Drag Me to Hell (2009)

I just may have mentioned previously that I am something of a horror-buff despite my catholic film preferences, so it is no surprise that we went to see this newly-released movie from very busy and very creative director-producer-writer Sam Raimi. It is being hailed as a return to his "Evil Dead" horror roots, although much of his subsequent film-making is hardly shabby, notably "A Simple Plan" and the first (and maybe the second) "Spider-Man". I shall add to the testimonials by concurring that the film is a lot of fun, especially if you have a strong stomach for some of the cartoony violence. The frights are not heavy on gore, but rather excessive on other bodily fluids; in many ways, it's a good old-fashioned scarefest. However despite taking pleasure from the OTT effects, it is hardly a "funny" movie, as I have seen it described.



Alison Lohman plays a loan-officer at a bank, angling for a promotion from her uptight boss David Paymer. Both she and her boyfriend, played by Justin Long, while both pushing 30, looked to my ancient eyes ever so young to be a career banker and if I heard correctly a university professor. (I understand Ellen Page was originally sought for the lead and if anything she would have come across as even younger). Lohman, in order to prove her "toughness" to Paymer and to forestall her rival for the promotion (why an oriental character should have a obviously Jewish name is beyond me), turns down an appeal from an elderly gypsy hag whose house is about to be repossessed; she in turn lays a three-day fatal curse on the poor thing. We therefore get to witness Lohman's increasingly hopeless attempts to forestall her fate and the intervening horrors as she consults an Indian seer (a weak turn I thought), indulges in animal sacrifice, and takes part in an exorcism ceremony. The end is nigh if she can not give away the tainted button that dooms her (a similar device to the classic "Night of the Demon").



It all builds to cheeky thrills and Raimi excels. I particularly liked one scene where she tries to keep it together to impress Long's initially hostile parents at a family dinner, until she loses it when she spots the gypsy's dead eye in her dessert! The ending is half what I expected and half what I did not think it would be; no spoilers here....just to say it was strong and not the cop-out that one has come to expect from inferior movies.

Up (2009)

When I went to see "Coraline" recently (see below), it was not being shown in its 3-D version, since the number of cinemas offering this facility are still relatively few in Britain, not that this detracted from my enjoyment of the film in any way. However, I did welcome the opportunity to attend a preview 3-D showing of the above Cannes opener, not only because it is a film that I would wish to view regardless (and although it has been released Stateside, it will not be released here until October), but also because I was curious to see how the 3-D phenomenon has matured from those few that I'd seen previously.



My immediate reaction, despite the trailer for another animation and a short film aired before the main film being as "in your face" as I recall, capitalising if you will on tricky shots to emphasise the 3-D illusion, "Up" played down the novelty value and used its effects mainly to include and involve the viewer in the procedings. Although I have now read sufficient reviews to realise that not every critic would place it amongst Pixar-Disney's best, I would be inclined to agree with those who have labelled it an instant classic. Mercifully free from a twee storyline and anthropomorphic critters, despite a very appealing big bird and a selection of talking dogs, the main protagonists are an elderly man, childless and now widowed, and a lonesome kid who pours his all into his Wilderness Scout quest for badges. How these two end up together flying into adventure in the man's house attached to an army of balloons is the charming and smile-laden story. It does not shirk from avoiding the pain of a loved one's death nor the cantankerousness of age, but it does find a middle ground for its two flawed protagonists. Like a number of animations it gets a little soggy during the middle section as they are pursued by a dastardly explorer, but there are sufficient little pleasures throughout to make its relatively short running time a delight. The fact that the 3-D becomes less and less important as the viewer warms to the main characters is a testatment to the film's potentially lasting charm.

The Mortal Storm (1940)

1933. A snowy small university town in the German Alps. It is the morning of Professor Roth's (Frank Morgan) 60th birthday. His loving family circle comprises his devoted wife who has two very Prussian grown sons from a previous union and two children of their own, a teenaged son and a beloved daughter, Margaret Sullavan. The professor is admired by his colleagues and adored by his students. That evening at their birthday celebration, the family is joined by two childhood friends, ever-the-good-guy James Stewart and usually-a-good-guy, but not here, Robert Young; they both love Sullavan, but the more extrovert Young has staked his claim first. Then the news comes over the radio: Adolf Hitler has just been named Chancellor, to the enthusiasm of the young men (apart from Stewart of course) who view this as a chance for Germany's rebirth. They do not think that the fact that the professor is a "non-Aryan" -- the word Jewish is studiously avoided -- will change anything and that exceptions will be made. In a pig's eye!!

At once everything begins to change: the young men are mobilised by the Youth Corps led by a very dislikeable Dan Dailey, undesirables are harassed and beaten, and the professor is drummed out of the university for his unacceptable scientific teachings and taken to a concentration camp. Stewart retreats to his mountain-top farm where he lives with his mother, the always remarkable Maria Ouspenskaya, and Sullavan breaks it off with the indoctrinated Young. This is a difficult film to watch as the once strong and happy family circle disintegrates; it was sufficient to result in all MGM productions being banned forthwith in Nazi-controlled territories. Although the movie is very much of its time it still delivers a powerful message against totalitarianism under the direction of its ever-underated director Frank Borzage and through its very able cast.
AWAY AGAIN -- more next week.

