Allan Dwan directs John Wayne, John Agar and Adele Mara in this WWII movie where a tough C.O. leads his troops to victory over the Japanese.
There’s no denying there’s a strange sensation watching a man who dodged the war order and berate real soldiers re-enacting their violent moment in history. That’s right, Duke… you show that actual veteran how to thrust a bayonet! Beyond that overriding, slightly queasy irony this is pretty standard stuff. A scene between Wayne and a prostitute has a wonderful charm to it. No reality to it again but sticks in the memory all the same.
Aki Kaurismäki directs André Wilms, Blondin Miguel and Jean-Pierre Darroussin in this French comedy where an ageing shoeshiner takes in an African boy on the run from port town’s immigration authorities.
What a double bill! From watching the miserable grind of right wing bureaucracy in I, Daniel Blake to this far more cinematic and romantic yet equally powerful affair. Kaurismäki’s approach to emotive injustices is the polar opposite to Loach. Colourful, deadpan, cine-literate, playful, entertaining. The characters might be jokey blanks but they are bastions of the human spirit. Inherently good, just a little shopworn by life. Kaurismäki present people as they’d like to be – good natured, unfussily heroic and rebellious. After a didactic dose of realism from Loach, I was quite happy to embrace this weaponised fantasy. It left me with a massive smile on my face, considering it is populated exclusively by grumps and losers, that’s quite the achievement.
Ken Loach directs Dave Johns, Hayley Squires and Briana Shan in this British drama where a carpenter and a single mother find themselves tangled up in the punitive recent changes to the U.K. benefits system.
I rarely get political online. I’m working class, left leaning and believe that there should be a safety net for everyone’s finances and welfare accessible to those in need. I let my vote do my talking as I often see didactic commentary on every little thing the other party does wrong only deafens those on the fence to the nuance of voting for “the good guys.” This film shows how the welfare system we have paid into has been warped and how the people who need it have been demonised. It shows how communities and charities have picked up some of the slack left when assistance is arranged purposefully to be bureaucratically inaccessible and social housing has been depleted. I realise that like a lot of Loach’s work he hones in on the worst case scenario but isn’t all cinema like that. Goodfellas wouldn’t be a classic if it followed the happily married, straight edge, jobbing hood. Casablanca wouldn’t sing if it followed the 48 hours before – where Rick ordered his weekend stock and Elsa packed her suitcase for the North African shore. Likewise this shows two unfortunates who have less access to family, patience or digital resources to help them keep at a pace with a system designed to trick them out of the benefits they need. Foreign film critics have seen the Kafka-esque world of sanctions, non-compliance and humans in need treated as “clients” as a parable, an amusing satire. It isn’t really though, is it? This is a humanised dramatisation of the bigger holes the Tories have slashed into the safety net so more and more fall through. The government’s endgame is to deter people away from benefits into work but as far as I can see we haven’t had near universal employment since my parents’ childhoods – the jobs just aren’t there in some areas. Johns and especially Squires do affecting work throughout as they try to survive continual denial of their basic need for an income. They are funny yet moments of their plight are truly heartbreaking. At times the eponymous lead’s struggle is overtly heavy handed but Squire’s subplot has veracity, the chilling ring of truth to it.
Marc Meyers directs Alexandra Daddario, Maddie Hasson and Johnny Knoxville in this Eighties-set horror where a group of teens find themselves partying with a killer cult.
Passable but not as smart or as outlandish as it needs to be. Wicked but not evil. It probably owes more to the Scream franchise than it even realises. Daddario is always watchable and a little more badass than her previous roles. Knoxville’s contribution is more a delayed cameo than a game changer. Teens end up covered in corn syrup and improvising weaponry. Achievement unlocked.
Lee Tamahori directs Morgan Freeman, Monica Potter and Michael Wincott in this Alex Cross thriller, where the intuitive cop pursues a genius kidnapper.
So sturdy it actually smooths out all the jagged edges and eye catching grain that makes a thriller pop. Wincott was born to play memorable villains but here he is too efficient and humane to really stand out. The more outlandish later twist is tee’d up reasonably well without hitting a mulligan – you see the logic of the surprise but can’t relish the pleasure of being hoodwinked. It just kinda happens. The chases, shoot outs and stand offs all occur at a clean, crisp clip – never dull but won’t have you or Freeman reaching for the beta blockers. The star himself is class personified as always but he only deploys his full power paternal, seductive magic in the final moments when he convinces a child it is safe to trust him. By then… the credits are desperate to roll. Possibly the most average movie ever made.
John Carpenter directs Kurt Russell, Keith David and Wilford Brimley in this sci-fi body horror mystery where a remote Antarctic research base finds itself infiltrated by an alien who absorbs and replicates its prey indistinguishably.
