It’s Christmas! And, try as we might, we couldn’t quite shoehorn in an article about Cliff Richard movies, so instead, here’s a classic Yuletide tale narrated by one of STS’s very favourite people – the always dour, but never non-festive Werner Herzog.

Sure to keep you awake on Christmas Eve….

As someone who actually makes something I laughingly refer to as a living from memes, apps, tools and general online doodads, I’ve been awaiting the Facebook movie ‘The Social Network’ with some trepidation, mainly because it will mean one of two things;
A:Tons of gibbering chimpos will watch it, hear the numbers being bandied around and set themselves up as ‘Social Media Gurus’ on Twitter, meaning it’ll be even harder for me to get a gig. Or
B:Tons of gibbering chimpos will watch it, and realise that what I do for a living isn’t actually that hard, I’ve just been fooling people into paying me over the odds.

Whatever, this new trailer has just pooped up over at www.500millionfriends.com, and it looks like the history of Monsiour Zuckerburg and his all-pervasive ivy league yearbook is going for the tense, courtroom drama angle. How tense you can get with Justin Timberlake as your leading man is up for debate, but will it hold Facebook’s creators up as heros -or point them out for ridicule?

More to the point -does anyone really give a shit about watching a college boy in a hoody make several billion dollars because people love to poke, farm and off each other Mafia style at this point?

Like or Unlike?

The Social Network is out in October.

If the worm is to believed, the Britain is ready for change. Even if it’s the sort of mind-numbingly boring change that involves paying an extra penny for fags in exchange for slightly more CCTV cameras being put up, but hey- at least Brown, Cameron and Clegg stayed on message, although personality-wise they could probably take a few pointers from these guys!Yep, we may have conviniently ignored both Big Ronnie Reagan and The Governator himself, but hey; these are still our top: Movie Politicians!

1: Greg Stilson – The Dead Zone

To be perfectly honest, I’d never vote for anyone, or indeed do anything at all if it pissed off Christopher Walken, but Martin Sheen’s man of the people act is doing a pretty good job of propelling him toward the White House in David Cronenburgs 83 Stephen King Adap. Pf course, we don’t have any psychics on hand to see if Gordon or David is planning to launch a nuclear attack on Brussels anytime soon, but the film still ranks highly as a warning about what happens when your leaders believe a little too strongly in their ideals.

2: Adenoid Hynkel – The Great Dictator

Charlie Chaplin finally decided it was payback time for Hitler stealing his moustache, with his first talkie, a searing attack on the idiocy of the extreme right wing. Along with advisers Garbitch and Herring, the leader of Tomenia is hell bent on bringing the world under his control, only hindered by his own hubris and predilection for making ridiculous speeches in public – so, exactly like our own government then.

3: Jesse Ventura – Abraxas

He may be a goddamn sexual tyrannosaurus, but even former spandex-clad man-grappler and on-again, off-again governor of Minnesota Jesse Ventura couldn’t save the woeful pile of crap that called itself Abraxas (in fact it was so bad it didn’t even warrant a real trailer – this fan effort was the best we could find!). Big Jesse may be a dab hand at doing the capitol hill two-step, but here his muddled manifesto – dress up in silver lycra, bring law and order to the galaxy and stop a killer mutant loose on Earth – just doesn’t appeal to the average working class family.

4: Larry Vaughn – Jaws

As anyone growing up in a seaside town knows, the yearly influx of tourists is vital to the local economy, so who cares if one or two of the more nubile ones get their bubble-perms bitten off by a psychotic fish? Certainly not Mayor Larry, who lives up to the classical political ideal by putting money – and re-election – a long, long way ahead of human lives. Sorry Larry, but you’re gonna need a bigger vote.

5: President Scroob – Spaceballs

Honestly – who wouldn’t vote for Mel Brooks? Even if his ass is on backwards? Scroob spends most of the movie tempting an expense account scandal with his own supply of clean air and three in a bed romps with twins Marlene and Charlene, but when push comes to shove he’s the kind of leader who gets things done. How he ever justified spending all those tax dollars on a three hundred foot tall French maid is anyone’s guess though.

With Iron Man 2’s hype machine currently going into Scarlet Johannsen booby-shaped overdrive, it’s easy to think that inventors are a bunch of hyper-intelligent, supercool playboys cobbling together amazing doohickeys for the protection and betterment of mankind.

The movies have a long history of science-types saving the planet and coming up with amazing inventions to win the hearts and minds of us, the lowly viewer. Unfortunately, for every Tony Stark there’s a wet fart, with dozens of films full of half-assed ideas hewn from cardboard and clingfilm. Some are rubbish, some are stupid and others are downright dangerous!

Put on your safety goggles and stand behind the lead sheilding then, while we check out the top ten: Crap Movie Inventions!

1: The Cosmic Key – Masters of the Universe

What is it? A ‘universal resonator’ apparently..
What does it do? Allows Skeletor to launch a massive invasion of planet Earth! Unfortunately its an invasion force consisting of him, his girlfriend, three tanks and two gay bikers. Yep, that should see off the marines skeleton face.
Handily, the key also doubles as a parping 80’s synthesiser, allowing a young Courtney Cox the chance to dance her way across the universe to meet the key’s creator Gwildor.

