The Hunger Games, Mockingjay Part 1 review: Selling a revolution

As one of the most anticipated films of the year, the third installment in the unstoppable Hunger Games franchise packs a sharper and more intelligent punch than its predecessors, but suffers from the anticipation of the series's climax. While this self-aware media satire spends too long marketing a revolution that never really takes place, a typically indomitable performance from Jennifer Lawrence and some superb supporting roles help make Mockingjay Part 1 a solid entry in the biggest series around.

The Hunger Games has been driven underground, and the grey coldness of District 13 reflects on the film itself; this a darker and more tense picture far from the colour soaked cornucopias of old. Despite its setting in a dystopian future America, the film plays to relevant themes of the power of the media and advertising in its depiction of a revolution about to explode; much of the movie deals with the propaganda sparring between the rebels and the authoritarian Capitol. It's no exaggeration to say that the signature mockingjay pin has become an icon in pop culture, and director Francis Lawrence exploits this to the full by placing a sharp focus on the rebels' attempts to use the symbol to drum up support for their cause. It's a smart choice that's both aware of the current political climate and also aware of itself; that the rebel's propaganda videos share the look and tone of the film's trailer is no gimmick; the film is all the more authentic for such subtle touches. Lawrence is outstanding in a role of contradictions she's honed to perfection over her two years of playing Katniss, both unapproachably prickly and at times deeply moving. Her deliberate woodenness as she's coerced into starring in revolutionary propaganda clad in a Joan of Arc breastplate is a joy to behold and one of the film's best moments. As Effie Trinket squeals,"They'll either want to kill you, kiss you or be you".

Elizabeth Bank's wonderfully comic Effie is just one of several stellar supporting performances, with Woody Harrelson playing a more compassionate, if underused Haymitch and Donald Sutherland as the delightfully evil President Snow. The undisputed star of the supporting case though is the late Philip Seymour Hoffman as ex-gamesmaker Plutarch Heavensbee, a wonderful performance of deft mannerisms and soft wit. Quite how his untimely death will be accounted for in the final film remains to be seen, but he will certainly be missed. It's not all perfect however; fan's won't be pleased with revolutionary leader Coin becoming a lukewarm shadow of her brilliantly detestable role in the novel through the miscasting of  the usually fantastic Julianne Moore. And for all the inventive brilliance of the film's media portrayal, the decision to split the final book into two parts leads to a wildly inconsistent pace that makes a mockery of the movie's tone. The lack of the games themselves also leads to an increased demand for action which is never really satisfied; a few dramatic set pieces don't quite managed to fill the gap. While the two-film structure allows for a tremendous level of detail, it does nothing for the entertainment value of Part 1; too often it feels like a mere build up to next year's Part 2.

It's pace may stumble and it's all in anticipation of Part 2, but this clever satire, with its high level of detail and excellent cast performances, is a worthy third effort in The Hunger Games franchise.

7/10

The Imitation Game review: A moral enigma

As one of the most uncomfortable moments in recent British history, the life of Alan Turing has long proved a difficult topic for filmmakers. A brilliant Cambridge-educated mathematician, Turing is credited with dramatically shortening the length of the Second World War by deciphering the Enigma Code, the apparently unbreakable cipher used by the Germans to send vial military messages. However, Turing led a tragic post-war life, eventually driven to suicide by his prosecution for homosexuality by a police force ignorant of the achievements he was forced to keep secret. This new adaption may lack historical accuracy and is at times morally questionable, but it's a superbly watchable portrait of the life of one of the most remarkable and abused minds of the 20th century.  

Benedict Cumberbatch's portrayal of Turning is the driving force of The Imitation Game; there's a sense that not only is he the best actor for the role, but the only actor for it. An utterly narcissistic sociopath, Turing in many ways harks back to Cumberbatch's Sherlock; cocky, cold and calculated but prone to brief moments of warmth and tenderness. A thrilling script allows for moments of sharp comedy between Turing and his commander, Alastair Denniston (Charles Dance), with the mathematician painted as a fish out of water from his very first scenes on a train packed with evacuee children. Fortunately, a crisp approach to the film's chronology involving regular switching between Turing pre, post and during the war helps expose more of his character and prevents him from becoming the stock socially outcast genius, and Kiera Knightley's fellow codebreaker Joan Clarke plays her part in this too. The closeness between the two reveals previously unseen aspects of Turning's character, but Clarke isn't just a tool to further Cumberbatch's performance; Knightley plays her to brazenly funny perfection. Disappointingly the same can't be said for the rest of Turning's colleagues, who come off as dull cutouts, but in the end this is a film about the man himself and the performance behind him. 

However, a desire to enhance the dramatic effect of the quest to break Enigma has led to historical inaccuracies which rather undercut the film's various successes. One noticeable issue is Commander Denniston's unfair presentation as a bureaucratic monster, which seems an exceptionally desperate attempt at creating a villain (Hitler and the Nazis are seen only through occasional images of war-torn battlefields and newsreels). It may be pedantic, but the inaccuracies genuinely lessen the authenticity of the movie as a whole. Worse still is the puzzling lack of focus on Turing's homosexual feelings and relationships, with director Morten Tyldum preferring to devote screen time to the relationship between Turing and Clarke. While this could be argued as reflective of the exceptionally private nature of Turing's life, it's an overly safe move that makes Turing's eventual acknowledgement of his sexuality seem confusing and rather out of character. Tyldum makes another bizarre moral decision in the film's parting moments, his celebration of Turing's Royal Pardon contrasted with only small mention of the 49000 unpardoned gay men convicted of the same offence.

For all its moral moral issues, The Imitation Game is a brilliantly made film, a cautious pace building to giddy heights with the euphoria of the final defeat of Enigma. It's an impressively thrilling, funny and even moving film held together by a sublime performance from Benedict Cumberbatch. 

7/10

The 10 most wonderful films by Studio Ghibli

Since its conception almost 30 years ago, Studio Ghibli has taken on iconic status across the globe both for its profound anime masterpieces and the legends surrounding its visionary director Hayo Miyazaki. But with Miyazaki's retirement and the studio's recent announcement of a temporary halt in production, there's not been much for Ghibli fans to smile about since the release of The Wind Rises back in May. Bearing that in mind, here's my take on the 10 most wonderful films by Studio Ghibli. 

                                                      10. Porco Rosso (1992)
Telling the story of a famed fighter pilot turned bounty hunter, Porco Rosso certainly doesn't sound like traditional Ghibli fodder. Then comes Miyazaki's twist: a curse has transformed Porco into an anthropomorphic pig. Making intelligent use of the culture and politics of its interwar setting, the film is a brilliantly entertaining yarn, but also uses its bizarre premise to make genuine, touching observations on the human condition.

9. Whisper of the Heart (1995)

Ghibli's most perfect love story, Whisper of the Heart is a charming account of growing up told through the eyes of a 14-year old. Rather than overplaying the usual fantasy and mysticism, the film revels in its own (comparative) normality; Shizuku Tsukishima is an ordinary girl with a love of reading, a disapproving family and a crush on a boy who's moving away. It's perhaps the studio's most relatable movie, and a heartfelt plea to pursue your dreams rather than settle for the ordinary. 

8. The Wind Rises (2013)
For the emotional farewell to studio founder Hayo Miyazaki, the biopic of the inventor of the Mitsubishi "Zero Fighter" initially seemed a strange choice of subject matter. However, Jiro Horikoshi's increasing despair as the planes inspired by his love of exploration become tools for slaughter is a perfect canvas for Miyazaki. Returning once again to themes of nature versus industry, scenes of the blissful Japanese countryside are wickedly contrasted with the war's destruction to make the conflict all the more moving. 

