FrightFest 2010 - Part One

It must be an indication of the years taking their toll, but not that long ago I had the mad desire to discuss in greater or lesser detail the many wonders of the FrightFest programme. This year after a marathon of viewing, I find the films forming an amorphous mass in my memory with none of them really vying for pride of place. I therefore think it best to make only the briefest comments on most of them, if only to get some sort of closure on the weekend. As usual, transport considerations stopped our seeing any of the late-night offerings (most of which we shall catch up on through their DVD releases -- the only one I really regret missing was "Dream Home", a Hong Kong gorer in the tradition of "Rikki O"), but we still managed to take in over twenty flicks, which frankly is exhausting. This year we chose a much higher proportion of films from the small 'Discovery' strand, an excellent innovation from last year's Fest, since these on average seemed rather more potentially interesting than yet another low-budget British effort. Yes, I know that the festival organisers believe it is their duty to support the local scene, but one can get rather sated by Danny Dyer gangster flicks or zombie movies made for twenty-nine cents (or the sterling equivalent). Anyhow, here's the summary of your favourite film fanatic:

Hatchet II (2010): As a supposed 'fest-fave', director Adam Green blessed us with the world premiere of his follow-up to his 2006 slasher. Definitely a bright red gorefest with horror icons Tony Todd and Kane Hodder amongst the leads, but not sufficiently different from so many other slasher movies. My feeling: please axe any further sequels.

Primal (2010): Another world premiere for this Australian film which at least had an unusual slant as some of six friends on a field trip find themselves infected by the site's waterhole and undergo some savage Neanderthal regression. The first to mutate was the best-looker of the gals with a horribly strident Aussie voice, so it was actually something of an auditory relief for her to morph into an grunting feral. Like many of these films, we were left with only one survivor, who capped the brutal proceedings with a memorable final one-word ending. See it yourself to find out.

Eggshells (1969): As a tribute to the festival's special guest Tobe Hooper (whose showing of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and Q and A we skipped), the organisers unearthed his little-seen feature debut. Although I was fascinated by this rare opportunity, I'm sorry to report that it was a pretentious and precious student folly, very typical of its era, with little indication of the auteur's potential horror leanings to come.

The Clinic (2009): More Australian visceral horror with pregnant ladies being abducted and having their unborns cut out as part of a profitable babies-for-sale racket, apparently of long standing, since each victim's uniform bore a roman numeral and we were now apparently at over 600 mutilated females. Yeah, yeah!

Finale (2009): This is an overly convoluted American shocker tracing a family at the receiving end of a dark cult's secrecy -- stylish and creepy without being particularly involving.

Wound (2010): A return to genre film-making for New Zealand director David Blyth, whose horror credentials go back to 1984's "Death Warmed Up", not that he has done much of note in the meantime. This one is about a woman abused as a child by her father and the more-than-willing submissive partner of a dominant male, taking the ultimate physical revenge on Daddy and finding herself being haunted by the now grown-up supposedly stillborn daughter that he fathered. None of it made much sense -- so what else is new?

F (2010): F for 'failure' on a school paper evolves into an F for 'F-ing awesome' Brit thriller, finding the staff and pupils of a high-tech school at the after-hours mercy of a group of invading faceless hoodies. The hoodies from hell you may conclude as they reap mindless gory mutilation on those they confront. It just goes to prove that horror can be alive and well, even in the British low-budget sector.

Christopher Roth (2010): Set in Italy but mainly English-speaking, this debut film from cinematographer Maxime Alexandre (here billed as Max Sender) has a world-famous crime writer and his wife having their Umbrian holiday ruined by the local serial killer who mutilates his victims with wild boar horns. Roth wants to broaden his literary output but finds himself immersed once more in the reality of horror amongst the supposedly friendly natives. Interestingly done as his new friends deal with the 'beast in the basement' as it were.

Fanboys (2008): I have absolutely no idea what this jolly confection was doing masquerading itself at FrightFest; still it was something of a welcome break from blood and guts. Four "Star Wars" fanatics, one of whom is terminally ill, can't wait for the new movie to open back in 1998 and decide to travel from Iowa, or wherever, to the Skywalker Ranch to steal a preview copy. Of course they cross a tasty selection of weirdos and trekkies en route in pursuit of their dream.

13 Hours (2010): Yet another UK world premiere, as our heroine returns to the run-down family estate from her high-powered life in L.A. to find her friends and family under attack from a bloodthirsty creature. As most fall prey to this unseen nightmare, dark family secrets are finally revealed to bring the action to its foregone conclusion. This was a reasonably well-done effort with a more than capable cast, but I suspect it will end up like so many films in a horror limbo of limited distribution.

I Spit on Your Grave (2010): It is fashionable nowadays to remake all of the old horror classics, but as one of the original video nasties, the 1979 exploitation shocker on which this film is based is probably amongst the least well-known, even if its title has become engraved in horror history. The hard-to-find uncut original is indeed a shocker, but frankly its retributive violence is not as strong overall as this remake's. If anything the start of this remake is a little too leisurely as our feisty heroine finds herself at the mercy of a bunch of local redneck rapists. She eventually re-emerges from the forest where she was left for dead to take her revenge on the frankly despicable group of chauvinist pigs. The whoops from the audience (most of whom let it be said were male) as she dispatches each of her assailants were encouraging for any potentially militant feminists in the crowd. For once perhaps a remake actually worked, although I still wonder whether it was really necessary.

Good gracious, I'm just over half way through my supposedly brief reactions. So it's time for a break back into the real world with the promise to continue tomorrow, all things being equal.

Gomorrah (2008)

Together with Sodom, Gomorrah was of course a biblical 'sin city' and this Italian film (the title is something of a pun on Camorra -- the local Naples Mafia) drops us into a mire of crime and depravity. Based on the best-selling expose by Roberto Saviano. the movie was a popular festival award winner (including the Grand Prize at Cannes) and sufficiently well reviewed to make me keen to see it. However forceful as it may be in its relentless depiction of evil, starting with the showy massacre of a bunch of buddies using tanning cubicles, it is certainly not conventional entertainment as we know it and certainly not an easy watch.


The film illustrates its premises by following five stories set among the denizens of a squalid and decaying pyramid tenement. There is young Toto, a lad sufficiently girly in appearance that I spent the first part of the film trying to figure out if he were a boy or a girl, who desperately wants to be part of a gang family. There is an elderly money runner, dispensing the mob's largesse to those who have been helpful in the past and who are under its protection, but who finds his personal safety at greater and greater risk. There is a smartass entrepreneur buying up sites to use for the surreptitious dumping of toxic waste, assisted by his increasingly disillusioned graduate sidekick. There is a master tailor and cutter for a clothing manufacturer who moonlights training potentially cut-rate Chinese workers and who revels in having his talents appreciated for once in his career. Finally there are a pair of teenaged layabouts, who fancy themselves as the next Tony Montanas, and who think they don 't need any help in outsmarting the local gangsters; their ultimate doom is 100% apparent from their first appearance.


