★★★★ Directed by David Leitch Starring Charlize Theron and James McAvoy Film Review by Seamus Conlon Early on in its running time, Atomic Blonde hits what appears at first to be a clumsy note. A brutal KGB officer uses a skateboard to batter a man to death, to the soundtrack of ’99 Red Balloons’. Ironic juxtapositions of upbeat music with violence are something of an exhausted cliché. But later on in the film we hear a sombre remix of the track in a scene that wittily incorporates an American TV presenter commenting that sampling has become the primary musical controversy of 1989. The disparity between the two scenes demonstrates one of Atomic Blonde’s greatest strengths – a knack for virtuosic visual and sonic shifts. The film’s exterior urban scenes are pervaded by an almost monochromatically grey and muted colour palette, whereas in the polychrome interior scenes the surfaces of apartments and night clubs gleam with green, yellow, red, pink, blue hues. In the viscerally violent, single-take action set-pieces we seep in and out of a stylized reality with temporary moments of slow-motion and artificial, non-diegetic sound. One force that remains constant, however, and largely undisturbed amongst the flux of the film’s violent shifts between Atlantic and Soviet conspiracies, between street grit and psychedelic hedonism, is Lorraine Broughton, played by Charlize Theron. Lorraine is an MI6 agent sent to Berlin in 1989 to investigate the murder of an agent she formerly knew. Over the course of a plot so full of labyrinthine swerves and revelations as to be largely unintelligible not just to the audience but also to most of the film’s inhabitants, Broughton becomes acquainted with agent Percival, played by James McAvoy, with the ominous KGB brute Bremovych, played by Roland Møller, and erotically entangled with undercover French agent Delphine, played by Sofia Boutella. All players involved infiltrate the burgeoning punk subculture thriving in confidence of the imminent downfall of Soviet tyranny. Navigating the chic and seedy, decadent and graffiti-ridden corridors and backrooms of the Berlin underground party scene becomes essential for security services in a historical moment where superpower-relations are on the brink of being remoulded beyond recognition. In a film whose protagonist is too impenetrable to allow for introspection and whose plot is so delicately complex that any apparent allegiances are bound to dissolve sooner or later, sheer kinetic action becomes the successful centerpiece of Atomic Blonde. The film’s director and former stunt-man, David Leitch, encompasses extensively choreographed and spectacularly violent combat scenes within dazzling single tracking shots, including one that spans from a blood-splattered knife fight on a stairway, all the way down onto the street and into a car chase in which the camera pans around to reveal explosion and destruction in both the front and rear view of the car. Similarly, the soundtrack unrelentingly surges on and on, intertwining thunderous 80s dance tracks with an equally aggressive electro/synth score by Tyler Bates that’s reminiscent of Cliff Martinez’ music for Nicolas Winding Refn. Charlize Theron’s performance at the centre of the film is confidently understated to perfection for the film she’s in. She persuasively communicates the image of a formidably cunning agent, yet wisely opts not to allow that she may be perceived as having moments of inward reflection. Instead of giving a naturalistic performance of the inner drama of an MI6 spy embroiled in danger, Theron sagely plays Lorraine as inscrutable, opaque, almost an objet d’art. In a sublimely vacuous and hollow film like this, polished surfaces are everything. Watch the official Atomic Blonde movie trailer below... #FilmReviews #SeamusConlon #TheatricalReleases #MovieTrailers #DavidLeitch #CharlizeTheron #JamesMcAvoy

Written and Directed by Brett Chapman Starring Brett Chapman Short Film Review by Seamus Conlon It’s often said that love is a form of madness. This cliché becomes sadly relevant and manifest in the short film, The Residue of a Relationship, where writer/director Brett Chapman madly overestimates the interest to a film audience of a former romantic relationship of his. For fifteen minutes we watch Chapman detail his whirlwind romance and how he and his former love chose to cope with their geographically necessitated breakup. To expand upon the love-as-psychosis metaphor, watching this film all the way through is a bit like being stopped in the street by someone who proceeds to inform you that we’re all about to be exterminated by a Martian invasion secretly welcomed by the government, and politely choosing to endure the prophecy out of politeness. The Residue of a Relationship is essentially a documentary narrated by Chapman. It is in large part composed of photo and video snippets taken during his travels with Swedish girlfriend, Ebba. Brett and Ebba met in Amsterdam (this is not dramatically reconstructed, but communicated purely through clips and pictures from the scene as well as voiceover), fell in love, and subsequently travelled the world together. But ultimately both had to return to their separate homelands of Britain and Sweden. As souvenirs and for emotional support, Ebba wrote Brett seven letters for him to open and read in hours of need. Chapman reads aloud and visually illustrates (unimpressively) the letters, before the film concludes by covering his reunion with Ebba, at which point he resolved to accept that the romantic spark had fled, and move forward with life, grateful for the experience he had received. Resources for this short were clearly sparse, but the absence of a budget does not determine a lack of imagination. Considering that the core of the film is Chapman narrating his love story and reading out Ebba’s letters, it often sounds like a self-help podcast, scored by harmonically primitive electro/synth tracks that seem almost to kookily and self-consciously pastiche the music for PAC-MAN. The short lacks visual expansiveness and is constructed almost exclusively of close-ups focusing on particular pieces of unexciting visual information, such as ice cream or a glass of water. This music-video aesthetic is similar to the dependence upon short close-ups in Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream; but whereas in that film the frenzied and myopic focus on particular things and images persuasively represented the obsession of drug addiction, in The Residue of a Relationship the fixated, un-circumspect style becomes unwittingly correlative to the film’s inability to see the limited appeal of its romantic subject matter. As a love letter to an ex-girlfriend, The Residue of a Relationship may be superb. But a filmmaker’s own personal romantic experiences and memories cannot in themselves generate something of universal aesthetic value. #ShortFilmReviews #ShortFilms #SeamusConlon #BrettChapman #Romance #Drama

