WALL·E

Year: 2008

Running time: 98 minutes

Certificate: U

Language: English

Screenplay: Jim Reardon

Director: Andrew Stanton

Starring (voices): Ben Burtt, Elissa Knight, Jeff Garlin, Fred Willard, John Ratzenberger, Kathy Najimy, Sigourney Weaver, Teddy Newton

Ready to start a new day.

I remember when news started to filter through about WALL·E. There was some doubt as to whether Pixar would be able to pull it off (I was quite confident in them myself). Set in a bleak but increasingly likely future (increasingly likely that is, except for the positive aspects), on an Earth long abandoned by humans, covered in garbage. Almost dialogue free for the first 40 minutes. It sounded less like a kids movie, and more like some sci-fi arthouse film.

As it turns out, the studio delivered their finest work to date (back then, since topped by, maybe, Inside Out), trumping even the bar-setting Toy Story. The title character is a little robot, seemingly the only one still functioning, spending his days compacting rubbish and stacking it in skyscraper-high piles. During his time spent doing this, WALL·E collects little trinkets and objects that he finds interesting. The little robot is imbued with such a remarkable sense of personality and childlike innocence that to see him is to love him utterly. Johnny 5, eat your metal heart out.

WALL·E's routine is broken by the arrival of a huge rocket from the heavens, out of which comes EVE (Elissa Knight). WALL·E is more than a little intrigued and follows EVE as she goes about her incomprehensible mission. This initial courtship proves almost fatal for WALL·E, as EVE turns out to be formidably weaponised. Undeterred, WALL·E continues to pursue EVE and eventually he makes her acquaintance without being blasted to pieces.

Desperate to impress his new friend, WALL·E shows off his collection to EVE, and when he shows her a plant growing in a boot he recently found, her programming kicks in and she takes it from him and shuts down, awaiting pick up. Pick up arrives in the shape of the aforementioned rocket and in an attempt to not be separated from his new companion, WALL·E hitches a ride into space, where he and we catch up with what became of humanity. In what must be a wet dream for Elon Musk, we managed to abandon our dying planet and retreat to the stars in a fully-functional miracle space ship (this is the positive aspect that is the unlikely part of this depiction of the future). The arrival of the plant kicks off a struggle of wills between the captain (Jeff Garlin) ('captain' in name only; in reality he's a figurehead and the ship is entirely run by the AI autopilot (Sigourney Weaver)) and the computer controlling the ship.

The wonder of space.

The state of humanity is played for tragi-comic effect - people live in floating chairs and don't walk, while generations in space has left everyone with no bone density and an inability to walk. It's funny to watch, but it's desperately sad because if you squint you can see it; what too many of us are, what we'll most likely become. Slaves to chairs, screens and advertising. Reminds me of Idiocracy a little. But Pixar is not Mike Judge and even though it can be depressing, it is clear that these humans have retained that sense of goodness at heart and they are inspired to help do the right thing when it matters. This in itself gives me hope, and if that hope is false I care not a jot.

This might all sound a little weird (but try to explain the plot of any Pixar movie and sound normal - you can't), but make no mistake; the sci-fi setting and artificial nature of the characters are mere set dressing. This is a romance at heart, and if you let it, it will bring you joy and wonder to make your heart sing.

The film is full of little moments of perfection, such as WALL·E’s courtship of Eve on Earth mentioned earlier, the mesmerising flight through space and the two robots dancing through the airless vacuum together. It's impeccable, it really is.

As you might imagine, the whole thing looks wondrous, but Pixar’s strength has always been to put the story first and the looks second, and WALL·E is no exception. The separate strands of comedy, romance, action and wonderful sense of adventure and discovery tie together beautifully with each other to create a truly complete and emotionally satisfying story.

Despite the rather bleak beginning, it ends on a positive note that will uplift you and make you feel good to be alive. Cinema's emotional effect is rarely this powerful, and this proves completely that those who still don’t take computer animation seriously as an art form are simply wrong.

