Luis Buñuel directs Catherine Deneuve, Fernando Rey and Franco Nero in this drama about a young girl who becomes the ward of a hypocritical bon vivant, who desires her yet cannot control her.
While no Belle De Jour, I enjoyed this slight tale. The cast impress, especially Fernando Rey’s pathetic yet likeable older libertarian. Deneuve is as mysteriously beautiful as ever as the naïf corrupted. It does feel like a project that slightly loses its grip along the way at times.
Anthony and Joe Russo direct Chris Evans, Robert Downey Jnr and Chris Hemsworth in thiscontinuation of the cliffhanger left by Infinity War and culmination of many of the character arcs set up in the Marvel universe over the last decade.
Again… were my expectations too high for this? After the five star suckerpunch of Thanos completing his gauntlet, was I expecting the same trick to happen twice? Instead we get something bitty and unfocused, three hours of fan service. The opening act is an hour long catch-up with dour survivors. Then once the magic of time travel (it was always going to be time travel) is harnessed we get a bunch of alternate takes through previously enjoyed scenes. Think Back to the Future Part 2 but with a whole 20 release franchise to muck about in. And the muck about produces smiles, laughs and feels. Yet also plays out like a string of end credit Easter Eggs. Moments that seem like neat ideas, off cuts that don’t really fit into the grand narrative but that will make the hardcore bray in recognition. Three characters in a row get to make emotional amends with lost loved ones during the life and death time hop mission. Overkill or over resurrection? Then we get our final apocalyptic Mexican Stand-Off. A brilliant shot of Steve Rogers ready to take on the full assault of Thanos’ legions single handledy, a hamfisted shot to remind us that nearly every Marvel film has featured at least one actress each… some of whom are uncharacteristically entering the fray to make a visual point which nobody really needed clarifying. Battles are fought, lives lost, stories ended. It feels like an adequate finale, it just doesn’t click like its predecessor. Ruffalo’s nerdy Hulk and Evans’ Cap prove their worth, others struggle to make their strands significant. I think I prefer solo adventures to cast of thousands ensembles.
Jacques Audiard directs John C Reilly, Joaquin Phoenix and Jake Gyllenhaal in this revisionist western where two hitman cross America to find a prospector with a lucrative secret.
I’ve read Patrick deWitt’s novel… that felt like it should be adapted into a freewheeling road movie on horseback with killers meeting various eccentrics and slowly embracing new fads and ideas. This adaptation focuses more on the destination. The last act where two pairs of men find a kind of fatal fraternity, the eventual survivors growing from their experience. I guess that’s the more emotionally intelligent take on the source material but I missed the book’s more comical interludes in the mode of The Coen Brothers’ True Grit or O’Brother Where Art Thou. Audiard has brought us a very beautiful film. The opening sequence is a nighttime gun battle, illuminated only by the flashes of bullets igniting from rifles. And we get three of modern cinema’s best actors playing more traditional roles. Gyllenhaal and Phoenix aren’t stretched but get showy moments. Reilly in his usual sadsack demeanour is the man of begrudging action and quiet cunning. He has a career littered with great comedy supports and background schlubs, this rare lead shows what an endearing yet convincingly brutal presence he can be front and centre. I wasn’t overawed by The Sisters Brothers, I possibly had preconceived expectations that weren’t met, yet it has stuck around in the front of my thoughts since seeing it. I want to experience it again. So I’m going to score it just slightly higher than I would have on exiting the cinema.
Tom Harper directs Jessie Buckley, Sophie Okonedo and Julie Walters in this drama about a Glaswegian single mum, just released from prison and looking for a handout to follow her dream of being a country singer.
One of the most selfish, self sabotaging and unlikable lead characters ever to carry a film. Beast and Taboo proved what a great actress Jessie Buckley is but she could not make me care about this obnoxious fuck up.
Neil Marshall directs David Harbour, Sasha Lane and Milla Jovovich in the comic book reboot where a gruff hellspawn raised by a covert squad protects humanity from monsters and demons.