★ Directed by Tony Leondis Starring T.J. Miller, James Corden, Anna Faris, Sofía Vergara, Film Review by Jack Gibbs The simplest questions are often the most profound. In the immortal words of the Bard, brevity is the soul of wit, and from this thing's conception to release one short, enduring question was on the tongues of those who followed its development with abject disbelief and those who left theatres with ashen faces and mortified minds. Why? Why, in another hapless bid to recreate the wonder of Toy Story while ignoring the heart and soul and messages that Pixar put into their work, did a gaggle of clueless executives greenlight a film about banal emoticons? Why did renowned, veteran, thespian actors agree to be associated with this tripe? Why is this, in all likelihood, still scheduled to make back every bit of the $50 million that went into funding this misadventure? All these and countless more burning queries raced through my mind as I watched the procession of images flash before my disbelieving eyes. I left bamboozled, befuddled, discombobulated, uncertain as to whether or not what I witnessed was some crazed fever dream that would make Hunter S Thompson blush with admiration. But alas, my faculties were intact, and on sitting down to write this I am reminded once more that this is a product that was indeed released to the public. Such is the world we live in today. Above everything else, The Emoji Movie is a product. It is not something made with creativity in mind, nor is it a bold, intrepid venture into unexplored territory. This is a bold-faced, utterly unabashed advertisement for apps wearing the guise of a family feature, born from a desire to exploit new "toys", and the film's "plot", for lack of a better word, is likewise slapdash. It's a generic, tepid "be yourself" story interspersed with blatant product placement so shameless that Mac and Me finds itself humbled. Gene, a phone-dwelling "meh" emoticon in a society where emojis can only perform the task they're given or display the emotion they're assigned, is played flatly by T. J. Miller who gives a performance that never rises above passable – something shared across virtually every single performance in the film. He stumbles from app to app, paying dues to rapacious corporations and blundering through sessions of Candy Crush and Just Dance as he tries to change his abnormally expressive ways through enlisting the assistance of a hacker named Jailbreak, played by Anna Faris who may or may not have been reminiscing about her Scary Movie glory days in the recording booth. Throughout this arduous and asinine voyage, barring one brief yet merciful stretch, they are accompanied by one of the most ruthlessly humorless comedic "sidekicks" in recent cinematic history, a disturbingly uncanny hand frozen into a high-five inventively called Hi-5 who is left bitter about being laid by the wayside and denied the digital high life he once indulged in. They're pursued by Smiler (Maya Rudolph), the perpetually grinning, gratingly-voiced overseer of the city of Textopolis – and the film's idea men pat each other on the back vigorously – who seeks to eliminate Gene due to the threat he poses to the system as a "malfunction". All the while, the phone's teenaged owner, high school freshman Alex, is grappling with what many monied first-world children in the world today struggle with: smartphones. And a romantic crush. But mostly smartphones. So our bumbling band of bozos go, off on a merry adventure towards discovery and self-acceptance so obviously telegraphed that it's safe to say you could watch it with your eyes clamped shut. Off a minuscule 86-minute running time, even less factoring in the credits, the film catapults itself through the motions and inserts every single cliche that it can crowbar into the script. Emotional moments are glanced over, striking changes are reversed in only a handful of scenes, everything feels like it's on fast-forward and consequently the central cast remains only slightly less threadbare than when they started out on their grand odyssey. It's a ceaseless barrage of noise, light and sound, with barely any downtime to allow the audience to breathe and digest, and nothing sinks in as a result. But even with this in mind – surely, if the visuals and pacing are troubled, an outstanding script can make up for such shortcomings. Maybe so, but certainly not here. Instead, courtesy of writer-director James Leondis and fellow collaborators Eric Siegel and Mike White – whose presence is nothing less than utterly perplexing considering his repertoire – we get such insightful, thought-provoking rise on subjects like the personal desires and the changes in the way people communicate as "Wow, that's a super-cool emoji!", or "What's the point in being number one if there aren't any other numbers?" The entire script reeks of unabashed sloth. Modern lingo is crudely shoved into conversations because it is modern, ergo funny, ergo guaranteed money in the eyes of executives without any need of context or effort. In a thoroughly galling display, it shamelessly pilfers dialogue from timeless classics in a desperate bid to please any older or more cinephilic viewers who have the misfortune of watching it. Lyrics from popular songs are outright lifted to serve as plot points, and amid such platitudes almost every single statement that masquerades as a "joke" is painfully inept and made as obvious as possible for the sake of the viewers, as if the film takes a perverse glee in belittling the intelligence of the audience it's aimed it. Kids are developing – but they aren't stupid. Character development is accelerated to ludicrous speed on all fronts as the movie barrels through the beats in a desperate attempt to end faster, and