Inception Review - A Neat Fit Within The "Summer Blockbuster" Template

There is a member of the AANP Towers clan who likes his films straightforward, a scholar of the Bruce-Willies-Versus-The-Baddies-One-At-A-Time school of All Action No Plot cinema. Alas, said inhabitant of these four walls would find himself completely stranded if he tried to negotiate the vaguely labyrinthine new Leonardo DiCaprio film Inception. Rather a shame, because in terms of action, originality, acting and script the film is a cracking effort that neatly fits within the “Summer Blockbuster” template.

To try explaining the plot on paper would be like trying to provide written instructions on how to navigate a maze – hardly compelling reading, and a little pointless unless you happen to be slap bang in the middle of the ruddy thing. Suffice to say the plot keeps viewers on their toes without straying completely off course. Inception uses the pretty darned unique plot-device of a dream within a dream to go bending the laws of physics somewhat, with the result that a decent fist-fight can be interrupted by a sudden ninety degree shifts in gravity. All manner of mighty impressive action sequences duly follow, and in fact even the non-action sequences are fairly mind-blowing, as the powers-that-be have some fun with the various possible scenarios on offer.

All these bells and whistles are complemented by a cracking storyline and slick group of characters. Leonardo DiCaprio assembles his team Mission Impossible style, a likeable bunch -and a jolly well-dressed bunch too, if I may say so, whose sartorial elegance helps to give the whole film a polished film. This lot- including Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ellen Page, Tom Hardy, Ken Watanabe and Cillian Murphy - partake in some nice understated dry wit and banter, which helps keep the film ticking along nicely. It’s a cracking cast, as befits a film which slips in cameos from Michael Caine and Pete Posthelthwaite without breaking stride.

The action is unashamedly Matrix-esque, while the storyline could perhaps be classed in the Minority Report category of futuristic thrillers. To its credit the film does not seem overlong, even though it apparently lasts comfortably over two hours. As long as you’re well aware that The A-Team this ain’t, and sharpen your wits accordingly, you ought to emerge from Inception nodding in approval, while perhaps bracing yourself for sudden shifts in gravity.

Predators Review - Doing Justice To The Good Name Of Predator

In a nutshell, it’s a cross between Predator and Aliens – and let’s face it, irrespective of how well or badly a film is made, if this is the principle it adopts it has the building blocks in place to be one ruddy masterpiece of a cinematic event (at least for the All Action No Plot generation).

The film does not waste any time with such boring and slow-paced elements as preamble and scene-setting, opening instead with the protagonists literally dropping into the jungle and loading their weapons for a fight. I honestly don’t think they even bothered with names, or established who they ought to shoot – they simply aimed their weapons and waited for a chance to mow down various parts of the Amazon with their uzis and what-not.

(By this stage my readership ought to be swiftly separating into those who realise they are on the wrong page of the interweb, and those true All-Action-No-Plot devotees who have presumably already seen the film.)

That line about it being a cross between Predator and Aliens is no exaggeration by the way. The plot really can be defined thus. A bunch of pretty hardened commandoes in the jungle (admittedly minus the bulging biceps of Schwarzenegger’s merry men), hunted by an unseen beast? So far, so Predator. Throw in the fact that they are actually on the beasts’ home turf, and that there is more than one of said beast, and you have a healthy dose of Aliens. The characters are also lifted straight out of Aliens, without so much a as a cursory rub-down. Alice Braga plays a Ripley-Vazquez hybrid; Adrien Brody the quiet, wiry Hicks-style group leader; Walton Goggins the Hudson-style comic relief; while as a silent-but-deadly type who removes his shirt and decides to take on a predator with just one enormous sword, Louis Ozawa Changchien is a reincarnation of Predator’s Billy.

None of which should be thought of as pejorative, for just as these were winning elements to Predator and Aliens, so they provide fistfuls of goodness to Predators.

MANP does not mind admitting that it was with a strong degree of suspicion that it braced itself for Adrien Brody’s attempt to play tough-guy. Merrily enough, we grant him a Gladiator-style thumbs up. Just about. He does rather overdo it initially, doing everything short of carrying a sign saying “I’m bad-ass (and intense). Honest!” No time to stop and breathe, Brody does not use four words if three and a moody stare will suffice. He moodily declares himself leader, before examining the grass and moodily declaring they head yonder, then examining the sky and moodily declaring they hunt their captors or whatever. But it’s not a bad effort at all.

