Remakes are part of the culture in which we live, we just have to accept it and take it for granted. It is just one of those things in life we have to get used to. Having said that, though, the idea that a big budget Hollywood remake of The Day The Earth Stood Still was in the works was a hard pill to swallow. The original is a bona-fide sci-fi classic – a timeless piece of cinema. The remake stars Keanu Reeves.

We have had time to digest that frightful bit of news. Or, as is perhaps more to the point, push that particular casting decision to the back of our minds and pretend that it didn’t happen. Now, though, all attempts at pretending this remake (or re-imagining, or whatever PR-coined term is now employed to distract us from this abhorrent lack of originality) is not afoot have been scuppered by the arrival of the first trailer for the movie. It is here, it is really happening, but, if truth be told, it really doesn’t look like the abomination we had all feared.

Reeves looks hopelessly miscast. That doe-eyed monosyllabic delivery that he likes so much, on paper, makes him an ideal choice for an alien. In practice, though, it just comes across as tired and uninspiring. That aside, however, the film itself shows signs of promise. Orchestrating an Emmerich-esque sense of scale and disaster while maintaining a more sombre and pensive tone was always going to be a tough task – how do you appease the fans of the original while staying true to the story’s message and delivering enough wanton carnage for the multiplex masses? Director Scott Derrickson – yes he of The Exorcism Of Emily Rose ‘fame’ – seems to have found a suitable balance in the execution of the CGI set pieces and the muted emotions of the film’s human players.

The problem, perhaps, lies less with the film’s tone and more with the film’s story. “If the Earth dies, you die; if you die, the Earth survives,” Reeves states in the trailer, at his laconic deadpan best, of course. Updating the atomic warning of the original for a contemporary ‘environmental’ theme is a risky game to play, though. Sure it is more current, it is something we can all relate to, and it is an issue with which we do need to engage pretty darn quick, but films with such a clearly defined message rarely make riveting cinema. Emmerich’s The Day After Tomorrow stands as a clear example of exactly where Derrickson could come unstuck. There is potential for a decent and thought-provoking film it seems, despite our anxieties over Reeves and the molestation of a beloved classic, but the last thing we need is a bigger budget sequel to Shyamalan’s The Happening.

Well it’s finally over, and after the build-up and hype surrounding the mega final episode of Doctor Who, did it live up to this expectation?It’s not really an easy answer, and I’d need to put on two hats to fully answer this question. As a ‘ahem’ forty-something sci-fi fan, I’d have to ultimately say that I did really enjoy it, but it has to be classed as a ‘guilty pleasure’. Doctor Who is great Saturday entertainment, which is massively popular, and for science fiction I label this as a ‘good thing’, but is it great sci-fi? I’d have to unfortunately say no.

The build-up and promise at the end of arguably one of the finer episodes from new-Who’s season four, ‘The Stolen Earth’, was excellent. The effects first off were top-notch (for the BBC) and the spectacle of Davros (in new Star Wars Emperor guise), a supreme cloned Dalek war fleet, and the huge cliffhanger of the Doctor’s regeneration left all viewers (enthusiastic and usually cynical) with sweaty palms and a hunger for the conclusion seven days later.

The internet speculation was wild and got more outrageous every day. From initial thoughts that the new Dalek race were genetically altered from the ‘missing bees’ by Davros due the hive mentality of our avian honey makers, through to Donna being the Master (her ring is the Master’s), The Doctor regenerating into Sylvester McCoy/Paul McGann/a woman/River Song and more! In fact, the speculation of the happenings in ‘Journey’s End’ ended up being far more exciting than the actual event!