WALL·E helps you rediscover your sense of wonder in a way that only the very best stories can.

Score: 9/10

It doesn't come as a surprise to me that everyone out there seems to love WALL·E; described as 'flawless' in this review from Larae at the Critical Movie Critics and brilliantly as 'Koyaanisqatsi directed by Chuck Jones' in this one from Seb at Den of Geek, who definitely preferred the first half.

Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy

Year: 2004 (Shaun), 2007 (Fuzz), 2013 (World's End)
Running time: 99 minutes (Shaun), 121 minutes (Fuzz), 109 minutes (World's End)
Certificate: 15
Language: English
Screenplay: Simon Pegg, Edgar Wright
Director: Edgar Wright
Starring: Simon Pegg, Kate Ashfield, Nick Frost, Lucy Davis, Dylan Moran, Peter Serafinowicz, Bill Nighy, Penelope Wilton, Timothy Dalton, Martin Freeman, Jim Broadbent, Paddy Considine, Rafe Spall, Olivia Colman, Rosamund Pike, Eddie Marsan

It finally dawns on Shaun and Ed how much trouble they're in.

The Cornetto Trilogy is a collection of films written by Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright, with Pegg handling the lead roles and Wright directing. They are only loosely connected, all being about taking a UK-based setting that most of us would recognise and splicing in a story revolving around elements of different genres, alongside a hefty dose of comedy.

Shaun of the Dead was the first to arrive on the scene, and it probably remains the strongest (although it's close). Infused with a love of all things Romero, Shaun of the Dead is a zombie horror-comedy and is not nearly so bad as that makes it sound. Shaun (Pegg) shuffles obliviously through his life, surrounded by his flatmate Pete (Peter Serafinowicz), best friend Ed (Nick Frost) and girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield). None of them really get on apart from Shaun and Ed, and Shaun is struggling to keep his relationship with Liz alive.

The film does a decent job of subtly building up dread as Shaun goes about his day, oblivious to the zombie apocalypse taking place around him. It's a nice commentary about how most of us pay so little attention to what's around us that we might not even notice a zombie apocalypse until it bit us on the face. Luckily, Shaun and Ed do eventually notice, and after lobbing a load of vinyl at a couple of undead in the garden, Shaun hatches a plan to get everyone he knows safely tucked away in a local pub to wait out the whole messy episode.

Shaun takes the lead in the struggle to survive the zombie apocalypse.

The pub as a place of safety is a recognisable motif to probably half the country or more, so even though the unsuitability of Shaun's plan is obvious, it's hard to criticise him for it, because of course it was going to be the best idea he could come up with.

During the execution of his 'plan', poor Shaun gets put through the ringer as his mum (Penelope Wilton) and step-dad (Bill Nighy) have an unfortunate run-in with someone who, in his mum's words, was 'a bit bitey'. In the middle of the jokes and the horror, there is a moment when Shaun has to do the unimaginable, it is deftly handled, and a surprisingly straight-played bit of emotion in the midst of the mayhem. Shaun does eventually manage to get them to the pub, but of course, they still have to find a way to survive, and if there's a more quintessentially British way of dealing with zombies than beating them with pool cues to the strains of Queen's 'Don't Stop Me Now' in the middle of a pub, then I don't want to know about it.

Shaun of the Dead is full of those high-energy stylistic choices that have come to define Edgar Wright's film-making technique, and like most of Wright's films, the heightened pace and plentiful jump cuts work well and serve to set it apart a little from the slower-paced Romero zombie movies it homages so lovingly.

PC Angel and his new partner are on the case.

Hot Fuzz followed three years later, and this time round it was the humble action movie that got the Cornetto treatment. Pegg plays Nicholas Angel, a star cop in London who gets reassigned to the sleepy English town of Sandford by peers and superiors getting tired of being made to look bad in his shadow. His new partner is local bobby Danny Butterman (Frost). Danny is obsessed with action films and is sure Angel lived his life in London like a scene from Bad Boys.

