If the term “Brit-gangster movie” makes you cringe in fear of knock-off Guy Ritchie monologues or gratuitous Danny Dyer cameos, then perhaps the presence of Tim Roth and Peter Mullan will entice you into viewing Craig Viveiros’ latest offering.

The Liability shifts focus from the prison-based confines of Viveiros’ debut feature Ghosted to the wider open spaces of the English countryside, but it remains firmly rooted in the criminal underworld.

Proceedings kick off with some spontaneous violence involving a serial killer called the Handyman, which effectively sets the tone for the next ninety odd minutes.

We then zip to the high-speed introduction of our joyriding hero-in-a-hoodie, the Jack O’Connell shaped Adam, who promptly smashes up the car he has been driving.

The glitch is that the car’s owner, played by the mighty Peter Mullan, happens to be both Adam’s stepfather and a particularly ruthless gangster with a penchant for video nasties and human trafficking.

He naturally wants Adam to repay him, and he don’t mean with pocket money.

Adam goes on “a job” for his stepfather to make amends, acting as wheel man for Tim Roth’s jaded assassin, Roy. Roy longs for retirement, whereas Adam is keen to get his hands dirty and take advantage of this entry level position in the world of gainful criminal employment.

During their trip the pair encounters a beautiful girl played by Tallulah Riley, who gives Sacha Baron Cohen a run for his money in the dodgy Eastern-European-accent stakes. As the story unfolds, it transpires that the goals of all three are somewhat entwined.

There are further twists along the way, but without divulging too much, the rest of the film contains betrayals, revenge and some gratuitous clothes-shedding.

The plot is essentially the standard young-hood-repays-gangster storyline, mixed with a rookie / veteran buddy movie.

In short, this is nothing we haven’t really seen before.

Viveiros’ camera-based background saves the day however: the film looks great, and paints a bleak but visually accomplished picture of life oop north, with the wide open spaces of the English countryside proving a nice contrast to the usual claustrophobic, urban settings of the standard British crime-flick.

The film is also buoyed by strong performances from the sparse cast.

Jack O’Connell plays Adam as a slightly more affable variation on the sinister scally types he previously incarnated in Eden Lake and Harry Brown. He and Roth show strong chemistry, and it’s good to see the latter back on home turf. Riley is as mysterious and sexy as her role demands her to be.

Mullan’s gangster however seems at times to belong in another movie, turning too dark even for the blackly comic tone that Viveiros appears to be aiming for.

And the film is ultimately let down by a pretty ridiculous and sudden ending which feels like the ideas or budget, or both, simply ran out.

In short, Viveiros may be one to watch in the future, but The Liability is only worth a watch if the genre is your thing.

Conor Brennan

The power of love is a curious thing.

Makes one man weep, another man sing.

And in the case of a lone wolf called Mud, love can have an altogether more disturbing effect.

Ellis is a young lad growing up amongst the fractured marriage of his parents in a backwater river town in Arkansas.

There ain’t much to keep a teenage boy occupied in this town, so when Ellis and his colourfully monikered bff Neckbone find a boat halfway up a tree on a deserted island, it’s just about the most exciting thing to happen in their waters all year.

Only problem being that someone seems to have already claimed this tree-boat for themselves.

And that someone, is a charming silver tongued devil by the name of Mud; probably because his real name has the same qualities when spoken about by civilised folk.

Now when Mud was a kid, he grew up in the same backwater town as Ellis and Neckbone, and an experience like this tends to leave its mark.

For the boys in town, this is the idea of falling in love with the prettiest girl you can find.

It’s easily the most exciting thing about Arkansas.

And in Mud’s case, the name of his most exciting thing is Juniper.

Now Mud loves his girl with all his heart, even when she’s not his girl anymore; which is kind of how he ended up living on a tree-boat in the first place.

You didn’t think it’d be for him now did you?

Clearly Mud’s life has taken a wrong turn somewhere, and now he needs the boys help to get him out of this tight spot.

And there’s a reward in it for them too, tree-boat itself.

