Based on a short story by Richard Matheson (of I Am Legend fame), this kinda sci-fi tale is set in the near future when human boxing has been replaced by robot boxing. Apparently humanity’s lust for violence simply couldn’t be sated by pugilists’ limitations of the flesh, and thus we get giant robots beating the cogs out of each other. Ex-boxer Charlie Kenton (Hugh Jackman) lives hand to mouth, entering robots into any fights he can find. After the death of an ex-girlfriend, he’s lumped with his 11 year old son, Max (Dakota Goyo), and before you can say “life lessons”, the two of them manage to make something of themselves in the robot boxing world.

It’s hokey as all get out, but the reason that Real Steel succeeds is because of the dedicated performances, assured direction and sincere approach to the material. It’s basically Rocky with robots, complete with emphasis on the underdog taking on the bigwigs, and in the end it comes together rather wonderfully.

The robots look fantastic. Easily the best example of CGI I’ve seen in years, they blend seamlessly into the physical world and, quite frankly, put Transformers‘ ‘bots to shame. The mix of animatronics and CGI is practically flawless, and often I wasn’t sure which of the two I was looking at.

Jackman is in great form here. He also happens to be ludicrously bulky, though seems way too top heavy to be a boxer. He certainly sells the part, even if it’s hard to believe that a lazy drunk somehow finds the time and dedication to work out every day. His chemistry with Evangeline Lilly (as Bailey Tallet) is great, and their kinda-sorta romance has some surprising undertones, considering that the two of their characters apparently grew up together. A lot of the film’s success rests on the shoulders of young Goyo, and he manages to put in a solid performance without being too cutesy.

After Super 8, this is another Spielberg-produced film on which he clearly had an influence. The old Spielbergian focus on the father/son relationship is just as apparent as it was in J.J. Abrams’ film, and is equally successful. The film has its fair share of cartoonish villains and there are practically no surprises, but on the whole, Real Steel is good family fun and is never caught on the back foot.

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Michael Oher is a big boy, such that he is nicknamed ‘Big Mike’, and a burden to the family who have taken him in after he has run away from every foster home that ever offered to look after him. When he is recognised as a potential athletic star by the head football coach at the prestigious Wingate Christian School in Memphis, he is accepted into a schooling environment he isn’t used to and will struggle to thrive in. After Michael becomes friends with a young boy SJ (Jae Head), he is recognised as needing somewhere to stay and is sheltered by SJ’s family, led by the determined Leigh Anne Tuohy (Bullock).

It is some time since a film so trite has been foisted upon an unsuspecting audience, and it is filled with dishonesty and half-truths. The Tuohys are presented as the archetypal Southern family, with a perfect life and a perfectly loving and accepting attitude to those around them – this might be the truth of the matter, but it seems unlikely and it certainly doesn’t make for good cinema. When the NCAA challenges Oher’s acception of a scholarship from the University of Mississippi and brings into question the reasons behind the Tuohy’s support of Oher, the audience is supposed to believe they would accept his rather minimal but heart-warming explanation as the truth. Time and again there are hints at something less than perfect under the surface – racist football referees and fans, conflict between Mr and Mrs Tuohy, the suggestion that Michael might be tempted to rape Collins Tuohy (their daughter) – and time and again the subject is given scant consideration before being brushed aside in favour of a ‘Hallmark moment’.

The only element of the film that is dealt with openly is the life and lifestyle of the poorest (predominantly black) neighbourhoods of Memphis, with drugs and their consequences on users and their loved ones given a full treatment. Even here, The Blind Side is shallow and manipulative, and a more cornball final scene voiceover and montage can scarcely be imagined. It seems remarkable that many commentators have failed to comment on this dishonesty, with only a few brave enough to say that the film is condescending at best and flirts dangerously with being racist.