Coraline (2009)

Finding myself with an afternoon to kill in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, I went to the movies on my own, which is not something I do too often. The local multiplex has 12 separate screeens for one's delight, but I was not tempted by the likes of "Startrek", "Wolverine", or another "Night at the Museum" -- although all of these will be viewed in due course. For me, the above animated film was the obvious choice, not only because it has had excellent reviews and done good business Stateside, but also for its provenance. Based on a prize-winning novella by Neil Gaiman with a screenplay co-written by him and genius director Henry Selick, I knew I was in for a fantasy treat. Selick was also responsible for the memorable "Nightmare before Christmas" (NOT directed by Tim Burton, despite his name being in the title) and the wonderful "James and the Giant Peach". The film also boasts a fine voice cast, led my Dakota Fanning as the eponymous heroine, and a spooky score.



Coraline moves to an apartment in a creaky old house with her parents who are too involved with their own pursuits to give her much attention; their immediate neighbours are a mad old Russian and two aging ex-burlesque queens -- not great company for a young inquisitive girl. The only other child of her age in the neighbourhood is an initially creepy masked boy who tears about on his bike. Then she discovers a bricked-up, wallpapered-over hole in the wall of their flat which opens up into a parallel world, where her bedroom is a fairyland marvel and where her "other-mother" and "other-father" do their best to spoil her rotten. The only catch is that everyone in that world, bar a talkative cat, has buttons instead of eyes, and Coraline is asked to sew some big, black ones onto her own face if she wishes to stay.



The film which has a PG rating is quite probably unsuitable for susceptible youngsters; while I know that most kids can tolerate the occasional scary story and macabre characters, I can see this film giving some children the old heebie-jeebies, especially as the "other-mother" eventually reveals her true, insectoid real self in her determination to trap Coraline, as she has other ghost-children before her. Against this however are some wonderful fantasy scenes, foremost of which was a theatrical performance by the two rejuvenated ex-ecdysiasts for an audience of appreciative scottie-dogs. That did make me smile! Needless to add, I loved the film as, I think, would most adult audiences; it's the kiddies for whom it was made and certificated that I worry about.

The Projectionist (1971)

It's ages since I watched this movie for the first time and I had forgotten what a treat it is for the movie buff. Like the French flick "One Hundred Years for Mr. Cinema" which has also never been available here, it's one of those movies filled with classic clips and one can happily play "spot the reference". This small independent film stars one Chuck McCann (no, I never heard of him either) playing the projectionist at a New York moviehouse that has obviously seen better days. He wiles away the lonely hours losing himself in the projected films, dreaming conversations with his movie heroes, and imagining a world where he plays superhero Captain Flash, slaying his enemies, and winning the fair damsel.



The theatre manager is a brash Rodney Dangerfield in his first film role, trying to pretend that he is running a first-class house, and browbeating the projectionist and the other downtrodden staff. These scenes of reality are in garish colour, while the fantasy sequences are in black and white. Dangerfield morphs into Captain Flash's nemesis, the Bat, until he is finally vanquished by our daydreaming hero. There is incredibly clever use of clips from far better-known films slipped seamlessly into McCann's imagination, which are used to flesh out his quest and to create make-believe scenarios and a hilarious 'end-of-the-world' trailer. Considering how much fun this film is, I was somewhat surprised to see its relatively low IMDb rating of 5.6 out of 10. Granted the film is uneven and the Flash scenario a little clunky at times, but it is hard to dislike such a sweet film and to my mind it is the perfect cult movie. Then again, not everyone is quite so demented about movies as I am.



I was hoping for some end credits to see if the various clips were acknowledged, but there were none, although IMDb do have a page listing the various film references, both in action sequences and clips. One wonders how such an obviously low-budget effort managed to obtain clearance for so many studio clips and it would not surprise me to learn that this was guerilla film-making without the necessary clearances. Had the movie been more successful, I suspect someone would have jumped upon it with jackboots and this oddity might have been lost to us. And that would be a pity...

I shall be away for the rest of the week, so no new posts for the next few days.

The Night Listener (2006)

I definitely have mixed feelings about Robin Williams. I quite liked a few of his earliest films, like "Moscow on the Hudson" (1984), but then found it increasingly difficult to appreciate his mile-a-minute motormouth performances. These were then followed by the saccharine excesses of movies like "Patch Adams" (1998) and "Jakob the Liar" (1999) which were nearly unwatchable. Granted he has now cleaned up his act and gone for darker material, but there is still the occasional frenetic style that alienates me. Even when he is being still, there is little quiet or understated about his technique.



So why you may ask did I not only watch the above film but also choose to write about it? Well, being the good little film buff that I am, I watch nearly anything going that I have not seen previously; this is my admitted mission statement. And I must confess that this movie kept me watching as I tried to work out where it was going and how it would end. Based on a novel by Armistead Maupin, who also had a hand in the screenplay, it is supposedly based on actual events that happened to him, although I have no idea if that is fact or fiction. Williams plays a radio storyteller called Gabriel Noone, whose show 'Noone at Night' has a dedicated, syndicated audience. The plot opens with his having problems concentrating on his work, as his long-term partner, Jess, has just left him. We only gradually realise that Jess is male and that the character is a flag-waver for gay rights -- much like the author.



