His movies are big, bright, flashy affairs; a style you think would be ideally suited to the story of Jay Gatsby, the Great Gatsby, richer than Croesus and one hell of a party giver. And indeed, in Luhrmann’s film version of the famous novel the parties are spectacular set pieces of sound and colour and decadence and are the highlights of the film. What he can’t capture are the subtle nuances of the story – about greed, about wanting something or someone so much it blinds you to everything else.

The film is a triumph of style over substance and this lack of anything really true or profound at its core is exacerbated by the casting. Leonardo DiCaprio as Gatsby lacks the charisma, charm and magnetism that the character should have, while Carey Mulligan as his beloved Daisy looks pretty as a picture but remains a blank canvas throughout her affair with Jay. Joel Edgerton as her womanising husband Tom should exude the casual disdain and contempt of old money for Johnny-come-latelies, but instead is just a bully.

Carey Mulligan plays Daisy

In fact, of the main characters it is only Tobey Maguire as narrator Nick Carraway who rings true, bedazzled by the world of wealth, privilege and opulence he is allowed to peek into but never permitted to actually join.

The sets are stunning, especially Gatsby’s waterside mansion stuffed to the gills with old masters, antiques, crystal and gold, the costumes divine and the music is at times inspired, but overall the film disappoints leaving you with the impression it could have been absolutely extraordinary, but never achieves the level it aspires to.

Relive the Fast & Furious action-packed journey, as we offer two lucky readers the chance to win the Fast & Furious: The Complete Collection including Blu-ray copies of The Fast and the Furious, 2 Fast 2 Furious, The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, Fast & Furious and Fast Five. Winners also take home a Fast & Furious 6 baseball cap and t-shirt.

Race through Fast & Furious: The Complete Collection loaded with daring speed, wild sex, reckless stunts and a stellar cast. The invincible Vin Diesel and Paul Walke are joined by an impressive  ensemble cast, including Michelle Rodriguez, Eva Mendes, Tyrese Gibson and of course, the powerhouse that is Dwayne Johnson reprising his role as the bad-ass cop Luke Hobbs. You will be on the edge of your seat as you hurtle through high-stake and epic action, with heists in the US, escapes to Brazil and drifting in Tokyo.

The Fast and the Furious, 2 Fast 2 Furious, The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, Fast & Furious and Fast Five are available to own on DVD and Blu-ray™ now. Fast & Furious 6 is in cinemas from 17^th May.

To be in with a chance of winning simply answer this question: What year was 2 Fast 2 Furious released?

A. 2001

B. 2003

C. 2005

Send your answers to competitions@the-void.co.uk by noon on June 17, 2013.

Star Trek: Into Darkness looks and feels awesome, with space scenes that really capture the ‘to boldly go where no man has gone before’ ethos of the original Star Trek series. The Enterprise looks bigger and more complex and sophisticated than ever before; future cities are bright and shiny and liberally sprinkled with vehicles flying in all directions, and the skies are full of nebula and galaxies sparkling with a million stars. In fact, the Into Darkness part of the title is a total misnomer for director JJ Abrams fills everything with so much light the screen positively fizzes with the stuff, even to the point of flaring and flourescing in some scenes.

Benedict Cumberbatch and red-shirted cannon fodder

The story isn’t that dark either; there’s no sense of menace or foreboding of doom, although there’s plenty of indiscriminate trashing of cities, spaceships and even the Enterprise’s warp drive.

The action opens with Kirk (Chris Pine), and Spock (Zachary Quinto) making a highly unauthorised intervention on an alien planet, setting the scene for Kirk getting demoted from Captain. The plot then meanders on a highly spurious path through enhanced humans created to be super soldiers, revenge attacks, forays onto the Klingon home world, a blonde scientist (Alice Eve)who gets her kit off and a dead Tribble making a remarkable contribution to the story arc. It’s all highly entertaining but also rather frustrating as it doesn’t really have any substance at all.

Benedict Cumberbatch as the evil mastermind Harrison vowing vengeance on Star Fleet is a good enough baddie, playing it straight and being all the more effective for it, and there’s some nice joshing between Kirk and Spock, but most of the other well-known characters are under-utilised. Even Simon Pegg as cantankerous Scottie isn’t used enough, while Uhura (Zoe Saldana) hardly gets a look in. In fact, while the boys rush around at break neck speed shooting at things, shouting quite a lot and generally enjoying a bit of argy bargy and arguing, the only two female characters with any screentime (Uhura and the aforementioned scientist) are rather left to twiddle their thumbs which makes the movie a throwback to a time way before Ripley ever flexed her muscles in Alien.