But Ellis isn’t going to help Mud for such superficial things, he’s in it for far more than that.

He needs to believe in love, to make his life and his future in Arkansas seem worthwhile.

Written and directed by Jeff Nichols, Mud is a tricky film to pigeonhole in a lovely way as the film shifts through a few different genres along the way.

Slow burning at first, Mud dramatically and unexpectedly burns up towards the end as events beautifully set up in the first couple of acts start to play out.

But Mud is really a love story about love, and the different ways we feel about this depending on who we are and where we’re at in life.

So there’s the naive and surprisingly romantic Ellis, who wants to believe in true love to give his Arkansas life meaning; Ellis’ burnt out parents who are living in the loveless husk of what used to be their marriage; the grizzled old timer who’s loved and lost and how girls from Arkansas believe less about love and more about finding a man who can take care of them.

And then there’s Mud, played by the always charming Matthew McConaughey, who’s perhaps the most hopelessly romantic character of them all.

Either that or he’s simply the best liar.

So obviously, I loved him the most.

I guess boys and girls feel very differently about love, for guys it usually ends up giving meaning to our lives,

Once a girl gets to a certain age though, love is a luxury most of them feel they can’t afford; which is why so many of them settle for the knowing and richer arms of an older man instead.

It may not be love, but at least they’ll be safe in this vanilla relationship they’ve found.

Because it’s only the people you love who can hurt us.

I’m not sure if what I’ve just written even makes sense now I’ve read it back, it sure as hell doesn’t seem to have gone off track from Mud; which is a shame, because it’s a really good film.

Apart from reaffirming why McConaughey is still the most charming thing to have come out of southern America, Mud also has everyone’s favourite drunk Reese Witherspoon in a supporting role as Juniper and a cameo role for the man who would be Zod, Michael Shannon.

But it’s acting rookie Tye Sheridan as Ellis who’s the undoubted star of this show, playing a tough soul with a tender heart better than most actors twice his age.

If you want to know about love, and what it is about this that befuddles men so, Mud is the secretly beautiful film for you.

Alas, I can’t promise that idea of love will be any clearer for you afterwards.

Jonathan Campbell

Space, final frontiers and continuing voyages of a starship christened Enterprise.

Boldly going where no-one has gone before, which apparently includes recycling plot devices from the very distant past.

The year is some very far in the future, and though the universe may be a parallel one for fans of the original star trek opus, some things remain the same.

There’s still green blooded aliens with pointy ears who are seemingly immune to human emotions, a cosmopolitan selection of amusingly accented crew from every corner of the world and then there’s James Tiberius Kirk who, even in this embryonically reimagined world of his, has managed to grab command of the Enterprise.

Still barely out of his short trousers, Kirk now finds himself responsible for the federation’s flagship, ah, ship as well as her considerable crew.

But, having been thrust into the Captain’s chair rather prematurely, is the impulsive boy known as James T ready for such responsibility?

Apparently not giving how often he seems to break his organisation’s prime directive.

So said federation strip him of his favourite ship and reinstall good old Captain Pike to the Enterprise’s hot seat.

Having finally used up all his dumb luck, the man formerly known as Captain Kirk heads to the nearest bar so he can drown his sorrows.

But who should be there to pick him up, none other than his surrogate father in arms, Pike.

He wants Kirk back on the enterprise as his first officer, and his presence may be needed now more than ever as the Federation comes under attack from a new, tyrannical foe

After his successful reboot of Gene Roddenberry’s original science fiction classic, J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek: Into Darkness has become one of the most eagerly anticipated films of the year.

But the question everyone wants to know is does it live up to the hype?

The short answer is yes.

Picking up from where Abrams’ first Star Trek left off, we find Captain Kirk, Spock and friends all aboard the Enterprise attempting a dashing feat of daring do in alien territory.

Naturally, there’s no real danger for the crew; this is the first scene and it ain’t a Wes Craven script, so no-one important’s getting capped in the first five minutes.

But it sets the tone for some breath-taking special effects and pretty good action scenes to come.

