Jacques Tourneur directs Simone Simon, Tom Conway and Jane Randolph in this classic horror where a man marries a mysterious beauty – scared of sex, violently jealous and possibly able to turn into a panther when threatened.
Birthplace of the jump scare. Horror was changed permanently by the unexpected arrival of that bus. The rest of the film is more atmospheric melodrama than thrill fest… exploring the misogynistic but trendy form of psychoanalysis Hitch was equally obsessed with. It is only in the final twenty minutes the beast is loose and you start to fear for all involved. Yet the stand-out sequences still hold up: the pet shop going wild, the recognition between two fellow Serbian cats, the lonely pavement stalk, the swimming pool menace, the cornering of our unfaithful leads, the staircase finale. For a talky 70 minute film, there are deceptive chunks of creepy set-pieces.
John Landis directs Jeff Goldblum, Michelle Pfeiffer and David Bowie in this romantic crime thriller where an insomniac aerospace engineer picks up a distressed woman and is bounced around L.A. as they try to avoid the growing factions who want to kill her.
It looks like a comedy but has less jokes than The Accused? It feels slick and light but has at least two brutal deaths that would be the centrepiece of a gritty crime thriller? Goldblum and Pfeiffer are a hot pairing, so why are we continually overwhelmed by paranoia whether they are onscreen together or separated? Whatever Landis is trying for here doesn’t work. But it is a hell of a curio for fans of 1980s cinema. And the B.B. King theme music chops.
Olivier Assayas directs Clément Métayer, Lola Créton and Félix Armand in this semi-autobiographical coming-of-age drama following three radical kids who leave their suburban high school bubble after the May ‘68 riots to travel the world, start work, fall in and out of love.
A very handsome movie with a couple of truly cinematic sequences that thoroughly impress. It does jar watching the rich kids with no financial limitations and nepotism to fall back on make bad life choices over politics they will soon abandon. Assayas seems fully aware of this and frames everything with a cynical self-aware detachment. Best to let the handsome imagery of sun dappled bodies, relaxed hedonism and folk prog vibes wash over you rather than care too much about the contradictions of posho brats smashing a system that they continue to benefit from.
Barry Levinson directs Michael Douglas, Demi Moore and Donald Sutherland in this corporate thriller where a middle aged suit’s new female boss sexually assaults him on the week of a proposed merger.
A polished entertainment that feels both a relic of its time (digital technology is very much in its infancy, the attitudes are gratingly misogynistic) and yet accidentally prescient. The noodling around rape, consent, gender and workplace power echoes this past year’s #metoo content like Bombshell, I May Destroy You and, especially, The Morning Show. Of course, whereas those current meditations are very much tales of female victimhood, empowerment, complicity and agency, Disclosure is in its heart of hearts a simple yuppie-in-peril thriller. His career, happy home life and sense of self is threatened by the accusation of rape and the fact that he was the one who was corralled into an unwanted sexually aggressive advance. Telling that Hollywood was more comfortable investing in this exception rather than the rule. Even now, there still haven’t been that many A-List movies about the norm: a predatory male boss who ruins a life and career simply as he has leverage over a female subordinate. Having framed Disclosure’s rather unique position among Hollywood hits… Is it any good? Good but not great. Everyone seems to be doing gun-for-hire work. I doubt Levinson cared much for the material, Ennio Morricone’s score has all the grace of a modem kicking into life and Moore seems happy to fade back into the corner office once she’s looked smoking in and out of some fetching power suits. Douglas is the only actor who brings it. After his masculinity is wounded and his security threatened in the first half, he becomes a pro-active detective, more comfortable turning the tables and figuring out the dodgy foundations of the billion dollar merger this is all obviously a sideshow for. Once he no longer has to pretend to be perturbed that Demi Moore nuzzled his genitals, we warm to his scrambling patsy trying to crack the corporate conspiracy built around him. After all, this was never a film made to be a voice for sexual assault victims in the work place, but a reassurance to straight couples investing in a babysitter and two multiplex tickets that the man of the house can keep his job and seal the deal while navigating the perils of… hot women in the workplace.