Even though this sequel is not as impressive as the original reboot of the Star Trek franchise it is great fun, looks fantastic and certainly doesn’t feel anything like as long as its 132 minute running time. Oh, and there’s a really open ending as far as Cumberbatch is concerned, paving the way for Harrison to experience his own reboot in a subsequent instalment.

My earliest wrestling memory involves a 10-year-old me and my battered WrestleMania VIII VHS, glued to the screen by the crazy eyes of Rowdy Roddy Piper and the cool menace of my favourite (and early crush) Bret Hart; the impossible glamour of Sensation Sherri and the all-round creepiness of The Undertaker and Jake ‘The Snake’ Roberts.

I didn’t get my first live wrestling experience until 10 years later – my parents were more than happy to take me to ‘real’ sports events but didn’t get the pro-wrestling thing – but up until April, with dozens of live wrestling shows under my belt, the annual spectacle of WrestleMania seemed magical, otherworldly, unattainable.

But attain it I did this year, as a good turn from a very good friend sent me on my way across the pond for my first ever live WrestleMania, staged in the impressively huge MetLife Stadium in New Jersey, a stone’s throw from that fabled wrestling mecca of Madison Square Garden in New York City.

Attending a pay-per-view event is surely every WWE fan’s ultimate dream, but with the pro-wrestling circus that is WrestleMania Week, you have the makings of a non-stop mindfuck of an experience, bringing together the world’s best performers, legends of the business, and a record-breaking quantity of replica belt-toting superfans.

The Undertaker enters at WrestleMania 29. Chills.

The last few years have seen an increase in indie wrestling activity feeding off the ‘Show of Shows’ frenzy, and so it came to be that my first ever pay-per-view wasn’t in fact WrestleMania, it was the latest from Gabe Sapolsky’s co-owned Evolve, taking place in a soulless convention centre in New Jersey’s Secaucus as part of the second annual WrestleCon.

It’s perhaps surprising, given his ruthless reputation, that Vince McMahon publically endorsed the multi-promotion WrestleCon, even allowing WWE Hall of Famers such as Bret Hart to appear for meet and greets, but watching the stars of tomorrow put their bodies on the line in gasp-inducing matches, Vince’s motivation becomes a little more clear. Sami Callihan, who wrestled three times during this one show as part of Evolve’s championship tournament, is reportedly on the brink of signing up for the big time and heading down to Florida’s developmental unit. Dean Ambrose, currently enjoying main event matches against the likes of the Undertaker and John Cena, was one of Evolve’s biggest draws in his previous incarnation as Jon Moxley, and Daniel Bryan, Antonio Cesaro and TNA’s Austin Aries and Zema Ion are all Evolve alumni.

Only time will tell if newly crowned Evolve Champion A.R. Fox and arguably their biggest name (and Dragon Gate USA champ) Johnny Gargano will follow in their predecessors’ footsteps, but if the show they put on that sunny Friday afternoon is anything to go by, they’re on the right path. More visually spectacular and fun than the super-serious goings on at Ring Of Honor, Evolve and Dragon Gate USA’s working relationship is cultivating plenty of engaging storytelling which can only work in the favour of all involved. Their performers are professional risk-takers, not afraid to take a serious bump in the cause of eliciting a “holy shit” chant from the hundreds of fans in attendance.

You could almost feel the sting of the chops as they echoed off the convention centre walls.

Their set-up is professional enough to broadcast a decent quality live stream, but ‘indie’ enough that you can hear every stiff move, witness welts bruise purple before your eyes and have the pleasure of shaking your favourite wrestler’s sweaty hand after the show. I was back in Secaucus again before the weekend was out, this time for Sunday’s Dragon Gate USA pay-per-view which saw the hilarious and multi-talented stable of the Kentucky Gentleman demonstrate to WWE how the crazed patriot gimmick should be done, and to witness indie darling Johnny Gargano’s shocking heel turn. With the addition of several of Dragon Gate’s Japanese stars, the wrestling on display was second to none, and so real you could almost feel the sting of the chops as they echoed off the convention centre walls, but once again, the real appeal was in the commitment to good old fashioned pro-wrestling storytelling.

