Film Review: Lockout

Certificate: 15 (intense sequences of violence and action, and language including some sexual references)
Directed By: James Mather and Stephen St. Leger
Cast: Guy Pearce, Maggie Grace, Vincent Regan, Joseph Gilgun, Lennie James, Peter Stormare, Jacky Ido, Peter Hudson, Mark Tankersley
Budget: $20 million
Runtime: 95 minutes
Trailer: Watch

When a breakout on a space prison masterminded by two Scots (Regan & Gilgun) pulled directly from Trainspotting occurs while the President's daughter (Grace) is onboard for a humanitarian mission, anti-hero Snow (Pearce) is sent in to rescue her.

The parallels to Escape From New York and its sequel, Escape From L.A. are shameless. As is the near identical character mould of those film's wisecracking antihero, Snake Plisskin. Indeed, 'the maverick who is the only one for the suicide mission' archetype is a trope you thought left behind in the 80s and mid 90s, but it would seem Lockout released it from the past. The only difference between the Plisskin and Snow is the former's eyepatch, as if they were put side by side in one of those 'spot the difference' puzzles. Throw in an element of Die Hard's Bruce Willis and the running around a space prison featured in Alien 3 and you begin to get an idea of what this is all about.

However, this unoriginal and seemingly straight-to-DVD romp would be awful if it were not for Guy Pearce's uncanny Kurt Russel impression. The reluctant antihero charm does much to turn the other cheek from its otherwise stale formula and questionable acting which spills into a pleasing little chemistry with Maggie Grace. Although this won't completely prevent you from pausing at some of the more incredulous moments and questioning "what the hell is this shit?!". Likewise, the action sequences are somewhat disappointing given the setup, as is the CGI you would expect from a film set in space. This is also particularly noticeable in a horrendously rendered motorcycle chase sequence on Earth which looks like a video game from ten years ago.

Lockout serves as a reminder as to why they don't make films like this anymore. But still do anyway. Pearce pretty much carries the film with his nonchalant one-liners while the decent character chemistry provides just about enough to overlook what is otherwise a subpar film. Indeed, the film's humour is its redeeming feature, Pearce's enjoyment in the role of Snow permeating infectiously throughout proceedings. But this is ultimately an uninspiring mash-up of films you've seen before. What it comes down to is whether you enjoy watching the two central leads banter and if it compensates for everything else wrong with it.

Film Review: Prometheus

Certificate: 15 (sci-fi violence including some intense images, and brief language)
Directed By: Ridley Scott
Cast: Noomi Rapace, Michael Fassbender, Charlize Theron, Logan Marshall-Green, Guy Pearce, Idris Elba
Budget: $130 million
Runtime: 124 minutes
Trailer: Watch

Potential Spoilers

When archeologists discover ancient artefacts featuring the same pictograms they quickly deduce that they are star-maps. Funded by the Weyland Corporation, the vessel Prometheus embarks on a voyage to planet LV-233 in hope of finding answers to mankind's biggest questions, only to soon discover that maybe ignorance was bliss.

Foremost this is a prequel set in 2093 - around 125 years before the events in Alien. In Prometheus Ridley Scott has gone to great lengths in filling the prurient gaps raised in his original 1979 epic, most notably those surrounding the mysterious 'Space Jockey'. Yet while answering one set of questions about the race that have since become known as the 'Engineers', Prometheus probes into grander propositions regarding man's place in the universe. The film begins like an episode of Ancient Aliens, spinning yarns familiar to those who have read Eric von Däniken's cult classic, Chariots of the Gods. Tales of ancient astronauts who created man and guided our development preoccupy the first part of the film, raising philosophical questions over our purpose and the nature of existence. While Scott's familiar, icky, gritty tropes of the Alien franchise do inevitably rear their malevolent heads, Prometheus is very much more concerned in providing dread via its suggestive sagacious denouements. Rather than the toothy xenomorphs and face huggers providing the scares, it is Scott's postulations on the answers to some of our most fundamental questions which provide the real consternation here.

