I love the noir genre this first-time viewing has been a real treat. A moodily monochrome tale of a simple guy led astray by a femme fatale told in flashback by an investigative insurance salesman. That's right, it's Billy Wilder's 'Double Indemnity'- again.
Don't get me wrong, it's a very good movie. It zips along with a series of well-drawn and interesting characters providing strong support for the lead actors (a young Burt Lancaster looking for all the world like he's just stepped out of an eighties Levis' ad as the sap, Ava Gardner as the girl, Albert Dekker as the lead crook and Sam Levine- looking very much like Dexy's Midnight Runners genius Kevin Rowland does these days- as the cop).
The real stars, however, are the cinematographer Woody Bredell- the heist itself and the tracking shot with Nick Adams exiting the diner and running to warn Lancaster are spectacular- and Miklos Rozsa's string-heavy score. This is exactly how noir thrillers are meant to look and sound.
The first ten minutes or so are the best part by far with William Conrad and Charles McGraw as two seriously intimidating hit-men holding up a diner as they await their target. It is sensational stuff. If the rest of the film matched the standard of the opening scene, we're talking 10/10 but as it is the film gets a very strong 8/10 and a hearty recommendation.
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Howard the Duck (1986)
I remember the hype, I remember the bad press, I remember loads about 'Howard the Duck' but I'd forgotten that I've never seen the Razzie-nominated Worst Film of the Decade. I have now.
First impressions (and I'm talking VERY first impressions here, like thirty seconds or so in) were that the noir-y feel of the title sequence and some inventive sight gags might mean that this could indeed be a forgotten treat. However, at twelve minutes in I first checked how long the film had left to run. I was bored. Most of the actors are on autopilot, especially Jeffrey Jones who can be a cracking comedy actor when he tries, but Tim Robbins is abysmally hammy and gives no hint of the comedic subtleties that he would later prove capable of.
This is a bloody shambles. An absolute shambles. I seem to recall that part of the problem this film had was the high expectations that the huge budget generated. Huge budget? If I'd spent a grand financing this I'd have wanted to know who it was being aimed at because it's too sleazy for kids and too juvenile for adults. And that's the problem, there's no control over the movie. It seems like everyone was having such a good time inventing duck gags, hiding clever references, punning and generally being smart-arses that they forgot that they were supposed to be entertaining the audience and not themselves. Anyway, back to the budget- where was it spent? I seem to remember that Howard the Duck cost more than the original Star Wars trilogy combined. The duck suit can't have come cheap and there a couple of decently-sized sets but that won't account for it all. Just what were the crew snacking on when they came up with this shite?
For the gags that I enjoyed before they proved wearisome, I give it 2/10. It got lucky.
First impressions (and I'm talking VERY first impressions here, like thirty seconds or so in) were that the noir-y feel of the title sequence and some inventive sight gags might mean that this could indeed be a forgotten treat. However, at twelve minutes in I first checked how long the film had left to run. I was bored. Most of the actors are on autopilot, especially Jeffrey Jones who can be a cracking comedy actor when he tries, but Tim Robbins is abysmally hammy and gives no hint of the comedic subtleties that he would later prove capable of.
This is a bloody shambles. An absolute shambles. I seem to recall that part of the problem this film had was the high expectations that the huge budget generated. Huge budget? If I'd spent a grand financing this I'd have wanted to know who it was being aimed at because it's too sleazy for kids and too juvenile for adults. And that's the problem, there's no control over the movie. It seems like everyone was having such a good time inventing duck gags, hiding clever references, punning and generally being smart-arses that they forgot that they were supposed to be entertaining the audience and not themselves. Anyway, back to the budget- where was it spent? I seem to remember that Howard the Duck cost more than the original Star Wars trilogy combined. The duck suit can't have come cheap and there a couple of decently-sized sets but that won't account for it all. Just what were the crew snacking on when they came up with this shite?
For the gags that I enjoyed before they proved wearisome, I give it 2/10. It got lucky.
Monday, 29 December 2008
Uncle Buck (1989)
Uncle Buck is hilarious because John Candy is hilarious in a role that is ideal for him in a movie that is an ideal vehicle for a peak-of-his-powers John Hughes. I like to judge movies against their aims and so a film trying and failing to be thought-provoking and profound (the example that comes straight to mind is Blowup) will always be worse than a movie that achieves its aim to be fun and disposable. Blowup has thousands of things which commend it that the makers of Uncle Buck would never even have attempted to bring to the screen. But it fails on its own terms and Uncle Buck succeeds on its own terms.
There you are, then. Fun, disposable, hilarious and better than Michelangelo Antonioni's Blowup: Uncle Buck. 6/10.
There you are, then. Fun, disposable, hilarious and better than Michelangelo Antonioni's Blowup: Uncle Buck. 6/10.
Sunday, 28 December 2008
Magnum Force (1973)
Having suffered the cloying sweetness of 'The Holiday', I was in the mood for something a little different and today's LoveFilm delivery 'Magnum Force' certainly fitted the bill on that score. The sequel to Don Siegel's excellent 'Dirty Harry' this film makes it clear that the old adage of 'why change a winning formula' was at the forefront of the minds of everyone involved. The entire opening credits are played out over a close-up of a Magnum .44 and close with the gun pointing towards the screen and Harry's iconic "do you feel lucky, punk?" speech from the first film is replayed to get the audience in the mood. Already you're aware that there's not intended to be a lot of subtlety over the following couple of hours. They may as well have put up a banner reading "turn off your brains and enjoy the action". That's not a bad thing necessarily, but what made the original so compelling was the playing with the audience's preconceptions and expectations- the movie's intelligence, if you will. The lowering of the audience's expectations is a little disheartening. Director Ted Post is no Don Siegel and knows it, he doesn't even try.
