Rumours. Where would we be without rumours? Well, not here obviously, given that this website is fuelled by the gabbing mouths of someone-or-another, spouting amusing stories of vague interest about that person you tell everyone you hate but you secretly admire.

Pathetic, aren’t they?

Easy A deals with rumours. And with being a dirty skank. Mainly about the rumours, though.

Social outcast and all-round lovely ginger smiley person, Olive Penderghast (Emma Stone), has a problem: she’s invisible.

Well, not literally, that’d be a completely different slice of clichéd movie pie. No – boys don’t notice her and she’s not one of the cool kids that hang around the Co-op. That all changes once the whole school thinks she lost her virginity to some older guy.

While certainly a non-skank and with virginity still intact, she throws dignity out of classroom, relishing in her new-found attention. Which, as you can imagine, doesn’t exactly go to plan for Olive.

Soon her reputation attracts the attention of her gay buddy, who – knowing she’s lying about the whole sordid shebang – utilises Olive’s reputation to convince everyone he’s very much not into the penis. Then every greasy schlub and overweight moob-owner wants a PR overdo, and Olive becomes a crusading fake fuck-bucket for the everyman.

It actually makes for a mature, well-handled script, filled to the brim with comedy and likeable performances. Emma Stone is so adorable that if you were forced to choose between kicking her or the puppy, you’d probably opt for the latter. She even manages to convince as a social outcast without the aid of glasses and/or a scrunchy, such is the power of her conviction.

She’s supported by a high-calibre cast of supporting stars, with the likes of Stanley Tucci (impossible to hate), Patricia Clarkson, Lisa Kudrow and Thomas Hayden Church. All have fairly minimal roles but all feel fully-formed characters in their own right. No small feat and we’d quite happily watch a movie focusing on any one of them.

It’s by no means a perfect teen comedy – some elements feel rushed; Olive’s webcam rants are a bit cheesy – but it manages to skew many of the tropes that make others feel so tired.

The writing’s top notch, even managing to educate the yoof of today in the literary ways of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter (Olive wears a red ‘A’ relating to the book’s story). And Stone’s performance highlights her as a huge star in the waiting, making for a sharp, witty and engaging lead, carrying the film.

Anyway, it’s funny, which is all you really wanted to know, wasn’t it? Now if you don’t mind us, we’re getting back to our filthy, filthy rumours. Whatever pays the bills…

‘Spray Rating: 4/5

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The internet is full of dicks (hecklerspray excluded, of course). Just take a look around: there’s that kid over there, blogging about his pathetic existence; that tweeting celebrity, moaning about their insufferable riches; and what about Justin Bieber? Ergh.

The internet is a horrible cesspit of words and pictures, never more aptly demonstrated than in social hub Facebook.

It’s also appropriate then that the story behind the invention of the 21^st Century’s most dominating stalker tool, The Social Network, is as full of nauseating idiots as its millions of inhabitants.

Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) is rich. This is a fact that he lets us know almost immediately as the non-linear nature of the film flitters to the Facebook creator’s later court cases surrounding the site. Yet, his ascension from mumbling genius to curly-haired billionaire isn’t about the money; it’s about notoriety.

It’s an interesting contrast to the virtual, faceless nature of electronic communication that Zuckerberg’s fascination with gaining access to exclusive university clubs and his reputation are the only measures of success he requires.

However, it’s not always Mark at the centre of the drama.

Facebook co-founder, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), open wallet to Zuckerberg at Facebook’s inception, feels as if he’s being pushed out of the business he helped to build, when Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake – proving his acting chops) enters the frame. Parker, co-creator of Napster, is everything Zuckerberg wants to be: effortlessly hip, attractive and the inventor of technology that changed how we live our life – he’s probably got a big penis as well. Clearly, he’s important.

However, this isn’t just a simple tale on Facebook’s invention. While Saverin sues Mark for his mistreatment, frat-boy rich kids, the Winklevoss twins and their cohort, Divya Narendra, also jump on the legal bandwagon, suing Zuckerberg claiming to be the originators of Facebook. Nothing is clear-cut, as the film doesn’t concern itself with taking sides, instead allowing for each performance to speak for itself.

Eisenberg and Garfield are the standouts, with the former latching onto quirks, quick witticisms and vomiting intellectual babble with impressive momentum. Praise also has to be shouldered on the insufferably likeable Timberlake and the impressively named Armie Hammer, the latter playing both twins with some cunning technological wizardry.

