"There are only two adjectives writers care about any more! "brilliant" and "outrageous"! and Hunter Thompson has a freehold on both of them," reads the back-cover blurb on my copy of Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas. Growing up a step behind Generation Y, or whatever they're calling us these days (Generation URL?), one can't help but wonder if video game culture and über-violence in film haven't hardened us up a little since Hunter S. Thompson's heyday in the 1970s. Any shock or outrage caused by his books surely died with him back in February 2005.

As well you know, Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream is the story of a drug-addled Dr Raoul Duke (Thompson's nom de guerre) and his attorney Dr Gonzo as they descend upon Las Vegas to attend a Mint 400 motorcycle race. What follows is a haze of mescaline, LSD, acid, and ether-induced events. The real and surreal within the story are tightly entwined, just as Thompson's autobiographical events are indistinguishable from the moments that are products of his own imagination.

While it makes no claims to be the Great American Novel, I still felt as though something was missing. There's plenty of story but we're left with a mere sliver of plot. It has been years since I watched Terry Gilliam's film adaptation of Fear & Loathing starring Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro, and I can't say I remembered much beyond the spinning restaurant. Oddly, I enjoyed the first half of the film and the second half of the book in equal measure, and hated the rest. Maybe through an interactive, multimedia approach we could start a whole new breed of film and literary appreciation. Or perhaps I'd be worth little more than these three stars.

. Now that almost 5 months and a summer of 3D blockbusters have elapsed, I figured it was time to revisit the subject.

If you're a UK film-fan, you are probably aware of leading film critic Mark Kermode's take on the topic. (In short: he hates 3D.) Recently, he made a video entitled Did Somebody Actually Make a Good Case for 3D. This week, he received a response from Pixar's stereoscopic supervisor.

Much of Bob Whitehill's (aka The 3D Guy) response focused on aspects of the 3D in Toy Story 3 that I had been mulling over since Kermode's first video about the film. I watched the film for the second time yesterday, and now feel prepared to discuss it.

Does forgetting that you're watching a 3D film mean that,
1. There was no point in it being 3D; or
2. The use of 3D have enhanced the film by doing exactly what it was meant to do?


Lee Unkrich has said that, "In my mind, as a film-maker, the moment an audience is paying attention to the 3D effects, I've failed miserably as a film-maker and a storyteller." That is a bold statement, particularly when dealing with a mode of filmmaking that is notoriously gimmicky and distracting.

Even Pixar's previous film, Up, was not safe from Kermode's scrutiny. He said that the 3D in Up draws attention to the floating detritus and away from the story. Alice in Wonderland suffered from the same visual interference. "You do run the risk with 3D of adding an extra layer of distraction," says Unkrich, "so we use it in a very understated way."

Understated is the word that best describes the use of 3D in Toy Story 3. Many have referred to the use of 3D in the film as, "pointless". If you don't notice it, you might as well get rid of it, right? This definition suggests that there is a fine line between 2D and a well-constructed, understated use of 3D. The delicate touch with which 3D is added to Toy Story 3 is seamless and, for the most part, goes unnoticed in much the same way as an excellent score, practised camera move, or discreet scene transition might.


The 3D in Toy Story 3 was carefully crafted to, "think of the screen as being a window into a world, seeing it in 3D as we experience life, and leav[ing] the gimmicks to other people," (Lee Unkrich). In this film, unlike most 3D films and trailers I've seen, planes are at a comfortable distance in order to create a perspective that feels natural. Rather than having your eyes forced onto certain points on the screen, you are watching as a casual observer, often standing amongst, in front of, or behind the characters. Your eyes are not jolted into place. Instead, just as your eyes are naturally attracted to the lightest part of the screen in 2D images, the 3D in Toy Story 3 gently guides your eyes across the screen, creating depth without forcing the closest objects into the forefront of your vision. You can see the dimensions as you would see them if you were standing within the scene.

This also extends into a more stylistic approach. For example, when Buzz is picked up and shoved into a toddler's mouth, and pounded against some hammering blocks, the slow motion and 3D merge in a first-person perspective shot that conveys the horror of the toys' plight.


