TWO BRAND NEW CALL OF DUTY: BLACK OPS 4 TRAILERS DROP AHEAD OF TOMORROW'S LAUNCH

TWO BRAND NEW CALL OF DUTY: BLACK OPS 4 TRAILERS DROP AHEAD OF TOMORROW'S LAUNCH

Only one more day until the world goes black for the launch of Call of Duty: Black Ops 4!

Today, Activision has launched not one, but two new trailers to get you hyped to jump in!

The first gives you a taste of what’s to come with Treyarch’s famous zombies - this is 'Blood of the Dead' in Call of Duty: Black Ops 4, a reimagined return of a fan-favourite, complete with surprises hidden within the iconic penitentiary.

The second is Blackout 101 - battle on land, air, and sea to be the last one standing. Drop into Call of Duty’s biggest map ever in an all-new Battle Royale mode.

Call of Duty: Black Ops 4 launches worldwide on October 12 on PlayStation 4, Xbox One and PC. For more information and the latest intel, fans can check out the Call of Duty website, YouTube and follow @CallofDuty_ANZand @Treyarch on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. 

Destiny 2: Forsaken: PS4 Review

Destiny 2: Forsaken: PS4 Review

Platform: PS4
Released by Activision

Destiny 2's latest expansion is all about making sure people stick around.

The growing multiplayer world means there is less and less chance of people sticking around and being loyal to the worlds Bungie created. It's not their fault in fairness; it's a case of there being too many options to be a part of - Star Wars: Battlefront suffered from empty matchmaking, and long waits to join game.

But Bungie's been determined to retool the franchise, and by signalling the end of Cayde-6 was a more mission statement than anything.

Centred around a hunt for the killing of Cayde-6, and adding in new missions, extra gear and loot, a mission statement that signalled the Year 2 of the franchise and an intent to stick around for the long haul.

It's a simple story of revenge, and one which builds on character to make sure that the wonder of the game is restored, and the reason to come back, take part in the festivals and stories is there. With a world that's now addicted to Fortnite, Destiny needed to do something radical and while it could be argued that they didn't quite do that, the fact they've listened to the community marks out why Bungie's serious about Destiny.

It's the personal touch that gives Destiny 2: Forsaken the edge it needs; the chance for you to negotiate your missions to avenge Cayde-6 gives you more of a reason to engage with them once again.

A great use of spaces and locations helps Destiny 2 Forsaken expansion build a sense of purpose and draw a line in the sand for what the franchise will want to be. There is a bit of a grind once again to build your Guardian up but it has to be said, with a story this engaging, it's all worth it.

Bad Times at the El Royale: Film Review

Bad Times at the El Royale: Film Review

Cast: Jon Hamm, Jeff Bridges, Dakota Johnson, Lewis Pullman, Cailee Spaeny, Cynthia Erivo
Director: Drew Goddard

Mashing noir, mystery, Hitchcock and horror, meta-horror The Cabin In The Woods director Drew Goddard's Bad Times at The El Royale's mix proves to be an intriguing cocktail that tastes initially sweet, but slightly sours towards the end.

Set in 1969 and in a hotel that straddles two state lines (Nevada and Califronia "warmth and sunshine to the west, hope and opportunity to the east"), a series of strangers, each with a secret, check in to the El Royale.

Among their number is Jeff Bridges' priest, Cynthia Ervio's soul singer, Jon Hamm's salesman, and Dakota Johnson's mysterious edgy woman. As the night progresses, the reality of what's going on gradually reveals itself, leading to an unexpected showdown.

It's difficult to write too much about the occasionally slow Bad Times at The El Royale without giving too much away.

The sense of mystery is predicated by a "chapters" feel to proceedings which sets up the goings on, before delivering a punchy ending and leaving you wanting an immediate resolution to each vignette.

And in some ways, that's also part of the problem of Bad Times at The El Royale - a deliberately delayed gratification which gradually dulls the shocks as they come. Certainly the first comes absolutely out of nowhere and is breath-taking; but after that, you start to feel dulled to it and expect that each ending will have them.

