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Raised by Wolves Season 2   The most impressive part of Raised by Wolves Season 2 is the way in which, at times, it is able to cast off the shackles of Ridders-brand science fiction and transform itself into something truly strange, boasting imagery that only ups the ante of the first and suggests the untamed psyches of Miyazaki or Jodorowsky. The least impressive part is also its most catnip quality; the show insistently pursues Lost mystery boxes, week after week, dispensing with one before setting up another (thought that snake was where it was at? Guess again). Will Raised by Wolves win a

Raised by Wolves Season 1   Ridley Scott’s latest transhumanist tract is so stuffed with required lore, markers and programming, it’s a miracle it manages to tell a half-engaging story along the way. Aaron Guzikowski (Prisoners) is the credited creator, but it has the Ridders stamp of dour dystopia all over it, complete with Darius Wolski (Prometheus) cinematography setting the tone. Which means bleak grey skies, augmented by South Africa this time, rather than Iceland. Raised by Wolves is a reliable mix of whacko twist plotting and clumsy, slack-jawed messaging; like the Alien prequels, it will surely never be seen through to a conclusion,

Inception  (2010)   Inception’s the blockbuster where Christopher Nolan gets everything – or nearly everything – right. His Russian doll, dream-within-a-dream-within-a-dream structure, by way of a heist movie (originally conceived as a horror), is meticulously structured, and so propulsive and confident in its storytelling that it’s slavishness to exposition somehow becomes an asset rather than a hindrance. As should be expected, it’s another of the director’s ongoing ruminations – and arguably a piece of high-end predictive programming – regarding the nature of reality and the manipulation of perception. In this case, the focus ultimately appears to be one of our

The Salute of the Jugger aka The Blood of Heroes (1989)   The extreme-sports version of Number Wang, the rules of The Game at the heart of The Salute of the Jugger are so baffling, it’s amazing writer-director David Webb Peoples was able to muster any tension in the contests at all. But I guess hitting, mutilating and maiming one’s opponent will tend to have that cumulative effect, even when the objective (sticking a skull on a spike, loosely) is vague. It’s big in Germany, apparently (playing The Game, that is). The Salute of the Jugger is, in its own oddball way, kind of

The Black Hole (1979)   Sometimes, a movie’s ambition is enough to see it through its less illustrious aspects. When I last revisited this entry in the “Dark Disney” canon, I pointed the finger of blame for The Black Hole’s drawbacks at director Gary Nelson, and while I still believe that’s partially fair, I have to credit him with the fact that it remains commendably weird-arsed (as I put it) and light years ahead of most big-budget science fiction, not only in its broaching of ideas but also in pursuing them to their conclusion. Calling it a kiddie 2001: A Space Odyssey would be

Mission to Mars (2000)   The history of duelling Hollywood projects has tended to see one clear winner, invariably the one with the head start. Dangerous Liaisons was a critical, commercial and Academy Awards hit; Valmont was none of those things. Tombstone was a surprise success, Wyatt Earp a prize turkey. Dante’s Peak cleared up more than Volcano. In the cases of Deep Impact and Armageddon, though, both did very well, but Armageddon did better. And then, when it came to Mission to Mars and Red Planet, neither did well, but Red Planet did worse. What was it that fuelled such assumed Mars appeal at the turn of the millennium? McConnell: We’re a million miles from Earth inside a giant white face.

Demon Seed (1977)   Demon Seed lends itself to a scornful response, mostly because its premise is so outré as to be deemed absurd, risible even. It’s been said Donald Cammell intended to make a comedy, and some critics suggested he’d missed the boat in by failing to deliver a satire. However, it’s difficult to see how hilarious this might have been, based on the premise (machine violation and forced impregnation). And yet, conceptually, the picture is simultaneously silly and sinister. In that sense, Cammell, who rued the studio influence that spoiled his vision, might have been the perfect guy to bring it to the

First Men in the Moon (1964)   Ray Harryhausen swaps fantasy for science fiction and stumbles somewhat. The problem with his adaptation of popular eugenicist HG Wells’ 1901 novel isn’t so much that it opts for a quirky storytelling approach over an overtly dramatic one, but that it’s insufficiently dedicated to pursuing that choice. Which means First Men in the Moon, despite a Nigel Kneale screenplay, rather squanders its potential. It does have Lionel Jeffries, though. It was Kneale’s bright idea to bookend the main 1899 narrative with the UN’s 1964 landing on the Moon (will you just look at the supra-national approach!

Doctor Who Nightmare of Eden   One of the more maligned stories in a much-maligned era of Doctor Who, Nightmare of Eden nevertheless has its staunch advocates. Outpost Gallifrey’s Shaun Lyon for one, who professed it his “favourite Doctor Who story ever”. It doesn’t quite reach that pinnacle for me, but I’m absolutely on the same page with regard to it being a gem. Tat Wood was also onside in About Time 4, at a stage where the critiques were increasingly divided into Lawrence Miles prosecutions and Wood defences (switching lanes with the subsequent era). For me, it’s one of the series’ very best scripts – even those

Scanners (1981)   David Cronenberg has made a career – albeit, he may have “matured” a little over the past few decades, so it is now somewhat less foregrounded – from sticking up for the less edifying notions of evolution and modern scientific thought. The idea that regress is, in fact, a form of progress, and unpropitious developments are less dead ends than a means to a state or states as yet unappreciated. He began this path with some squeam-worthy body horrors, before genre hopping to more explicit science fiction with Scanners, and with it, greater critical acclaim and a wider

Knowing (2009)   Alex Proyas’ apocalyptic offering manages to be opaque in the best way, offering the viewer sufficient tools to arrive at a conclusion according to their own particular leanings. Albeit, perhaps not so affirmative if they’re an avowed advocate of scientism. Even then, though, Knowing throws a few bones to the explicable in that regard. Unsurprisingly, it has become popular in Christian circles, with its appropriation of rapture imagery (and Ezekiel’s fiery chariot). While this is both a valid interpretation and one intended by the filmmaker, it would be a mistake to assume there aren’t other layers besides. Knowing leans strongly into Proyas’ earlier Dark

The X-Files 2.10: Red Museum   A curious one, this. Red Museum is an intriguing conspiracy-arc episode that offers an unexpected take on the human-guinea pig angle. It also makes the titular Church of the Red Museum a massive red herring, dangling it before the viewer, begging to be demonised as a hollow cult up to no good. In certain respects, that’s a smart piece of misdirection on Chris Carter’s part. Less so are some of the plot contrivances that enable our heroes to follow the trail to its conclusion. Mazeroski: Well, you gotta admit, it takes some big ones to set down

Doctor Who  Warriors of the Deep   There’s an oft-voiced suggestion that, if only it had the benefit of a better class of production, Warriors of the Deep would be acclaimed as a classic. I think we all know this is phooey, but at the same time, it’s undeniable that a better class of production couldn’t have harmed its reputation any. It might still have had paper-thin characters and a desperately uninventive plot (“linear”, as Pennant Roberts put it) along with an entirely perfunctory reintroduction of old monsters, but it could also have claimed some zip, some verve and some drama. The Doctor: How do

The Day of the Triffids (1981)   1981 was a banner year for BBC science fiction. Doctor Who had taken delivery of a new burgundy coat – and hat, scarf, troos, and, er, shirts adorned with question marks on the collars – and then a cricket blazer. On top of which, a rare season of vintage repeats was shown. Blake’s 7 went out in a blaze of glory. The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy latest incarnation was on television. Robert Holmes’ The Nightmare Man haunted a Scottish island. And the BBC gave John Wyndham’s novel the adaptation it deserved, twenty years after the last one and thirty after

The X-Files 8.7: Via Negativa   I wasn’t as down on the last couple of seasons of The X-Files as most seemed to be. For me, the mythology arc walked off a cliff somewhere around the first movie, with only the occasional glimmer of something worthwhile after that. So the fact that the show was tripping over itself with super soldiers and Mulder’s abduction/his and Scully’s baby (although we all now know it wasn’t, sheesh), anything to stretch itself beyond breaking point in the vain hope viewers would carry on dangling, didn’t really make much odds. Of course, it finally snapped with the

The Andromeda Strain (1971)   Robert Wise’s adaptation of Michael Crichton’s alien-invasion fantasy plays things entirely straight, which undoubtedly helps to sell its mile-high absurdities. But then, Crichton was a master of legitimising official science under the guise of airport fiction, boosted as his novels were by his authoritative status as qualified doctor. All that’s really proof of, of course, is that he’s able to parrot what he’s been taught. Which is very handy when you’re making a living from selling the excitingly plausible. The Andromeda Strain relates and celebrates the wonders of modern science with diligent, unquestioning, reverent awe, and Wise’s

Doctor Who Season 14 – Worst to Best   The best Doctor Who season? In terms of general recognition and unadulterated celebration, there’s certainly a strong case to be made for 14. The zenith of Robert Holmes and Philip Hinchcliffe’s plans for the series finds it relinquishing the cosy rapport of the Doctor and Sarah in favour of the less-trodden terrain of a solo adventure and underlying conflict with new companion Leela. More especially, it sees the production team finally stretching themselves conceptually after thoroughly exploring their “gothic horror” template over the course of the previous two seasons (well, mostly the previous

2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984)   The deal with 2010: The Year We Make Contact, of course, is that it pales into insignificance if sat next to Kubrick’s film. The further deal is that being a unworthy sequel doesn’t make it a bad film. Indeed, I’m always rather impressed by it. With the proviso that, like pretty much all Peter Hyams’ best films (see also Capricorn One, Outland, The Star Chamber) it doesn’t quite come together. And that, most damagingly, it feels like an ’80s SF movie, whereas 2001: A Space Odyssey for all its psychedelia and monkey suits, hasn’t dated at all.