The cast is nigh on perfect for their parts, with each of the new incarnations of the famous crew continuing to make these roles their own.

Chris Pine embodies a picture perfect young James T Kirk, and I’m not just saying that because we’re born on the same day, Zachary Quinto has a quiet authority as a modern Spock who can fight as well as think his way out of most any situation, and the chemistry between him and the über gorgeous Zoe Saldana as Uhura adds a nice relationship spin on the more familiar Star Trek dynamics.

As for the rest, Simon Pegg continues to provide comic relief as Scotty, the same goes for Karl Urban’s soundbite version of Dr “Bones” McCoy, while Benedict Cumberbatch keeps calm and carries on flying the flag for British talent as the mysterious and menacing John Harrison.

That’s the good stuff, but Star Trek: Into Darkness isn’t all great.

The set up at the beginning of the film is convenient at best, with the heavy handed “this time it’s personal” theme crowbarred into Captain Kirk’s narrative arc particularly jarring.

The music is often way too far over the top, and there’s a scene in the final act that stretches Into Darkness’ credibility to breaking point, as a little bit of Star Trek history gets mashed up and repeated but feels both lazy and unnecessary.

J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek: Into Darkness is bigger and better than his first instalment and it’s guaranteed to delight fans new and old alike.

But I’d rather the writers were a little more bold in creating some bright new sci-fi moments to call their own, instead of resurrecting classic Star Trek scenes from the past.

Jonathan Campbell

At first glance, a seat on board a Peninsula Airlines flight is much like any other.

There’s the cramped environs of economy class, the snooty patrons in business, a couple of macho, macho men up in the cockpit and some more altogether less masculine guys stewarding the flight.

There’s also some dodgy landing gear that’s endangered the safety of the flight and everyone on board.

So that they can keep calm and carry on, the cabin crew have drugged everyone in economy class to make sure they don’t bother them.

Proles wailing and whining about their impending doom can be so very tiresome.

But in what seems like the best reason I’ve yet heard to travel first class, the premium passengers have been left unmolested, for now, as the plane circles around Spain looking for an available airport.

Amongst this ragtag collection of elite individuals are a banker, a famous actor, an infamous high class madam, a hitman and a psychic.

And as they contemplate their own mortality, the folk supposedly in charge of making sure this plane doesn’t go down seem to be doing plenty of this themselves.

I’m So Excited is the latest film from revered Spanish director Pedro Almodovar and, if you’ll excuse the pun, it marks a departure from his more recent fare of heavy dramas spiked with no little humour as well as an unhealthy dash of incest.

Returning to his cinematic roots, Almodovar’s made a camp and frequently outrageous sex comedy that trades heavily on gay stereotypes and dick jokes for laughs.

Naturally, this is always good humoured and besides, stereotypes exist for one simple reason; they’re usually true.

Or is there more to I’m So Excited than meets the eye?

Some reviewers far smarter than me have pointed out the parallels between the tanking Spanish economy, represented by the first class banker here trying to do one to Mexico, the drugged economy class is an obvious representation of the working classes while the rest of the premier passengers represent the real drugs that keep the masses docile; sex, celebrity, tv and psychics.

Ok, so that last one doesn’t quite add up.

Then there are the preening stewardesses who’ll say and do anything to distract their audience from what’s really going on around them, and if there’s a better description of modern politician’s than that, I’ve yet to hear it..

Almodovar’s I’m So Excited is a seemingly story that’s far more accessible than some of his recent work, and if you go see this with a group of friends after some drinks, you’re going to have a good time.

Whether you’ll give it much more than a second glance is debatable, but maybe you should.

Jonathan Campbell

Life – what’s it all about, eh?

Apparently, connecting with other folk we share this planet with and building something, if you believe the beginning of director Niels Arden Oplev’s new film Dead Man Down.

And I kind of do.

But what happens if that thing that you’ve built gets knocked down?

Victor and Darcy are two lower level gangsters in a mid-size mobster outfit lead by the ruthless Alphonse.