As awe-inspiring as my experiences at WrestleCon were, it wasn’t indie wrestling that got me onto a none-too-cheap seven hour flight to New York. WrestleMania Saturday was my first chance to immerse myself in the WWE circus, after being titillated by the promotional posters on lampposts and billboards around New York City since the day I arrived.

Due to their insistence on calling this year’s Wrestlemania New York/New Jersey, the inconvenient trip from the WWE package hotel in the centre of Manhattan over to Axxess in New Jersey required a 6am start. But arriving at the Meadowlands Complex as the early morning sun glinted off the MetLife stadium was enough to get anyone in the mood for meeting wrestlers, and when the Izod Centre doors opened there were a couple of hundred wrestling fans dedicated (or stupid) enough to pour in.

Axxess is one of those events which could go drastically wrong in less organised hands, but if there’s one thing the WWE team is good at, it’s making sure things happen in the right place at the right time. There’s a hell of a lot to see and do at Axxess, from Fruity Pebbles foam wrestling rings for the kiddies, to the randomly placed items of WrestleMania memorabilia for the veteran fan. But what Axxess does best is what it says on the tin, it provides the kind of access to WWE Superstars that you’re never going to find anywhere else… short of being the kind of creeper who hangs around airport arrivals.

Over three Axxess sessions, my friend and I squeezed in hand-shaking and photo-posing opportunities with an impressive amount of Superstars, including a supremely orange and fully in-character Damien Sandow, an adorably sweet Antonio Cesaro, and a chatty and charming Cody Rhodes. Brief encounters with the likes of Tamina and the Prime Time Players also occurred, and we managed to make an ex-pat feel a bit more at home with our accents at Wade Barrett’s signing session.

With the queuing system for all sessions allowing you to wait it out in the main arena seats,  we also got the chance to watch some of the WWE’s brightest young hopes in action in the NXT ring – something which is pretty much impossible to do anywhere else, unless you happen to be a student at Full Sail University. Creepy heels Bray Wyatt and Corey Graves fought it out alongside popular Royal Rumble contestant Bo Dallas and the ridiculously entertaining Xavier Woods, and we Brits were represented by Diva hopeful Paige and Geordie tag champ Adrian Neville. We even got the opportunity to see the artist formerly known as El Generico compete under his new WWE name Sami Zayn, although it was news to me to learn from an obviously knowledgeable lady sitting in front of me that he is, despite his newly-revealed ginger facade, “from Mexico”.

In addition to the many attractions for general ticket holders at Axxess, WWE hosts a number of pricey VIP sessions over WrestleMania weekend, offering fans the chance to meet the most elusive main eventers. Tickets for all the VIP sessions sold out in minutes, but by some bizarre combination of beginner’s luck and sheer fangirl determination, my friend and I secured two tickets to meet Randy Orton.

A $95 VIP ticket gets you slightly early entry into your chosen Axxess session, a signed photo and professional picture with your chosen Superstar and, for the first time this year, a tour around a cleverly staged Raw backstage area and a photo at the top of the famous Raw ramp. I’ve met lots of wrestlers over the years, and plenty of celebrities in my line of work, but I have to admit to being more than a little queasy with nerves over meeting my favourite. Would I manage not to be sick on him? Would I manage to say anything at all? Would he fall in love with me at first sight and instantly propose? There were just so many variables that led to me being an unattractively sweaty-palmed mess upon being ushered in front of the man himself.

When Katie met Randy

The same question has been asked again and again of my experience meeting Mr Orton: “Is he that orange in real life?” The answer is no. Randy is definitely more of a brown, which I would attribute to his preference for sunbeds rather than the Sandow method of self-tanning, and unfortunately for me and every other girl in that queue, he really is that attractive up close. What he is also, is charming and quite lovely. He makes eye contact, he asks you questions, he engages like the professional the WWE has bred him to become, and yet at the same time I don’t feel as if I actually met him. It’s a bizarre environment in which to meet someone you admire so much, to be another hand to shake in a long line of people, when what you really want to do is sit down over a bottle of Jack Daniels and pick his brain for anecdotes.