Director David Fincher has a masterful handle on the storytelling, jumping between the early days of Facebook and the ensuing court cases. It’s all helped by a fantastic script by Aaron Sorkin, former West Wing scribe, here transferring his talents onto a story people in the UK give a shit about. He takes his time to make each character resonate and sympathetic in each of their own struggles.

The Social Network is one of the finest contemporary dramas ever and will probably get marked as one of the defining films of the generation. It might even frighten some people to know that it’s not even about Facebook at all but a story about interaction. Friendship, romance, business, they’re all analysed through the invention of that cursed online portal.

It doesn’t matter whose side you’re on by the movie’s end, what you’ll walk away with in one of the most brilliantly told true stories of today.

If you don’t like it, we’re going to unfriend you.

‘spray rating: 5/5

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Plenty of the rich and fabulous have been buried in recent memory: Diff’rent Strokes actor, Gary Coleman, stroking kids musician, Michael Jackson and one of those Corey kids from the ‘80s.

Yet, it’s hard to imagine anyone whose managed to do it in such a captivating way as Ryan Reynolds in the suffocating thriller, Buried.

Hitchcockian in its nature, Buried has a premise that can’t help but intrigue, as one truck driver, Paul Conroy (Reynolds), finds himself waking up in a coffin buried six-feet under in the Iraqi desert. What ensures is a taut, gripping and, needless to say, claustrophobic film, that ensnares the audience up until its breathtaking climax.

It’s hard to imagine any film to enthral when confined within the inches of a deathbed for its duration, so it falls to Reynold’s performance to propel the film through a lot of not much happening. Reynolds – whose CV previously sported rubber-faced buffoonery, crappy comedies and snarky wit – plays a relatively straight role here but his undeniable charisma and familiarity that an unknown couldn’t muster is exactly what propels this film beyond its showboating conceit.

Reynold’s completely convinces of as a blue-collar truck driver in an unenviable situation. With just a mobile phone and a lighter (there’s no point hiring a pretty face if we can’t see it), he struggles to reach out for help as a man who has no idea where he is, trapped underground with just the worms and the thoughts of his encroaching death keeping him company.

It’s not exactly easy cinema, often bold and not afraid to pull punches.

It’s within the pacing and script that director Rodrigo Cortés manages to balance the action, unravelling each beat methodically, managing to heighten the tension of each phone call and every creak of Paul’s wooden box. It rarely falters and even when it does – a brief visit from a less-than-friendly snake appears nothing but filler – it still proves nail-biting stuff.

Technically, if we’re to indulge in such things, the setting doesn’t impound the direction. The camera moves inventively in and outside of the box, without substituting the constant sense of constraint. Cortés continually pours further bitter ingredients into the mix, whether trickling sand or insufferable bureaucrats on the end of the phone,  every new flavour adding to the dry dirt filling that is Buried’s sandwich – by closing credits, it can all get rather hard to swallow.

However, Buried is a brave film. On paper, it sounds as boring as…well paper. Reynold’s delivers the performance of his career in an action movie set inside a box. It can get a little preachy at times but Buried proves that war is hell, even if it’s only seen from inside a box.

‘spray rating: 4/5

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It was only a matter of time until Mark Wahlberg embraced the fact that he was fast turning into bumbling platypus that Tinsletown pointed and laughed at.

Firstly, he had the indignity of dubbing himself ‘Marky Mark,’ affiliating himself with the hideously named Funky Bunch, starring in numerous so-so movies (under the guise of serious acting), and finally topping it off with a verbal joust with a resolute plant. Which, the plant won.

Its these previous overly po-faced performances that probably make him such a joy to watch throughout the latest Will Ferrell chuckle-fest, The Other Guys. That and the script, direction and all the other actors, obviously.

Playing partner to the curly-haired comedian, Marky Mark’s Hoit is a fiery, pent-up detective, to Ferrell’s accountant-like Gamble. They both share duties playing the straight man and the loony one, so there’s equal yuk-yuks between the two throughout.

Unfortunately, while previous collaborations between Ferrell and director Adam McKay has placed puerile, simple-minded caricatures into straightforward storylines, The Other Guys fails only by having a ridiculously bewildering plot. It doesn’t sound complicated on paper, with the two of them on the trail of some shady capitalist (Steve Coogan), while trying to prove that they’ve got the chops to be cops, but it’s all a pile of steaming guff. But hey, at least the cast are top notch.

