Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

I had decidedly mixed feelings about Guy Ritchie’s 2009 adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic series of novels featuring a certain master detective called Sherlock Holmes. On the one hand, I found the film to be a mostly enjoyable romp featuring a fun and charismatic central performance from Robert Downey, Jr., yet on the other I was frequently rolling my eyes at Ritchie’s bullet-time visuals and found myself disinterested in the plot far too often. Its sequel, “A Game of Shadows” is a different story; this time the plot is fully engaging from start to finish, contains nary a dull moment, and the bullet-time visuals, while still utilised a little too often, are slightly less grating.

“A Game of Shadows” sees Downey, Jr. proudly returning as the definitive detective of British literature, once again playing Holmes with a knowing eccentricity as he captures crooks, hunts for clues and throws an innocent lady off a moving train – it’s to save her life, I assure you. Jude Law also returns as Dr. Watson, Holmes’ straight-faced partner in mystery-solving and criminal-catching. However, Holmes and Watson’s long-lasting partnership is under threat, as Watson is due to be married to the beautiful Mary (Kelly Reilly, “Eden Lake”) – ever the selfish type, Holmes does not like this one little bit.

Together, Holmes and Watson must face their ultimate foe: Professor James Moriarty (Jared Harris, “Mad Men”), a cold and callous lover of chess and killer of innocents. Using his yet-unchallenged skills of detection, Holmes discovers that Moriarty is up to some dodgy business involving assassination attempts and acts of terrorism; it soon transpires that Moriarty has evil plans to spark war in Europe, meaning Holmes and Watson must work together to prevent the collapse of western civilisation. “No pressure,” comments Holmes. Indeed.

“A Game of Shadows” is much bigger in scope than its predecessor; I suspect this was a very deliberate ploy by Ritchie and his writers to make the film feel more epic and grand like all sequels must be, although I must say it’s a ploy that works wholly in the film’s favour. While the first “Sherlock Holmes” was based entirely in the gorgeous setting of Victorian London, “A Game of Shadows” takes us on an adventure to France, Germany and finally snowy Switzerland for the nail-biting climax. What with all this casual continent-hopping, one almost feels as if the film is yet another “Bond” movie, albeit set in the late 19^th century and featuring homoerotic undertones – also, I’m sure Professor James Moriarty would prove himself to be a worthy adversary of 007.

Indeed, Moriarty is a magnificent villain, much stronger than the villainous Lord Blackwood from the previous film, that’s for sure. As with every appearance the character has made in print, TV and film, Moriarty is shown here to be Holmes’ equal; the two are intelligent, cunning and deep-thinking men who treat each other with a whole heap of mutual respect – they battle not with fists but with words, and also chess pieces. Harris plays Moriraty with a shark-eyed, stone-faced, cold-hearted menace that chills one to the bone, yet captivates entirely; he’s a wonderful actor and fits the role perfectly.

Downey, Jr.’s scenery-chewing performance is just as charming and appealing as it was in the previous film; he’s given Holmes an effectively unique personality, and makes “A Game of Shadows” very much his film and no one else’s. Saying that, Law makes for a splendid sidekick, this time given much more work to do, with Watson actually getting his hands dirty during the film’s wide assortment of action set-pieces. The constant banter between Holmes and Watson is also very entertaining, written with a high level of wit and humour; they’re an amusing pair and also have a very convincing “bromance” going on between them.

I mentioned the action set-pieces there; the film has a fair collection of them scattered throughout its 120-minute length, which may work only to annoy purist fans of Conan Doyle’s work. However, for those aware of the fact that Ritchie’s films are reinterpretations of the original books rather than authentic adaptations, these very cool and unashamedly stylish slices of over-the-top action are rather fun to behold. The most enjoyable set-piece is perhaps the one that takes place on a train during Watson’s honeymoon – at one point, Holmes and Watson end up lying on the floor of a carriage as bullets fly overhead, all while Holmes is dressed in women’s clothing, his face smothered with mascara and lipstick as he chews away on his trusty pipe. Brilliant.

