This Is Halloween! - My Favourite Horror Films

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Tobe Hooper, 1974)

Visceral, brutal and utterly terrifying. This low-budget slasher flick was quickly branded a video nasty leading to widespread bans, but upon contemporary viewing, Hooper's flesh-ripping nightmare is actually incredibly well-crafted. Despite what the title may suggest, very little real violence is actually shown and is instead left to audience suggestion, while the use of sound is sublime - most notably in the notorious dinnertime sequence, with Marilyn Burns' desperate screams dominating the audio for the duration of the scene, turning the viewing experience into a nightmarish test of endurance. Stark, vicious and unforgettable.

The Exorcist (William Friedkin, 1973)

The grandaddy of dramatic horror flicks, The Exorcist harbours the same power to shock and unsettle audiences today as it did upon its initial release. Director Friedkin transforms the simple story of a young girl possessed into a slow-burning tale of evil, corruption and an omnipresent menace. The iconic Tubular Bells score perfectly sets the atmosphere for the film and Regan's gradual transformation from poorly young girl to demonic abhorrence is so expertly crafted that by the time the narrative reaches its climax, the audience's nerve lies in tatters.

Halloween (John Carpenter, 1978)

The teen slasher that set the benchmark for an entire genre. Carpenter's original masterwork proved so effective that it can be blamed for the slew of cookie-cutter slasher flicks that followed in subsequent decades, not least its own seven piss-poor sequels. But Halloween remains triumphant, and may be revisited again and again without losing any of its scare-power. Carpenter's use of lighting is superb - every set is obscured by shadows, allowing the killer to hide in the corner of any frame. Such technique lets Carpenter get away with showing very little real violence; the true horror lies not in what the audience sees, but in what it thinks it sees. Similarly, Carpenter's brilliantly simple musical score, and his use of first-person camera to force the audience to see through the killer's eyes and hear his heavy breathing as he stalks his victims, contribute to Halloween's unique and everlasting power to terrify.

Wall-E (Andrew Stanton, 2008)

Pixar have long held a reputation for quality and originality, with every one of their features opening to huge critical praise and audience appreciation. But at the time of its release, Wall-E harboured something a little extra special. As the ninth feature film in the Pixar canon, the quiet tale of a lonely robot labourer and his love of a sleek, ultra-modern bot named EVE, Wall-E was released to rapturous applause from critics and was hailed as revolutionary filmmaking. Indeed, while Toy Story received a similar reception as the first CGI movie, Wall-E was hailed as a brilliant film in its own right, praised for its emotional depth - despite the lack of dialogue - and its appreciation of golden-age cinema.

For the most part, Stanton's film holds up against such praise. The central character of Wall-E is brilliantly executed; adorable, charming and expressive, he's like a cross between R2D2 and E.T. His love of artificial objects is hilarious and his obsession with the music of Hello Dolly is almost unbearably sweet. Similarly, it's great to see the development of EVE as she transforms from an aggressive corporate machine to an inquisitive character who slowly comes to notice the affections of the chirruping Wall-E. The quality of the animation is superb and the artwork - in particular the first sweeping shots of desolate planet Earth - is absolutely stunning.

Yet Wall-E isn't entirely flawless. While the likes of Toy Story was funny, exciting and engaging throughout its brief runtime, Wall-E suffers from huge lulls and an overtly preachy storyline. The film's narrative - of Earth in the not-too-distant-future becoming litter-strewn and uninhabitable is very topical, and the imagining of the human race as obese, technology-dependent slobs dwelling in outer-space is funny yet believable vision of our descendants, yet these elements often fail to engage. Certainly younger audiences will love the scenes of Wall-E studying items in the wasteland or causing havoc aboard the space station but will likely doze off in the sequences involving the station's captain studying organic life.

Such flaws, however, are incredibly minor in the grand scheme of Wall-E. It may not be Pixar's very best, but it remains among the most impressive animated films of all time. Its great humour and charm despite the lack of dialogue is truly exceptional and the artistic vision captured by Stanton is simply beautiful. 

The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972)

So I finally got round to watching the ultimate American movie. Largely regarded as one of the greatest films ever made, it's odd that I've managed to avoid The Godfather for such a long time. Despite warnings of its extreme length, slow pace and grim violence, I really enjoyed the film and largely agree with its status as a landmark in filmmaking.