Michael Keaton, Samuel L. Jackson, Steve Coogan, Eva Mendes, a Wayans brother who’s actually tolerable. They’re all here, along with other recognisable faces that you barely care to think about. But, as you can imagine with such an overwhelming amount actors, they’re all crammed into the movie, smacking elbows, butting heads and exchanging penis jokes with barely any room to breathe.

Thank god they’re all a bunch of funny people, then. Ferrell and Wahlberg banter with the best of them, indulge in the odd action scene and don’t skimp on the profanities. If your idea of hell is two grown men jumping through the air firing guns, discussing deer vaginas in disturbing detail, while Alan Partridge sits around looking smug, then stay away.

And get a sense of humour.

And we’d be remiss if we didn’t mention the features thrown into the Blu-ray, spooning hot supplementary goodness into our comedy-hungry gobs. The Mom-mentary is an amusing alternative to the standard yak-track, with director McKay and Will Ferrell selling their own mothers to have a day off. Elsewhere, Walhberg brings his fat friend on set to eat flowers, the gag reel can’t keep a straight face and Michael Keaton is…well he’s Michael Keaton.

It might not reach the lofty heights of Anchorman or Step Brothers but The Other Guys is consistently entertaining. And even Mark Wahlberg comes out of it looking good, which is something.

‘Spray Rating: 4/5

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Salt – it’s the stuff of legends. It’s that thing you put on chips. That substance your doctor tells you not to have too much of. You can even occasionally find it in quaint blue sachet, nestled between your crisps. Angelina Jolie has a lot to live up to.

Jumping into her latest action-heroine role, Jolie proves that she still remains queen in that regard. A sultry look, a tight-fitting outfit and a slap round the chops have all become second nature to ol’ Angie. However, what also remains a frustrating constant is her choice of projects.

She’s yet to find real ground in the action genre. Each role she picks just falling short of excelling, neither becoming iconic or even particularly memorable. Salt is no different. The Salt of the title is Vivian, a CIA agent who is ousted as a Russian spy, setting the film on a cat-and-mouse chase that’s nothing if not intriguing.

Clearly knowing her colleagues probing practices, she decides it’s best to make a run for it, proving her innocence on the go and presumably looking for the one-armed man while she’s at it. There’s plenty of espionage on show, with Salt altering her appearance as often as Simon Cowell whitens his teeth.

This is a game of intrigue; forcing attention as the plot twists and turns and demanding concentration more than its excitable gaggle of horny youngsters are destined to give it. It fills the blanks between the action with either implausible revelations, or uncomfortable flashbacks between Salt and her German husband.

However, this is an action film first and foremost, and in that regard it delivers. While director Phillip Noyce has managed to ground his thrillers firmly in realism, he throws logic out of the window with Salt, crafting some genuinely thrilling sequences of violence, explosions and things all-round bang. Jolie’s nimble frame manages to kick various arses that are several sizes bigger than her but there’s still no denying the wonder of watching Angelina’s command over set-pieces.

So mesmerising are Salt’s actions that it leaves the supporting cast with little to do but gawp at her expertise. Enemies of spell-check, Liev Schreiber and Chiwetel Ejiofor, both quality character actors in their own right, are left with little to do but partake in the odd verbal exchange. It’s a shame to have such a talented cast be used for little more than paperweights. But this is the Angelina show and she delivers, even if it just falls short of Bourne and Bond.

Salt is an enjoyable lark, even beyond the ludicrously of the whole film, it remains a cut-above Hollywood’s action output, injecting some emotion and intelligence into what could have easily been a bland thriller. Also, the Blu-ray features a couple of extra versions of the film, with the extended cut boasting an interesting alternate ending, which rounds off a nice package of extras.

While Salt still isn’t the iconic role that Jolie has been searching for it still proves that Angelina is the queen of the genre. And when it comes to salt, who wouldn’t mind sprinkling a bit of her on yer fish ‘n’ chips, eh? Eh? Grrrr, lad’s noises, etc.

‘spray Rating: 3.5/5

And as an added bonus, have a lovely Salt-related video to watch. Salt is available on Blu-ray and DVD now.

