Film Review: Resident Evil: Afterlife

Resident Evil: Afterlife. Rated MA15+ (Strong horror violence, blood and gore.) 97 minutes. Written and directed by Paul W S Anderson.

Fans of the phenomenally successful undead/horror/survival game series Resident Evil (Biohazard) and fans of high-concept (with an equally high body count) film-making, will find hours of enjoyment arguing over the merits of Resident Evil: Afterlife – the fourth in the series of films adapted from the popular video game.

Since its debut on the Sony PlayStation in 1996, in excess of 40 million games have been sold – making the series one of the most popular and commercially successful in the world. The equally successful film adaptations that followed are Resident Evil (2002), Resident Evil: Apocalypse (2004) and Resident Evil: Extinction (2007).

Anderson (who has written all the screenplays and also directed the first movie) returns as director, as does Milla Jovovich as the series’ heroine ‘Alice’. Having defeated the evil Umbrella Corporation’s tyrant and witnessed the awakening of thousands of clones at the end of Extinction, Afterlife begins with a dazzling sequence as Alice and her clones infiltrate the corporation’s state-of-the-art underground facility where the human tests of the deadly virus continue. Alice intends to free the humans and take them to ‘Arcadia’, a safe-haven where the infection-free survivors have apparently fled.

Filmed using the 3D technology pioneered by James Cameron for Avatar, Afterlife unquestionably has its moments, with cinematographer Glen MacPherson (The Final Destination), editor Niven Howie (Extinction, Dawn of the Dead) and production designer Arvinder Grewal (Exit Wounds, Dawn of the Dead) responsible for all of them.

Ms Jovovich is, as one might expect, perfectly serviceable in the lead role, and there is fine support from Ali Carter as the feisty ‘Claire Redfield’ – while the rest of the cast manage to look suitably dazed, confused and bewildered on cue. Sienna Guillory’s mid-end credits cameo as ‘Jill Valentine’ will ensure you either leave the cinema delighted or rolling your eyes – but you’ll certainly have had some serious gun-toting, daredevil, sci-fi razzle-dazzle in the process. And that can never be an entirely bad thing, can it?

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.

Film Review: Let Me In

Let Me In. Rated MA15+ (strong horror themes and violence). 115 minutes. Written and directed by Matt Reeves.

One of the many problems with English-language adaptations of foreign films (in this case, the Swedish vampire thriller Let The Right One In – adapted for the screen from his novel by John Ajvide Lindqvuist and directed by Tomas Alfredson), is the extent to which much of the original’s impact is lost in translation.

In the case of Mr Reeves’ (the sensational pop-cult masterpiece Cloverfield) hypnotically beautiful rendering of Lindqvist’s compelling ‘rites of passage’ story – the answer is both everything and nothing.

Owen’s (Kodi Smit-McPhee) parents are going through an acrimonious divorce and he is being bullied at school. The sensitive boy escapes the misery of his bleak existence fantasising about how he might take revenge against his tormenters. When young Abby (Chloë Grace Moretz) and her guardian (Richard Jenkins) move in to the apartment next door, Owen and Abby begin a friendship that will evolve into the most extraordinary bond – built of love, trust, courage and self-determination.

Reeves and his creative team (including Melbourne-born Cinematographer Greig Fraser) infuse their adaptation with many of the original’s visual motifs – none more so than by successfully transplanting their version from an isolated, snow-bound town in Sweden to an equally isolated, snow-bound Los Alamos, New Mexico. The intoxicating, wintery landscape provides the film with some extraordinary moments (such as the sequence where the body of a murder victim is retrieved from a frozen lake), while providing Fraser with limitless opportunities to create some equally extraordinary lighting. Oscar-winning composer for Up (2009) Michael Giacchino provides a brilliant score that rages against the sequence of events as the film powers toward its gripping conclusion.

The performances are superb, with young Australian Smit-McPhee (The Road) and Moretz shining as the young leads, while Elisa Koteas delivers a beautifully under-stated performance as the policeman investigating the strange turn of events. Editor Stan Salfas ramps up the relentless tension by rarely letting the film’s pace settle into a recognisable rhythm for very long.

Let Me In is an absorbing, visceral cinematic experience that will reward lovers of beautifully-made, superbly acted coming-of-age dramas – with a stunning (and perversely rewarding) sting in its tail.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.

Film Review: Buried

Buried. Rated MA15+. 95 minutes. Directed by Rodrigo Cortés. Screenplay by Chris Sparling.

Like The Premature Burial (1962) and The Vanishing (1988), Spanish-born Cortés (The Contestant) plays with one the horror genre’s greatest trump cards: being buried alive. What he also does, courtesy of an punishing, rock ‘n’ roll screenplay from Mr Sparling, is shine a spotlight on the subject of foreigners being taken hostage in Iraq – and the desperate efforts by the US Department of State’s Hostage Working Group to free them.

Paul Conroy (Ryan Reynolds) is a US contractor working as a truck driver in Iraq. When his convoy is attacked by insurgents, he wakes to find himself buried alive in a crate with a mobile telephone, a cigarette lighter, a torch, a hip-flask, a pen and flick-knife.

Depending entirely on how impressed you are by the concept of a film shot entirely in a wooden crate starring only one actor, Buried may possibly elicit one response: ‘an actor in a box with some props – so what?’. But Sparling’s screenplay, Cortés’s rivetting direction and editing, Reynolds’s dazzling star turn and Eduard Grau’s (A Single Man) cinematography, all combine brilliantly to ensure that Buried is rarely less than an entirely engrossing experience.

Conroy’s only contact with the outside world is through the mobile phone, with Robert Paterson as Hostage Working Group representative ‘Dan Brenner’, in particular, providing excellent support to Reynolds’ desperate and ill-fated victim of circumstance.

Peversely, the day after I saw this film, the UK’s The Guardian newspaper reported that aid-worker Linda Norgrove – a 36-year-old British hostage being held in Afghanistan – was killed as Nato troops were trying to rescue her. What, only the night before, had been a marvellously escapist, cinematic tour de force, suddenly became a compelling ‘anti-war film’ – a powerful statement about the horrific possibilities that confront civilians working in conflict-stricken war zones. Hostage-taking, either to influence the outcomes for countries that send in their armed forces or companies that send in their workers, remains a potent consequence of both criminally- and politically-motivated opportunism.

The review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.