Other than being mildly inconvenient and less attractive, the other thing this does, in a Roland Barthes-esque way, is destroy pre-conceptions around the book which can be built up from the blurb on the back, the ‘Richard and Judy Book Club’ permanent sticker on the front or the carefully chosen quotes from famous people. Even after reading all three books, I have trouble remembering the author, to be honest. That would be Suzanne Collins, by the way (and also, good name). Take of that what you will – the kindle/e-reader argument is one to be had another day.

The reason I want to write about books on a film website is that the first of the trilogy, “The Hunger Games” is released in cinemas in the UK on March 23rd, 2012.

Katniss Everdeen is an inhabitant of the 12th District, in a post-apocalyptic world where everything is ruled from the mysterious Capitol and no free movement is allowed, especially outside of the District’s barbed wire electric fences.

The first chapter was ably assisted by the kindle’s blank background, as it very carefully keeps Katniss’ sex hidden. Before I go any further, it is my duty as a reviewer to inform you that SPOILERS MAY LIE AHEAD. I’ll try to keep them to a minimum, of course, but the odd plot item may squirm out. If you prefer to keep unspoiled, I have a summary of the rest of it for you, spoiler free: go and read it! Read them all!

We follow Katniss as she hunts for desperately needed food and returns to the family home to get changed into ceremonial clothes: a dress. Collective gasp as we realise she’s a GIRL. It wasn’t quite that dramatic, but I definitely got the feeling that it was meant to be amazing that she’s a girl who hunts. Has everyone seen Pocahontas?

The ceremony she’s off to is the televised lottery. This sees one boy and one girl aged between 12-18 years old being picked to participate in, yep, you guessed it: “The Hunger Games”; a live, televised concept where each player is imprisoned in a games arena. The games have been going on for decades, and are described as a celebration of how far the districts have come since the apocalyptic disaster that the Capitol saved them from. Essentially, it’s a sacrifice as all but one of the participants will die at the hands of their peers. Only one can be victorious, and that one will return to their district with more food than they can eat. This is emphasised by the fact that the players are called ‘tributes’. In times where everyone is struggling to get enough to eat (apart from those in the Capitol), taking part in the games isn’t a choice – it’s a privilege where the last one standing gets to save their district from starvation.

As far as the film adaptation goes, Jennifer Lawrence (Winter’s Bone) is Katniss. She is almost exactly how I envisioned Katniss throughout the books. Despite her rather weak introduction, she is a fantastic character who grows throughout the books and has to face some difficult choices. She’s strong and resilient, a great role model, but most importantly, she doesn’t always get things right, which makes her more accessible. Personally, I’m really looking forward to seeing Lawrence playing Katniss. Likewise for one of her leading men – The Kids are All Right and Little Manhattan’s Josh Hutcherson. He plays blonde baker boy Peeta, and from the still shots I’ve seen he doesn’t look quite as blonde as he’s described, but that’s something I’m willing to let slide. Katniss’ other love interest is dark hunter Gale, played by Thor’s brother, Liam Hemsworth. As far as the casting goes, the only thing I would say is that he doesn’t look lean enough to be Gale, who’s spent his whole life hunting squirrel to survive and always puts his family first.

The three leads are, therefore, strong and well cast. The supporting actors are even better, and include Elizabeth Banks, Woody Harrelson and Stanley Tucci. For Tucci in particular, I will see anything that he’s in. I even saw Burlesque because he was in it. He was worth it (although the rest really wasn’t, and I found myself wishing that Veronica Mars would die in a spoiled bitch accident, just so something would be happening)

None of this sounds very tween friendly, does it? I worry that the trilogy is about adult themes and theories, especially in the later books, around capitalism and socialism, but because it’s about young adults, it will be forced into the 12a bracket. Some of the action in the book is horribly gory, and is described in detail. For example, the Capitol has a weapons system dubbed ‘muttations’ which are cross breeds of animals. One of these is the jabberjay – it looks like a bird but contains a recording device used to catch rebel spies. Another are the wolves which have four inch razors for claws and can stand on their hind legs. They have also been spliced with dead tributes’ DNA, so they have human eyes. (Super spoiler) The last three tributes are attacked by a pack of these wolves, and two manage to climb into a barrel, essentially. One doesn’t, and as he is wearing armour it takes the wolves all night to kill him. The remaining two players can do nothing but listen. I don’t think that’s a suitable 12a material.