Gene is the only member of the cast who comes even remotely close to possessing some kind of arc. Hi-5 is almost completely devoid of anything resembling a character, and James Corden's proven comic chops are non-existent as the character exists chiefly to bombard the audience with insipid zingers. Jailbreak, aside from being the token female love interest and action girl, is similarly unrealised and bounces around aimlessly. Her reasons to exist alternate haphazardly; sometimes she is there to spout oddly-inserted feminist tracts about alleged emoji sexism and ignored female ingenuity, make forced statements on girl power and use random slang to appeal to the trendy crowd – "Slay!" she cheerfully shouts at one point for no discernible reason, after being invited by Gene to "put some sauce on that dance burrito" – and sometimes she's an average tough chick doing hacker business or bantering, or preaching the wonders of youness. Steven Wright and Jennifer Coolidge provide perhaps the only truly noteworthy performances in the film as Gene's parents, Mel and Mary Meh, whose attitudes are strikingly reflective of what the average moviegoer feels when bearing witness to this drivel. Everything from the story to the characterisation to the humour falls utterly flat and summarily this is a blunder, a mess in every sense of the word. The lone high points are one or two genuinely amusing quips that seem positively restrained compared to the rest of the script, and the visual presentation of the digital realm that is distantly evocative of the mindscapes of Inside Out, steeped in corporate avarice instead of encapsulating developing emotions. Leondis, an avid fan of Pixar's work, tries to recreate its splendor but it is something that is simply out of his grasp. Pixar's creations are founded upon a bedrock of passion and there is precious little in the way of passion to be found here – this is not someone's baby. It is the spawn of a think tank, made solely to leech off of that which is popular, rake in a guaranteed profit and get people in seats. It is filmmaking at its most hollow, little more than extended lip service to financial benefactors while having only the barest of necessities for any kind of three-act structure, and it's a painful experience that ultimately overwhelms the few faint glimmers of hope the film has. But it's not panful merely because of its narrative deficiencies, or crude and obvious humour, or even the nature of its existence. Above all else, the most painful aspect of this misguided endeavor is that there was promise. In a culture so thoroughly addicted to smartphones and so enamoured with all things digital as our own, a film that anthropomorphises emojis and bandies them about as the hot new way to communicate and calls them the pinnacle of technological innovation – "Words aren't cool", a friend of Alex's glibly opines near the film's beginning – this entire concept could have served as some lighthearted yet rather timely and incisive social commentary. Everywhere we look, people are glued to their phones, and there are fleeting glimpses of the possibilities that this film had that are buried away, chiefly manifesting in the real-world segments. Alex, his crush Addie and his friends are consistently enraptured by the technology they possess. For them, the world rests comfortably in their pocket, almost every interaction they make is done wirelessly, and even in the realm of the emojis the film offers some sparse commentary on the subject as Gene and his companions briefly advertise Facebook - they interact with people they don't even know, all for the sake of achieving popularity. With the right amount of self-awareness and an analytical outlook mixed into its script, it could have at least attempted to deliver on the promise that its premise held. It could have been something else, something worth thinking about, a cautionary tale on the direction our society is going in thanks to these miniature worlds within worlds, these do-all creations and enduring distractions no bigger than the palms of our hands. But honestly, the moment Sir Patrick Stewart was cast as a walking, talking mound of excreta, I believe this film's fate was sealed long before it even hit the screens. If there is any consolation to be gleaned from this experience, however, I can report that the screening of The Emoji Movie I attended was as silent as a crypt. Perhaps the developers aimed wide and went for all the wrong wisecracks – or, maybe, the youth of today have grown wise to the soulless pandering that the film industry so frequently churns out. As a firm believer in the potency of human intelligence and ingenuity, I reside firmly in the latter camp. #FilmReviews #TheatricalReleases #1Star #JackGibbs #TonyLeondis #AnimatedFilmReviews #Animation #JamesCorden #AnnaFaris #SofiaVergara

Written and Directed by Scott Ryan Vickers Starring Scott Ryan Vickers, Frances Barber, Sarah Jayne Dunn, Matthew Crompton, Mohamad Al Jarrah, & Daniel Hanbridge Short Film Review by Chris Olson A journey through the harrowing experiences of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), Scott Ryan Vickers's compelling short film Advance to Contact is as cinematically thrilling as it is thematically engaging. Ben (Vickers) is a vet struggling to assimilate himself back into his home life following another stint serving in the British armed forces. With symptoms including violent outbursts of rage and possible hallucinations disrupting his entire life, the war has very much come home for this poor soldier who fails to find solace in those around him. As with the most effective PTSD short films, Vickers takes the brutal approach. His short is not trying to soften the edges of the main character's suffering in order to make it more palatable for a mainstream audience and neither is he shying away from executing daring moments of filmmaking flair. Too often filmmakers approach a sensitive subject like this and decide to tackle it with bubble wrap. Advance to Contact is one of the most intelligent and thoughtful displays of PTSD ever attempted. There is so much for the viewer to grapple with. The visual editing is harsh and jolting, the soundscape is crippling at times, the plot moves with an unrelenting pace, and the dialogue is as tough as nails. All these tonal experiences have the desired effect on