Yup. That’s right. They might have fangs and a penchant for funeral wear (no coffins, though…), but make no mistake, these bloodsuckers would fit right into any George A. Romero “Dead” movie you care to mention. Come to think of it, so would most of the rest of the film.

Ethan Hawke plays vampire haemotologist Edward (dammit, are they all called Edward?) searching for a cure for a plague that has turned most of the world’s population into vampires, and the scattered remnants of the human race into an increasingly scarce foodstuff. A chance encounter with a small group of human survivors (led by the always awesome Willem Dafoe) puts Edward at odds with his pharmaceutical giant employers, head honcho Sam Neill in particular, who’d much rather things stay as they are, especially since the company is set to become the number one supplier of a blood substitute.

Admittedly the plot sounds sorta like a Sci-Fi Channel movie of the week — especially with all the slang dialogue and somewhat unnecessary ‘world-building’ that goes on in the first twenty minutes or so — but even though it’s not especially original, something about it just draws you in. It helps to have a (mostly Australian) cast of such quality, and also that it’s quite a stylish film, playing out on a canvas of black, pale white and crimson at first and sun-drenched earth tones later.

The Romero influence becomes ever-more apparent as the film progresses, particularly when the splatter starts to fly. Several shots of the vampires feasting on some poor unfortunate could’ve been lifted right from Day of the Dead. Perhaps even more Romero-esque is the film’s stab at creating some sort of meaningful subtext to events. Pharmaceutical companies putting profit before people is one obvious target, as is addiction, substance abuse and society’s treatment of those who fall victim to it. And I suppose it also serves as a cautionary tale against playing with long, pointed sticks. (You should try to keep them away from your heart…)

I’ll freely admit to being pleasantly surprised by Daybreakers. It’s not the utterly thoughtless, schlocky gorefest I thought it’d be, but instead is actually a very solid and entertaining film. It might on occasion take itself a bit too seriously — the music’s particularly sombre, and sounds like it’s been culled from a bunch of 1940s horror flicks — but it could be much, much worse. It could be Twilight, for a start.

As a Beatles fan since, oooooo, ages ago, I can’t say I really mind, because it’s refreshing to hear a “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” come blasting from your radio where moments before there was a “Puh-puh-puh pokerface.” But films about the Fab Four such as this latest offering from director Sam Taylor Wood have typically failed to raise my interest, as they never seemed to capture the spark present either in their music or in the films they themselves made.

In truth though, Nowhere Boy isn’t really about The Beatles at all. Instead, its focus is very much on pre-Beatle John Lennon (Aaron Johnson) and his relationship with both his Aunt Mimi (played with perfect sternness by Kristin Scott Thomas) and his absent mother Julia (Anne-Marie Duff). For Beatles fans — or anyone who’s ever read a book about them — the story is well-documented, and the sight of the Mendips house John shares with Mimi, The Quarrymen’s first town fair gig and the first meetings of Lennon, McCartney and Harrison will have a certain seen-it-all-before familiarity.

I suppose there’s an argument to be made that suggests undertaking such a well-worn story is actually quite a brave move on behalf of the filmmakers, since the only option available is to attempt to bring something new to the party, either injecting a bucketload of style and energy to proceedings, or telling the story from a whole new point of view. But Nowhere Boy never really reaches for those heights. It’s well put-together, well acted by all concerned (even if, at times, it feels like we’re watching caricatures of Lennon and McCartney) and is a reasonably diverting way of spending 90 minutes, but it also feels a bit like a TV drama special that might crop up around 10 o’ clock at night on the BBC.

Musically however, it acquits itself quite well, the only movie I can think of that has such a perfect (and familiar) opening chord. Johnson (or whoever provides his singing voice) does a pretty good John Lennon impression, while the soundtrack is peppered with tracks from the burgeoning 1950s rock ‘n’ roll scene. The Quarrymen have a fairly stompin’ skiffle sound, and the script seems to have been written by someone reasonably in tune with the connection between music and the soul. All of which might just make it worthwhile viewing for fans of music and fans of The Beatles. (True completeists could then immediately watch Backbeat, which more or less picks up where this film leaves off).

