Marvellous Times

In amongst the usual disaster zone that is my life, I made time a the other week to go see Guardians of the Galaxy, and let me tell, it kicks many levels of arse.

Unlike Avengers Assemble, which was also very excellent, I wasn't that familiar with the characters. We haven't had a series of films to set everything up, instead being thrown into the life of one Peter Quill, self-appointed "Star Lord", a human adventuring in space due to circumstances best seen on screen. Through his usual reckless thieving, he ends up with more misfits on his case: Rocket (a Raccoon type animal genetically and bionically modified to speak like Bradley Cooper), Groot (a walking tree) and Gamora, a green skinned alien who is the adopted son of the rather nasty Thanos, who was the bad looking dude seen at the end of the Avengers flick. She has been tasked with recovering a relic by Ronan, a lacky (OR IS HE?) to Thanos to whom Gamora is working for alongside the big man's other daughter, Nebula.

It all ends with them locked up in clink for scrapping, where they meet the musclebound Drax the Destroyer, left extremely violent after his family were murdered, from which it all goes off and, plot spoilers aside, becomes very entertaining indeed.

I honestly couldn't find much to criticise about the whole affair. It looks great, has plenty of laughs, great music and for the main part, the casting is top notch. I've seen some jibes at the casting of pro wrestler Dave Bautista as Drax - personally, I found him excellent in the role, offering up some fine comic timing. I'd never seen anything of Chris Pratt before (having given up on Parks and Recreation before his character arrived), but I give the dude his dues: his playing of Quill was most excellent. People have been saying he's a Han Solo for the 21st century, which makes a lot of sense. Indeed, if Marvel play their cards right on this one, this franchise could well be the Star Wars for this generation - an opinion shared by a friend of mine who took the seven-year-old son of a friend to check this out, and was met with a demand to see it again right away.

Right now, it's impossible to give anything but kudos to Marvel: I've seen this and Captain America: The Winter Soldier in recent times and had nothing but a brilliant time, left eagerly wanting more of the characters I've seen. Anyone reading this who hasn't seen Guardians of the Galaxy should consider it, unless they can't stand the whole genre.

In other related news, I did get very excited when I saw some test footage for Deadpool reboot, all CGI with Ryan Reynolds voicing your favourite Fourth Wall breaker. However, it turned out to be from 2011, leaked for whatever reason. Reynolds played a Wade Wilson created in a rather regrettable fashion in X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and as a huge fan of the character, has been trying to make amends ever since, bless him. A Deadpool film done like the footage we have already seen would be a total hoot and I wish a plague of genital warts on whoever has not green lit it so far.

Southern Discomfort

Quentin Tarantino first came to my attention, I suspect like many, when I saw Pulp Fiction at some point in the 1990s. It was on TV, I caught it by accident (being a very culturally unaware teenager, I had little idea what I was sitting down to) and thought it was brilliant. Not long after, Reservoir Dogs was on, and that too struck me as a fine piece of film making. I didn't pick up on a lot of the references I might have done now, just let myself be entertained.

Subsequently, I've not found myself too taken with his output. Some friends and I rented Jackie Brown and were so bored, we stopped the video to instead watch National Lampoon's Loaded Weapon 1, only going back to our hire with some reluctance. Since then, I've maintained his career was a case of someone shooting their load on their early work, albeit in spectacular style in a manner the vast majority of us could never manage. Kill Bill was fine, though I have no wish to sit through them again, and Inglorious Basterds I have yet to see, mainly due to the presence of Brad Pitt.

No matter, Django Unchained seemed interesting enough to warrant attention. Also, I had a free ticket to the Cornerhouse cinema in Manchester that I won in a pub quiz - result.

First: this flick has gotten a lot of attention based on the constant use of a certain word beginning with "n". As some white dickhead brought up in Cumbria, I've little idea of the impacts of slavery, racism and the like from any personal background, so it's hard for me to gauge on the grand social impacts of this, as seems to be the focus of many reviews. What I can say is that it didn't get in the way. It doesn't take a huge leap of imagination to think that that was how people talked in the South of the USA in 1858.

Not that historical accuracy is the name of the game here. If you're bored, you can check out websites that list the numerous anachronisms to be found. Yet as always with young Quentin, everything is about the characters and their dialogue.

Of which we mainly focus on two: slave Django (Jamie Foxx) has recently been bought and is being marched across Texas. Whatever fate was in store is changed by Dr King Schultz (Christoph Waltz), a German dentist-turned-Bounty Hunter who needs our hero to identify three marks. From there, the two go on to form  an effective partnership in collecting rewards placed on the heads of various neer-do-wells.