the viewer who will likely succumb to the cacophony of chaos that simulates the experience that this soldier (and so many others like him) have suffered. The result is a breathtakingly painful viewing experience that is heart wrenching and deeply affecting. Furthermore, spectacular moments where the filmmaking mirrors the emotions of the character are littered across the run time, and are hugely enjoyable. The performances are largely well executed, although Vickers's own stumbles slightly in the final section where the over voice line delivery felt a little wooden. He is at his best, though, during the more anguished scenes, in particular one with his son (Daniel Hanbridge) during a tumultuous dinner sequence. Special mention to Sarah Jayne Dunn who plays Ben's wife, who delivers a few knockout moments over the course of the movie. As with any PTSD drama, the content is bleak. But when handled with care and bravery when it comes to making it cinematic, you have the ingredients for an outstanding film. And that is exactly what Advance to Contact is. Watch the official short film trailer below... #PTSD #ShortFilmReviews #ShortFilms #ChrisOlson #WarFilms #Drama #ScottVickers #Filmmaking #FrancesBarber #SarahJayneDunn #MatthewCrompton #MohamadAlJarrah #DanielHanbridge

Directed and written by Tan See Yun Starring Timothy J Cox and Joshua Michael Payne Short Film Review by Rachel Pullen Youth is a hard thing to let go of, we all want to be ‘’forever young’’ but time catches up with us all and of course that comes with downfalls but also joys, such as starting a family and committing to the one you love. Short film Transience is an exploration of that feeling, in silence... Plunged into a black and white silent movie is something we don’t come across very often in modern cinema, it’s a bold move from director Tan See Yun and one that I was so unaccustomed to that I believed the audio had been lost on the device I was viewing the film on for the first few seconds. We follow the story of Tom and George, a married couple who live very opposite lives, George is a professional business man with a budding career and his partner Tom lives in the shadows, clinging to his youth and the freedom that comes with it, a freedom he is unsure that he wants to let go of. Tom only realises what he has, and of course what he may lose when he sees a vision of an aging George, alone without his lover in a park, and so he makes amends and decided that commitment maybe not such a bad choice, good for you Tom. And it is in the closing moment of this short film that Tan See Yun breaks the silence, adding a gentle classical piece of music over that final scene, a simple one of two lovers enjoying a meal, enjoying the others company, and as an audience we are treated to an enjoyable ending. The choice to break the silence in those final moments was immensely powerful, we feel a rush of relief as well as calm in the decision that Tom has made, ensuring a emotional response from anyone watching. Timothy J. Cox and Joshua Michal Payne’s performances in this short are outstanding, we are able to fully understand their feelings and desires from the emotions that they emit from facial expressions and movement, for unlike some silent films Transience does not have an written narrative and so we must decipher the story line from these two characters and their abilities, a challenge I’m sure for both actors but one that has great reward. Transience offers a simple story line set within a simple and humble backdrop but there is nothing simple about this outstanding and though provoking piece. #ShortFilmReviews #ShortFilms #RachelPullen #TanSeeYun #TimothyJCox #JoshuaMichaelPayne

Directed by Graeme Willetts Starring Russell Biles and Paul Holbrook Short Film Review by Leonardo Goi Graeme Willetts’s Puppy Love takes the short film form to the extreme. It builds up like a harrowing thriller, ends with a comedic twist that is as baffling as its misleading title, stirs up a discomforting mixture of dread and relief, and does all the above in the space of two minutes. It should not be praised for its technical merits alone (and reasons for praise there abound) but for the way it challenges the art-form in which it is presented. Its title notwithstanding, Puppy Love is the exact opposite of a sloppy tale. It follows the quest of a 50-something year old sexual predator (Russell Biles) as he uses a fake Facebook account to attract and meet up with unsuspecting underage girls. After promising a young Katie some free booze, he sets up a meeting at the local park, only to realise his prey is quite the opposite of what he’d expected. The rendezvous cuts the short in half. Willetts builds the first part inside what would appear to be the man’s studio, and Sam Morgan Moore’s lensing does a great job at building up the tension, with the green and blue palette painting the whole place as if it were a toxic and claustrophobic wasteland. The camera shifts intermittently from Biles’s face to his laptop’s screen, and the words his Facebook alias Harry exchanges with Katie are the kind you’d expect a teenage boy caught in the midst of a hormonal storm would use to seduce a naïve girl of the same age – and the accuracy and credibility that ensue are courtesy of Lucy V. Hay’s script editing. But where Puppy Love arguably works best is through its impeccable sound design. If so much tension is built in the short’s first half (that is, in the space of one minute) this is also very much thanks to a haunting score that makes it possible to soak in the atmosphere rather than keep it at arm’s length. And while credits for the short’s score go to Hollie Buhagiar, it would not be unsurprising if Willetts – who holds a substantial career as a sound recordist - provided an uncredited contribution of his own. Despite the topic it deals with, Puppy Love achieves no small feat: it condemns paedophilia without turning into a public warning message against it. And this is perhaps its greatest merit. Willetts directs a short that exposes the malice of online predators, but resists the temptation of giving in to an excessively normative and moral tone that could have killed the short’s rhythm. The end result is a delightful two-minute gem aspiring filmmakers should take a close look at. Sometimes a feature can take a very short time to turn into a memorable watch. This is one of those fortunate cases. #ShortFilmReviews #ShortFilms #LeonardoGoi #CyberThriller #SocialMedia #Drama #GraemeWilletts #RussellBiles #PaulHolbrook