7. Howl's Moving Castle (2004)
When the young Sophie is aged seventy years by an evil witch, she finds the legendary walking castle owned by Howl, the only wizard capable of returning her to youth. Making use of improved animation technology without abandoning Ghibli's hand-drawn roots, the film features some of the studio's most jaw-dropping art-particularly impressive is the moving castle itself; a colossal hulk of wheezing iron and escaping steam. Drawing inspiration from The Lord of the Rings, Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz, Howl is a rambling, expansive exploration in high fantasy. 


6. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Produced before Ghibli was even founded (but included in this list because the team behind it went on to found the studio), Nausicaä is remarkable in that it shares all of the morality, artistic vision and sheer beauty of the films Ghibli would go on to produce. Its story weaves the peaceful folk of The Valley of the Wind and their princess Nausicaä with an industrialized kingdom attempting to destroy a jungle of mutant insects; a thematically complex affair reflecting Miyazaki's already passionate environmental beliefs. As always with Ghibli films it's full of fantastic characters, but it's the sympathetic portrayal of the victimized insect Ohmu that stays longest in the mind. A startling intelligent anime, Nausicaä remains a gloriously thrilling picture while preaching its far-reaching messages. 

5. My Neighbor Totoro (1988)
The most wonderfully innocent of all Ghibli films (and perhaps films full stop), My Neighbor Totoro follows two young girls whose mother is recovering from a long-term illness. Lonely and confused, the pair's outdoor exploration leads them to discover the magical creatures living in the forest near their house led by Totoro, the spirit of the forest who appears in the form of an enormous rabbit-like animal. Fear turns quickly to joy as Totoro helps the girls overcome their sadness (the film is at times startlingly reflective and poignant) and rekindle their scattered relationships with their parents, all told through strangely comforting art and music. A film of indescribable beauty and perfection, Totoro launched Ghibli's name and has served as the studio's logo and mascot ever since. 


4. Castle in the Sky (1986)
Borrowing heavily from Gulliver's Travels, Castle in the Sky is a hugely funny and tremendously entertaining movie. Bringing together a girl, a boy, a magical amulet, a floating city, a sinister government and a host of undeniably likable and hilarious characters, the film has all the elements of the perfect fantasy blockbuster, and uses them to the full. Filled with spine tingling set pieces and explosive action sequences, you'd be forgiven for assuming that Ghibli's traditional beliefs were left at the roadside on this one, but that's not the case at all. In fact, Castle in the Sky is arguably superior to most Ghibli films in its presentation of the struggle between man and the environment in that it portrays technology and nature working in cohesion, nature stimulating invention while machines help to sustain the natural environment. And, for my money, its music (particularly its theme) is the best in any Ghibli film. 

3. Grave of the Fireflies (1988)
And now for something completely different. Grave of the Fireflies is a shockingly intense, utterly horrifying war film and is about as far from the usual Ghibli movie (and the usual war film) as it's possible to be. Rather than following the heroics of soldiers on the front line, the film presents a startling account of the lives of two Japanese children forced to cope with the loss of their parents, the threat of bombing raids and a constant battle with starvation during the final years of the Second World War. The usual Ghibli charm is totally absent here, it's a dark, brutally realistic portrait of the horrors of human conflict, but the studio's usual quality of animation, writing and direction makes it all the more powerful and frightening. For all Ghibli's belief in environmental sustainability this is by far their most meaningful film, the passion and faith of its anti-war message reflected in the terrifying changes hardship evokes in its characters. Moving to the point of tear-jerking, Grave of the Fireflies was a game-changing movie not just for Ghibli but for anime as a whole, giving animators the permission to explore topics far beyond their usual realms of gods, monsters and dystopian futures. Harrowing. 

2. Spirited Away (2001) 

Much like Lewis Carroll's novel, Hayo Miyazaki's take on Alice in Wonderland is a bizarre, spiritual and utterly gorgeous work of genius. When her parents are transformed into pigs in an apparently uninhabited theme park, ten-year old Chihiro delves into a ludicrous, regularly disturbing spirit world as she attempts to win them back. Miyazaki's phenomenal creativity is at its very best in the creation of a beautifully varied cast of characters, and artistically Spirited Away feels like a culmination of all Ghibli's work; each frame an explosion of colour and a masterclass in artistic craftsmanship. The art isn't just for aesthetic value either; the simplicity of the appearance of the spirit No Face makes him all the more scary by comparison to more detailed, elaborate creatures. It's a truly frightening film at times too, although the fearful tone is carefully lifted as the movie goes on as Chihiro becomes more and more at home in her new world. It's not as pushy in its messages as some, but this only furthers the fairytale atmosphere of the piece; this is art for art, not for politics. Deserved winner of the Oscar for best animated feature, Spirited Away is an exquisite film that truly justifies Miyazaki's status as a visionary. 

1. Princess Mononoke (1997)
For me, Princess Mononoke encapsulates everything Studio Ghibli films are about. There's an epic, hugely ambitious storyline of demons, gods and warriors. There's magnificent, perfectly drawn and painted artwork.. And there's a frank message on the harsh realities of environmental destruction. The film studies religion, the ruination of ancient culture and humanity's relationship with the animal kingdom (the titular princess was, rather wonderfully, raised by wolves) , but its moral values are only part of the picture. Princess Mononoke is a deliciously enjoyable tale of epic fantasy full of intense violence juxtaposed with natural imagery, and it's also technologically inventive and at times exceptionally witty. Described as "The Star Wars of anime", the film takes existing archetypes and themes and employs them to create the perfect hero tale without every seeming cliched. Intelligent, fast paced and thrilling, Princess Monokoke tells us almost as much about the futility of war as Grave of the Fireflies does, but remains a fiercely entertaining film. Like so many on this list, Princess Mononoke is a true masterpiece.  Not content to be one of the best anime movies around, it's up there among the greatest films ever made. 

Mr Turner review: Brilliant brushstrokes from Timothy Spall

Like the character of JMW Turner, Mike Leigh's biopic of Britain's favorite artist is a painting of contradictions. Leigh presents an unglamorized view of Turner's later years; the awesome splendor of his landscapes repeatedly brought down to earth by the mundane reality of his own life. Rather than making for dull viewing, Turner's simplicity brings us to the realization that such an apparently ordinary, if eccentric man was responsible for colossal artistic achievements, an idea which reflects the visionary nature of the film as much as it reflects on Turner himself.


Timothy Spall plays Turner in a role likely to define his career (discounting the unhappy inevitability of being remembered largely for his performances in the Harry Potter series). Spall produces a small miracle of character acting, simultaneously tender in his deep love for his father (a touching performance by Paul Jesson) and callous in his neglection of his own daughters, vain in his desire for the success of his work and his hurt at its dismissal by a young Queen Victoria ("a dirty yellow mess") yet accepting and even happy in his close relationship with his second mistress Sophia Booth. A lesser actor might have palled at the complexity of the figure but Spall is in his element, each joyfully Victorian line delivered with knowing confidence and a subtle gruffness concealing deeper emotions. He may have spent two years learning to paint for the role, but it's Spall's sublime performance that truly makes the film, whether he's lashed to a ship's mast in an effort to understand the atmosphere of a storm or frequenting brothels for inspiration.