There’s a lot riding on Avatar‘s box office take. Cameron’s career, the existence of 20th Century Fox (probably; $300 million is a lot of moolah), the very way in which big mainstream blockbuster movies get made in future. So it’s both something of a relief but also vaguely disappointing that Avatar has turned out to be quite good, actually.

First though, the negative: the story’s not exactly what you might call original. Think of Pocahontas with a sci-fi twist told from John Smith’s point of view and you’re not a million miles away. Then again, with so much at stake here, I can see why they’ve played it safe with their script.

Sam Worthington plays Jake Sully (a character who sounds like he might be related to Monsters Inc.’s blue-haired lead). A paraplegic marine — and there are no electric wheelchairs in the future — he’s enlisted into a corporate-military program which involves having his mind transferred into the body of an alien. His job is to convince the natives of the planet Pandora to move away from their sacred lands so they can be strip-mined for natural resources. But as he learns more of their nature-loving ways, Jake finds himself becoming more and more at odds with his orders…and so on.

Make no mistake, the narrative is certainly not going to catch you by surprise. Because it doesn’t have to. Not when a film looks like this. Okay, so it takes a while for your eye to “settle” into the 3D, and for the first third or maybe half of the movie, you’re strangely aware of the computer-generated nature of the characters and settings. But then, something just seems to ‘click’.

It might simply be the beautiful colours, the vibrancy of Pandora as rendered in shimmering neons and florescent shades. The set pieces become a kaleidoscope of light and movement that’s utterly hypnotic, so much so that when the film shifts back to real actors on sets, they suddenly don’t seem as real as the CGI. Meanwhile, the tall, blue-skinned aliens who seemed so fake at first become, by the end of the film, completely believable as ‘real’ characters with genuine emotions.

Sure, there’s a few awkward questions raised by the whole “telling an anti-technology, anti-materialistic story by using vast amounts of technology and money” aspect (but you could say the same about, well, most sci-fi films), as well as some potentially racially sensitive matters if you’re into that sort of thing, but really these things are best put to one side. This is easily one of the most beautiful mainstream movies I have ever seen. It’s rare you find a film that’s worth watching on the largest cinema screen you can find. Avatar is one of them. Go. Look. Now.

It’s a simple story, really. Disruptive wild child doesn’t like how big sis is growing older and apart from him, disruptive wild child dresses up as dog, disruptive wild child bites his own mother and runs away, finds a boat and sails to an island of big, hairy, celebrity-voiced monsters all of whom are allegorical equivalents of people in the Real World  (including himself), disruptive wild child learns enough life lessons to come of age and return home a different person.

That’s a trite enough summary, I’ll admit, and one that’s also a little unfair because it makes Where The Wild Things Are sound like something Dreamworks Animation would spit out for the holiday season. It’s more or less the tried and tested coming of age Hero’s Journey stuff (and the film features several on-the-nose metaphors that’ll give the Freudians a field day). It’s one of the base-narratives we always return to, so there’s nothing wrong with that, as long as the story gets told in an interesting way.

Which, to be fair, it does. If there was one phrase or description that most suits the film, it’s rough and tumble. The movie revels in it from the opening moments as the camera crashes around chasing wild child Max around his house, as he in turn chases his dog. That pretty much sets the tone for the film. There’s always movement, there’s always energy, it’s always a bit manic, in that “running down the side of a mountain not sure if you’re about to trip but not really caring if you do because tumbling and rolling would suit you just fine too” kind of way. There’s a lovely graininess to the image as well, which gives everything a fitting dreamlike quality, but also makes it somehow more real and tactile.

Special praise should be reserved for the decision to minimise the use of CGI in portraying the Wild Things of the titles. The delicate play of autumnal sunlight through their fur, and the sheer physicality demanded of them in terms of interaction with Max could never have been so perfectly achieved with a computer. That said, their expressive faces — which I assume are CGI — convey a great deal of very genuine emotion, helped no doubt by the voice talents of James Gandolfini among others.