Apart from joining up at the same time and being tall, dark and handsome, these two good fellows have something else in common; they both have a burning desire to make something of their lives.

For Darcy, this something is to provide for his new family that he wasn’t always so keen on; but Victor has no family and leads a solitary existence, so his plan is a little less clear cut.

When one of their gang turns out to be sleeping with the fish, quite literally as he shows up in Alphonse’s freezer, the gang go to war with a rival crew they assume is behind the hit.

But when hits on their own gang keep on coming, Darcy and Victor have to decide how far they’re willing to go to build the life they want for themselves.

Dead Man Down is the new film from the man behind the camera of the original Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, and he’s even bought said girl along with him for the ride.

Starting out as a tale of ambition, J H Wyman’s story quickly switches from something typically gangster shaped to a more nuanced story about how living in the past can ruin your future.

I love the cast for this film, featuring as it does so many talented yet non-superficial actors. So we have always in control and dapper looking Terrence Howard as Alphonse, the wonderfully innocent looking Noomi Rapace as Victor’s neighbour Beatrice who gets caught up in his gangster war, Isabelle Huppert as her deaf mother and F Murray Abraham as Victor’s mentor.

Then there’s Dominic Cooper as Darcy, and everyone’s favourite Irishman Colin Farrell playing Victor.

And by everyone, I mean me.

Now I always root for the dark haired, thick browed brooding heroes in action films, for no other reason than I find it easy to identify with said bro’s and brows, but even more so when it comes to Farrell.

The boy from Dublin is one of those actors who seems to get more than his fair share of stick for some of the dud films he’s made.

First off, that’s just part of an actor’s lot; they’re bound to make some bad films.

Besides, Castleknock’s finest is always the best thing in these sub Citizen Kane flicks by a distance, and then some.

And if he’s not, then either his eyebrows or alpha male facial hair will be.

Second, Farrell’s been in plenty of good movies too, and Dead Man Down can be added to this list.

Even though he’s reined in his macho man hair for his character of Victor, Farrell creates a character you believe in and root for.

Again, this might just be me.

Moving away from the man crushes I have on Farrell, with Cooper not far behind, Dead Man Down works as an action film precisely because they Oplev spends more time on developing his character’s rather than blowing everything up as often as possible.

Which means when something does get blown up, and how, then it actually means something.

Dead Man Down may not be the finest action film you’ll see this year, but it’s got a hell of a lot more going for it than most other brain-dead additions to this genre.

And even if Colin Farrell doesn’t do it for you, you’ll still get to learn the meaning of life.

Jonathan Campbell

What does love look like to you?

In the latest collaboration between Steve Coogan and Michael Winterbottom, love looks a lot sadder than you might think.

Paul Raymond is a performer and, more specifically, a mind reader.

Admittedly, he’s only ever managed to read one thing from other people’s minds, which is that men will pay good money to see pretty girl’s in the nud.

Now this may sound like the blindingly obvious, and that’s because it is.

But how many other people have taken this idea and used it to turn themselves into the richest man in Britain?

And that’s where Paul’s real talent lies.

Having made his fortune in risqué plays decreed the worst in all of London, which is just as appealing as being the best as far as the ticket buying public are concerned, Raymond proceeds to buy up half of Soho with his newly acquired wealth.

The boy Paul also has a beautiful wife, Jean, whom he’s sired a young daughter and son with; one’s called Debbie and the other Howard, though I’ll leave you to work out which is which.

In short, Paul Raymond is a man who has it all; hell, Jean even allows him to openly sleep with half the young starlets he hires.

Until, that is, a particularly gorgeous young thing by the name of Amber catches Paul’s eye and he embarks upon something more than just a casual affair with her.

As Raymond’s personal life slowly starts to spiral out of control, the question we’re invited to ask is whether being the self-made richest man in Britain is enough to make Paul happy?

Brought to director Michael Winterbottom by his regular muse Steve Coogan, The Look Of Love charts the rise and fall of Paul Raymond, a soft porn peddler and principal player behind Soho’s reputation that we all know and, ah, love today.