That surreal experience was immediately followed by another as we embarked on the Raw backstage tour and witnessed a less-than-coherent X-Pac being helped out from behind a curtain by his missus. Following his infamous anal injury a few weeks prior, the DX legend (and one of my Attitude-era favourites) was clearly in a lot of pain, but he insisted, possibly without being asked, upon posing for photos with everyone present. I was left with the impression that he’s a genuine good guy who deserves much better luck in the health department.

Following Axxess was a rushed trip back to the city for a quick beautifying session in preparation for WWE’s annual back-slap-athon – the Hall of Fame ceremony. Having planned our outfits several months in advance, it was a relief as we walked through the hallowed doors of Madison Square Garden to see that the majority of wrestling fans present had foregone their accepted uniform of Tap Out t-shirts and baggy wrestling tees and made some attempt at red carpet glamour. One beautiful statuesque blonde, whom we overheard had travelled from Sweden, was given the intended compliment of looking “exactly like Kelly Kelly”. She looked perturbed.

Hall of Fame itself was, I’m afraid to say, a tedious affair. The WWE editing team are much-celebrated for their ability to put together stunning promotional packages, but I feel they deserve some kind of special Golden Globe for managing to put together a watchable tv show out of the endless mutual lovefest inflicted on the uncomfortably-attired audience.

WrestleMania Sunday is always one of my favourite days of the year, but waking up knowing I was going to be sat in that stadium in the late afternoon sun, rather than sat in my best friend’s front room at midnight, was a feeling to cherish.

If myself and Randy Orton were to be joined by inductees Mick Foley and Booker T over that aforementioned bottle of Jack Daniels, I imagine I could listen to their stories of glories past well into the small hours. But as it happens, I was sat in an unfeasibly tight dress in a cold arena without so much as a wee dram to lubricate the evening thanks to my purse being too small to keep ID in, so Foley’s 45-minute-long acceptance speech soon became an indecipherable tangle of anecdotes, with the beginnings and ends indeterminable from one other. There was the fun element of seeing WWE Superstars outside of their usual setting, dressed in good and bad suits and dresses and struggling with their various children/other halves, but with the big event itself a very brief night’s sleep away, I’m ashamed to say sleep won out and I never got to see the true ninth wonder of the world: Donald Trump’s gravity defying hair.

WrestleMania Sunday is always one of my favourite days of the year, but waking up knowing I was going to be sat in that stadium in the late afternoon sun, rather than sat in my best friend’s front room at midnight was a feeling to cherish. After yet another Axxess session and a brief trip over to Secaucus for the aforementioned Dragon Gate USA show, my friend and I were stood amongst a melee of equally excited wrestling fans, waiting for the MetLife Stadium gates to open. We had time to catch a glimpse of the American phenomenon of ‘tailgating’ (turning up to events early and getting a BBQ going), and witness just how poorly American men handle their beer, before we were squeezing through the gates in our thousands.

I’ve been to more than my fair share of big-time stadium events, but stepping out from the concourse into the stadium staging WrestleMania was a sight to behold. As we discovered our better-than-expected seats, I tried to take in the finer details of the well-rendered New York set, complete with a replica Statue of Liberty and multitudes of sky scrapers. It wasn’t until the light started to dim that I even noticed the spectacularly-lit mini Brooklyn Bridge on the main stage, such was the scale of the immense stadium.

The WrestleMania 29 set, complete with Brooklyn Bridge

Watching wrestling from inside such a large venue was a very strange experience, made stranger by the fact that a few hours previously I had been sat ringside at DGUSA, narrowly avoiding being hit with wrestler spittle. Our seats were relatively close to the action and despite being able to see well, the stadium completely swallowed up all but the most impactful of bumps, meaning we were effectively watching WrestleMania on mute. The show itself was everything I hoped it would be. WrestleMania is never the best pay-per-view from a storyline or results perspective, but is rather a sports entertainment showcase fit for viewing by the most casual of pro-wrestling fans, and it certainly delivered on spectacle.

