Richard Lester and Richard Donner direct Christopher Reeve, Margot Kidder and Terrence Stamp in the blockbuster sequel where Superman abandons his powers to settle down with Lois, just as three vengeful Kryptonian exiles arrive on Earth hellbent on getting everyone to kneel in front of them.

If you asked me up until 2019 “What’s the best Superman movie?*”, I’d plump for this without a millisecond of hesitation. But it isn’t really, is it. A film of wonderous, iconic, childhood defining moments that holds together flakily. The perfect example of why you shouldn’t see the sausage being made. When you know about Superman II’s troubled production you cannot help but see the joins, fudges and compromises snagging out at your entertainment hungry eyeballs.

For those who don’t know: The producers were the Salkinds, a pair infamous for getting cast and crew to film an excess of material during the production of a first film so that they could pay principals only once for essentially two shoots, ending up with a cost reduced sequel already in the can before Episode One premiered. The plan almost worked here if it wasn’t for three people.

1. Marlon Brando threatened to sue them if any footage of him appeared in Superman II. This leads to him being edited out of all flashbacks and Fortress of Solitude moments, moments he should certainly be in. Creating an almost Stalinist revision of what we saw in 1978 in the cinemas / three hours earlier at home. He is glaringly out of the picture.

2. Then Richard Donner disagreed with the Salkinds about the tone of the sequel. So he was kicked off the set with 30% of filming still to go. Richard Lester took over, a director who preferred silly sight gags over epic sweep, and had to reshoot so many scenes in his more journeyman style otherwise the Director’s Guild would credit Donner and the Salkinds would have to pay him. This, in turn, created another problem.

3. Gene Hackman sided with Donner and refused to take part in any reshoots out of solidarity. Meaning a lot of Lex Luthor’s new midshots are an obvious body double, facing the wrong way and dubbed by an impressionist. Meanwhile reams of plot are narrated by said impressionist and Miss Teschmacher while stock footage of indistinguishable, tiny figures in wideshot traverse snowy tundra and mountainous peaks. Lester and the Salkinds found a solution to the myriad problems of getting caught without their biggest names, but it is not a solution that works particularly well on repeated viewings.

Yet a deeply flawed film is not necessarily a bad film. The fudges do link a lot of memorable stuff. Terrence Stamp’s high camp Zod is an absolute blast as the tyrant who doesn’t quite understand the planet he is subjugating. Sarah Douglas’ Ursa makes for a support villian so deviously sexy and powerful I’m sure she pre-programmed quite a few boys of my generation to seek out strong, bad girls with pixie haircuts in later life. Together with dumb muscle Non, they make a triumvirate that genuinely threatens Earth and Supes. Plotwise, how can our hero beat three antagonists all equally as powerful as him, working together and with no regard for human life? It creates an excitingly tense premise sadly only really explored in a lengthy slapstick fight outside the Daily Planet. Lester should be shot for some of those “sight gags”.

The romance between Clark and Lois continues. With Clark forsaking his powers for a normal life. This sequence adds to the growing tension (boy oh boy, will he need those powers soon) and gifts Reeve with his best acting moments when he discovers what it truly would feel like to be as defenceless as his Clark Kent persona.

So Superman II doesn’t really hold up to adult scrutiny yet it still manages to link together a few really fabulous sequences.

*The best pure and uncut Superman movie is the more consistent first entry, while the best movie featuring Superman is Zack Snyder’s much maligned but chaotically compelling BvS: Dawn of Justice. Kneel before, Snyder!

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Craig William Macneill directs Chloë Sevigny, Kristen Stewart and Jay Huguley in this period drama following the build up and fallout of the Lizzie Borden scandal; where a well to do society daughter was accused of killing her father and step mother with an axe in 1892.

Very quiet screening for this at the Filmhouse. I guess with the higher profile lesbian themed Disobedience on in the neighbouring screen and the bigger name period bisexual romps The Favourite and Colette looming also, that there is only so much audience for four surface level similar releases. Established stars going sapphic… me being a dedicated trooper I’ve somehow managed to catch all of them on the big screen. I’m nothing if not a completist. This is a relatively lifeless exploration of the Borden murders. It is patient, humanist, well acted and evocatively lit. The sex scene is tasteful. The only time the film seems to have any vim or vigour is the imagined murder conspiracy where the girls strip off and get bloody. Even that’s not as fun as it could be. The film is pre-occupied with exploring the limited options available to single women in the period, how easy it was for men to control and exploit them. It admirably achieves that but you yearn for Christina Ricci’s far trashier, ignoble take on the subject.

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Paul Lynch directs Jamie Lee Curtis, Casey Stevens and Leslie Nielsen in this teen slasher where a childhood tragedy leads to a night of disco soundtracked who-dunnit shenanigans.