As a story goes, it's nothing that special and it seemed odd to me that the whole "revenge" angle in the posters and suchlike doesn't really exist for the vast majority of the movie. Indeed, it's more a "rescue" story as the two leads plot to find and free Django's wife, Broomhilda, who only seems to exist in the story as an atypical Damsel in Distress.

This being Tarantino, it all looks and sounds wonderful and Waltz is a top-level enough actor to carry off his character's love of drama in style. Without doubt, he's the best thing here, especially as Foxx is too much of a blank slate to really root for to any degree. Having not seen him in Basterds, I can understand the fuss about his acting chops and imagine I'll be seeing him doing a lot more English-language work in the near future.

On the other side of the good/bad guy divide , Leonardo di Caprio is great as the plantation owner with questionable theories on white supremacy. I've never really been a fan of the fella's work before, perhaps because I think he has an odd-shaped head, but he does the job well here, aided by Samuel L. Jackson as a fiercely loyal slave.

In all, a decent movie, entertaining if nothing else and fans of its creator will find lots of love. Personally, I just liked a few of the cameos. Seeing Tom Wopat (Luke Duke to my childhood self) appear as a Marshall was strangely one of the highlights of the whole show. Shame he didn't give out a "yee-haw".

The Man Who Was Not With It

In terms of hits, the most popular post I've made on this here blog was the one about Felt. They're a band that never sold anything in their lifetime, but whose legend grew. As I wrote about a couple of weeks ago, I found out that the documentary about their frontman, Lawrence of Belgravia, was being shown in Manchester and I'd got tickets.

So along I went to the Museum of Science and Industry (a fine attraction, for anyone visiting this wonderful city), which it turned out was the only place willing to show it. So thanks for fuck all, the Cornerhouse, the supposed "cutting edge" cinema in Manchester.

Dave Haslam, well known DJ from his times at the Hacienda, had put the event together and thus kudos must go to him. Charlatans front man and Felt fan Tim Burgess brought his newly bleached locks down to do  an introduction of sorts and then it was onto Paul Kelly's film, sometime in the making. Not so much a documentary about Lawrence's life as a whole (Felt fans will be disappointed if they expect to see much of that band, though drummer Gary Ainge appears), but more of the past few years as the man tries to get by despite problems with substance abuse, finances and apparent mass indifference to his craft.

It's a beautifully made piece which anyone with any interest in the man should see. There's laughs to be had at the way Lawrence carries on (and I wonder if he's totally aware of this and plays up to it) but also plenty of pathos: at the start, he's being evicted from his flat and later on, he sells a precious guitar to raise some funds. Throughout, he comes across as a man in love with being in a band and who believes someday he'll reach his goal of being famous and not have to use public transport to get around.

There is some biographical detail on him - passing references to a brother and sister and how he never understood why original Felt member Nick Gilbert left because he thought the band put a pressure on their friendship. Lawrence thought the band was worth sacrificing a friend for.

Whether he's right or not is left for us to decide. The man himself just seems to follow whatever ideas he has - from jangling indie guitars in the 80s, glam rock stomp with his second band Denim and subsequently leading "the world's first b-side band", Go-Kart Mozart. It's to his credit that he states that while he likes the idea of being a millionaire, he'd never reform Felt, even for huge sums of cash, and you believe him.

Afterwards, there's a short Q&A with Lawrence and Kelly, during which we learn the former has been signing on the dole pretty much throughout his whole career in music, having never made any kind of fiscal rewards that his talent doubtless deserves. He's also resigned himself to never having a relationship again as "girlfriends get jealous of the band" and Kelly states that instead, he sees a girl somewhere he finds attractive and lives out the whole relationship in his head before conceding it would never have worked out.

With luck, there will also be a DVD release next year, so that other Lawrence fans can view this entertaining flick. As a little bonus on the day, I also got a Go-Kart Mozart key ring. Ace!

Knighty Knight

Seven years from its start, The Dark Knight Returns completes the only trilogy that I've ever got myself out of the house to go and see at the cinema every time. Star Wars? Nah. Lord of the Rings? Fuck right off. Round my way, Batman beats them all to a bloody pulp.

Such a big occasion, then, demands going an extra mile so it was a case of trooping up to Manc city centre to the IMAX. Having never been to one before, I made the fatal error of sitting a tad too close to the screen. Not being a Hammerhead Shark, the screen was wider than my field of vision. Still, a minor quibble as the visuals did look that much better.