Chris Jericho’s flashy light show whipped the crowd up into a midshow frenzy; and The Undertaker’s entrance, while low key by his overblown standards, hit just the right note of otherworldly menace. Even the inevitable P Diddy performance was just long enough to pay tribute to the great city of New York without outstaying its welcome. The main event proper was a chance for me to fulfil a long-held ambition: I finally saw The Rock wrestle live, and it didn’t disappoint as he and John Cena managed to put together a tense final 10 minutes despite the foregone conclusion. As the final fireworks faded into the New Jersey sky, I took a moment to take in the dying atmosphere and appreciate the fact that I’d actually made it here for my very own WrestleMania moment.

Perhaps it would have been better if the experience had ended there, but there was still the trifling matter of the post-Wrestlemania Raw to get to; a Raw which has become known as the night the fans took over. It had started so well, with not one but two title changes and the extremely rare cashing in of a Money in the Bank briefcase. I’m no Dolph Ziggler fan, but the way that crowd came undone as he sprinted to the ring with his curvaceous valet… and AJ, brought goosebumps to my flesh.

However, shortly afterwards the crowd descended into the kind of beer-fuelled idiocy I’ve never witnessed in 25 years of attending football matches. The WWE have expertly spun the crowd chaos as exuberantly ‘international’, but sitting amid several hundred boozy men demonstrating a mass epidemic of testosterone poisoning with a “we want puppies” chant was not the way I envisaged my trip of a lifetime ending. Still, it was New Jersey.

As I queued to board my flight home, mentally praying to the gods of wrestling that the Fandango theme would one day leave my brain, I realised enough will never be enough. Not now I’ve been to WrestleMania, immersed in the centre of the world I dedicate most of my energy and limited funds towards. But the great news is WrestleMania happens every year. And next year it’s the 30^th anniversary… anyone want to give me a flight to New Orleans?

Immersive theatre is an extremely popular style of performance at the moment and is it any wonder?

Everything we do is interactive; we can press our buzzers while watching Britain’s Got Talent, call in to vote for the next popstar, even text our opinions during the political debates running up to the General Election; so why not theatre too? Many companies now ask the audience to get involved and Immercity do this brilliantly. It has had great success with a number of productions and its most recent piece, Wyrd – which is part devised, part improvised using social media – is no exception.

On the night, we met the characters at a pub ready to head to a secret location nearby. However, there is the possibility to meet the characters weeks before the show. Joseph and Fiona Warding and Ethan Pope are on Facebook. Here you’ll find YouTube clips, wedding photos with hidden clues and an invitation to their hen and stag parties. You also get the back story: Joseph is looking for information surrounding the murder of his grandfather and is seeking the help of the Gowdy sisters and the audience to do a séance.

I followed this avidly, throwing myself into it head first and I actually think this is the best way to do it. I loved the run up. The time at the pub and waiting in the cellar pre-séance could have gone on for longer and I enjoyed this more than the actual séance itself. I was happy questioning the characters, getting my fortune read through the use of tarot cards and trying to work out what the significance of the goings-on were. Getting to talk to the characters, I felt I was an important part of what was happening and felt like a detective, piecing together what was going on. Was it significant that one of the newlyweds wasn’t wearing their wedding ring? Was there something hidden somewhere I hadn’t found, in the tube station, at the pub? And what was with the ceremonial sandwich making?

I found Selma Glasell as Amanda absolutely mesmerising. Her terrifying stare and ramblings as well as her cryptic and seemingly nonsensical notes she wrote to the audience members really added to the experience. I, it turned out, should never wear purple or green. Why? Because she said so, and she can contact the dead. All of the cast were great but it really does depend on who you speak to as to who has the biggest impact on you. I spent much of my pre-performance time speaking to Ethan (Sam Trueman) and his best friend’s wife Fiona Warding (Victoria Jane Appleton). They secretly hate each other and this was shown in a surprisingly subtle and convincing way with the odd comment here, a sneer there, without ever going over the top.

It wasn’t just the audience who had to do their homework. Speaking to Victoria Jane Appleton and the director, Rosanna Mallinson, after the séance, they explained how the cast spent a month learning about each other; both the real them and their respective characters. They had to be able to give a knowing look and improvise on the spot in a manner that would further the plot without throwing their fellow cast members off.

The audience is part of the show; how they react to the things they are faced with, the interruptions and the unexpected turns the play can take is exactly what this company seems to hope for (and perhaps thrive upon). One moment which prompted reactions from the cast was when my companion, very kindly, decided to grab my back when the lights went down. I screamed and got told off by one of the sisters as we weren’t supposed to make any noise… I then spent the rest of the show searching for the person who did it.

