M. Night Shyamalan directs Mel Gibson, Joaquin Phoenix and Abigail Breslin in this alien invasion sci-fi siege flick told from one family’s perspective.
Crop circles. Foil hats. Night terrors. A Fortean corker. Minimalist in the very best way, part of the joy is how Shyamalan uses every trick in the book to evade showing you anything too tangible before the denouement. Everyone in the cast and crew is firing on all cylinders but special praise has to go to James Newton Howard’s homage to Bernard Hermann. Hitchcock’s The Birds is as big an influence here as War or the Worlds. You can approach it as a perfectly calibrated shocker. Or as treatise on faith and family. Either take works grandly. Afterwards you feel like you’ve experienced a proper movie, one so literate and enthralling that you don’t feel guilty for whiling away 100 minutes on it at all. It is a pleasure to watch something so confident in just being what it is.
Kirk R. Thatcher directs Gonzo The Great, Pepé the King Prawn and Will Arnett in this spooky special.
A nice little rerun of the old Muppet Show format slotted around the Disneyland theme park ride’s setting. Not peak Muppets but a sweet little TV special.
Edgar Wright directs Thomasin McKenzie, Anya Taylor-Joy and Matt Smith in this London set timewarp thriller where a lonely student lands in the big smoke only for her bedsit to whisk her away to the seedy Sixties every night.
Nobody feels at home in Soho. I remember the lure of clip joints and the basement dirty mag shops from my teens. The sinister characters who were regular in the pubs otherwise full of tourists and commuters. The Glasshouse Stores. Norman’s Coach and Horses. The John Snow. I know why there’s so many pubs called The Blue Posts in the W1 postcode, do you? I’ve slept with girls in those Fitzrovia dorm rooms. Emerged at midnight, sweaty and half deaf, from the now lost Astoria, The Crobar and The End. Caught too many forgotten movies at the Prince Charles, The Haymarket and the viciously overpriced Odeon Panton Street. Wandered those alleyways after hours and felt on edge (though very gentrified now, I still wouldn’t recommend being around Berwick Street or Chinatown at dawn by yourself… even today). Soho is part of who I am, in my blood. And I don’t feel comfortable there… no matter what time of day it is.
I know that newsagent where Eloise takes refuge and buys a Coke early on is prime Peeping Tom territory. I know my Repulsion, giallo and Goodnight Sweetheart just as well as Wright clearly does. I know my Clouzot’s Inferno, The Frightened City and Our Friends In the North too. He hasmade a movie for film fans like me and Londoners like me and loners with a dream. And he lands it with his percussive visual boldness intact, if slightly matured. Last Night In Soho is a late night feast for the eyes – a dark fantasy shot through a kaleidoscope of reds, greens, pinks and blues. A fantastic showcase for the doll like McKenzie and Taylor-Joy. The finest use of Matt Smith so far on the big screen. A soundtrack to die for, rivalling Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood double vinyl release for being studded with forgotten Sixties gems, a movie this would make the perfect companion piece to.
Now… does it work as a pure genre horror? Intermittently. Should you go see it if easily triggered by sexual assault, exploitation and stalking? Certainly not. In many ways it is an insidious potboiler of a movie that plays with rape and murder in quite an old fashioned way. But does it evoke that dreadful feeling of being lost and threatened on the callous mean streets of Zone One? Yes. This is my hometown as a horror show… one not too far off the map from how alienating and magical that there London often really is.
Andy Serkis directs Tom Hardy, Woody Harrelson and Michelle Williams in this anti-superhero sequel where Eddie Brock and his alien gloop symbiote go their separate ways.