However, the sound at times was a bit muddy, something which I've since come to the conclusion (having read online of other people having similar complaints) is down to duff mixing.

The film itself: eight years after punching the Joker through a vortex into the Twilight Zone, which caused everyone to forget he ever existed for some reason, Bruce Wayne is a shadow of his former self. Crime is at an all-time low in Gotham City and our hero is physically knackered out from his nocturnal exploits, reduced to being the Howard Hughes of his town. To make matters worse, some cat burglar nicks a bunch of pearls that belonged to his mother.

Luckily, motivation to sort his shit out is coming in the form of Bane, a slab of muscle in a mask. When Commissioner Gordon cops for a smackdown, Brucie Boy finally stops moping and gets the costume out of the cupboard. Hi-jinx, plot twists and drama follow, of which you'll have to go and see to find out about.

How did I feel coming out, over two-and-a-half hours later? Initially, very impressed. As you'd expect from the series, it looks great and it seems Christopher Nolan was given an open budget judging by the cast he put together. Alongside the usual candidates (Bale, Caine, Freeman, Oldman), Matthew Modine, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and, oddly, Tom Conti crop up and all get their fair share of scenes to themselves. Michael Caine especially gets a couple of high emotion moments, but I've found it a little hard to take him seriously since this.

Then, of course, there's Tom Hardy as Bane and Ann Hathaway as Selina Kyle/Catwoman. When they first announced Bane would be the bad guy, I was a bit doubtful: in the comics, he's a seven foot tall, 400lb mountain of muscle constantly being pumped full of drugs to keep him so. With Nolan's more realistic take, such an approach was never going to happen. However, Hardy still comes across as pretty menacing and looks the part, stomping around the scene, executing mooks who fail him. My only complaint is that his odd accent is very hard to understand at points and at other times verges on camp. A good villain in any case. Hathaway is fine - helped by there being no difference in Selina Kyle and her costumed other side. But yes, let's get the confession done here - I did think her arse looked good when she was riding the Bat-Bike.

Having such a wide cast does have its costs, though. Morgan Freeman essentially sleepwalks his part in, which isn't that significant anyways and Batman himself seems to barely star in his own franchise at points. Gordon-Levitt, on the other hand, may make himself a Hollywood career after doing an excellent job as Blake, an idealistic young cop. The fact he's a handsome devil will probably help too.

In general, the storyline does a decent enough job tying everything together as a finale. More attentive comic fans may well see a big twist coming, but will also love some of the little references (a joke  about a "killer croc" in the sewers is one). However... waking up the day after viewing, my brain was full of "hold on, how did...?" type questions. There are some fairly huge plot holes to be found throughout and for my money, Batman doesn't quite do enough detecting.

All the various plot holes and things that don't make sense would be valid except for one thing: this is a film about a man in a bat suit up against a slab of muscle in a metal mask. Yes, yes, Nolan has tried to import a whole wedge of realism into proceedings but the bottom line is that we're talking about characters from comic books. Suspension of disbelief is pretty much a prerequisite, I would have thought.

Without doubt, the studios will start up a new Batman - we can only hope they spare us yet another origin tale - and I don't envy who gets the job helming it. I'd imagine they may get it started soon if rumours of a Justice League film are to be believed. Flaws and all, Nolan created an excellent trilogy of films and Christian Bale deserves credit too for making a great Batman and Bruce Wayne, even if the voice is still too easy to mock.

Ink Spots

In order to escape the huge amount of crap everywhere about that old lady being Queen for 60 years, I suggested to my better half that we venture out to rent a film for the night.

Naturally, it took about 20 minutes to come to any kind of vague consensus on what to choose, which got me wondering how many couples break up in the aisles of DVD rental shops. It's easy to get to a point where you just shout "well, pick what you fucking want then!" and storm out in a strop.

Mercifully, this didn't happen to us and I finally agreed to take out The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. I hadn't read the books, crime fiction not being my thing, and the amount of hype around them doubly put me off.  As for the film? Well, it didn't do a lot to convince me to investigate further.

Not that it's a bad film. It certainly looks the part, with some nice contrasts between urban and rural Sweden, the rustic house the male lead inhabits with the clean lines of the modern house of another character.

The problems start with the characters, none of whom are particularly likeable. Daniel Craig as a disgraced journalist is requested by a wealthy industrialist to investigate the disappearance of his niece decades earlier. Thing is, the character is such a complete drip at times, and a total "anything with a pulse" shagger the next that it's hard to root for him in solving the mystery.

