Over fifty years he made prestigious literary adaptations, engrossing historical dramas, visceral war films and mould-breaking genre pieces before contentedly retiring without much ceremony in 2010.

As a director, Weir worked harmoniously and collaboratively with his actors to help bring the very best performances out of them. He favoured real, often both beautiful and inhospitable locations, to add scale, tactility and threat from nature to his stories.

Peter Weir’s artistic voices is one that is much-missed in the film industry – all of his work is at the very least interesting and ranking it in any kind of definitive order is a challenge. That’s why, in this edition of Ranked, we here at The Film Magazine are comparing and contrasting all 13 of Peter Weir’s feature directorial efforts, judging each in terms of critical reception, artistic merit, and how well each story has maintained impact over time. These are the Peter Weir Films Ranked.

Follow @thefilmagazine on Twitter.

13. Fearless (1993)

The miraculous survivor of a plane crash (Jeff Bridges) gets a new perspective on life and begins to test his limits in increasingly reckless ways much to the horror of his family.

Solid performances across the board aside, few films that open with a plane falling from the sky turn out as unengaging.

Having such a generic title as your starting point probably didn’t help either, but something about Fearless never quite grabs you and the film is in a constant battle to balance its magical realist tone with more grounded discussions of trauma and mental health.

One such an answer that is often the cause of grievance and controversy is John McTiernan’s Die Hard (1988). For those who adore the season’s staples such as White Christmas and It’s A Wonderful Life, and modern favourites such as Elf and Love Actually, the idea that a film about a showdown between a single NYPD officer and a group of vicious terrorists is even considered a Christmas film is, frankly, disgusting.

Well, sorry haters, but it turns out that Die Hard is actually part of a long tradition of non-conventional Christmas flicks – we have an extensive catalogue of Christmas Horrors for example, from Black Christmas in 1974 to Krampus in 2015. Christmas even makes its appearances in the most unlikely of plots: Terry Gilliam’s masterpiece Brazil, an Orwellian black comedy, is a prime example, as is the legendary crime thriller The French Connection. However, neither of these examples are considered Christmas movies (not even in the alternative or ironic sense), and rightly so. Christmas isn’t the focus of these films and is in fact used to highlight the darkness and evil of the stories it’s used in. That’s not very festive at all!

How Can a film Be Considered a True Christmas Movie Beyond the Mere Inclusion of the Holiday?

If we ignore the blatant capitalist message behind nearly every mainstream Yuletide film, we should consider the real message behind the original Christmas Story – The Nativity of course.

Pushing past the shepherds, kings and angels, Christmas is essentially the tale of light shining in the darkness, living in the hope of reconciliation and redemption. These are therefore the essential themes of any real Christmas film. Natalie Hayes of BBC Culture, in her article “The Magic Formula that Makes the Perfect Christmas Film”, noted that for a film to be considered a true Christmas movie, it must include the following elements: desire, a touch of magic, the value of family, and of course a dose of trial and tribulation for our heroes to overcome.

As hollow as some of these films seem to be to the lovers of a more Traditional Noel, the likes of Jingle All the Way do in fact meet these requirements, and with Die Hard being one of the most exceptional and beloved action movies of all time, it seems a very reasonable choice as a favourite Christmas film too. But what has come to my notice is the criminal overlooking of another alternative festive watch, one with striking similarities to Die Hard, released only a year prior: Lethal Weapon.

Like Die Hard, Richard Donner’s film meets the pre-requisites of a Christmas Classic and is again one of the most popular action movies from the 80s, likewise spawning an iconic franchise. Have we been duped all along with putting our money behind the inferior flick, or is Die Hard truly the superior of the pair? On the basis of which film boasts the truest Christmas Spirit, let us experience the most exciting of movie battles… Die Hard vs Lethal Weapon.

Desire

Is there an element of desire in these films? A want for something unattainable?

This is the first of the many uncanny similarities between Lethal Weapon and Die Hard, as both display a desire for a return to normality.

In Die Hard, John McClane (Bruce Willis) is flying to L.A from New York to see his wife Holly Gennaro (Bonnie Bedelia) on Christmas Eve, who works at the Nakatomi Plaza which is throwing a party. It becomes apparent that this is the first time John and Holly have seen each other in over six months and that they are more or less separated (especially as Holly is now going by her maiden name). It is revealed that Holly’s move to L.A. for a once in a lifetime promotion became a point of contention in their relationship – we don’t know exactly why, but it’s easy enough to make some assumptions: back in 1988, finding out that your wife is making more money than you would be an enormous shake up in the family dynamic, possibly too much for some men to handle. It is clear though, that although they are estranged, their marriage isn’t finished – Holly and John obviously still have feelings for one another, but it’s mixed in with a great deal of hurt, stopping them from seeing eye to eye. Thus we have the desire element: John wants a return to normality, the re-establishment of his traditional family set up (very nuclear, with the man being the breadwinner and all), but more importantly he desires to be a part of his family’s lives again.

Lethal Weapon has a more convergent plot than Die Hard.

It begins with the daily life of two LAPD police detectives – Roger Murtaugh (Danny Glover), a fairly buttoned-down distinguished officer who enjoys the comforts of marital and familial bliss (and is learning to try to age gracefully), and Martin Riggs (Mel Gibson), a seemingly unattached man who is a total loose cannon on the job, wreaking havoc in his wake. The plot gleefully puts this odd couple together. It is Riggs who is the festive focal point of the movie as it his character that embodies the required desire element. Riggs’ careless and dangerous behaviour at work is suspected to be caused by suicidal tendencies after recently losing his wife in a car accident. There are occasions where it seems Riggs indeed wants to end his life, but this is actually more the desire to be reunited with his wife – the desire to be in a loving relationship again, the desire to have purpose.

It seems to be contradictory to the spirit of Christmas to have the film focus on the likes of depression and suicide, let alone in a film with probably the most insensitive approach to these topics, but that would be ignoring the fact that one of the most popular Christmas movies of all time, It’s A Wonderful Life, is about the divine intervention of an Angel working to stop a man from taking his own life on Christmas Eve. Die Hard is also depicting a common theme in Christmas fare, which is the impending breakdown of the family unit seen in the likes of The Preacher’s Wife and The Santa Clause. Technically both films are winning Brownie Points on that front, but the desire element is far more visceral in the case of Lethal Weapon: a shot of a teary-eyed Riggs shakily placing the end of the gun in his mouth after looking at the wedding photos of his dead wife is truly impactful.

Magic

The magic we could see in the likes of Die Hard and Lethal Weapon is not going to be in the traditional vein: no angels, no reindeer, no pixie dust, and very sadly no Santa Claus! That does not mean, however, that the magic they do have is not completely spine-tingling.