Not a high point for the sub-genre but the mystery plot (though utterly guessable), solid cast and banging soundtrack keep this very watchable. Like Carrie, not a lot happens until the last half hour and then EVERYTHING happens. Vans go tearing off of make out points, heads roll and a big axe is brought into play to hunt down the most deserving victim. The highlight though isn’t any of the kills but Jamie Lee Curtis’ amazingly choreographed dance number. Queen of the prom, queen of the genre and perhaps… if we kill the right sequence of toffs… she could be Queen of England! Am I right?!

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Brian De Palma directs Sissy Spacek, Piper Laurie and Amy Irving in this Stephen King horror about a bullied high school girl who develops telekinesis.

Carrie has grown on me over the years but its reputation as a horror classic has always puzzled me. The final 25 minutes, where a blood soaked Sissy Spacek causes a Final Destination style massacre of all her oppressors is fantastic. Yet the hour long build-up is relatively blood free. We watch two acts of pieces being moved into place, like a domino rally, where everything is set to trigger Carrie’s rage and deadly new talent. And I don’t know about you but watching pieces being lined patiently up isn’t half as fun for me as watching them fall into each other rapidly. There is some high camp to keep us entertained; twenty-something women running around in skimpy PE kits, PJ Soles’ trademark rebellious red cap, William Katt’s maelstrom of golden permed curls, the worst tuxedo shopping montage ever (DePalma literally fast forwards through it at one point), John Travolta’s awful southern accent… There are even a few lurid, button pushing moments of psychological dread that work; Carrie’s tragic first period, Piper Laurie’s unhinged zealotry, that grotesque statue of a martyr Carrie has to pray to, Nancy Allen’s spiteful sexiness… Yet the only real reason to celebrate Carrie is De Palma’s bravura use of unfashionable filmmaking techniques. You are dazzled by the split screen, the split diopter shots, the scenes filmed backwards to give them an otherworldly etherealness. This is a great genre movie maker finding his house style. And house styles don’t get anymore distinctive and visually playful than our Brian’s.

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My Top 10 Brian De Palma Movies

1. The Untouchables (1987)

2. Snake Eyes (1997)

3. Casualties of War (1989)

4. Mission: Impossible (1996)

5. Blow Out (1981)

6. Dressed to Kill (1980)

7. Carrie (1976)

8. Raising Cain (1992)

9. Body Double (1984)

10. Carlito’s Way (1993)

Sebastián Lelio directs Rachel Weisz, Rachel McAdams and Alessandro Nivola in this romantic drama set among the North London Jewish community where the death of a rabbi reconnects his estranged daughter with her childhood lover / best friend.

A family drama with a relatively chaste lesbian sex scene (fully clothed stars gobbing in each other’s mouths passionately) lobbed right bang in the centre. Like Lelio’s A Fantastic Woman it explores grief as much as exclusion and heterosexual prejudice. Unlike A Fantastic Woman it has no surreal escapes from reality or sense of desperate urgency or threat. Maybe that’s more realistic but it certainly is a lot more boring. Weisz is the only lead who excels in her role, everyone else isn’t “bad” per se but there not a lot either of vibrancy or subtlety on display.

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Alain Resnais directs Gérard Depardieu, Nicole Garcia and Roger Pierre in this French arthouse film following three intersecting lives that illustrate the complexities of human behavior according to theories of renowned writer/philosopher Henri Laborit (who portrays himself as a distant narrator.)

Experimental editing and moments of fantastical montage enliven this tale of humans who cannot escape their inherent behaviours. Watching their humdrum life stories expand, you are often reminded of a soap watched in fast forward. The actors carry the time skipping drama, Resnais ties it to the complex philosophies of Laborit with accessible finesse. Surprisingly engrossing for a didactic exercise.

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William Lustig directs Joe Spinell, Caroline Munro and Abigail Clayton in this horror about a New Yorker who likes to scalp the women he kills and staple his trophies to mannequins.  

Sleazy yet solid low budget schlock. I’d say it wants to be a character study, à la Peeping Tom, yet the “character” of Joe Spinell’s killer flips from deranged loner to sweaty suitor with no obvious explanation or believability. That’s not to dismiss the lead’s spirited turn but the film really comes alive in tense stalk sequences and the Savini gore. And in all honesty that’s why we bought a ticket in the first place.

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Robert Zemeckis directs Steve Carell, Leslie Mann and Diane Kruger in this fantasy drama based on a true story about a man who was attacked in a hate crime, and now lives in a closed off imaginary world of WWII art installations populated by Action Men and Barbie Dolls who represent his friends and foes.

