Reviews

There are many deviations from the accepted facts of Jeanne d'Arc's life as set out in her trial documentation and the writings of the time. This said, the central question of whether she was a saint, an inspired lunatic, wholly mentally ill, or simply a headstrong girl determined to grab her chances while she could is well asked. Many of the comments here assert that Besson makes it clear that the Maid was simply mentally ill, yet I read the film as deeply ambivalent about what was going on. Were her visions the hallucinations of a schizophrenic? Were they given by God? What's the difference? More questions are asked: Why does an omnipotent, omniscient, all-compassionate deity allow terrible things to happen? What is the meaning of kingship - to own or to serve? What is the difference between taking the lives of individuals and killing en masse? What's the difference between Christianity and the earthly institutions of that religion? Where does conviction end and fanaticism begin?

Jovavich's Jeanne is plagued by the difference between her idea of utter submission to God and the consequences of doing so; by doubt over the veracity of her visions; and by the gap between her ideals of the divine rights of kings and realpolitik. She is constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown - is this a manifestation of her mental illness, or of her "burning for God"? And where's the difference between the two?

The film raises more questions than it answers, and that's as it should be. It is something of a shame that Besson's film takes liberties with the facts as we understand them (though history is more often about our interpretation of events than the events themselves), but in terms of raising important questions on the nature of faith, it succeeds beyond measure.

This may sound odd, but what makes this comedy about Londoners fending off zombies with vinyl albums and cricket bats so terribly funny is that it's so utterly believable. Every character is someone you know; every interaction is something you've experienced; every emotion is one you know. Except with flesh-eating zombies.

A brilliantly observed comedy, 'Shaun of the Dead' makes shrewd points about the nature of mass media and consumer culture, the banality of everyday life, love, friendship, fear, and heroism. It also pokes fun at traditional zombie movies, with the undead moving so slowly that Shaun and Ed have time to go through their album collection to determine which records are too precious to be slung at their shuffling assailants. The humour is occasionally gross, but always funny; the observations about how real people would react to an entirely surreal situation are spot on.

An instant comedy classic.

'The Village' suffers from 2 major problems: the advertising campaign, which insists on trailing it as a mainstream shock-horror film, and the refusal of many movie-goers to shift mental gears and accept the film on its own terms.

This film is not about whether or not the audience can "see the twist in the plot", nor is it a conventional horror tale; it is a film about layers of complexity, an acutely observed study of human pain and fragility, and an unsettling examination of an ethical dilemma. The Elders of the village have created a solution to the problem of their pain by rejecting the outside world and its values. However, their simpler life is built on lies and deceit which, no matter how well intentioned, cannot be sustained without serious negative consequences for their community. In order to protect themselves and those they love, deception is layered upon deception, and the entire edifice of lies is in continual danger of crashing down around their ears. The fact that the village is generally relatively tranquil does not detract from the severe ethical compromises made on a regular basis; the Elders have locked themselves into a pattern of irresponsible and dysfunctional behaviour from which they cannot escape even when given the choice. When it becomes clear that there are opportunities to allow the younger members of the community to make their own choices based on the truth, they choose instead to give only partial information instead, obscuring the Big Lie which is fundamental to their way of life.

Joachin Phoenix and Bryce Dallas Howard shine as the most truthful and courageous members of the village, whose insistence on doing what is right and decent discomfits the Elders. Their nobility is never showy, always simple and honest. Hurt and Weaver turn in beautifully low-key performances as their parents, each making bad choices for good reasons. Brody's performance invites the audience to be simultaneously appalled and compassionate; his strange behaviour is both destructive and malignant, and yet this malignancy is laced with innocence.

The closing scenes provide both hope for the future of the community and the probability that the Elders will continue on their path of lies, leaving the audience unsettled and uncomfortable with the knowledge that the inhabitants of the village may never come to know the truth; that if they do, they will be irreperably damaged, and if they don't, they face a bleak future in a slowly declining isolated community.