Jonathan Mostow directs Kurt Russell, J. T. Walsh and Kathleen Quinlan in this road thriller where a man loses his wife on the hard shoulder of the desert and nobody believes she has been kidnapped.
Tight as a drum, the escalations in tension here are a beauty to behold. Mostow maintains the grip right up to the end credits masterfully. A late entry into the VHS rental era minor classics hall of fame. J. T. Walsh RIP.
Bruce Robinson directs Richard E Grant, Paul McGann and Richard Griffiths in this cult British comedy where two out-of-work actors escape the poverty and haze of bedsit London in the Sixties and go “on holiday by mistake”.
Withnail & I is a unique cinematic experience. There’s been comedy about misery before. Tragedy plus time and all that. The key to a good sitcom is characters trapped together by the set. British comedy anyway. Yet the destitution, cowardliness and grimy irresponsibility of Bruce Robinson’s recollections of his struggling actor days are a whole other level. You can taste the cold wobble of a greasy spoon egg, feel the rotten cat hair over Monty’s furniture, smell the stink of unemptied ashtrays in the pub. There’s nothing nostalgic about the shit end of the Swingin’ Sixties. No one is having free love here, or is easily upwardly mobile. This is the underbelly of London at its apex, where the shit rolls downhill. A countryside lost in the past, scary from its conservatism. A London of violence and rainy disarray. There’s no Go-Go girls dancing around Carnaby, just rejection. Leaning into a tattered, unkempt desolation of alcohol and terror that will only pull your further down the “matter” filled plug hole. And even then, as you see this depressing counter to counterculture, there’s the fact that as a child when Withnail & I came out this was a film that I have inherited from a previous generation. They quote it, they celebrate its grubby excess. The students of the Eighties. It throbbed through the pages of film magazines and retrospectives as THE cult item that my younger lot just had to get on board with. It holds up better then and now than Spinal Tap or The Comic Strip did or does. Withnail & I actually is funny but terrifying and sad. Boorish but heartfelt, cowardly but enticing. The paranoia imbued into every interaction is palpable. A world where everyone wants to fight, bugger or subjugate you. Grant’s big glorious luvvy blowhard destitute is still amazing to behold, McGann’s reactive cypher quakes in his long shadow. Yet the older I grow, it proves Griffiths’ Uncle Monty who steals the show for me. Predatory, a chess master of getting his bum hole, as he corners McGann’s I with unwavering practice one can’t help sorry and repulsed by the generation that came before even these lost souls. How much youth and talent is left to the wayside of unfulfilled dreams, loneliness and addiction? Why must one generation feed on the weakness of another with such callous entitlement? At least Withnail & I had each other, until that closing moment where they savagely don’t.
Kenya Barris directs Jonah Hill, Lauren London and Eddie Murphy in this romantic comedy where an interracial couple do an awful job of navigating their parents’ predjudices.
There’s actually quite a sweet if laboured romantic comedy in the first act. Jonah and Lauren London have millennial chemistry. Once we get into Guess Who’s Coming For Dinner 3.0 territory it just never really reaches a comedy boiling point. Eddie feels underserved in a role I suspect was written with Denzel in mind. And then it goes on forever. I watched for Hill and Murphy… they never aren’t watchable but your expectations are so much higher for what laughter should be generated from the pairing. And while the racial element feels all over the shop the generational anxieties have a certain degree of truth. The forced editing (slow burn scenes shift abruptly with a shock of quick location flashes) is irritating and disruptive.
Nobody does action comedy like Jackie Chan. Arnie or Nic Cage might get laughs from their unusual performing styles and delivery of one liners. Tom Cruise or Bruce Lee do physical stunts that make you sit bolt upright. But Jackie does it with a toothy, unabashed smile on his face and genuinely takes his mortality right to the very edge. He’s a fun guy, a zany guy, a sincere guy and commits some of the most dangerous shit ever seen on screen since the days of silent comedy. No wonder he became the most globally recognised face in cinema.
Drunken Master (1978)
Yuen Woo-ping directs Jackie Chan, Yuen Siu-tien and Hwang Jang-lee in this classic Kung-Fu comedy where an apprentice learns a zany fighting style from a sozzled master.
An absolute classic. Takes the tropes of a King Hu or a Shaw Brothers flick but leans into Jackie’s comedy chops and quirky physicality. His wobbly erratic “drunken” fighting style is a wonder to behold. He has brilliant chemistry with his hermit teacher Yuen Siu-tien. The training montages are pleasingly daft but the end fight, where all the learned styles are utilised and coalesced, is gripping stuff. Up there with Snake In Eagle’s Shadow.
8
Armour Of God (1986)
Jackie Chan and Eric Tsang direct Jackie, Alan Tam and Lola Forner in this Hong Kong action adventure where a treasure hunter crosses the globe in search of an artefact.
I always assumed ‘Armour Of God’ referred to the iconic shot where Jackie rocks a jacket covered in dynamite. Only a god would take on multiple henchmen wearing that. This spin on Indiana Jones / James Bond can be pretty random. One minute Jackie is taking down a tribe of very racist “natives”, the next he’s in a boy band. The love triangle adventure plot never really crystallises but the action is top tier. One of those ones where the “out takes” over the end credits make you wince.
7
Armour Of God 2: Operation Condor(1991)
Jackie Chan directs himself, Carol Cheng and Eva Cobo de Garcia in this Hong Kong adventure sequel where treasure hunter Asian Hawk is accompanied by a trio of international hotties in the race to reach some Nazi Gold.