The frequent use of flashbacks to remind the audience of why a certain scene is meaningful is another reminder that the filmmakers clearly have no respect for their viewers: if we can’t be expected to remember a scene from barely moments before then heaven help us. Further, the script is particularly awful, featuring such clankers as Bullock’s character asking her husband one night ‘Am I a good person?’ as some sort of shorthand for introspection and self-doubt.

It is truly difficult to see why so many have fallen under the spell of this awful, awful film, and that it has been nominated for best film at today’s Academy Awards borders on the astonishing. No amount of Hollywood polish can change its underlying nature.

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The time is the late 70s and Ferrell is Jackie Moon, a one-hit wonder with the single ‘Love Me Sexy’ who has bought a team in the American Basketball Association. His Flint, Michigan team the ‘Flint Tropics’ seem to be a vehicle for personal excess, although Coffee Black (André Benjamin) may have the talent to make it to the NBA. When the ABA and NBA announce plans to merge and the Tropics are set to be dissolved, Moon must turn to an unlikely former NBA player to help inspire their team to keep the dream alive.

There is much to dislike in Semi-Pro, although that much can easily be discerned from the trailer and the cast list. What is more surprising is that a substantial part of the mercifully brief 82 minute running time is taken up by a subplot of personal redemption involving characters played by Woody Harrelson and the rather wonderful Maura Tierney. That this story is far more interesting than the main plot (although admittedly a little bit obvious and lacking in originality) means the ‘comedy’ of seeing Ferrell with big hair proves a distraction rather than an entertainment.

Perhaps this can be also blamed on the lack of inspiration shown in the preparation for shooting the film – there is so little to the characterisations and the plot that it seems likely writer Scot Armstrong and director Kent Alterman felt the visual gag of Ferrell in a singlet would be enough. Not surprisingly, it isn’t. The supporting roles (apart from Harrelson’s) are one-dimensional, and the plot banal. Ferrell seems only half interested in proceedings, and the film seems to drag in spite of its short length. It isn’t clear why someone like Will Arnett would bother with the bit part he is allowed… perhaps he needs the money?

It is easy enough to know whether a film like Semi-Pro is likely to appeal to your sense of humour – if the idea of prolonged groin shots taken from below Ferrell during squats sounds uproarious, knock yourself out.

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The opening scenes are fantastic, as we see Chazz Michael Michaels (Ferrell) and Jimmy MacElroy (Heder) strut their stuff on the ice. Their routines are hilarious and both are clearly in their element. The film lets us down soon after, however, when the two are required to team up. Funny as Ferrell and Heder can be, their performances simply don’t bounce off each other. It’s almost as if their (admittedly brilliant) characterisations exist in a vacuum. Their bickering is simply disappointing, when it should have been the best part of the film.

In comparison, the supporting cast is perfect. Real-life couple Will Arnett and Amy Poehler shine in their scenes as the rival skating duo, twins Stranz and Fairchild Van Waldenberg, and this is precisely because each is sensitive to the other’s performance. The third Van Waldenberg (Jenna Fischer) does a great job as the love interest, as does Romany Malco as Jimmy and Chaz’s choreographer.

The skating scenes are great. It’s apparent that all of the actors involved did at least some of their own skating, and when the special effects kick in they’re good enough for laughs. Generally speaking Blades of Glory is a solid if uninspiring comedy, generally amusing with patches of brilliance. Frustratingly, there are a couple of moments that should have been elaborated on but seem underdeveloped, maybe in the interests of a more ‘mainstream’ release. On the other hand, they bleed dry the idea that most men wouldn’t be comfortable sharing the ice with another man (whilst wearing spandex, to boot). Overall it seems to be the least ridiculous of Ferrell’s traditional comedies, and probably suffers a little as a consequence.

Ferrell could keep making these movies til the sun explodes, and it can get a little tiresome to see one released every eight months or so. It was great to see him in Stranger Than Fiction, but hey – that film barely made a profit domestically. Blades of Glory almost doubled its budget in returns, so it’s easy to figure out what we’ll be seeing more of in the future..

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