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How I Met Your Mother’s popularity has been, quite appropriately, infectious like some sort of venereal disease. Taking the template of Friends and leaving the casting of the ‘Rachel’ character an ongoing mystery has managed to ensnare the attention of young whatnots across the land.

Season 5 shows no sign of slowing things down, indulging in this hump stage – like most US sitcoms do –by throwing some extra cameos into the mix, flapping their proverbial arms for attention like an annoying child.

Jennifer Lopez, Rachel Bilson and Chris Kattan all duke it out for the converted title of ‘Most Outdated Celebrity’.

We’re being harsh, though, as beyond its derivative appearance lies one of the funnier sitcoms to seep from the good ol’ US of A in sometime.

Barney, Ted, Lily, Robin and Marshall all have their fair share of high jinks and Season 5 doesn’t skimp on the chuckles.

With Barney and Robin now together, Ted a teacher and Marshall and Lily being, well, a couple, the wheels are set in place for some obvious comedy lovelyness.

Canada gets a poking, Barney’s sexcapades continue and, like when the show is at its best, its represents friendship at its best/worst.

Before you all fall into seizure from an overload of schmaltz, check out the DVD extras for a selection of commentaries, outtakes and deleted scenes, all geared to tickle your funny bones in that nice way you like it.

How I Met Your Mother may be full of flimsy cardboard characters, but there’s still life left before they begin to get soggy around the edges.

‘Spray Rating: 4/5

Saturday Night Live has been responsible for a barrage of chuckleheads over the years. But for every success there’s been a failure as miserable as a thousand Night at the Roxbury’s.

Will Ferrell, Bill Murray, Mike Myers and Tina Fey all went on to bigger and better things, while Dana Carvey, Jon Lovitz and Chris Kattan all slipped down the toilet bowel of obscurity.

Will Forte is riding the periphery, neither hitting mainstream success but rearing his gurning head in multiple roles in television and film. Now, like Myers and Ferrell, he has graduated to the big screen with one of his skits, MacGruber, a pastiche on a TV show nobody cares or remembers.

Forte plays MacGruber, an ‘80s supercop, grieving for a wife murdered by Cunth (Val Kilmer – somewhat more physically deflated than he usually is) and sporting the coolest mullet this side of that weird kid off of your local estate. Making up the allies are Ryan Phillippe (where has he been?) and Kristin Wiig (the funniest unfunny person in Hollywood).

It starts off unevenly, with MacGruber being forced back into service a la Rambo III - something that was more successfully lampooned back in Hot Shots: Part Deux. From there, it starts to become a box ticking exercise in action movie clichés, some with success and some that fall as flat as Simon Cowell’s hair.

And it’s easy to predict where the meat of the material comes from, with the villain Cunth prime for ridicule. Although, there’s only so much, ‘pound some Cunth’  jokes we can take. Sure, it’s a pretty high number, but there’s still a limit.

While MacGruber is a take on MacGyver, it’s not a reference that’ll register with most of the sane population of the UK. Not that it focuses particularly on anything resembling either the show, or the initial SNL sketches that were such a hit.

This is sporadic comedy, unsure of itself and often stumbling. You often get the feeling that Forte isn’t cut out for the lead, and the support are often wasted and given barely anything to do. Kilmer comes away making an impression, which is more than can be said for Wiig or Phillippe.

If Forte bares resemblance to any of his fellow SNL alumni it would be that of Chris Farley, someone of whose appeal seemed restricted to within the borders of the US. Someone so broad they border on condescending, raising the odd chuckle but failing to make any lasting impression.

As MacGruber continues there are some genuinely funny one-liners, while the take on ‘80s sex scenes is as distinct, memorable and as funny as Team America’s infamous doll sexcapades. If the film focused on similar moments to send up then there would be a lot more to recommend here. Otherwise, prepare to go long stretches without some ha-ha’s.

While this isn’t on the same league of bilge we often are subjected to here at hecklerspray, it isn’t the most inventive comedy around. Straight down the middle average laugh-a-thon. Struggling to some up mediocrity, we’ll just finish with ‘meh’.

‘Spray Rating: 3/5

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Remember The Sixth Sense? That guessing game of creepy corpses, perceptive little children who don’t see the Sun enough and a plot twist that kept viewers guessing ‘til the closing credits.

Now just imagine that but with Christina Ricci’s nipples. That was fun, wasn’t it?

