The Cinemasitter

Category: Film reviews

  • Review: John Carter (2012)

    John Carter posterJohn Carter is one of those films that you really, really want to like more than you actually do. For me, it should have been a slam dunk. It ticks so many of my boxes:  Retro-flavoured sci-fi? Check. Classic pulp literature source? Check. Beautiful alien vistas? Check. Supporting cast made up of reliable British stalwarts? Check. So why doesn’t the film click in the way that it should?

    The blame must lie squarely with the director. Andrew Stanton has three outstanding directorial credits to his name, and they are all Pixar animations: A Bug’s Life, Finding Nemo and WALL·E.  As good as they are (and they are very very good), it is still an enormous leap from animation to live-action – doubly so when you’re working on a big budget Hollywood blockbuster. Funnily enough, one of Stanton’s colleagues made exactly the same leap last December: Brad Bird (the genius behind Ratatouille, The Incredibles and the joyous The Iron Giant) branched out with Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, and delivered the most entertaining entry in the franchise yet. So evidently it is possible to make the transition.

    But Stanton fumbles the narrative right from the off. Instead of easing the audience in to a world full of strange names and warring factions, we are dropped practically head first in to a mid-air battle. It’s pretty difficult to get a handle on who’s who and why they are fighting, and it makes very little sense. Then we’re suddenly catapulted to 1880s New York, where a young Edgar Rice Burroughs (Daryl Sabara) has been summoned by his wealthy and eccentric uncle John Carter (Taylor Kitsch) – it’s there he learns of Carter’s Martian escapades, and how he came to travel to the red planet in the first place.

    I can see why Stanton wanted to cut through mountains of exposition in order to tease the action, but it doesn’t quite work. It’s jarring and disorientating, and feels like a desperate ploy. From New York it’s back to Mars and those strange names and factions, although the scenes where Carter adjusts to a world where he is able to leap tall buildings are quite fun.

    I don’t buy the argument going round critical circles that the source material has been plundered and ripped off so many times down the years that there’s nothing left of interest to today’s audiences. True, the original Burroughs stories date back to 1912, and have heavily influenced genre milestones like Flash Gordon, Star Wars and Avatar. Certain plot points and scenes heavily recall films like Stargate and last year’s Cowboys and Aliens. But with the right script, cast and direction, anything is possible. There is plenty of potential on display in John Carter to justify the decision to adapt the stories. The problem is the way they’ve been adapted.

    The story has been pared down to a basic series of chases, from A to B to C, occasionally pausing for some action. There’s very little time spent on shading the characters, which obviously creates problems when you’re not sure who’s on who’s side and does nothing to win the audience over. Some humour would have helped, but there’s none to be found. The central romance between Carter and Martian princess Dejah Thoris (Lynn Collins) feels a bit forced. A cute dog-type creature goes a little way to adding family appeal, but not much. In short, it falls in to the common blockbuster trap of all spectacle, no heart.

    The second big problem is the casting of the lead character. For Carter they needed someone who had charisma, panache, a bit of swagger. They needed a Harrison Ford; they got a Mark Hamill. No offence to Kitsch, I’m sure he’s a lovely bloke, but he’s a plank of wood as Carter. He looks the part but fails to convince as a man able to inspire an uprising; he barely seems credible as a disillusioned Confederate soldier.

    The film is not a complete loss; far from it. The entire production is a thing of beauty – the photography, sets, costumes and special effects all look terrific. Beyond Kitsch, the rest of the cast more than hold their own. It’s always fun to see a good supporting cast in a sci-fi yarn like this; they give depth to the spectacle and help anchor the story, and actors like Mark Strong and James Purefoy do just that (though Dominic West simply stays in Ham mode). And the copious action on display is fun, if never thrilling.

    John Carter is no flop. It’s not as good as it might have been and it has problems, but it’s still an entertaining two hours. It’s just a shame that, with so much going for it, it only emerges as OK.