Some unfortunate deaths, put down as accidents by the local force raise Angel's suspicions and he becomes convinced foul play is involved, and he proceeds to follow the clues (and the bodies, including one outrageously funny death-by-church-steeple), exposing a murderous underbelly hiding in this quiet, unassuming village.

Film stealer extraordinaire, Timothy Dalton.

Pegg and Frost continue to be an effective double act, and they are helped enormously by a superb supporting cast, including Bill Bailey, Olivia Coleman, Bill Nighy and MVP Timothy Dalton, practically stealing the film as Simon Skinner, local businessman and shady character. Wright's gift for a shot or scene is still very much in evidence, particularly in the climax, where Danny has a ball enacting moments from some of his favourite actioners Point Break and Bad Boys 2.

When we come back for a third helping in the shape of The World's End, we're in sci-fi territory; in particular the alien invasion sub-genre. Gary King (Pegg) is trying to organise a reunion of sorts, by trying to get his old school friends back together to recreate a legendary pub crawl from their youth, only this time actually make it to the end. Problem is, during the course of the evening they come to discover that people are being replaced by blue-blooded robotic clones.

A bad idea.

Such a setting is fertile ground for more Wright-conducted mayhem, with well-observed and beautifully delivered jokes fitting in around the energetically choreographed action. The World's End does stretch credibility a little further than the two films that came before it. While Shaun was only ever trying to get himself and his immediate circle of family and friends to a place of apparent safety, and Nicholas Angel was shown from the beginning to be a highly competent supercop and even then he solves a few murders in a quite English town, we are expected to swallow a climax in which the barely-functioning King saves the world from the invasion because the super-intelligent being at the heart of it just gets too annoyed with arguing with him. It's kind of worth it for the exasperated "Fuck it" with which 'The Network' signs off and abandons its plans.

The fact that the lead character is so difficult to like is a risk that on first viewing I thought was unnecessary, but I have since reappraised that initial reaction. The thing is, Gary King is suffering from depression. It's fairly well-known now that Pegg also struggled with depression, and so it turns out that rather than being that way just to piss everyone off, King's character is actually extremely well-observed, and that has the effect of actually enhancing the film, because his character is rooted in complex mental health issues, grounding him in reality, despite all the outlandish events surrounding him. This superb article from Rob at Daily Grindhouse explores the facets of how depression affects Gary King in greater depth and is a recommended read.

Gary and his mates come face to face with proof we're not alone. Then tell it to fuck off.

Three films, three love-letters to beloved genres, three slices of beautifully-mounted comedy/horror/action/sci-fi. Long may Wright, Pegg and Frost reign.

Score:
Shaun of the Dead: 8/10
Hot Fuzz: 8/10
The World's End: 8/10

Reviews out there tend to dig The Cornetto Trilogy the same as I do - see this review of Shaun of the Dead from Kim at Empire, this one of Hot Fuzz from Nathan at The A.V. Club and this one of The World's End from Matt at Roger Ebert.com.

Whiplash

Year: 2014
Running time: 107 minutes
Certificate: 15
Language: English
Screenplay: Damien Chazelle
Director: Damien Chazelle
Starring: Miles Teller, J.K. Simmons, Paul Reiser, Melissa Benoist, Austin Stowell, Nate Lang

Fletcher, looking closely for the smallest mistake to punish.

There is a school of thought that says to be a genius at anything requires mere practice. 10,000 hours of relentless, focused practice. Not having spent that long doing anything, and not being a genius, I'm not really in any position to comment, but I would have thought that a natural aptitude for whatever it is you're practising is probably required as well. Whiplash is a story of Andrew (Miles Teller), a young jazz drummer at the Schaffer Conservatory of Music, a music school in New York for the very best up-and-comers. Andrew has both a natural aptitude for drumming and the determined will to work at it until he's one of the greats.

