A preposterous espionage thriller starring the unlikely pairing of Chris Rock and Anthony Hopkins, Bad Company is a prime example of brash, mainstream filmmaking. The plot premise says it all: with its separated identical twins, Russian terrorists, stolen nuclear weapons and high-tech gadgetry, it's an attempt to tie up elements of Lethal Weapon, Bond and The Matrix in one semi-coherent whole, although director Joel Shumacher never really pulls it off. The main fault lies with the relationship between Hopkins and Rock-the former looking increasingly uncomfortable in leather jacket and baseball cap. Rock, meanwhile, has the potential to be a fine actor (demonstrated by his fine turn in the Dogma) but is given very little to work with here aside from a weak, Eddie Murphy-style comedy stereotype. Despite all its shortcomings, however, Bad Company manages to build up to a fairly diverting, reasonably exciting conclusion. On the DVD: Bad Company's DVD release is totally in keeping with the film itself: brash and showy, certainly, but lacking in real content. The gadgets, guns, explosions and chases all come up well in the digital format, as does the extensive use of the breathtaking Prague backdrop to the action. There are virtually no extras, however, with the package limited purely to a behind-the-scenes feature where everybody involved maintains what a great piece of work this film is, how wonderful the rest of the cast were and how much fun they had making it. -Phil Udell.

Pitch Black is a guilty pleasure that surpasses expectations, even though it owes a major debt to Alien and its cinematic spawn. As he did with The Arrival, director David Twohy revitalises a derivative story, allowing you to forgive its flaws and submit to its visceral thrills. Under casual scrutiny, the plot's logic crumbles like a stale cookie, but it's definitely fun while it lasts. A spaceship crashes on a desert planet scorched under three suns. The mostly doomed survivors include a resourceful captain (Radha Mitchell), a drug-addled cop (Cole Hauser) and a deadly prisoner (Vin Diesel) who quickly escapes. These clashing personalities discover that the planet is plunging into the darkness of an extended eclipse, and it's populated by hordes of ravenous, razor-fanged beasties that only come out at night. The body count rises, and Pitch Black settles into familiar sci-fi territory. What sets the movie apart is Twohy's developing visual style, suggesting that this veteran of straight-to-video schlock may advance to the big leagues. Like the makers of The Blair Witch Project, Twohy understands the frightening power of suggestion; his hungry monsters are better heard than seen (although once seen, they're chillingly effective), and Pitch Black gets full value from moments of genuine panic. Best of all, Twohy's got a well-matched cast, with Mitchell (so memorable with Ally Sheedy in High Art) and Diesel (Pvt. [+]

Geroge Clooney, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Al Pacino, Andy Garcia, Don Cheadle Director: Steven Soderbergh It comes as something of a relief to find that Ocean’s Thirteen eases itself back to the charm and suave, sophisticated swagger that underpinned the first in what’s become a trilogy of capers. And for those who endured the self-indulgent mess that was Ocean’s Twelve, this latest and final entry in the franchise is a very welcome treat, proving very much that lessons were learnt. Dropping Catherine Zeta Jones and Julia Roberts from the cast list, but signing up the smaller matter of Al Pacino instead, the rest of the players remain broadly intact. So it’s George Clooney’s Danny Ocean who leads the team of cons, supported by Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Andy Garcia, Don Cheadle and Carl Reiner. And it’s the easy chemistry between these and the rest of the team that underpin what makes Ocean’s 13 such an enjoyable ride. The plot pits Ocean and his gang against Al Pacino’s ruthless casino boss, and while the script perhaps lacks the cleverness and dense plotting that worked so well in the first adventure, it still leaves plenty of room for outright entertainment. The end result is an easy-to-enjoy caper, that’s not the equal of Ocean’s Eleven, yet far superior to Ocean’s Twelve. And considering it was released in the midst of a summer where threequels generally weren’t too well received, Ocean’s Thirteen arrives in fine shape, and rounds off the trilogy with panache. -Jon Foster.

1966’s Cast a Giant Shadow is based on Ted Berkman’s biography of Colonel "Mickey" Marcus, the American soldier who served as an adviser in the fight to establish the state of Israel in 1948. It stars Kirk Douglas as the likeable "stiffneck" and WWII veteran persuaded to take up the cause. Israel back then was depicted as a negligible military force under threat of extinction at the hands of its Arab neighbours, hamstrung by a UN embargo on arms supplies. It takes Douglas at his most square-jawed to see off the Egyptian military and defy a blockade to beat a path through to Jerusalem. This is not cinema verité but Hollywood. Marcus’ dilemma-to settle into peacetime in America or follow his more natural, combative instincts abroad-is symbolised by a love triangle, involving wife Angie Dickinson and Santa Berger as Magda, the soldier whom he falls for in Palestine. Although lavish and spectacular, especially in the war scenes-filmed in the actual Middle Eastern locations in which they occurred-Cast a Giant Shadow is not entirely authentic (for a start, they’re driving 1950s vehicles in the 40s). Moreover, in the light of later troubles in the region, not everyone will be heart warmed by this depiction of plucky little Israel coping against Arab foes who are barely depicted as human throughout the film, merely as tanks and gunfire. Still, it’s an impressive enough relic of epic 1960s cinema, with cameos from Yul Brynner, John Wayne as Marcus’ wartime general, and Frank Sinatra as a pilot scattering the enemy by dropping soda dispensers on them. On the DVD: Cast a Giant Shadow‘s restoration here is visually immaculate. [+]

