Terry Gilliam directs Craig Warnock, David Rappaport and David Warner in this time travel fantasy where a dressing gown bedecked child joins a ragtag bunch of era-hopping thieves.
Proper fantasy cinema, warts and all! I wasn’t allowed to watch Time Bandits as a kid. My dad must have seen the opening chapter where knights, dwarves and disembodied glowing ghoul heads tore through a little boy’s bedroom and sensibly thought the inevitable nightmares wouldn’t be worth it. I really enjoy it now as an adult… the squawking, heckling leads not quite so much. These dwarves are really “little people-ing” it up. The short person’s equivalent of blackface. They are gratingly loud, babyish and unfettered. I have no issue watching the rough and tumble, nose picking grossness but people from a similar background might find the depiction dated and offensive. Beyond that there are plenty of great fantasy sequences here interspersed with unfortunate swathes of shouty squabbling and poor pacing. It is almost as if Gilliam imagines wondrous scenarios then he doesn’t know how to use his lead ensemble in them. As a rag tag collection of big name cameos and extraordinary imagery the Time Bandits is unrivalled but it tests the patience as often as it marvels… and because I waited until teendom to watch it, it isn’t quite as beloved as say Willow, Back to the Future, The Goonies or The Monster Squad.
My Top 10 Time Travel Movies
Luc Besson directs Sasha Luss, Helen Mirren and Luke Evans in this Cold War thriller where a young Russian fashion model also works as a killer for the KGB.
Less convoluted than Atomic Blonde. Less kinky and shocking than Red Sparrow. Less stunt packed than The Villainess. Less chic than Nikita (the mammy to all these beautiful hit woman films). Anna works on a simple motor -it is not as star powered as its contemporaries, nor as gung-ho, yet it somehow hits the same spots just as satisfyingly. The biggest plus is it always manages to be one small twist ahead of it audience without losing them. So Besson probably can be forgiven for rehashing old ground when Valerian was such a dog’s dinner. He’s made exactly this film a couple of times now over his career yet you wouldn’t have shamed Hitch for making another Wrong Man chase or Argento for going giallo one last time. Less a creative retreat than a rousing rumble through a dated director’s comfort zone.
Terry Gilliam directs Michael Palin, Max Wall and Harry H. Corbett in this medieval comedy about an unlikely hero who is fated to slay the titular dragon.
It looks dank and dirty, every scene wafts of well faked stink. Yet the humour is that slightly snarky anachronistic look at past times. Weren’t they silly and grotesque back then? Ey? EY!? It lacks a softer goofiness. Gilliam is at his happiest flinging extras in the air by catapult. An occurrence that increases in frequency as the joke runs thin. A relative disappointment from a great director.
Peter Berg directs Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Seann William Scott and Christopher Walken in this buddy action comedy where a diplomatic shit brickhouse debt collector has to retrieve a goofy treasure hunter from a dangerous jungle.
Bombastic and bloodless – this stops and starts, mixing the extraordinary with the forgettable. Berg’s direction is flash cut edited within an inch of its life and devoid of wit. Which is shame as both The Rock and Stifler make for likeable screen stars who work well off each other – decent hulk and plucky clown. They give it full effort, overwhelming the loud brashness. Midnight Run and 48 Hrs are the templates but the only moment that threatens to reach a similar level of quality is when Arnie wanders past in a fleeting shot and figuratively passes his crown over to a new titan. Rosario Dawson is a sexy freedom fighter, Walken menaces as a mining tyrant who wants his cut and some raping monkeys get the laughs. It is almost as good as Commando or Beverly Hills Cop 2 and, even if it came out 15 years too late, often that’s all I want from a slick 1980s buddy action comedy. The bar isn’t that high… as Schwarzenegger intones…
Richard Quine directs Audrey Hepburn, William Holden and Tony Curtis in this meta-farce where a playboy screenwriter and his new typist have just a weekend to completely create his new script and get lost in the romantic caper fantasy they moon over.