A major problem with this film is that the five stories barely intertwine and therefore only appear as examples made flesh of the author's preoccupations. In no way do they gel into a coherent whole and one has some difficulty identifying with any of the protagonists or sympathising with them. It is too cold a film to be moving. All it seems to say is that no one can remain untouched by the local milieu nor refrain from taking sides in what appears to be a neverending war. The prevalent philosophy by which they all appear to live is that 'if you are not with us, you're against us'. Many have compared this film to the 2002 Brazilian film "City of God", but that film at least had a reasonably coherent storyline and offered the option of some characters being able to escape into a better life. In this movie the pyramid slums are symbolic of the pyramid of criminal power and one can not hope for a happy outcome or redemption for any of the main protagonists.


From tomorrow evening through late Monday, I shall be immersing myself yet again in the llth annual FrightFest -- non-stop horror and fantasy (although rather less of the latter this year) with only small breaks for sustenance and sleep. A full report will follows -- probably in dollops -- early next week, so no time for journal entries from PPP in the interim. See you then and wish me strength!

Volga-Volga (1938)

I don't suppose you realised that Josef Stalin had a favourite film. After all, who knows what Churchill's or Roosevelt's movie preferences were, although one is told that Hitler liked the ultimately treacherous Charlie Chaplin and Marlene Dietrich. Just don't say to me 'Who's Josef Stalin?'

Despite the bloody purges that Stalin masterminded in Russia during the 1930s, where any dissension from the party line risked either summary execution or banishment to Siberia at best, the Dictator stated 'life has become better, comrades, life has become more fun' and he commissioned director Grigori Aleksandov to make this film. Stalin was indeed so enamoured of the end product that he apparently knew the dialogue by heart and presented copies of the film to foreign leaders and dignitaries. The director, who began his cinema career as an assistant to Eisenstein, visited Hollywood with him in 1932 and returned home full of enthusiasm for Walt Disney, Busby Berkeley, and musicals in general.

This one starts off at a provincial musical instrument factory where the romantically smooching lead couple each wish to take their amateur ensembles to a cultural music Olympics in Moscow. He wants to compete with his highbrow classical band, and pooh-pooh's her ambitions for her folk musicians. His river boat leaves without her for the journey up the Volga, but she commandeers a rundown vessel for her musicians, singers, and dancers, and the race is on. I must confess I was a little dubious about the whole scenario when the film began as it seemed too diffuse and amateurish. However as soon as her players started performing Russian folk classics familiar to me from recordings of the Red Army Choir, I was hooked, falling for their joyous enthusiasm and amusing antics. The heroine Strelka, played by the director's wife Lyubov Orlova, with her coloratura voice, became something of a Soviet megastar after this performance and the film was deeply loved by all -- not only because Stalin insisted it should be loved. On the river journey she decides to write a song especially for the competition and her colleagues scribble bits of the score on dozens of scraps of headed factory notepaper; however when her ship founders, these notes are swept overboard. Imagine her amazement when on arrival in Moscow she finds that everyone else is performing "her" song as their own, having retrieved the music from the raging waters.

One can take this remnant of an era on its own strengths and the quirky music, dancing, singing, and close-ups of looming bearded faces (a la "Ivan the Terrible") are infectious fun. Underneath the surface joy, however, there are numerous indications of the occasionally false comaraderie of the day and hints of rebellion against a repressive regime. After Stalin's death in 1953 when his legacy fell from favour, the movie was censored and slashed to remove all references to him, but it was a real treat to have seen the film in its original whole. So now you know what Stalin's favourite film was and a little bit more about the tyrant who commissioned it. It's just about the only thing I can thank him for!

The Proposal (2009)

Sandra Bullock is something of a mystery to me. I have not yet seen her Oscar-winning role in "The Blind Side" nor the purported turkey that preceded it, "All About Steve", and I don't dislike her girl-next-door charm nor her general feistiness. However there is little depth to her performances, and I have an upper tolerance level for her clutzy heroines. Her films are pleasant enough to watch, unlike much of the drivel out there, but like the proverbial Chinese meal they leave one unsatisfied and hungry after an hour's gorging.

In this run-of-the-mill rom-com she plays a bossy-boots publishing executive in New York, feared by all of her staff, who has somehow overlooked maintaining her work visa and who is about to be deported to her native Canada. So her beady eye settles on her oppressed 'executive secretary' Ryan Reynolds, whom she bullies into agreeing to marry her if he hopes to save his own ambitions of a career and publishing his magnum opus. Of course there is a nosy immigration official who doubts their genuineness (much like 1990's superior "Green Card") and the couple have only the weekend to prepare for his forthcoming inquisition. They go off to Reynolds' hometown of Sitka, Alaska, where he was due to celebrate his "Gammy" Betty White's 90th birthday and where his family appear to own just about the whole scenic town. Taking advantage of the previously-hated Bullock's new vulnerability, Reynolds uses the occasion to be bolshy towards his boss. Yet at the homecoming cocktails, he announces their engagement to the astonished assembled family, friends, and neighbours. Naturally his progressive parents, Mary Steenburgen and Craig T. Nelson, have allocated them a room with a single double bed and the couple are forced to keep up their pretense, as Bullock tries to maintain her very prim modesty. To add insult to injury, his family decide that they should wed that weekend as a special treat for "Gammy".

Despite the obvious age difference between the leads (45 and 32 respectively when the film was made), they do have a workable chemistry. However the scenario is so contrived and far-fetched that one would prefer to not accept the obvious outcome. Apart from the leads' general likeability, Betty White is nearly the whole show with her straightforward outspokeness and Native Indian beliefs. One admires her taking on this important role (she is pushing 90 herself) in making this farrago more palatable. She was certainly preferable to the so-called comic relief of Oscar Nunez, playing a pushy waiter, a male stripper, the local shopkeeper, and the minister at their will-they-or-won't-they wedding. It's hard enough to believe that a grand ceremony can be arranged in 24 hours but we are also meant to wonder if the two leads can squirm out of the procedings. Will he risk his future? Will she resign herself to being deported? No prizes for predicting the eventual outcome!

Since any moviegoer knows from square one the inevitable denouement to such flicks, it is not a spoiler to say that he ultimately recognizes the loveable, mushy interior to her hard-bitten exterior and that she learns the value of warm family relationships. However I think on balance I prefer the old Doris Day/Rock Hudson shennanigans to this latter-day contrived confection.

Mother's Boys (1994)

Sometimes I find myself rewatching movies, not because I have any raving desire to see them again, but because they just happen to be there. And especially with films that were not very good in the first place, it's amazing just how much one hasn't remembered about them. The above movie might appear to have a lot going for it with its lead cast of Jamie Lee Curtis, bushy-browed Peter Gallagher, Joanne Whalley-Kilmer (as she was then billed), and even the great Vanessa Redgrave in something of a throwaway role, to say nothing about some other familiar faces in even smaller parts. However at best it was really something of a potboiler, despite a promising premise.

After playing a series of victims in earlier movies, Curtis is given a change of pace and cast as the villainess -- a big baddie. She is Jude (wife of Gallagher, daughter of Redgrave) who walked out on her husband and three young sons three years earlier. Now that he has found new love interest Whalley and initiated divorce proceedings, she decides she wants her family back, since as her mother points out she doesn't take well to losing. Some people claim a horror label for this film, but that is inaccurate; it is more of a far-fetched drama in which Curtis plays a deeply flawed and horrid character. Her eldest son Kes was distressed when she left and has exhibited recurring violent behaviour since; the chubby middle son is in awe of his older brother and the youngest son was too little to remember much. While Kes claims that he doesn't want to see his mother again when she reappears and demands visitation rights, he is soon under her spell, as she uses her not inconsiderable psychological and sexual wiles to entice him to do her bidding -- which is to get Whalley out of the picture.