Incidentally, the "do you feel lucky, punk?" speech was made after Harry was interrupted while eating a hot-dog from a stand opposite a bank to deal with an armed robbery that occurred across the road. About three scenes into Magnum Force Harry is interrupted from eating a burger from a stand in an airport (for no plausible reason) to deal with a plane hijacking happening in that terminal. My advice is that if you ever see Clint eating fast-food in public, get the hell away from him.
Okay, so the movie opens with a Union leader being found not guilty of a felony due to the 'lack of admissible evidence'. This is shorthand for he's guilty AND corrupt. His car is pulled over by a motorcycle cop- whose face isn't shown- and the Union boss, his lawyer, his driver and his bodyguard are all shot dead at the roadside. The next victims of the (still unmasked) vigilante cop are a swimming pool full of party guests- who he throws a bomb at and then shoots before the bomb explodes- and a pimp who appears to have stepped straight off the set of 'I'm Gonna Git You Sucka'. By the way, at the editing stage they appear to have completely cut out the storyline that explains who the people at the party were. Let's assume they were gangsters.
At this point Harry and his new partner are recalled to the case. Within about thirty seconds, he's figured out that it was a traffic cop doing the killings. His rationale is that two of the killings were done through the opened window of a parked car from point blank range and that the victims (who would hardly be the types to not pull a gun quickly in most circumstances) had their driving licences out. No-one else in the SFPD had figured this out- they should all be demoted. When we next see the vigilante in action again he revealed as 'Silver Lady' crooner David 'Hutch' Soul one of four rookie cops who are all about as good with a weapon as seven-time consecutive police marksman champion Dirty Harry. Imagine that!
I have a theory about Harry Callaghan. Coming three years after Peter Yates' groundbreaking 'Bullitt', 'Dirty Harry' can be seen as an extension of the earlier film. Where Steve McQueen's Frank Bullitt was a good San Francisco cop who was tough and uncompromising, Eastwood's Harry Callaghan is the same but of a more extreme nature. Bullitt was driven by the desire to catch the bad guys but had a stable and happy relationship. Callaghan is newly-bereaved, his methods questionable- torturing a suspect to find the location of a kidnapped girl- and his motivation (at least in the first movie) unclear. In 'Magnum Force', the vigilante cops confront Harry once he'd deduced it was them (not that they could have known he had) and say "you're either for or against us". He makes it clear he's no vigilante- and so the ambiguity of the first film is sacrificed to a straight good guy/bad guys battle. A real shame.
From here on in, it's formulaic. Harry's partner is killed (you'd be safer drumming for Spinal Tap than partnering Harry), then the cops and their leader- Harry's corrupt boss (Hal Holbrook)- are brought to justice, that is to say, killed one-by-one by Harry. The last one is left floating away just like Scorpio was too.
It is fitting, then, that Lalo Schifrin contributes a dull and unimaginative version of his 'Dirty Harry' score to this dull and unimaginative version of 'Dirty Harry'. Being a competent, formulaic cop sequel is one thing, but cheapening the magnificent original rather than even attempting to outdo it is awful. That turns a 5/10 film into a 2/10 film.
I've spent four hours of my day watching Clint Eastwood and Eli Wallach in crap movies. I should've watched The Good, The Bad and The Ugly and treated myself to an extra hour in bed! Pah!
Incidentally, the "do you feel lucky, punk?" speech was made after Harry was interrupted while eating a hot-dog from a stand opposite a bank to deal with an armed robbery that occurred across the road. About three scenes into Magnum Force Harry is interrupted from eating a burger from a stand in an airport (for no plausible reason) to deal with a plane hijacking happening in that terminal. My advice is that if you ever see Clint eating fast-food in public, get the hell away from him.
Okay, so the movie opens with a Union leader being found not guilty of a felony due to the 'lack of admissible evidence'. This is shorthand for he's guilty AND corrupt. His car is pulled over by a motorcycle cop- whose face isn't shown- and the Union boss, his lawyer, his driver and his bodyguard are all shot dead at the roadside. The next victims of the (still unmasked) vigilante cop are a swimming pool full of party guests- who he throws a bomb at and then shoots before the bomb explodes- and a pimp who appears to have stepped straight off the set of 'I'm Gonna Git You Sucka'. By the way, at the editing stage they appear to have completely cut out the storyline that explains who the people at the party were. Let's assume they were gangsters.
At this point Harry and his new partner are recalled to the case. Within about thirty seconds, he's figured out that it was a traffic cop doing the killings. His rationale is that two of the killings were done through the opened window of a parked car from point blank range and that the victims (who would hardly be the types to not pull a gun quickly in most circumstances) had their driving licences out. No-one else in the SFPD had figured this out- they should all be demoted. When we next see the vigilante in action again he revealed as 'Silver Lady' crooner David 'Hutch' Soul one of four rookie cops who are all about as good with a weapon as seven-time consecutive police marksman champion Dirty Harry. Imagine that!
I have a theory about Harry Callaghan. Coming three years after Peter Yates' groundbreaking 'Bullitt', 'Dirty Harry' can be seen as an extension of the earlier film. Where Steve McQueen's Frank Bullitt was a good San Francisco cop who was tough and uncompromising, Eastwood's Harry Callaghan is the same but of a more extreme nature. Bullitt was driven by the desire to catch the bad guys but had a stable and happy relationship. Callaghan is newly-bereaved, his methods questionable- torturing a suspect to find the location of a kidnapped girl- and his motivation (at least in the first movie) unclear. In 'Magnum Force', the vigilante cops confront Harry once he'd deduced it was them (not that they could have known he had) and say "you're either for or against us". He makes it clear he's no vigilante- and so the ambiguity of the first film is sacrificed to a straight good guy/bad guys battle. A real shame.