Star Wars The Saga Ranked   This is an update of an earlier ranking (not ported over from Now in Full Color to Knowledgeable Cabbages), with the addition of highly-acclaimed The Rise of Skywalker, along with revisits to the two preceding parts of the trilogy. If you want to be generous and call it that, since the term it makes it sound a whole lot more coherent than it plays.  Rogue One (2016) (Rogue One: A Star Wars Story) I’m well aware Rogue One has its staunch admirers, many crowning it the best of Lucasfilm’s post-Disney purchase output. Unfortunately, it’s just the opposite: an

Until the End of the World (1991)   (Trilogy Cut) With the current order devolving into what looks inevitably like a passively endorsed dystopia, a brave new chipped and tracked vision variously in line with cinema’s warnings (or its predictive programming, depending on where your cynicism lands), I’ve been revisiting a few of these futuristic visions. That I picked the very Euro-pudding Until the End of the World is perhaps entirely antagonistic to such reasoning, seeing as how it is, at heart, a warm and fuzzy, upbeat, humanist musing on where we are all going. Director Wim Wenders’ “ultimate road movie” certainly

Minority Report (2002)   Spielberg doesn’t really do downers. Sure, you can find them; his early attempt to make a movie in line with his peer group (Sugarland Express); the Oscar bait of Saving Private Ryan (softened by an interminable coda). And doubtless, unless he really messes with the plot, West Side Story will not be ending on a note of good cheer. And then there are the back-to-back science fiction outings that opened the century, both standing apart as rather curious fish. At first glance, Minority Report concludes very much with a prevailing sense of order restored; the bad apple in an otherwise honest system

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)   (The Collector’s Edition) Interviewed on the set of Saving Private Ryan for Close Encounters of the Third Kind’s twentieth anniversary, Steven Spielberg expressed the view that it was the only film of his he looked back at that “dates me”, that falls victim to the “privileges of youth”. He alluded, in part, to this being down to his then passion for the UFO subject and possible interpretations thereof (“Now, I grew up”), but chiefly because of the fate of protagonist Roy Neary (Richard Dreyfuss), who leaves his family for a flight across the universe with

Doctor Who Season 18 – Worst to Best   As the star ratings that follow will attest, I generally rate Season 18 very highly. John Nathan-Turner’s new-broom approach may have been unceremonious towards the old guard, be they actors or production personnel, and was additionally responsible for introducing a slew of bad ideas (bad companions, bad designs, bad directors), but it also saw the arrival of a script editor with commendably strong story-telling instincts – best if you ignore him talking about them, mind – and at least some of the production changes the producer made genuinely served to refresh

Doctor Who Season 18 – Worst to Best Part 2   Season 18 Worst to Best Part 1 can be found HERE State of Decay Season 18’s behind-the-scenes narrative will tell you how ill Tom was and how fractious his relationship with Lalla was, at least until they agreed to get hitched, as if this reflects a clear map of the fictional season’s mood. And yes, it’s quite clear at points that one or other is out of sorts or that Tom looks thin and his hair needed curling. But equally important is the actors’ response to the material, whatever their emotional/physical

The Avengers 6.4: Split!   The opening teaser can go a long way to cementing an Avengers as a good ’un in the memory, but it can conversely be just about all there is to a story. Such is the case with Split! in which, once you’ve seen Mercer (Maurice Good, 1.10: Hunt the Man Down, 3.7: Don’t Look Behind You, The New Avengers’ Forward Base) hear the name Boris, undergo a personality change (the clawed hand!) and shoot his Ministry of Top-Secret Intelligence (the name’s probably the funniest part of the episode) colleague Compton (Iain Anders), it’s pretty clear what’s up. The only variable is quite how

The Matrix  (1999)   Twenty years on, and the articles on the defining nature of The Matrix are piling up, most of them touching on how its world has become a reality, or maybe always was one. At the time, its premise was engaging enough, but it was the sum total of the package that cast a spell`; the bullet time, the fashions, the soundtrack, the comic book-as-live-action framing and styling. Not to mention it being probably the first movie to embrace and reflect the burgeoning Internet (Hackers doesn’t really count). And, subsequently, to ride the crest of the DVD boom wave. And

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)   There isn’t, of course, anything left to say about 2001: A Space Odyssey. Nevertheless, the devoted still try, confident in their belief that it’s eternally obliging in its offer of unfathomable mystery. And it does seem ever responsive, to whatever depths one wishes to plumb in analysing it for themes, messages or clues, either about what is really going on out there, some around Jupiter, or in its director’s head. Albeit, it’s lately become difficult to ascertain which has the more productive cottage industry, 2001 or The Shining, in the latter regard. With Eyes Wide Shut as the curtain call, a final

Total Recall (1990)   Paul Verhoeven offered his post-mortem on the failures of the Total Recall (2012) and Robocop (2013) remakes when he suggested “They take these absurd stories and make them too serious”. There may be something in this, but I suspect the kernel of their issues is simply filmmakers without the smarts or vision, or both, to make something distinctive from the material. No one would have suggested the problem with David Cronenberg’s prospective Total Recall was over-seriousness, yet his version would have been far from a quip-heavy Raiders of the Lost Ark Go to Mars (as he attributes screenwriter Ron Shusset’s take on the material).

The Discovery (2017)   The Discovery assembles not wholly dissimilar science-goes-metaphysical themes and ideas to Douglas Trumbull’s ill-fated 1983 Brainstorm, revolving around research into consciousness and the revelation of its continuance after death. Perhaps the biggest discovery, though, is that it’s directed and co-written by the spawn of Malcom McDowell and Mary Steenburgen (the latter cameos) – Charlie McDowell – of hitherto negligible credits but now wading into deep philosophical waters and even, with collaborator Justin Lader, offering a twist of sorts. As with Brainstorm, a noteworthy aspect of the movie – possibly more so than the relatively modest fact of its existence

Ready Player One (2018)   Ready Player One was a major test for the ’berg. Did he still have what it took to rank as one of the big guns of populist modern cinema, or would he be confirmed as an out-of-touch grandpa, futilely attempting to reclaim a crown he’d long since lost? And, in the process, adding insult to injury by attempting to tap into a vein of nostalgia he himself had a hand in creating? The answer is that this is very much cinema from a man with his finger on the pulse of current tastes and trends, one

The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961)   One of the all-time-great science-fiction films. It isn’t so much the specifics of the end-of-the-world premise, the science of which is easy to tear apart, or the heightened dialogue – someone in the accompanying documentary on the Blu-ray release had the temerity to suggest it’s a bad thing – that make it sing. Rather, it’s the manner in which the unfolding events are treated as real and immediate, the way mundane life continues apace as a horror overtakes the everyday. The Day the Earth Caught Fire still packs a punch. Going by BBC Genome, I suspect

Dark Star (1974)   Is Dark Star more a John Carpenter film or more a Dan O’Bannon one? Until the mid-,80s, it might have seemed atypical of either of them, since they had both subsequently eschewed comedy in favour of horror (or thriller). And then they made Big Trouble in Little China and Return of the Living Dead respectively, and you’d have been none-the-wiser again. I think it’s probably fair to suggest it was a more personal film to O’Bannon, who took its commercial failure harder. Carpenter certainly didn’t relish the tension their creative collaboration brought (“a duel of control” as he put it), as he

Brainstorm (1983)   Might Brainstorm have been the next big thing – a ground-breaking, game-changing cinematic spectacle that had as far reaching consequences as Star Wars (special effects) or Avatar (3D) – if only Douglas Trumbull had been allowed to persevere with his patented “Showscan” process (70mm film photographed and projected at sixty frames per second)? I suspect not; one only has to look at the not-so-far-removed experiment of Ang Lee with Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, and how that went down like a bag of cold sick, to doubt that any innovation will necessarily catch on (although, Trumbull at least had a narrative hinge on which to turn

The Avengers 4.12: Man-Eater of Surrey Green   Most remarked upon for Robert Banks-Stewart having “ripped it off” for 1976 Doctor Who story The Seeds of Doom, although, I’ve never been wholly convinced. Yes, there are significant similarities – an eccentric lady who knows her botany, a wealthy businessman living in a stately home with an affinity for vegetation, an alien plant that takes possession of humans, a very violent henchman and a climax involving a now oversized specimen turning very nasty… Okay, maybe they’re onto something there… – but The Seeds of Doom is really good, while Man-Eater of Surrey Green is just… okay. Sir Lyle: For all we

The Avengers 4.7 The Cybernauts   This seemed like the best thing ever when I saw it on Channel 4 in the mid-80s, but the truth is, it’s rather threadbare beneath the unusual (for the show) sci-fi trappings. Of course, those trappings were exactly its appeal: the closest the series came to Cybermen (and a year before they set foot on the South Pole). Nu-Who’s Rise of the Cybermen arguably owes more to this Avengers story, with its clanking killer(s) and crippled genius initiating huge scientific advances (including “Computers no bigger than a cigarette box”) and planning to take over the country, than Gerry

Star Trek: Generations (1994)   For a series I never much cared for, I watched more than my fair share of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Probably because there was a dearth of science fiction TV at the time, and beggars can’t be choosers. Deep Space Nine was far superior of course, and I stuck with Voyager because of Robert Picardo (and, well, Seven of Nine). The big-screen, baton-passing affair that is Star Trek: Generations came out the same year ST:NG ended, and if I was to be snidey, I’d say it was the perfect encapsulation of the preceding seven seasons. Because it’s shite. Kirk: Did we make a difference?

“Predalien” The Alien-Predator-verse ranked   Fox got in there with the shared-universe thing long before the current trend. Fortunately for us, once they had their taste of it, they concluded it wasn’t for them. But still, the Predator and Alien franchises are now forever interconnected, and it better justifies a ranking if you have more than six entries on it. So please, enjoy this rundown of the “Predalien”-verse.  Alien vs. Predator: Requiem (2007) An almost wilfully wrongheaded desecration of both series’ legacies that attempts to make up for AVP’s relative prurience by being as transgressive as possible. Chestbursters explode from small children! Predaliens impregnate pregnant

They Live!* (1988)   Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of They Live! – I was a big fan of most things Carpenter at the time of its release – but the manner in which its reputation as a prophecy of (or insight into) “the way things are” has grown is a touch out of proportion with the picture’s relatively modest merits. Indeed, its feting rests almost entirely on the admittedly bravura sequence in which WWF-star-turned-movie-actor Roddy Piper, under the influence of a pair of sunglasses, first witnesses the pervasive influence of aliens among us who are sucking mankind dry.