An associate gives him the unpublished manuscript of a 14-year old boy from Wisconsin who suffered years of abuse by paedophiles egged on by his own parents and who is in the final stages of AIDS, a disease from which Jess is now apparently recovering. He has been adopted by a carer, played by Toni Collette, and the two begin a long-distance telephone relationship with Williams, since the boy is a big fan of the spooky tales that he tells on air. Williams becomes more and more involved in the boy's life and health-care problems, until Jess points out that the voices of the boy and his carer are uncannily similar. Williams is determined to investigate the truth, but an invitation to spend Christmas with them is withdrawn and he becomes increasingly worried when their telephone number becomes unobtainable.



So he picks himself up and flies out to Wisconsin and the small town in the boondocks where they are living, only to find that the address he has for them is an accommodation address. However he follows up various clues and finally locates Collette, who it turns out is blind; however there is no sign of the lad, despite the fact that all of the locals know about him, although no one admits to actually having met him. His relationship with Collette becomes more and more fraught as she puts various obstacles in his way and finally says that the boy has just died. He returns to New York uncertain as to whether the boy ever existed, but the possibility is left open until the very end of the movie with its unexpected shock twist. The film does not go for the easy answers that a viewer might anticipate and continually underplays the tale. Williams is unusually restrained in the part, despite his growing confusion, but the acting kudos probably should go to Collette.

Disappointments

I'll tell you! You wait for years to view a movie and then find that it is so much worse than you hoped. This is the case for the famous Italian film "Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow" (1963), directed by De Sica, and pairing Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni in three separate stories. For years it was only available to view dubbed, but I held off for a subtitled version now available. The film won the Oscar for best foreign film, beating the far superior Japanese movie "Woman in the Dunes", so I was hoping for a great experience, especially with all those credentials. It was frankly just a wee bit short of embarrassing in part. The first tale concerns Loren having to get pregnant annually to avoid being sent to jail for illegal cigarette trafficing, and her disgust when Mastroianni can no longer perform after seven kids. The second and shortest casts her as a rich and indulged wife who starts an affair with him until he manages to crash her Rolls Royce. The last has her as a high-class prostitute flirting with the student priest in the next apartment while Mastroianni plays a long-standing client, a harrassed businessman who just wants to have sex; this segment contains the "famous" (and quite innocent) striptease which some people recall fondly and which was replayed as a joke in "Pret a Porter".

Both players could be fine dramatic and comic actors in their day, especially Mastroianni, but there is little left here to show them to best advantage. There is a lot of screaming dialogue and sadly little to make the viewer even smile -- unless of course a semi-clothed Loren rings your bell.

My next disappointment was a preview showing of "Synecdoche, New York" (2008) which has not yet been released here, but about which I have been reading raves. It's the first film to be both written and directed by Charlie Kaufman, who was responsible for scripting a series of brilliant movies starting with "Being John Malkovich". This film like his earlier ones is crowded with quirky ideas and characters, but I felt that he did not have the directing skills to bring it all together.

Philip Semour Hoffman plays a minor theatre director, a latent hypochondriac overly aware of his own mortality, who has been awarded a generous Arts Grant and who wants to create something important. He therefore manufactures a growing collection of mini-worlds in large warehouses to re-create different aspects of his life and the lives of others, played by an endless stream of actors including Tom Noonan playing him; after some 19 years, an audience has yet to view the performances! The meaning of the title is the philosophic concept that the whole can equal a part or vice versa; get your head around that.

Various critics have remarked that this is a film that needs to be viewed more than once and I am inclined to agree with that assessment. There is too much going on to take it all in at the first viewing which is what created my own disappointment with this movie; I think a second view would make it a far more worthwhile experience, especially considering the splendid female cast which includes Catherine Keener, Samantha Morton, Hope Davis, Emily Watson, Diane Wiest, and Jennifer Jason Leigh (who appears to have grown an enormous bosom!). So maybe this will not be quite a disappointment in the long run.

The Green Butchers (2003)

The director of this extremely black comedy Anders Thomas Jensen won an Oscar five years earlier for the best live action short, "Election Night", a telling signpost to the talent he shows here and proving that not all Danish cinema is Lars von Trier Dogma. Two apprentice butchers are ridiculed by their boss at the successful sausage shop where they work and are determined to open their own store, which looks doomed to failure. When an electrician gets accidentally locked in the cold store overnight, the more neurotic of the two panics and cuts up his thigh for "chickie-wickie" cutlets when asked by his mocking ex-boss to provide the meat for a large dinner party that evening. These are thought to be so delicious that word spreads and people queue up to buy more, creating the problem of fresh supplies to ensure the new shop's success.



