Despite clocking it at around half an hour shorter than any of the recent Bond films, Quantum of Solace actually proves one of the most exhausting to view, feeling like a single protracted action sequence in which the adrenaline never really lets up. The downside is that neither the story nor characters are given a chance to breathe. Given the scant fragments of the former that is perhaps not an issue, but the latter leaves this film an underwhelming experience.

Picking up shortly after the end of Casino Royale, Bond [Daniel Craig] and M [Judi Dench] interrogate Mr. White, revealing an organisation called Quantum who blackmailed Vesper. Still motivated by revenge for her betrayal and death, Bond cuts a swathe of destruction as he hunts down Dominic Greene [Mathieu Amalric] who is buying up land to control the most important natural resources. Meanwhile Bond meets Camille [Olga Kurylenko], a woman with her own vendetta and a useful ally as a rogue Bond must keep ahead of the CIA, terrorists and even MI6.

It is telling that the film opens on car chase already in progress, but perhaps its style is moreso. The action direction leaves much to be desired, featuring a lot of lazily edited quick cuts that serve to confuse the viewer rather than let them enjoy the events. I thought we were beyond that. Some is clearly borrowed from Bourne, but adequately reproduced such as a lift escape scene. The noteworthy exception is a fight through a glass ceiling onto scaffolding which is expertly choreographed with a great tracking shot as they fall. This moment of brilliance ends up standing out since it is sadly not repeated.

Such is perhaps the trouble with a franchise that replaces its director each film. By contrast the cast, returning and new, are all impressive. Craig’s Bond will continue to delight all those who enjoyed him in Casino Royale, effortlessly cool with suppressed rage while his tense chemistry with M remains as compelling as ever. Unfortunately what arguably made the last film so compelling was character development in Bond, but since it had the entire arc, there was really none left. Olga Kurylenko does well in providing another strong Bond girl and could have filled this gap had she been given the time to do so. Meanwhile the villains felt surprisingly flat this time round. Real perhaps, but decidedly uninteresting.

One emerges with the sense this is the middle instalment of a trilogy — the plot already set up and largely action heavy — although those involved refuse to comment. The truth is that the relentless pacing actually fits the plot rather well, with Bond on a rampage of revenge while everyone else is after him. The problem is that the result is just not very Bond. There is more to a Bond film than simply action, and in failing to deliver that, Quantum feels untrue to the franchise in a way that Casino Royale, while a reboot in style and tone, never did.

Over the past decade Pixar has been growing steadily and is now churning out a film every year, yet somehow always of impeccable quality in visuals and heart. Ratatouille is a perfect example of both these qualities but, like many of Pixar’s recent releases, seems to lack the originality of their earlier work.

Food-loving Remy [Patton Oswalt] is an unusual chef. Primarily because he’s a rat. When he finds himself alone in Paris, separated from his family, he teams up with hapless human chef. Languine [Lou Romano] is a new employee at the restaurant created by the renowned Gusteau [Brad Garrett], who inspired Remy with his motto, “anyone can cook”. With Remy’s help, Languini soon becomes the talk of Paris. Meanwhile Remy must deal with conflicting loyalties to his new life and his uncouth family.

Visually Ratatouille delivers a treat, as one always expects from Pixar. Unusually there is a large cast of human characters, not as overtly stylised as The Incredibles but still retaining a cartoonish appearance. Fur has long been one of Pixar’s strengths and cute rats look wonderful, showing off their coats under a variety of conditions, often drenched and even electrified! Most of the film occurs in enclosed spaces but the outside shots of Paris are breathtakingly recreated with incredible detail. The outdoor highlight is a chase through Paris which is simply one of the best action sequences I’ve seen recently in any medium.

