Review: Frank

It's such a great feeling when a film takes you by surprise; going into something with little expectation and coming out completely blown away is everything Frank – the new film from Lenny Abrahmson – completely embodies. It's a film full of surprises that always manages to keep one step ahead of the audience being completely unpredictable from scene to scene. In a way this perfectly parallels the explosive band of misfits the movie follows; the titular Frank leads the Soronprfbs, a musically gifted (if not completely insane) rock group through a journey to record their first album by any means necessary. It's an absolute joy of filmmaking, with some of the tightest direction I have seen so far this year, and some absolutely fantastic performances, most obviously from the always superb Michael Fassbender. Oh, and did I mention that Fassbender's Frank, in all his flamboyant eccentricities, wears a the head of Frank Sidebottom at all times? Fassbender is so good and is so magnetising, and he manages it without ever having to show you his face.

Fassbender's performance of course is helped by an utterly funny and thoughtful script. Frank manages that delicate line between drama and comedy, completely nailing both aspects; it captures a perfect balance where one doesn't invalidate or cheapen the other. The movie is silly, obviously, but you might be surprised by just how deeply it manages to affect you, and if by the final scene you haven't found yourself completely emotionally invested in all of these characters, it's by no means the fault of the movie. The film tackles and gets wound up in so many themes, commenting on everything from mental illness to the state of the modern music industry, but the beauty of Frank is that you take away whatever you're willing to bring to it. If you want it to be an off-beat, darkly comic look into the lives of a bunch of silly personalities, that's what you'll get out of it. However if you're looking for something more engaging and open to interpretation, that's what you'll get too. Frank doesn't feel the need to beat you over the head with it's themes, they're there for the audience to discover for themselves – this movie is far too sophisticated to feel the need to spell everything out.

Though a couple flaws raise their unwanted heads now and again; there's a few pacing issues, especially in the first half, and the film has a tendency to repeat itself occasionally, but it's nothing that breaks the film. It's a picture with flaws but in a way it's kind of appropriate because the film is about flawed people. Frank has such an enigmatic energy about it, such a passionate and assured sense of filmmaking that it's just a delight to watch. Maybe it's because I've been saturated by formulaic blockbusters recently but Frank feels like it was made by a group of people who really believed in a movie and really had fun making it, and all of this energy shows up on screen. Thankfully, as a film that uses music as a basis, Frank definitely has a killer soundtrack that's used perfectly to accentuate certain narrative and character beats. The film's final (and best) scene is an example of why music is so important in cinema, and perfectly shows how the synthesis between music and film can turn and okay scene into a mini-masterpiece in its own right. The film just wouldn't be so poignant without the impeccable attention to detail that's found in the film's soundtrack.

As the summer blockbuster season gears up, it's absolutely essential that alternatives like Frank are being released to brilliantly provide experimental, unconventional slices of cinema. It's not perfect but Frank manages capture and squeeze so much emotional resonance out of a narrative that could have fallen so very flat in the wrong hands. Early in the film, a character questions Frank: Why the mask? How does he eat? Does he ever take it off? - and then he's stopped. “You've just got to go along with it”, he's told. If you adopt this same philosophy and let Frank take you on an absolutely delightfully magnetising 90 minute adventure with his eclectic cast of characters, then you'll be in for one of the most surprisingly rewarding rides so far in 2014.

Review: The Amazing Spider-Man 2

The Amazing Spider-Man 2

Dir: Mark Webb

Starring: Andrew Garfield, Emma Stone, Dane DeHaan, Sally Field

Certificate: 12

142 minutes

Two years after the original (well, original in this series) hit cinemas, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 has swung into theatres, and while it improves on many issues featured in the original, it shows signs of heading in a troubling direction. The most obvious change is the movie's shift in tone, a far cry from the more “gritty” (as gritty as Spider-Man gets, anyway) reboot, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 is much lighter and so obviously targets a much younger audience. This is not 2012's brooding angsty Spider-Man, this is Spider-Man ripped straight out of a Silver Age comic book.

Fortunately, that's not a bad thing. This movie, unlike any of the previous entries, so feels like a Spider-Man film. Mark Webb gets everything about the superhero right; the web-swinging, the wit, the action, the villains, the cinematography, the characters, that it all feels like a Spider-Man comic on the screen. Just knowing they got every facet of the Spider-Man mythology right for once is such a joy to watch – and this is easily where the film excels the most. However, not everything translates well from comic to screen. A lot of the dialogue feels a bit silly when said out loud and not read on a page. Yet this is more the problem of director Mark Webb and the writing team than the source material. Spider-Man is at his best on-screen with the right balance of silly fun and emotional Peter Parker angst. While Mark Webb mostly gets the balance right, especially in the beginning and in the final act; the middle falls under the weight of itself and it gets too goofy and loses too much focus on the story it wants to tell. The film just crams too much in and needs to establish too many things in order to create the franchise Sony wants, that it feels like there are 4 or 5 different films fighting for prominence inside itself.

However when The Amazing Spider-Man gets it right, it really gets it right. The best part about this franchise is easily the relationship between Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker and Emma Stone's Gwen Stacey. Their chemistry on-screen is such a joy to watch, and their performances really give the movie a warm heart and soul that just manages to stop the whole thing imploding into a mass of special effects. It's these smaller character moments are where the film really shines, either in truly emotional scenes between any of the main cast or the witty Spider-Man interactions with villains or loved ones. These moments really are what a Superhero film should be and prove that the appeal of these films isn't just the CGI heavy scenes. It feels like Mark Webb really wants to focus on character and consequences but Sony wants to establish a franchise and universe in one film and it's such a shame because if the excess like Electro and a few sub-plots were cut or saved for a later film then this could have potentially been the best Spider-Man film yet.

Overall, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 in many ways is one step forwards and two steps back. It gains the heart and assurance that was missing from the original but it feels so bloated that inevitably not everything works. It has enough going for it for people to like, even love it, it's just a shame that it's brought down by being too unfocused and too convoluted. Nevertheless the start and end are so strong that the many problems of the second act feel irrelevant. The Amazing Spider-Man 2 isn't a bad film, nothing close has captured the idea and atmosphere of Spider-Man like this, it's just frustrating that the shortcomings stifle what so wants to be, and could be, a fantastic superhero film.