So there are two options: make it a 15 certificate or cut out the detail of the book to rein it back in for more family friendly fun. There’s always secret option number 3 – don’t bother changing it but as long as you can’t see blood it’s fine (War Horse, I’m looking at you).

Given the vision that Collins had for The Hunger Games, I am really looking forward to it being brought to the silver screen. I hope that it’s not sanitised for family audiences and that the more subtle themes of the plot aren’t sidelined in favour of more action orientated scenes, but we’ll have to see. On March 23rd. See you in the queue!

It’s hard to fathom that Roman Polanski has been making films for 50 years now. His early output was a revelation, making a name for himself with a unique brand of taut claustrophobic thrillers (See Knife in the Water/Repulsion). Seething with a palpable sense of anxiety, Polanski pushed his subjects to psychological breaking point with the enclosed surroundings amplifying the tension to almost unbearable levels. In short, they were bad places to be, especially if you happened to advocate bourgeois values. Downton Abbey, had it been made in 1960′s Poland probably would have had the entire cast holed up, soiled knickers and all, in the study with wolves roaming the corridors. It was in its mockery of the Bourgeoisie that European cinema was in its element. While never overtly political, Polanski revelled in using them as fodder. Even through visions of the American dream in Rosemary’s Baby & Chinatown, widely considered all-time greats, many of the hallmarks of his previous work shine through.

However, since that 1960′s/1970′s golden period; whether making conspiracy movies with Harrison Ford, big budget pirate adventures or dodgy horror flicks, his output has ranged from the strange to the down right awful, picking up a best director Oscar for The Pianist along the way. He seemed out of sorts for such a long time. So it was a surprise to hear that Polanski was seemingly revisiting his roots with an ensemble character study in Carnage.

If walking into the experience blind, you could look at the ingredients; a Polanski film, based on a play called ‘God of Carnage’, with the single apartment setting playing host to an all-out bourgeois smack down. You would be forgiven for expecting a world of pain, and upon seeing the film you wouldn’t be far off, except that you’re going to laugh. A lot. In fact, you’ll be hard pressed to find a more satisfying comedy all year.

Set over the course of a single afternoon, in the aftermath of a playground scuffle between two 11 year-old school boys, the Cowans (Kate Winslet and Christoph Waltz) visit the Longstreets (Jodie Foster and John C. Reilly) to discuss the problem between their respective sons. What begins as a straightforward social courtesy develops into polite finger pointing and before long, prejudices slip out, the veneer of civilized discussion fritters away, and that’s when things well and truly kick off. A barking dog, a bottle of whiskey, a ringing cell phone, some not-so tasty left overs; all at some point seem to conspire, almost supernaturally to pour gas onto the fire.

Not unlike Luis Bunuel’s 1962 masterpiece The Exterminating Angel the Cowans find that they’re bound to the apartment, except this time not by a mysterious unspoken force, but by invitation of the Longstreets. Neither able to let it drop. This is something Polanski could have possibly made 30 years ago. Like Repulsion, the downtown Brooklyn apartment is a black hole. The irresistible pull of psychosis replaced with one of egocentric stupidity. Even the opening scene, in the context of a Polanski film (a static shot from behind the trees), showing a peripheral conflict in the scope of a wide shot encompassing both the playground and the Hudson river could be viewed with a more sinister connotation if it weren’t for the Alexandre Desplat score which appears straight out of a feel-good 80’s comedy.

Despite the films origins as a stage-play being entrenched in its DNA, this is a dynamic film that is unflinching in its moments of tension whilst allowing for larger than life, eccentric performances from its cast. Huge credit of course has to go to the screenplay which reduces the concerns of adults in modern society to schoolyard triviality. Considering the setting is restricted mostly to one room, the pacing is perfect. With a simple symmetry to the composure of the shots, movement between rooms is expressed with a roaming handheld camera style familiar within Polanski’s early work.

Waltz and Reilly are in their anarchic element as the sneering egotistical attorney and the blue collar blunt tool. It is Foster though, as the anthropological writer; the sanctimonious, emotional ticking-time bomb, and Winslet as the elitist, emotionally sterile investment broker who, playing against type, really let everything hang out and provide the film’s funniest moments. Their group breakdown is a gleeful crescendo of farce and political incorrectness. And as none of the characters have much in the way of redeemable personality traits, all four collectively make up the ultimate toss-pot. You enjoy their descent into hysteria like watching animals on a wildlife documentary or ironically small children in a playground.