A stinking Troll.

Bet she was hoping for Simon Le Bon.

2: The Proton Pack – Ghostbusters

Oh yes, very useful for seeing of the undead-if you believe in that sort of thing. What they’re also useful for is setting fire to your hotel lobby and threatening to detonate in the middle of New York City.

Hey, somebody call an exterminator? With an unlicensed nuclear accelerator strapped to his back?

Yes yes, it destroys Mr.Stay Puft, but are you seriously suggesting that a flamethrower and a giant glass of milk wouldn’t do the job? Stupid and irresponsible!

3: The Phantom Zone – Superman

Listen, I’ve got these three super-powered, murderous bastards with a pvc fetish yeah? Could you lock ‘em up? Thing is, they’re all strong enough to punch through the hull of a battleship-not sure if the county lock-up will handle it.. No problem! Let’s stick ‘em in..a brittle piece of plastic three feet across. Yeah, that oughta do it huh? Oh, and while I’m at it, I’ll fire them in the direction of a helpless, primitive world that can’t hope to stop them.

Cheers Jor-el, you dick.

4: Transporters-Star Trek

Scientist:
“Well, it doesn’t really work all that well, and it has a tendency to turn people inside out or make them go a bit Seth Brundle..I may have wasted my research grant to be honest…” Starfleet Admiral: “Ah I shouldn’t worry mate, what say we stick them on all our starships anyway, at massive expense to the taxpayer? I reckon someone will have figured out how to get the thing running in the next three or four hundred years right?”
A massive waste of public resources!

5: The Lightsaber-Star Wars

Oh yeah, that looks cool, and hey, it isn’t ‘as random or clumsy as a blaster’ so that’s nice. Available in a choice of colours too is it? Well that’s good then. It would be even more handy if we didn’t live in a world where being bombarded from orbit wasn’t a huge, constant threat. Not much cop against a star destroyer is it?

6:Robocop

So, you’re saying you blown our entire budget on a tincan with half a brain, paranoid schizophrenic tendencies and massive firepower? Nice one Dave. Collect your P-45 on the way out will you?

7: The BlameThrower – Mystery Men

Normally we don’t argue with Tom Waits around here, but as pacifist weapons designer Doc Heller in Ben Stiller’s oft-overlooked ensemble piece even we have to admit he’s bloody useless. Imagine if you can a device purposefully designed to make Janeane Garofalo and Pee-Wee Herman even more annoying! Not a patch on the cyclone-based hand grenade.

8: The Reanimation Formula – Reanimator

Yeah. Brings the dead back to life does it? And they’re obsessed with oral sex and eating people? Yeah sounds good Jeff. Dozens of applications I’m sure. Now why don’t you try on this comfy white coat while I make a quick phone call…

9: Skynet – The Terminator

Got me to thinkin’ sir, hows about we stick an advanced military application in the back of every software program sold since the early 80’s? Well, I was thinkin’ it would mean we’d have an autonomous, amoral machine running..well..everything in the world. With access to our most powerful and dangerous weaponry! Cost? Oh, probably about a trillion…yeah sure, I’ll email you some designs over now…what’s that? Go wrong? Erm…nah, nah it’ll be fine, if it does we can use those new Terminator things on it can’t we?

10: The Time Machine – Back to the Future

A Time Machine!? Wow! What a shame the Doc hasn’t got any fuel for it. And has to steal it from Libyan terrorists. And it’s stolen plutonium. And he hasn’t really wired the bloody thing up properly. And the only time it works properly is when it propels a dog one minute into the future. Bloody genius that is isn’t it?

Bloody rubbish the lot of them, and this is just the tip of the iceberg – Come on STS-ers, we know there’s more, but what are they? let us know!

Staggering bleary-eyed into work each morning, hung over from last night’s glittering showbiz party or all night Mario Bava marathon, it’s occasionally easy for STS to forget the more cultured side of cinema. Fortunately the venerable chaps at the BFI are onto us, and have seen fit to plaster the southbank with enormous billboards so that we remember that today is the start of The Times BFI 53rd Film Festival!

Running from October 14th – 29th at a variety of venues across London, the festival offers a unique and fascinating exploration of cinematic history and glimpses of the future, to draw a comprehensive picture of current Cinema at home and abroad.

Highlights this year include Delmer Dave’s hyper intense Jubal, transplanting Othello to the wild west with visually stunning results (and STS fave Ernest Borgnine!), Clive Jeavon’s look into the history of CBGB, the legendary fleapit Rock N’ Roll venue in New York’s Bowery district, and new British Cinema in the shape of The Scouting Book for Boys, a surprisingly funny and accurate look at the perils of growing up set across one lazy English summer.

Further showings will see the White Stripes banging out tunes on the square, visits to Woodstock and New Orleans courtesy of Maria Delgado and Werner Herzog, and a host of other unique visions that demand a spot in your filmgoing calendar.

For tickets and info check out the website here, and get the latest update tweets here.