Review: The Raid 2

The Raid 2: Berandal

Dir: Gareth Evans

Starring: Iko Uwais, Arifin Putra, Julie Estelle, Oka Antara, Donny Alamsyah

Certificate 18

150 minutes

If nothing else, The Raid 2: Berandal is an argument for why sequels can work. The film isn't just a rehash of the popular original, it expands so much on everything that featured in the original that it feels like an entirely different picture. We leave behind an extremely streamlined and focused two-hour adrenaline rush for a multi-year crime epic, more Infernal Affairs than Dredd. The Raid 2 makes its predecessor look like a student film. Okay, I might have let hyperbole get the better of me, but in many ways it's true; The Raid 2 improves on almost everything in the original film that it makes it look like a practice run, a test in choreography and cinematography. The Raid: Redemption was an appetiser, and two years later we finally have the main course.

Even by looking at it's two and a half hour runtime, it's easy to see how ambitious The Raid 2 is. The film really is quite dense; it contains a much beefier and narrative-centric plot than the original, chronicling the implosion of three Mafia families as well as police corruption. It's all classic action film fare; the beats of every undercover cop thriller are there, but it's presented in such stylistic way with such interesting and unique characters that you don't care that The Raid 2's narrative doesn't break new ground. Using conventions isn't a bad thing and The Raid 2 is engaging enough to prove that. The film is a much slower beast than it's predecessor, it takes time to establish it's world and characters instead of rushing to the next action scene, and the breathing space is appreciated; if nothing else these sections serve to show off the absolutely gorgeous cinematography. Evans' direction is more mature this time around, and when The Raid 2 isn't kicking you in the face it moves and feels like an art film, more Nicolas Winding Refn than John Woo.

But kick you in the face, The Raid 2 will, and you'll never want it to stop. While the film this time has some impressive narrative chops, the fight scenes are still the obvious highlight. The action in The Raid 2 has the best choreographed, most visceral action sequences ever put to film. It's an absolutely beautifully choreographed movie, but more importantly it feels real. So many high action martial arts film lose a bit of impact because as good as the choreography is, it feels staged, either because of the camera work or because of the acting. The Raid 2 nails both of these perfectly so you see every blow, but more importantly you feel every blow. There are so many broken bones and open wounds in the film that at times it threatens to start feeling uncomfortable, but fortunately The Raid 2 has such fun with itself and goes so over the top that you can't help but love every single minute of it. New characters help the action of course, because as good as the action scenes are, they would mean nothing if the audience wasn't invested in the characters. Even what should be one-note, smaller characters who turn up for a scene or two such as the duo of Hammer Girl and Baseball Bat Man, are played with great unspoken nuance and attention to detail that the film encourages you to figure out their backstory for yourself.

Simply put, The Raid 2 attempts to expand and out-do every single thing in the original and often time it succeeds. They're both very different films and are only really linked by a few returning characters and the blistering signature action scenes, but it's not a bad different. The Raid 2 feels more mature, more important, and feels like Evans and his team smashing their feet down and proving their original wasn't a fluke. Though it's not as accessible as the original, The Raid 2 doesn't want to be, and it shouldn't want to be. Berandal isn't just a retread of the first film with slight bits and pieces changed, it's everything a sequel should be and even though it buckles under it's own ambition, it should be rewarded for not playing it safe in a sea of samey franchise films. In the end The Raid 2 will assault your senses and beat you into submission for two and a half hours and by the end of it you'll be wondering how soon you can come back for more.

Review: Nymphomaniac Vol.1 & 2

Nymphomaniac, quite literally, is a tale of two halves. Von Trier's epic follows Joe (Charlotte Gainsbourg), a 50 year old self-diagnosed nymphomaniac, as she recounts her life from her childhood awakenings to the horrifying present to confessed asexual Seligman (Stellan Skarsgard) after she is found brutally beaten in a street. The 4 hour contemplation on sexuality, love, lust and relationships (both sexual and platonic) is not for everyone; if you read the previous synopsis and thought “this isn't for me”, then Von Trier isn't here to change your mind. Nymphomaniac is explicit and uncomfortable; much of the first hour is spent trying to shock the audience, with Joe's stories of her first sexual encounters being told in a frank, matter-of-fact manner. However the much more shocking thing about Nymphomaniac is how easily and how quickly the explicit scenes you are viewing become natural. After a while Nymphomaniac loses it's ability to visually shock, and the unease comes from an internal realisation that you've become comfortable with this extreme level of depravity. Lars laces the tale with so much dark humour that after a while what you're seeing is so over the top that it becomes, intentionally, comic. There's no romanticism in Joe's tale, at least not from her point of view – this is just her life, and her life, just like anyone else's, is imperfect.

Although it's a complete injustice to argue that Nymphomaniac is just there to shock or push boundaries; at it's heart it is a very intricate (if very on the nose) character study. Joe is a layered protagonist, played perfectly by Stacy Martin and later Charlotte Gainsbourg. In fact all of the characters are diverse and distinct, and best of all, completely unpredictable – throughout the run time you can go from loving and identifying with a character, to completely hating them, to rooting for their redemption. In lesser hands this would seem jarring, but in the context of this film it works - people change a lot over 50 years. However not everything comes out the end swinging, some characters and plots seem to go nowhere, most notably Willem Dafeo's character who is criminally underused. And that's Nymphomaniac's ultimate downfall, it's just not focused enough.

Nymphomaniac's biggest fault is that it tries to cover too much, tries to introduce too many things, and as two films there is noticeably a disparity between the two entries. Volume 1 shines over it's bloated, unfocused counterpart. While still long, Volume 1 feel infinitely more focused in what it wants to say: the characters feel more rooted, the metaphors feel fresh and nothing seems excessive. That's not to say there isn't anything worthwhile in Volume 2, it's just that it doesn't have the same magic the first volume so seamlessly embodies, and after about an hour, Volume 2 completely loses it's way. While this doesn't make for a terrible film on the whole, it's just a little disappointing to watch, what is up until that point, Lars Von Trier's finest achievement, completely lose it's way. It will be interesting to see what the reaction is to the two different volumes, Von Trier's film's have a habit of splitting audiences' opinions and I imagine the debates over which volume is superior, as well as the jarring ending, will keep this movie in the public consciousness for quite some time.

Although even with it's shortcomings, both volumes are rich in detail and Nymphomaniac frolics in lush cinematography and striking imagery. Von Trier has a certain naturalistic yet elegant style that hasn't been more finely tuned than in his latest picture. Every shot is intricate and well thought out and makes Nymphomaniac the best looking film so far this year. The mixture of stylised sequences as well as documentary-esque hand-held techniques serve to capture both the raw, personal and visceral emotional resonance in the narrative as well the more grandiose, metaphorical, quieter moments. However although it looks beautiful, not everything Von Trier captures is meaningful or as smart as the thinks. Much of the symbolism and narrative metaphors are too on-the-nose and in-your-face to be appreciated: they often serve to break any and all immersion and it end up feeling too much like self-indulgence on the director's part.

