All posts by Paul. Writer and Filmmaker

Paul is a writer and filmmaker. He has been committed to a writing career from a very early age. In 1997, he graduated from Staffordshire University with a first class degree in Film, TV and Radio Studies. His 2nd year short film project THE ARTS FILE won a Stoke-on-Trent Young Filmmaker's award. Subsequently, he worked as a Production Assistant on a number of promos and successfully completed a work placement at Sky Movies. In 2002, he gained an MA in Feature Film Screenwriting from Royal Holloway College of London and since graduation has written several feature and many short film scripts. In 2005, he formed FIX FILMS and has written and produced many shorts to date. He has also had several short screenplays commissioned by the Mountview Film Academy and film director Jonathan Wolff. His work can be found here - https://www.youtube.com/c/FixFilmsLtd Most recently Paul wrote, produced and directed his own short horror film called FLATMATES (2018). He has subsequently written and directed the films: MISDIRECTION (2019), TOLERANCE (2019) and YOU HAVE A NEW FOLLOWER (2020). His short films have had screenings worldwide at many film festivals. His latest works are the horror, INFERIS (2024), a set of short film monologues called SIN (2024) and THE SUICIDE SHIFT (2026). PAUL is a versatile and prolific writer with ideas in abundance and a very strong feel for structure, characterisation and dialogue. He favours thought-provoking and entertaining narratives with memorable characters, images and scenes. While he values all styles of film he tends toward genre movies as opposed to overtly "arty" cinema. Moreover, being involved in the producing, casting and crewing of low budget shorts has given him great experience and insight into the filmmaking process; improving his writing no end. From 2008 until 2020, Paul had been on the exciting merry-go-round that is the stand-up comedy circuit. He has done over 1000+ gigs. Venues included: Downstairs at the King's Head, The Comedy Pit, The Comedy Cafe, Soho Comedy, London Comedy Store, Electric Mouse Comedy, Streatham Comedy Club, Mirth Control, Comedy Heat, Lion's Den Comedy etc. He also ran two comedy nights: West End Comedy @ The Comedy Pub and West End Comedy @ The Brazen Head. He used to be the resident MC at Electric Mouse's show at The Fox, Palmers Green and got regular paid bookings as a comic and MC in and out of town. In 2014 and 2016 he performed at the Brighton Fringe Festival and Camden Fringe Festival in 2014. He performed open spots for the Banana Cabaret, The Comedy Store and Up the Creek comedy clubs in London. He is also a keen film and television seer and has a love for all genres of movies from art-house to low-budget z-movies. He also loves television of all kinds notably great comedies and dramas. He is an essayist expressing passionate analysis for all elements of cinema. Links Blog: www.thecinemafix.com YouTube: www.youtube.com/c/FixFilmsLtd
Articles, Cinema, Reviews, Sky TV

Sky Cinema Review: A Different Man (2024) – a multi-faceted character study on inner and outer identity.

Leave a comment

SKY CINEMA REVIEW: A DIFFERENT MAN (2024)

Directed by Aaron Schimberg

Written by Aaron Schimberg

Produced by Christine Vachon, Vanessa McDonnell & Gabriel Mayers

Main cast: Sebastian Stan, Renate Reinsve, and Adam Pearson.

Cinematography by Wyatt Garfield

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

Few films in recent years feel as startlingly original as A Different Man (2024) —and yet, paradoxically, it’s a film made almost entirely from borrowed pieces. Aaron Schimberg’s latest begins as a bracing character study, anchored by Sebastian Stan’s Edward Lemuel, a socially awkward, struggling actor whose neurofibromatosis manifests in a disfiguring facial condition. These early passages are its strongest: Edward’s halting existence, his quiet desperation, disintegrating ceiling and the unnerving, tactile authenticity of his world call to mind the seedy New York grit of Abel Ferrara and Frank Henenlotter.

But just as the viewer settles into this world, the film veers via a sci-fi twist. An experimental procedure transforms Edward’s face, and with it, the narrative mutates. Suddenly we’re in a Woody Allenesque romantic entanglement—wry, neurotic, and tinged with irony—as Edward’s new identity draws him into a triangular relationship with Renate Reinsve as Ingrid and Adam Pearson as Oswald. Oswald also has neurofibromatosis, but has a confidence and popularity that Edward envies. As Oswald usurps Edward’s place in the off-Broadway play Ingrid is directing the film’s tone teeters between comedy and cruelty.

From there, A Different Man (2024) shape-shifts yet again. The third act discards linearity for a fragmented, Charlie Kaufmanesque unraveling: episodic bursts, narrative cul-de-sacs, and surreal detours that question not just Edward’s identity but the film’s own. It’s at once exhilarating and frustrating. Schimberg seems intent on deconstructing his own story midstream, leaving us with shards of multiple films rather than one fully integrated work. The ending works artistically but could, for me, have been way more dramatic with Edward confronting Oswald for, in his neurotic mind, stealing his life and identity.