Ennio Morricone’s doom laden score is beating like a dying heart. A gorgeous huskie races across the unforgiving white. A hair smothered helicopter pilot pours melting ice and blended scotch dregs into his chess game’s harddrive. I’m in now but I wasn’t always. As a teen Carpenter’s finest didn’t get me. A notorious flop on release, this like Blade Runner (they were released on the same weekend) saw its reputation grow once it hit VHS and telly. It is almost easier to see why The Thing failed even though I prefer it. A desolate, often silent then earsplittingly loud and always pessimistic, film that explodes in bursts of nauseous shock and dread inducing fatalism. Like Guinness and whisky, you need to grow your tastebuds into a flick that is essentially beardy, paranoid middle aged men bellowing at each other for 90 minutes. Who is human? Who ain’t? Do the copies even know if they themselves, or which of each other, are alien? It is 12 Angry Men with dynamite and shotguns. Death on the Nile where Poirot prefers kerosene to monologues. Ostensible hero R.J. MacReady ain’t no bastion of good in a white suit; reluctant, self serving and only sometimes one thought smarter than a creature that has survived eons. Listen, I love Kurt Russell in this but I cannot for the life of me think why he wants to burn the entire outpost down in the third act (spectacle aside). The Thing can survive freezing to death, humans can’t… UNLESS!?… The transforming monster FX work are gloopily mind blowing. Rob Bottin, just 22 at the time, uses every animatronic technique in the book and then camouflages them in slathers of Vaseline, skewed lighting and elliptical movement to convince you heads are becoming space spiders and organs are becoming snarling dog foetuses. Case closed for the defence of practical effect over CGI. Your honour, this is the final argument against folks who instantly write off any remake of a beloved genre film too. And having said that, I’m even quite perversely fond of the Mary Elizabeth Winstead prequel / remake. “Yeah, fuck you too!”
François Ozon directs Félix Lefebvre, Benjamin Voisin and Valeria Bruni Tedeschi in this French teen romance where two local lads in a seaside town fall hard for each other… but death is on the horizon.
A more down to earth yet heart pounding Call Me By Your Name. That was quite a calculated visual seduction, this lands the heady ups and downs of summer lovin’ and self discovery bang on. From the off, Ozon lets us know this is going to explore darker places than a September break-up. The second half is more grim, less compelling, but has a nice wood grain to it. Much like that heady rush of instant attraction is punctuated by sad flash forwards to the aftermath, the fallout of the midway tragedy has bursts of flashbacks to their warmer memories together. It isn’t a perfect movie… the lead is a little wet, a little creepy and I’m not sure that’s wholly intentional. But the support cast is uniformly strong with both Voisin and Bruni Tedeschi hitting their marks with aplomb as the confident wild boy and his slightly unhinged mum respectively.
Sofia Coppola directs Rashida Jones, Bill Murray and Marlon Wayans in this comedy where a writer suspects her husband of infidelity and enlists her puckish playboy father to help her uncover the truth.
A slight but consistently pleasurable chunk of lifestyle porn. Murray lights up the screen in his well rationed out scenes, Jones makes for a fine foil to his charming bad behaviour. If only we could all afford to live so classily.
Cory Finley directs Hugh Jackman, Allison Janney and Ray Romano in this true story of a New York multi-million dollar school embezzlement scandal.
Owing more than a passing wave in the school hallways to Election, this is a fine showcase for Hugh Jackman – Thespian, darling. The charming star here gets to do a bit of the old actual acting. There are a dozen scenes of spectacular monologues or hoodwinking double speak that display the talent his action franchises and romcoms never really tapped. We all knew he had the chops, it is just nice now Wolverine has hung up his claws that he can start utilising them. This is a keen, admirably low key, take on a white collar criminal enterprise falling apart; gleefully cataloguing the betrayals and brassnecked naughtiness of the greedy shared office perpetrators. I’d say the film does suffer from sidelining Allison Janney a little too early from the action. Her and Jackman’s platonic and conspiratorial energy is electric in the first act. Yet as (almost) forgivable fraudsters, these Wolves of Write-Offs, prove acidic but compelling company.
François Ozon directs Romain Duris, Anaïs Demoustier and Raphaël Personnaz in this cross dressing romance where a widower begins to find comfort in his dead wife’s clothes, while her best friend discovers that this new emerging personality will fill various voids in her life.
A sexy exploration of gender roles that never descends into obvious farce or trite melodrama. Playful, acted with subtle nuance and explicit nudity, this is a love letter to believing in who you are and embracing change. Undemanding and lovely to watch.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 