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.
Kathryn Bigelow directs Ralph Fiennes, Angela Bassett and Juliette Lewis in this cyberpunk thriller where an ex-cop trades people’s first hand experiences, including sex and murder, on the eve of the millennium.
Trying to write a one line synopsis of Strange Days is an impossible task. The Rodney King inspired cop conspiracy that motors the plot is the least fascinating aspect of this sprawling “what if?”. Only really setting up the game pieces for a compulsive finale. There’s tons of paranoid pre-millennial tension. A pretty sleazy OTT backdrop of the exploitative world of being a rock star. The hook of the first person “clips” recorded on a “squid” device. Chases, robberies, orgies, showers, rape, murders, sexy dates… all recorded then traded to be experienced like cerebral crack cocaine. Bigelow spent a year planning some of these standout POV steadicam ballets and the results are visceral. Having said that you are exhausted by the third act, wiped out by the convoluted plot and all the sideshows. Even the big conclusion trundles a good 10 minutes past when it hits a peak. That peak though is amazing. Bassett chased by the killers through a NYE Y2K countdown rave that takes up an entire area code, drowned in massive confetti, the whole event teetering on a riot and the police seeing just another black face causing trouble. Tension overload. Beyond the spectacular set pieces this works best as an edgy hang-out movie. Fiennes is fun as the squirmy fuck up with a heart of gold. Bassett iconic as an angel in a warrior’s body. Lewis performing punkish covers of PJ Harvey in barely any clothes. Michael Wincott, Tom Sizemore, Richard Edson as untrustworthy types – full of clues and misdirection. When I originally saw this it was at a free preview organised by Empire magazine. You showed up stupid early on a Sunday morning and they issued you a ticket the size of a paperback book. As a teenager I was bound to be blown away by a James Cameron scripted sci-fi with a Skunk Anansie soundtrack. The movie became part of my rotation of steady rewatchers until I abandoned VHS, cemented Bigelow as one of “my” directors. Now, as an adult, I’ll concede it probably is too messy and too sprawling to deserve the adoration I used to give it. But I’d be interested to see what younger, first time viewers make of all this wild wallop.
Peter Sasdy directs Michael Bryant, Jane Asher and Michael Bates in this TV movie horror where a technology firm moves into a haunted country house and begins experimenting with the apparition.
Very Nigel Kneale this. Sinister without being bombastic. Almost as if he knows approaching the irrational rationally lends it more power. Watching the one note characters test the haunting like a technological problem that needs to be decoded, suppressing their natural instinct and the pressure that puts in their sanity is quite powerful. How many times can you hear a bodiless blood curdling scream and not react to it?
The Stone Tape is a Seventies BBC TV production though so the sets are wobbly. It isn’t a million miles above the production standards of a Rent-a-Ghost episode. The acting is variable. Hammy, stilted, capital ‘M’ Manic. But the divergent styles add to the tone. This feels like an intellectually rigorous, psychologically weaponised episode of Dr Who or Quatermass. Only without a familiar paternal loon to hold our hand through the teatime madness. The safety net has been put to bed after the watershed.
The ideas that Kneale churns up in the margins add to the bleak atmosphere. The toxic masculinity of the scientists seems pointed and stifling. Kudos for recognising the computer programming was mainly a female profession until your Bill Gates rumbled onto the scene. The casual racism suggest the erosion of the British dominance in technology and business is being palpably felt. The strange, never seen, homelife of cad executive Michael Bryant lingers creepily. His corporate rival with his strangely coloured hands and celtic background… well… Kneale always seems to have a sore spot about the Irish. It all brews up to something more than the sum of it parts. The Stone Tape might be dated as a shocker but these enigmatic qualities stay with you. Just what exactly is this ancient artefact trying to tell us? Trying to warn us about? As it echoes through time…
Clyde Geronimi, Les Clark, Eric Larson and Wolfgang Reitherman direct Mary Costa, Bill Shirley and Eleanor Audley in this Walt Disney classic fairytale about the princess who pricks her finger and falls into an eternal slumber.
Maleficent – nasty, threatening, sexy. The three fairy godmothers – nearly always onscreen, driving forward the action, obsessed with colour. The backdrops – geometric, experimental, iconic. Briar Rose – a bit lost in the mix, caught sleeping.
Les Mayfield directs Robin Williams, Marcia Gay Harden and Christopher McDonald in this mad scientist invents a super bouncy substance family comedy.
Ted Levine. Clancy Brown. Raymond J Barry. There are so many top villain actors listed in the opening credits it is almost a surprise they all actually play thugs. Williams is subdued. Not nearly enough flubber focus.