“A Game of Shadows” is a substantially better film than its middling predecessor; it features a better villain, a better storyline and better set-pieces. It’s more exciting, more thrilling, more engaging and thus a more satisfying movie-going experience. And while it may very much piss off Conan Doyle purists, it works perfectly fine on its own terms as a big, silly, overblown pantomime – take notes, "Pirates of the Caribbean" franchise.

7/10

Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked

I’d say “Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked” is the best of the series so far; don’t get your hopes up, though, suffering parents – it’s still a load of old poppycock. I should make it clear that by “best” I mean “most bearable,” as in “least likely to make you want to stick a screwdriver in your ear canal” – I suppose this is the most you could possibly hope for out of a family-friendly film franchise about all singing, all dancing, computer-generated chipmunks. Now, I’m not saying you won’t ever have the desire to take a little stab or two at your poor, suffering eardrums whilst enduring “Chipwrecked” (you very well could and probably will), I’m just saying the desire to self-mutilate may not crop up quite as much as you may anticipate – maybe only every ten or fifteen minutes will you be eyeing your trusty screwdriver.

This second squeakquel sees the all singing, all dancing CGI critters becoming hopelessly and helplessly stranded on a remote tropical island – well, that’s a pretty good start. This is following an unfortunate paragliding incident on the grand cruise ship that was supposed to take the chipmunks and chipettes to the International Music Awards. Instead, they’re starving to death and slowly losing their tiny little minds on an uninhabited island in the middle of nowhere, yet still they sing their crushable little lungs out – hooray!

Meanwhile, the chipmunks’ human owner/companion/whatever Dave (Jason Lee, “My Name is Earl”) has, unbeknownst to the chipmunks, become stranded on the other side of the same island after attempting to find his furry friends. Joining him on his search for the “chipwrecked” chipmunks is the previously villainous Ian (David Cross, “Megamind”), who spends the entire movie dressed in a pelican costume – looks like someone managed to majorly piss off the writers, eh, Cross?

What this rather unimaginative plot means is that the chipmunks spend much of the film on their own, i.e. clunky human-chipmunk interaction is kept to a minimum; this is a merciful plus. You see, it’s the scenes featuring the chipmunks and the chipmunks alone that are the most bearable; you’d think it’d be the opposite, but badly written dialogue means that any and all scenes featuring living, breathing human beings are irritatingly unnatural – with computer-animated rodents, this is not so much of a problem. Plus, poor Jason Lee and David Cross, two very talented comedic actors, are little more than pictures of disinterest and embarrassment by this point – they no longer give a squeak, I suppose you could say.

In all honesty, I don’t really mind the chipmunk characters; they’re amusing enough and the original three at least have notable personalities. We have high-spirited leader Alvin (voiced by Justin Long), bespectacled brainbox Simon (voiced by Matthew Gray Gubler) and chubby doofus Theodore (voiced by Jesse McCartney). We also have the Chipettes, the three female chipmunks introduced in 2009’s “squeakquel.” These are high-spirited leader Brittany (voiced by Christina Applegate), bespectacled brainbox Jeanette (voiced by Anna Faris) and chubby doofus Eleanor (voiced by Amy Poehler) – they’re essentially what the original chipmunks would look like if they were to each undergo a sex change.

None of the uselessly A-list voice-actors do any of the singing, of course; that’s left to the professionals. The singing is near-constant, providing pointless musical interludes as the chipmunks belt out all the current, soon-to-be-forgotten pop tunes in their squeaky little voices, sometimes in acapella, sometimes with the support of the original music. We have everything from Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” to Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way,” as well as a tremendously witty reworking of a Willow Smith song: “Whip My Tail Back and Forth.” The soundtrack shall sell well, I assume, and drive parents up the friggin’ wall.

As well as a barrage of pop tunes, we have a never-ending slew of pop culture references. There’s a nudge to Robert Zemeckis’ “Cast Away:” Zoe (Jenny Slate), a crazy castaway whom the chipmunks encounter, has several friends in the form of footballs with faces painted on. There’s a nudge to William Golding’s classic book “Lord of the Flies:” Simon uses the lens of his glasses to light a fire (though I suspect this will go over the heads of many). And then there’s a very outdated nudge to Peter Jackson’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy: at one point, Eleanor, while holding a mango she finds, cries out, “My preciousss” in the unmistakable style of Gollum. Now that’s comedy!

