never mind have any bearing on the story.  Meanwhile, Richard Linklater and Eric Schlosser’s script does little to round out the running storylines that actually do get some play.  I mean, yes, life for Mexican immigrants isn’t always easy and I’m sure working at a meat packing factory isn’t all that fun, but the film seems to use those characters and their situation as padding rather than to bolster its overall point.  And that’s a point which, it’s worth mentioning, is as clear as day and at the same time lost in a wealth of unproductive counterarguments and human interest sidelines.

Linklater has never been one to necessarily do things straight down the line - sometimes that bravery pays off, sometimes it doesn’t.  If I sum up Fast Food Nation by calling it an unfocused drama steeped in moral haziness then you’ll probably deduce that this is the latter bravery type.  There’s a short sequence right at the end of the movie that sums up its lack of conviction perfectly.  It is so unashamedly graphic that it beats you over the head with the “if you didn’t get it before, you’re going to get it now” stick.  Those who have said that this film stopped them eating fast food, I imagine would have been swayed by this ninety seconds on its own.  Which makes the remaining 115 minutes something of a redundancy.

Nineteen years.  The figure that has been touted all over discussion about this, the return of a 1980’s hero who it seems is still adored by generations of fans.  Can it really have been that long since we last saw Indy on the big screen?  And if so, would it even be accepted in today’s vastly different blockbuster landscape?  Judging by sheer hype, the answer is undeniably ‘Yes’.  A character whose ever-growing popularity has made him so big that he dwarfs the fact that this is the new film from popular writer David Koepp, or produced by fan-boy messiah George Lucas, or directed by the world famous voice-of-your-childhood, Steven Spielberg.  So big, in fact, that I wish he’d stayed small.

Get past the slightly verbose title and you’re presented with a story that flings Indy into the late 50’s Cold War.  Exit Nazis, enter Russians, this time intent on finding an object of great power and a city made entirely of gold.  After capturing Dr Jones for help in their quest, he makes a quick escape to try and beat them to the prize, picking up a young rebel by the name of Mutt along the way.  But the crystal skull that everyone is so desperate to get their hands on holds a hidden secret, and drags our intrepid hero into a mystery that’s not of this world.

The hardest decision to understand comes from the notion that Spielberg’s reservations about bringing the character back to the screen were down to finding “the right story”.  I don’t know how many stories they looked at (lots, if you believe the press), but the fact that this is the one they settled on for a glorious return seems almost incomprehensible.  The structure follows suit for a Jones adventure - search, find, search, find - but the subject takes the fantasy content of previous instalments and widens its berth to rather tricky levels of plausibility.  As much as you might not believe the biblical magic present in the old films, it’s the sci-fi element of this story that makes for such an awkward juxtaposition next to the low-tech Indiana Jones universe.

Rather wisely, there’s no constant referencing of how old Indiana has become, nor do they even think about turning him into an over-the-hill action parody (”my back!” etc.).  A few throwaway quips early on suffice to make the point.  Not that any jabbing would even work because at sixty-five, Harrison Ford stands very impressively as an action lead.  The extra years are there, sure, but he falls back into character with a natural ease and I never found myself questioning his ability to fulfil the role.  Well, not for age reasons, at least.

The rest of the cast is a mish-mash of names designed to boost audiences without showing up Ford.  Opinions seem split on Shia LaBeouf as the mouthy tag-along (he seems easier to hate than like), yet his contribution isn’t really damaging to the film in any way.  Meanwhile it’s nice to see a return performance from Karen Allen as her character in Raiders of the Lost Ark, Marion Ravenwood - easily the least annoying of the Indy women.  Ray Winstone, on the other hand, gets an infuriatingly two-faced role that rarely breaks free of its contrivances, while Cate Blanchette composes herself convincingly as the Russian villain but too often suffers from pantomime baddie syndrome.  Finally, John Hurt gets to do babbling lunacy as a brainwashed professor and Jim Broadbent pops up to round out a decent roll call of aging performers.

There was a rather noticeable lack of computer generated trickery in the original trilogy, with a reliance on practical effects work being a key part of its down to earth charm.  Apparently, the intent was to keep things the same this time around, although if that’s the case then they’ve undoubtedly failed, throwing all manner of CGI at the screen in a bid to keep up with the modern day expectations for a big-budget action flick.  Maybe Spielberg would have been better sticking by his original classification of Jones as a B-movie endeavour because, ultimately, it’s as such that the film succeeds best.  Shoving it into the summer blockbuster spotlight leads to the feeling that it is merely dressing up for the mass audience.

Having dismissed the special effects I should say that they are at times spectacular - especially a sequence during the conclusion which takes the concept of demolition to a startling extreme.  But they also contribute to the worst moments too, and in this film that comes in the form of a scene I’ll refer to as ‘monkey swing’.  How this gob-smackingly awful bit of cheesy flippancy made it into the final cut is beyond me, and I’ll bet that it will remain as a sticking point even with those who liked the movie.  But at least a majority of the stunts and effects work serves to increase the entertainment you’ll get from the film, and when you boil it right down, that’s the most important thing here.  The simple fact is that it’s not completely awful by any means, just disappointingly average.

Maybe there’s a hard truth that we need to face here: that it’s our fault.  This movie would never have happened of its own accord; the fans forced it back with their persistent coercing.  It is notable that as the original films grew in success, the formula was adapted to keep things in touch with the time.  Now, shaped into a special effects blockbusting extravaganza, it falls limp - which maybe says more about our summer blockbusters than it does about Indiana Jones.  As for those major players so shrouded by the towering popularity of their character: Koepp’s script is a little bumbling and silly, George’s influence is way too evident and Spielberg can’t recapture the atmosphere of nineteen years ago.  Yes, it really has been nineteen years.  Times have changed.  Clearly, not entirely for the better.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is on general release.