Event Horizon (1997)   It seems to be a commonly held view, retrospectively, that Event Horizon is one of Paul W S Anderson’s better movies, which tells you a lot about the kind of standards he’s been upholding throughout his career. Its fans wax lyrical about the holy grail of a 130-minute director’s cut, as if that would somehow be the saving grace of picture that isn’t only dramatically inert once its entirely derivative premise is revealed and it has nowhere to go with it, but which is also bludgeoned into insensibility by its director’s graceless, one-note barrage of stylistic (I use

A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)   The thought that kept repeating on me revisiting A.I. Artificial Intelligence, which I hadn’t seen it was in cinemas, was what kind of film it might have been had it starred a typical moppet playing David, the AI boy, rather than the creepy facsimile of childhood that is Haley Joel Osment. His casting creates a pervasively unsettling effect, and consequently adds a range of layers to the film, some no doubt intentional, others “happy” accidents, and yet others hampering it from being all it might be. Steven Spielberg’s first feature of the new millennium would surely

The Hidden (1987)   A good number of ’80s movies haven’t aged at all well, or have to be taken with a hefty side order of cheese to be appreciated, but The Hidden is not one of them. Perhaps because its feet are firmly rooted in the exploitation arena, it opts not to get side-tracked into attempting to compete with its considerably higher-budgeted peers. On that level, it’s much closer in tone to James Cameron’s game-changing The Terminator, in attitude, pace and no-nonsense thrills. This is a science fiction movie shot like a cop movie, rather than a cop movie shot like a

The Arrival (1996)   I’m mostly an advocate of David Twohy’s oeuvre, from his screenplay for Warlock (Richard E Grant as an action hero!) onwards. In particular, like a number of writers turned aspiring directors (David Koepp, Scott Frank, the Gilroys) he has also shown himself to be proficient behind the camera. His Riddick movies (albeit only the first half of the third) are enjoyably B-ridden, while A Perfect Getaway is giddily delirious confection. I’d managed to mostly forget The Arrival, however, so with another similarly titled science fiction picture incoming, it seemed like a good time for a twentieth-anniversary revisit. The most surprising aspect is that,

Dune (1984)   Dune was (still is?) one of those movies that seemed to be a fixture in student houses of “a certain disposition”, frequently played and part of the furniture, but not really absorbed. Easier to stare at rather than fully engage with. Unless, I presume, you were already an aficionado of Frank Herbert’s gargantuan novels. I’ve seen it said of the Harry Potter movieverse that you really need to have read the books to get all you can from them, but the only one where I really felt that was the case was The Prisoner of Azkaban, which seemed to have some

The Fifth Element (1997)   Goofy movies that don’t announce their intent or stick to clearly-defined genre templates can get a rough ride. Ones that exhibit a “European” sense of humour even more so. Luc Besson’s long-gestating science fiction fantasy action comedy (he had the idea when he was fifteen, which critics would surely claim tells you everything) is underpinned by the simplest – some would say trite and hackneyed – of concepts, but unlike, say, Ridley Scott’s Legend, which also paints on the most unsophisticated of thematic canvasses, The Fifth Element’s core sincerity is diffused by overwhelming irreverence everywhere else. This

Looker (1981)   Edgar Wright’s recently revised, gargantuan list of favourite movies (a more interesting and economical rundown might have detailed what didn’t make it on) included many I haven’t seen, and a good few I thought “Oh, I must revisit that”. Of the latter, one such was Michael Crichton’s uneven science fiction thriller Looker, which typically for the author includes prophetic warnings of technology allowed to rampage unchecked. It’s also loaded with satirical swipes at the beauty myth, TV addiction and our capacity to be influenced by advertising. The movie arrived at the perfect moment, predicting a decade that would wear shallowness

Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984)   It’s a somewhat over-optimistic suggestion by defenders of the third big screen Star Trek that it doesn’t deserve to be lumped in with the curse of the odd-numbered Trek movies. What they’re getting at is that The Search for Spock isn’t actually bad. Which it isn’t, but it is blighted by being so non-descript in its ambition that it rather gets lost between the surrounding sequels that actually do vie for attention, in whatever manner. The truth is, there’s a more than solid – even maybe really good – picture lurking within The Search for Spock, but it’s flattened into the

Star Trek Beyond (2016)   The odd/even Star Trek failure/success rule seemed to have been cancelled out with the first reboot movie, and then trodden into ground with Into Darkness (which, yes, I quite enjoyed, for all its scandalous deficiencies). Star Trek Beyond gets us back onto more familiar ground, as it’s very identifiably a “lesser” Trek, irrespective of the big bucks and directorial nous thrown at it. This is a Star Trek movie that can happily stand shoulder to shoulder with The Search for Spock and Insurrection, content in the knowledge they make it look good. But where, say, The Search for Spock had a rock-solid script undermined by sloppy direction, Star Trek XIII is

Maze Runner: The Scorch Trials (2015)   No mazes, amazingly, but this is a superior sequel to the original in most respects, relieved as it is of a daffy ending and further showcasing Wes Ball’s confident accession to the status of first-rate action director. He’s so good at engaging with a raft of set pieces – even those replete with wanton, rampant CGI zombies, surely a no-no since I am Legend, shurely – that there’s little time to pause and debate whether Maze Runner: Scorch Trials makes any sense, and observe how the performances are mostly so-so and the dialogue on the crummy

Independence Day (1996)   I was never the greatest fan of Independence Day, which is probably why it has taken me a full twenty years to revisit it, and only then for the sake of referencing with regard to its belated, forlorn follow-up. ID4 is a difficult film to actively dislike, just as it’s a hard to one to come out swinging for. Its pertinent problems and common complaints are at least partly intentional, based on its makers’ bizarre notion that the ’70s disaster movie genre was some kind of worthy template to strive for and reinvigorate. That the picture hits its marks

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)   I don’t love Star Trek, but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to

Aliens (1986)   (Special Edition) Aliens immediately became my favourite movie when I first saw it. It was a heart stopping roller coaster ride, and I didn’t want to get off. So much so, when it was over I instantly rewound the video tape and watched it again. James Cameron transformed the slow-burn atmospherics of Ridley Scott’s haunting original into an all-out attack/slaughter by/of xenomorphs; as the tagline announced, “This Time It’s War”. I can’t really apologise for having preferred it to Alien; it was simply a more accessible, adrenalised, edge-of-the-seat, air-punching experience. Time, hindsight and repeat viewings can change a lot;

Midnight Special (2016)   Midnight Special sadly isn’t all that special. It seems those ’80s movies that inspired him didn’t rubbed off enough to leave writer-director Jeff Nichols with a remotely affecting plot, let alone one eliciting a sense of wonder. A chase thriller that is only sporadically thrilling, and a science fiction mystery that turns out not to be so mysterious, there’s no doubting Nichols’ talent as a director, but I’m less convinced of his touch when embracing genre trappings. The picture is at its most effective during the opening stages, with the encouraging decision to set the wheels of

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982)   I didn’t really care that I didn’t get to see E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial at the cinema. Quite reasonably, my parents demurred from accompanying me, considering the title character to be hideous (he is, which is why he didn’t feature on any of the initial promotional materials). Although I was just the right age (ten-ish) for the creature’s indelicate charms, and well remember the merchandising accessorised by many a classmate (mostly in the form of lunchboxes), I wasn’t that fascinated. It (he) didn’t hold the lure of Star Wars or Raiders of the Lost Ark. The movie was about kids, and

Contact (1997)   Robert Zemeckis’ life-affirming, spiritually agnostic cousin to Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar, Contact even shares Matthew McConaughey, whose career disappeared into a wormhole and, rather than eighteen hours, arrived reinvigorated seventeen years later. This is Zemeckis’ attempt at big, weighty science fiction, tackling serious themes in an adult manner, and it half works. Like Interstellar, his adaptation of Carl Sagan’s 1985 novel (originally devised as a screenplay) ultimately pulls its punches, dodging anything truly powerful, inspirational or insightful in favour of a non-committal, humanist shrug. Interstellar found McConaughey bouncing around down the back of his daughter’s bookcase, a message from beyond reduced to the

Leviathan (1989)   Two films called Leviathan revolving around the ill-effects of vodka, and which do you think is superior? The Russian social commentary/ political critique or the waterlogged George Pan Cosmatos rip-off of Alien/ The Thing? The latter is so unmemorable, I wasn’t even certain that I’d seen it before. Compounding this is how very familiar it feels. A pungent déjà vu lingers throughout, as the post-Alien tropes are lined up and ticked off but never in an interesting or remotely stylish manner. David Webb Peoples’ (Blade Runner, Unforgiven, Twelve Monkeys) name is on the screenplay, asked for Alien underwater by the studio, but failing to delivering a screenplay that

Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back (1980)   Perhaps the strangest take away from Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back is that its director created something so artful, so captivating and impressive, yet the rest of his filmography goes virtually unnoticed. Irvin Kershner even helmed entries in three other movie series (The Return of a Man Called Horse, unofficial Connery Bond return Never Say Never Again and Robocop 2, as well as attempted M*A*S*H cash-in S*P*Y*S), all of which were mediocre to disappointing. Lucas himself recognised that The Empire Strikes Back (just consider the lack of finesse of that title for a moment, and how the picture’s actual

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977)   Or plain old Star Wars, as it used to be, long ago. What’s there left to say about this defining picture? Well, it bears emphasising that, for all the deserved flak George Lucas has received since, and especially considering the stresses and strains afflicting him during its making, it’s an astonishingly complete piece of world building. All the more so as Lucas isn’t a flashy visualist in the mode of many of his wunderkind peers. His shooting style is classical, and his most notable affectations (such as screen wipes) derive from ’30s