From here on in, it's formulaic. Harry's partner is killed (you'd be safer drumming for Spinal Tap than partnering Harry), then the cops and their leader- Harry's corrupt boss (Hal Holbrook)- are brought to justice, that is to say, killed one-by-one by Harry. The last one is left floating away just like Scorpio was too.
It is fitting, then, that Lalo Schifrin contributes a dull and unimaginative version of his 'Dirty Harry' score to this dull and unimaginative version of 'Dirty Harry'. Being a competent, formulaic cop sequel is one thing, but cheapening the magnificent original rather than even attempting to outdo it is awful. That turns a 5/10 film into a 2/10 film.
I've spent four hours of my day watching Clint Eastwood and Eli Wallach in crap movies. I should've watched The Good, The Bad and The Ugly and treated myself to an extra hour in bed! Pah!
Carry On Camping (1969)
It's almost certain that I've seen 'Carry On Camping' more often than any other film. It's a comedic comfort blanket. I can recite the dialogue along with the actors with my eyes closed.
Quite why it holds such interest for me I don't know. It is neither the best scripted nor the most inventive of the Carry On series. But it is the funniest. All of the best Carry On regulars (barring Kenneth Connor and Jack Douglas) are present and in fine form. The gags are usually on target and often laugh-out-loud funny. 8/10.
Quite why it holds such interest for me I don't know. It is neither the best scripted nor the most inventive of the Carry On series. But it is the funniest. All of the best Carry On regulars (barring Kenneth Connor and Jack Douglas) are present and in fine form. The gags are usually on target and often laugh-out-loud funny. 8/10.
Saturday, 27 December 2008
The Holiday (2006)
My wife Laura is a wonderful girl (she hasn't and won't, in her own Beauvoirian terms, become a woman). She is funny, intelligent, profound and erudite but (aside from her two favourite films 'Billy Liar' and 'Carry On Camping') she generally has horrible taste in films with a particular leaning towards Rom-Coms. And that results in me having some degree of expertise in the field. Which is a shame for 'The Holiday' because it means that I've seen it various times under various names before. The only surprise is a delightful turn by Eli Wallach as nonagenarian screenwriter Arthur Abbott. Whether it is delightful in its own right or I'm being kind because it is wonderful to see one last hurrah from a screen great I don't know or care, I loved it.
The storyline- such as it is- involves four heartbroken people finding love at Christmas. Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet on the rebound from bad relationships house-swap for two weeks and find love with regular visitors of one-another's. Cameron meets Jude Law in snowbound (but, oddly, never snowing) England and Kate finds love with Jack Black in sun-kissed Los Angeles (where she wears winter clothes throughout).
Oh, why am I bothering- it's crap. It requires a lobotomy, not a suspension of disbelief. The key players have no discernible chemistry and their characters are as two-dimensional as they are vapid. Jude Law gets the plum role as the seeming playboy who is actually the widowed father of two young girls- yes, that is as interesting as it gets. In the best supporting role Rufus Sewell gets to re-enact Hugh Grant's character from 'Bridget Jones' Diary' (told you that I was an expert) and once again raise the question of how a man can be that good-looking despite have such wonky eyes.
Anyway, I'm going to give this 2/10 (both points for the presence of Eli Wallach) and the memory that I could see a film with more wit, charisma, cuteness, more realism and yet more fantasy by watching the decidedly average 'Love Actually'.
The storyline- such as it is- involves four heartbroken people finding love at Christmas. Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet on the rebound from bad relationships house-swap for two weeks and find love with regular visitors of one-another's. Cameron meets Jude Law in snowbound (but, oddly, never snowing) England and Kate finds love with Jack Black in sun-kissed Los Angeles (where she wears winter clothes throughout).
Oh, why am I bothering- it's crap. It requires a lobotomy, not a suspension of disbelief. The key players have no discernible chemistry and their characters are as two-dimensional as they are vapid. Jude Law gets the plum role as the seeming playboy who is actually the widowed father of two young girls- yes, that is as interesting as it gets. In the best supporting role Rufus Sewell gets to re-enact Hugh Grant's character from 'Bridget Jones' Diary' (told you that I was an expert) and once again raise the question of how a man can be that good-looking despite have such wonky eyes.
Anyway, I'm going to give this 2/10 (both points for the presence of Eli Wallach) and the memory that I could see a film with more wit, charisma, cuteness, more realism and yet more fantasy by watching the decidedly average 'Love Actually'.
They're a Weird Mob (1966)
And, to be fair, that's a weird film.
It's not surreal or intricate or confusingly plotted or visually curious, it's weird because I don't know why anyone would ever make a film like it. It's a culture-clash comedy between a charming Italian immigrant and his rough and ready Sydney-based workmates, with a minor love-interest angle to keep the ladies happy. I'm not preaching sexism, it's that kind of film.
Walter Chiari is utterly engaging as the fish-out-of-water Italian and his charm sustained me through the first hour but there was always the nagging thought in my head "when is the story going to start?". It never did. In the end I resigned myself to the fact that, following the furore caused by his magnificent 'Peeping Tom', Michael Powell had decided to never risk offending anyone again. What follows, therefore, is a near-two hour advertisement for Australia as a place of easy manners, friendly locals, and a hard-working, hard-drinking culture where men are men and women aren't. If you want an easy-going film that uses stereotypes and language-barrier gags as shorthand means of dispensing with character development and narrative construction, then this film is the one for you.
Michael Powell's visual brilliance is kept under wraps but for a couple of moments as he plays it safe and for laughs. He is a fantastic director, but this must stand as his poorest film that I've seen. It isn't bad, just inconsequential and more than a little dull. 3/10.