I have to admit my first thought as the credits rolled, ‘I can think of a handful of situations in my adult life, which I would look back on with a much greater fondness if they went a little more like that’. One interpretation is that Carnage is a comedy for anyone who has had to bite their tongue. It is also Roman Polanski in his element; society eating itself under the stress of its own vanity.

A very funny film, with excellent performances all round.

When people ask me what makes for a really great performance (and someone did, once) I direct them to two performances. De Niro in Raging Bull and Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood. If you watch those performances you’ll notice something. The performance isn’t about their facial expressions or the words being spoken or even how they’re spoken. It’s the physicality of the performance that sells it. Only time will tell whether this performance has the longevity of those iconic roles but he certainly inhabits Matt King right down to his posture, gate and awkward moccasined run. Furthermore, bare in mind that this is coming from someone who still refers to him as ‘Doug Ross’ in day to day conversation.

If ‘acting is reacting’ then honourable mentions must go out to Clooney’s younger co-stars. Shailene Woodley (Alex) is arguably the best known of the three and she can count herself a little unlucky to have come of age in a highly competitive year for the Best Supporting Actress category. As you expect, the troubled teenage daughter has the broadest range of performance but certainly matches Clooney in a number of difficult scenes. The younger sibling is played by debutant Amara Miller who, after revelling in the role of a potty-mouthed pre-teen also plumbs emotional depths beyond her age towards the films emotional pinnacle. As you might expect there’s a few other familiar faces along the way. Judy Greer, Matthew Lillard, and Beau Bridges are all good whilst Robert Forster does enough in two scenes to remind you why he too is an Oscar nominee.

The film itself is expertly paced and although I usually find the excessive use of voice over annoying, it works in relation to the subject matter. Though I couldn’t shake the feeling that the voice over in Up in the Air made the film feel like some kind of dysfunctional self-destruct video, here Clooney’s impassioned inner monologue plays out like the desperate pleas of a husband to his dying wife. It ads an emotional level often lacking from films where the audience is addressed directly and as a result immerses you into the story rather than forming a barrier.

Of course, wherever there is tragedy, there’s scope for excellent comedy and Payne, together with his duo of comedy actors/writers, Jim Rash and Nat Faxon don’t miss a beat. If I cried three times (which of course, I totally didn’t), I belly laughed more. The strength of such an emotionally charged story is that the delivery of comedy is simultaneously funnier and more poignant. For that reason I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that the film could well walk away with Best Film and Best Adapted Screenplay next month. The film is released today and if you feel like your soul could use a bit of a jump start this year, I strongly recommend you take in this picture.

‘Shame’ is the second feature from maverick director and Turner Prize winner, Steve McQueen CBE. Like his debut film, ‘Hunger’, it stars current Hollywood golden boy Michael Fassbender, and in many ways his female counterpart, Carey Mulligan. Considering both of their ever rising statuses in the game, the roles undertaken by the pair are staggeringly brave.

Fassbender, in the midst of another stellar year, continues to shine in the role of Brandon. Brandon is 30-something, moderately successful in the NYC office game, with a cool white, modern apartment in Manhattan. Externally, he is a catch (Bateman, anyone?). People want to know him, and people want to be around him. Women, namely. Is this because he is able to offer them something more than they are accustomed to? The answer is yes, simply, in the short term. Playing off the failures of his sleaze bag, family man boss’s tequila fuelled attempts to lure pant-suited blondes back to his penthouse, Brandon is able to charm (the pants off) the same blondes by simply identifying the colour of their eyes (a first hurdle at which his boss David (24′s James Badge Dale) falls flat on his face) before proceeding to literally eyef**k the s**t out of them from across the room. David is in awe. How?