Karyn Kusama directs Charlize Theron, Frances McDormand and Marton Csokas in this sci-fi actioner where a rebel super assassin finds herself unravelling a greater conspiracy.
There’s an action set piece where our slinky anti-hero has to outfox some organic security devices in an ornate garden. Like everything here it just runs like a cut-scene. Flat, weightless, stripped bare to the point where it has no life. There is some fascinating production design lost in the background – there’s little glimpses of a future society that might feel genuinely unfathomable. The plot has been gutted in the edit and uncertain reshoots have panel beaten this into something that is both overly complicated and vapid. This feels very indebted to The Matrix / Equilibrium but makes them seem sophisticated and gritty. I’m aware this adaptation is a waste of a much loved anime that preceded the trend. I chanced Aeon Flux belatedly for Theron and she seems dead inside – not an acting choice. There is one memorable bit of business involving a fight over two dimensions… but that is not enough to rehabilitate this stinker’s duff reputation.
Guy Ritchie directs Jason Statham, Holt McCallany and Jeffery Donovan in this heist thriller where a mysterious but highly capable man joins an armored car security division with a secret agenda.
Easily the best thing Ritchie and / or Statham have done in a long old time and criminally didn’t even get a cinema release on their home turf. There’s a lot of cool restraint here but still plenty of bruising action, sweaty swagger and pulp crime posturing. Unlike their mockney back catalogue this feels genuinely dangerous. Has vibes of Killing Them Softly and… whisper it… Revolver. Even if this violent and moody mix puts you off then the Stath’s off-shift collection of chunky knitted cardigans are immaculate. Perfect cast of grizzled testosterone faces to boot. More like this one please.
Juan Carlos Medina directs Olivia Cooke, Bill Nighy and Douglas Booth in this Victorian-era sleuther where an outsider detective tries to find an elusive killer who may be a famous man of his times.
I went to the cinema to see this at the cinema on release, dozed on-and-off through the first act then left for my bed and wrote it off. That was a mistake as there is clearly a lot to appreciate here. Almost too much. This adaptation is as indebted to Alan Moore’s unwieldy From Hell as it is Peter Ackroyd’s source material novel. It shares the haphazard overkill of both works. Media drowning in footnotes and distracting stubs. Olivia Cooke and Douglas Booth are both noteworthy as shady but vulnerable theatre types. If anything their musical hall meets Grand Guignol performances are the juiciest sections. The very bad murder stuff pushes the gore envelope. Who doesn’t want to see a mangled penis at the start of your Christmas stay at Mum and Dad’s house?
Michael Mann directs Daniel Day-Lewis, Madeline Stowe and Wes Studi in this historical romance epic set in 1757 during the French and Indian War.
Rousing adventure. Immersive world building. Hot romance. History lesson. Pretty much the full cup. Mann’s adaptation of James Fenimore Cooper’s Natty Bumpo classic is impeccably crafted. A bouquet of set-pieces that play out like quality, high-end drama. Militia attacks, fort sieges, sniper-assisted runs, terrain tracking, declarations of love, sacrifice. Oof! It plays every button on your keyboard with the exception of comedy. Maybe the only reason Braveheart is the slightly better spin on this recipe is the fact Mel’s epic finds time for a few more laughs.
There are three fantastic performances. Day-Lewis is a given. This might be his least abrasive, most accessible turn. He completely convinces in the dashing about / hand-to-hand combat cliffhangers. Stowe brings a sensual intensity, her chemistry with our hero is tangible in every interaction. This is a romance that needs minimal dialogue to express its power. Wes Studi’s villainous Magua is the deepest character. His taciturn speech and face manages to sell the nuances and emotions of the character in small minor tremors. He is a formidable antagonist but one whose fanaticism and resolve is never undersold or entirely unsympathetic. When Magua is onscreen bad things happen, not unjustifiably.
Period drama feels a little outside of Michael Mann’s wheelhouse. Sure, the men here often live by strict codes and have preternatural abilities but usually when we watch Mann he is urban and on the edge of the future. Strange that his second finest film feels like such an outlier. Dante Spinotti’s cinematography does an excellent job of selling us the past without ever betraying the artificiality of the construct. Trevor Jones and Randy Edelman’s swooning, diddly-dee-ing score might just be one of the finest ever committed to cinema. Wolf Kroeger’s authentic production design is career best work – and that man built the Popeye village! Just perfect, something for everyone, blockbuster cinema.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 