Nowhere near the clusterfuck that its critical reputation would have you believe. There are problems… it is a noticeably cheaper production, there is a lower common denominator target it lazily aims for and Sasha Lane isn’t exactly a performer who blends naturally. Yet I enjoyed it… the creature design was fantastic (especially the Lovecraftian flesh gargantuans unleashed in the third act). There is plenty of action and splatter. Harbour makes a good fist of a role the mighty Ron Perlman owned. Jovovich makes for a well motivated villain – this is probably the best thing she’s done since The Fifth Element. If you can accept that the sublime sheen, grace and heart Guillermo Del Toro brought to his pair of blockbusters aren’t going to be replicated here then there’s gloopy larks to be had. In all honesty, sometimes you really want a bit of unabashed, down and dirty creature baiting rather than prestige arthouse fare in comic book genre clothing.
Yorgos Lanthimos directs Angelika Papoulia, Aris Servetalis and Johnny Vekris in this deadpan arthouse drama about a group who visit mourners, play acting as their lost loved ones.
Fuck! It took Lanthimos a few films to figure things out. Dull, obtuse, brave lead female performance by Papoulia.
S. Craig Zahler directs Mel Gibson, Vince Vaughn and Tory Kittles in this crime actioner where two disgraced cops decide to hijack a heist.
I’ve got your new Pulp Fiction right here, hombre!
Patient, slow burn storytelling? CHECK!
Hard boiled near poetic dialogue? CHECK!
Discarded Hollywood stars recycled brilliantly (and hopefully in a career reviving way)? CHECK!
Giving a jobbing black character just as much spotlight so he almost steals the show? CHECK! (This was always going to be Mad Mel’s party but Tory Kittles impressively holds our attention in his threads)
The shock and excitement when disparate players intersect unexpectedly? CHECK!
The whole narrative put on a time-out so we can focus on a new character who plays out their own mini movie expertly? CHECK!
Killer soundtrack of your new favourite jams you never knew even existed?CHECK!
Bruising, nihilistic bursts of ultra violence? CHECK!
Visual callbacks to classic noirs, heists and blaxploitations? CHECK!
Zahler isn’t a Tarantino clone. He has his own unique languid rhythm, moral code and an exhilarating tactician’s sense of carnage. His use of controversial language feels more politically pointed. His visual touchstones are seemingly Peckinpah and Siegel. His first three films feel like grittier, grainer experiences. I’m on board, I’m sold. These feel like movies made just for me. Dragged Across Concrete is his best yet.
Luis Buñuel directs Paul Frankeur, Laurent Terzieff and Edith Scob in this art house film where two tramping French pilgrims travel through time and reality visiting various discussions and incidents of religious dogma on their way to Spain.
“That would be an ecumenical matter.” A clip show of shit you don’t care about. Most of the skits or quandaries presented go on for an achingly long time after they have made their point. And the point rarely is to be anything more than pretentiously self-satisfied.
John Lee Hancock directs Kevin Costner, Woody Harrelson and Kathy Bates in this Great Depression era true story about the retired Texas Rangers employed to hunt down Bonnie and Clyde.
You pair one of my favourite movie stars with one of my favourite character actors and my expectations are set very high. And for the first hour of character introductions and creakily getting back on the road The Highwaymen satisfies in a low key way. It looks right for its setting and Costner and Harrelson form a natural acting partnership, whether silently mourning their lost youth or snarking with each other over sandwiches on a stakeout. There’s a lovely extended scene where Costner meets Clyde Barrow’s father (played by William Sadler) that just sits in the mix like a ghost from a superior film. Maudlin bonhomie will only take us so far though. Plot-wise we get stuck in a rut. While the demise of the infamous criminals in known to us from classic films past, who knew their downfall was so drawn out and unfocused? There’s no grip to the chase, no pulse quickening once the net closes, no sense of approaching finality until the shoot out… just happens. And then just regret again. Regret does not an entertainment make.