After Curtis' impressive nudity in the previous year's "Trading Places", she is again given what might be considered gratuitous, if brief, exposure (and even I must admit that she has a great body). However here she uses her nudity to cow young Kes and to taunt him in a way that makes generally uncomfortable viewing. I understand the novel on which this film was based was even bloodier and more sexually explicit that what's on screen here, but the 12-year old boy is soon under her spell. Even Gallagher, playing something of a blah good guy and professing his love for Whalley, is tempted by the high-heeled, mini-skirted, teasing
siren. It is up to the badly-treated Whalley to save the day when the action becomes even more melodramatic and far-fetched.

By the end of the movie when Curtis' death plans for her rival backfire and she receives her just punishment, it is probably true to say that now all three children have been left damaged and traumatized. That is hardly what one could call a happy ending, so maybe it was some sort of horror movie after all, especially with the suggestion that the boys were now capable of even greater anti-social behaviour after experiencing their mother's lies and propensity for violence.

Canicule (Dog Day) (1984)

As is my wont, I have watched a ridiculous number of films over the last week or so -- some vaguely entertaining and some absolutely appalling ("Year One" or "Observe and Report" anyone?). However one of these movies has lodged itself firmly in my mind and I keep thinking about it. There is always a frisson of excitement and pleasure when I come across a film of which I knew nothing previously; this French flick starring Lee Marvin in one of his last roles before his death in 1987 was something of a revelation. Whether he took the work as a tax-break or for a French vacation, or for some star exposure in a dwindling career I can't say; nor can I tell you whether he was actually speaking the French dialogue or post-dubbed. What I can tell you is that it was a weird and very black oddity and for that reason alone of great interest to me. If you were to look up the users' comments for this film on IMDb, you would be awash in a sea of negativity, claiming that the role was unworthy of Marvin, that he was walking through it in a daze, that it was only the French having a go at making an American gangster film, etc. Nonsense!

Marvin has always been a charismatic screen presence, whether as a macho thug in "Prime Cut" or as the drunken cowboy and his metal-nosed doppelganger in "Cat Ballou"; he is almost (but not quite) the whole show here. He plays a bad-ass bank-robber called Jimmy Cobb, in France with his ladyfriend Tina Louise, who sticks up a local bank for millions (mysteriously in dollar bills) and who is then pursued by an army of cops after killing various bystanders including a young boy and by crippling others with his trademark kneecapping. We find him in his fashionable dandyish gear, including a flower in his buttonhole, running across endless fields of billowing wheat in the Normandy countryside (quite a spiffy cinematic image that) with police helicopters in pursuit. He takes refuge in the barn of a nearby farm but finds himself in a cesspit of immorality, as the farm's inhabitants are even more venal than he. The family consists of three middle-aged siblings: the eldest of whom renovates derelict fairground statues, a middle sister who is a raving nymphomaniac attacking anything in trousers, and the younger brother who is an insatiable satyr married to young Miou-Miou (nearly unrecognizable here). She actually owns the farm, having inherited it from her father, but she is dominated by the unsavoury sibs after becoming pregnant by her pig of a husband. There is one scene where he disguises himself as a straw-stuffed scarecrow in order to do some pervy spying on topless Swedish campers nearby; I don't think you find much of that sort of behaviour in American gangster movies. Also in the household is a batty aging housekeeper who is being threatened with being sent to an old folks' home. They all know that Cobb is in the area and he is soon spotted and captured by them; they want his loot as do a number of other local crooks headquartered at a nearby brothel.

However Miou-Miou's 13-year old son has seen where Cobb has buried the stolen cash, dug it up, and reburied it. This is where this film becomes magical for me, since the role is taken by David Bennent. This Swiss-born actor is forever a part of film history by having taken the lead role in the German picture "The Tin Drum" (1979), playing a precocious and extremely peculiar child who ends up having sex with an adult. Bennent suffers from some genetic growth disorder (but he is not a dwarf) and was actually 18 when "Canicule" was made. Subsequent appearances were as Gump in 1985's "Legend" (one of the little people) and more recently in the horrid "She Hate Me" (not that I recognized him there). He is still appearing in movies, but the thrust of his career has been on stage. However this particular movie belongs as much to him as to Marvin, as he takes a chunk of the money to the brothel for initiation into life's so-called pleasures and as he seeks fame (to add to his fortune) by being the one who actually captures Marvin. Not that this is unlikely, since by the end of the film only he and his mother are still alive. The body count cheerfully builds and no one is immune: the family, the campers, a selection of policemen, the farm's dogs, and just about anyone who gets in the way of the rampant greed and sexual desire on display.

The nay-sayers on IMDb may have a point, but there was so much about this movie that tickled my fancy that I just might want to revisit it again some time soon. And to me, that's entertainment!

Gun Crazy (1950)

There is probably no such thing as the 'perfect little B movie', but this one sure comes close. It is also a fine example of Film Noir with a desirable female basically corrupting a decent man. Directed by the largely ignored Joseph H. Lewis, who had a prolific career in low-budget movie-making, it is one of his few memorable flicks. Two others that remain long in memory are "My Name is Julia Ross" (1945) and "Terror in a Texas Town" (1958) with its enduring image of Sterling Hayden strutting up the deserted main street of a small town to face the baddies wielding only a harpoon.

Similarly the leads here did not enjoy particularly distinguished film careers. Welsh-born Peggy Cummins, despite her adorable looks, never made it big in films and John Dall had only two earlier memorable roles starting with "The Corn is Green" (1945) and reaching a highpoint in Hitchock's "Rope" (1948); the balance of his career was largely on television before dying at the relatively young age of 52. As unstarry as these two may be, the balance of the cast are equally unknown, other than little Russ (here billed as Rusty) Tamblyn playing Dall as a teenager. However Lewis has drawn sizzling performances from Cummins and Dall who play criminal lovers on the run, much like Bonnie and Clyde, but with a lot more heat and passion. The title has a double meaning. It describes both Dall, who has had an obsession with guns since childhood -- an obsession which landed him both in reform school and a job as a shooting instructor in the Army -- and Cummins who literally goes crazy and out of control when faced with the enpowerment that a gun gives her. Their eyes lock when he first sees her doing her sharp-shooting act at a carnival, and her interest is piqued further when he accepts and wins a challenge to outshoot her. He joins the carnival act, but their sexual attraction is blatant to the jealous proprietor, who fires them.

While Dall is at heart a good guy who is unable to willingly kill even a small animal, Cummins has a criminal past and lusts after riches and an easy life. At the risk of losing her, Dall reluctantly participates in a series of stick-ups and they begin a precarious life on the lam. This film shares a doomed sensibility with Robert Altman's later "Thieves Like Us" (1974), but it is Cummins' embodyment of a sexual siren that drives the action. As always there is the lure of doing one last 'big job' in order to raise the money to retire in obscurity and as always things go wrong, wrong, wrong, especially as Dall becomes as much a murderer as the hard-to-satisfy Cummins. There is a lovely symbol in her purchasing a showy fur stole with the loot from the last job, inappropriately wearing it on their last carefree night at a fun fair, and then having to leave it on the sidewalk when it falls off as they run from the police. The movie's alternate title is "Deadly is the Female" and Cummins takes on this caveat in spades.

