An aimless young woman, Martha (Elisabeth Olsen) falls into the arms of a cult, led by the unassuming, quietly charismatic leader, Patrick (John Hawkes). Though we’re denied the exact context of how this young woman initially strayed into the belly of the beast, Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011) is an impressive achievement; a well-honed, slow-burn drama that pulsates with an increasing level of dread.

Sean Durkin’s debut feature splits into two time strands that almost seem to merge on occasion with Martha’s slow uneasy reunion with her older sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson) and brother-in-law (Hugh Dancy) interwoven with echoes from the past via the stages of her indoctrination into the cult's most trusted circle.

Martha finds it increasingly difficult to readjust to her new freedom in the lavish surrounds of her sister's enormous home. The associations and social conditioning of life in a submissive community begin to inappropriately bleed into her behaviour, causing a massive strain on her relationship with Lucy.

You could argue that not a great deal really 'happens' in Martha Marcy May Marlene, and though it may be devoid of set-pieces, the accumulation of minor details is what gives the film its flinty conviction. The expectation of confrontation as the past meticulously catches up with the present creates a genuine tension, an undercurrent that acts like a sustained pitch of electrical energy.

She may bear a strong physical resemblance to her more famous older sisters but Olsen proves to be an intriguing fresh face and genuinely talented too. The entire cast is flawless actually, all appropriately underplaying their roles - the one moment of histrionic emotional reaction is reserved for the maximum impact it offers.



I say: A superbly understated drama that gets under the skin long before you're even aware of it.

See it for: For the work of Olsen and the icy control of the always superb Hawkes.

Revived from a seemingly perennial slumber, not by profiteers, but men and women with a genuine affection for what these iconic characters meant to a generation of children, The Muppets are back with a vengeance. Thanks to Jason Segel, leading the way as both performer and co-writer with his Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008) director, Nicholas Stoller, a new generation will now be able to forge a new bond with Kermit, Fozzy, Miss Piggy and company.

The set-up is simple but ingenious: a small town man (Jason Segel) engaged in a lengthy courtship decides to take his girlfriend Mary (Amy Adams) to California for meaningful together time. Trouble is he feels guilty leaving behind the brother, Walter (Peter Linz), he’s been joined at the hip to since birth. Walter is actually a muppet though neither he nor anyone else seems to have recognised this fact. Risking Mary’s scorn, Gary decides to take Walter along with the promise of a nostalgic visit to the home of the old 'Muppet Show' where Gary’s heroes once worked their magic.

But upon arrival they uncover a diabolical plot to overtake the site of the Muppets' spiritual home by a ruthless businessman Tex Richman (Chris Cooper). In turn they hatch a plan of their own to ensure it stays in Muppet hands. Before you know it Kermit himself is asked to lead a colourful round-up of his old buddies. To save the old place they must put on one last show to raise sufficient funds to keep it alive.

The plot itself has a ring of familiarity, but who cares? It’s a perfect vehicle for showering a multitude of forgiving fans, like myself, with remembrances of what these cloth and felt creatures meant to our childhoods. Though littered with funny lines and equally funny songs, Segel and Stoller’s screenplay performs most meritoriously in re-establishing the eternal magic these Jim Henson creations have already possessed. The names alone conjure flashbacks to everything the Muppets name encompasses: from the rousing opening song, to the raft of recurring skits, the eccentric characters and, at the heart of it all, the strange, unlikely and volatile romantic entanglement of a frog and a pig.

The heartfelt affection that rises to the surface as the resolution is reached is anything but insincere. You’d need a rock in place of a heart to resist revelling in the wistful delight of hearing these guys, led by Kermit, break out into 'The Rainbow Connection', whilst hearing the Muppets Barbershop Quartet surrender to an offbeat, unexpected Nirvana interpretation is one of many moments begging the question: did I just see that? Chris Cooper breaking out into rap is another.

The dubious past excursions into film are forgotten, and if they ever needed to be, forgiven. There’s a little bit of Gary and Walter in us all, I suspect, pleading the heavens for an answer to a question that may have haunted you too: What are we really? A 'Man or Muppet'?



I say: It's time to play the music.......

See it for: The characters, large and small, that bring childhood flooding back - and leave you on the verge of a slightly embarrassing tear or three before the end credits roll and the annoyingly catchy 'Life's a Happy Song' is reprised