Film Feature by Owen Herman Oats Studios describes itself as an “experimental filmmaking lab”; something that is trying to be innovative in the blockbuster heavy world of film. When asked the question “What is Oats?” various employees ‘ummed’ and ‘arred’ before coming up with words and phrases like “playpen”, “secretive” and “collective of ideas”. The themes of filmmaking freedom mixed with fun experimentation run through the various descriptions of the studio and through the short films it produces. Headed by Neill Blomkamp, the South African director of District 9, Elysium, and Chappie, the studio has so far produced eight short sci-fi films as part of its ‘Volume 1’. With such a big name behind it, and the size of the studio itself, Oats manages to bring Hollywood level production design and special effects to short films normally associated with low budget aspiring filmmakers. While these shorts may lack the charm that comes with amateur filmmaking, Oats’ films bring sparks of originality and passion to genres that are so often bogged down by studios’ pursuits of profits. Funding can be tricky with independent films. Oats has a head start due to the names involved, but soon it’ll need to start monetising its content (right now all the shorts can be viewed for free). The three option they have talked about are crowdfunding, charging for future volumes, or releasing a feature version of their most popular idea and putting any profits back into the studio. Rather admirably, each option seems to be really taking the fans into account; starting with free content means people know exactly what they will be paying for when the time comes, and because those who provide funding will be able to see the result of their generosity in the form of content made specifically for them. The films themselves can be split into two groups. Firstly, there are five comedic sketches, God: Serengeti and the Cooking with Bill series. Ranging from three to four minutes in length, these shorts are simple, black comedy sketches with a sci-fi twist. There is a charm to their bleakness that gives a more light-hearted look at the studio’s overall dark tone. However, the real meat of the studio is its three main short films: Rakka, Firebase, and Zygote. These films, each over twenty minutes in length, are all made in the same vein, imaginative sci-fi action-horror presented in a stripped-back and focused way, but they are all unique. Using little exposition or backstory, the shorts pinpoint the best elements of genre cinema, creating fun, scary, gory, and exciting worlds with which fans can engage. Starring Sigourney Weaver, Rakka is a multiple perspective look at the aftermath of a grisly alien invasion. Its structure is very different to normal film narrative, switching between characters and events to provide exposition through action. It is more episodic in structure, showing how these shorts allow experimentation with the techniques behind crafting the narrative, not just the narrative itself. Rakka feels like a cousin of District 9, albeit more harrowing and with the roles reversed. With its second major outing, Oats Studios brings sci-fi with to the Vietnam war. Think Apocalypse Now but with an invisible River God who can send tanks flying into the air. Basically, the kind of premise that would struggle to get mainstream studio backing, but flourishes under an independent studio. It seamlessly blends the true with the fantasy, and leaves its mysteries as mysteries. A great example of why ‘leaving the audience wanting more’ works so well. Certainly the most familiar in terms of its story, Zygote is nonetheless gripping and unsettling. A miner (Dakota Fanning) and a security guard (Jose Pablo Cantillo) are the only survivors in a remote facility in the Arctic, and are being hunted by a nightmarish creature. The short takes the twenty-minute spell from the final third of those monster movies where the final confrontation looms and the drama really mounts up. Without the first half build up we normally expect, Zygote relies purely on its atmosphere to chuck you right into the tensest moments and keep you gripped. It also helps that the creature is genuinely scary and pretty gross. With the success and popularity of the three main shorts, Oats has the option of either making Volume 2, with more experimental shorts, or adapting one of their works into a feature film. The former is certainly welcome, but it is the latter that is most exciting; District 9, still Blomkamp’s best feature, was created off the back of a short he made called Alive in Joburg. The idea that original ideas could be first tested as (relatively) cheap shorts bodes well for genre cinema. It also allows for more interaction between fan and creator, on which Blomkamp is keen. Although it is a shame that Blomkamp’s Alien film looks extremely unlikely to happen (it’s hard not to think about what could have been with Sigourney Weaver’s appearance in Rakka and the overall feel of Zygote), perhaps it’s best that he puts his sharp and mature sci-fi vision to more original projects as the once masterful Alien franchise becomes increasingly bloated and messy. This can also be applied to Halo, as Blomkamp was once down to direct the adaptation of the iconic sci-fi game after making the Halo: Landfall series of shorts. Again, elements of Halo can be found across his work, from Elysium’s titular ring-world to the marine vs alien combat of Rakka and Firebase. With Oats, Blomkamp has a lab to nurture original sci-fi ideas and a stage to show them off to those who love the genre the most. Instead of stringing out these decade-old franchises, the studio is letting itself be influenced by what came before to create new and exciting content. Film will be better off with something fresh that can be hailed as the new Alien/Halo/Blade Runner/The Thing rather than repeating and rehashing what we already know. Whether Oats Studios continues with original shorts or starts a feature project will be down to the fans. As mentioned earlier, both options feel incredibly appealing after the quality of what’s been produced so far. I certainly am looking forward to my next helping of Oats. #FilmFeatures #Filmmaking #FilmStudios #OwenHerman #NeillBlomkamp #FilmmakerFeature

