William Wyler directs Humphrey Bogart, Frederic March and Martha Scott in this thriller where three escaped convicts hold a family hostage in their suburban home.
The very first yuppie – in – peril movie. Creaky and slow going now, it never fully exploits having it straights in such dangerous proximity to the psychos. An ageing Bogart plays it tough one last time but you have little fear he’ll hurt the women or children. I’m sure this was considered cutting edge in its day.
Quentin Tarantino directs Pam Grier, Robert Foster and Samuel L. Jackson in this Elmore Leonard adaptation where an air stewardess is caught between a life ruining prison sentence and a vicious gun dealer.
A lot of haters complained last year that Once Upon a Time in Hollywood was a movie where nothing happened. Well, here’s QT’s first experiment at that elusive pace. A lazy epic that rewards repeat viewing as you explore the perfection of forgotten stars, pressure-off big names and breakout actors easing themselves into richly written parts. Has Samuel L. Jackson ever been better… he’s one hip devil here? Have the marvellous Grier or Foster ever have such an adoring spotlight shone on them? Did any of us realise De Niro was weighing up cashing in his credibility to focus on a future of comedy vehicles and bagel adverts after playing the wobbly, mumbling Louis Gara? Smaller roles for the brilliant Michael Keaton , Sid Haig and Micheal Bowen! And Bridget Fonda stealing every scene she’s in as a bored kept brat itching to cause drama. So the low stakes, minimal violence crime plotting feels leisurely and indulgent… with acting and writing this good who wouldn’t want to float in the gentle but treacherous ocean for as long as possible? Great soundtrack and one of the best final kisses in all of cinema. An exercise in mature cool.
Ted Post directs James Franciscus, Kim Hunter and Maurice Evans in this sci-fi sequel where the sole survivor of a rescue team searches for Charlton Heston’s Taylor on the future earth ruled by the apes.
Heston look-a-like Franciscus goes through the exact same motions as the original hit. Only the make-up FX is cheaper and the thrill has gone. The final half hour involving psychic cults, nukes, ape stigmata and a subterranean Manhattan nudges this into life eventually. But the quality meter only ever reads average at best.
Werner Herzog directs Brad Dourif, Martin Lo and Capt. Donald Williams in this found footage fantasy documentary where an andromedan alien takes us through an alternative history of human space exploration and environmental destruction.
A new series of films: movies I watch while Natalie is at work that she won’t touch with a barge pole… and she is proven right not to. Incomprehensible drivel.
Regular readers know I enjoy a superhero flick as much as the next multiplex-goer, but the Marvel formula leaves me cold quite often. Here they all are – the best and the overrated.
Michael Curtiz directs Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman and Paul Henreid in this gold standard slice of studio era filmmaking.
Bogie and especially Claude Rains are both utterly wonderful here. You could watch an entire mini-series of just them respectfully bullshitting each other. Everyone talks in double speak but the scripted lies and hidden truths are so poetically phrased it is like witnessing a tongue-twister seduce a lullaby. Bergman is inarguably gorgeous and for a film about cynical people in an exploitative situation it is all heart and romance… she’s just the only one pure enough and therefore not scared to wear hers’ on her sleeve. Classic moment after classic moments cascade into each other. Perpetual perfection. They don’t make them like this anymore… they only made them like this once! “Here’s looking at you, kid!”
Raja Nawathe directs Manoj Kumar, Nanda and Helen in this Bollywood murder mystery where the passengers of a charter flight are abandoned on a desert island with their dark secrets and a hidden killer.
I was often very bored by this but the upbeat musical numbers have a camp pizazz that made up for the continually lazy storytelling.
William Friedkin directs Al Pacino, Paul Sorvino and Karen Allen in the serial killer mystery where a New York City cop goes deep undercover at various Gay rough sex pick-up spots, gradually questioning his own identity.
Al Pacino poses as a Tom Of Finland hunk. A running joke on the Rewatchables podcast, Cruising is a kinda notorious but little seen cult classic. A bête noire even during production – activists picketed the location shoot with disruptive results, gay business owners withdrew their venues from filming and the press gave it a continual kicking. But it does appear the loudest voices weren’t exactly representative of the entire community. A thousand locals of “the scene” took part as extras – and, boy oh boy, are the populous underground club sequences convincing and electric. When anyone walks down into a basement or past a bouncer things go heated and heaving almost instantaneously. You can feel the mixed sweat, breathe in the poppers and get caught up in the sleazy thrust. Even by today’s standards Cruising is a pretty full-on, wholly unique cinematic experience. And modern commentators have suggested it was particularly the mainstream gay community who didn’t like being represented by the more extreme S&M / leather fringes of the nightlife recreated ever so luridly here… but that doesn’t mean these fringes didn’t exist and weren’t difficult to find. Friedkin revels in any imagery or act that would shock or disturb suburban straights without ever crossing a line and showing his box office draw partaking in more than a risky flirtation with it all. The director is drawn to the extremes but in a strange way because of this unflinching obsession the film almost now feels like an affectionate message in a bottle from a lost era. Watching the bears and the twinks of the Carter administration dance and fuck the night away in the meat packing district with tribal wild abandon has lost much of its initial freak show exploitation vibe. Now you just catch a glimpse of a happier, more carefree lifestyle and a generation that AIDS and political prurience sadly killed off pretty soon after. The real strength of Cruising is while you are being taken as a tourist into some pretty exotic territory, Friedkin documents it more convincingly than the awkward half hearted dashes into to the same clubs in Bohemian Rhapsody, or even the superior Pose. Four decades of acceptance and boundary breaking later and representation of homosexual lust rings more awkward and false now than in this horny overlooked genre flick. As a cop thriller, Cruising is a little too loose to be considered on a par with The French Connection but it does manage to pull off a similar coup to Basic Instinct by the end. As a withdrawn, shell shocked Pacino puts the case to rest, we aren’t very sure he has caught the real killer or if there ever was just one lone wolf among all these hedonists. Everyone remains a suspect. Awesome punk soundtrack too.
John McNaughton directs Rae Dawn Chong, Tom Towles and Antonio Fargas in this sci-fi horror where an alien is condemned to Earth as punishment but must regularly steal and wear new heads to stop himself from mutating.
Made in-between Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer and Mag Dog & Glory this sleazy Cannon production has lots of gore and strangeness. Imagine Men In Black but with an 18 certificate. Like every VHS gem, it seems more fascinated in bums and punks than the cops and final girl. The plot prescribes that the cast is inherently interchangeable, our titular parasite swaps personas every twenty minutes or so. Nobody can claim to be the protagonist in a production this busy and distracted. Though a young Mädchen Amick does turn up for an early walk-on part as a shotgun-toting garage band groupie and you kinda wish she was the lead. Nasty and silly, not a classic but satisfyingly typical of its own strange little sub-genre.