On the subject of painting, the brilliance of Turner's art is not overlooked despite the focus on the portrayal of his everyday life. Taking Turner's last words "the sun is god" to heart, Leigh and cinematographer Dick Pope create vibrant cinematic visions of the England that inspired Turner's work, each bedecked in gorgeous colour and light. To see the iconic Fighting Temeraire restored to glorious reality through masterful use of technology is a particularly spine-tingling moment, as is the instant of inspiration for his Great Western Railway. Alienation becomes a theme as Turner's world is rapidly overtaken by industry (steam engines, cameras), but there's a nagging sense that he was always a man apart, unable to connect with virtually anyone except his father. Leigh highlights this through Turner's emotionless sexual exploitation of his first mistress Hannah Danby, a woman tragic in her love for the painter despite his treatment of her. Returning to the painting, I was disappointed with the lack of focus on the development and reactions to Turner's individual masterpieces, particularly The Fighting Temeraire, which are somewhat glossed over. Although the portrayal of Turner's ordinary life serves the picture well, a little more screen time for the art itself would have improved the balance, and it's particularly noticeable in a film well over two hours long.

Despite its dark revelations of character, this is a wonderfully funny film full of comic moments. From Turner's mockery of establishment artists such as John Constable by "ruining" a storm painting with a single drop of red paint before turning it into a buoy, to his spying on prospective art buyers through a peephole, Spall proves himself a master of comic delivery and timing. However, Leigh does appear to overstretch the comedy in his portrayal of art critic John Ruskin as simpering twerp, especially considering the huge role Ruskin played in preserving the memory of Turner's art after his death. But for all my minor gripes, Leigh's film is a near perfect vision of Turner's life, stoically refusing to pretentiously glamorize but remaining witty and deliciously entertaining. And as Hannah Danby weeps for her lost, unrequited love in the film's final shot, we are reminded that for all his artistic genius Turner's story was a brilliantly human one.

9/10

Taylor Swift, 1989 review: So long country roads

Change. Having spent ten years as the poster girl for the American country scene, Taylor Swift's reinvention has been a long time coming. 1989 may sound like a 24-year step backwards, but the confidence that drives its addictive synth tunes and stadium choruses marks a sonic revolution for a singer famed for twangy guitars and angst-ridden lyrics. A sharp, inventive pop album, 1989 is a far cry from Swift's Pennsylvanian roots and is without a doubt her boldest record to date.


If 2012's Red was a transition between Swift's traditional songwriting and full-blown pop, 1989 is the final nail in the coffin of the country roads and pickup trucks of old. The dynamic shift in style is apparent even from the album's first few seconds (Welcome To New York's pitch perfect keyboard could have opened any track by Blondie or Simple Minds), but it doesn't end there. 1989 delivers warm, electronic beats complemented by moreish melodies and enormous, undeniable choruses unheard on any previous song, and there's barely a hint of acoustic guitar at any point on the record. While such radical advancements could easily alienate Swift's core fanbase, the quality of anthems such as Shake It Off should be enough to silence any lingering doubts over the new sound. After all, if it's going to be pop, it might as well be great pop.

Lead single Shake It Off's sass and bile in its tirade against the "haters" is a perfect showcase of the expansion in lyrical themes found on 1989. Whereas Red gained notoriety for targeted attacks on Swift's ex-boyfriends, the new album covers a wider range of topics including escape and rebirth, while Welcome To New York offers a thrilling landscape of the city that never sleeps. Love is discussed of course, but it's approached in a more mature, perceptive way than past efforts. There's little of Red's lyrical arrogance on display here, but a more cautious outlook occasionally gives way to over-sentimentality. It's most obvious on tracks at the back end of the album such as This Love, whose mawkish "this love is good, this love is bad" refrain smacks of cringeworthy cliche. As with past records, the pacing sags and the songs struggle to maintain their quality towards the ending, although it's less noticeable than on Red due to the album's comparative shortness. It's not a major complaint, but it's unfortunate that the energy of 1989's best songs are once again let down by a couple of failures late in the day. It's also worth noting that, for all Shake It Off's excellence, there's no single here as unarguably perfect as I Knew You Were Trouble.

While much of 1989 has the sound of late 80's pop-rock, the fact that's Swift's reinvention is based upon old themes rather than genuinely new exploration does little to undermine the album's success. Swift treats the decade with a loving reverence which allows her to add her own flair to well-worn elements without making a mockery of either, and as such the album truly sounds like her own record and not a half backed 80's rip off. More than past albums on which Swift felt the pressure to appease her country-loving fans, on 1989 she's chosen the influences she likes and written the music she wants to. As such, it's perhaps her purest piece of work.

While it suffers from issues seemingly inevitable on Taylor Swift albums, 1989 marks a valiant musical shift and is loaded with sublime pop confection. Quietly intelligent but brazenly confident, it's a change to be welcomed, even if it does spell the end for Nashville twang.

8/10

World Peace Is None Of Your Business review: Morrissey's outspoken comeback

Ever since the dissolution of the iconic Smiths, the career of their legendary frontman Morrissey has been one of ups and downs. It's taken him through undisputed genius (1994's Vauxhall and I) to flat lifelessness (1991's Kill Uncle) and everything inbetween, and now, five years after his last outing, a tenth solo record is on the brink of release. Despite its name, World Peace Is None Of Your Business goes beyond a predictable stab at a political statement; it's an intelligent, soulful album which showcases Morrissey at his most life-affirming and essential.

Now well into the third decade of his career, it would have been all too easy for Morrissey to record an album as a homage to his past rather than a vision of the future, but World Peace... is quite the opposite. Indeed, there's an impressive level of variety and experimentation on display as the singer explores a wide range of instrumentation and technique. From the staccato guitar assault of Neal Cassady Drops Dead to the funk elements of Istanbul, this is perhaps Morrissey's most musically ambitious and widely influenced solo record to date. However, themes honed to perfection since the days of The Smiths remain unchanged and overused, most notably the disturbing juxtaposition of black-hearted lyrics and sugar-sweet melody. While fresh and innovative on its early uses in The Smith's 1986 masterpiece The Queen Is Dead, this frequently copied technique now feels too much like an uncle showing off the photos of his college years; unobjectionable, yet ultimately dated and irrelevant. Despite this, the lyrics/music contrast is still superbly executed, most brilliantly on I'm Not a Man, a bitingly personal portrait of domestic violence in which Morrissey recalls a "picturesque wife beater."

On the subject of lyrics, the genius wordsmith behind the likes of There is a Light That Never Goes Out, First of the Gang to Die and Boxers is on fine form thirty years after his words were first heard on The Smith's debut album. World Peace... is not as brazenly political as its name would have you believe; despite its opening track blaring the slogan "each time you vote you support the process" its lyrics are actually remarkably varied and rich.  I'm Not a Man is among the most focussed and complete efforts, but memorable moments are rife elsewhere, such as on Neal Cassady Drops Dead's study of infectious diseases "everyone has babies, babies full of rabies, rabies full of scabies". It's unfortunate that Morrissey appears to be straining on later tracks; Kiss Me a Lot is as gut-wrenching mawkish as a teenage romantic novel, and Smiler With Knife also lacks the quality of the album's first half. These low points cause an inconsistent pace and feel like they simply shouldn't be there, and on an album that's lengthy anyway little would have been lost by removing them.

While It's not without its blips and predictabilities, World Peace... remains a stellar entry in Morrissey's extensive back catalogue. It's outspoken, explorative and at times deeply humorous, and is without a doubt one of the best comebacks of the year so far.

