Jason Reitman directs Elliot Page, Michael Cera and Jennifer Garner in this teen comedy where a quirky teen navigates being pregnant and not wanting the baby.
Here is an unofficial, utterly unverified fact: I reckon Juno’s soundtrack was the last big selling CD of its type, the one you were never surprised to see in people’s music collection… now on a spinner in a charity shop near you. There’s something about this appealing package that really captured the zeitgeist at the time. The quirky rotoscoped credit sequence, the quirky mixtape of Cat Power, Mouldy Peaches and Belle & Sebastian, the quirky casting of breakout stars Page, Cera and Olivia Thirlby (all never better), the quirky approach to the big messy issue of teen pregnancy and abortion and class in America. Some of that hardwired quirkiness does date Juno massively. What felt exceptional back then got co-opted into the cultural click-and-drag files quickly, cliches of the last decade were born here. But that doesn’t diminish how confident Reitman’s direction is, how brilliant Allison Janney and J.K. Simmon’s are as Juno’s parents and how risky Diablo Cody’s script proved. Her dialogue is a little forced but her worldview is razor sharp. There’s a hardness at the centre of Juno that is surprising. It is tougher and more insightful than a quirky, colourful indie flick needs to be. Cody’s grit and honesty has stood the test of time even if other elements have not.
James Gunn directs Chris Pratt, Zoe Saldana, Dave Bautista, Karen Gillan, Bradley Cooper and Pom Klementieff in these Marvel comic book adaptations following a ragtag group of space rejects who band together to save the universe.
Regular readers will know that I don’t hate too hard on the MCU machine, but equally I rarely give it a five star pass just for being mindlessly popular. Kevin Feige has Stockholm Syndrome’d a mass market entire swathe of the ticket buying audience. My enthusiasm for the franchise gently wanes and occasionally spikes with each never-ending open-ended release. First time I grew disillusioned with the quippy conveyor belt was after a series of average yet spectacular introduction stories by 2014, I only bought my ticket on opening day to GOTG1 on some last minute whim. And I was overwhelmed by how much more entertaining and personality fuelled it was (and still is). Largely down to Gunn’s VHS nasty instincts being repurposed for a PG-13 romp. I left the cinema beaming. Yet because one can’t really get away from Marvel at any point in the year these days, I have only made time to revisit the studio’s highpoint once over the last decade in its entirety. If Vol.1 popped up on TV, I’d settle down and watch a half-hour chunk, but those days of a random channel surfing are now a true thing of the past. Yet the film holds up really well. A silly comic book space adventure, whose tone is random and slightly gross, that presses all the buttons I want from a summer blockbuster. Gloopy production design, a palette of slime and nebula, plus perfect ensemble casting. The finale should be tighter but this overarching formula seems to prefer stretching out the temporary conclusions to give some semblance of good value.
2 showed signs of rot and fatigue setting in. Every flaw you could overlook in the origin story felt more obvious and amplified on repeat. And now the long awaited third and ‘final’ entry feels terminal for much of the running time. And don’t get this ‘ole spoilsport curmudgeon wrong… I might pick and choose my superhero cinema trips a tad more judiciously these days… But I was excited to see Drax, Rocket and Gunn’s weird intergalactic new worlds return on the big screen, opening weekend. Disappointment soon hacked my pleasure. How many shots of “the team” walking towards the camera in slo-mo were we going to indulge? Why isn’t the whole thing getting a clip on? Where was the originality? Why isn’t Dave Bautista getting more killer lines? Do we really care about this love triangle? The organic space station, and the wonderful pop art space walk to it, aside, where was the fun?
Rocket’s sad backstory is told at length. A dozen flashbacks to extreme animal cruelty interrupting the more light hearted flow. I found the vivisection and the psycho-Pixar interludes really sapped me, made me too sad, too uncomfortable. Once they wrap up at the two hour mark all we had left in the tank was one of those elongated, uninvolving finales, a few too many teased deaths and then endless epilogues. And now, the one shining star of the Marvel galaxy has been snuffed out on an awkward whimper… Blade?