This piece didn’t feel completely polished and sometimes felt a little stilted but it is understandable with it being partly improvised and unscripted and I don’t think this takes away from the hard work and effort put into the production as a whole. This technique also allows the show to stay fresh for both the audience and the cast as every night is slightly different – which is why I am desperate to go again.

Some people find immersive theatre terrifying, not truly knowing what is going to be expected of them. Some also don’t like that they are expected to discover things and if they miss something important, will they “get” the point. Wonderfully, in this production, you don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to. However, I recommend you do get involved. Follow the social media and what’s going on, question the characters and do any activity they have available for you to do. This is a personal thing but I absolutely love it all and think that everyone should try it at least once. And if it’s only going to ever be once, it should be to see Wyrd.

Click here to find out more about Immer-city and Wyrd.

But not so Bernie, in which he gives a beautiful, pitch-perfect performance as the eponymous Bernie Tiede, a gospel singing mortician who turned murderer (and I’m not making this up either).

Jack Black in Bernie

Director Richard Linklater found the perfect match between actor and story when he cast Black in the true tale of Bernie, an effeminate funeral director who takes such wonderful care of his charges (and sings so beautifully at their funerals) everyone in the small town of Carthage, Texas loves him.

The love even stretches to bitter-faced Marjorie (Shirley MacLaine) the well-heeled widow with no friends who latches on to Bernie, in the process slowly, toxically sucking the life out of him. While Bernie starts out as Marjorie’s walker, accompanying her to cultural events and on holiday, the constantly demanding Marjorie soon turns him into her lackey, running her chores, doing her shopping, even cutting her nails.

Helpful and joyful by nature, Bernie doesn’t know how to say no and finally snaps, doing away with Marjorie and hiding her body. But the thing is nobody notices – when Bernie says Marjorie isn’t feeling well everybody believes him. It’s only when her stockbroker starts questioning the money going out of her account that the local district attorney (a great cameo from Matthew McConaughey) becomes suspicious and Bernie and his crime are finally uncovered.

Using the real inhabitants of Carthage as the narrators of the story, Richard Linklater crafts a pseudo-documentary that seems totally implausible but is absolutely true and the reason you will believe every single unbelievable detail is because of Jack Black’s performance – he doesn’t just play Bernie, he becomes Bernie, down to his carefully tucked in shirt and trouser waistband pulled almost up to his chin. The townspeople who tell his tale are almost as colourful as Bernie himself and are natural storytellers relishing the gossip surrounding Marjorie (were she and Bernie lovers? Had he planned on killing her all along?) and her most unlikely of companions.

This is smooth, intelligent and highly entertaining film-making that demonstrates just what delights can ensue when the movie and its star prove to be the perfect fit.

Prices for the Maximum Impact VI Tour start at just £22.50 for the shows in Glasgow (Jan 30), Manchester (Jan 31), London (Feb 1) and Birmingham (Feb 2).

In a huge coup for the company, TNA Impact! Wrestling will be the first ever company to put on a wrestling show at Glasgow’s impressive new Hydro arena.

What’s more, TNA president Dixie Carter will be coming in Britain from April 30 – May 2, hosting huge fan events in London and Glasgow to launch the MAXIMUM IMPACT VI Tour.

Dixie said: “TNA live is something everyone must experience and we’re working hard to make our 2014 Tour extra special for both our amazing long-term fans in the UK and those who will be coming to the arenas to experience a TNA live event for the very first time.”

Tickets are available via the TNA UK Facebook page at www.facebook.com/tnawrestlinguk, www.gigsandtours.com/tour/tna-wrestling, www.ticketmaster.co.uk or direct from the tour venues. Full details are below.

The TNA UK tour launch also includes an amazing competition where one lucky fan can win a trip for two to Boston to experience TNA Slammiversary live – find out more details on the fan events and the competition at www.challenge.co.uk/wrestling

Full details of the UK events are:

Thursday 30 January 2014 – Glasgow Hydro – 0844 811 0051

Friday 31 January 2014 – Manchester Arena – 0844 847 8000

Saturday 01 February 2014 – London Wembley Arena – 0844 815 0815

Sunday 02 February 2014 – Birmingham NIA – 0844 338 8000

TNA Impact! Wrestling is broadcast on Challenge in the UK and Ireland every Sunday night at 9pm.