All roads lead to the arrival of Chris Hemsworth's Charles Manson type character, complete with acolytes in the third act of the film. But unfortunately, Hemsworth doesn't quite pull off the menace required, landing more on slightly campy sinister Jim Morrison than actually full on frightening; certainly, the charisma of the leader isn't quite there, even if you're repeatedly distracted by the shirtless sculpting going on.

That said, there are some moments that Bad Times at The El Royale pulls off with veritable aplomb.

The sense of unfolding mystery and off-kilter edges are nice touches throughout, with unease and a sideswipe at authority of the time propelling what's unfolding; more is implied than explicitly said at times, and it works well - even if at 140 minutes, the film starts to flag under its own weight. It ends in a fiery spectacle, befitting of the Hell implications of the Royale, and also showing how characters have to walk the line between right and wrong.

In love with its own soundtrack (even down to Erivo's continually impressive, but sometimes irritating, Motown singing), Bad Times at The El Royale's queasy mix of time hops, false starts and occasional propensity to shock makes it a carny ride of dramatic proportions, as everyone looks for some kind of redemption.

But the MVP of proceedings is easily Lewis Pullman's concierge Miles. Without revealing too much, Pullman imbues Miles with an edgy demeanour of a guy caught in the wrong place at the wrong time - and it's quite unnerving and electrifying.

Not quite the chamber piece you'd be expecting, Bad Times at The El Royale benefits from Goddard's now trademark subversion of the genres involved. It's a notch above pulpy at times, but its ultimate switch at the end isn't quite as strong as the build up would have you hoping for.

It is one hotel to check into though, but you'll be glad it's for one night only.

First Man: Film Review

First Man: Film Review

Cast: Ryan Gosling, Claire Foy, Jason Clarke, Ciaran Hinds, Kyle Chandler
Director: Damien Chazelle

The story of the first Man on the Moon is not one that needs to be told.

Everyone knows how it happened and that it happened (unless you subscribe to the conspiracy theories), so Whiplash and La La Land director Damien Chazelle didn't really have his work cut out convincing us of what happened.

However, once again, as he explores the nature of obsession (as with previous films), Chazelle's occasionally slow but neverless than thrilling First Man is the Neil Armstrong film you didn't know you needed.

Gosling's almost automaton-like turn as the pilot turned astronaut anchors the film - though in truth, the connection with family is actually at the core of this space flick. Taking in the years 1961 to 1969 and threading in the death of Armstrong's daughter, First Man looks at the human cost of the space race, the desperation of defeat from the Soviets in parts and those left behind.

It's an interesting concoction, a mix that's slow to brew at times, and that never jettisons pace for necessity of narrative.

But in its space capsule sequences, and its adaption of practical FX (where possible - you'll be hard pressed to find any line), Chazelle, along with sound effects editor Phil Barrie, creates something utterly nerve-shredding.

Clever use of silence (aside from the actual launch for the Moon mission, the one aural misstep where a bombastic OST ruins the atmosphere) and a concentration on the rivets and creaks of the rocket's capsule make the pilot sequences both claustrophobic and thrilling.

Everything rattles - including your teeth - giving you a psychological insight into what the pilots must have felt inside, not knowing what's coming or if this is the end. It's further exacerbated in one sequence where a thump and puff of smoke viewed from outside is utterly devastating.

Simply put, if the use of sound in First Man doesn't secure some kind of award, the system is broken.

Elsewhere, Gosling's touches give Armstong an aloof icy detachedness - you're never quite 100% sure you get to his core, and there are questions about one final sequence on the moon. However, small subtle moments add to the unfolding tension. And Foy's support swerves unnervingly from solid to faltering under the pressure; again, both Foy and Gosling make the best of their slightly under-served arcs. It's not 100% convincing that you leave First Man knowing massively more about the man himself, though it's not entirely clear whether that's the film's MO - and certainly, those who knew Armstrong say they never really knew him.

Equally the politics of space-race are sidelined in favour of the simplicity of the drama; this is not a film where great speeches are dispatched extolling the virtues of why it's important, how small man is etc.