What the fuck is it? Who wants to see it? Welcome to Marwen was only ever going to work if FX sequence sold the unlikely fantasy, and found a relatable emotional truth within the injustice. Zemeckis (possibly the only director who could make this material into something populist) fails this time leaving us an experience that is neither fish nor fowl. The sexualised action figure action set pieces are too strange for those craving sentiment. The real world fallout of Mark Hogancamp‘s trauma too soft sold to justify the strange flights of WWII comic book wonder nonsense. Chances are unless you are a brain damaged, cross dressing artist with a thing for busty dolls in stereotypical national dress you are going to struggle to find much to fill your plate at this all you can eat buffet of misjudgment. Not that it is a story that shouldn’t be told, it just needed to be handled better. Focus on the hate crime, the fallout and Hogancamp‘s unique but curious fetishes and you have a great drama. Or you could have a Who Framed Roger Rabbit meets Toy Story style romp about a quiet man who escapes into a toy based world of adventure and fill it with set pieces we care about. But the Zemeckis movie it most resembles is Forrest Gump. A difficult to understand man, almost an asexual blank slate, navigating a real world that is augmented by convincing effects sequences. However you feel about Gump, it chimed with the general public. They enjoyed seeing an unlikely protagonist have awkward romances and larger than life triumphs. The opposite is true here. The bolted-on romance subplot feels creepy, a disaster waiting to happen whether it is embraced or rejected, and thankfully nipped in the bud with some dignity. So we are left with a man with no memory, turning the circle of women who are kind to him, into scantily clad plaything who desire and fight to the death for him. With the emphasis on tragedy rather than fun. Hard not to put some of the blame at Steve Carell’s dour door. Put him in an out-and-out comedy and he flies yet he clearly wants to be a serious actor. The moment a project he is in clicks past Little Miss Sunshine on the drama-o-meter and he is a negative. He was naively cloying in The Big Short and Beautiful Boy looks like a crime against humanity in its narrow sighted whinyness. Here he just cannot get us to care about a man without a past, internal awareness or a outward personality. You do have to wonder if someone with the long established likeability of Hanks or the natural vacant subtlety of Ryan Gosling would improve matters. Probably not, but their casting would at least make more sense on the poster. The package just doesn’t work but it is uncommonly strange for big budget movie and well executed enough visually that no doubt a cult following beckons. Mark my words in a decade’s time this frustrating piece of cinema will have a small but vocal fan base. They are right to embrace the unusual. But this underdog is a loser for a reason. It just doesn’t click. 

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Sylvain Chomet directs Jean-Claude Donda, Eilidh Rankin and Duncan MacNeil in this animated revival of an unfilmed Jacques Tati script; where an ageing magician visits Scotland looking for work when television and Rock’N’Roll empty the music halls.

A very sad film. A very funny film. A very beautiful film. There are two stories running parallel here. A platonic romance and the death of the vaudeville scene. The latter is presented mournfully. An artist struggling (refusing?) to come to terms with that. Although he lives hand to mouth and has to play disinterested houses, our illusionist doesn’t suffer as much as some of his peripheral peers. We glimpse other’s sad demises; a clown beaten in the street by wee bams, a pawned off prop that feels like the very soul of its down on his luck owner. The relationship between our beanpole gentleman vagabond and the naive girl from the Highlands who doesn’t know how the world works is sweeter. She doesn’t understand the cost of the pretty things she sees in window displays, he doesn’t want to rob her of the idea he can magic these luxuries up. He struggles with the dishonesty and brash attitudes of the real world, she gives him domesticity and regularity that means he can slowly give up on chasing a dying dream for ever decreasing returns. Both discover magic isn’t the answer to their loneliness. That feels like an unhappy ending but it is better than the tragedy that befalls those without companionship. Maybe only Edinburgh residents will appreciate this last point but it is testament to the loving craft put into the stunning design of the film. The sheer accuracy in the geography and landmarks of the Scotland they explore is mind blowing. The bus numbers, shop signs and alleyways of Edinburgh are all painstakingly researched and recreated so you could utilise the cartoon as a working map of the capital city. The Illusionist is a love letter to Edinburgh’s uneven beauty as well as conjuring and amity.

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John Frankenheimer directs Ben Affleck, Gary Sinise and Charlize Theron in this heist thriller where a convict hooks up with his dead cellmate’s stunning lonely heart penpal only to discover her brother’s crew want him to help rob a casino. At Christmas.

A much maligned turn of the millennium Christmas film that due to reshoots somehow got released in February. It is a production with glaring problems that no quick reshoot can fix. There’s a double whammy of twists in the final act that feel implausibly forced. Affleck is in constant peril but often has his imminent death postponed for no other reason than a background character interrupts his assailant with a half hearted suggestion. And Affleck himself is far too smug and callow a screen presence at this juncture in his career to make a very ropey protagonist in any way relatable. You kinda wouldn’t mind seeing him dead by the halfway mark but those interruptions keep frustrating us, our patience and the plot’s believability. Yet if you accept this was never going to be Reservoir Dogs On Ice, it gets by as a late night schedule filler. It is dumbly watchable even at its dodgiest turns. The rest of the cast are game, for example Dennis Farina is in it as a Pit Boss and he is always a cracker. Charlize Theron looks fantastic, and is cutely convincing as the smitten siren who still wants to cuddle up to Affleck even as everyone around him is trying to end him. And the Santas rob a casino imagery is goofy and gun heavy enough that you are gripped once the talk stops and the taking starts. Reindeer Games – Let’s call it a draw.

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