Set during the Burma Campaign, Peck stars as a pilot whose life has already been shattered by the loss of his wife during an air raid on London. Shot down after a dogfight with a Japanese fighter, he finds himself marooned in the Burmese jungle with a badly-injured navigator and a traumatised passenger. How will they make it to safety?.

Are you ready to get down with the sickness? Movie logic dictates that you shouldn't remake a classic, but Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead defies that logic and comes up a winner. You could argue that George A. Romero's 1978 original was sacred ground for horror buffs, but it was a low-budget classic, and Snyder's action-packed upgrade benefits from the same manic pacing that energized Romero's continuing zombie saga. Romero's indictment of mega-mall commercialism is lost (it's arguably outmoded anyway), so Snyder and screenwriter James Gunn compensate with the same setting-in this case, a Milwaukee shopping mall under siege by cannibalistic zombies in the wake of a devastating viral outbreak-a well-chosen cast (led by Sarah Polley, Ving Rhames, Jake Weber, and Mekhi Phifer), some outrageously morbid humor, and a no-frills plot that keeps tension high and blood splattering by the bucketful. Horror buffs will catch plenty of tributes to Romero's film (including cameos by three of its cast members, including gore-makeup wizard Tom Savini), and shocking images are abundant enough to qualify this Dawn as an excellent zombie-flick double-feature with 28 Days Later, its de facto British counterpart. -Jeff Shannon.

It's Christmas Eve, and Arnold needs to find a Turbo Man action figure, the craze of the season. Only they're sold out, of course. So the race is on, and the Austrian Oak must do fierce battle with other shoppers and merchants alike, all for the prize toy with which to purchase his son's affections. All of which is unwittingly very sad, on the content level. But the film supposes itself to be amiable enough, on its own shabby terms, even when it climbs out of the screen and starts gnawing at your furniture. If the humour were to get broader it would make HDTV obsolete. The tone can only be termed good-naturedly mean-spirited. Goofy carnival music runs continuously in the background so we never forget that what we're seeing is, er, um, funny. All the action is composed of comic violence, like an unhip Warner Bros. cartoon. [+]

With the knockout one-two punch of 1992's Reservoir Dogs and 1994's Pulp Fiction writer-director Quentin Tarantino stunned the filmmaking world, exploding into prominence as a cinematic heavyweight contender. But Pulp Fiction was more than just the follow-up to an impressive first feature, or the winner of the Palme d'Or at Cannes Film Festival, or a script stuffed with the sort of juicy bubblegum dialogue actors just love to chew, or the vehicle that re-established John Travolta on the A-list, or the relatively low-budget ($8 million) independent showcase for an ultrahip mixture of established marquee names and rising stars from the indie scene (among them Samuel L Jackson, Uma Thurman, Bruce Willis, Ving Rhames, Harvey Keitel, Christopher Walken, Tim Roth, Amanda Plummer, Julia Sweeney, Kathy Griffin and Phil Lamar). It was more, even, than an unprecedented $100-million-plus hit for indie distributor Miramax. Pulp Fiction was a sensation. No, it was not the Second Coming (I actually think Reservoir Dogs is a more substantial film; and PT Anderson outdid Tarantino in 1997 by making his directorial debut with two even more mature and accomplished pictures, Hard Eight and Boogie Nights). But Pulp Fiction packs so much energy and invention into telling its nonchronologically interwoven short stories (all about temptation, corruption, and redemption amongst modern criminals, large and small) it leaves viewers both exhilarated and exhausted-hearts racing and knuckles white from the ride. (Oh, and the infectious, surf-guitar-based soundtrack is tastier than a Royale with Cheese. ) -Jim Emerson With Pulp Fiction writer-director Quentin Tarantino stunned the filmmaking world, exploding into prominence as a cinematic heavyweight contender after initial success with 1992's Reservoir Dogs. But Pulp Fiction was more than just the follow-up to an impressive first feature, or the winner of the Palme d'Or at Cannes Film Festival, or a script stuffed with the sort of juicy bubblegum dialogue actors just love to chew, or the vehicle that re-established John Travolta on the A-list, or the relatively low-budget ($8 million) independent showcase for an ultra-hip mixture of established marquee names and rising stars from the indie scene (among them Samuel L Jackson, Uma Thurman, Bruce Willis, Ving Rhames, Harvey Keitel, Christopher Walken, Tim Roth, Amanda Plummer, Julia Sweeney, Kathy Griffin and Phil Lamar). It was more, even, than an unprecedented $100-million-plus hit for indie distributor Miramax. [+]