Speaking of comedy, this film has none, or at least none in the funny section. It lazily strives for funniness and never quite manages to reach it, resulting in a wholly laughless affair that suffers from the belief that the sight and sound of singing, dancing, squeaky-voiced chipmunks is enough to entertain and distract an audience for 80 minutes; I assure you, dear filmmakers, it most certainly is not, especially when we’ve already endured it two times before.

Look, if you, for whatever reason, found any enjoyment in either of this film’s predecessors, then you may once again find enjoyment in “Chipwrecked.” For those of you who didn’t, I’d advise you to avoid “Chipwrecked” as if it were a rabies-infected chipmunk. As predicted by most, it’s clinically hollow-minded, painstakingly unfunny and a laborious chore to sit through. Most people over the age of five shall gain absolutely nothing from it; those under the age of five (i.e. stupid kids) will have a whale of a time.

4/10

Jack and Jill

Two years ago, Adam Sandler starred in writer-director Judd Apatow’s rib-tickling comedy-drama “Funny People.” In “Funny People,” Sandler played a successful fortysomething comedian who had sold himself out to the Hollywood system and was now starring in hopelessly dumb, schlocky comedies; for example, one film that was briefly shown had Sandler’s character playing a hideous man-baby (a baby boy with the head of a fully-grown male). Obviously, this was intended by Apatow to be a mockery of the idiotic, big-budget studio comedies Hollywood is known to churn out nowadays; it was a sharp, albeit simple, piece of satire heightened by the involvement of Sandler, who in the real world had also latched onto crappy comedies of this sort.

However, it seems Sandler is determined to become a parody of himself not only on the big screen but also in real life. You see, his latest movie, “Jack and Jill,” is a film so bad, so stupid and so utterly insulting that it’s almost as if one of the fake movies from “Funny People” burst out from the screen, landed in the real world and somehow managed to gain a wide theatrical release for mass public consumption; the fact that this is not the case – i.e. a crew of professional filmmakers actually made this film – is absolutely horrifying.

“Jack and Jill” is yet another movie – scratch that, product – from Sandler’s very own production company, Happy Madison Productions. It also marks the seventh collaboration between Sandler and his usual director, Dennis Dugan, who together have given us such unforgettable comedy classics as “Grown Ups,” “I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry” and “You Don’t Mess with the Zohan.” If that’s not an indication to avoid this film at all costs, I don’t know what is.

Their latest film, another comedy, contains one joke; this joke is that Adam Sandler is playing his own sister. Actually, hold the phone, the film has two jokes: Adam Sandler is playing his own sister, and the sister is very annoying. These two jokes, thin as they may be, are stretched out way beyond their limitations to 90 painful minutes of mind-numbing “comedy,” much more than the two to three minutes they deserve on a bad episode of Saturday Night Live – indeed, Sandler’s old SNL buddies all get their own cameos in the film, including David Spade, who plays a much more convincing woman in the film than Sandler.

The plot, if you can call it that, is as follows. Jack (Sandler) has a twin sister named Jill (Sandler in a dress and wig and putting on a lady voice, LOL). Jill flies all the way to Jack’s ridiculously fancy house for Thanksgiving. Jack doesn’t like Jill. Jill is very annoying. Jill does stupid things that annoy Jack. Jill stays at Jack’s house longer than she intended on.  Jack becomes mad. Jill accidentally becomes romantically involved with Al Pacino (yes, Al Pacino from “The Godfather”), with whom Jack wishes to do a business deal. Jack decides to keep them together until the deal is done, but Jill, for some strange reason, doesn’t want to go out with Al Pacino. Jack becomes mad. Jill continues to be annoying. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Throughout these 90 minutes of pitiless torture, we watch as Jack becomes increasingly frustrated with Jill’s behaviour, which stretches from social idiocy (talking on her mobile phone in a movie theatre) to cultural ignorance (adamant that “It’s a Wonderful Life” is not called “It’s a Wonderful Life”). This concept has worked in films before – for instance, there’s the hysterical 1991 Frank Oz-directed comedy “What About Bob?” in which an egotistical psychiatrist is driven mad by the actions of one of his patients, a lovable, accident-prone and incessantly intrusive goof who is a very entertaining and genuinely hilarious character.