Then, of course, there's Oscar-nominee Rooney Mara as Lisbeth, the titular character and one made up of so many clichés it's amazing. Troubled past? Check. Socially awkward genius? Check. Just once, it'd be nice to see one of these characters who doesn't have a whole lot of dark shit in their past. It's almost like a game where writers try to come up with the worst horrors possible. To Mara's credit, she does a good job with what she's given to work with.

None of which might matter if the central story held up. But it's full of some major plot holes that lead up to a final twist that if you're paying enough attention you should see coming from a country mile off. Part of the problem is that it feels like the whole story would be best strapped to a TV mini-series, as at two-and-a-half hours, it takes too much time getting started but also doesn't have enough time to develop the details. As in, was the big cheese really waiting all those years just for some discredited hack to roll up? How did the owner of the torture chamber keep it a secret for years?

On the plus side, the vast majority of it is acted really well: Christopher Plummer and Steven Berkoff do their usual fine work as the man needing answers about his long-lost niece and the lawyer who gets Daniel Craig the job. Weirdly, Jim Robinson from Neighbours rocks up in a small role, which makes you wonder why they didn't hire more Swedish people for the parts, rather than getting others to do slightly dodgy accents.

It's a not a crap film, not by any measure. It's so average that I doubt I'll remember any of it in six months.

Assembly Kit

Generally, I like to think I'm immune to hype. Sure, there's things I look forward to and on a couple of occasions I've bought games on opening day - Mass Effect 3 and Grand Theft Auto IV being the last two.

Despite that, I've been in a pant-moistening state of excitement about seeing Avengers Assemble and I finally got round to it yesterday. If, like me, you always state that Marvel kicks DC's dicks into the dust when it comes to having the best characters. I mean, OK, Batman is great, but Superman has always been dull and the most interesting characters they have - Green Arrow and the Question - are unlikely to get on the big screen.

Right - over the course of five films (Iron Man plus sequel, Captain America, Thor and The Incredible Hulk) it's been established that Nick Fury, agent of SHIELD, has been trying to put together a team to face any problems that may be beyond even his coping levels. Given he's played by Samuel L. Jackson, you best believe that would make it a very big problem indeed.

Which comes in the form of Loki, Thor's troublesome adopted brother, who has plans on taking over the world on behalf of some nasty alien folk. Some people, eh? The story follows a predictable path of recruiting all the team, but it works because we're not expecting Tolstoy here. We want action and a few jokes: and we get them in spades, including some top showdowns involving Thor against Iron Man and the Hulk.

Though I was never a Buffy fan, Joss Whedon obviously knows his stuff and puts in some pauses between all the smashing up. Captain America, being all about sacrifice and honour, isn't initially taken by the wisecracking rich boy that is Iron Man while Bruce Banner is a bag of nerves from knowing what happens if he gets a bit upset. Playing Banner, Mark Ruffalo has taken a lot of plaudits and rightly so - he even gets one of the best scenes that features a wonderful cameo from Harry Dean Stanton.

When his character does decide to go to town with his alter-ego, he does get a couple of the best moments. Including at least two where I thought the cinema audience I was part of was going to burst into applause. It helps, of course, that Tom Hiddlestone, who plays Loki, makes an ace baddie - hamming it up to great effect. Evoking the trope of "English accent = evil" too.

I'm sure there's plenty out there who have picked holes in the plot or certain aspects of the heroes. Maybe if the film hadn't worked on every other level, they'd have a point. But the only thing on my mind when I walked out was "man, I really want to see that again". It also made me want to go back and watch all the individual "prequel" flicks again and play through the Marvel Ultimate Alliance games as the Avengers.

If I had to pick one tiny flaw, and it's not a flaw as such, it's that I would have liked to have heard some references to Hank Pym, and maybe a passing reference to Spider-Man during the climatic battle in New York. But no matter - you should see this if you have any passing interest in the characters. I've been reliably informed that you don't even need to have seen the previous films in the series to enjoy it.

The amount of wedge the film has brought in, Joss Whedon may well be the hottest director in pop cinema at the moment. Where he goes next will be interesting, as will where they take this particular franchise next. Top marks to the bods at Marvel then - but can you please let Ryan Reynolds make the Deadpool film he really wants to? Also, will DC have the balls to do a Justice League film in answer, instead of yet another Superman reboot?

Stick Your Foot Down

Long after I should have done, I finally got round to watching Drive last night, the thriller from last year that stars Ryan Gosling as an enigmatic wheel man. Worth the wait? To a degree.