The pace is fast, and the suspense, hunter-hunted dynamic, violence and explosions are up there alongside the original. Predators may have benefited from more quotable lines, but this is pretty harsh criticism. It is a worthy sequel to the original, 1987 Predator. Whereas, say Terminator Salvation, seemed simply to be a summer blockbuster which almost sacrilegiously adopted the good name of the Terminator franchise to attract rear-ends to seats, Predators has the feel of a film lovingly hand-crafted by an aficionado of that original Schwarzenegger movie, an effort basically to replicate the original and give another 90 minutes’ worth to those who enjoy working “Get to da choppaaaa” into their everyday parlance.

The Hangover - A Tad Underwhelming

Is there such a thing as objective beauty? An infuriating poser from my University days as a wide-eyed philosophy student, and one of which I was reminded, in a tangential sort of way on watching The Hangover. Is there such a thing as objectively funny comedy?

The Hangover came well recommended, and after my own absolutely mental all-action weekend away for a friend's stag-do in Benidorm, I was well set for an hour and a half of comedy gold. Perhaps it is precisely because of such a build-up that the film fell a little flat. Funny undoubtedly, but not laugh-til-you-cry funny. Ironically enough, after getting home I switched on the telly-box and ended up laughing until my stomach hurt, at The Inbetweeners on Channel 4. "Stomach-achingly funny" was definitely not a label I could honestly plaster across The Hangover.

It worked well enough, but most of the gags just seemed a little telegraphed. Again, perhaps because I'd seen the trailers a few times, I felt like I knew what was coming (SPOILER ALERT!!! AVERT YOUR EYES HERE) with the baby, the tiger and Mike Tyson. All funny in principle, but as much because of the surprise value.

There were undoubtedly some very funny moments, primarily the more spontaneous, non-situational ones (which it would therefore be rather pointless to list here). The leads were likeable, and displayed some impeccable comic timing at times, and the baby, though under-used in my opinion, made me laugh every time he was on screen. I was also rather pleased to see a gross-out style comedy with precious few gross moments, although that probably has more to do with my puritanical disdain for vulgarity as a form of humour. The Hangover was not so much gross-out as unashamedly boyish, a lads' weekend in cinematic form, and with the memory loss, unexplained injuries and mattress ending up on a roof it certainly did evoke memories of the Benidorm stag-weekend.

So, it was entertaining enough, but if you've seen the trailer the punch-lines rather lose their punch. And yet, friends of mine, and various others with me in the cinema, were killing themselves with laughter. Which does lead me to wonder – is it just my sense of humour? Was it really a better film than I'm crediting it? Is there such a thing as objectively funny comedy?

Transformers 2 - How Good Would This Be If It Were An 18...?

First things first - any film in which giant robots relentlessly beat each other up while just about everything explodes in the background can't possibly be bad.

However, no film – no film – should ever leave any self-respecting All Action No Plotter musing halfway through that it's gone on rather a long time. And this, regrettably, is why Transformers 2 will never be granted access into the pantheon of all-time All-Action-No-Plot celluloid greats.

Transformers 2 is an entertaining action film, no mistake. As mentioned, giant robot fights; lots of crash, bang and walloping, some inspired comedy moments and eye-candy a-plenty. The film begins with the likeable, if bafflingly-named, Shia LeBoeuf heading off to college to lead a normal life. This plan lasts about 30 seconds, before a robot war spanning numerous millennia and across several planets kicks off.

Thus, before you know it, LeBoeuf is being chased through forests, buildings and ancient Egyptian ruins, by humongous robots, who would be the ultimate killing machines were it not for the fact that their aim and ruthlessness mysteriously desert them whenever their target is within touching distance.

(Actually, that's a lie – they do occasionally pop a good-guy, but this is no impediment to the film's producers, who merrily resurrect them with minimal explanation whenever the plot needs them back.)

The action sequences are undeniably enjoyable, old-school carnage presented so well you rather forget that it's all CGI. The men are macho and heroic; the women suitably drop-dead gorgeous and gratuitously filmed, with Megan Fox joined by delectable blonde Isabel Lucas. Romance is kept to a level most men should be able to follow and stomach, and the plot is not particularly relevant - some gubbins about destroying the sun.

Mildlly irritating then, that for a film with such minimal plot there was so much meandering midway through. The heroes went on the run from the police, then broke into a museum, then were magically whisked away (I kid ye not) to Egypt, then traipsed through a desert and into some old building and back out into the desert and through more ruins... None of which was really necessary, and all of which contributed to that rarest of beasts, a film well over two hours in length.