Directed by Keif Gwinn Starring Christina Halvorsen, Johan Barnard, Mark Lynch Short Film Review by Kirsty Asher Tricky Business is a neat, smart short film made for the 100 Hour Film Race – a competition which challenges entrants to create a short film in a particular period of time, in this case 100 hours, with a winner being chosen at the end. It seems to capture the essence of the competition in its composition. To save time on storytelling, the director and writer team Keif Gwinn and Ronan Steyn have inserted great visual cues to hurry the story along to the amusing climax. Mara (Christina Halvorsen) and Luca (Johan Barnard) are getting ready for a night out at a masked ball. Mara then goes to her room, snorts some questionable powder and starts impatiently checking her phone. Meanwhile, a man named John (Mark Lynch) has just turned up at their apartment door with a bunch of flowers and what looks like an advert for an escort service. Team this with Mara’s sexy costume party suspender stockings and we’re starting to get the picture of where this might be going. Except it then turns to a farcical misunderstanding, a comedy of errors that is punctuated in a post-credits shot of Mara’s dealer turning up hours later. For a film that was not only shot and edited in roughly 4 days, the cast of which had never acted on screen before, Tricky Business is a worthy piece of comedy filmmaking. With moments of handheld POV shots that are reminiscent of the awkward hilarity of Peep Show and indeed Lynch as John cuts a very Mark Corrigan-esque figure as he waits with Luca in the sitting room while Mara goes to count her money. The editing is crisp for the most part, and images such as John placidly sipping milk from a wine glass with a straw (“She only has milk.”) are the kind of great kooky low-key comedy moments you might find in a Taika Waititi film. The writing manages to create a conversation of double entendres between the two men that remain witty and don’t fall too far into obvious innuendo. Perhaps it is the relaxed realism of the set-up that allows for the performers to be convincing in delivery and interaction. The presence and timing of all three performers were equally strong, although Lynch’s calm, quaint middle-class demeanour is arguably the most watchable. The personalities of all three characters came through clearly in the screenplay and in their performances which is again impressive for a film on such a tight schedule. The revelation of the mix-up is the one part that jars slightly, and I’m still trying to decide if Lynch’s accidental eye contact with the camera while getting chucked out the apartment is comic genius or an unchecked error, or both. But Tricky Business was an impressive, snappy short and good for a chuckle. #ShortFilmReviews #ShortFilms #KirstyAsher #KeifGwinn #ChristinaHalvorsen #JohanBarnard #MarkLynch

★★★★ Directed by Martin Koolhoven Written by Martin Koolhoven Starring Dakota Fanning, Guy Pearce, Emilia Jones, Carice van Houten & Kit Harington Film Review by Dean Pettipher Christopher Nolan once said, “films are subjective - what you like, what you don't like. But the thing for me that is absolutely unifying is the idea that every time I go to the cinema and pay my money and sit down and watch a film go up on-screen, I want to feel that the people who made that film think it's the best movie in the world, that they poured everything into it and they really love it. Whether or not I agree with what they've done, I want that effort there. I want that sincerity. And when you don't feel it, that's the only time I feel like I'm wasting my time at the movies.” Martin Koolhoven worked for nearly seven years on Brimstone (2016). He estimated that writing the script took roughly three and a half years, getting the financial side of the project in order took about two years and then the production took a year and a half. The passion project required an investment of Koolhoven’s own money to keep its prospects alive. At one point, when funding for the picture nearly collapsed, the sheer amount of stress that followed caused Koolhoven to suffer a panic attack. Ostensibly, Koolhoven and his collaborators certainly put all that they possibly could from behind the scenes into making the movie the best that it could be. Fortunately, their efforts appear reciprocated to the fullest by cast in front of the camera. Indeed, an essence of unyielding tenacity that flows throughout the film from its first to its final shot sustains a formidable emotional connection between the characters and their audiences that might otherwise be swiftly sliced apart by particular qualities, most notably many instances of seemingly excessive violence, which in isolation, are, at least for some, very challenging to watch. The acting is so enthralling from the leads especially that one can quite easily overlook any occasional slips made in the pursuit of perfect accents of either Dutch or Deep South origin. Dakota Fanning has come a long way from her highly-acclaimed performance in War of the Worlds (2005), proving yet again that she has comfortably transitioned from a gifted child star to a genuinely talented actress in adulthood. She is particularly impressive in her conveyance of various troubling sentiments through body language and facial expressions, for they oftentimes reach both the other characters inhabiting her extremely bleak world and the audiences observing it from beyond the forth wall with the upmost clarity, making the initial mystery clouding their motivations that much more exciting. Following the performance of her sister, Elle Fanning, in the recent critically-celebrated American gothic drama, The Beguiled (2017), it is difficult to deny that their respective talents are at, more or less, equally high standards. Guy Pearce portrays a religious fanatic who is far more chilling than even the antagonist that he played in the Western entitled Lawless (2012). Witnessing his turpitudes proves to be a true test of endurance that is almost akin to those brought to life in 12 Years a Slave (2013). Finally Kit Harrington serves yet again as a worthy cynosure for the audience. While Harington has yet to land a role in the movies that attracts the admirable amount of attention that his definitive part of Jon Snow in Game of