This film has so much going for it that it transcends its Poverty Row pedigree. Apart from the leads' palpable fraught attraction, Lewis is working to a highly literate script, part written by the blacklisted Dalton Trumbo, and has mastered a highly pictorial style. The camerawork in the final showdown set in a misty swamp furnishes as strong a climax as this wonderful small movie deserves. If you don't know "Gun Crazy", by all means seek it out.

Toy Story 3 (2010)

Yes, folks, everything you have heard is true. Pixar have gifted us with a brilliant 'must-see' movie. In film history, there have been many trilogies, but usually by Part 3 one's enthusiasm has been numbed by overkill or shoddy film-making. Of course there are so many exceptions to this that it is not a safe rule of thumb to fear the worst. Successful three-parters that spring to mind are the Indiana Jones films, the Lord of the Rings cycle, Sergio Leone's Eastwood spaghetti westerns, and Satyajit Ray's Apu trilogy. Some people might include the first three Star War films (now confusingly numbered 4, 5, and 6), but they have never rowed my boat. While the first two Toy Story films were incredibly good in execution and storytelling, Number 3 outshines them both in the improved skill of its animation, its clever scripting apart from the very occasional potty joke, its impeccable voice cast, but most of all by its successful tug at the old heartstrings. There is no doubt that it will win the animation Oscar next year, but if there were any justice in this strange world, it should vie for Best Picture as well.

It has laugh-out-loud jokes, nail-biting tension and excitement, and that undefinable something that reminds us all that we have lost the innocence of childhood; it brings tears to our eyes and a choke to our throat. As their owner Andy gets ready to go off to college, his remaining toys, bar his favourite cowboy Woody whom he plans to take with him, are bagged for the attic. Unforeseen circumstances land them at a day nursery for rambunctious youngsters, ruled over by the seemingly benign, berry-scented stuffed bear Lotso and his scary stooge Big Baby. It is Woody's job to convince his friends that they were not abandoned and that they must escape back home. Friendship, loyalty, and love are the virtues that Pixar celebrates.

It is good fun to welcome back all of the old voice cast, although there is a lovely section where Tim Allen's Buzz gets reprogrammed in Spanish and segues into a Latin lover. Two additions to the cast are Ned Beatty as the treacherous Lotso and back-from-the-wilderness Michael Keaton as Barbie's Ken. The action and robotic animation between these two plastic dolls is one of the film's cleverest highpoints, as Barbie trashes his massive wardrobe to get his cooperation. But there is so much more that one might praise.

Like all major, non-Ghibli, animation nowadays, the film has been released in 3-D since this is what the punters expect and also the format that produces the biggest return for the studio and the theatres. However, once one has oohed and ahed at seeing the toys' three-dimensional world, this gimmick quickly becomes irrelevant here and the film would be equally involving in old-fashioned 2-D. While no doubt superior technology is on the way, 3-D does not really work on DVDs at present. I have Coraline in both foremats and the 3-D disc produces a washed-out picture at best, with the fruitless search for depth interfering with the charming story being told. It is for this reason that "Avatar", "Up", and Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland" have not been released to disc in that foremat. With the latter two films, this should not matter since they are sufficiently involving stories without the added dimension. With "Avatar, however, the visual effects are the best thing about the movie and I can't imagine wanting to own a copy without them. I don't know whether its sales on disc have been disappointing, but no doubt this is why that film is shortly being re-released to cinemas for the waiting world (?).


I must give Pixar a final shout of praise for their short feature "Day and Night" which plays with "Toy Story 3". This is as unusual and clever a bit of animation as I have seen for many a day and one wonders whether there are any limits to the miracles that Pixar can tap. I hope not!

The Wave/Die Welle (2008)

Michael Haneke's award-winning "The White Ribbon" (2009) was an impressive film which suggested a design-fault in the German make-up, a propensity towards Fascism which ended up with the excesses of the Nazi era. One might suspect that this German movie from the previous year was more of the same, if the true story on which it was based had not taken place in Palo Alto, California back in the 1960s.


Jurgen Vogel plays a not overly academic high school teacher who is popular with his students and who also coaches the school's water polo team. When he is asked to lead one of two one-week learning projects, he is disappointed not to be assigned Anarchy (which fitted in neatly with his own student past), but to be given Autocracy to discuss with his class. As modern-day young Germans, the kids pooh-pooh the suggestion that Nationalistic extremism could appeal to rational thinkers or that a charismatic leader could ever control the thoughts and actions of the majority. However, as the week progresses, what begins as a bit of game-play with the students acting with exaggerated respect to their teacher leader, ends with their adapting a uniform style of dress, a logo and a salute (the Wave of the title), and finding that they are bonding as a group. They no longer think of each other as West Germans or East Germans or Turks or the bright or the stupid, but as equals, united in a common way of life -- and correspondingly intolerant of all of those outside their class circle. In other words they have not only become as extreme as the Nazis that they deride, but they want to convert all of the outsiders to the bright future that they can suddenly envision both for themselves and their country.


After violent fighting breaks out at the Friday night water polo march, Vogel begins to understand what he has wrought. He gathers his class together on the Saturday morning in an ill-judged attempt to get them to realise the dangers of their new philosophy. He does this by singling out a dissenter who wants to leave the group as a "traitor" and asks the kids how he should be punished, thinking that this will jolt them into more rational behaviour. However one disaffected young man for whom The Wave has become his first meaningful way of life draws a gun. The kids are beginning to come to their senses, but not before blood is spilled and the their charismatic teacher-leader is taken away by the police. The look of horror on his face is worth a thousand words.


This movie is reminiscent of another German film, "The Experiment" (2001), which also dealt with the ease that fascist and authoritarian behaviour can arise at the first opportunity. Oddly enough that story too had a U.S. source and was based on the Stanford Prison Experiment in 1971. Both films stand as chilling reminders of how easy it is to mould people's behaviour and how readily they can be made to perform deeds that might have been unthinkable just a short while before.

Went the Day Well (1942)

Every so often a classic film is given a limited cinema re-release, usually to celebrate its anniversary or a restored digital copy, but seldom just for the sheer pleasure of being able to see the movie on the big screen. When this occurs, it makes me want to view the film again as a refresher, and so it is that yesterday I watched a copy from my collection. Parenthetically, although it is a wonderful flick, its full-screen format and fairly pedestrian black and white photography do not particularly warrant a cinema viewing, and since it has been on DVD for years and occasionally shown on television, it is not really a rarity either.