There is a long history of playful and genteel cannibalism in film from Sweeney Todd through "Delicatessen" and this movie is up there with the best. The first lead of "sweaty Svend" is taken by Mads Mikkelsen, LeChiffre from "Casino Royale", sporting an unbelievably weird hairdo of a semi-shaved skull crowned by a great bouffant sweep of hair, making him look like a demented Christopher Walken. His partner, the pot-smoking skinhead Nikolaj Lie Kaas is even stranger. In order to raise his share of the money needed to open the shop, he borrows against the legacy due to his brain-damaged animal-loving twin brother who has been in a coma for the past seven years; he authorises the hospital to "unplug" him to hasten his death, which has the reverse effect of waking him up. Kaas brilliantly plays both parts as Bjarne tries to avoid the loony Eigel, while also trying to play down Mikkelsen's burgeoning killing spree. The movie is full of unexpected turns and one can't help warming to these damaged protagonists through the many twists of the plot. Very warmly recommended, especially to those with a taste for the macabre.



The same evening I also watched another 'colour' film, the Japanese "Black Kiss" (2004), which probably deserves its own review, if only for its spectacular deaths, but only time will tell if I get back to it.

Sleuth (2007) (and 1972)

This film received invariably rotten reviews as people compared it unfavourably with the fondly-remembered earlier version of Anthony Shaffer's stageplay, the last movie to be directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, which paired Laurence Olivier and Michael Caine. I was therefore in no rush whatsoever to see this remake produced by Jude Law with his taking the Caine role (is he out to take on all of Caine's early roles?) and Sir Michael taking the Olivier part. Rewritten by Harold Pinter with the unnecessary addition of a slew of F-words, directed in an artsy-fartsy style by Kenneth Branagh, and amazingly for a re-make running some 40 minutes shorter than the original, I expected the worse, especially since I have previously reckoned that pretty-boy Law has as much depth as a dried-up stream. However, I must admit that within its "re-imagining", both actors were fine and the film worked more or less. What buffs like myself forget is that the modern viewer has probably never seen the original and that a remake can justifiably emerge as an entertainment in its own right.

However, comparing the two versions, one does miss the earlier elaborate country house setting with its toys, mechanical dolls, and clown costumes, marking Olivier as a man who likes to play games; the ultra-modern new set does not allow the same possibilities. The two films tell the same basic tale for the first two-thirds, but differ wildly in their third act; the newer version suggests some sort of unwelcome homosexual attraction between Caine and the sly, sex-exuding Law, whereas the original presented the viewer with a third deadly game in which the young Caine reduced Olivier to a quivering wreck before the final denouement. On balance I am in no doubt which version I prefer, even if I do find Olivier as something of an over-ripe ham in his later roles, but to give credit where it is due, the newer movie is far from a complete failure.

Baby Doll (1956)

Considering that this film is now over fifty years old, it is amazing that the three very able lead actors are still with us (or "available" to quote from "Swimming with Sharks): Karl Malden, Carroll Baker, and Eli Wallach. Director Elia Kazan did this movie version of the Tennessee Williams Broadway play and it created shockwaves on its release. The Catholic Legion of Decency banned it and it was generally thought to be the "dirtiest" mainstream movie to date, although there is no explicit sex or nudity. While it may seem very mild to our modern sensibilities, there is no escaping the heat generated by the action.



Baker is married in name only to redneck yob Malden, having agreed to marry him aged 18 just before her dear Daddy died, and having made clear that she would not be ready for "marriage" before her 20th birthday which is imminent. To subjugate his sexual desires, Malden plays Peeping Tom as she sleeps in the decrepit mansion's old nursery on a child's cot, with the sides let down, in her shorty pajamas (thereafter commonly known as 'baby dolls'). She is indeed uneducated and childish and threatens to break their agreement after their hire-purchase suites of furniture are carted away for non-payment. It seems that Malden's cotton gin business has gone into reverse, after the syndicate opened their own, run by crafty Sicilian Wallach. The obvious answer to Malden's not-too-bright mind is to burn it down, a stupid short-term solution which leads to the following day's events.



Wallach brings his trucks of raw cotton to Malden's run-down gin for processing, but with revenge in mind uses the languid afternoon to seduce Baker and to get her to sign an affadavit agreeing her husband's arson. We never really know just how far his seduction goes, since we only see him coming on to her through suggestion and childish gameplay, including his taking a nap in her crib. Meanwhile Malden returns after having been sent on a wild goose chase for a new saw, to find Wallach in his crumbling mansion and suspects the worse. The fourth character in this domestic tragedy is Baker's somewhat gaga aunt, played by that wonderful character actress Mildred Dunnock, who is meant to be the couple's housekeeper, but whose greatest pleasure in life is visiting patients at the local hospital to munch as many chocolates as possible. At a hopeless supper that evening, Malden in a fit of pique demands that she leave, and Wallach offers to take her on as a cook. However by the end scene when the police arrive after Malden has gone on a rampage with his shotgun and Wallach has gone home alone, not only Baker and Dunnock but we the viewer can only guess what tomorrow will bring.



While one can not really warm to any of these flawed characters, the standard of acting throughout is something marvelous to behold; both Baker and Dunnock received Oscar nominations (and Malden and definitely Wallach should have) as did the brilliant black and white cinematography, shot on location in a small Southern community where local non-professionals (both black and white -- no pun intended) add to the feeling of a real time-warp community.