Filmmakers continue to find more ways to create a sensory cinematic experience. When done well, elements such as cinematography, lighting, colour, sound, and music, come together to produce an orchestrated experience that, when we watch and listen to it, feels organic. Though I have my qualms with 3D, there is no reason to believe that the 3D effects in Toy Story 3 do not enhance our understanding of the characters, the gravity of situations, and our emotional involvement with the characters. Unless you can find a way to break it down into chunks and define exactly which individual aspects influenced each of your reactions or feelings, we cannot say for certain that the 3D did not make a significant contribution.

Further viewing for experts: This video from SoundWorks Collection on their involvement with Toy Story 3 encapsulates this argument with regards to sound.


from on .
(Continue reading for a transcript of Bob Whitehall's letter to Mark Kermode.)

What do you think of the 3D in Toy Story 3? Where do you stand on the 3D debate?

"Guy Walks Across America" made its YouTube debut on Tuesday, 20th July and, at the time of writing, has racked up a total of 54,242 views. Combining stop-motion animation and time-lapse photography, it features a man taking a Herculean stroll across the United States of America.

There is a particular delight that comes with finding an original, creative, and aesthetically pleasing little online video like this one.

Then, there's the disappointment that follows when you discover its dirty little secret.

It turns out "Guy Walks Across America" is a viral marketing campaign for the Levi's company.

We are looking for a male model with a great personality to be the lead in a viral advertisement for Levi’s Jeans. This project is going to be an epic adventure across America with a small crew in an RV.

2 minute time-lapse of someone in Levi jeans walking across America from New York to San Francisco.

Need your body language and facial expression to come through in a stop-motion style of shooting.

In hindsight, compared with the undeniably beautiful HD photography, the title is a little too simplistic, the editing is a wee bit too seamless, and the subject is a tad less scruffy than you would expect from a man who has spent two weeks trotting across America. However, since the obvious comparison to be made here is (who will no doubt receive a renewed surge in views on behalf of Levi's), this is certainly an original and timely challenge. Taking on YouTube's most coveted viral campaign is no mean feat.

Levi's recently terminated its 28-year relationship with BBH - cited by the Financial Times as the end of an era - one that spawned iconic adverts dating back to 1982. If this viral marketing gem is anything to go by, Levi's is weathering the split and holding tight to BBH's motto - "when the world zigs, zag”.

The channel features a that emphasises its small crew of six, the simplicity of the technology used, and their humble travels across the country in an RV. It's all so sweet and squeaky clean, you have to wonder whether this really was a bona-fide low-budget shoot.

Can you smell a viral marketing campaign, or were you fooled with the rest of us? Leave your thoughts in the comments!

I'll leave you with my personal favourite Levi's ad - Kevin the Hamster.

Between Inception, Rich Hall's dissertations of the and , and almost every other film I've watched in the past month, I needed a break. A break from men.

Have you ever heard of the Bechdel Test? Developed by a woman named Allison Bechdel to gauge the participation of female characters in Hollywood film. The test - also known as the Mo Movie Test - is based on three simple questions.

1. Are there at least two women (with names) in the film?
2. Do they talk to each other?
3. Do they talk to each other about something other than a man?

Needless to say, there are disturbingly few Hollywood films that meet these criteria.

You may not find this useful, and are perfectly entitled to feel that way. However, as I watched and pondered Hollywood's collective epic test fail, my boyfriend sat down to watch for 5 minutes. There is a scene where Rose (Toni Collette) is at the Sixers basketball game with her boyfriend, and he gets into a conversation with some guys about the game. The second this scene ended, my boyfriend turned to me and, voice laden with sarcasm, said, "Well, that was a realistic representation of men discussing sport."

Frankly, I find it heartening. This moment of trepidation about representing conversations between men is reminiscent of Jane Austen, who openly admitted that she did not write conversations between men because she has never heard one. If anything, this scene proves that what men say about sports is of little consequence to most women. Sweeping generalisations aside, this scene demonstrated more about the boyfriend Simon's character than it failed to illustrate about men through language. 


Speaking of men, I mentioned Inception. At first, I thought, "Two women and five men isn't such a bad ratio," That is, until I counted properly. Marya at Cinema Fanatic has posted a few times recently about DiCaprio's performances in and Inception, noting that his part of what makes his performances so excellent are his portrayals of characters tortured by guilt and the death of their wives. Mathilda Gregory has a different take on this. In her latest article entitled, "," she postulates that the dead wife trope is a cheap trick that provides a shorthand for creating "interesting" male characters.