Overall Nymphomaniac isn't a bad film by any means, if you let it, it has enough substance and heart to pull you in tightly for 4 hours and never let you go until the credits roll. It's the wasted potential that disappoints the most, Nymphomaniac could have been a triumphant opus, but instead it ends up straddling the line of being merely great. While it's not going to convince any Lars Von Trier naysayers, if you know what you're in for, Nymphomaniac is an exceptionally well put together film, it's just a shame that the whole doesn't do justice to the sum of it's parts.

Review: Why 'Her' is one of the best movies of last year

Spike Jonze is an interesting filmmaker, who, even with only four feature films on his resume, has been noted for creating challenging and unique pieces of cinema. Although he was the director of the fantastic Being John Malkovich and Adaptation, I was never quite convinced that these films were indicative of his talent. I was always under the assumption that the success of those two movies was due to them being written by the brilliant Charlie Kaufman, who I perhaps wrongly assumed was the main creative force behind both of those pictures. Though it could be argued that I should have understood the importance of Jonze's contribution after the release of Where the Wild Things Are, it wasn't until his newest feature, Her, hit cinemas that I fully realised my mistake of underestimating the brilliance of Spike Jonze.

While the plot of Her at a basic level is interesting, a man who falls in love with the artificial intelligence that controls his computer, it's admittedly easy to see why some people might ignore the film based on the description of the plot. I'm sure to a lot of people “the film about a man who falls in love with his computer” doesn't instantly translate in their heads to “must-see cinema” - but it should. Although Her's plot and setting is represented through science fiction it's definitely a human story with it's characters being played perfectly by Joaquin Phoenix and Scarlett Johansson. Johansson is particularly impressive as much of the film would have fallen flat with anything less than a perfect performance. It's a testament to how great of an actress Johansson is that even though we never see her as Samantha, the A.I feels like an actual character and not just a disembodied voice. Actually, it's more than that, Johansson doesn't just manage to make Samantha feel like a character, but a person. It's hard enough for an actor to authenticate a character like this when they are allowed to emote through their gestures and facial expressions – Johansson accomplishes all of this using only her voice.

Although Jonze's superb directing skills have been established by his previous films, his visual eye has never been better than in this feature. The near-future look of Her's universe is beautiful and doesn't veer too far off into fantastical to become unbelievable. The world of Her is a believable extension of the landscape that we are living in today wih technology being equally as rampant but having the benefit of being much more advanced. Communication is almost entirely impersonal, with the reliance on gadgets to emote for us and structure our lives being the norm. However Jonze neither condemns nor glorifies this way of life; this is just the way things are and even though the way of communicating has become less personal, this doesn't mean that the feelings and emotions felt by these characters are any less valid. In fact it could be argued that they are even more powerful. And that's the sweet irony of Her: Jonze establishes one of the most realistic, pure and ultimately humanistic romantic relationships put to film, and he does it in a story built around two characters where one of them isn't even human.

The dynamic between these two central characters is the crux of the film and it makes for a completely engaging and fulfilling two hours. Jonze injects so much personality into the picture that it's hard not to get swept up into the lives of these two characters, which allows every joy and heartbreak they feel to also be felt by the audience in an intense manner. Arcade Fire's magnificent score manages to accentuate this personal and whimsical atmosphere, perfectly accompanying the fantastic cinematography and editing. Sound is an important, although downplayed, aspect of Her and although the score is fantastic, a lot of the most touching and striking moments in the picture take place in silence. However Jonze doesn't boil the film in too much whimsy or romantic grandeur; the film is funny, surprisingly so, and features some genuine belly-laugh moments, especially in the opening 45 minutes. At first some of this comedy seems a bit jarring or out of place, but upon reflection it is evident that it is needed to prevent the film from becoming too melodramatic or po-faced.

Her is a comment on many things – technology, the future, the past, science fiction, but at it's core Her is a story about two people. It doesn't get too caught up in it's concepts like many recent science fiction films have, with Jonze making the great decision to focus on people, ironically, through the conduit of technology. Not one narrative or aesthetic decision in Her feels like an affectation; everything is presented in a sincere way that works on an incredibly emotional level. Films can be analysed and taken apart and inspected at their bare parts, but crafting a film is not about box-ticking, it's not about having a great series of shots, or having a fantastic soundtrack. It's about having all of these things working together so that they merge into one whole, so that they become their own independent entity, so that they work, so that they work on a thematic, emotional, and psychological level. And although at it's broken down parts Her isn't perfect, it undeniably works

The Best of 2013: The World's End

The World's End, the long-awaited final installment into Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg's thematic Three Flavours Cornetto trilogy was released in the summer of 2013 to much critical acclaim. However, the movie sadly did not resonate quite so much with a British audience, receiving a lower Box Office intake than it's gargantuan predecessor Hot Fuzz. Unfortunately much of the criticism from movie-goers and some critics was focused on the film not being as funny as the others, and to an extent they are right, The World's End doesn't have the same amount of laughs as the previous installments - but the jokes are still there and when they do come they are very, very funny. However what people often misunderstand is that unlike the preceding two films, The World's End has a much more dramatic tone, and focuses on much heavier emotional dynamics, which is why the comedy is less pronounced this third time through. While losing some comedic elements might on the surface make the film look worse, the gaining of a much richer thematic tone is what makes The World's End a much more deep and thoughtful movie in comparison.

Up to the release of the film, Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg both asserted that the film was a more grown up and would be more rooted in real life problems, and they were completely right. The World's End tackles some heavy issues from alcoholism to suicide, all wrapped nicely in a metaphorical and literal end of the world scenario which allows the film to get as dark as it needs to while being in the safety blanket of a genre film, to not alienate it's audience. It's a film that's much more tragic upon a second viewing, as it's characters' motivations and plights are viewed in a different light once all of the secrets of the plot have been revealed. Anything from a small glance to an initially unassuming line of dialogue can change the way you view a character the second time you watch it. This re-watchability cements The World's End as an essential home-media purchase, as the narrative is so rich and full of foreshadowing and features gags that work more effectively after an initial viewing that it's impossible to catch everything after only one sitting.