Mirage (1965)

It must be a good twenty-odd years since I last saw this film from versatile director Edward Dmytryk and I must confess that I barely remembered it, although there are many components in its favour. It stars Gregory Peck in a sub-Hitchcockian thriller in a role that has much in common with his confused character in "Spellbound". Coinciding with a blackout and a man falling from the upper floor of his building, Peck seems to have suffered total amnesia and is unable to make any sense of who he is (although he knows his name and where he lives), his background, or what exactly he has done before the past two years; he seems to believe that he has been working as a "cost accountant" (whatever that is) at an office that doesn't seem to exist amongst co-workers that he can't find. His grasp on reality is not helped by the fact that gunsels Jack Weston and George Kennedy (both in early roles) are after him. This permits Peck to play something of an action hero as he evades them, which somehow feels a little forced.



I can never quite make up my mind about Peck. His good looks and competence assured him leading roles from the start, but there is something of the Redwood about him, not so much wooden as majestic and stiff. In contrast this film provides a wonderful part for Walter Matthau, slightly before his breakout roles, as a wisecracking private detective whom Peck hires to help him work out the truth. SPOILER here: Matthau is killed halfway through the movie and his death takes some of the spark from the proceedings. Apparently he told Dmytryk that this was a mistake and the director assured him that he had a great future as a character actor; Matthau replied in no uncertain terms that he had every intention of being a leading actor. (And so it was, with his non-handsome hangdog looks gracing every subsequent role).



Moving in an out of the action is Diane Baker, as a woman who obviously has some sort of past with Peck and who is concerned for his future, but who does not help the viewer make too much sense of the story -- more window-dressing than pivotal. This perhaps is where the movie falls down before its hurriedly explained denouement; it starts as a wild goose chase and ends up as something of an anti-climax, but there are sufficient highpoints along the way. Filmed on location in New York, the hostile City becomes another character along with supporting players Kevin McCarthy, Walter Abel, and Leif Erickson.

Molly and Me (1945)

Monty Woolley was one of the most unlikely Hollywood character actors of the 1940s. He gave up his English professorship at Yale to turn professional actor at the age of 47 and is probably best known for his signature role as the cantankerous long-term guest in "The Man Who Came to Dinner" (1942). He generally gave off a gruff exterior which increasingly did not disguise his inner pussy-cat. In this film he was re-teamed with his co-star from 1943's "Holy Matrimony", Lancashire! (correction: thanks M) singer Gracie Fields and this film is really a starring vehicle for her.







I never much cared for her Northern working-gal persona in her popular British films of the 30s, but she was well-loved and highly paid. Her popularity dipped when she went off to America during the Second World War and it never again reached its dizzy heights on her return. This Hollywood film is supposedly set in London out of deference to her, since she could never convincingly play anything other than a chirpy British type. She appears as a down-on-her-luck music hall player who finagles a job as a housekeeper chez Woolley, despite the protests of his butler, Reginald Gardiner in an accomplished turn, who is also an unemployed actor. She systematically goes about bringing some joy into the erstwhile mausoleum and manages to get rid of the remaining staff who had been swindling their employer at every opportunity. In their place she recruits an assortment of theatrical types who are happy to play at being cook, gardener, housemaid, and so on.







Rejoining Woolley from "The Pied Piper" (1942) is that film's co-star Roddy McDowall, who here adds yet another memorable child-actor role to an impressive list. (He had a long Hollywood career right up until his death in 1998, but never with quite the same impact). He plays Woolley's distanced son, home from boarding school; the two can barely communicate until housekeeper Fields' infectious warmth brings them together. She even manages to sort out her employer's blackmailing ex-wife who had ruined his previous political career and whom McDowall believes to be dead. By the inevitible happy end, Woolley is melted and a much better man; and while there is no indication that love might bloom between him and Gracie, there is a definite suggestion that she will have a long-term role and impact in his household.

Is Anybody There? (2008)

We went to a preview of this BBC co-produced film which opens soon and which I understand leading actor Michael Caine agreed to make for a pittance since the script made him cry. Well, I know he is getting on and perhaps he is becoming more aware of his own mortality (as are we all), but honestly it was not that remarkable an exercise.

He plays an erstwhile stage magician, now in his dotage and generally grieving all that he has lost in the past. Set in 1987, he goes to live in a rambling old house, somewhere on the South Coast with a disillusioned rising-middle aged couple and their 10-year old son, who are making do by looking after wrinklies who can afford the cost of staying there -- not that they seem to have any particular skills in this area. The most interesting part of the movie is the assortment of elderly "guests", well known to us past the first flush of youth from their stage, film and TV roles: Sylvia Syms, Rosemary Harris, Thelma Barlow, Leslie Phillips, and Peter Vaughan for starters. The young lad, who is obsessed with ghosts and wonderment about what happens at death -- not surprising from the rapid turnover of the house's inhabitants -- forms a quirky attachment to Caine. The latter, in a bitter and cyncial turn, teaches the lad magic tricks and even performs a show for his fellow-oldies at which a guillotine trick goes madly wrong. It is clear that Caine is rapidly falling into senility and when the boy tries to help him to reconcile his past by locating his ex-wife's grave, one is left to wonder whether anything more is registering with the likeable but definitely past-it old coot.

