Matching Curtains

Dark Shadows

Dark Shadows is the eighth collaboration between Messers Burton and Depp, but don’t expect it to be heavy on the kooky factor. The movie is actually a surprisingly restrained offering for the pair. On some level, this is no bad thing - I must confess to some relief that Burton's new movie was rather more subdued than we’ve come to expect. I’d been a mite worried that he and Depp risked major self indulgence regarding their new project, a vampire-themed comedy/horror, and was concerned that their characteristic quirkiness would tip over into self-parody. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case – their partnership remains unblemished, if not augmented by their latest release.

Depp plays Barnabus Collins, a man cursed to live as a vampire by Eva Green’s Angelique, a witch he spurned in love two hundred years ago. Buried alive since their last spat, he escapes his prison only to return to the 1970s and reunite with his dysfunctional descendants (one character, not to be named here, is revealed to be a werewolf; another sees dead people. You know the drill). On his return, he and does battle with Green’s femme fatale all over again – hoping to save the family home and business from extinction in the process. It’s a tidy enough story, with a deftly moving plot which will neither tax or bore, and there’s a very enjoyable musical montage midway through the movie. The seventies references are funny enough and the time travel element of the story proves gently entertaining – Barnabus’ first sight of a neon McDonalds sign is predictable but no less funny, and his confusion over the television (‘Reveal yourself, tiny songstress!’) also elicited some chuckles.

As you’d expect from Burton, the movie’s aesthetic is beautiful – aided in no small part by Bruno Delbonnel’s sumptuous cinematography, which calls to mind the richly hued palette he employed for Amelie. However, the film feels less recognisably Burton-esque than usual and I’ve yet to put my finger on why that is exactly. Yes, the same collection of freaks and weirdoes are assembled for our viewing delectation, ready and waiting to find somewhere they belong. Just as Edward Scissorhands was out of step with suburbia, Ed Wood with Hollywood, and Willy Wonka with grown ups, Barnabus is a man alone in the world and desperate to beat the odds. But unlike his predecessors, his character elicited less empathy or humour than I’d expected; I found myself wanting to like the character more than I really did. And whilst the fairy tale slant Burton so often gives his movies is still there, it felt a bit formulaic, perhaps because of the fact the story is a remake of a ‘60s TV show.

The marionette-like, artificial blondes are also present and correct, complete with the deathly pallor and dark rimmed eyes one comes to expect from Burton heroines. And it’s actually the female contingent of the cast who excel. Post Stardust and Hairspray, Michelle Pfeiffer has carved out an entirely new niche for herself as she enters that difficult age bracket for former Hollywood sex sirens, and is fabulous as the family’s controlling matriarch (I’m not sure many other actresses do scornful with such comedic aplomb), and Helena Bonham Carter is also great as the family’s alcoholic shrink. But it’s Eva Green’s demented witch who chews up the scenery – I didn’t know she had it in her! Green’s heaving bosom combines with rolling eyes and demonic smile to be sexy and freaky in equal measure, making her the perfect Burton woman. The men are less memorable. Depp is great, but we’ve seen him do this schtick before and his performance felt like he was going through the motions. I was also nonplussed by Johnny Lee Miller’s involvement – bland, bland, bland – a bland parody of seventies bland if you will.

I feel disloyal to Burton in writing this review, as I’ve always adored his work. Please don’t feel I totally hated the movie though – it’s a gentle enough comedy about family values (something Burton has become increasingly interested in since having kids of his own) which won’t offend anyone. It’s just not dark enough for me – either that, or I’m just too old for Burton these days, and demand more from something which has the tag ‘horror’ slapped on it. Diverting enough, but not different enough for my taste.

American Pie: Reunion

Anyone in their late twenties/early thirties will no doubt remember the American Pie franchise with great fondness. After all, many of us came of age with the cast, going through the same teenage rites of passage as the characters - albeit with less baked goods involved(!). American Pie made our teenage anxieties about sex funny, holding a mirror amplified with humour up to any teenager wringing their hands about how to get laid. In its own silly and juvenile way, it helped us to realise that our fears were perfectly natural, and as audiences travelled through college and university with them, the bond between cinema goers and the movie cemented itself. I still can't watch the perma-gurning Stifler snort 'fuck you!,' or Oz ask a girl to 'suck me, beautiful' without descending into peals of laughter. Give me this above the anodyne teen romances which still clutter the market any day of the week. The characters in American Pie were like cartoon versions of us - the horny teenage boy with his sock, the surprisingly sexy school nerd, or the nice but ultimately rather dull pair waiting for the perfect time to lose their virginity. What wasn't to love?!