Being a big fan of their most recent collaboration in The Trip, which Winterbottom revealed they’ll be making an Italian sequel to after this Sundance London screening, I was looking forward to something cut from a similar cloth with this new film.

Straddling that fine line between comedy and despair, The Look Of Love is both funny and tragic as we watch a man who has everything but knows the value of nothing slowly lose what he loves most in his life.

Women come and go, with the only constant in Raymond’s life being his darling daughter Debbie.

These two give new meaning to the special relationship that so often exists between fathers and their daughters, as Raymond indulges his first born with whatever she wants without ever setting boundaries to teach her how to live her life.

Utilising his chameleon-esque nature, Coogan excels as Paul Raymond; in fact, I get the feeling the man behind Alan Partridge is far more comfortable playing real people than the fictional kind.

Imogen Poots plays the part as his daughter Debbie while the simply stunning Tamsin Egerton is brilliantly cast as Amber, a role that consistently involves her wearing not much at all.

Half of the country’s most famous comedians pop up in cameos at various points, and The Look Of Love is never less than enjoyable; but neither does it really hit the heights of previous Coogan and Winterbottom collaborations.

As for Burt’s song about what love looks like, well I wouldn’t know much about that, but I’d wager it involves doing what’s right for them rather than what’s right for you.

Jonathan Campbell

When you’ve saved the world and conquered the box office at the same time, what do you do for your next trick?

These are the problems Robert Downey Jr’s Tony Stark and director Shane Black come up against in Iron Man 3.

Starting at the beginning, which is actually the end, Stark enters into one of those whip smart monologues of his about, you know, I forget what it’s about.

But the first scene takes us back in time to a 1999 era Tony Stark, pre Pepper Potts and getting ready to welcome in the new millennium with his presently mulleted bff, Happy Hogan, as well as a gaggle of beautiful yet seemingly vacuous young girls.

Sneaking in amongst this party on their way to Stark’s penthouse is Aldrich Killian, a geeky cripple with bad hair, a brilliant mind and a bit of a guy crush on Tony.

As the film unravels, we learn he’s not the only one.

Killian tries to steal some time with his alpha male inspiration, but is given an eloquent brush off by Stark.

Tony’s got other things on his mind, namely bringing in the year 2000 with the help of the shapely botanist Maya Hansen.

Fast forward thirteen years and countless one night stands later, including that of Miss Hansen, and we’re back in the present day.

Having just saved the world from a horde of invading aliens lead by some mischievous Norse god with a bunch of new super friends, Stark has turned into something of a workaholic.

Now he knows what’s out there, the man who’s normally made of iron is working round the clock so that he’s ready for whatever alien threat next comes through a New York City wormhole.

And you thought London had its issues.

Which means there’s a new and improved prototype of his Iron Man suit to be perfected, not to mention a neglected Pepper Potts to keep happy.

As any man could tell you, whether they’re made of iron or not, having a career and keeping a woman happy are both full time jobs.

But both of these are minor problems in Tony Stark’s life, when compared with what’s really keeping him up at night.

Ever since successfully repelling Loki’s alien shaped invading army, Stark’s encountered a different kind of foe that’s also pretty alien to him: anxiety attacks.

Anathema to his wisecracking, alpha male DNA, Stark struggles to manage his own anxious issues and is far too proud to let anyone know what he’s really going through.

Which is pretty bad timing as far as his home country’s concerned, because there’s a new terrorist threat hanging over america who goes by the name of The Mandarin, and he’s got the american president in his fruity yet lethal sights.

The idea of directing a film like Iron Man 3 would normally be the stuff of dreams, and no doubt it still was for new to the franchise director Shane Black.

But when you have to follow Joss Whedon’s box office behemoth Avengers Assemble, as well as the daunting ensemble cast recruited for this film, how do you make a stand-alone Iron Man film to compete with this?

The answer is you go bigger and funnier than ever before.