It's not surreal or intricate or confusingly plotted or visually curious, it's weird because I don't know why anyone would ever make a film like it. It's a culture-clash comedy between a charming Italian immigrant and his rough and ready Sydney-based workmates, with a minor love-interest angle to keep the ladies happy. I'm not preaching sexism, it's that kind of film.
Walter Chiari is utterly engaging as the fish-out-of-water Italian and his charm sustained me through the first hour but there was always the nagging thought in my head "when is the story going to start?". It never did. In the end I resigned myself to the fact that, following the furore caused by his magnificent 'Peeping Tom', Michael Powell had decided to never risk offending anyone again. What follows, therefore, is a near-two hour advertisement for Australia as a place of easy manners, friendly locals, and a hard-working, hard-drinking culture where men are men and women aren't. If you want an easy-going film that uses stereotypes and language-barrier gags as shorthand means of dispensing with character development and narrative construction, then this film is the one for you.
Michael Powell's visual brilliance is kept under wraps but for a couple of moments as he plays it safe and for laughs. He is a fantastic director, but this must stand as his poorest film that I've seen. It isn't bad, just inconsequential and more than a little dull. 3/10.
Friday, 26 December 2008
Ashanti (1979)
Michael Caine will star in any film that pays irrespective of its merit, I think we'd all accept that. But do we have to watch? Ashanti is a by-numbers chase movie set in Africa and with a number of big name cameo parts. The director (Richard Fleischer) had long since proved that he can handle 'big' movies with big names- especially with 'The Vikings'- but he must've been too busy applying sun-tan lotion to notice that the highly-paid stars he'd flown in at great expense (Omar Sharif, William Holden, Rex Harrison, Peter Ustinov) were barely doing more than reciting the banal script. The lowest-point came with the once-great Holden mentioning casually to Caine (after being shot whilst in control of a helicopter because Caine didn't fire first) that he should jump before they crash and Caine responding by looking out of the window with a bare modicum of interest.
He jumped eventually and survived. What a shame. The film could have been over in half an hour. Nothing redeems this film. Nothing. 0/10.
He jumped eventually and survived. What a shame. The film could have been over in half an hour. Nothing redeems this film. Nothing. 0/10.
Thursday, 25 December 2008
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998)
If you're a British man in your twenties or thirties, the chances are you've probably seen this a fair few times. The fact that I ended up watching it (again) today wasn't by choice, therefore, but to humour someone who hadn't seen it. If that makes watching it sound like a chore, it is and it isn't. The film is ten years old now and very resonant of its time.
Four young British clothes horses (they're models, not actors right?) end up owing a cartoonish local villain half a million pounds with only a week to pay up. There then transpires an unlikely sequence of events in which three gangs all handle- at one time or another- a bag-load of cash, a van-load of drugs and two antique muskets. There a few minor twists and turns and all of the loose ends are tied up in under two hours. It is the type of movie designed to flatter the audience that they are following a labyrinthine plot when- in reality- not a lot happens.
What makes Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels so exemplary of late nineties film-making is its over-stylization. The entire thing is drenched in sepia, it has an achingly cool soundtrack, there is cartoon violence done in CGI slo-mo, the whole thing is so obviously packaged and a product by design. It is as if Guy Ritchie was handed copies of Trainspotting, Pulp Fiction, The Italian Job and The Matrix and instructed to produce a film that combines their best bits. It is all so fucking deliberate and meticulously planned to tick the boxes that defined that zeitgeist.
The only thing that Guy Ritchie brings to Lock, Stock... which you won't have seen done better before is his infatuation with butch men. This isn't a homo-erotic thing, it is clear (with the hindsight of his subsequent offerings) that Ritchie likes and identifies with 'tough guys'. His films increasingly focus upon tough working class men doing tough working class things and, given his privileged upbringing, this can't help but look a little like a posh man exercising his infatuation in public. Which is a bit odd. The problem is that the slang dialogue and casual homophobia sound a little too contrived to be convincing.
Having said all of this, I'm not kicking the movie. It is entertaining and succeeds in its (limited) aims. I'll give it a creditable 5/10.
Four young British clothes horses (they're models, not actors right?) end up owing a cartoonish local villain half a million pounds with only a week to pay up. There then transpires an unlikely sequence of events in which three gangs all handle- at one time or another- a bag-load of cash, a van-load of drugs and two antique muskets. There a few minor twists and turns and all of the loose ends are tied up in under two hours. It is the type of movie designed to flatter the audience that they are following a labyrinthine plot when- in reality- not a lot happens.
What makes Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels so exemplary of late nineties film-making is its over-stylization. The entire thing is drenched in sepia, it has an achingly cool soundtrack, there is cartoon violence done in CGI slo-mo, the whole thing is so obviously packaged and a product by design. It is as if Guy Ritchie was handed copies of Trainspotting, Pulp Fiction, The Italian Job and The Matrix and instructed to produce a film that combines their best bits. It is all so fucking deliberate and meticulously planned to tick the boxes that defined that zeitgeist.
The only thing that Guy Ritchie brings to Lock, Stock... which you won't have seen done better before is his infatuation with butch men. This isn't a homo-erotic thing, it is clear (with the hindsight of his subsequent offerings) that Ritchie likes and identifies with 'tough guys'. His films increasingly focus upon tough working class men doing tough working class things and, given his privileged upbringing, this can't help but look a little like a posh man exercising his infatuation in public. Which is a bit odd. The problem is that the slang dialogue and casual homophobia sound a little too contrived to be convincing.
Having said all of this, I'm not kicking the movie. It is entertaining and succeeds in its (limited) aims. I'll give it a creditable 5/10.
Angels With Dirty Faces (1938)
One of the saddest legacies of my heavy-drinking days is that I've half-seen or half-remember so many films. This is one of them. Watching it today I honestly couldn't tell if I'd seen it before in a stupor, or seen various parts of the film at various times. Or if it is just so quotable and influential that it is one of those films which is diminished because you've seen so much of it before, done in inferior ways by inferior film-makers.