It is this fondness and lets be honest, nostalgia, which is attracting audiences to the fourth instalment of said franchise, which catches up with pie-humping hero Jim (Jason Biggs) and the gang as they convene for a school reunion. Jim and band camp nympho Michelle (Alyson Hannigan), who married in American Pie 3, are now knackered new parents whose sex life has taken a dive; Oz (Chris Klein) is a sports commentator in LA, unhappy in love with his wild supermodel girlfriend; Finch (Eddie Kaye Thomas) an apparent man of mystery; Kevin (Thomas Ian Nicholas) - always the dullest of the bunch - happily married, and Stifler (Seann William Scott) - well, he's still the same as ever. As are most of the jokes. Which would be fine, if as in the first three movies the female characters were treated a little more respectfully. Even the charming Alyson Hannigan is underused in this film, which seems to focus on the menfolk entirely. This would be bearable, were the humour about sex not still centred around them and high school hotties (for instance, Jim's former babysitting charge is now a gorgeous eighteen year old intent on getting him to seduce her). It was a shame the humour couldn't have transposed itself to the sex lives of thirty somethings, instead of recycling the same gags from the characters' high school days.There were some ill-judged jokes which didn't quite hit the spot for me and I'm not sure I ever needed to see Jason Biggs doing full frontal nudity, but I can't bring myself to totally slate the movie in spite of all this.

Reunions are, after all, all about looking back and this film thrives on memories of better times (and indeed, movies). For some participants, the return to the franchise actually reminds us just how brilliant they are. Scott's reprisal of the Stifmeister role is a joy - he even gets his comeuppance and, in a rare moment of gender equality for this movie, actually learns how to pleasure a woman! The return of Eugene Levy - and those eyebrows - as Jim's recently widowed dad, also serves to save the film from itself. They really are the stars of the show, and the subplot involving Jim's dad and Stifler's mum (Jennifer Coolidge) reaches the parts the other jokes don't - Levy is a wonderful comic actor who is clearly having a ball.

In conclusion, and in spite of its arrested narrative development, it's hard not to find one's re-connection with Jim et al oddly touching. It's rather nice to see them all again, older though not necessarily wiser. They have become cinematic pals in their own way, and their reunion gives audiences an excuse to reflect on the changes wrought in their own lives these last thirteen - yes, thirteen! - years. Whilst American Pie: Reunion is ultimately a missed opportunity, with a lazy script and cheap production values, plus a few embarrassed looking actors who didn't quite make the big time after the first three movies (hello Tara Reid), I forgive it its sins. Having said that though, you still couldn't pay me to attend my school reunion. And for anyone considering seeing this on the big screen, I'd strongly encourage you to hold out for the DVD release - and inevitable Christmas box set later this year.

Avengers Assemble

This weekend, we finally got around to seeing Joss Whedon's take on Avengers. Before I go any further, I should admit to being a late and rather reluctant convert to Whedon's famed Buffy TV series, but was soon won over and thus bereft after the final episode. Therefore I was highly intrigued to see how his trademark style, all banter and pop culture references, would serve such well known characters as the Hulk and Thor.