7/10

Notes on The Sun

I'm not going to post a long critique of the Murdoch empire, but shoving this pro-nationalist nonsense down the throats (and through the letterboxes) of twenty two million people is a step too far. Also note the presence  of scantily clad models on page 3, "perverse ogling" is clearly one of the traditional British values The Sun is doing us such a great service by promoting. I set fire to my copy, and I'd urge anyone who even remotely shares my views to do the same, or still better send it back. The idea of The Sun's office being inundated with their own returned newspapers in a Hogwarts acceptance letter-esque manner fills me with a certain kind of joy.

Glastonbury 2014: Should Metallica face the axe?

It's been a turbulent month for Glastonbury festival organiser Michael Eavis. Having been bombarded with criticism for the booking of ageing American rockers Metallica as headliners, he's now facing fresh controversy with the news that singer James Hetfield is set to narrate The Hunt, an 8-part TV series documenting the killing of Kodiak bears in Alaska. With the concept of big game hunting being completely at odds with the political ideals of the festival, is it time for Eavis to act?

The news of Hetfield's narration role has sent shockwaves through the musical community, as Metallica now not only musically contrasts the traditional hippy image of Glastonbury, but is also juxtaposed in ideals. As a well known supporter of groups promoting animal rights such as Greenpeace, Glastonbury seems the festival least suited to a Metallica performance. Surely Eavis, a political activist and animal rights campaigner himself, can't condone a group which promotes the senseless slaughter of endangered species. Bear in mind, this is not a programme about killing for food or survival. This is murder for the sake of entertainment.

But let's give the band a fair trial. Although Hetfield's actions appear unforgivable, what of the rest of the group? Certainly, the other three members of the band have never shown the slightest interest in hunting, so banning the band from the festival would likely be punishment overkill. Then there's the practical issues with axing the band to contend with; Eavis would need a replacement headliner with the festival less than a month away, and last-minute ticket resales would have to be organised for those disappointed to miss the band. It's unfortunate that the brave move to book the festival's first ever heavy metal headliner has been so disastrous for Eavis and co, as they spectacularly pulled off their first headline rap performance with Jay-Z in 2008. Despite been one of the best live acts around, it seems unlikely that anything but a career-defining performance will make up for the storm of controversy the booking of Metallica has caused.

Perhaps Hetfield has underestimated the political stance of the festival he's set to front, but his actions seem undeserved of a total ban despite a 25,000 strong petition to drop his band from the lineup. An apology would likely be sufficient, but Metallica should stand as a warning to future performers: Glastonbury is a national institution, and not one you should cross.

Are books doomed: the rise of the Kindle

There's something about books, isn't there? The unforgettable crackling of the turn of a page, the feeling of a finger tracing the spine, that smell of must and epiphany which still haunts a novel years after publication (in the words of Buffy the Vampire Slayer's Rupert Giles, "learning should be smelly"). We've always known that there's more to the experience of reading than mere words; the book itself has power to conjure feelings beyond even those held by the text inside. And yet, figures released today suggest that sales of e-books will outweigh those of printed text by the year 2018 as we turn to our iPads and Kindles for our reading. This is a startling idea; the page has forever been our source for reading; so is it really possible that book readers will eventually become a minority?

Despite my book-loving nature, I don't find it difficult to understand why people are attracted to the e-book. Certainly, from a practical perspective they outclass physical books by some distance, as thousands of virtual pages can be transported without any increase in weight. But surely not everyone buys e-books to travel, so why else has the switch to the screen been so dramatic? Perhaps in our tech-dominated society, "newer" has simply become synonymous with "better, encouraging us to invest more the concept. The superb marketing of the products must also be a factor; TV viewing figures would suggest that people are more impacted by advertising than they've ever been before. Then there's the wonderful idea that only you have to know what you're reading, as no one can scoff at you for starting the Harry Potter series now or for reading 50 Shades of Grey (perhaps the novel which can take the most blame for the rise of e-books) if the cover is replaced by a plastic casing.

But, as I mentioned before, there's something about books. The first time I wanted to read The Lord of the Rings, my dad, with a stately reverence worthy of the crown jewels, handed me a dusty collected volume his father had gifted him as a boy. The book demanded respect; Gandalf stared defiantly out of the cover; the pages were yellowing and dog-eared with use and it smelled like the sixties were still swinging on unabated. I'm looking that that book now, and it holds memories not only of the discovery of the beautiful land of Middle Earth, but also of other events in my life which occurred while I was reading it. Now, I ask you, can an iPad capture feelings in the same way? Can a Kindle harbour such nostalgia? I hardly think so.

As I've already stated, reading isn't just about the words, and e-book buyers only receive half the experience. Books, for all their practical imperfections, will remain as essential as the act of reading itself, and the page will never truly be replaced, because we and they simply have too much history together. After all, who could trade the subtle happiness of the feeling of pages and the smell of books for the cold plastic of a Kindle? Not I.

Donker Mag review: A dismal third outing for Die Antwoord

It's been six years since the rap-rave trio Die Antwoord exploded out of South Africa with the release of their phenomenal debut album $O$. Since then, they've gained a reputation for stunning audiences across the globe with music that combines effortless catchiness with a passion for experimentation, and in doing so the group have created a style truly worthy of the word unique. They've flirted with controversy, amassed a loyal cult fanbase and smashed festivals all over the word with a powerful live show, and now Donker Mag, their third album, has finally been released. But was it worth the wait?

Having heard the two pre-released singles, Cookie Thumper and Pitbull Terrier, you'd be forgiven for imagining Donker Mag to exist as some kind of musical holy grail, such was the brilliance of that musical duo. However, it's instantly clear that the rest of the album completely fails to match the quality of its singles. This is most apparent on the first half of the album, which features almost none of the grabby electro hooks which dominated previous efforts, and while the second half picks up the pace, it never quite reaches the same highs. An irritating reliance on short, spoken word tracks also forces the record into a disjointed, forced state, making the piece sound more like a ramshackle collection of beats than a serious album. It's a real shame that there's so much filler, because when Donker Mag is good, it's absolutely incredible (see Cookie Thumper, Pitbull Terrier and Sex). That Die Antwoord made such little effort in songwriting is a huge source of disappointment, because some fantastic yet rare moments suggest that the record could have been a modern classic. Lyrically, Donker Mag sticks to the form of the music: crass, predictable and unpleasant. The lack of imagination in the vast majority of the lyrics is hard to believe, and a ridiculous over-reliance on swearing only numbs the use of the words and makes the group appear childish. Occasional racial slurs are also pointless and slightly embarrassing, while the massive sexualisation of singer Yo-Landi simply furthers the impression that the trio are sexist, racist and promoters of discrimination. Of course, Die Antwoord still sound like nothing else on earth; those scathing beats and angry vocals are still the cutting edge of modern music. But aside from a decline in the strength of the songs, Donker Mag sounds almost identical to the band's two previous albums, a lack of evolution totally out of character with a group so musically dynamic and diverse.

Die Antwoord may claim to possess a sound that is completely their own, but Donker Mag shows that it's no good having a unique style if you can't accomplish the more basic achievement of writing good songs. It's not without its moments, but this record lacks ambition, creativity and innovation, and revolves around an overused style the group have had nailed since their debut album. It's no exaggeration to say that Donker Mag could be the most disappointing album of 2014.