But it's in the thrill and terror of this technically adept biopic that proves to be enthralling; you can understand the joy of what NASA achieved and how they felt, even if the script fails to fully place it into words for you.

And that's perhaps Chazelle's greatest achievement here - a clinical commitment to the nuts and bolts (literally) of NASA and the rush to space that proves First Man is gripping from beginning to rather abrupt end.

First Man is one giant leap for space cinema in many ways.

Ladies In Black: Film Review

Ladies In Black: Film Review

Cast: Angourie Rice, Julia Ormond, Rachael Taylor, Noni Hazlehurst
Director: Bruce Beresford

Pleasingly gentle and relentlessly pleasant, Bruce Beresford's period drama Ladies In Black is one of those cautionary films that feels contemporary with its message that refugees add much to the country mix.

Set in 1950s Sydney in a downtown department store, Goodes, it's the tale of Lesley (Rice, in bookish form, who takes up a summer job with the ladies working there.

On the cusp of moving away from being a child and into womanhood, Rice's Lesley yearns to be at university and a poet or actress, but her desire to embrace a new life is met with indifference from most of her uncultured co-workers and indignation from her father who's not sure he wants his daughter at uni.

But taken under the wing of Julia Ormond's refugee haute couture dresser Magda, Lesley begins to flourish...

Ladies In Black doesn't do conflict.

There are elements of it hinted within the kind of fluffiness that an older generation will enjoy, but its messages of female empowerment and of refugees adding much to the cultural mix come in easy to swallow doses, with nary a hint of major drama anywhere.

A side-plot involving one of the shop staff losing her husband is bizarre at best; but there are some nice touches throughout the frothiness that hint at more below. Shots of various members of staff at Christmas add a soupcon of something undisturbed and unexpanded, because Ladies In Black isn't interested in spinning anything other than a slightly rose-coloured tinted look at life in 50s Sydney.

It's not exactly a shame, and it's clear Beresford and his capable direction is not looking to rock the apple cart, but when a film is best described as gentle and pleasant, you can tell there is more that could have been done.

Ormond, Rice and Taylor give creditable performances, and the rest of the ensemble works well, but ultimately Ladies In Black isn't interested in doing much more than delivering a film that keeps an older generation amused.

The storylines don't challenge, the threats don't mount up and the denouements can be predicted a mile off - but in terms of today's cinematic offerings, its desire to play safe and unswerving from predictable is possibly to be commended - as this is easily a film you can take your mum and your nan too, and not worry about a thing.

Doctor Who: The Woman Who Fell To Earth: TV Review

Doctor Who: The Woman Who Fell To Earth: TV Review

In the old days, post-regeneration episodes of Doctor Who were about introducing the new Doctor over a few episodes, throwing in a cursory threat and establishing a template for what was to come, before letting the new Doctor triumph and show the audience it was still the same fella it always was.

Post 2005 Who regeneration episodes were all about hinting at arcs, or knockabout fare that saw the Doctor emerge triumphantly and defiantly onto the screen, burning away the predecessor with a generous slice of one-upmanship.

The debut of 2018's newest Doctor, Jodie Whittaker, is more than that this time around - it's a mission statement from the moment it begins.

For a world that's been split by the fact the Doctor is now a woman for the first time in 55 years, and to a show which was, in truth, losing its way a little.

In The Woman Who Fell To Earth, Jodie Whittaker emerges triumphantly and commandingly as the Doctor - there's no doubting this mix of hyper-kinetic energy with elements of Tom Baker's tooth and curls and David Tennant's bounding enthusiasm fused tightly together into one blonde bundle.

And yet, both new showrunner Chris Chibnall and Whittaker do something more with new Doctor Who - they make it inclusive.

It's a full 10 minutes or so before the new Doctor comes onto the screen via the roof of a train.

Before then, Chibnall's brought us an England we all know - a melting pot mix of race and culture, complete with a central hero who's identifiable - Tosin Cole's dyspraxic Ryan. It looks like nothing
Who's ever done before and has diversity all over it the moment it starts - from the locations to the people, this is a Doctor Who retcon for all.

