Episode 21

Until now, it's been difficult to see why director Robert Zemeckis has become so excited about performance capture. Both his previous films,'The Polar Express' and 'Beowulf', were unconvincing hybrids of animation and live action, weighed down by technology rather than liberated by it.

But with 'A Christmas Carol' it's finally clear what he's been trying to achieve. For the first time the story and the method used to tell it are complementary and coherent, and this is easily the most enjoyable film Mr Zemeckis has made in this way.

Much of its success is down to Jim Carrey's unrestrained, playful and brilliant performances - plural. This isn't a story that lends itself to understatement, and Mr Carrey relishes the chance to remind us just how much talent he can bring to the party.

Though even if it's emphatically Carrey's movie, it's impossible not to be charmed by the exuberant bonhomie of Bob Hoskins as Mr Fezziwig, or moved by the pathos Gary Oldman brings to the roles of Marley, Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit.

As is so often the way when film-makers have new technological toys to play with - in this case both motion capture and 3D - they like to let you know it, and the film is a little noisy and relentless as a result. But that's a minor quibble when this 21st century 'Christmas Carol' is not only full of spectacle and invention but also authentic Dickensian warmth.

It may be unfair, but it's also inevitable that my reaction to the film version of 'The Men Who Stare at Goats' is coloured by knowledge and enjoyment of the source material, the book by Jon Ronson which was appealingly curious in both senses of the word.

The only thing that's curious about this movie adaptation is why anyone decided to ditch the approach which made the book so interesting and original. A predictable plot device turns the journalist played by Ewan McGregor into a character on a familiar journey of self-renewal and redemption, and the flavour of Hollywood-style optimism which runs through the film extends to the idea that the flaky, borderline sinister characters McGregor encounters may just be on to something.

That suggestion comes to a head in a scene which is presumably intended to strike a positive, whimsical, fantastical note but completely undermines the idea that there are people in the American military as deluded as they are powerful - and there's not much that's positive whimsical, or fantastical about that.

At under 90 minutes, the film breezes along but there's little more to be said in its favour. What might have been an unusual, unsettling and darkly funny piece of work reaches the screen as just a silly and frustrating one.

'Jennifer's Body' should work. It has a script by a hip, multi-award-winning writer who made a big impact with her first screenplay, one which also took an oblique look at American teenage life. It has a promising premise. And it has two of the most sought-after young actresses of the moment in Amanda Seyfried and Megan Fox.

No great surprise then that fifteen seconds in, as Ms Fox languorously reclined on a bed conveniently placed for just such a purpose, my fifteen year-old son turned to me and said: "It's a hit!".

But even he lost interest well before the end of a movie which doesn't know what it's trying to do.

For long periods it has the look and tone of a fairly mainstream example of teen horror. At other times it seems to be aiming for the left-field sensibilities of 'The Virgin Suicides' or 'Donnie Darko'. But whether as a supernatural slasher movie or an exercise in indie chic, the film just doesn't come off.

It's too flaccid and flabby to be scary, while screenwriter Diablo Cody's efforts to inject a note of cool with an endless flow of obscure pop culture references and made up, rather silly teen slang end up being pretty irritating.

Which is all rather disappointing when the film has some interesting ideas and an excellent performance from Amanda Seyfried - but at best, 'Jennifer's Body' is a glossy curio.