Before proceeding, I should probably set the scene. The situation is as follows: a group of Marvel super heroes are bought together to stop evil villain Loki (Tom Hiddleston), brother of the God Thor (Chris Hemsworth) from using some mystical cube thingy called the Tesseract to take over planet earth (a later viewing of 2011's Captain America helped put this into context). Samuel L Jackson (essentially playing himself in an eye patch) is Nick Fury, director of the peacekeeping organization SHIELD, and is cool as ever as his character recruits Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr), Captain America (Chris Evans), the Hulk (played in this movie by Mark Ruffalo), Thor, the Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) and Hawk Eye (Jeremy Renner) to do battle with Loki. Cue some major ego issues as our team of (mainly) alpha males learn to work together, before - of course - saving the world and defeating Loki. Now before the complaints start, please don't worry that I've ruined the ending for you, readers. Because as Iron Man's alter ego Tony Stark tells Loki: "There is no version of this where you come out on top." I raise this up front because whilst I enjoyed the movie tremendously, I never once felt any real sense of threat to the heroes. It was obvious they were going to win from the start, and whilst Whedon's tongue-in-cheek script served the ironical Downey Jr's character perfectly, acknowledging this lack of suspense in his post-modern way, I was still a mite disappointed. It didn't help that Tom Hiddleston's turn as Loki only served to confirm him as one of the most irritating actors in Hollywood. With his greasy mullet and snarling visage, he resembled the resentful, spoiled son of a Beatle rather than an uber baddie. He just didn't pack the punch to terrify, I am afraid.

On the other hand, I discovered a hitherto untapped love of the brawnier man. Readers, I must confess to my heart afluttering whenever Chris Hemsworth and his hammer (ahem) came on screen. But before I am accused of being sexist, I am sure that my other half was equally enamoured of Ms Johansson's shapely behind, nestled as it was in some very figure hugging leather. So there.

Anyways ... the film. Aside from the absence of any real danger, I really enjoyed it and would like to see the Avengers (re)assemble again soon. The pyrotechnics and special effects were dazzling and it was great to see Whedon working with a budget and FX bigger and more sophisticated than in his Buffy days, of which we recognised some mild echoes. The action sequences were gloriously shot and choreographed - the scenes in NYC were especially exhilarating to watch. However, I'm not sure seeing it in 3D was good value - simultaneously wonky and too busy, it gave me a headache - what is this fetish with making everything in 3D? Grumbles aside, the performances were perfectly pitched and the script an absolute pleasure. As already noted, Downey Jr naturally got most of the best lines, his character most suited to dish out Whedon's quips and sarcastic asides. I particularly liked Iron Man's snipes to Thor ("No hard feelings Point Break, you've got a mean swing") and to Captain America ("You might have missed a couple things, y'know, doing time as a Capsicle"). It was all excellent stuff. Whedon's skill was just as evident in how he wrote for the other established characters, staying true to their previous outings and reminding us all of their complexities, whether it be Captain America as a man out of step with the modern world, or Bruce Banner as a man struggling with, as Tony Stark says, "breathtaking anger management issues." It was great seeing Ruffalo in something so big budget and though I haven't seen the previous Hulk films, can't imagine anyone else in the role now. Some critics have mourned the lack of back story for the Black Widow and Hawk Eye, but for me they were foils, peripheral to the main events. I'm not sure Black Widow is up there with Buffy as an advocate for girl power, but wouldn't be surprised if Johansson was asked to reprise her role in a feature film which reveals her character's past - I'm sure many a fan would love to see more of her shapely form in that skin tight creation.

To conclude, this is a movie which fans of the genre will love, despite its shortcomings. I was surprised at the fondness with which I reunited with Iron Man et al (yes, despite being a great ensemble piece Downey Jr owns this film). The snappy script is as funny as the story is action packed, without there being too much gratuitous violence (though the kid who cried after the Hulk bashes "puny God" Loki about might beg to differ). A great summer blockbuster which through its script offers a fresh take on an age old story, the combination of Whedon and Downey Jr is clearly a winner.

Delicacy

On glimpsing at a synopsis, Delicacy looked like nothing more than a classier than average rom com, with the gorgeous Audrey Tautou doing her usual gamine thing against a beautiful Parisian backdrop. I don’t think this overview is wrong, but nor is it particularly fair to this surprisingly moving and tender movie. The small number of reviews I'd read before seeing the movie failed to prepare me for quite how affecting I found it.