The voice acting is capable but unremarkable, though this elevates Pixar above most of its mainstream competition where celebrity voice talent overpowers the characters themselves. The exception is Peter O’Toole’s ominous food critic Anton Ego. Of note is that there is much successful visual, physical comedy here, unusual in a film that is clearly designed for both children and adults. Usually the physical side is reserved for weaker gags to appeal to the younger audience. Unlike other family films that resort exclusively to middle-of-the-road material to appease everyone, here plenty of elements are geared at different sections of the audience so that everyone is kept entertained. There are humorous digs at the French and the inherent snobbery of haute cuisine, but it is always playful rather than mean spirited.

The chief criticism is that beyond the initial creative conceit of a gourmet rat in a kitchen, the story unfolds in a charming but utterly predictable manner. Indeed this feels like a culmination of an alarming trend with Pixar as their unique storytelling spirit of the Toy Story to Monsters, Inc heyday gradually slips away. It is telling that Pixar releases now mark the central focus of the Disney calendar, because it seems the studio is becoming subsumed into its publisher: this tale is exactly what one would expect of a Disney cartoon a few decades ago. Although little is known about the plot for the forthcoming robotic Wall-E, one is hopeful that it may buck the trend.

So Ratatouille remains at the peak of animated fare with a providing much for both children and adults to enjoy. Yet while its polish is undeniable, one cannot help feel that, like Cars, it fails to live up to the legacy that precedes it. Nevertheless it remains one of the top family films of the year, further cementing Pixar’s dominant position.

The most worrying thing about the disappointing final instalment of Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy is the fact that no one seems entirely sure exactly how much was dropped on producing it. It was estimated to be around $100 million over budget bringing the total to nearly $300 million. To put that in perspective it’s the cost of 6,500 Porsche Boxters, 4 million trips to Disney World or 60 million tubs of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

The story regurgitates much of the love triangle we have already seen in the previous film between Peter [Tobey Maguire], Mary Jane [Kirsten Dunst] and Harry [James Franco]. Peter has discovered his uncle’s real killer is escaped convict Flint Marko [Thomas Haden Church] who has become Sandman after fleeing into a research site. Meanwhile Peter must deal with rival photographer Eddie Brock who is after his job. Finally he is also infected by an extra-terrestrial symbiot resulting in a new black suit that strengthens his powers but alters his personality.

Suffice to say there is a lot going on. Batman Begins felt crowded with only two villains and while previous Spider-Man films have intelligently settled for just one, the latest boasts three in the form of Sandman, Venom and Harry kitted out in his father’s Goblin gear. The extraneous melodrama serves little purpose as we have already been through it before. Gwen Stacy’s presence adds the only new ingredient, presumably as a nod to fans of the comics, but her character serves little purpose beyond highlighting just how dull Mary Jane has become. Lacking any sort of flow we have two unnecessary songs from Dunst, Maguire performs a dance routine in a bar (a sequence that, despite its energy, would feel more at home in The Mask), Harry seems drugged and even the cameos feel strained — Stan Lee’s single line is out of place and so hideously cheesy that even those who know it is him will find themselves cringing, while Bruce Campbell seems to be channelling John Cleese in his extended appearance as a French maître d’. Where Spider-Man 2 arguably had too little plot for its running time, here we find enough for at least two films, with the end result being that nothing is sufficiently fleshed out and none of the villains are really given a chance to breathe or shine.

Sandman is an impressive villain brought to life with some of the film’s best CG effects, rising from whirling sandstorms and growing to incredible sizes. In the limited time he has, Church is able to humanise him to a degree. However Venom suffers far more, as it becomes clear Raimi had no interest in the character at all. Despite being a favourite of comicbook fans the Venom on screen is a weak translation that lacks the size, scariness and sheer presence required. The action sequences are largely uninspired with the most satisfying being the fight between unmasked Peter and Harry in the mansion. There is nothing to match the gripping raised train sequence of the last film. The by the numbers final showdown lacks any energy, despite some interesting flourishes like superheating sand into glass or creating a resonance cage. These few moments were hardly enough to save it, evident from the fact it requires a news reporter to tell the audience how to feel, coupled with a cheering crowd and an utterly generic soundtrack that treads roughshod over Elfman’s refrains from the earlier films.

