Spielberg, where you been, man? The last time you thrilled me out of my seat was with Minority Report way back in 2002. Since then you’ve made some great flicks, but that Crystal Skull trick you tried to pull for your last movie was garbage. You’re back in one big way with a whirlwind of a movie: The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn. You’ve brought some friends with you too: Peter Jackson as producer and Steven Moffat, Edgar Wright, and Joe Cornish as writers. I wasn’t scared off by WETA’s motion-capture animation either, which is usually terrifying and gives humans cold, soulless eyes. Tintin is a balls-out action adventure mystery thrill ride form beginning to end. Take your War Horse and shove it, Tintin’s running this show.

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While you’ll see “from the producers of Shaun of the Dead” printed on the adverts for Attack of the Block (along with Nick Frost’s schlubby face), Atb is in another league of genre-bending film exported from Britain. What makes AtB shine brighter than other Edgar Wright productions is that it takes its location, characters, and the invasion genre very seriously. It turns increasingly grim later in the film as the stakes are raised. And it works on every level. Bathed in attitude, rapid-fast chav slang, and plenty of humor, it’s an utterly confident debut from director Joe Cornish.

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