Sylvain White directs Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Idris Elba and Zoe Saldana in this comic book action movie where a special forces unit fake their deaths to track down a shadowy figure who betrayed them.
Pretty standard Vertigo adaptation actioner. Think The A-Team with an R rating. More interested in visuals and gags than tension or urgency, The ensemble is very likeable and sweaty. Only Jason Patric’s utterly rotten big bad is doing anything above and beyond his usual MO. Considering he made a twenty five year long career as a bland lead, his scene stealing work here feels pretty special. Every time the storytelling feels pedestrian (which is a little too often) something momentarily excessive will happen to energise you.
Blake Edwards directs Peter Seller, Claudine Longet and Jean Carson in this Hollywood farce where a bungling Indian actor gets invited to a high end house party by mistake.
Dated, racist but does get laughs when the farce beds in. Sellers genuinely doesn’t need to be in brown face for any of the decent physical jokes to work.
Christopher McQuarrie directs Benicio del Toro, Ryan Phillippe and James Caan in this neo-noir / neo western thriller where two drifters kidnap a woman pregnant with a mob financier’s surrogate baby inside her.
“The only thing you can guess about a broken down old man is that he is a survivor.”
“I think a plan is just a list of things that don’t happen.”
“The longest distance between two points is a kidnapper and his money.”
My personal favourite post-Tarantino piece. The action is extreme, walloping and makes moves like a chess genius playing himself. McQuarrie proves himself a talent beyond Bryan Singer’s shadow and one only needs to witness the last three Mission: Impossible movies to know this man does intense set pieces and shorthand world weary machismo like nobody else. The Way Of The Gun is an ardent love letter to a form of gunplay movie that never really existed. Maybe Peckinpah’s The Getaway is the only predecessor that feels a piece with it. Broken old crims, untrustworthy partnerships and border town nihilism. I think people get hooked up on how juiced up the first and third act are that the middle section where everyone angles to betray everyone else and a whole series of long games are hinted at… well it throws your casual viewer. Should we have a stake in the hidden motivations of the bland bagman played expertly by Caan, or his suicidal henchman played with pathos by Geoffrey Lewis or Jennifer Lewis’ complex waddling MacGuffin? Once $15 million is in the middle of a Mexican stand off, who can you trust? Is your partner showing signs of humanity to a pregnant grifter? Are your mercenaries in sharp suits sharper than you need them to be? It all resolves itself in the most painfully violent, orgasmically calculated finale in independent cinema.
Christopher Guest directs Eugene Levy, Catherine O’Hara and Parker Posey in this mockumentary comedy following various competing dog owners at the American equivalent of Crufts.
The absolute Daddy of its form. Every scene hilarious and every character a gem. Plus many cute dogs looking absolutely baffled by the experience. Many films try for this improvised, lightning in a bottle, no script needed method of comedy. Often they become interminable or, at best, cult items that grow on you with repeated communal viewings. But Best In Show genuinely pulls it off even if you watch it uninitiated. That is truly impressive.
The career of David Gordon Green initially seems baffling. He started out as an independent Terrence Malick acolyte. Then he took studio cash and directed some slick bro comedies. And, a few diversions along the way accepted, now seems happy resurrecting tired 1970s horror brands with attempts at bringing back the original cast and tone. He is less an auteur than a serious pastiche artist. His recreations of Malick, Carpenter and now Friedkin are obvious to spot but he’s also had a fair crack at replicating the visual dialect of Michael Ritchie, Hal Ashby and Martin Brest over his varied career as a forger. In the first half of Exorcist: Believer he does a pretty convincing job of cloning Friedkin. We get an intense global trauma introduction and an increasingly frantic procedural when the soon-to-be-possessed kids go missing. DGG knows how to turn the same crank as Bill Friedkin, he just doesn’t understand the mechanics of how this carnival ride works. The original created hysteria from a true sense of hopelessness… and from a matter of fact world being torn apart… and the lost constant that just about everyone watching them had a shared belief system that was warped into grotesque terror. Here the scares and the existential assault just never arrive. There is some stuff to be read into the three times various characters have to make difficult choices about a child’s life… there is something about abortion here that needs to be unpacked. Yet on the whole it is a flick of false saviours (a cameo for cash Burstyn, a red herring rookie priest who clearly can’t hold a candle to Karras or Merrin) and soft get outs. Are you telling me a single father whose teen daughter goes through all that in the public eye wouldn’t have social services down on him like a ton of bricks by day three… or even after? Unbelievable.