It seems that the Spider-Man trilogy has mirrored the arc of X-Men with a decent introduction to set the stage, a strong second film that really raises expectations, followed by an utterly underwhelming third instalment that makes viewers wish the filmmakers had stopped at two. The biggest insult to fans is the poorly realised Venom who deserved his own film, and the general lack of focus and insipid melodrama leaves little to dull the pain. Perhaps a victim of his own success, in attempting to best his previous outings Raimi has simply taken on too much. The end result is pretty, vacuous and dull.

The selection of Daniel Craig as the new Bond sparked an outcry at the idea of this blonde-haired, blue-eyed Bond. I was a vocal supporter having seen him carry Layer Cake and later his memorable supporting role in Munich. Now I expect even his most ardent critics to be floored by the transformation Bond has undergone in arguably his best incarnation yet.

Going back to his roots, we see in black and white the two kills that promoted Bond [Daniel Craig] to 00 status. M [Judi Dench] is clearly worried about his early promotion and arrogant recklessness, storming an embassy. On the heels of terrorist financier Le Chiffre, the banker is backed into a corner once Bond foils his attempt to blow up a plane. Gambling with his clients’ money, Le Chiffre is left with no choice but to win it back in a poker game at Casino Royale in Montenegro. Bond joins in, with the Treasury’s investment being watched by the alluring Vesper Lynd [Eva Green].

Comparison can be drawn with the return to the Dark Knight’s roots in Batman Begins. Similarly the tone shifts to a darker, more gritty world. The action sequences are far more gripping for the simple reason that in contrast to the old clean, almost clinical, violence, now when Bond fights he gets hurt. After killing two men in a stairwell his white shirt is drenched crimson with blood, in later scenes we see his face scarred from earlier fights. The film pushes its 12A rating with two uncomfortably protracted strangulation scenes.

This is not to say the kinetic, unbelievable action set pieces, the staple of the Bond experience, have gone. Indeed it opens with a highly memorable le parkour free running chase through a building site. There are no car chases, although they do destroy a beautiful Aston Martin DBS. In its new-found realism gone too are the gadgets and Cleese’s Q, as well as Moneypenny. Much of the overt comedy is stripped away as a result although the subtler humour remains. The only link to the past is in Dench’s M and she is superb. She never tries to outshine Bond but her calm, staid composure is the perfect complement. As for Campbell’s direction, it has become quite clear that he certainly knows how to introduce a new Bond — he was, after all, the man behind Brosnan’s arrival in Goldeneye.

The villains are all competent yet standard. However Green provides one of the most fascinating bond girls to date. She is required to combine verve and depth in her character as well as luscious good looks, and she pulls it off fantastically. Verbally sparring with Bond, she is a refreshing change from vacuous tedium of the average “love” interest. She is also the pivotal point for Bond’s shifting character as we see Bond emerge from a shell and mature in this film. As he stares into the camera with those incredibly bold blue eyes at the end, telling us his name, we know he will be back and could not be happier.

A Catholic who lights fireworks on the 5th of November, blissfully unaware of the irony, is not wrong, merely telling. V’s continual references to Guy Fawkes, not least in his masked visage, undoubtedly flew over the heads of most American viewers and may have been largely a distraction. Yet even in the UK we have largely forgotten him, as the film itself points out. Resurrecting the figure as an icon, V For Vendetta is based loosely upon a comicbook by Alan Moore (who, as usual, has distanced himself from the project), translated by the Wachowski’s into a near future that more closely parallels our own timeline.

While the former USA is in chaos, 2020 England is held together by a totalitarian government who control the people through media domination and force. We see events through the eyes of Evey Hammond [Natalie Portman] who is rescued by a terrorist known only as V [Hugo Weaving]. She is at first impressed by his “orchestrated” explosive demolition of the Old Bailey to the sound of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture, then horrified by his violent attacks against government figures, until finally she comes to understand V himself. The film is about the idea, while the story she tells is about the man.