Tautou plays Nathalie, happily married to handsome husband Francois (Pio Marmai) until he is ‘rammed by a car’ and killed, as a doctor entirely lacking in bedside manner informs her. Nathalie’s picture perfect world is shattered, and she compensates for her grief and loneliness by pouring all her energies into her executive job. Until, that is, the arrival of an unprepossessing but kind hearted Swede to her office. Markus (Francois Damiens), all bad jumpers and balding pate, is not the kind of bloke people really remember, which is a shame - he has a killer sense of humour and is a thoroughly decent guy. But after an awkward brief encounter, Nathalie finds herself attracted to him - the first man since Francois's death to ignite her interest. What plays out is an utterly charming and gentle love story; a story of second chances for Nathalie and much-deserved requited love for her unlikely paramour.

The film is not called Delicacy for nothing: the complex emotions involved in Nathalie's decision to emerge from her chrysalis of grief reveal themselves slowly and quietly. As she tentatively embarked on a very different - but no less special -  kind of love to her first, I realised just how invested I had become in her happiness. From this perspective, though it may look like a 'chocolate box' analysis of starting again, the film is very successful. I genuinely cared about the characters, and am not sure that a Hollywood treatment would have had the same effect (the cheese factor would have been all over a story like this, with triple toppings). Delicacy also works well as a gentle comedy: Markus isn't what is expected of the beautiful Nathalie, and her friends and lecherous boss offer some interesting reflections on the attitudes we have to an individual’s romantic choices - reflections made all the more poignant by Nathalie’s premature widowhood. The apparent mismatch of our lovers only made me root for them more. I particularly appreciated the innocent, almost chaste way their attraction played out - a refreshing alternative to movies where characters fall into bed without batting an eyelid. I also liked the way that in spite of her evident beauty, Nathalie was not just a cipher for male desire or a symbol of female grief - a fear which I must confess gripped me at a midway point.

Delicacy is a lovely looking film with sensitive performances. As you'd expect, there is whimsy - but the quirkiness comes from Markus rather than the lady otherwise known as Amelie. Francois Damiens is fantastic, a hulk of a man whose physical bulk is used to great comedic effect. I particularly enjoyed the scene after his first kiss from Nathalie, in which - much like a Lynx advert - he imagines himself irresistible to legions of gorgeous women. Markus brings much needed laughter into Nathalie’s life and as we come to know him through snippy little narratives, the protectiveness we feel for Nathalie ebbs away - we know she will be happy again and that this is partly down to him. Bittersweet is a word used too often to describe romances like this, but is bang on the money in this case. Delicacy's uncomplicated sheen has unexpected depths, giving a lovely French flair to the age old Hollywood tale of new love after heartache.

The Tit and the Moon - DVD review

A friend loaned us The Tit and the Moon alongside a host of appetising world cinema DVDs this Easter. So intrigued were we by the synopsis of Spanish director Bigas Luna’s surreal take on the coming of age genre, that we made it our first watch upon returning home. The movie is part of Luna’s trilogy of sex comedies including Jamon Jamon and Golden Balls, neither of which I can lay claim to have seen – however, after enjoying TTATM I will be seeking them out soon. TTATM is the story of Tete (Biel Durán), a nine year old who develops an obsession with women's breasts following the birth of his baby brother, who seems permanently attached to his breastfeeding mother. Tete narrates the story and explains to the audience that he is so consumed with jealousy, that he is embarking on a mission to find the perfect pair of breasts to feed on. The arrival of the travelling dancer Estrellita (Mathilda May) – and more pertinently, her breasts – would seem to be the answer to Tete’s prayers. However, Tete soon realises that he will have to contend with her older husband Maurice (Gérard Darmon) and horny local teenager and Flamenco singer, Miguel (Miguel Poveda). Thus, the stage is set for a surreal comedy which manages to be as innocent as it is sexy.