4/10

The Star Spangled Banner: at least it's better than God Save The Queen

I’ve been listening to The Star Spangled Banner recently, largely because I’ve finally realised that the lovely tune featured at least once in every American blockbuster is in fact the national anthem of the United States (and because of its use on the My Chemical Romance song Goodnight Dr Death, in which that wonderful, building ending is replaced by a startling interrupted cadence. Yes, I’ve been revising for my music GCSE too). I’ve never been a patriot, but for all my well honed cynicism The Star Spangled Banner makes me want to rise from my seat, cast aside my revision notes and sing to the heavens in a passionately tuneless voice, God bless America.  Every time I hear it, I’m struck to the bone by a sudden epiphany and I truly understand why every American seems so proud of the country.  And yet, I’m from England. I’ve never even visited the states.

So what culture-connecting power does the American anthem have to inspire me to such an extent? The sheer quality of music is one thing; The Star Spangled Banner is just under two minutes of nationalistic oral bliss with potentially racist undertones. More important however is the dismal, dreary halo surrounding my own nation’s anthem, currently entitled God Save The Queen (until good old Queen Liz decides to snuff it and pass the title on to Prince Charles, perhaps the only person in the country who’d be less competent as head of state than the Queen herself. At least she behaves).  Not only does God Save The Queen lack the booming, stately aurora of The Star Spangled Banner, its “born to reign over us” tag rings hollow in a time where the monarchy has been cheapened by the media and inevitably become irrelevant.

Perhaps it’s the simple fact that music holds more power over the human mind than the confines of a country that makes me prefer the American national anthem to our own, as the Yanks clearly have the edge on the songwriting front. Maybe it’s my age old hatred for the monarchy which has disillusioned me with God Save The Queen. In any case, the chances of changing our anthem to something more interesting are about as remote as Nick Clegg’s Liberal Democrats winning a landslide majority in the general election next year, so I’ll just stick to foreign imports for my nationalism fix until the revolution comes.

X-Men, Days of Future Past review: A Superheroic Symphony of Entertainment

Seven titles into the series (Wolverine films included), it's fair to say Marvel have been milking the X-Men cash cow with alarming vigour over the past decade. But while it's easy to dismiss the franchise as a gold plated horse flogged to within a bare inch of its life, it's an unfair suggestion when this latest instalment is such a brilliantly entertaining picture. It's not without its inevitable flaws, but Days of Future Past is a superhero movie of the highest calibre, explosive with great performances, thrilling set pieces and sharp humour, which stands head and shoulders above the flatter tones of Marvel's Spidermen and Captain Americas. 

As the last remnants of the mutant group known as the X-Men face destruction at the hands of the robotic Sentinels, Professor X (Patrick Stewart) launches an audacious plan to save the team. By sending Wolverine (Hugh Jackman on steroids) back to the 70's to prevent the epoch of their opponents, the group aims to prevent the war between humans and mutants from ever beginning. Taken directly from the comic book series, the plot, with its themes of paradox and the manipulation of time, is far from original. It's a shame that the story and its structure mark one of the few atmospheric collapses in the movie, as a superb, frantic opening half hour result in a more stuttering and scrambled pace throughout. Even for a Marvel film, the plot tests the limits of plausibility, and is at times simply too dumbed down and predictable to be taken seriously. Fortunately, a $200 million budget allows for a cast that can truly be called all-star, with the likes of Jennifer Lawrence, Ellen Page and Ian McKellen reprising their roles. These characters becomes a major factor in holding the shaky storyline together, with screen time split between present and past to allow for an expanded and increasingly charismatic set of characters. Jackman is excellent as the grizzled Wolverine, but it’s the chemistry between James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender, who portray the young Professor X and Magneto respectively, which largely steals the show. The power struggle between this pair of geniuses comes to dominate the midsection of the film, and proves far more memorable than the myriad of special effects and set pieces thrown in to keep the action flowing. On the subject of effects, the mega-budget technology does help to create some of the finest sequences the picture has to offer, including a breathtaking slow-motion scene shot in 3,600 fps featuring the underused Quicksilver (Evan Peters) and the blitzing action opening. Jennifer Lawrence also excels as Mystique, a role she plays with such wit and vision that you can’t help but wonder if an origins film could be on Marvel’s cards in the near future. As always with a cast on this scale, there’s huge potential wasted with the lack of use for the supporting characters, but the leads are so compelling that this is more of a gripe than a serious problem with the film.

Despite an inconsistent pace, where Days of Future Past truly succeeds is in its masterful grasp of what superhero films are all about: entertainment value. The film’s action sequences are, it must be said, some of the most thrilling in recent memory. Powered by the experience of X-Men master director Bryan Singer, these sections are more incendiary than ever, and mark some of the best moments in the film. The need for emotional development is realised too, and better still it’s smartly executed and devoid of the usual superhero sentimentality which has so devalued the genre from a critical perspective. Singer creates a tectonic whirlwind of a crescendo as the film reaches its peak, culminating in a heart-thumping ending and a satisfying conclusion. Despite the lack of the classic supervillain, this more intelligent and politically aware effort feels like a step in the right direction for an evolving studio. It’s a wonder that Marvel, with its access to resources others can scarcely dream of, fails to hit this winning formula of entertainment and awareness with all of their films.  

Days of Future Past is surely the finest X-Men outing to date, an edge-of-the-seat trailblazer of a movie packed with jaw-dropping moments and exceptional cast performances. Its small failures in plot and pacing are more than made up for by a symphony of entertainment rarely evoked by even the strongest of Marvel’s superheroic pedigree.

7/10

 

The Wind Rises review: A fitting finale for animation's greatest visionary

Goodbyes are never easy. For legendary establishment in Japanese animation Studio Ghibli, The Wind Rises represents the loss of Hayo Miyazaki, one of the most visionary directors of all time and co-founder of the studio, as he retires after 35 years at the forefront of animation. For everyone else, Miyazaki's retirement begs the question of how Ghibli will continue to produce pictures of equal innovation and intelligence, after the loss of the mind which created the beautiful My Neighbour Totoro, the awe-inspiring Princess Mononoke and the Oscar winning Spirited Away. But while we wait for this question to be answered, there's Miyazaki's swansong to enjoy in The Wind Rises, a film every bit as intelligent, compelling and powerful as the finest of his vast pedigree of work.

The Wind Rises is, in many ways, a departure from the usual structure of a Ghibli film, primarily in its biographical nature. The film follows the life of Jiro Horikoshi, a brilliant and pacifistic aeronautical engineer responsible for the creation of  the Mitsubishi Zero Fighter, an aircraft used to deadly effect in the Second World War. Through this close study of a single character, Horikoshi becomes one of the most detailed figures in Ghibli history, as the mental conflict between his own love of aircraft and a frustration at the use of his creations for slaughter is portrayed to great effect in character development. His close relationship with his wife Naoko receives equal exploration, buliding a tragic emotional connection between the couple. The cast of supporting characters puts the studio on more familiar territory, almost to the point of homage, with a number of faces being remarkably similar to past Ghibli favourites. These references don't end at the characters either; there are a number of subtle references to Miyazaki's past work throughout the film; my favourite being an image of a distant blaze which appears as a near-identical shot in the 1984 classic Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind; albeit with the fires replace by hundreds of giant insects known as the Ohm. Fortunately, past references don't push the film too deep into Ghibli history, as in fact the animation here is perhaps the studio's best since Spirited Away, with a number of glorious new techniques employed (look out for a phenomenal heat shimmer) in addition to some truly masterful shot selection. It all makes for a fitting to end a career dominated by truly stunning art.