The film’s most chilling line is the high chanceller’s enraged cry, “I want them to remember why they need us!” as he feels his vice-like grip over the population beginning to slip. The idea that control of population, largely through fear, is paramount provides a vision that could easily be applied to more than one western government. Yet although our perspective leads us to side with V from the start, room is given for us to question his actions and even the state in which he leaves things. Weaving does well in giving a masked character a little personality, though most of the acting is decent but unremarkable. It is really a film of impressive moments, climaxing with the fantastic domino montage, but even together they are not significant enough to warrant revisiting.

The fault lies largely with the Wachowski’s script. While the story unfolds wonderfully, like the Matrix sequels it is plagued by the fact that the writing is never quite as clever as it thinks it is. Aside from the initial alliterative v-filled vernacular of V’s first verbose vocalisation (err, sorry) little of the dialogue is worth commenting upon. It’s aggressive palette of reds and blacks is not as stylised as a Superhero movie, but we edge towards easy Nazi imagery instead of the more indirect 1984. It is grounded by it’s real-world setting, giving the ideas voiced more gravitas than in a fantasy one. The media parallels drawn are eerily accurate, but the political side is soporifically blunt. It might be viewed as a bold statement in this respect, and is certainly enjoyable and engaging in its storytelling, but it lacks the clarity to leave you thinking for very long once the credits roll. Nevertheless as a wake-up call, reminding people to pay attention to where our nations and our governments are headed, it may just do its job.

This year’s first truly inventive film arrives with little flourish but plenty of style. Rian Johnson’s directorial début moves classic noir into a high school environment in what would be a gimmick if it were about visual appearances, but is instead about heart.

After receiving a frightened phone call from an ex-girlfriend, Brendan [Joseph Gordon-Levitt] enters the local underworld to shake things up and search for answers. With everything unfamiliar, his only friend is The Brain [Matt O’Leary] who feeds him information while he tries to track her down along a path that introduces him to a shady drug-dealing kingpin [Lukas Haas], hot-headed thugs, and femme fatales. Once murder enters the equation, he knows he is in too deep, but is determined not to stop until he discovers the truth.

The noir translates jarringly at first to its new setting. Unconvincing teenage characters shoot the sharp dialogue of the 1940’s, but the strength of the delivery of this world will soon draw you in. Visually Johnson doesn’t go the way of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang but instead uses a subtler technique, draining colours in some areas and adding vibrancy in others. Our hero Brendan wears an old grey jacket with glasses and an unruly mop of curly hair rather than the traditional hero’s sharp get-up, but this serves to make him more accessible to us.

The plot is suitably convoluted and certainly unpredictable, yet not the film’s memorable aspect. Rather it is the feeling that permeates the entire experience, strangely aided by how out of place these teenage criminals seem. Gordon-Levitt offers another strong turn as an outsider, but unlike Mysterious Skin his attraction here is from his passionate, single-minded focus rather than sexual presence. His intensity allows much of the dialogue to work, warning back stoned thugs with an improbable, “I’ve got all five senses and I slept last night, that puts me six up on the lot of you.” Unfortunately the rapid delivery of the dialogue is occasionally swallowed by poor sound recording, a shame since the script has been crafted with such care. Haas conversely lacks the screen presence to make The Pin as powerful a character as it ought to be. Even in a teenage world he lacks the requisite presence despite his brooding cloak-and-cane image.

The fusion allows the school administration to become another presence of authority, usually provided by the police, as Brendan’s vice-principal reminds him, “You’ve helped this office out before.” The school itself has no character and is greyed out, perhaps intentionally to avoid it becoming a focal point. However when the students’ underworld are delicately balanced with their normal lives, it seems odd that the school plays so small a role. Perhaps it serves to highlight that it is in the gritty outside world that these youths truly live.