At first glance, the magic in Lethal Weapon is rather elusive, but it becomes apparent that the touch of Magic is indeed Martin Riggs, or really more Martin Riggs’ unorthodox policing methods:

“You’re not trying to draw a psycho pension! You really are crazy!”

In the real world, Riggs’ behaviour is not the kind to praise or laud, but Riggs’ apparent death wish makes him an almost unstoppable crime-fighting force – a lethal weapon. From deescalating a possible shootout by scaring the life out of a perpetrator, and saving a potential jumper’s life by throwing himself off the building whilst cuffed to them, it can be said Riggs gets the job done (in the most thoroughly entertaining way possible). However, his magical powers aren’t fully activated until he and Murtaugh are captured by the movie’s villainous drug barons – is it the electric shock torture or the power of new found friendship with Roger Murtaugh? Either way, Riggs is propelled into overcoming his captors and killing every bad guy that stands in his way, all in the name of rescuing his new partner. By the time we reach the climax, he is brutalised and half-drowned, yet he still manages to subdue the film’s Big Bad, Joshua (Gary Busey), by the power of his thighs alone. Magic.

With all that said, John McClane smirks and replies with a “Hold my beer.”

Die Hard is a more plot-driven story which lends itself to even more glorious action movie magic. It is made clear from the very beginning that McClane possesses the power of snarkiness, but the storming of Nakatomi Plaza by Hans Gruber’s (Alan Rickman’s) team of terrorists/thieves, catches McClane with his pants down (or rather with his shoes and socks off), leaving him to watch helplessly as the revellers of the office party are rounded up as hostages and Holly’s boss Mr Takagi (James Shigeta) is murdered. Luckily a present from Santa Claus re-establishes his cocky self-assuredness:

“Now I have a machine gun. Ho, ho, ho.”

In the 2 hour run-time, we witness McClane relentlessly wiggle his way out of tight squeezes using the meagre resources at his disposal (which he usually attains by annihilating some hapless bad guy), whether its irritating Gruber with smart-ass comments through a stolen walkie-talkie or tossing the body of a man out of the window in an attempt to attract help from the outside. It is once McClane manages to get the attention of the LAPD (the corpse-tossing worked a treat) that the real magic begins, which is the revelation that McClane is better than everyone else alive, including you – ironic given that he spent the first half hour desperately crying out for help.

Recommended for you: I’m a 90s Kid and I Watched Die Hard for the First Time This Year

John McClane resolves the terrorist siege single-handedly despite the presence of the LAPD, SWAT and the FBI; in fact McClane saves these apparent bozos from the machinations of the terrorists several times (whilst being mistaken as some sort of psycho killer to boot). Such a magical moment includes McClane blowing up a whole floor of terrorists (without miraculously harming any of the hostages), thus stopping their rocket launcher onslaught against the unsuspecting SWAT teams attempting to storm the plaza. Another noteworthy moment is when he rescues all the hostages from certain death seconds before some idiotic FBI agents unwittingly blow up a helipad they were gathered on (and as if saving countless lives isn’t enough, he narrowly escapes this chaos by leaping off the building with only a fire hose to save him from gravity).

It can’t be denied that the police politics of this 80s classic would be unnerving to modern eyes with its idolisation of McClane’s almost vigilante brand of justice, but with a healthy dose of self-awareness Die Hard is the ultimate power fantasy; one that is guaranteed to put a smile on your face. The exact kind of magic that you would need and want at Christmas.

As a basic siege film, the physical dangers faced by John McClane in Die Hard are of a much greater intensity than that of the leading duo in Lethal Weapon: the action is non-stop and quick paced, and far more shocking and gory. However, whilst Die Hard is driven by its plot, Lethal Weapon is more character focused, and as a consequence the psychological hurdles presented in Lethal Weapon are much more immense than those seen in Die Hard, despite the huge amount of peril Holly and John McClane face.

The Value of Family

It is now time to consider how much family is valued in these films; starting with Die Hard…

Is this film not just a metaphor for marriage and the active battle that is maintaining such a relationship?

It has to be confessed that it’s not exactly hard to be initially disappointed by John when we first meet him. It appears he has let his fragile masculinity get in the way of his marriage as he struggles to cope with his wife’s flourishing career. But my goodness is this an incredible attempt at reconciliation; the man walks over broken glass barefoot for Christ’s sake!

As we all know, big grand gestures can often be empty and meaningless; it is changed behaviour that is the real apology. So what a brilliant way to finish off this metaphor with Hans Gruber being defeated by John and Holly working together; transforming their marriage into a partnership – a union of absolute equals. It earns their riding off into the sunset, entangled in each other’s arms, and so gives us that desired cosy Christmas feeling – excellent!

Lethal Weapon, by comparison, has no such romantic metaphor; it instead depicts the very real devastation caused by unimaginable loss.

Martin Riggs is a man who is constantly putting himself and others in danger through his reckless behaviour, as he is now without purpose. He does state that it is “the job” that has so far prevented him from eating one of his own bullets, but the way he achieves results still points to a blatant death wish.

It’s when the initially dubious Murtaugh begins to let his guard down and allows Riggs into his inner sanctum, inviting him into his family home, that we see a transformation in Riggs. For you see, the central criminal scandal of Lethal Weapon – ex Vietnam War Special Forces officers turned drug baron mercenaries – most deeply affects Murtaugh; he is the most entangled and has the most to lose from this situation. By actually giving Riggs a chance (whose life literally hangs in the balance if he can’t find a working partnership), Riggs no longer lives dangerously for the sake of trying to feel alive whilst consumed with grief, he instead directs all of his ferocity towards protecting Murtaugh and his interests; this deep sense of caring spreads to the wider community surrounding him, seen when he is willing to grapple in the mud with Joshua after he murdered his fellow officers.

Lethal Weapon, in the contest of greatest redemption arc, takes the victory: Riggs is quite literally pulled from the jaws of death by the power of found family through his partnership with Murtaugh – they even share Christmas dinner. This transformation from death to life proves that Lethal Weapon values family the greatest.

True Christmas films are affairs of great emotion, our heroes often go through hell to then be redeemed with the happiest of endings. This is true for both Die Hard and Lethal Weapon, but it is proven that Lethal Weapon boasts the most intense and emotionally driven Christmas tale of hope.

All you Die Hard fans may have to reconsider your all-time favourite Christmas film, but if you guys don’t change your mind, there is nothing but respect for you: Die Hard is pretty kickass.

Recommended for you: 10 Excellent Non-Christmas Films Set at Christmas

George Miller’s terrifying vision of the future truly put Australia on the map of international film, and opened the door for the nation’s talent to make their distinctive marks in Hollywood – most prominent of all being the American-born, Australian-bred Mel Gibson who was thrust into prominence through his starring role in Mad Max (1979) and went on to become one of Hollywood’s most undoubtedly controversial but impactful star filmmakers. What really was remarkable was the series’ almost flawless transition into the 21st century, its soft reboot Mad Max: Fury Road storming through cinemas in 2015 and becoming one of the most memorable movies of the 2010s in the process.