Even though it's clear that The World's End isn't quite as laugh-a-minute funny as either Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz, it's still one of the funniest movie this year (perhaps the funniest, had it not been for Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa). Simon Pegg's Gary King is the best character the actor has ever played, completely evolving into the role with a ferocity and nuance that has previously been mostly unseen. Gary King is the childhood friend who hasn't grown up; he still listens to the same music he did in school, he even dresses the same. Gary King is the past personified, quite literally catching up to his former school friends. King is a tragic character, but also a great source of comedy. Because of his lewd pathetic nature, it doesn't feel unfair to laugh at him when he is, rightfully, ridiculed by other members of the cast. Gary King is dangerous, selfish, and a terrible friend, but Pegg manages to portray him in a way that's still charming and lovable, which a lesser actor would never have been able to accomplish. His brash arrogant, stuck-in-the-90s demeanour allows for some excellent moments, and the relationship between his character and Nick Frost's Andy Knightly is at the center of the picture – although perhaps in a refreshing role-reversal from what we have come to expect.

Not only is The World's End thematically accomplished, but it features some of Edgar Wright's best directing work to date. Again teaming up with brilliant cinematographer Bill Pope, Wright paints a beautifully constructed inhabited world, making great use of colour contrasts with vibrant splashes of blue and red, which get richer and more surreal as the characters get drunker. Even the pints of beer themselves are photographed in a marvelous way, becoming more golden and majestic as the characters get closer and closer to the end of their quest. Of course Wright's signature fast, erratic editing is present, and four movies in it's starting to feel a little bit redundant, it still effectively punctuates the humour and allows for a kinetic energy which complements perfectly the action on-screen.

Ultimately, even though it's the last of the trilogy, The World's End shares a lot of recurring elements with the previous two film but deliberately skews them. The tone is much darker, the relationship between Nick Frost and Simon Pegg is reversed, and it pushes the British idyllic setting as far as it can go. But it's a much more accomplished film because of it; Pegg and Wright could have rested on their laurels and delivered another blisteringly funny more-of-the-same comedy, but instead The World's End is an evolution and combination of their previous work, resulting in more emotionally engaging, action-packed, though-provoking film that still manages to be immensely funny - and easily one of the best films to see a release in 2013.

The Worst of 2013: Movie 43

Movie 43. Oh, Movie 43. What is there to say about Movie 43? Developed by Peter Farrelly, Movie 43 is an anthology film boasting a cast of Academy Award winners and nominees including Hugh Jackman, Halle Berry and Kate Winslet, as well as popular comedy stars Emma Stone, Justin Long and Seann William Scott. It's actually an impressive cast of veteran and likeable actors, and it serves as a means to generate a large amount of interest in the film. It was the reason I was interested in seeing it, even when the floodgates opened and the dismal reviews came pouring through. A film which attracted a cast of this many A-listers can't be that bad, right? Well, Movie 43 doesn't infamously boast the label of being the “Citizen Kane of bad movies” for no reason.

Movie 43 is so aggressively awful that to fully describe how horrendous it is in words is a futile task. It really is a film you have to see to truly believe. I could tell you that Hugh Jackman spends his entire screen-time with CGI testicles on his chin (the only joke in his ten minute sequence, obviously), but even then it's worse than you imagine. I could tell you that Gerard Butler stars as a tiny leprechaun defending his pot of gold from Johnny Knoxville, but even then it's worse (and sadly more racist) than you imagine. Each skit is like someone had a silly “imagine this” idea, but instead of immediately discarding it because it's not funny and ultimately a ten second distraction, someone made a short film out of it. It's not just that the skits aren't funny, it's that they are completely unimaginative and lacking in even attempts at jokes. The whole thing just feels lazy, and it taints the movie with an atmosphere where it feels like no one involved really cares, and if they don't, why should we?

It completely baffles me that Movie 43 attracted the talented that it did, and it feels that the only reason some of these award-winning actors are involved at all is because someone called in a huge favour or blackmailed them into doing it. I'm kidding, of course, but it's a complete mystery why these A-list stars signed up for a film so offensively bad in the first place. It's telling that none of the actors cared to promote the film at all, effectively trying to forget about it and pretend it never happened. Farrelly in an interview stated that the movie would attract “kids, teenagers, 50-somethings who still smoke pot”, and I can safely say that I doubt even the most juvenile of those three groups would find anything to laugh at. A lot of the producers would argue that it's down to taste and sense of humour, but it's not the taste discrepancy that's the problem. It's not that I'm against gross-out humour or slapstick, quite the contrary, I have a soft-spot for the likes of Airplane, or even more modern Judd Apatow efforts – the problem is that Movie 43 executes this type of humour in the most lazy and offensive way possible.

I wish there was something to like about Movie 43, myself and the rest of Cuckoo Review don't like to be wholly negative about a piece of work that many, many people worked hard on to create – but Movie 43 is terrible through-and-through. I'm hard-pressed to think of a film in recent memory that feels this uninspired and actively awful. It perhaps wouldn't have been so disappointing if Movie 43 was a straight-to-DVD cash-in. You expect something like that to be a waste of time. The disappointment lies with the calibre of the cast and even some genuinely talented writers and directors. With this talent you expect the film will be at the very least competently made, but Movie 43 can't even guarantee that. Easily the worst film given a theatrical release in 2013, Movie 43 is cinematic poison and easily a contender for the worst film of the past ten years. A lot of people will be enticed into watching a movie that is infamous for being “the worst film of all time”, but seriously don't bother – it's 90 minutes of your life you'll always regret wasting.

Bo Burnham - WHAT

At only 23 years old, it feels as though “rising star” Bo Burnham has already accomplished everything. How many other 23 year olds can claim to have 3 sold out tours, 2 live DVD recordings, 2 studio albums, and to have created, written and starred in major television show (the criminally underrated and sadly short-lived MTV programme Zach Stone Is Gonna Be Famous.) With the exception of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, What. is Burnham's first full UK tour, and so it's great to say that Bo's first impression on us Brits is a tight, brilliantly written, and, most importantly, outrageously funny set.

What. has been billed as “a new live comedy show thing” - and that's exactly what it is. It's hard to exactly describe Burnham's set; he fluently mixes song with traditional stand-up, to poetry and haiku, to theatrics and pre-recorded material. What's important is that all these ingredients come together to form a show genuinely unique – one minute you're subjected to a very politically incorrect poem and the next you're whisked into a funny, yet surprisingly poignant, musical introspection of comedy itself. That's another of What's masterstrokes, it's not just incredibly funny, there's something to be said under the flamboyance and crude humour. Sometimes this is explicit such as the song “Nerds” (the closest Bo comes to dropping his stage persona all night) which serves as a genuinely moving ode to, as Bo says,“the kids like me”, unpopular kids who perhaps don't fit in or take a lot of flack for doing something they enjoy. Mostly though, these sincere reflections are layered into the songs and come as a welcome change of pace. However if this puts you off then don't worry, this is very much a comedy hour, and you will very much laugh – a lot.

