Joe Wright directs Amy Adams, Gary Oldman and Wyatt Russell in this suspense thriller where an unreliable shut-in thinks she’s witnessed a murder across the street… but then again she does watch a lot of Hitchcock.
Dolls Houses. Theatrical staging. Grating operatic flourishes. The least claustrophobic of claustrophobic settings. Obvious twists. Obvious reshoots. A fantastic cast, all collecting the Devil’s dollar. Given the noticeable plummet in Amy Adams ability to pick a good project recently I hope she hasn’t made a pact with old Hob that is now well past due. Boring.
Alexandre Aja directs Mélanie Laurent, Mathieu Amalric and Malik Zidi in this French sci-fi thriller where a woman wakes up in a malfunctioning biopod, that while sustaining her life, wants to euthanise her before it powers down.
Pretentious rather thrilling. There are some big revelations towards the end but this techno dystopia take on Buried has minimal grip and the usually watchable Laurent’s character maintains zero urgency given her plight. Falls flat.
Ryusuke Hamaguchi directs Kotone Furukawa, Katsuki Mori and Fusako Urabe in this Japanese romantic anthology about three relationships; a love triangle, a seduction and a missed connection remembered.
Three stories about affairs, yearning, misunderstanding. All talk but very erotic at times. Kiyohiko Shibukawa and Katsuki Mori’s story really stood out for me but any of the three could be your own personal favourite and it would be hard to fault that opinion.
Peter Chelsom directs Adrian Dunbar, Tara Fitzgerald and Ned Beatty in this Anglo-Irish tale of a untrustworthy nightclub owner who wants to book a long exiled singer to revive his cabaret’s fortunes.
An unjustly forgotten slice of whimsy that charms the damn pants of you. This is really unpredictable, featuring full frontal nudity, a road trip around Ireland, a gold-plated bastard in the lead and some real implied darkness. Yet it is the sweetest thing I’ve seen in a long while. Deserves to be rediscovered, I promise you you’ll never believe what a strange mixture it is of Gilliam, Sheridan, Frears, Jordan and Damien Chazelle. And by that I mean, like nothing else. This was made in that weird little strip of time between Scandal and Shallow Grave where very few British films were funded and released unless they were overly worthy (Howard’s End, In the Name of the Father) or cravenly banal (Carry On Columbus, Splitting Heirs). So it is fascinating to see what freedom was granted to this one, a hardy little survivor that fell through the cracks and somehow made it to cinemas.
John Ford directs Walter Pidgeon, Maureen O’Hara and Roddy McDowall in this 1942 Best Picture winner – an episodic study of stresses, changes and compromises in a Welsh coal-mining village as it passes from an idyllic pastoral community into an exploitative industrial town.
John Ford’s politics are stamped all over this. The owners a necessary evil, yet the organised strikers the devil themselves. Has Ford essayed the grind of the future, progress and capitalism on a worthy family… or has the young lad, whose point of view we see all things from, merely lost his innocent blinkers? Ford seems against any kind of modern structure (school, unions) preferring the natural formations of family? Should we be unpacking the film this hard? Is it not really “just” a work of nostalgia… like The Quiet Man without the romance, The Duke and the epic third act bally-hoo, rewinding time with rose tinted glasses, both lament and celebration of things lost? As the family is cleaved by tragedy, the lure of the New Worlds (America, South Africa) and pragmatic marriages, are they not pulled from the ground of South Wales and exported like coal? It is not quite as heavy as that. Many of the chapters are humorous. Dai Bando’s boxing lessons have nothing but laughs and contains the only recognisably Welsh accent heard within. Sara Allgood, Donald Crisp, Walter Pidgeon and Barry Fitzgerald all do fine work. Maureen O’Hara looks magnificent. There’s treasure here, yet the ultimate message doesn’t gel. Like many a modern, targeted Oscar contender, it dances beautifully around a big issue rarely landing a blow that challenges your existing thinking on the important subject it mines.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 