So, how do these truly legendary films hold up against each other? For this Ranked list, we’ve watched all four Mad Max movies and compared each in terms of artistic merit, full throttle adrenaline, critical reception and audience perception to decide which are the best and, first, which are the worst films from the George Miller fronted franchise. These are the Mad Max Movies Ranked.

Let us know your order in the comments at the end of this article, and be sure to follow us on Twitter for more lists like this one.

4. Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985)

The third instalment in the original Mad Max trilogy, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome seemed determined to draw in wider audiences than the largely adult crowds of Mad Max 1 & 2, embracing the franchise’s first PG-13 rating and casting megastar Tina Turner in an attempt to wow at the North American box office.

To some degree these efforts paid off – when in conversation about the Mad Max franchise, Beyond Thunderdome is time and time again brought up with fondness. It could very possibly be bestowed with the title of “fan favourite”, which makes perfect sense considering it was the most accessible of the bunch, especially to audiences born after the original two films were released. However, when compared with the other Mad Max instalments, it is apparent that Beyond Thunderdome is the weakest film of the franchise by miles.

Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome sadly has the most confused script of the series, lacking any clear direction. Its origins as two separate movie ideas is very apparent, with half of the film surrounding the internal struggle of power within a brutal civilisation controlled by a methane energy crisis whilst the other half focuses on a “Lord of the Flies” type of tale, with feral children in the desert seeking a new home in a fabled utopia. Both concepts have their own appeal, but their combination means a lack of breathing space for either to develop into fully fledged themes or narratives, therefore leaving both underdeveloped.

Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome is in no way a tiresome watch however, with plenty to entertain. The script, although messy, never fails to keep us invested in Max’s tragic tale as the lonely wanderer in the wastelands (a notable trope of the Mad Max films that is repeated time and time again). Despite its more kid-friendly film rating, this Mad Max entry is still stuffed with action and violence, including the requisite car chase and a gloriously camp showdown in the aforementioned Thunderdome – Max and Blaster quite literally fly though the air wielding blunt instruments in one of cinema’s most memorable fight sequences.

In the case of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, creator George Miller’s reluctance to make the film is its most evident deficit amongst an incredibly strong series of joyous watches. The filmmaker had lost his friend and producing partner Byron Kennedy to a helicopter accident prior to filming, and despite creating a thrilling gateway into the madness of the Mad Max series against such odds, Beyond Thunderdome lacks the vigour of the pair’s previous films, making it the worst film in the franchise.

How mad is Max?

Max is quite mad, and his raggedy appearance (with uneven pupils to top off the look) serves to further compound his insane reputation. Flying around the Thunderdome armed with a chainsaw about sums it up. Through the course of the film, Max is attempting to grasp onto his lost humanity as seen when he takes a stand against abusing the vulnerable, but then he does punch a teenage girl right in the face. Swings and roundabouts.

3. Mad Max (1979)

For many younger audiences whose first introduction to the Mad Max series was Fury Road, Mad Max definitely falls under the purview of the TV Trope “Early Instalment Weirdness”. Naturally, it is the first movie that introduces defining elements of the whole franchise – the dystopian nature of the world, insane motorbike and car stunts, bloody violence, Hugh Keays-Byrne, random saxophone playing, Max Rockatansky’s unwilling involvement in a wild chain of events, and of course his unquenchable thirst for vengeance – but it can’t be denied that this film has a completely different tone and pace from the rest of the series.

Newcomers may very well be flabbergasted by an incredibly slow-moving first half with a Max that is nowhere near the most enigmatic character on screen – Mel Gibson’s Mad Max is initially a big blue-eyed romantic who willingly bends to the letter of the law and not at all the anti-hero we expect him to be. In the midst of this confusion, we then suffer devastating whiplash as the film’s entire plot unfolds within the last twenty minutes at a neck-breaking pace, leaving us with breathtaking results.

A work of genius or insanity? The answer is: a bit of both.

Mad Max’s transformation of pace and the intensity of Max’s character arc result in an ending that pays off the almost agonising build up a thousand times over – the label of “Cinematic Masterpiece” wouldn’t go amiss in this context.

Whether Mad Max is your introduction to the series or not, the film feels incomplete (which isn’t a huge surprise as this movie is a definitive example of guerrilla filmmaking on a shoestring budget). In this sense, Mad Max is more akin to the prequel movie of a main series, like what X-Men Origins: Wolverine is to X-Men, and in watching this 1979 release in retrospect, so much more is expected from the story than what Mad Max gives us – it’s a terrific introduction that leaves us thirsty for more, but lacks the overarching intensity that the Mad Max franchise has come to be known for.

How mad is Max?

This is the movie where you can find Max at both his sanest and craziest. We go from a traditional (albeit boring) hero who likes nothing better than being sweet to his wife, to a cold-blooded and merciless killing machine. You can even pinpoint the moment in those big blue eyes where you see his mind snap.

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A strict Catholic upbringing means I had a rough awareness of sacrilege and blasphemy from a very young age. One particularly memorable incident is when my older sister orchestrated a game of “church” in our living room using a packet of crisps as the bread offering. No sooner had “Body of Christ” been uttered and a ready salted crisp proffered to the congregation had our mother come storming in, snatching away the offending crisps. I remember being totally mystified – I thought my mam would have been happy that we were playing church and she hadn’t offered much of an explanation as regards putting a sudden stop to our game.

In hindsight, explaining the deep intricacies of the sacrilege that is ridiculing “The Blessed Sacrament” to a 5 year old might have been a bit much, but the incident alone left the impression that the game was definitely off limits. The older I got the more I observed disapproving face-turning by my parents as I began to watch more mature television and film, though any attempted parental censoring served to only encourage exploration of media that was apparently offensive to the Christian faith. Speaking from an insider perspective, never underestimate the capacity for a Christian to be offended. Trust me, this statement isn’t entirely mean-spirited.

There is a whole plethora of movies out there regarding different aspects of Christianity which can be labelled as “controversial”, and exploring the whys and hows of these different controversies can give an illuminating insight into our society and ourselves. You can even organise these films into different camps – some are tentatively exploring taboos in an almost spiritual manner, others are offering a scathing social commentary, whilst some are all about the shock value. It is genuinely interesting to see how people do react to these flicks. As a Catholic living in Western Society, I do scoff at the idea of Christian persecution in the likes of the UK and US, and I find such claims to come from a lack of self-awareness. As such, I do try to take any mocking on the chin, but I must confess that some takes on my religion do come too close to the knuckle for my taste, causing me to wince.

