Paul Greengrass directs Anders Danielsen Lie, Jonas Strand Gravli and Jon Øigarden in this recreation of the Utøya massacre and its aftermath for killer, victims and Norwegian politics.

Once the shock and horror of the actual attack is delivered in the first act (viciously explicit yet restrained in it editing and composition for the normally frenetic Greengrass) we are left with a whole lot of worthy handwringing and dull processing. Frustratingly the madman Breivik is the only character afforded any shading or personality. Everyone else comes across as basic stock and clinical in this lifeless extended epilogue.

4

Otto Preminger directs Robert Mitchum, Marilyn Monroe and Tommy Rettig in this western romance where a farmer with a past, his estranged son and a showgirl raft along a dangerous river in chase of the cad who put our hero’s life at risk. 

A bright and incident filled adventure that gets by on the blunt force trauma sexiness of its stellar leads. Preminger is a director whose catalogue is issue fuelled, this feels lighter. A character piece about retribution and forgiveness that finds more room for dynamic entertainment than didacticism.

7

Dan Scanlon directs Billy Crystal, John Goodman and Nathan Fillion in this frat house prequel to the Pixar classic about monsters who scare kids for industrial energy.

Colourful but this lacks the wit, peril and emotion of the original. Disappointing.

4

John Hughes directs Emilio Estevez, Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson in this kids in detention teen classic.

Hughes’ most beloved work can be a little too bluntly emotional and self involved in some sequences yet still shows a rare genuine sensitivity now not really explored in teen movies today. Yes, The Breakfast Club has itself dated in attitudes and look but that is part of its charm. Hughes captured the brutish, immature cool of being a kid… exploring your personality and style and attitude and the other sex. This has to be clumsy and raw and rude and awkward because of it. Teenagers are. No defence is necessary. The dialogues are spectacular battles, full of Wilder-esque wit and Sorkin-esque escalation. They swipe at each other, wound and counter. And in the hard earned moments of reprieve or common ground the heart of the film emerges.  Let’s look at those iconic performances. Judd Nelson must have sold his soul to the devil. One great showcase and nothing of note ever again. That was his cruel bargain, the monumental John Bender was his prize and his price. Paul Gleason is the perfect villian – the Barry Manilow dressed beta male in authority, who only has his reputation and petty punitive power to hold onto. Molly Ringwald has to play the straightman to all the antics but is a strong foil. Emilio Estevez actually gets the most comedy beats as the jock… the easiest stereotype to satire. His never ending lunch bag is a perfect visual gag, for example. Anthony Michael Hall gets to do all the emotional heavy lifting… in a monologue about an elephant lamp. And Ally Sheedy is uncategorically amazing in this. Sexier as the freak enigma than the made-over princess… but fiddlydee. Some of us prefer a basket case, the Eighties kids needed a Cinderella moment that we no longer value.

10

 

Alfred Hitchcock directs Jon Finch, Barry Foster and Barbara Leigh-Hunt in this grisly thriller about a dislikable man framed for a series of necktie murders by his more charming friend. 

One of The Master’s most dismissed later films is in my opinion one of his very best. A grim yet lively chiller that is unconstricted by Hays Code rules or studio morality. Nudity, violence, sex. A frank, unfettered treat then from a director who always took glee in dancing along the unmarked border of good and bad taste. Part of what makes Frenzy work is it has no permanent protagonist. We shift loyalties with a pompous bartender, a leering sexual attacker, a sweet girl and a traditional cop. None really drive the narrative, they just dance into its spotlight have their time to be centre of attention, then relent so the next player can have their turn as our anchor point. If the film has any kind of consistent lead actor it is Seventies London. Hitch captures a city he loves… the bustle of the Covent Garden fruit market, the crowded bars with their optics and salacious gossip, the alleys and park benches, the roadside cafes and hotel receptions. London is always onlooking yet uncaring, a city to get lost in despite the nosy snooping tabloid attitude of its locals. There are a couple dark set pieces that Hitch wouldn’t have been able to commit to celluloid even in his Psycho heyday. A rape / murder (“Luvverly… Luvverly…Luvverly”) where we are trapped intimately between victim and killer. A struggle with a corpse with growing rigor mortis, it gripping onto some tell tale evidence with the clock of discovery ticking. Alfred, dirty old man, deadly prankster, revered auteur finds himself in an new era where he no longer has to draw the line at innuendo and suggestion. He can show boobs and bums and necks being wrung. There’s little finesse to Frenzy but there is lot of freedom being explored. And Barry Foster is a creepy delight as the cheery nutter.

10

 

Damien Chazelle directs Ryan Gosling, Claire Foy and Kyle Chandler in this period recreation of Neil Armstrong’s determination and challenges to become the first man on the moon. 