Settling down to watch on a Saturday evening, the event itself far outweighing any piffiling Wimbledon final, the opening credits rolled and I drank in every moment of the regeneration expecting something amazing. What I didn’t ever imagine was the Doctor just sort of ‘belching’ and shoving the regeneration energy into his manky hand! What a cop-out. First up, why is it that now the Beeb has its hands on CGI does the regeneration process have to become a massive explosion of energy? Regeneration is usually a very quiet affair, and certainly not one of ‘Highlander’ proportions. But this aside, the whole cliffhanger aspect of the regeneration was treated in such an ‘off hand’ (sorry about the pun) manner as to cheat the viewer. But then, part of me likens this to the old Flash Gordon series cliffhangers where actually nothing really ever happens.

As the finale continued, every one of the companions in peril was scooped up into relative safety in the first five minutes, nullifying all build-up of tension from ‘The Stolen Earth’. I found this disappointing, but still hoped for more ‘cleverness’ as the episode unfolded. After all, this was the finale.

I found the banter with Davros fun, and occasionally there was even the philosophical debating Davros of old. Particularly interesting was the message that the Doctor, although he carries no guns, is the forger of human weapons, and the destroyer of worlds. Pretty powerful stuff and insightful for Who. As the episode unfolded, I grimaced at the Doctor/Donna appearance, that ‘chav speak’, the offhand way of destroying the Dalek armada (not to mention the fix for the Chameleon circuit) and I’d pretty much given up on it delivering anything truly ground-breaking, and so waited for the ‘Bad Wolf Bay’ payoff where the Doctor would finally profess his love for Rose. In effect what we got was the shell of the Doctor (notice how little the one heart Doctor actually said), whispering to Rose only what I can assume is ‘I love you’ (something nearly every person on the planet would say to Billie Piper, wouldn’t they?).

This episode left a lot of unanswered questions, but it did leave interesting implications for events to unfold later. For example, River Song recognises the Tenth Doctor from ‘Quiet In The Library’ but her Doctor is older, so one has to assume her relationship is with the ‘one heart Doctor’, as he can age. Yet he has no sonic screwdriver or TARDIS, leaving you to believe that ’something’ happens in the parallel world to give ‘one heart’ Doctor access to these things. Plus, what happens to Rose and his relationship there, then?

Overall, I did enjoy this episode as a Saturday night, takeaway chomping entertainment romp, but as a slice of great sci-fi it was found lacking. It ‘copped’ out many times, was far too drawn out at the end, and left me on a downer for the end of the season. There was no crescendo, no happy feeling. Nothing.

Then I saw that the Cybermen would be back on Christmas Day and my guiilty pleasure emotion chip clicked in again.

Here we go again.

Love/Hate/Love/Hate…  

Win a signed set of Andy Briggs’s new young adult novel series!

Hero.com and Villain.net are the first two instalments in a fiendishly clever new novel series from author Andy Briggs. Published simultaneously within one set of covers, the series and anti-series standalone but, thanks to their cunning plotting, also overlap to give added enjoyment to ultra-observant readers.
Hero.com: Rise Of The Heroes tells the story of a group of friends who discover a website that turns them into superheroes. While surfing the net during a lighting storm they find out that superpowers can be theirs at the click of a mouse button. Their newfound powers, though, come with great responsibilities, which they are forced to face up to when a weather-controlling super villain arrives on the scene.
Villain.net: Council Of Evil tells the story of Jake Hunter, a school bully who receives a mysterious email inviting him to join a scheme for world domination, and serves as the perfect antidote to Hero.com.
To celebrate the launch of Andy Briggs’s new series, we have a signed set of the books up for grabs for the lucky winner, as well as seven more sets of the books for runners up.
To be in with a chance of winning all you have to do is answer the following question correctly.

Villain.net: Council Of Evil tells the story of which school-age bully?

1)    Jake Hunter
2)    Jack Coulter
3)    John Winter

Answers to scifinow@imagine-publishing.co.uk

Competition closes on 7 August.