    [xrr rating=3/5]

  • Superman (1978)

    Superman movie posterLook, let’s not beat around the bush: Superman is the king of all superhero films. It may be over 30 years old, the special effects may be looking a little long in the tooth, and there’s hardly any trendy angst on display; but it doesn’t put a single foot wrong during its epic two and a half hour running time. This is old-fashioned Hollywood movie-making at its best.

    Richard Donner’s film delivers the requisite action and spectacle in spades, but it also has an irrepressible sense of fun which allows it to transcend the usual genre boundaries, enabling anyone to enjoy it – even if they’ve never picked up a comic book in their life. Pitched somewhere between reverent adaptation, epic blockbuster and tongue-slightly-in-cheek romp, Superman succeeds in having all of its cakes and eating them too.

    Conventional wisdom stated that the Man of Steel was an anachronism in post-Vietnam, post-Watergate 1970s America; a relic from a bygone, more innocent era. Yet Donner capably demonstrated that, on the contrary, Superman was exactly what America needed. Working from an ambitious script (from several writers, among them Mario Puzo) which updated the story to the present day – shots of the open plan, brightly lit Daily Planet offices instantly recall those of All the President’s Men – Donner breathed new life in to the character, proving that the Superman myth could still work its magic on contemporary audiences while staying true to its heritage.

    The opening sequence is a minor miracle in itself: theatrical curtains respectfully pull back to reveal a montage of images from the superhero’s past lives on the page and on screen, openly acknowledging that what you are about to see is nothing more than a childlike fantasy. Then the camera slowly moves in and BAM! – you’re sucked in, willingly strapping yourself in for the forthcoming ride. That journey through space, as the opening credits whoosh past your ears and John Williams’ incomparable score starts up, never fails to put a smile on the face. Somehow you instantly know you’re in safe hands.

    It certainly has all the hallmarks of a mythical epic. Beginning on Superman’s homeworld, Krypton, we firstly meet his father Jor-El, who packs his infant son Kal-El off in a spaceship to avoid his planet’s imminent (and spectacular) demise. We then move to the American Midwest where Kal-El, Krypton’s only survivor, crash-lands and is brought up by an obliging farmer and his wife; it is here he discovers he has certain strengths and skills not of this world. After a brief layover in the Arctic where the now teenaged alien learns who he is and where he’s from, we finally arrive in Metropolis (looking suspiciously like New York) where he assumes the identity of Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter, in order to fit in with the rest of humanity and keep secret his real identity.

    It’s at this point we get to the meaty superhero stuff. Memorable set-pieces abound: Superman’s first appearance as he saves Lois from a damaged helicopter atop the Daily Planet building; his subsequent tour of duty around the city catching criminals and rescuing cats; and of course his gargantuan efforts to stop Lex Luthor from destroying the west coast. Donner perfectly paces the story, hitting all the right emotional notes. Remember that the film is a love story too; the romance between Superman and Lois really works, to the extent that you feel his loss when he holds Lois’ body in his arms towards the end.

    Technically the film is a marvel of its time – many effects sequences still look damn good today. But this is not why it continues to endure. Two words can describe one of the main reasons: Christopher Reeve. He was such a perfect fit for the role he was typecast almost from the start. He quite simply IS Superman. It’s a terrific performance, prone to being easily overlooked – especially by young audiences.

    Returning to the film as an adult, I was struck by just how good Reeve was in the dual role of Supes and Clark. To the former he brought stature, muscle and sheer heft, tempered with authority, wisdom and compassion; to the latter he brought a hunched shyness and awkwardness, as well as an endearing clumsiness. People often wonder at Lois Lane’s inability to notice that Clark and Superman are one and the same; Reeve’s performance almost makes it credible, it’s that good.

    The rest of the cast feel just as much at home. Besides Marlon Brando’s infamously well-paid cameo as Jor-El (something in the order of $14m for ten minutes of screen time), Margot Kidder brings a twinkle to her feisty, career-driven Lois Lane, Jackie Cooper is growly perfection as Daily Planet editor Perry White, and filling out the starry supporting cast are such reliable faces as Glenn Ford and Terence Stamp. The only uncertain notes are hit by the villains of the piece: Gene Hackman makes for a ruthless though not especially threatening Lex Luthor, and Ned Beatty’s sidekick Otis strays a little too far in to cartoonish buffoonery for my liking.