Considered an unreleasable flop on completion, partly due to its haphazard self aware style (ahead of its time – imagine an upbeat Charlie Kaufman comedy) and mainly due to William Holden being a train wreck on set. He was in the pits of his alcoholism, hoping to rekindle his affair with Hepburn that ended after they made Sabrina – unsuccessfully. His turmoil and tribulations don’t show up on screen… he’s tanned, roguish and has a lovely sparkle with Hepburn. She gamely gives it her all – going so wide eyed that you’d swear she had two IMAX screens for peepers while still physically stealing any scene were she isn’t given any foreground work to do. Hepburn’s status as a great beauty always seems to eclipse what a fantastic light slapstick comedy presence she was. In this bittersweet, daftly random bit of knockabout she rivals peak Goldie Hawn or Cameron Diaz in her megastar timing and goofiness. Well worth a watch.
John Sturges directs Kirk Douglas, Anthony Quinn and Carolyn Jones in this western where a sheriff goes to bring justice to his wife’s killers, only to find his old friend is one of the culprits’ father.
You can use this as a genre baseline. A particularly typical western, well made and solidly on point. If someone had never seen the tropes and style before then rather than starting them out on a titanium classic you could show them this so they can then see what a step up 3:10 to Yuma or Rio Bravo are, how much more artful John Ford or Sam Peckinpah or Clint Eastwood were in their takes and evolution of the form. As it stands this gets by on rugged star power (racism and injustice are dealt with by a hard punch) and fluid Technicolor production values. Carolyn Jones is the highlight, Morticia Addams as the bad town’s secret good girl.
My Top 10 Kirk Douglas Movies
Ari Aster directs Florence Pugh, Jack Reynor and Will Poulter in this psychological thriller where an on-the-ropes couple go to a remote festival in Sweden; hallucinogenics, constant sun, rituals, dancing, folklore, jealousy and death ensue.
I didn’t rate Hereditary… a horror movie far too in love with itself to deliver. It was the involvement of Pugh and Poulter that got me into this. And if you take it as a horror it will dissatisfy again. Not particularly scary, quite predictable and… I think that’s OK in this instance. It is more a disorienting psychological thriller, akin to Repulsion or Don’t Look Now. The weirder elements belong in the warped service of the relationships we watch play out, reality disintegrates just as any trust or affection or compassion between the tourists do. The results are mad and unsettling, sometimes vibrantly splattering. Shocking, surreal imagery is salted finely throughout the measured runtime. Yet this is an apt drama about fucked up people in an even worse situation. A morality tale where disrespect for another’s culture results in punishment… though the locals expect, predict and need for these transgressions to happen to reach their target. A sad tale of a woman who expects too much from her weak willed lover. A kinky remake of The Wizard of Oz where no one goes home but at the very least a version of The Scarecrow, The Lion and The Man Behind The Curtain are with us by the close of play. A meditation on death, pain and attraction. I really liked it. The long patient pace, trippy set-pieces (pulsating flowers a-go-go, maypole endurance tests) and strange kills. And Florence Pugh is excellent in it. Our screening was slightly ruined by some rude cunts who were let in during the last five minutes and had a lengthy chat on the stairs. But that’s Cineworld Edinburgh for you.
Jon Watts directs Kevin Bacon, James Freedson-Jackson and Hays Wellford in this thriller where two kids find a cop car in the woods and take it on a joyride but the corrupt Chief of Police is not in a position to be forgiving.
A pretty gripping thriller in The Night of the Hunter mould. Bacon is tastily frazzled and unhinged as the boy’s deadly pursuer. The whole endeavour has the feel and desperate problem solver’s zeal of a Breaking Bad episode. It never clicks fully over into something extraordinary, despite the potential, but equally has the nimbleness to up the stakes or shift focus whenever the plot risks becoming stale. You can see how Watts got his current Spider-Man directing gig off this neat little calling card.
My Top 10 Kevin Bacon Movies
Gaspar Noé directs Sofia Boutella, Kiddy Smile and Claude Gajan Maull in this dance horror where someone has spiked the punch bowl at an after party and taboo busting madness descends on the performers.
I thought I could watch Sofia Boutella in just about anything. When they are all dancing it is alright, when they are screaming down corridors it is unbearable. This film is 70% the latter.
Alexandra Dean directs Hedy Lamarr, Mel Brooks and Diane Kruger in this documentary recounting the many surprising lives of a Golden age Hollywood star.
First actress to simulate an orgasm in a scandalous mainstream film. Trophy wife to a Nazi munitions seller. Refugee Hollywood star. Inventor of a technology to radio control torpedoes that formed the basis for all our wireless technology. Tragic recluse. Such a varied biography was bound to make a spellbinding documentary, though incident packed as it is, the women herself remains an enigma.