Problem: OPTIONS:
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Answer: On rare occasions a film comes along that has the power to expand the mind, warm the heart and touch the very soul. "LOU" is such a film. I got "LOU" from my wife who got it from a neighbor who is in the film business. She watched it for a second time with me. We were both enthralled. Her as if for the first time again.

"LOU" is a magical piece designed to send you back to the moment at which all of your dramas started taking place. It does this while being relentlessly entertaining. Bret Carr's acting and pacing as a director do not let you look away from the screen. He crafts a character which disarms with a bugs bunny like, stuttering innocence, but warmly carried with such underplayed sincerity that you forget you're watching a movie. When the epiphany hits during the brilliant climax, I saw my wife in tears for the second time.

As a life coach, I facilitate individual growth and transformation, and this film is a "must see" for life coaches and anyone seeking their own personal growth and transformation. It is a brilliant, creative masterpiece with the power to change lives!


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Answer: Stewart Moss stars as a scientist who is on a working trip with his wife, and one gets the feeling that he was picked for this role for his ability to roll his eyes back in his head...imagine the auditions for this.."can you...no, that's not quite it, thank you, next!". Anyway, he's bitten by a bat, and then, he's either changing into some kind of bat creature and killing people or....he's not. For no one else sees his strange transformations, but he himself seems to think that he's changing because his wedding ring pops off when his hands turn into claws, etc. To its credit the movie does kind of hold back on whether he's just nuts or whether he's actually transforming into something until almost the very end. This has some good locations & sort of a decent atmosphere at times but unfortunately none of that can make up for the somewhat lame story and the wonderfully bad acting. Kind of fun in a "so bad it's good" way, but leans more towards just plain bad. 4 out of 10.


Problem: OPTIONS:
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Answer:
Consider for a moment what it must be like to be Uwe Boll. Somewhere, perhaps in those places that Jack Nicholson said 'you don't talk about at parties', Boll knows that David Lean had head lice as a child that had more talent for film making than him. Gore Whores, metal-heads and the socially dysfunctional may bump into him on the circuit and tell him otherwise but general audiences find the Teutonic helmsman's output so bereft of originality, wit or imagination that he's become the internet's bogeyman  an online discursive synonym for photochemical excrement. Boll does his best to ride over these naysayers, exploiting tax credits available in Germany and Canada to keep working and raising money from a network of dentists as Zero Mostel did with old ladies in The Producers. The difference being that Mostel's character knew he was making bowel fill. Maybe Uwe knows it too.

Such is the level of hostility toward each new 'Bollbuster' that IMDb patrons sabotage their ratings by voting 1 before they've seen it. Boll's attempts at silencing his critics by challenging them to a boxing match and knocking them out just made them more determined. Indeed he's probably the only filmmaker that's boosted thesaurus sales as critics search for inventive ways of describing garbage.

This onslaught has made Uwe a very thick skinned man, so much so that he must feel like he's wrapped in a carpet, but one who feels as if he's bullied by the entire world. Like most people in that situation he lashes out, determined to upset as many people as possible with the memory of a tearful evening holding Variety's review of House of the Dead, never too far from the surface. This 'I know you are but what am I' strategy for reclaiming the initiative produced the blunt satire of Postal, which attempted to napalm the dissenters with jokes about 9/11, Christian fundamentalism, Jihad, Nazism and paedophilia. Such a litany of invective requires a satirist with the mind of Peter Cook and the visual imagination of Chris Morris but the closest Boll gets to either man is the o in their surname.

In Seed, shot back to back with the aforementioned game adaptation, Boll is back with a story about a sadistic serial murderer (is there any other kind?) who gets the chair only for two attempts to fail in permanently curtailing all signs of life. Mindful of the fictional law that says anyone still alive after 3 attempts must go free, though if you'd been fried with that much electricity why would you want to, they pronounce him legally dead and bury him, only for the disgruntled killer to resurface and begin a whirlwind tour of his gaolers.

Boll begins his 'exploration of nihilistic rage' with Seed watching footage of animals being tortured for experimental purposes. From there we're treated to the killer's stock in trade  kidnapping dogs, babies and grown women and allowing them to starve to death on camera only to become maggot food. We're invited to reflect on what a depraved race of amoral meat sacks we all are  our inhumanity to each other and our fellow creatures acting as a lighting rod that acts as a catalyst for the most disgusting vestiges of the human condition. Yes, we're worthless, gormless sadists and worse than that, we won't give Uwe a good rating on the IMDb. In short, humanity is bunk.

Of course you might think that Uwe relies on our worst excesses for his livelihood and with that in mind it's a bit of a bipolar piece, on one hand hating its audience and positively basting itself in the sour milk of human kindness  the milk that poor old Boll has had to drink for so long, while simultaneously whipping out its member and inviting those with a pornographic lust for on screen depravity to marvel at its sheer arse splitting girth.

The result says nothing about society and its discontents, more the corrosive effect bad press is having on its director. Poor Uwe is obviously a very angry man  one scene in which a poor woman gets her brains hammered to a pulp while tied to a chair, no doubt a surrogate for his own fantasy's about dispatching various web critics. That it's there but takes an avant-garde approach by failing to be attached to any kind of narrative thread, shows that Boll is a pornographer whose happy to engage with the blood lust of his audience and knows that plot is surplus to requirements. He's made a film which is competently shot but utterly desolate. "I wanted to make a horror movie that was no fun" Boll told the audience at the film's world premiere and he has, on that flimsy manifesto, succeeded but if this was supposed to convince the director's detractors that he was a serious genre filmmaker, he'll need something genuine to say as well as a better, more original way of saying it.