In many ways, it’s a movie in which not very much happens, but at the same time, like an afternoon in a children’s playground, everything happens; leaders emerge, alliances are forged, battles are fought and individuals discover themselves… but all in time to get home for dinner and cake by the end.

Based on the book of the same name, The Men Who Stare At Goats is unlikely to make a late run for inclusion in the list of big money blockbuster book adaptations. This might be because it doesn’t include enough vampires/boy wizards/orcs/all of the above. It might also be because, as an early title slide warns us, all too many of the events it portrays have their basis in fact.

Ewan McGregor stars as journalist Bob Wilton who embarks on a journey through Gulf War II Iraq with off-beat ex-military man Lyn Cassady (George Clooney), a former member of what the US Army referred to as the New Earth Army. Led by Jeff Bridges in Sergeant “The Dude” mode, this Cold War-era group formed with the aim of creating super psychic soldiers capable of remote viewing, walking through walls and killing goats by staring at them. Now, with the group long dissolved and gone their separate ways, Cassady has — so he claims — been psychically tasked with one final mission…

It’s actually difficult to pick out the made-up strands of narrative from the stuff that’s rooted in fact. Much of the detail relating to the New Earth Army and their methodologies is supposedly true, and the attempts of both the American and Russian military to investigate psychic powers have been well documented. Naturally, the film plays all of this for laughs — and quite rightly too — and while there are plenty of funny moments that juxtapose military men and New Age hippie-trippiness, there is a slight feeling of an opportunity missed in terms of biting satire. Maybe the subject matter is just too ridiculous to really go for the jugular.

The best of the comedy comes courtesy of Clooney, who is stone-cold brilliant as Lyn Cassady, a man who clearly believes he has a very special gift, might also be on the wrong side of the see-saw of sanity, and is also a disillusioned, burnt-out, and ultimately tragic individual. Spouting New Age mumbo-jumbo military techniques with the utmost sincerity, and completely unafraid to make himself look foolish for the sake of a gag, he’s utterly believable throughout the film, and plays Repressed Crazy almost too convincingly for comfort. There’s also a nicely meta collection of jokes around the codename for the New Earth Army (Jedi) and Ewan McGregor’s presence.

Still, the overall feeling is one of slightness, or inconsequentiality. Which is fine; it’s good fun and it doesn’t outstay its welcome, but it also feels like a film which doesn’t have very much to say about a variety of important topics (military spending, the futility of war, the presence of corporate influences in post-war Iraq…take your pick), and we’ve come to expect more from film-makers of this quality.

After all, Terry Gilliam’s not a director known for his restraint, so I was fully prepared to leave the cinema feeling vaguely blitzkrieged by wave after wave of stream-of-consciousness imagery, not helped by the fact that Heath Ledger’s death partway through production meant the lead role would be played by four separate actors. Thankfully (and probably miraculously as well), Dr Parnassus manages to tie together a solid narrative with Gilliam’s trademark imagination and style, and in so doing becomes a reasonably worthy epitaph for Ledger as well.

Christopher Plummer plays the good Doctor — and it took me far too long to realise who the actor was beneath the beard, despite the Oh So Familiar voice — who enters into a terrible agreement with Tom Waits’ devilish Mr Nick, staking his own daughter Valentina (Lily Cole) as the prize. Fate intervenes in the form of Tony (Ledger. And Jude Law. And Colin Farrell. And Johnny Depp.), a seemingly decent sort of man who arrives in their midst in somewhat unusual circumstances, but might hold the key to helping Parnassus win his bet, and offer Valentina the means to escape her life in a travelling caravan show.