That’s the kind of Hollywood mindset that gets twisted tales like After.Life told, which involve cold morticians chatting to the recently deceased body of Anna Taylor (Christina Ricci)…but is she really dead?

Probably.

Actually, probably not.

We don’t really want to spoil the fish-slap finish to this particularly overwrought story, but suffice to say that it’s more concerned with building the levels of intrigue to a near hemorrhage inducing state.

Things get off to a bumpy start, with Anna acting withdrawn and constantly bickering with her boyfriend, Paul (half geek, half hunk, all Justin Long), whose logical response is to propose marriage, quite bafflingly. Anna seems to be popping pills like Pez and seeing all manner of hallucinations.

It’s after one particularly ferocious argument with Paul that she makes the mistake of being in a car accident. What a daft git. The accident only goes and kills her…or does it?

Probably.

Maybe.

What’s for dinner?

This is the main crux of the movie and where menacing nose-face Liam Neeson turns up as Eliot Deacon, claiming to be able to communicate with the recently snuffed.

He’s actually the big advantage of the film, with the once Qui-Gon-Schindlers-Big-Bollocks proving to be a sinister sod. He says that he is able to help the deceased move on to the other side…or can he?

Meh.

The rest of the film balances between Anna’s being dead. Or not. While her strange connection with some morbidly obsessed child may hold the answers, her boyfriend Paul ponders grief. It’s a dramatic change for the usually comedic Long, finding much emotional depth, more so than when he got a spanner to the balls in Dodgeball.

Ricci is also perfectly adequate playing the confuddled Anna, trying to work out what death means to her, not knowing whether she even had a life at all. It’s also a role that pretty much has her in the buff for the vast majority of the picture.

It’s not a complaint, but it’s just sort of…odd.

The film meanders on through its running time, throwing more nudity and gore (and for those inclined, sometimes simultaneously), while the resolution to Anna’s predicament and Eliot’s motivation are dragged out. The formula adds so many turns that by the end it begins to run stale.

The ending itself doesn’t quite pack the punch that you’d hope but the story itself is acted out with such conviction by the stellar three leads, that it’s sometimes just satisfying enough to watch everything play out. It’s a creepy tale, not one bursting with full-on horror, but if you’ve got a thing for corpses, blood and naked women, then this is probably for you.

Or you’re mental. Either way we want you to stay away from us…or do we?

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At its essence, Back to the Future had a real Oedipus complex going on.

While Marty McFly tries to shake off his mother’s advances, she luridly forces her son to breaking point before sticking her tongue down his throat. Only in the ’80s, eh?

Well, actually that’s exactly the same sort of lows that the Hot Tub Time Machine mines for comedy in this ’80s throwback.

If you’re going back to the ’80s then there’s no better actor to take you there than the decade’s finest teenage slacker-lothario, John Cusack. Driving into his Say Anything style of rebellious teen turned bitter middle-aged deadbeat. It’s the natural progression to his ’80s persona.

However, this isn’t too concerned with expanding on the heartfelt offbeat comedies that were a main staple of the time. Hot Tub Time Machine instead has more in common with the likes of (and we hate to make this tired comparison) Superbad.

So in come the ‘crazy’ cohorts to insure the squirming masses can laugh at the ridiculous nature of cinema. Look he just vomited on a squirrel, hi-la-rious. Lou (Rob Corddry) is the biggest example of this, acting as the lose cannon that the others must look after. He does provide some laughs, but you can’t help but the feel the character is distinctly one note.

It’s lucky that the film has so many different supporting characters to fall back on. Both Craig Robinson and Clark Duke make interesting contrasts to the rest of the characters, but they fall into stereotypes far too often.

It’s when the likes of Chevy Chase and Crispin Glover make appearances that the movie can really provide some decent unexpected laughs. Especially Glover, who basically has one joke that’s stretched through the running time to brilliant effect.

When it comes down to the main story, it’s a case of having a second chance in life (while in Duke’s case it’s having a life outside of Second Life). Cusack ends up falling for the cute Lizzy Caplan but the age difference (even though she’s seeing a younger version) makes the scenes slightly uncomfortable.

This dive into the ’80s is far from a bore though. It’s constantly entertaining, if not quite the homage or the laugh-a-minute it hopes to be, and it makes for a suitable display of Cusack’s enduring charm. If only who chose more projects like this than the autopilot dross of 2012.