The plotline is interesting but pretty generic (here's one of the ways that it could've been diminished, for all I know its ambiguous ending may have been a complete revelation in 1938), Michael Curtiz's direction is zippy but dated and the script is quotable but self-consciously so.
The big thing this film has going for it is the performances of its main players. James Cagney is in it. See? And he plays James Cagney better than he's ever played him before. Understand? It's a great performance, iconic and memorable. Pat O'Brien plays the tough part of the young hood-turned-priest convincingly. And Humphrey Bogart plays it deft and understated in the part of the slippery lawyer Frazier.
I liked a lot about watching this film- the basketball game is tremendous fun and the ending is very clever- but, for me anyway, it is less than the sum of its parts and I give it a 7/10.
The plotline is interesting but pretty generic (here's one of the ways that it could've been diminished, for all I know its ambiguous ending may have been a complete revelation in 1938), Michael Curtiz's direction is zippy but dated and the script is quotable but self-consciously so.
The big thing this film has going for it is the performances of its main players. James Cagney is in it. See? And he plays James Cagney better than he's ever played him before. Understand? It's a great performance, iconic and memorable. Pat O'Brien plays the tough part of the young hood-turned-priest convincingly. And Humphrey Bogart plays it deft and understated in the part of the slippery lawyer Frazier.
I liked a lot about watching this film- the basketball game is tremendous fun and the ending is very clever- but, for me anyway, it is less than the sum of its parts and I give it a 7/10.
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
It's A Wonderful Life (1946)
Through the cruelty of another, a man's life is in ruins and he is faced with "bankruptcy and scandal and prison". He is about to take his own life when an Angel offers him the chance to see what the world would be like had he not lived. The bleakness that permeates the lives of everyone he knows and loves in his absence persuades him that he "really had a wonderful life". At this point, I start blubbing.
Then he gets his life back and I'm in floods of tears and he tells the Sheriff "isn't it wonderful, I'm going to jail" before his friends and neighbours gather around to save him and sing "Auld Lang Syne" and I get carted off to hospital and put on a saline drip having cried all of the salt from my body.
Frank Capra Jr is a wonderful feelgood Director and in "It's A Wonderful Life", whether intentionally or not, he passed off a serious message about the perils of rampant capitalism and the need for some form of communalism in the most capitalist country in the world at the outset of McCarthyism and got away with it. He made wonderful, life-affirming movies and this is the finest of them.
James Stewart gives a marvellous performance embodying the young, idealistic George Bailey and the warped, frustrated version a mere ten years on (he doesn't look the same man!) wonderfully. It's the performance of a lifetime from one of the world's finest actors.
The supporting cast of fully-realised and interesting characters are all excellent- especially Donna Reed as Mary Bailey and Lionel Barrymore as Henry F. Potter.
I have a good friend with impeccable taste who simply doesn't get this film. I understand that, I don't get The Clash- though I know that I should. It depends on if you're touched by what you're seeing or hearing and sometimes you're immune. Odd, but true. I'm the opposite, this just gets me. It just does. This truly is one of the most perfectly realised pieces of film-making I have ever seen. It is by turns funny, sad, dramatic, harrowing, heartwarming and wise and it is as clear an example of a 10/10 film as there could be.
Then he gets his life back and I'm in floods of tears and he tells the Sheriff "isn't it wonderful, I'm going to jail" before his friends and neighbours gather around to save him and sing "Auld Lang Syne" and I get carted off to hospital and put on a saline drip having cried all of the salt from my body.
Frank Capra Jr is a wonderful feelgood Director and in "It's A Wonderful Life", whether intentionally or not, he passed off a serious message about the perils of rampant capitalism and the need for some form of communalism in the most capitalist country in the world at the outset of McCarthyism and got away with it. He made wonderful, life-affirming movies and this is the finest of them.
James Stewart gives a marvellous performance embodying the young, idealistic George Bailey and the warped, frustrated version a mere ten years on (he doesn't look the same man!) wonderfully. It's the performance of a lifetime from one of the world's finest actors.
The supporting cast of fully-realised and interesting characters are all excellent- especially Donna Reed as Mary Bailey and Lionel Barrymore as Henry F. Potter.
I have a good friend with impeccable taste who simply doesn't get this film. I understand that, I don't get The Clash- though I know that I should. It depends on if you're touched by what you're seeing or hearing and sometimes you're immune. Odd, but true. I'm the opposite, this just gets me. It just does. This truly is one of the most perfectly realised pieces of film-making I have ever seen. It is by turns funny, sad, dramatic, harrowing, heartwarming and wise and it is as clear an example of a 10/10 film as there could be.
Singin' In The Rain (1952)
There are things in my life that just don't make sense. Singin' In The Rain is one of them. I was vaguely aware of its existence- in the same way that I know Oklahoma, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and Calamity Jane exist- without ever having any intention of seeing it. Then, as I worked my way through the IMDB Top 250 a couple of years back it was on there and I was blown away by it. And then everyone I spoke to about it felt the same towards it. Had the world been keeping it a secret for any particular reason? Anyway, this is a scorching film and, having seen it again today, I'm struggling to know where to start with it.
Hollywood loves films about Hollywood (from Chaplin to David Lynch) and this film is up there with Sunset Boulevard as the very best of them. It is about the influence of technology and progress (the advent of talking pictures) and is exemplary of technology and progress (with vivid technicolor sequences, state-of-the-art sound and the expressionist sets for "Gotta Dance"). It is about the need for artistry, talent and star quality and the artifice that lesser talents hide behind. It is about duplicity and corruption and conservatism and politicking and vested interests. It is a very serious movie in many ways.