Would it have been a better film had it been given a higher rating than 12A? By jiminy it would have (but then, what wouldn't?). As with the original, the attempts to make the film child-friendly rather detracted from the spectacle, and left me wanting to make small children cry. Someone somewhere ought to be sacked for the introduction of two excruciatingly annoying slapstick autobots, in the Jar-Jar Binks mould.

More bloody deaths, and general sex, drugs and rock'n'roll would have benefited Transformers 2 enormously – but I'm possibly digressing at this point into the mystical, celestial world of The Best All Action No Plot Films Ever.

It's not a must-see, and the novelty of the original is understandably lacking, but for mindless big-screen action Transformers 2 does tick that all-important box labelled All Action No Plot.

Star Trek - A Two-Hour Action Sequence

A two-hour action sequence in space? Naturally, we at All Action No Plot Towers were all over that, and Star Trek accordingly gets a thigh-slapping endorsement.

Not having ever paid much attention to the series, I was not too sure what to expect, and if anything was a little dubious at the prospect of being treated to two hours of bespectacled nerds nasally whining away about the frequency at which light bends. Merrily, ‘tis the nerds who shall weep in despair, because this film kept the plot minimal and the action ubiquitous.

As the first film in a franchise already boasting a good half-dozen well-established characters – Sulu, Scotty and the like - the film was obliged to give each of them their five minutes of fame, rather than just shove firmly in the background while Kirk and Spock dashed around looking serious. This task was admirably met, particularly as it was achieved without becoming bogged down in characters. Entertainingly, rather than have a character amble into shot and be hailed, by name, in the commonly-adopted introductory format of civilisation in general, this being the action-packed world of Star Trek, characters were instead introduced by being flung across the screen in the middle of a carnage-heavy fight to the death complete with background explosions, tumbling buildings and flaming spaceships. The use of action as a narrative tool - genius.

Let the records also show that there were also several well-timed and dry moments of wit, as well as a few gratuitous undressing-lady shots, but nevertheless I suspect that this is probably a film that would be well-received by the ladies. Not least because most of the crew of the Enterprise looked as if they were about to burst into song as the support act to Take That. The Starfleet may run fairly stringent aptitude tests, but the clean-cut look of an underwear model also seemed to be a prerequisite. Even for the one with pointy ears.

Pedantically speaking, it should be pointed out that this was by no means a flawless cinematic event. For a start, if Hollywood physics has taught me anything, it’s that meeting yourself from a different space-time continuum ought really to cause the whole space-time fabric to explode, or implode, or just generally do something really big, noisy and dangerous.

Additionally, in retrospect it dawned on me that the entire plot hinged on a moment of quite ludicrous coincidence, as Kirk, stranded on a planet of ice, finds that the only other soul on said planet had not only ambled into the same cave as him, thereby saving his bacon at the opportune moment, but also happened to be the one man in the universe who could help him save his spaceship, crew and the entire earth.

A propos the ice planet, that seemed to be one of several moments unsubtly yanked straight out of Star Wars, without so much as a dusting down. There was also the most perplexing, sudden and unexplained romance in cinematic history, but mercifully this was neither here nor there. As I said at the top, this was a two-hour action sequence, set in space, and frankly it almost seems morally wrong to quibble about that.

Shoot 'Em Up: All-action-no-plot in Cinematic Form

This film is fricking awesome!

If all-action-no-plot were a movie, it would be Shoot ‘Em Up. A non-stop sequence of gun battles, with a super-cool hero, suitably charismatic villain and gorgeous piece of token eye-candy - it’s perfect if you like that sort of thing.

Any film that begins to the soundtrack of Nirvana’s Breed is going to have adrenaline seeping from its every pore, and this has more testosterone than a tag-team of wrestlers killing deer with their bare hands while swigging diesel and chanting football songs. Like watching Spurs 6-4 Reading, this requires minimal cerebral activity and is just to be enjoyed, so crack open a beer and dig in.

Clive Owen is the mysterious “Smith”, introduced sitting at a bus stop chewing a carrot, when he sees a pregnant woman being followed by a man with a gun. Smith swears, follows them and uses his carrot to kill the man in gloriously graphic fashion, whilst delivering the obligatory one-liner. Credibility duly rolls its eyes, packs its bags and leaves the screen never to return, and the film does not let up thereafter.