Never one to skimp out on deeper meanings, Miyazaki has outdone himself here. Rather than stick with his usual pro-natural, anti-industrial ideals, more measured and complex ideas has been opted for in The Wind Rises. Instead of starkly juxtaposing natural imagery with human constructions as he has so many times before, Miyazaki blends Horikoshi's aircraft designs with the natural world in order to defend technological innovation and development, a standpoint rarely taken in Ghibli pictures. It's made all the more effective when images of warfare are introduced, as the futility of battle becomes even more shocking when both the carcasses of Horikoshi's planes and the tatters of torn plants and animals lie slain together. It's unfortunate that what really lets the film down is not ambition failing to deliver, but basic filmmaking error. The Wind Rises is, without a doubt, one of the worst edited of all Studio Ghibli films, resulting in an uncharacteristically poorly paced picture featuring an excess of throwaway scenes and characters. An often less than chronological structure also does no favours for a movie in which the events are occasionally left unexplained, rendering it at times difficult to follow.

It's certainly a same that Miyazaki's farewell film is let down by problems which have rarely plagued him before, but these issues don't take too much away from an animation stuffed with poignant meaning and brilliant art. It's not quite the finest of his pictures, but The Wind Rises is still a touching ending to one of the greatest careers in cinematic history.

8/10

A quick note of apology

Hello chaps,
due to my rapidly impending exams and the swiftly imploding state of my brain, I'll be taking a break from Worldwide Reviewer over the next few weeks. They'll perhaps be the occasional post, but this site will largely be quiet. Fear not though, come summer I'll be back with more reviews, and I'm pencilling in a list of my favourite albums of all time too!

Captain America, The Winter Soldier review: All American Average

The multi-billion dollar cinematic universe Marvel Comics had been fashioning since the nineties has seen its fair share of hits and misses. From the brilliance of Joss Whedon’s The Avengers and the superb original Iron Man to the ill-fated Daredevil and Electra, the legendary company has witnessed dozens of its characters rise into superhero Valhalla or tumble into irrelevance. Captain America lies somewhere between the two, which is perhaps still more disappointing than the character being a complete failure on the big screen. While mildly entertaining, what the brothers Russo have created in this sequel is a distinctly uninspired and almost lazy attempt to reignite the career of a character who, in any case, was hardly one of the Marvel elite.

Assuming that everyone has already seen The First Avenger, the film bounds straight back into the chaos-ridden life of Steve Rogers (Chris Evans). Still having trouble readjusting to modern life having been frozen in ice for sixty years, he’s living in Washington DC and working for the ever-shady espionage agency S.H.I.E.L.D.   But when S.H.I.E.L.D is compromised, the all America super-soldier unites with Scarlett Johansson’s Black Widow to expose a deadly conspiracy. The plot is handled in classic Marvel style, blazing through the actual story to leave more screen time to throw the special effects budget at in a series of the usual ludicrously explosive battles. The regular use of these sequences allows for a breakneck, sugar-rush pace which prevents you from asking “just what on earth is going on”, until the film has finished and you’ve got time to think about it. Of course, when really considered the whole picture becomes largely nonsensical, so it’s certainly an impressive achievement of pacing that this rarely becomes apparent during the movie. It’s hardly an authentic filmmaking technique, but it does at least make the scenarios plausible. After all, who’s going to buy into a Marvel film with a plot that actually makes sense?

So far, so average Marvel, but what really prevents The Winter Soldier from being one of the studio’s finer efforts is its character development: there simply isn’t any. Zero effort, cringeworthy or not, is made to flesh out any of the lead characters, creating a substantial disconnection between film and audience. When that’s coupled with a remarkably average script and cast performances which rarely rise above adequate, you’re left with a popcorn-munching indifference towards the fate of the film’s heroes and villains, rendering all efforts at tension and cliffhangers redundant. Speaking of villains raises another huge issue: the movie lacks any particularly compelling or charismatic antagonists. The Winter Soldier advertised so proudly by the tagline is given a shockingly tiny screen time and next to no lines, but that’s not even the principle problem with the figure. Aside from a momentary connection with The First Avenger, the character is brutally undeveloped, to the point that he appears more of a hired gun than the true focus of the movie.  It’s particularly disappointing for Marvel, who’ve always featured the most flamboyant and exciting villains in comics, to create such a dull and misplaced one here.

In fact, apart from being for the most part inferior, the only thing that distances The Winter Soldier from its counterparts is in its vain effort to produce a topical and intelligent subplot. Its themes of governmental spying and lack of privacy could not be more relevant with the US government’s embarrassment at the hands of Edward Snowden still at the forefront of international concerns, but this effort at politically infusing the film with a message about how much control governments should have over the lives of citizens is never fully explored, and it’s constantly reversed by the rest of the movie’s thorough lack of intelligence.

For a studio which has produced some truly standout efforts on their quest in create a big screen world as rich and interdependent as the comics, The Winter Soldier is an impressively average movie. With meagre lead performances, an exceptionally dismal storyline and fewer than average links to the other Marvel movies, this unremarkable picture is destined to reside in supermarket offers sections rather than the annals of superhero-lore.

4/10

Fargo (TV series) review: A remarkable reincarnation

Tuning into Channel 4 on Sunday evening, you might have been inclined to believe that a re-run of the 1996 classic Fargo was being shown rather than a new, high budget drama of the same name. "This is a true story", boomed the opening title card, just as it did nigh on 20 years ago in the Coen Brother's masterpiece, and indeed, Steve Buscemi, who played shifty kidnapper Carl in the film, could easily have been driving that car which crawled down a snow-drenched highway in the programme's opening shot. And while it's clear throughout this seventy minute pilot episode that homage has been paid to the movie at almost every opportunity, Fargo is by no means a copy. In fact, it's a witty, dark and intelligent piece of television which fits in perfectly with the superb first wave of post-Breaking Bad US dramas.

Altering only the year of events from the film's lonely Minnesota setting, Fargo's narrative is, in style, much the same as the original. Martin Freeman plays insurance salesman Lester Nygaard, a character almost comically alike to William H Macy's Larry all the way down to a perfectly nailed accent. Despite the similarities, Freeman's casting is a stroke of genius; the timid and tentative persona we saw so many times in the early days of Sherlock making for a sublime character development as Nygaard is pushed to the edge of sanity by a life of being bullied and undermined. His performance is complimented by that of Billy Bob Thornton, who plays the second lead role of sadistic killer Lorne Malvo. Although comparable to Peter Stormare's cold psychotic Gaear in the Coen's movie, Malvo becomes a far more interesting character even by the end of this episode, evolving into a far darker personality than a mere hired gun cliché. He perhaps represents a merging together of the two kidnappers portrayed in the film; Buscemi's articulate nature combined with Stormare's cold blooded brutality combining to form a more complete figure than ether. As for the side of the law, there's no replacing Frances McDormand's Oscar winning portraying of small town and heavily pregnant cop Marge, but Allison Tolman makes an admirable job of stepping into her shoes as the near-identical Molly. Despite the obvious and inevitable links between the characterisation of film and programme, it's likely that with another nine episodes and with such strong writing most of the cast will become individuals in their own right, as Freeman and Thornton already have.