Whether he's hitting you with snappy, lightning fast one liners, or a more convoluted poem or monologue, everything is so layered and tightly written that you'll end up laughing at a pun or joke long after the show is over. This immense complexity is what makes Bo's show so appealing, once you've finished you'll want to sit through it all again just to catch the jokes you missed because you were too busy laughing at another. His on-stage persona is another aspect he has perfectly fine-tuned - an arrogant, over-the-top, pretentious arse, “People tell me I'm full of myself. I don't think that - here's a song from the perspective of God.” He occasionally threatens to be too unlikeable, however any time Burnham verges on grating, he adds a dash of self-depreciation or childlike wonder than you can't help to smile at. The songs themselves are a major part of the set and they are diverse enough to be worth the price alone. Whether Bo's trying hard to be the rapper the knows he isn't, or he's trying to prove how deep and profound he can be, each song helps to pace and punctuate the show with just the right amount of humour, visual comedy, and even occasionally crowd interaction. If What. was a film, the songs would be the action set pieces.

Bo Burnham's What. is a unique, witty, hyperactive hour of stand-up comedy that never lapses into a lull and never miss-steps once. Burnham creates such a fantastic, involving atmosphere that it's hard not to get completely engrossed into this hilarious character. If you get the chance, What. is an absolutely must-see performance by a supremely talented rising star who I can only hope will soon be given the recognition he deserves. A comedy show about an introspective deconstruction of comedy could have fallen so terribly flat, and only someone with Bo Burnham's level of skill and intelligence could have executed it so triumphantly. Completely unmissable.  

Breaking Bad's Art Direction

I'm not sure if you heard, but the critically acclaimed and universally loved television show Breaking Bad came to a definitive close recently. Hailed, quite rightly so, as one of the best pieces of television produced in recent times, Breaking Bad has been dissected and analysed over and over - yet there's one area which has been criminally overlooked. The visual aesthetic of Breaking Bad is one of the programme's most defining traits; there's an astonishing amount of rich detail and meaning integrated into aspects most viewers would find “trivial” such as clothing colour and the use of shadow and light. Breaking Bad, unlike many of it's competitors, understands that television is a visual medium, and injects the same time and effort into the look of the show that is put into the writing and narrative. Headed by a supremely talented Director of Photography since Season 2, Michael Slovis has masterfully injected his own twisted and fantastical aesthetic into the DNA of the programme. It helps also that Breaking Bad houses some of the most under-appreciated cinematic directors in the business, most notably Michelle MacLaren and Rian Johnson, the latter of which recently showcased his talent in Hollywood, directing 2012's sci-fi thriller Looper.

Each scene of Breaking Bad is so meticulously crafted that it's almost impossible to catch everything that's going on upon first viewing. Something so simply effective yet often ignored is the use of colour in the programme, which compliments the writing in fleshing out the character's mood, personality, and their associated themes. Some of these motifs are obvious – Marie Schrader's fixation on the colour purple has become something of a running gag for the Breaking Bad audience. Colours have their basic function in Breaking Bad as a use of foreshadowing for the audience – red, for instance, is used to denote upcoming violence or aggression, and the colour is usually tied to the impulsive Jesse Pinkman. Likewise orange (a technique borrowed from The Godfather) is used to foreshadow death. These basic uses of colour are used in such a way to interact with the audience on an unconscious level – we become accustomed to expecting certain things when we see these signifiers. We understand if Walter White is wearing green he's at his most desperate and it creates almost a sense of audience interaction as it actively rewards you for being engrossed in the narrative. Overall it's an ultimately simple aspect of the show, but the level of detail that Breaking Bad puts into the colour of the picture is why it towers over it's competitors.

Clothing is another simple design choice that adds to the already deep art direction of Breaking Bad. These choices reflect anything from foreshadowing plot points, achieved through a subtle use of association – the audience associates major plot events with Walt's green shirt, for example, because the first time Walt “breaks bad” he is seen wearing this now iconic attire. However clothing can also often be used in a symbolic fashion; Walter White is at his most vulnerable when he's wearing, fittingly, nothing but his now famous tighty-whiteys - an idea concocted by actor Bryan Cranston, who referred to the look as the most “pathetic” thing anyone could be caught wearing. It's a testament to the Breaking Bad's art design that they have been able to impossibly create a wardrobe so mundane as a plain beige jacket, green shirt and tighty-whiteys and turn them into something so iconic and deeply-rooted into the public consciousness.

Nevertheless, not every visual aspect and design choice is done for plot or symbolic reasons – Breaking Bad can just be a gorgeous visual treat. The backdrop of Albuquerque with it's vast exterior of deserts, busy crime-filled streets and unassuming suburbia is almost a character in itself. One of the most iconic shots of the series is of the unassuming RV “cooking” in the ABQ desert. It's an ultimately breathtaking image which completely epitomizes the themes in the entire show of an unassuming weak-looking man harbouring a dark and repulsive secret. Of course Albuquerque is showcased through some absolutely fantastically edited and innovative sequences that make great use of montage, slow motion, and breathtaking aerial angles. This kind of editing can be taken for granted on Breaking Bad, and it's jarring to see that other shows aren't edited and shot in such an effective way. It could be argued that the location, even the seedier, gritter parts, are filmed with an almost romanticised flair that creates a dream-like and fantastical atmosphere. Consequently Albuquerque feels like a vibrant city full of character and mystery, that enforces and idea of verisimilitude ironically as it's captured through the romanticised lens of the camera.

It's the way Breaking Bad seamlessly integrates these visual aspects with the narrative that elevates it above it's contemporaries. In tv, having a character lit only in silhouette is a no-go. Stars are what make tv programmes, and at a fundamental level it's important to see the expressions on the characters' faces. Breaking Bad isn't afraid to break these conventions, and has entire scenes with either one or all characters drenched in a deep-black silhouette. Not only does this add to the uniqueness of the programme, it's refreshing that Breaking Bad treats us like adults – we don't have to be force-fed details like mode of character through facial nuance but instead it can be detailed through other more refreshing ways visually. And it's this expert use of bold colour and lighting that makes Breaking Bad a feast for the eyes. A scene as simple as a thoughtful Walt elegantly striking a violent illuminating match against a juxtaposed backdrop of a overbearingly vivid blue pool culminates in a haunting and supremely effective, painterly-like sequence.