After The Avengers there was an elephant in the room for Robert Downey Junior’s Iron Man. How do you do jeopardy when your new buddies are superheroes? Why isn’t the Hulk on Tony’s speed-dial, Captain America on LinkedIn and what about poker nights with Thor?

Sir Ben Kingsley as the Mandarin

For the first of a new cycle of Marvel adventures, the studio turned to screen-writer-director Shane Black – creator of Lethal Weapon, and purveyor of fantastically sour dialogue in pictures like Kiss Kiss Bang Bang – coincidentally the film that re-launched Downey Junior in 2005. He goes at his task with gusto, with co-writer Drew Pearce, penning a story that pivots on Tony Stark’s past coming to haunt a present day that finds him shell-shocked after the events in New York.

Once again Tony is neglecting his long-suffering girlfriend Pepper Potts (Gywneth Paltrow), unable to sleep, tinkering with new Iron Man suits all hours. With his eye off the ball, two characters enter the scene with a potentially unstable combination of intelligence, seduction and a grievance from the past.

Doctor Maya Hansen (Rebecca Hall) was an ex-fling of Tony’s who back in 1999 was on the verge of perfecting a technology for genetic healing, with explosive repercussions; and Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce), an industrialist with grand designs of his own and a particular view on Tony’s successful career.

We haven’t even mentioned a prominent character from the trailer, The Mandarin, a figure of terror and mystery played by Sir Ben Kingsley and visually reminiscent of Osama Bin Laden. Sir Ben enjoys himself in this role and the interpretation in the film will surely get comic book fans talking long after the credits have rolled.

Unlike Iron Man 2 which suffered from too many cooks/villains syndrome, this one keeps the balance just right. In fact, it comes up with an intelligent and clever solution to this very issue – which you’ll have to watch for yourself. Let’s just say, they make use of the acting talent available.

You can see the handiwork of Shane Black on the tiller, especially when Tony Stark is forces to spend time without all of his familiar toys. It’s a meet cute schlocky scenario which gets turned on its head by spiky dialogue at every opportunity.

All in, with a nice balance between huge set-pieces, comic banter, plus what passes for darkness in the Marvel universe, IM3 is a lot of fun. It also feels like the end of the road for Robert Downey Junior in standalone films as this character (his contract is up anyway). The cocky ‘mechanic’ who Downey Jnr has breathed so much life into with his deadpan delivery is sure to return somewhere, mind.

A botched melting pot of great-looking set pieces hurled against a clunking script that was scarcely little more than a thinly-veiled prologue to the third biggest grossing film of all time, the haste with which it was produced a hulking testament to bloated paint-by-numbers film-making.

So you might be forgiven for approaching Marvel’s threequel with some degree of caution, wary of franchise fatigue. And indeed, the first 10 minutes of Iron Man 3 are a painful reminder of everything that was wrong with the second film, a goofy misfiring flashback that will have you squirming in your seat and useful only to seed a few choice plot points.

And then we’re in the present day and the film quickly becomes bold and brilliant and everything you expect a movie in the mighty Marvel tradition to be. Utter relief.

Set a few months after the events in New York, we pick up the story with Robert Downey Jnr’s Tony Stark in the midst of an existential crisis, at odds with the thought of being nothing more than a man in a world now populated by gods and monsters. Stark is given a sharp wake-up call by a guerrilla terrorist movement known as the Ten Rings (a Stan Lee No Prize for spotting the references in the previous films) led by the charismatic Mandarin (Ben Kingsley, threatening to steal the show at every turn) who are using bio-weaponised muscle to wreak havoc. Cue the suit.

Not only does Black inject a confident and kinetic verve into the picture but scenes crackle with sharp, well-paced dialogue that feel ripped straight from the pages of a comic book.

With Jon Favreau relegated to an executive producer credit and walk-on role as Happy Hogan, the decision to hand the directorial reins over to scripting wunderkind Shane Black (who co-wrote the film with No Heroics scribe Drew Pierce) was an inspired choice and an entirely logical progression from a creative standpoint. Not only does Black inject a confident and kinetic verve into the picture but scenes crackle with sharp, well-paced dialogue that feel ripped straight from the pages of a comic book.

