Gareth Rafferty (MightyShort)

Dorian Gray R

Debauch not, lest ye be debached?

There's not a lot to Oscar Wilde's The Picture Of Dorian Gray besides the obvious cautionary tale. An unspoiled pretty-young-thing throws in his lot with the lows of Victorian society, and makes a pact that his fabulous portrait will bear the scars, while he remains ageless and beautiful. One of the last famous Gothic novels, it does not have a happy ending.

Oliver Parker's film is the twentieth adaptation so far (including made-for-TV - thanks, Wikipedia!), and it doesn't discover any new depths. (Although it ploughs a few.) Dorian is pretty, as usual; Henry Wotton is a cynical Oscar Wilde cipher, who as usual appeals to Dorian's vanity and brings about the pact; time passes, as always, and Dorian ends up somewhat regretting it all, not unlike the viewer.

Ben Barnes has been hired for his looks, which is probably fitting for the titular hedonist, but aside from glowering like a petulant schoolboy all the time he simply can't carry the movie. (And Dorian could never hope to, being such a one-note cautionary figure that you don't care about him.) Colin Firth seethes well enough, though his dialogue is so forcibly Wildean that, just as in the novel, one imagines him holding a battered copy of The Wit Of Oscar Wilde, and finishing every sentence with an undeserved smirk. Everyone else in the movie is interchangeable, although Ben Chaplin stirs the film's only kernel of sympathy as the portrait's creator, Basil. When he exits the film, so does any emotional stake.

If it weren't for the presentation, it would simply be tedious following Dorian to his inevitable just desserts, but Parker's film is swathed in so many ridiculous touches that it is often rendered hilarious. The music consists of ponderous swirling sounds and a piano with approximately two low, out-of-tune notes. All scenes featuring the portrait come with absurd vomity "Bleurgh!" noises, and the portrait itself is apt to make silly faces and leer at the camera. And, in case we didn't get the memo about all the debauchery, Parker throws in so many slow-mo sex scenes that you simply pity the actors for all the silly writhing involved. The passage of time is important, but unclear, and Toby Finlay's awkward post-script to the novel ends the film on a random note. The writing is sloppy; at one point, Dorian says of his secret, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you." I almost laughed myself sick.

A fairly typical skulk through Victorian London's seedy (is there any other kind?) underbelly, Dorian Gray says nothing new and makes a damn silly mess of it. Here's a cautionary tale: don't watch it.

The Love Bug G

The adorable story of a little car that could, The Love Bug just plain works. Jim Douglas (Dean Jones) is a has-been race driver, and his life is going nowhere until Herbie shows up: a strange Volkswagen Beetle with a mind of its own, who becomes instantly loyal to Jim the moment he stands up for the little car. He starts winning races again. After that, and Jim's complete disbelief that Herbie is anything other than a car, The Love Bug is mostly just lots of races, with the relationship between driver and car getting steadily stronger. But there's so much good dialogue, given to some surprisingly well-drawn characters, that the story seems a lot fuller. Carol (Michele Lee) is a particularly 3D heroine, working for the villainous Thorndyke (David Tomlinson, wonderful as the increasingly obsessed and devilish bad guy) but never really helping him. Buddy Hackett is also a hoot as Tenessee Steinmetz, the loopy mechanic who is the first to notice just how special Herbie is. And Jim is no clean-cut hero. A faded talent and too much pride make him easier to hate than love, but he comes around, and probably so will you. Of course, the car is the star. Few cars are as alive-looking as the Volkswagen Beetle; emotions are easily got across just by a few simple noises or movements. It's a far cry from the wretched CGI hysterics of Herbie: Fully Loaded. Not a lot of films can get away with a car trying to commit suicide - no, seriously - and The Love Bug just about does it, thanks to the surprisingly poingnant characterisation. Often hilarious and triumphant, The Love Bug is a film that fills me with pure, giddy joy. For that, I can't give it anything less than 5. A sublime and wonderful film.

Ed Wood R

With Ed Wood, Tim Burton has a clear challenge: do you romanticise the Worst Director Of All Time, so that his films donâ??t look that bad after all, or do what a lot of other biopics do and just tell us how goddamn miserable he was? Burton takes a trickier third option, and tells an inspiring, hopeful story about a guy trying to make movies and gain acceptance, while never shying away from the fact that Ed's movies were really, no-fooling terrible. It's not a spoof, as there is no need to spoof something as car-crash dreadful as Glen Or Glenda. Nor is it entirely wistful. It's pitched perfectly, and its message - that outsiders are never alone, and wanting to do something great can be enough, even if the end result sucks - encapsulates most of the things Tim Burton has ever tried to say as a filmmaker. There's no doubt in my mind that this is Burton's best film, and there's a tremendously sweet irony in the fact that it's all about a guy who made terrible movies. At the centre of it all is Johnny Depp, almost unstoppably optimistic as Ed. He smiles, ignores such petty filmmaking gripes as continuity and clumsy actors, and fawns unashamedly over his idol, Bela Lugosi, whose faded career he gives a last-minute jump start. (Of sorts. His reputation sinks even lower because of Wood, but Bela would argue there's no such thing as bad press, so we'll go with that.) Their relationship is of course based partly on Tim Burton's and Vincent Price's, but it's also a handy metaphor for how Burton views Ed Wood. He's dimly aware of the man's many failings, but more concerned with what good he's capable of. Martin Landau is magnificent as Lugosi, but for me the less-celebrated Depp is the star of the show. It's a slightly exaggerated, almost cartoony portrayal, making Ed more of an icon than a down-to-Earth normal human being. But then, whoever said Ed was normal? The entire cast are on top form. Bill Murray is particularly wonderful as Bunny, one of Ed's cohorts: it's a performance that's ingrained into every little movement, making Bunny one of the most real things in the movie. Sarah Jessica Parker has the perhaps problematic role of Ed's girlfriend, who eventually leaves him. She does a great job of being the voice of reason when necessary - "You make shit! These movies are terrible!" - but also providing Ed with a sympathetic ear. She's a tough, complex little character. We get to see Ed's most talked about movies get made, and his final "masterpiece", Plan 9, is treated almost with awe - but again, without ignoring the fact that it was stupid, stupid, stupid. And that's okay. Ed wanted to be remembered, and in a display of typical optimism, Tim Burton tells us that he got his wish. Ed would probably look at his infamous reputation with cockeyed misunderstanding, and see the good in it: all these people wouldn't profess to hate him with such enthusiasm if they didn't love him just a little, right? And it's that ability to see the good in things, even when they are definitely, categorizably bad, that Burton has captured so well. Ed Wood is simply a beautiful film. Funny and entertaining, certainly, because movies about movies (especially bad ones) are usually a hoot. But it's the hopeful spirit that makes it a moving story as well: Ed's grinning determination, the kindred weirdos he meets, the faith he inspires in them. There isn't another movie quite like it, which is fitting for a filmmaker like Ed Wood, who is arguably unsurpassed in his own way. Seriously: Glen Or Glenda absolutely stinks. In that particular case, Burton tells the tale of longing transvestite Ed much better than Ed himself managed, but that's somehow no disservice to a man who was lucky to figure out which end of the camera pointed where. The film about his life tells us that we must try, no matter the odds, no matter what everybody thinks, and no matter if they're right. Thatâ??s a hell of a thing to get from watching Plan 9 From Outer Space, and that, one hopes, ought to be Ed's real legacy.