Not quite up to snuff. A bit too much focus on broad comedy and superfluous plot. We seem to spend too long in fake sets. I’m sure the wind tunnel finale is just as risky and challenging as all Jackie stunts but we don’t feel the risk to his life for laughs quite as directly as more famous set pieces in the back catalogue. Half an hour too baggy.
5
Police Story 3: Supercop (1992)
Stanley Tong directs Jackie Chan, Michelle Yeoh and Maggie Cheung in this cop thriller where Ka-Kui goes undercover with a very capable Interpol agent watching his back.
Really kicks into life in the last half hour when there’s both Maggie Cheung fuelled farce at a hotel resort and a frankly stupendous extended chase through Malaysia. Jackie dangling from a helicopter, Yeoh (who is fantastic here) landing a motorbike on a speeding train. For reals. I reckon Tom Cruise and Christopher McQuarrie pop this VHS during downtime on Mission: Impossible sets and think “Supercop but serious.”.
8
Battle Creek Brawl (1980)
Robert Clouse directs Jackie Chan, Kristine DeBell and José Ferrer in this period action comedy where happy go lucky Jerry Kwan is strong armed by the mob into taking part in a deadly wrestling competition.
Often remembered as a poor premature attempt to position Jackie into the American market by hiring the director of Enter The Dragon, there’s actually much to love here. Jackie plays an immigrant kid with a dream, accompanied by a jolly whistling Lalo Schifrin theme. He has a healthy looking pretty white girlfriend and that never becomes an issue, they just make “nice nice” rather sweetly between training and fights. The plot sees some 1930s gangsters put the lean on Jackie to take part in a battle royale against some weird hulking wrestlers in Texas. But there’s time for a loopy, thrilling roller relay derby sequence which is a highlight. The movie has a lot in common with the depression era exploitation flicks that followed after Bonnie & Clyde. It would fit in nicely with a marathon watch with Hard Times, Paradise Alley or Bugsy Malone. Sure, the fights do lack ambition. The white stuntmen slow the rhythms down, the camera angles chosen and the editing make Jackie’s balletic tricks seem overly rehearsed. Yet I had real fun watching this, it was a pretty relaxed evening with a six pack and a smile.
Frank Capra directs James Stewart, Donna Reed and Lionel Barrymore in this festive classic where a family man feels trapped by his small town existence… and when he reaches a suicidal low ebb on Christmas Eve he is visited by an angel.
Wears the trappings of “Christmas”, “small town”, “family”, “duty” to absolutely grind a man down. Most of It’s A Wonderful Life is brutal. George Bailey is deafened, slapped and weigh down every time he does the right thing. Bedford Falls is a hell of small, cosy cuts. Like In The Mouth Of Madness I wouldn’t be surprised that if James Stewart tried to cross that bridge rather than jump off it he wouldn’t be looped back to the Savings & Loans. Fantasy aspects aside, I always mistakenly assumed Capra was a socialist at heart. Yet after reading Five Came Back by Mark Harris I’m reappraising my surface level take on the auteur. He’s a populist. As enamoured with fascism as he is with community. In his view of America, the one outstanding individual makes change and holds his finger in the dyke against corruption. The general population are fickle and just as capable of tearing the dam that protects them all down as repairing it. They need a messiah, a special one, a Mr Smith, John Doe or George Bailey. Need him to do the heavy lifting, the smart thinking, take their hits once a scapegoat is required. It’s a terrible life being one of Capra’s outstanding good guys. Merry Christmas from the mob.
Hayao Miyazaki directs Soma Santoki, Masaki Suda and Aimyon in this Japanese animation where a young boy meets a mysterious speaking heron after losing his mother during World War Two.
Very much a Studio Ghibli Greatest Hits. Weird little sad sack humanoid grotesques. Secret worlds. Cute edible floaters. This is slightly more grounded in adult emotions. There’s an obvious Miyazaki avatar lording it around in the shadows wanting to pass his creation on to another generation, hoping for safe hands. It could be half an hour shorter and the dream logic plotting means it is easy to drift off when we suddenly shift onto a new plane of existence. I really did love a lot of this and I’m not a die hard Miyazaki adherent.
Sofia Coppola directs Cailee Spaeny, Jacob Elordi and Dagmara Domińczyk in this biopic of Elvis’s child bride told from her point of view.
There’s definitely a movie here but the end result is quite watery and underwhelming. The look and the sound is utterly enthralling. The performances less so. This is an enigmatic biopic… leaving too much negative space for the gauche actors to get a little lost. Spaeny is fine, adrift in the glamour and living every high school girls dream. She and Coppola reign as they hint at the cult like community she is sucked into at Graceland. But the later suggestions of outright abuse and worse still come across as weak tea. Pretty much every marriage has moments where one partner loses their temper. Just all felt too obtuse… if you let it wash over you, rather than absorb you, Priscilla is… alright, momma.
Dick Clement directs Ronnie Barker, Richard Beckinsale and Peter Vaughan in this spin-off movie from the hit British prison sitcom.
No massive shakes as a unique cinematic experience but manages to recreate the humour and the clever characters away from the fake studio sets and transplant it all into a real working nick. Which creates a strange, but not unworkable, shift in tone.
Lars Von Trier directs Michael Elphick, Esmond Knight and Meme Lai in this experimental neo-noir where a retired detective returns to Europe to investigate a serial killer who roams an existential wasteland.
Very much an exercise in style – the sepia dunked palette and the pointless puzzle plot grow wearisome very soon. This kinda meta nothing mystery movie seemed quite prevalent in the Eighties and is one of Von Trier’s rare exercises in genre. Has a few shocking moments… but these days those are the very least you now expect from Lars…
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 