Still I enjoyed coming back to it. Based on a short story by Graham Greene and set in a small bucolic English village during the War, the townsfolk welcome a group of soldier engineers who have come to install some "hush-hush" equipment over the weekend. It is not a spoiler to state here that these would-be British tommies are actually a crack German squadron in disguise, sent to disrupt communications in preparation for an imminent Mainland invasion. In fact the film opens and closes with villager Mervyn Johns standing by a tombstone in the churchyard marking where those soldiers now lay buried, saying it is the only bit of England that they can claim as their own. The movie's strength lies in its suspense, as the locals gradually discover the truth of the situation and bravely join together to defend themselves and their community. Picking up on little clues like crossed sevens on a scoresheet and finding "chokolade" from Wien in one of the billets, even the more dubious locals begin to suspect the worse, forcing the Germans to show their hand, threatening the villagers to keep them in check until the work is done. Word does leak out, but prior to the real British troops arriving, the villagers fight back with pepper, axes, knives, and finally guns, holding the enemy at bay, but suffering losses amongst their numbers as well -- the vicar, the shopkeeper, members of the Home Guard. One can just about imagine how such a scenario must have hit home with local audiences in 1942, with the real German threat just a few scant miles across the Channel.

The film was directed by (Alberto) Cavalcanti, a Brazilian who started his career in Paris as an avant garde documentarian, moving to England in 1933 to work for the GPO Film Unit, before joining Ealing Studios where this film was produced. He later gave us other cinema gems like "Champagne Charlie" (1944), "Nicholas Nickleby" (1947), and the most memorable and scariest section of the compendium film "Dead of Night" (1945). The cast is a role-call of B-List talent from the period and it is a treat to see character stalwarts like Arnold Rigby and Marie Lohr in their late prime, latter-day TV doyennes like Thelma Hird and Patricia Hayes ("I am NOT the vagrant") as fresh-faced Land Girls, and English film regulars like Basil Sydney, David Farrar, and James Donald playing the dastardly Hun. The most impressive bit of casting against type is from Leslie Banks, always a paragon of true blue British bravery from "The Hounds of Zaroff" (1932) onward, playing a local laird who is secretly a Nazi collaborator, with no explanation given for his traitorous sympathies.

All in all, watching this movie again was a splendid bit of nostalgia. It has not really dated nor dimmed in its freshness, despite its flag-waving patriotism. I still do not understand why it received the fanfare of a re-release, but I can only hope that some people who were not previously aware of its existence were tempted into a cinema to discover for the first time this paragon of British film history.

Silver City (2004)

John Sayles -- a real renaissance man -- is one of the more interesting talents on the quasi-independent American film scene. He writes, directs, acts (so handsome still at 60), composes, edits, and is one of the most sought-after script doctors in Hollywood. He has made a scant twenty films since 1979 and many of them fall into the category of an acquired taste. They are largely non-commercial and political, a splendid exception being "The Secret of Roan Inish" from 1994 (actually released by Disney I believe). He manages to attract talented ensemble casts (like both Robert Altman and Woody Allen), but his movies tend to draw smaller audiences.


This film, while never less than interesting, is probably not one of his best. His themes here are big business, the environment, and illegal immigration and how these feed off each other in terms of vested interests. Chris Cooper plays a Bush-like dimbo running for State governor, who can barely read his autocue. He is the son of a successful senator, Michael Murphy, who works hand-in-glove with local tycoon Kris Kristofferson. However, none of these actors are in the lead role. This is taken by Danny Huston (son of John, grandson of Walter) who plays a disgraced journalist working as a private investigator for a detective agency, which has been employed by a slimy Richard Dreyfuss (Cooper's campaign manager) to find out if the dead body of a migrant worker which turned up at a photo-opportunity was the handiwork of one of several suspected ill-wishers.


Part of the problem with this movie is the casting of Huston, who is a likeable actor with his cheery grin, but who doesn't have the heft to carry the story. Too much time is given to his failed love-life, especially the earlier loss of true-love Maria Bello. Sayles also attempts to incorporate too many layers of intrigue with too many characters, and the roles given to Tim Roth, Thora Birch, Miguel Ferrer, and Billy Zane, amongst others, are fairly dispensible. Only Daryl Hannah makes any impact as Cooper's estranged and sluttish sister. While Sayles makes a strong case for the catastrophic impact of commercial interests on the health of the environment, apart from the final image of hundreds of dead fish floating on the lakeside site of a new housing development, the diffuse story-telling doesn't quite get his message across in this instance. Still, lesser Sayles is rather more intelligent and interesting than much of the dross that not only reaches our screens, but that makes a financial killing as well.

Collision Course (1989)

With the recent release of the 're-imagined' "Karate Kid", which is apparently doing remarkable box-office Stateside, I've been thinking about the lovely late American-Asian actor Pat Morita. I have been a big Jackie Chan admirer, long before his move to the Hollywood scene, and I am happy that he can still pack them in, even now when his action hero antics have somewhat diminished with age. However the seminal Mr. Miyagi character from the first four movies (1984 to 1994) will forever be Morita for me. I also have fond memories of his occasional appearances in "Happy Days" as luncheonette owner Arnold. So when I remembered having the above movie in my eclectic collection, I thought it was time for another nostalgic look.


I recalled the film as being something of a hoot, but sadly my memory was playing tricks on me, as it is actually largely a pedestrian affair. Morita plays a Tokyo policeman sent to Detroit to retrieve a stolen technological prototype, which has been offered to an American car manufacturer. There, after the culprit has been murdered by local nogoodnik Chris Sarandon and his mob, Morita ends up working with a maverick Detroit cop, Jay Leno (of all people). Now Leno is not exactly best known for his work as an actor, although he has lent his vocal talents to a number of recent animations. However, paired here with Morita, they make a fine couple of mismatched buddies in the grand tradition of such things. Although their cultural differences underline the bulk of the humour, they manage to establish a likeable rapport. In a fistfight with Sarandon's hoods, Leno complains that it is his bad luck to end up with the only person in Japan who doesn't know any karate (a direct reference to Morita's three earlier Karate Kid flicks); Morita replies that this is not true, as his brother is also unversed in the discipline.


My memory of the movie was definitely faulty. At one early stage Morita tries to escape from the chasing Leno by enclosing himself in a garment bag and hopping along. I had a firm mental picture of their both doing the same later in the film, but there was no such scene, although it might have been an amusing inclusion. Basically the film was not as humourous as it could have been, given the duck out of water premise, but it was pleasant enough viewing the charming Morita once more. The movie also accommodated minor roles for Ernie Hudson, Tom Noonan, and "Tex" Cobb, so it was hardly a waste of viewing time. On the other hand, it's good to know that Leno has been able to find a happier career niche than that of a not very funny comic lead actor.

Charley's Aunt (1941)

Although I have fond memories of Ray Bolger's "Where's Charley" from 1952, I have not previously had the pleasure of seeing this fairly amusing version of the classic play. Originally produced in London in 1892 where it ran for years, it then opened on Broadway the following year for a four year run. Prior to this film, the first movie version dates back to 1915, followed by a second American silent in 1925 (starring Sidney Chaplin) and the first sound version in 1930 with Charles Ruggles. There have also been earlier foreign-language versions plus innumerable later ones in various tongues, while the play remains a staple of amateur dramatic societies. The casting coup here was to present popular comedian Jack Benny in the lead role as Lord Babberley (the oldest Oxford University student ever!), blackmailed by his buddies into impersonating his friend Charley's aunt from Brazil ('where the nuts come from').

