Alfonso Cuarón | 142 mins | Blu-ray | 2.40:1 | UK & USA / English | PG / PG
Prisoner of Azkaban marks a significant turning point for the Harry Potter film series. Viewed now, it’s easy to see it as just Episode 3 of 8; a saga still getting underway. At the time, coming off the back of two incredibly successful films, it felt like a grand shake-up of an established formula.
It’s the first Potter to move away from a Christmassy end-of-year release slot, for one thing, debuting at the height of summer in May. That also made it the first to break the one-per-year release cycle they seemed to be aiming for, which would’ve emulated each film covering a single year of Harry’s time at school. The release date was only 18 months after Chamber of Secrets, but it had an impact — particularly to little Draco Malfoy, who seems to have undergone the majority of puberty in the short time between the end of Chamber and the start of Azkaban. I still remember my shock when he first appeared in the trailer — I thought they’d recast.
Most striking, however, is the new director. Alfonso Cuarón doesn’t ditch the faithfulness to J.K. Rowling’s novels that defined Chris Columbus’ opening pair, but he does ditch the slavishness, and brings a hefty dose of his own stylish directorial skill in the process. Azkaban is a fan favourite among Rowling’s novels, but Cuarón’s preparedness to change things when necessary made the film more of a hate object for some. The wider world had it right, however, because Azkaban was received as the best Potter yet and, I think, was the start of its rehabilitation from a fans-only series of Children’s Films to something that merited across-the-board full marks when Deathly Hallows Part 2 arrived seven years later.
Cuarón and screenwriter Steve Kloves (who would pen every Potter film bar the fifth) focus in on the novel’s plot, ditching its copious world-building and backstory asides. This has both pros and cons. In the former camp, it leaves room for Cuarón to make something more exciting and filmic than Columbus — you can’t imagine the craziness of the Knight Bus in either of the previous films. It also keeps things moving forward, at quite a pace too, rather than meandering off here and there. Even the Quidditch match serves a purpose.
On the downside, it strips away some explanations that not only deepen the series’ world but, in some cases, help it make sense. We never learn the identity of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs (makers of the ever-so-useful Marauder’s Map), or quite why Harry thought he saw his dad by the lake with the Dementors. The former is only nice detail, I suppose, but the latter event makes much more sense when you know the full explanation from the novel. The story gets by without it, but those unfamiliar with the book who stop to think about things may consider it a plot hole, or at least a leap of logic.
The film introduces two of my favourite characters from the series: Gary Oldman’s Sirius Black and David Thewlis’ Remus Lupin. In slightly different ways they’re both outsiders — underdogs, as it were, if you’ll excuse the pun — but both honourable and powerful… but not as pompous as that poor description makes it sound. 
The film series doesn’t treat either of them particularly well compared to the books, but then supporting characters and subplots are the first things to go (quite rightly).
The other big cast addition is Michael Gambon, replacing Richard Harris as Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Gambon seemed all wrong when he first turned up, replacing the previous near-perfect casting choice. He’s more familiar now, making it harder to judge which actor is superior; but it’s difficult to imagine Harris getting to grips with some of the cheekier and more active things Dumbledore is called on to do later in the series. Was the requirement to recast a blessing in disguise? Perhaps.
Azkaban was a breath of fresh air when it was released in 2004, really kicking the Potter franchise into life creatively. I know I gave the first two four stars each, but having since watched this and Goblet of Fire, the opening episodes pale in comparison.
Tomorrow, I put my name in the Goblet of Fire…
Ridley Scott’s not-an-
And then, to top it off, it doesn’t have a real ending! They may as well slap “to be continued” on screen, such is the obvious lack of conclusion. It’s immensely frustrating, only to be topped off with a “in case we don’t get the sequel” bit of connective tissue to the Alien series. Mysteries and unanswered questions aren’t a problem in and of themselves — there are plenty in Prometheus’ franchise forbears, 
No character is fully developed. Some barely register, suggesting too big a cast, while others suffer from being plain stupid, or doing inexplicably stupid things, or just piss-poor acting. There’s some thing made about Shaw (Noomi Rapace) being religious or a true believer or something, but it’s not properly explained and doesn’t go anywhere. David (Michael Fassbender) and the way he’s treated by the other characters are both very interesting areas, and clearly of huge thematic resonance, but he acts inconsistently for no obvious reason, and despite the horrendous things he does to Shaw at one point, she just gets on with him again in the next scene, and… well, that’s far from being the film’s only plot hole or inconsistency.
The daft thing is, I think a lot of people would’ve been happy if it had chosen to just go all-out as a schlocky alien horror movie. That’s what Alien is: an exceptionally well-made haunted house movie in space. There’s no shame in that (well, maybe in cinéaste circles, but pish.) But that’s not where Prometheus pitches itself. There’s too much other stuff for it to be just that; stuff that’s apparently aiming to be Profound. So when the horror does turn up, it doesn’t belong.
Prometheus is a funny old beast, then. There’s lots of good stuff in there, but also lots of baffling decisions and confusing shifts of tone, emphasis, style… Considering it was made by an experienced master-filmmaker, who was presumably granted all the time, freedom and money he wanted to craft the film he desired, it’s baffling how it ended up feeling like such a hodge-podge. Many fans have blamed Lindelof, brought in late on to re-write the screenplay; but considering Scott ruined 
John Cusack stars as literary giant (figuratively) Edgar Allan Poe in this wannabe-Victorian-
That they didn’t tone it all down just a smidge to match, and so go for the box office-friendly PG-13, is a surprise in these days.
