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.
Wednesday, 29 April 2009
Sunday, 26 April 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, 23 April 2009
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.
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.
Monday, 20 April 2009
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!
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!
Friday, 17 April 2009
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!
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!
Tuesday, 14 April 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, 11 April 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
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 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.
Sunday, 5 April 2009
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!
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!
Thursday, 2 April 2009
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...
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...
Monday, 30 March 2009
Various Diversions
From time to time I feel obliged to do a compendium entry, especially when there is nothing much amongst my recent viewing that seems to warrant a review of its own. So here is a selection of movies seen since my last entry -- quite a few as it happens -- to be 'blessed' with a few comments:
Three French flicks, one from German TV: "Etoile sans Lumiere" (1946) which I watched for its screen role for Edith Piaf; it's a similar tale to "Singin' in the Rain" in which her voice is used to dub a fading screen star at the introduction to talkies, but without the happy ending. The other two, courtesy of CineMoi were "Mon Colonel" (2006) about intrigue in Algiers and its latter-day aftermath and "Rue des Plaisirs" (2002), a period-piece set at the end of World War Two about a whore, her true love, and the man who truly loves her. Again, don't look to the French for happy endings, although the former seemed to be morally acquitting a murderer.
Spring Parade (1940): This is the only Deanna Durbin film which I'd not seen before and a pleasant piece of period Austrian fluff it was with the young singer in good form and great support from some of my favourite character actors: Mischa Auer, S.Z. 'Cuddles' Sakall, and Franklin Pangborn.
Trauma (2004) and Bug (2006): These were two thoroughly muddled and unpleasant films of mental delusion, the first starring Colin Firth and the latter starring Ashley Judd, both of which featured a selection of creepy crawly insects which is guaranteed to freak me out.
Diary of the Dead (2007): I wish George Romero would pack it in with his zombie movies and either retire or find a new string to his bow. This one, in common with [Rec] a Spanish film of the same year which I saw about a week ago, follows the current Blair Witch/Cloverfield vogue of telling the tale via a hand-held video camera. Yuk! At least the Spanish entry which of course is being remade Stateside was well and truly scary, whereas the Romero effort could only boast three really nifty gore effects -- if you go for that sort of thing!
Painted Veil (2006): I really don't know who thought it would be a good idea to remake this 1934 Greta Garbo film at great length, starring Naomi Watts and Edward Norton. Yes, the photography actually filmed in China was magnificent, but the movie itself was worthy and dreary, despite the acting talent involved.
Make Way for Tomorrow (1937): This is one of the great unknown classics of that fabulous decade and is throughly sad and upsetting as it deals with a family's treatment of its older generation, a story which is as true today as ever. Beulah Bondi, only 48 when this was made, plays the aged mother of five children, including Thomas Mitchell (all of three years her junior) who is forcefully separated from her loving husband of many years (Victor Moore). A real weepy!
The Great Madcap (1949): This is another very minor film from the great Luis Bunuel during his Mexican exile concerning a wealthy man who pretends to have lost everything in an effort to teach a lesson to his greedy children and relatives. I'm glad to have finally seen it, but it's a very workaday film.
So now you have it, or partially, since I actually did see a few other things over the weekend, but who in their right mind watches so many films? I do, I proudly admit...
Three French flicks, one from German TV: "Etoile sans Lumiere" (1946) which I watched for its screen role for Edith Piaf; it's a similar tale to "Singin' in the Rain" in which her voice is used to dub a fading screen star at the introduction to talkies, but without the happy ending. The other two, courtesy of CineMoi were "Mon Colonel" (2006) about intrigue in Algiers and its latter-day aftermath and "Rue des Plaisirs" (2002), a period-piece set at the end of World War Two about a whore, her true love, and the man who truly loves her. Again, don't look to the French for happy endings, although the former seemed to be morally acquitting a murderer.
Spring Parade (1940): This is the only Deanna Durbin film which I'd not seen before and a pleasant piece of period Austrian fluff it was with the young singer in good form and great support from some of my favourite character actors: Mischa Auer, S.Z. 'Cuddles' Sakall, and Franklin Pangborn.
Trauma (2004) and Bug (2006): These were two thoroughly muddled and unpleasant films of mental delusion, the first starring Colin Firth and the latter starring Ashley Judd, both of which featured a selection of creepy crawly insects which is guaranteed to freak me out.
Diary of the Dead (2007): I wish George Romero would pack it in with his zombie movies and either retire or find a new string to his bow. This one, in common with [Rec] a Spanish film of the same year which I saw about a week ago, follows the current Blair Witch/Cloverfield vogue of telling the tale via a hand-held video camera. Yuk! At least the Spanish entry which of course is being remade Stateside was well and truly scary, whereas the Romero effort could only boast three really nifty gore effects -- if you go for that sort of thing!
Painted Veil (2006): I really don't know who thought it would be a good idea to remake this 1934 Greta Garbo film at great length, starring Naomi Watts and Edward Norton. Yes, the photography actually filmed in China was magnificent, but the movie itself was worthy and dreary, despite the acting talent involved.