That tension—between raw originality and homage—defines A Different Man (2024). It begins with remarkable clarity and empathy, only to succumb to a kind of cinematic identity crisis. Nonetheless, the film is very funny and moving and the themes are also very thought-provoking. Further, the script, direction and performances, especially from Sebastian Stan and Adam Pearson, make the film consistently compelling. Indeed, even in its unevenness, it remains one of the most daring and distinctive works of the past few years: a film that refuses to be just one thing, even if that refusal undermines certain dramatic potential.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11

Cinema, New Releases, Reviews

Cinema Review: Weapons (2025) – a finely constructed horror mystery!

Leave a comment

Cinema Review: Weapons (2025)

Directed by Zach Cregger

Written by Zach Cregger

Produced by Zach Cregger, Roy Lee, Miri Yoon, J. D. Lifshitz, Raphael Margules, etc.

Main Cast: Josh Brolin, Julia Garner, Alden Ehrenreich, Austin Abrams, Cary Christopher, Benedict Wong and Amy Madigan.

Cinematography by Larkin Seiple

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

Zach Cregger’s Barbarian (2022) was an intriguing feature debut that captivated viewers with a suspenseful, tension-filled first half, expertly building a sense of dread and mystery. The film begins with a seemingly simple premise — a woman arrives at an Airbnb, only to find it double-booked — but what starts as a quiet psychological thriller quickly takes an unexpected turn. As the plot unfolds, the sense of unease grows, drawing viewers deeper into its web of secrets.

However, the second half of the film ventures into increasingly bizarre and chaotic territory, unravelling into a frankly insane series of twists and reveals. While it might initially seem like a more grounded thriller, Barbarian (2022) pushed the boundaries of genre, diving head first into over-the-top absurdity. It’s a thrilling ride that keeps you on the edge of your seat, even if the madness of the final act leaves you both bewildered and entertained. In some ways Cregger’s follow-up Weapons (2025) shares such structural and thematic similarities with his first film, however, it is a much more controlled and impactful mystery. Until the end.

Weapons (2025) immediately hooks viewers with the mystery of the seventeen children going missing in the town of Maybrook. This instantly draws us into a world brimming with tension and unanswered questions. The authorities investigation into their disappearance soon stalls and how the townsfolk react becomes the central thread, gradually unraveling a complex, carefully structured narrative. Thus, Cregger’s postmodern fairy-tale unfolds through the eyes of various interconnected characters, each of whom brings a unique perspective and layer to the plot.

Josh Brolin plays Archer Graff, a father grieving the disappearance of his son Matthew, one of the missing children. His portrayal is poignant, balancing grief with a desperate need for answers, and his journey pushes the narrative forward with a personal stake in the outcome. Next, Julia Garner’s Justine Gandy, a dedicated teacher, adds another emotional dimension. She’s devastated when she discovers that nearly all of her students have vanished without a trace, with the exception of Alex Lilly (played by Cary Christopher), the only child from her class who remains. Justine’s struggle to find out what happened to her students, coupled with her own crumbling personal life and alcoholism, make her a compelling protagonist.

Other characters include Alden Ehrenreich’s Paul Morgan, a troubled police officer with his own set of demons, is a reluctant ally to Justine. Their past relationship adds a layer of tension as they navigate the growing sense of danger and urgency surrounding the missing children. Then, Austin Abrams brings a sense of raw, chaotic energy to James, a homeless drug addict and burglar whose past intersects with the mystery in unexpected ways. Lastly, Benedict Wong plays Marcus Miller, the school principal, who serves as an important figure in Justine’s quest for answers. Though sympathetic to her, Marcus is often caught between his professional responsibilities and the mounting pressure of the situation.

Weapons (2025) masterfully weaves its non-linear narrative with a striking array of tense, spine-chilling moments that keep audiences on edge throughout. As the plot unfolds through intersecting character arcs, the film expertly intersperses surprising scares, thrilling foot chases, and creepy locations, all while pulling you deeper into its twisting mystery. The jumps in time and the interconnected storylines create a sense of disorientation that builds forces viewers to constantly question what’s real and what isn’t.

Each character’s journey is filled with psychological unease and physical danger, leading to some genuinely heart-pounding sequences. Meanwhile, the eerie, claustrophobic settings—ranging from decaying homes to ominous, unfamiliar spaces—serve as perfect backdrops for the increasing horror. These moments contribute to the growing sense that something monstrous is lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to break free. Further, the film also plays with ambiguity, surreal dreams and unreliable narrators, allowing characters’ perspectives to fracture.

However, similar to Barbarian (2022), Weapons (2025) takes a tonal right-turn in the final moments, descending into all-out mania and Savini-style gore. The reveal of the matriarchal menace, who emerges as a central ‘Pied Piper’ type villain, feels somewhat unearned, undermining the narrative choices before. The ending also didn’t quite fully connect with the deeper themes or subtext of the film that were promised in the set-up. Yet, despite such inconsistencies Cregger’s Weapons (2025) has been marketed incredibly well and as has deservedly done great box-office business. Lastly, Creggers is a very talented filmmaker and his second film remains a smartly written and gripping ride filled with tension, scares, and that insane final act.

