
Tomas Alfredson’s slow-burning, balletic adaptation of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is rich in atmosphere, dripping with character and repressed emotion.
The Book of Eli is a decent post-apocalypse film largely devoid of the ‘destroyed landmarks’ porn that often affects this genre, feeling more like an Eastwood-era western set in the world of Fallout 3, with heavy overtones of Walter Miller’s A Canticle for Leibowitz and suggestions of Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451.
This was the one I’ve been waiting for. Not since the original Tim Burton/Michael Keaton outing has there been a good Batman film; the franchise style has been slowly whittled away by Joel Schumacher’s love of dry ice, naked male torsos and high camp. Batman Begins was to be the one that redressed the balance. Did it?
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