Thrones (2011-Present) did in the sphere of television, his performance in Brimstone, along with others, including his noteworthy appearances in Testament of Youth (2014) and even How to Train Your Dragon 2 (2014), indicate that he deserves more opportunities to showcase his versatility as an artist through all dramatic mediums. Where some audiences might struggle with Brimstone is the uncompromising presentation of the horrors of the period. The carnage may at times feel somewhat superfluous for those who are not immersed in the tale and invested in the protagonist’s struggles. However, as with the movies helmed by Quentin Tarantino, such as Django Unchained (2012) and The Hateful Eight (2015), the repulsiveness of the extreme but not quite over-the-top violence is compensated for, above all else, by a thoroughly engaging story. The same goes for similar television shows like Hell on Wheels (2011-2016). When the story is good, such violence may be tolerated as a necessary or even essential facet of the director’s vison for the film or television series. Brimstone balances out the ruthless bloodshed principally with an intriguing story structure that splits the picture into four clearly-defined parts that could all, incidentally, make pretty good television episodes if they were shown in isolation. While at times the pace of each chapter can become a little too slow, they all feature superb instances of suspense and poignancy. Moreover, the traditional Western sees further experimentation, in addition to its typical story structure, in the form of a female protagonist. The survival story told here features a young woman who is at least as intriguing and as likeable as the heroine of the revenge tale expertly brought to the silver screen by the Coen brothers, Hailee Steinfeld and others in the form of True Grit (2010), since both women are fully-realised and three-dimensional leads. In the end, while it may struggle to leave a lasting impression as great as some of this year’s biggest movies like Dunkirk (2017) and Wonder Woman (2017), Brimstone is definitely worth a try for those who passionately adore the Western and those who revel in experimentation of long-established genre norms. Also, of course, for those who are big fans of the movie’s unquestionably talented, passionate and determined cast and crew, a solid, bitter-sweet cinematic experience awaits. #Western #DeanPettipher #FilmReviews #TheatricalReleases #MartinKoolhoven #DakotaFanning #GuyPearce #EmiliaJones #CaricevanHouten #KitHarington

Filmmaker Feature by Chris Olson Interviews can often be troublesome. Finding time in a filmmaker's busy schedule is hard enough, let alone when you are trying to interview two of them about their recent film, Working Class Mozart. Aaron Granlund and SM Huet regret that they were unable to participate in this interview directly. They are currently at the Tire & Retread Expo in Akron, Ohio without access to phone or email. Working Class Mozart himself, “Antonio,” was happy enough to answer questions on their behalf. Please describe for us your journey into filmmaking? Mozart was born in Austria in 1756. After a bit of success dabbling in the classical music scene, he hit a rocky patch. I can't describe my own journey in too much detail as I would incriminate myself of felonious acts in three states. Eventually, I got licensed in plasma arc welding. Some crazy filmmakers randomly encountered me one day and begged me to tell my story. How do you describe your short film, Working Class Mozart, to a new audience? Robo-Ambient. Okay. What was the reason behind this project and why you wanted to make it? When I first got the call, I was told about this crazy low budget script and promptly hung up. They called back and pleaded with me to change my mind. I say, “Make it big budget. Make it a blockbuster. Bring in some Chinese investors. Do whatever you have to, just make it big.” I hang up again. Five minutes later the phone rings. They make the deal. I was paid very handsomely. Pretty standard then. Were there any lessons you learned during the filming which you would ensure you apply to your next piece? Every morning I would arrive at the stages for a 3AM call time and spend six hours in a makeup chair getting prosthetics and latex applied to my face and body. By 9AM, Granlund and Huet, the directors, would walk in and demand it all be torn off. I’m not sure why but this happened every day. Along with them berating the crew for being dullards and layabouts. Not something you want on your next movie. Incidentally, what is your next project? The project is called "Incidentally". The idea is to make a film where the main plot is incidental to an irrelevant pre-main plot tangential plot. Who are your influences and why? Rodney Dangerfield, before he was famous, when he was selling aluminium siding. What is the hardest part of making a film in 2017? This is a digital era. Everything I know of film development is tied into those Fotomat huts that existed in parking lots eons ago. You’d drive up and drop your sack of films off and come back in 24 hours to retrieve it. Nowadays these are quite rare. In Los Angeles, they’ve converted the shacks into tiny “Dispensarios” that sell cigarettes by the carton or seat covers for cars. Luckily, I have a connection with one that still develops film. They helped distribute Working Class Mozart. They have a guy who lays all your DVDs on a blanket and lets people haggle down the price, usually below what it cost to actually manufacture. They moved a lot of units for us. What would you say if you were a dolphin? ??? What is Working Class Mozart about and why did you want to make this film? What becomes of the genius whose talents are unrealized as an ordinary worker in a post-income world? The answer? Robots boss him about. What obstacles did you face during filmmaking, and how did you overcome them? Part of experimentation is about making something without knowing how it will turn out. For example, all of the lunches on set were made with spinach and cardboard one day. Did you draw inspiration from any specific filmmakers for this movie? Yes, all of the other famous short form cryptic lo-fi art comedies. What advice would you give to filmmakers in 2017? Latin America bond markets are ripe for the picking. If you could remake any film, what would it be and why? Maybe it’s too soon but I’ve always thought it would be fun to remake Working Class Mozart. How important is budget to you as a filmmaker? A budget tends to get in the way of actually getting anything accomplished. If I were making a movie about toilet paper for instance, I would get the 1-ply kind without the engineered perforations. What's next for you? I have an appointment with my neck masseuse at 4pm. That’s why I’m wearing this robe. After that, I'd be open to collaboration. Get in touch with me! I know Granlund and Huet personally. What I’d really like to do is recite the The Canticles of Luke over a beat laid down by Champagne Papi. What would you say if you were a dolphin? Since you’ve bothered to ask twice, I’ve given it some thought. I would say… “FIN” Watch the entire short film of Working Class Mozart below... #FilmmakerFeatures #Filmmaking #ChrisOlson #ShortFIlms #Interviews #FilmmakerInterviews #AaronGranlund #SMHuet #WatchShortFilms