Before that, it's once again a credit to the star that he's taken a less obvious route to artistic credibility despite starting out alongside Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears et al on the Mickey Mouse club. His pretty-boy looks could easily have seem him take the obvious route, so fair play to the guy for doing films like Drive.

Which is, as I'm sure has been said many times already, the kind of film Steve McQueen would have been doing 50 years ago. Gosling's nameless character has that slow, deliberate talking style (plenty of pauses) that Mr Cool himself perfected. Toothpick constantly in gob, there's very few moments we see him react to anything on an emotional level, and most of them seem to suggest some deep-seated anger issues.

So: our man works as a stunt driver and mechanic by day and does getaway driving at night, offering clients a five minute window for his services. Unfortunately, two pieces of bad judgement cause all manner of problems. First, his boss at the garage gets in with gangster Bernie Roses (superbly played by Albert Brooks) to fund a racing team to which the hero will be the star driver.

Secondly, the driver gets involved with his neighbour, the initially-apparent single mother Irene. Only in turns out the wee bairn's dad is doing time, and when he gets out it appears he's in hock to a bunch of heavies. Offering to act as driver for a job to clear the debts and ensure the young family are left alone. Naturally, it all goes South is big style.

Two things surprised me: first, this was a way more gruesome film than I was expecting. People are terminated in spectacularly violent fashion, with close range shotgun blast to head and fork to eyeball being two of the most, umm, memorable.

Also, there actually isn't that much high-speed hi-jinks. There are several scenes of driving round LA, but only two of yer-actual chase scenes. If anything, this is more of a straight crime thriller, which leads to the problem of predictability - it falls into cliche a tad at times.

All the same, Drive looks brilliant. Director Nicolas Winding Refn makes nighttime LA look cool and sleazy, helped by a top soundtrack choc-full of 80s esque electro-pop. Performances are top notch all round - extra credit must go to Gosling for not losing his style despite wearing a ridiculous jacket throughout most the film.

Loses points for not having enough Christina Hendricks, mind.

Oddly Compelling

If you like action films, the 1980s was a great time. You could choose from those with a sci-fi slant (The Terminator, Robocop), heroic everymen (Die Hard) and murderous aliens out for cheap kicks (Predator). Something for everyone, in fact.

However, a select group decided to avoid issues such as “plot”, “character development” and “acting”. These peaks of filmmaking instead cut straight to the chase: musclebound male leads carrying guns that weigh more than me and offering pithy one-liners after they used them on unsuspecting mooks. The success and sequel of The Expendables shows there’s obviously a lot of love out there for these, so here’s some of my favourites of this top genre.

Commando (Arnold Schwarzenegger)
One time Special Forces bod John Matrix (curiously armed with an Austrian accent) has retired to a life in the countryside with his daughter, chopping wood and questioning Boy George’s gender – a role model of a single dad. All is ruined when one time teammate Bennett decides the only way to deal with his latent homosexuality is to take over a small Latin American country and so kidnaps the little girl to ensure Matrix helps out.

Obviously, our man isn't going to stand for that kind of cliché lying down and so goes on a philosophical journey of self-exploration involving slaughtering several hundred soldiers, some involving the clever use of garden tools. Legendary pay-off line “Let off some steam, Bennett!” somehow missed topping the “Top 100 Movie Quotes” poll.

Cobra (Sylvester Stallone)
Renegade cop Cobretti has managed to stay on the force despite dubious methods and a silly first name. But when a baffling plot device involving some cult ritually slaughtering people hits LA, he’s the man to protect the one living witness, played by Brigitte Nielsen in an inspired bit of casting.

Despite his top detective skills in working out the complex conspiracy, the chief isn't buying it and sends Cobra, his partner and the witness out into the hills to hide. Tagging along is a police woman who also happens to be in the cult, which is handy for all concerned, and moves things along so that it surprisingly leads to a big shoot-out at the end. Andrew Robinson (Scorpio from Dirty Harry) has a dignified cameo.

Raw Deal (Arnold Schwarzenegger)
Kicked out of his CIA job and working as a small town Sheriff, Mark Kaminsky (curiously armed with an Austrian accent) is offered a way back by his old boss. Not pleased at the murder of his son by the Mob, the chief wants our Mark to go undercover to bring those SOBs down – but the catch is that he’ll have no back up if things go South, as the job is strictly "off the books".

With Hitchcock-esque building of tension, our boy ingrates himself with the baddies with top acting skills (his playing drunk is a talent to behold) before deciding the best option is to just kill them all. Highlight is a sequence in a gravel pit in which the hero drives around at speed, sniping goons out of the window with expert precision while Satisfaction by the Stones blares out of his tape deck.