The rest of the cast are from Hollywood’s usual go-to for period tales: Brits; if not entirely then mostly so. (The film was shot in Hungary and Serbia, so I suppose our thesps have the additional advantage of being geographically favourable to Americans.) You know you’re getting a level of quality there, then, though for me Kevin R. McNally lets the side down (again). He’s only a supporting character and is fine most of the time, but there’s one bit when he’s talking to the lead detective and just rattles off his line… It’s not the world’s greatest speech, but you can hear there was meant to be more nuance and quiet in there.
Se7en is probably my favourite film ever made, but criticisms that it’s quite a standard detective mystery are not invalid. It’s enlivened by Andrew Kevin Walker’s writing (great dialogue, engrossing structure, etc), some top-drawer performances (Freeman, Pitt, a loopy-calm Spacey), and, probably most of all, David Fincher’s inestimable touch. In making such a comparison it’s easy to see that The Raven lacks any of these, which renders it a solid period mystery, but no more.
Batman movies have a habit of provoking strong reactions. 
One of the main reasons the film succeeds is that look back at Bruce Wayne’s early days as a crime fighter. Batman’s origin is oft told — too oft, truth be told — but they thankfully don’t rehash it here. Instead, early in Batman’s career Bruce falls in love and finds happiness, causing him to question whether to continue down the path he’s already dedicated his life to. The scene where he talks to his parents’ grave, expressing his guilt at potentially finding happiness after so much mourning, is one of the most powerful, emotional moments in all of Batman’s many iterations.
But instead of falling in some nasty halfway-house, Phantasm turns up trumps on all fronts.
Shortly after I watched Tinker Tailor, it was announced that they (“they” in this instance being Working Title, I think) are planning a new film adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s perennially popular novel Rebecca. This news was greeted (at least on the websites where I read it) with cries in the comments along the lines of, “you can’t remake Hitchcock!” Such is the power of 
Yet, for all that, the film is excellent. It may not match the TV series in places, in my subjective opinion, but in its own right it shines. Gary Oldman does the impossible and offers a Smiley that is neither an imitation of Guinness’ nor a deliberate counterpoint, but stands apart as an equally proficient rendering of the character. The rest of the cast are equally up to task, with the exception of Kathy Burke, who stands out like a sore thumb in my opinion.
Another noteworthy advantage of the film is that it’s gorgeously shot. The TV series actually has its own appeal in this area, with a realism that is quite pleasing. The film occasionally goes grander (look at the depiction of meeting rooms in The Circus for a major example — while the TV series goes for any old room in Whitehall, the film offers stonking soundproof ‘pods’), but it works in its own way.
We’ve had the Saint in New York, in London, and in Palm Springs; soon we’ll have the Falcon in Mexico, in Hollywood, and in San Francisco; but here, he’s just in danger. He’s also in perhaps the best film either series has offered to date.
Though the Falcon clearly agrees with everyone else’s assessment and shrugs her off as often as he can, to our benefit.
Directed by Edward Dmytryk (who, a couple of years later, would helm 
His eye for the ladies remains the same, although Conway feels a bit slicker and less whipped. Neither carry the same charisma as Sanders’ Saint.
The Falcon may’ve done it in the third entry in RKO’s Saint-a-like film series, but now it was time for Tom Conway to 
Aside from housekeeping, the film offers one of the series’ better plots, a proper detective mystery that doesn’t lead where you’d expect it to for once. That said, I didn’t like the ending so much, especially the way it abruptly dispatches our former hero followed by the gang carrying on with barely a care. The Mysterious Threatening Voice On The Phone is interesting though — will we be seeing a recurring enemy; a Moriarty or Blofeld for the new Falcon? Time shall tell…
in spite of all the other factors (changing sources of adaptation; changing leads) that should make them feel wildly varied. And the Falcon’s butler, Jerry, is Asian again, after being caucasian in the last two films. Played this time by Keye Luke, rather than being some nasty stereotype he has a nice bit using stereotypes to the characters’ advantage. It’s one of the series’ better comic inventions.
Controversial supernatural mystery drama. Nicole Kidman’s rationalist husband dies suddenly; years later, as she gets engaged to another man, a boy arrives claiming to be her husband reincarnated. More realistic art house drama about grief and insecurity than thrill-giving occult mystery, it nonetheless keeps you guessing as Kidman is slowly convinced by the boy’s tale, while family relationships collapse around her. Full of quiet understated performances, Kidman is particularly captivating and, as the boy, Cameron Bright is mesmerisingly unreadable. Poorly received, with some 
I had heard Scre4m (Scream 4, if you prefer) was dreadful; a misguided, belated attempt to revive a once-popular franchise. Personally, I thought it was fun.
It also leads to quite a good extended bit where some characters reel off a list of recent remakes, which rather highlights just how far it’s gone now. There’s lots of examples of this fun ‘meta’ stuff for film fans; for real-world-stuff too, including references to Courtney Cox and David Arquette’s marriage, Emma Roberts being in the shadow of Julia Roberts, and so on.
But, ultimately, all the discussion of horror movies and their rules is just window dressing: if there aren’t rules any more (which there don’t seem to be), it’s impossible for the characters to use them to survive, or for it to lend much self-reflexive weight to how the killer behaves. The only moment when it might be of use is when they predict the climax will occur at a party, and it turns out they’re having a party that very night! But then they go ahead with anyway. So much for that then.
Though as the main development has been torture porn, and it criticises that explicitly from the very first scene, perhaps that’s still OK. In fact, they’re one step ahead again, with a nod to the most most-recent development (the 
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