By all accounts, Brandon is a master of seduction. To a point, this is true. He knows how to get what he wants, which in most cases involves convincing his prey that it’s what they want as well. I use the word ‘prey’ for a reason. While Brandon doesn’t necessarily victimise his sexual conquests, they certainly fall victim to his obsessive influence whether they realise it or not. This is where the torture of sexual addiction becomes a more complicated affliction than say, alcohol or drug dependency. The latter are harder to keep a secret as they outwardly affect the people around you. Family and friends are able to easily identify the noticeable changes in appearance and behaviour, and the addiction is able to be confronted head on. As mesmerisingly addressed in ‘Shame’, sexual addiction is a wholly inner struggle that can only be reckoned with upon exposure.

Cue Sissy, Brandon’s equally but indifferently troubled younger sister uncharacteristically but unbelievably well portrayed by Carey Mulligan. Until her reintroduction into his life, Brandon has been able to comfortably satisfy his urges without consequence. There has been a substantial lack of guilt, and a definite lack of shame up to this point, it seems, as Brandon has isolated himself into a world without intimacy, dominated by pornography, prostitution and one-night stands. He continually ignores her attempts to contact him, culminating in a desperate answer phone message in which is she attempts to get a rise out of him by claiming she has a week to live. That being what it is, a grotesque use of falsified disease in order to hear his voice, what choice did he really leave her with? As we come to learn, she is a sufferer of her own afflictions, namely depression, and is desperate for the intimacy that Brandon could not care less for. Before he knows it, she has moved in and onto his couch via a strangely comfortable welcome that is passed over in the most uncomfortable of fashions courtesy of a Steve McQueen trademark single take, single shot scene in Brandon’s bathroom.

It is upon Sissy’s arrival in Brandon’s life that we are able to see his addiction for what it is; an emotional numbing of the heart driven by denial, hypocrisy and selfishness. As if he had spent all of his available energy on feeding his addiction and keeping it a secret, his forced awareness of Sissy’s own struggles and shortcomings moves him to, for the first time, show cracks in himself. For starters, he overlooks his use of pornography at work, only for his buddy-boss to end up ignorantly blaming an intern and getting him off the hook. Where he once selected partners based on sexual attraction, he begins to inadvertently entertain himself with the idea of genuine affection. The result being, the inability to perform, and having sex with a loveless prostitute just to get the taste out of his mouth.

This slow transformation is presented stunningly by McQueen in a series of visually arresting sequences that can last for minutes at a time without a single cut or line of dialogue. He invites you to understand Brandon’s world without ever being forced to feel uncomfortable within yourself. What you see is certainly graphic and over extended periods of time, but it is all integral to the characters and their progression through the story. McQueen’s cinematic techniques strive to create a realistic sense of discomfort for the characters, not the viewer. Without these scenes of destructive realism, the theme of sexual addiction would become completely redundant, and the film itself, pointless.

It is not simply Sissy’s presence that plays on Brandon’s consistency though. Sure, without her on his couch he would never be caught masturbating by anyone, nor would his online sex chats ever be discovered. These are all elements of his continual exposure that he is able to deal with through a variety of outlets and resolutions. If anything, it does him good. What Brandon is unable to cope with is another person’s dependancy on his company and support. Sissy’s insecurity and acute depression has eventually led her back to him, her apparently only available lifeline. From the sounds of things, their parents are either dead or entirely estranged, though it is never mentioned. All we know, is that the tormented pair come from ‘a bad place’.

If we are to imagine that Brandon’s own personal battles mean that his head is only slightly above the water, the addition of Sissy’s need to be recognised as important to someone else’s existence is the heavily weighted sinker that proceeds to drown him. While he will never admit it to himself, he struggles so hard to be responsible for himself that being remotely responsible for someone else’s emotional health, even a family members, is completely out of the question. His addiction drives him to be outwardly angry with Sissy in such an unconscious way that through his attempts to debase her, he in turn is able to further deny himself. In this new found proximity, he finds further cause to defer concern away from himself by way of embellishing the struggles of his sister. When she begins to question him, his immediate defence is to hypocritically force her to question herself. In the end, this continued act of blind selfishness proves to be more of a reckoning than Brandon could have ever imagined.

