I Saw The Devil
Brutal revenge thriller with young cop chasing crazy-ass serial killer.

Hobo With A Shotgun
Stupid, violent, crass, hilarious. Full review.

I Melt With You
Dark, haunting drama as four old friends reunite to get trashed on drugs. Bad stuff happens.

127 Hours
Insanely stylish Danny Boyle visuals are the attraction here, everyone already knows the storyline.

Hanna
Retread of La Femme Nikita entertains nevertheless, aided by class visuals and killer music.

Red State
Grimy, nasty thriller loses its way in the last quarter, but still a worthy watch. Full review.

True Grit
They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. Well, not much anyway. The Coens deliver.

Black Swan
Aronofsky’s dreamlike fairytale of ballerina losing her marbles. Or is she? (Yes, she is. Maybe.)

The Man From Nowhere
Korean take on Taken (heh) as unassuming operative looks for girl kidnapped by thugs.

Stars: Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Bryan Cranston, Albert Brooks
Director: Nicolas Winding Refn
2011

On paper, Drive sounds like a generic carcrash flick, with a plot reminiscent of both Walter Hill’s The Driver and more recently, three Transporter sillinesses (it’s a word). And at one point it was destined to be your standard action movie with Hugh Jackman in the lead. Thankfully, Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn jumped on board and created a modern masterpiece of cool austerity. In a world full of bloated, CGI-botoxed action movies, Drive shows how the genre can still surprise when some effort is put into it. And surprise it does, with miles of style, thunderous car chases and some truly horrendous ultraviolence. A paean to the 1980s, the bright pink font used in the credits hammers this home even before the utterly astounding Cliff Martinez synth score registers. It’s like GTA Vice City in the flesh. But make no mistake, this story is set ferociously in the present. Oozing with modern noir atmosphere and deliberate pacing, Drive delivers on all fronts while restraining itself where many actioners go over the top and into parody. The opening car chase is alternately pulse-pounding and excruciatingly slow, serving to show that the unnamed driver has smarts as well as wheel skills. Gosling is in fine form here. He has few lines (I don’t think the character even spoke for the first fifteen minutes or so), but his actions speak volumes. And, in a nice visual metaphor, he’s got a boss silver quilted jacket which sustains battle scars as the driver’s carefully planned existence begins to unravel. Refn infuses the supporting characters with depth, with Brooks, Cranston and surly man-ape Ron Perlman all delivering spectacular performances. Carey Mulligan, as the next-door love interest, doesn’t exactly set the world on fire but she’s cute in a serene kind of way. Most importantly though, you can understand why the driver is interested in her. The best film of 2011, believe the hype.

10/10

Stars: Rutget Hauer, Molly Dunsworth
Director: Jason Eisener
2011

I can think of no better way to start the new year than with a depraved gutbucket comedy, especially one that supplies laughs and disgust in amounts not seen since the mid-80s glory days of Troma. Rutger Hauer is the titular armed bum, who goes all vigilante in a town full of druggies and crooked cops, all run by a goofball mob boss and his two psychopathic sons. Shot in a lurid, oversaturated Kodachrome, there’s enough garish colour splashed across the screen to fill two more Joel Schumacher Batman films (I wouldn’t put it past Hollywood), and serves to emphasise the general cartoon feel. Levels of gore here are off the map, and hilarious. There are lawnmower limb removals, flamethrower massacres, human pinatas, decapitations, castrations and more twelve-gauge thoracic surgery than you can shake a shitty stick at. Something for the whole family – if your last name is Manson. The script and continuity are a total shambles, overflowing with hyperbole, goofs and plain old impossible “what the fuck?”s but in a film of this particular type it doesn’t matter in the slightest. The scriptwriter redeems himself with a plethora of insults, vile come-ons and other assorted off-colour lines that amused this reviewer greatly. The set designers also supply some immature graffiti on background walls, so keep an eye open. Hauer isn’t exactly pushing himself here – his role only calls for two emotions, vacancy and rage – but it’s good to see him back on screen again. In the role of the standard hooker with a heart of gold, Molly Dunsworth is an absolute babe and gets involved in the violent mayhem like a trooper. By the end of the film she’s so coated in splatter she looks like a human toffee apple. mmmmmm…

8/10

Behold, the majestic EarthQuaker Devices Rainbow Machine.

This pedal is a polyphonic harmoniser and modulator and oscillator. It does harmonies from a 4th down to a 3rd up, and every atonal pitch between. I do not know what that last sentence means. The Rainbow Machine is true bypass, which is of course the most important factor it offers. Controls include primary and secondary knobs, which control the volume of the pitch shifted signals, tracking, which is the delay time between dry and pitch shifted signals, and magic, which controls the amount of magic in conjunction with the magic footswitch. The magic footswitch switches the magic on and off. The pink paint contains a special polymer to enhance tonal delivery, while segregating any tremular vibrations that may contaminate the signal. I certainly couldn’t hear any colouration, which proves this clever addition works. The footswitches are chrome in colour, an industry standard that I feel won’t be changing any time soon. And nor should it.