This is a movie which I can’t imagine ever being made in the prudish UK – not least because of its sexually focussed theme. Aside from this, it is defiantly European, featuring three different languages and an unmistakeable Catalan backdrop. Though first and foremost a gentle comedy, its story makes some light hearted observations on what it takes to be a man, which I imagine most blokes will be able to relate to with a wry smirk. Whether intentional or incidental, it is full of enjoyably Freudian humour, which - with the exception of the closing scene - walks a delicately entertaining line between innocent and bawdy perfectly. But this isn’t really a movie ripe for analysis, as the DVD’s director’s commentary proves. In a shakily filmed interview, Luna meanders through his own reflections of pubescence without really explaining what the real point of his film is! Ultimately, this movie is in its own way very sweet. It just happens to feature a lot of boobs, making it an altogether silly and welcome addition to high end European cinema. I will conclude by saying TTATM is a fun, colourful and throwaway movie which gets the Matching Curtains stamp of approval. However, I would counsel those with a more buttoned up disposition to approach this with a generous pinch of salt :-)

Drive - DVD review

Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive was one of the most hyped movies of 2011, yet I didn’t get around to seeing it until this weekend. I have no excuse – though having watched it on our 32” TV screen, I must confess to wishing I had seen this slickly envisaged thriller on an even bigger screen, so saturated it is with colour and energy. A pulpish, retro-driven (no pun intended) film, Drive is the story of a Hollywood stunt driver who moonlights as a getaway driver for oodles of cash. Ryan Gosling takes on the stoic and laconic role of the The Driver, who remains unnamed throughout: he is cool, handsome and proves to be both action hero and Athena man as his involvement with Carey Mulligan’s single mum edges him ever deeper into a violent criminal underworld.

The movie looks incredibly crisp, clean and stylish. Its visual panache was definitely my first and lasting impression. The cinematography is as seductive as the film’s leading man, who manages to combine decency with a hitherto undiscovered talent for killing. I’m not sure anyone other than Gosling could have taken on the role to be honest – he’s the guy most men want to be (or is at any rate the object of many a man crush) and most women want, proving the perfect reason for a couple to enjoy the movie(!). His taciturn presence lends an air of mystery and depth to a role which could have been very one dimensional in the hands of a lesser actor (we are talking about the guy from Lars and the Real Girl and the fantastic Blue Valentine, after all), without detracting from the movie’s overall tone.

The story of a fundamentally good man pulled into a world of villains is not a new one, but it doesn’t try to be: Drive reminded me a great deal of Carlito’s Way, and like Pacino before him, I don’t think that Gosling will ever look as cool again. The movie’s aesthetic is deliberately inspired by thrillers from the late eighties/early nineties (even the score is full of MOR pop), but somehow, it works. A casual viewer could be forgiven for thinking the movie was actually set in the eighties, but for a comment made by one of the characters which I have to say I missed on a first viewing. Though it’s black and white approach to heroes and villains (Ron Perlman is suitably slimy) and treatment of women has been criticised by some reviewers, I defend the film’s right to take the approach it did. I don’t think that Drive is supposed to be deep – it is easy, post-modern entertainment at the top of its game! I can certainly see that Carey Mulligan was great, but underused, and casting Christina Hendricks as the slutty contrast to Mulligan’s Madonna-like figure was clichéd to say the least, but I can’t say it bothered me too much – I don’t think this is a film made to be analysed for complexity or subtlety. For me, Drive is a feast for the eyes and homages the likes of Scarface and Pulp Fiction through its heavily stylised shoot outs, car chases and fight scenes. It gives a knowing nod to the past and affords its predecessors a fresh gloss, making it one of the best genre movies I’ve seen for a long time.

The Kid with a Bike (Le gamin au velo)

Belgian brothers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne's new movie 'The Kid with a Bike' is a riveting and deceptively simple watch; it tells the story of Cyril (Thomas Doret), a young boy abandoned by his father and living in a children's home, but who doggedly believes his father will return - even when he finds out his good for nothing father has sold the bike which is so dear to him. It is on one of his many attempts to escape the children's home that he (literally) bumps into Suzanne (Cecile De France), a hairdresser who eventually takes him in at weekends, buys back his bike, and attempts to stop him getting mixed up with a local criminal.

This is a profoundly moving film, shot with almost one exception from Cyril's point of view. We never find out why Suzanne is willing to take on such a troubled child, nor what happened to Cyril's own mother. This ignorance on the part of the audience, coupled with Doret's compelling performance, really drive home Cyril's sense of abandonment - we are left to try and make sense of complex situations alongside him. Doret is totally believable as Cyril - his agitated, inarticulate rage is physically expressed through his incessant running and cycling, and his pinched features and wary expression speak to every child's need for love and safety. Cyril's need for a male role model and subsequent involvement with a local criminal had me holding my breath for fear that he would come to harm - a reaction which testifies to the naturalism of the performances.