Basically a Faustian sort of story, it is of course a beautiful looking film. Grim scenes of London’s urban decay, of underpasses and dock sides, contrast with the faded Victorian vaudeville caravan of Dr Parnassus’ travelling show, and with the sparkling bright, candy-coloured CGI animation that depicts events within the Imaginarium of the title. The true nature of the Imaginarium is never really explained, and the possibility remains open throughout that what we’re watching is all just in the mind of Parnassus, who may be either a down on his luck mystic offering true enlightenment, or just a delusional, homeless man. (I guess Terry has a thing for the homeless…)

What’s arguably most compelling about the film though, is how well Gilliam has managed to work around the tragic death of Ledger. Whether it’s through some fortunate (relatively speaking) quirk of the production schedule or clever rewriting, the character’s physical transformations are seamlessly handled, and make perfect sense within the dream logic of the film. It’s also strangely intriguing to see actors of such quality as Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell stepping into Ledger’s shoes and adding their own spin to the role while also paying tribute to Ledger’s crafting of the character. (Tom Waits seems to be doing a Joker impression too…)

While there are perhaps one or two moments that are a mite ill-judged where the surreal seems set to run away with itself, Dr Parnassus is far from the shambles it might understandably have been. Perhaps lacking a little emotional punch, it’s still a rather lovely film and well worth a peek.

Part of the reason Pixar are so successful might lie in the fact that they aren’t afraid to take risks. Take, for instance, the main characters of The Incredibles, Wall-E and Up: you’ve got a middle-aged man in the throes of a mid-life crisis (who just happens to be a superhero), a more or less mute robot garbage disposal unit, and a closed-off old widower who’s never fully recovered from the loss of his wife. These are hardly typical animated movie heroes, and it’s to Disney’s credit that they continually stump up the funding for these movies. I guess they’ve learned it’s best to just let John Lassetter do pretty much what he wants, which is telling beautifully realised stories packed with emotion, warmth, wit and charm.

It’s probably easiest to just list Up‘s single, minor fault than to eulogise over its brilliance. But that wouldn’t be much fun, because there’s so much worth mentioning. As you’d expect from Pixar, the visuals and design are gorgeous, bright and colourful. It’s subtle things like the play of light through the mass of multi-coloured helium balloons that lift this above the offerings from other studios who — without meaning to sound disrespectful — don’t seem to take the time Pixar do over their work. The story and characters are beautifully written and realised, with more real, raw human emotion emanating from their expressions than you’d get from some ‘real’ actors, and the whole thing is shot through with that indefinable wistful earnestness and longing that seems to be a Pixar trademark. In other hands, it’d seem saccharine and cloying, here it feels sincere and finds a direct line through all the layers of grown-up, adult cynicism and armour to the soft strawberry centre of your soul.

By which I really mean, yeah, it made me a little teary-eyed. Cartoons mess me up like that. But it’s also incredibly funny, thanks to characters such as Kevin, a beady-eyed good-humoured psycho bird apparently channelling Rod Hull’s Emu, not to mention a certain malfunctioning dog collar. If I was to note that one slight flaw — and oddly, it’s somewhat similar to what I felt was Wall-E‘s chief failing — it’s that when the inevitable peril and danger comes (which it has to, if we’re to have any sort of story), it almost feels like a rude interruption to the colourful, heartwarming adventure. I’d have gladly watched Karl and Russell (and Kevin. And Dug) trek aimlessly through the jungle for 90 minutes, encountering the crazy wildlife and situations, in much the same way as I’d have happily watched Wall-E alone on his planet of garbage.

I guess that might be another indicator of Pixar’s greatness, that they can make an engaging film out of a group of people walking around. With a floating house tied to their backs.

Horror and humour have always gone hand in hand to a certain extent. A film makes you jump, you’re scared for an instant, then you’re nervously giggling because you realise you just got played. And as for zombie movies, well the original Romero Dawn of the Dead had a pie fight, and ever since then the shuffling (or sometimes speedy) undead have been good for a few sick laughs.

Calling Zombieland an American Shaun of the Dead wouldn’t be a million miles from the truth, at least in terms of its emphasis on comedy. Shot for the most part in unfamiliar suburbs and rural roadways, the story follows a quartet of zombie onslaught survivors as they try to make their way to the one safe haven they know about: an LA fairground. Like Shaun, the emphasis is very much on the relationship between these survivors, and while there’s still plenty to keep gore fans satisfied, the comedy here comes mostly from the characters.