Mark 8.5 out of 11

Cinema, horror, Reviews

Cinema Review: Bring Her Back (2025) – a powerfully disturbing study of grief, obsession and matriarchal mania!

Leave a comment

Cinema Review: Bring Her Back (2025)

Directed by Danny and Michael Philippou

Written by Danny Philippou and Bill Hinzman

Produced by Samantha Jennings, Kristina Ceyton

Cast: Billy Barratt, Sora Wong, Jonah Wren Phillips, Sally Hawkins, Sally-Anne Upton, etc.

Cinematography by Aaron McLisky

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

It’s become something of a cliché to lament the state of theatrical cinema: superhero fatigue, endless sequels, spin-offs and reboots, streaming overflow. Original stories—particularly in multiplexes—feel increasingly rare. Yet one genre has bucked the trend and, against all industry logic, placed original visions front and centre: horror. In an era of IP dominance, horror’s persistence as the great innovator is growing. It thrives on shadows, but in today’s cinema landscape, it’s also the brightest light.

Across the last few years, titles like Barbarian (2022), Pearl (2022), Skinamarink (2022), Nope (2022), Talk to Me (2023), Infinity Pool (2023), When Evil Lurks (2023), Late Night With the Devil (2023), Totally Killer (2023), Heretic (2024), Longlegs (2024), Sinners (2025), and the soon-to-be-reviewed, Weapons (2025) have proved again and again that audiences crave fresh nightmares. Even 28 Years Later (2025), though technically part of an ongoing series, represents a rare franchise event grounded less in brand synergy than in directorial reinvention and raw cultural appetite.

Unlike superhero spectacles or sci-fi epics, horror thrives on modest budgets and audacious ideas. A film like Skinamarink (2022), shot for a reported $15,000, can turn experimental textures into a viral theatrical moment. Personally, I found this film difficult to digest, however, the more commercial, Talk to Me (2023), made for $4.5 million, earned nearly twenty times that worldwide. These aren’t just hits; they’re validations of originality as a business model.

Horror is also a proving ground where young or unexpected filmmakers leap into the cultural spotlight. Zach Cregger (Barbarian (2022) twisted narrative structure into something memorable. The Philippou brothers Talk to Me (2023) translated YouTube viral adrenaline into terrifying cinematic language. But, what of their latest film, Bring Her Back (2025)? Well, for me they have surpassed their debut feature not only in genuinely sickening moments of dread, but also in terms of powerfully emotional horror scenes.

The narrative of Bring Her Back (2025) begins as it means to go on with a rapidly series of unsettling scenes. After discovering their father dead in the shower, 17-year-old Andy (Billy Barratt) and his partially sighted step-sister Piper (Sora Wong) are placed in the care of Laura (Sally Hawkins). Laura is an eccentric former counselor living on the outskirts of town and suffered the loss of her teenage daughter to drowning. In her home, the siblings encounter Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips), a mute foster boy who seems terrified of the house’s locked outhouse. Andy eventually realizes Laura’s obsessive behaviour is far more threatening than he could imagine and they are all in danger.

Like Toni Collette in Hereditary (2018) and Lupita Nyong’o in Us (2019), Sally Hawkins delivers a powerfully intense performance that pushes horror into the realm of high drama. She carries the film with raw, nerve-shredding vulnerability, shifting from fragile grief to volcanic fury with startling precision. Every gesture—whether a whispered plea or a full-bodied breakdown—feels lived-in and emotionally scalding, grounding the supernatural terror in something painfully human. Also, Billy Barratt and newcomer Sora Wong offer excellent support as the in-peril ‘Hansel and Gretel’ siblings. Barratt is especially good carrying the audience’s fearful perspective.

The Philippou brothers draw on a potent brew of horror traditions—satanic ritual, grief, abduction, parental abandonment, and matriarchal hysteria—to craft Bring Her Back, a haunting and gut-wrenching descent into obsession. The film thrives on its willingness to plunge into emotional extremity, channeling raw pain into sequences of near-operatic dread. Several knife-in-the-teeth jolts of terror punctuate the story, as everyday necessities such as water, food and parental love are twisted into deathly hazards.

While the script occasionally wavers and certain narrative and backstory elements required sharpening, the thematic and emotional core remains undeniable. At its best, Bring Her Back (2025) isn’t just another exercise in occult horror—it’s a powerful study of grieving obsession, of the lengths people will go to fill a void that cannot be healed. The result is a film that lingers, not only for its shocks but for the raw ache that underpins them.

Mark: 9 out of 11

Cinema, Reviews

Cinema Review: Superman (2025) – a sketch-show rollercoaster ride that I could not wait to end!

1 Comment

CINEMA REVIEW: SUPERMAN (2025)

Directed by James Gunn

Written by James Gunn (Based on Characters from DC)

Produced by: Peter Safran, James Gunn

Main Cast: David Corenswet, Rachel Brosnahan, Nicholas Hoult, Edi Gathegi, Anthony Carrigan, Nathan Fillion, Isabela Merced, etc.