And yet for all the philosophical pondering Prometheus promises to pose, it certainly doesn't feel that Scott remains committed to the more cerebral ideas pledged in the opening. By the final third it would appear these grand themes are eschewed in favour of ramping up the action where questions end up outweighing answers. With Lost writer Damon Lindelof onboard one might not be too surprised that explanations come at a premium, but then again this might also be the point. Lead character Dr Elizabeth Shaw (Rapace), Ripley's spiritual predecessor, also happens to be a woman of faith. It is this faith, particularly in the judeo-christian notion that life is special and unique, which Scott seeks to test in what can only be described as a cacophony of nihilism. If, as Prometheus posits, life can be created in a test-tube, then the idea of 'God's Children' seems to quickly dissipate. This is the main philosophical crux of the film; that if we are to accept that nothing means anything, then what is the point? Indeed, even our questions regarding the order of things become meaningless. But it is here where Shaw's faith might provide the most insightful answers to life, the universe and everything. In spite of the terse inquisition Prometheus uses to assault human existentialism, Shaw curtly explains "It's what I choose to believe". Scott intriguingly suggests that faith is still very much relevant when it comes to understanding the cosmos, even when science has all but disproved any ethereal sentiments. It is this which keeps Shaw going despite what reality has to say otherwise.

As one might be able to tell, Prometheus is far wordier than the original Alien. In many ways, it actually couldn't be further from the dank, claustrophobic corridors of the Nostromo. In general, there isn't the same feeling of foreboding which were hallmarks of the original quadrilogy. Sets here range from spacious to enormous, the Prometheus' pressurised modules well lit while the underground bio-research freak show under the the pyramid/dirt mount structure thingy so cavernous that there's never a sense of anything popping out behind a corner for a cheap thrill. Yes, there is a creative reimagining of that gut-buster scene involving a sexist medi-lab, and Scott certainly flirts with the familiar shock tactics in all their updated twenty-first century glory, but they never define Prometheus in the same way they did Alien. Rather than any sense of crippling fear, Prometheus' tone is actually rather impassive. However, while this fits with the film's themes of nothingness, it does not necessarily make for a good movie. Certainly, there's no sense of urgency in anything the crew do, traveling between the ship and temple mound almost aimlessly. We never quite know what any of them are doing or why, there merely to make up the numbers. The first half of the film establishes how miserable and unsociable everybody is, which instantly says something of their inescapable fate. The potential for interesting characters with contributive dialogue are instead earmarked for castigation, clearly displayed by their B-movie archetypes. We end up caring little for their survival, which is in stark contrast to our feelings toward Ripley and the poor souls on the Nostromo. Thank the 'Engineers' then for David, the one robot who brings any meaning to proceedings.

All this meaning of life stuff previously mentioned is most deftly displayed in Fassbender's supposedly emotionless aryan android. It is he who provides the link between the crew and Prometheus' larger themes, a microcosm of the philosophical battles being waged by his creators with the universe. Draped in egotism worthy of any real boy (or girl), David displays seemingly insignificant human characteristics at first. He narcissistically combs his hair to perfection, later expressing childlike wonder before evolving complex motivations to betray his fellow crew members. Given this, one begins to question whether this unit has a soul. When we glimpse David watching his favourite movie, Lawrence Of Arabia, we see the infamous scene where T.E. Lawrence extinguishes a flame with his fingers, to which he is asked "doesn't it hurt?". He retorts "The trick, William Potter, is not minding it hurts". This one small scene is pivotal. If humans are able to 'switch off' pain as a robot might, then what does this say of David who can do the same? As Holloway (Marshall-Green) ponders man's existence, David asks "why do you think your people made me?". Holloway replies "we made you because we could". David's riposte is cutting. "Can you imagine how disappointing that would be for you to hear the same thing from your creator?". What does this imply for us? Our purpose? Does David's creation not imply that we are the Gods now? The 'supermen' that Nietzsche spoke of?