Certainly it has stood the test of time remarkably well. Coppola crafted his masterpiece back in 1972. 1972! This was a cinematic era in which Hitchcock was still active, and in which films were still regularly produced in black-and-white. It's amazing to view this lavish, boldly violent and expertly-crafted film in such a context. The saturated colour pallet, incredible acting talent and starkly vicious scenes remain deeply impressive three decades on.

As a newbie to The Godfather, I was surprised at how little screentime the Don himself is afforded. As the eponymous Sicilian crime lord, Brando has endured as a screen icon, and it is his face that adorns the posters and DVD covers. And yet the central character of the narrative is undoubtedly Al Pacino's Michael Corleone - the reluctant son who gradually ascends to replace Brando as the head of the family. Pacino actually boycotted the Academy Awards that year, having been nominated for best supporting actor while Brando was up for the lead actor award. Nevertheless, the presence of Brando's Godfather lurks throughout the film. It truly is an awesome performance - at first I found his mumbling approach over-the-top and laughable yet it quickly becomes apparent that he got it absolutely spot on, making the Don an awe-inspiring and surprisingly sympathetic character. Brando was, of course, rewarded with an Oscar statuette yet he failed to collect it, having boycotted the ceremony along with Pacino, albeit for different reasons.

The film's pace may be slow but only because it needs to be. The narrative encompasses a broad time frame and charters the gradually changing attitudes and statuses of the various members of the notorious Corleone family. The story is constantly gripping and the violence, while a dominant and obviously necessary element of the film, is sparsely utilised and often impressively staged - the shooting in the restaurant and the murder of Moe Greene are especially notable for their orchestration and ingenuity.

With so many strings to its bow, The Godfather's crowning glory is undoubtedly its cast. While Marlon Brando reigns supreme as Don Vito, the other members of the Corleone family are also brilliantly portrayed. Indeed, through Vito's children we can observe a fresh generation of Hollywood stars surfacing. The then-unknown Al Pacino is perfect as the tormented young Michael who is slowly drawn into the life of crime he initially desired to evade, and he is backed up by the likes of James Caan as his brother Sonny, Diane Keaton as his eventual wife Kay and Robert Duvall as Vito's right-hand man. The fact that this fresh-faced supporting cast are all now esteemed movie giants (Keaton and Duvall have since earned Oscars) and approaching their seventies and eighties, further emphasises the legacy and influence of Coppola's grandiose gangster flick.

The grandaddy of the crime genre and a film that firmly reinforces America as the world's leading movie-making nation, The Godfather achieves everything it sets out to do and, more than any other, is a film I wish I'd gotten round to watching a long time ago.

The Iron Giant (Brad Bird, 1999)

Without a major brand name like Pixar  or Dreamworks attached, the stand-alone marvel that is The Iron Giant can easily be overlooked in the world of cinema animation. And as an initial box-office flop, recouping less than a third of its budget, the film's recognition as a landmark piece of cartoon history has been all too gradual.

The directorial debut of Brad Bird (former Simpsons scribe and future Pixar wunderkind), The Iron Giant is as much a homage to great sci-fi cinema as it is an engaging family animation. The story is set in 50s America and centres on an imaginative young scamp named Hogarth who, after watching a hammy monster movie on TV, suddenly finds a monster of his very own. In the forest behind his suburban home, a path of devastation leads to a colossal extra-terrestrial being of unknown origin.

In the fashion of monster movies such as King Kong, the eponymous Iron Giant is scary at first; stomping after the terrified Hogarth and destroying everything in its path; before establishing itself as a gentle, misunderstood soul, hopelessly lost in the hostile world of humans. Before long, boy and giant develop a loving Elliot/E.T. style relationship. The characters are brilliantly brought to life and wonderfully entertaining - Hogarth is a likeable child character of the Stand By Me crowd (though his voice is a little grating), while the Giant is as expressive and lovable as Wall-E. This heartwarming tale of friendship is accompanied by a rich cast that joyfully embellishes the 1950s setting, from paranoid townsfolk raving about communist invasion and "sputniks" to shifty government agents intent on suppressing the truth. And all this is wrapped up with a generous helping of sharp, Simpsons-esque humour and visually striking animation techniques.