Benny was rising fifty when he took on this role (it's explained away by saying that he has been pursuing his degree for ten years), but then again his two college mates played by James Ellison and Richard Haydn were both well into their thirties when the film was made. They need Benny to chaperone their luncheon with their sweethearts (a young Anne Baxter and Arleen Whelan) when Charley's previously unknown millionairess aunt delays her arrival in Oxford. To complicate matters Ellison's recently impoverished father (Laird Cregar) decides to woo the mysterious widow as does the girls' fortune-hunting guardian -- a manic Edmund Gwenn (everyone's favourite Kris Kringle). To cap things off, Charley's real and glamorous aunt, played by a still handsome Kay Francis, arrives incognito to spy on the suitability of her nephew's sweetie. As they say, hilarity ensues! Benny has a ball in drag in what must be one of his best roles, with set scenes of comic slapstick mixed with the cast's frantic dashing about to prevent their deceptions being unraveled.

Two further comments on the casting. Cregar was only 28 years old when he took on the role of Ellison's portly father -- some three years younger than his movie son. He was always a memorable actor in all of his early 1940s character parts, but unfortunately he died only three years later after attempting to slim down drastically to make himself more suitable for lead roles. As for Arleen Whelan, she made little else of note, but she does take the lead female role in the much later "The Sun Shines Bright" (1953) which figures very high amongst my John Ford favourites, so it was good to see her in another entertaining movie.

I shall be away for a few days later in the week, so I probably won't post anything new before next weekend. I'm sure you'll all survive this deprivation. See you soon....PPP

Management (2008)

Just what is it about Jennifer Aniston that accounts for her surprising popularity and results in her being cast in a succession of stooopid movies -- with the emphasis on the "ooh"? I know she has a broad fanbase from her "Friends" days and that people felt sorry for her after being dumped by Brad Pitt, but just why does this needy actress still get star treatment? This film by novice writer-director Steven Belber seems to have pleased a large number of its viewers (judging by the comments on IMDb), but it is a perfect example of the kind of 'bad' film in which she is to be found nowadays. I think we are meant to think 'What a sweet movie', when in fact one has the two main characters behaving like certifiable idiots.

She plays a travelling saleswoman for a firm that flogs the anonymous paintings for the walls of anonymous motel bedrooms. She checks in at a small motel in the Arizona boondocks, run by the likeable Margo Martindale and her surly husband Fred Ward, where their slacker son, played by a gormless, Benny Hill-faced Steve Zahn, is the night-manager. When he lays eyes on Aniston his heart goes flippity-flop and he goes up to her room with a so-called 'complimentary' bottle of undrinkable plonk, looking for the opportunity to speak with her. His opening gambit is that she has 'a nice butt' -- talk about knowing how to woo a maiden! When he is reluctant to leave and to let her to get on with her 'work' (which is actually playing solitaire on her computer), she offers to let him touch her backside as some sort of incentive to go away. He interprets this as returning his interest and looks to continue their non-existant relationship by letter or e-mail after she checks out. She does not encourage his infatuation and drives off towards the airport -- only to return minutes later to indulge in wild sex with him in the motel laundryroom. At this point I could not decide which of them was more deficient in the brains or normal behaviour department.

But it gets worse! He drops everything, gathers his feeble savings, and buys a one-way airticket to turn up at her workplace some three thousand miles away in Maryland. Although appalled by this invasion of privacy or stalking, she spends the evening with him playing soccer and handing our meal vouchers to a group of down-and-outs; she even allows him to sleep on the floor of her flat before paying for his busfare home. However, sure as God made little green apples, she checks in at his family's motel again some time later on and spends more time with the love-struck simpleton before warning him off again and returning East. After his mother's death, Zahn pawns the favourite necklace that she left him and goes back to Maryland, only to discover that Aniston has quit her job to go to live with her wealthy ex-boyfriend in Seattle. So of course the irrepressible Zahn goes off to Washington to find her and woo her back. The only trouble is that he doesn't know where to begin and has no more money; fortunately he is befriended by the son of a Chinese restaurant-owner who gets him work as a waiter and allows him to live in the shop's basement.

My apologies if I am revealing too much of the plot but it is 100% necessary to make you understand the farfetchedness of the proceedings. Having discovered where Aniston is now living with her 'ex-punk' yogurt tycoon, a bald and manic Woody Harrelson, Zahn arranges to sky-dive into her swimming pool. That's one way of arriving unannouced! While she is on some levels happy to see him again, Harrelson is violently aggressive and specialises in spouting way-out silly dialogue. Aniston reveals that she is marrying her lover at the weekend as she is pregnant -- not it seems by Zahn, so the latter does the only logical thing he can do: he becomes a Buddhist monk, where he discovers that there is more to the spiritual way of life than playing volleyball for seven hours a day.

I can't go on! Needless to say this quirky would-be relationship between the sweet but stupid Zahn and the uptight Aniston, who really only wants to run a hostel for the homeless, reaches its obligatory conclusion to satisfy the diehard romantics in the audience. As for me, I could never allow myself to sit through this drivel a second time. So, I ask again, what is it about Ms. Aniston that seduces so many people?

Last Chance Harvey (2008)

Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep share a joint category in my movie-watching preferences, insofar that for many years I was unable to understand their broad appeal -- despite their many award nominations and apparent acting skills. Both struck me as being ever so mannered in their approach to their roles. However as I have written both previously and again quite recently, I have come to warm to Ms. Streep; unfortunately I have yet to reach the stage where I actually like Mr. Hoffman in many of his films. This is not to say that I haven't liked certain of his movies, especially if I cast my mind back to some of his roles from the 1970s and early 1980s, such as "Lenny" (1974), "Marathon Man" (1976), and "Tootsie" (1982). However while I have managed to enjoy some of his subsequent films, despite his distracting participation, I still find his overly-affected style something of a problem. As Laurence Olivier (who was himself a ham at times) is famously quoted as saying to Hoffman when he was busy trying to work out his 'motivation' for a scene, "Just try acting, dear boy".

The film under discussion here still finds Hoffman deep in his character's personality tics, but it is largely a lightweight yet likeable movie. This may be down to the appeal of his co-star Emma Thompson in this story of a man who comes to London to attend his slightly estranged daughter's wedding and who finds a new chance for romance and redemption after a chance meeting with Thompson's spinster. While the age difference between them is something of a distraction and although it would seem that Hoffman is trying to play younger than his chronological years, there does seem to be a potential chemistry between the two leads. They both have their problems: her single status is fussed over by her smothering mother, Eileen Atkins, and he finds it difficult to relate to his daughter and his ex-wife, Kathy Baker, especially when her new husband, James Brolin, is chosen to give away the bride. He is also fretful about his job back in New York and initially finds it easiest to distance himself from the wedding celebrations. Thompson manages to convince him to turn up at the reception (where the pair as latecomers are seated at the childrens' table) and he interrupts Brolin's toast to the couple to address some heartfelt and actually moving remarks to his daughter and new son-in-law.

Having been let go from his New York job and then subsequently been begged to return, Hoffman determines to stay in London to have a go at building a new and meaningful relationship with Thomson. When she reluctantly agrees (having been hurt so often in the past) and asks "Now what?", he replies that he has absolutely no idea, but knows that it will all be OK. We the viewer also want to believe this and can just about feel kindly towards Hoffman's erstwhile "loser", whose life is about to change after just one long weekend in a strange city.

