Steven Zaillian directs John Travolta, Robert Duvall and William H Macy in the true legal tale of a rich personal claims lawyer who takes on the corporations who poisoned a town water supply, eventually using all his acquired wealth to survive the process.

A glossy and effective drama that due to star salaries cost more than most blockbusters did back then and ridiculously more than the settlement the town of bereathed parents were aiming for. Maybe that is endemic of what holds this back from being merely good rather than great. It is a little too narrow sightedly worthy. A little overly po-faced. Travolta plays a scumbag millionaire huckster who sees the light and does the right thing. Maybe there would have been more entertainment value in keeping him a little amoral for a lot longer while he travels along his road to Damascus. Still Duvall is perfect as the corporate opposition who has seen it all before and is amused at watching everyone else around him flounder and scrabble. If the entire cast, and it is a fine cast, shared his casually satirical take on a juicy role we’d have a winner.

6

Michael Cuesta directs Dylan O’Brien, Michael Keaton and Taylor Kitsch in this spy thriller where an old hand turns a self taught terrorism vigilante into an asset for the U.S of A. 

Keaton sleepwalks gnarled. Cuesta reprises his 24 playbook with added gore. Everyone else is on a poor par with the much xeroxed plotline and flaccid shenanigans.

3

 

Francis Lee directs Josh O’Connor, Alec Secareanu and Ian Hart in this drama about a Yorkshire farmer who starts a sexual romance with the immigrant worker his family have taken on for a week. 

I’m going to admit I felt a little duped by the strong reviews 45 minutes into God’s Own Country. I’d seen beautiful if grim landscapes, some aggressive rough trade, a few lingering shots of big cocks and chunky knit cardies. I had been sold on an insightful drama not some broadsheet friendly rural erotica. We get there in the end though. The pressures of the economics of a failing farm, family struggles and O’Connor’s leads crippling immaturity and selfishness create enough final act disruption to keep you engaged in the faltering romance.

6

 

Todd Solondz directs Greta Gerwig, Danny DeVito and Ellen Burstyn in this anthology of misanthropic interactions linked by the owners of a dachshund.

Nasty little acts of cruelty from Solondz containing none of the long forgotten mordant wit of Happiness or two decades old effective shocks of Welcome to the Dollhouse (Gerwig’s segment acts as a mini sequel to that debut feature elevating it slightly). Like life, cruel and pointless, but with an oft ignored cute dog lingering at the bottom of the frame.

3

Steven Spielberg directs Tom Cruise, Dakota Fanning and Tim Robbins in this 9/11 inflected remake of the classic HG Wells sci-fi invasion story. 

Along with A.I., this is one of the best late period Spielberg blockbusters – albeit equally as divisive. It is that ending again, isn’t it? Spielberg, ever since Jurassic Park, has had real trouble dismounting. There either are indulgent, multiple codas or conclusions that shift too abruptly to happy and then credits. Here the doomed teenage son returning home is what jars with people. I don’t have any really issues with a film so unrelentingly bleak having a few rays of unexpected sunshine at its end. Bleak? Yep,  this is one of the darkest mainstream tentpoles ever released. A movie that consistently visually evokes the footage of the World Trade Centre’s destruction and anguished chaotic aftermath. A movie that then turns Tom Cruise into a clamouring refugee, then a cold blooded killer, then a suicide bomber. A movie that is clearly made from wholemeal rather than chaff. The fact that it includes utterly gripping action sequences (that initial attack, that movie magic seamless one-shot race along the highway, the ferry disaster) plus a convincing character arc for Cruise means it succeeds as a thrill ride and star vehicle as well as a topical metaphor on intervention, revenge and occupation. The second half shifts away from chilling allegory to expressionist fantasy; fields of red weed and basements of shadows. This is the most surreal we have seen Steven Spielrock go. And that closing shot of Cruise – the irresponsible, absent Dad who finally came through – left outside the family home, evokes The Searchers, another rousing classic on the futility of revenge. Maybe Spielberg isn’t so awful at endings after all?

9

Steven Spielberg directs Richard Dreyfuss, Francois Truffaut and Melinda Dillon in this sci-fi epic about people making regular contact with aliens and the government attempts to contain that. 

As a massive Spielberg fan, I do suffer from the fact that some of his most highly regarded blockbusters do less for me than their towering reputations suggest. I feel he has made only one truly great alien themed blockbuster and it is controversially neither E.T. nor this. Both his hippy dippier entertainments are too bogged down in their domestic perspective wonder, plodding running times and lightshows at tremendous scale finales. Give me the Cruiser dashing through the dust of death ray obliterated humans any day of the week. CEot3K bored me as a kid, then improved for me as an adult. The visitation sequences are brilliantly tense and sustained if too sparse. The obsessive, home wrecking mania of those effected by their experiences is strongly evoked by Spielberg’s patient direction and Dreyfuss and Dillon’s low key, convincing acting. And the conspiracy itself is imbued with that neat visual shorthand storytelling you expect from the wunderkind auteur. But it never coalesces into anything that satisfies me. On this big screen viewing, I found myself drifting away, noticing how horribly ropey the alien effect work was (and I can normally forgive all manner of practical FX sins as they have been practically attempted), remembering how much more captivating and awe inspiring later, similar films like Starman or Contact are. I keep wavering on Close Encounters, it is a movie I cannot get a fix on. This viewing left me cold, next time… who knows?

