Suburban lawyer Mike (Paul Giamatti) is struggling with his domestic life. He has two young girls with his wife Jackie (Amy Ryan), but barely enough money to keep his practice open. He even has a panic attack one morning when jogging with his friend Terry (Bobby Cannavale). At work Mike is taking on a case where an elderly man named Leo (Burt Young) is suffering from dementia. Mike is unable to contact Leo's daughter Cindy (Melanie Lynskey) and it looks as though Leo will be put into care. Mike realises that he can get a commission from the situation, which would help his own family. Before the court makes a ruling, he announces that he will be taking over as Leo's guardian himself. Knowing that he won't actually have time to take care of Leo, he leaves him in a nursing home. But turning up on the doorstep of Leo's old home is Kyle (Alex Shaffer), Leo's grandson. He's been separated from his mother and wants to visit his grandfather. Mike lets Kyle stay in his own home and he turns out to be an incredibly relaxed individual. He even helps train with a high school wrestling team, where Mike and his friend Stephen (Jeffrey Tambor) are coaching a group of kids who can't win a game.

Paul Giamatti is excellent in this small but surprisingly complex parable. As a comedy-drama the film asks whether good deeds are fuelled by any form of self-interest. When looking at Mike's relationship with Leo the answer is simple. But Giamatti makes this a much more interesting and sympathetic character. There are few actors in Hollywood who can carry the hangdog baggage that he can. He brings a convincingly understated sense of guilt to Mike to enrich his usual loner character. In a clever opening scene, we see Mike, his wife and his daughter all curse the same swear word in different rooms of the house. This foreshadows a lot of Mike's anxieties about his daughters growing up and struggling to support themselves like their parents are now. On a more subconscious level is his relationship with Kyle. It's revealed that Mike and his friends used to be underachieving wrestlers themselves when they were kids. And seeing their determination for their team to win a game, especially when Kyle is throw into the mix, suggests they are looking for some resolve in themselves. There's a poignant moment after a match where Mike and Kyle are walking out together and he asks the kids how he stays so calm all the time, as though he'd look to discover that in himself.

In a smart and funny screenplay, littered with details like this, it's an incredibly subtle moment that works because of the delicacy of the performances and the direction Thomas McCarthy shows over his actors. This is essential an actors' film and the supporting cast are terrific too. Amy Ryan, in what could have been a superfluous role, gives Jackie some steely paternal and protective instincts. One of her best scenes is where she and Mike argue over a lock on the basement door, when she declares that she's not taking any chances with 'Eminem' in the house. And bringing some big laughs are Jeffrey Tambor and Bobby Cannavale as Mike's friends, especially when they start fighting over the coaching roles. Dramatically, the film has only a few hitting moments, shared between Kyle and his mother, as this is a low key film. But at least the ending is a realistic and honest one that values hard work and honesty. And with so much instant gratification in the world at the moment, that's a pretty big deal.

A dizzying chase scene in a forest leads to a group of apes being captured and taken to a high-tech science lab. The apes are experimented on with a drug called 112, which is believed to make them smarter. It's set to be used as a cure for Alzheimer's on humans too. This interests young scientist Will (James Franco) because his father Charles (John Lithgow) is deteriorating from the disease. When an ape breaks out in defence of its baby the entire program is meant to be shutdown and the advanced creatures destroyed. Unable to kill a young ape called Caesar (Andy Serkis in motion capture), Will takes the advanced creature home as his pet and it grows up with him, becoming increasingly more sophisticated with each year. It is in this period that Will starts a relationship with a vet named Caroline (Freida Pinto). Will also uses the 112 drug that he stole as a temporary cure for his father. But after a public incident Caesar is taken away and thrown back into a cage, where he is taunted by Dodge (Tom Felton).