At the heart of the film is the theme of hope, and a sense that sadly, it is the adults in the world who more often than not strip such hope away. Having said that though, the film is not mawkish or sentimental. The camera is a passive observer and there is barely any soundtrack - only at watershed points in the narrative do we hear any music. Though the directors have said they wanted to ape a fairy tale structure, there is nothing which feels contrived about the piece. Some critics have said the plot is weak for failing to cast Suzanne as a fully realised character, rather than just the 'guardian angel' of the fairy tale structure, but as explained above, I feel they are missing the point. We only know the adult world as Cyril sees it - a very effective ploy on the part of the directors, rather than weak writing. It reinforces Cyril's vulnerability and, from a dramatic point of view, keeps us watching.

Whilst I found the film to be exceptional, watching it in the rarefied world of North Oxford presented a slight moral conundrum for me. Sitting near folk discussing ballet and trips abroad made me realise just how removed the world of the audience was from Cyril's - and had the unpleasant, but illuminating, effect of making me wonder how far one could be accused of voyeurism when watching films like this. Of course, the polite middle classes will gasp and say all the 'right' things about a situation like Cyril's. But how far would they go to help him? Would they step up, or if they saw a lad like Cyril out late at night, would they cross the road to avoid him? How guilty am I of that, too? I suppose that was the abiding impression left by my cinema trip. And perhaps that is the film's greatest success.

Midnight in Paris - DVD review

I love Woody Allen and Paris in almost equal measure, so of course I was very excited about his much feted ‘return to form’, Midnight in Paris. A pal and I tried to catch it at the cinema last year, only to get there and find there was just one ticket remaining. Rather than risk a friendship, we headed to the pub and decided to await its DVD release. And here it is - what an enjoyable watch it is, too. Allen’s critical reception has nosedived in recent years, but I still feel there’s been the occasional highlight: Vicky Cristina Barcelona, for instance. Unlike the lamentable Match Point, in which Allen tried to ape the English lifestyle by using as many clichés as possible, the success of his Barcelona-based film – and indeed Midnight in Paris – stems from the fact that he approaches both cities with a tourist’s sensibility, nailing the feeling one gets from visiting them beautifully. And surprisingly, in doing so, his cinematography has the same loving feel as that employed in the opening to Manhattan – long opening shots show a city throbbing with life and activity. Straight away, I was in love.

Midnight in Paris documents the experiences of Gil (Owen Wilson), an American screenwriter who visits the city of romance with his shallow, upwardly mobile girlfriend Inez (Rachel McAdams). The pair are engaged to be married, but the cracks in their relationship are evident from the start: she’s more interested in visiting the shops of Paris with her snobbish Republican parents, than attending to Gil’s career anxieties. Gil – essentially the Woody character, played by Owen Wilson with his usual charming insouciance – is disheartened with his career and wants to write a novel about a nostalgia shop (the past, as you will see, is a big theme). His left-wing leanings leave him at odds with his potential in-laws and Inez’s circle, and he balks at her dreams of a beach house lifestyle, preferring the idea of staying in Paris to complete his novel. Gil is a dreamer, a man dissatisfied with modern life who feels he belongs to a bygone era.

Gil’s obsession with the past takes on a magical twist when during a midnight stroll, he stumbles into 1920s Paris, encountering literary heroes Ernest Hemingway (Corey Stoll), F Scott Fitzgerald (Tom Hiddleston) and his wife Zelda (Alison Pill), accompanied by a host of other creative types, including Picasso (Marcial di Fonzo Bo), Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates), and a hilarious turn from Adrien Brody as Dali. Think a more erudite Goodnight Sweetheart, if you will. Along the way, Gil gains insight into his relationship - both with an idealised past and Inez. I don't think anyone with the slightest literary bent could fail to be amused after seeing their heroes portrayed in such a funny, almost cavelier way. Corey Stoll's uber-masculine Hemingway was a particular highlight - his eyes danced with laughter in each scene. In fact, each and every one of the 1920s scenes was a joy to behold  - not least the unfurling flirtation between Marion Cottillard’s gorgeous muse Adriana and our protagonist Gil. So engaging were these scenes however, that the modern day sections felt a little flat in comparison. Rachel McAdams acquitted herself well, but her girl next door persona really wasn't suited to Inez's superficiality. Like Gil, the stark reality of the here and now left me craving to scurry back into the artistic melee of the roaring twenties.