Andrew gets the attention of Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), who picks him for the school's jazz band. Fletcher is a monster, relentless in his pressure to push his students to greatness, belittling then for even the smallest mistakes - he is genuinely outraged when the music isn't completely flawless. Simmons skirts the edges of caricature, but never crosses over, becoming instead a towering presence, terrifyingly single-minded in his attempts to mould greatness.

Andrew is determined enough to respond to Fletcher's goading and pushes himself harder and harder. Neither of these two characters are particularly likable - Andrew sees everything other than practise as an unwelcome distraction, from girlfriend Nicole (Melissa Benoist) to dinner guests, whom he sees as mediocre nobodies to regard with only contempt. It's when these two are together, Andrew behind the drum kit, Fletcher ready to vent his spleen at any imperfection, that Whiplash is truly terrific. The tension between them, winding higher and higher, makes for glorious viewing.

Just the end of another day of practice.

The two of them clash against yet feed off each other, Andrew slowly making his way to his goal of being world class, but it doesn't (can't) last. Desperately rushing to get to a performance in a hire car, Andrew gets into an accident. Dazed and bleeding, he insists on playing. When he can't, the tension finally boils over, leading Andrew to attack Fletcher, causing the end of his studies.

After the air has cleared, following Fletcher losing his job due to his abusive teaching methods, the two appear to be on slightly better terms, but it just sets the scene for the blistering finale. Fletcher, guessing correctly the Andrew had testified against him, sets him up to destroy any hope of a career, but it is here you finally begin to route for Andrew. Refusing to let his tormentor/mentor get the better of him, the performance at the climax focuses on just the two of them, ignoring almost everything else, including a packed concert hall, becoming as intimate as a sex scene. Teller is utterly convincing in his performance, appearing to play the drums as well as anyone in the world, and Simmons, conducting with a rapturous intensity, conveys everything with his eyes - beaten in this game of one-upmanship, he is nevertheless delighted by the extraordinary talent his excessive methods have produced.

The film doesn't appear to judge Fletcher's methods; it leaves it for you to decide if it was worth it, but there is no doubt in the minds of both Andrew and Fletcher - it was worth every last drop of blood.

Just mesmerising to watch.

Score: 9/10

Praise is overflowing for Whiplash, as shown in these reviews from Robbie at the Telegraph and Geoffrey at the Independent.

The Wizard of Oz / Return to Oz

Year: 1939 (Wizard), 1985 (Return)
Running time: 102 minutes (Wizard), 113 minutes (Return)
Certificate: U (Wizard), PG (Return)
Language: English
Screenplay: Noel Langley, Florence Ryerson, Edgar Allan Woolf (Wizard), Walter Murch, Gill Dennis (Return)
Director: Victor Fleming (Wizard), Walter Murch (Return)
Starring: Judy Garland, Frank Morgan, Ray Bolger, Bert Lahr, Jack Haley, Billie Burke, Margaret Hamilton, Charley Grapewin, Clara Blandick, Fairuza Balk, Nicol Williamson, Jean Marsh, Piper Laurie, Matt Clark, Sean Barrett (voice), Denise Bryer (voice), Brian Henson (voice), Lyle Conway (voice), Emma Ridley, Justin Case, Pons Maar

Dorothy and friends are having second thoughts about visiting the wizard.

An undeniable classic, The Wizard of Oz is a delight to experience for the 1st or 41st time. Brimming over with character, colour and weirdness, it entertains and confounds in equal measure.

Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland) is a young girl living on a Kansas farm who dreams of seeing the big wide world. Her wish is granted when a tornado rips through her farm and knocks her unconscious. She comes to in the fantastical land of Oz, where she embarks on a quest to get back home, befriending Scarecrow (Ray Bolger), Tin Man (Jack Haley) and Cowardly Lion (Bert Lahr) on the way to ask the mysterious Wizard of Oz (Frank Morgan) to grant her wish. All the while, the Wicked Witch of the West (Margaret Hamilton) is determined to destroy her.