    But this isn’t enough to derail what is a precision-made piece of escapist . I still haven’t really mentioned THAT soundtrack yet – perhaps John Williams’ finest hour (seriously, listen to the whole thing if you haven’t – it’s fantastic stuff). In terms of its cast, script, direction and overall entertainment value, Donner’s take on one of the world’s most iconic literary characters is still the one to beat. It is, quite simply, the finest superhero film ever made.

    [xrr rating=5/5]

  • Journey 2: The Mysterious Island (2012)

    Journey 2 posterNominally a sequel to 2008’s underwhelming Journey to the Center of the Earth, this new spin on Jules Verne’s classic tale is in fact a very silly adventure with only a vague connection to its source material. Josh Hutcherson, as the teen “Vernian” adventurer Sean Anderson, is the only returning cast member; Brendan Fraser is MIA, so in steps Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson as Sean’s new stepfather Hank. Sean believes he’s located the island that Verne was writing about in his book, and that his grandfather (Michael Caine) is marooned on it. So Sean and Hank set off for the South Pacific to rescue him, enlisting en route a helicopter tour guide (Luis Guzmán) as comic relief and his daughter (Vanessa Hudgens) as eye candy.

    Where Journey 1 (as it wasn’t called) tried and failed to be a tongue-in-cheek adventure yarn in the style of Fraser’s The Mummy, Journey 2 elects to sit firmly in the Camp camp. Big colourful special-effects sequences follow one after another so quickly there’s barely time to laugh at the daftness of it all. You want to complain at what they’ve done to the story and the paint-by-numbers script which makes very little sense at all (apparently Mysterious Island, Treasure Island, Lilliput from Gulliver’s Travels and Atlantis were all one and the same place), but when you’re having fun watching Michael Caine riding a giant bee, why bother?

    It’s clear why Johnson signed on: credited as co-producer, it was filmed largely in his native Hawaii and the script gives him plenty of room to show off his sculpted torso, as well as his not-all-that-bad singing voice. Johnson’s always a likeable screen presence and has no problem with sending up his action hero image, which he certainly does here. If you’re a fan of The Rock’s nipples, then this is the film for you.

    [xrr rating=2/5]

    On a side note, Johnson seems to be the go-to man for propping up ailing franchises at the moment; he injected more muscles in to Fast and Furious 5 in 2011, and later this year will be seen in G.I. Joe 2, after the majority of the first film’s cast were given the boot following its mixed reception. I have no problem with this – any action blockbuster would stand to benefit with Johnson on its team, simply because he has more charisma than a thousand Paul Walkers.

  • Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace 3D (1999/2012)

    The Phantom Menace posterIs it time to rehabilitate the vilified prequel?

    There are surely few films as loathed as that of George Lucas’ first prequel to his original blockbusting Star Wars trilogy. The seismic disappointment felt among casual and hardcore fans was both immediate and sustained. Even now the name Jar Jar Binks induces a visible shudder in the average bloke on the street.

    In any other franchise this would have been a fatal blow, with plans for future instalments thrown in to doubt (or even the bin). But this was STAR WARS. This is no mere franchise; it’s a way of life. Thus, bad word of mouth failed to damage its box office returns, or impede the production of episodes II and III. George Lucas had total artistic and financial independence, such that he was impervious to complaints from fans and critics alike. Indeed, the term ‘critic-proof’ could have been invented to describe The Phantom Menace.

    It’s been over more than ten years now since that heady summer of 1999; plenty of time for water to pass under the proverbial bridge. How does it stand up today? Never one to miss a trick, Lucas has given us all the opportunity to reappraise the film by re-releasing it in 3D (not that anyone demanded the opportunity, but still). Plans exist for the entire series to be converted and re-released on a yearly basis.