Sensibly, Black and co-writer Drew Pearce pick up where Whedon left off, with Stark struggling to deal with his recent alien adventures before introducing multiple baddies, an army of Iron Men and the now traditional whip smart dialogue from Hollywood’s favourite reformed golden boy.

The actors are great, the action’s spectacular and the laughs are both frequent and loud; particularly one shout out delivered to our very own Croydon town.

And yet, you can’t help but let your mind wander to the bigger and brighter battles Iron Man will doubtless face in the next Avengers instalment.

At least I couldn’t.

The cinematic arc for Tony Stark now feels complete, his origin story played out, and even the über confident and rather marvellous Robert Downey Jr can’t top the excitement of seeing half a dozen superheroes together in the same film; a reality Black tips his hat to in the now anticipated final, final scene after the credits have rolled.

Gwyneth Paltrow returns in a supporting yet still surprising role as Pepper Potts, while Ben Kingsley and Guy Pearce lend some gravitas in their roles as The Mandarin and Aldrich Killian respectively, but it just feels like Iron Man’s solo days are now behind him.

Not that Iron Man 3 is a bad film, far from it.

The humour and refreshingly unserious entertainment Downey Jr’s stellar hero brought to the comic book films was most welcome as a balance to the modern, Christopher Nolan inspired trend for brooding, realism heavy superheroes.

And Black has produced a fine final chapter in the stand-alone Iron Man franchise that puts other third films in a superhero franchise to shame.

Yes, I’m talking about The Dark Knight Rises.

Again.

It’s just the time may have come for the ensemble superhero movie to reign supreme, with Downey Jr’s Tony Stark acting as the glittering jewel in this cinematic crown.

Jonathan Campbell

One man’s terrorist is just another politician.

It’s not quite as famous as that freedom fighter saying I’ve just plagiarised, but boy does it seem appropriate in Mathieu Kassovitz’s new film Rebellion.

Captain Philippe Legorjus is a man stuck between an island rock and a hard place.

Said rock being New Caledonia, and hard place the political landscape of an election gripped France.

The year is 1980 something and the native Kanaks of New Caledonia decide now’s the time to rise up against their French landlords and assert their own claims for independence.

So the Kanaks storm their local gendarme with the intention of a bloodless coup.

Of course, men with guns being both highly stupid and stupidly trigger happy, so a couple of French policemen are killed in the process of rounding up their new hostages.

Still, if the Kanaks wanted the attention of France’s political powers, now they well and truly had it.

And how.

So an elite group of gendarmes known as the GIGN, lead by Legorjus, a man skilled in the art of non-violent negotiation, are dispatched from Paris to broker a peaceful resolution to this potentially lethal standoff.

Or at least that’s what Legorjus thinks.

Turns out the French powers that be value their political standing with a soon to be voting electorate for more than human lives.

Quelle surprise.

Just a couple of days after Legorjus and his troops arrive, another squad of less than diplomatic soldiers are dispatched to resolve this situation with lethal force.

So Legorjus now races against both time and political agendas to try and deliver a peaceful outcome to this New Caledonian uprising, even if he’s the only one who seems to want this.

Written and directed by Mathieu Kassovitz, Rebellion is a taut and dramatic account from recent French history in a similar vein to that of recent Oscar winner Argo.

But while Ben Affleck’s slickly made flick is also a transparent exercise in american propaganda, Kassovitz lives up to his French heritage by showing no such mercy for his own country’s interests.

The truth, not entertainment or rewriting history to suit your own commercial or political agenda, is the primary concern in Rebellion.

And the truth is that France, like every other imperialist nation in the west, has blood on its hands.

Starting with a brief and confusing climatic scene, Rebellion is then told in flashback through the eyes of Kassovitz’s real life character of Captain Philippe Legorjus.

So we get to run the gamut of emotions he goes through during this little known chapter in New Caledonian history, as Legorjus starts to build trust with the idealistic leader of the Kanak cause.

Seeing how this film ends at the very beginning, even if you don’t really understand the context, could easily have scuppered any dramatic tension from Rebellion.

And yet that’s not the case at all; Kassovitz keeps you hooked through his understated acting about a subject that’s clearly close to his heart.