That extremely brief plot synopsis was probably entirely pointless, since pretty much everybody is familiar with the story, whether they've actually seen it or not. The Wizard of Oz is one of those beautiful examples, like Bambi, Toy Story or Spirited Away (all of which tap similar thematic material as The Wizard of Oz, being childhood fears of finding yourself alone, having to fend for yourself, forced to assume responsibility before you're ready), of a children's film that is actually amongst the best films ever made despite the limitations involved with ensuring suitability for a younger target audience. While it taps some primal childhood fears about losing the safety net of your family, it also hits a nostalgic sweet spot for adults, allowing them to reminisce about how they managed to negotiate the choppy waters of growing up.

To be fair, Dorothy has just dropped a house on her sister...

Judy Garland's wistful delivery of Over the Rainbow is mesmerising and remains the best version by a comfortable margin, Eva Cassidy notwithstanding. The switch from black and white (or sepia, depending on the version you're watching) to full on Technicolour is still dazzling even now; goodness knows how effective it would have been in 1939, when a lot of films were still being released in black and white.

There are imperfections. Some of the songs, particularly the overlong introduction to the munchkins and If I Were King of the Forest are pretty dated. Of course, the signature tunes are all still brilliant, and just because a couple of them are slightly off it doesn’t detract much from the overall quality of the film. The effects are what you might expect from the time, but they somehow manage only to add to the charm in a way that seamless CGI wouldn't.

Dorothy's collection of freaky new friends.

46 years later comes Disney's sequel, Return to Oz. Cleaving much closer to the spirit of L. Frank Baum's Oz novels, it is an entirely different beast. It does, however, manage to defy all expectations by being a glorious, horrifying childhood headfuck. While The Wizard of Oz is a fantasyland dreamt up by an unconscious Dorothy, Return to Oz is an escape from an asylum and electro-shock therapy, as because of all her talk of munchkins, Dorothy's family have had her committed. Dorothy is played by a young Fairuza Balk, who nails the look and mannerisms of a haunted, wide-eyed young girl perfectly.

Oz is no longer a Technicolour marvel, instead it's a little post-apocalyptic, where the rightful king Scarecrow (Justin Case. Seriously, that is his name) and his subjects have been usurped by the sinister Nome King (Nicol Williamson). Gangs of roaming creatures called the wheelies (oh-my-god-what-the-hell-are-the-wheelies-get-them-off-the-screen-they’re-freaking-me-out) harass Dorothy in a scary, nightmarish world.

Dorothy tries not to get freaked out by the Nome King.

Even here, she makes a few friends - Tic-Tok (voiced by Sean Barratt, performed by someone inside the suit walking on their hands!) is a mechanical man and Jack Pumpkinhead (voiced by Brian Henson) is literally a collection of sticks with a pumpkin for a head. Before taking on the Nome King, Dorothy must best Princess Mombi (Jean Marsh), a woman so obsessed with retaining her youth she's taken to stealing the heads of young women and changing them over to suit her mood like some kind of macabre Worzel Gummidge.

So much of this film defies logical expectation and comes on like some kind of weird fever-dream it really shouldn't work at all, but, scaring young kids half to death aside, it really does. It shares stylistic DNA with Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal, but for some reason isn't as readily remembered.

What we have then is a wonderful film fully deserving of its classic status and a forgotten fever-dream sequel that deserves reappraisal.

Score:
The Wizard of Oz: 8/10
Return to Oz: 7/10

You'll be unsurprised to hear that the original is beloved by all, evidenced best in this Roger Ebert review. I was pleasantly surprised by the love the sequel has out there, as shown in this review by Louisa at Den of Geek.