So, without much further ado, let us explore the movies that have brought religious mobs to the doors of cinemas.

Monty Python’s Life of Brian (1979)

Monty Python’s Life of Brian is a natural start to this analysis. Usually it’s the first film that comes to mind when discussing mischievous cinema, and being the only comedy in this list it certainly boasts the most ridiculing tone.

Despite its reputation, I am confident that most modern audiences would recognise that Life of Brian’s bark is much worse than its bite, as it suffers from a severe case of misunderstanding.

Researching the outrage it caused upon its release some 40 years ago, and the enormous unfounded conclusions people leapt to at the time, is almost as funny as actually watching the film.

Life of Brian’s origins lie in what was originally a drunken throwaway comment. Tired of questions about what their next project would be during a promo tour of their movie Monty Python and The Holy Grail, Eric Idle blurted out “Jesus Christ – Lust for Glory”. What started as a joke became a serious movie pitch, with controversy following soon thereafter.

The film was promptly dropped by their original production company and no other major film studio would touch it with a barge pole. The only reason this film exists today is because of personal financial investment by ex-Beatle George Harrison, who helped create the production company Handmade Films – probably the most expensive cinema ticket of all time.

With the drama of the actual production over, chaos truly kicked off upon the film’s release. Of course, the most vitriolic responses were found in the US – protesters demonstrated outside of theatres, with notable pickets in New York City making very imaginative comparisons: Python=Serpent=Satan. Uproar also sounded amongst the hierarchy of organised religion in an almost strange demonstration of one-upmanship.

According to Sanjeev Bhaskar  in Why Monty Python’s ‘Foul, Disgusting and Blasphemous’ Life of Brian’ Wouldn’t get Made Today, the film was described as “profane parody” by the Lutheran Council. Speaking to Variety Magazine, Abraham Hecht, President of the Rabbinical Alliance, famously called it “foul”, “disgusting” and “blasphemous”. The Catholic Film Monitoring Office (not wanting to be outdone) declared it a sin to even so much as watch the film.

Even if Life of Brian had no other cultural impact, the words of Terry Gilliam (according to Nicholas Barber’s article for the BBC, Life of Brian: The Most Blasphemous Film Ever) seem accurate (or at the very least, pretty funny): “I thought at least getting the Catholics, Protestants and Jews all protesting against our movie was very ecumenical on our part… we have achieved something useful”.

Outrage was also found amongst European audiences, with a complete ban upon release in both Norway and Ireland. Mary Whitehouse and “The Festival of Light” managed bans across some local authorities in the UK (even from those that didn’t have cinemas within their jurisdiction) but she didn’t actually manage a nationwide ban. But why?

Well, she failed to prove that the film was actually blasphemous.

Despite the upset caused to religious groups (particularly Christians), Monty Python’s Life of Brian isn’t really about Jesus Christ. Instead, the film focuses on Brian Cohen, a man born at the same time as Jesus; a pathetic would-be rebel haplessly trying to sabotage the Roman Occupation of Palestine. Through a series of Python-esque events, he is mistaken for The Messiah. Jesus Christ himself only has a total of three appearances/mentions. Both Terry Jones and Michael Palin are quoted with saying that they didn’t want to make a film about Jesus himself as he was “a very good bloke, saying a lot of very good things” and that there was “very little to ridicule in his life.”

This isn’t to say that Life of Brian is entirely free of offence and controversy however.

Despite their reputation for surreal comedy, the Monty Python troupe have always had a knack for social commentary and they always particularly delighted in ridiculing authority. Firstly, some gags have not aged well at all: blackface during the Magi scene, regular flinging of Jewish slurs (including Brian’s uncomfortable tirade), and the jokes made at the expense of Loretta’s transsexualism are guaranteed to set modern audiences’ teeth on edge.

Once the script had been completed it was sent to be read over by a canon at Windsor Castle’s St George’s Chapel. The canon concluded that it wasn’t blasphemous and was in fact very amusing, noting the script’s mockery of “religious illusions”.

However, this is just one opinion and, for some, certain sketches don’t fall short of outright contempt and disdain for religion, particularly those of Abrahamic origin.

For example, in the stoning scene (in which a man is condemned to death for uttering the name Jehovah), the writing treads an uncomfortable fine line in which Monty Python become dangerously close to perpetuating harmful antisemitic stereotypes. The scene is only rescued by its own sheer absurdity including its bearded ladies, and its perfectly timed punchline. Furthermore, even though Christ is conspicuous by his absence, Monty Python still manages to get those of a Papal leaning frothing at the mouth.

Glossing over the deliberate comparison between Our Lady and Brian’s hideous mother (“are you a virgin?”, the sequence that would leave Catholics stony-faced would be Brian’s crucifixion.

In the Catholic tradition, Jesus’ Passion is a subject of devotion that some individuals train themselves so as to contemplate it with love and adoration. So, to have the nature of Jesus’ death (and there is a resounding academic agreement that crucifixion was a truly torturous form of execution) be tarnished and made a vehicle for comedy would be too much to bear without some offence being caused. With the sensation of Catholic guilt hanging heavily over my head, I must conclude that Brian’s execution is bloody hilarious, crowned by the now iconic “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life”.

Despite this analysis, I don’t think any of the above reasons are the cause for the film’s outrage.

Some of it would be genuine ignorance as many of the protesting faithful wouldn’t even go see the film, but more compelling, I believe it’s because Monty Python’s Life of Brian provides a startlingly unflattering reflection of our own lives.

The film’s continued popularity for 40 years is because its ribbing of the status quo is still relevant to today. What tickled me most in my latest rewatch were the antics of “The People’s Front of Judea” (which I genuinely had to double check in case I mixed it up with The Judean People’s Front) and how painfully similar they were to the current sorry state of Britain’s Political Left. I think I probably cried out “splitter” during the last General Election.

In general, the characters that fill the sets of Life of Brian are petty, small-minded and shallow; all of them without honour or an ounce of piety. The depravity of these characters reaches its peak with the proclamation of Brian as “The Messiah!” The ensuing mob that bicker amongst themselves over gourds and sandals, and brutally murder supposed unbelievers, could be mistaken as a general history of Christianity (with all of its persecutions and schisms) but it is more accurately a depiction of modern hypocrisy – both within and beyond the realm of the Christian faith.

We see all of us.

The weak-minded, eager to follow and be part of the latest fad or craze with little interest in the empirical truth. Yes-men obsessed with gaining power through grovelling and brown-nosing, with no care towards any self-respect. The Materialistic with no ears for matters of the spirit. And, finally, the most frustrating: those desperate to be seen as loyal followers of The Messiah even though they show no love or compassion for their fellow people.