It’s terrific fun, the pace pretty much fast and furious from the start so that its relatively short 80 minute running time doesn’t leave you feeling at all short changed. The dialogue zings along, packed with pop culture references and delivered with great skill by the small cast of Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Emma Stone and Abigail Breslin. Harrelson’s snakeskin boot-wearing Tallahassee gets most of the best lines, and gets to dispatch plenty of zombies in various hilarious ways, all the while attempting to fulfil his simple quest to find and eat just one Twinky. Eisenberg’s Columbus is his usually likeable nerd hero self, somewhat bumbling and full of neuroses, but taking action when it counts, while Stone’s and Breslin’s sister act is by turns manipulative, gun-toting or vulnerable.

It’s also an incredibly stylish film, packing in some surprisingly affecting images of zombie destruction along the way that lend the film a credible sense of scale. It really does feel like these four people might be the last human beings alive, which adds a certain blackness to proceedings, and also makes the slow-mo scenes of destruction seem that much more cathartic for our heroes. Clever use of titles throughout also lends to the comedy, as Columbus’s rules for surviving in Z-land are illustrated and reiterated (Rule #1: Cardio. Because the zombie’s will catch the fat and unfit first). The title sequence is an absolute humdinger as well.

Throw in a frankly quite amazing cameo by a certain BM (I don’t want to ruin the surprise), and the end result is a thoroughly enjoyable slice of quite clever zombie killing, but one that also has beating within it a whole lot of heart.

“We’ve taken the basic idea of Death Race and replaced the racing with a shoot-em-up video game that uses real people instead of computer sprites, you know, because video games are really popular now. We’ve also replaced all of Death Race‘s humour and self-awareness with dialogue and characters culled from the very worst depths of 4chan, only without any understanding of their Net Age irony. And instead of Jason Statham, we’ve got Gerard Butler. Yeah, that’s right, the guy from 300. And P.S.  I Love You. Let’s see if anyone notices.”

Well, I did. And I’m not too happy about it.

Reviewing Gamer is like reading a charge sheet for crimes against film and entertainment. It opens with Marilyn Manson’s cover of “Sweet Dreams are Made of This” and it’s downhill fast from there. In fact, they use that same song twice, having obviously blown the budget on…well, I have no idea what, because the whole thing looks pretty cheap too, apparently shot in a single small section of street, storm drain and underground car park. Lob in a meant-to-be-funny-but-isn’t use of Bloodhound Gang’s “The Bad Touch” and you’re simply left wondering who the hell the filmmakers were aiming this rubbish at, because both of those tunes are from a decade ago. Way to be hip, Neveldine & Taylor.

Right, that’s the soundtrack and production values dispensed with. What’s next? Oh, what the hell, let’s go for the story. It’s Death Race. If the filmmakers had cast Jason Statham, they would’ve been swiftly sued for plagiarism. But that’s okay, I mean, derivative stories are acceptable if a film brings something new to the table, maybe some snappy dialogue, or stylish directing or even just a few spectacular special effects set pieces. Umm, no, no and no; a FAIL on all counts here.

Okay, one or two sequences taking place within the real live video game at the heart of the so-called story aren’t bad (well, I can think of one fleeting shot I quite liked) but there are so many pointless tics and cuts and clever-clever graphic overlays hurled at the screen that they might as well have stuck the film in a blender and called it editing.

This is a grubby, irredeemable dog of a movie, full of so much pointless and juvenile violence that those young to be attracted by the equally pointless and juvenile sex and nudity aren’t going to be admitted. Actually, that’s an insult to those under the age of 18, I doubt there’s many that are that stupid. Meanwhile, in its attempt to pander to the supposed gamer/hacker/Internet demographic, the film also manages to insult them by portraying them in typical Hollywood fashion as being either over-privileged rich kids with little sense of morality, or Gluttony-victim-in-Seven-sized perverts.

It’s actually amazing that the writer/director team behind the two Crank movies could be responsible for this. Crank did a pretty good job of translating a certain video game sensibility to the big screen, but did so with verve and humour. So I probably would’ve been better off to just watch it instead. What makes it worse is that there’s a good story to be told here about free will and the like, but Gamer‘s just concerned about getting to the next tit shot.

Gerard Butler needs a better agent.

Man Not Belonging To Movie’s Target Demographic Escorted From Theatre By Hollywood Officials