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I've always been a great admirer of the original TRON, representing a huge leap forward in the development of computer animation, but I've always struggled to fully come to grips with it as a film. The visuals were groundbreaking for the time, and the famous light-cycle sequence is undeniably cool, but the years haven't been kind to it. Although it is intermittently fascinating to look at, with all its jazzy computer-generated imagery and use of bright neon colours, it has aged horrendously to the point where it almost loops back around on itself. It's a pretty poor excuse for a film, where the pixels are more interesting than the characters, and the script is a 404 error. It's clear that writer/director Steven Lisberger has a near-fetishistic love for computers, and it bleeds through the screen as it throws jumbled gobs of jargon at the viewer in the hopes that they'll just accept the overload of information. It's very much a film that has been saddled with a story which should have been wonderful, fantastical, and completely gripping, but which never quite manages to climb out of ho-hum. That being said, his direction is particularly robust, making great use of the wildly imaginative and highly stylised setting, but it just doesn't quite gel together satisfyingly enough with its distant tone. It comes across as more of a miscellaneous form of abstract spectacle, and, when combined with Wendy Carlos' deeply abrasive synth-mongous score, it can come across as a deeply grating experience. However, all that being said, I still have to applaud the cast, who are by far and away the best bit about this film, although it's really David Warner who steals the show in all three of his roles; he very much should have returned for Legacy, but I digress. Still, for all of TRON's faults, I can't bring myself to hate how determined it is; it's one I find deeply fascinating by what was achieved with such limited means, embracing a spirit of adventure with momentum and wonder. I can't wait for Ares.

There is a bouncy '50s feel to Tsui Hark's lightning-paced blue-collar comedy, Working Class. One that represents a communal place of camaraderie and bright, day-glo dreams with an abnormal amount of political hubbub amid the four-colour fun. It may be a relatively straightforward comedy, but the film still exhibits Hark's incredible ability to add something to even the most well-trod narratives, showing us how life can be pretty unrighteous and hard to get through, but that man can find the meaning of life even in the most imponderable and trivial places and really be happy. The performances are hilariously exaggerated, as are most of Teddy Robin's ridiculous sunglasses and the bottle of baby oil used to keep an often-shirtless Sam Hui out-glistening his dry-looking castmates, while the romance between Hui and the always stunning Joey Wong is adorable. The best thing is getting to see Tsui on screen... he is such a cool guy, oozes charisma and intelligence, while his direction is as scattershot and screwball as ever, with some very well-handled comic scenarios that manage to move from cliché to humour, all brilliantly underscored by a not-so-subtle and incredibly catchy Canto-synth cover of Donna Summer's She Works Hard For The Money. Those expecting innovation may be disappointed by Working Class, but the film is ultimately a dazzling little gem in Hark's impressive filmography, one that's guaranteed to leave a smile on your face.

Just when you thought Freddy's antics were over, Wes Craven conjures a New Nightmare, recapturing the dark essence of the original but with a pre-Scream metatextual twist. An inventive, almost cathartic exploration of illusion and fear, the film gives us all the terror without any of the sarcasm, deconstructing Craven's own bastardised creation with a twisted sense of intrigue. It works as a criticism of what the franchise had become; Freddy is far more straightforward. He doesn't manifest elaborate scenarios for each death, instead relying on pure intimidation and an overwhelming presence. Hence why he barely appears in the film itself, but that's by design. Craven's direction is certainly more muted than his other films, with an almost semi-documentary style. The production design has a suitably nightmarish look, the special effects are excellent, and J. Peter Robinson's score is suitably haunting. The film may lack the trancelike dread and surreal tone of Craven's other contributions to the series, with the climax almost tipping it back into ridiculously goofy territory, but it ultimately makes me wish Craven had directed at least one more proper Elm Street before his passing. The acting is a bit of a weird mix; Heather Langenkamp seems rather lifeless, although her relationship with John Saxon is exceptionally heartwarming, Robert Englund is great, while the other members of the cast are servicable. The self-reflexive nature of New Nightmare leads it to serve as a worthy epilogue to the Elm Street franchise, delivering on shocks, suspense and creepiness even if the execution lacks the stuff it struts in conception.