Cinematography by: Henry Braham

Edited by: William Hoy & Craig Alper

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

James Gunn’s wacky adaptation Superman (2025) unfolds less like a coherent narrative and more like a frenetic sketch show, veering from one oddball choice to the next with little tonal or emotional consistency. It’s a film that seems more interested in quirky vignettes and fan-service eccentricities than in telling a grounded or resonant Superman story. The result is a fragmented, overcooked spectacle—an atonal mess that struggles to resemble proper cinema in any meaningful sense.

This is especially disappointing considering Gunn’s earlier, more focused efforts. Lower budgeted Slither (2006), Super (2010), and even the first Guardians of the Galaxy (2014) were all infused with his irreverent flair, but they also benefited from creative restraint and clear narrative through-lines. Those films felt punchy, heartfelt, and cohesive. Here, Gunn appears unchecked, indulging in whimsy for whimsy’s sake, and the film buckles under the weight of Gunn seemingly being off given too much creative control.

Despite commendable performances from Nicholas Hoult as Lex Luthor and David Corenswet as Superman—both actors working hard to inject gravitas and humanity into the chaos—they’re ultimately overshadowed by the film’s tonal whiplash and scattershot storytelling. Hoult, who is one of the best actors around at the moment, is thrown under the bus by Gunn’s spectacularly bad directorial choices. And then there’s Krypto, Superman’s dog. In what universe does that choice feel appropriate for a reboot seeking to reestablish the character’s mythos? It lands like a joke without a punchline, symbolic of the film’s broader issues. Moreover, Gunn even tries to make political points reflecting current events, but it is a truly embarrassing attempt which fails to elicit any emotional clout.

Worse still, the lack of a meaningful origin story robs the character of emotional grounding. Instead of reintroducing Superman in a way that earns his place in this new cinematic universe, the film takes shortcuts, assuming audience investment without doing the work. In a media landscape already drowning in capes and cliches, Superman had the opportunity to reignite interest in the genre. Instead, it accelerates superhero fatigue, offering more noise when clarity and restraint were desperately needed.

In short, Superman (2025) is an overblown trifle—a hot mess that left me cold—a film that wants to be everything, ends up being very little, and reminds us that bigger is not always better. Yes. I am a bitter and grumpy old man by the way and I realise this film is probably aimed at people much younger and stupider than me, but I paid my entrance fee and this is how I felt.

Mark: 5 out of 11

Cinema, Reviews

Sky Cinema review: Anora (2024) – Sean Baker’s exhilarating indie filmmaking skills deliver yet another ensemble of obnoxious characters!

Leave a comment

Sky Cinema review: ANORA (2024)

Directed by Sean Baker

Written by Sean Baker

Produced by: Alex Coco, Samantha Quan, Sean Baker

Main cast: Mikey Madison, Mark Eydelshteyn, Yura Borisov, Karren Karagulian, Vache Tovmasyan, Darya Ekamasova, Aleksei Serebryakov, etc.

Cinematography by: Drew Daniels

** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS **

The Sean Baker’s film I have seen — Tangerine (2015), The Florida Project (2017), Red Rocket (2021), and now Anora (2024) — form a cohesive body of work united by consistent stylistic and formal strategies. Across these films, Baker blends naturalistic storytelling with bold creative choices on low budgets, creating a cinema that is both socially conscious and viscerally alive. Moreover, Baker consistently foregrounds characters on the economic and social fringes of American life such as: Tangerine (2015) – Trans sex workers navigating Los Angeles on Christmas Eve; The Florida Project (2017) – a single mother and her daughter barely surviving in a motel near Disney World; Red Rocket (2021) – a disgraced ex-porn star returns to a struggling Texas town to rebuild his existence and Anora (2024) – featuring Mikey Maddison as a Brooklyn stripper who marries into a wealthy Russian oligarch family.

    Such films explore themes relating to sex work, informal economies, the American underclass, children as witnesses to or casualties of adult instability, doomed romances, infidelity, and moral ambiguity. Stylistically they often feature flawed protagonists, non-professional actors, episodic structures, bright color palettes, profane language, irreverent humour, pop culture references, real locations, improvised dialogue and a neo-realistic look delivered via a kinetic visual energy at the edges of that delusional idea, the American dream.

    So, I’ve long admired Sean Baker’s fiercely independent spirit and his commitment to telling stories Hollywood wouldn’t touch. Baker has carved out a singular path in American cinema — one rooted in realism, empathy, and a punk sense of creative autonomy. His work is purposeful, politically conscious, and technically impressive. He’s the kind of independent filmmaker I support. But watching Anora (2024), as with most of his earlier films, I find myself wrestling with an ongoing disconnect: I simply don’t always enjoy the experience.

    Baker’s protagonists — whether Sin-Dee in Tangerine (2015), Mikey Saber in Red Rocket (2021), or Anora herself — are often abrasive, chaotic, and maddeningly self-destructive. Red Rocket (2021) in fact was so objectionable as a character study it put me off wanting to watch Anora (2024), hence the delay seeing it. While I understand that these are underdog characters surviving in systems rigged against them, their relentless hysteria and lack of introspective growth make them hard to root for. I feel like Baker got it most right during the ugly-beauty of The Florida Project (2017), but Anora (2024) presents another narrative uphill struggle.