You’d be forgiven for not expecting much of a Christopher Smith film as the opener to FrightFest’s ‘09 schedule, what with him being the chap who made the lacklustre Creep and the amusing but silly Severance.

Throw in the fact that an ex-soap star – Melissa George of Home & Away fame – takes the lead and you might even allow yourself to walk in the other direction. But Smith has clearly been given more creative control with this, his latest and undoubtedly best film, because it’s actually shocking just how good it is. The poster gives nothing away about the quality of the movie. With an image of George on a liner holding a bloodied weapon and a strapline that reads ‘the forecast is EVIL’, you might expect a schlocky slasher effort, but from the moment the credits roll this is an altogether different kind of beast.

The premise is difficult to explain without giving too much of the complex narrative away, except to say it features Melissa George and a friend going on a boating trip, along with some people she doesn’t know. From there onwards, things turn dark. As confusingly dark as Donnie Darko, with a whole lot of Time Crimes thrown in.

Referencing those two films would be unfair, however, simply because they deal with a similar kind of theme. With a trippy opening that feels like a less coherent but far superior Morvern Caller, Smith marks out his own style, deliberately throwing the viewer completely off-kilter. By the time the action begins, you’re already begging a few hundred questions. In addition – if you’re as cynical as yours truly – you’re expecting there to be a million unresolved loose endings by the time the film’s over. Happily, as far as I can work out, everything is tied up pretty well indeed.

But much working out is required. This is less a film than a complex equation designed to distort your ability to comprehend the fabric of time. At various points I found myself looking at my hands, counting fingers and trying to solve the puzzle onscreen on my hands, wishing I’d taken a notepad and pen into the theatre rather than a coca cola and a bag of pick ‘n’ mix. It took a couple of post-cinema drinks to suss out among our party exactly how the plot worked and still we were left with a couple of questions.

Smith mentioned in the introduction that it took him four years and lots of post-it notes to write Triangle. George said the role of Jess was her most challenging to date – which makes her technically harder to handle than the man-eating bundle of neuroses she portrayed as Laura in HBO’s In Treatment. When watching Triangle, you’ll feel the cranial anguish they experienced creating it as it manifests in your head, itself trying to slowly plug the jigsaw together. Hopefully you’ll enjoy the mental exercise involved.

Though I can’t quite believe I’m typing it, Triangle is definitely a contender for film of the year and, for me, the best and biggest surprise of FrightFest 2009.

And, no. It’s got nothing to do with the British soap opera of the same name from the 70s.

TMZ reports that Director John Hughes passed away today aged 59.

Hughes began his career  as an ad exec, before graduating to joke writer for the likes of Rodney Dangerfield and Joan Rivers. He then moved into screenwriting with National Lampoon’s Vacation.

His first outing as director – Class Reunion, saw the beginning of an era-defining catalogue of work that included Pretty In Pink, Weird Science and Sixteen Candles.

This is sad news indeed for film fans – especially of a certain generation – and Hughes leaves a big nostalgia-shaped hole in film history. Anyone who grew up, spending their childhood or adolescence during that weird, Reagan and McDonalds-coloured era will have many of his films stamped on their consciousness, whether they loved the foul-mouthed, pot-smoking tearaways he portrayed, or even if they tired of his occasional drift into all-out sentiment. Either way, Slashing The Seats salutes a cinema great.

Whether you were a Breakfast Club fan, preferred to quote all Duckie’s lines in Pretty In Pink, felt that Ferris Bueller was the greatest movie ever made or felt his masterwork was the pinnacle of High School Geek movies, Weird Science – you’ll remember him well.

John – we’ve got your films for the rest of our natural born lives. If you don’t watch your step.

The third in our series of kids movies that weirdly never quite made the grade…

Bartok The Magnificent

You might remember Don Bluth’s 1997 movie, Anastasia. You might even remember that there was an albino bat called Bartok in that movie. However, you almost certainly don’t remember Bartok the Magnificent – the straight-to-video spin-off devoted to that aforementioned, tiny bat.

This film is unusual before you even start watching, because it’s the only spin-off of a Don Bluth film that the man himself actually directed. (NB – In other Don Bluth news you can now buy Space Ace, the follow-up to Dragon’s Lair for iPhone). Also, Hank Azaria voices Bartok, which in itself is pretty cool.

The movie charts the adventures of Bartok before he becomes Rasputin’s assistant and includes references and allusions to Russian folklore. This means a lot of it is pretty surreal, but Bartok is very lovable and pretty bad-ass. To prove it – here’s a little segment from the Wikipedia plot summary:

After Bartok’s show, a violent bear suddenly attacks. Bartok saves everyone by stunning the bear with dust and then knocks him over and traps him in a wagon.

A bear? Seriously?!

That’s pretty cool. Although I should point out that the bear later turns out to be Bartok’s friend and trusted companion. Still, a bear as a best friend is pretty good going for a bat. Bartok also does battle with demons, dragons and floating skulls – the latter voiced by Tim Curry who is apparently at once the saving grace and the kiss of death for any children’s film. Bartok also has to face puzzles and challenges along the way.

