Remember Saving Private Ryan? Remember how amazing the Normandy scenes looked the first time you saw them?

They were brutal, visceral but thrilling.

It was a neat bit of Spielbergian string pulling to make you feel horrified and yet genuinely excited – how many of you wanted to be in on that action, chopping down Nazis with your trusty browning?

With Lu Chuan’s City of life and death, the same visceral, blood curdling reality of war awaits you, but thanks to some truly amazing auteurship the last thing you’ll feel is elated…

Detailing events in 1937, when Japanese troops defeated and occupied the former Chinese capital Nanjing, and including the rape and murder of an estimated 70,0000 civilians, City of Life and Death shows a dark period in human history that fostered an animosity between the two eastern empires that remains to this day.

The terror practically drips off the screen, some striking touches of humanity on both sides as the perspective shifts between Japanese and Chinese making it all the harder to understand how disciplined troops could conduct such appalling acts of savagery.

In terms of plot there’s little to go on, exact details of the incident are still muddled – deliberately in many cases – but here Chuan focusses on a small group of soldiers desperately trying to staunch the violence with little success, meaning we are immersed in the true human experience of war, one of gruelling horror. Events are captured in an unforgiving monochrome that rivals Rome:Open City in it’s attention to detail and refusal to turn from ferocious fighting, the director concealing his influence, masking any air of construction and providing a war film that far outstrips The Hurt Locker.

The Rape of Nan King is something of a historical footnote in the west, and while the sheer violence makes this nigh unwatchable at times, it’s a desperately important document that deserves widespread recognition.

Informative, enthralling and appalling in equal measure, City of Life and Death is one of the most important war movies made in recent memory, it’s director a massive talent who refuses to sanitise events, instead revealing them with a brave and passionate eye. It’s on limited release across the UK, but is well worth seeking out.

Brilliant and terrible.

2009 may well be remembered as the year of the apocalypse – cinematically at least, and despite strong (not to mention patently ridiculous) bids from Zombieland and 2012, The Road is the literary pinnacle of the years filmic lust for devastation. Based on a Cormac McCarthy’s Pulitzer winning novel, Proposition director Hillcoat has a stellar cast, and manages to pull off a literate, messagey Sci-Fi meltdown without ever coming across as portentous or overblown.

The key here, as in fellow not-quite-as-good Armageddoner Carriers, is focus on characters, rather than the actual disaster. Vague voiceovers and half-rememberings inform us that the world went down in a blaze and that’s it, no further explanation offered or required as we join a grimly convincing Viggo Mortenson on a trip through a downright terrifying landscape.

The aesthetic is disturbing, but its minimalist depiction of ravaged, grey landscapes and nuclear winter is nothing compared to the depths plumbed by the few survivors, and it’s in this examination of the darkness lurking in the hearts of men that Hillcoat finds himself on familiar ground and truly excels. This isn’t to say the director is ploughing familiar territory, as Mortenson’s unnamed father sees death and destruction at every turn, his son takes a more optimistic path. Where the father searches for food and water, his son seeks companionship – questioning which is more important for true survival.

As the lonely duo make their way across the battered landscape, scant flashbacks show Viggo and his dead wife making the decision to go through with the birth of their child, despite the prevailing possibility of destruction, weighing up options of suicide before settling on creating, rather than destroying new life. There are a few uneasy notes in the message – already being adopting for the pro-life cause in some quarters – and the obvious focus on various brand names may raise the odd misplaced hackle, here the very mundanity of a Coke can highlights the pervading sense of loss-while also providing a vague sense that the future may provide a better way. While the older generation becomes ever more cynical and brutal, there’s an optimistic bent to younger characters.

At times unforgiving, the movie never the less leaves the viewer with a cautiously enlightened mood that should carry over well with the Academy crowd come awards season.

The latest from the team behind the insanely ludicrous Crank franchise gets lost up its own adrenalin rush.

With Crank, writers Neveldine and Taylor proved themselves as the new stars of brain-in-neutral hyperkinetic action, and Gamer certainly doesn’t lack in the crazed action stakes. Whip pans and super fast MTV edits are di rigueur here, and while it may upset viewers with motion sickness, there’s no denying it’s a hellava ride.

In among the epilepsy inducing visuals, there’s a paper thin plot with some grunting in place of thespianism, but to be honest, that isn’t really what we’re here for is it? Plot hole you could fly a MiG through mean this is never going to be a great movie –or even a really competent one, but it’s willingness to mess about with high concepts scores it bonus points.

It’s the bog standard future, and humanity is mainly occupied with playing two huge MMPORGS –‘Society’ a Sims-like experience with added S&M, and “Slayers” – Doom meets Halo. The twist on this being that actual people sign up to be avatars, controlled by online gamers who seem mainly interested in making all vaguely attractive women in the movie make out with each other.

By way of narrative, we’ve got Gerard Butler, hulking about as the improbably named Kable, a death row inmate plunged into the shoot ‘em up. Survive 30 games, and he’s a free man. When exactly the government agreed that training convicted killers to be even more effective before then releasing them back into society was a good idea is never touched on.

In between browsing through the music video edit kama sutra there are some nice stylistic touches here. The grim world of Slayers is matched to Death Row, all washed-out blue grays against a rusty, grimy post apocalypse background, while the Society game in particular is all scanty bikinis and overly loud psychedelia, giving it a weird, Saturday morning cartoon appeal. It’s actually a bit of a shame, because there’s production design on display that would go down a treat in a more rounded film.