Indeed, what makes The Iron Giant so hugely special is the volume of cinematic technique involved. While the animation alone is impressive (particularly the fluid use of CGI within the 2D animation), the utilisation of light and shadow (the giant's illuminating eyes, Hogarth's torchlit search of the forest), depth-of-focus and swooping panoramic camera shots demonstrate Bird's clear understanding of cinematic direction as a whole. It could even be argued that this quirky little cartoon film showcases greater filmmaking skills than many a big-budget live-action film.

A stand-alone marvel that could be more comfortably grouped with the lovingly-crafted works of Studio Ghibli than any of its American contemporaries, The Iron Giant remains an unsung classic in the world of family animation.

In The News: Pete Doherty's Film Debut Is Slated

With his pale face, ruffled hair and artistic soul, Pete Doherty could easily have stepped right out of a Tim Burton movie. It could be naturally assumed then, that the notorious rocker might prove to be a revelation onscreen. But, somewhat predictably, Doherty's acting debut has gone the same way as many musicians before him - dreadfully.

Currently competing in the Un Certain Regard section of Cannes Film Festival, Confessions Of A Child Of The Century has been gleefully torn apart by critics. The film sees Doherty play a nineteenth century Parisian libertine who, after being betrayed by his mistress, sinks into a life of debauchery and depression before falling for beautiful stranger Charlotte Gainsbourg. The Guardian's Catherine Shoard highlights the "shambling amateurism of Doherty's line-reading, his sixth-form fidgets, his uncertain eyes" as particular causes for concern and labels the entire film as "insufferable".

Better luck next time Pete. Actually no, let's nip this in the bud now. Please never act again Pete. 

And, in honour of Mr. Doherty, here's a list of the worst camera-hogging, attention seeking pop stars and the movies they ruined:

Sting (Dune) - The weird world of David Lynch got a little too weird when Sting appeared onscreen in nothing but a pair of dainty Y-fronts. Disturbing.

David Bowie (Labyrinth) - Another godawful popstar crotch moment was via David Bowie as the Goblin King in Jim Henson's Labyrinth, with the popstar's squashed genitals providing more felt-based animation than any of Henson's master puppeteers.

Madonna (Swept Away) - Madonna's curse within the movie industry is summed up perfectly with this abomination.

Keith Richards (Pirates Of The Caribbean: At World's End) - A promising movie franchise quickly developed into cheesy box-office crud, with Keith Richards driving the last nail home as Johnny Depp's dad.

David Bowie (Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me) - Bowie makes the list twice, this time wounding the perfect world of Twin Peaks in the ultimate cameo-noone-asked-for.

Dreams Of A Life (Carol Morley, 2011)

One of the most harrowing tabloid stories of recent times finally finds its way to the big screen in this sensitive documentary feature that attempts at long last to unravel the mystery behind Joyce Carol Vincent - the woman society forgot about.

The story of Joyce is as lurid as it is mysterious. In January 2006, council officials broke down the door of a grimy London bedsit with the intent to evict its tenant. Upon entering, they discovered that the tenant, Joyce Vincent, had long since departed, leaving behind her corpse which had been rotting undisturbed for over two years, surrounded by Christmas presents that she had just wrapped.

The discovery acted as a stunning signal of societal failure and begged many questions - how could a young woman simply disappear unnoticed? The Christmas presents proved that she had close friends in her life so why hadn't anyone reported her missing? And, in one of the most disconcerting elements of the case, the television had remained on the entire time, perpetually throwing flickering images over the corpse of Joyce. Had noone visited the flat regarding the huge unpaid electricity bill? And with a foul stench and swarms of flies engulfing the tiny bedsit, why hadn't any neighbours or the landlord investigated? Filmmaker Carol Morley sensitively attempts to paint a picture of the woman behind the headlines, having tracked down a wide collection of Joyce's friends and loved ones, who express grief, regret and disbelief over the sad fate of this most mysterious woman.