Make Way for Tomorrow (1937): This is one of the great unknown classics of that fabulous decade and is throughly sad and upsetting as it deals with a family's treatment of its older generation, a story which is as true today as ever. Beulah Bondi, only 48 when this was made, plays the aged mother of five children, including Thomas Mitchell (all of three years her junior) who is forcefully separated from her loving husband of many years (Victor Moore). A real weepy!
The Great Madcap (1949): This is another very minor film from the great Luis Bunuel during his Mexican exile concerning a wealthy man who pretends to have lost everything in an effort to teach a lesson to his greedy children and relatives. I'm glad to have finally seen it, but it's a very workaday film.
So now you have it, or partially, since I actually did see a few other things over the weekend, but who in their right mind watches so many films? I do, I proudly admit...
Friday, 27 March 2009
Isabelle Carre
It seems that I am still capable of discovering new things -- some saying about old dogs and all that. I had never heard of the French actress Isabelle Carre until, as chance would have it, I watched two films in which she stars two nights in a row, thanks to the surprising programming of the new French cinema channel. Both films date from 2005: In His Hands and L'Avion (The Airplane) and both were something out of the usual.
In the former, also known as "Entre ses Mains", she stars as an insurance claims manager, married and with a young daughter, when she meets the latest claimant, a vet played by the Belgian actor Benoit Poelvoorde -- so memorable for his turn as a killer in the 1992 movie "Man Bites Dog". He seems lonely and craves her company and she agrees to various meetings which are innocent on the surface, despite the fact that he is no oil painting and irascible and despite the fact that she has an attentive, dishy husband at home. The story is set in Lille where a serial killer has been preying on women for the last year and suppressing her fears that her new friend may be the culprit, she continues to see him. An arrest is made and she relaxes her guard, even as his behaviour becomes more and more suspicious, until the shock ending which one would only find in a French film.
In the second film which falls squarely into the fantasy genre, she again plays the married mother of a young boy. When her husband who is a military pilot and researcher is killed in an accident, the two of them must face life without him. At Christmas, shortly before his death, he gave the son a large one-piece model airplane of some strange white material; the boy does not conceal his disappointment since he thinks he was promised a bicycle. Afterwards, however, he develops a fascination with the plane and believes it has wonderful powers to move and to fly and that it will be able to lead him to a last meeting with his Dad to properly say their goodbyes. The plane does indeed appear to be something magical with a will all its own, and when a military scientist takes it away for study, the boy must find a way to liberate it and discover its true purpose. This was a warm and involving story, although perhaps not quite as successful as it might have been -- it just seemed to miss somehow -- but certainly a worthy effort by all concerned.
In the former, also known as "Entre ses Mains", she stars as an insurance claims manager, married and with a young daughter, when she meets the latest claimant, a vet played by the Belgian actor Benoit Poelvoorde -- so memorable for his turn as a killer in the 1992 movie "Man Bites Dog". He seems lonely and craves her company and she agrees to various meetings which are innocent on the surface, despite the fact that he is no oil painting and irascible and despite the fact that she has an attentive, dishy husband at home. The story is set in Lille where a serial killer has been preying on women for the last year and suppressing her fears that her new friend may be the culprit, she continues to see him. An arrest is made and she relaxes her guard, even as his behaviour becomes more and more suspicious, until the shock ending which one would only find in a French film.
In the second film which falls squarely into the fantasy genre, she again plays the married mother of a young boy. When her husband who is a military pilot and researcher is killed in an accident, the two of them must face life without him. At Christmas, shortly before his death, he gave the son a large one-piece model airplane of some strange white material; the boy does not conceal his disappointment since he thinks he was promised a bicycle. Afterwards, however, he develops a fascination with the plane and believes it has wonderful powers to move and to fly and that it will be able to lead him to a last meeting with his Dad to properly say their goodbyes. The plane does indeed appear to be something magical with a will all its own, and when a military scientist takes it away for study, the boy must find a way to liberate it and discover its true purpose. This was a warm and involving story, although perhaps not quite as successful as it might have been -- it just seemed to miss somehow -- but certainly a worthy effort by all concerned.
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
Three and Out (2008)
Some film projects appear so misbegotten that one would suspect that they had no chance of succeeding. Such is the case here with this story of a would-be writer who works as an underground (subway) driver and who has the misfortune of having two people fall in front of his train in short order. His co-workers convince him that if a third fatality occurs within the same month, he will be pensioned off with ten years' salary -- an appealing idea to someone who dreams of escaping to the countryside to fulfill himself. That this central role is taken by the anorexic-looking Mackenzie Crook (of British "Office" fame and also featured in the "Pirates of the Caribbean" flicks) made me wonder even more about its chances of success. So it was fair to say that I came to this movie with extreme prejudice and only watched it because it was there.
