Zulu Dawn

A motion picture epic of (and about) timeless stupidity. Belonging to the 'overwhelming odds' school of cinematic dross, this recounts the massacre at Isandhlwana in 1879, the worst defeat ever suffered by British forces at the hands of natives, with the big-name colonials battling against well-oiled and statuesque blacks. Embarrassed by the fundamental attraction of this ripping yarn, the film abandons Zulu-style Celtic punk and sells itself instead on spectacle, in a wrap-around package of documentation and social insight (meaning shots of rows of native boobs vs elaborate Brit table manners). You can't fail to be staggered by the discrepancy between the film's wet-nosed anxiety to please, to affect, and its wide-screen parade of nervy little cosmetic clichés.