The Punisher (Dolph Lundgren)
In the right hands (i.e. Garth Ennis), Frank Castle is one of the great comic book characters. Here, he’s reborn, in an unusual move, as a Swedish muscle machine. Which works on some level, somewhere, I guess, but where’s the skull shirt? Eh?

So, the Punisher is an ex-cop understandably gone troppo after his family cop for a mob hit put on his head. Rather than hope for the forces of law and order to sort it out, Frank decides the best solution for all is huge amounts of violence. However, a spanner is thrown in the works when the Japanese mafia roll into town and kidnap their Italian rivals’ children in a severe bit of negotiation. Our Frank has his arm twisted by the Head Don to ride to the rescue, and does so leaving a large pile of bodies. At the climax, with all the Japanese people out of the way, he executes the mob guy he’s been helping on front of his own son. Really! I mean, that’s not going to send him on a roaring rampage of revenge when he grows up, is it?

Red Heat (Arnold Schwarzenegger)
Top Soviet cop Ivan Danko (curiously etc etc) is left miffed when his mark escapes to the capitalist West, killing his partner in the process. I’m assuming he’s miffed, as the acting doesn't really offer much of an insight beyond 'stoic'.

The bad guy is subsequently nicked in Chicago for littering or something, and Ivan is sent to pick him up. Thankfully, the hand over goes bell-end up and our Communist Chum has to team up with another stereotype (fat, chain-smoking wise-cracking Jim Belushi) to pick up the pieces via the use of bullets. At the end, Danko is so inspired by Regan’s America, he goes back to the USSR, destroy the regime and teams up with David Hasselhoff to tear down the Berlin Wall.

Taking a Chance

Anyways, so it goes like this: Gill Grissom is chasing after the Green Goblin, because the latter has been knocking up funny money in Los Angeles. All the while, the band who told everyone to "Wang Chung tonight" soundtracks matters with their own unique brand of 80s rock.

Alright, not the best synopsis. But as I've recently mentioned To Live and Die In L.A. a couple of times recently, I thought I’d jot down a few words. To surmise in a tad more detail: Secret Service agent Richard Chance wants to snare expert counterfeiter Eric Masters. Both are a bit "on the edge", as a doctor would say: Chance base jumps off bridges for kicks, Masters creates works of art, then burns them. There’s probably some kind of metaphor at work here, and you may have also spotted the symbolism with their names – Chance takes chances while Masters is a master at his work. Brilliant.

Chance’s state of mind isn't helped when his best friend and partner decides to go snooping round Master’s workshop without back up and catches a bad case of ‘Shotinheaditis’. Not that he was helping his odds by being three days from retirement and stating at the start of the movie (when he and Chance saved El Prez from a terrorist) that he’s "too old for this shit". Honestly, a bit of genre savviness could have saved everyone a lot of trouble.

Now even more unhinged and determined to catch Masters, Chance is teamed up with idealistic rookie John Vukovich, who he drags along on his increasingly desperate plays. These include leaning on his ex-con informant/reluctant lover, whom he threatens to revoke their parole unless she keeps coming up with leads.

This was seen as a return to form for Friedkin, who’d entered a bit of a slump following his 70s peak when he directed The French Connection and The Exorcist, and as he captured the feeling of a freezing New York winter, he gets a feel of a smog-ridden LA down pat. He’s also helped by two great leads: Petersen gives his character a feeling of self-belief bordering on thinking he’s invincible. After a car chase, and surrounded by armed mystery men, it seems as if the game is up for Chance: instead, he ploughs the wrong way down the motorway, much to the screams of terror from his partner.

Better still, however, is Willem Defoe as Masters. He’s in full-on creepy mode here, as a man who has no second thoughts of killing anybody who gets in the way of business. Despite that, there’s a sense of realism as he gets a few good hidings when he does try to act the enforcer, being saved by luck or his henchman.

The support cast is solid, with my particular favourite being Dean Stockwell as Masters’ sleazy lawyer. At one point, he explains he got a client off a serious charge by stating the search warrant had the house colour incorrect. He waves away this, as well as his work with a murderous counterfeiter, as "just business" that somebody else would do if he didn't. John Pankow is also great as Vukovich, the hapless agent caught up in Chance’s insanity, slowly getting in way too deep as matters move towards an inevitably messy conclusion. It’s also a bit of a shocker, one of the few times I almost jumped up in surprise from a film.

