Hotel Transylvania
One of the earliest shots in this rollicking animation is of the shadow that is cast on a wall by the bony bent fingers of Dracula (voiced by Adam Sandler). It is an unambiguous reference to the same iconic image in FW Murnau’s 1922 classic, Nosferatu. Vampires, zombies, werewolves and other members of the undead have been with us on screen for as long as people have been making films, and may they flourish yet (the scene in which the monster in James Whale’s 1931 Frankenstein is welcomed into the blind peasant’s cottage is one for the ages. ‘Friend, good.’)The monster (erroneously called Frankenstein) is just one of many happily identified characters and much loved tropes called on by director Genndy Tartakovsky to celebrate the genre. The setting is Dracula’s castle, where a who’s who of horror has gathered for the 118th birthday party of Mavis (Selena Gomez), his gorgeous ‘young’ daughter. Like all teenagers, Mavis is getting rebellious and wants to venture out into the world, but her widowed father forbids her to leave the sanctuary that he has created in the dark Transylvanian forest. Arriving unannounced is a back-packing ranga, Jonathan (Andy Samberg), and for him and Mavis it is love at first sight. Naturally, Dad won’t have a bar of the budding romance and when we learn of Dracula’s tragic back-story we can understand why. There is plenty of fab visual stimulation, frenetic action, witty dialogue (including a gratifying put-down of Twilight) and upbeat dance music, but what is most likeable about the movie is its morality. Youthful defiance of parental control is a theme that the tweens that this is aimed at will identify with immediately, but beyond that old chestnut there is a more urgent message being promoted. Acceptance of the ‘other’ is a quality in desperately short (and diminishing) supply these days, so the rapprochement between Dracula and the star-crossed kids, and between the scary outcasts and the normal people of the town provides a priceless lesson for us all. ~ John Campbell

Ruby Sparks
Whenever I see the word ‘quirky’, which has been applied to this probing but mushy dramedy, I reach for my gun. In cinema, it usually hints at a movie that is original without being quite as smart as it thinks it is, though sometimes you can’t actually put your finger on what’s annoying you because the good bits wash over the irritant. Calvin (Paul Dano) is a novelist who’s done nothing since his great success of ten years ago. Blocked, lonely and loveless except for his dog Scottie, his shrink (Elliott Gould) advises him to write about the girl of his dreams. Calvin commences doing so (on a typewriter – an affectation that was too whimsical by half for mine) and one day he goes downstairs to find the flesh-and-blood girl, Ruby (Zoe Kazan), in his kitchen. This is the story’s central conceit – that an imagined person can mysteriously manifest herself. How can this be explained? Calvin has no idea, and is further flummoxed when Ruby is very visible to his brother Harry (Chris Messina – the casting director could not possibly have found two actors who look less like siblings). The jump that the audience needs to take to rationalise it is straightforward enough, but you get the impression that you are not considered capable of making it. Metaphysical on one level, with an overly clichéd depiction of the tormented artist, it barely rises above the mundane on another, as we follow what is basically just a run-of-the mill romance, with its ups and downs. Written by Kazan, there are some acute insights into the male’s possessive, controlling urges, but Ruby is too cute and kooky to be anything more than a cut-out. The really annoying segment comes when they visit the leafy bohemian haven of Ruby’s parents (Antonio Banderas and Annette Bening), who turn out to be grating counter-culturists from the same mould as Mr and Mrs Focker – only not funny. Scottie is adorable, but the saccharine ending made me groan. ~ John Campbell

I Am Eleven
At the outset, I confess that I have never been a ‘from the mouths of babes’ type of guy. Children are just that – immature, inexperienced and (quite naturally) self-absorbed. Fearing that I would be more irritated than entertained by a session of cloying cutesiness (and also worried by the production company’s rallying moniker of Proud Mother Pictures), I was pleasantly surprised by Genevieve Bailey’s uplifting doco. Aiming to travel the globe with her camera and candidly record the thoughts of a group of random eleven-year-olds, she has presented us with a little gem of humanism – I saw it straight after the new $250 million Batman and it impacted on me as a reality check in the best possible way. The film lacks any unifying theme, but this tends to free it from ponderous polemic – these are merely kids talking off the cuff. Nor would one or two deletions have hurt – the student from Georgia (US) was least engaging, whereas the bug-eyed wannabe boxer in London was as interesting in his own humble way as the truly strange boy in the Tottenham shirt. What becomes most apparent is how all of them, without exception, show themselves to be products of their environment and upbringing. The son of alternative lifestylers in France expresses exactly the sentiments that he would have learnt from his parents, the peasant girl in Morocco prays five times a day, the Thai and Australian lads at the elephant farm near Bangkok classically see the world through different eyes and with different expectations. Bailey, who does it all, is instinctively drawn to characters that would appeal – I loved the Indian girls and the upbeat Jewess in New Jersey – and, as cinematographer, she has an unerring eye for a good image. The edit skips along to a light-hearted beat and the music only occasionally sounds like Michael Leunig tweeness. I just wish I could remember who said ‘I want to be someone.’ Go see it for yourself. It’s a real fillip. ~ John Campbell