Film Reviews by griggs

Matewan is a gritty, slow-burn triumph about the brutal battle for workers’ rights in 1920s West Virginia. It’s one of the most powerful and honest films about class struggle, no melodrama, no preaching, just raw, carefully told storytelling that respects your intelligence.

Chris Cooper, in his debut, is outstanding, and the whole ensemble pulls its weight. There’s a real sense of community and tension throughout, with every character feeling lived-in. The film's handling of race, solidarity, and betrayal is impressively nuanced, never falling into cliché.

Haskell Wexler’s cinematography gives the film a dusty, almost mythical Western feel, making it feel grounded and legendary. The atmosphere he captures turns a small mining town into a battleground worthy of folklore.  

The fact that it’s based on real events, the Matewan Massacre, makes it all the more harrowing. There’s a quiet rage running through the film, and it builds to something truly unforgettable. This is top-tier historical drama.

25 years ago, my flatmate insisted Battle Royale was the pinnacle of Japanese cinema—not Kurosawa, not Ozu, but this. I thought he was being daft. School kids killing each other in an ultra-violent government game? No thanks. Had he explained who Takeshi Kitano was, I might’ve been more curious. Finally, watching it now, I certainly wouldn’t call it Japan’s cinematic peak, but I see why he loved it, not for the gore, but for what it says. A brutal, blood-soaked satire on failed systems, youth rebellion, and the madness of authority. He saw it as a scathing critique of capitalism. I saw Lord of the Flies with landmines. Turns out, we were both right. It’s part action-thriller, part sci-fi, part horror, and weirdly funny in places. The violence is intense, but there’s something clever under all the carnage. It's not high art, but it's a fascinating future-predicting pulp. Certainly more than just nonsense.

D.O.A. has a killer premise and a vibe that screams classic noir—sweaty desperation, shadows, and all. But the tone’s all over the place, the dialogue’s pure pulp, and some of the acting is downright criminal. It’s fun in that “accident you can’t look away from” way, and the pacing mostly clips along… until the wheels wobble. The ending feels like a get-out-of-jail-free card slapped on in a hurry. Not great, but not dull either.

Mission: Impossible III is probably the least interesting of the bunch, but it’s a massive step up from the overblown nonsense of M:I2. J.J. Abrams brings things back down to earth a bit, and Cruise is much more likeable this time. The plot’s not exactly gripping, and aside from Ving Rhames, the IMF team barely registers. That said, Philip Seymour Hoffman is fantastic—easily the best villain in the series. Decent action, dodgy story, solid enough watch.

The King of Marvin Gardens unfolds in the desolate, off-season sprawl of Atlantic City—a ghost town clinging to its own myth. The faded boardwalks and empty casinos aren't just scenery; they echo the characters' unravelling hopes. This slow, peculiar, and quietly potent film dives into the mess of family dysfunction, delusional ambition, and a business plan that feels like it was scribbled in a fever dream.

David, played with hushed discomfort by Jack Nicholson, is reluctantly dragged into his brother Jason's grand scheme to buy a tropical island and play Hawaiian Gatsby, minus the money, charm, or grip on reality. Bruce Dern is manic in the way only a man selling dreams he doesn't believe in can be. Ellen Burstyn floats through like someone who's emotionally left the building but forgot to pack her body. The plot unfolds at the speed of depression—but that's the point.

It bombed on release. Now it's a cult classic. Like all great tragedies, it's oddly funny—if you're in the mood to laugh into the void.

A sharp, slow-burn crime drama that rewards patience. It’s all quiet deals, shifting loyalties, and low-key tension—no big set pieces, just the steady hum of menace. The pacing is measured, and while the final act doesn’t quite hit emotionally, the film’s commitment to realism pays off. It captures the bleak, weary rhythm of criminal life with subtlety and restraint. A quietly powerful piece that leaves a lasting impression.

The ‘Burbs sets out to be a dark suburban comedy full of paranoia, conformity, and fear of the weirdo next door—but it never quite finds its footing. It flirts with satire—nosy neighbours, group hysteria, thinly veiled prejudice—but quickly swaps insight for pratfalls, yelling, and the kind of chaos that feels more exhausting than funny. The tone swings wildly, like the film itself can’t decide whether it wants to creep you out or crack you up.

Tom Hanks does his best, the poor guy, trying to anchor the madness with charm and exasperated dad energy. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast seems to be competing to see who can be the loudest, weirdest, or most cartoonish. Corey Feldman strolls through like he’s in his own movie—frankly, that might’ve been the better one.

In the end, The ‘Burbs is all noise and nervous energy—an overlong sketch in search of a punchline.