    Let’s deal with the 3D first: it’s ok, but hardly essential. It doesn’t call attention to itself, and it’s certainly not as offensive to the eyes as that Clash of the Titans remake was a couple of years back. Some images even work quite well, but at no point does the film ever feel like it benefits from the extra dimension. A waste of time then? On the whole, yes.

    As the film began I braced myself for two and a bit hours of poorly written dialogue, wooden acting and the occasional flicker of exciting action. The opening text crawl explaining the premise did nothing to counter these expectations: talk of trade routes and tax disputes seems totally out of place, entirely contrary to the fairy tale spirit of the original 1977 film.

    The other flaws remain glaring: Lucas’ howlingly poor dialogue still clangs to the floor, Jar Jar still grates on the nerves, and the performances are nothing more than perfunctory. The fact that the story hinges on an 8 year old brat is also a problem; none of the characters are as engaging as those from the original trilogy. But hold on to your hat: after a dull first ten minutes or so, the film eventually settles down in to a modestly enjoyable adventure.

    Even on its initial release, the pod racing sequence and the lightsabre battle between Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor), Qui-Gon Jinn (Liam Neeson) and Darth Maul (Ray Park) were widely acknowledged as the highlights, and this still holds true. The pod race certainly benefits from being seen on the big screen, and the fight with Darth Maul (a sadly underused villain, killed off far too quickly) is one of the most memorable sequences of the entire series. The acting remains stiff, but not fatally so. Liam Neeson anchors the film with his now familiar performance as Mentor (see also Batman Begins, Kingdom of Heaven). I even got used to Jar Jar after a while.

    The eye-popping production design is the film’s other chief pleasure. The spaceships are sleek and elegant, while the planets of Naboo and Coruscant are opulant, almost mythical in their beauty. At least here it does nicely pave the way for the more industrial look of the classic trilogy, after the Republic has given way to the Empire. The climactic battle for Naboo shows off its various locations to good effect, and even injects some excitement on to the screen.

    And of course, if all else fails, there’s always John Williams’ superb score to enjoy; the composer surpassed himself with the rich array of themes and sounds he used to illustrate the various characters and locations. It’s easily the best of his prequel soundtracks, and a great score period.

    So is it time to rehabilitate The Phantom Menace? It’s certainly time to ditch the occasionally hysterical criticism it often receives. There are far worse films out there than Episode I. Yes, it’s flawed, it’s clunky, but it still has a genuine sense of adventure and scale that other would-be blockbusters would kill for. What it lacks is the captivating fun of its predecessors – which, for something bearing the Star Wars name, is more or less unforgivable.

    [xrr rating=3/5]

  • The Muppets (2011)

    Disney reboots The Muppets with this tale of the furry friends reuniting to try and save their old theatre from demolition. It’s been many years since The Muppets last performed together, having all gone their separate ways. Evil oil tycoon Tex Richman (Chris Cooper, clearly enjoying himself – but then who wouldn’t with a character name like that?) wants to bulldoze the old Muppet Theater in order to drill for oil. Brothers and lifelong muppet fans Jason Segel and Walter (actually a muppet, though he’s oblivious to the fact) decide to try and save it by convincing Kermit the Frog to round up the old gang for one last fundraising show.

    There’s a lot to like here, but it’s not quite as satisfying as it should be. Undoubtedly it’s a pleasure to have the Muppets back – not just onscreen, but back as themselves. It’s been a long time since we saw them as they were on the classic TV show, and the film is at its best when a sense of that old anarchy comes in to play as they try to put on a variety show that is plainly very very silly. Just feel the grin on your face when the old opening theme starts up.

    But there’s also a love and nostalgia for the characters that periodically threatens to suffocate the film. After Kermit delivers yet another heartfelt pearl of wisdom, you may find yourself rolling your eyes. Happily it’s not too often, and though the film sags around the middle as the reunion threatens to fall apart, it picks up again in the final act. The musical set pieces are a genuine joy.