However I must confess that it worked as a film although I am at something of a loss to explain exactly why. Crook is tempted by the prospect of "easy" money and starts searching for a would-be suicide to agree to be his third victim. This involves keeping an eye out for bridge-jumpers and logging into suicide chatrooms on the web. As the result of the latter, he meets up with Sir Anthony Sher as a French nutter who wants him to cook and eat various bits of his anatomy until there is nothing left -- an absolutely outre turn for this respected actor. This is obviously out of the question, but he does find Colm Meaney as a down-and-out wastrel who agrees to the cash-for-his-life offer as a way of trying to make things up to the wife (Imelda Staunton) and daughter (British starlet Gemma Arterton) whom he deserted some eight years back. So off they go for the weekend up North to try to mend the bridges before Monday's date with death.
Apart from the fact that it was a little offputting to see Arterton happily snogging and shagging the skeletal Crook, the scenes between Staunton and Meaney felt very real. I won't write how this tale finishes, but it is not exactly as one would have expected in any conventional movie and it did manage to become unexpectedly moving. So, so much my preconceived prejudices; there is something to be said for keeping an open mind, even at the most dire of possibilities.
However I must confess that it worked as a film although I am at something of a loss to explain exactly why. Crook is tempted by the prospect of "easy" money and starts searching for a would-be suicide to agree to be his third victim. This involves keeping an eye out for bridge-jumpers and logging into suicide chatrooms on the web. As the result of the latter, he meets up with Sir Anthony Sher as a French nutter who wants him to cook and eat various bits of his anatomy until there is nothing left -- an absolutely outre turn for this respected actor. This is obviously out of the question, but he does find Colm Meaney as a down-and-out wastrel who agrees to the cash-for-his-life offer as a way of trying to make things up to the wife (Imelda Staunton) and daughter (British starlet Gemma Arterton) whom he deserted some eight years back. So off they go for the weekend up North to try to mend the bridges before Monday's date with death.
Apart from the fact that it was a little offputting to see Arterton happily snogging and shagging the skeletal Crook, the scenes between Staunton and Meaney felt very real. I won't write how this tale finishes, but it is not exactly as one would have expected in any conventional movie and it did manage to become unexpectedly moving. So, so much my preconceived prejudices; there is something to be said for keeping an open mind, even at the most dire of possibilities.
Saturday, 21 March 2009
Hitmen -- the Good, the Bad & the Ridiculous
Sometimes my movie viewing seems to centre around certain themes, and this seems to have been Hitman Week. However I really want to focus on only two of these films.
First up is "In Bruges" (2008) which I previously saw in part during my myriad transatlantic journeys last year (my initial reactions can be found in the archives) and which I wanted to view again under better conditions. This award-winner and audience-pleaser from writer-director Martin McDonagh manages to hit a happy vein of black comedy-drama in its tale of two British-based hitmen lying low in Bruges. The fact that this is one of my own favourite cities adds to the movie's appeal, but while the older of the two as played by Brendan Gleeson is happy to soak up the ancient town's appeal, the younger and dimmer played by a foul-mouthed Colin Farrell thinks it is a dump (except he describes it rather more explicitly). Farrell has messed up his first hit of a priest by accidentally killing a young lad at the scene and their boss, played by an equally potty-mouthed Ralph Fiennes, has sent them to cool their heels until he can decide how to deal with this. I have always found Farrell's appeal to be minimal, but credit where credit is due, he shines here as he mixes "culture" with a dishy drug-dealer and her venal colleague, American tourists, and a "midget" (actually a dwarf but dum-dum doesn't know the difference). The actual story is pretty grim if looked at too closely, but it is told in such an amusing way that the violence is almost forgiveable here.
The second film worth mentioning is a far less-known British effort, American Cousins (2003). This small movie seems to have made no dent on the moviegoer's radar and is not even listed in most film guides, but we found it a little gem. Two American hitmen from New Joisey have created something of a problem for their mob while on business in Prague, and they are told to hole-up with some Scottish-Italian relations in Glasgow (which in fact does have a large ethnic community). The two are played by young Danny Nucci and older Dan Hedaya; the latter has been a favourite of mine for many years, first registering with me in his occasional role of Nick Tortelli in "Cheers", a character actor with many strings to his bow. So they find themselves involved in the life of a small local cafe where owner Gerald Lepkowski, his would-be girlfriend/manageress Shirley Henderson, and his grandpa Russell Hunter (in his last role, but remembered here forever as the character Lonely in the "Callan" TV series) are at the mercy of some local hoodlums who want the premises. Hedaya soon makes short work of the British toughs while Nucci tries his hand at producing edible fish and chips. There is a pleasant feeling of good humour throughout, despite some fairly strong violence, and when the rest of the Sopranos-style New Jersey mob appear at the denouement, one again believes that hitmen can be as human, flawed, and complex as any of us.
