Park Chan-Wook directs Tang Wei, Park Hae-Il and Lee Jung-hyun in this Korean police thriller where a middle aged police detective begins to fall for the suspect in a mysterious death.
The kinda movie where the pattern of the background wallpaper is more cinematic than most franchise movies. Tang Wei is utterly enthralling as the untrustworthy immigrant beauty. Feels very much like they came up with the memorable, highly symbolic, ending and worked backwards. Very dense plotting and production design. There are some Asian social mores and language quirks that get lost in translation… huge swathes where you might need to double check back on what has happened. Probably will work better on rewatch. But essentially it boils down to a longer, sweeter yet bleaker Vertigo (1958) or Basic Instinct. I have a lot of time for that mood, and I certainly will retry something cut from such high quality cloth.
Chris Columbus directs Hayden Panettiere, Paul Rust and Lauren London in this teen comedy where a nerdy valedictorian publicly pronounces his love for a wild cheerleader on graduation day unleashing a series of chaotic consequences.
Sam Firstenberg directs Sho Kosugi, Keith Vitali and Kane Kosugi in this American martial arts film where a ninja must protect his family after he is betrayed by his shadowy business partner.
Cheesy but enjoyable Cannon Group beat-‘em-up movie shot in Utah. There’s enough brutal violence here, madcap action and sleazy plotting, to keep you thoroughly pumped from teeth to tits. Then ninja grandma whips out her Crouching Tiger magic and the crowd goes crazy. The final rooftop one-on-one fight is epic – every ninja weapon and trick is deployed. A cheap, forgotten treat.
6
Perfect Double Bill: Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins (1985)
Jean-Jacques Beineix directs Jean-Hugues Anglade, Béatrice Dalle and Consuelo de Haviland in this erotic drama about a writer’s relationship with his troubled yet beautiful girlfriend.
*** Warning! Spoilers! ***
Everyone remembers the first act. The painting of the beach huts. The raw thrusting. The home destroying tantrums. Fiery. Dalle is a wonder boy. She never even got close to reaching these heights again… even in the later parts of the very movie that made her an icon of the Eighties… what heights though! Gap toothed, open and always moving. Delectable whether clothed or undressed (there’s plenty of male nudity too), bonkers but just on the right side of annoying. You shouldn’t fuck crazy but she makes a convincing counter argument. Oh so French! Oh-La-La!
Cinema Du Look. Beineix challenges naturalism throughout, especially with his exteriors. This is often about mood and emotion more than logic or plot. At three hours, Betty Blue is a challenge and the third act goes off the rails in more ways than one. There’s multiple reasons for this. Even though Dalle’s Betty’s mental health deteriorates extremely from ‘cute menace to society’ to a ‘genuinely at risk individual’ her screentime diminishes. Even by the end of the second hour it feels like the spotlight is no longer being equitably shared and she shifts into the background a jot too much. There are compelling but blind siding subplots (drag robbery, piano delivery) that add little to the central relationship.
I think (and this is my own personal interpretation) that is because we are seeing Anglade’s Zorg’s fantasy as a struggling writer. Betty fills a gap beyond sexual desire, wild companionship and emotional support. She rebels against the drudgery of his day jobs creating dramatic exits from the stifling need to earn a wage, whether by arson or fork stabbing. She openly interrogates his self respect as a man and as an artist. She does all the boring admin grunt work towards getting him published. The typing up, the sending out, the conscious rejecting of the rejection letters. And once he makes steps towards being a writing success their relationship begins to fracture. She has needs beyond sex and encouraging her aspiring author – she wants a family, to reshape their world – and it tears her reality apart. There’s definitely a metaphor about creation in her emotionally shattering failed pregnancy. He begins to dress convincingly like a woman, indulge in more dangerous behaviours, eventually euthanising the better half who might be a lunatic but served to keep him on the right track to being a publishing success. His ultimate masterpiece is about the very woman whose life force he has spent getting to the next stage of his writing career. Ironic exploitation to the max. Betty Blue isn’t just his unhinged dream woman but his fairy godmother, possibly a high functioning split personality. And when her volatile service is no longer needed he emerges mature, she dead. And even if I’m wrong about all this supposing, it is a beautiful fucked-up marathon of experiences.
Tommy Wirkola directs David Harbour, John Leguizamo and Beverly D’Angelo in this action comedy where a drunk but tough Santa protects a wealthy family who have been taken hostage by mercenaries wanting their safe.
One joke meme movie that idles in the middle. Tonally off. Feels like a Christmas kids film with extreme violence rewritten hastily when someone watched a season of Succession. Populated entirely by unlikeable characters, and in a flick like this you do need someone, anyone to root for. Won’t become a festive perennial.