    Adults who remember the Muppets from their childhood will enjoy this film the most; small fry will like it too, but will probably wonder what all the fuss is about.

    [xrr rating=3/5]

  • The Woman in Black (2012)

    That bastion of British horror, Hammer, returns to the big screen with this loose but respectable adaptation of the Susan Hill’s classic ghost story.  A solicitor from London (Daniel Radcliffe) is sent to remote Eel Marsh House to sort through the papers of its recently deceased owner, Mrs Drablow. There he meets hostile local villagers who fear the house and want him to leave (a long and proud Hammer tradition), and a mysterious figure in black (natch) starts popping up in unexpected places.

    In the tradition of classic English ghost stories and old haunted house movies like The Haunting (1963), director James Watkins creates a suitably gothic atmosphere and a handful of genuine scares. It’s a great pleasure to see a haunted house thriller that takes its time and earns its chills honestly, though it does have a few cheap Boo! moments too. But he doesn’t really bring anything new to the table and the film is a tad too restrained for its own good. Daniel Radcliffe – in his first lead role since the Harry Potter series – is a bit stiff to begin with, but eventually settles down nicely in to the role of a man wrestling with the afterlife.

    [xrr rating=3/5]

  • The Fly II (1989)

    The Fly IIHaving recently reviewed The Fly, I feel duty-bound to take a look at its much maligned sequel. I am something of a completist when it comes to genre films, and I hadn’t seen the follow-up to Cronenberg’s brilliant re-imagining (as it would doubtless be described in Hollywood today) in quite some time. Invariably it receives pretty withering reviews, but who knows? Perhaps time had been kind to it. Optimism is my middle name! (Not really.)

    Sadly, I can confirm that this is not the case. The Fly II remains an ineffectual horror that skirts around a handful of potentially interesting ideas but commits to nothing except upping the goo factor. The emotional core of its predecessor was the relationship between Jeff Goldblum’s scientific genius and Geena Davis’ journalist; a witty, touching and ultimately heartbreaking love story. The attempt to replicate that here between Goldblum and Davis’ son Martin, played by Eric Stoltz, and a research scientist (Daphne Zuniga) also employed by Bartok emphatically fails to match it.

    Chris Walas, who won an Oscar for his creature make-up in the first film, steps in to the director’s chair and is clearly out of his depth. Where Cronenberg utterly rejected the 1950s monster movie formula of  cardboard characters, simplistic plots and nonsensical science, The Fly II quickly settles down into this well trodden path. Whether it’s the dumb scientists who divide their time between torturing test subjects and sleeping when they should be observing, the obnoxiously evil security guard who so thoroughly deserves his inevitable sticky demise, or the ruthless industrialist only out to make a buck, it’s all so terribly predictable.

    There’s also a detectable movement away from the adult tone of The Fly towards a more adolescent audience.  The big conclusion forgoes the moving operatic tragedy of part one in favour of a big monster stalking corridors, bumping people off one by one – and even this is not particularly exciting or suspenseful. The final shot is certainly grim, but feels needlessly nasty and unpleasant.

    Neither does it have any of the subtlety seen in the original. Cronenberg injected a touch of dark humour with Brundle’s transformation (such as memorably vomiting over a box of doughnuts before eating them). Part two slavishly following the equation “More = Better” and rams any and all fly imagery down your throat,  just in case you’ve forgotten it’s a Fly movie. The best it can come up with is Martin being enthralled by one of those blue insect-killing lights. Which is just a bit silly really.

    ‘Like Father, Like Son’ was the tagline for The Fly II. Nothing could be further from the truth: in every conceivable way this offspring is inferior to its masterful parent.

    [xrr rating=1/5]

  • War Horse (2011)

    War Horse posterNot to be outdone by pal Martin Scorsese’s foray in to the family film market with the sparkling Hugo, Steven Spielberg returns with his adaptation of Michael Morpurgo’s tale of a boy and his horse, and the National Theatre stage play it inspired. It’s a beautiful piece of filmmaking from the veteran director, perfectly judged in tone; it doesn’t forget who the story is aimed at, but neither does it shy away from the horrors of the conflict.