First up is "In Bruges" (2008) which I previously saw in part during my myriad transatlantic journeys last year (my initial reactions can be found in the archives) and which I wanted to view again under better conditions. This award-winner and audience-pleaser from writer-director Martin McDonagh manages to hit a happy vein of black comedy-drama in its tale of two British-based hitmen lying low in Bruges. The fact that this is one of my own favourite cities adds to the movie's appeal, but while the older of the two as played by Brendan Gleeson is happy to soak up the ancient town's appeal, the younger and dimmer played by a foul-mouthed Colin Farrell thinks it is a dump (except he describes it rather more explicitly). Farrell has messed up his first hit of a priest by accidentally killing a young lad at the scene and their boss, played by an equally potty-mouthed Ralph Fiennes, has sent them to cool their heels until he can decide how to deal with this. I have always found Farrell's appeal to be minimal, but credit where credit is due, he shines here as he mixes "culture" with a dishy drug-dealer and her venal colleague, American tourists, and a "midget" (actually a dwarf but dum-dum doesn't know the difference). The actual story is pretty grim if looked at too closely, but it is told in such an amusing way that the violence is almost forgiveable here.
The second film worth mentioning is a far less-known British effort, American Cousins (2003). This small movie seems to have made no dent on the moviegoer's radar and is not even listed in most film guides, but we found it a little gem. Two American hitmen from New Joisey have created something of a problem for their mob while on business in Prague, and they are told to hole-up with some Scottish-Italian relations in Glasgow (which in fact does have a large ethnic community). The two are played by young Danny Nucci and older Dan Hedaya; the latter has been a favourite of mine for many years, first registering with me in his occasional role of Nick Tortelli in "Cheers", a character actor with many strings to his bow. So they find themselves involved in the life of a small local cafe where owner Gerald Lepkowski, his would-be girlfriend/manageress Shirley Henderson, and his grandpa Russell Hunter (in his last role, but remembered here forever as the character Lonely in the "Callan" TV series) are at the mercy of some local hoodlums who want the premises. Hedaya soon makes short work of the British toughs while Nucci tries his hand at producing edible fish and chips. There is a pleasant feeling of good humour throughout, despite some fairly strong violence, and when the rest of the Sopranos-style New Jersey mob appear at the denouement, one again believes that hitmen can be as human, flawed, and complex as any of us.
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
The Oxford Murders (2008)
I vaguely recall the very brief reviews that were published when this film was released here, which from memory were kinda poor, as are most of the comments on IMDb, so I was unprepared for my very favourable reaction to what I found to be a literate and intelligent mystery. Directed and co-written by Alex de la Iglesia, who has made some of the most unusual semi-horror flicks to emerge from Spain over the past fifteen years, this was his first English-language production and remained true to his love of the grotesque.
Elijah (Frodo) Wood plays an American graduate student who comes to Oxford University to do his mathematics doctorate under the mentoring eye of his hero John Hurt. Hurt on the other hand has given up tutoring students and now only gives the occasional lecture underlining his nihilistic philosophy; at one of these he trashes Wood's arguments when the latter tries to gain his attention, to the extent that the student is just about ready to pack up and go. However on returning to his digs at the home of eccentric Anna Massey, the widow of an Enigma code-breaker, and her unappreciated carer-daughter, he arrives at the same moment as family friend Hurt to discover Massey murdered. This begins a strange cooperation betwen the two mathematicians as they try to crack a code which they believe will lead to other random murders -- and indeed more follow (or so we are led to believe). There are any number of red herrings to puzzle police inspector Jim Carter before a final explanation is given that satisfies him, although the true answers and real culprits are only detailed at movie's end. Not having read the novel on which this film is based, I for one did not foresee the final twists.
There is a strong role for Spanish actress Leonor Watling (recognizable from several Almodovar flicks) as a hospital nurse with a sexual history with both Hurt and Wood, a sub-plot involving French actor Dominique Piton (whom I first saw in "Delicatessen" and who has one of those faces you just can't forget) as the father of a terminally ill child, and one of the most bizarre turns ever from director Alex Cox as a limbless, brain-damaged ex-colleague whom Hurt frequently visits. The film is far from perfect and logically doesn't completely hold together. However it is clever, involving, and so brilliantly acted by Hurt in particular that I have no problem in recommending it.
Elijah (Frodo) Wood plays an American graduate student who comes to Oxford University to do his mathematics doctorate under the mentoring eye of his hero John Hurt. Hurt on the other hand has given up tutoring students and now only gives the occasional lecture underlining his nihilistic philosophy; at one of these he trashes Wood's arguments when the latter tries to gain his attention, to the extent that the student is just about ready to pack up and go. However on returning to his digs at the home of eccentric Anna Massey, the widow of an Enigma code-breaker, and her unappreciated carer-daughter, he arrives at the same moment as family friend Hurt to discover Massey murdered. This begins a strange cooperation betwen the two mathematicians as they try to crack a code which they believe will lead to other random murders -- and indeed more follow (or so we are led to believe). There are any number of red herrings to puzzle police inspector Jim Carter before a final explanation is given that satisfies him, although the true answers and real culprits are only detailed at movie's end. Not having read the novel on which this film is based, I for one did not foresee the final twists.