Nahnatchka Khan directs Kiernan Shipka, Olivia Holt and Julie Bowen in this Back To The Future Meets Scream Meets Heathers Meets Happy Death Day mash-up.
A homage to oh so many better movies that it risks redundancy. It certainly feels like it never finds a horror or a comedy or a mystery hook of its own in the first hour as it sets up too much plot when we are instantly on board with the concept. The last set piece has its moments but then it noses the landing. Shame. Passable but a shame.
Sam Wrench directs Taylor Swift, Paul Sidoti and Karen Chuang in this concert movie covering every album in T-Swift’s 17 year career.
As a casual fan I could have probably done without the deep dives into Folklore and especially Evermore. Keep it poppy and under three hours is my only real note. As a cynical middle aged male I’m surprised I chuckled only a few times at crowd inserts of weepy fans going full meltdown just at being there. Apart from that… truly spectacular. The camerawork in the first 10 minutes is flawless, the clarity of it puts most live action blockbusters of this decade to shame. The staging and lightshow is on another level! Giant Taylors tower over regular sized Taylor like kaiju. I absolutely appreciate why I could never afford to see a production like this live. There’s no sadness or bitterness there… Speaking of which, I would have loved it if the album order was chronological just so we can see Swift mature and become increasingly acidic and paranoid and defiant in her songwriting. She is a stunning creative. The show can’t hide the fact she isn’t a Madonna or even a Kylie in terms of her dance abilities but there’s plenty of strutting, shimmying and swan-like arm motions to keep us going. The quick change costume tricks are like a magic show… the sequin budget must be second only to the electricity bill. Glad I saw this on the big screen. Cemented just how many of Swift’s hit have drilled themselves into my head.
Rod Daniels directs Joe Pesci, Vincent Gardenia and Madolyn Smith in this comedy where a slum landlord is sentenced to live in one of his buildings until all complaints are resolved.
This doesn’t work… on many levels. Motormouth wit Pesci should fly in such a situation but the part was clearly written for a younger actor. The whole project feels pretty cookie cutter, even for obvious programme filler back in the early Nineties. I reckon it easily made up any losses and a clear profit the moment it hit VHS. But nearly all the dialogue is looped in after the fact. Jokes added in months after the shoot to try and find laughs. Nora Ephron was a script doctor. Yet trying to find the funny in post production just creates an airless cacophony. The one genuinely laugh out loud joke lands just as the credits roll. Otherwise the movie only hits a stride when MC Hammer and C+C Music Factory takeover the speakers. A shame – as the based on a true story concept should have had legs.
Jeff Rowe directs Jackie Chan, Ice Cube and Seth Rogen in this animated reboot of the popular independent comic book sensation from my childhood.
A highpoint in the heroes in a half-shell’s various incarnations. I love the clunky, scribbly, icky animation that looks as much handrawn and stop-motion as digital. The voice cast is stacked with names I care about, but the kids voicing the turtles and April absolutely nail it. Whoever’s idea it was to have the ensemble share a recording booth deserves a medal. The plot and tone owes an obvious debt to the recent Spider-Verse flicks… and it would be fair to say this doesn’t go anywhere as deep or complex or multidimensional as those outliers. But Mutant Mayhem is a family flick with enough stuff to satisfying any open minded generation who buys a ticket. This is a fad franchise that I personally put to bed around 1992 so the fact this drew me in and kept me entertained (beyond nostalgia) over 30 years later is a testament to its cool qualities.
Mark Jones directs Warwick Davis, Jennifer Aniston and Ken Olandt in this comedy horror where a trapped leprechaun is released and will murder anyone who has pocketed his gold.
Nobody’s finest hour. Cheap and uneven. Davis’ grotesque make-up is pretty impressive. His murderous bon mots less so. At least he delivers them with full gusto. Some nostalgic product placement for brands that no longer exist. I’m clutching at straws really.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 