POMO

A notable film experiment for which the innovative Mike Figgis deserves praise. But if you’re looking for entertainment, emotional engagement or an adrenaline rush, you’re not going to find it here.

A fragile, intelligent and honest psychological study of warped interpersonal relationships. Enjoyable, uplifting, well acted. No big tears or overwrought dramatic scenes. But it doesn’t make much of an impression on the viewer.

A guy drills a hole in the top of a shaved head, inserts a straw in it and starts sucking out brains. The victim is a woman tied to a chair, whose teeth he had pulled out earlier. And that’s just one of the scenes this film serves up as if on an assembly line. It’s supposed to be twisted splatter fun, but it’s not. It's just disgusting and perverse. It’s also a case of shitty filmmaking. Boring, primitive trash.

Excellent actors and a lot of apt truths on the issue of man & woman that aren’t often spoken out loud. But as a whole... ugh! If Jean-Claude Brisseau seriously meant this, he needs to wake up and realise it’s 2003. And if he meant it ironically, he completely undermined the resonance and seriousness of an otherwise promising, very topical subject. The film is thus somewhat reminiscent of Eyes Wide Shut. But Stanley Kubrick didn’t leave me in doubt for even a second, left me breathless for the duration of his film and took me to the moon.

The Last Minute starts out well, but it then descends into a confused and blurred view of the hardships of a man who could have had everything, but instead lost everything and became a wreck due to his lack of self-control. Another addition to the wave of dynamic British filmmaking, but it falls far short in comparison with its peers (Danny Boyle, Guy Ritchie). Stephen Norrington wanted to say so much and set out to philosophise to the point that the given form couldn’t bear it and his work thus got cut off at the knees.

Don’t Torture a Duckling is one of the films that clearly prove that Lucio Fulci was not only a purveyor of trash, but also a skilled director. In filmmaking terms, this thriller-drama can be faulted only for its excessive runtime. The plot is that of a conventional thriller about the search for a murderer, formalistically set in an unconventional environment. Of course, the film is characterised by Fulci’s fetishistic close-up shots, underscored by music that has a strange effect. The film practically has no main character, instead focusing on multiple characters whose portrayal alternates from suspect to innocent and vice versa. The provocative sexual tension surrounding one of the most prominent characters, embodied by the beautiful Barbara Bouchet, is pleasing.

You wait for the film to finally kick into gear and then suddenly it’s over. The slightly growing mystery turns into a murder plot and the viewer, expecting a scary horror movie, instead gets a crime thriller with a point seen before in television crime series. It’s appropriate for the given setting; there is no spooky gothic castle situated deep in the mountains. Rather, we find ourselves in a white, modern house on a hill above a luminous city. The actors and characters are OK, the screenplay is refined and the film has one great scare, but it also has a few jokes that are hackneyed by today’s standards and a literally ridiculous “would-be terrifying” climax. The House on Haunted Hill is skilfully filmed, but it lacks ideas. And unlike some similar horror movies of its time (The Haunting), it hasn’t aged well.

If someone in the cinema had got the celluloid reels mixed up, you wouldn't even notice it. If this movie is a commercial success, that will mean the beginning of the end of good American film entertainment – nothing more than a big budget is needed to make something like this. I’m glad that I will die with the current generation and not be a witness to the time when 90% of Hollywood productions are guided by this equation.

The initial investigation of past events through flashbacks is so boring and uninteresting that it doesn’t draw you into the plot at all and after the first major twist, you don't know which way is north. And you’re only halfway through the movie, with about ten more twists like this still to come, plus one final twist that would put a hole in Keyser Söze’s head. The problem with Basic is that John McTiernan is no Bryan Singer. And predatory action in the rainforest is not a priority in his screenplay. The film is just an unbelievably overwrought and muddled cock-and-bull story that not even the excellent cast can save.

The Animatrix: Final Flight of the Osiris is like the best action sequence from Final Fantasy. In fact, it’s even better. The film completely fulfilled its ambitions and to want more from it than a feast for the eyes would be nonsense.