But it's also a very funny film comedy and a musical with tremendous songs and memorable choreography beautifully accomplished. Everyone in it acts their heart out and they are all clearly having a ball. It is just such a greatly enriching and enjoyable movie experience- a big 9/10 from me. And I generally hate musicals!
Hollywood loves films about Hollywood (from Chaplin to David Lynch) and this film is up there with Sunset Boulevard as the very best of them. It is about the influence of technology and progress (the advent of talking pictures) and is exemplary of technology and progress (with vivid technicolor sequences, state-of-the-art sound and the expressionist sets for "Gotta Dance"). It is about the need for artistry, talent and star quality and the artifice that lesser talents hide behind. It is about duplicity and corruption and conservatism and politicking and vested interests. It is a very serious movie in many ways.
But it's also a very funny film comedy and a musical with tremendous songs and memorable choreography beautifully accomplished. Everyone in it acts their heart out and they are all clearly having a ball. It is just such a greatly enriching and enjoyable movie experience- a big 9/10 from me. And I generally hate musicals!
Elf (2003)
This is one of those films that you can really dislike if you try. But why would you?
Will Ferrell is a baby orphan who sneaks into Santa's sack one Christmas and ends up in the North Pole where he is raised by Elves. When he grows up he returns to New York to find his real father (James Caan) and- as is always the way- save Christmas. It's cute, it's schmaltzy, it's a bit slapstick, it a bit funny, it has a really heartwarming message about the spirit of Christmas and it just feels pretty good.
In short, it aims to do a job and it works! Ferrell should be irritating not endearing, but you just warm to him. And it is his movie. He carries it wonderfully well bringing a patchy script to life with his sheer enthusiasm at times. I'd also like to mention James Caan's bouffant which was dyed to match his coat and is hilarious and kind of sad at the same time.
It would be 5/10 but the fact that Will Ferrell turned down huge offers to make a sequel because it would've tainted this one accrues a bonus point- 6/10.
Will Ferrell is a baby orphan who sneaks into Santa's sack one Christmas and ends up in the North Pole where he is raised by Elves. When he grows up he returns to New York to find his real father (James Caan) and- as is always the way- save Christmas. It's cute, it's schmaltzy, it's a bit slapstick, it a bit funny, it has a really heartwarming message about the spirit of Christmas and it just feels pretty good.
In short, it aims to do a job and it works! Ferrell should be irritating not endearing, but you just warm to him. And it is his movie. He carries it wonderfully well bringing a patchy script to life with his sheer enthusiasm at times. I'd also like to mention James Caan's bouffant which was dyed to match his coat and is hilarious and kind of sad at the same time.
It would be 5/10 but the fact that Will Ferrell turned down huge offers to make a sequel because it would've tainted this one accrues a bonus point- 6/10.
Lady Cocoa (1975)
If you buy a 'soul cinema' movie you've never heard of from Poundland, then you've no right to expect Citizen Kane. And I didn't. Even so my already low expectations took a nosedive when the DVD began- I was watching a transfer from a poor quality VHS recording. Perhaps even from a Betamax, who knows? But, in a way, that crappiness was great. As a young teen, my movie viewing was almost entirely restricted to well-worn videos from the local rental store and this was like a trip back in time. Yes, I watched shite then too.
Lola Falana (Lady Cocoa) is a prisoner who has served eighteen months for contempt of court and, in return for turning state's evidence against her boyfriend (who is hoping to move into Las Vegas as a racketeer) she is granted 24 hours leave from her inexplicably decorated prison cell under police protection. In truth, I would have been unhappy with the protection offered as they are followed from the prison car-park along miles of deserted roads by two thugs in a pimpmobile and neither cop notices- this plot has more holes than a tennis racket. Lady Cocoa isn't fussed, though, she's more interested in the standards of artwork that the hotel have to offer (she's cultured, you see- she also quotes philosophy. And Janis Joplin) and ordering a series of meals that she never eats. During her 24 hours leave she is supposed to stay in a hotel room with her escorts but, while the senior officer is out of the room for no discernable reason, she persuades the rookie to take her down to the dress shop in the hotel foyer.
I'm going to digress for a moment and talk about the rookie. He's a Carl Weathers-type good looking black guy and is obviously the love interest. His character is fascinating- he is a beat patrol officer selected for his first plain-clothes job over many better-qualified men because he "knows how to take orders". This is one of four things that we know about him. The others are that he carries a 'rattlesnake skin-handled pistol' even though it is against regulations, that he was due to have an emergency amputation on a gangrenous leg in Vietnam but threatened to kill the surgeon who then changed his mind (fortuitously so, as there is no hint of a limp during the course of the movie) and, finally, that the lump of wood playing him shows less emotion than Bruce Lee's digitally superimposed photograph in that scene in Game of Death.
Okay, so where was I? Well Lola Falana- who is by miles the best thing in the movie and gives some pretty rancid dialogue far more credit than it deserves- has persuaded the cop to take her to the foyer. The condition of her temporary pass is that they give her whatever she wants- so long as it doesn't include leaving the hotel room- and so she demands all of the money her remaining escort has (this is his own money, by the way) to spend on clothes. So, he hands it over. It's twenty dollars. As this isn't enough he agrees that they go and gamble it at the (curiously empty) blackjack table. She places all of the cash on the first hand.
This happens 32 minutes into a 1 hour 40 minute movie. And at this point, the DVD gave up altogether- in both of the machines I tried. I can only surmise that the disc refused to go any further in protest at how craptacular the movie was. Good decision. 1/10 - that point was for Lola Falana. She deserved better.
And is this the only blaxploitation film ever where even the soundtrack (which they forgot to add to a couple of scenes) really sucked? Lalo Schifrin's 'Dirty Harry' intro would turn in its grave if it heard the wahwah-ed up imitation used intermittently here.