I thought the boy (Bill Milner) looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't place him before doing some minor research. It appears that he played the lead in Sky's TV Easter extravaganza "Skellig" which frankly wasn't much cop. This film was infinitely better because of its superior casting, but was hardly the 'comedy of the year' as I have seen it advertised. Still, it is always a pleasure watching Michael (God bless you Sir) Caine.

When Willie Comes Marching Home (1950)

If you were to ask me to name my favourite directors, the choice might vary from day to day, but you can bet that John Ford would always be among the top three. Best-known for his Westerns, his enormous output from silent days forward was far more varied and includes war films, "oirish" larks, literary adaptations, and the down-homey Judge Priest movies. While I don't love each and every one of his films, most include more than enough to keep me happy and the best of them make me cry as well (now what sort of criterion is that?). While many of his movies have their humourous moments, he seldom set out to make a comedy as such, which makes the above film a little unusual amongst his work.

The basic story is of small-town hero Dan Dailey being the first to enlist after Pearl Harbor and how, after basic training, he finds himself stationed at a camp just outside his home town. It seems that his gunnery skills are better employed training new recruits than being tested on the battlefield and every time he complains, he is given another Good Conduct Medal. So after several years during which his old friends have proved their courage, he goes from hero to zero amongst the local folk who view him as some sort of slacker, much to the disgust of his Great War veteran dad, the lovingly grumpy William Demarest and even to his faithful girlfriend, Colleen Townsend. When he gets a chance to go overseas as a replacement bombadier, everything goes wrong -- he becomes separated from his crewmates (since he was asleep at a crucial moment), bails out over France, and falls in with gorgeous Resistance heroine Corinne Calvert. He witnesses the launch of a Nazi secret rocket and is entrusted to get the film to London; unfortunately the drink which is pressed upon him over and over and extreme tiredness make him incapable of logical thought, and when he is then flown to Washington to report to the big brass, he is thought to be insane. Escaping from a threatened strait-jacket he runs back to his home, where everyone thinks he is either a deserter or a spy -- until explanations guarantee a happy ending.

If this sounds like a good idea for a hilarious comedy, think again, since apart from a few minor amusing moments and the fact that Dailey is as good-natured an actor as was, the film is if anything a little draggy and forced. OK, it's very minor Ford, but not quite amongst his failures ("Gideon's Day" heads that list).

I bought this DVD as a replacement for a copy of the film which I had previously on a beta tape. The bonus however is that the disc includes a second Ford feature, "Up the River" from 1930, which amazingly I had never seen before. Faced with competition from MGM's release of "The Big House", the director turned his prison project into something of a light-hearted romp. While it's not overly great film-making (and I think the copy I viewed was cobbled together from remaining sources), it is notable for giving us the film debuts for both Spencer Tracy and Humphrey Bogart which makes it something of a milestone in film history!

Swimfan (2002)

Some films seem to improve the second time around and others warrant multiple viewings with something satisfyingly new registering each time. This film does not fit into either category and its second view was even less appealing than its first, since any novelty value it may have had once is now gone, gone, gone. You may well ask, why bother to watch it again, but that is another story.



It plays like a junior league version of "Fatal Attraction" with a very definitely B-list (or worse) teenaged cast. Jesse Bradford is a previously-troubled high school senior who has served time in juvie, but who has found redemption through his star status on the swim team and with his loving girlfriend Shiri Appleby. Enter would-be siren and full-time psycho Erika Christensen (Michael Douglas' daughter in "Traffic" and a little homely to my eye) who sets out to seduce him (in the swimming pool of course) and manages to do so without too much resistance on his part. The trouble is that he can't get rid of her as she bombards him with e-mails with tasteful nude photos of herself, gets him fired from his hospital job by switching his patients' meds, loses him his position on the team and his chances for a college scholarship by slipping him anabolic steroids, kills his team-mate and plants incrimating evidence, tries to kill his girlfriend, yada yada yada. It all goes to prove that in movies teenage immorality can only end in disaster! By the movie's end his once starry future seems more than a little uncertain -- but that will learn him say the moralists.



In the film's favour, it was only a scant eighty minutes!

Sky satellite movie channels

A while back Sky Television revamped their film channels and I had a little moan at the time; things have become even worse since. Although there are now a minimum of eleven channels (laughingly dubbed Comedy, Action, Classic, etc.) showing movies 24/7 (plus a +1 channel and various HD channels), they manage to show the same films over and over and over again. The so-called Premiere Channel features five "new" films a week, but whereas even when there were fewer channels the monthly average of films new to satellite was higher in the past, there are now only very occasionally first showing films on the other ten. This week is fairly typical of the sorry fare on offer:





There is always at least one film of the five that I have viewed previously and this week's is "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" (2008) which I saw on a flight and which I have touched on before. Since in-flight movies leave much to be desired, I did watch it again and found it vaguely amusing as Jason Segel goes to Hawaii to get over being dumped by Kristen Bell, only to find her there vacationing with new beau Russell Brand. Some child is rumoured to have asked of Brand recently, "What is he for?", which is a good question; I can only say that he is marginally more watchable than other "national treasures" like Ricky Gervais and Stephen Fry.