War of the Worlds

Year: 2005
Running time: 116 minutes
Certificate: 12
Language: English
Screenplay: Josh Friedman, David Koepp
Director: Steven Spielberg
Starring: Tom Cruise, Dakota Fanning, Justin Chatwin, Miranda Otto, Tim Robbins

No escape.

The cheesy 1953 adaptation of H. G. Wells' War of the Worlds was one of my very favourite movies growing up. I reckon I must have watched it 100 times or more. It's been said, not entirely without justification, that I have a bit of a hard-on for Steven Spielberg. But now here he is updating one of my most treasured childhood memories. This, then, would be a real test. Would he ruin everything? Turns out he wouldn't, and my accusers can continue to accuse.

Although Spielberg is well known for films involving aliens, until he made this remake his visitors from the stars were benevolent and friendly. All that changed with War of the Worlds. These aliens are certainly not here to return missing navel officers or to retrieve a lonely family member left behind. These guys want our planet, and they want it bad. Of course, it wouldn’t be a Spielberg movie if it didn’t have an average family unit at its heart. Here, Tom Cruise is blue-collar regular Joe Ray Farrier, who is having his kids to stay over the weekend. He's not dad of the year, but then who is when you get right down to it? He's separated from the mother of his children Mary Ann (Miranda Otto), and while his son Robbie (Justin Chatwin) is resentful, his younger daughter Rachel (Dakota Fanning) still has a soft spot for him. So far, so standard broken family unit.

Ray runs for his life as the chaos begins.

During the weekend a very odd storm hits. Right from the off, this is disconcerting stuff; the striking sound effects accompanying each lightning strike feel like a punch to the heart. The tension is there from the beginning and only cranks up as the story progresses. Soon after the lightning strikes, gigantic three-legged machines erupt from the ground and start laying waste to all around them. There is a real sense of there being no escape from the marauding tripods, and Spielberg frames the action in a way that makes you feel the terror right alongside the characters. There is spectacle, and much of it, but the film is never afraid to leave huge events off screen if Ray and his kids aren't witnessing them directly - take for example the moments that leave them cowering in a basement while all hell breaks loose outside. The next morning, when all is quiet, they leave the basement only to find the neighbourhood destroyed and the wreckage of a plane spread all over. It makes the reveal of the destruction all the more effective and the way we never leave the central characters' sides serves to amp up the tension that bit further. Spielberg may be an old hand at this type of cinematic thrill ride, but he really can pull this stuff off like no-one else.

The most affecting scenes, however, tend to come when there are no aliens at all. Take for example, the scene shortly after the opening attack, which Ray narrowly survived. He notices in the mirror that he is covered in dust, and then slowly penetrating his shock is the realisation of what the dust is, or used to be, causing a suddenly desperate need to get it off him. There is also the horrific scene when Rachel witnesses the debris of corpses floating down the river. As Rachel, Dakota Fanning spends much of the film screaming, shouting or running, but during these quieter-but-nastier moments she is terrific.

Horrifying, terrifying, yet so beautifully filmed.

Far worse than these scenes, however, is the moment when our family becomes the victim of fear driving ordinary people to become a dangerous mob. Fighting for the only working car, they almost tear Ray’s daughter from him in their desperate bid to escape. My heart felt like it was literally in my throat. As well as the director doing the thing he does best, cinematographer Janusz Kaminski and particularly the cast are on good form, being creditably believable as their world falls apart around them.

If there is a weak link, it is the writing. The machines have supposedly lain dormant underground for many years until the unnatural storm deposits an alien pilot in each of them at a time predetermined by the invaders. There are some problems inherited from H. G. Wells' original classic novel; the three-leg structure, while undoubtedly iconic, is highly impractical, and the fact that this obsessively planned invasion by entities capable of interstellar travel is thwarted because they forgot to consider some rudimentary biology issues. And there is the whole red weed thing (although this gets a pass due to the supreme creepiness of the idea). It seems odd then, that the writers saw fit to introduce even more impracticalities, the primary one being that for some reason the aliens planted a load of machines underground, none of which were discovered, and then go away to wait for ages before unleashing them. Spielberg's expert execution does much to paper over these cracks, but it wouldn't have hurt to have made the writing a little smarter.