Breaking Bad excels best in creating beautifully shot photography that lingers with the viewer long after they've switched off their television sets (or laptops, or smartphones or iPods – tv is everywhere these days). It's the way it compliments the huge mythological arc of the narrative with these small touches that makes it such a treat for the audience. In an episode full of tension and dramatic scenes, the most memorable thing might not be a surprising plot twist, but the closing image of two people sitting in awe of a beautifully orange-soaked sunset in the middle of a sparse, vacant desert as they are slowly engulfed by the dying light. This absolute mastery of photography from Michael Slovis entwined with a superbly talented team of directors is why Breaking Bad will not only be remembered and revered for it's extremely well executed narrative and deep, defined characters, but for being the ultimate example of visual and artistic cinematic supremacy on television.

Review: The Selfish Giant

The Selfish Giant is a difficult film to watch. It's underclass setting is ripe with so many unlikeable, violent and deeply flawed character's that it's hard to empathise with any of them. It's a surprise then, that in a masterstroke from director Clio Barnard, by the time the credits role you recognise these characters not as characters, but as people. This is helped in part from the fantastic performances from the entire cast, namely up-and-comer Conner Chapman, who portrays “protagonist” (for lack of a better word) Arbor. Good child actors are hard to come by, and great child actors being something of a rarity; it's extremely refreshing to see Chapman embody the role with such ferocity and – most surprisingly – a nuance that completely authenticates his emotional portrayal.

Based loosely on the short story of the same name by Oscar Wilde, the concept is used here to create a grim depiction and criticism of the working-class society's failings of children. It's this theme that undeniably saves the film, and it's attempts to give an unflinching look at the class and education system is admirable. There are allusions to other genres, namely westerns, as the narrative and focus on horses and outlaws paints the British countryside and scrapyards in an almost romanticised Wild West palette. This is a genuinely unique approach to the film and again serves as an indication of the potential under the admittedly conventional exterior of the movie.

As a whole, The Selfish Giant can sometimes get bogged down in cliches and stereotypes of kitchen-sink dramas – however it does occasionally show flairs of something greater. The cinematography is particularly inspired, and we have very rarely seen such desolate locales photographed in such a remarkable way. However without this cinematic flair it's narrative plays out in a decidedly un-cinematic way, and at times can feel too much like an entry into a tv mini-series as opposed to a feature length film. It's not until the final third of the movie that The Selfish Giant becomes the hauntingly emotional and poignant film that had been sparingly hinted at prior. The final third act makes the decidedly flawed previous hour seem worthwhile, as Barnard takes us on a virtually silent, hauntingly poetic journey into the consequences of dealing with such morally corrupt characters.

It's a shame then that a film so rich with potential is marred by equally as many flaws. However it's hard to fault the picture for it's ambition, and it certainly marks Barnard and Chapman as talents to watch. If the movie was less focused on hitting every criteria that makes a British underclass narrative identifiable, and was more in-tune with the transcendent final 30 minutes and western-esque elements then it would have helped create and enforce something much more innovative and unique. Courageous and obnoxious, The Selfish Giant works more as a taste of things to come from the creative team and is unfortunately not quite the masterpiece that occasionally threatens to emerge in it's 90 minute runtime.

Moulin Rouge Musings

When Moulin Rouge was initially released it was a divisive motion picture; there was a portion of the audience who loved the film's aesthetic and soundtrack, praising the theatricality and over the top nature of the movie. There was however a disconnect to the other half of the audience, partly through the fault of the film and partly due to their own misgivings, who found the film tiresome and too pompous for it's own good. I don't really like Moulin Rouge, I think as a film it's a bit on-the-nose and at times too melodramatic. Likewise I don't really like Baz Lurhman, who I think can be a bit on-the-nose and at times too melodramatic. I do nevertheless very much appreciate Baz's fantastic eye for striking and innovative art design – and it comes as no surprise that most of his films having been nominated for academy awards in at least one design category. The most common complaint aimed at Lurhmann is that he is a “style over substance” film director - yet I don't think this label is particularly damning. There's nothing wrong with being stylistic, film after all is a visual medium and a movie can be successful based on solely it's aesthetic merit. Rouge is most definitely style over substance, but disregarding the film based on this label would be dismissing one of the most cinematically beautiful films of recent memory.

Moulin Rouge, released in 2001 went on to win two Academy Awards for Best Art Direction and Best Costume design, and it’s easy to see why: the visual pallet of Rouge is breathtaking. From the beautiful black and white opening scenes; with it’s dark, moody cinematography quickly establishing a seedy city underbelly,the audience is bombarded with deep seductive reds and threatening blacks, complemented by a fantastical and fairytale-esque set and costume design. The costumes themselves evoke memories of classic fairytales, albeit re-imagined in a much more adult context. Obviously a deliberate choice on Baz’s part, as Rouge’s narrative plays out very much like a fairytale, with stock characters and a basic plot revolving around love and death. The themes of love and death are deeply connected with the visual look of the film, with the aforementioned reds and blacks representing these themes at key moments in the narrative. The titular Moulin Rouge, for example, is drenched in red, fitting for a place full of lust, sex, and desire.

For something so often taken for granted, the camera movement in Moulin Rouge is indicative of the film’s overall visual mastery. The first twenty minutes is edited at such a fast pace that at times it is genuinely hard to follow what is going on and as a viewer it is extremely disorienting. However it’s hard to feel that this feeling of disorientation wasn’t the point. The characters can’t quite comprehend what they are experiencing so why should the viewer? Ultimately the erratic editing helps enforce the enormity of the Moulin Rouge as a location – it’s overwhelming, it overpowers your senses, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before - it’s the Moulin Rouge. However, to it’s detriment, this style of editing can completely bring the film down. The frantic, impatient cutting can be so disorientating that many of the sets and costumes can lose their impact or spectacle. When the camera refuses to stay still it’s hard to completely appreciate the grandiose and lavishly detailed sets, because, well, you don’t have time to properly see them.

It’s sad then that such an elegantly designed picture is wasted on a sub-par film, which unfortunately does it’s best to distract the audience from what it does best. Baz has the eye of an artist, and it’s a shame that many of his creations here aren’t given the chance to be showcased and viewed as they should. Regardless of the film’s technical failings it’s still impossible to criticise the love and passion put into the designs of the movie, so if upon first viewing you didn’t like Moulin Rouge, it’s worth going back, putting the volume on low, and viewing the musical as the outstanding visual spectacle that it is.