    Beginning in an extremely tranquil pre-war Devon (complete with John Williams’ pastoral score), we spend a long-ish first act watching Joey being raised on a farm run by Peter Mullan’s alcoholic war veteran, who bought him in a fit of drunken pride. His son Albert (Jeremy Irvine), who immediately bonds with the feisty animal (Joey, not Peter Mullan), manages against all the odds to train the thoroughbred for farm work, only for WW1 to intervene – Joey is recruited in to the cavalry. His trials and tribulations on the continent effectively illustrate the tragedy that war leaves in its wake, whether man or beast.

    Initially it all seems a bit too quaint and picturesque, but I suspect this is entirely deliberate; it certainly makes the contrast with the later war-set chapters all the more effective. The sets and photography also feel deliberately artificial at times – a tip of the hat perhaps to the importance the play had in rescuing the book from obscurity, but also a neat way of smoothing the rough edges from the violence and splashing the screen with vivid colours and atmosphere. No terrifying Saving Private Ryan-style battles here (though the recreation of the Somme is suitably tense); just a calm and carefully crafted story that can be enjoyed and appreciated by almost any age group. Once you’ve adjusted to the film’s earnestness and simplicity of storytelling, there’s a genuinely moving and timeless tale to be discovered.

    A longer version of this review can be found at The Digital Fix.

  • The Artist (2011)

    The ArtistThe Artist came out of nowhere last year to take the Cannes Film Festival by storm. Critics fell over themselves singing its praises. It’s easy to see why: a black and white silent movie about the last days of the black and white silent movie era, and a genuinely charming comedy to boot. It’s a story that’s been told before of course, most famously in Singin’ in the Rain. Oddly though, for a film about Hollywood that has been smothered in Oscar buzz, it comes from France.

    Jean Dujardin is winning as George Valentin, a 1920s movie star in the mould of Errol Flynn, with a smile wider than the San Andreas Fault and a wife who is rapidly losing interest in him. At his latest premiere he bumps in to Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), a fan of Valentin’s and wannabe actress, and pretty quickly star and fan fall in love. But the film industry is about to be turned upside down with the arrival of sound, and Valentin’s star wanes fast. For Peppy however, it’s the fast track to stardom.

    Quite apart from anything else, The Artist is the most enjoyable romantic comedy to come along in ages. Dujardin and Bejo make for a terrific couple; they spark off each other repeatedly. The scene where Valentin and Miller begin to fall in love, as the star fluffs take after take on set, is brilliant. The final scene is just a pure delight. Valentin’s dog has also garnered a good deal of praise in certain quarters, and not without reason.

    The simple setup might well have been lifted from the silent era itself, but that’s the point:  by making a silent comedy in this historical style (complete with 4:3 image), the film demonstrates the timelessness of great cinema – whether with sound or without, colour or black and white, widescreen or square box. It’s also the second film in as many months to openly celebrate the history of film (after Martin Scorsese’s very different Hugo), and to emphatically extol its many pleasures regardless of age. Hurrah for that. If it leads others to discover an era of film all too easily neglected, then its importance will surely grow in the coming years.

    If you’ve read all the gushing praise in the press, it’s difficult not to feel a certain level of “Is that it?” during the end credits. It’s a film of simple pleasures, but pleasures they most assuredly are.

  • The Fly (1986)

    The Fly (1986) posterOf all the Hollywood studio logos that appear before a film begins, my favourite is Twentieth Century Fox. Not because they deliver a higher or more consistent level of quality than anyone else (certainly not), but because they have given the world some of the all time greatest science fiction films and franchises. The Day The Earth Stood Still, Planet of the Apes, Star Wars, Alien… all are perfect in their own way, and nestle near the top of my favourites list.