Nida Manzoor directs Priya Kansara, Ritu Arya and Nimra Bucha in the British comedy where a British-Pakistani teenager employs her pals and her martial arts to stop her sister’s suspect arranged marriage.
Heard good things about this but it felt very much like a half-hearted Edgar Wright rip-off with teatime kids’ show acting and very basic fight sequences. Colourful costumes, some choice needle drops but I wouldn’t rush to revisit or recommend.
Tim Robbins directs himself, Alan Rickman and Giancarlo Esposito in this star-studded mockumentary following a Neo-conservative folk singer turned political candidate.
Very on-target leftie attack on the right wing political future of North America. Bitter but never stretches reality. Robbins is excellent as the enigmatic bastard-in-waiting. The gangly character actor really had a fantastic run of lead roles in the early Nineties. A forgotten gem.
Amy Heckerling directs Chevy Chase, Beverly D’Angelo and Dana Hill in this comedy sequel to the idiot-family-on-holiday hit.
A nostalgic favourite from my taped-off-telly childhood. There aren’t really enough good jokes and it feels a bit mucky a lot of the time. But Chase and D’Angelo maintain their neat chemistry and it shuttles about rapidly enough so you can never get bored. Maybe the smartest wrinkle is at the very start- the protracted game show prize is the only reason this family would ever consider leaving the States. And they do so grudgingly. If you didn’t grow up with this, you might struggle to enjoy.
Jerzy Skolimowski directs Jane Asher, John Moulder Brown and Diana Dors in this creepy London sex comedy.
Strange little movie – too grubby to get the horn from, too creepy to take lightly, too arty to ignore. The local public baths double up as an unofficial kink knocking shop but the new boy, a wimpy fop, only has eyes for the stunner pimping him out and leading him on. Scored by Cat Stevens. And then we get a Final Destination finale. Definitely different.
Damian Harris directs Dexter Fletcher, Ione Skye and Jonathan Pryce in this rom-com based on a Martin Amis novel.
A weak British Ferris Bueller rip-off keeps detailed files on posh totty he wants to seduce. It would all be a bit forgettable except in the last half hour the leads start bangin’, and banging… and BANGING! Did anyone need to see Dexter Fletcher’s sex face? Well, now you have.
Roger Spottiswoode directs Sidney Poitier, Tom Berenger and Kirstie Alley in this action thriller where an FBI agent tracks an evil kidnapper into the wilderness.
Also known as Deadly Pursuits. Tonally all over the shop. Grim kidnap thriller becomes light hearted buddy cop movie becomes rousing on-location extreme adventure flick becomes whodunnit and then all the way back again. Any single one of those modes would work fine, not that I mind the buffet approach. Poitier is at his best when he is a silly fish-out-of-water, the movie thrills the few times it lurches forward, skips the rails and goes really nasty. These unpredictable spikes really make it perfect throwback, throwaway VHS fodder. See, for example, the ultimate reveal of the killer. Most plots would happily spin out teasing you as to which of the half dozen character actors could be the nemesis. Andrew Robinson, Clancy Brown, Richard Masur… it could be any of these brutes. Let’s just say the true villain doesn’t fuck about picking them off one-by-one when he shows his true colours.
Donald Petrie directs Annabeth Gish, Julia Roberts and Lili Taylor in this teen romantic comedy where three small town waitresses question their love lives on the cusp of them becoming adults.
Solid “chick flick” – sweet, salty and funny where it needs to be. Not exactly my cup of tea but I’m not the type this was intended for. Notable for its young cast who all went onto better things (look out for a baby-faced Matt Damon). The happy medium between Beaches and Dirty Dancing. Sex positive and Lili Taylor is always top value. Can’t really fault it.
Blake Edwards directs Dudley Moore, Bo Derek and Julie Andrews in this sex comedy where a middle-aged songwriter follows a dream woman on her honeymoon in the hope that the beautiful stranger might fuck him.
Ugly looking, ugly hearted movie. Awkward and unfunny. Brian Dennehy has a small early role as a philosophical bartender and genuinely elevates the middle act. But not enough…
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 