Ironic, really. Because Allen's message seemed to be that one shouldn't wish their life was different, but savour the present - the past is just a vehicle for Gil to realise how he can achieve precisely that. Allen is analysing the nostalgic part of human nature in this movie, and does so with a tenderness which I loved. For, just as Gil believes he belongs in the twenties, so too does Adriana believe she belongs in the Belle Epoque - cue some brilliant forays further back in history - trips which eventually lead to comical calamity for Gad Elmaleh's private detective (it will all make sense if you watch it, trust me). This lesson is at the heart of the movie: in a fit of uncharacteristic elan, Allen seems to be saying that whilst it is part of the human condition to idealise the past, we need to relinquish this fascination in order to treasure the moment. And he pulls it off very well, even if the film's most charming moments do occur in days of yore.

Many critics have used hackneyed French metaphors to describe the movie as a souffle, light but insubstantial. I disagree. With Wilson as the lead, his lightness allows Allen's message to convince - far more than if Allen had tried to find someone to play Gil as a more buttoned-up, neurotic, Alvy Singer type. Wilson is the film's greatest asset, his growing amazement at meeting the likes of Fitzgerald suffused with a slight stoner humour, tempered as it is by Allen's learned script. But he is not the only asset - lest I forget the fantastic costumes and sets - the movie looks sumptuous (as you'd expect from a film based in Paris) and the script has the same flashes of greatness as the likes of Annie Hall and Zelig. Utterly, utterly charming.

The Muppets

If you haven't already seen the latest Muppets movie, you're in for a treat. Abandon all cynicism and irony at the doors of your nearest multiplex and prepare for your face to hurt from smiling so much - and a severe case of ear worms upon leaving, so catchy are the tunes.

We're reunited with Kermit, Miss Piggy, et al through a new character, Walter. Walter is himself a Muppet who has grown up with human friend Gary (Jason Segel), and is tagging along with Gary and his long-suffering girlfriend Mary (Amy Adams) when they travel to Hollywood for their tenth anniversary. Walter is a huge fan of the Muppets and with the help of his human pals, conspires to reconcile them when, upon visiting the derelict old Muppet Theatre, he discovers that evil oilman Tex Richman (Chris Cooper) plans to tear down the theatre in order to drill for the oil recently discovered beneath. Events culminate in a big Muppet Telethon, designed to raise the $10 million needed to save the theatre. Along the way, Walter and Gary learn valuable lessons about friendship and growing up - with plenty of cameos and song and dance numbers thrown in for good measure.

This movie is a delight from start to finish - heavily suffused with nostalgia, I suspect that the adults in the cinema enjoyed it as much as their kids. It's smart, self-aware enough to be funny without being arrogant, and very funny. The highlights for me were definitely the songs - Flight of the Conchords' Bret McKenzie has done a sterling job as the film's musical supervisor and definitely deserved his Oscar for the cracking 'Man or a Muppet'. Chris Cooper's baddie rap was also an unexpected pleasure (gosh he was good), but special praise has to go to the ensemble number 'Life's a Happy Song' which is still reverberating through my brain hours after watching. Delicious cameos came from Jack Black, who I suspect may be the most perfect kid's star ever, the fabulous Zach Gafilianakis, everyone's favourite weirdo Kirsten Schaal, and Emily Blunt reprising her role from The Devil Wears Prada, playing Miss Piggy's PA (we first see Miss Piggy in her new role as editor for plus-sized Vogue magazine).The leads play it wonderfully straight, adding to an air of nostalgic innocence, and Segel is very enjoyable as boy-man Gary. The likeable Adams was equally cute as a button, but occasionally seemed a little too sincere for the piece and I couldn't help wondering whether the likes of Zooey Deschanel might have been better cast in the role. But that really is my only criticism. The puppeteers do a great job of eliciting emotion from the Muppets (seriously - I will not be mocked!) and it was enormous fun to see the gang again - I'd forgotten how many of them I loved (Fozzie Bear and Animal were particular favourites).

