Saw

If Silence of the Lambs blew the doors open for serial killer movies, Seven created a new cinematic language for them. The aesthetics of the language spread far and wide as genres go, but both the aesthetic aspects and its semantic were religiously maintained by dozens of hacks making their own by-the-numbers serial murderer flicks. Uniformly ranging from unremarkable to pathetic, the only psychopath movies worthy of note since David Fincher's breakout film are the ones that at least partially eschew his formula: American Psycho, The Devil's Rejects, Chopper and even Hannibal (for its satirical bent) are far better than the likes of the Bone Collector, The Watcher, etc.

Saw does not aspire to break any new ground. And while it undoutedly was sold to the studios as an absolute brutal headfuck of a movie, it's mind-numbingly pedestrian; it's hard to imagine anyone involved doing anything else than make minor tweaks to the formula, trying to come up with gimmicky mtv editing tricks to cover up the crappy script and make it seem edgier, and speak in terms of 'target audience' 'foreign markets' and that kind of shit.

The premise, at least, is interesting as these things go: two guys find themselves chained to pipes in what looks like an abandoned industrial bathroom, and slowly discover clues pointing to why they may be there, and how to get out. It just might have worked, if the movie had the intelligence to stay focused on them- but instead we are treated with flashbacks and disgressions that may or may not have anything to do with their predicament; they certainly hold no interest. The script knows exactly how ludicrous it is, and goes for bust with all kind of stupid tricks to cover it up, and to try and generate tension: why just show someone doing anything, if you can also have both protagonists narrating what they're doing in shouts? The less said about the twists, the better- the last one in particular exists only because, you know, there had to be a twist, and is the greatest in a long string of insults to the viewer's intelligence.
The acting is nothing if not awful. Have you ever wondered why Danny Glover never got offered an important role after the Lethal Weapons? Well, watch this movie and find out. Cary Elwes deserves special mention, as his non-acting goes far beyond unintentionally funny, into the realm of the perplexing. The cinematography is ripped straight off Seven, only by amateurs, with some cheap flourishes undoubtedly intended to make the movie seem edgier, but that end up showing off just how much of a hack the everyone involved with this disgrace is- there is a 'car chase' sequence that has to be seen to be believed.
Even the gore in this movie is crappy. No doubt it was meant to appeal to the gorehounds among the audience, but it chickens out from showing a head getting splattered by a shotgun- what the hell? And when one guy throws a hissy fit and finally saws his fucking foot off, do you think this piece of shit movie shows anything? Hell no, that would take guts. Ehr, in the metaphorical sense.

Bad, bad, bad, fucking atrocious, this is a low point in an already crappy subgenre. The fact that a sequel to this moronic disaster is about to be released only makes me want to pick up a chainsaw and show these motherfucking thieves how a proper sadistic psycho does it: starting at the groin, slowly cut upwards.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

A kid's movie doesn't have to appeal only to kids; this has been proved many times, from Pixar flicks to Chicken Run to Harry Potter (the third one, in any case). Director Tim Burton has applied a childlike sensibility to adult(-ish) films in the past, so it was reasonable to expect his remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to have something to offer to both children and sentient human beings. He does manage some striking images and some fun scenes, but the end result is disappointing: entertaining enough, but absolutely unaffecting and forgettable. Kids will gobble it up, and it's good to see some rather macabre imagery making its way to young impressionable minds, but then again, that's hardly something new these days. Burton has enough cache in Hollywood to get away with some welcome personal touches; some of the only emotional moments that ring true (however lightweight) come from Willie Woka's backstory, unexplored either in the book or in the original movie. Danny Elfman's score is, as always, excellent, and the cast is very solid. The musical numbers are embarrassing but fun, and seem grossly miscalculated (they spoof musical styles out of vogue about a decade before the movie's target audience was born). In fact, they are representative of the movie's attitude towards adults in the audience: to make a joke every now and then aimed at them, and then go straight back to the kiddie stuff. Almost as if it were apologizing.

Not a bad movie by any stretch, but not a particularly good one either. Definitely not as good as the talent behind it would suggest.