6

Clint Eastwood directs himself, Sondra Locke and Pat Hingle in this comic book actioner where a drunk cop has to take annoying witness across state with the Mob and the cops opening fire at every opportunity.

A movie that could never live up to its poster. You can tell the script was originally touted for a more exciting star pairing, and that Clint (coasting on screen) begrudgingly picked it up so he could gift Locke (whiny as ever) another headline role (plus himself a few more months sharing trailers together). The action is endless barrages of cops shooting at buildings and vehicles rather than the targets within, until the structures are peppered into oblivion and we move on. The romantic banter is Locke squawking and Clint grimacing until you too are peppered into oblivion. A bit more ambition and a flintier female lead and this could have been a contender.

4

Roy Ward Baker directs Peter Cushing, Britt Ekland and Charlotte Rampling in this Amicus horror where we explore the backstories of various patients of a mental institution.

An anthology of twisty chillers that now have period charm. The first tale of a dismembered body escaping the freezer is the only horrific segment, while Peter Cushing’s devilish tailored suit the most creepy, Ekland and Rampling’s muderous sexy pairing the best acted and Herbert Lom turning himself in to a killer toy proves the campest and daftest. Worth it for the cult cast and dated look, but don’t come for gory thrills.

7

Lawrence Kasdan directs Kathleen Turner, William Hurt and Ted Danson in this neo-noir erotic thriller where an incompetent lawyer starts an affair with a manipulative trophy wife. 

For sexiness and sultry-ness Body Heat cannot be beat. You feel the constantly visible steam from the screen scald your face in every scene. Turner’s conniving knockout makes everyone sweat. She does smart and wounded and aloof just as well as she seduces. Just like Kasdan is deftly modernising all the tired 40s noir tropes, Kathleen is vamping fearlessly through all the nearly forgotten femme fatale moves – Gilda but where the white dresses cling tighter, and come off easier. It is an iconic performance, one that retains all its playful mystery even when she is buck naked. Hurt is a shlubby foil, you don’t care enough about his mark. This hampers the film. But hidden away in the cracks of the roll call are neat experiments in casting. Both Danson and Mickey Rourke make early impressions as a tap dancing D.A. and friendly arsonist respectively.

7

Steven Soderbergh directs George Clooney, Jennifer Lopez and Ving Rhames in this classy Elmore Leonard adaptation about an escaped expert bank robber and a Federal Marshall who fall for each other in spite of being on opposing sides of their manhunt. 

A masterful exercise in sexiness and cool, this is like a movie that has been made personally for me. I have always loved it and am surprised more do not admire it. Everything chimes so perfectly. Scott Frank adapts Leonard’s ear for confident, crisp back-and-forth dialogue and the view that even the best criminals are making it up as they go along with a religious fervour. He gifts us with one of the most snappy and poetic movie scripts since the age of Kate Hepburn and Rosalind Russell. Soderbergh embraces his first mainstream studio project with an enthusiasm to recreate the forgotten visual tricks of Seventies greats like Richard Lester, John Schlesinger or Nic Roeg. This measured homage results in a gorgeous film defined by its daring use of primary colourful, timeslip editing, ethereal reflections and shimmering light. And if you have peak Clooney and J-Lo as your leads you want to make sure the whole thing looks as good as them. Their chemistry is fantastic; Clooney exploring his maturity and ability to be a goof, Lopez frankly never better, never even close to being as convincing in a film as she is as badass hottie Karen Cisco. All the casting is spot on. Dennis Farina dominates his few scenes as the relaxed alpha Daddy to his very capable daughter, amused at how she deals with sexist colleagues who aren’t half the law enforcer she is. Steve Zahn is sweet as the little fish swimming in dangerous waters, more than comic relief in a roll call where everyone lands laughs. And, in an inspired move Michael Keaton reprises his out of rhythm agent from Tarantino’s slightly weaker Leonard attempt, Jackie Brown. Sure, it is merely a fun, winking cameo but it somehow works a treat to see Ray Nicolette turn up in a completely unrelated film. The soundtrack, whether it is David Holmes’ knowingly slow humping score or the liberal use of Isley Brothers bangers, is superb. As for the crime stuff, well it is pretty tight. The best set-piece is our opening scene, where Clooney’s Jack Foley robs a bank with nothing but an opened briefcase and a whole lot of weathered charm. Perfection.

10