Ultimately what appears to be a gimmick and never quite rings true is in some ways the whole point of the film. These are teenagers, in way over their heads and utterly unreal, and yet they represent exactly what being a teenager feels like, the constant fear that everything is a matter of life and death. In the world of Brick, how it feels is what makes it breathe.

In completing King Kong Jackson both fulfilled a childhood dream and showed just how valuable a well-timed remake can be, even if the original is as iconic a masterpiece as this. Another combination of Andy Serkis’ acting skills with Weta technology, we are granted an utterly real Kong, visually rather than just by drawing us into the fantasy world as with the previous films.

We follow struggling actress Ann Darrow [Naomi Watts] as she meets the untrustworthy filmmaker Carl Denham [Jack Black]. Pursued by creditors, he hires her as the lead for his picture, setting sail for the undiscovered Skull Island by following a map he has received. Scriptwriter Jack Driscoll [Adrien Brody] has also been tricked into joining them for the voyage. Once they reach the mysterious island, Ann is captured by the natives and offered to Kong, a gigantic ape. The ship’s crew mount a rescue mission across this prehistoric world to save Darrow and escape.

Most will tell you that at over three hours the film is excessively long: it is not Lord of the Rings. However they will disagree over what should be cut. Over an hour is spent on establishment before we even see the beast, and Jackson delves into the backstories of all our characters. Although a proper understanding of Darrow and Denham’s motives is key, the history of the ship’s crew is somewhat unnecessary. Once the action begins, however, it is utterly riveting. It is any action adventure afficionado’s dream with man versus giant insects, man versus dinosaur, dinosaur versus Kong, and of course, man versus Kong. Skull Island’s creatures are phenomenal, peaking with a ten minute brawl between Kong and three tyranosaurs. For this alone, it is must-see on the big screen.

I cannot understand why Jackson, in the position to select any actor he pleased, took the risk of casting Jack Black. Whether it was a calculated gamble or blind luck I cannot tell, but despite being no fan of Black’s prior acting performances, here his straight performance has a caged intensity which perfectly captures the essence of Denham. Watts does well as Darrow, giving depth to her role and creating brilliant chemistry with a non-existent creature as she displays believable affection for Kong. Having Serkis on set must have aided this greatly. Her relationship with Kong is two-way, following the 1976 telling rather than the 1933 (incidentally for those who worry about continuity and such things, this incarnation of Kong is about 25 feet tall). Brody is an unlikely choice as the action hero and fares somewhat less well. Although he plays the scriptwriter role well, he’s often unconvincing later in the film. One remains incredulous that he could lead Darrow back across the island virtually unharmed when a band of well-armed sailors suffered so many casualties.

The weakest portion of the film is probably the return to New York City. Although one of the finest special effects is this historical recreation, once Kong breaks loose we have the army called in when the ostensible body count is virtually zero. The closing lines are a horrible and rather abrupt end to a poignant demise. I suspect a director’s cut may alter this closing scene. The scenes which absolutely cannot be cut, and indeed it is doubtful could be improved upon, are the intimate moments between Darrow and Kong. Shots of them watching a sunset together and her dancing for him are astounding in both their beauty and sincere simplicity. The human expressions etched upon Kong’s face will remain with the viewer long after the movie ends.

Jackson has crafted a magnificent version of this tale, although it perhaps falls short of becoming the definitive version. However, for those introduced through this movie it will be difficult to rewatch the older incarnations because the visual standard is simply so high. This is certainly Kong for the current generation and creating a more believable and emotionally captivating Kong on film may well be impossible.