This is opposed to “Jack and Jill,” throughout which we, as an audience, are as frustrated by Jill’s behaviour as Jack is; the character of Jill is not likable, funny or entertaining, instead obnoxious as hell, tediously unfunny and absolutely insufferable to watch. We are not entertained by Jill; we are irritated by her, and every second she spends on-screen is a second we feel we could spend doing something much more productive – clubbing baby seals, for example.

The film also manages to be incredibly insulting to its audience. For starters, the comedy on display is deplorable bottom-of-the-barrel kind of stuff, chock-a-block with witless, brain-dead humour that probably wouldn’t even appeal to your average three-year-old. For example, we have an old Mexican lady getting thwacked in the face (which occurs twice in the same scene), a Shetland pony having its legs crushed under the weight of Jill (which doesn’t make much sense, as Jill really isn’t very fat, but hey, who cares?), Jack’s gardener being a Mexican who constantly jokes about being Mexican (LOL, he’s Mexican), and the always-reliable sound of characters passing gas (I counted this occurring 11 times throughout the film). If I were an Adam Sandler fan, I’m sure I’d feel insulted that Sandler felt this was what I wanted out of a comedy; even as a non-fan, I still felt insulted.

And then there’s the amusingly unsubtle product placement that constantly pops up on-screen, with the film starting and ending with two full-length commercials (one for Pepto-Bismol, the other for Dunkin’ Donuts). This is because the character of Jack rather conveniently works as an advertising executive, and part of the plot of the film is that he wants Al Pacino to do a commercial for Dunkin’ Donuts (because “Dunk-A-Chino,” one of the company’s new products, sounds like “Al Pacino”). Also, if you go and see this “film” (though I don’t know why you would) look out for the scene in which Jack and Jill go to the cinema together and point their snacks in such a direction that the Coca Cola logos printed on the packaging are in the perfect position for the camera to see; you shouldn’t really miss it, as director Dennis Dugan makes sure you don’t.

I’m hesitant to even call “Jack and Jill” a film; I see it more as a 90-minute Dunkin’ Donuts commercial consisting entirely of a series of unfunny comedic events revolving around exasperating recurring characters bereft of any sense of personality or motivation. Nonetheless, it has received a theatrical release and will no doubt earn a hefty sum of money, undeserved as every penny it earns may be. As a reviewer, all I can do is warn you not to see the film, which, at this point at least, stands as the worst and laziest film of 2011; I’d also like to point out that I found it more unbearable than “The Human Centipede 2 (Full Sequence).” Anyway, I have to go as I’m off to get myself some Dunkin’ Donuts and a swig of Coca Cola, or, perhaps more appropriately, some Pepto-Bismol.

0/10

The Artist

Before being struck by the on-going reign of the ear-treating talkies, silent cinema was the pinnacle of popular entertainment in the 1910s and 1920s. Silent films sent audiences on spellbinding adventures, told them enchanting stories, made them laugh and gasp, gave them heroes, villains and comedy characters, some of whom remain iconic even a century later, all achieved without the audible utterance of a single word. Michael Hazanavicius’ “The Artist” pays tribute to this era not just by being about silent films, but by actually being one of them.

The film, a long-time ambition of the French filmmaker, is filmed entirely in gorgeous black-and-white and presented in the old-school box-shaped aspect ratio. About 99% of its audio and dialogue is entirely muted; any necessary dialogue is presented on-screen via old-fashioned intertitles. The only consistent sound to emit from the film is the lavishly enchanting orchestral score by Ludovic Bource that is reminiscent of silent cinema’s usual scores.

As such, the film presents itself as if it actually sprung from the ‘10s or ‘20s, though not as if we are watching it in the modern day; that would mean the image would be scratched and disfigured. Instead, the image is crisp and sharp, meaning it is as if we, the audience, are an audience from the ‘10s or ‘20s, watching the latest silent picture in a grand theatre, all dressed up fancy and whatnot, in collective awe of the film’s magical majesty – it transports us back to the era of silent cinema, and that, in and of itself, is magical.