For the many outraged religious, a massive opportunity is being missed by omitting a watch of Monty Python’s Life of Brian as it provides a stark warning against the hubris of a religious high. The dangers of pride and a lukewarm attitude (which are both depicted in the film) can easily kill dead the true spirit of a potentially rich and fulfilling faith. In the words of George Harrison (in an interview with The Evening Standard back in 1966): “If Christianity is good as they say it is, it could stand up to a bit of discussion.”

If you think Life of Brian is bad, you should check out Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life.

“He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, through His wounds we are healed”
-Isiah 53; 700 BC.

Starting with a verse from Isiah’s prophecy of “The Suffering Servant”, Mel Gibson made his intentions very clear that his dramatization of Jesus Christ’s last 12 hours on Earth would tear through the “PG” depiction of Christ’s passion which has infiltrated cinema since its beginning. Thus came about the production of one of the most controversial and hyped-up movies of this century. The bloody violence and gore had itself a hefty 18-rating whacked onto the film, with “The Passion” as a whole becoming subject of much heavy criticism. I specifically remember people’s barely contained awe, shock and excitement in the whispering campaigns in anticipation for the movie, with rumours of the star’s (Caviezel’s) near death-experiences during production. Almost immediately after its release, stories began to circulate of “Road to Emmaus” type conversions in both audiences and cast-members, and of criminals turning themselves into the police. I remember my parents going on a trip to the cinema to see it as part of our local parish outing, and as an 11-year-old at the time, I just remember feeling like the whole thing was so bizarre – it was also the only 18-rated film my parents allowed me to watch at the time.

Over a decade later, Mel Gibson announced that a sequel was in the works – The Resurrection of the Christ – and I cringed, for you see, to summarise in one word how I feel about the former movie it would be: uncomfortable. This may seem quite odd to any regular readers who will know that I adore and have praised several “bible” movies including The Prince of Egypt and The Miracle Maker, but upon re-watching Passion, I have found it to be a two-pronged issue with elements of the actual filmmaking and the movie’s overall impact on the world leaving me slightly perturbed.

Author’s note: Before we go any further, I understand that one of Mel Gibson’s intentions would have been to make the audience uncomfortable, but let’s just see where this piece takes us.

To go back to my introductory point, The Passion of the Christ was Mel Gibson’s directorial attempt to produce an authentic realisation of Jesus of Nazareth’s final day on Earth, according to the Gospels; from the Aramaic and Latin language that would have been used by the ordinary people of the time to the brutality and bloodlust the Roman Empire has been famous for throughout history. But for what ends were these meticulous means taken for? Was this film made for Catholics and Christians to serve in the reinvigoration and realisation of their faith? Or, was it to bring the story of Christ further afield? To quote the Gospels – to “Go and make disciples of all nations…”? I will be discussing these intentions more deeply later, but I would first like to focus on whether the movie’s execution succeeds in inspiring faith in, or deepening the faith of its audience.

Speaking from my own experience as a Catholic, The Passion Story is incredibly important: Jesus’ sacrifice represents God’s love for us, and the lengths he will take for us, bearing the cost of the evil of humanity throughout all of time to spare us the cost of our own actions (so that we can then spend eternity with him). The central story of Christian Doctrine becomes even more personal to me as an individual, recognising that Jesus being a man would go through the same experience as all other humans – the emotional, mental and physical pain of torture and mocking, despairing loneliness as your closest friends betray and abandon you, and of course the ultimate human experience – the fear of death. Knowing God went through these same anxieties and trials on my behalf has always made my observance of Good Friday and Holy Thursday very emotional. So, to me, dramatizations of Christ’s life such as The Miracle Maker and Jesus of Nazareth, have physically deepened my faith, as to see the tangible pain and suffering Jesus went through is a far more moving, transforming experience than hearing it read out from scripture. So, does Mel Gibson’s attempt to depict an accurate account of the sadistically cruel nature of Jesus’ death serve to provide an experience in faith for me? My answer would have to be no.

When I re-watched The Passion of the Christ for this article, I repeatedly found myself disinterested and bored. There were moments of genuine shock and sorrow but, in all honesty, they were far and few between. I felt every minute of the two-hour run-time as the bungled execution left me emotionally unattached from the unfolding plot. Much of the fault can be laid at the writing and directing’s door as several poor elements contributed to my boredom, the most significant of which is the gratuitous violence. The first time I saw the film I was genuinely rattled by what I saw – the movie succeeded in causing me to reflect upon Christ’s suffering during his Passion. However, I was only 11 at the time and this was R-rated violence, something we’ve already established I wasn’t used to. As time has passed, I have watched a great deal of adult content in movies over the years and have been exposed to more violence in cinema. Like all media-addled youths I have become desensitised, but this is no excuse to any filmmakers as I can think of several times the use of violence has impressed me in the movies: I laughed till I cried at Timothy Dalton’s impaling by a miniature church steeple in Hot Fuzz, I reeled in my seat at Kurt Russell’s brutal punch to “Daisy Domergue’s” face in the The Hateful 8, and I remember the almost nauseating shock at the infamous tongue scene from Oldboy.

On a basic level, the amount of violence is impressive but it failed to make an emotional connection, and that is such a cinematic faux pas – violence without reason – especially for a supposedly “holy” film. For one thing, it hindered the actors’ performances – and this is almost an injustice in the context that Caviezel (in the titular role) worked his arse off in this movie from having to emote through a dead language, to nearly dying of hypothermia and asphyxiation. But as soon as Jesus gets knocked around, Caviezel then had to try to act through incredibly heavy make-up and it is evident how much more difficult it became to project an emotional performance through these unwelcome additions. On a shallow note, a more resonating performance may have been achieved if the film was English speaking. Usually I love foreign language films, but in this case the Aramaic and the Latin tongue serve to be an additional degree of removal from the story. Furthermore, the violence fails to bring home the poignancy of the story as the Passion of the Christ has a very similar filming style to other violent blockbusters of the time: the frequently used slow-motion brought Gladiator and even The Matrix to mind, which simply gives the movie a copycat quality – as time passes The Passion of the Christ only has potential to become more unremarkable against its more superior contemporaries of that era. This is a very frustrating conclusion to make as there are a few choice moments of direction which did make my heart ache, the most notable of which was the actual crucifixion scene as Caviezel screams whilst nailed to the cross (his best performance in the movie) as Morgenstern’s Mary squeezes dirt in her hands as her heart is pierced by the sight of her son dying before her. The power of this scene does, however, actually highlight the over-arching issues of the film’s narrative and unfortunately reminds us of what we potentially could have been given.