Over the weekend, I re-watched L.A. Confidential, and at times To Live and Die seems a spiritual prequel/sequel – showing the city 30 years on. The music, by Wang Chung, is certainly a far cry from Dean Martin, all harsh keyboards, crashing synth drums. They do a good enough job, with the title track especially standing out as a classic bit of 80s pop.

But mostly, to compare the two films shows how faster life got. Richard Chance seems to be constantly moving, in need of another rush. Strangely, the car chase itself appears only speedy by the nature of it’s editing: the cars themselves are bog standard saloons rather than exotic sports cars, perhaps playing on expectations after earlier sightings of Masters’ Ferrari.

As a package, it screams "1985" in the same way an episode of Miami Vice might, but manages to overcome it's period details. In fact, I'm a little surprised that it hasn't been remade. Surprised, and probably very glad.

A Full Tank of Gas, Half a Pack of Cigarettes

Seemingly because I am male, when I get talking to people the topic of favourite books/music/films crops up with unerring haste. I think it’s because if they don’t support Manchester United, I run out of things to say, such is my lack of basic social skills. That’s what a childhood spent playing video games does to you. Well, that and going on murderous rampages, apparently.

Back on topic, the answer to my number one film has been for the last 15 years and for the rest of time is the Blues Brothers. Frankly, due to my occasional shallow nature (excepting the odd foray into deeper stuff like Blade Runner), it has the things I like in the medium: car chases and great music. Plus it’s got the coolest guy of all time, John Lee Hooker, in it.

The Brothers and their band were born from Saturday Night Live due to the efforts of blues fan Dan Aykroyd, who had been getting his comedy partner John Belushi into the blues. By luck, Belushi also had a fair old voice on him and the duo formed a band around his singing and Aykroyd's harp playing. Becoming regulars on the show, the 'Brothers' recorded an album Briefcase Full Of Blues that proved successful and led to the film, directed by John Landis, who was coming off the back of successfully helming Animal House, which also starred Belushi.

To surmise the basic plot for any poor souls who haven’t seen this masterpiece: "Joliet" Jake Blues (Belushi) is released from prison, where he is picked up by his brother, Elwood (Aykroyd), in his ex-police issue Dodge having traded the old Bluesmobile for a microphone. Visiting the orphanage where they were raised, they learn it is to be closed by the state unless a large tax bill can be paid in two weeks. Fired up by a dose of evangelical preaching from James Brown, the duo set out to reform their old band to raise the cash by honest means.

Naturally, doing so isn't all that easy. The old band have straight jobs and the brothers end up on the wrong side of John Q. Law, the local Nazis and a bunch of Good Ol’ Boys. Not that the plot is all that important, more of a framework on which to strap a lot of appearances from some of the giants of soul and blues. As well as Brown and Hooker, Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin make cameos while jazz scat singer Cab Calloway takes the role of the brothers’ mentor, Curtis. Franklin’s appearance is particularly amusing if just for her muttering of "shit!" as her husband Matt "Guitar" Murphy is convinced to go back on the road.

It’s the actual Blues Brothers Band that is my favourite part of the film. For starters, any outfit with half of Booker T and the MGs in it is always going to have some serious chops and indeed, Donald "Duck" Dunn observes that they’re "powerful enough to turn goat piss into gasoline" (Dunn’s constant puffing on a pipe during performances is also a great wheeze).

It’d be easy to say the scenes with the band doing what they do best (playing music rather than acting) are the highlights: after all, their versions of Otis Redding’s I Can’t Turn You Loose and Solomon Burke’s Everybody Needs Somebody To Love have become as equally regarded as the originals – the former is often referred to as Blues Brothers’ Theme. But then you have to consider that they somehow managed to fit in a car chase in a shopping mall. A car chase! In a shopping mall! Really, if that’s not genius, I don’t know what is. The only negative about the whole set up is that watching John Belushi at his best makes you angry that he didn't have the sense to stay off the speedballs to stay alive long enough to ensure the horrendous sequel wasn't the complete fiasco it ended up being.

I've seen this flick hundreds of times, including last night. It never, never gets old. I can quote probably every line in advance but it’s still the only film that makes me want to get up and dance. Shake a Tail Feather indeed.

Going Over The Edge

Back when I was a wee nipper, I quite fancied the idea of being a racing driver in Formula 1. I can't tell you why - it was probably soon after I figured out at the age of seven that I would never be good enough to play at Old Trafford.

The reasons this didn't happen are of course down to a total lack of talent. But there was also the facts that a) I'm probably a bit too much on the tall side to fit in a F1 car and b) I'm a complete coward when it comes to putting myself in danger.

