"My name is Harvey milk and I am here to recruit you!" While almost the tagline of the film itself this is thankfully the message Milk steers clearest from. By sticking firmly to the roots of the biopic it titles (that of Harvey Milk, and his rise to become the first openly gay man to be elected into office and the anti-gay laws that are threatening America at the time) than the piece of propaganda it so easily could have become the film allows itself to gently work its way into the viewer. So that even the most ardent of sceptic can't help but feel as enamoured as he is embittered by the film's conclusion.

As a character piece Milk would be nothing without its principle star and just like Mickey Rourke embraced the Ram and Frank Langella sunk into Nixon, Sean Penn plays Harvey Milk with an identical kind of synchronisation. The role may have been harder to pull off than the others but Penn still manages a perfect nuance. All the mannerisms and traits are present but it is the warmth and energy that exudes from Penn that is most wonderful. Rarely has a film about so much oppression felt so optimistic and even rarer still is it to witness a performance so full of life, when faced with odds so determined to eradicate it.

This charm and boldness is complemented (but by no means watered down) by some fantastic supporting roles. The three most central supporters; James Franco, Diego Luna and Emile Hirsch's characters all bring a wonderfully different set of behaviours to the political operation, aptly and deftly showing the pressures, enthusiasm and heart braking troubles that such a dedicated agenda can bring. Alison Pill's character, the lesbian activist brought in to help organisation, is just as well placed but her separation from the others is due to her being the focal part of Milk's most enduring moment. On her arrival to a slightly sagging political operation she is greeted by a stream of discomfort from all those at work, to which she quickly jumps on, asking wryly "are you all afraid of girls?" Wonderfully enough, you can tell pretty much immediately that answer to this question is actually yes.

But with this joviality comes the malice from which it stormed, and in this respect where Milk was brash and open in its heroes, it's dark and subtle with its villains. Most films use real footage sporadically and gracelessly. With Milk however, the transition between the two is so seamless and natural that it's hard to think of a film that does it better. No where else is this more evident than in its use of Anita Bryant, the angelic, picket fences spokeswoman, whose hate-hidden behind-crucifix attitude is only shown through her real life television appearances. Creating a permanent image of reality when faced with the almost unbelievable arguments put forward by such persons. The star of this however remains Josh Brolin's seething portrayal of Dan White, the official up against Harvey Milk for the latter half of the film. It actually took me a second viewing to appreciate Brolin's performance; so understated is his portrayal that it's easy to miss it when played opposite Penn's bravado. But it's so well perfected (literally every delivery has a little falter of discomfort, a slight bite of resentment) that it can't help but feel like the perfect support role to Penn.

As biopics go Milk is a somewhat flawed reality. While Penn's performance is exquisite it remains a glorifying portrayal of a man notable for his polygamy and stubbornness. But as a film it oddly transcends that singular vision of just the story of 'one man'. Milk is a movement piece, displaying a rare warmth not just for those cast but to those who are suffering from the same kind of alienation milk exhibits, but never overplays. As said before it is remarkable how Milk never seems to fall into the caption of being a piece of propaganda. It has that honesty, that sense of good will to celebrate a man's accomplishments for the simple need of celebration. But that is not what I found most remarkable about Milk. What I found most remarkable was how I had never managed to hear Harvey Milk's name until now. How, when Martin Luther King's name is used so frequently in American civil rights is it that this man's name is never even uttered in the same breath? We all need symbols of hope, and when one is as exuberant and joyful as this one; you can't help but feel recruited.

It is ironic that in the same year Jack Nicholson was faulted for merely playing himself as the 1989 Joker, Mickey Rourke shows just how effective this relationship can be. Rourke plays out his life in 115 minutes as Randy 'The Ram' Robinson; a former icon now reduced to school hall signings and amateur fight nights. "You never really stopped acting" an interviewer once said to Mickey Rourke, "yeah but I acted in a lot of crap" Rourke tactfully replied.