Ray and Rachel's short-lived refuge in Ogilvy's basement.

After Ray must let his son leave to take up arms with the military to try to fight back against the seemingly unstoppable machines, he and Rachel find shelter in the basement of paranoid survivor Harlan Ogilvy (Tim Robbins). Ogilvy has long been driven out of his wits, and is entirely oblivious to the danger he's putting the three of them in when he starts to panic loudly. Murky survival morals set in when Ray gently covers his daughter’s ears and shuts the door to demonstrate exactly what lengths he will go to in order to protect her. The whole subplot within the basement felt tense almost beyond my ability to stand it, and although it deviates from the main story, it serves to ratchet up the claustrophobic terror to almost unbearable levels.

When the end comes, it feels like the first breath you’ve taken since the storm hit at the start, and although Robbie's survival does seem a little too tidy, there's an almost desperate need for this family to be given a chance to fix itself, so I found Spielberg's traditional over-sentimentality very welcome.

Phenomenal, but terrifying.

Score: 8/10

Spielberg's adaptation is generally fairly poorly thought of, but this review by Jake makes a compelling case, finding the film resonates with America's War on Terror in the wake of 9/11. The late Mr Ebert, however, couldn't get past the tripod issue.

The Wedding Singer

Year: 1998
Running time: 95 minutes
Certificate: 12
Language: English
Screenplay: Tim Herlihy
Director: Frank Coraci
Starring: Adam Sandler, Drew Barrymore, Christine Taylor, Allen Covert, Matthew Glave, Angela Featherstone

Robbie Hart, crooning for newlyweds.

Most Adam Sandler movies are the cinematic equivalent of root canal surgery – painful to experience, with nothing funny about them – for example, I Now Pronounce you Chuck and Larry (look everyone, isn’t homophobia funny!). Generally, with the exception of the decent Funny People, the further back you go, the less dreadful it is - Happy Gilmore and Billy Madison prove to be just about watchable. Having established that every now and again, even this monkey hits pay-dirt, this '80s homage is, along with The Waterboy, easily his best, and The Wedding Singer was the movie that made Sandler a household name in this country (something I’m sure most of us have now come to regret).

Enough Sandler-bashing (for now), back to The Wedding Singer. Sandler’s Robbie Hart is a wedding singer who suffers the indignity of being stranded at the altar when his bride-to-be Linda (Angela Featherstone) decides he’s not cool enough anymore. He meets Julia (Drew Barrymore), a girl who’s engaged to Glenn (Matthew Glave), a guy she’s too good for, yada yada yada, they end up together (I know that’s a bit of a spoiler, but I mean, come on, of course they were going to end up together).

Drew Barrymore: impossible not to love.

Sandler is genuinely likable, and Barrymore is as effortlessly sweet as she was in E.T. The Extra Terrestrial, and the two of them are helped out by a decent supporting cast, including the eminently unlikable Glave, nailing that '80s moral vacuum yuppie stereotype to great effect. The movie has an absolute heart of gold, and there are countless comedy moments that make up a really great whole – favourites being Robbie playing his Cure-influenced break-up song to Julia, Steve Buscemi (obviously), the rendition of Love Stinks and Sandler employing his angry-guy shtick before it got old at a newlyweds’ reception ("I have a microphone and you don't SO YOU WILL LISTEN TO EVERY DAMN WORD I HAVE TO SAY!") and, best of all, Billy Idol saving the day!

Funny, romantic, with a great soundtrack.

Score: 7/10

The Ace Black Blog is in broad agreement, but Vince at Qwipster is not a fan.