“EDD-DIE!” Neither of the Venom movies are particularly well made, neat or cohesive but in a strange way their throwaway nature kinda is their ultimate charm. The explicit gay subtext, the slumming it cast list of alternative favourites, the gothic cathedral ending ripped straight out of an early superhero flick like Batman… I enjoy the lowest common denominator “couldn’t give a shit”ness of it all. It is a silly daft film, that knows it doesn’t have to try hard or go big when it has Tom Hardy arguing with himself in the bank and accumulating steady interest. Everything outwith the loveable incomprehensible movie star bickering with himself is secondary… baubles for the trailer. We come to see him fight himself, resist the urge to eats brains, split up, go to sexually fluid goth raves and reunite. Put it this way, if Eddie and Venom invited you to their wedding you’d go in a heartbeat. Iron Man and Pepper Pots’ big day?… I think we already have plans that weekend. A quick dumb comic book movie for adults that feels most akin to Darkman, Spawn, Blade or The Crow than anything contemporary and then plays out like a very warped rom-com. Bottom line: fun. Bonus sexy: Only 97 minutes! When was the last time you went to a blockbuster that didn’t want to wear the arse out of your jeans?
Alexandre Aja directs Aaron Stanford, Emilie de Ravine and Ted Levine in the horror remake where a family is stranded in the desert surrounded by a cannibalistic mutant brood.
One of the better gore remakes… even it does tone down some of the more abrasive agit prop satire of Wes Craven’s Seventies original. Aja (the most consistent survivor of the Splat Pack generation of directors) ratchets up the tension, relishes the mutant monstrosities and delivers plenty of competent shocks. Tomandandy’s score bullies you into submission, Gregory Nicotero’s KNB make-up outfit deserve a Golden Chainsaw for the in-camera FX work. Only a slightly anonymous cast let’s this down.
Lucky McKee directs Pollyanna McIntosh, Sean Bridgers and Angela Bettis in this revisionist horror where a family’s twisted patriarch captures a feral woman and keeps her locked up in the wood shed.
Genuinely strange and challenging. Lynch filtered through more contemporary influence like Zombie and Lanthimos. This is real piece of nasty that feminists and misogynists will find much to chew over. The completely loony finale is unpredictable but if you are a fan of extreme cinema you’ll enjoy seeing something quite controlled and measured spill over the top quite so vigorously.
Edgar Wright directs Michael Cera, Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Ellen Wong in this comic book adaptation of a loser bassist whose life becomes complicated when he has to fight his new girlfriend’s SEVEN EVIL EXES.
Knives Chau and Ramona Flowers: Scott Pilgrim is not worthy of you. That’s kind of the point. I’ve seen some modern takes on SPvTW that sit on a moral high stool over what a feckless loser the male lead is. Undeserving of all the great women who are enamoured with him here. Well yeah… duh… the movie is about a flawed hero who discovers self worth and starts treating women just a little better. Wright goes for the gag a minute style of a Naked Gun movie while still trying to make something cool, modern, young and occasionally soulful. I think he gets it right with a messy but pummelling hit rate. The film is too busy to do anything with but admire. You have to like it, there’s too much great stuff here. If you are a fan of musicals, 8-Bit games or in-camera tricks get ready to be indulged. The spot-on cast helps… packed with bright young things, Winstead front and centre in a knowing take on the manic pixie dream girl who has gotten wise to the kinda men she attracts. It is kinda epic and kinda lo-fi at the same time. I can see how some would find it grating but that wasn’t me. The alternative rock soundtrack featuring Beck, Metric and Blood Red Shoes is perfect.
John Polson directs Robert DeNiro, Dakota Fanning and Famke Janssen in this thriller where a grieving father and daughter grow fearful of the real world repercussions of her new imaginary friend.
A movie with nothing else going for it apart from its twist… which is extremely guessable. Competently crafted… but in the service of what exactly?
Shinya Tsukamoto directs himself, Kaori Fujii and Kohji Tsukamoto in this Japanese exploitation movie where a white collar office drone takes up boxing when he wants to square off against an old school friend.
Frenetic… you might be exhausted after the first minute with no idea where your sanity will be a whole movie length later. I’m surprised this is not talked about in the same breath as Fight Club… both films share so much in terms of visuals, attitudes and Freudian shock. This came out roughly as Chuck Palahniuk’s novel was also published. One was being edited as the other was debuting on the festival circuit so it be hard to make a case about provenance. Suffice to say if you want to see the Tetsuo director’s take on similar themes and are not faint of heart when it comes to actors being animated like stop motion puppets, DIY body modification and anti-consumerism then my Tyler Durden… do I have the VHS rental for you.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 