As the original was, the episode is brilliantly scripted, paying exquisite attention to creating believable dialogue between the characters while also keeping the pace flowing and entertaining, and of course it's not without the usual twists and turns along the way. Indeed, even if you're familiar with the style employed here, these moments of sudden madness remain shocking, an effect only partially augmented by their frankly alarming level of gratuitous gore. The direction is perhaps a little more focussed on the programme's brutal violence than the more subtle Coens were, you'll notice the camera lingering a little too long over its casualties, which creates the unfortunate impression of mere pulp fiction. Fans of the film will be happy to note the lack of repetition of the movie, but in addition to the underlying recurring style in setting, characters and music, there are a number of "easter eggs" for Coen connoisseurs. While these hints are typically subtle and neatly implemented, there's one clumsy scene which so blatantly mirrors the famous moment where Buscemi and  Stormare are pulled over by a police officer on an endless snowy road as to be unfortunately predictable in its take on "what would have happened if the officer had just walked away". Still, it does at least serve to highlight the differences between Thornton's Malvo and the movie's incompetent criminal duo.

Fargo is a stellar effort, updating the Coen's brilliant picture to the present day with a new storyline and great performances while paying it's respects to the stark genius of the original. It may be a little clumsy and overeager to profess its adulation of the film, but when a programme is this clever and entertaining that's more than easy to overlook.

8/10

The top ten Arctic Monkeys songs

So after compiling a list of the 25 best Muse songs, I fancied a go at another favourite band, Sheffield's own Arctic Monkeys. I managed to trim this down to ten without too much difficulty although I was forces to miss a few classics out, so without further ado, the top ten Arctic Monkeys songs.


10. R U Mine (AM, 2013)
Combining the ferocity of debut album cuts like The View From The Afternoon and I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor with the style and swagger of more developed tracks including Do I Wanna Know produced one of AM's true highlights and a riff that finally sold the band to every heavy metal magazine in the world.


9. Fluorescent Adolescent (Favourite Worst Nightmare, 2007)

A rare moment of genius in the rather samey Favourite Worst Nightmare, Fluorescent Adolescent bounces along with an infectious melody and Morrisey-esque lyrical delivery. Indeed, the song often sounds like a homage to The Smiths, with its sugar sweet tune played alongside detailed observationalist lyrics such as "flicking through a little book of sex tips, remember when the boys were all electric".

8. Secret Door (Humbug, 2009)

A song in many ways synonymous with the more mature style which stemmed from a collaboration with Queens of the Stone Age man Josh Homme on third album Humbug, Secret Door showcases the Monkeys stripped of the heavy rock riffs, yet developing a more complex, layered style supported by another infectious tune.

7. When The Sun Goes Down (Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, 2006)

Among the darkest and most reality-checking singles ever to hit the UK number one spot, When The Sun Goes Down recants a dismal tale of prostitution on the streets of Sheffield told with a sly but poignant lyrical touch by Alex Turner. It's among the most intelligent tracks on the debut album, but it's still complimented by the usual suspects of a selection of brilliantly distorted riffs and an immortal shouted chorus.

6. Love Is A Laserquest (Suck It And See, 2011)

While Turner's lyrics are often dismissed as, well, a little naff, on Suck It And See the band hit almost poetic lyrical highs. Love Is A Laserquest is perhaps the album's highest point, as Turner sings a a tragic ballad of a character unable to move on from a lost love, similar in many ways to the brilliant Cornerstone. The drums and electric guitars are almost an annoyance here, as Turner's solo acoustic version does his words far more justice.

5. Mardy Bum (Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, 2006)

Inspiration for the Monkeys first album was taken almost totally from personal experience, which is surely why Mardy Bum's ode to domestic arguments was so identifiable for so many people. Its summery, instantly catchy tune compliments the conflicting lyrics in a style akin to The Smiths, although the sublime guitar solo is distinctly un-Johnny Marr-ish.

4. Do I Wanna Know (AM, 2013)

A perfect fusion of riffs and melodies, Do I Wanna Know is the undisputed highlight of recent album AM no matter how much you believe that "the one everyone knows is never the best." A single jarring tune evolves into a layered, textured musical landscape in one of the band's most finey crafted pieces to date.

3. 505 (Favourite Worst Nightmare, 2007)
He may have touched on it on Mardy Bum, but 505 was Turner's first full blown love song, and it's unconventional to say the least. From twisted macabre lyrics like "I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck" to the way the song explodes from sensual organ chords into a hail of heavy metal in its final moments, this is hardly a classic love ballad, but it's remains a shining example of a track remaing poignant and subtle without becoming a mockery of itself.


2. Cornerstone (Humbug, 2009)
Humbug's finest moment appears in the form of Cornerstone, a tragic, sensual song revolving around the life of a man unable to move on from the supposed death of the of the one he loves. Through the shifting use of the refrain "can I call you her name", Turner paints a shocking picture as his character fails to grasp the opportunity to love again and descends into an apparent madness, and it's perfected by acoustic backing, comimg-and-going melodies and a dreamy, shifting guitar solo.


1. A Certain Romance (Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, 2006)
One of the greatest guitar songs every written, A Certain Romance brings together all the elements of the greatest of Monkeys songs to create the best of them all. From slashed power chords to a tentative melody and stunning attacked guitar solo, the track merges almost every technique and inspiration that band have used to date; a feat even more impressive when it's considered that the song appears on their debut album. And with superb lyrics dissecting the rivalries between cliques, groups and genres, A Certain Romance really is a certain kind of genius.


I am truly, truly sorry that there was no space for Only Ones Who Know, Suck It And See, The View From The Afternoon, Crying Lightning and a few others, but on the whole I'm fairly pleased with the list. As ever, comment whatever feelings you have as you see fit.

The Fault In Our Stars review: Believe the hype

Disappointment is an unfortunate by-product of anticipation. Over the years, countless books and movies have failed to live up to their lofty aspirations and perished, forgotten, in musty second hand booksellers  or charity shop DVD sections. And after the remarkable successes of author John Green's short teenage novels and with a film deal in the works even before the book's publication, anticipation could not have been higher for The Fault In Our Stars. But is the book powerful enough to survive the hailstorm of hype which sent it straight to the top of The New York Times bestseller list, or is it just another predictable lesson in how best to patronise young people?

Glancing at a plot synopsis, you'd be inclined to suggest the later option. Green employs the tried and tested formula for teen drama of combining Romeo and Juliet with a serious and current issue, be that teenage pregnancy, racial prejudice or eighteen-year-old vampires with supple skin and impressively toned muscles. The Fault In Our Stars breaks no moulds by using cancer as its villain; it's social impacts having being explored across numerous novels in the medium; albeit usually without narrating from the perspective of a cancer patient. Sixteen year old Hazel Grace Lancaster is that patient, a girl apparently on the mend after surviving a seemingly deadly tumour. After reluctantly agreeing to join a support group, Hazel meets the charismatic and inevitably attractive Augustus Waters, who's now cancer free after having his leg amputated, and the pair begin a relationship which comes to dominate the book's plot. Again, the plot appears formulaic and almost dull, you might even see the only mildly interesting thing John Green has to offer as a character who unfortunately shares his first name with the morbidly obese and chocolate infused child in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And of course, these immediate pre-perceptions collapse into nothingness the very moment you open the book.