Much as I'm loath to quote Jeremy Clarkson, he once noted that racing drivers are missing the part of the brain that stops us going beyond a certain point. It takes a certain kind of bravery/stupidity to drive at speeds where one tiny mistake can be fatal. And even if F1 is infinitely safer than it was 40 years ago, there remains that element of danger that other sports don't have.

Ayrton Senna was the last man to die on the F1 track back in 1994, an event I remember well. He was part of a generation of racers that I would watch that seemed full of personality and passion alongside Prost and Piquet. Senna tracks the life of the man using archive film and audio footage, with some new interviews lapping over the pictures.

We're given very little information about his childhood, getting straight to what we want to know about: the racing. Starting in karts, he moved up the grades before coming to world attention at a rain-soaked 1984 Monaco GP, which he was looking nailed on to win before a controversial decision to quit the race.

Alain Prost, the driver who was just holding on the lead at that point, is soon set up by the documentary as Senna's nemesis. Methodical behind the wheel and apt at playing the political games behind the scene compared to Senna being the more "pure" racer just wanting to be on the track, and aiming to be the best.

Which he became, earning his first title in 1988 to mass celebrations in his home country of Brazil. Fiercely patriotic, he was regarded as one of the few reasons for the nation to be happy in a time of much difficulty. He would proudly wave the flag at races and the reactions of the Brazilian commentator to his first world title shows how much it meant.

Alongside his love of his country, Senna's religious faith is shown to be deeply important to him when off the track, with him constantly thanking god for his talent and victories. But despite all this, the real attraction of Senna is the footage of the racing, with the on-board clips being particularly exciting. Watching it compared to modern racing, it seems so much more on-edge, perhaps due to the drivers still using a stick gearshift when doing corners at 100mph+.

Naturally, the Senna/Prost rivalry is an excellent framing device and it seems amazing in retrospect that the two didn't end up trading punches eventually. The two were probably the best drivers in the world in the late 80s, and it's suggested that their animosity was purely through a need to better the other - as after Prost's retirement, Senna offered praise to his opponent.

It all leads to the tragic climax at San Marino. Seeing the footage from that weekend, especially after Roland Ratzenberger's death in qualifying, is eerie. He appears distant and highly strung, though it's easy to add meaning in hindsight.

Senna was perhaps the last great champion of F1 before going into the age of huge technological advancements. It doesn't take a huge leap to imagine that if he had survived, he may well have set a record amount of championships that Schumacher would never have surpassed. Or maybe he would have grown bored and retired.

Not just for big racing fans, Senna is an excellent film showing a man driven to be the best and making it, with a nice dollop of drama added in. You just wish that F1 now had characters in the same league.

Take Them On, On Your Own

In a rare show of getting with the modern world, I finally made use of the Blu-Ray player in my Playstation 3 and rented Scott Pilgrim Vs The World. Though it should be pointed out I only did this because the rental place bribed me for my custom by offering five rentals for £5.

No matter. Based on the comic book series of a young Canadian bassist who must defeat seven evil exes to win the heart of the ever-hair-colour-changing Ramona, the film was directed by Edgar Wright, whose work I've never really taken to, though it seems everyone else loves one of either Spaced, Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz. In any case, Scott's mission (of sorts) is the cue for a lot of fights involving weird powers that are never really explained, bar one ex who gains his psychic powers from being a vegan.

Adaptations of the less well-known comic books (i.e. those not from Marvel or DC) often seem to do better, perhaps due to the wider public not being as familiar with the source material. Pretty much everybody, for instance, knows who Spider-Man and Superman are. Pilgrim's adventures, until this film, I would expect were limited to a far smaller audience meaning casual observers such as myself have far less expectations of how the characters should behave or look.

Matters are also helped by a tight script by Wright and Michael Bacall and some fine acting by Michael Cera as Scott, though he's overshadowed at points by Kieran Culkin as Pilgrim's friend Wallace, who manages to keep a calm and detached perspective on odd events as well as enjoying a growing number of men in his bed.

Given this is a film about a guy who plays in a band, music features heavily and Scott's band Sex Bob-omb play songs written for them by Beck, which are all fine although all sounding a little bit the same. Stronger are the visuals, which take many cues from old-school arcade games, especially the well-shot fight scenes.

From what I gather, Scott Pilgrim vs the World didn't make a whole load of money, so a sequel may be unlikely. A good thing, I reckon, as it stands alone as good story worth seeing, with some fine acting, plenty of good tunes and more than enough moments to make you chuckle.