A very strange London it is too! I know all about finding the most scenic locations for a story's action, but it never fails to annoy me in films where one leaves one location and seconds later finds oneself in another location which is actually miles away. The London here is a film-maker's London, not one which would make a coherent walking tour. Since the novice writer-director, Joel Hopkins, is English, I do find this blatant treatment of the city's geography a little inexcusable, but perhaps I am being just a wee bit too pedantic here.

This is not the breakthrough film which will have me really beginning to appreciate Hoffman as an actor, but even if it is a slightly disposable flick, I can't say I had any great problem watching it and even enjoying it while it lasted.

Iron Man (2008)

I saw this film originally on a transatlantic flight, which means that I didn't really see it, allowing for the miniscule screen and the variable sound. The fact that I didn't even subsequently review it suggests to me that I probably dozed off more than usual, although I certainly could recall bits of the action. To put matters right, I finally watched the movie on DVD a few days ago, which perhaps is also not the best way to view an action blockbuster, but at least I can confirm that I was sufficiently involved to stay awake throughout and to be entertained by an unlikely combination of factors.


After having their comic characters leased out to other hands over recent years, the Marvel people decided the time had come to take control of a production and this is the happy result. Despite having a lead actor and a director, neither of whom were previously known for their action credentials, Robert Downey Jr. and and Jan Favreau proved to be inspiried choices. Downey has always been an impressive screen presence, even during his drug-laden years, and now that he is "clean", he has finally proved that he can turn his talent to all sorts of roles. His armaments manufacturer Tony Stark discovers that he has lost the taste for 'weapons of mass destruction' after his unexpected capture by rebels in Afghanistan and his personal experience of the warmonger mentality. He escapes by building his Iron Man suit rather than the killer rockets he is meant to be providing, but on his return to civilisation discovers that his board of directors, headed by his erstwhile guardian, a bald Jeff Bridges, has other ideas.


The buffed-up Downey is an appealing screen presence with his self-deprecating sense of humour and his eye-twinkle at full beam. As for Bridges, who I have always maintained is amongst the most underrated Hollywood actors, he makes a super duper screen villain, as it is revealed that he is behind the scheme to kill Downey and to keep on with the profitable business of war. Terrence Howard plays Downey's military buddy and Gwyneth Paltrow is his faithful secretary-factotum plus potential love interest; both do a fine job, as do the lesser-known actors playing middle-eastern types. Chubby actor-turned-director Favreau turns up in a wordless Hitchockian cameo, but wisely concentrates on presenting a wildly imaginative stream of CGI-assisted action effects. Marvel have proved their point and given us one of the more likeable "super-hero" movies of our age.


I therefore wonder why the sequel out this year, which I have not yet seen, has attracted such universally rotten press reviews. Downey, Paltrow, and Favreau have returned to the scene of the crime, and although villain Bridges is no longer available, the new supporting cast -- including Scarlett Johansson and Mickey Rourke -- seem promising, even if Howard's character has mysteriously morphed into Don Cheadle. I suspect it is a case of the sparkling original being a hard act to follow, (although the character's myriad fans are keeping the box-office buoyant), with the ever-present knockers of pop culture ready to pounce on a previous success. No doubt when I finally view the new movie in due course, I can make up my own mind. Meanwhile it's a definite thumbs-up for the first outing.

Lymelife (2008)

This morning I attended a preview of this low-budget indie movie which was released Stateside last year and which is now being given a British release -- not that I can see it raking in many shekels. That's a shame on certain levels, since this debut effort from director Derick Martini from a script co-written with his brother has much to commend it. However neither its coming-of-age story nor the melodramatics of suburban life on 1970s Long Island is likely to attract the summer movie crowd looking for 3D extravaganzas and big bangs. Still it is well worth a look, as I am sure Martin Scorsese (one of the films 14 producers!) would agree.

The story follows two neighbouring families. The first of these consists of father Alec Baldwin who is making a success of building affordable housing (his developments are intended as a latter-day Levittowns), his very Catholic wife played by Jill Hennessy, and their two sons, real-life brothers Rory and Kieran Culkin. I didn't recognize Hennessy who is primarily a TV actress, but I guess one could describe Baldwin nowadays as a TV actor! Rory, the younger Culkin, is effectively the lead, the bullied high school student left in the bickering household after his older brother joins the army. The natural affection between them in real life comes across in the film as well,; both are excellent, although neither has made as huge a cinematic mark as their big brother Macauley. The second family unit consists of father Timothy Hutton, suffering from rampant Lyme disease which causes erratic behaviour and left him jobless, flighty and impatient Mum Cynthia Nixon (ex SATC), and too wise for her years teenaged daughter Emma Roberts, on whom Rory has had an unrequited crush.

Not a lot happens but the angst is palpable. Baldwin and Nixon are indulging in an illicit affair, the most current of the many Baldwin has pursued. The difference is that this time it is obvious to all three children, causing the soldier Culkin to fall out with his father, Hennessy to finally give up on her errant husband, and for the young Culkin and Roberts to experiment with supposedly grown-up pleasures. Even Hutton, in a virtuoso performance, is aware that he is losing his family and in all probability his sanity -- all from the bite of a little tick on his last hunting trip with Baldwin. 'Why me and not him' he thinks. Meanwhile Baldwin is chuffed that maybe next year he may be a millionaire and that he and his family have escaped from their earlier and simpler life in Queens; Hennessy, on the other hand, misses those happy days. As both family units fall further into disarray, the film ends with one of the main characters slowly bleeding to death. I will not say which one or why, but this ending is as effective as any other at bringing a touch of reality to the sorry procedings.

My only criticism is a lack of historical research in one area. Soldier Culkin is about to be shipped off to the Falkland War -- but not as a gun-waving soldier to the disappointment of his brother, but as a communications technician (like Radar in MASH -- how wimpy). The only trouble is that American forces did not fight in the Falklands, just Britain and Argentina, and no one in this country can discount the possibility that the U.S. might have supported the Argies had they chosen sides (which may be why they didn't). However this is a small niggle about what is in effect a well-cast and well-acted ensemble effort.

The Ninth Gate (1999)

I seem to have watched a ragbag of films over the last few days and, as so often is the case, I have little inspiration to dissect most of them. (Just as well that I don't earn my living as a film reviewer). The strangest of the lot was a peculiarity from 2003 called "Tiptoes", a movie primarily about 'little people' and society's treatment of them. However I struggle to understand what possessed Gary Oldman to take the role of a hunchbacked dwarf (believably rendered through CGI), twin brother to a full-sized Matthew McConaughey. The latter has inpregnated girlfriend Kate Beckinsale and the genetic odds are that she too will deliver a dwarf, like the majority of the boys' family. I understand that Oldman's interest was instrumental in getting the movie made, but his motives remain something of a mystery to me.


I had planned to write about a French flick from 1974 with the title translated as "Let Joy Reign Supreme", the second outing from respected director Betrand Tavernier. Set in 1719 we follow the escapades of the Regent to the underage Louis XV played by Philippe Noiret (again) and an atheistic abbe who wants to become an Archbishop, played by the never-dull Jean Rochefort. However the film was so lumbered by chunks of French history mixed with the lascivious, decadent behaviour of the court, that it seemed endless (and dare I say slightly boring). Obviously a big production with a host of extras, elaborate costumes, lovingly photographed scenery, and even music written originally by Noiret's Regent, but I found it heavy going.