The destruction of Heisenberg and the redemption of Walter White

(Spoilers, obviously)

Breaking Bad is over. Just typing those words fill me with melancholy, and yet, there's a certain satisfaction that comes with them. Breaking Bad wasn't dragged on, it wasn't cut short, it ended on it's own terms, and that in itself is something to be thankful for. In a reality where great television is either cancelled early because it fails to find an audience, or kept going when it's well past it's prime because of it's popularity, it's extremely satisfying to watch something as a complete whole. While as a stand-alone episode 'Felina' isn't the show's best hour of television (a feat awarded to the spectacular 'Ozymandias'), it acts as an excellent and close-to-perfection culmination of the programme's themes and ideas that have been set up in the previous 61 episodes.

It's important to understand that in 'Felina' we witnessed the demise of Walter White, and not Mr White's alter-ego Heisenberg. For much of this season, the Heisenberg persona has been dying, with the final nail in the coffin coming in 'Granite State'. This season has shown a vulnerable Walt, losing his confidence and his power that he has amassed until this point. His arrogance and transformation into Heisenberg ultimately led to his own downfall, losing sight of the important things and letting his ego take over. Paralleled with the downfall of Heisenberg has been Walter White's redemption – these final 8 episodes gave audiences glimpses of the man we thought had been consumed be the monstrous Heisenberg. This parallel theme meant Walt's redemption in tonight's episode didn't come out of left field; since quitting the meth business Walter started to return to his former self, completing his rebirth in the plea for Hank's life - displaying that money and power, in the end, meant less to this character than family.

The self-awareness shown by Walt in 'Felina' was finally an admittance to himself who he really is. His self-reflection and confession to sticking with the meth business because it made him “feel alive” shattered any and all pretense and delusions that were stopping him from returning to his calculated, methodical, and ultimately successful self. Walt finally achieved the selflessness he pretended to aspire to, ironically, through admitting his own selfishness. The egotist who raced to save his money a few episodes prior here executes jack before he could even finish explaining where he had hidden the fortune. Heisenberg is dead - although his persona has permanent ramifications on Walter White, who maintains his cold, ruthless demeanour, albeit with more clarity and morally right intentions.

With this it was my interpretation that when Walt arrived at the Neo-Nazi HQ, he had intended to take out Jesse with the rest, assuming him to be in business with Jack. Again, when Todd brings out a beaten and psychologically damaged Jesse, Walt's fatherly figure resurfaces and his instinctive nature to protect Jesse kicks in. It's another realisation of the damage Walter has caused, and his attempt at selfless redemption. His happiness upon realising that Jesse had perfected his formula gave Walt a sense of victory and purpose. Unlike his uninterested students, Walt had succeeded on passing knowledge on to someone, and finally created a successor in Jesse. Once again this is a far cry from the man who sadistically boasted “I watched Jane die” a few episodes ago. Next comes Jesse's refusal to kill Mr White, a final symbolic victory of freedom from Walter's manipulation and control that has encumbered the character for the past 5 seasons. Seeing Pinkman drive away, screaming with relief was one of the highlights of the episode, and serves as the only real happy ending the programme had to offer.

There were thoughts that things ended too smoothly for Walter White. Personally, I think Walt earned the right amount of redemption over the past season, deserving to end on at-best civil terms with Skyler and Jesse. Still, it wasn't a complete victory. Walt never got to see his daughter grow up, and the chances of baby Holly growing up admiring her father are non-existent. Walt never ended on good terms with Jr. either, having to settle for a final sighting from afar. Ultimately, Walt irrevocably lost his family - perhaps the one thing he genuinely loved and fought for. This calamity proves that no matter how successful Walt was at making amends, not everything can be fixed like the character always so credulously believes. The tragic loss of family, paved from good intentions, is why Walt's demise can never be seen as the victory the character so naively yearned-for, but it is at least a partial victory that, in the end, was what Walter White deserved.

Frustrated with Doctor Who

I don't like Doctor Who. Such a thing I have rarely heard said in public, and such a thing, if said on the internet, almost demands the scrutiny of thousands of forum-goers and social media junkies. Not liking Doctor Who and being on the internet is perhaps second only to not liking Harry Potter and being on the internet, with both fandoms being populated by some of the most passionate, enthusiastic and aggressive fans you'll ever come across. Doctor Who is almost universally loved by all age ranges, and it seems that everyone also loves to discuss it. These two reasons are the two reasons I tried, oh so very hard, to get into Doctor Who. I needed to know what all the fuss was about, I thrived to be involved in conversations had by the majority of my friends, I needed to know what television show could create a fandom almost as rabid as the original Star Trek. As it turns out, not a very good one.

Doctor Who is a very frustrating television show because on paper it has everything you want out of a science fiction programme: an enigmatic, charming and interesting lead? Check. A wide selection of supporting characters? Check. Genuinely interesting and imaginative locations and creations? Check. A vast mythos with the potential for almost endless narratives and unique twists and turns? Double check. Even though all these traits look great on paper, the execution in the show is often haphazard or under-played. The interesting locations are often wasted on sub-par narratives, which at times can feel familiar or reused. The supporting cast can often be reduced to archetypes, and recently, sexist gender roles. There is the option to use a wide selection of enemies and antagonists, yet the reluctance to move away from classic Who villains often makes the show feel stale and ever so dated. That's not to say these villains aren't interesting in their own right – they are. New villains such as The Silence are conceptually an excellent creation, however once again Doctor Who fails with the execution in not supporting it's characters with compelling or well thought-out narratives. Doctor Who, like a comic book series, uses it's same villains in slightly different plots over and over again until every narrative feels a little too familiar.

A major weakness, however, is not necessarily the writing or directing team's fault, but the way the programme is publicised and promoted, and how this directly affects the content of the show. For example, when an actor is leaving the programme, their departure is highly publicised and as a consequence any suspense from their final episodes are eliminated because the audience knows the character won't be back. Because of this if a character is to die in the narrative, any emotional weight the scene has disappears, because you know that if you haven't seen all over the news about the actor leaving, then the character probably won't be dead for long. An even worse offender was the recent live naming of the 12th Doctor event (although it is this writer's opinion that Capaldi is an excellent choice). Would it not have been more tense and exciting to save the identity of the Doctor until his premier episode? Would the added mystique and tense wait not be more fulfilling in the long-run than an awkward live reveal? Aspects like this have implications that the BBC treat Doctor Who like a phenomenon, or a culture, or, mostly, a brand, as opposed to a tv show.