It’s an enjoyable excuse to be nostalgic, without the over-reliance on the usual tropes of time-travelling comedy. It’s a warm-hearted trip, without being too soppy. If it suffers from anything its reliance on contemporary comedy rather than the decade it’s revisiting. Plus, it contains 50% more incestuous content than Back to the Future. Who could resist that?

‘Spray Rating: 3.5/5

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Ricky Gervais seems to have the ability to rub people up the wrong way.

Maybe it’s his egotistical rants or perhaps because The Invention of Lying was complete turd. Either way some people just cant stand the sharp-toothed tubster.

Whatever it is it seems to be mostly unfounded. As both The Office and Extras proved that when paired with Stephen Merchant he has an ability for creating both comedy steeped in real-life while delivering some genuine drama to each scenario.

While Cemetery Junction doesn’t quite have the squirm-inducing Gervais in centre stage, it does have a trio of leads that seem adept at providing as much grounded humour, with the added bonus of not looking like a deep-fried marshmallow.

Set in ‘70s Reading, it’s hardly the glamorous tale that you’d expect Gervais and Merchant to promote after their international success and celebrity filled fun on Extras. What we get is coming-of-age drama, set against the backdrop of the blue collar upbringing of a group of three distinct lads.

While Freddie gets a job working for a superbly straight-faced Ralph Fiennes at a life insurance company, his mate Bruce is trying to cope with being a rebel, while Snork is just trying to be the ‘Gervais’ characters.

Although, that’s a bit unfair on Snork. The character provides most of the laughs as the comedy sidekick simpleton. The character manages to provide plenty of chuckles even if he doesn’t quite seen believable in the setting. Most of the early humour revolves around sniggers at schoolboy gay insults and Elton John’s sexuality. A few smaller characters also make an impact but it doesn’t quite hit the memorable balance of humour and humanity that The Office excelled in.

It’s more functional as an indie drama and it’s here, without the weight of expectation from Britain’s home-grown comedy heroes, that the story shines. A study on adolescence, marriage and dreams against the backdrop of ‘70s England with a great soundtrack. You care more about the eventualities of the situations rather on waiting for Snork to guff on Fred again. In that way, it’s probably one of the most involving British films for some years.

It’s clear that both Merchant and Gervais have filled the film with many cinematic influences and it plays on the era well. Also, the casting of Fiennes is a masterstroke, given that the legendary actor has a gravitas that makes much of his comedy the standout. Similarly, Watchman’s Matthew Goode makes for the clichéd controlling boyfriend between Fred and his love interest Julie. One trope of cinema that never fails to annoy is how the girl only ever discovers her boyfriend is such a monster when the really nice guy shows up. Presumably, being pushed around like a geriatric on a bus trip was all hunky dory before he arrived.

So it doesn’t all work on inventive levels but when the story and characters are propelling Cemetery Junction so well, it proves that Gervais and Merchant aren’t two of Britain’s best comedy writers but they’re actually two of the best dramatic ones.

‘Spray Rating: 4/5

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You know what’s great about the ’80s? John Cusack, that’s what. You know what’s also great about the ’80s? Back to the Future.

Well great Scott! They’ve only gone and put the two together in some bawdy romp about sex, rock and floppy haircuts. Hot Tub Time Machine takes a look at the radical decade where wives of film stars didn’t tell everyone that they’re husbands were smacking them around. Nostalgia, eh?

Here’s an exclusive clip for you to enjoy on your pathetic Thursday afternoon.

Hot Tub Time Machine is out on DVD and Blu-ray on August 30th 2010.

You’re off to a bad start when the title for your latest John Travolta starring blockbuster is a play on one of James Bond’s more reserved offerings.

From Paris With Love is another movie from the Luc Besson production line (story credit obligatory), this time involving some secret agents, terrorist plots and John Travolta looking like something Marlon Brando ate.

At its core, it’s a continuation of his character from The Taking of Pelham 123 (except playing for the other side now) still unhinged, erratic and clearly having a ball. It’s the most fun he’s been on screen for quite a while.

The story focuses on bleary-eyed Oirishman, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, an undercover CIA agent hoping to make it big in the agency. While not the most likeable of actors, it’s an unsure start for Meyers’ Reece, living an idyllic life with a perfect girlfriend.

When Travolta’s Charlie Wax comes along as his partner, it shakes things up a bit, reducing Meyers to nothing more than a straightman to Wax’s antics. He’s an audience’s way in that’s serviceable to the plot, which in itself is a maze that there’s no point getting lost in.