Morgenstern’s heart-breaking performance as Mary watching Jesus be crucified is one of the many small interactions with Christ by the supporting roles and extras which succeed in achieving the movie’s seemingly intended goal. These infinitesimally small moments as guilt, pity and compassion flit across the faces of the likes of Barrabas, St Veronica and Simon of Cyrene are the parts of the movie which are the most spiritually transforming. It is these small intimate seconds in which audience becomes a part of the movie and of scripture – for to quote Isiah’s Suffering Servant:

“He has no stately form or majesty that we should look upon Him, Nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him. He was despised and forsaken of men,”.

In these brief flashes I realised part of my relationship with Jesus: conflicted, wanting to tear my eyes away from his wretched state but compelled to look on, knowing he drags himself to this pitiful existence for my sake. In writing this, I’m almost angry that these moments are drowned out by the rest of this cumbersome movie as its focus lies largely elsewhere. These brief scenes stand as testament that Mel Gibson bit off more than he could chew in deciding to make a 2-hour movie based on the Passion.

Ultimately what makes The Passion story so powerful is our ability to put ourselves within it, especially in the Christian context of Christ dying for our sins, but this can only be achieved if we find the situation relatable, and this is the cause of audiences turning off during The Passion of Christ. The tale is over-stretched and the supporting characters are neglected. Even Christ himself is in some dire need of exposition, and this is directly caused by only focusing on his story from the Garden of Gethsemane to his death. I believe Mel Gibson knew this too as flashback scenes litter the narrative, almost as if in hope of the audience actually feeling something. Many of these flashback scenes may be stirring but they are a poor alternative to fully complex characterisations. In comparison, The Miracle Maker, an animation based on the story of Jesus aimed at children and families, illustrates an insatiably charismatic and enormously compassionate Christ – it succeeds in making the audience fall in love with him despite being only 90 minutes long. This is because it shows his life and mission within its entirety and you see the incredible effect he has on people’s lives: Simon Peter feels too ashamed to associate with him after Jesus’ miraculous catch, knowing he is an unworthy, sinful man; Mary Magdalene’s unwavering love and adoration for him as Jesus saved her when he could have dismissed her as an unworthy, irredeemable woman like everyone else did. You also understand why he gains such a frenzied following and why those in power plot against him (especially as the film actually bothers to address the political issues of Jesus’ society) – so when the account of the Passion finally comes (which is all done within 15 minutes) you are led into a powerful experience, convinced of how frightened Jesus was of this fate and of his bravery to face it anyway, and all with hardly any blood shown. It deepens the faith. The Passion of the Christ may have also had this power if showed the larger story of Christ, most importantly his ability to reach into the most jaded of people’s hearts. For a film bursting with Catholic influence, it just seems really odd to feature the Resurrection as some sort of after-thought: Christianity wouldn’t even be a thing if we didn’t believe he rose from the dead because, if we didn’t, Jesus of Nazareth would have just been a dude from the past with some ideas which got him killed, the end.

You know, it could make a person think that this movie is supposed to be a guilt trip or something…

In terms of lack of characterisation, the film has issues that exceed that of a lack of empathy from which the audience can draw, and this is where most of the film’s controversy stems from. To be quite literal, if I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up images from The Passion of the Christ, what I tend to see first are the jeering, laughing faces of the Roman Soldiers who tortured and executed Jesus. This alone represents much of what is wrong with The Passion of the Christ as the “villains” of the piece are the prime example of the poor writing and direction of the movie. I appreciate that bloodlust is an uncomfortable aspect of humanity that has followed us through history and an issue we still need to keep in check today – if public executions were a thing today, tonnes of people would still go. However, it is totally overplayed, especially in the case of the Roman soldiers whose actions and reactions seem very unnatural and as a consequence bring you crashing back into reality and out of the movie. I actually re-watched the film with my Dad, and several times throughout the movie he rolled his eyes, sighed and actually pointed out the overacting of those playing these characters, commenting on how unrealistic the performances were. It also brings to mind the troubling idea that this film was intended to be an attempted conversion by guilt trip, by focusing on the torture Jesus suffered.

The issue here comes when the two-dimensional characterisation of the supporting roles strays from lazy and bad writing, to downright offensive when considering characters such as the members of the Sanhedrin. The Sanhedrin were, basically, the religious leaders of the ancient Jewish/Hebrew religion of the time (in which the Temple in Jerusalem was of central importance), and according to the Gospels, they were the group that plotted against Jesus to have him executed by the Romans. It is their depiction in The Passion of Christ which caused outcries and accusations of anti-Semitism from Jewish and Gentile audiences alike. With repeated viewings I do agree with these claims: the direction and writing produces performances which are almost caricature-like. Sbragia as Caiphas, the Chief Priest, is almost laughable as his performance consists of put-upon sneers and jeers; I’m surprised he didn’t rub his hands together in anticipation and glee whilst Jesus was tried by Pontius Pilate. Without wanting to open a theological can of worms, I have been reflecting on whether The Passion Story in all its adaptions and accounts can be free of anti-Semitism, but that’s a question I don’t really have the faculties and research to answer. Furthermore people have argued against the claims of Anti-Semitism with regards to the depiction of the Sanhedrin, saying that the Jewish religion practiced in the time of Jesus was very different to modern-day Judaism and that the Sanhedrin are not openly identified as being Jewish, but I believe that’s a very obtuse argument to make for throughout the history of Christianity, the Passion story has been used to discriminate against Jewish people in the claim that they are “Christ-Killers” with disastrous impacts that would be impossible to encompass in one article.

Films are not made by accident, what we see is the result of deliberate decisions – Mel Gibson knew what he was doing, and there are examples of dramatisation of The Passion in which sensitivity has clearly been exercised. Such a dramatisation is the TV miniseries Jesus of Nazareth, in which Jewish producer Sir Lew Grade and Catholic director Franco Zeffirelli were anxious to produce something “acceptable to all denominations” including “non-believers”. Zeffirelli even consulted experts from different faiths including people from the Vatican, the Leo Baeck Rabbinical College of London, and The Koranic School at Meknes. Consideration of peoples of all creeds is as such evident – a moment that comes to mind is the beginning of the final episode in which the Sanhedrin gather to discuss what to do about Jesus. Thus unfolds intriguing exchanges between a council of elders representing a rich and complex faith and heritage, men who have lived through politically and socially chaotic times with brutal mass executions of their brethren by the Romans fresh in their minds. Within this 10 minute scene, you see the multi-pronged issues Jesus’ mission represents: anxieties that his teachings will incite a Zionist riot which will incur the wrath of their Roman Occupiers, whispered confessions of believing that he may be the Messiah, along with fear that he undermines their power. In comparison The Passion of the Christ fails to give a reason as to why Jesus has been arrested. The only reason that is presented is because the Sanhedrin hate him, and even then their hatred goes largely unjustified. So why the difference? Well, Zeffirelli made the conscious effort to not demonise Jewish people in the depiction of the Crucifixion, Gibson on the other hand… well, comments he made a few years after the film were made speak volumes enough don’t they? According to an article in The Guardian (Stephen Bates), Zeffirelli criticised Gibson in 2004 for perpetuating harmful Jewish stereotypes, depicting them as “sinisterly attracted to the most unrestrained violence”