There is a strong role for Spanish actress Leonor Watling (recognizable from several Almodovar flicks) as a hospital nurse with a sexual history with both Hurt and Wood, a sub-plot involving French actor Dominique Piton (whom I first saw in "Delicatessen" and who has one of those faces you just can't forget) as the father of a terminally ill child, and one of the most bizarre turns ever from director Alex Cox as a limbless, brain-damaged ex-colleague whom Hurt frequently visits. The film is far from perfect and logically doesn't completely hold together. However it is clever, involving, and so brilliantly acted by Hurt in particular that I have no problem in recommending it.
Sunday, 15 March 2009
The Edge of Heaven (2007)
I have seen earlier films from the director Fatih Akin which, while reasonably involving, did not prepare me for this masterly film. Although he is thought of as a Turkish director, he is actually German-born of Turkish parents, and his focus is on the experience of being caught between two cultures.
The story being told here is linked by three parent-child pairings and is played out in time shifts in Bremen, Hanover, and Istanbul. Ali is a horny old Turkish immigrant, whose German-born son is a university professor of German and part of a different world both intellectually and physically. Ali takes up with a Turkish-born sex worker who is supporting her daughter back home, with whom she has lost recent contact, under the myth that she is working in a shoe shop. The daughter in question is part of a Kurdish revolutionary group and has fled from the police to Germany where she meets and begins a lesbian relationship with a university student, daughter of a bohemian mother played by the great Hanna Schygulla.
There are two meaningful deaths amongst these six characters which I will not spell out with a spoiler warning, but these are clearly foretold in the first two (of three) chapter headings. The interesting thing about this film is not just how people deal with family and loss, but how chance and circumstance affect our lives. Although the characters all come close at times to discovering the underlying truths that connect them, they never fully realise how all six lives are linked together. They can only perservere and perhaps find forgiveness and/or salvation.
The story being told here is linked by three parent-child pairings and is played out in time shifts in Bremen, Hanover, and Istanbul. Ali is a horny old Turkish immigrant, whose German-born son is a university professor of German and part of a different world both intellectually and physically. Ali takes up with a Turkish-born sex worker who is supporting her daughter back home, with whom she has lost recent contact, under the myth that she is working in a shoe shop. The daughter in question is part of a Kurdish revolutionary group and has fled from the police to Germany where she meets and begins a lesbian relationship with a university student, daughter of a bohemian mother played by the great Hanna Schygulla.
There are two meaningful deaths amongst these six characters which I will not spell out with a spoiler warning, but these are clearly foretold in the first two (of three) chapter headings. The interesting thing about this film is not just how people deal with family and loss, but how chance and circumstance affect our lives. Although the characters all come close at times to discovering the underlying truths that connect them, they never fully realise how all six lives are linked together. They can only perservere and perhaps find forgiveness and/or salvation.
Thursday, 12 March 2009
The Vampire (1913) & A Fool There Was (1915)
Ever vigilant for new cinematic taste thrills, I noticed that there was a season of femme fatale flicks at the BFI and hastened there forthwith. However it was something of a disappointment and just goes to show how one's potential enjoyment can be mitigated by unknown factors. I hadn't realised that the films were part of some obscure festival celebrating female filmmakers, and for a start the showing was delayed (the kiss of death at a repertory cinema) while the organisers faffed about. However the biggest disruption was saved for the second and longer film when the movie was stopped halfway through for a scantily-clad and not overly talented tap-dancer doing her thing for what seemed like an interminable time. In addition both films "boasted" newly-commissioned scores: the lady pianist for The Vampire was adequate in a tinkly sort of way, but the Broken Heart DJ Collective ruined the second film by their unsuitable choice of music for the period, foremost of which was their playing of 'Aloha Hawaii' music during the principals' sordid sojourn in Italy, and they also ripped off Joplin, Gershwin, and Benny Goodman. I think they were trying to be too clever by half.
But what of the films themselves? Vampire in this context refers back to the scandalous 1897 Burne-Jones painting and the term refers not to a bloodsucker, but to a sex-wielding wealthsucker. The second movie takes its title from a minor Kipling poem which was normally recited before the showing of the film (as it was here by some more would-be talents) and stars Theda Bara, who is widely considered the screen's first vamp. The rather doggy female from the first film, Alice Hollister, came first, but it is Bara who wears the crown. All this is rather a dubious distinction for a nice Jewish girl from Ohio whose stage name was NOT chosen as an anagram for Arab Death! Although she made some 40-odd movies, most of these are now lost, and I think this is the first time I actually saw her in a full feature -- however I was not overwhelmed by her presence. Both films were remarkably pedestrian with a static camera in telling their tales of the good man who loses his way when he is enticed by a grasping woman. In the first a simple farm-boy comes to the Big City to make his fortune so that he can marry the lovely lass back home and loses everything, until he views a "famous" vaudeville stage dance portraying a Vampire's evil and mends his ways. In the second, a respected diplomat leaves the comfort of his loving family and sacrifices his reputation when he is ensnared by the irresistible Miss Bara. Nothing now can stand between him and total ruin as with other unfortunates before him. It was not easy to imagine what the vamp's actual appeal was here as tastes of female pulchritude have changed, but at least she got to whisper the immortal line (as rendered by the intertitle, this being a silent movie) "Kiss me, Fool!"