Moles, drug lords, terrorists, it all seems too baffling incoherent to take seriously, so the action takes precedence. The variety of boom is engaging, a decent freeway scene, gun fights and Travolta throwing his weight around. Taken director Pierre Morel clearly has one of the best eyes for action, just not for characters.

It’s a worrying trait, considering that he’ll next be helming the Dune adaptation – a story that remains closely tight to many a geek’s heart. Not that this is solid evidence to go on, it’s a buddy-cop movie after all. One moment the duo are bickering about some semantics, then next they’re blowing up a group of drug dealers in a car. It’s not quite Lethal Weapon but it follows the formula: unhinged, borderline psychotic cop is paired with by-the-book do-right.

It doesn’t grow tired, though, pacing along so that anything inconsequential like characterisation, subtlety and plot are unneeded. This is pure popcorn action entertainment, delivered with a sprinkling of star power and an eye-catching backdrop – what better place to fire a rocket launcher than in the heart of Paris?

The film isn’t trying to be the super-sleuth of the new generation. It isn’t concerned with cunning gadgets, sharp suits and gorgeous women, this is about firepower, stunts and a central conceit built around fun. This shouldn’t be From Paris with Love; it’s more like Casino Royale with Cheese.

‘Spray Rating: 3/5

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Jim Carrey’s gurning ways don’t quite hold the same box office potential that they once did. The once elastomug has had to put the teeth aside in recent years.

Make no mistake, I Love You Phillip Morris is not a return of the Funster. Carrey plays Steven Russell, a policeman, Christian and a doting  husband to a more than perfect wife. It’s an idyllic lifestyle, one that has a couple of minor snags.

Mainly that Steven is a raving homosexual. It’s something that he doesn’t fully embrace until a car crash, giving him a new lease of life. His epiphany: breaking the law to support a super-luxurious lifestyle. You go girl!

While Steven has been building up an unhealthy portfolio of cons, it all catches up with him, leading to his unfortunate incarceration. In prison he meets Phillip Morris (Ewan McGregor), a gentle soul and the two fall in love through prison bars, beatings and bunk sharing.

It’s an offbeat comedy, not full of laugh-out-loud escapades, the gayness itself isn’t so much of a tool of ridicule, just an unconventional aspect of a messed-up love story. McGregor and Carrey actually have a surprising amount of chemistry, making for a tangible touchstone in an otherwise outlandish, unbelievable true story.

It’s a story that would probably amuse more in the trivia section of a lads rag but the directional duo of Glenn Ficarra and John Requa have downplayed most of the laughs in the film. It doesn’t quite fit in with Carrey’s style but gives it an edge, a darkness that imbued the debut director’s previous screenplay for Bad Santa.

It’s not that the story doesn’t have potential; most of the scenarios could be adapted into features of their own. It’s all ripe for comedy but it only amuses, making most of the impact by the notion of this being some bizarre non-fiction.

Underplaying to the extreme, it often feels unsure of what it wants to be. Is it an unconventional love story; an outlandish comedy-con caper; or another crowd-pleasing Carrey comedy vehicle? Russell’s time in prison is the only area where the balance manages to maintain, especially in one sequence of slow-dancing, flippant expletives and prison beating.

There’s much to like, though, quick, breezy, never resting on one con or situation for too long and by the end of the film you’re left spurring the central coupling on to happiness. Perhaps in a heavier hand this could have been a zany outlet for Carrey’s old charms or another director could have steered this into more subtle territory. As it is, a slightly uneven, unconventional tale that has enough twists to make this engaging.

‘Spray Rating: 3.5/5

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Criminals are a cute and cuddly bunch, aren’t they? If they’re not pinching your wallet in an adorable fashion, they’re usually bludgeoning your head in.

That’s why we’ve compiled a list of our favourite charmers of the criminal underworld. Partly because we love you so much, partly because it ties in nicely with the release of Fatbelly: Chopper…Unchopped, a documentary about Mark ‘Chopper’ Read, available from August 2 on DVD.

Enough with the shameless advertising, you say? You’re here to read about the most Dick Dastardly delinquents of the criminal underworld; the type of moustache twirling charmers that manage to pinch a penny by sheer bravado. Well you’re in luck… after the jump.

Name: Mark ‘Chopper’ Read

Crimes: Assault, robbery, battery.