When you have directed two of the very best films of the past decade there is a certain pressure of expectation. Chazelle can’t really be faulted technically, the production is a classy achievement. Yet for the viewer it is unrelentingly mawkish and distant. The earthside drama is fatalist; housing two very different acting styles… the men (Gosling especially) are internalised frustrations and fears, Foy meanwhile chews scenery as the no-nonsense wife. Add a few more swears and she could be doing a parody of Mark Wahlberg’s abrasive cop in The Departed. Neither the domestic conflicts or the space lab politics chime memorably. Everything seems to be building towards a standout moment that never comes. Stunted and somber … Chazelle has gone for a less-is-more approach but the true adventure of this important chapter in modern history is lost to it. When we get to space I found myself adrift, my attention lost. When I did focus it all felt very accomplished but only the actual moon landing had any heart fluttering grip. An adequate experience from a director who has delivered so much more already, with subject matter that should be an easy score, feels like a fumble. Watch The Right Stuff instead.

6

Jeremy Saulnier directs Jeffrey Wright, Alexander Skarsgård and James Badge Dale in this dour thriller where a wolf expert gets drawn into an Alaskan township’s vicious cycle of violence.

Lacking the vice like grip of Green Room or the emotional punch of Blue Ruin this feels like a bit of stumble for Saulnier. The atmosphere is oozing out of every shot and there is a stand out set piece involving a large calibre gun and some overwhelmed cops. The protagonists are too aimless, the storytelling too languid. It often feels like a chore. A shaggy wolf story, all meandering set up with no final act resolution to justify the long path taken.

5

Drew Goddard directs Cynthia Erivo, Jeff Bridges and Dakota Johnson in this jigsaw puzzle crime thriller set around a stateline straddling hotel with some dark secrets and very dangerous occupants. 

It feels like something that would have been greenlit in the ferocious wake of Pulp Fiction, it plays like a nimble homage to The Hateful Eight, and no doubt it will make an excellent Sixties set double bill with Once Upon a Time in Hollywood once Tarantino finishes that. Yet the film shares the most DNA with Goddard’s own The Cabin in the Woods. That was to horror cinema what this is for crime. A drawn out bottle episode that expands out to transcendental levels. While that was a crazier, more satisfying ride… this still, in its most kinetic and playful sequences, is some unpredictable fun. The stellar cast chime nicely off each other. Bridges cashes in his likeability to sell a shaky part, Erivo catches the attention with her amazing singing voice as the one good egg in a rotten basket, while Hemsworth dances in topless and takes over a third act. Dakota Johnson feels more than a little lost in the shuffle and Jon Hamm seems only to come alive in period pieces set in this era. Gambits, gorgeous sets, plot altering flashbacks, conversations that play like duels and excellent use of music. So Bad Times is uncannily like a forgotten Tarantino movie, Tarantino doesn’t work prolifically enough for that to be any kinda issue.

7

 

Panos Cosmatos directs Nicolas Cage, Andrea Riseborough and Linus Roache in this horror revenge stomper about a lumberjack hunting down the demonic cult who made moves on his wife. 

Every frame is a heavy metal album cover come to life. We get some of the most nightmarishly diabolical monster design since Clive Barker’s Hellraiser heyday. We get a no hold barred Cage performance, forging axes or swigging gallons of vodka in his tighty whities. He is to genre cinema what Olivier was to Shakespeare. We get Cheddar Goblin. Because Cosmatos loves himself some ominous, creepy slow build but he thrills in deflating his tension a burst at just the right moment with a gooey gross out punchline. “It didn’t make any sense. There were bikers, and gnarly psychos, and… CRAZY EVIL!”

9

Rainer Werner-Fassbinder directs  Brigitte Mira, El Hedi Ben Salem and Barbara Valentin in this drama about an ageing German who begins a universally frowned upon romance with a young African immigrant.

Still not fully got my head around Fassbinder as an auteur. His theatrical staging and stilted rhythm stop me from getting lost in his melodramas. Yet he has a non judgmental view of humanity that is rare in cinema. All his population are prone to sin, erratic in their behaviours, fools for love, and brutish in their ability to hurt. This sweet and flawed romance is very endearing, the casual racism it is met with familiar, yet never over the top even when being satirically petulant. With his childish talk and his base urges, Ali isn’t exactly a progressive view of the other. He just wants affection and cous-cous. Is there anything wrong with wanting to feel at home? Even when it means straying from your home? Brilliant seventies colours and frank attitudes win you over. This is easily the best film I’ve seen by the German cokefiend who loved warping “Women’s Pictures”.

9