Star Cops 9. Little Green Men and Other Martians   It’s one of those ironies that Star Cops feels like it’s really coming together just as it gets kyboshed (it was planned as the tenth episode, the ninth falling by the wayside due to strike action). Chris Boucher and Graeme Harper converge for a densely plotted, twisty little number that even tantalises with the prospect of aliens (proper science fiction!) showing up. That would be too far out, of course… Spring: We’ve got drugs, Mayan sculptures, dead pilots. How many cases have we got going on here? As Spring opines, there’s enough material here

Slipstream (1989)   I’d like to be more charitable to Slipstream. It’s one of those pictures that is so profoundly unloved (rather than actively reviled), that you want to find elements of worth to cite it as picture that “might have been really good if only…” But I don’t think it would have been particularly decent even if it had turned out as Star Wars producer Gary Kurtz envisaged. And I’m not sure its small contingent of defenders is enough to qualify it as a cult movie. It’s most noteworthy quality (I’d hesitate to say best) is probably Bob Peck’s performance as an

Star Cops 1. An Instinct for Murder   I know it’s a cardinal crime, but I do actually like the Star Cops theme song. It’s both cheese- and synth-tastic and quite melancholy, which fits the show. I also think it suits the titles nicely, which are still quite evocative and creative (especially the astronaut’s space boot in the moon dust too). An Instinct for Murder is rather an ungainly opener, probably the side effect of creator Chris Boucher compressing an opening two-parter into just the one episode. I hadn’t revisited the series (which can currently be found in its entirety on YouTube) since the ’80s, but

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (2003)   A Terminator 3 was as inevitable as Arnold’s waning career. He was never going to stick to his pledge not to do a third without James Cameron (who had already made one too many, even if the second cemented his bankability and gave him a lavish box of effects tricks to play with).  The ’90s saw a steady downward career trend, not reversed by a second of the decade’s collaborations with Cameron and being sent to da coola in the debacle that was Batman and Robin. By the time Rise of the Machines arrived, Arnie was barely scraping

WarGames (1983)   It isn’t easy to imminent nuclear Armageddon fun. By the sound of it, WarGames wouldn’t have become the fifth biggest movie (in the US) of 1983 if original director Martin Brest had not been fired from his more serious take on the tale of a computer geek who accidentally hacks into NORAD and nearly starts WWIII. The premise is deliriously hi-concept, but Brest appeared to have something in mind that was closer to the tone Alan J Pakula’s ’70s conspiracy pictures. When reliable pair of hands John Badham stepped into the breach it became something else. WarGames retained its essentials –

The Last Starfighter (1984)   The post-Star Wars landscape is littered with knock-offs, movies and TV shows that achieved varying degrees of success, originality and critical recognition, but there were surprisingly few that slotted precisely into the laser-zap, space battles template. Battlestar Galactica and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century were the most blatant examples, and then there was Roger Corman’s inevitable cash-in Battle Beyond the Stars. The Last Starfighter was a little different. It arrived after Lucas trilogy finished and was informed as much by the burgeoning computer and video game industries (see also War Games) as science fiction movies. It now stands as a half-forgotten curiosity, likeable but innocuous,

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979)   Most of the criticisms levelled at Star Trek: The Motion Picture are legitimate. It puts spectacle above plot, one that’s so derivative it might be classed as the clichéd Star Trek plot. It’s bloated and slow moving. For every superior redesign of the original series’ visuals and concepts, there’s an inferior example. But… it’s also endlessly fascinating. It stands alone among the big screen chapters of series as an attempted reimagining of the TV show as a grand adult, serious-minded “experience”, taking its cues more from 2001: A Space Odyssey than Star Wars or even Close Encounters of the Third Kind (the success of which

Flight of the Navigator (1986)   It’s easy to see why a remake of Flight of the Navigator is being mooted (although whether Colin Trevorrow remains attached will probably depend upon the success of Jurassic World). It has a strong premise, one it makes the most of for the first forty-or-so minutes. Unfortunately, no one has much idea what to do next. As a result, director Randal Kleiser settles on Paul Reubens’ verbal mugging to fill the back end. I’m not sure if I’d actually seen Flight of the Navigator all the way through before. I certainly recall it’s release, and Bazza Norman reviewing it

Mad Max 2 (1981)   Much has been written in praise of Mad Max 2/The Road Warrior over the years, rightly noting its enormous influence (albeit in tandem with a number of other science fiction opuses in the surrounding five years), but mostly concentrating on its abiding status as a remarkably executed, fantastically taut, kinetic thrill ride. This sequel sees George Miller coax and expand the kernel of the original, teasing out the mythical elements therein and producing a big, bold, super-charged action engine. Mad Max 2 is an economical picture in storytelling, terms, just as its director recognises that grand spectacle is

Mad Max (1979)   It’s most common for movie series to peak begin on a high, before anyone had an inkling there would be further chapters, and then inexorably decline. A few notables buck the trend, however. Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn is one, where the comic energy makes its predecessor look threadbare by comparison. Mad Max 2 (or The Road Warrior) is another, a movie that fully embraces propulsive, kinetic action and the mythic potential of its protagonist. While both these elements are in nascent form in Mad Max, it’s really by reflection of what came after, and Mel Gibson’s star-in-waiting status, that George Miller’s

Interstellar (2014)   Amid the ever-abundant slew of sequels and ever-expanding range of superhero movies over the last couple of years, there has also been a resurgence in attempts to tell grand scale stand-alone mainstream science fiction stories. To mixed results (Elysium, Oblivion) or raves that weren’t matched by box office (Edge of Tomorrow). Christopher Nolan’s 2012 Inception is rightly seen as the high-water mark for what can be achieved with a strong original idea and a compelling narrative to match. Its success meant there was a bona fide Nolan brand; from now on, it wouldn’t just be his Batman pictures that attracted mass audiences.

The Tripods Season 2 – Episode-by-Episode   2.1 The White Mountains: 2090 AD Despite providing a recap prior to the kick-off, much of this episode is itself a recap, complete with unnecessarily protracted training for the upcoming Games.  There’s some shamelessly clumsy exposition as Julius (Richard Wordsworth) takes Will aside for a dose of what he’s surely known for months (he is told to let his head rule his heart; tellingly this is exactly what he doesn’t do in the City of Gold, but Fritz does), but the reminder of how capping works is an effective call-back to the first episode

The Tripods Season 1   I can’t recall if I read John Christopher’s The Prince in Waiting trilogy – at school – prior to The Tripods arriving on television. It was certainly a close thing either way, and the TV tie-in trilogy I subsequently bought for the latter was quickly devoured. At the time, British TV science fiction was undergoing a period of significant change. Doctor Who had just changed lead actor and would be cancelled/go on hiatus between the first and second seasons of the BBC’s new SF series. Then The Tripods itself would be mercilessly axed, left on a cliffhanger and denied production of the

Edge of Tomorrow (2014)   Comparisons with other movies don’t really do Edge of Tomorrow justice. Yes, it’s the sci-fi Groundhog Day (and also tips its hat to Source Code); given the popularity of that movie, it’s a perfectly acceptable shorthand. But this isn’t a love story (despite the usual tepid intimations of romance that Tom Cruise – or his advisors – have shoehorned in, pretty much as an afterthought; as such it’s relatively innocuous). Yes, the aliens make noise like, well Aliens. And there’s the open-air warfare of Starship Troopers. And yet, the creatures are the least of the story. And there are mech suits, suggestive

The Prisoner 13. Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling   We want information. In an effort to locate Professor Seltzman, a scientist who has perfected a means of transferring one person’s mind to another person’s body, Number Two has Number Six’s mind installed in the body of the Colonel (a loyal servant of the Powers that Be). Six was the last person to have contact with Seltzman and, if he is to stand any chance of being returned to his own body, he must find him (the Village possesses only the means to make the switch, they cannot reverse

Transcendence (2014)   I wanted to like Transcendence, or at least come away from it secure in the knowledge it has been unfairly maligned; that it’s a movie full of compelling ideas somewhat botched in the execution.  The wholesale slaughter it has received (much of it focused on Johnny Depp, who is the least of its problems but with a trio of underperformers in as many years it appears that it’s his turn to be roundly dumped on) at the pens of the critics has been merciless and assumed/hoped it must be over-the-top; this was simply the latest bandwagon evisceration, like last

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)   Philip Kaufman’s 1978 science fiction classic is responsible for several firsts, as well as continuing and culminating a number of the decade’s abiding themes. The most obvious of the former is that it began a trend for science fiction remakes, one that (as Kim Newman notes in the documentary on the Blu-ray release) hoodwinked audiences into thinking they’d all be of the same high quality (and for a while, they were). It also made a point of redressing B-movie material with design realism (which would be expanded upon exponentially the following year in Alien)

Safety Not Guaranteed (2012)   There’s something studiously quirky about the feature debut of Colin Trevorrow and writer Derek Connolly. Perhaps that’s because it’s based on a studiously quirky premise; an actual advert placed as a joke for a time travel companion, one that attracted bored column inches by many and varied media outlets. The movie’s only noteworthy feature is how consistently slight it is, and it’s mystifying how Safety Not Guaranteed got the duo the gig for the kick-starting of one of cinema’s biggest franchises. The premise has Seattle Magazine interns Darius (Aubrey Plaza) and Arnau (Karan Soni) sent with fully-fledged

The Host (2013)   Given the left-field choices of helmers for some of the Young Adult lit adaptations, you’d think the failures would be more interesting than they are. Then again, Andrew Niccol garnered notices early on as both writer (The Truman Show) and director (Gattaca), but since then his reach has exceeded his grasp. He’s continued to stretch for more cerebral fare but usually ends up botching it. But surely, he could lend a few morsels of food for thought to this attempt at extending Stephanie Meyer’s movie life beyond the Twilight franchise? Well no, not really. Niccol’s previous picture In Time was