In a year full of overwhelming performances, none are as bold or as raw than that of Fassbender and Mulligan. Fassbender is all but assured an Oscar nomination for his pained performance, and judging by the current five frontrunners, I would say with confidence that this is the standout male performance of the year, on a level par with Tilda Swinton in ‘We Need To Talk About Kevin’. He encapsulates Brandon with such beautiful honesty that it’s hard to imagine the likes of Pitt or Clooney topping him. Unfortunately for Fassbender’s film, it is up against the much more academy-friendly ‘Moneyball’ and ‘The Descendants’. Two films that are no less impressive, but staggeringly less controversial. Whether he can achieve what he deserves all depends on the balls of the voters. Being recognised by the Hollywood Foreign Press is a start; a controversial nomination by all accounts, no doubt in response to Fassbender’s unrelenting success with the critics’ associations. My allegiances now lie with him though, and I will be crossing my fingers from now until February 26th.

Carey Mulligan’s turn as Sissy is simply another level of outstanding. I suppose what’s most impressive is the fact that it is completely outside of the comfort zone that she has established for herself over the last three years. ‘Drive’ was somewhat of a departure in terms of the type of film she was featuring herself in, but the role selection was typical as far as what we’ve come to expect of her. Sissy is a fragile, distressful character, and in her first stab at the psychologically gritty, she absolutely nailed it. Flexing her expressive dramatic muscles for the first time, she latches onto Fassbender from the first second she appears on screen, not loosening her grasp on his psyche for the remainder of the film. Little screen time as she may have, it is more than enough time to affect the story in the most incredible way of any supporting character in film this year (2011).

Looking at the list of Supporting Actress hopefuls, I would fully expect to hear Mulligan’s name announced on January 24th. As someone who has witnessed a great deal of impressive performances throughout the past year, I would hope that she will surprise the masses and take home her first of prospectively many Academy Awards when the winners are announced next month. Again though, it comes down to the film itself, and whether the Academy can bear to bestow greatness on a film as aggressively honest as ‘Shame’. It’s a funny old game, the Oscars, with undeserving winners walking away with gold year after year. I find that part of the fun though. When your deserving underdogs come through and upset the masses, it’s a fist pumping moment for any serious film lover.

‘Shame’ is certainly not for everyone, it’s true. Some will argue that it’s not for anyone. What it absolutely and unequivocally is however, is an astonishing piece of visceral storytelling from a truly gifted artist brought to life by the two best dramatic performances of the year. On that merit, it is well worth your time even if you’d rather not experience it in a crowded auditorium on a first date.



Christopher Plummer has been racking up nominations for his turn as Hal, in a performance that is subtle in his denial over his terminal cancer and with the two hands that he grabs at his new and happier life. There is a big element of nostalgia in director and writer Mike Mills’ personal tale, which in part is due to the semi-autobiographical content, but also present in the style of the film. The idea of memory as something that can stunt our personal growth is key to Oliver’s issues in his relationship with Anna. The affection between Oliver and his father could be considered a little too neat considering Hal’s revelation, but the acceptance and care that Oliver has towards his father is such a pleasant change to what many others might use as a harrowing experience.

The film travels from past to present without simplistic title cards to explain when we are, much in the same way a memory might come to us in the present moment. Mills work as a graphic designer – for amongst others Airand The Beastie Boys – shows through with the visual elements on display obviously very important to him (for more of his work head here). There are flourishes of this in the montage of photos that explains Oliver and his families past. These visual collages also cover the political implications of what being gay meant when Hal was growing up and influenced his mostly closeted lifestyle.

Ewan McGregor shares terrific chemistry with both Plummer and Laurent and there is a level of intimacy that connects the audience to this story on a personal level. The scene in which Anna reveals her complicated relationship with her father to Oliver in the hotel room could have dipped into the melodrama, but instead conveyed simplicity and heartbreak that also feed into Oliver’s own story.

The other star of the film is Arthur (Cosmo); a Jack Russell dog that belonged to Hal that Oliver inherits upon Hal’s passing. The cutesy subtitles that accompany Arthur on several occasions may seem a bit twee to some, but it works because of what a huge character Arthur is in both of Oliver’s stories. Arthur has a face that suggests old wisdom. Without him, the film would have lost some of the heart.

A final clincher for picking Beginners as my film of the year: One Melanie Laurent. Familiar to many due to her excellent performance in Inglorious Basterds, Laurent is talented beyond her acting, moonlighting as both a director and a singer songwriter. Yep, the old actress as singer (or vice versa) is not often all that successful or good (there are exceptions, see Zooey Deschanel) but Laurent’s debut album ‘En t’attendant’ is by far one of my most listened to and favourite albums of 2011. Most of the songs are in French and I have to admit that my GCSE in French really doesn’t help with the translation or my singing along but I attempt it nonetheless. For a taster check out Laurent’s collaboration with Damien Rice and then go and watch Beginners, available to buy on DVD and Blu-ray now.