It’s good solid fun, with a decent story and some nice voice acting, the only downside being the short length of the movie – it clocks in at just over one hour. At the time of writing, it’s available to view in its entirety on YouTube, so you’ve no excuse not to go and watch it.

The second in our series of kids movies that weirdly never quite made the grade…

Ferngulley: The Last Rainforest

If there’s a film on this list you’re likely to remember, it’s this one, as it didn’t perform too dreadfully. Whilst it’s no masterpiece, it’s still kind of underrated. It tells the story of fairies living peacefully in the rainforest, whose harmonious existence is suddenly interrupted by a logging corporation systematically tearing up the whole place. One of the ne’er-do-well tree-haters is radical 90s everyman Zak, who is accidentally shrunk to fairy size and learns to love the forest, be at one with nature and so on…

Robin “not so funny since I stopped taking all that cocaine” Williams provides the voice of Batty, the inventively named bat whose echo-location is scrambled thanks to evil animal experimentation. Indeed, the film takes an amazingly aggressive stance against animal testing and deforestation. At one point we see, in silhouette, a crazy scientist mutilating some small furry creature before spinning round and screaming, “get me another one! Get me another ANIMAL!”)

Extraordinary.

Kids make for the harshest critics in the business. You can pour your blood, sweat and tears into hyping a movie release, but if it won’t hold the attention of a seven year old for 120 measly minutes, it’s no good to anybody. When it comes to children’s movies, the kid’s deliver the final verdict and they often do so with honesty and conviction. However, every once in a blue moon the kids screw up and a perfectly good movie slips under the radar and is lost – forgotten forever – vanishing into the ether. Here’s the first of four films on a list comprising movies the children of yesteryear should have had the good sense to appreciate for the classics they are. By the time we’re done, you’ll remember why we don’t let them vote.

You might remember some of these titles and hopefully the list will cause you to experience at least one decent nostalgia rush – so let’s crack on…

Cats Don’t Dance

Cats Don’t Dance is an anthropomorphic adventure telling the story of country-bumpkin moggie, Danny.

Danny decides to move to Hollywood to seek his fortune as an all-singing, all-dancing musical star. Upon arrival however, his hopes are quickly dashed. He finds that animals like himself are relegated to playing bit-parts in major musical productions designed to further the career of odious child stars such as Darla Dimple – the film’s antagonist. He sets out on an adventure to change the status quo and ensure that his secretly talented animal friends get the screen time they deserve.

Along the way, Danny forges a romance with Sawyer, the sexy but stubborn actress-cum-receptionist (who is also a cat –  obviously otherwise that would just be weird). The film is nicely animated, has a pretty decent story, some great songs and derives a lot of laughs out of Hollywood stereotypes and icons, from the cigar smoking agent to the MGM lion. (It’s an elephant who has to wear tusks and trumpet through the Mammoth Studio’s logo – though secretly he plays a mean jazz piano).

Gene Kelley did the choreography for the film and it was his last project before his death, which is a great reason to watch it. Honestly though, for me the main appeal of this film is the premise – cats don’t dance. It’s not that cats can’t dance, it’s just that they don’t. Did you ever hear such a great setup for a kids’ film? The only thing better would be an environmental romp in the rainforest in which Robin Williams acted as a spokesman for all victims of animal testing. But that film never got ma…

OH NO WAIT! THAT FILM TOTALLY EXISTS!

And it’s next on the list.

Bad news for the ‘already booked to do Thor’ Kenneth Branagh, but good news for red blooded, beef-eating English gentlemen everywhere, as Elizabeth writer Michael Hirst announces his latest trip into the barbarous depths of British history. The Tudors creator has signed on to adapt Bernard Cornwall’s epic tale of the Battle of Agincourt, a key moment in the hundred years war and one of the bloodiest battles in medieval history.

Rather than the traditional Shakespearian take, this version sees events through the eyes of a regular Joe – Longbowman Nicholas Hook – and deals with the interception of Henry V’s forces by a huge French army and their eventual seeing off thanks to a combination of superior firepower and English pluck.

Cameras are set to roll in early 2011, but with a budget of just $35 million, we may be looking at high-scale TV production rather than blockbuster epic, so expect lots of physical effects (ketchup) and legions of massed Brit-thesps taking time out from Harry Potter reshoots to don fake chainmail and smack their French counterparts about the head.

Needless to say, the trailers and early forecasts for G.I Joe didn’t exactly promise Citizen Kane-esque heights of filmic artistry, but frankly, if that’s what you’re after then you probably shouldn’t go and see a Steven Sommers flick that’s been co-produced by Hasbro.

Let’s get this straight from the outset. This is a film designed to sell toys. Massive truckloads of them. That it manages to do so in a semi-coherent way, without completely spoiling the childhood memories of those lonely 30-somethings watching in their droves out there is nothing short of amazing. If you approach this with an agenda, then it’s an easy target, but if you’re willing to cool those brain cells off for a bit, then it’s an hour and a half of brash, fun excitement. A Saturday morning cartoon writ larger than life.