Then there were two late-night "horrors" in both senses of the word, the American "Pathology" and the British "Doomsday", both from 2008 and neither, as far as I know, blessed with a theatrical release. The former followed the nasty exploits of a bunch of medical interns, including Heroes' Milo Ventimiglia, as they played a sick game of seeing which of them could best get away with murdering the patients in their care without being discovered. Makes you wonder! The other was rather more imaginative but absolutely stupid, as action heroine Rhona Mitra and her fellow-soldiers are dropped into Scotland (which has previously been quarantined from the rest of the country) to find a cure for some grotty plague which has now broken out in London. The survivors she finds -- a remarkably high number given the plague's history -- seem to be divided into two groups. The first centred in Glasgow consists of all-the-same-age heavy-metal punks; the second in the Highlands, led by renegade scientist Malcolm McDowell, has recreated a medieval microcosm with knights in armour and trial by combat. The film doesn't address minor issues like how petrol manages to be available some twenty-odd years after civilisation has effectively shut down or where all the consumer gear comes from; the filmmakers don't seem terribly bothered by the nonsense and illogicalities on display and expect the viewer to have a good time.



There is usually one film a week aimed at children and this week's is "The Spiderwick Chronicles" (2008) which I again saw much of on a flight. Likeable British child actor Freddie Highmore dons a suitable American twang to play twins, one adventurous and one studious, who move to a creepy old house with their older sister and recently-separated mom, Mary-Louise Parker. There the more forward twin discovers a journal written by a great-great-uncle (David Strahairn) some 80 years earlier categorising all of the unseen denizens with whom we share our world: fairies, goblins, elves, and ogres to name a few. He disappeared all those years ago leaving his young daughter to grow up into the aged Joan Plowright (now consigned to the local loony bin). When the big bad local ogre gets wind of the book's emergence, the family is under attack by a variety of beasties until young Freddie manages to save the day. It's all imaginatively put together with the now visible demons not overly scary for younger viewers, although as they say, parental guidance is probably advised. This one would make a good double bill with "The Water Horse" which I touched on last week.



That leaves something called "How She Move" (2007) to complete the week's tasty treats (not). As far as I can establish this is yet another 'black' dance movie and while I shall probably watch it on principle, I expect very little. Such are the trials of being such a completist!



The other satellite film channels other than the new French channel, also show little to tempt me. TCM in Britain seems to re-show the same fifty or so films -- I get very frustrated when I read details of their more imaginative U.S. programming including a large number of silents -- and Film Four since it moved to Freeview (with frequent ad breaks) seems to have cut back on films which have not previously been shown elsewhere. However, I notice that next week includes some new offerings from Iran, Paraguay, and Chad, so we shall try to retain our optimism and enthusiasm. Meanwhile I shall continue to scour the various schedules in pursuit of the elusive.

Mighty Aphrodite (1995)

It's been rather a mixed bag of viewing over the last few days, but too soon after my last multiple entry to do another; it included a couple of golden oldies, a pair of poorish French flicks, the penultimate 'Romance' biting the dust, and the remnants of another uninvited series of TV 'Action Thrillers'. So it was a toss-up between the above movie and a British kiddie fantasy "The Water Horse" (2007), which had its moments, of a lonely lad raising a baby "Nessie" in the Scottish lochs during World War II. However whereas I would probably resist viewing the latter again, I think this was my third time for the Woody Allen gem.



I've written before about people droning on about the latest Allen movie either not being funny or alternatively "a return to form", but this one is something of a winner on all levels. The director has always managed to attract high-powered casts for his films, which must say something in his favour. Here we have him playing a sports writer married to Helena Bonham Carter (not particularly good chemistry there); they have the opportunity to adopt a new-born as she is far too busy with her work to consider having one of her own. The child is greatly loved by both parents, and so handsome and bright that Woody begins to wonder about how marvellous his birth parents must be. Enter porn actress and prostitute Mira Sorvino playing a tart with a heart who is not the brightest bulb in the pack. The bimbo-izing of her actual striking good looks and keen intelligence earned her a best supporting Oscar.



Woody takes it upon himself to try to reform her and find her a suitable husband, partly to insure against the time when his son seeks to find out more about his mother (the father could have been one of hundreds) and partly because of his genuine concern for another vulnerable human being. He doesn't want the offered sex as a reward, but rather begins to truly care for her future, although thicky boxer Michael Rapaport proves not to be the answer. All of this action is punctuated by a latter-day Greek chorus in Manhattan's Central Park, including the likes of F. Murray Abraham, Olympia Dukakis, and David Ogden Stiers, commenting on the action, offering some memorable funny lines, and eventually breaking into a full-fledged Broadway musical number -- a clever modern usage of an ancient dramatic device.



The script is witty, the final irony of the tale not foreseen, and a good time is guaranteed to any viewer who doesn't believe the myth of Woody's decline.