Cocoon (1985)   Anyone coming across Cocoon cold might reasonably assume the involvement of Steven Spielberg in some capacity. This is a sugary, well-meaning tale of age triumphing over adversity. All thanks to the power of aliens. Substitute the elderly for children and you pretty much have the manner and Spielberg for Ron Howard and you pretty much have the approach taken to Cocoon. Howard is so damn nice, he ends up pulling his punches even on the few occasions where he attempts to introduce conflict to up the stakes. Pauline Kael began her review by expressing the view that consciously life-affirming movies

Blake’s 7 Ranked: 26-1    Redemption The one that resolves Orac’s “Space vehicle will be destroyed” Season One cliffhanger. Also the one that most informs the view of the series as a bunch of actors in cheap costumes playing zap guns in a power station. This is what you get when the series goes epic without the resources to sell the ideas (this is Space World!) But still, Redemption has a lot going for it. The first half provides an enjoyably dense rumination on the idea of science underpinning prediction. When the action kicks in, the episode is less rewarding, but

Phase IV (1974)   Phase IV is a perfect embodiment of the cult movie. Strange and misunderstood, it was rejected by audiences on release only to subsequently gain a devoted following. The picture was tampered with by the studio that released it (Paramount), and so myths built up concerning its excised ending (when a print of the film, with the original ending intact, was screened last year it lived up to expectations and cemented the film’s cult reputation. Stung by the treatment he received, Phase IV would remain the sole feature film effort of its director, Saul Bass. Bass, the legendary designer of

The Prisoner 6. The General   We want information. Number Six learns of a new teaching process taking the Village by storm; Speed Learn. An individual called the Professor, representing the unseen General’s department, is the face of the method. Comprehensive study courses are relayed to viewers via three-minute television broadcasts. At the end of which, an entire university history degree has been consumed. On viewing the programme, Six discovers that he too is able to reel off facts concerning European history since Napoleon. However, it appears that all is not well with the Professor. A disillusioned Number Twelve ensures

Elysium (2013)   Original science fiction fare should be welcomed with open arms; all the better to stave of the safe familiarity of endless legions of sequels and remakes. And, with Oblivion, Pacific Rim and Elysium, all from uber-talented directors, this year held a lot of promise. In each case, to a greater or lesser extent, those uber-talented directors have been hobbled by the stark reality of their limitations as screenwriters. None more so than Neill Blomkamp, whose sophomore feature is replete with the same level of phenomenal action and beautifully rendered effects as District 9. Unfortunately, this time his story sucks arse. Having some

Westworld (1973)   I had it in my head that I first saw Westworld on Moviedrome during the late ’80s. Alex Cox would no doubt have preceded it with a few gnarled sentences of commentary. But since Moviedrome didn’t show the film until 1997, and Cox had long since departed by that point (it was never the same with Mark Cousins squeaking his way through the introductions), I must have taken it in under different circumstances a good decade-to-fifteen years earlier. Whenever it was I first happened across the picture, I don’t think my opinion has changed much in the intervening years: great concept, so-so

Cargo (2009)   Debut directors Arnold Buchner and Ivan Engler have clearly bust a gut with this low-budget Swiss science-fiction film (heralded as the country’s first such genre entry). The problem is, it never stops reminding you of the (usually) better movies that are its inspiration. And it’s not just one movie, the way Trancers is a cheap and cheerful rip on Blade Runner. A steady stream of genre films are evoked during Cargo, as if the makers want to cram it full of homages to their favourite SF ideas and produce a coherent and serious-minded feature in its own right. The year is 2270 and

The World’s End (2013)   It’s perhaps inevitable that The World’s End should be the Pegg/Wright/Frost film where the hype finally catches up with them. They’ve been in the vanguard of can-do nerds for a long while based purely on past glories; the third part in their Cornetto trilogy has assumed a status of legendary anticipation. And, for many, they can do no wrong (hey, as a collective they had a three-for-three success so I was buying into it). The problem with that assumed weight is that they’ve decided they’re not just funny guys but artists too, so they need to make

Innerspace (1987)   There’s no doubt that Innerspace is a flawed movie. Joe Dante finds himself pulling in different directions, his instincts for comic subversion tempered by the need to play the romance plot straight. He tacitly acknowledges this on the DVD commentary for the film, where he notes Pauline Kael’s criticism that he was attempting to make a mainstream movie; and he was. But, as ever with Dante, it never quite turns out that way. Whereas his kids’ movies treat their protagonists earnestly, this doesn’t come so naturally with adults. I’m a bona fide devotee of Innerspace, but I can’t help but

Explorers (1985)   Looking at Explorers in the cold light of nearly thirty years hence, it’s hard to fathom that it was ever seen as a potential hit. This is a movie that deliberately undercuts the unabashed awe at the universal unknowns found in Spielberg’s mass audience-pleasing Close Encounters of the Third Kind and E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial. A young protagonist whose science fiction-fuelled imaginings receive a deflating reality check when he finally encounters alien life; it’s the antithesis of the ‘berg’s life-affirming fantasies.  The aliens are no more than a green-skinned reflection of kids the world over; shallow, pop culture-obsessed and borrowing their father’s car

The Fantastic Journey 10. The Innocent Prey   The unjust end. Cut off before it even found its sea legs. It may be no coincidence that many of the series making the strongest impression on my young mind were lucky to last a season; Manimal, The Gemini Man, Automan, Otherworld, The Man from Atlantis, Tales of the Golden Monkey. They all had imaginative premises, not exactly the bread and butter of network TV. It also makes it look like the BBC (and ITV) were mad keen on picking losers. Rayat: Would you do me the honour of looking after the puppies? I think the reason The Fantastic Journey made such a

The Fantastic Journey 9. Riddles   This was the episode that stayed with me as a five-year old, as it had me hiding behind the sofa. Curious that the BBC deemed it fine for screening on daytime TV but the also-hallucinatory Funhouse was not (both are tinged with fantasy horror, eschewing the typically pedestrian science fiction plots). Needless to say, it’s not quite the terrifying experience it proved to be 35-odd years ago. But sporadically, it remains highly effective, even if the pay-off is rather weak. I revisited this episode first, for the nostalgic reasons I mention above, so the instant recognisable aspects were

The Fantastic Journey 3. Beyond the Mountain   The main attraction of the third episode is the star-powered entrance of soon-to-be travelling companion Roddy McDowall. McDowall’s an ever-charismatic and humorous performer, blessed with a likeable erudition and etiquette. It’s a shame that the plot that introduces him is at best ho-hum and at worst and embarrassment of clichés. With some justification, McDowall’s Dr. Jonathan Willaway, a “rebel scientist from the 1960s” (1963 to be precise, and don’t you love that he’s a rebel scientist?) has been compared to Dr Smith in Lost in Space (“You dolt!”). Willaway is (at least here) the embodiment of

The Prisoner 3. A. B. and C.   We want information. An under-pressure Number Two orders Number Fourteen to test an experimental drug on Number Six in an attempt to extract the reason or his resignation. Two is convinced that Six was planning to sell out, and has narrowed the suspected parties down to three; “A”, “B’ and “C”. In an induced dream state, Six encounters each in turn at an extravagant party. But Six becomes increasingly aware of the artifice and manipulates the third dream to introduce “D”, revealed as Two himself. The reasons for Six’s resignation remain unrevealed,

Zathura (2005)   This is the forgotten movie Jon Favreau made between Elf and Iron Man. I would have said “little”, but it wasn’t especially cheap and it bombed at the box office. Yet it proved Favreau as a versatile director who could handle special effects, and was instrumental in getting him the Iron Man gig. As a kind-of sequel to Jumanji (both derive from children’s books written by Chris Van Allsburg), Zathura illustrates what happens when a studio lets too much time pass by, and then stumbles into trying to repeat earlier success with little idea why they are doing it. At the same time, it’s a highly

The Prisoner 2. The Chimes of Big Ben   We want information. Number Six agrees to collaborate; if Number Two agrees to halt the interrogation of new arrival Number Eight. Six enters the Village Arts and Crafts Competition, but this is a cover for an escape bid he is planning with Eight. Six’s art doubles as a sailing boat, and he and Eight travel to London. Meeting with his bosses, Six is on the verge of discussing his resignation, but realises he is still in the Village when the chimes of Big Ben match the time on his watch; there

Doctor Who The Evil of the Daleks: Episode Two   It’s possible that the audio of Evil might be claimed to mask a crushing disappointment should the physical articles ever be happened upon. Except that we have a solitary physical article, and Episode Two ends up only supporting the case that this deserves its classic reputation. Derek Martinus is one of the series’ most underappreciated directors, and if anyone could make Galaxy 4 more vital than its pedestrian script would allow it’s him (so it will be interesting to see that recovered episode… one day). Episode One is revealed to have employed the old

Doctor Who The Evil of the Daleks: Episode One   David Whitaker returns to the Daleks and writes the whole thing this time, albeit aided by two different credited script editors. The result is epic and daring in a way the series hasn’t seen before, starting off steeped in ’60s pop before plunging headlong into strange Victorian occult science. And, something that is now all too abundant, the plot that’s set in motion revolves around the Doctor. He is central to the premise, a major shift in the attitude the series takes towards itself. The first episode is all bait

Doctor Who The Faceless Ones: Episode Three   The second surviving episode is of noticeably inferior picture quality to part one. This is a curious story, filled with witty dialogue but with a curiously B-movie attitude to its science fiction content (down to referring to humans as Earthmen). It might almost be self-conscious about it, if the script were stronger and clearer. The Brit upper lip response to the aliens definitely comes across as knowing, though. The opening sequence is very well-staged and niftily performed by Troughton, as the Doctor blocks up the outlets chilling the room and drapes his