Charming, wholesome good fun. I wasn't in the best of moods when I entered the cinema, but upon leaving wanted to tap dance my way to the car. The soundtrack should, without doubt, be prescribed to anyone with a case of the blues. Get thee to the flicks!

Shame

Deep breath. I'll be honest, I am not sure where to start. Steve McQueen's second movie Shame is an unremittingly bleak account of sex addiction, starring Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan as a pair of damaged siblings living in Manhattan. Not for the fainthearted, I think it's only fair that I point out now, that anyone expecting to be titillated by Shame will be sorely disappointed. McQueen has chosen a tough subject; sex is so often the source of cinematic pleasure that it is all the more unnerving that this movie manages to depict a wide range of sexual escapades without any of them being remotely arousing.

Filmed in mainly cool grey and blue hues, McQueen sets the tone from the very beginning, with Harry Escott's mournful score emphasising the alienation of the key protagonists in at times operatic contrast to the functional, stark realities of their compulsions. Fassbender's compelling portrayal of Brandon, a sex addict whose compulsive behaviour escalates as he engages in increasingly risky scenarios, is a searingly memorable performance. We never really get to know Brandon beyond his carnal adventures; a half-hearted date with a colleague only serves to reinforce his pathological aversion to intimacy. Though anything approaching real emotion proves a turn-off for him, we're gripped, hoping against hope that he will be able to extricate himself from the cycle of behaviour which consumes him. The arrival of his sister Sissy (Mulligan) sheds no real light on the root of his addiction; though she alludes to the 'bad place' they come from, we never find out more than that about their origins. Sissy herself is an aspiring singer who looks eerily like Edie Sedgewick; her self-harming and shambolic lifestyle hint at the pairs' shared dark history. However, instead of this bringing them closer, her problems expose a disturbingly aggressive side to Brandon, whose aversion to intimacy seems to include even his ties to his sister.

Brandon is ostensibly your average wealthy New Yorker: well groomed, charming and very, very slick. But look closer: his hard drive at work is riddled with porn; he masturbates compulsively and picks up women in bars and uses prostitutes the way the rest of us would use hand towels, almost without thinking. The slick, stylised look of the film mirrors his outward demeanour - it's quite refreshing to see that a film can still look this good whilst tackling the most taboo of problems. However, when his married boss spends the night with his sister we see a chink in his sleek, perfectly attired armour - in fact, this is what leads to the climax (ahem) of the film. The finale is something of a carnal Hades, the loneliness and riskiness of Brandon's addiction portrayed in all its tawdry truth. However, the ambiguity of the final scene would suggest that in spite of what could be an opportunity for change, Brandon is too trapped in his behaviour to do anything other than repeat the cycle. Though frustrating, I found this to be a brave decision on the part of McQueen and his co-writer Abi Morgan. Sex addiction is presented without judgement; to have a character recover by the end of the film would be to oversimplify the problem - McQueen's amoral treatment is grown up and doesn't treat his audience like idiots. Likewise, the fact we are never given an explanation for the siblings' dysfunctional behaviour is also interesting: McQueen hasn't reduced anything in the movie to cliche or reductive psychobabble, instead preferring to present the issues unflinchingly and bravely - through the body first and foremost. This is a really interesting approach; all actors are asked to use their bodies for their art, but here the body tells a story of compulsions which language is dull to. The terse script underscores this approach.

Yes, I found Shame sordid and at times an effort to watch. It was definitely about twenty minutes too long, and some of Sissy's behaviour at times risked tipping the film over into melodrama. But this is a very brave movie, as mesmerising as it was difficult. It is not something one enjoys, or feels satisfied by, but  it's not designed to be. Shame represents a challenge: to how we view sex generally, it could be argued, as we grapple with Brandon's own attitudes, amplified through his addiction.  And certainly a challenge to other directors to produce a movie as bold.

NOTE: you won't be wanting your popcorn.