Cutting edge visuals prove at odds with an undercooked script in the second failed reboot of The Planet of the Apes franchise. It's been over forty years since the original film, which spawned four sequels and an unfavourable Tim Burton remake in 2001. This time the apes are mostly CGI and motion captured, instead of using actors to don costumes and makeup. They don't have the anthropomorphic qualities anymore. They're regular looking apes, who for the most part don't speak. The faces of the creatures and the animations, courtesy of Andy Serkis and Weta Digital, are spectacularly detailed and about as expressive as the scowl of an ape can be. It's an appeal to a more grounded approach that Hollywood reboots are now hungry for, given the success of the Nolan Batman films and Casino Royale. But grounding the film like this also means losing some of the fun and the rich irony of the Charlton Heston picture. Hearing the apes speak and interact in their own structured hierarchies, against a sinking Statue of Liberty, revealed that the apes were not from a primitive alien world but of a scary perpetual present on Earth. Starting the franchise over as a formulaic white coat thriller reduces the film to asking the same moral questions about genetic engineering that science fiction authors like Huxley have posed for decades. And stretching the story over several years too does little to justify the bewildering motives of Will's employers either, like why they would persist with the experiments again after their first major disaster.

The film is also more turkey than super ape because there's a lack of interesting human characters to voice these issues either. James Franco's talents are usually dependable but even he is limited by a flatly characterised and underwritten part that does little to spark his charisma. His relationship with the underused Freida Pinto (from Slumdog Millionaire) adds nothing to the story and the subplot with his father is unmoving. John Lithgow looks extremely out of place because some of his expressions, particularly in a scene where he's trying to start a car, appear too comical. But the most disappointing aspect of the narrative is the trajectory. Far too much time is spent inside the labs and between cages with stock characters like Tom Felton's Dodge, who is still in Malfoy-mode. The development of Caesar is indeed visible as you can see some strands of intelligence growing, like when he expresses that strength is found in unity and numbers. But the title of this film is criminally misleading and a cheat because the gap between the intellectual development of the apes and overthrow of the Earth is never bridged. The uprising, right at the end of the film no less, is one long dopey action sequence that's more like a standoff with the SWAT cavalry than a global revolution. And it's here that the credibility of this increasingly silly film plummets. The apes suddenly becom e military tacticians and before you can say 'overblown' Caesar rides in from the smoke clouds like General Custer on horseback. If Hollywood considers rebooting the Apes franchise again after this misfire, I'm hoping they'll consider the Troy McClure musical Dr. Zaius instead. No banana.

A super spy car named Finn McMissile (voiced by Michael Caine), who belongs to British intelligence, sneaks onto an oil derrick to photograph an extraordinary new weapon that's being developed by the evil Professor Z (Thomas Kretschmann). Meanwhile, back in the town of Radiator Springs, Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson) is looking to find some space for himself and his girlfriend Sally, away from his best friend Mater (Larry the Cable Guy). But after Mater confronts a rival of McQueen's over the phone, an arrogant racing car called Francesco (John Turturro), McQueen is invited to the World Grand Prix race, organised by Sir Miles Axlerod (Eddie Izzard). His race is being held in four countries, Japan, France, Italy and Britain and he's promoting it through alternative energy by having some of the cars run on electric power instead of regular oil. At a promotional party in Tokyo, Mater is mistaken for an American spy by McMissile and his impulsive assistance Holley Shiftwell (Emily Mortimer). They enlist him on a mission to stop the super weapon from being aimed at cars on the racetrack.

Cars 2 is vintage Pixar: a rousing adventure, overflowing with humour, colour and personality. Most sequels look to recycle what was previously successful. Here, the clever screenplay by Ben Queen has changed the direction of Cars entirely. The first film centred on the reinvigoration of a small, desert community, as McQueen did some soul-searching. But despite retaining some of the same important moral lessons, Cars 2 is more on par with a spy movie and has given Mater the centre stage this time. The opening chase scenes work to parody the James Bond films by including a mysterious villain, high tech gadgets and a devious scheme on a global scale. But most pleasing is how effective the writers have worked the cIassic line of 'mistaken identity' into the story and the film's composition too. Cars 2 reveals itself to be a tribute to any number of Hitchcock films, complete with a MacGuffin-like device as well. There's an exhilarating racing scene in Toyko where directors John Lasseter and Brad Lewis handle this with aplomb. Using cross-cutting, they bring three or four different threads together at once, so effortlessly, that the film bursts with humour and dramatic irony. Adding to the fun is when the film plays with other chase movie clichés, including old favourites like the red digital readout bomb, all moving at a rapid pace. And as expected, the animation is flawless. Each city looks and feels unique, in part because of the colour and the miniscule level of detail. Look for sight gags like the monocle on Professor Z, the bobby hats on the British police cars, a glimpse of the Popemobile or even just the expressive brow of Mater himself. It's stunning how often Pixar draws emotion from once inanimate objects. They're aided immeasurably by some excellent voice actors, who bring feeling to their characters. And if this wasn't enough incentive, there's a very funny short film before the main picture, featuring the cast of Toy Story. Ka-chow!