The blockbuster saga that all franchises aspire to be and very few exceed. The toys, annuals, games and movie defined my childhood. It nearly all has a special place in my heart… even one of those prequels.
Quentin Tarantino directs Uma Thurman, Lucy Liu and Vivica A Fox in this kung-fu action revenge epic where a left for dead assassin hunts down her former team mates.
“Bill… It’s your ba-…” WARGH-WAHHH revenge theme. TV room combat. The school bus pulls up. The Bride’s name is bleeped out. “Fuck you, bitch. I know he didn’t qualify that shit.” Kaboom cereal. Nikki Bell… Volume 3 in waiting. Michael Parks investigates the carnage. A spitter. Whistling Elle and her drawn-on detailed rain mac. Twisted Nerve theme is an absolute earworm. Split screen dressing to kill, De Palma homage. Daryl Hannah is very unpredictable as the unguarded psycho of the piece. She builds up a lot of affection in very few scenes as the utterly unhinged poisoner in residence… not entirely sure why she is such a likeable presence? Buck likes to fuck. Disgusting communal Vaseline. Death by lip removal. Satisfying door frame interrogation. Elvis shades and the Pussy Wagon acquired. “Wiggle your big toe.” Anime origins. W-H-I-M-P-E-R. O-Ren’s sailor moon revenge. Another bullet through the brain. Big toe wiggling achievement unlocked. Sonny Chiba’s sushi shack = Three stars on Tripadvisor: Average food, terrible service, free language tutorials. Samurai sword porn. “If on your journey, you should encounter God, God will be cut.” O-Ren’s silly little waddle across the table. Fountains of blood. THAT yakuza’s amazing appalled face. “I collect your fucking head.” Red Apple cigarettes poster. Riding around Tokyo, listening to tunes. Yellow and Black leather Game of Death biker suits looks oh-so cool… why aren’t we all just wearing them as standard? House of the Blue Leaves = Five stars on Tripadvisor: Live music, private rooms, no pepperoni pizzas, hot and cold running yakuzas. The 5, 6, 7, 8’s. Spider-Bride. Ridiculous tracking shot. We are already down to a Crazy 83. “You call that begging?” Go Go Yubari swing out sister of death. Go Go gets nailed. The gang’s all here. Trademark eye snatch. Monochrome censorship. Can never spot QT’s alleged cameo in this chaotic sequence?! Johnny Mo’s wirework. Thurman must have trained like a motherfucker for this sheer unprecedented amount of sustained action combat. Her and Zoe Bell’s stunt work is sublime. Baby-faced hanger-on gets samurai sword spanked. The final stand-off is meant to be savoured. Latino Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood. Tension increasing water feature. Japanese winter garden so pretty. I would have dropped the cliffhanger just before O-Ren and the Bride locked swords. Exhausted Bride, we are on your side! Scalp in the snow, brain exposed. “That really was a Hattori Hanzo sword.” The Bride makes her list, like my wife she likes her admin. Are swords acceptable inflight carry-on luggage? Unanswered question: Who owns that other sword on the aisle seat opposite? Teases and revelations. Flash forward to Budd being reasonable… she does deserve her revenge, Budd. Who’s up for part 2 right away??? Thurman’s finest hour – she imbues the Bride with a potent mix of badassness, vulnerability and just a shade of cartoonish goofyness. An icon is born and even if it is 110% purloined homage, it all melds together into the coolest action movie ever.
Thom Fitzgerald directs Jacki Weaver, Lucy Liu and Adrian Grenier in this comedy-drama where a grieving Texan mother inherits her estranged drag queen son’s cabaret bar on the backstreets of San Francisco.
Feels like something made twenty years ago. Gently entertaining and a fine showcase for Weaver who almost never gets the lead role. Nearly every big emotive subplot (drug addiction, abusive partners) is resolved the very next scene after it is established and the drag queens are simplistically presented as adult children who just need love and attention (which is a little insulting)… But you kinda know the film’s heart is in the right place even it often can’t manoeuvre gracefully in the ungainly heels it has put on.
Marcelo Martinessi directs Ana Brun, Margarita Irun and Ana Ivanova in this drama where a passive woman comes out her shell when her domineering long term partner goes to prison for fraud.