The story itself is about silent cinema, or more so the death of silent cinema. Its star is George Valentin, played by a very expressive French actor named Jean Dujardin (“OSS 117: Nest of Spies”). George is a prominent star of silent cinema in 1927; he stars in action/adventure films, in which he always plays the handsome, dashing hero with a winning grin and roguish charm. He’s beloved by worldwide fans, most of whom seem to be squealing ladies; George, a helplessly proud and cocky man, loves the constant attention and adoration he receives.

Little does George know that the era of silent cinema is coming to its end, giving way to the revolution of the talkies; Hollywood’s Golden Age doth approach. Stubborn, George refuses to have anything to do with the supposedly gimmicky movement and decides to remain an actor of silent films. This is a decision that ends up costing him his career; George fades ever more into obscurity as the talkies take over theatres – George Valentin is yesterday’s news.

Meanwhile, Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo, “A Knight’s Tale”) is becoming an international star of talky cinema. Famed for her carefully drawn beauty spot, the young and beautiful starlet once briefly starred alongside George in one of his movies; she acted as an extra with whom George’s character briefly dances on a dance floor – George became captivated, maybe infatuated, by Peppy during the shoot, resulting in several retakes of the sequence.  Now Peppy is today’s news, and down-in-the-dumps George must watch as this no-name extra becomes the celebrated star he once was – understandably, he begins to slip into depression.

This is a beautiful story, something cinema lacks nowadays – how apt. It is a story of pride, fame, love and tenacity. It shows how one reacts when one loses one’s glory. It shows the challenges that an actor must face once they become irrelevant and forgotten to the public. One dream sequence illustrates this perfectly: George, unable to speak, finds himself surrounded by everyday sounds and voices, yet he himself cannot utter a single syllable; it is a sequence that portrays George’s sense of isolation and irrelevance, or at least his fear of it; it also portrays George’s inability to accept that the world around him is changing, whether he likes it or not – it is a powerful and commanding sequence in a powerful and commanding movie.

This is a movie featuring wonderful acting. We have two marvellous leads in the form of Dujardin and Bejo, two very talented French actors whose talents perfectly fit the silent medium. Together, they find a balance between the iconic pantomime style of old-school silent acting (necessary due to the actors’ inability to emote via dialogue) and more subtle, modern-day acting. The result is stupendous; Dujardin and Bejo have a tremendously electrifying and natural chemistry together. Both give performances that are endearing, heartfelt and filled with such a strong sense of character and motivation – it’s astonishing that they achieve this without us ever having to hear either of their voices.

With “The Artist,” writer-director Michael Hazanavicius has crafted a magnificent piece of feel-good cinema. It gives us an endearing romance that we wish shall succeed in the end. It gives us enchanting characters who amuse, delight and absorb us. It gives us a powerful and expertly handled story that moves, astonishes and captivates us; we actually care about how this story shall end, and are satisfied with how it ends. It is one of the most effortlessly charming films I have seen in recent years, and also one of the best.

10/10

The Thing

In John Carpenter’s ground-breaking 1982 monster movie masterpiece “The Thing,” the monster at the centre of the story is an imitator. It is an abominable creature from outer space that can absorb and flawlessly imitate any life form it so pleases; it can then walk around in the life form’s skin without anyone noticing a Thing. It may look like the life form and it may act like the life form, but it is not the life form; it is a hollow shell of what once was. Matthijs van Heijningen Jr.’s newly released prequel to “The Thing” is, rather ironically, exactly this – one could even suspect this was a deliberate act by the filmmakers.

This prequel, arriving almost thirty years after its legendary predecessor, is an imitator. It is a carbon copy of its masterful original in almost every way; the plot is the same, the setting is the same and the structure of the story is point-for-point exactly the same. But it is not the same; unlike Carpenter’s version and like its monster, it is empty inside, with very little to be said for it in terms of originality. It is a copy, an imitation if you will, and nothing more.

