Sarah Gavron directs Bukky Bakray, D’angelou Osei Kissiedu and Kosar Ali in this British teen drama about a young black girl struggling to keep her and her little brother away from care when her mother abandons them.
Surprisingly accurate in how London kids interact and convincingly performed.
Kelly Reichardt directs Michelle Williams, Bruce Greenwood and Rod Rondeaux in this indie western where a group of settlers are led astray by their guide.
A ponderous, slow drama where you have to bring your own values and interests to the muted party. Reichardt gives equal focus to the women facing oblivion – observing them being sidelined from life and death decisions, their continual grind of keeping the basic provisions present while the men dither forward. The acting is theatrical, the tone procedural. In all honesty, it is a difficult film to enjoy, with few traditional pleasures or satisfying resolutions, but admirable in what it quietly achieves.
George Sidney directs Elvis Presley, Ann-Margret and Cesare Danove in this rock ‘n’ roll vehicle where a racing car driver falls for a pool manager.
Pretty inane, poppy and casually sexist. The best moments are when the whole things abandons the ramshackle plot and becomes an indulgent advert for the Nevada tourist board. Ann-Margaret looks fantastic, whether freaking out with her trademark manic shimmy or being objectified, but she clearly gets short shrift by the editing team… the best takes used are the ones where the stiff Elvis doesn’t shit the bed with his acting… often making her line readings seem ill prepared.
3
High Society (1956)
Charles Walters directs Bing Crosby, Grace Kelly and Frank Sinatra in this musical retread of The Philadelphia Story with a lesser cast.
Pluses: Who Wants To Be a Millionaire dazzles and Louis Armstrong has a nice role as the Newport Jazz Festival equivalent of a Greek chorus. That aside this is all an update with very little improvement. You’d much rather watch Hepburn, Grant and Stewart. Too glossy to dismiss, too creaky to be fully seduced by. Celeste Holm does sweet work as Old Blue Eyes’ romantic consolation prize.
6
Meet Me In St Louis (1941)
Vincente Minnelli directs Judy Garland, Margaret O’Brien and Mary Astor in this nostalgic musical looking at the Smith family’s ups-and-downs in the build up to world changing St Louis World Fair.
I’ve seen this before on the big screen but it actually works best cuddled up to the one you love with the radiators on full blast and hot drinks steaming in front of you. Judy Garland, aside from her luminous beauty and incomparable singing talent, represents modernity to me in all her films. The ones I’ve seen anyway. Sometimes, whether by tornado or trolley, the world moves a little too fast for her and we share her breathless wonder and excitement. Other times, usually because of stuffy men or awkward boys, society needs to catch up with her race of emotions and yearning. And in this optimistic flash backwards we get the best evidence of her unique place in Hollywood stardom. Meet Me in St Louis is both colourful lament to a passing of an era, and comforting embrace of a future then realised. The Trolley Song and Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas are standards for good reason. There are sinister moments and enigmatic moments that don’t really belong in a barefaced family entertainment like this. Whether our anachronistic sensibilities over attune to them is for a viewer smarter than me to decide. All I know is that child star Margaret O’Brien’s portrayal of Tootie Smith is one of the most sociopathic performances outside of thrillers and horrors. The poppet is a candy voiced menace.
8
Kiss Me Kate (1955)
George Sidney directs Kathryn Grayson, Howard Keel and Ann Miller in this backstage musical about a troubled production of The Taming of the Shrew where the leads are a warring divorced pair of prima donnas.
One note and one joke, this often grates rather than dazzles. The dancing is wondrous when given room to breathe. Ann Miller sparkles as the brassy and talented support, her hoofing is pretty spectacular. Otherwise the humour and sexual politics of this have very much had their day.
5
Top Hat (1935)
Mark Sandrich directs Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers and Erik Rhodes in this Golden Age musical where a tap dancer’s late night exuberance entangles him with the fashion model who complains about the noise he is making upstairs, complications ensue.
Fred Astaire is a winning screen presence. Kinda like Stan Laurel took a magic potion that made him suave, confident and nimble footed. The innocence and quirky reactions are still there. His and Ginger Rogers chemistry is electric. The script here is witty frippery, standard farce stuff with taut running jokes. Contains Irving Berlin’s classic songs Cheek to Cheek and the title number. All the dance sequences are sublime with antique charm.