The main problem with Prometheus is that it never grasps to any intrinsic tenet other than the barrage of overwhelming nihility. And yet while it might be happy to revel in its own parochial cognition, you might walk away having expected something different. Something a bit more base, like Alien or Aliens. When one thinks of Ridley Scott's 1979 original it's usually dark narrow hallways with something covered in ectoplasm waiting to jump out. Prometheus toys with the idea of creepy crawly nasties and tantalisingly teases the audience with them, but Scott holds back. Sure, accusations of cliched usage might have incurred, but in a strange way you kinda miss the xenomorphic lug. And by the end, instead of capitalising on the amount of fear factor at Scott's disposal, or even on its own phrenic allusions, we are instead left with frenetic chaos to satiate the Michael Bay junkies.

Moreover, it is difficult to ascertain whether Prometheus is successful in what it wants to convey. Certainly it does itself no favours by attempting to maintain the middle ground between pleasing philosophical pondering and action spectacle - something which has been the bane of many sci-fi movies. No doubt the primary concern is clearly its 'philosophical horror', and yet while Prometheus certainly raises some interesting quandaries it is perhaps disappointing that it doesn't really attempt to pass its own judgements. I suppose in that way then it might have had the effect it wanted on me as I left the cinema, shrugging my shoulders and merely uttering "meh".

Prometheus Short Film

Brilliant new short from Ridley Scott's upcoming Sci-Fi epic Prometheus, which has been dubbed the prequel to Alien. Here we have Peter Weyland, the man who built the very same evil megacorp that tried to kill Ripley in Aliens. Set at a futuristic TED conference, witness the birth of one of entertainment's most sinister corporations.

Film Review: Don't Be Afraid Of The Dark

Guillermo Del Toro co-produces this remake of the notoriously creepy TV movie Don't Be Afraid of the Dark, a film which spooked a generation of children when it was first aired in 1973. Instead of a childless woman being the lead character here, we are given the obligatory Del Toro child protagonist. However, in spite of the Del Toro hallmarks this haunted house horror exhibits, Don't Be Afraid of the Dark is certainly no Pan's Labyrinth.

When young Sally (Madison) is sent to stay with her father, Alex (Pearce), and his new girlfriend Kim (Holmes) at the 19th Century mansion they're restoring, her curiosity leads her to a secret basement in the house. Rasped whispers begin talking to Sally through the vents, goading her into releasing what turns out to be malevolent little sprites who feed on children's teeth.

Clearly there is more than a hint of the indelible thematic fantasy world created in Pan's Labyrinth, the manse's garden for example exhibiting more than just a shade of familiarity. Don't Be Afraid of the Dark's setting is undoubtedly the film's biggest strength, brimming with creepy gothic tropes, doleful lighting and onerous oak panels. This is your archetypical haunted house, complete with an atmosphere of dread waiting in the shadows to tug at your foot should you let it linger outside your duvet. Unfortunately this is derivative as Don't Be Afraid of the Dark can't seem capitalise on this, failing to do anything unique with its toothsome set up.

You can almost tick the boxes here. There's a troubled little girl, adults too self-absorbed to listen to her and of course the obligatory crabbed world-weary custodian who knows more than he's letting on. But for all it does to create a creepy atmosphere, this film never takes hold emotionally. Save possibly Sally, you don't really care all too much for the characters who remain largely one-dimensional. Pearce is the skeptic man of the house, Holmes the mother-in-law to be resented by her partner's daughter while Sally feels abandoned and unwanted by her biological mother and threatened by her father's new relationship. As for the evil pixies lurking in the basement who display an uncanny ability to wield stabbing implements such as scissors and screwdrivers, they won't exactly terrify you. Indeed, you'll probably be more surprised how these rat-like imps from the netherworld know how to switch off a power breaker.

This dark twist on the origins of the tooth fairy doesn't do anything unexpected, with its third act sealing its condemnation to the pit of disappointment. You'll see the frights coming a mile off as Don't Be Afraid of the Dark employs standard scare tactics rather than anything imaginative like  in Del Toro's previous works. While richly atmospheric, it probably won't make you think twice about switching the lights off at night.