Owen presumably starred in this soon after having been overlooked for the role of 007, and clearly enjoys himself immensely, playing a character patently bereft of the slightest glimmer of emotional depth. His droll wit is flicked out with insouciance, his hardened features making him surprisingly well-suited to playing a tough guy, and he attacks the role with the lazy pleasure one would derive from taking out all-comers in a game of paintball. Keanue Reeves take note – this is how to make a sullen hero likeable. Paul Giamatti just about cuts it as a pantomime villain in the Alan-Rickman-Die-Hard vein, and aside from Monica Bellucci - as the sassy, drop-dead gorgeous female interest - there aren’t many other characters on the screen for any length of time prior to a good old-fashioned bullet-riddling.

Plot? Are you kidding? It’s all action, no plot, so the side-issue of harvesting babies or some such nonsense is neither here nor there. This is all about lazily watching numerous novel ways to shoot 20 people whilst avoiding getting shot yourself.

If you liked Crank, you’ll like Shoot ‘Em Up. And if you didn’t like Crank, you’ve probably not read this far down the page…

Ignore The Hype - Quantum of Solace

It’s hardly rocket-science, but the preconceptions one takes into a cinema really can hijack one’s judgement of a film. The Sixth Sense being one such example – didn’t see it until it hit the small-screen, by which time I already knew the twist and had heard rave reviews from all and sundry. I was thoroughly underwhelmed and bored by the whole thing. However, the likes of Saw and The Descent were unknown beasts to me, and as a result rather well-received. Ditto Crank, now rightly honoured amongst the pantheon of all-action-no-plot greats. However, having recommended Crank to my sister, herself a worthy student of the all-action-no-plot university, I was rather disappointed to hear that she was so unimpressed she switched it off halfway through.

Quantum of Solace has received some pretty damning reviews. After the bizarrely positive critical reaction to Casino Royale, the knives were out for its sequel, and every review I read or heard assured me that this would be a disappointing, by the numbers, tedious action film. Thus, with expectations duly muted I took my seat – and thought it was great entertainment. I wouldn’t add it to my personal (and therefore definitive) list of celluloid’s finest ever, alongside the likes of Terminator 2, Aliens, Goodfellas et al, but a fine addition to the all-action-no-plot genre nevertheless. There was a good solid string of chases, explosions, fights and gunfire. The occasional breaks for plot (something about a Bolivian general, and oil supplies, and the CIA – whatever) were kept pleasantly short, just enough time for the stuntmen to catch their breath and dust themselves down, before getting back onto a bike/boat/car/plane, to be chased and shot at again.

The action scenes and kills were good enough to distract from the detracting elements. These included rather unnecessary layers of villainy – gone, it seems, are the days of one arch-baddie, his tough sidekick and numerous faceless henchmen who literally can’t shoot to save their lives. A la Die Hard. Instead, we intelligent audiences are now treated to a deviant who reports to a corrupt government official who is being blackmailed by megalomaniac who is owes money to a nameless assassin who is hired by a moustachioed foreigner who… (This is all Jason Bourne’s fault.) So the baddie aspect of Quantum was a tad convoluted, but not dwelt upon unnecessarily.
The English Bond-girl wasn’t really my particular brand of cognac, but the foreign lass was smoking. Yee-ha. I’m a particularly big fan of that poster of hot Bond-girl and Bond walking briskly through a desert, both in grubby evening dress, he looking switched on, she seething. It’s a many-layered beast, that picture – there’s a simmering unspoken argument between the couple; there’s the juxtaposition of dead-smart clothes covered in dust and muck; there’s his jacket neatly buttoned-up yet not quite hiding the massive stain of someone else’s blood. And so on. I rather like it. Shame to have seen the film and had its secret revealed.

I digress. This new post-Bourne Bond no longer has Q or gadgets, nor does he have the smarmy one-liners, but this linguistic deficiency was amply compensated for by some pleasingly scything interchanges between Bond and M. As such, the film was less a classic Bond, and more a cracking 21st-century action film. The legacy of Bourne has also brought about some really top-notch hand-to-hand combat, the likes of which Connery or Moore never delivered.

I’d recommend it – but there’s the rub. It’s precisely because it was not recommended that I was so pleasantly surprised. If you’re expecting a classic of the action genre you’ll be disappointed. So maybe just knock yourself on the head once you’ve finished reading this, give yourself short-term amnesia and shoot off to your nearest cinema. Or, if more convenient, ignore the hype that accompanies any given film, and, as far as is possible, watch it objectively.