Charm Factor:

Hates bad manners and always says excuse me, please and thank you – even when handing out the occasional bashing. Claimed never to interfere with women, old people, children or the working man – Chopper saved his ire for hardened criminals – how considerate. Eric Bana played the nefarious nutter in the quite awesome movie, Chopper.

Name: Reginald and Ronald Kray

Crimes: Armed robbery, torture, arson, murder.

Charm Factor:

East End gangsters who were notorious for their violent tendencies, but famous for being big ol’ mummy’s boys. They shot several of their friends’ in the foot and were more imposing that Phil Mitchell’s reflective fuming forehead. They also hung around with some top entertainers, including Diana Dors, Frank Sinatra and Judy Garland – all their feet remained intact, thankfully.

Name: Robin Hood

Crimes: Robbery, assault.

Charm Factor: Stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Even has a proposed tax on big banks named after him! Depending on where you source your information from, he enjoyed wearing tights, was adept at using the longbow, was a talking fox and occasionally slipped into nonsensical accents in an overblown Hollywood movie. The real legend, however, was of a kindly American, who came to England with Morgan Freeman and inflicted an awful Bryan Adams song on his kingdom for generations.

Name: Charles Bronson

Crimes: Armed robbery, GBH, False imprisonment.

Charm Factor: Prone to a cup of tea and a great lover of poetry and art, Bronson was originally banged-up for seven years but his charm has had his sentence extended. Bronson holds six world records for feats of strength and fitness and well as an unofficial record for the most prison rooftop protests by any UK inmate. He also got married behind bars to one lucky fan – see kids, dreams can come true.

Name: Bugsy Siegel

Crimes: Murder, gambling, extortion.

Charm Factor: Smooth enough to convince hardened gangsters to build a gambling Mecca in the middle of the desert. Viva Las Vegas! Having murdered a good few goons in his time, he took to Las Vegas to start a new empire. He probably would’ve lived happily ever after if he wasn’t shot to death while reading the paper – just imagine the Daily Mail’s ironic headline the next day.

Name: Frank Abagnale Jr.

Crimes: Forgery, fraud.

Charm Factor: The inspiration for Leonardo DiCaprio movie Catch me If You Can, the teenage Abagnale Jr. was famously driven to commit the countless acts of fraud and forgery by his love of women. After being caught he told his father: “It’s the girls dad, they do funny things to me. I can’t explain it.” They do funny things to us too, Frank. Namely telling us to go away or they’ll call the police. Frank impersonated a Doctor, Lawyer and a Pilot in his teens, making him one hell of a smooth operator, eventually winning him his freedom by helping the FBI – crime does pay!

Name: Howard Marks

Crimes: Drug smuggling – at the height of his career he was reportedly in control of 10% of the world’s hashish trade.

Charm Factor: Oxford graduate with the moniker Mr Nice has to be doing something right… Claims not to have used violence and refused to deal with hard drugs. A former teacher, he managed to become famous as a notorious drug smuggler through connections with MI6, the IRA and the Mafia. He travelled the world, went to exclusive parties and was captured by the DEA. All of this and he had the unfortunate affliction of being completely Welsh.

So what have we learnt today everyone? Nothing, nothing at all. You can still go out and get a copy of Fatbelly: Chopper…Unchopped now.

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If you like The Ring and you love Identity, then you’re probably not the type of person that we’d ever like to meet you agoraphobic cheese-eating loon.

Still, Shelter should be right up your alley. Julianne Moore – that ginger one from everything – plays a forensic psychiatrist, who discovers that all of one of her patient’s (Jonathan Rhys Meyers – drunk/Tudor) multiple personalities are murder victims. It’s got everything you could possibly want from the people behind the aforementioned The Ring and Identity, all wrapped up in a nice thriller package.

We’ve got five copies of the film to give away to you lucky readers on Blu-ray. All you have to do is answer a question. An easy question, mind – we wouldn’t want to hurt your heads.

Julianne Moore recent starred alongside Colin Firth in A Single Man but what is Colin Firth’s most famous performance? Was it:

A) Colin Firth

B) Colin Firth

C) Colin Firth

Answers on the back of an imaginary postcard and sent to hello[at]hecklerspray.com, under the title Gimme Shelter. Closing date is August 10th and winners will be picked out at random on the 11th.

Sheltand is out on Blu-ray and DVD right now!