Director: Steven Spielberg
Starring: Tom Cruise, Colin Farrell, Samantha Morton, Max von Sydow
Vomit incidence: Multiple
In the near future a special police unit is able to arrest people before they commit crimes. It all goes horribly wrong when the lead detective is accused of a so-called future crime and has to go on the run while solving the murder he’s sure he isn’t going to commit. Or something like that.
Yes, I know it’s another one of those futuristic films based on a story by Philip K Dick (if my last name was Dick, I’d be adding a middle initial sharpish too) but, like Bladerunner way before it, it’s actually a great watch. Tom Cruise is at his best despite having to contend with a scene-stealing Colin Farrell in a breakout role and Spielberg manages to contain the schmaltz (at least until the last 5 minutes, which are god-awful – do what I do and switch off before the glowy shit starts).
Tom’s audition for Dancing with the Stars was not going as planned
There’s a lot of great ideas on show, not least because they did their research and included plausible future inventions (no laser guns or teleportation devices here, although we do sort of get the flying cars) and it’s one of these inventions that provides the majority of the ‘v’ word incidences.
If I was a police person in the future and I wanted to apprehend a felon, the last thing that I’d personally want to help me would be something called a ‘sick stick’. Who wants to make the person they’re chasing puke all over them? Weirdos, that’s who. And the police in Minority Report. So emetophobes out there be warned, when the coppers get their sticks out they’re not just going in for a traditional ‘beat the fucker senseless’. Also you probably don’t want to watch the bit where a recently eye-transplanted Cruise gropes his way to the fridge and tries to drink lumpy milk.
Sick-sticks notwithstanding, this is one of my favourite underrated Spielberg films and marks the start of Colin Farrell’s Hollywood career (I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether that’s a good thing or not…). The action sequences are superb and there’s even some feels thrown in to boot (it is a Spielberg movie after all). Just remember – turn off before they switch the futuristic blue filter for the happy glowy yellow filter – or you won’t be needing sick-sticks to make you nauseous.
Film rating: 8/10
NB OCD: 5/10
Director: Paul Verhoeven
Starring: Peter Weller, Nancy Allen, Kurtwood Smith
Vomit Incidence: Zero
In crime-ridden Detroit, a terminally wounded cop is used as an experiment by an evil corporation and returns as a part human, part cyborg badass with some disturbing memories and a penchant for shooting men in the groin (I may have embellished that last part a little).
I picked the original (and the far superior) Robocop for my first Sick Sense review for a few reasons but mainly because I just had the chance to see it in the cinema for the first time courtesy of my husband’s 40th birthday celebrations.
Come quietly, or there will be trouble
I think even the most ardent fan of this eighties classic would have to admit that some aspects of the film haven’t aged terribly well. The effects are a bit iffy (Dick Jones’ stretchy arms, anyone?) as are the hairstyles (unless dystopian Detroit had a sudden eighties revival) and in the cinema there were more than a few giggles at some of the dialogue and I’m not even going to mention the badly judged uber-camp henchman. Just, no.
Underneath all the eightiesness though, the film remains surprisingly relevant (big corporations manipulating the population through fear ring any bells?), Peter Weller and Nancy Allen’s performances hold up well and Clarence Boddicker is a delightfully hissable villain from the time before all movie bad guys had to have a sympathetic side. Don’t go looking for Clarence’s, he really doesn’t have one. It’s a massively entertaining blood-spattered sci-fi action film with a great story. What more could you ask?
That’s what we do to people who don’t wash their hands, smirked Murphy
NB OCD: There may be no actual vomiting in this movie (hurrah!) but, for those of you with germ-centred OCD you may want to look away when Dick Jones comes out of the toilet cubicle (presumably after producing a smaller browner version of himself) and proceeds to rub his hands all over Bob Morton’s face WITHOUT WASHING THEM FIRST! OK, so grosser things happen in this movie (the splatting of the melting henchman springs to mind), but this freaked me the fuck out and if you are of a similar mind then be warned.
Film Score: 9/10
OCD Rating: 3/10 (watchable but be advised)
Just a note to say that I will shortly start posting random film reviews on the site with an OCD slant.
As a life-long emetophobe (puke-o-phobe) it winds me up no end that filmmakers think that having vomit scenes enhances their movie somehow or, even worse, that it’s funny.
It’s not funny, it’s not clever and I’ll be reviewing films with an appropriate warning to sick-sensitive folk such as myself when the ‘v’ word is used as a plot-point/joke/gross-out moment.
As I like a good pun as much as the next person, these reviews will appear under the header ‘Sick Sense Reviews’. Because I SEE SICK PEOPLE.