I've always had a problem with the concept of Michael Douglas. I don't mean Michael Douglas the actor, I mean the concept of Douglas as sex symbol. Given yet another cinematic flash of his buttocks I wanted to yell "Get 'em on!" When Sharon Stone played the sapphic pickaxe pixie in Basic Instinct I was momentarily on her side. I mean, only a straight male producer would cast him as a drooled-over lust object. Yes, I know Sherry Lansing was co-producer on Fatal Attraction, but she's probably a close friend. No, I prefer him in films like the fabulously bad Shining Through (You haven't see it? Rent it) or Coma. His latest outing is in David Fincher's unfairly criticised The Game. OK, so it's not up to the standard of Seven, but what is? In the words of our own Ryan Gilbey, watching this wily thriller is like being marooned in someone else's nightmare.
The Game, MAC, Birmingham (0121-440 3838) 8.30pm