The Conspiratorfollows the aftermath of assassination of Abraham Lincoln, as eight people are put on trial to be charged with the murder. One of the suspects is Mary Surratt (Robyn Wright), who admits that she boarded John Wilkes Booth in her home, where he and his men may have been planning the assassination. Her son John (Johnny Simmons) is also somehow involved with the conspiracy too but he managed to escape before he could be captured. Aiding Mary's case is Senator Reverdy Johnson (Tom Wilkinson). He does not believe that she should be left as the fall person that the court is making her out to be. Pulling the strings of the court is Edwin Stanton (Kevin Kline), a politician who is intent on using the case to manipulate both the North and the South. Johnson hires Frederick Aiken (James McAvoy) a Civil War veteran and lawyer who has returned home to his wife Sarah (Alexis Bledel) and is initially reluctant to take on the case, assuming Mary is already guilty. But facing off against his opposite attorney Joseph Holt (Danny Huston), Aiken realises the increasing necessity of bringing John into the trial to prove Mary's innocence. He contacts Mary's daughter Anna (Evan Rachel Wood) for help.

Some odd casting choices and a midsection slump mar an otherwise compelling and entirely relevant courtroom thriller. Director Robert Redford has chosen an untold aspect of the Lincoln assassination, certainly one I was not familiar with. Though it may seem like a distinctly American story, the film holds a universal power that almost anyone could respond to. Redford's timing is precise. He's made a thriller that's not much interested in the 'whodunit' but the moral ambiguity surrounding courtroom show trials. Early in the film, Johnson argues that Mary has been held extensively without conviction so that the court could arrange its case, predetermining her fate. In trying to justify the court's outlandish decisions like this Holt's says to Aiken, "in times of war the law falls silent". He fires back "It shouldn't". And the court scenes are intercut with Stanton justifying the sentencing as a fear campaign that will satisfy the North's vengeance and scare the South. The story is complex, not because of whether Mary is guilty or not, it's never been discovered whether she really did conspire with Booth, but because of the reluctance of the American court system to give Surratt a fair trial. All historical films must find a contemporary relevancy and there's a powerful, universal subtext here about the way governments confuse vengeance and justice. It's impossible not to look at this film and think of the way that both the US and Australian governments have responded to terrorism in recent years, through mistreatment of political prisoners and terrorism laws preventing basic human rights, without proper justification.

As a piece of entertainment The Conspirator is a competently made thriller too. It's been beautifully photographed by Redford and his cinematographer Newtown Thomas Sigel. The detail around the sets and the costumes and the muted colour scheme are impeccable. The night scenes are particularly handsome, decorated by shadows and lit by the burning wicks of candles. But some of this authenticity is undone by some peculiar casting choices. Casting British actors in a distinctly American period is at first very distracting. Tom Wilkinson is fine with what he does but a less recognisable American actor would have been more immersive. McAvoy seems like an odd choice too but he shows his cIass and maturity as an actor. He's passionate and charismatic in this film as a man who is understandably skeptical about a Southerner but gradually builds to a determined, if futile, cause. Robyn Wright and Evan Rachel Wood bring great emotion to their work as Southerners realising, rather ironically, the difficulty of sacrificing one person, like John, for the greater good. Disappointingly, Justin Long is miscast and completely out of place with a fake moustache and Alexis Bledel can only do so much with an unresolved subplot about Aiken's home life. The pace of the film also sags around the midpoint, as the finer and details of the case become muddy. But the surprising and moving climax ensures that an appropriate amount of feeling and emotion is restored into many of these characters.