Green's writing has a certain drug-like quality: he knows exactly how to draw a reader in. This is partially due to the superb pacing and focus of the plot, which features literally zero throwaway scenes as each page outdoes the last in developing the novel's characters and relationships. Then there's his sly confidence in writing from the perspective of others; every line of dialogue and moment of thought is believable to the letter. Mostly however, Green's addictive style stems from his grasp of the importance of character. Hazel and Augustus are two of the most memorable figures in recent literature, Augustus in particular is a strikingly charismatic individual. Rather than filling the book with endless unnecessary minor characters, Green chooses to include only a handful of people, which allows him to create deeper and more believable relationships between them in addition to morphing their personas as he chooses. While Hazel and Augustus's relationship is the main focus of the story, the friendship they share with fellow support group attendee Isaac creates a number of situations both cautiously funny and downright shocking, which lead to him being almost as fully fleshed out as the others by the conclusion. It's the relationship that Hazel shares with her mother however which is the second key theme, as the fear and difficulty of raising a child affected by a life threatening disease receives exceptionally rare attention. The plot itself is almost secondary to characterization, and Green deliberately increases the predictability of events in an effort to show that characters can still be well-crafted and intelligent within the confines of a simple storyline.

One of the wonderful things about Green's novel is that it is only a teenage story in that its central characters are teenagers; the author carries such respect for the intelligence of the intellectually maligned demographic that The Fault In Our Stars reads like it was written for adults and deals with deliberately emotionally intense themes. Despite its dark subject matter, Green's strength is in drawing almost every emotion possible from the reader in a short space of time. There's tragedy of course, and the feelings of loss, desperation and anger that stem from it, but in places the story takes truly beautiful turns, dealing explicitly with love, hope and simple, impossible happiness. It's even funny at times. In a market crowded with one dimensional stories, burying so much emotion within the pages of a book aimed at teenagers is a startling and welcome achievement.

With intense themes and genuinely unforgettable characters, The Fault In Our Stars is a rare example of anticipation being justified and even exceeded. Forget teen book of the year, this is one of the most intelligent and emotionally powerful novels we've seen past the turn of the millennium.

10/10

Shapes of Screams review: Genius in absurdity

It's hard to put your finger on exactly why Lostalone aren't regular stadium fillers by this point, the release date of their third album, Shapes of Screams. They've had the songs since their debut record, as anyone who's heard Blood Is Sharp or Love Will Eat Your Alive will testify, and there's an almost Muse-esque quality about their live performances, full of flair and showmanship. They've got an impressive list of famous fans too, having been hand picked to support bands as huge as Paramore, 30 Seconds To Mars and My Chemical Romance on sold out arena tours. Even if the Derbyshire trio never achieve the mainstream success they so blatantly deserve, they can at least be proud of Shapes of Screams, their most ambitious record to date and undoubtedly one of the best albums of the year so far.

It's clear from the very first song on Shapes of Screams that the band has undergone an impressive musical evolution since the release of their 2012 second album I'm a UFO in this City, a record which, while full of polished, finely crafted rock songs, was by no means a genre game changer. Shapes of Screams is something else however, it writes a new chapter in the rock n' roll rulebook by combining the absurd pomp of the finest 80's glam rock with more violent, hardcore elements to create something which has genuinely never been tried before. This is no more apparent than on Crusaders, the first track, which merges the distorted riffs of previous Lostalone songs such as Did You Get What You Prayed For with a synth-infused chorus complete with marching drums and pop-punk bass lines. And that's not to mention the wobbling vocal effects, lullaby inspired ending and a section which seems to musically reference as many legendary guitarists as the band could come up with, from BB King to Brian May. What's quite extraordinary is that this colossal level of experimentation isn't limited to just one song, it's consistent of the whole record. Take the synthpop melody of Mental Health, or the off beat funk metal of Apathy, or the Christian choir employed to such great effect on Requiem, this album simply has it all. Influence from May's band Queen is still more apparent here than on their previous efforts, from falsetto guitar solos to harmonised choruses which even Freddie Mercury would have been proud of, but there are elements of Muse, My Chemical Romance and just about every 80's stadium rock band ever to have existed on display too.

More than simply its massive experimentation and phenomenal ambition, the true success of Shapes of Screams is that by combining such a huge range of ideas and influences, Lostalone have managed to record an album which actually works. It would have been all too easy for the record to have become as bloated and unlistenable as so many early experimental albums, but this is never the case on Shapes of Screams. The rooting of the album in the brilliant but beaten-track songs of I'm a UFO in this City allows for the experimentation to take place without preventing the tracks from being cohesive rock songs; there are no twenty five minute epics without melody or structure and the album remains a highly ambitious piece of work without becoming a caricature or travesty.

Shapes of Screams could be the most ambitious album of the year so far, but the real beauty of the record is that it surpasses success in every one of its lofty aspirations. It's catchy, memorable and striking original, enough to give you goosepimples and force you stop whatever you're doing to give it your full attention, a rare achievement given the huge supply of generic popular music around. A true cynic might call its unapologetically epic style ridiculous, but perhaps its ridiculousness is what makes it special. Either way, I could find no way of faulting Shapes of Screams, Lostalone have set the standard for 2014, and it's going to take something quite spectacular to top it.

10/10  

Salem's Lot review: Flawed ambition with added vampires

After the unprecedented success of his terrifying and tightly-woven first novel Carrie, you'd have forgiven the young writer Stephen King for knocking out a carbon copy for his next effort. But King shocked every critic with Salem's Lot, a far longer and more complex work, albeit equally thematically black hearted and full of gore. It was a stunningly ambitious book for such an inexperienced author, and while Salem's Lot isn't always successful it remains a tense and enjoyable read almost forty years on.

Ben Mears, a moderately successful writer, returns to his childhood home of the small Maine town Salem's Lot to begin a new novel. Of course, this calm and tranquil setting is far to good to be true, as Ben realises that the town is gradually being infiltrated by vampires.
While Carrie was remarkably and arrestingly original for a debut novel, Salem's Lot treads very familiar ground indeed. Clear influence is taken from stories such as the classic Dracula, with even direct references being regularly made. It's key themes too have been well explored in the past, with its principle vision of life in an American small town having inspired countless authors before King. It even makes no attempt to distort the classic cliché of the vampires themselves; King's bloodsuckers are as ancient as Dracula or Count Oarlock; susceptible to the usual suspects of crosses, holy water and a good stake through the heart.

So what makes Salem's Lot special, more than just another Nosferatu rehash or Dracula copycat? Primarily, it's the characters. King wields an impressive grasp over a cast of dozens, and while the sheer number of people is at times to vast to keep up with, the development of the principle characters is strong enough to forgive the inevitable cut-out minors. King gives up seemingly endless pages to creating connections between the reader and characters through developing an understanding of their psychologies and histories, leading to some of the most memorable figures of King's career, particularly the tragic and unstable Mears. However, as the author's first attempt at a long novel the character development becomes too prominent, making the book extremely slow and almost tedious during the early stages. It's inconsistently paced too, with relatively little rising action before an explosive crescendo of violence in the final hundred pages or so. While King's descriptions of small town life; the playground fight; the never-ending gossip and prejudice; are superb and undoubtedly drawn from personal experience, the story simply lacks enough real action to sustain interest until the end.

It's not quite as well written as Carrie, largely due to the increased number of characters to cope with and the unfortunate pacing (particularly noticeable because of how excellent Carrie's was), but King's style is still very much intact. Particularly towards the ending, there's sublime use of tension to keep you literally on the edge of your seat and moments of shocking, almost perverse violence. It's certainly no story for the faint of heart; skulls are cracked and hearts ruptured with a reckless abandon, but this does help to make up for the book's more monotonous sections.

It's unfortunate that such clear ambition is let down by issues which could have been easily averted with a good editor, but Salem's Lot is still brilliantly scary and generally entertaining. It's by no means a game changer, but its strong characters and brutal ultra-violence are a benchmark in the crowded vampire subgenre.

7/10