It is in his performance that Rourke gives the film its real resonance but it is in that which is represented that provides the film with its strangest interest. In refusing to belittle the sport (or stage) of wrestling director Darren Aronofsky has created something of an eye-opener. The films' opening backstage scenes reveal the workings of these fights as pseudo-improvised acting and presents the wrestlers themselves as respectful-if rather odd fusions of actors, bodybuilders and athletes. On the more extreme end The Wrestler showcases the more dangerous side of 'Hardcore' wrestling, which includes (in this case the very real use) of staple guns, barbed wire and planks of wood. More importantly, the films shows the long term self destruction of its stars. Rourke's character is battered and worn out; his heart collapsing under the years of steroid abuse necessary for his physique, his finances nonexistent and his family no longer apparent. Alone except for the stripper he visits almost every night Randy seeks redemption with his estranged daughter and wishes to form something more with the stripper he visits.

These are familiar themes for any sports drama but rarely are they handled with such an unnatural sense of realism. The direction is almost documentary-esque and the soundtrack never seeps into anything more than ambience. But it is again the performances that give the film its added weight. The 45 year old Marisa Tomei plays stripper Cassidy with the same kind of realisation as Rourke plays 'The Ram'. Too old to be doing what she does her life runs parallel to Randy's in the same way that her playing a stripper at 45 (no matter how good she looks) mirrors her character. Evan Rachel Wood as the forgotten daughter may or may not have been abandoned when she was younger but her startling transformation in the equally self destructive Thirteen at least gives her some experience in the unhinged daughter role.

Against the weight of all other films The Wrestler presents something far crueller. For all the fame, for all the glory Randy has lost everything to that which he loves and there are some pains that just can't be healed and there are some realities we don't want to face. "The only place I get hurt is out there" he plainly tells Cassidy at the start of the films heart breaking climax. There is humour along the way, but it's bittersweet as it always carries the further realisation of how out of touch Randy is with the world. The scenes where he is trying to find a present for his daughter or when he plays a videogame with one of his neighbours are brilliantly portrayed but they build up: fusing with the moments of him just trying to get by, or when he's at autograph signings-the camera lingering on the canes and wheelchairs of his associates. It results in a film that combines self loathing, obsession, narcissism and redemption to create a character that could not be played by anyone better, by anyone else. And as the final shot fades to black you couldn't ask for a better ending; leaving you to ponder for a few weighted moments over the only conclusion that can be drawn, just long enough to hear Bruce Springsteen quietly count the film into the credits, and sum up Rourke's character in one mournful line: "If you've ever seen a one trick pony then you've seen me."

It's always nice to be appreciated and it's also nice to actually take part in a union that you have a genuine interest in. The Writers Lounge is quite a small union for the length of a time it has been operating (around a year), but it has a dedicated community of users who upload such varied works as poems, reviews, short stories and yes-the occasional piece of fan fiction.

I'm more of a lurker in the union itself, as I myself only really take part in writing reviews (though one of my pieces of coursework for my english gcse was a Half Life 2 story) I only feel like i'm a member there for a portion of what the union is about. Nevertheless, when the Writers' Lounge announced they were having a review competition I though it'd be the perfect time to take a stab at seeing what the union had to offer.

As you can tell, I won the competition. I used my de Blob review as it was the most recent review I posted and you can take a look at in my profile. There was some hefty competition, including Aberinkulas, who-as well as being one of my favourite reviewers on Gamespot-procured a review for Half Life; a game that is not only very hard to analyse (given its status), but also one of my favourite games.

Upon winning the competition i was granted with this nice little tag which I have since put in my signature.

Though it didn't make my impending exams any easier to think about, it certainly made me feel extremely happy and made the somewhat frustrating wait for ONM's December review competition to seem more bearable (currently there's still no announcement there).

You can check out the Writers' Lounge here, the competition itself here and the results page here.

Much like the main characters it presents Bridge to Terabithia is caught in the middle of being both a children's and an adult's film. It delves into the areas of fantasy, hope and friendship all against the backdrop of loneliness, under appreciation and worry. Like all good films it combines the two to produce a sweet, endearing and at times heart breaking film.