Dispensing with such pleasantries as characterisation or backstory, the film heaves us into the action from the off, an arms deal gone bad giving us a quick intro to the main characters and just enough plot to be going on with, as the villainous Baroness makes off with some NATO experimental missiles, murdering do-gooder Duke’s pals in the process and setting up a loosely-bound revenge story that allows us to meet G.I.Joe through the eyes of a newcomer.

Throughout, futuristic weapons and ludicrous martial arts showdowns abound. Female leads high-kick wearing little more than skin-tight bin-bags whilst Christopher Eccleston casts off his serious ac-tor/grumpy bugger rep, clearly reveling in his role as flamboyant, masked arms dealer MacGuffin Destro.

The plot is minimal and ridiculous, of course; a team of the finest soldiers and tacticians in the world chase down a hidden terrorist organisation, mounting a massive worldwide mobilisation on the back of what amounts to a hunch. Plot, however, is not why we’re here. We’re here to see the trillion Dollar base ‘The PITT’, the jet-packs, the lasers and the ‘accelerator suits’ -a kind of bargain basement Iron Man armour that JUST manages to look cool, despite the occasionally flabby CGI.

It would be easy to gripe at Sommer’s sense of spectacle, sacrificing story for KABOOM set pieces. Those unlucky enough to have witnessed the execrable Van Helsing will know of his love for dodgy redesigns and over the top spectacle rather than a solid story, but here that’s rather the point. In his defence, the direction manages to stay focused even during an 80mph running battle on the side of a subway train, never falling into the MTV jump-edit incoherence that so often blights big action sequences. Here you always know where you are and who’s who.

In fact, that’s a conceit that flows throughout. The characters themselves are painted in the broadest of black and white strokes, and whilst the acting may occasionally veer a little too close to the original plastic avatars than is comfortable, spouting cheesy, occasionally wince-inducing dialogue and using shouting to convey emotion – lead white hat Duke’s appearance at a funeral is brooding in a hilariously 80s way – it is at least good-natured and doesn’t try to explain itself.

Likewise, while the film does try to ground itself in a real-world ethos, it takes a gung-ho attitude to the technology, never bothering with ludicrous pop-science explanations as to their feasibility. Things just work. And while there’s some guff about stolen nano-tech weapons and Big Bad The Doctor/Cobra Commander (Joseph Gordon Lovett, clearly having the screechy-voiced time of his life) scheming to replace the President, it’s mainly a series of excuses to get us to the next fight.

Bowing to fanboy wishes has destroyed many a franchise (I’m looking at you, George Lucas), but here it stays the right side of goofy. We get a fantastic Wushu faceoff between Evil Ninja Storm Shadow and his polar opposite, Snake-Eyes, which is tons of fun and hugely impressive even if it ultimately resolves nothing. If your attention does start to wander, rest assured there’ll be a shot of Sienna Miller doing the splits soon enough.

Though it doesn’t quite have the explosive impact of this summer’s other toy-based destructothon, Transformers, G.I. Joe scores points for being fast and faithful, cramming in the right amount of nods to hardcore nerd-dom, but concentrating on its target audience: over-excited 10 year old boys with pocket money to burn. There’s a surprising lack of winking towards any accompanying parents too, with the humour generally goofy and good-natured.

An extended advert then, but a bloody good one. Rise of Cobra is exactly what the nine-year-old inner you wants from a movie. Fast, explosive fun that won’t change cinema history, but will leave you with a daft grin on your face and a strange urge to get down to Toys R Us as quickly as possible.

Professional monkey-nut and all-round cockerney badass Jason Statham is cementing his rep as STS’ favourite actor with a raft of projects lined up over the next year, each apparently more ridiculous and fantastic than the last.

First up we can look forward to Sly Stallone’s new actioner “The Expendables”, where The Stath will be going head to head with Jet Lee, Dolph Lundgren and a certain Governator in a two-fisted mercenary tale to beat all others. Then – no time for a change of pace – he’s in Gary McKendry’s feature debut Killer Elite.

Based on Ranulph Fiennes account of WWII heroics, The Feather Men (named for their light touch) loosely follows the real life events, as S.A.S men are targeted by a former sheik in Oman, with Statham bizarrely cast as a retired Navy SEAL who helps them out.

Next there’s a new role as a lawman hunting a cop serial killer in London in Blitz. Variety reports that Stath will be joining Paddy Considine in this violent thriller from Lionsgate, based on Ken Bruen’s book, with Love is a Drug helmer Elliot Lester slated to direct, from Moon man Nathan Parker’s script.

Finally, it’s back to comic book territory with Pretty, Baby, Machine – a Pretty Boy Floyd tale riding hard on the coattails of Michael Mann’s Public Enemies. The movie sees Stath join Gary Oldman, Mickey Rourke and walnut-faced ex-Lovejoy Ian McShane as Prohibition-era gangsters who form an uneasy alliance when they are targeted by Al Capone. Expect Tommy Gun action aplenty.

Makes you wonder where he finds the time to lure former Girl Next Door/Playboy centrefold Holly Madison back to his condo doesn’t it?

Stath- we salute you!

Following in the illustrious footsteps of Watch With Mothers, we at Slashing The Seats have recorded our first podcast!