So by default I shall say a few words about Roman Polanski's "Ninth Gate", my first re-view in about ten years. I have no intention of discussing Polanski's morals and fugitive status, but I will say that he has made some brilliant films throughout his career; he has also made a few clinkers. This one is not exactly in the middle, veering more to the interesting end of the spectrum, but fatally weakened by a muddled and hasty ending. Based on a Spanish novel, "El Club Dumas", the tale has Johnny Depp playing a New York book-dealer and bibliophile called Dean Corso. He is employed by megalomaniac collector Frank Langella to establish if the satanic volume he has just acquired from a man who subsequently commiited suicide is the real McCoy. While Langella firmly believes that his copy is genuine, he wants Corso to compare it to the two other remaining copies. During the first half of the movie, there is a definite sinister air of mystery as Corso unearths certain differences among the three volumes and as the other two owners meet violent ends with the engravings torn from their copies. Meanwhile, Langella's copy which he has entrusted to Corso is stolen by Lena Olin, the suicide's widow, who claims the book was hers and not her huband's to sell. Both Langella and Olin are obviously well into black magic and hope to use the book's mysteries to raise the Devil.


Like many moviegoers I have a lot of time for Depp who has created a variety of fascinating characters in the last twenty years and whose 'duds' are few and far between. At the moment only the feeble "Secret Window" (2004) springs to mind. I also have really been a Langella fan since I first noticed him as the louche and rather beautiful lover in "Diary of Mad Housewife" (1970). As he has aged he has grown gracefully into his roles and normally leaves a strong impression. However in this film, he veers dangerously into over-the-top histrionics which may or may not be essential to his character. Depp is as usual very watchable and full of memorable tics. The real puzzle concerns the fourth lead player, Mrs. Polanski, Emmanuelle Seigner. She is hovering in the background throughout the action, getting closer to Corso as things proceed and seems not quite of this world with her gliding to Corso's rescue on several occasions. He assumes that she is in Langella's pay, hired to keep a watchful eye on him. Her role remains deliberately enigmatic throughout, but the 'big reveal' proves too much to accept. One is left with a 'what's going on' mentality as Corso too seems set on unlocking the fiendish secrets of the ninth gate. Well worth the rewatch, but just a little anticlimactic after Depp's noirish derring-do for the bulk of the film.

The Night of the Generals (1967)

I have always liked Peter O'Toole's film appearances, not just because of his real beauty in his youth (Florence of Arabia anyone?), but also because of the 'edge' with which he endows most of his roles. It is for this reason twice as terrifying to see the repressed stillness that he brings to his character in this film; the man he portrays is obviously an out and out nutter, but one who strains to keep his emotions in check.

The story opens in occupied Warsaw in 1942 with the brutal murder of a prostitute. An eyewitness saw the red stripes of a German general's trousers descending the staircase from her room and only three of the generals stationed in the city at the time have no alibi for the night in question: humanistic but haughty Donald Pleasence, old-Junker mentality Charles Gray, a man adept at safely sitting on the fence, and the young, Hitler-favourite O'Toole. It is no real spoiler to guess which of these is the culprit since this is more or less obvious from the start. The strength of the film is to follow how the fates of these three generals intertwine and to guess when and how the truth will out, especially when another murder occurs in Paris two years later -- again when all three are based there. O'Toole's "Lawrence" co-star Omar Sharif (forever known as Cairo Fred in this household) plays a German military policeman convinced that a murderer must pay for his crime, however grand his army position, whose attempts at unravelling the truth are thwarted at every turn by his brass targets.

Add to this fine cast a role for Tom Courtenay as a cowardly lance-corporal who has won an Iron Cross for supposed bravery, purely as a propaganda exercise for being the only survivor of his company. He is involved in an intense love affair with Joanna Pettet, the high-born daughter of Gray and his haughty wife Coral Browne. Finally there is a major part for French acting stalwart Phillipe Noiret as a Paris police inspector who shares Sharif's beliefs in justice. Somewhat surprisingly this movie directed by Anatole Litvak is not particularly well-rated in my various guidebooks, but it seems to have its fans among IMDb users with a rating of 7+. Part of the problem is that at nearly two and a half hours the film is indeed a little bloated and might have been sharper with tighter editing and story-telling. The recreated Valkyrie sub-plot to assassinate Hitler is played out in unnecessary detail and a cameo by Christopher Plummer as Rommel adds very little. However the strength of the acting keeps the viewer riveted and boredom is not really a factor here. One theoretically unneeded scene early on where O'Toole's icy general systematically destroys an entire Warsaw district, apparently just for the hell of it, gives us an eerie insight into the depth of his madness and his belief in his own superiority and invincibility. That it takes another 25-odd years for him to face his nemesis makes for a gripping saga.

Plenty (1985)

It has taken me a very long time to come around to believing that Meryl Streep is as great an actress as her fans would have you think. Her myriad Oscar nominations might attest to her clear superiority over most other actresses, but even her great roles from the 1980s have always left me cold. One could admire her acting chops without in any way warming to the character being depicted. Oddly enough the film that swung me 'round was Eastwood's "The Bridges of Madison County" (1995), where for the first time I could grasp the reality of the woman she was depicting. Since then, I have come to accept that hers is a real talent and I have begun to re-evaluate some of her earlier outings -- although a number of them still seem overly mannered to me.

The above film is, I think, a good case in point. Based on a stage play by David Hare and in a role originated by Kate Nelligan, Streep plays an Englishwoman (nearly impeccable accent) who was a courier in France with the Resistance during World War II. She fully believed that the 'glory' of those years and the idealism of her co-patriots, many of whom paid with their lives, would result in a better tomorrow for all mankind. However, back in London after the war's end and participating in a variety of upwardly mobile jobs, her existence and mental health become more and more fragile; she feels disillusioned by society, despite her life of 'plenty' with devoted diplomat husband, Charles Dance. The years pass, but she is unable to move on with her life; eventually she manages to alienate most of the other characters, to say nothing of this viewer, with her selfish and irrational tantrums. Her playing may have been a technical tour de force, but her histrionics left an empty hole and an air of tedium. Some have suggested that the play is really an allegory for Britain's decline on the world stage, but I just can't buy Streep's character embodying that.


Director Fred Schepsi, with whom Streep would work again, assembled a fascinating supporting cast to set off his star 'jewel', with the likes of Sam Neill, Tracey Ullman, Ian McKellen, Sting, and the always scene-stealing John Gielgud; but, with the exception of the latter, none of them are able to breathe life into this tale of self-pity and mental breakdown. Dance in particular comes across as a slightly wooden, emotional void, and even as Streep manages to ruin his career, one hopelessly looks for the believable anger that he should display. Thank goodness then for Gielgud, playing a career diplomat destroyed by the Suez crisis. At a tedious dinner party at Streep's home, he just about demolishes the pretentious wife of an oriental diplomat who has been rabbiting on about the angst in the "Norwegian" director Ingmar Bergman's films! Once his character is killed off, there is nothing left to amuse the viewer amongst the progressingly dreary action.