Likewise, characterisation is notably absent, Butler et al gurning and shouting over explosions while somehow managing to avoid any and all emotional heft. A special nod does go to Michael C Hall though, who pulls off deliciously odious villainy with aplomb, and is seriously wasted as a result.

Were this an adaptation of an actual game, then it would work fine, it’s at least as good/bad as any Uwe Boll dross out there and as such should be treated as inoffensive SDVD trash. Unfortunately, the writing team has decided to shoehorn in a half thought out moral. Something or other to do with society’s over-reliance on technology I’m sure, but it’s a muddled mess that deflates what otherwise could have been a full-on ‘don’t-give-a-shit’ fun fest like Crank before it, but because of its pretensions to commentary, it simply highlights the offensive sexism and dull as dishwater leads.

Kitchen-sink filmmaking that falls short of target, if you must, wait for the DVD and consume 15 pints before opening.

Going by title alone, you’d be forgiven for expecting a set-piece-filled video game spin off. In fact this is a slow burning and underplayed version of real life events, as Norwegian resistance member Max takes on dastardly invading Nazis, in a WWII film that’s a wobbly mix of two-fisted action and true-life consequence.

Askel Hennie makes an impression in the title role, managing to carry off slightly glib scripting with a straight face and grounding what could otherwise be a lightweight boys’ own adventure. Scenes of Max’s early career, engaged in some brutal combat with the Russians, have a wonderfully straightforward edge to them and the Norwegians initial reluctance to adopt Guerilla tactics against occupying Nazi forces, leading to their initial meetings failing miserably, carry some genuine emotional heft.

In fact, the film’s biggest asset is also it’s greatest weakness. At one point, Manus leaps through a window to escape, but rather than escaping Jason Bourne style, he winds up in intensive care for his efforts. This realism is laudable, and the gravity of events certainly shouldn’t be treated lightly but unfortunately the characterisation is more Die Hard than Schindler’s List. All the patriotic shouting makes it hard to identify with the resistance men, but the ambiguous choices they make makes them come off as human and often deeply flawed for all this bravery.

Doing the best they can with a limited budget, Directors Joachim Ronning and Espen Sandberg utilise some tasteful CGI use that makes the small staged battles suitably epic while the photography is effectively chilly, if a little too enamoured of Saving Private Ryan for it’s own good.

An interesting and very human tale, the film is unbalanced at times but compelling nonetheless and worth dedicating a couple of hours to on a Sunday afternoon.

There’s been a fair bit of talk around the STS office bemoaning the demise of the traditional war movie – so it was with baited breath that we took our seats for what was originally touted as an all-action knucklefest a la Where Eagles Dare. What we got was something quite different, but none the worse for it.

It’s 1944 and occupied France is the setting as Brad Pitt and a crack team of Jewish soldiers embark on a mission to wipe out Nazi high command – at a film premiere. A mission complicated by the cinema owner, a Jewish survivor who is out for revenge.

Tarantino will always be known for dialogue, but even for him it’s a brave move to open a post Saving Private Ryan WWII film with a long, rambling conversation without a whizzing bullet to be seen. In the scene, callous Nazi Col. Landa toys with a squirming French Farmer accused of harbouring Jewish escapees and this lengthy character introduction is typical throughout, wrong-footing your expectations as seemingly major players arrive, only to be killed moments later. Even the eponymous Basterds only make fleeting appearances and money maker Brad Pitt has less screen time than many supporting characters. While the lengthy chat segments sometimes slow the pace down to a commando crawl, it’s always involving and ultimately adds to the precision plotting.

The acting on display is often striking, Pitt works hard, his words rumbling through an almost incomprehensible southern accent, while speeches are delivered in English and German with aplomb. Again, dialogue is king and it’s a pleasure to watch. One scene in particular sees allied troops sweating as they try to outfox ruthless SS man August Dehl. Michael Fassbinder’s Brit Officer shines in particular with a roguish charm seemingly channeled from 40s Hollywood. The implied threats and bargains are wonderful, ratcheting up the tension, every sentence uttered with conviction and demanding analysis.

Despite this, the movie is also very funny. Screwball laughs emerge from the almost constant yakking. Again, Christophe Waltz as Landa is a standout here, his character cruel and complicated but tempered with just the right amount of camp. He is both effeminate and threatening, conveying keenness of mind and deadly singularity of purpose beneath a raffish, socially aware exterior. Between them, he and Pitt carry the movie. Their performances are engaging and knowing, but resolutely grounded in the peculiar reality of the movie.

That construction is highlighted too. The whole shebang kicks off with the self-aware caption ‘once upon a time… In Nazi occupied France…’ History provides the stage, but is kept well out of the way as the tale unfolds. Tarantino’s obsession with movies is apparent from the get-go, whilst the ending is a typical, over-the-top, only-in-the-movies piece that riffs on Spaghetti westerns. Whilst this fast and loose attitude to our finest hour could cause offense if taken seriously, overall it’s a fun return to the days when war films were two-fisted boy’s own tales, where there was never a doubt that the bad guys would get what was coming to them eventually.

Of course, this being Tarantino, it’s not actually about the war at all. It’s about other movies. With a soundtrack and shot-list cobbled together lovingly from other films, the core of the script revolves around a film critic and a cinema owner – ultimately the only two characters with the ability to face down evil and combat Nazi propaganda. Another love letter to cinema, sometimes deliberately contrived but none the worse for it, Inglourious Basterds sees Tarantino back on fantastic and fun form.