And every straight out comedy, The Other Guys, Hot Tub Time Machine, Date Night fell well far off the mark. So can 2011 revive comedy’s carcass? Surely Paul, the new Fregg and Post film will turn the tide? Nope, nope and nope. Again the Facebook film has more genuine laughs. But by no means does that make Paul a bad film. Just one that is not as funny as you’d hope.

Quintessential English nerds Graeme Willy and Clive Gollings (not quite Coen-esque names but at least stars and writers Frost and Pegg made on effort) embark on a once in a lifetime sight-seeing journey across America, with certain particular sights in mind. Namely anything unidentified, flying and object related. From Comic Con to Roswell and all the flying saucers hotspots inbetween. The journey takes a turn for the stellar when a car in front of them swerves off the road and from the wreckage out steps Paul, four foot, bulbous head, huge eyes and grey skin, in need of a lift.

The Shaun duo, flying without Edgar Wright for the first time, have picked up more than enough “American Friends” to help them on their quest of medium-sized-budget, road movie frolics (incidentally one that is doing remarkable figures at the UK box-office so far). Mottola, Rogen, Wiig, Bateman, Weaver and Hader all add their comedy chops to make this appear more than a little British movie about two guys with a huge crush on Sci-fi films, and for the most part their distraction achieves its goal. Even if the challenge is at times monumental.

Certain references, and there are a more than enough to fill a Spaced Convention, from CEOTTK to Aliens and Back to the Future, will have fanboys Empire Strikes Back Y-fronts straining for room. By the time of the ‘Leia-Boushy-Wiig’ if you are so inclined you may even have a lump in your throat too. Therein lies Paul‘s greatest hope. The level of affection for all things dweeby, geeky and downright nerdy is so huge it could power the Falcon to a record beating Kessel run of under 11 parsecs. Like a Dear Spielberg/Lucas fan letter writ large. And again, this is no bad thing.

Sadly, however, when these dry up (and they can’t a complete film make) we’re back to the start and looking for laughs. Laughs that can only come if you place yourself back at the age you were when you first saw Star Wars. When you first thought an alien with 3 tits was pant-wettingly hilarious. If you can transport yourself back to then you’ll have such a fun time you may well want to bring a change of underwear. If you can’t then Paul is still a pleasure, just a slightly diluted one.

Spielberg with swearing. Shee-eee-eee-E.T., if you will. The huge side helping of affection gives it just enough to make it to the credits with a grin intact. As the Bugsy kids sang, “You give a little love, And it all comes back to you.”

Follow Owen on Twitter

There are, of course, a million more takes on the coupling, (the Iron and Wine ditty ‘The Trapeze Swinger’ is the one that resonates for this writer) but if you take the bulk of things that move any of us you’ll find one or the other present. Love and Death.

With its tragic subject matter etched into ever frame, Never Let Me Go promised to add to the list. It not only achieved this with admirable finesse but surpasses the marker and is elevated, instead, to one of the more important takes on both subjects for quite some time.

As she recounts her childhood days at Hailsham boarding school, Kathy H (Carey Mulligan) look back on her lost love, Tommy (Andrew Garfield), the girl that stole him away, Ruth (Keira Knightley) and the strange cirumstances of how and why she was bought into the world. To say more on the plot details would possibly remove a large amount of the hard work gone into establishing the, at times, difficult to present heart of the story. Instead simply know once again; This is a tale of Love, and this is a tale of Death.

That you will never hear the latter word uttered once is testament to the impressive job done by screenwriter Alex Garland, lifting out the terminology of the alternate world Never Let Me Go is set in, without ever cramming the more, Science Fictional aspects of the tome by Kazuo Ishiguro, down any throats. Subtlety is the order of the day. On a personal level, as a Norfolk native (and fellow UEAer) it’s touching to see the infinite yet constrictive coast given the same love by the film and its makers, as it had been given in the book.

The three central performances by Mulligan, Garfield and Knightley are outstanding. Mulligan carries the film with an oxymoronic mix of cold hearted wiser than her years strength and child like warmth and affection. Garfield, in a role that could have been played as a sap, finds enough within to make Tommy deeply loveable.