The film gently introduces its main characters to us, establishing family set ups and main characters positioning throughout their school system. Unsurprisingly main character Jess Adams is a bit of a misfit, his farmyard upbringing the brunt of the bullying he faces at school. Once this is established we meet Leslie Burke, the likewise equally misunderstood female character who plays the role of the slightly kooky, imaginative girl. Like all childhood friendships their relationship develops quickly, a slight sense of tension at the start is quickly forgone thanks to some tried and tested chewing gun and a race to a tree. It's both a charming and an idyllic relationship, hints of romantic interest remain appropriately as hints-never going too far but amicably showing affection and the ever popular method of having two friends have a quarrel and then make up later in the movie is thankfully avoided. The actors themselves are strong as well. I was never really a fan of Josh Hutcherson (who plays Jess) mainly because I didn't like Zathura, but here he gives a strong performance, particularly from someone his age. Likewise AnnaSophia Robb (Leslie) is also strong. Her more positive and inquisitive character is easier to pull off than Josh's (who, it has to be said has to go through varying emotional stages) but she does do her job very well and most importantly the chemistry between the too leads is there is full force. This is perhaps the area where Bridge to Terabithia will mostly appeal to adults. Children will find the early parts tedious, anxiously waiting for Terabithia itself, but for adults the two characters relationship is one of endearing innocence. Such relationships can never happen with those past that mystical puberty ridden gateway so the sense of friendship and excitement is all the more powerful here.

Something that well extends into Terabithia itself. The two create this dreamland out of their own forest as a means of escaping the bullies and school that populate their real lives. Its meaning is not merely so superfluous however; this is a world where both can foster their own gifts of imagination and creativity. Terabithia turns out not to be a means of escape but a means of creation. It is a world that adults really have no business entering or have any means of even attempting to enter. As someone who long ago crossed the bitter border that separates childhood from teenage angst I felt slightly incredulous about how they could imagine such a world based on real features; but that was the thing that really got to me about Bridge to Terabithia, it's a film that I can no longer fully connect with because it is an idea that has mournfully now left me. Ultimately this made the film connect to me on a different level and one that truly had a far greater impact. It reminded me of how wonderful and escapist being a child can be. How turning ordinary events into extraordinary creations was not only the norm but also brilliantly fascinating. Again, thankfully the film keeps this sense of imagination alive; whereas in most films the parental figure at some points tells the child to grow up and live in the real world here such a feeling are never presented. Though the family are financially struggling and although the Dad still asks for Jess to help out more the intrusion of family life into this world is never pressed. What really takes Bridge to Terabithia to the next level is how the opposite occurs. The real world does not take its toll on Terabithia, Terabithia makes its mark on the real world and it is at this point that the true reasoning behind growing up, the true understanding of knowing the limitation to such fantasies make their most tragic mark.

Bridge to Terabithia is a film that deals with the realities of life in ways we perhaps would not want it to deal with. Films often deal with growing up when faced with adversity, but rarely do films show this sense of childhood-this innocence in the imaginative sense. It has its share of niggles-the script is aimed and necessarily written for younger people and at times you will see the characters do things you would rather they didn't. But this is because you can see so much of yourself here in this film that it resonates with you to the point at which the somewhat repetitive dialogue ("wow" "Jess over here" "wow") becomes not only understandable but also familiar. In the end this is a film that has made me wonder why I ever even wanted to grow up in the first place but more importantly it made me look up at the trees and wonder just what could really be lurking there... a valt, a gredarg, or even a chelit perhaps? You have no idea what these are because I made these creatures up after watching Bridge to Terabithia. The film gave this particular reviewer part of his imagination back, and for that he is eternally grateful.

The Holocaust is an issue that has been tackled repeatedly through film, be it in black and white or told from the perspective of someone who was actually there. It is almost cruelly logical to then assume that the latest film documenting this event would come from a different source to previous attempts to tackle the subject. The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas is told through the eyes of Bruno, the son of the Kommandant of an unc!assified concentration camp. This fresh perspective, one of innocence and unknowing is what separates the film from most war films let alone Holocaust dramas and its final, eventual end packs just as much punch as any film before it.