Inception is an intelligent, thoughtful film that self-reflexively challenges ideas about narrative. But sometimes it seems like enjoying popular culture and being a feminist seem mutually exclusive. I don't want to have to turn my feminism off in the theatre just so I'm not niggled by the fact that instead of being treated as human beings with their own unique subjectivity, women in films are cheerfully shoved into white goods just so the hero can react to it with his best-ever acting and broody, brooding brood-face.

I guess that pretty much sums it up.

Do your favourite films pass the Mo Movie Test? Or is it plagued by moody widowers?

On Tuesday, I .

Hall's 2008 documentary, 'How the West Was Lost' was repeated on BBC4 this week. Having enjoyed Dirty South, I decided to watch and find out where Hall's documentary film journey began, way out West.

With fewer acerbic diatribes and decidedly less Hollywood-bashing, Hall unravels the rich history of the Western genre, laying down a chronological timeline of, well, How the West Was Lost. From the early Westerns like My Darling Clementine, popularised by pulp novels and histories of the town of Tombstone, Hall and his film historian interviewees examine the growth of the genre and their appeal to American audiences.

From early-day Westerns to the proliferation of the 50s and the tumultuous 60s, Hall drags us through the Western mud to the death knell of the 70s. This industry-long film pilgrimage - many times longer than the Western frontier history itself - is examined with reference to the political climates in which the films were made and in relation to film history.

Ultimately over-long and without the tightly scripted verve of Dirty South, Hall has since outdone himself. How the West Was Lost is informative but easier on the wit, and at least 15 minutes too long. If you love yourself a Western, you may find it's worth a watch. However, I still recommend that you catch Dirty South while you still can.

Have you watched Rich Hall's Dirty South or How the West Was Lost? What are your thoughts?

Confession the first: I took a film noir class at university and, for the most part, hated it.

Crime fiction has never grabbed me. I forget characters’ names (particularly if they have nicknames or their first and second names are used interchangeably); I inevitably lose track of who is on which side; and by the time a character is reintroduced, I seldom remember why they were involved in the first place. And what’s with the constant descriptions of every piece of furniture?!

Confession the second: It took me about 3 reads of the first 2 chapters before I decided not to give up on this book.

Enough of my shortcomings as a reader. Admittedly, I’m glad I stuck with it.

Farewell, My Lovely is the story of Philip Marlowe, a private detective who is corralled into the company of the less-than-obsequious Moose Malloy, who, in search of his lost love Velma, shoots and murders a black man in a bar. While in search of Malloy, Marlowe digs his teeth into a case involving jewel thieves. Inevitably, the plots merge.

Despite my resistance, Chandler’s descriptions, replete with stunning metaphors and turns of phrase, allowed me to cast aside my issues with over-exposition and enjoy the ebb and flow.

The verdict? I'm glad I gave it a whirl. Since Farewell, My Lovely is widely considered Chandler's best work, however, I'm in no rush to delve further into his bibliography.

In March, I wrote about the .

Salon.com was not too far behind.

In his article, "The Circus": Chaplin's little-known masterpiece, Andrew O'Hehir discusses the very same thing.

Chaplin is universally recognized as a monumental figure in film history, not to mention the cultural history of the 20th century, so it seems silly to speak of his being underappreciated. But such, I believe, is the case. Like every truly great artist of an earlier era, Chaplin has to be periodically rediscovered in order for people to see past ingrained stereotypes and received wisdom.

His films are routinely described as full of pathos and sentimentality, in a manner that carries more than a hint of disapproval, as if it were somehow unfortunate that such a talented physical comedian and pioneering writer-director had devoted himself to pleasing a mass audience, and telling stories whose keynotes were gentleness, selflessness and the value of community in the face of adversity. I can understand why critics and historians often feel passionate about Harold Lloyd, whose magnificent physical stunts more clearly point the way toward contemporary action-comedy, and Buster Keaton, the stone-faced existentialist so undervalued in his day. They were seminal comic geniuses, without a doubt. But there is only one Chaplin.

Before I go on to quote the rest of the article, allow me to join him in this plea.

What I'm trying to say is that I get it: You think you don't want to see a Chaplin movie. You imagine it'll be insipid, boring and somehow culturally embarrassing. Trust me on this: Just sit down and watch "The Circus".

In fact, don't watch The Circus. Watch any of his films.

If you're in the US and hold a Netflix account, you can find a huge cross-section of Chaplin's work here.