Doctor Who The Moonbase: Episode Three   Bob is shot dead (“You devils! You killed him!” – the dialogue emphasises that these are horror movie monsters, not science fiction ones) and we see not one but two Telosians (apparently Telos was referenced in the script although it didn’t make the televised programme). When the Cybermen actually start talking it does nothing to make their plan sound any more convincing. The men they have been abducting are alive. Cyberman: No, they are not dead. They are altered… They are now controlled.  I’ve been wondering how many crewmen have been stricken, since every

Doctor Who The Moonbase: Episode Two   If Enid Blyton tried her hand at science fiction, it would probably turn out something like a Kit Pedler script. But with fewer foreigners. Episode Two is now the third-earliest surviving Troughton instalment, and visually it’s as shoddy as the script. The best you can say about this story is that it’s fairly pacey. Even though this is crap of the first order it zips along. But pretty much every scene features a groan-inducing moment(s) of disbelief at a character beat, a line of dialogue or a ridiculous plot point. The bizarre antics

Avatar  (2009)   James Cameron has never been the subtlest of filmmakers, but it seems, the longer the gaps between projects, the more deafeningly bombastic he becomes. This takes on an added dimension with Avatar, which he drenches with a new-found torrent of bruising faux-spirituality. Let’s just say the director seems engaged in an ongoing struggle between the love and peace he knows is best for the world and the militaristic belligerence that has always been his more natural predilection. There is, of course, no contest; guns and hardware always win. He even appropriates Gaia as a force likely to declare war, if

Doctor Who The Highlanders: Episode One   The Highlanders is very much The Smugglers’ partner in pastiche. It takes its inspiration from Robert Louis Stevenson’s Kidnapped, and is accordingly told in the spirit of an adventure romp rather than attempting a serious analysis of a historical event. The first episode starts out completely straight-faced and serious; it’s not until Trout’s influence comes to bear that events veer from the expected story shape. In that respect it differs from The Smugglers; the Doctor here is care-free and flippant in the face of danger. This has led some – including About Time which made the rather crass comment

Oblivion (2013)   The first of 2013’s original big budget science fiction films arrives following fairly underwhelming pre-release publicity. Things didn’t look too hopeful. If it wasn’t posters evoking the memory of Prometheus (not a fond one for many), it was a trailer that proved unable to instil a “must-see” factor, despite some gorgeous imagery. There’s Tom Cruise, in the future, grinning away and reminiscing about the Super Bowl. And there’s Morgan Freeman. Isn’t he in everything? My expectations were certainly lowered, much as they had been for the director’s previous film. And, like TRON Legacy, Oblivion is a patchy affair when it comes to plotting. But, like that film,

Saturn 3 (1980)   Generally dismissed as a post-Star Wars cash-in, Saturn 3 is best known for its unanimously negative reviews and a psychopathic robot with a fancy for Farrah Fawcett’s fanny (with due credit to Time-Out’s review for that alliterative turn of phrase). To males of a certain age, this predilection was entirely understandable… It’s undoubtedly a mess off a film, visibly wearing the evidence of its troubled production. But it remains a curiosity rather than the complete write-off its reputation suggests (there is even a dedicated website, illustrating that, for some, it captured the imagination of what might have been, rather than merely

Blake’s 7 4.9: Sand   If I was to list the most memorable stories from first viewing of this season, Blake and Orbit would stand out, but Sand would come a close third (mind you, Animals is pretty memorable, so that doesn’t prove anything). With thirty years hindsight, it still puts itself forward as a highly effective and atmospheric chamber piece. Where it stumbles slightly, in comparison to Tanith Lee’s previous script, is in the strength of the premise. Unlike Sarcophagus, what needs to be worked out here is concrete and without nuance (killer sand feeding off people) and, as a result, the process of the characters reaching realisation

Zardoz (1974)   John Boorman’s Zardoz is virtually the definition of a cult movie. If not quite reviled by critics, it was at least ridiculed. Meanwhile, cinema-goers were indifferent. The passing years have lodged the film in the (not quite popular) wider consciousness as the “one where Sean Connery wears a nappy”. But it’s reputation as a film to seek out, for all its flaws, has grown. It’s a film brimming with ideas; charitably, one might even suggest there’s a surplus (it’s not often that such a charge can be levelled at a movie and Boorman certainly reflected that this was the

Altered States (1980)   Ken Russell goes mainstream Hollywood, with pleasingly demented results. The late ‘70s and early ‘80s increasingly looks like a never-to-be-repeated golden era for science fiction, when invention and originality were par for the course. It’s difficult to imagine something so based on experimentation, and so experimental, being made today. Russell was coming off several (unsuccessful) idiosyncratic biopics and was reportedly far down the list of choices for the film. Paddy Chayefsky had adapted his novel, based on the sensory deprivation work of scientist John C Lilly. Lilly’s experiments involved subjects spending periods of time in isolation

Universal Soldier (1992)   Dolph may lose, but he’s clearly the better actor (as these things go). Roland Emmerich’s first Hollywood movie starts as he means to go on, dropping the things his masters want you to hear, or fear, into a science-fiction context and giving them just the right amount of veneer to pass smoothly down the gullet.  Actually, it may just have fortuitously worked out that way in this case; Emmerich and Dean Devlin had attached themselves to Joel Silver’s Isobar – a monster loose on a future train with Sly; sounds like Snowpiercer but with less cannibalism

Stargate (1994)   It’s been suggested that 33rd-degree mason Roland Emmerich has been dutifully delivering both soft disclosure and predictive programming/disinformation for decades, the latter most overtly in his apocalypse/climate-change pictures. Anyone who could come up with Moonfall is brazenly yanking our collective chains. Way back when he was starting out in Hollywood, though, he may have skirted more plausible territory, at least in terms of explaining how one might simultaneously acknowledge the space hoax and the viability of other worlds. Stargate isn’t an especially good movie, but its legacy attests to the appeal of its premise, which still seems

The Adventures of Pluto Nash (2002)   How many times did Eddie Murphy’s strategy of bringing the funny to a straight movie actually bear fruit? Twice, as I count it, and both right near the beginning of his big-screen career (48 Hrs and Beverly Hills Cop). And how many sci-fi comedies have been big hits? Which makes it easy to assume giving the greenlight to The Adventures of Pluto Nash, its budget eventually clocking in around $100m, was reckless in the extreme. But who knows? Maybe, if funny Eddie Murphy, Eddie bringing his A-game, had shown up on Ron Underwood’s

The Day of the Dolphin (1973)   Perhaps the most bizarre thing out of all the bizarre things about The Day of the Dolphin is that one of its posters scrupulously sets out its entire dastardly plot, something the movie itself doesn’t outline until fifteen minutes before the end. Mike Nichols reputedly made this – formerly earmarked for Roman Polanski, Jack Nicholson and Sharon Tate, although I’m dubious a specific link can be construed between its conspiracy content and the Manson murders – to fulfil a contract with The Graduate producer Joseph Levine. It would explain the, for him, atypical science-fiction element, something he seems as

The Invasion (2007)   It would be entirely understandable for any on the lookout for ongoing relevance and refection of social trends and undercurrents to pass over Oliver Hirschbiegel’s take on Jack Finney’s The Body Snatchers (Warner Bros’ fourth so far). After all, it underwent some brutal reshoots and wound up in such a mangled form that it was pronounce DOA. The Invasion’s a footnote no one much cares to exhume, less still re-evaluate, and for good reason; a decade and a half’s distance has done nothing to reposition it as a neglected gem. Nevertheless, the first half of the picture does withstand renewed

Body Snatchers (1993)   One can go to town on interpretations of Body Snatchers, and indeed, various of these can be found on its Wiki page. But really, the movie’s thematic subtext-lite, assuming you know the drill by now, after two previous versions and numerous facsimiles of “They’re taking us over” paranoia on film and TV. Despite this, Abel Ferrara’s adaptation of Jack Finney’s The Body Snatchers is a lean, efficient alien invasion thriller, and for the most part deserves a much higher rep than it has. There is an attempt here to overlay contemporary relevance, but it’s of a niche, contained nature,

Alien Nation  (1988)   I’m not sure there was a way to make Alien Nation, coming as it did in the socio-politically conscious science-fiction lineage of Planet of the Apes, and not make its themes seem somewhat clunky, overbearing and even patronising. The alternative would just have been to make some slick nonsense like Bright. Of course, if Alien Nation worked as slick nonsense, that would be something. Instead, it has just enough going for it to see why it was quickly spun off as a (short-lived) TV show (with a subsequent long-lived string of TV movies), but not enough to see it clear of abundant

Don’t Look Up (2021)   It’s testament to Don’t Look Up’s “quality” that critics who would normally lap up this kind of liberal-causes messaging couldn’t find it within themselves to grant it a free pass. Adam McKay has attempted to refashion himself as a satirist since jettisoning former collaborator Will Ferrell, but as a Hollywood player and an inevitably socio-politically partisan one, he simply falls in line with the most obvious, fatuous propagandising. Kate Dibiasky: You guys, the truth is way more disturbing. They’re not even smart enough to be as evil as you’re giving them credit for. Six years ago, McKay

The Matrix Resurrections (2021)   Warner Bros has been here before. Déjà vu? What happens when you let a filmmaker do whatever they want? And I don’t mean in the manner of Netflix. No, in the sequel sense. You get a Gremlins 2: The New Batch (a classic, obviously, but not one that financially furthered a franchise). And conversely, when you simply cash in on a brand, consequences be damned? Exorcist II: The Heretic speaks for itself. So in the case of The Matrix Resurrections – not far from as meta as The New Batch, but much less irreverent – when Thomas “Tom” Anderson, designer of globally

Red Planet  (2000)   At the time, out of 2000’s pair of unloved, duelling Martian meanders, Red Planet found my greater favour, striving less for unreachable philosophical weight and focussing its attention more on the nuts and bolts of action/survival dramatics. Revisiting both successively, while there still isn’t a great deal between them – I don’t think either is remotely a disaster, but neither is much of what you’d call a great success either – it’s Mission to Mars that inches ahead, with ad man turned first time feature director Antony Hoffman unable to elevate the rather functional screenplay from Chuck Pfarrer (Navy SEALs, The

