Jim Goddard directs Madonna, Sean Penn and Paul Freeman in this period caper romance where a missionary and conman team up to find some lost opium.
Another ultra hated release. Madonna looks beautiful in various interwar outfits. And that is all that truly matters. It bares many of the telltale scars of a runaway production: the jokes don’t land, the director never made movies again, the leads have zero chemistry, the leads attract all the IMDB trivia page gossip and the plot is incomprehensible. Madge doesn’t even sing the theme song!? But it filled an evening in Casa De Carroll.
Tom Green directs himself, Rip Torn and Marisa Coughlan in this derided comedy where an adult son leaves home to follow his dream of being an animator.
Obnoxiously awful. Tries to push stupid buttons but with careless aim. Jabby. Green replaces timing with volume and repetitiveness. It is fucking embarrassing that something had this much money thrown at it to produce such sloppy “will this do” results. Rip Torn goes at his angry dad role like a man demonically possessed. That is admirable but everything around him so half arsed even he becomes grating. Maybe his character should have been the protagonist? When you hear about these infamous bête noires they very rarely turn out to be as bad as their reputations. I resist the critical pile-on. There is always redemption. Freddy Got Fingered though shits on that theory.
Terence Dixon directs himself, James Baldwin and Beauford Delaney in this documentary where the esteemed writer obstructs and avoids the documentary maker’s planned interview about what Paris means to his artistic journey.
Is it not possible that the documentary maker is terrible at avoiding conflict AND James Baldwin was a table turning pain in the arse? I like his books.
Gary Fleder directs Jason Statham, James Franco and Winona Ryder in this action thriller where a retired DEA agent disrupts his new life by annoying a local hillbilly crime family.
Solid thrills with a good variety of villains. Wanna see Winona play a methhead femme fatale? Of course you do. Absolutely zero shock that this was originally adapted by Stallone as a vehicle for him. In all honesty The Stath suits the light melodrama better. He is aware of his presence, strengths and limitations so he actually come across way more natural in the “protective Dad” stuff. Sly would have rinsed the flannel a little too hard. My flavour of jam.
Lucrecia Martel directs Mercedes Morán, Graciela Borges and Martín Adjemián in this lauded Argentinian drama following two branches of a wealthy family in squalid decline.
Damp, incestuous and self centred. You aren’t supposed to like these people but I’m not sure I care about their familial decay all that much either. One of those movies that felt eerily familiar. Déjà vu? Or a late night drunk watch back in the day?
Lawrence Kasdan directs Kevin Kline, Scott Glenn and Danny Glover in this comedy western where band of misfit friends come together to right the injustices which exist in a small town.
This is a forgotten “classic” (pre-revisionist) Western told with a mid Eighties blockbuster sensibilities. Beautiful light, caper-ish heroics, a true sense of kinetics, everyone gets to be a movie star. The first hour of hooking up and episodic adventure set pieces are a whole lotto fun, the more plot focussed second half in Silverado ain’t quite the same lark or as memorable. Stands out today as an early household name making role for Kevin Costner (playing against type as a jovial young buck) but it is Glover and Brian Dennehy who steal your heart.
Niels Arden Oplevand Daniel Alfredson direct Noomi Rapace, Michael Nyqvist, Lena Endre, Annika Hallin, Tomas Köhler, Sven-Bertil Taube, Peter Haber, Georgi Staykov and Micke Spreitzin this Swedish mystery thriller series where a disgraced journalist and a haunted hacker takedown powerful cabals of misogynistic men.
The first film grows on me more and more as the years pass. It is neck and neck with the Fincher remake. Rapace is the ultimate Lisbeth. The authentic Swedish cast and locations lend this a dour grit. It is a sadder film, less bombastic. I think the first tale in the Millennium series is a top locked room / cold case mystery whomever adapts it, bolstered by a uniquely unusual set of detectives. Their unlikely chemistry cements the sleuthing. And the film allows adequate runtime to expose a swathe more of their own backgrounds and psychology than most avatar detectives. We are engaged as they are attractive enigmas in themselves. Righteous, damaged and fallible. The closer the evidence takes them the more peril they are in. And you care that they make it out together alive. Strange than over almost seven hours of the franchise Lisbeth and Blomkvist probably only spend less than an hour in each other’s presence.
The Girl Who Played With Fire is a less cinematic film. Clearly has that flat, made for TV quality. It moves with less compulsive urgency and often takes its eye too far away from the central mystery. Yet we do get a lot more of Lisbeth taking down goons and bastards. The eventual mastermind and his henchman are particularly pulp fantastique creations.
The third film is a fumble though. Directly picking up from the previous cliffhanger finale, it sees Lisbeth muted in a hospital bed or silent in courtroom. The grim abuse flashbacks are revisited an unfeasible amount of times. Shifting over into emotional exploitation. Sure… it ends with some semblance of justice restored but it has none of the grip or excitement of the first entry. What works in a book really gets lost in the weeds here. Still, Rapace iconic portrayal always has the juice. Would it not be time for a Swedish “requel”?
Albert Lamorisse directs Pascal Lamorisse, Alain Emery and Laurent Roche in these two magical realist French shorts about young boys who form attachments to near fantastical possessions.
Albert Lamorisse didn’t just direct two of the most iconic short films of the 20th century but he also created the board game Risk!
Both of these 30 minute wonders have child protagonist and explore human nature, freedom and loss of innocence like fables.
Of his modern fairy tales, The Red Balloon is unmatched. Peerless. The lost streets of on-location post-war Paris; the colour against the drab, rainy grey; the spiritual conclusion. C’est fantastique!
Mary Bronstein directs Rose Byrne, Conan O’Brien and Danielle Macdonald in this drama where a mother struggles to balance career and sanity while dealing with an absent husband, a child with an eating disorder and big cosmic hole in the ceiling of her home.
A Woman on the Verge of a Repulsion Under the Influence: Uncut Moms Edition. Overwhelming – don’t have kids or hamsters. Coco impresses in his first serious acting role but it is Bryne’s show all the way. Consummately oppressive but you wouldn’t want to return to this poisoned well in a hurry.
Kevin Williamson directs Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox and Isabel May in this slasher sequel where Sidney is back dodging the Ghostfaces of her past… this time with a teen daughter to protect.
Not a series highlight… but exactly how many seventh entries are? Legacy characters disappear in the third act for no reason, the ultimate whodunnit reveal is worthy only of a shrug and the new teens are so disposable this might as well be a Friday The 13th. I think Scream 7’s biggest sin is it treats iconic mainstays, like the anonymous phone calls and “the rules” talk, like a boring chore. In Williamson’s defence… the set pieces are decent, he puts the film in interesting territory at the end of the first act and he returns Neve Campbell front and centre to the narrative. The gore is at the same maximum strength of Drew Barrymore’s kill in 1996. Heartless and dripping. Yeah, and there is the thrill of the “surprise” cameo from a lost face. And if your politics or good taste make you miss Barrera and Ortega then I have promising insight for you. Whatever studio buys the IP from Spyglass over the next decade resurrects the option to bring them back when the box office dips. On a par with Scream 3.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 