With his logic, I suppose one should actually be calling it a remake; but no, the filmmakers seem adamant that it is a prequel and not a remake, in spite of it replicating its predecessor at almost every single step. Yes, it ties itself up with the beginning of the original with a scene that plays during the end credits, but take away this sequence and what you’ve got is a film that could have very easily been marketed as a remake and nobody would have batted an eyelid when actually watching the film.

You may remember seeing at the beginning of Carpenter’s version two Norwegian men frantically chasing after and shooting at a dog that soon turns out to be the dreaded Thing in canine disguise. Well, this prequel sets out to tell the story of how this event transpired, and of what precisely happened at the deserted Norwegian base seemingly attacked by the Thing – it turns out that pretty much exactly the same circumstances we witnessed occur in the first film occurred here too.

The story begins in the middle of Antarctica, where three Norwegian scientists discover a spaceship buried below the ice, as well as what seems to be an alien life form also encased in ice. Kate Lloyd (Mary Elizabeth Winstead, “Final Destination 3”), a palaeontologist, is requested to fly to Antarctica and aid in a team’s mission to find out what the hell this thing is (spoiler: it turns out it’s a Thing). The team digs the seemingly long-dead extra-terrestrial out of the ice and takes it back to the base, where it unfortunately springs back to life and escapes.

Soon enough, they discover that the alien has the ability to imitate other life forms by absorbing their bodies. Knowing this, they begin to suspect that one or more people in the team may in fact be the alien in disguise. They understandably become paranoid, get the flamethrowers out and wait impatiently for one of their teammates to suddenly sprout tentacles out of their head or grow a massive mouth in their belly; they are not kept waiting long, I must tell you.

It all sounds so hair-raisingly suspenseful, but I’m sorry to report that it isn’t; genuine suspense arrives only in brief spurts here and there, and then quickly buggers off, leaving us more bored to death than chilled to the bone. This is opposed to Carpenter’s version, a film so ridiculously suspenseful that 1982 audiences were said to have left the cinema with their fingernails no longer intact. The unrelenting tension and terror that Carpenter masterfully created back in ’82 is all but gone here, giving way to cheap scares and forced suspense that just doesn’t work.

There’s also the problem that this prequel is far too reliant on surprisingly crappy-looking CGI. This is of course utilised when the nasty creature reveals its hideous self, all tentacles and dogs’ heads and whatnot, resulting in a not-so-scary monster that looks a little too much like a villain from one of the “Resident Evil” video games. Carpenter’s version, on the other hand, famously relied on good old-fashioned practical effects; these infamously grisly prosthetics are still terrifying to this day, most likely because the revolting creature they helped create was an actual physical presence, as opposed to something created on a computer screen and superimposed into a scene.

I apologise if I’m comparing the two films too much, but the prequel did sort of have this coming, what with how closely it seems to deliberately set itself to Carpenter’s version – it even has the same title, for crying out loud. I will, however, say this one thing in the prequel’s favour: audiences unfamiliar with Carpenter’s version will probably enjoy this prequel much more than those who are familiar with it. Those of us in the latter category will most likely compare too much, which will never, ever work in the prequel’s favour.

3/10

Hugo

Probably the most interesting thing about 3D family film “Hugo” is that it is directed by Martin Scorsese, a filmmaker famed for his viciously violent and prodigiously potty-mouthed 18-rated flicks suitable only for mummy and daddy. Look down his filmography before the release of “Hugo” (ignoring 1993’s U-rated romance “The Age of Innocence,” which, to be frank, no one really remembers), you’ll notice that the most kid-friendly flick Mr Scorsese has ever released is a three-hour-long Howard Hughes biopic which features a butt-naked Leonardo DiCaprio getting his willy out and pissing into milk bottles – oh, and there’s that rather disgusting scene in which a bloody and broken Leo has the palms of his hands horribly burnt before he is engulfed in flames following a nasty plane crash. Point is: Scorsese has never been known as a filmmaker who caters to young audiences.