To find out more about Briggs’s novel series go to:

www.whichsideareyouon.co.uk

“Hollywood faces the threat of a second, crippling strike as the contract runs out between the biggest actors’ union and studio chiefs,” screams The Telegraph’s website at me this morning, while the news inevitably spreads like wildfire along the veins and conduits of the internet. “Actors strike to ruin Comic-Con!” “It’s happening again!” “Strike Two!”, the headlines ripple across cyberspace and print magazines everywhere, the worst part of it being that the last one was written by me last month. While many are discussing the immediate issues of a potential work stoppage, few are considering exactly what this will do to the tenuous and fractious relationship that already exists between actor, studio and production.

But is there going to be a strike? The AMPTP claims, without detailing exactly how they arrived at the figure, that any industrial action by the SAG would cost Hollywood approximately $23 million (£11.5m) a day. That’s right, more money than most of us will ever see in our lifetimes, down the gaping maw of financial bleed should a table of grown men fail to let go of their pride and hubris, and work out a fair deal. Because that’s what it essentially comes down to, and understanding the history of the current situation is just as important as analysing the subtext in press releases and labour-management banter.

The WGA strikes may have garnered the most media attention so far due to the sensational images of red-boarded picket lines and the cessation of television show production, that opium of the masses that will guarantee even the most ardently a-political non-pundit will eventually have an opinion on the situation. However, the palpable sense of fear that surrounds this current round of sabre-rattling and bad mouthing was absent the last time. The SAG is easily the most powerful union in Hollywood, representing over 120,000 actors in television and motion pictures and the annual gross income of its members exceeds $4 billion. The producers knew this going into the next round of negotiations, and from the reports that are starting to trickle out, they had strategies in place to deal with the labour organisations that were finally beginning to gain confidence after being so thoroughly browbeaten into place during the Eighties. What they needed, it seemed, was a chink in the armour through which they could push their collective swords.

That opening came in the form of AFTRA and Roberta Reardon. After bandying about practically baseless (and most likely premeditated) accusations of member-poaching, the far smaller union, which represents 70,000 members (44,000 of which hold dual membership with the SAG) historically and very publicly split with the SAG and decided to bargain separately. Now, considering the amount of time that it took the WGA to hammer out a deal, and is taking the SAG now, AFTRA was in and out faster than you can say the word “shill”. Let’s not kid around, their contract deal is abysmal. It makes no significant gains in terms of the dreaded New Media residuals, nor does it adequately protect their members against negative industry practices later in the future. I won’t go into specifics, due to the fact that this column is rapidly turning into a dissertation (or rant, if you will) as it is, but the fact is that AFTRA sold out their members, body and soul, on goodness only knows what incentive.

SAG then started their ill-advised campaign of attempting to influence AFTRA members not to ratify the contract in eight days time. The schism between the two unions has now rapidly grown to a vast crevasse that may not be fully healed for decades, and certainly not without a great deal of tears and reconciliation. Meanwhile, the studio moguls and their labour lawyers have been laughing all the way to the bank. SAG now has the dubious distinction of being the only major union without a deal, without a negotiating partner, and isolated in the way that they’ve approached these setbacks.

What this does, now I’m finally back to my original point, is create an air of bitter, bitter animosity between actor and actor, union and union and, of course, between organised labour and management. If anybody trusts the AMPTP after the cunning way they’ve conducted themselves over these labour negotiations, they’re either ill informed or barking mad. Or the head of Disney. Either way, whether there’s a strike or not, the soured relationships will last for years to come. It’s not just bad for Hollywood as a whole, but also for unionism. Strike breaking, going over picket lines, dividing and conquering all leads to one thing that is literally taking place right before our eyes, which is union breaking and the loss of worker protection. New actors won’t be able to rely on their representative organisations as much as was possible before, and will end up being more and more exploited by an increasingly cynical industry.

My views may seem overly pro-union (which to be fair, as a union member myself, they are), but I have a personal stake in it as well. My sister is currently about to begin her theatrical training at one of the best institutions in the world, and undoubtedly afterwards she’ll work on American productions. I want her to have the best kind of labour protection that she can have, and I’m not the only one. Behind actors there are families, and dependents, and children aspiring to be the next big thing. Union breaking, which is what’s happening now, can only have serious and far-reaching consequences that extend beyond whether or not Transformers 2 will be released in May or December, ones that can have a very real effect on how hundreds of thousands of people live their lives. We should be far more concerned about that, rather than actors appearing at a convention at the end of July.

