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.
Michael Winner directs Charles Bronson, Vincent Gardenia and Hope Lange in this crime thriller where a mild mannered liberal turns lethal vigilante when his wife is killed and his daughter raped by home invaders.
Low expectations given Bronson is one of my least favourite stars and Winner became an awful director. This is pretty effective. The threat of street chaos is continually creepy and sleazy. Bronson’s descent into violence is handled with patience and intelligence. There are even flourishes of nightmarish magical realism. Wintery Manhattan lends itself to a dark fantasy vibe. The bare trees over Central Park tower over the innocents like a Grimm fairytale forest, blizzards delete funeral scenes, extras reappear in later scenes like foreboding echoes from the past. Standard stuff as exploitation trying to be something artier in its best moments. Effective score by Herbie Hancock.
Aaron Schneider directs Tom Hanks, Stephen Graham and Rob Morgan in this WWII naval thriller where a US Navy commander must protect a convoy of cargo ships from a U-Boat onslaught.
Gripping, fast paced and crisply told. Another fine showcase for Hanks’ reluctant hero side hustle, pushing aside self doubt and facing imminent disaster one hurried co-ordinate decision at a time. For 80 minutes I was completely in this thriller’s thrall. Imagine it on the big screen?
John Landis directs Steve Martin, Chevy Chase and Martin Short in this spoof Western where three fey and cowardly movie stars are accidentally hired by a village who need protection from a gang of bandits.
The joke that motors Three Amigos is there are very few jokes. Silliness? Yes. Over-enthusiasm? Yes. Musical numbers? You betcha! But killer punchlines? Rarely. Show it to a child or a Martian who has no idea it stars two of its generations biggest Hollywood names (and Martin Short) and they may think it is a completely unfeigned adventure movie. Yet the unbridled glee on this trio of schmucks’ goofy faces as they circle killers and serenade brawlers utterly unaware is hilarious. Three Amigos is a masterpiece of crazy eyed sincerity.
Alfred Hitchcock directs Ingrid Bergman, Cary Grant and Claude Rains in this spy thriller where the secret service pressgangs a Nazi traitor’s beautiful daughter into being a honeytrap for a nuclear scientist in Brazil.
One of the very best romantic thrillers because the beautiful lead is always at risk… growing more vulnerable and trapped as scenes progress. Bergman is wonderful here as the good time girl in a bad situation. Grant makes for a handsome Hitchcock substitute as the conflicted handler. He stoically loves his amateur agent but his duty dictates he keeps her in harms way, in increasingly perilous positions. And Claude Raines is the Sam Rockwell of the Golden Age of Hollywood, no matter whether he sides with the devils or the angels, he improves a movie immensely with his mere presence. Hitch pulls off a lot of bravura visual tricks to seduce and thrill us but it is the brevity and flow of the storytelling that impresses the most. A cynical delight.
Michael Gottlieb directs Andrew McCarthy, Kim Cattrall and James Spader in this fantasy romantic comedy where a loser falls for an immortal shop window dummy who comes to life when nobody else is watching.
Lowest common denominator stuff. Andrew McCarthy is a dreadful lead. The screeching, mugging comedy elements are overacted with a bluntness that would make a kid’s TV show blush. There are Police Academy sequels with more nuance. Having said that Cattrall is sweetly committed, the pop rock soundtrack crackles and visually there is some pretty memorable Eighties cheese on display. Boy… oh… boy… That guy really wants to fuck that mannequin!
Federico Fellini directs Giulietta Masina, Sandra Milo and Mario Pisu in this arthouse horror where a wife begins to suspect her husband is cheating so contacts parasitic psychics, witches and spiritualists to determine her next step.
Some striking imagery rationed between endless scenes of grating cynicism. Not for me.
Gary Ross directs Tobey Maguire, Joan Allen and Reese Witherspoon in this teen fantasy where two jaded teens are sucked into a 1950s conservative, picket fence black and white telly soap.
A very difficult film to dislike or be underwhelmed by. The Nineties teens very quickly corrupt the out-of-time world they are trapped in with their sexuality, self awareness and non-conformity. As the innocent TV show characters wake up to a wider realm of experiences beyond the limited scope of Pleasantville they begin to introduce Technicolor into their monochrome world. The FX to achieve this are impressive – what starts as an incongruous prop or costume turning bright red or green eventually becomes a porous division. Before The Phantom Menace this film had the record for the highest number of visual effects ever! Half the town embracing modernity and freedom and emotion turn vivid, the conservative and reactionary factions stay black and white in their hues and their views. Allegory dominates the final half of the movie. Allowing strong acting work from Jeff Daniels and Joan Allen as the awakened avatars in a threatened community. For a teen movie, Pleasantville is a very rich text to unpack. Having said that… it isn’t perfect as an entertainment. Unlike teen fantasies like Bill & Ted or Back to the Future, the heroes have very little agency or drive. They arrive, they disrupt and then one leaves with little personal risk or stakes. Reese Witherspoon in particular seems like an after thought in the second half. Pleasantville is a very clever big screen metaphor but only a very admirable youth adventure.
Henry Levin directs James Mason, Pat Boone and Arlene Dahl in this adventure movie where an expedition of scientists travel through secret tunnels deep beyond the planet’s surface.
The least creaky, swiftest moving of these antique blockbusters. Chunky, blocky movie magic and a plot that piles on wonder and threats helps. Some lovely location work of old Edinburgh seals the deal.