Walter (Mel Gibson) is a man who has become disconnected from his family. He's depressed and has separated from his wife Meredith (Jodie Foster). His youngest son Henry misses him but his oldest boy Porter (Anton Yelchin), a high school student, wants nothing to do with him. Henry is picked on and Porter is taking money for writing people's assignments. He is asked by fellow student Norah (Jennifer Lawrence) to write her graduation speech for her. After Walter fails to commit suicide in a hotel he stumbles upon a beaver hand puppet lying in the garbage. He begins to use the beaver to talk for him, drawing attention away from his problems. The beaver's voice asserts a confidence that he never had and Walter uses this to rethink the strategies of his fading toy company. He gives people a note that he says is written by his doctor, prescribing the puppet. Almost everyone but Porter accepts the new Walter and his condition. But as he struggles to separate himself from the beaver a new set of psychological problems comes to the fore.

The Beaver is a well-intentioned domestic drama that lacks an appropriate middle ground. As the film's director the bravery of Jodie Foster is admirable. This must have been an extremely difficult film to sell. Not just because of Mel Gibson's off-screen notoriety but also because of the ambiguity of the film's tone and its absurd premise. There's an awkwardness about how the early scenes are handled because you don't know whether to laugh or not. In his hotel room Walter is so drunk that he tries to serve his drink to the characters in his television set. He then stumbles into the shower to try and hang himself off the railing. Scenes like this feel loosely controlled because they'd be more fitting in a slapstick comedy than in a psychodrama. And if it was intentionally funny, can we really laugh knowing how close this character is to Gibson's own fractured persona? Equally challenging is how accepting people are of the beaver puppet, especially those from the corporate world. Would it really take one card from a doctor to convince intelligent people? In particular it's Foster's character who should have had a stronger reaction early on. But as the situation spirals her performance grows immeasurably because her reactions are genuine. These issues with plausibility recall Lars and the Real Girl (2007), which was also about a man reconnecting to people through an inanimate object. For all of its faults that was a film that understood the dramatic limitations of its premise.

Towards the backend, The Beaver falters with two scenes that are so extreme that it's near impossible not to watch with wide-eyed disbelief. The narrative actually reaches a point where it's plain disturbing. It rattled me which means there's some effectiveness to its spontaneity. But for many reasons the 'killer beaver' scene is a complete misstep. And what follows will shock and I think distance a lot of people from the film. Ironically, The Beaver is most successful without the puppet, either focussing on Walter himself or on his son's relationship. A restaurant scene is inspired because of the way that first time screenwriter Kyle Killen juxtaposes Walter's experience with his son, who is also on a date. Both men try and fail to speak for other people in different ways. Walter is forced by his wife to not use the puppet and suddenly his confidence and his charm are sapped. Gibson retracts effortlessly back into Walter's old self: a grimacing, mumbling and isolated soul. Just as powerful is when Meredith tries to show him some old photos. Look at Gibson's eyes and way that Walter is physically tussling between his old and new self, desperate not to return to what failed him. It must be some of the best work he's ever done. But Yelchin and Lawrence are note-perfect too with natural performances and quiet humour. They have great chemistry and she's really becoming one of the most promising young actresses. It's a film that pushes its message about human voices too hard but given the quality of the performances the actors achieve something that audiences might not: they believe it.

The Tree of Life is a metaphysical journey that centers on a family, living through 1950s American suburbia. The patriarch of this family is Mr O'Brien (Brad Pitt). He works in a factory and believes in trying to toughen his sons up because kindness doesn't allow people to succeed. He himself is a failed musician, who still loves the piano. Mrs. O'Brien (Jessica Chastain) is a far more timid parent, an almost angelic figure. We watch as one of the boys, Jack (Hunter McCracken), grows up and starts rebelling against his controlling father. Shifting to the future and Jack (Sean Penn) is stuck in a modern corporate future. He's still reeling over the death of his brother during the Vietnam War and has had a recent fallout with his father. As these characters question their faith, we are taken back in time to see how the roots of the Earth came to be.

