While Room has the makings of a terrifyingly real horror story or psychological thriller, director Lenny Abrahamson refuses to diminish or cheapen Donoghue's life-affirming story with gimmicks or horror-movie-frights, and instead creates a heart-breaking, and paradoxically heart-warming, masterpiece of cinema which tells a story of human spirit, hope and the incomparable love between a mother and her child.
He will go on to see things we wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. He'll watch C beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate. And he will go on to give Blade Runner's Rick Deckard the biggest challenge of his life. Friday, January 8, 2016 marks Roy Batty's incept date, or actual birth day as any fan of Ridley Scott's 1982 sci-fi classic will tell you.
Intrigued by the headlines declaring Star Wars record-breaking figures (more than $1 billion and counting worldwide), I took myself off to see the film at my local cinema. I wish I hadn't bothered and saved myself ten pounds. What's more, I now have no intention of seeing any more instalments in the franchise, nor will I pay to see another movie by director JJ Abrams after this.
Behind every sequel hungry, franchise captive in the picture house queue who's had to remortgage their house for a bag of stale popcorn, stands an overly critical cinephile with a yearning for something better and a secret bag of supermarket-bought peanut M&Ms in his pocket. This is a list for the latter.
Most of these extraneous activities are well documented, but they're worth repeating in the vague hope people decide that maybe they should try and avoid partaking in them, if only to be considerate enough to those in the auditorium who are there to, and I'll whisper this so as not annoy anyone, enjoy the BLOODY PICTURE.
"To infinity and beyond!" It's hard to believe that it's 20 years since Buzz Lightyear first crashed onto our cinema screens and uttered that iconic phrase. But here we are two decades, three films and 279 minutes later, and the words today seem more reflective of Toy Story's lasting influence on film and animation than its space ranger's complete lack of self-awareness.
'99 Homes', a tale of greed and corruption during the real estate crash is a tense and relevant drama - 'Captive' is a true story edge-of-the-seat thriller hostage drama - 'Mia Madre,' Nanni Moretti's family drama on the loss of a parent is saved by John Turturro- 'Solace' nods to 'Se7en', mixes serial killings with the supernatural but is lost in wide screen visuals.
Why is the survival genre a survivor? The obvious, 'well duh' answer is that it forces us to question what we ourselves would do in an extreme situation. Or, at least, provides questions to annoy co-workers with, such as: "Would you drink your own urine just to have enough energy to saw your trapped arm off?"
Director Rick Famuyiwa wears his influences very heavily on his sleeve. The Breakfast Club even receives a namecheck here (Malcolm's final speech will remind viewers of the closing soliloquy given by Brian "The Brain" in John Hughes' classic movie). And there is more than a passing nod to Spike Lee's films Do The Right Thing and School Daze.
Of course, the Krays continue to fascinate for the very same reason that the Great Train Robbers and to a lesser extent, the recent Hatton Garden thieves do. There's a glamour to them that we find irresistible. Secretly maybe we all want to be them, if only we had the confidence to get away with their crimes and our moral compasses were similarly a little off.