Quite a sensual film. Captures the dusty decay of the upper class lifestyles of Paraguayan women and their strange black market that relies on the misfortunes of each other. The cast of exclusively female unknowns all make an impressive fist of performing their underwritten characters into something more memorable.
Maggie Greenwald directs Loretta Gross, Andrew Lee Barrett and Jorja Fox in this Jim Thompson neo-noir adaptation about a bed ridden town gossip who sets in motion murder and betrayal with her rumour spreading.
I stumbled across this because I watched a Maggie Greenwald directed Disney film and was surprised at how indie her back catalogue was before making a tween movie with Lindsay Lohan. This is the antithesis of that. Sleazy, dark and bitter. The almost no name ensemble convince as losers and boozers caught in their own little prisons of guilt and shame. That misanthropic Thompson milieu actually lends itself better to the imperfect compromises of low budget film making. Not earth changing but apt and well made.
Quentin Tarantino directs Uma Thurman, David Carradine and Michael Madsen in this second half of The Bride’s roaring rampage of revenge.
Uma driving film noir style. Wedding hipsters v church folk. “Rufus, he’s the man.” A distant flute. Enter the Bill. Doing his best to be sweet. God, if Tommy Plymptom wasn’t such a schmuck there never would have been a massacre at Two Pines. Record shop for sale! Brotherly advice. Bo Diddley’s voice: “In El Paso Texas, it cost 250 bucks!” Budd’s late for work. Sid Haig cameo. “Fuckin’ with your cash is the only thing you kids seem to understand!” Might start employing the Larry Bishop method to how I manage people. Laying in wait. Rock salt to the titties. Spittin’ tabbaccy in the face = the final indignity. Madsen is the unsung hero of this film. It is his best bit of screen acting and he makes Budd sympathetic and reasonable… yet still a figure to be feared. Is it awful my favourite Viper is the token man? The lonely grave of Paula Schultz. Uma’s adoring face as Bill tells the Bride about religious genocide. No American sass. Pai Mei is a perfect parody. Issac Hayes theme tuned fight. Training montage. Okey dokey, we now know how she can punch through wood with only three inches clearance but how does she burrow up through six feet of compacted soil? Did Pai Mei train her to be a mole too? Glass of water! Elle Driver’s muscle car… woof, and I ain’t even a petrolhead. Unhygienic margaritas for a business brunch. “Melanie Whorehouse?” “Here.”“Beatrix Kiddo?” Gargantuan. Trailer cat fight. Bog wash! Budd’s porno collection gets messed up. He didn’t pawn that sword. “That’s right. I killed your master. And now I’m gonna kill you, with your own sword!” Poisoned fish heads. What do you call a Daryl with no eyes? Thrashing around like Pris in Blade Runner! Those middle three chapters and the very next scene are QT’s finest hour of directing. Because the next scene contains Esteban Vihaio. Charming, brutal retired pimp. (Natalie might ban me from watching this scene in future as she has to put up with weeks of near constant bad Latin Michael Parks impressions in the aftermath.) B.B. playing possum. Bill is a pretty awesome fantasy dad. A goldfish learns about life and death from a sadist. Rare bit of natural child acting. Shogun Assassin is not appropriate Mommy / Daughter reunion watching. The Indisputable Truth. Bill (QT)’s Clark Kent theory. More talking. I’m zoning out. More talking. Nothing has happened for an hour. More talking. I wonder what Esteban is up to? More talking. I mean I’m invested in the characters but I don’t think there are any earth shattering revelations in this therapy session / confession. The five point palm technique. Shit, I almost clocked out and missed it. Bill is killed. Indulgently chatty ending even for Quent that mars a four hour double bill epic. The Bride is so passive and just listens for a quarter of her story. Just no. One mark off! “The lioness has been reunited with her cub, and all is well in the jungle.” Fuck yeah! All the faces! Then the name credits for this chapter. Question mark for Elle… ooh! Never fails to leave with me a massive smile on my face. The first film is perfect but this has the true diamonds dotted around fool’s gold.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 