Jack Hill directs Joanne Nail, Robbie Lee and Monica Gayle in this exploitation flick where The Jezebels find themselves in a power struggle when a capable new girl joins their gang.
Girl gang action and in-fighting with bundles of good energy. The action always goes bigger than you might expect. All the boys (aged 40 and over) are dweebs. Wholesome sleaze, classier than it needs to be without losing any edge.
Federico Fellini directs Magali Noël, Bruno Zanin and Pupella Maggio in a semi-autobiographical tale about Titta, an adolescent boy growing up among an eccentric cast of characters in the village of Borgo San Giuliano in 1930s Fascist Italy.
A lunatic uncle shouts from a tree. A gramophone fights Mussolini. Erotic encounters at the movies and in the tobacconists. A big mosaic of a movie – obvious influence on the form of Richard Linklater’s Dazed And Confused. Starts and ends in the hustle bustle of communal ensemble. The vignettes inbetween are more personal. Shifts from the sitcom to ribald to grim accounts of everyday Fascism. Feels like Fellini’s most fun, least pretentious work (that I’ve seen so far). Might be my favourite of his.
Corey Yuen, Louis Leterrier and Olivier Megaton direct Jason Statham, François Berléand, Shu Qi, Matt Schulze, Amber Valletta, Kate Nauta, Matthew Modine, Natalya Rudakova and Robert Knepper in this trilogy of action movies where a military trained driver begrudgingly takes on missions that break his strict rules of business.
Never change the deal.
No names.
Never open the package.
The is The Stath’s key franchise. Sure, the fly-by-nights love a bit of Crank…. but for us pure actionheads The Transporter series delivers it ridiculous formula of cars, babes, martial arts, Easyjet settings and Eurotrash baddies with a more refined sense of flair, wit and class. Jason looks the tits in his mortician black suit and tie get up, his sullen character, Frank Martin, is always in control of the situation whether laying out his code of conduct with a gun to his head, handling the cops, navigating a high speed chase or taking on 30 henchmen with whatever comes to hand. Sillier than Bourne but more spectacular than most DTV fodder, this really delivers the beer and pizza thrills. The first one is pretty flawless when held up in comparison to, say, early Arnie flicks like Commando. The Stath’s physicality and steely resolve are the tough sell that makes it all work, no matter how cartoonish or cliched. There are other strengths to the initial entry has that have never been bettered. Frank has genuine chemistry with his female lead here (a charming Shu Qi) and the ridiculous topless oil slick rumble sets a very high standard that all future entries struggled to reach.
2 is more of the same with a slightly starrier supporting cast. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. The plot rips off Man On Fire and adds a dash of Mission: Impossible 2. Kate Nauta makes for a memorable bad girl secondary antagonist. The action relies on CGI a bit more which is a shame, the whole thing looks like it has been lensed through an ugly oil slick. Very much a visual product of its time. Budget Jerry Bruckheimer. But ultimately it delivers loopy action (Frank Martin uses watermelons for boxing gloves) and gives The Stath plenty of moments of glowering intensity.
3 equally avoids fucking too much with the formula but the rot has noticeably set in. There’s too much of that weird ‘French tries to do American’ humour that cheekily stinks out many a Luc Besson produced Europacorp factory unit. The damsel in distress this time is played by an untrained Russian teenage model Luc “plucked” from the streets of New York. Possibly the less assumed about that business transaction the better. And she ain’t the best actress in the world despite being gifted more screentime than previous Transporter girls. On the plus side, Robert Knepper is probably the most menacing villain of the series. The movie openly jokes about its plotholes in real time. And the rollicking Train Vs Audi finale has the goods. There’s certainly far bigger budgeted threequels out there that deliver a lot less bang for your buck. It is the only entry that doesn’t exceed expectations.
Charles Laughton directs Robert Mitchum, Lillian Gish and Shelley Winters in this thriller where two children are pursued by a misogynistic serial killing preacher who wants their dead Daddy’s loot.
Once seen not forgotten. Every frame is like a stark pop-up book, from your Southern Gothic nightmares, come to life. Society falls apart. Mitchum broods, seduces and then descends into a howling beast – closer to Wile E. Coyote than Max Cady. The kids trundle through this depressed fantasia. The ending could be a notch tighter. More a mood than a thriller.
Kasi Lemmons directs Naomi Ackie, Stanley Tucci and Ashton Sanders in this biopic of the troubled pop mega star Whitney Houston.
Not exactly sanitised but, let’s just say, very generous to the living. The Whitney Houston story was never going to be boring but maybe a Spencer or Jackie approach that slotted in the hits into itself would have been better than the whistle-stop tour of each Wikipedia paragraph. The music and good acting save this but it doesn’t make you feel like you were there on the stage of the biggest performances. Certainly not like the derided but daft Bohemian Rhapsody did.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 