Ultimately, I find Doctor Who more frustrating than I find it an outright bad show. The flourishes of greatness are there but it's these flourishes that that make the show so conflicting. There's a superb television programme in there dying to get out but it is constantly held back by tiresome writing. There's never been a bad Doctor thus far, Christopher Eccleston, David Tennant and Matt Smith have all brought similar yet noticeably different interpretations of the character and have all succeeded in spades. The character is so fascinating and so detailed and full of nuance that it is impossible to not completely fall in love with him. The Doctor is a fantastic lead, and it's about time he was given a television show worthy of him.  

The appeal of post-apocalyptic narratives

Post-apocalyptic fiction is perhaps my favourite type of story, the concept alone is open to vastly different interpretations and the chance to create a thematically rich and engrossing world. However even with these many different variables the core focus of post-apocalyptic narratives remains the same: survival. Be it anything from an individual, to a small group of people, to entire tribes or settlements. The element of survival is gripping and this basic human desire creates some of fictions greatest morally grey or corrupt characters, as the situations presented to these characters are often much more extreme than the challenges found in other genres. This conflict of character is always a highlight – how far will someone go to survive, and is the adjustment to this harsh and barbaric way of life worth it?

And there's the thing I've been wondering recently about post-apocalyptic fiction: why do I enjoy these narratives so much, when, ultimately, it's never “worth it” to survive in this world? The vast majority of stories that take place in a post-apocalyptic scenario are bleak and unforgiving where people barely survive, and the idea of actually living again is a pipe dream. It's this hope that the characters will live again at some point opposed to merely surviving that's gives us the strength to endure these stories. Without this hope we're only watching the characters' misery. Though never actually seeing the protagonists live is becoming a problem; in a climate where post-apocalyptic fiction is rampant, very rarely do the characters have viable reasons to live. Sure, there's the basic need to survive, but there needs to be something to survive for. Watching someone trying to survive is interesting, but knowing WHY someone is trying to survives creates a deeper and more emotional connection which is ultimately more satisfying. It's just a shame that a lot of recent fiction ignores this or glances over it, the most popular and worst offender being AMC's The Walking Dead.

Thinking about this recently I questioned my enjoyment of these narratives – why do I want to invest in characters who have no hope? Who have nothing to live for? That's not appealing to me, the more I think about it. Sure, the characters decisions and development are still there, but there's a certain impact lost when it's all for nothing. I'm not saying that these works of fiction need a Hollywood Ending, such a thing would be contradictory to the genre. But there needs to be something more than just surviving – there needs to be a reason to survive. Usually, a good post-apocalyptic work of fiction gives this reason. Sometimes it's just the hope that the world can return to what it once was. Sometimes it's the hope that there'll be a way to thrive in this new landscape. Sometimes it's as basic as the strong impact of love and companionship. This is the case in the great Cormac McCarthy novel, The Road, where the main character endures the harsh landscape because of his boy, and admits many times that without him he would have been dead a long time ago. While the film has the same bleak ending as the book, it adds the allusion that animals and plant life may not have been entirely wiped out. While it's not concrete, the hope of what might be gives the characters a reason to keep pushing on.

With the over-saturation of the post-apocalyptic genre recently, it's becoming harder and harder to find a worthy piece of work, never mind something that reaches the heights of the best post-apocalyptic fiction. Increasingly we are seeing works that lose the character moments and themes in favour of action. I think the genres needs to take step back from the likes of The Walking Dead (which, ironically, has a comic book incarnation that avoids most of the complaints here) where the lack of hope or lack of character motivation creates an unforgiving and desolate world that in the end, is just no fun to be a part of. Even the bleakest of stories need a little levity to not become unbearable.

Kick Ass 2

Kick Ass 2 isn't a bad film. Review done? not quite. Kick Ass 2 isn't a bad film, but it could have been so much better, and it's these hints and flourishes of something greater that sadly drags the film down. For every hilarious Jim Carrey Justice Forever scene, there's always a nauseating balance (one particular involving British pop band Union J. You'll know when you see it) that brings the film back onto the line of mediocre. Kick Ass 2 is more of a Hit-Girl film which is a shame considering she is the worst part of the whole movie. Gone is the wit and tongue-in-cheek dialogue and in it's place is shock and gross-out humour implemented for the sake of being shocking and gross. While not as bad as reviews are making it out to be, there's still a lot to get out of Kick Ass 2, and it's definitely worth watching out of curiosity if you were a fan of the first. It's just a shame Kick Ass 2 is at it's best when it's at it's most human, because these moments are rarely focused upon. At worst, Kick Ass 2 acts as a caricature of it's former self, and at best, briefly captures the (admittedly) high standards of the original. 

The Act of Killing

The Act of Killing is perhaps the most important, human, film of this year. The movie is full of fascinating, interesting and complex people that you find yourself connecting with, and even feeling sympathy for, the most violent and ruthless murderers. It's not an easy watch, particularly a scene with involves a remorseless and boasting rapist soldier, and the ending, but the power of this documentary is undeniable. It's the most thought-provoking and emotionally engaging film of the year wrapped in an unconventional documentary form. Fantastic.

Quick Review: Only God Forgives

Only God Forgives is like a really expertly crafted painting. You might not like the content of the painting, you might not understand what the painting is of, you might stretch for meanings in the painting where there isn't any, but that doesn't matter. None of it matters, the painting itself is so good you don't need any of those aspects. Only God Forgives is a movie full of hateful ugly characters juxtaposed in a beautifully cinematic and an incredibly vibrant and engrossing world. The characters aren't emotionally engaging and the plot isn't anything to rave about, but that doesn't matter, that's not what you're here for. You're here to watch the movie play-out while you engage in the movie's images and themes. If you find some kind of deeper meaning to the plot, and tie it in with all the symbolic images, great, I'm sure that enhances the viewing experience for you, but, to me, that isn't a necessity to enjoy this film. While not as good a movie, this is definitely comparable to Stoker, released earlier in the year. Both films rely on audience engagement and imagery to work. If you're more concerned with the intricacies of the plot or trying to stay ahead of the characters then you're not going to enjoy it, the only way to fully enjoy it is to let both films wash over you and process it later. This of course won't work for a lot of people and I don't blame them. However, for those who appreciate this type of cinema it's definitely worth checking out.