Knightley, derided as much because of other people’s jealousy as for her roles in the latter POTC films, (see here for more praise) betters her strong performances for Joe Wright (the only man until Mark Romenek who could get the best out of her) with a turn that (eventually) finds sympathy in, amongst other things, a confessional scene that in other years would win awards (more on that later).

A further commendation should also be issued to the child actors, and in particular to the casting director responsible for finding them. The young Kathy H (Isobel Meikle-Small) is so impressive that the characters transition to adulthood is so faultless you may believe the film makers waited the intervening years for the actor to achieve the age required.

Director Mark Romenak has crafted a beautiful, touching film that will stay with you long after the popcorn has been swept away and the tissues binned. That it has been both overlooked by audiences Stateside, film distributors over here (Fox all but dumped the release) and award nominating bodies everywhere, may make some doubt the success of the finished product. They shouldn’t, they should seek the film out, view it for themselves and bask in an under-appreciated triumph.

If history does in, indeed, deem Never Let Me Go a failure then may all future failures be as good.

Follow Owen on Twitter

In what could prove the role of a life time Lawrence plays the steely ‘Ree Dolly’, a teenage girl who is left to care and fight for her ramshackle family. With the families ailing livelihood under threat Ree is forced to persue her dead beat father and venture into the unscrupulous underbelly of the Ozarks, a remote mountain range spanning the central United States. As you’d expect, the only thing more inhospitable than the terrain are the local meth heads and pushers who, for reasons undisclosed do their best to keep Ree at arms length.

Although Lawrence’s performance is the main focus of press chatter it’d would be remiss of me to ignore the contributions of the supporting cast. Garret Dillahunt once again proves himself to be one of the most supportive actors in town following on from small but perfectly formed roles in some of the best movies of recent years (see No Country for Old Men, The Assassination of Jesse James and The Road). Whilst their screen time is limited the young actors who play Ree’s younger siblings should also be acknowledged as although small, their on screen vulnerability is crucial in quickly establishing the family’s dire straits.

Having said all that, there is really only one substantial supporting role in the whole movie. Whilst John Hawkes has been working pretty steadily for the past twenty years he is arguably best known for his roles on the small screen, (like the afformentioned Dillahunt, he had a supporting role in the under appreciated show Deadwood). If there is any justice in the world Winter’s Bone should put pay to that. If Lawrence is a shoe in for an Oscar nom, then Hawke’s role as Ree’s conflicted uncle ‘Teardrop’ certainly gives him an outside shot at joining her in the winners circle.

Should you still need convincing as to the merits of this film then look no further than the above picture. Despite her relative inexperience with a megaphone writer/director Granik fills every scene with contrast. Her experience as a cinematographer seems to have paid off in her filming of the untamed Ozark region. Within single frames Ree’s surroundings seem stunning yet bleak, terrifying yet homely, dangerous yet protected.
Usually at this point I dredge up some pernickety beef I have conjured up for the sake of vitriol but in this case there is nothing. Instead I will utalise these vacant lines to point out that the sparingly used soundtrack is also excellent. Whilst it may not have the bravado of a Mansell or Giacchino score the sparce combination of traditional Blue Grass numbers and atmospheric score, composed by Brit rocker, Dickon Hinchliffe of Tindersticks fame, is a perfect accompaniment.

Well worth seeking out on DVD Right Frickin’ Now.

It’s a good job that Disney re-teamed with these giants to help recover their animation crown. Disney had their shot at computer animation with films such as Chicken Little, Meet the Robinsons and Bolt 3D all charming but all near misses and nowhere near to Pixar’s usual strengths. However Disney gave it another go, one more chance to prove themselves, which leads me neatly onto Tangled.

Now I love a good Disney film and for me the classics are still the best, Lady and the Tramp, The Sword in the Stone, Robin Hood, and the newer classics such as The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast and my favourite Aladdin. Love them! When I first heard that Disney was bringing the tale of Rapunzel to the screen I admit I was not overly excited, especially considering some of Disney’s newest efforts have either been inferior straight to DVD sequels, or just plain not good. However I knew I would definitely watch the film, if just out of plain curiosity….Oh wow….