But what of the films themselves? Vampire in this context refers back to the scandalous 1897 Burne-Jones painting and the term refers not to a bloodsucker, but to a sex-wielding wealthsucker. The second movie takes its title from a minor Kipling poem which was normally recited before the showing of the film (as it was here by some more would-be talents) and stars Theda Bara, who is widely considered the screen's first vamp. The rather doggy female from the first film, Alice Hollister, came first, but it is Bara who wears the crown. All this is rather a dubious distinction for a nice Jewish girl from Ohio whose stage name was NOT chosen as an anagram for Arab Death! Although she made some 40-odd movies, most of these are now lost, and I think this is the first time I actually saw her in a full feature -- however I was not overwhelmed by her presence. Both films were remarkably pedestrian with a static camera in telling their tales of the good man who loses his way when he is enticed by a grasping woman. In the first a simple farm-boy comes to the Big City to make his fortune so that he can marry the lovely lass back home and loses everything, until he views a "famous" vaudeville stage dance portraying a Vampire's evil and mends his ways. In the second, a respected diplomat leaves the comfort of his loving family and sacrifices his reputation when he is ensnared by the irresistible Miss Bara. Nothing now can stand between him and total ruin as with other unfortunates before him. It was not easy to imagine what the vamp's actual appeal was here as tastes of female pulchritude have changed, but at least she got to whisper the immortal line (as rendered by the intertitle, this being a silent movie) "Kiss me, Fool!"
Monday, 9 March 2009
A one-day FrightFest
Apart from the annual four- or five-day gross-out every August Bank Holiday, the FrightFest mavens occasionally organise a one-day event (last year it was half a day!). So it was that we returned on Saturday to the Prince Charles Cinema, the festival's spiritual home, for an amusing twelve hours:
First up was "Embodiment of Evil" (2008), the third part of the Coffin Joe trilogy begun over 40 year's ago by the Brazilian eccentric Jose Mojica Marins. If you have never seen any of these black-and-white low budget atheistic atrocities, you haven't really missed much, although they form part of every horror aficionado's knowledge. This one boasted colour and far higher production values than his earliest outings and old footage was craftily included as the back-story of the black-caped sadist on his release from gaol and his need to father a child of his blood, This involved kidnapping and sadistically torturing a procession of nubile females with some of the grossest effects yet put on screen. What does it say about me if I call these "good fun"???
The second film was "Shuttle" (2009) which apparently opened in the States the day before. This low-budget rather cheapjack production told of five passengers kidnapped on an airport shuttle bus on a nightmare ride to somewhere -- the twist of the final destination was really the only mild shock in a badly filmed and barely watchable effort.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008): This rock opera developed from a 2006 promo by the director of "Saw" Two through Four and his two writing pals, was a very mixed bag, which while hardly to my taste did feature good production values and inventive staging. The story of spare body-parts mogul Paul Sorvino (who has an amazing singing voice) and his repo-man Anthony Head (who also made a good fist of the vocals) who rips out these parts when payments fall behind was an amusing concept. There was excellent use of graphics to flesh out the background stories of the main characters, but the film was a little let down by the variability of the vocal talent from the very adept Sarah Brightman through the screechy Alexa Vega as Head's daughter. As for Paris Hilton as one of Sorvino's greedy offspring, she has become a tolerable presence, who seems willing to send herself up, and this role certainly did not justify her appearance at the Razzies. Not my cup of tea, but I could see its attracting a cult following.
The "surprise film" was pretty well guessed at by all concerned and turned out to be the world premiere of "Lesbian Vampire Killers". This was not quite the trash that its title would suggest, but a tongue-in-cheek and generally amusing riff on the vampire genre, featuring James Corden and Mathew Horne,two popular TV comics (from series that I have never seen), fighting off the cursed village daughters -- all them become vampires when they turn 18 -- who follow the Vampire Queen Camilla (I shudder to think if this is a reference to Mrs. Charles). There was also a neat comic turn from Withnail favourite Paul McCann as the local vicar trying to save his daughter from the sexy tribe.
This was followed by "Not Quite Hollywood" (2008) a documentary about "Ozploitation". Apparently Australia progressed (if that is the right word) from having one of the most censored film communities to a cheery assortment of "Boobs, Pubes, and Tubes" in the 1970s, followed by a dandy assortment of minor horrors and action films spaced amongst the better-known art house output. Again, this was a humourous retrospective with a number of jokey talking heads -- Australian directors, producers, critics, and actresses who had removed their clothes -- although I personally could have done with rather less Quentin Tarantino, a self-confessed fan of these obscurities. Possibly a little too long with a trough of boredom in the middle, it was still entertaining to see so many of these long-forgotten clips.