As Rebellion reaches it’s bloody yet inevitable conclusion, you can’t help but wonder about the increasingly corrupt and self-serving actions our governments take in our name for their own popularity and success.

But the people who write the history books get to decide who’s a terrorist, and who’s not.

Jonathan Campbell

When viewed in comparison with the lifestyle of your average investment banker it is not a great stretch to work out why NHS employees are such a miserable lot.

While contemplating an upcoming 48-hour working weekend, the average junior doctor will attempt to save the lives of heroin addicts and knife victims in poorly maintained prefab shit-heaps.

At the same time, the coked up hedge fund manager who drank his way through university with our poor doctor is cracking open a bottle of château du bell-end in the latest gastronomic belle du jour on his expenses, contemplating the use of rohypnol to get the latest nubile office intern to capitulate.

Expenses funded by the budget cuts which means our medic now has to carry out complex surgical procedures by candlelight with a blunt, un-sterilised scalpel, an industrial blow torch and his badly bruised fist.

Yeah I’d be miffed too.

But perhaps not so moody that I would deliver the good news to a patient who has just successfully completed her treatment for cancer with a scowl, a disapproving glance at her wig and a leaflet outlining the psychological benefits of breast reconstruction.

This is how we meet our heroine Ida, the central character of Susanne Bier’s Love is All You Need, a Danish film set mainly in Italy.

Ida returns home on this joyous day to find Leif, her husband of many years, giving a spirited account of himself on the marital sofa with the girl from accounts.

Caught red handed, Leif promptly gets dressed and walks out on her with a parting shot, “the cancer has been hard for me too”.

Luckily the remarkably cheerful and optimistic Ida, has her daughter Astrid’s upcoming overseas wedding to keep her mind occupied and her spirits up.

Well that, and the prospect of getting fresh with the recently widowed and soon to be father of the groom, Phillip who’s struggling to fight off the amorous, and arguably misplaced, attentions of his dead wife’s sister.

Not forgetting, of course, the maternal meddling’s to attend to when it becomes apparent during the build up to the big day that her future son in law seems to have a penchant for Italian cliché’s of the male waiter variety.

Even an appearance from the uninvited accounts slut as her estranged husband’s +1 in pre-wedding gatherings at a picturesque Italian lemon grove doesn’t dampen Ida’s enthusiasm.

On the contrary, she revels in the intrigue, flirtation and beautiful Mediterranean surroundings before finding herself haphazardly flitting around the joint like an attractive Shirley Valentine and enjoying secret coffee liaisons with Phillip in sunlit cafes, romantic strolls along the beach and extreme rip-tide skinny-dipping.

As Ida’s relationship with Phillip develops, Astrid’s engagement with Patrick starts to show cracks. Leif realises he’s made a terrible mistake and wants his wife back, whilst Ida discovers a lump in her other breast raising the likelihood of her being left with a matching non-set or even worse still.

Love Is All You Need is a sweet little tale. with Bier’s gentle direction allowing the performances and locations to speak for themselves.

Trine Dyrholm, as the marvellously endearing Ida, is outstanding and carries the film, demanding the audience roots for her character throughout.

The supporting turns are also solid, as it turns out Pierce Brosnan as Phillip isn’t formed of lacquered mahogany after all and actually displays something approaching real emotion.

I felt like planting a big smacker on his erstwhile Irish lips, if only to refrain from asking him the age old question, “what kind of a fucked up accent is that anyway?, secure in the knowledge I’d only regret this the morning after once the old boy had broken my heart and wiped out my bank account to support his linen blazer addiction.

But please don’t let my pre-conceived notions about such an esteemed leading man deter you from seeing this charming, funny and uplifting film; only the deeply cynical, or an exhausted and bitter member of the medical profession, could fail to embrace Love Is All You Need.

Frank Gardiner

You know how you can romanticise the past, and even get tempted to rekindle something that’s long been dead?

Well, maybe you’re better off trusting your head over your heart and leaving that memory alone.