If you're in the UK, LoveFilm also has an impressive collection.

Alternatively, if you're a penniless tramp like me, let's hang out and we'll watch the bargain bin DVD's I've acquired.

Let the Chaplin love-in begin!

What's your favourite Charlie Chaplin film?

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Roald Dahl is, needless to say, best known as the author of books for children. This collection of short stories is easy on the whizzpopping, frumpets, and strawbunkies, but his subtly sinister grown-up world is equally enthralling.

The beauty of Dahl's short stories is his innate talent for saying the most when he says nothing at all. Massive chunks of story line are told through every ellipsis, of which there are many. Rather than telling you exactly what is happening, Dahl creates the setting, throws in a few hints about his characters, and leaves you to deduce the rest.

Another aspect that makes these stories so enjoyable is his ability to impart a sense of impending doom for every character. They may have sinned, have misbehaved, but when their comeuppance comes a-calling, we cringe and gasp as they are served their just desserts.

Kiss Kiss also features the short story The Champion of the World, a precursor to his novel Danny, the Champion of the World. Re-reading the story with an adult edge, discovering where those notions and words were conceived, was like reading Danny for the first time all over again.

Though it is not part of this collection, you can read Dahl's short story The Man From the South here. It's a personal favourite and if you've seen Tarantino's section of Four Rooms, you may well recognise it.

Perfume is the story of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, an orphan of 18th Century Paris. Rejected by many a wet maid, the solitary outcast finds his way through life as an apprentice and wanderer. His superior sense of smell soon leads him into the beguiling world of perfumery, with myriad consequences.

Süskind's refreshing omnipresent narrator is not afraid to change angles, focusing on the story from a different character's viewpoint. Similarly, when characters move in and out of the protagonist's life, their sub-story is tied up, satisfying our curiosities and allowing us to move on with Grenouille. When events take place that involve him, it is often not mentioned explicitly but, through the eyes of our demi-protagonists, we can deduce his involvement.

Despite his incontrovertible aromatic talents, the ogre-esque Grenouille is an odourless outcast and near-servant whose passions are distilled into something more sinister. His homicidal tendencies are no secret (its subtitle is "The Story of a Murderer"), yet Süskind paints Grenouille with such subtle nuance that his actions never appear threatening, nor could we describe Grenouille as a sympathetic character.

True to its name, the book is replete with olfactory visions and odorous descriptions of the world that surrounds Grenouille. Guiding us through a sensory experience of life in Paris and beyond, Suskind expertly weaves together a storyworld of aromatic brilliance.

Before watching Heartbreaker, I read an article in the Sunday Times' Culture section about the film, crowning it as something of a king of mediocrity in the French romantic comedy market. (Unfortunately I cannot link it, as it is pay-only content). While many of its points were valid (Paris as the city of love, French as a romantic language, beautiful actors and actresses), it was almost insulting to assume that Amélie - though fantastic - was the be-all end-all of this nationalistic genre. Incidentally, I've enjoyed more German rom-coms than French in the past two years.

Heartbreaker is a rom-com with a bit of a difference. The story revolves around Alex Lippi who, with his sister and brother-in-law, are in the break-up business. Hired primarily by stubborn fathers and concerned brothers, Alex breaks hearts with delicate aplomb. As his clients are women who are unknowingly unhappy, after a brief tryst he sends them back into the world with a sprinkle of joie de vivre.

Naturally, when he is hired to split up the beautiful, bold, and bourgeois Juliette van der Becq (a striking Vanessa Paradis), she proves indifferent to his charms. What follows is of your typical rom-com fashion, replete with the brushings of cold-shoulders, brushes with danger, and leaps of faith.

Paradis plays the tight-lipped Juliette with nuance, gradually melting her near-glacial disposition and adding hints of geniality as she warms to Alex. Romain Duris gives a good performance as the likeable and attractive Alex without straying into arrogance.

Despite some dated and frankly unoriginal references to Wham! and Dirty Dancing, the Heartbreakers is charmingly predictable with likeable characters and a good balance of silliness and sentiment. The subplot was woefully underwritten with a one-line pre-credit resolve. However, harking back to some classics such as It Happened One Night (though seemingly unintentionally), it certainly has moments of brilliance and an original concept.

Heartbreaker (L'Arnacoeur) is currently on limited release in the UK.