    The film is overlong despite a simple ‘Pretty Woman’ premise of the tart-with-the-heart meeting a Russian rich kid who threatens to rescue her only to be a – surprise-surprise – spoilt-drug-addicted-narcissist-controlled-by-his-stupidly-wealthy-parents. A large part of the second act is spent chasing this obnoxious c*nt after he does a runner. It’s not so much excellent writing or acting as a succession of screeching and swearing and car crash human behaviour. I’m not asking for likability, but some degree of emotional access. Yes, Anora (2024), is sexy and funny in places, but I felt pushed away by the obnoxious ensemble and the sense of anxiety experienced throughout.

    Overall, I recognize Baker’s talent. The filmmaking here is sharp, confident, and often electric. Mikey Madison is indeed amazing with an instinctively smart and energetic performance, and at a stretch, I could understand the acclaim — but Oscars? And over Demi Moore’s tour-de-force, career-resurrecting performance? No – that feels like a massive glitch in the matrix and every surrounding multiverse.

    Mark: 6 out of 11

    Articles, Cinema, Cult Cinema, Reviews

    Cult Film Review: Possession (1981)

    3 Comments

    CULT FILM REVIEW: POSSESSION (1981)

    Directed by Andrzej Żuławski

    Screenplay by Andrzej Żuławski

    Adaptation and dialogue by Andrzej Żuławski & Frederic Tute

    Produced by Marie-Laure Reyre

    Main cast: Isabelle Adjani, Sam Neill & Heinz Bennent

    Cinematography by Bruno Nuytten

    Edited by Marie-Sophi Dubus & Suzanne Lang-Willar

    Music by Andrzej Korzyński

    *** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***

    Andrzej Żuławski’s Possession (1981) is a film that doesn’t just defy genre—it annihilates the very idea of categorization. Part spy thriller, part domestic psychodrama, part Lovecraftian horror, and part apocalyptic hallucination, the film barrels forward with such manic intensity that it becomes less a movie and more an exorcism of the soul. It resists structural and emotional compartmentalizing at every turn, choosing instead to implode in a flurry of shrieks, flailing bodies, and gooey, pulsing monstrosities.

    Set in a divided Berlin, the film ostensibly begins as a break-up story: Mark (Sam Neill), a shell-shocked spy, returns home to discover that his wife Anna (Isabelle Adjani, in a performance of pure, unrelenting hysteria) wants a divorce. But from there, the film spirals rapidly out of the realm of conventional melodrama and into something far more surreal and terrifying. Mark’s confusion curdles into obsession, Anna’s descent becomes biblical, and reality itself begins to warp and splinter.

    Is it a Cold War spy film? Yes, but only in fragments, and those are quickly consumed by the escalating emotional chaos. Is it a break-up film? Certainly—but filtered through an expressionist nightmare where the grief and rage of separation erupt as literal body horror. Horror film? Undoubtedly, though the fear is less about monsters and more about the abyss that opens when love dies. And as the narrative crumbles into bloody symbolism and metaphysical dread, Possession (1981) begins to feel like an apocalyptic drama—one where the apocalypse is internal, intimate, and unstoppable.

    Żuławski directs like a man possessed, matching his characters’ unhinged energy with a restless camera and wild tonal shifts. The result is a fever dream of shrieking confrontations, doppelgängers, collapsing identities, and one of the most infamous subway scenes in cinema history. Possession (1981) is not an easy film—it’s messy, abrasive, and frequently overwhelming—but it’s precisely in its refusal to conform that its power lies. Indeed, much of the dialogue is obtuse non-sequitur in delivery as the actors deliver prose-like philosophical statements that have clearly influenced the writing of Yorgos Lanthimos and Efthymis Filippou.

    To watch Possession (1981) is to witness cinema used as a weapon against coherence, comfort, and calm. I almost had a panic attack watching it. Neill, usually a calm on-screen presence looks as though he is lost in a nightmare he cannot escape. Heinz Bennent, as the lover, fully embraces Zulawski’s insane vision, while Adjani literally has a mental breakdown on screen. It is an unbelievably fearless embodiment of psychotic sexuality, arguably only matched in a commercial release by Eva Green’s Vanessa Ives from the majestic gothic TV series, Penny Dreadful (2014-2016). Ultimately, Possession (1981), is as much about the disintegration of self as it is about the end of a marriage, the failure of ideology, or the horror of being alive. One doesn’t simply watch Possession (1981)—one survives it.

    horror, New Releases, Reviews

    Cinema Review: 28 Years Later (2025) – an epic horror sequel; one for the (r)ages!