For the most part, Morley navigates away from the grim details of the manner of Joyce's death and discovery, which have been much discussed in the tabloid newspapers already (one interviewee describes her body as having "melted into the carpet", and we really need know no more than that). Instead, Morley takes the sensitive and more intriguing route of attempting to establish who Joyce was as a person. Tabloid journalists had discovered almost nothing about her and not a single image of her was included in the newspaper articles, making it hard for anybody to truly identify with her. But, owing to a persistent campaign appealing for anyone who may have known Joyce, Morley has managed to gather an astonishing collection of interesting, pleasant contemporaries (ranging from old schoolfriends and past boyfriends to ex-housemates and work colleagues) who paint a picture of a vibrant young woman who drew attention wherever she went, had a talent for singing, and had enjoyed encounters with Isaac Hayes, Nelson Mandela and Stevie Wonder.  The testimonies, accompanied by dramatic reconstructions, make the idea of Joyce's fate all the more cryptic and desperately tragic.

Through the interviews, we learn that, due to the positive image of Joyce that her peers held of her, and the lack of photographs or personal information in the newspapers, not one of her friends made the connection, instead holding the belief that she must be leading an enviable lifestyle far away from the grim reality of her existence. Her friend's admission that she will forever feel uncomfortable with the fact that she so easily lost touch with Joyce, and her ex-boyfriend's anguished tears as he imagines rescuing her from her dire situation stand as some of the most powerful pieces of documentary footage from recent years. The reconstructions, in which Joyce is sensitively portrayed by actress Zawe Ashton, are appropriately underplayed, while creative aspects such as the use of the dusty television set (that which illuminated Joyce's skeleton all that time) to screen some of the talking heads, are stunningly powerful. 

Unsurprisingly, the documentary fails to truly shed any more light on how such a positive, popular young woman came to die in so cruel and lonely a manner (one old friend insists she must have been murdered, while the rest appear resigned to the fact that we will never know the cause of death), but it excels in finally giving a life and voice to the person behind the tabloid scoop, an achievement that cannot be overstated.

The Dictator (Larry Charles, 2012)

Sacha Baron Cohen, Britain's ballsiest comic actor, returns to the big screen with yet another outrageous character. Having exhausted his established characters (Ali G, Borat and Bruno), he now presents us with an entirely original creation - psychotic dictator Admiral General Aladeen. The narrative revolves around the general's mission to travel to America in order to defend his right to oppress his beloved country, Wadiya. However, upon arriving in New York, Aladeen finds himself in the midst of an assassination attempt and, upon escaping, he must learn to live as an ordinary person whilst seeking to win back his identity. Unlike Cohen's aforementioned alter-egos, which were tried and tested on the small screen for years before hitting the cinemas, the never-before-seen Aladeen was a distinct gamble.

And in my view, Cohen lost the bet. While effectively lampooning tyrants such as Colonel Gadaffi, Cohen's Aladeen emanates far too much broad comedy, suffocating the underlying razor-sharp satire. Indeed, while  scenes such as Aladeen breaking into giggles whilst attempting to justify his ownership of a nuclear missile, and his impassioned yet ironic speech about the differences between dictatorship and democracy demonstrate Cohen's trademark skewering abilities, the few-too-many crude jokes and lazy stereotypes make for a cringe-filled viewing experience.

Perhaps The Dictator's main downfall is the fact that, unlike Cohen's previous fly-on-the-wall approaches, his new outing is a conventional narrative-based feature. While the likes of Borat found its comedic strength in Cohen's unique ability to improvise effortlessly without breaking character, teasing comedy out of his targets and revealing society's major flaws and prejudices in the process, The Dictator must stick to a script that, quite frankly, isn't very good. In addition to the poor writing efforts, the character of Aladeen just isn't as well-realised as Cohen's other creations, which he spent years perfecting, and appears to have simply stepped out of a bad Saturday Night Live sketch. Meanwhile, Anna Faris seems exploited by a script that envisions her as a hairy armpitted, whining hippy-type, while Ben Kingsley is similarly demeaned as Aladeen's sour-faced, treacherous advisor.

The finished film ultimately has the feel of a bad episode of South Park; a narrative that contains some truly hilarious absurdist moments (a falling turd knocking a woman unconscious and some childish antics involving a severed head) and some utterly merciless satire (the film is "dedicated to the loving memory of Kim Jong-Il), but is carried along the way by  wank gags, slapstick cliches and lazy humour (a stupid character survives a bullet to the head; Aladeen cries "he's lucky, it hit him in the brain!" Sigh.). Sad to see such an intelligent, versatile comedian off his game but, let's face it, with Cohen's back catalogue, he can afford this one misfire.