We do our very best to stay on the topic of the best movie villains, however descend into the religious symbolism within Robocop, first year film students, a vast sci fi Scientologist / Conan conspiricy, and why Terminators have USB chips in their fingers.

It’s essentially around 45 minutes of slightly drunk Westcountry movie buffs talking amusing nonsense about films.

You can subscribe to the podcast on iTunes. Don’t forget to rate and review!

Finally arriving in cinemas after its Sundance premiere, HumpDay takes the old theory about homoeroticism in buddy movies to its logical extreme – and is partially successful.

When two college friends reunite after years apart, it doesn’t take much for the bohemian Andrew (Mark Duplass) to convince Ben (Josh Leonard) that the American dream isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and drag him along to a boozed up party where ‘creatives’ (or at least, their Hollywood avatars) smoke, drink and give pan-sexuality a try out.

During the course of the evening, the central odd couple decide to enter an amateur porn contest (as you do), Seattle’s real-life annual HumpDay, where contestants are asked to ‘take back’ porn from the silicone-implant brigade. The catch? They’re entering the Gay section.

As a comic premise, it does have mileage, with some engaging banter as the two alternately egg each other on or try to get each other to chicken out, while Ben’s exchanges with unsuspecting wife Anna (a standout Alycia Delmore) provide some of the few laugh-out loud lines in the movie. Unfortunately the mumble-core scripting and some uncomfortable gender stereotyping spoil things, with Lynn Shelton’s script trying too hard to satirise the modern American male sense of self, when a dumber and sillier approach may have worked better.

It’s not often that you find yourself arguing for a movie to be stupider, but while there are some funny lines, many jokes fall flat or are offensive as if the film itself is overcompensating.

It’s still successful in some ways, showing how the straight-laced Ben is still wild and kerazy at heart, while Andrew may not be the all out hippy he pretends to be, but it’s too little too late. Finding out that people behave differently in different situations is hardly groundbreaking, and once the focus is off the porn and onto the talk, it’s difficult to maintain any interest. While the notion of fluid sexuality and monogamy is given a once over, the film tends to rely overly on sitcom chatter rather than – excuse the pun – taking things deeper.

It could be a comment on male hang-ups, as the short scene with two bisexual women is far more incisive than the endless dialogue between the two leads, or it could be a case of a female writer unfairly relying on male stereotypes. When done right, the gender war can provide a poignant and very funny battleground, but any battle requires a sense of daring to win – and that’s sadly lacking here.

Gay for pay? No way.

Sometimes you can be forgiven for suspecting the movie you’re about to sit through is going to be woeful claptrap. Cemetery Man seems, from the cover, to satisfy every criteria for this kind of low expectation. It stars Rupert Everett, for Christ’s sake. But then, through sheer insanity and stupidity, it three-sixties into one of the most wonderfully over-the-top showcases for madness you’re ever going to see. When a film goes so far out of its way to make you look at the screen aghast, it has to have something going for it. And it’s this kind of care-free idiocy that marks Cemetery Man as a cut above other overlooked zombie flicks. It simply doesn’t seem to care what you think of it. It’s a bloody-minded lunatic of a film.

For starters, this Italian production mentions Berlusconi in a production capacity as the credits roll. And after they’ve rolled, you realise the sound mix is so creakily dubbed that you’re going to be spending the next hour or so watching mouths move just out of synch with what you’re hearing. Add to this Everett’s overpowering voiceover, his usual plummy tones overridden by a strange attempt at a mockney-ish drawl, and you’re in very dodgy territory indeed. But then the premise is explained and, with Everett as resident zombie-killer at a cemetery where the dead suddenly walk again, seven days after burial, the first killing brings the fun to the fore fantastically quickly.

Everett plays Francesco Dellamorte and his comic foil is his chubby gravedigging co-worker, Gnaghi – an irritatingly stupid, semi-mute tit. Gnaghi is responsible for a great deal of the trouble Francesco finds himself in, though most of his woes stem from the libido he’s rumoured not have. He’s an impotent outcast as far as the townsfolk are concerned, and the scenes whenever Francesco leaves the cemetery for town are unintentionally hilarious, with extras who are clearly Italian – with scooters, greased ponytails etc… – speaking in obviously dubbed Dick Van Dyke accents. The dialogue is terrible whenever there are more than two people onscreen, and even then it’s shaky. But your forgive it because you know another glorious set piece is right around the corner. The frantic tone is set from the off.

By the final third, things go from fast to frenetic and it begins to feel like the wilful insanity of Evil Dead II has been reborn in an Italian movie version of The Bold & The Beautiful. With hilarious action juxtaposed with brilliantly bad dialogue and one-liners, it can’t fail to be the an almost completely improbable winner. Who’d have thought it?

Striding into the Soho Curzon, the grubby seats and collections of movie-freaks in the audience suitably transported you back to 1981, as Midnight Movies celebrated the 30th anniversary of a monster hit. And although Director Landis expressed his hope that this was a good print and waxed lyrical about the Blu-Ray’s detail, the terrible print on offer actually adds to the experience, making this an authentic recreation of those godawful 80s visits to the Scala.