    Leave a comment

    Cinema Review: 28 Years Later (2025)

    Directed by Danny Boyle

    Written by Alex Garland

    Produced by Danny Boyle, Alex Garland, Andrew Macdonald, Peter Rice & Bernie Bellew

    Main Cast: Jodie Comer, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Jack O’Connell, Alfie Williams, Edvin Ryding and Ralph Fiennes

    Cinematography by Anthony Dod Mantle

    Edited by Jon Harris

    ** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS **

    We’re foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin’ over Africa
    Foot—foot—foot—foot—sloggin’ over Africa —
    (Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again!)
    There’s no discharge in the war! —     Rudyard Kipling

    The opening sequences of 28 Days Later (2002), directed by Danny Boyle and written by Alex Garland, are some of the most haunting and iconic introductions in cinema—transcending the horror genre to deliver something mythic, mournful, and terrifyingly real. They are masterclasses in mood-building, world-setting, and emotional manipulation, and redefined what the modern apocalypse could feel like on screen. From the terrifying raging simian attacks to the stunning silence of hollow streets and buildings of London as Jim (Cillian Murphy) awakes to an incredibly changed and empty planet. Here Boyle used guerrilla filmmaking as an artistic weapon with digital video blending with silence and dread, beauty and decay, loneliness and rage creating a grimy realism that no big budget blockbuster could replicate.

    The opening sequence of the sequel, 28 Weeks Later (2007), was damned good as well, although what followed was not as formidable as the original. If we’re honest it was more of a high-quality straight-to-video effort, especially when compared to the incredible first film. But what of 28 Years Later (2025), which finds Boyle and Garland re-teaming with a stellar cast including: Jodie Comer, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Ralph Fiennes and newcomer, Alfie Williams. It opens with yet another impressive opening sequence in 2002, as a family of kids are attacked in their Scottish home. Escaping on frantic foot is young Jimmy who finds his father, the local minister, in his church proclaiming the ‘end of days!’ Move forward twenty-eight years to 2031 and the film joins, interestingly enough, not Jimmy, but a survivor community living in Lindisfarne, a tidal island connected by a fortified causeway.

    Focusing on the family unit of twelve-year-old son, Spike (Alfie Williams), and parents, Isla (Jodie Comer) plus father, Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), 28 Years Later (2025) marks a ferocious and exhilarating return to the infected-ravaged world. It is not simply a continuation, but a full-fledged reimagining that deepens, widens, and accelerates the mythology, style, and thematic power of the series. It is not just a sequel—it’s an evolution, one that pulses with the blood of Romero’s bleak social horror and the serialized depth of The Walking Dead, while forging its own cinematic identity: brutal, urgent, and conceptually masterful.

    From its opening moments, 28 Years Later plunges viewers into a world far beyond what we’ve seen before. Civilization hasn’t recovered—it has, like the zombies, mutated. The virus is no longer an outbreak or an aftermath; it is an ecosystem. What began as a confined crisis in 28 Days Later, and widened into militarized guilt and familial betrayal in 28 Weeks Later, now becomes a reckoning. Thematically, the film touches on generational trauma, hybrid immunity, rites of passage, euthanasia and the evolution of the rage undead. Jamie trains his son in the art zombie-hunting, before the middle act finds Spike attempting to save his unwell mum. At this time he both matures and overcomes several battles with mutated inhumans.

    The visual grammar of 28 Years Later stays true to the DNA of the series: raw, immediate, and grimy. But it’s also evolved. The digital grunge of 28 Days Later is elevated with modern tools, while still embracing a handheld, documentary-style urgency. Towns and buildings aren’t just abandoned—they’re fossilized in trauma. New scenes are suffused with ash, dust, decay, blood, plasma and rusted iconography, painting a world that’s both rotting and fighting to be reborn. This is a horror film that smells like blood and diesel. It feels dirty. Every camera move, whip pan and smash cut drags you to hell and makes you feel like your life is in danger.

    28 Years Later doesn’t just revive a franchise—it transforms it into a towering trilogy of infection, collapse, and spiritual trauma. It draws from Romero’s cynicism, The Walking Dead‘s moral complexity, and its own raw, kinetic legacy to deliver something uniquely powerful: a horror film that is both visceral and cerebral, intimate and operatic. While there are some script and pacing issues toward the end of the second act, Boyle directs superbly. Plus, the film benefits from some memorable performances, notably Comer, Fiennes and young Alfie Williams. Lastly, it has one of the most startling endings to a film I have seen in a long time. It is frankly nuts. Yet, it ensures 28 Years Later (2025) is a modern horror classic, pulsing with urgency, style, and an almost unbearable truth: that the most terrifying viruses don’t infect the body—they infect the soul. Bring on the sequel!

    Mark: 9.5 out of 11

    BFI, Cinema, Classic Film Reviews

    Classic Film Review: Bleak Moments (1971) plus Mike Leigh Q & A (Prince Charles Cinema, London.)

    Leave a comment

    Classic Film Review: Bleak Moments (1971)

    Directed by Mike Leigh

    Written by Mike Leigh – Based on 1970 stage play by Mike Leigh

    Produced by Leslie Blair

    Cast: Anne Raitt, Sarah Stephenson, Eric Allan, Joolia Cappleman, Mike Bradwell, Donald Sumpter etc.