Mission: Impossible II is, without doubt, the weakest in the franchise. Tom Cruise slips back into his smarmy comfort zone, undoing the sharpness and charm of the first film. The plot’s thin, the dialogue clunky, and the romance angle feels forced. John Woo brings his trademark style—lots of slow motion, doves, and high-octane shootouts—with clear nods to his Hong Kong films, especially Hard Boiled, that just about saves it from being a total-let down. Not unwatchable, but a definite dip in quality compared to the rest.

Baffling, chaotic, and—against all odds—kind of fascinating. It leans hard into the post-Pulp Fiction trend of gun-toting, wisecracking criminals, but swaps clever dialogue for deafening shootouts and plot confusion. Del Toro and Juliette Lewis give it some spark, but the rest of the cast flounders in a haze of pastiche. McQuarrie seems torn between making a neo-Western and a neo-noir, and ends up botching both. Interesting? Yes. Good? Not really.

Watching Mission: Impossible again ahead of the final film coming out, and honestly, it holds up surprisingly well for something nearly 30 years old—it still feels sharp. Some of the tech and special effects are laughably dated, and the Eurotunnel finale is a bit silly, full of factual and technical nonsense. But the film’s still a blast. The wire drop scene is iconic—surely one of the most famous in cinema. It’s not perfect, but it’s clever, stylish, and still loads of fun.

Takashi Miike’s Dead or Alive kicks off with an absolutely bonkers opening—guns, strippers, noodles, and blood flying about in a whirlwind of pure madness. It’s like being thrown headfirst into a fever dream, and it’s honestly brilliant. Those first ten minutes set a tone of hypnotic chaos that the rest of the film tries to match, though it doesn’t always succeed.

The story follows a cop and a yakuza on a violent collision course. There are gripping moments and flashes of real style, but the middle stretches can feel meandering. Still, that strange Miike energy keeps things just about engaging, even when the plot goes off track.

Like the opening, the ending is completely berserk. It’s not for everyone, but it's worth a go if you like your films wild and unpredictable.

I was hoping that, being a post-Monty Python film, Jabberwocky would give Terry Gilliam more room to experiment, freed from the egos of the other five. Instead, what starts out feeling like it might spoof the classic quest tale ends up as pure chaos. Michael Palin meets a string of Carry On regulars and sitcom stars from the '60s and '70s, but the novelty wears thin fast. What begins as organised madness collapses into noise; unfortunately, not much of it is funny.

Carnal Knowledge is a sharp, bitter, and uncomfortable exploration of sex as power, love as confusion, and male insecurity. It strips away any romance or sentimentality, laying these themes bare without apology. Nicholson’s Jonathan is a walking wound—charismatic, cruel, and emotionally stunted. You’re not meant to like him, and you won’t. Garfunkel’s Sandy is gentler but no less lost. Both men fumble through relationships, never really seeing the women in front of them.

The film knows its men are objectifying, but it still treats women as mirrors—reflections of male desire, frustration, and ego. While it critiques the male gaze, it doesn’t entirely escape it. The women are emotionally sidelined, and the film isn’t especially interested in what they feel, only in what they represent to the men.

The minimalist style—long, quiet takes and sparse settings—heightens the emotional detachment. It often feels like a stage play, which can be both captivating and draining. Nothing is glamorised; everything is raw, awkward, and painfully human. Carnal Knowledge doesn’t follow a traditional story arc—it drifts across decades, showing the slow decay of intimacy and ideals. It’s a tough, sometimes hypnotic watch, more about absence than resolution.

Run Lola Run is a kinetic sugar rush of split-second choices and butterfly effects, blasted in pure late-’90s style. Think The Fifth Element meets Trainspotting with a dash of Sliding Doors—Berlin turned into a looping music video of fate, chance, and chaos. Franka Potente tears through the frame like a punk missile, and Tom Tykwer keeps the whole thing humming with breathless flair.

But watch it now, and the cracks show. All that once-groundbreaking editing? Feels like flashy gimmickry. The big existential questions? More philosophy 101 than profound. It’s stylish as hell, sure—but once the adrenaline wears off, there’s not much meat on the bones.

A fascinating time capsule of German angst and rave-era aesthetics—still fun, but less deep than it thinks.

John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum is pure entertainment—gloriously over-the-top, brutally elegant, and outrageously fun. The action barely takes a breath—it’s wall-to-wall mayhem and somehow slicker than ever. The characters are more memorable this time around, helped by pitch-perfect casting across the board. It’s like the series knows where it went a bit daft before and now leans into it with a grin. Stylish, self-aware, and wildly enjoyable. An action masterclass with real swagger.