At the end of the year no other film released in 2011 will have reached the same levels of ambition as The Tree of Life. The winner of the Palme d'Or is not a masterpiece or writer/director Terrence Malick's best film. That arguably belongs to The Thin Red Line (1998 ). It's a deeply flawed picture: overlong, inflated and vague. And yet without these issues you would not have a film of the same scope and imagination. Some early reviews have labelled the film pretentious. But with Hollywood bereft of new ideas, can you really lament an auteur like Malick for his determined innovation? This is an experienced but sparse filmmaker, who is extremely selective about his material. In his last two films, The Thin Red Line and The New World (2005), Malick attributed warfare to be an extension of modernity, a corruptor of the human soul and the natural world. But his argument in this picture is even more sophisticated: that evil has existed from the very roots of evolution, through man and nature, time and space. The most cinematic representation of this is in a twenty minute montage of the formation of the Earth. It covers the violent explosions of the Big Bang, right into the dinosaur age, as one prehistoric creature slaps its paws down onto the skull of another. In placing this episode deep into the film Malick avoids imitating the opening of 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968 ) to enhance the unique thematic concerns of his own film. In moments of grief the characters phase the question, assumedly addressing God, 'where were you?' The placement of this montage suggests they are asking in their minds how they reached this point in time, where God allowed us to become a part of a violent nature.

But the film is most engaging when Malick returns to the suburbia to develop the characterisation of the family. Malick was born in Texas, during this same era, so these scenes hold an additional power for being autobiographical. And we assume that there is also a personal level of guilt here too, as we see the boys growing up, developing the flaws of ordinary people. The images of a new born baby are juxtaposed with moments of jealousy and self-importance. Malick's formal control over these scenes is delicate. He uses tight framing and low angle shots to give a child-like perspective of curiosity to people and objects. There's truth in this because children always see adults as giants. And Mr. O'Brien becomes a God-like figure, from whom Jack gradually separates himself. O'Brien is unrelentingly repressive. He's frustrated that his dream has already failed but also determined to show his sons the correlation between ruthlessness and survival. Pitt is sublime; perfectly cast as a raw and painful representation of failed ambition. He embodies this character's toughness, aggression and self resentment. And Jessica Chastain, an actress I'm admittedly not familiar with, shows tremendous maturity with a performance of the rarest kind. Her inner torment is displayed not through words but through the most fragile expressions of a deeply passive individual. What a beautiful talent. But the tension between O'Brien and Jack is so honest and powerful that some of the scenes in Pitt's absence feel amiss. It's often deliberate, showing how children drift through life, but several scenes lose their meaning and could have been shortened considerably.

Heavy criticism has been directed at Sean Penn's portion of the film, mostly because of its ambiguity. For an actor of his calibre, Penn is underused, with little to say or do. Nonetheless, he still has a face that is effortlessly repressed. Symbolism remains equally dense here, often to a fault, but Malick's selective use of colour is intelligent. He contrasts the natural greenery of the suburbs and the dream world with a cold, isolated, dystopia. It's a steel coated nightmare, overrun by thick, grey corporate towers and glass windows that remind us of the world's mindless ambitions and social barriers. "The worlds gone to the dogs," Jack says bluntly. There are endless visual cues like this requiring decryption. And many of these are a pleasure to resolve, provided you have the patience. It's assuring that there is a director willing to let an audience to think for themselves. Two people left during the first forty minutes but most stayed and a few applauded. Whether you grasp the entire scope or not, it would be difficult to admit that you weren't at one point moved by the performances or curious about the visual composition. How many Hollywood pictures will you be able to say that about this year?