As I mentioned before, I have contemplated whether the Passion story can ever be presented completely free of anti-Semitic connotations, but have concluded that in the very least Jesus of Nazareth shows what can be achieved when mindfulness is applied to the production. If a production from nearly thirty years prior can show respect and sensitivity to faiths other than Christianity, is it really acceptable for The Passion of the Christ to have been so deficient in this area? I think not. Especially in the context of the time this film came out. In all honesty, I don’t think the mere idea of this film would have been dreamt of if the events of 9/11 had not come about – an aspect of the production and the film’s reception I feel is vitally important. Films like the Raimi’s Spiderman trilogy, Superman Returns, the Bourne trilogy, The Dark Knight, even Bruce Almighty, represent the anxiety of the American identity under threat and their attempt to reassert it in the world from around the same time, and it’s a completely understandable sentiment, but an aspect which became included in the validation of the national identity was Christianity, something I feel did have potentially negative connotations.

The likes of Donald Trump in the States and Theresa May in the UK use Christianity as a means of justifying their politics. They use it, as many historical leaders have done, to justify that these countries are of a moral superiority compared to others, and it’s frustrating to see this as a Catholic, because the way they use it encourages a fear of otherness. “Otherness” meaning anything that doesn’t fit in the basic model of western conservative Christian society. Travellers from targeted Islamic countries were banned from America whilst individuals who came to America as children face deportation as adults, and it’s all done under the lie and façade of preserving the “Christian Culture”, and this is the same kind of morality religious bullshit that was used to justify the Bush administration regarding action in Iraq and Afghanistan, which the whole world is still reeling from today. Now obviously, I can’t blame these complex political issues on a movie, but The Passion of the Christ is symptomatic of the troubles of that era. It plays into the idea of Christianity being under threat (which in places like the UK and the US it simply is not; something I feel is grossly insensitive to the fact of the real persecution some Christians face in other places around the globe) and attempts to reassert Christian identity upon the world. The Passion of the Christ had so much potential – it came at a time where the world was in desperate need of healing. Based on the basic preaching of the Gospels, seeds of friendship and brotherhood could have been sown between warring and differing communities in the spirit of loving everyone, even those who would do you harm. A reaffirming film for Christians and Catholics to learn again the importance of forgiveness and mercy. Instead, what came out was an almost aggressive conversion piece – “LOOK AT WHAT THEY DID TO HIM”… almost. During that time of deep hurt, it should have known better; again, I know that this movie shouldn’t bear the responsibility, but it is part of an attitude I believe has led to the resurgence of the fear of the other, allowing for space for hate groups to flower again.

So here we are at the end of this article, and to be honest I think I’ve scared myself a bit. To look at The Passion of the Christ as simply a film worthy of critique, my critique would be that it isn’t very good – it’s overly long, the direction was clumsy and led to poor performances by the actors, and with each consecutive watch I find it harder to remain engaged, often finding myself wishing I was watching something else. Unlike many of the films and series I have seen made on Jesus’ life, it has had the least emotional resonance with me and had the most meagre impact on my faith. On these counts alone I find it difficult to validate this movie’s success and popularity. On a more serious note, I simply do not wish to accept a movie which uses Jesus Christ’s message and story to create rifts between people it identifies as different to one another. We face difficult times ahead, and to get through this we need to learn to accept each other regardless of who we are – I wish to be blessed with the overwhelming desire to help and love everyone who is in need, and in this cause we shouldn’t tolerate those who try to build walls between us. All in all, there are much better films and TV series about Jesus Christ out there. I do hope that Mel Gibson, in his wilderness years, has learned something new through which to atone for the sins of The Passion with his intended sequel Resurrection.

To critics, this was a step too far. Why would a technologically advanced species invade a planet that is 71% water when their intolerance is so dangerous they literally melt when coming into contact with it?

It’s a fair point…

But maybe the plot twist isn’t entirely what you think it is. Maybe, just maybe, the plot twist is that the invading characters are not Aliens at all, but instead Demons from hell beneath us, or perhaps even angels conducting a purge on mankind.

Think about it…

Signs is filled with characterised and therefore untrustworthy testimony. Shyamalan uses this very thing to advance the plot, informing the central family of the movie – played by Mel Gibson, Joaquin Phoenix, Rory Culkin and Abigail Breslin – of the ever-increasing threat that is enveloping their small and rural farm. Following the unusual appearance of a crop circle in one of their fields, the family are told by speculative witnesses on television that these patterns are the works of extra-terrestrials (ET’s), and despite a speedy and ultimately temporary removal of that source of “information”, the family are quickly presented with yet more speculation regarding the presence of ET’s via the car radio during their “normal” day-time visit to town. In town, the towns-folk are shown to encourage these sentiments, echoing that of the television and radio, and going further to grow this seed when loaning the male child of the group a book on alien visitation. Interestingly, this occurs outside of the male patriarch’s vision as he (Gibson) – a former Reverand – is entangled in a less-than-interesting conversation with a Pharmacy checkout girl. From there, the child’s book becomes a source of knowledge to both the family and ourselves, and thoughts of extra-terrestrial invasion are emphasised by the news stories we witness alongside Joaquin Phoenix’s uncle Merrill. At all times, advances in our understanding of the events are developed by unimportant side characters providing their own point of view. Never is Shyamalan or the camera working to directly state that these invading creatures are in fact Aliens.

What the Hess family know, besides what they’ve been told via all of the untrustworthy testimony mentioned above, is that they’ve been visited by a fast and athletic person/being during the night, that they have had their crops manufactured into a kind of design that can only be viewed from above, that they can hear strange noises on their baby monitor, and that they’re definitely not alone.

The camera is the ultimate narrator of any film, and Shyamalan refuses entirely to show us any kind of certifiably alien indicators except when pointing his camera at third party testimony (the television, the radio, the towns-folk, the book). The ultimate narrator of the story is absent from reinforcing anything to do with the foreign creatures being aliens at all.

Narratively, Shyamalan and his camera gift us the viewer (as seen through the lead patriarch’s flashbacks), a key bonus, to bear witness to the death of the Reverend’s wife.

Told through flashback to what the Reverend witnessed on the day of his wife’s death, we are gifted the knowledge of his personal history and the all important message from God: “swing away”. Of course, this comes to be of the utmost importance to the conclusion of the story in which we suspect God has saved this family from the purge by the Alien race with simple signs only the Reverend and ourselves could possibly see.