And yet “Hugo” is entirely innocent, with nary a swearword uttered or a hand violently beaten to bits with a hammer. The film’s most child-unsuitable scene is probably a train derailment in which we witness a fair amount of wreckage but no violence. All insults in the film are worded playfully and innocently, with words like “urchin” and “buffoon” replacing Scorsese’s usual assortment of F words and C words. There is no sex and there is no violence, these instead replaced with an overwhelming sense of wonderment and magic. If anything, the sheer brilliance of “Hugo” – and it is very brilliant - shows that Scorsese is not only one of the most gifted filmmakers working today but also one of the most versatile.

As is with most family films, “Hugo” is based on a book. The book here is Brian Selznick’s award-winning children’s novel “The Invention of Hugo Cabret” of 2007. Portraying young hero Hugo Cabret in this big-budget film adaptation is 14-year-old Asa Butterfield, who you may remember from the 2008 Holocaust tear-jerker “The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas” (he was not the boy in the striped pyjamas; he was the other boy).

Hugo Cabret is an orphan living between the walls of a Paris railway station in the early 1930s. There, he secretly operates the clocks his alcoholic uncle (Ray Winstone, “The Departed”) showed him how to work before his disappearance. Hugo has been living in this station since his father (Jude Law, “Contagion”), a gifted clockmaker, tragically died in a mysterious fire, following which he has been living with his uncle.

When not managing the clocks, Hugo spends his days watching the people of the railway station (there’s an interesting romance that goes on between a newspaper seller and a café owner), sneakily stealing food from the station shops and getting chased by Inspector Gustav (Sacha Baron Cohen, “Borat”) and his patrol dog. He also steals gears and cogs and the such from grumpy toy shop owner Papa Georges (Ben Kingsley, “Shutter Island”) to use on his automaton.

Yes, Hugo has an automaton. It’s a rusty, broken metallic man his father had purchased when nobody else wanted it. Hugo and his father had intended on fixing the automaton together before the father’s unfortunate death. Hugo is determined to fix the bot, which has the ability to write when given a pen in its hand. The literal key to fixing the mechanical man may lie in a heart-shaped key that’s meant to fit in the back, but where would Hugo find such a thing?

“Hugo” is a technical wonder; this should be of little surprise, given that Martin Scorsese is the main man behind the camera. There’s not a single film Scorsese has made that is not a technical wonder, but there is also not a single film Scorsese made before “Hugo” that was in 3D. The 3D here is magnificent; unlike many of the 3D releases that Hollywood churns out time and time again, the 3D in “Hugo” is crisp, clean and sharp, as opposed to blurry and nauseating. It is not a distraction, instead seeming to enhance the visual beauty of the film. It looks gorgeous and breathes new life into what is, on most occasions, a money-grubbing gimmick; I trust Hollywood shall watch and learn.

The film is also a wonder in terms of its inescapable charm. Right from the opening scene, in which we swoop through the snowy streets of Paris until we come to the watchful eyes of Hugo peering out from behind a clock face, the film enchants and beguiles. We are captivated by the intriguing story, which becomes particularly beautiful in the film’s second half. We are charmed by the character of Hugo, of Papa Georges, of Papa Georges' spirited goddaughter Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz, “Let Me In”) and even of comic relief Inspector Gustav. We are curious about where the story will go, on what magical journey it will take us on, but magical we trust it will be.

“Hugo” also works, rather unexpectedly, as an astonishing tribute to the magic of cinema. I shall not give away anything plot-wise relating to this (to do so could be considered a spoiler), but what I will tell you is that there is a flashback sequence to the early days of silent cinema that perfectly sums up why I, among other film buffs, adore cinema, its power and all its wonderful wonders – in the more-than-capable hands of a cinematic genius such as Scorsese, this is of course a marvellous sequence filled with passion.

Part steampunk adventure and part love letter to cinema, “Hugo” is an absolute triumph of a family film that will charm and fascinate audiences of all ages. It is a film that will make you smile, giggle and maybe even shed a tear or two. It is a pleasure for the eyes, the ears and even the heart to behold; it is one of the best and most inspired examples of kid-friendly entertainment I have seen in recent years. Take your kids to see “Hugo;” go yourself to see “Hugo;” either way, I implore you to go and see “Hugo;” this is also one of those rare occasions where I shall recommend that you see a movie in eye-popping 3D.

