Alas, The Hallow. Yet again we have a film where the germ of a good idea – in this case a uniquely frightening take on Irish folklore – is rendered sterile by uninspired execution. Apart from a couple of delightfully gruesome set-pieces, this arboreal horror does little new with the mish-mash of tropes it so liberally employs, nor the scares it so brazenly steals.
The Lego Movie guys reunite with Tatum and Hill for another bite at the irreverent buddy-cop reboot cherry, and it doesn’t taste as sweet this time out. It’s got the funniest end credits of any film I’ve seen in recent years, I’ll give it that. But the in-jokes are getting a bit too obscure. (Does anyone outside of movie geeks know what a ‘meet-cute’ is?) And does it really need to be nearly two hours long? Drop the toppings, and the sexism (yep, the ol’ ‘overprotective dad’ cliché), and this might get another star from me.
I’ve cooled on Sing Street a little in the month or so since viewing, its imperfections standing out in the cool light of day. But it’s still the finest Irish film I’ve seen in years, with genuine humour and an uncynical heart. And maybe best of all, for what’s essentially a musical (though the tunes are mostly diagetic) it doesn’t let the songs get in the way of its ’80s twist on The Commitments, one that comes with less rough but more cutting edges.