Dune (2021)   For someone who has increasingly dug himself a science-fiction groove, Denis Villeneuve isn’t terribly imaginative. Dune looks perfect, in the manner of the cool, clinical, calculating and above all glacial rendering of concept design and novel cover art of the most doggedly literal fashion. And that’s the problem. David Lynch’s edition may have had its problems, but it was inimitably the product of a mind brimming with sensibility. Villeneuve’s version announces itself as so determinedly faithful to Frank Herbert, it needs two movies to tell one book, and yet all it really has to show for itself are gargantuan vistas. I

Runaway (1984)   About the biggest takeaway from Runaway: so that’s where Spielberg got his Minority Report robot spiders. In a very crude, clunky, 1980s Mechano set kind of way. Likewise, the bullet POV tracking shots may have got the drop on – what, Sniper? – by eight years, but they’re nevertheless the premiere, crude, clunky 1980s STV version. Crichton’s early successes (Westworld, Coma), benefited from a spartan – shall we say, generously – directorial approach, emboldened as they were by strong core concepts. But he was on less solid ground as the ’80s arrived, with considerably more talented visual technicians outmatching him at

John Carpenter  Ranked   For anyone’s whose formative film viewing experience took place during the 1980s, certain directors held undeniable, persuasive genre (SF/fantasy/horror genre) cachet. James Cameron. Ridley Scott (when he was tackling genre). Joe Dante. David Cronenberg. John Carpenter. Thanks to Halloween, Carpenter’s name became synonymous with horror, but he made relatively few undiluted movies in that vein (the aforementioned, The Fog, Christine, Prince of Darkness – although, it has an SF/fantasy streak – In the Mouth of Madness, The Ward). Certainly, the pictures that cemented my appreciation for his work – Dark Star, The Thing – had only a foot or not at all in that mode. Carpenter flirted

The X-Files 3.9: Nisei   I have to admit, I’d forgotten how good this two-parter is. It’s that rarest of rarities in the show (or indeed, most shows): a story where the second instalment noticeably trumps the first. It also plunges the show back into the murky terrain of just what it is Mulder is dealing with: aliens, or simply an entirely corrupt and obfuscating government? We know how that ultimately goes in series lore, of course – and short of the alien Bounty Hunter being Tartarian, it’s been very clearly established by now that ETs are present and peppering the continuity

The 6th Day (2000)   Arnie’s pre-penultimate pre-governator starring role, and perhaps surprisingly, given he’d been making bad or lazy choices for the best part of a decade, The 6th Day’s probably his best material since Total Recall. What it isn’t, however is a production with any sense of vision or attitude, which comes down to journeyman-at-best, director of Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot at worst, director Roger Spottiswoode calling the shots. That in itself is evidence enough of how Arnie’s stock – or again, decision-making skill – had tumbled since the early ’90s. Perhaps his people were persuaded by the success of Tomorrow

The Boys from Brazil (1978)   Nazis, Nazis everywhere! The Boys from Brazil has one distinct advantage over its fascist-antagonist predecessor Marathon Man; it has no delusions that it is anything other than crass, garish pulp fiction. John Schlesinger attempted to dress his Dustin Hoffman-starrer up with an art-house veneer and in so doing succeeded in emphasising how ridiculous it was in the wrong way. On the other hand, Schlesinger at least brought a demonstrable skill set to the table. For all its faults, Marathon Man moves, and is highly entertaining. The Boys from Brazil is hampered by Franklin J Schaffner’s sluggish literalism. Where that was fine for an

Chaos Walking (2021)   Any book – especially a Young Adult science-fiction novel – titled The Knife of Never Letting Go is just asking to be dismissed out of hand as pretentious twaddle. Whether or not the subtitle would have seriously worsened Chaos Walking’s chances of success is now moot, of course. While the YA phase peaked nearly a decade ago now, Hollywood is still willing to take a punt, hopeful that something might somehow break out. Hence this, featuring Spidey (popular) and the Amazing Wonder Rey (less so). And a disastrous production schedule that would have any right-minded exec dubious about giving its director

Slaughterhouse-Five (1972)   It’s little surprise this adaptation of Kurt Vonnegut’s science-fiction classic has drifted into obscurity. As director George Roy Hill’s follow up to his breakout hit Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and preceding the even bigger success of The Sting, it might be seen as occupying similar territory to, say, Peter Jackson misfiring with The Lovely Bones between Tolkiens (give or take a Kong). The Slaughterhouse-Five novel was only three years old when the movie came out, and if the audience reception was muted, it nevertheless garnered the Jury Prize at Cannes (so it was certainly better received than Jackson’s unloved effort). Vonnegut was profusive in

Doctor Who The Silurians   No, I’m not going to refer to The Silurians as Doctor Who and the Silurians. I’m going to refer to it as Doctor Who and the Eocenes. The Silurians plays a blinder. Because both this and Inferno know the secret of an extended – some might say overlong – story is to keep the plot moving, they barely drag at all and are consequently much fleeter of foot than many a four parter. Unlike Malcolm Hulke’s sequel The Sea Devils, The Silurians has more than enough plot and deals it out judiciously (the plague, when it comes, kicks the story up a gear at the precarious

Quatermass and the Pit aka Five Million Years to Earth (1967)   The last and best of Hammer’s Quatermass adaptations, in no small part due to Andrew Keir taking over lead duties from Brian “bladdered” Donlevy. But mostly because this is by far Nigel Kneale’s best script for his professorial protagonist. Which means that even Roy Ward Baker’s so-so direction cannot prevent Quatermass and the Pit from remaining fresh, vital and thought provoking. Quatermass: “The figure was small, said Mr Parker. Like a sort of hideous dwarf.” The antecedents to and subsequent influence of Kneale’s trilogy capper (he had to go and turn it into a quadrilogy…)

The Quatermass Xperiment aka The Creeping Unknown (1955)   The movie most responsible for reshaping Hammer’s output, such that, over the span of a few short years, it would become primarily known for horror. A remake of Nigel Kneale’s 1953 BBC serial, The Quatermass Xperiment boasts higher production values (and crucially, two thirds more of it survives), but it also betrays certain significant shortcomings. Which doesn’t mean it isn’t still vastly superior to the live 2005 BBC4 remake. Quatermass: Don’t argue with me, I know what I’m doing. The biggest problem with both this picture and the sequel is that, frankly, Brian Donlevy

Southland Tales (2006)   Richard Kelly’s (kind of) post-apocalyptic smorgasbord of science-fiction, politics, music and musing was memorably lambasted at Cannes in its unexpurgated three-hour form and subsequently mauled by critics and shunned by audiences. Check its IMDB score for confirmation that most are not on board with recognising it as a misunderstood classic. And that’s fair. A classic Southland Tales is not. On top of which, it’s certainly unrefined in some of its targets (Jonathan Ross labelled it “a bad, overlong student film” and there’s something of that messy over eagerness in its scattershot approach). This is, undoubtedly, an instant cult movie; indeed,

Frequencies aka OXV: The Manual (2013)   Low budget science-fiction movies are often among the genre’s most satisfying, since they have to rely almost entirely on their core ideas rather than showy effects or spectacle. Frequencies is one such, positing an alternate reality where we are defined by our frequency – high, low, somewhere in between – and positioned in society accordingly (everything from luck to romantic entanglements is affected – opposites here repel). At its root, this is a love story and rumination on freewill and determinism, but writer-director Darren Paul Fisher infuses the proceedings with such a rich conceptual framework

At the Earth’s Core (1976)   It’s worth making the most basic of compare-and-contrasts between this cheap and cheerful Amicus follow up to their reasonably successful 1974 Edgar Rice Burroughs adaptation The Land that Time Forgot (which also happens to be reasonably decent) and the subsequent year’s game-changer Star Wars. Because while a slew of cheap and cheerful Star Wars rip-offs would follow that wouldn’t look so out of place in At the Earth’s Core’s company, George Lucas’ movie instantly relegated this kind of picture to the status of a dinosaur (or Mahar). I enjoyed the movie when I first saw it on TV, of course

The X-Files 5.18: The Pine Bluff Variant   I had a hankering to revisit this one because I remembered it as a first-rate “What-If?” What if The X-Files eschewed the supernatural/aliens/sci-fi and was instead a straight FBI drama show? Because The Pine Bluff Variant is played pretty much on that level, courtesy of series supremo director Rob Bowman. I’d pretty much forgotten anything else about it besides Mulder going undercover and mustering palpable tension as a result. There is, inevitably, a science-fiction element, courtesy of a flesh-eating biotoxin, but its presence is almost an apologia to anyone affronted by the otherwise lack of weirdness.