It’s brilliant. I know it may be too quick and easy a conclusion to reach but this film is so good. Firstly the look of the film is gorgeous. It has the look of the best of Disney’s classics, such as Sleeping Beauty, the castle and surrounding town on the mountain island, the forest, Rapunzel’s tower; it’s so wonderful, with a soft but glowing vibrancy. The lighting is beautiful in this film and the characters appearances are brilliant, I don’t envy the guy whose task it was to animate Rapunzel’s mass train of golden hair. When watching you do slightly forget this film is computer animated, the 3D does not so much have the gimmicky pop that you may expect, but the standout scene with the two main characters in a boat surrounded by a hundreds of glowing lanterns is magnificent and memorable.

The cast are superb. For fans of the comedy spy show Chuck (such as myself) Zachary Levi lends his voice to male lead Flynn Rider, and also sings! Very well I might add. Alongside his perfectly cast female star Mandy Moore (who also sings superbly), Broadway star Donna Murphy is so wickedly good in the role of the stepmother, her song Mother Knows Best is genius. Speaking of the songs, Disney favourite Alan Menken  is back to lend his magical musical touch, which I was particularly pleased about given his excellent track record (Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, The Little Mermaid).

I know what you may be thinking, all Disney films are quite cheesy and sickly sweet, well this has some cheese but pleasantly has reduced the amount of sugar in the mix. There are the usual trademark moments of realisations of love and tearful reunions, but there is also a good amount of humour in it for the whole family, and in a slight break from Disney tradition, the animals DON’T talk!

Now I did say at the beginning of my review that this was a Disney film rather than Pixar, but actually have “cheated” a little bit as they have none other than Pixar top man John Lasseter as their executive producer, which could account for the film’s quality, and I thank him for his contribution. This film brilliantly mixed old and modern in more ways than one, bringing a hint of nostalgia with a refreshingly new outlook and humour. Tangled is a superb effort, something that can charm anyone, unless you have a heart of stone. If you are looking for a film to give you a good chuckle and leave you with a warm fuzzy feeling then you should definitely check this film out, even if you are not a great Disney fan, give it a chance and let it works its magic on you.

Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) lives for ballet. As exact as anyone in her company, her director (Vincent Casel) insists she lacks the passion to accompany her technical ability and push herself forward to becoming a great dancer. When the starring role of The Swan Queen is made available Nina is given the challenging task of performing as both the elegant, fragile White Swan and the dark, sensual Black Swan. To achieve the latter, she is forced to push herself into dangerous new territory.

Arguably as big a name as any thesp of her generation, Portman, may have always been good but she has rarely convinced as one of the new great actresses. Quite aptly for the part in The Black Swan she has lived in the shadow of Leon, her terrific debut, for almost two decades. When working with accomplished directors (Mike Nichols in Closer) or when given memorable parts (Sam in Garden State) she excels, but with Black Swan this is the first time since the 12-year old hit-girl, she has acheived the thing all actors crave; transcendency. It’s the kind of fully commited performance that has been (deservedly) winning awards a-plenty.

Another feather in the film’s cap is the achingly beautiful score. For those (poor, wrong people) that hated everything about The Fountain, few could contest Clint Mansell’s breathtaking soundtrack. Here he has surpassed himself with his best work to date, adapting Tschaikovsky to fit the screen, a task much harder than it seems. It’s a shame then that the Oscars decree it ineligible for not being purely original. If ever there was a need for a best adapted score exception, it’s here.

The script is tight, hitting the structural beats at the right time, ratchetting up the tension where needed before swan-diving to the crippling denoeumont. The dialogue’s repitition does at time, however, become wearisome. The need to foreshadow the film’s events and make sure not a single audience member is missing the duality of the dancer and her dance condescends, instead of respecting, the audience watching. After all, this is a film about ballet; Fast and Furious lovers need not, and will not apply.

For Aronofsky it’s 5 for 5. For Portman, proof that her ability as an actress lies not alone in her director, but also her own bravery. There may not be a plethora of ballet movies to pick from but this riveting, unnerving display of what it takes to live a life en pointe richly deserves its place next to Powell and Pressburgers all time classic,The Red Shoes.

Just a word of warning though, if anybody refers to the previous as simply Powell’s film (as I’ve seen done in too numerous a publication to mention) I’ll personally pirouette on your crotch.