Annie (Kristen Wiig) is a lonely woman who works in a jewellery store and shares casual sex with Ted (Jon Hamm). She is still reeling after her bakery closed during the recession. Her best friend that she's known for years is Lillian (Maya Rudolph). Lillian announces that she's getting married and that she wants Annie to be her maid of honour. Annie is initially excited but then realises that she will be alone again. Worse still is that Lillian is using four other women to help organise the wedding, including the dominating Helen (Rose Byrne), who she met less than a year ago. Helen and Annie compete furiously to outdo each other on the wedding plans but its Annie and her relationship with Lillian which comes off worse. Adding a little bit of joy to Annie's life is patrol officer Nathan Rhodes (Chris O'Dowd) as they start to slowly connect.

'Oh my God! You're getting married!' If you enjoy this kind of shrieking, along with references to various bodily functions and wedding parties so extreme they'd make royalty look mild, you will like Bridesmaids. As someone who does not have any interest in these things I found Bridesmaids to be a film of two halves: the first appalling and the second not much better. It's been directed by Paul Feig, under the watch of producer Judd Apatow and many have touted this as a female version of The Hangover (2009). Although the misdirection of the comedy could be pinned on Feig, the film was already on shaky ground because of the screenplay written by Wiig. She co-wrote the film with Annie Mumolo and was also one of the producers herself. Wiig has a background in variety programs like Saturday Night Live and for worse, it shows. Somewhere the rules of comedy have been forgotten. Comedy must exist in reality. Humour is funniest when we can imagine ourselves in similar, plausible, situations. There are very few scenes in Bridesmaids that feel honest or genuine. Too many moments play out like extended skits, stretching plausibility with unsophisticated humour and little concern for developing theme. This movie is so desperate for a laugh that if it nudged you it would have broken a rib. I took zero pleasure from watching women defecate over a sink, vomiting on top of each other, or becoming boozy on an aeroplane.

If these situations weren't distasteful enough, smaller moments are undone by dialogue that lacks subtlety. Some lines of dialogue, like when Annie talks to customers in the jewellery store, are ridiculously blunt when they should have been loaded. It weakens the credibility of the characters and flattens the humour because we know people don't talk like this. Though taste in humour is subjective it's difficult to ignore the image problems rising in modern comedies. A lot of rom-coms, including this one, are pushing a social view that if you are fat, single or unmarried, you are weird, low in confidence and a failure. Wedding parties in films are also now so extravagantly realised that they have become a measure of success and social approval. Bridesmaids continues many of these trends, taking every chance to deprive its characters of dignity. That is until Annie can find the ridiculously nice Irish bloke. In the second half, the film at least tries to give Annie a recovery after hitting rock bottom but its views of friendship and renewal are simplistic and predictable. Like a lot of the film, Wiig's comedic performance is so annoyingly exaggerated that it saps any chance of realism. But Chris O'Dowd, as one of the film's few likeable characters, is mercifully restrained. A lot of women will see this because it gives them the rare centre of attention in a raunchy, mainstream comedy. But is this really the best Hollywood can offer? If there's a Bridesmaids: Part II I'm sending a non-acceptance card.

Two years after the first film and the wolf pack is back again with Stu (Ed Helms) preparing to marry Lauren (Jamie Chung) in Thailand. Her conservative father disapproves of Stu and doesn't consider him a proper doctor. Both Phil (Bradley Cooper) and Dug (Justin Bartha) are also disappointed that Stu has opted not have a proper bachelor party. Stu is reluctant to invite Alan (Zack Galifianakis) to the wedding, even though he has been waiting eagerly for the pack to reunite. Stu quickly caves in and the group travels to Thailand together. Tagging along with them this time is Lauren's gifted younger brother Teddy (Mason Lee). One night on a beach in Thailand the boys, including Teddy, decide to have a drink together. Stu, Phil and Alan wake up together the next morning and find themselves in a sweaty Bangkok hotel. Teddy is missing, someone's finger is left in the room, Alan's head has been shaved, there's a monkey jumping around and Stu has a real tattoo on his face. On top of this, they discover that Alan invited Mr. Chow (Ken Jeong) to party with them the night before. The boys set off to uncover what happened and to find Teddy before the wedding.