    Cinematography by Bahram Manocheri

    Camera Assistant: Roger Pratt

    Edited by Leslie Blair

    One of the quiet yet profound joys of cultural life is finding a creative or sporting figure—or team—whose journey you follow from an early age, growing alongside their work as it evolves. Whether it’s the cinematic brilliance of the Coen Brothers or Mike Leigh, the ever-shifting energy of Primal Scream, or the lifelong, often agonising commitment to Tottenham Hotspur FC, these long-term relationships offer a deep sense of continuity. They become personal landmarks in our emotional and cultural landscapes, threading through decades of change and grounding us with shared history, joy, and—especially in Spurs’ case—a touch of heartache.

    I was born just a year before Mike Leigh’s Bleak Moments debuted in 1971, and it became a defining cultural touchstone for me. First encountering it in the early 1980’s, I was captivated by its raw honesty and quiet power—a film I returned to again and again on that solid-format VHS tape over the years. It marked the beginning of a lifelong relationship with Leigh’s work, a body of cinema that has shaped and shadowed my own personal and cultural journey. That connection endures to this day, most recently renewed with his 2025 release, Hard Truths—a testament to a career and vision that continue to evolve with undiminished integrity.

    Bleak Moments centres on Sylvia (Anne Raitt), a lonely, introspective young woman navigating the quiet desolation of her suburban life while caring for her mentally challenged sister, Hilda (Sarah Stephenson). Trapped between duty and desire, Sylvia reaches tentatively toward human connection—most notably with a shy schoolteacher—yet every encounter is marked by awkward silences and emotional hesitations. Mike Leigh crafts a delicate, unflinching portrait of isolation and unmet longing, where the most powerful moments are found in what remains unsaid. Indeed, I would say it would have a powerful influence on awkward cinema or television such as Gervais and Merchant’s, seminal show The Office.

    I hadn’t seen the film for twenty years and in a packed Prince Charles Cinema, what struck me was how Bleak Moments, while raw and unvarnished in style, unfolds with a beautifully episodic structure that gently accumulates emotional weight. Each scene offers a quiet vignette—moments of everyday awkwardness, tentative exchanges, and domestic stillness—that together create a deeply human portrait of loneliness and restraint. Despite its sombre tone, the film is laced with dry, observational humour and a deep sense of pathos, revealing the absurdity and ache of unspoken lives.

    Mike Bradwell’s Norman and his dryly hilarious songs, and the most awkward of “romantic” dinner scenes in the Chinese restaurant just stood out to me as deeply funny. Raitt’s performance too is a masterclass of comedic understatement. Overall, these qualities—emotional nuance, character-driven storytelling, and a commitment to realism—would become defining hallmarks of Mike Leigh’s oeuvre, already fully formed in this striking debut. Finally, it was great to see and hear from Leigh, now in his eighties, answering some great questions with sharp wit and batting away some stupid ones too with his usual intelligence and droll honesty. Leigh remains a hero in my life’s cultural journey.

    Cinema, Reviews

    Cinema review: The Phoenician Scheme (2025) – plus Wes Anderson’s Top 11 films ranked in order of favourite!

    2 Comments

    Cinema review: The Phoenician Scheme (2025)

    Directed by Wes Anderson

    Screenplay by Wes Anderson

    Story by Wes Anderson and Roman Coppola

    Produced by Wes Anderson, Steven Rales, Jeremy Dawson, John Peet

    Cinematography by Bruno Delbonnel

    Main cast: Benicio del Toro, Mia Threapleton, Michael Cera, Riz Ahmed, Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Mathieu Amalric, Richard Ayoade, Jeffrey Wright, Scarlett Johansson, Benedict Cumberbatch, Rupert Friend, Hope Davis, etc.

    Reviewing films for me is a form of study—a way to sharpen one’s eye, expand one’s perspective, and gain insight into the craft of filmmaking. It’s a dialogue between the film and the viewer, where curiosity, analysis, and empathy fuel a deeper appreciation for the storytelling process. Yet, Wes Anderson’s films often feel unreviewable in the traditional sense because they exist entirely within their own meticulously crafted universe—one governed by its own visual grammar, emotional tone, and narrative rhythm. His work defies conventional cinematic benchmarks not because it fails to meet them, but because it invents new ones.

    His films are stylized to the point of abstraction: symmetrical compositions, pastel palettes, theatrical performances, deadpan dialogue, and storybook framing devices. These are not aesthetic flourishes added to conventional storytelling—they are the storytelling. Every element is calibrated to serve a singular artistic vision that prioritizes mood, irony, and emotional restraint in a way that often bypasses mainstream emotional cues. As a result, trying to evaluate Anderson’s films on the basis of relatability or realism can feel like trying to critique a painting for not being a photograph. You either enter his world and accept its rules, or you don’t.

