The film succeeds in rendering a personal face to the so often aggrandised problem of immigration, but is undermined by the disjunctive fictional sub-narrative... the film is a real spectacle and a testament to the stark anthropic disassociation and dissemblance that occurs in migratory investigations.
What do you do with your World Cup buzz when England has been knocked out? You take it to Hyde Park to watch the royal oaks sway and Park Lane's billionaire windows get battered by downtuned guitars and drum fills exploding like a 21-gun salute. It's British Summer Time. Scratch that. It's Sabbath Day.
Wolfenstein is a name that conjures up memories for many seasoned gamers. One of the first games to truly nail the FPS genre, Wolfenstein's gave gamers their first taste of a modern shooter. Pacing through corridors with sweaty palms, Wolfenstein evoked feelings that many gamers now take for granted.
Driving sims used to be so simple. Games presented you with a unthinkable amount of cars, free to race around as many ribbons of tarmac the compact disc could fit. Some of the best racing games to ever appear on consoles followed this simple rule, from TOCA 2, to Gran Turismo and Formula 97 - still probably the best Formula 1 game ever made.
Although I know I'm in the minority, I felt that this film needed more gags, better use of supporting characters and less slow-moving hanging around. I couldn't help feeling like Anderson must have been told one too many times that he was a genius, and decided to just follow his instincts rather than filmmaking logic as a result...