And while there are elements of Matt Smith's opener The Eleventh Hour, and elements of one other sci-fi series that had a reboot just recently at the movies, The Woman Who Fell to Earth is as much Jodie Whittaker's hour, as it is her friends around here.

"Echoes of who I was and calls forward to who I am" is one line uttered by the Doctor, and could in truth be a MO for the show. Sure, it's the series we all knew and loved, but it's changed a bit - and with a multi-generational, ethnically mixed cast, this is a Doctor Who for the now.

Pre-publicity shouted about how it's about time, and the declaration of intent is there from the moment the slickly produced show fires up.

It looks nothing like Who has done before, and that's great; it's a fresh cinematic coat of paint on a series that needed it. But for every moment of freshness, there's a nod to the past.

Atmospherics that drip with tension, suspense that's terrifying to a family audience, and humour from our hero to puncture it (that and a love of a fried egg sandwich, a salty nod to the heart of Sheffield where the show now resides).

From the moment she falls in from the train, Jodie Whittaker's in charge, and that's a good thing. It's like she's never not been there, and it's a performance that zings as much as it should, as you watch her grow into the role before your eyes, becoming the Doctor while simultaneously acknowledging what's passed. The second episode should give us more insight into this Doctor and character though.

Crafty little echoes of Logopolis, signs of the occasional early ruthlessness of Peter Capaldi's Doctor, but grounded in a humanity, Whittaker delivers all of it and more.

But in truth, her co-players in the ensemble deliver as well - from Bradley Walsh's former bus driver Graham, to Cole's Ryan via Mandip Gill's Yasmin, the team gels instantly, even if occasionally the script's simplicity and sensibilities fail it. (And one glaring plot hole from before goes unanswered.)

All in all, The Woman Who Fell To Earth is a pacy rallying cry for Doctor Who.

It's both steeped in the past, and looking defiantly and definitively into the future - one speech (that's almost fourth wall breaking) talks of how we can evolve while staying true to who we are, honour who we've been and who we want to be next.

It's stirring stuff, and yes, it's truly about time.

Beast: Film Review

Beast: Film Review

Cast: Jessie Buckley, Johnny Flynn, Geraldine James
Director: Michael Pearce

"If you keep carrying that around, you don't get to stand up straight."

A line spoken midway in the searing and sensational psychological thriller Beast sums up most of what transpires here.

Anchored by a stunning lead from Buckley, it's the story of Moll, a 27-year-old who lives at her Jersey home under the monstrously cruel eye of her mother (Geraldine James, in a beyond icy and non-maternal role) due to something in her past.

On her birthday, she's upstaged by the announcement of the imminent arrival of twins, and heading out for the night she encounters "bit of rough" Pascal (Flynn, an almost Tom Felton-esque physique). Initially disinterested, Moll forms a connection to Pascal, despite the warnings from her family and others about the apparent bad boy.

As she begins to rebel, the backdrop of a series of brutal murders on girls comes crisply into focus...

Beast is a terrific film that revels in its atmosphere of unease.

Pulling in very familiar elements and the oppressive nature of small town mentalities, it could so easily have crumbled under the weight of its-been-there-seen-it-repeatedly-before story.

However, anchored by a truly gripping performance from Buckley as Moll, the film finds a way to transcend its cliche, and become some kind of spiritual partner to The Falling, Picnic at Hanging Rock and any other film that clues in alienation / rebellion.

Buckley's ability to deliver a natural performance, complete with a feeling of depth from an unknown past makes Moll as much a dangerous character as the perceptions swirling around Pascal. Wrestling both a desire to rebel, a want to escape the controlling grip of her mother, and an inherent internal conflict, Buckley turns in a nuanced and subtle performance which feels rounded and sickeningly engaging.

As the twisted touches play out, Beast's ability to grip right until the very end gels well with its sense of unease. Sour and suspenseful, director and writer Michael Pearce makes Beast soar; but it's his leading actress that makes this mix of dread and desire rise effortlessly into the stratosphere.