Evil Dead is a wholly unnecessary remake of the cult Bruce Campbell classic of the same name, only director Fede Alvarez has managed to slice off pretty much every redeeming quality from the camp and highly quotable original with this horribly generic incarnation.

As with seemingly all horror films these days, we begin with a bunch of vacuous and lobotomised pretty young people who’ve ventured deep into a deserted forest.

So far, so bone-crunchingly predictable.

There’s some loose pretence about the lead girl, Mia, being hooked on heroin and travelling up to a cabin to finally kick the habit, as well as a vague sort of reunion between her and her group of dumb friends with Mia’s brother David, who left the family home as well as their mentally disturbed mother some years ago.

But now he’s back, and ready to make amends for the sins of his past.

The rest of the one dimensional characters are made up of Mia’s best girl friend, blah, some guy who seems to have a broken heart over David called meh, and David’s incredibly blank blonde girlfriend called I couldn’t give a damn.

Something along those lines.

Anyway, this by numbers scooby gang have ventured into a deserted forest and some ramshackle, ah, shack that Mia and David used to holiday in.

Only when they get there, our happy campers find the lock’s been forced with a crowbar, blood stains leading from the living room to the basement and the awful stench of death from some rotten and mangled animal corpses hung below in some apparent ritual.

Now, any fool with even half a brain would take any of these signs as a rather spiffing cue to make like a baby and head out of this god forsaken forest; only thing is, all these kids have been lobotomised.

Ok, so I’ve added that particular fragment of backstory myself, but trust me when I say Evil Dead only works if you accept this to be true.

As if that wasn’t enough, there’s also a mysterious book shaped object wrapped in a black bin bag and bound by reams of barbed wire.

Now I know what you’re thinking; why in the name of Bruce Campbell’s chin would you want to open something that someone’s so obviously gone out of their way to warn you away from?

And the only explanation is my lobotomised theory.

Even accepting that you ignore the blindingly obvious, stay in the creepy shack and open said object that’s been wrapped in barbed wire, once you find a book inside with the words “do not say these words out loud or he will come for you” inscribed within, why would want to say these quite literally god damned words out loud?

Lobotomised theory.

No doubt you’ll be able to guess what happens next, as will anyone over the age of six.

And every time one of these poorly written, mentally deficient pretty young people gets gruesomely sliced, diced or burnt alive, I wanted to cheer; the only problem is their deaths did not come anywhere near quickly enough for my tastes.

This new Evil Dead film is without doubt the most dreadful film I’ve ever had the misfortune to sit through, and I’ve watched Batman And Robin.

Not only is it devoid of any redeeming features, it also goes into negative credit by tarnishing the iconic Sam Raimi directed and Bruce Campbell shaped original.

I remember first watching this eighties classic back in my uni days, as a friend of mine was a keen fan of the ridiculously over the top performance Campbell delivers.

Director Alvarez has spectacularly failed to grasp that this was the best thing about the Evil Dead films, as the story itself was a load of nonsense.

What made them a cult hit was the outrageously quotable Campbell quipping his way through a series of ludicrously gory scenes, and Raimi’s inventive use of special effects on a budget.

All the horror was delivered with the devil’s tongue firmly in Campbell’s cheek; how else are you meant to play a scene where you cut off your own hand with a chainsaw because it’s turned evil?

And then continue to battle with your newly dismembered paw because it still wants to kill you.

Insanely, Alvarez has done away with any attempt at humour and played his Evil Dead straight up; which also means doing away with cult hero Ash and having a group of lobotomised young things queue up for their turn to die as horribly and gruesomely as you can imagine.

Of course, Evil Dead 2.0 is still bloody hilarious, only difference being this time the filmmaker’s aren’t in on the joke.

I could go on all day and night about how bad this new Evil Dead film is, so I may as well just draw a line under this review and pray to whatever deity’s are out there that the careers of everyone involved in making this film suffers as grisly a fate as most of the new characters they’ve created.

Maybe then, my memory of the original Evil Dead films can rest in peace.

Jonathan Campbell