10/10

Take Shelter

Throughout the absorbing “Take Shelter,” viewers are presented with an intriguing question: is the film’s protagonist sane or insane? There are, of course, two answers to this question; either the protagonist is sane or he is insane. But deciding which of the two answers is correct proves rather tricky; even after the striking climax of the film, the “correct” answer to the question remains quite ambiguous, revealing itself to be one of those cinematic answers with a meaning that depends entirely on the personal interpretation of the viewer; this will no doubt spark a plethora of heated debates over at the film’s IMDb board.

The film’s protagonist is Curtis LaForche, who is played by Michael Shannon; you may recognise Shannon from HBO’s Prohibition era-set TV drama “Boardwalk Empire” and his Oscar-nominated turn in Sam Mendes’ “Revolutionary Road.” Shannon has that rare ability to fully construct a character while appearing to do very little; his performance in “Take Shelter” shows this talent in full.

Curtis is a construction worker living contentedly in the suburbs of a small Ohio town. He has a loving wife, Samantha (the magnificent Jessica Chastain, “The Tree of Life”), and a sweet young daughter, Hannah (Tova Stewart in her first role), who is hearing impaired. The LaForches are certainly not a rich family, but they are surviving peacefully with what they have.

Curtis has been seeing many storms forming in the sky lately; this would be normal for the area in which his family lives (they have a tornado shelter in their backyard), but the ones Curtis is witnessing are not normal storms. Yes, he hears thunder; yes, he sees lightning; yes, he gets soaked in a shower - these are all typical symptoms of an everyday storm, but this is not an everyday storm. You see, the liquid that pours down from the heavens above is not rain; it’s motor oil.

Several times throughout the film, Curtis is plagued by visions of this ominous storm which no one around him can see nor hear. These visions happen upon him both when he is asleep and when he is awake. There are slight variations in each vision; in one, he is violently attacked by the otherwise-friendly family dog; in another, the storm causes complete strangers to go mad and attack both him and Hannah. He begins to wonder: are these just dreams, are they symptoms of a mental illness or are they a God-given warning of an impending apocalypse?

Intriguing questions, no doubt, which serve to make “Take Shelter” all the more of a helplessly intriguing mystery. We, as viewers, spend much of the film attempting to solve this mystery; we are progressively handed pieces of a puzzle that we can’t help but try to piece together ourselves. I myself attempted this with much doubt in my puzzle-piecing; in the end I was still to venture anywhere near a conclusive answer, but I did not find this annoying or frustrating; indeed, I found it satisfyingly perplexing.

We follow Curtis as he himself tries to solve this mystery.  He goes to see a doctor, who prescribes him sedatives to help him sleep. He visits a local counsellor and tells her of his visions. He visits his mother, who was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia when she was in her early thirties; could it have been passed on to him? He begins to suspect that the visions are not just dreams but are a warning, but how could he possibly know? They could mean nothing; they could mean everything.

Curtis begins to deal with the situation. Following the vision in which he was attacked by the dog, he builds a pen in the backyard for the dog to stay in. In real life, he is wary of and avoids those who attack him in his dreams. He goes to the bank for money to expand upon the tornado shelter in the backyard, just in case. He hides his intentions from his wife for fear that she wouldn’t understand. It’s a sign of Shannon’s talent that we fully support Curtis in these acts of possible overprotection and paranoia; but he’s just protecting his family, isn’t he?

It’s true; Shannon gives an incredible performance that is as powerful as it is heart-breaking. He is playing a man who is unstable and who is haunted by terrifying visions that he and he alone can see. He is worried that these visions may come true, that the end is nigh and that he may very soon lose everyone and everything he holds close to him. Shannon is fascinating as Curtis; his performance lets us sympathise with this character, even though Curtis may be completely wrong and completely cuckoo.

“Take Shelter” is a sometimes scary, sometimes devastating, sometimes poignant but always enthralling tale of a man who may or may not be losing his mind. Writer-director Jeff Nichols (“Shotgun Stories”) has made a quiet, riveting and atypical disaster movie that works without fault as both a powerful human drama and an intriguing mystery that keeps you guessing right until the very end, and even after that.

9/10