Released: 12 June ’08
Director: Louis Leterrier
Screenwriter: Zak Penn, Edward Norton (uncredited)
Cast: Edward Norton, Liv Tyler, Tim Roth, William Hurt
Distributor: Marvel Studios, Universal Pictures
Running Time: 112 mins

Marvel Studios launches its second assault on cinema screens this summer with the return of the big green one. A sequel to Ang Lee’s 2003 take on the character, this Louis Leterrier-directed incarnation restores Bruce Banner (Edward Norton)’s anger-management-requiring alter ego to its ‘Incredible’ status with an explosive and eye-catching extravaganza of rippling green muscles and super-strength-infused carnage.
From the opening credit sequence, which brings the uninitiated up to speed with Banner’s gamma-experiment gone wrong and his ensuing exile, Leterrier serves up a high-octane thrill ride that doesn’t let up. A pulsating Army-Hulk encounter in Brazil is followed up by a bruising face-off Stateside, and the climactic New York smackdown between Hulk and the Abomination is a bone-shuddering beast of a scrap. Screenwriter Zak Penn injects enough comic book references to keep the fanboys happy too (Banner dismisses a pair of stretchy purple pants/“Hulk Smash!!”/the obligatory Stan Lee cameo), and initial anxieties over the effects have been put to rest with a convincing rendering of the Hulk and his Blonsky-gamma-ed nemesis. The pace, too, is frenetic, so much so that it almost disguises the fact that underneath all the CGI-bombast there is precious little going on. Almost…
The problems arise from the fact that there is not much for the Hulk to do. We meet Bannner, he’s on the run, and events unfold but the initial set up is never rectified or furthered in any way. The emotional drama that underpins the Hulk’s plight, is lightweight to say the least, and is not helped by the weakness of the two central performances by Norton (too bland to anchor the action) and Liv Tyler (faceless as Betty Ross, the object of Banner’s affection) upon which it hinges. An enigmatic turn by William Hurt as the dastardly General Ross and even Robert Downey Jr’s sequel-leading final-reel cameo as Tony Stark, serve only to highlight these weaknesses further.
The main stumbling block, though, is that the script delivers neither the drama nor the story to match the action that Letterier orchestrates to such devastating effect. Characters are underdeveloped, Tim Roth’s Emil Blonsky in particular, and too little time is spent on the emotional turmoil of Banner as he battles the beast inside of him (Norton’s much publicised wranglings with Marvel over the film’s length suggest that a longer, director’s cut would flesh out these areas). It’s still an energised, and by turns spectacular, return for the tetchy one though, which suggests, particularly by its open-ended finale, that there is a healthy future in store for its temperamental protagonist.

Those familiar with the SciFiNow forum will know I’ve been on a pretty much non-stop vigil watching Star Trek Voyager. I kicked off on this mammoth ‘Trek’ with the first episode ‘Caretaker’ and have been steadily going all the way through to where I currently am, which is ‘Future’s End Pts I & II’.

I believe Voyager has had a bit of raw deal over the last 13 years as something of the poor relation to the Trek franchise; although I’ve always enjoyed it, it has been something of a guilty pleasure among the throng of Picard and Kirk fans out there willing to beat on poor Janeway and crew at any chance they could get. Ducking the verbal and physical abuse (usually from Aaron!), I’ve ploughed on. So, Sunday afternoon, with a huge pile of ironing that the wife refuses to do, I’ve been settling in with two or three episodes back to back. And so far I have to say I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it. The show has its ups and downs, as would any franchise spanning so many episodes and seasons, but overall it’s weathered much better than other TV shows around 10-15 years old such as Sliders.