Lola Falana (Lady Cocoa) is a prisoner who has served eighteen months for contempt of court and, in return for turning state's evidence against her boyfriend (who is hoping to move into Las Vegas as a racketeer) she is granted 24 hours leave from her inexplicably decorated prison cell under police protection. In truth, I would have been unhappy with the protection offered as they are followed from the prison car-park along miles of deserted roads by two thugs in a pimpmobile and neither cop notices- this plot has more holes than a tennis racket. Lady Cocoa isn't fussed, though, she's more interested in the standards of artwork that the hotel have to offer (she's cultured, you see- she also quotes philosophy. And Janis Joplin) and ordering a series of meals that she never eats. During her 24 hours leave she is supposed to stay in a hotel room with her escorts but, while the senior officer is out of the room for no discernable reason, she persuades the rookie to take her down to the dress shop in the hotel foyer.
I'm going to digress for a moment and talk about the rookie. He's a Carl Weathers-type good looking black guy and is obviously the love interest. His character is fascinating- he is a beat patrol officer selected for his first plain-clothes job over many better-qualified men because he "knows how to take orders". This is one of four things that we know about him. The others are that he carries a 'rattlesnake skin-handled pistol' even though it is against regulations, that he was due to have an emergency amputation on a gangrenous leg in Vietnam but threatened to kill the surgeon who then changed his mind (fortuitously so, as there is no hint of a limp during the course of the movie) and, finally, that the lump of wood playing him shows less emotion than Bruce Lee's digitally superimposed photograph in that scene in Game of Death.
Okay, so where was I? Well Lola Falana- who is by miles the best thing in the movie and gives some pretty rancid dialogue far more credit than it deserves- has persuaded the cop to take her to the foyer. The condition of her temporary pass is that they give her whatever she wants- so long as it doesn't include leaving the hotel room- and so she demands all of the money her remaining escort has (this is his own money, by the way) to spend on clothes. So, he hands it over. It's twenty dollars. As this isn't enough he agrees that they go and gamble it at the (curiously empty) blackjack table. She places all of the cash on the first hand.
This happens 32 minutes into a 1 hour 40 minute movie. And at this point, the DVD gave up altogether- in both of the machines I tried. I can only surmise that the disc refused to go any further in protest at how craptacular the movie was. Good decision. 1/10 - that point was for Lola Falana. She deserved better.
And is this the only blaxploitation film ever where even the soundtrack (which they forgot to add to a couple of scenes) really sucked? Lalo Schifrin's 'Dirty Harry' intro would turn in its grave if it heard the wahwah-ed up imitation used intermittently here.
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
Scrooge (1951)
It was up against it this one.
I've been Christmas shopping all day and have had the festive spirit bashed out of me by the elbows of people keen to get the last remaining items at Woolworths. On top of that I've already seen one version of the story today. The only copy of this film I own is a bizarrely colourised version (underpaid clerk Bob Cratchitt has a sky blue top hat!) with appalling sound quality. And it is probably the most well-known modern story of them all, so surprises are out of the question.
But it delivered wonderfully. Alastair Sim gives a career-best performance as Ebeneezer Scrooge. The difficulty of the part is in getting the balance right between the malevolent and the joyful, pacing the change in Scrooge's demeanour (so often Scrooge seems to have changed as soon as he sees Marley's ghost). Sim does this wonderfully and the pathos with which he delivers the key scene- "I fear you more than any spectre I have met tonight! But even in my fear, I must say that I am too old! I cannot change! I cannot! It's not that I'm inpenitent, it's just... Wouldn't it be better if I just went home to bed?"- is truly memorable.
And yet, though, he carries the weight of the film there is far more here to enjoy than Sim's bravura performance. There is a wonderful scene where Tiny Tim elicits great joy from watching the Victorian-era clockwork toys through the window of a toyshop, by the way, are possibly the maddest set of movie gnashers since Max Schreck's). The much-underrated Michael Hordern gives a melodramatic turn as Marley's ghost- and a very subtle Jacob Marley in the flashback scene.George Cole is believable as the embittered young Ebeneezer. Kathleen Harrison (as Mrs Dilber, the Housekeeper) leads a fine supporting cast of alienated acquaintances eager to exploit Scrooge's death- you simply don't feel any anger at their ghoulish acts.
The closing of the story- where Scrooge finds redemption- is conveyed by a dizzyingly excitable Sim dancing, singing and (failing in his attempt at) doing a handstand and is a scene of unrestricted joy. It even contains a great goof with a member of the crew poking his head into shot via a mirror. Several times.
There are faults- Scrooge's nephew Fred (Brian Worth) is like a hypnotised Keanu Reeves, for instance- but they are minor. Overall, it's a hugely enjoyable film, a Christmas great and Alastair Sim is the definitive cinematic Scrooge - 8/10.
I've been Christmas shopping all day and have had the festive spirit bashed out of me by the elbows of people keen to get the last remaining items at Woolworths. On top of that I've already seen one version of the story today. The only copy of this film I own is a bizarrely colourised version (underpaid clerk Bob Cratchitt has a sky blue top hat!) with appalling sound quality. And it is probably the most well-known modern story of them all, so surprises are out of the question.
But it delivered wonderfully. Alastair Sim gives a career-best performance as Ebeneezer Scrooge. The difficulty of the part is in getting the balance right between the malevolent and the joyful, pacing the change in Scrooge's demeanour (so often Scrooge seems to have changed as soon as he sees Marley's ghost). Sim does this wonderfully and the pathos with which he delivers the key scene- "I fear you more than any spectre I have met tonight! But even in my fear, I must say that I am too old! I cannot change! I cannot! It's not that I'm inpenitent, it's just... Wouldn't it be better if I just went home to bed?"- is truly memorable.