One of the film’s most subtle strengths is the choice by the production team not to try and top The Avengers but to live in the shadow of it. By doing away with the need to best 2012’s epic crossover (an extinction level event would surely just necessitate the team coming together once more), the pressure is off and the film can concentrate on providing a standalone adventure that avoids the natural tendency of a blockbuster follow-up to simply escalate a franchise with more BOOM. Instead, the stakes are scaled back and made personal for Stark allowing the audience to invest much more heavily in the outcome. That kind of script writing is clever by design and perfect in providing a refreshing counter to the alien invasion equivalent of mainlining a rainbow through your eye sockets.

It’s that approach that also allows the movie to be a little darker (both in content and colour palette). Despite numerous calls for Marvel to put Stark’s battle with alcoholism up on screen, in an age of fast food tie-ins and toy lines, that’s never going to happen any time soon.

What we’ve got is a loose adaptation of the seminal Warren Ellis/Adi Granov storyline Extremis which relaunched the Iron Man comic book back in 2005. Seasoned comic readers will find plenty to enjoy here which takes the source material and adds a few new surprises as Stark wrestles with his inner demons and causes untold amounts of property damage (personal or not, there is still an abundance of The BOOM). This outing for the Armoured Avenger is certainly much more violent than its predecessors (no-one has any trouble wielding a gun) but shades the high drama and sleek action against some immaculately-timed light relief.

Tonally the whole enterprise is closer to the first Iron Man and even the presence of a cute kid does nothing to derail the affair. Notwithstanding the misfiring kook that starts the ride, Iron Man 3 has been built to please. Everyone seems to be having a tremendous time whether it’s Guy Pearce as Stark’s rival, Aldrich Killian or Rebecca Hall as Maya Hansen an enigmatic scientist who holds the key to the Extremis project; Marvel has always excelled at putting together talented casts for its projects and Iron Man 3 is no exception. There’s even time for some much-needed character development for Gwyneth Paltrow’s Pepper Potts, now right in the thick of the action.

Rebecca Hall as Maya Hansen

In short, it’s the sequel Iron Man 2 should have been: faithful, caramel smooth film-making that makes the spectacular look effortless without being a slave to what’s come before or what’s coming next.

While Three’s treatment of The Avengers is utterly respectful, anyone looking for the full-blown start to Phase 2 will be sorely disappointed (save a neat nod in the closing credits, natch). Instead, Black and co. have simply concentrated on making the very best Iron Man film they can.

If Marvel has any sense, it’ll get every player back for another go-around. Stark’s success is assured – we wonder how that other man of steel might fare this summer.

Director Susanne Bier concocts an intoxicating tale that sweeps us across Europe from Denmark to Italy for a wedding with a twist – here the focus is not on the bride and groom (in fact, their section of the film isn’t entirely successful) but on the groom’s widowed father Philip (Pierce Brosnan) and the bride’s troubled mother Ida (an utterly charming Trine Dyrholm).

Ida is a hairdresser whose life is not going to plan; she’s just recovering from a mastectomy when she comes home to find her husband copulating with a young woman from the office on her sofa. Reeling from this insult, Ida heads off to the airport to get to the wedding and manages to crash into Philip’s car. It’s the first time they’ve met but after this rocky start they gradually grow closer as they help organise the opening of Philip’s Italian house (which has been closed for years since his wife’s death), the venue for the festivities – and Philip even lends Ida his credit card to buy a dress for the wedding after her luggage gets lost in transit.

In fact, bad things keep happening to the luckless Ida – to cap it all hubby turns up with his tart in tow – but it is the way she uncomplainingly copes with these mishaps that makes Philip – and us – fall for her.  Her good grace and composure give her an almost luminous quality that mark her out as special.  Philip can’t but help fall for her and their growing relationship is handled with such a light touch it never feels forced. However, Bier can be harsher when she wants – Philip’s sister-in-law is a true grotesque and fascinating to watch. Each time she opens her mouth you just wait for her to put her foot straight in it.

Brosnan and Dyrholm play off each other beautifully which is one reason why the relationship between his son and her daughter really doesn’t work, it seems superficial by comparison. But don’t let that put you off a film with glorious locations, some lovely performances and real heart.