Directed by Craig Moore Starring Graham Earley, George Bracebridge Short Film Review by Amy Cornforth Any Last Words is a thought-provoking short film which explores the nature of revenge. Is revenge really worth it, even when you have nothing to lose? Although the short is not without its mistakes, it leaves the viewer with a lot to ponder. The story follows an unnamed protagonist (Graham Earley), who reveals how he has lost everything; his wife, his house and his job, due to the greed of those ‘above’ him – and he believes it is time for drastic measures, signalling a transition into a short montage of the man getting ready to commit a murder. He kidnaps the man who is responsible for his misfortune (George Bracebridge) but when he begins to beg for his life, the protagonist begins to wonder whether to pull the trigger. The film, in a word, is bleak – which perfectly conveys the hopelessness and desperation of the protagonist’s situation. This is best expressed through the film’s cinematography, particularly when dealing with location shots. The location has a bleakness to it, despite having a strange beauty. The landscape is more grey than green, and the sky is full of grey clouds, and it is evident that the image has been darkened slightly in post–production, with the intention of conveying a more hopeless atmosphere, which ultimately shows that killing the man who wronged him isn’t going to give the protagonist his life back. Moreover, the use of whistling wind noise sometimes enhances this feeling, but at certain moments, it distracts from the dialogue and slightly lowers the quality of the sound. Any Last Words features some particularly good acting from the Earley. The movie opens with a close-up which lingers on his face – which really helps to capture his subtle facial expressions at this moment and also helps to place the viewer into the protagonist’s mindset, which is shown to be slightly chaotic through the shaky camera movements. He delivers a monologue filled with bitterness about his situation with brilliant expression, really conveying the pain he feels about losing everything he cares about. He particularly conveys his anger well, when facing the man who took everything from him. Bracebridge, though he has little screen-time, acts convincingly scared when faced with his death – [SPOILER] and sufficiently unlikable when he doesn’t learn anything from this encounter. [SPOILER END]. Overall, Craig Moore's film is a very interesting short, with aesthetically pleasing cinematography and good performances, despite a couple of glitches. The opening quote by Derek Landy ‘The only point in having enemies is so you can defeat them, kill them, brush them aside or offer them a chance for redemption,’ perfectly summarises the essence of this short. #ShortFilmReviews #ShortFilms #AmyCornforth #Drama #Revenge #CraigMoore #GrahamEarley #GeorgeBracebridge

Directed by Pedro Pimentel Starring William Galatis, Craig Capone, Anthony Gaudette, Anna Rizzo, Michael A. Coppola, Ron G. Young, David Afflick Short Film Review by Chris Olson Vintage in all the right places, filmmaker Pedro Pimentel's short film The Second Life has a classic feel to almost all the aspects of the filmmaking, resulting in a movie that feels like a sumptuous and vivacious throwback. The story is of Joseph Maria (William Galatis) who uncouthly bothers his local Bishop one night and proceeds to regale him with dramatic stories of his former life. Through the use of flashback, the audience is treated to gloriously cinematic events that get pieced together, creating a cruel tapestry of tragedy, culminating in a brilliantly tense sequence. Dramatic and bold, The Second Life is a short film that the viewer will need to submit to. Everything about the movie is committing to a strong tone that is equal parts theatricality and melodrama. The performances are all in this style, occasionally slipping into a more televisual guise, but for the most part executing a nightmarish fairytale with impressive skill. It is in the aesthetics that Pimentel's film is most compelling. From the booming orchestral score and moody lighting, to the phenomenal sets and costumes, an engaging atmosphere is created and maintained throughout that is simply gorgeous. There were also some brilliant stylistic choices during the short which stood out. One of which was the use of colour during one flashback. Slipping from colour into black and white seamlessly, Pimentel not only delivered a stunning visual effect, he also made, either knowingly or not, an intelligent connection between the emotional instability of one's character and one's memories, that can end up defining us. The dialogue felt jarring with the film's visual landscape. Whilst everything was set up to be excellently cinematic, the lines between the performers came across as being lifted from an indulgent stage production. This could have been solved with some sharper editing and firmer direction, however the end result meant a few scenes lingered too long and the punch of the performances, in particular Galatis, was undermined. As a whole, though, The Second Life is a bountifully impressive piece of fierce filmmaking. For audiences with a penchant for melodrama and classic movies, there are few other short films in 2017 that will give you the same standard of cinema. #ShortFilmReviews #ShortFilms #ChrisOlson #Drama #PedroPimentel #WilliamGalatis