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UK/USA: Roman Polanski, 1971

Roman Polanski's brutal, unflinching adaptation of Macbeth is clearly the work of a director with great affinity for his subject matter. This, ironically, is the single biggest problem with The Tragedy of Macbeth: it's simply too close to its source material to resonate effectively on the screen.

That's not to say that Polanski has not made alterations to the play. Indeed, while the dialogue rigidly adheres to that of Shakespeare (only modernising certain words and omitting a few lines here and there), and the scenes play out in the same order and broadly the same manner as in the original play, Polanski very much puts his own personal touch on the more violent aspects of the plot. The film was made shortly after the murder of Sharon Tate by Charles Manson and his gang, and, armed with that knowledge, it is virtually impossible not to imagine that this must have had some impact on the high level of bloodshed it depicts. This is easily Polanski's most overtly violent film, and the unflinching manner in which it is presented is one of its two strongest traits (the other is Gil Taylor's breathtakingly moody Todd-AO 35 photography, which swathes the screen in near-perpetual doom and gloom). The lack of restraint on display here arguably makes the tale more vivid and immediate than any other filmic adaptation of the play to date. For all the strength of its atmosphere, however, the film's pace is leaden, and the whole affair is ultimately overly long, with Francesca Annis' nude rendition of Lady Macbeth's "Out, damned spot..." speech being one of the few truly memorable moments of the lethargic second act.

An ambitious and passionate undertaking, Polanski cannot be faulted for effort in his interpretation of Macbeth. The end result, however, is a bloated affair that had this viewer on the verge of sleep.

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Alternate title: The Order
USA: Brian Helgeland, 2003

Often, when I see a film that has had unanimously bad press, I find something to appreciate in it: a little moment or element, even if everything else is bad. Not so with The Sin Eater: this film is rotten to the core, a complete and unmitigated disaster. The fact that it is fairly competently shot is rendered absolutely meaningless when faced with this utterly stupid story, awful dialogue and hideous acting. I can't believe anyone involved in this mess would actually want to be credited! Seriously, this is the first time in ages that I've just about wanted to scald my eyeballs with molten lava in order to erase the hideous memory. It's not even so bad it's good - it's just... bad. Really, really, really bad.

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USA: Andrew Niccol, 2002

The old adage applies: when in doubt, opt for the sledgehammer approach. The actual concept of the film - that of a fabricated digital actor taking on a life of her own as a result of fan adulation - is a good one, but rather than allowing the audience to work out the central themes for themselves, writer/director Andrew Niccol bludgeons us over the head with them to the point of ridiculousness. Nothing is left to our imagination. As a result, S1m0ne is an interesting attempt by the Hollywood machine to bite the hand that feeds it, but unfortunately it makes it clear that, yes, it really does believe that we're the same suckers who get duped by "Simone".

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Original title: Una Farfalla con le Ali Insanguinate
Italy: Duccio Tessari, 1971

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USA: Robert Schwentke, 2005

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Original title: Chinjeolhan Geumjassi
South Korea: Chan-wook Park, 2005

I watched Sympathy for Lady Vengeance in my Film Studies class. To quote one somewhat disgusted student, "Well, that was bundle of laughs, wasn't it?"

I really enjoyed it. The only other Chan-wook Park film I've seen is Oldboy, and I'd be hard-pressed to say which one I prefer. They're essentially the same story, only Lady Vengeance has a female protagonist rather than a male one, and there's no surprise twist at the end. It's certainly a very beautiful film, although there are some definite flaws in the characterisation. It's hard to ever get an angle on the heroine, and the result is that she seems more a cipher than a real person. Most of the other characters are equally one-dimensional, and some aspects - the daughter, the various prison inmates who help the heroine - could have been expanded more.

Nonetheless, though, I would definitely recommend this film. It's consistently amazing to look at, the music is brilliant and the blood-soaked finale is completely and utterly twisted. In the seminar after the screening, we discussed problems that would face a Hollywood studio if they tried to remake it. Frankly, I see no feasible way that the finale would survive in the same form.

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Original title: Przesluchanie
Poland: Ryszard Bugajski, 1982

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USA: Todd Solondz, 1995

There is a moment in Welcome to the Dollhouse that perfectly sums up the frustration of being a misunderstood middle child. After spending a night on the streets, having run away in search of her lost younger sister, Missy (Daria Kalinina), Dawn (Heather Matarazzo) phones home only to be offhandedly informed that Missy has turned up safe and sound. The marked contrast between her parents' complete lack of concern regarding Dawn's disappearance and their earlier hysteria over the possibility that Missy could have been kidnapped or murdered cuts right to the bone, and encapsulates the acute pessimism of Todd Solondz's suburban drama.

What holds together this vicious and revealing take on pre-teen life is Heather Matarazzo, who gives an outstanding central performance that belies her young age. So pitch-perfect is her portrayal of lonely outcast Dawn that the character comes alive and remains completely believable, even when Solondz's somewhat heavy-handed approach to portraying isolation and rejection threatens to go over the top. Having a vindictive, bullying teacher order Dawn to write and read aloud an essay on the meaning of 'dignity' could easily have been overkill, but Matarazzo's sincerity and the utterly pathetic manner in which she delivers the words on the page give the character a depth that was probably not in the script. So strong is her conviction that she is able to make lines like "I don't mean to be a cunt" sound completely rational.

With so much unreleased tension and heartache, Welcome to the Dollhouse threatens, at any moment, to send its audience spiralling into depression. Its blackly comic dialogue, and the performances of its talented cast, however, prevent it from ever being completely desolate. Admittedly, the gusto with which it attacks the institutional nostalgia of suburban life borders on smugness at times, but it remains a powerful and compelling film that should strike a chord with anyone who has ever felt like the odd one out.

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Original title: La Fille sur le Pont
France: Patrice Leconte, 1999

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Original title: Takhté Siah
Iran: Samira Makhmalbaf, 2000

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