Since it was now approaching midnight, we didn't bother to stay for the final film, "Turkey Shoot" from 1982, which I have on DVD anyhow and which couldn't really compete with the appeal of going home to bed after a long but generally entertaining day.
First up was "Embodiment of Evil" (2008), the third part of the Coffin Joe trilogy begun over 40 year's ago by the Brazilian eccentric Jose Mojica Marins. If you have never seen any of these black-and-white low budget atheistic atrocities, you haven't really missed much, although they form part of every horror aficionado's knowledge. This one boasted colour and far higher production values than his earliest outings and old footage was craftily included as the back-story of the black-caped sadist on his release from gaol and his need to father a child of his blood, This involved kidnapping and sadistically torturing a procession of nubile females with some of the grossest effects yet put on screen. What does it say about me if I call these "good fun"???
The second film was "Shuttle" (2009) which apparently opened in the States the day before. This low-budget rather cheapjack production told of five passengers kidnapped on an airport shuttle bus on a nightmare ride to somewhere -- the twist of the final destination was really the only mild shock in a badly filmed and barely watchable effort.
Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008): This rock opera developed from a 2006 promo by the director of "Saw" Two through Four and his two writing pals, was a very mixed bag, which while hardly to my taste did feature good production values and inventive staging. The story of spare body-parts mogul Paul Sorvino (who has an amazing singing voice) and his repo-man Anthony Head (who also made a good fist of the vocals) who rips out these parts when payments fall behind was an amusing concept. There was excellent use of graphics to flesh out the background stories of the main characters, but the film was a little let down by the variability of the vocal talent from the very adept Sarah Brightman through the screechy Alexa Vega as Head's daughter. As for Paris Hilton as one of Sorvino's greedy offspring, she has become a tolerable presence, who seems willing to send herself up, and this role certainly did not justify her appearance at the Razzies. Not my cup of tea, but I could see its attracting a cult following.
The "surprise film" was pretty well guessed at by all concerned and turned out to be the world premiere of "Lesbian Vampire Killers". This was not quite the trash that its title would suggest, but a tongue-in-cheek and generally amusing riff on the vampire genre, featuring James Corden and Mathew Horne,two popular TV comics (from series that I have never seen), fighting off the cursed village daughters -- all them become vampires when they turn 18 -- who follow the Vampire Queen Camilla (I shudder to think if this is a reference to Mrs. Charles). There was also a neat comic turn from Withnail favourite Paul McCann as the local vicar trying to save his daughter from the sexy tribe.
This was followed by "Not Quite Hollywood" (2008) a documentary about "Ozploitation". Apparently Australia progressed (if that is the right word) from having one of the most censored film communities to a cheery assortment of "Boobs, Pubes, and Tubes" in the 1970s, followed by a dandy assortment of minor horrors and action films spaced amongst the better-known art house output. Again, this was a humourous retrospective with a number of jokey talking heads -- Australian directors, producers, critics, and actresses who had removed their clothes -- although I personally could have done with rather less Quentin Tarantino, a self-confessed fan of these obscurities. Possibly a little too long with a trough of boredom in the middle, it was still entertaining to see so many of these long-forgotten clips.
Since it was now approaching midnight, we didn't bother to stay for the final film, "Turkey Shoot" from 1982, which I have on DVD anyhow and which couldn't really compete with the appeal of going home to bed after a long but generally entertaining day.
Friday, 6 March 2009
Two more from France
Well, my sampling the new CineMoi channel is turning out to produce its pleasant share of surprises, if not yet any really memorable outings. However I am fairly certain that it provides the opportunity to view a selection of flicks that would otherwise escape me. Here's a few words on two of the latest:
Riens du tout (1992): This is the debut film from director Cedric Klapisch and it is certainly an accomplished piece of work. For some reason the English translation of the title is "Little Nothings" which may or may not be relevant to the story about the numerous employees of a vast department store which faces closure in a year's time if the business can not be turned around. A new manager is brought in whose aim is to better employee relations and thus increase sales -- through such exercises as bungee-jumping and weekends at nudist camps -- and to make these anonymous clock-punchers into one big happy family. The large ensemble cast is made up of many familiar faces, if not familiar names, and we come to know and care for many of them during the film, especially a basically unemployable trouble-maker, a black cleaner (i.e. sanitation expert), and an unpaid student whose duties include performing costumed Greek dances and being the store's Santa Claus. The camera work as it sweeps about the store's expanse is also very professionally done. The film ends with a fine show of staff morale and togetherness, even 'though one knows that their jobs are no longer secure.