Highpoints so far have to be the following episodes:

1. Caretaker. This showed that the show really could be like ‘Wagon Train’ in the stars. A single ship on a long journey home. And pretty dark for Trek actually.
2. Eye Of The Needle. A great season one episode very ‘TNG’ with a cool ending twist.
3. Maneuvers. Seska, played by the wonderful and sexy Martha Hackett makes the whole story arc of an altered Cardassian agent among the Voyager crew who allies herself with the Kazon unmissable Voyager.
4. Basics Pt I & II. A huge showdown with the Kazon, Brad Dourff as serial killer Ensign Suder, and more Seska!
5. Flashback. Season three episode featuring the adventures of Captain Sulu, giving us a glimpse of the Trek show that George Takei wanted to make.

But… there’s low points too. Here’s some Voyager dross that you may want to close your pointy ears to:

1. Threshold. A real pile of Targ dung of an episode from season two. Paris and Janeway ‘evolve’ in to large salamanders and back again after Paris breaks the warp 10 threshold. Cack.

2. Prototype. Another season two poop, which sees B’Lanna activating a robot slave in a robo civil war. The effects on the robot can only be described as ‘home made’. Not even Doctor Who’s ‘Giant Robot’ can beat this for low rent.
3. Resolutions. Janeway and Chakotay play house on a planet after contracting a virus. Don’t waste 45 minutes of your life here.
4. Learning Curve. Tuvok is put in charge of ’slack’ Maquis recruits. It’s not bad as such, but the whole issue of integration of Maquis and Starfleet was done pretty poorly to be believable. It’s too easy to just accept that entrenched rebels would take on the uniform of the establishment too readily.
5. The Chute. Harry (please take me seriously) Kim and Tom Paris are stuck in a ‘very scary’ space prison. It’s not exactly ‘Prison Break’ in there.

So, I’m still going through it; I’ve got the second half of season three to go, which I’m looking forward to as the season finale is ‘Scorpion’ but so far, I’m enjoying the highs and lows of Voyager. Give it another go; it’s better than you think! Honest.

Released: 22 May 2008
Director: Steven Spielberg
Screenwriter: David Koepp
Cast: Harrison Ford, Shia LaBeouf, Cate Blanchettt, Ray Winstone
Distributor: Paramount
Running Time: 122 mins

It’s been 19 years since Henry Jones Jr last cracked the bullwhip in the misleadingly titled Last Crusade, and his return to he big screen has been fraught with setbacks. Writers have come and gone and there have been script tinkerings aplenty before Lucas, Spielberg and Ford could all agree. But now, with Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull, everyone’s favourite archaeologist is back. Only he isn’t really.

Harrison Ford is back as Indy, but Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull is no Indiana Jones movie, or rather, it’s not a Spielberg Indiana Jones movie. He may be the credited director but Kingdom has Lucas’s grubby mits all over it, the man responsible for the Star Wars prequels taking the reins to yet another of his other beloved creations to deliver the family-friendly over-the-top romp he’s so intent on peddling these days. And how over-the-top it is…

From the opening salvo where we’re introduced to the now pensionable Dr Jones, the stage is set. Outside a warehouse at an American military base in Nevada, Indy and best bud Mac (Ray Winstone) are hauled from the boot of a car by a bunch of Commies, (it’s the Fifties now and the US Cold War enemies replace the Nazis as the evildoers of the piece). He picks up his fedora, dusts himself off, and, under duress, complies with the Ruskies who want him to point the way to a rather important item in the warehouse they’re after. One haphazardly orchestrated set piece later, and he’s escaped their clutches, only for him to wander into a nuclear testing site, the detonation of a rather large nuclear bomb decidedly imminent. With the countdown nearing zero what does our hero do? He jumps into a lead-lined fridge in one of the empty dummy-populated houses. The bomb drops, everything’s incinerated, and Indy plus fridge are rocketed off across the sky like a shooting star, crash landing moments – and miles away – later uninjured save for a couple of bumps and bruises.