I have intentionally not re-read the book prior to viewing the film as I wished to experience it anew, while hoping for the story to rekindle the same emotions it had as a child. As comparisons with Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings are inevitable I shall not shy away from them but would offer as a warning that this is a very different film and a viewer who approaches it with the same expectations will be sorely disappointed. Equally, though it be a magical children’s story, it is something vastly predating Harry Potter and bears little resemblance below the surface. Rather it is something of a hybrid, epic children’s fantasy, in a way that will only truly become evident if the franchise does extend to further films (all seven books have been optioned, although The Horse and His Boy seems an unlikely candidate for a film).

The four Pevensie children, Lucy [Georgie Henley], Edmund [Skandar Keynes], Peter [William Moseley] and Susan [Anna Popplewell], are evacuated from London during WWII. They find themselves in a large stately home belonging to a reclusive professor [Jim Broadbent]. While exploring they discover a mysterious wardrobe that leads them into the magical world of Narnia. While marvelling at the wonderous creatures they soon discover, much to their surprise, their coming has been foretold signalling the end of the battle between the evil White Witch and Aslan, Narnia’s true king.

Given several television adaptations it is easy to regard this film as somewhat redundant. However, the impressive production values and Weta’s involvement in bringing the creatures to life makes this a much easier world in which to lose oneself. Nevertheless one must still approach it with an open childlike imagination in order to experience its full effect. It remains very true to C.S. Lewis’ book in both style and content. Although changes are evident, the Biblical imagery, particularly that embodied in Aslan, remains both intact and prominent.

The children’s performances are all decent, if not particularly noteworthy. Georgie Henley’s open-mouthed awe avoids being overly cutesie, while Peter and Edmund’s brotherly fighting seems a little rigid. In short you won’t find yourself cringing as in the first Potter instalment, nor will you be blown away. The secondary actors fare better, particularly James McAvoy as Mr. Tumnus, the fawn. Liam Neeson voices Aslan with sufficient gravitas, but the majestic lion still seems a little subdued in the film, perhaps because we see him from an outside perspective, rather than through the children’s feelings as in the book. Equally the witch, though suitably manipulative and chilling, seems to be lacking in presence.

Narnia itself feels less expansive than I would have liked, perhaps due to the lack of the lingering, sweeping panoramic shots of The Fellowship of the Ring. Despite this, it feels inherently magical from the first moment Lucy scrambles into its snow-covered forest. The soundtrack provides an enchanting accompaniment in the first half, becoming somewhat more routine further in. The battle sequences showcase Weta’s work with polar bear-drawn chariots and dozens of centaurs charging into battle. These are not the dark clashes of LOTR, however, but rather the epic fantasy battles of a child’s imagination with shining armour and bloodless swords.

Shots like the lamppost ground it well for those familiar with the book, while others may feel there are too many unanswered questions, such as Aslan’s disappearance and the witch’s origins. It is important to remember that these remained mysteries in the book too, answered only in the penultimate instalment, the prequel The Magician’s Nephew. This highlights that the faithful adaptation from the book is both its strength and its weakness.

The directorial debut of Lethal Weapon screenwriter Shane Black, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is a comic film noir that takes its genre seriously enough that it never becomes a spoof or self-parody like so many recent efforts. Rather it’s a deft and original spin that stills packs a few surprises, great leads, and is consistently funny.

Harry [Robert Downey Jr.] is a petty crook who has ended up in Hollywood after accidentally stumbling into an audition room while fleeing from the police. Training for a role as a detective he is being given lessons by private investigator Gay Perry [Val Kilmer]. When he bumps into his childhood crush Harmony [Michelle Monaghan], he finds himself caught in a lie after telling her that he’s a detective. Agreeing to take on her case, he is way out of his depth. Film noir plots are inevitably pretty standard. Fortunately Black knows this and it’s not his selling point — it’s the characters and the style. Rather he throws in a couple of utterly contrived strands with decent payoffs but never expects his audience to buy into it fully. In fact the pace is too fast anyway; you have to just roll with it to keep up else you’ll miss out on some hilarious dialogue along the way.