Werewolf is a movie that benefits from being BIG. The Yorkshire moors are oppressive in their grimness – brown and seemingly endless – and, speaking as someone who grew up in a rural area, the tiny hamlet standing in for East Proctor successfully conveys the boredom, and isolation inherent in the location. There really is a feeling that anything could go on out there and it adds to the atmosphere immensely.

Something else striking about the movie is how wacky it is. A lot of the dialogue is terrible, and it’s delivered in an overly stagey way, giving the whole a surreal/hyper-real edge, as though we’ve slipped into a parallel England, like a composite of Ealing Comedies and 70s Robin Askwith titillation flicks. The people in it are grim and malnourished, everything bad about the country portrayed as just a step away. Through a mirror grimly, if you will.

Although most traditional movie monsters finally had stakes driven through them at the end of the 70s, the Werewolf experienced something of a renaissance in the 80s, perhaps in line with the transformative cultural and social geist, and of all the movies released this is still the best, although it’s arguably not a great film.

Firstly, there’s the mix of horror and humour. Traditionally the impulse to laugh at horrific scenes is a defence mechanism, but here the jokes and banter are genuinely funny. Landis’ affinity for humour is evident from Animal House and The Blues Brothers, and here it is codified, becoming something of a last hurrah before the downturn in his fortunes throughout the rest of the 80s (not counting this reviewer’s favourite comedy movie – Trading Places).

The storyline itself is straightforward: A couple of naive students get into trouble in a strange land after ignoring the warnings of the locals, a horror tradition that goes back to silent cinema. The difference here is that after their frosty reception the victims are practically driven toward the monster by the locals.

The movie does have a tendency to rely too heavily on crash bang shocks, although the initial werewolf attack on the moors is a superb piece of tension building with a great double bluff. Likewise, the constant stream of jokes makes it hard to judge where the next scare is coming from as the script and mannered performances stray close to camp or farce (the confused policemen being a prime example), but usually it pulls back in time, while our empathy for David Kessler (An excellent and natural David Noughton) allows us to forgive the film its worst sins.

Down in London, Jenny Agutter’s unlikely and straightforward seduction technique is delivered with aplomb, wish-fulfilment dialogue and all, while the increasing visits from David’s zombiefied best friend Jack offer some of the films best shocks and some great banter, ramping up the dread as he warns of the coming transformation. It’s worth remembering that when viewing this for the first time, the audience might be looking for a traditional wolf-out sequence, particularly given its living room setting. You’d be forgiven for expecting lots of falling behind the sofa and cutaway shots.

Not a bit of it. Rick Baker’s still-excellent prosthetics work shines, Noughton suddenly leaping up and tearing off his clothes, screaming for help as bones crack, his skull flattens, and he sprouts fur and nasty great big pointy teeth. The effects won a well deserved Oscar, and while A Company of Wolves comes close, they’ve yet to be beaten.

From this point on, things move up a gear, the Wolf’s initial prowl through London providing a genuinely striking and unsettling image as it stalks towards a hapless commuter on the tube, giving a great impression of the sheer size and… monstrousness of the creature.

There are also a lot of nice touches throughout – a great line up of classic character actors in support – not to mention Frank Oz as a US Embassy official – and the fantastic line up of moon themed songs throughout still amuses. The climax is surprisingly visceral and unrestrained, as people are eaten, crushed between crashing cars and thrown from bus windows, summed up by Dr. Hirsh (John Woodvine) with the classic line “There’s a disturbance in Piccadilly circus..”.

Over the years this has become a cult classic and there’s a tendency to overrate it. It isn’t great, it’s silly. Sometimes the lines are just bad, and the storytelling is disjointed with no real character arcs, while the supporting actors are often stereotypes. Nevertheless, there’s an enduring, kooky charm about the whole thing that Dimension’s planned remake will struggle to live up to. Arguably the best werewolf movie ever made.

All that and a Jenny Agutter shower scene too.

You may not know it yet, but you’re already (we’re pretty sure) familiar with the phenomenon of the ‘one line wonder’. They mostly appear in 80s movies, but occasionally they crop up in other decades. They’re similar to, but entirely separate from, the ‘one liner’ – the throwaway pun often used by action heroes like Arnie or Stallone after they’ve killed a throwaway villain.

The one line wonder is a comment uttered by a character who takes no part in the plot or action of a movie and has no other lines. However, they are usually memorable, funny and brilliantly quotable.

We at Slashing The Seats have come up with (what we think is) a decent list, but we’d like to throw the comments open to anyone who can think of more. We’re pretty sure we’ve missed a load.