As the story kicks in, the levels of credibility are stretched to breaking point. New sidekick, Shia LaBeouf’s be-quiffed Mutt, rocks up to deliver a letter to Indy from an old archaeologist pal, kicking into motion this instalment’s escapades: racing the red menace to return an ancient crystal skull to its Peruvian jungle home, whereupon the Mayan relic will impart some form of divine knowledge or another (if the commies get it, their ‘armies of darkness’ will march all over the world, you see?). Tombs get raided, with Indy and Mutt encountering all manner of cobweb-drenched caves and passages and obligatory boobytraps, but with Lucas and Spielberg aiming to trump what’s gone before, both in the series and in the earlier scenes of the movie, the stunts and action Indy is known and loved for is ditched in favour of an escalating succession of ‘jumping the shark’ moments. Spielberg’s proclamations, too, that he would be keeping things old school – CGI free and stunt heavy – prove somewhat misleading, as Lucas’s ILM infiltrates every pore of the film, right from the opening shot’s bemused little desert ferret to Mutt’s swinging through the Peruvian jungle Tarzan-like with a group of screeching monkeys.

Previously, Indiana Jones movies were action adventure fare, driven towards a supernatural McGuffin. This time round, though, the emphasis has shifted with the sci-fi nature of the eponymous crystal skull tipping the balance in its favour. The shift in tone for the dusty archaeologist is in itself no bad thing, but it is the lack of flair with which it is carried off that breaks our hearts. The recreation of the Fifties is nicely handled, but the characters that populate the movie are one-dimensional pastiches masquerading as real people and this goes some way to explaining the toothless performances on show by the usually reliable thesps who turn out here. Cate Blanchett as psychic soldier Irina Spalko, John Hurt as the crystal skull-crazed Professor Oxley and Jim Broadbent as Indy’s dean at Harvard are all underused, Spielberg missing opportunities left, right and centre with the talent at his disposal. David Koepp’s screenplay (from a story by Lucas, of course, and Jeff Nathanson) misfires too, with too many jokes falling flat, and it lacks focus and direction; it charges out the blocks but loses momentum quickly, ambling when it should sprint, and the McGuffin-encounter finale is an anticlimax for Indy and his slapstick band of cohorts who’re along for the ride this time, which is an achievement in itself given the star-struck nature of its unveiling.

When the focus is back with the film’s two stars though, Ford and LaBeouf, there are shades of former glories with the interplay between the two recalling the best buddy-pairings of the previous films. Shia too holds his own, despite his Harley Davidson-riding greaser’s identity being one of the worst kept secrets in recent memory and the rather heavy-handed suggestion to Mutt-shaped adventures to come. Ford, though, about whom there have been grumblings aplenty regarding his ability to pull off the action hero role in his Sixties, settles the debate once and for all. Trim and in shape, he looks the part but, more importantly, he delivers the Indy we know and love; his hair may have greyed, but he’s still the rugged hero we remember and really he’s the film’s raison d’etre. The tone may be off, but when Indy plonks the fedora on his head and dons that leather jacket, it’s as if he’d never been away.

Lucas, Spielberg, and Ford had pronounced long before the film’s Cannes debut that Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull was a movie for the fans, and not for the critics. If truth be told, though, it is anything but; rather this latest Indy outing is a film for Mssrs Lucas, Spielberg and Ford. If only they had refrained from indulging themselves quite so much, perhaps they could have delivered a film that was more in keeping with the standards that previous Indy outings had set.

Author: Peter F. Hamilton
Publisher: Macmillan
Price: £8.99

The Dreaming Void is the first novel in The Void Trilogy from Peter F Hamilton – one of the world’s most popular sci-fi writers and creator of The Commonwealth Saga. The Dreaming Void is set in the same universe – the Intersolar Commonwealth – and, subsequent to the events in The Commonwealth Saga, the human race has become one of the most technologically advanced species in the galaxy. Unfortunately, a massive black hole has been discovered at its centre. The void is an artificial boundary rumoured to guard a legacy billions of years old. Some claim there is an entire universe inside. The void is now slowly devouring all the other stars in the galaxy – and unless someone stops it, the galaxy will die prematurely.