Joe Dante directs Zach Galligan, Phoebe Cates and Hoyt Axton in this horror comedy where a teenager is gifted a curious Mogwai as a pet, only when he breaks “the rules” the mischievous offspring mutate into something far more deadly.
“…And that’s how I found out there was no Santa Claus.” When I was a kid I had no idea that not every movie was as disturbed, imaginative, silly, inventive, magical, funny and subversive as Gremlins. It is a real modern day fairy tale. Gizmo, Phoebe Cates and Mushroom the dog are cuteness cubed. Everything else is energetic chaos. Even now we know how every single practical FX was achieved, it still holds up as an absolute riot. The department store finale in particular is small stakes but utterly tight. Anyone could die, it is no hold barred excitement…
George Clooney directs himself, Felicity Jones and Caoilinn Springall in this sci-fi drama where the lone survivor of an apocalypse tries to warn a returning space mission not to enter the Earth’s irradiated atmosphere.
A kinda reverse twist on The Martian… only nowhere near as entertaining. Uses up all its goodwill in a dry, predictable first hour. By the time the obvious twist reveals comes, it has downshifted gear into a ponderous, po-faced redundancy. The talented cast feels muted, they certainly cannot sell the more ludicrous late in the day decision by two crew members. The finale is drudgingly barmy and we have already forgiven a lot of frozen cheese to get there.
Pete Docter and Kemp Powers directs Jamie Foxx, Tina Fey and Graham Norton in this animated comedy about a struggling jazz musician’s soul who has to re-enter his comatose body before he misses his big break.
A really compelling lark. The existential stuff about death, personality and purpose is achieved with a fizzing elan. The body swap comedy that consumes the second half is as silly and pleasurable as any throwaway live action equivalency from the 80s. Heartwarming stuff, probably Pixar’s best since the high watermarks of Up and Toy Story 3.
George C. Wolfe directs Chadwick Boseman, Viola Davis and Colman Domingo in this big screen adaptation of August Wilson’s play about the fractious recording of an early Blues record.
Chadwick Boseman finally lives up to his reputation and inhabits a role, truly brings it to life. That’s as cruel an irony as anything opened up in this play. Viola Davis’ complicated and entertaining Ma Rainey is an equally towering achievement but the real life figure remains an enigma. I’m not sure if it is a case of we do not see enough of her or that Davis and Wilson sensibly don’t want us to get a true fix on her power, morality and vulnerability. Visually, Davis transforms herself almost into a grotesque with seeping sweat and violent make-up. We certainly witness her ruthlessness and selfishness to keep her artistic control in the White Man’s World. But as much as she guards her art and perks, she doesn’t raise her fellow artists up. She doesn’t ever go down to the hellish cell of a rehearsal room nor have to accept the scraps of false opportunity the exploiters throw her way. The dead ends and the exploitation Boseman’s Levee experiences results in senseless violence. Violence neither the celebrity or the white paymaster witnesses or suffers. Expect this to sweep up the main acting categories this Oscar season.
Sophia Takal directs Imogen Poots, Aleyse Shannon and Cary Elwes in the second reboot of the Seventies festive slasher were a college sorority is stalked by a masked killer.
Tone deaf and heavy handed. Tries to insert a whole swathe of modern feminist ideologies in to the unprepared mouths of its very, very annoying avatars. All soundbite, no political content. Meanwhile… us genre fans have a weak tea PG-13 horror movie continually waiting on hold. The only kill in one act feels very much like a reshoot done late in the day and shunted in under studio mandate. This is a real joyless hot mess that fails to achieve anything it sets out to do.
Steven Spielberg directs Henry Thomas, Drew Barrymore and Dee Wallace in this children’s sci-fi fantasy where a suburban family of kids befriend an abandoned alien.
A massive Spielberg fan, I never understood this one’s popularity. In turns maudlin, sinister and boring – the iconic moments are cheesy and the creature SFX unreliable at best. Even I had a rubber toy that looked more like mangled shit than a friendly alien when I was a tot. Spielberg has to try really hard to make a bad film, this is admittedly too well crafted to match Hook. I prefer anarchy, stars and hubris over technique but it is a close race to the bottom. E.T. is saved by some cute child performances and John Williams’ evergreen score which does a lot of the narrative heavy lifting. Imagine how tedious it would all be without his orchestra cadging us along and seducing us.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 