The Hangover Part II is a film stooped so far into stupidity that it never had room for Mel Gibson. Originality, or a lack of, is the least of director Todd Phillips problems here. The film starts reasonably, with Stu showing his reluctance because of what happened in the first picture. It looks as though he might have learnt something from his previous experience. Could this be a strand of intelligence? That strand is quickly chewed up and spat out because everything else here works to appeal, very strictly, to the lowest common denominator. The Hangover (2009) earned a lot of mileage from the freshness of its characters and their distinct personalities. But this entry suffers terminally from sequel syndrome: there's no change or development in the characters because of the studio's need to recycle what worked once before. We gave the first film the benefit of the doubt because its characters promised this to be a one off adventure, never to be spoken of again. But what sort of message does it send now when a character has his finger cut off, wakes up in a lift and says that he feels good even though he doesn't remember anything? Alcoholism pollutes the world as devastating as any drug today but here is a mainstream film that comfortably celebrates idiocy by letting its characters off with a laughably soft and irresponsible finale. The plot is already hopelessly illogical but narrative points like the riot, the severed finger (hilarious?) and Stu's tattoo are weightless and trivial because in the end who cares, so long as these yahoos had a good time.

Taking the film on pure entertainment value and Part II is pitifully dull. Although it insists on recycling a number of plot contrivances, it lacks any particularly memorable set pieces from the first film and there's little joy to be found in the dialogue. The colourful quips from the first entry are gone and the film is more puerile than I ever remember the series being. The ultra lowbrow humour, involving masturbation sodomy and racial stereotypes, has no role other than to excite teenage boys so they can collectively cry 'ewww' together. There's also a worthless car chase that doubles as a shootout but the scene involving a transsexual prostitute is a disturbing new low for films of this kind. This was never going to be an actor's film but on a comedic level the performances can do little to spark the limp comedy. Alan just seems to trot out dumb lines and Stu's shrieking is noisy and embarrassing. In a minute role a bloated Paul Giamatti has little to work with. And Mr. Chow is doing his very best to find a place on a list for one of the most obnoxious characters in cinematic history. And on that character there's more than just a touch of racism about the contrast between fun loving Americans, who are just out for a good time and the way Asians are represented as either ultra conservatives, dangerous or just freaks. Part III of this dwindling series is apparently already in the works. There's never been a better time to become a teetotaller.

Lucy (Emily Browning) is a student working on a number of jobs. She's a waitress, she works in an office and she's involved with a science experiment at her university too. She's not co-operating with her housemates though and the rent is overdue. When she sees an ad in the paper she applies for it. She's driven to a manor house where she meets Clara (Rachael Blake). Clara describes the job, which involves Lucy being sedated in a bed and allowing men to watch her sleep. Lucy is assured that she will not be penetrated. Her first task with several other women is to serve a group of old men dinner at the manor house. After this she is put in a deep sleep and studied individually by three different men. Outside her job, one of Lucy's few relationships is with an old friend of hers called Birdmann (Ewen Leslie), a recovering alcoholic.

Sleeping Beauty, the directional debut of Julia Leigh, is a film strictly for those seeking a more challenging and ambiguous brand of cinema. Its minimalism and utter restraint works mostly for rather than against its purpose. The film is richly successful in creating a world that's entirely consuming and isolating for its protagonist. Leigh relies on desaturation, like white colour palettes, to visualise this alienation. The majority of the film is also elegantly photographed at a distance using a wide angle shot to represent the isolation as Lucy becomes an individual, overwhelmed by her surroundings. Save for a misplaced phone box, it was pleasing to see a familiar location, with numerous scenes being shot at the University of Sydney. Leigh has an equally skilful understanding of the power of silence too. Music is almost nonexistent and the dialogue is sparing so we rely entirely on our vision here; making the film compelling and tense for its entirety. And it's extremely leisurely paced too, holding scenes for a very long time, with particular still framing, from a near-invisible camera. These formal aspects work to produce a dream-like state of slow, concentrated and delicate movements. As each scene fades to black, like the shutting of an eyelid, it becomes increasingly apparent that Lucy is almost sleeping walking through her life, with no prince to wake her up.

