Joseph the Reviewer

This essay will analyse the narrative and visual implications of digital technology seen in the James Bond films Skyfall (Mendes 2012), Spectre (Mendes, 2015) and No Time to Die (Fukunaga, 2021). The technology is less fantastical compared to previous Bond films, for example, there are no invisible Aston Martins, as seen in Die Another Day (Tamahori, 2002). However, the essay maintains that the films featuring Daniel Craig as Bond imply a bleaker meaning. Through a qualitative analysis, the essay will engage in humanist and anti-humanist theory, primarily the work of Michel Foucault, to evaluate how each film utilises technological structures, thereby making the human body redundant in Daniel Craig’s incarnation of Bond. Contextually, the methodology draws on the post-911 context concerning digital technology and global surveillance to analyse the relationship between the character of Craig’s 007, the villains of each film and the technologically-based agency of MI6. Surveillance, e

Director Paul King earned widespread praise for his Paddington movies, which defied expectations and even beat Citizen Kane at the RT score. Even then, he faced an uphill battle with a Willy Wonka prequel, which many deemed yet another pointless addition existing as a mere brand extension. Well, ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to a tale of how an individual, talented at their craft yet still faced adversity, persevered and turned the heads of the naysayers. After seeing Wonka not once but twice with previously little enthusiasm, I’m glad to say that the pessimism can scratched and reversed. It’s far from an everlasting gobstopper but a true surprise of earnestly delivered charm with an ounce of corporatism in sight.   Wonka mimics the Paddington surrealism of being a family-friendly film in this generation. All too often I see icons of my generation or my parents or grandparents defamed by modern tendencies of using CGI, pop-reference-filled humour or a forced message. I wa

A year short of the 20 th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, Virginia Buckingham, released her memoir, On My Watch (2020). Buckingham had served as chief of staff to two consecutive Massachusetts governors before becoming the first woman to head the state’s Port Authority. She was also the CEO of Boston Logan A irport on September 11, 2001. Logan Airport was the port where American Flight 11 and United Flight 175 were hijacked upon leaving, to be later flown into the  World Trade Centre. From that point, Buckingham’s career was derailed: Six weeks after 9/11, Massachusetts’ governor forced me to resign. I was later sued personally for wrongful death by a 9/11 family […] For many years, I feared that the blame was deserved. I was broken by being blamed for the hijackings. Not instantly, but over time. As head of Logan Airport, I was blamed for 9/11 — and nearly broken by it. NYP: May 16 th , 2020 In colonial New England, a young woman, the eldest child who demonstrates individual

As far back as I can remember, Doctor Who was practically the genesis of my dedication to fiction. The Eccleston/Tennant era was an epic streak of brilliant storytelling and direction and whilst the Smith/Capaldi era was significantly weaker writing-wise, it was still very strong in its own right, largely through the consistency of the respective actors chosen for the role. Then came the Whitaker era and.. less said about that the better. But it seems hopes are dashed for regeneration into better times, as teased by the return of Tennant, Catherine Tate as the companion and Russel T Davis as lead writer. What we get instead are the sins of the Chris Chibnall era damaged but rebuilt in the dark space Whilst most were excited purely at the prospect of Tennant back in the role in an unexpected move to revisit an old incarnation, the prospect I was most keen for was the return of T Davies as lead writer. Despite his recent comments over Davros being ableist, I was hopeful for his knack fo

Higher, Further and Faster down the drain pipe of indifference that the MCU has become. That’s all this thing gave me. I don’t even wish to call it a film; a film implies there was an infrastructure and a methodical process behind it, created by people who may not be the most expressive artists but still have something to discuss with the crowds they show it to. An ounce of an impact would at least suffice. The Marvels is far from the bog of eternal stench Quantumania was but it is indicative of the MCU’s current rut. Its pacing, script, look and even acting all feel like it was rushed because Fiege and Co. needed to fill the usual third slot of the year. That, on top of its leaked production troubles, makes it the most stitched-together and, above all, lifeless outing Marvel has spewed out. On this occasion, the rating isn’t from pure animosity as it is apathy. From beginning to end, inside and out, this is proof that not just Marvel, but superhero content under the pressure of corpo

What is the month of November if not the month of remembrance, of mourning… a requiem if you will. Perhaps it’s the reason why we call it Fall, the descent into days of a year being numbered. Why say this? Well, I did what at one time I thought impossible back in February: I watched Darren Aronofsky’s magnum opus (an opinion I’d heard on the streets and now embrace) Requiem for a Dream. It’s taken me a while to get my thoughts down because, like most decent humans, the constant trauma this film puts you in during and indeed after the viewing was something I didn’t wish to return to. Yet, like a drug addiction, it lingered and grew to the point of being irresistible and I ended up watching it again two nights ago. And it seemed November, the darkest month of the year, was perfect to post it. I cannot say my review will turn heads for originality but it does exist to share a subjective experience of someone who was less afraid of this than the worst horror movies. What I can say is that

If you were to ask me who my favourite figure across history is, I would be hard-pressed to name from an objective analysis. However, whom I can name from pure subjectivity and how that figure has shaped my interest in history is Napoleon Bonaparte. Like or leave him, this single figure populated an era where one earth-shattering event followed another, imitating much of those events himself. Whether an honourable soldier who gave a country in the gutter authority or a despot who, through victory and loss, caused the deaths of thousands upon thousands, the man fascinates. His tale is the definition of my favourite word: EPIC. When I walked on the site of Waterloo this summer, the excitement and honour of such an occasion were almost ethereal. Coupling that with Ridley Scott, who also, like him or leave him, creates gigantic cinematic time capsules that are always visual pleasures: this is a match made in heaven. Which is why I say, with such sorrow, that NAPOLEON is one of the most dis