The story is narrated by Harry, but this is no ordinary storytelling cliché. It is an irreverently offbeat and self-aware style, “I’ll be your narrator,” that is reminiscent of Christina Ricci in The Opposite of Sex, and almost as successful. Robert Downey Jr.’s cynicism and comic timing are perfect here, as Harry is happy to jump back a scene if he’s made a mistake and missed something out, “this is bad narrating, like my dad telling a joke,” and question his use of profanity. The result is a natural flow that seems incredibly genuine, especially since our “hero” is both filled with self-doubt and utterly incompetent.

Val Kilmer chooses to play the self-important detective Gay Perry in a very straight style rather than the caricature he could so easily have become. Despite his pomposity, we swiftly grow to like him. Harmony is the necessary fainting damsel in distress, but she’s far more forward than the archtype. Donning a (incredibly fetching) Santa costume rather than the expected slinky dresses, she’s a more powerful figure and far more captivating character.

A rapidfire script that’s matched by Downey Jr.’s cynical delivery, Black never insults the viewer by slowing down for them to catch up. It oftens feels like being dragged along on a ride which is very much how Harry experiences it. Always involving, none of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is genuinely groundbreaking or original, but it’s fantastically eclectic entertainment all the same and easily the best work either of the leads has done for some time.

The first internationally released German film to focus on Hitler, Downfall (or “The Downfall” to accurately translate the German title Der Untergang) focuses on the last days not only of the Führer, but of the entire German people, a nation awaiting its inevitable defeat. It ranks amongst the greatest World War Two films in its portrayal of a broken Berlin and particularly in Ganz’ powerhouse performance as the crumbling dictator.

Hirschbiegel approaches his subject with painstaking accuracy, the story largely developed from two sources: Joachim Fest’s Inside Hitler’s Bunker and the memoirs of Traudl Junge. Through eyes of secretary Traudl Junge, the Führer is introduced as a kindly grandfather figure, suggesting a hugely sympathetic portrayal of the man. Nothing could be further from the truth. Whilst Ganz phenomenally nuanced performance has pathos in his shaking hands and often lost daze behind his eyes, he also rants and raves at his generals like a madman, ordering non-existent armies to attack the Soviet lines and cursing the loyal German people for failing him. The mixed approach is subtler than that to which we are used, yet it makes his evil more chillingly real.

The film’s most chilling scene is not Ganz’s however, but Corinna Harfouch as the wife of the psychotically loyal Joseph Goebbels. Rather than let her children grow up in a future without national socialism, she elects to kill them instead, forcibly drugging them and then cracking cynaide pills in their mouths. As she moves from one to the next, her conviction is the scariest part of this film. To have heard these same children sing a patriotic German folksong to “Uncle Hitler” earlier on makes it considerably more moving. Truly that is what made Hitler so dangerous: the unquestioning devotion which he inspired in others.

Unlike the average war film, Downfall begins at the end, once defeat is imminent. Its palette of greys paint a gritty, ghostly burnt-out husk of Berlin and the unrelenting pounding of explosions act as a subliminal drain on the viewer, flinching at each near miss. Most of the film’s scenes occur within Hitler’s bunker, with a small cast of his closest generals and aides, evoking a claustrophobia strongly reminiscent of Wolfgang Peterson’s U-boat epic Das Boot. The bunker-mentality is both shocking and incredibly compelling viewing. Eva Braun seems at times on the verge of madness, while the others drink their way to oblivion to avoid accepting their that they are hopelessly trapped.

Perhaps it’s weakest choice was is the central use of Junge, disproportionately increasing her significance. She is clearly intended as a way in for the viewer and an impartial eye through which we can appreciate Hitler’s more vulnerable side. However, her willful naïvity swiftly makes her less accessible and her devotion to Hitler becomes unfathomable, distancing us from our supposed way in. Nevertheless one cannot help but be drawn in by the plight of both the city of Berlin and those caught up around Hitler, struggling to hold onto something, be it a futile hope of victory or merely determination to die rather than surrender.