Donnie (Gyllenhaal) has a problem with sleepwalking, amongst other things. This affliction becomes a little worse when a six-foot-tall talking rabbit from the future named Frank talks him into sleepwalking out of his room shortly before a jet engine demolishes it. The Blue Bunny kindly lets him know that the world will end in 28 days, six hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds, and heads off on its merry way. As the film is set in October 1988 (during George Bush Sr's election campaign, no less), it's safe to assume that somehow the world survived, but how?

When Donnie wakes up he's on a local golf course green in the way of self help guru Jim Cunningham's (Swayze) ball. Frank comes back, several times in fact, to convince Donnie to commit a number of questionable acts about town. In the meantime Donnie deals with a variety of people about town and at school who just add to his desire to work out just what is going to happen when 28 day, six hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds have passed.

Donnie Darko is a brilliant film. It's equal parts black comedy, science fiction, and drama (to the extent that it's almost impossible to pigeonhole as any one of these). Some viewers may need a manual to follow the more complicated aspects of the story, but there's still something for everyone in Donnie Darko. Highly Recommended.

Every once in a while comes along a B-movie that knows how to be a B-movie. Tremors is an excellent example: the plot ((mdash)) isolated town encounters mutated worms ((mdash)) wasn't the standout. Instead, it was the marvellously loopy characters and the overall air of the cast having fun that was attractive.

Eight-Legged freaks is exactly the same. Coincidentally, the plot also centres on an isolated town's encounter with mutated creatures; this time, spiders. In a nod to George Romero, it's toxic waste that creates them. Standing in the way are the loner come back to resolve his past, the spunky sheriff, her son (the kid who knows what's going on but no one ever listens to), and the conspiracy-minded DJ, broadcasting from a trailer in the middle of nowhere.

Devlin and Emmerich, the team that brought you Independence Day and Godzilla, have scaled back the pomposity of those movies: you're never asked to take the spiders seriously as they mutter and giggle to themselves, rather like gremlins. Director Elkayem keeps things bubbling along on that fine line between satire and cheese. And listen out for the line comparing David Arquette's goatee to a stripper's crotch.