Color Out of Space (2019)   Richard Stanley returns to features after 27 years (without a finished one) and gives us a Lovecraftian horror, his first of three planned adaptations. Responses have been generous, but I quickly found Color Out of Space teetering on the brink of the tedium that comes with escalating horror chaos devoid of suspense or turns of plot. We know what is happening here – madness unbound, physical, mental, psychic – and we’ve seen Cage’s brand of unbound lunacy more than enough times already. Add to that a picture heavily indebted to John Carpenter’s The Thing by way of gross-out familial descent

THX 1138 (1971)   Curious George’s debut is the antithesis of his later Star Wars (A New Hope), and it’s interesting that he should have invested himself in something so austere, “adult” and joyless given his later escapist veneer. One half senses, like Spielberg with Sugarland Express, that this was a self-consciously serious piece, intended to garner respect, rather than being something he was entirely invested in. But in contrast to the ’berg, Lucas was always a thoughtful young man – the prequel trilogy is deadly serious in theme – and it’s as likely that basic pragmatism took over when it came to

Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984)   Michael Radford finally delivered the Orwell adaptation we all deserved. But was it, perhaps, just a little too reverential? It’s no coincidence that Terry Gilliam’s Brazil (1984 ½), released the following year, entirely eclipsed Nineteen Eighty-Four while dealing with many of the same themes (albeit taking its swipes more satirically, by way of an attack on the suffocating bureaucratic state). Radford’s film deliberately delivers an Orwellian future as seen from the era of the novel’s release, give or take the odd helicopter, and is visually striking in its desaturated lack of glory (courtesy of ace DP Roger Deakins) as well

Doctor Who Season 23 – Worst to Best   For many, at least those who saw the McCoy years as an uptick, this represents the nadir of classic Doctor Who. To call Season 23 unloved is an understatement, something expressed loud and clear by most of those involved in its making. Colin is particularly vocal in his grouchiness over the trial concept, referencing the “small brains” who must have come up with it; he claims to have no idea, but he remains the bearer of great enmity towards Eric Saward after all these years, so it’s evident who he’s thinking of (it

The Truman Show (1998)   I’d had it in mind to revisit The Truman Show for a while now, and it seems many are rediscovering the picture with fresh eyes amidst a plandemic and the implications that holds for our paradigm. It’s a film I’ve never quite been able to embrace. There’s something about it that’s a little too facile, a little too on-the-nose. And I say that as an unabashed Peter Weir fan. Even with a few new angles to bring to the picture twenty-odd years later, I find that take hasn’t really changed. I mean, its main characters are called Truman and Cristof! But

Soylent Green (1973)   The final entry in Chuck Heston’s mid-career sci-fi trilogy (I’m not counting his Beneath the Planet of the Apes extended cameo). He hadn’t so much as sniffed at the genre prior to 1967, but over the space of the next half decade or so, he blazed a trail for dystopian futures. Perhaps the bleakest of these came in Soylent Green. And it’s only a couple of years away. 2022 is just around the corner. The secret of Soylent Green is, of course, everything about the movie. Like The Sixth Sense, it would probably be quite difficult to come to the

The Philadelphia Experiment (1984)   There’s an evergreen lure to the Philadelphia Experiment’s mythos, up there with the Bermuda Triangle for “fact-based” mysteries. A movie version would doubtless benefit from a more literal and “plausible” approach, as would many of the rumoured alt-science ventures of WWII. What we got was much more basic, but the premise itself goes a long way. So much so, it helped mask the movie’s relative averageness at the time of its release – at least, for someone who lapped up the possibility that it was based on an actual event. And we should probably grateful The

Logan’s Run (1976)   There’s a lot of nostalgia out there for Logan’s Run. Unfortunately, most of it that isn’t focussing on the pulchritudinous presence of Jenny Agutter is unjustified. Logan’s Run’s problems are two-fold. It isn’t escapist enough to be a true crowd pleaser, and it isn’t brainy enough to rank in the top end of more respected SF fare of that immediate period (Planet of the Apes, Silent Running). Plus, it’s directed by Michael Anderson. Nevertheless, Logan’s Run occupies an interesting place for science-fiction movies, as the last of an era grappling with dystopian themes before Star Wars spawned a new visual language and mythic

The Thing (1982)   The Thing has been thesis fodder for years, as much so as any given pre-1990 Cronenberg movie, and has popularly been seen as a metaphor for AIDS and even climate change. Now, of course, provided we’re still in a world where film is studied in the aftermath and we haven’t ball been assimilated in one form or another, such staples are sure to be scrubbed away by an inundation of bids to apply the Coronavirus to any given text (much in the way Trump has been popularly overwritten onto any particular invidious fictional figure you care to

Dreamcatcher (2003)   A puzzler for many. Not so much in terms of how a post-horrific car crash, OxyContin-addicted Stephen King could have written such a rotten story (at one point, before his comedown, he proudly extolled that Dreamcatcher “would do for the toilet what Psycho did for the shower”, which, well…) – I think the circumstances speak for themselves – but how such luminaries as William Goldman and Lawrence Kasdan became involved in the movie adaptation. And how Castle Rock, for the most part a bastion of successful translations of the author’s work, could have tripped up so badly. Because Dreamcatcher is an unmistakably bad film. As

Time after Time (1979)   It seems as if every even half-successful science-fiction movie has spawned at least a failed TV version at some point. I haven’t seen Time after Time’s spin-off, but I’m unsurprised its premise didn’t successfully lend itself to an ongoing series format. Indeed, by the time the credits roll on Nicholas Meyer’s directorial debut, I felt he’d run into the limits of his (Karl Alexander’s) idea. Time after Time’s faux-Victoriana contrasted with late-twentieth century San Francisco provides the missing link between Meyer’s prior Sherlock Holmes pastiches and his later contributions to Star Trek. You can see his love for literature

Ad Astra (2019)   Would Apocalypse Now have finished up a classic had Captain Willard been ordered on a mission to exterminate his mad dad with extreme prejudice, rather than a mysterious and off-reservation colonel? Ad Astra features many stunning elements. It’s an undeniably classy piece of filmmaking from James Gray, who establishes his tone from the get-go and keeps it consistent, even through various showy set pieces. But the decision to give its lead character an existential crisis entirely revolving around his absent father is its reductive, fatal flaw, ultimately deflating much of the air from Gray’s space balloon. So by the end, Ad

I Am Mother (2019)   This Netflix science-fiction offering arrived with very solid reviews, always a surprise for a Netflix movie, even one they picked up at Sundance. For about two-thirds of the running time, I Am Mother seems to justify the (modest) raves. It boasts assured direction from Grant Sputore (making his feature debut), polished production values and strong performances from a very small cast (basically Hilary Swank and Clare Rugaard, with Luke Hawker in a Weta robot body suit and Rose Byrne providing the voice). It operates intriguing turns of plot and switches in sympathies. Ultimately, however, I Am Mother heads towards

Doctor Who Season 12 – Worst to Best   Season 12 isn’t the best season of Doctor Who by any means, but it’s rightly recognised as one of the most iconic, and it’s easily one of the most watchable. Not so much for its returning roster of monsters – arguably, only one of them is in finest of fettle – as its line-up of TARDIS crew members. Who may be fellow travellers, but they definitely aren’t “mates”. Thank goodness. Its popularity – and the small matters of it being the earliest season held in its entirety in original broadcast form, and being quite short –

The Predator (2018)   Is The Predator everything you’d want from a Shane Black movie featuring a Predator (or Yautja, or Hish-Qu-Ten, apparently)? Emphatically not. We’ve already had a Shane Black movie featuring a Predator – or the other way around, at least – and that was on another level. The problem – aside from the enforced reshoots, and the not-altogether-there casting, and the possibility that full-on action extravaganzas, while delivered competently, may not be his best foot forward – is that I don’t think Black’s really a science-fiction guy, game as he clearly was to take on the permanently beleaguered franchise.

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018)   One thing the Colin Trevorrow and Derek Connolly scripted follow up to their ludicrously popular Jurassic World has going for it is that it finally delivers on the promise any self-respecting dinosaur exploitation aficionado would have meted out in the first Jurassic Park sequel, rather than waiting another 25 years until the fourth. And even then, they only offer a closing-moments taster of what to expect next time. But that’s been a problem with this series all over, caught between the desire to have the prehistoric beasties scare the bejesus out of youngsters, on the one hand, and

Doctor Who The Androids of Tara   Pastiche is often applied to The Androids of Tara as if it’s a dirty word. It’s only a pastiche, wafer thin, of The Prisoner of Zenda. A few names changed, a few science-fiction tropes added, but otherwise, little more than a pastiche. The pastiche of the Hinchcliffe era tends to be heralded, but Tara’s guilty of self-conscious limitation, to a set text and a limited scale; it is, at best, considered slight but amiable. There’s a seeming predisposition towards regarding it as minor because it isn’t dealing with death and destruction. The Robots of Death pastiched Agatha Christie but also slotted

The X-Files 11.2: This   Glen Morgan returns with a really good idea, certainly one with much more potential than his homelessness tract Home Again in Season Ten, but seems to give up on its eerier implications, and worse has to bash it round the head to fit the season’s “arc”. Nevertheless, he’s on very comfortable ground with the Mulder-Scully dynamic in This, who get to spend almost the entire episode in each other’s company and might be on the best form here since the show came back, give or take a Darin. Langly: Mulder, I need to know. Am I dead? If I

Doctor Who The Pirate Planet   I doubt Pennant Roberts, popular as he undoubtedly was with the cast, was anyone’s idea of a great Doctor Who director. Introduced to the show by Philip Hinchliffe – a rare less-than-sterling move – he made a classic story on paper (The Face of Evil) just pretty good, and proceeded to translate Robert Holmes’ satirical The Sun Makers merely functionally. When he returned to the show during the ’80s, he was responsible for two entirely notorious productions, in qualitative terms. But The Pirate Planet is the story where his slipshod, rickety, make-do approach actually works… most of the time (look

Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets (2017)   In the aftermath of Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planet’s floundering US debut (unlike The Fifth Element, it seems doubtful that an international bonanza will compensate) and (mostly) critical mauling, there have been numerous post-mortems, ranging from the reasonable to the desperately lazy (audiences didn’t know the property; it wasn’t a sequel; it didn’t have stars; it had a weird title – none of which are an issue when something is a hit, Baby Driver, for example). Valerian was one of my most anticipated pictures of the year, in spite of what

Passengers (2016)   Maybe it’s appropriate that, amid audience ambivalence in the face of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story and semi-outraged critical dismissal, Passengers has been rather overlooked. After all, Morten Tyldum’s previous picture, The Imitation Game, was vastly overrated, and over-feted, a psychologically thin and dramatically crude telling of Alan Turing’s life and work that needs to be compared to a truly barrel-scraping biographical portrait like A Beautiful Mind to come off looking remotely praiseworthy. Here, Tydlum exhibits a similarly glib understanding of his protagonists, but the premise of Passengers nevertheless holds twisted, unsavoury potential. That it fails to succeed in following through – and so the talking point