Another of the very few story elements we are given directly from Shyamalan and the camera itself is the fact that Abigail Breslin’s character, Bo, has an unhealthy distrust of germs. Should she think her glasses of water have been “contaminated”, she’ll stop drinking them and ask for another. It’s her “gift from God” that ultimately helps in the family’s maintained existence. Each character has one. Merrill (the brother) is a record-holding Baseball player (which comes in handy regarding his defence of the family in the picture’s conclusive moments), Bo leaves her water lying around, Morgan (Culkin) has Asthma which saves him from a poisonous dose at the conclusion of the film, and the Reverend has a temporarily misplaced faith in God to help save them from this life-threatening event.

In short, each of the characters are given gifts that equate to their collective survival.

Signs cleverly uses God as a character in of itself, using it to indicate to the Reverend the clues he’ll need to notice in order escape his hellacious fate. With so much of Shyamalan’s direct messages just so happening to concern the presence of God and the clues he gives, it seems illogical to assume anything to do with the foreign creatures being Aliens is even remotely true. At no point does Shyamalan directly state (through the narration of the camera) that the creatures are ET’s, and in no way does the finale line up with the creatures being invasive aliens. As the critics say, it’s simply illogical.

What makes more sense, given the focus on God in particular, is that the almighty is conducting a purge from which only the most faithful, good and deserving will be saved. The clues given to the Reverend are the character’s final test, and once he passes them, the angels are ousted from their home and the family continues to exist. The only problem here is that the family are given angels to literally burn the angels alive, which seems a little harsh even for a purging God. So let me offer one final solution…

God works in his most mysterious of ways to help this family survive an invasion of hellacious demons from taking them to hell.

Through the tragic death of the Reverend’s wife through to the life-threatening Asthma developed by the Reverend’s son, the seemingly tragic and ungodly becomes the divine, as God – via the use of holy water placed in cups all around the living room by baby Bo – purges the demons from Earth in the ultimate act of love for his creation; humanity.

Besides, do these guys look more like Aliens or Demons to you?

It seems that Shyamalan deserves more credit than he’s been given, but what do you think? Let us know in the comments!

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Signs is the story of former reverend, Graham Hess (Gibson) who loses his faith in religion and blames God for the death of his wife who is killed in a freak car accident before we are introduced to the family. Graham’s brother, Merrill (Phoenix), who now lives with the family, attempts to support Graham who must raise his asthmatic son (Culkin), who resents his father. and young daughter (Breslin), who still struggling to deal with the loss of her mother. Graham’s attempts to rebuild his family are further complicated when crop circles begin appearing on his farm, and while they’re initially dismissed by the father as acts by local pranksters, with the belief that it could be something more sinister becoming more apparent as the story develops, and the ‘signs’ become ever more alarming.

In recent years M. Night Shyamalan has gained a somewhat negative reputation in popular culture, but I still believe he has produced some underappreciated films and Signs (2002) is one of them. Signs is more likely to be hated and ridiculed rather than praised by the majority who have seen it. In favour of the critics, there are a number of moments, including a couple of major plot points that are ridiculous and a bit difficult to accept. The only gripe I have with the criticism is that it’s a film about an alien invasion, an attack from the unknown, therefore I believe an element of imagination is required, particularly for the alien creatures who are a physical manifestation of defied logic. I think there is a lot more to the film and if you can look past its flaws, there’s a very cool film, with the right balance of tension, fear and excitement hiding under it all.

One of the first things you notice about the film is its soundtrack, which has a very distinct and consistent pulse. The opening theme was inspired by Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and it’s been replicated in a very subtle and different way. You can pick up on the familiar violin screeching from the Hitchcock movie, but as opposed to it invoking fear, it creates a sense of mystery with an ounce of dread. It dips into silence and edges into a sense of foreboding and then hits you out of nowhere with a thunderous impact. The up and down vibe the opening soundtrack introduces to us is an insight into the tone of the film.

Shyamalan adopts techniques from his idol, Spielberg, and lets us use our imagination with regard to the aliens for the majority of the movie, as a full shot of an alien is withheld from us until an hour into the film. Along with not being a fan of CGI himself, despite pressure from the studio to use it for the other worldly creatures, Shyamalan refrains from showing us the aliens as much as possible. When the aliens are in a scene, for the most part they are concealed by something – doors, walls and corn fields are all used to hide the aliens from view, but their presence is still felt through shadows and sounds which builds terrifying suspense and helps the movie to capitalise on the fear of the unseen. Towards the end of the film when the Hess family barricade themselves into the cellar, I was reminded of a familiar scene from the John Ford film, The Searchers (1956), where the Edwards family barricade themselves in their home when they come under attack from an Indian tribe. We share the frightening experience of being surrounded by an unknown, savage and violent force, much like in Signs as the aliens share the trait of an unknown hostile force, who, like the Indians in The Searchers, share an element of primitiveness with their inability to open doors. While this idea generated a wave of mockery from fans and critics alike, it does invoke fear, the aliens cannot simply open a door and walk into a room, it’s much more scary for something to break through a door. Despite this primitive side, we also fear how advanced they are because they are masters of space travel and aliens are typically imagined as advanced beings whose technology trumps humans on every level. This balance of savage primitiveness and advanced technology makes them come across as terrifying adversaries for a small town that is isolated from any city, helping to make their situation all the more relatable.

Throughout the film, Shyamalan uses a lot of clever imagery to symbolise aliens and space, from something as simple as stars and moon shapes cut out on structures around the farm, to more subtle shots, like birds-eye-view shots of housing and garden layouts that form odd and unusual shapes, much like the  crop circles in the film. Even the recurring baby monitor Morgan Hess uses throughout the film is very alien; its red and green coloured dotted lights and almost triangular shape represent that of an alien spacecraft.

The acting is convincing and consistent throughout the film too, with only one or two minor scenes that could be questioned. A lot of the news and radio reports within the film designed to create a more authentic and realistic perspective but it is my opinion that they don’t really pull it off and that most are poorly done. All members of the Hess family display fear effectively and convincingly, in particularly the young and fantastic Breslin, who puts on a brilliant performance for a 6-year-old.

Overall it’s a film that has been judged too harshly for its mistakes. It may not make total sense that advanced alien beings would be allergic to water, or invade a planet that is full of it, or even let their radio signals be intercepted by a baby monitor, but as for their inability to open doors, I don’t find it too hard to believe; after all, I’m sure there are certain pieces of primitive technology we could find on earth that we would struggle to work-out. So, generally, if you are able to look past the bad points, Signs is a clever film that successfully builds suspense and depicts a more, if you’ll pardon the pun, ‘down to earth’ invasion – an invasion that cuts us off from civilisation and that isn’t decorated with guns, explosions and poor CGI, which I feel should be appreciated a lot more than it is. M. Night Shyamalan’s Signs is a decent film that doesn’t deserve the ridicule and mediocrity associated with it.

17/24

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