Un Secret (2007): I knew that this film starred dishy Cecile de France (who is actually Belgian) and flavour-of-the-year Mathieu Amalric, although I did not expect to see them as mother and son! The movie zips between action from the 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 80s with de France as the sexy mother in the early scenes (not that she ages much until the end of the film) and Almaric as the grown son in the late ones. I was surprised to find that this is actually a Holocaust-genre film, since the characters play French Jews who undergo various traumas during and after the war years. Unlike many films, the characters do not all suffer nobly and the secret of the title is that the young son's heritage is denied and hidden; it is only as a teenager that he learns about his father's first marriage (an impressive turn by Ludivine Sagnier) and the disappearance of the son that could make his father proud in a way that he never can. This destroys the fantasies he has nurtured about his parents' fairytale marriage and helps to explain his father's continued disappointment. The action moves rather haphazardly amongst the decades with not a little confusion at times, but director Claude Miller handles this adequately. The irony is that the arrogant father played by Patrick Bruel is more concerned in the final scenes about the death of his pet dog than he was about Sagnier and his supposedly beloved son.
Riens du tout (1992): This is the debut film from director Cedric Klapisch and it is certainly an accomplished piece of work. For some reason the English translation of the title is "Little Nothings" which may or may not be relevant to the story about the numerous employees of a vast department store which faces closure in a year's time if the business can not be turned around. A new manager is brought in whose aim is to better employee relations and thus increase sales -- through such exercises as bungee-jumping and weekends at nudist camps -- and to make these anonymous clock-punchers into one big happy family. The large ensemble cast is made up of many familiar faces, if not familiar names, and we come to know and care for many of them during the film, especially a basically unemployable trouble-maker, a black cleaner (i.e. sanitation expert), and an unpaid student whose duties include performing costumed Greek dances and being the store's Santa Claus. The camera work as it sweeps about the store's expanse is also very professionally done. The film ends with a fine show of staff morale and togetherness, even 'though one knows that their jobs are no longer secure.
Un Secret (2007): I knew that this film starred dishy Cecile de France (who is actually Belgian) and flavour-of-the-year Mathieu Amalric, although I did not expect to see them as mother and son! The movie zips between action from the 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 80s with de France as the sexy mother in the early scenes (not that she ages much until the end of the film) and Almaric as the grown son in the late ones. I was surprised to find that this is actually a Holocaust-genre film, since the characters play French Jews who undergo various traumas during and after the war years. Unlike many films, the characters do not all suffer nobly and the secret of the title is that the young son's heritage is denied and hidden; it is only as a teenager that he learns about his father's first marriage (an impressive turn by Ludivine Sagnier) and the disappearance of the son that could make his father proud in a way that he never can. This destroys the fantasies he has nurtured about his parents' fairytale marriage and helps to explain his father's continued disappointment. The action moves rather haphazardly amongst the decades with not a little confusion at times, but director Claude Miller handles this adequately. The irony is that the arrogant father played by Patrick Bruel is more concerned in the final scenes about the death of his pet dog than he was about Sagnier and his supposedly beloved son.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Trust the Man (2005)
Considering the cost of making and marketing movies nowadays, it is remarkable that so many flops reach the public, and not just from the so-called Indie sector. Until I noticed this film in the late-night schedules, I had never heard of it -- despite its starry cast -- and it had not even been shown previously on the not too fussy subscription film channels.
It stars Julianne Moore and was written for her by her husband, the director Bart Freundlich, but frankly it was not much of a gift. She plays the stage actress wife of David Duchovny who has given up the world of advertising to become a house-husband. Being something of a sex addict -- not too far a stretch if the tabloids are to be believed -- he begins an affair with a divorcee whom he meets at their kids' school, thus jeopardising his already shaky marriage. Meanwhile Moore's immature brother, Billy Crudup, who is in a long-term relationship with broody Maggie Gyllenhaal, shies from commitment. The plain truth is that one doesn't really care about any of these people and the film lacks both humour and warmth. The contrived happy ending feels like just that and nothing more. This talkfest was not some low-budget effort since there were throwaway parts for Eva Mendes, Gary Shandling, James Le Gros, and an uncredited Bob Balaban, but one can't help regretting that the talent on display were not better served.
It stars Julianne Moore and was written for her by her husband, the director Bart Freundlich, but frankly it was not much of a gift. She plays the stage actress wife of David Duchovny who has given up the world of advertising to become a house-husband. Being something of a sex addict -- not too far a stretch if the tabloids are to be believed -- he begins an affair with a divorcee whom he meets at their kids' school, thus jeopardising his already shaky marriage. Meanwhile Moore's immature brother, Billy Crudup, who is in a long-term relationship with broody Maggie Gyllenhaal, shies from commitment. The plain truth is that one doesn't really care about any of these people and the film lacks both humour and warmth. The contrived happy ending feels like just that and nothing more. This talkfest was not some low-budget effort since there were throwaway parts for Eva Mendes, Gary Shandling, James Le Gros, and an uncredited Bob Balaban, but one can't help regretting that the talent on display were not better served.
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