To test this pedal I used my Gretsch G6120SSC Brian Setzer Tribute (upgraded with a Seymour Duncan Invader in the neck and DiMarzio X2N in the bridge, coil splittable naturally) and Dumble Overdrive Special. The Dumble is of course plugged in with a Music Cord Pro, which is wound with oxygen free high conductivity copper to provide the higher quality power that the beast of an amp’s crystal lattice requires for preservation of fragile harmonics. To plug in the Rainbow Machine, I used Pete Cornish Silver Signature cables, which are sleeved overall with a tough Polyamide 6-6 woven braid which has excellent abrasion and cut through resistance and are continuously rated at 170C. Non-directional wiring is the icing on the cake with these puppies, perfect transparency without the fuss of having to ensure they’re not plugged in backwards. Rather than using the Dumble’s overdrive to test the pedal’s predilection for dirt, I used a Boss Metal Zone.

Kicking in the Rainbow Machine really gets the Dumble’s 6L6 NOS Mullards humming, with the pitch shifted harmonies wafting from the Altec 817 alnicos like so much unicorn ejaculate. The cromulence was astounding, an transcendant tone to make angels weep as they realise their harps sound crappy in comparison. More effector effervescence can be added by judicious use of the tracking control, whereas turning the tone knob adjusts the tone. This is a handy feature indeed, especially if one wants to adjust the tone. The magic knob only functions when the magic footswitch is depressed (with your foot or other preferred appendage). The magic effect is, for want of a better word, magic. It adds a sparkling, modulated oscillation (or “magic”) to the signal, which can be adjusted to your preferred level with, no surprises here, the afore mentioned magic knob. The smooth, transparent crunch imparted by the effect is truly mind-boggling, your mind will simply boggle at the tonal tone proper. Creamy, and yet bubbly. The tracking knob tweaks the delay time, allowing the pitch shifts to overlap the dry signal like a…. With the Metal Zone kicked in, vertical integration of the clipping adds a dimensionally pleasant auditory artifact, gleaning pleasing results with and/or without the magic effect engaged and/or not engaged as the case may be. Jangle.

All in all, I can safely say this the best pedal in existence. Every home should have one, and I daresay probably even two – one for in front of your amp and one in the loop. Break out your platinum Diner’s Card today and take the plunge going forward!

Stars: David Caruso, Linda Fiorentino, Chazz Palminteri, Angie Everhart, Michael Biehn
Director: William Friedkin
1995

It’s hard not to compare Jade to Basic Instinct, which came out a couple of years before. Similar sordid sexymurderer plot with “did she or didn’t she” ambiguity, sumptuous San Francisco locations, and a fairly clueless cop stumbling through the investigation like Inspector Clouseau with a boner. These comparisons are not surprising though, seeing both were written by smokin’ Joe Eszterhas (though apparently Friedkin did an extensive rewrite here, much to Joe’s chagrin). With Uncle Billy at the helm, there is no shortage of directorial flair on show. A stylish modern noir vibe pervades throughout, and every location is spectacular and/or opulent. Of course, being a Friedkin film there are a couple of rather spectacular car chases, including one which turns convention on its head by taking place at about five miles an hour through a street parade. Promotional consideration by the Ford motor company. Hot babe quotient is upped by the casting of redheaded amazon Angie Everhart in a small role as random eyecandy, a role she delivers with aplomb right up until she gets pulped in the film’s most violent scene. A word of warning though – those tuning in to see Linda Fiorentino in a state of undress will be sorely disappointed, she remains stubbornly clothed throughout, even during the film’s raunchiest bits of banging. She certainly did not throw herself into the role with Sharon Stone-like abandon, more’s the pity. A flawed film, but an easy, sleazy watch.

6/10

Stars: Jason Momoa, Stephen Lang, Rose McGowan, Ron Perlman
Director: Marcus Nispel
2011

