terrible... so disappointed.

Plot so thin, it passes unnoticed.

After playing with our expectations, this turns out to be a very different sort of film.

Unshakable, witty and deeply felt, the film will be paying emotional dividends for a long, long time.

Brass Eye is the last word in media satire. There certainly hasn't been anything to even touch on its level of inspired, demented genius since it went out, and watching it today this nearly 18 year old program makes everything on TV now look hackneyed and dated. The attention to detail in all the sketches is mindblowing. The celeb duping is utterly ridiculous, how any of them worked again is a mystery (I kind of wish he hadn't gone for 2 of my all time heroes Gary Lineker and Tommy Vance, but even their sections are insanely funny, in particular Vance's guide to 'Prison Slang'). Believe the hype: Seven glorious episodes of head-mashing hilarity that ring as true today as they did back then. Essential.

Brass Eye is honestly one of the funniest things you could ever watch providing: a) you do not read the Daily Mail b) like your jokes with an obvious punchline and canned laughter c) you're American'Alabaster Codefael'The series is broken down to 6 (+ special) shows which, often in a controversial style, lampoons trash media sensationalism (see 'The Sun Says' or 'Tonight with Trevor McDonald') on subjects such as sex, drugs, moral decline and science. 'Ted Maul'Chris Morris is the writer and genius behind the show who crops up in a number of guises with support from the usual suspects. Whereas it's predecessor The Day Today relied on silliness, Brass Eye is very clever with it's surreal take on current affairs.'Brian O'Hanra'hanrahan'Fans of Morris will love the inane expressions and sheer cheek of it all. To hear Phil Collins say 'I'm talking Nonce Sense' or Richard Blackwood to advise parents about potential grooming of their kids if they 'smell of hammers' makes you realise how stupid B list celebrities can be.'Burn it and buy another copy for the music'Watching 'Sutcliffe the Musical' 'Me oh Myra' 'Little White Ass' can be uncomfortable but extremely funny.'I used to have your picture by the toilet. I wanted you to see my naked body and oil it. But my mom came in and spoiled it.Legendary stuff. If you don't believe me check out the complaints it received!

In these brightly Orwellian days, where cynical governments can smile 'Trust me...' and know we will fill in the blanks 'I'm lying' and not care; where 'biting' satire is left in the sole hands of a cricket-loving impressionist; where the laurel of 'great comedy' is placed on the head of yet another formulaic spoof of fly-in-the-wall documentaries; in these grimly shining times, Chris Morris is a dark beacon of sense, moral fury, fierce intelligence, intransigent vision; a man of endless, astonishing invention, intimidating energy and a gleefully, pranksterish sensibility.The problem with today's 'satire' is that it sets up an 'us against them' opposition, in which we snicker with the satirist at a host of immovable, indifferent caricatures. Most of our most prominent satirists are of the same generation, background and ideology of the ruling classes, and their humour has the flavour of locker-room ribbing rather than devastating anger. Most satire consists of an audience talking to itself, reassuring itself of its own worth, its own values against targets so clearly ridiculous they don't really exist. It is satire as easy listening, as reassuring as old socks.The reason many people don't like Chris Morris is not because of the 'taboo' subject matter he tackles, but because he doesn't play fair, he doesn't play cricket. He never allows the audience the comfort of complacent complicity. if we sneer at another hapless celebrity duped into piously anguishing over some preposterous non-issue in an obscene public gesture of their own ethical value and depth, we are stating that we are truly 'authentic', that we would never be caught out, that our values are sound. And then Morris will insert a crass joke that strips away the warm cloak of lazy irony - an imitation of the author of 'A Brief History of Time', for instance - that repels us, shakes us out of a cosy 'us vs them' mentality, forcing us to face up to the complexity of what we're watching, or - shock, horror! - think for ourselves.When I was watching the 'Brass eye' repeats recently, I was struck by how little they had dated, how exhilirating and intellectually stimulating, as well as cripplingly funny, they still were. Surely a media satire, with its inbuilt topicality, should become instantly anachronistic. You could argue that this is a damning indictment of a media that hasn't changed its mind-numbing habits in the last half-decade. I would argue, however, that 'Brass eye' is not really a media satire at all, or is not one fundamentally, despite its destructively accurate potshots at sensationalism, the paucity of media intelligence, a culture with a media that no longer records or reflects reality, but actually creates it, as in the recent case of a major Sunday newspaper printing photos of paedophiles, encouraging the public to savage them, conveniently creating the next morning's news. This is all an essential part of what 'Brass eye' does.But it is more than that. Morris is our century's Jonathan Swift, and last week's 'Brass eye special' on media hysteria about paedophilia was his 'A Modest Proposal', a satire so savage, so angry, so uncomfortable, so ironic in the true, original sense of that phrase, that people mistook the satire for its object, because Morris held up a mirror to our society, a totalitarian, propaganda-corrupt culture posing as a democracy; and to ourselves, we who conceal brutal, fascist instincts under a guise of ethical concern. We didn't like it, and rather than acknowledge our own darkness, we tried to smash the mirror. Like Swift, Morris has always been more concerned with language and ontology than the media per se, the way words no longer mean what they are supposed to mean, in the way the advance of media technology has created an illusionistic world in which 'real' people have to live, in which we try to make the illusion real, to devastating results. And yet, again like Irishman, the sheer invention with which Morris records this communicative decadence channelled through language, liberates and gives some hope - but only if we accept the challenge of 'Brass eye'.

Chris Morris returned with Brass Eye after a long televisual gap, the first show since The Day Today.It's biting satire caused much offense in the UK, with leading newspapers calling for sketches to be removed, and last minute editing before shows went out. It mocked the British news documentary covering such dangerous issues as Sex, Drugs, Animal Cruelty and Crime.Those who did not understand the depth of the satire (the most complex since Swift perhaps) were often offended, leading to the Indpendant Television Commission investigating. It was found to be acceptable but was told to be careful.The genuis mind behind the whole creation, Chris Morris, perhaps went one stept too far when he put a subliminal message lasting 1/25 of a second into the final episode saying "Grade Is A C**t" refering to the then chief executive of Channel 4 who had ordered the cuts.This programme would never be shown in the US, breaking probably every rule of US broasdcasting with swearing, sexual and violent content, making so -called American satirists look as scary and dangerous as some wet cheese.It remains one of the greatest pieces of television ever created, funny yet disturbing, thought-provoking and ground-breaking.