The Vacillations of Poppy Carew (1995)

For the past few months during my downtime, such as it is, I have been ploughing through a 14-disc collection of 'Romances' which entered the house surreptitiously courtesy of a daily newspaper and which have been glaring at me for the last two years. They are all made-for-television films and mini-series based on books by the likes of Catherine Cookson, Rosalind Pilcher, Sidney Sheldon, and Barbara Bradford. I have never read any of these authors and had only seen one of the collection previously, Anita Brookner's "Hotel du Lac" (1986), which held up well because of the brilliant pairing of Anna Massey and the late lamented Denholm Elliot supported by a fine cast. As for the rest, it has been something of a mindless plod, occasionally enlivened by some star turns by familiar faces.
The above title proved jollier than the norm and thereby serves as the hook for this entry. It stars Tara Fitzgerald as the eponymous heroine who has just been dumped by her boyfriend of seven years for a wealthier mealticket. Briefly reconnected with her gambler father -- a sweet cameo from Daniel Massey -- who literally dies laughing in hospital, she finds he has left her better off than she could have dreamed. His last wish was for a "fun" funeral and she plans this with the young and feckless firm run by Edward Atterton and Samuel West and is amazed at how many mourners appear. Amongst them are old flame Sian Phillips and her pig-farmer nephew Joseph Fiennes who falls in love with Fitzgerald at first sight. Meanwhile she is whisked off to North Africa by her chancer ex-beau for a series of horrendous encounters before Fiennes rescues her and ultimately wins her. It was all played with a light touch and allowed the viewer a hissable villain in her ex.

Now there are only two more to go but I doubt I'll be reporting further details.

The Maiden and the Wolves (2008)

I'm still on something of a French film kick and although I can remember reading a review of this movie, it has not yet turned up on DVD nor does it seem to have been widely shown. Billed in my Satellite TV guide as a 'family-friendly' film, it is actually anything but with its brief nudity, threat of rape, focus on illegitimacy, and attempted murder, although the animal sequences are pretty special. On balance, I can't really see this as a suitable offering for youngsters.



Starring erstwhile model Laetitia Casta, who also played the prozzie in "Rue des plaisirs" mentioned below, it is filmed in the snowy French Alps near Mont Blanc and is set in the period before, during and just after World War I. Casta plays the daughter of a local farmer and the god-daughter of the local foundry owner, who has grown rich manufacturing munitions, and she dreams of training to be a veterinarian, an unheard of calling for a woman at the time. One of the sub-plots involves the attempted extermination of the local wolf packs before the war, their survival, and their eventual destruction afterwards. Another contrasts the animal-loving simplicity of a 'wild' man in the hills who is considered a few sandwiches short of a picnic by the locals and the greedy son of the rich man who wants to develop the area for tourism and who believes that Casta should be his by right. When she is "lost" after an airplane crash in the mountains and is rescued by the local 'idiot' and his wolves, the conflict comes to a head. There are some wonderful scenes of the latter as a child watching his gypsy mom (whose body he has preserved in an ice cave) literally dancing with a wolf as her stage act -- not quite what Kevin Costner was on about.



While Casta is no great actress, she proves more than adequate for her role here and the rest of the cast are fine. I would however take exception to her recent choice as the face of Marianne, the symbol of France. Catherine Deneuve she ain't!

The Penguin Pool Murder (1932)

Edna May Oliver was one of the most recognizable character actresses of the 1930s. Often described as 'horse-faced', there was something very endearing in her homely, lanky screen persona of bossy females. After a variety of small roles in forgettable films, she came to prominence in this movie, the first of three in which she played the schoolmarm-cum-amateur sleuth Hildegarde Withers. Three further sequels followed with Helen Broderick and then Zasu Pitts taking on the role, before it was resurrected on TV in the '70s with Eve Arden. Oliver meanwhile moved on to showier roles in prestige productions, amongst them Little Women, A Tale of Two Cities, Romeo and Juliet, Drums Along the Mohawk, and Pride and Prejudice, before her death at a relatively young age in 1942.



This film is definitely a B-production running a scant 65 minutes, but it is full of delightful touches and Oliver is not the whole show. The relationship between her and abrasive police detective James Gleason (a recurrent character in the series) is full of sparks as they complement each other in the investigation of a stockbroker found dead in the eponymous penguin pool at the New York aquarium. Suspects include the deceased's wife played by Mae Clark (who was immortalised forever by being the recipient of a grapefruit in the mush by Cagney), two of her former flings including lawyer Robert Armstrong who wants to protect her, a mute pickpocket, and the aquarium's prissy director. Even Oliver is under suspicion when it is discovered that the dead man was killed by a hatpin through the ear -- hers, as it happens, which she had her motley pupils on their field trip scrambling to find. The dialogue is sharp and the photography occasionally brings to mind earlier expressionistic cinema with its dark angles and shifting focus. Even the location of the fascinating art deco building at the foot of Manhattan has historic interest. I can't say that I remember it from my childhood in New York since it was closed in 1941 (!) and the only one I recall was and I believe still is at Coney Island, but it was fascinating to see footage of the lower city back then.



Now all that remains is for me to winkle out her other two Withers incarnations, and good old Richard tells me that Murder on the Blackboard (1934) is due to be shown later this year. Now that's something to look forward to...