It’s because of atrocities like this that I don’t watch new release movies anymore. Yet another stone classic retooled for retards, with all the heart and poetry of the original sucked out and replaced with hypersonic CGI visuals and a moronic magical plot reminiscent of a lesser episode of Xena: Warrior Princess. Oaken oaf Jason Momoa is horrific as Conan, delivering smouldering looks to camera from beneath his Klingon-esque forehead, flipping his long moussed locks like Kip Winger circa 1989 and attempting to add gravel to his voice only to have it crack at inopportune times like an adolescent boy’s. The dude’s buff enough, but his general air is of male model, not badass barbarian. Being forced to deliver ridiculously banal dialogue and modern throwaway lines like “Not bad!” doesn’t help either. The Stone/Milius script of the 1982 original was of such quality and depth that it made even a non-actor like Schwarzenegger sound impressive. Not so here – the screenplay doesn’t even attempt the original’s thoughtfulness and mythology, it expounds just enough to keep the plethora of peripheral characters moving along with Conan to the next fight scene. And for the faithful, there are plenty of fight scenes. Plenty of stupid, pointless fight scenes laced with slow motion and computerised blood splashes. And spooky sand warriors and giant octopuses. Accordingly, there is no shortage of limb-lopping and sundry other bodily mutilations, but it’s hard to get hard over carnage that looks so obviously fake. Final scene where Conan roars like a high school jock watching a football game is the final ignominy to two hours of idiocy. A disgrace.

2/10

Stars: Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Joel Edgerton, Eric Christian Olsen
Director: Matthijs van Heijningen Jr.
2011

John Carpenter’s The Thing is one of my favourite movies of all time, and one that I consider almost flawless in execution. So imagine my joy when the Hollywood recycling machine announced they were doing another version of it. Not much joy. Though the filmmakers went to great pains to advertise this as a “prequel and not a remake”, rest assured it’s definitely a remake. Sure, it takes place before the events of the Carpenter film and explains the story of what happened to those crazy Swedes, but so what. No matter how they try to spin it the story is the same (alien shapeshifter rampages through Antarctic base) and to rub salt in the wound certain scenes are stolen wholesale from the 1982 version. And surely if it was actually a proper prequel, they would have given it a new, different title? Like Rise Of The Thing, The Thing: Origins or even The Thing: The Official Cash-In Prequel? This being a millennium update for gore-hungry hordes of stoned teens, of course it’s packed full of unnecessary CGI, dumbed-down dialogue, simplified plot and ridiculous jump scares. All the slowburn tension, interpersonal angst and paranoia of the superlative Carpenter version has been summarily jettisoned, now it’s full-tilt videogame stupidity as dumbasses walk into darkened rooms in order to be eviscerated and/or assimilated, and other dumbasses squirt flamethrowers all around the place in gung-ho fiery showdowns with the thing. Spaz appeal stuff all the way. The creature itself is fully onscreen all the time, and looks utterly feeble. Like it was computer-animated by a ten year old for a school project. Rather than lurking in the shadows in order to leave something to the viewers imagination, the alien wanders around in full light so we can see how crappy it looks and transforms into various icky forms right in front of its cowering victims before attacking them with melty faces and razor-whip tentacles. It does this for no good reason of course, other than to keep the audience ohhing, ahhing and ewwing. Also, the way it escapes from the block of ice has to be seen to be believed – truly laughable. Perhaps surprisingly, I didn’t hate this as much as I was expecting to, but I’m putting that down to the fact that Mary Elizabeth Winstead was in it and I was blinded by lust. Otherwise, this is a total waste of time – no thrills, no chills, no heart.

3/10

Stars: Clint Eastwood, Geraldine Page
Director: Don Siegel
1971

Old stagers Eastwood and Siegel reteam and go all American Gothic in this dark, atmospheric tale of an injured Civil War infantryman finding refuge in a girl’s boarding school in Louisiana. The wily soldier charms and plays the students and teachers off against each other in order to extend his stay and save himself from being handed over to Confederate troops. Things go from bad to worse as his plan unravels, ultimately leading to a grim and unexpected conclusion. Siegel’s use of claustrophobic direction pays off in spades, as does spooky Southern mansion setting and jarring sound design. A fantastic mood piece with plenty of suspense and subtext. Sparse opening and closing theme song sung by Clint himself doesn’t hurt either.

8/10

Director: Errol Morris
2008

Errol Morris exposé detailing the US military shenanigans that went on in the Iraq Abu Ghraib detention centre – that’s a jail, to us normal folks – in 2003, and the scandal that erupted when incrimating photos of fun and games were released to the media. You know the ones: Arab on a leash, prisoner penis pyramid, etc. Interviews with various jarhead grunts, MPs and civilian interrogators (if that job isn’t a recipe for disaster I don’t know what is) are interesting but don’t reveal anything juicier than what we already know from copious CNN coverage. Pictures of, to use one of the film’s many military euphemisms, “detainees” shrunken peepees may offend some delicate viewers, but probably not as much as scapegoat grunt Lyndee England’s perfectly cube-shaped head and half-witted hick mumbling.

6/10

Stars: Sean Patrick Flanery, Tobin Bell, Betsy Russell, Cary Elwes
Director: Kevin Greutert
2010

It’s in 3D! Blood and stuff flies at the camera!

1/10