Rather mistakenly, a lot will be made about the film's morally ambiguous view of sexuality. The film does not include any sex scenes. It is a strict rule of the organisation that there is no penetration. As suggested by the composition, the film is more fascinatingly occupied by voyeuristic tendencies but also the desire to awaken our deepest fantasies. This is visualised through a number of scenes at the manor house. The first is the most confronting, where topless women, covered in thin, revealing straps, cater for old men as they poor them drinks and serve them dinner. It's gratuitous but that's precisely the point because its one geezers bizarre fantasy to another. There are three additional encounters in the bedroom itself: one man who is lightly physically, moving his hands across Lucy's back; another who is intensely aggressive and the third is someone who simply mishandles her. The contrast to this is Lucy who as the sleeping beauty can only realise her fantasies through words. The dialogue drifts between outright coarse and maddeningly cryptic. Lucy asks her friend Birdmann if he'll marry her, not as a proposal, but as self-assurance. This suggests again that the characters in Leigh's world need to hear what they want to hear to be satisfied. The film falters with these side characters like Birdmann because we don't know enough about them and they tend to fade in and out of the film for lengthy stretches of time. And some will lament Emily Browning's subdued performance for its lack of personality but given the dream-like state of her character it actually suits the film. Her slender frame too makes her a particularly diminutive outcast. The film's ambiguity, isolation and peculiarity, will be detrimental for a lot of viewers. It's unlikely to attract big audiences because it is a slow, unnerving experience. But it's difficult to fault the film's artistry and its originality. Some people at the screening I went to left early. More fool them. I kept watching.

This is a fictional story but actors Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon are playing themselves on a road trip across the North of England. Steve is struggling for work in film and his girlfriend Mischa (Margo Stilley) has separated from him to return to America. He was expecting her to help him on an assignment he's been given: to complete six different restaurant reviews. With his girlfriend pulling out Steve's last resort is Rob. They're not really friends or colleagues but they've known each other for a long time. Rob prides himself on his impersonations of other people. But with Steve wanting to be taken seriously in mainstream movies, this drives him insane, sparking a rivalry between the two men as they constantly work to correct each other.

The Trip initially seems like its much ado about nothing. It's essentially a road movie, full of rich food and wine and two self-important funny men. Comparisons to Alexander Payne's Sideways (2004) are genuine but this picture is largely improvised by the actors. However, an outline must have been provided by director Michael Winterbottom because beneath the silliness of the comedy a deliberately dark subtext is visible. The humour is intelligent, not because of what is said, but in how it reveals character. Both Steve and Rob are flawed in different ways. We understand why Steve's relationship has fallen apart. He's continuously jealous because he can't stand Mischa being around other men. He automatically assumes that she's involved with them. Yet he also takes the time to sleep with two women himself. Rob is a family man but seems to have the compulsive need to impress people by using the same jokes and impersonations over and over again. The duo shares hilarious chemistry together because their personas complement each other so well. Steve is too much like his egotistical self and Rob is always trying to be other people when he doesn't have to be.

Comedy is at its funniest when actors find some variation on how to play their roles straight. The Trip's self-depreciative tone is perfect. Neither man has any idea about reviewing the meals. It's really just a device to give the movie a framework. But their incompetence is hysterically funny because they try to sound smarter and cleverer than they actually are, especially when outdoing each other's impersonations. Rob impersonates everyone from Michael Caine, Woody Allen, Sean Connery, Hugh Grant and even Christoph Waltz. These are enjoyable because they're recognisable and silly. But there's an old fashioned method about Winterbottom's direction that I like too. A lot of the restaurant scenes are held for a very long time, which means that the decision to improvise is a smart one. It allows both actors to play out their mimetic roles with as much time and space as they need. They can milk the gags for as long as they can, which also makes them funnier. As a drama the film is a little more weightless than Sideways, mostly because the side characters are underdeveloped. Steve can only interact with his girlfriend over the phone so there are fewer opportunities to really care about her as a character. And spreading the trip over six days instead of four or five means that the film losses some energy through its repetition. At just under two hours it could have been shorter. Nonetheless, the film is still frequently hilarious and certifies that Winterbottom is as diverse as any other working director today.