And yet, though, he carries the weight of the film there is far more here to enjoy than Sim's bravura performance. There is a wonderful scene where Tiny Tim elicits great joy from watching the Victorian-era clockwork toys through the window of a toyshop, by the way, are possibly the maddest set of movie gnashers since Max Schreck's). The much-underrated Michael Hordern gives a melodramatic turn as Marley's ghost- and a very subtle Jacob Marley in the flashback scene.
The closing of the story- where Scrooge finds redemption- is conveyed by a dizzyingly excitable Sim dancing, singing and (failing in his attempt at) doing a handstand and is a scene of unrestricted joy. It even contains a great goof with a member of the crew poking his head into shot via a mirror. Several times.
There are faults- Scrooge's nephew Fred (Brian Worth) is like a hypnotised Keanu Reeves, for instance- but they are minor. Overall, it's a hugely enjoyable film, a Christmas great and Alastair Sim is the definitive cinematic Scrooge - 8/10.
Mickey's Christmas Carol (1983)
I watch this with my wife every year. It's a fun and seasonal way to pass a half an hour. It's neither as good or as poor as Disney is capable of. Scrooge McDuck is an obvious choice for Ebeneezer Scrooge (at one point he is referred to as 'an Englishman' which won't go down well in Caledonia), Mickey Mouse is Bob Cratchitt and Jiminy Cricket, Willie the Giant and that strange evil dog thing are the three Ghosts.
The best bit is when Willie the Giant (The Ghost of Christmas Present) takes Ebeneezer stomping through the streets to Bob Cratchitt's house, removing the top of a lamppost to make a torch and lifting rooftops to check inside. It's the only bit of creativity and stands out a mile.
So, it's a 4/10. But a good one. This is a 4/10 film that I'll watch again next year and again the year after.
The best bit is when Willie the Giant (The Ghost of Christmas Present) takes Ebeneezer stomping through the streets to Bob Cratchitt's house, removing the top of a lamppost to make a torch and lifting rooftops to check inside. It's the only bit of creativity and stands out a mile.
So, it's a 4/10. But a good one. This is a 4/10 film that I'll watch again next year and again the year after.
Friday, 12 December 2008
The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970)
First viewing.
My prior knowledge of Peckinpah extends to single viewings of 'The Wild Bunch' and 'Straw Dogs' and a vague knowledge that he made films about men for men. With this in mind, a tail-end Western with hints of romance, screwball comedy, revenge thriller and musical took me aback somewhat. Or was it the fact that Jason Robards and the excellent Stella Stevens looked a little too like Bill from 'Kill Bill' romancing Gail Tilsley that I found so disconcerting?
Either way, I found the film enjoyable but slight. Robards pulls off the sly trick of getting the audience rooting for Cable Hogue but not really liking him ("don't make me out no saint, but don't put me down too deep") while David Warner does a smashing job as the preacher/con-man Joshua ("Since I cannot rouse heaven I intend to raise hell").
The premise of the story is that Robards makes his fortune while waiting to take revenge upon his two ex-partners who abandoned him to die in the middle of the desert (and is it just me who imagines that the desert would be half-full of men left to die, there are a few in every Western) but that revenge is a wasted emotion and an ultimately unfulfilling act. THAT, I loved. "'Vengeance is mine' sayeth the Lord" quoted the preacher during an early scene and- we are shown- forgiveness is the more satisfactory act for Hogue.
Against the backdrop of this is the 1908 setting- the coming of the motor car, the development of modern cities, the death of the 'old ways', the power of the bankers- and the end of the Western era. A man out of step with the changing times turns his back on the revenge he had waited years to enact and finds contentment. As an elegy for the civilisation of the west, it makes a lovely story. Even if the awkwardness of the genre-swapping robs the story of much of its power, its plot holes (that bank loan!) are more than compensated for by some smashing cinematography.
I bet that I enjoy this film a lot more on second viewing but, for now, it gets a solid 6/10.
My prior knowledge of Peckinpah extends to single viewings of 'The Wild Bunch' and 'Straw Dogs' and a vague knowledge that he made films about men for men. With this in mind, a tail-end Western with hints of romance, screwball comedy, revenge thriller and musical took me aback somewhat. Or was it the fact that Jason Robards and the excellent Stella Stevens looked a little too like Bill from 'Kill Bill' romancing Gail Tilsley that I found so disconcerting?
Either way, I found the film enjoyable but slight. Robards pulls off the sly trick of getting the audience rooting for Cable Hogue but not really liking him ("don't make me out no saint, but don't put me down too deep") while David Warner does a smashing job as the preacher/con-man Joshua ("Since I cannot rouse heaven I intend to raise hell").
The premise of the story is that Robards makes his fortune while waiting to take revenge upon his two ex-partners who abandoned him to die in the middle of the desert (and is it just me who imagines that the desert would be half-full of men left to die, there are a few in every Western) but that revenge is a wasted emotion and an ultimately unfulfilling act. THAT, I loved. "'Vengeance is mine' sayeth the Lord" quoted the preacher during an early scene and- we are shown- forgiveness is the more satisfactory act for Hogue.
Against the backdrop of this is the 1908 setting- the coming of the motor car, the development of modern cities, the death of the 'old ways', the power of the bankers- and the end of the Western era. A man out of step with the changing times turns his back on the revenge he had waited years to enact and finds contentment. As an elegy for the civilisation of the west, it makes a lovely story. Even if the awkwardness of the genre-swapping robs the story of much of its power, its plot holes (that bank loan!) are more than compensated for by some smashing cinematography.
I bet that I enjoy this film a lot more on second viewing but, for now, it gets a solid 6/10.
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