    In the mid-1980s Fox hit the jackpot. Over the course of 12 months, between the summers of ’86 and ’87, three superior works of sci-fi/horror were unleashed: Aliens, Predator and The Fly. The first of these, Aliens, was of course a sequel to possibly the greatest sci-fi horror of all time, Ridley Scott’s Alien, and somehow emerged as the equal of its predecessor. Released a year later, Predator was an attempt to capitalise on the success of Aliens by melding the same soldiers vs. ETs plot with Schwarzenegger’s particular brand of unshackled violence. Whilst not quite scaling the heights achieved by Aliens, it was nonetheless a gory and highly enjoyable action suspenser, and gave cinema a memorable new monster (as well as a whole host of new Arnie quotes).

    Sandwiched between these two was David Cronenberg’s remake of The Fly. It too can be labelled as a sci-fi horror, yet it is a vastly different beast from its stablemates; instead of expertly choreographed shoot-em-up splatter, Cronenberg makes his monster movie a full-on romantic tragedy. One should perhaps have expected this from a director as unconventional as Cronenberg. He throws out everything but the core idea of the original 1958 film: that of a scientist who develops a teleportation machine, which he tests on himself and, inadvertently, a common house-fly at the same time, with pretty disastrous consequences. Gone is the over-ripe melodrama and nonsensical science (just how did that fly’s head manage to grow so many times larger? And why did it still seem to house the scientist’s brain inside it?). Gone too is the lush widescreen photography.

    In their place is a beautifully tender relationship between scientist  Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum, never better) and journalist Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis, equally good) who he persuades to document his experiments; science that is at least far more credible, if no less fictional; and a production design that is immeasurably more atmospheric and appropriately downbeat.

    What I love most is the way it starts off in such a romantic and funny vein. You are instantly won over by the nerdy Goldblum and his hapless attempts to woo the sophisticated Davis (“…cheeseburger!”). It’s totally unexpected, and beautifully sets up the relationship that slowly and painfully implodes during the course of the film. The joy of new-found love has never felt so tangible in a genre film of this kind. Goldblum and Davis were dating at the time of the film’s production, and the wonderfully erotic moment when Veronica removes one of her stockings so that Seth can prove his invention works underlines their very real chemistry.

    Gradually however this joy gives way to jealousy and resentment, before changing to pity, fear and finally outright terror. It’s an emotional transformation that mirrors the physical one undertaken by Brundle himself after he tests his own teleporter in a drunken fit of jealousy. Initially he seems fine; better than fine in fact, as he bubbles over with more energy and life than he has ever known. Then his body slowly begins to change, deteriorating as his hideous evolution begins. If it’s body horror you wanted, then you’ve  come to the right film. Who can forget the infamous ‘Brundle Museum of Natural History’? And then there’s the maggot dream sequence, which gives the Alien‘s birth scene a run for its money in the squirming stakes.

    But the real horror is etched on Veronica’s face, as she witnesses the slow and wretched death of the man she loves. Parallels have frequently been drawn between Brundle’s condition and the outbreak of AIDS that was taking off around the time of the film’s release, but I don’t think it was deliberate; it could be any disease, any condition. The pain of witnessing a loved one physically waste away is an all too frequent occurrence in this world, and all the more painful when it happens to someone in their youth. Cronenberg’s fascination with the body and mind has never been as moving as it is here.

    The classical story structure – a doomed romantic triangle created by the intrusion of Veronica’s boss and unwanted ex-boyfriend Stathis Borans (John Getz), with hardly any other characters to speak of – lends the film a timeless quality, and over 25 years later it doesn’t feel dated at all, bar the occasional special effects shot. Indeed the film feels quite operatic, especially when Howard Shore’s magnificently dramatic score kicks in (no wonder then that Cronenberg and Shore reworked the film in to an actual opera in 2008). The gore and goo still horrifies and repulses, and the devastating ending still packs a hell of a punch. Not bad for a remake of a 50s B-movie, itself adapted from a short story first published in the pages of Playboy magazine. It’s easy to overlook this masterpiece – don’t.

    [xrr rating=5/5]