Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps - The Capitious Critic

"Jump! You fuckers!" - Even though the photo of a piece of cardboard bearing this invitation - held up by a demonstrator on Wall Street in the height of the financial crunch - came to worldwide fame, only few bankers obliged. Oliver Stone, avowing leftist and Chavez/Castro/Morales sympathiser, turns this fantasy into reality in his sequel to the 1987 Wall Street. After the crisis-related suicide of his mentor Louis (Frank Langella), investment banker Jacob Moore (played uninspiringly by Shia LaBeouf) vows vengeance against those responsible - ruthless capitalists who accept thousands of redundancies to make a quick buck. He sabotages an important oil extraction deal, earning him the attention of the most important bank's CEO (Josh Brolin), who promptly offers him a job. At the same time, his girlfriend (Carey Mulligan) must cope with her father's release from jail - the legendary Gordon Gekko (still Michael Douglas), who seems to have made a U-turn and publically warns against financial cataclysm, all the while promoting his new book.

Given the films topicality and Stone's political views you would expect a feature film version of Michael Moore's outstanding Capitalism: A Love Story. Instead, in an attempt to portray the meaninglessness of Ducatis, Bvlgari rings, tailor-made suits and Manhattan lofts, the director gets carried away and involuntarily expresses a fascination for such earthly pleasures. To compensate for this consumerist porn, Stone repeatedly shows us children playing with soap bubbles - to convince even non-attentive viewers of the film's profundity and symbolism. A supporting act by Susan Sarandon and cameo by Charlie Sheen (no doubt a favour to his old friend Oliver) add little substance. Money Never Sleeps continues Stone's spell of mediocre films that has lasted for more than a decade. The fact that Stone's last award nomination dates back to 1995 and Nixon pretty much sums up the situation.

Blow Up (Must See) - Rob Culpepper

I like a good meta film. Film about film. Looking to learn how to look. Blow Up, Antonioni's materpiece, is about just that: looking, the implications of looking, the exploitation of looking. Don't let that scare you off, because the film tells a great story apart from the interpretations of what it means. But like all great art, Blow Up works on so many levels simultaneously that every time you watch it, you'll pick up something else, learn something new.

Blow Up is about the sexy life of a young fashion photographer in 1960s London. He's rich and surrounded by beautiful women who will do anything to have him take their picture, but he's bored with his life. Then, by happenstance, he makes some photographs that reveal a mystery. As he continues to study the pictures (he's interrupted a couple times by beautiful women who, um, end up playfully naked), he realizes he's caught up in something much bigger than just making pictures. Antonioni's visual storytelling is flawless here. There is about stretch of about 15 minutes where he tells the story without dialog. Just camera angles. It's intense and amazing. Think about telling a story silently, with the only sounds being running water in the darkroom and shoes scuffing on the floor as Thomas (the photographer) moves around his studio. He does this a couple times through out the film and he pulls it off masterfully each time.

Music by Herbie Hancock, a live scene with the Yardbirds (Jeff Beck smashes a guitar, The Who-style), sharp dialog, lots of really interesting camera angles, a band of mimes, Vanessa Redgrave+Veruschka+Jane Birkin, etc.

Blow Up is a masterpiece. Watch it.