Innerspace (1987) – Martin Short is taking a leak while talking to a miniaturised Dennis Quaid, currently floating about inside his body, reassuring him that his small size doesn’t matter. A fellow toilet-user comments: ‘Play with it pal – don’t talk to it‘

Flight of the Navigator (1986) – David temporarily parks up the spaceship at a gas station to make a phone call, leaving the attendant agog. As Dave leaves, the attendant (a great big fat guy – which makes it funnier) tells the equally amazed family: ‘He just said he wanted to phone home’

Bill And Teds’ Excellent Adventure (1989) – Ted asks the lady at the Circle K when the Mongols ruled China. Her reply: ‘I don’t know I just work here’

Bill and Teds’ Bogus Journey (1991) – Jim Martin (of Faith No More) comments on the evil terrorist Chuck De Namolos: ‘What a shithead’
(Ok, he did say ’station’ before, but I think it counts)

When Harry Met Sally (1989) – After Meg Ryan does the infamous orgasm fakery scene, the lady at the diner says: ‘I’ll have what she’s having’

Predator 2 (1990) – After the Predator bursts through an old folks house, Danny Glover says ‘It’s all right, I’m a cop!’. An old lady counters: ‘I don’t think he gives a shit!’

So, STSers – got any decent One Line Wonders?

Get to the comments!

The Unborn arrives still-born, confused, overwhelmed by its influences and riddled with incidental music that seems designed to inflict the viewer with its own brand of barbarous audio-vandalism.

Classic horror, this is not.

We’re plunged headlong into an ill-conceived dream sequence in which Odette Yusman finds herself jogging along an autumnal scene, only to be stopped in her tracks by a spooky child with bright blue eyes. The spooky child turns into a dog wearing a mask. The dog runs off and our heroine idiotically follows its path into a plot haunted by endless, unrelated and supposed scares that are less likely to make you touch cloth than a quarter-bag of imodium.

They don’t let up on the sub-Exorcist set-pieces and the choreographed shocks become so familar you can set your watch by them. One minute it’s insects climbing out of lavatories, the next the small boy is thrusting his hand into a stomach, then the dog reappears with its head on upside down (disproving Shaun of the Dead’s theorem that ‘dogs can’t look up). We get contorted old men, back-snaps and a bemused looking Idris Elba, fresh out of another career wrong-turn in Rocknrolla and, what’s more, we get Gary Oldman’s first memorable screen appearance in ages – and it’s memorable for all the wrong reasons.

In his role as an American rabbi he not only looks completely out of place, he appears to spend the rest of the movie trying to find the right place, before failing and giving up.

Things come to a head at the exorcism he was dead against, but then decided to perform after a rush of blood to the head. This final set piece is overblown, underwritten and mercifully brief – its happy brevity only soiled by the insipid promise of a sequel.

And what, exactly, have we done to deserve that?

Firstly, a confession. When I was a bogey-encrusted, bad-breathed 10 year old boy, I was obsessed with The Punisher. Blissfully unaware that there were far cooler superheros for a youngster to be fascinated by, I had my bedroom wall painted black, with a lovingly rendered white skull emblazoned over the top. I had my school lunch box similarly repainted. Where once there was a spot colour, as-purchased and off-the-shelf Mask Crusaders logo, there was soon a Punisher emblem perfected in Dulux paint once I’d had my way.

Looking over my primary school exercise books, every other story I wrote for creative writing was about The Punisher. By far my proudest possessions were a few shoeboxes stacked with dog-eared and knackered copies of the British editions. The fact that I later used these old comics to hide copies of Mayfair and Whitehouse don’t change one iota the fact that, for an important period of my childhood, I bloody loved the Punisher.

I am no longer 10 years old and am now wise enough not to be disappointed by the news of another attempt to bring Frank Castle’s raging alter ego to the screen. It couldn’t be any worse than the Dolph Lundgren disaster, after all, let alone the more recent one with John Travolta. I was enthusiastic to see what they’d done with a character who, along with quite a few other comic book heros, will never, ever suit Hollywood – being just too amoral (or morally simplistic), way too violent and far, far too cold-blooded to suit the big screen.

A quick catch up might be necessary if, quite reasonably, the idea of a man in a black spandex suit with loads of massive guns never interested you and The Punisher passed you by. Frank Castle served in Vietnam, raised a family and then saw that family die at the hands of the Mafia during a botched execution. Thus, The Punisher was born, swearing to avenge the death of his wife and child by murdering every single gang member he encounters using a variety of automatic and non-automatic weapons.

Firstly, this new outing probably warrants its 18 certificate. Endless scenes of violence include a pensioner’s blown-apart cranium, a man losing his face in a bottle-crusher and a kidney being bitten out of an obese man’s ribcage. We’re witness to a the full range of GBH indecency to the point where faces being split open with gunfire become a bore. It’s so relentless it becomes, aptly, a fading cartoon.

Aside from the violence, the only thing of note (aside from, for once, a half-decent portrayal of the big man himself) is the presence of The Wire’s Dominic West – or McNulty to his friends in Baltimore. Here he plays Jigsaw – a gang leader with a reconstituted face. How West made the transition from a carefully nuanced police drama about gang-bangers to a to completely ludicrous version of the same is something only he could know.

Punisher: War Zone’s main problem is that the audience it best suits won’t be able to get in to see it. Any kid can get his hand on all the two dimensional gunfire gut-puncture imagery he fancies, but that 18 certificate means the only people like to see this are either hardcore comic book fans who weren’t disappointed by the first two efforts, a handful of children donning false moustaches or, more shamefully, nostalgia-seeking, thirty-something adults who should know better.