Iniga has a dream to Pilgrimage with his millions of followers to the universe hidden within the Void. The opposition, the Raiel, fear that this mass exodus will cause the Void to expand. They have vowed to prevent this Pilgrimage, to the death if necessary. Aaron is a man on a mission – unknown to himself. Daily, he learns more of his skills and his quest to find Iniga and stop the Pilgrimage.

An intriguing first chapter to The Void Trilogy, Hamilton throws you straight in at the deep end with this epic novel, and hits you hard and fast with complex narrative twists and interesting characters. Space Opera fans will be delighted and tantalised by the cliffhanger ending.

After nearly sixty years as an actor, William Shatner has become one of the most beloved and recognizable entertainers in the world, finally he reveals the man behind some of those unforgettable moments in one of the most entertaining autobiographies this year.

To celebrate the UK release of the autobiography, Up Till Now, we have five limited edition ‘Shat Happens’ mugs and five copies of William Shatner’s autobiography to give away – all you have to do is answer the following question to be in with a chance:

Where was William Shatner born?

1. Britain
2. America
3. Canada

The competition closes on 30 June 2008. Answers to scifinow@imagine-publishing.co.uk.

You can also read an exclusive extract and buy the book at www.panmacmillan.com.

Release Date: 2 May 2008
Director: Jon Favreau
Writers: John August, Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby, Arthur Marcum, Matthew Hollaway
Creators: Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, Don Heck, Jack Kirby
Starring: Robert Downey Jr, Gwyneth Paltrow, Terrence Howard, Jeff Bridges

Based on the popular metal-clad Marvel character, Iron Man follows the story of Tony Stark, the hyper-intelligent scion of an enormously wealthy weapon manufacturing family and the heir to the multi-billion dollar company that his father built. Irresponsible, rash, amoral and something of a womaniser, his life is turned upside down when he’s captured by the not-Al-Qaeda forces of terrorist supremo Raza, who wants Stark to build him a devastating weapons system that will enable him to wage war on a catastrophic scale. Needless to say, Stark has other ideas and ends up making himself into a walking tank that decimates the prison. His return to the USA sees him vow to take on people who would cause massive suffering to others, and perfect his design of a suit that will turn him into the Iron Man.

Although the film can drag at points, a witty, refreshing and entertaining script breaks up any threatening tedium during the points between the jaw-dropping action sequences. However, the lead actor is what makes Iron Man transcend the Fantastic Four stable of effects and humour, and launches it into its very own league. If there’s ever a man that embodied an action hero, it’s Robert Downey Jr as Tony Stark. This film proves that he should have been one of the great actors of his generation – a consummate performer that not only makes the film, but also carries it on all levels. Unfortunately, the supporting cast isn’t as impressive. Gwyneth Paltrow seems out of sorts in a film of this kind, and while she certainly has chemistry with Downey, her character, Pepper Potts, changes quickly from being a strong and focused female lead to being another one of Tony’s floosies. As a result, we disengage too completely with her to ever fully sympathise towards the end. Likewise, while Jeff Bridges does put in a decent performance as a distasteful corporate veteran, his rapid transformation to homicidal villain is not as convincing as it could be.

A few minor flaws with casting and pacing aside, the real joy of Iron Man is its humour. Laughs are frequent and widespread and overall you get the sense that this film is one that knows exactly what it is, exactly what it wants to achieve, and has a real go at it without ever taking itself too seriously. Yes, this may not appeal to the post-Killing Joke crowds who may be more in tune with a Nolanesque vision of comic book films, but for those of us who just want to see Tony Stark being Tony Stark in the most sophisticated armoured vehicle known to man, Iron Man is our film.