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USA: James Mangold, 1999

Moving and deftly observed tale about a young woman (Winona Ryder) who is wrongly committed to a mental asylum in the 60s and finds out stuff about herself that she never realized before. A cliché it may be, but this is a "journey of self-discovery" and it's a great one at that. The performances are exceptional across the board (and, for once, I didn't want to strangle Whoopi Goldberg... well, maybe just a little), and although this is really more a series of events rather than a complete story, it flows well and succeeds in being an incredibly moving piece. A bit mawkish, maybe, but that's not necessarily a problem.

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USA: Mel Gibson, 2004

Well, I've finally seen Splatterchrist. My parents rented the DVD: a good thing too, since I'll be damned if I want to spend money keeping afloat Mel Gibson's private island. And what a silly film it was! My dad, never one to mince his words, spent most of its duration laughing and talking to the television screen (he wanted to know how he could concentrate on his dinner if forced to read subtitles), while my mum, the semi-devout Christian of the family, watched in a fairly disinterested manner, wandering in and out of the room at regular intervals to fetch more food and drink. Clearly she knew this story already.

Splatterchrist is a veritable mess of an exploitation flick that wallows in its own misguided pretentiousness and proceeds to bludgeon the viewer over the head to the extent that the violence loses all its power very quickly. At times the film is so ridiculous that it becomes funny, from the bullet-time coins thrown to Judas at the beginning to the number of slow motion shots of Jesus falling over to the hilarious Terminator-style resurrection at the end. Providing additional comedy value are the various conniving, hook-nosed Jews and pink-faced, mascara-laden Romans, who would probably be more at home in The Life of Brian. The special effects are excellent and Caleb Deschanel's photography is often inspired (if repetitive), but ultimately, with Gibson's blatant lack of tact and his absolute refusal to provide context of any kind - this feels like Act III of something much bigger - The Passion of the Christ just ain't that good. The film was certainly intriguing, don't get me wrong, but the blatant sadomasochism of the whole piece was a bit of a turn-off for me. Prepare to (snigger) crucify me, guys, but I prefer Braveheart.

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Original title: La Chiesa
Italy: Michele Soavi, 1988

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Original title: Chi l'ha Vista Morire?
Italy: Aldo Lado, 1972

Watching this film again I must say I seriously underrated it last time round. Lado is without a doubt the master at creating a sadistic atmosphere, and Who Saw Her Die? might well be has strongest example of this. Venice really takes on a life of its own in what I'm sure must have at least provided some inspiration for Nicolas Roeg's Don't Look Now.

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USA: Mary Harron, 2000

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UK/Italy: Nicolas Roeg, 1973

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UK: Christopher Smith, 2004

Grim British monster movie featuring Franka Potente, an abandoned London Underground station, a creature who looks like Chai from Shenmue, and not much else. Potente does her best with the limp material, but unfortunately writer/director Smith's writing and directing skills are close to non-existant. The look of the film is characterised by grimy, badly framed and focused shots that are hapharzardly thrown up on the screen with little sense of pacing. Ultimately, it wants nothing more than to be a straightforward stalk-and-slash monster movie with loads of tension and some great kills. Unfortunately, though, it provides none of this.

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France/USA: Luc Besson, 1994

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