    The Phoenician Scheme (2025) is a whimsically convoluted tale of betrayal, bureaucracy, and buried emotion, anchored by a surprisingly tender pairing: Benicio Del Toro and Mia Threapleton as an estranged father and daughter navigating a pastel-hued world of espionage, assassination attempts and eccentricity. Del Toro brings his signature quiet intensity—filtered through Anderson’s signature deadpan—as Anatole “Zsa-Zsa” Korda, a controversial businessman seeking backing from an array of peculiar business types. Threapleton, in a breakout performance, plays Sister Liesl, a guarded young nun.

    As always, Anderson’s aesthetic is immaculately controlled—every frame a still life, every line delivered with just-so detachment. But where the plot sometimes meanders through its own labyrinth of quirk, the film’s emotional core remains grounded in Del Toro and Threapleton’s quiet push-and-pull: a relationship built on misread intentions, half-kept promises, and a strange kind of inherited stoicism. Michael Cera is on splendid form too as Bjørn Lund, a Norwegian entomologist, tutor, and Korda’s administrative assistant.

    Overall, The Phoenician Scheme (2025) is best enjoyed as a moving art installation and while thematically strong in terms of the father-daughter-reconciliation theme, doesn’t reach the narrative heights of Anderson’s best work. It’s a visually charming and emotionally sincere entry—proof that even in a world of plane crashes, quirky business deals, weird relatives, religious fervour, eccentric guerrillas, the arc of connection between a father and daughter can still feel radical.

    Mark: 7.5 out of 11

    Wes Anderson’s Top 11 films ranked in order of MY favourites!

    1. Rushmore (1998)

    2. The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

    3. The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)

    4. Bottle Rocket (1996)

    5. Asteroid City (2023)

    6. Isle of Dogs (2018)

    7. Moonrise Kingdom (2012)

    8. The Darjeeling Limited (2007)

    9. The Phoenician Scheme (2025)

    10. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004)

    11. The French Dispatch (2021)










    Netflix, Reviews

    Netflix Film Review: The Piano Lesson (2024) – ghosts of the past and present haunt the screen with resounding power!

    Leave a comment

    Netflix Film Review: The Piano Lesson (2024)

    Directed by Malcolm Washington

    Screenplay by Virgil Williams & Malcolm Washington

    Based on The Piano Lesson by August Wilson

    Produced by Denzel Washington & Todd Black

    Main cast: John David Washington, Danielle Deadwyler, Samuel L. Jackson, Ray Fisher, Michael Potts, Erykah Badu, Skylar Aleece Smith,
    Corey Hawkins, and more.

    Cinematography by Mike Gioulakis

    Malcolm Washington’s directorial debut, The Piano Lesson (2024), is a poignant and evocative adaptation of August Wilson’s 1987 play, set in 1936 Pittsburgh. Through a compelling narrative and an exceptional cast, Washington explores themes of heritage, familial conflict, and the enduring impact of racial oppression.

    Washington, alongside co-writer Virgil Williams, expands the original stage play’s confines by incorporating flashbacks and supernatural elements, enriching the narrative’s depth and scope. The film centers on the Charles family, particularly siblings Boy Willie (John David Washington) and Berniece (Danielle Deadwyler), who are at odds over the fate of a family heirloom piano. Boy Willie wishes to sell the piano to purchase land that once belonged to their ancestors, while Berniece views the instrument as a sacred connection to their past.

    The piano, intricately carved with images of the Charles family’s ancestors, serves as a powerful symbol of their history and resilience. For Boy Willie, it represents a means to break free from the shackles of the past and build a future of self-sufficiency. Conversely, Berniece sees it as a testament to their survival and a link to the sacrifices made by their forebears. This dichotomy underscores the central conflict: the tension between honoring tradition and pursuing progress

    The film delves into the complexities of familial bonds and the differing perceptions of heritage. Boy Willie’s desire to sell the piano reflects a yearning to move beyond the constraints of history, while Berniece’s attachment signifies a commitment to preserving their lineage. At the same time she mourns the loss of her husband and combats romantic offers from local suitors. Her struggles truly power the piece and the familial clashes further embody the broader struggle within African American communities: reconciling the weight of history with the aspirations for advancement. The supernatural elements, particularly the haunting presence of the plantation owner, Sutter’s ghost, are delivered effectively. They also amplify the narrative’s exploration of unresolved trauma and the need for reconciliation.

    The ensemble cast delivers standout performances, with John David Washington portraying Boy Willie’s fiery ambition and Danielle Deadwyler capturing Berniece’s steadfast resolve. How Deadwyler did not even get an Oscar nomination for Best Actress in a Supporting Role is beyond me. Moreover, Samuel L. Jackson offers a subtle, unselfish and grounded portrayal of Doaker, the family patriarch. Washington’s direction ensures a respectful adaptation, balancing the play’s rich and passionate dialogue with cinematic elements that enhance its emotional resonance.

    Overall, Malcolm Washington’s The Piano Lesson is a resounding adaptation that honours August Wilson’s legacy while providing a fresh perspective on timeless themes. Through its rich symbolism, compelling performances, and thoughtful direction, the film invites audiences to reflect on the complexities of heritage, the burdens of history, and the paths toward healing and progress.

    Mark: 8.5 out of 11