Attempting to explain the weight of the Holocaust through film is a hard enough task and there is always the risk that you will overbear its effects. The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas is in the very unique position of never having to walk that fine line. Told through Bruno, the feelings of anti-Semitism and the unjust are only passively mentioned in the early parts of the film- there are multiple shots of Jews being moved out of their houses in Berlin but this soon cuts away as we follow Bruno playing a game that passes through the deportations. Later on in the film the subject matter is tackled more strongly as the issues of his fathers owns prejudices and the people around him are exposed due to the reliance the new household has on Jewish workers. Though Bruno's knowledge of anti-Semitism is steadily increased the knowledge of the concentration camp itself is heavily kept secret throughout almost all of the film. The innocence Bruno exhibits while asking Shmuel about the "farm" he is living in has a bitter kick in it that continues throughout the film. Even when Bruno eventually finds out that the place really is a concentration camp the questions he asks (particularly regarding the crematoria and the location of Shmuel's father) are still uncomfortable to see being asked.

While perspective wise the film retains a fairly original position, in terms of characters the film maintains almost Holocaust genre stereotypes. Bruno himself is the typical child hero; totally innocent, a natural explorer, relatively quick minded. His sister too is the familiar Hitler Youth offspring; her early collection of dolls, cast away in the early portions of the film due to "dolls being only for little girls". As the Kommandant of the camp, Bruno's father is particularly anti-Semitic and although his contrasting affection to Bruno is expected, the films conclusion results in the Kommandant himself having the biggest life lesson to learn. Bruno's mother plays the role of the vaguely innocent parent, who knows and follows through on the anti-Jewish requirements until she suddenly u-turns thanks to an act of kindness by a Jewish man and her discovery of what the camp was really for. While none of these characters are really given any leeway to show off until the end the character of Lieutenant Kotler, the again stereotypical screaming Nazi Jew hater, is one that even within the confides of such an established typecast is still terrifying to watch. Actor Rupert Friend deserves perhaps more credit than any other side character in the movie-though I would be perhaps too scared to tell him that.

The two principle leads of Bruno and Shmuel (played by Asa Butterfield and Jack Scanlon respectively) are the soul of the film however and as they are the main characters it is a relief that they are acted superbly. Both manage to portray the sense of innocence required for the film without the feeling of stupidity that occasionally comes across from child stars. Their friendship is the real meat of the film however and although their innocence is the crux of the films weight, it is in their friendship that the nature of the Holocausts injustice is so horrifically felt. The two feel like twins; their personalities are perfectly matched and they both seem to enjoy the same things and in a normal world they would no doubt be the best of friends, but can't thanks to Nazi beliefs that the two were so incompatible. Indeed, these childlike realisations of hypocrisy are felt elsewhere in the film. It would be ruinous to mention these now, but let's just say that Nazi ideals that the Jew was so easily identifiable from the Aryan are proven to be certainly false. Such realisations are never forced down your throats and throughout the film Bruno never openly retorts the anti-Semitic ways, he simply doesn't understand them and chooses to simply ignore them as a result. His non-judgemental nature manages to keep the films innocence alive, even when you think the film could potentially detour off into the preachy nature of children always knowing right from wrong better than adults.

Unlike most Holocaust films The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas requires the viewer to suspend belief for portions of the film. Several instances: such as the apparent lack of guards patrolling the perimeter fences, the lack of knowledge that Shmuel is away for large portions of his work detail and the apparent ease it is that these two boys can get so close to each other are all surrealisms that are necessary if the films premise is to be workable at all. The use of very British actors and therefore accents, while a welcome change from the American dirge that so often occurs in such films, is still off key for such a film-and although inevitably none of these features detract from the weight of the films final scenes, much of the earlier portions of the film will be spent fighting off such contradictions.

The Holocaust is reported to be the most cinema treated moment in film history and there are some who may dismiss The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas as lightweight entry to such a series. While it's insular perspective and childlike approach may cause some to cast it off in favour of grander sweeping accounts such as Schindler's List that would be entirely missing the point. While small in stature the films emotional punch is one very different from the likes of The Pianist and although its cinematography may not be as inspired as the aforementioned when you ultimately come down to it a film of this nature is judged on the success it has on making the viewer feel some emotional weight towards either the subject matter, or its characters. And if you were looking for a defining picture of the Holocaust you would need to look no further than the last shot of this movie-the slow creep back of the camera, to reveal the discarded striped suites of hundreds of Jewish workers. The bolted door at the centre of the shot, deafeningly quiet-marking their final resting place.