Roger Donaldson directs Mel Gibson, Anthony Hopkins and Phil Davis in this historical adventure retelling the sea-faring expedition to Tahiti in 1787 that ended in rebellion.
This was scripted and planned to be David Lean’s last project before he died. Donaldson manages to get the sweep and scope correct but the psychology and engagement is just a little too off. The suggestion here is Bligh went a little mad when his men went fuck happy with the natives on the island. Partly out of shaken strict Christian morality, partly out of unspoken homosexual desire for Mel’s tops-off Fletcher Christian. Hopkins does a good job keeping the jealousy and mania just bubbling and rattling the lid, it never over spills. He does risk ham a fair few times though. It isn’t his best work. Then the last act loses its grip on the audience. There should be a good hook in a finale where the mutineers need to find a safe haven before the castaways find civilisation. A race against the clock and the tides. It just never gels. Shame, as if Donaldson engineered this final element to thrill he’d have had a great film on his hands.
Marcel Carné directs Arletty, Jean-Louis Barrault and Pierre Brasseur in this romantic epic where a mime and an actor rise to fame but the criminal beauty they both love pulls far less quixotic men into their world.
Once Upon a Time in Pantomime Paris. This is a big film with aspirations to Victor Hugo and Dickens. It flows wonderfully and both the melodrama and the backstage triumphs captivate. The production of the film was used as a cover for Resistance fighters against the Nazis. The fact that something so timeless and lyrical has such an intriguing backstory only adds to the mystique.
Sergio Leone directs Robert DeNiro, James Woods and Tuesday Weld in this gangster saga where a teen gang turn prohibition bootleggers turn old survivors with regrets.
A long movie of moments. Many of them brilliant, iconic but as many unfinished and puzzling. The gangster epic by way of dream. The framing opium den sequences ruin any chance of us trusting this fractured, jumbled narrative that flows like a half-true confession. Decades forgotten memories re-emerge from a jump cut of a frisbee catch yet we never find out what happens in the now when the past can overwhelm a scene. We peek in at a child in her lace dancing, we peek in at a more desirable past. The glow and invitation of it illuminates our spy hole. Is Noodles looking back into time for a better version of himself? All his actions from the midway point reveal a callous, violent and merciless man. A psychopath who only knows how to take what he wants. Have we been investing all our faith in the wrong protagonist? Have we been following the villain of the piece? What stock can we put into his memories of the “good” he did, the successful scores he masterminded and the friends he loved? We are reliving the fantasies of a man with too much betrayal to forget. He remembers nothing of his teenage years in prison or his new life in Buffalo. Maybe these purposefully ignored, brutalising parts of his life are the undeniable soul of a nasty, untrustworthy criminal? Maybe the sepia soaked good old days of scams and yearning and camaraderie in the Lower East Side are all that is worth reminiscing over?
Martin Scorsese directs Steven Prince, himself and George Memmoli in this documentary where raconteur, music manager and heroin addict Steven Prince turns up to a party, sits on a couch and tells his best anecdotes.
Marty doesn’t want a gun pointed at him at one point. Fair enough. I’m not sure turning the camera on Steven Prince is that healthy for the subject either. Steven Prince played Easy Andy, the gun dealer in Taxi Driver. It is a very impactful and charismatic one scene role. His life is full of stories. And smack. Some of his parroted mumbling gets lost in the weeds… he has told these coke party crowdpleasers of deals gone wrong, bad behaviour and violence erupting so many times he has forgotten some essential lines that connect one incident to the next. He is struggling to stay on the ball. Not quite as good as reputation. Quite sad. There’s one story Pulp Fiction fans will recognise. Tarantino lifted it. But then turned that anecdote into a great scene. That’s what a great filmmaker does.
Richard Kelly directs Dwayne Johnson, Sarah Michelle Gellar and Sean William Scott in this loooong existential near-future thriller spoof where neo-Marxists manipulate a confused action hero, a cop with a twin and a mainstream porn star to topple a fascist clean energy conglomerate.
Donnie Darko was a tenuous attempt to make an emo Back to the Future that infused Lynchian dread with Kurt Vonnegut plotting. The fact that Kelly somehow walked that near impossible tightrope with his debut marked him out as a filmmaker to watch. His indulgent, unruly and self-sabotaging follow-up kinda proved he was lucky to make it across the wire that initial attempt. This time he fell, there was no net and his career hasn’t snapped back into shape since. Though I do kinda like The Box, his third and final film. Southland Tales though is a train wreck. A pile-up. I’ve glared into the near- three hour wreckage of it twice now… both times optimistic. And once you’ve endured the first hour and squeezed some poorly sold intention out of it, there are flashes of genius. That first hour though! 10 minutes of exposition overload… a narrated prologue that seemingly never ends. Then we float around a series of vacant and lifeless characters played by upcoming stars who are playing against type. Types we were only just investing into in 2006. Scott is an underrated actor and sells his puppet cop with minimal fuss, admirably never falling back on his broad comedy persona. The Rock is a bizarre presence – channeling Stan Laurel’s childish nervousness in some scenes and just blankly enduring through reams of conspiracy (there are lots of overlapping factions to keep track of if you can in anyway follow the plot) in most scenes. Sarah Michelle Gellar actually is good camp fun as the gormless porn star turned influencer. This is the one prediction Kelly makes of “the now” that was right… just a shame her adult superstar remains strictly PG for the plot. The fact she is fully clothed and sexless throughout just doesn’t work. Whenever there’s a lip-synced musical number… there are musical numbers… the film jump starts and has our attention. There are nexus points when the random plot strands crossover and it almost feels worthwhile. The finale, though very drawn out, has some trippy imagery and finality to it. It is like panning for gold in a stream no-one has found a nugget in yet! If this is your favourite film you are trying too hard. But if you can’t find anything to love among all the flat, TV movie looking, daffy hubris then you probably don’t love cult cinema. Hard to recommend but difficult to completely write-off.
Mike Nichols directs John Travolta, Emma Thompson and Adrian Lester in this satirical drama based on the Clinton election campaign / scandals where all the names have been changed to protect the obvious.
Doesn’t come to life as a comedy then lurches into hard tragedy at a late point that stretches the patience. Travolta is well cast as the “Bill” caricature but feels under exploited. Kathy Bates is the only player who gives more than she gets in a strangely toothless project – she lands the more barbed jokes and then does all the heavy lifting when things get VERY weighty. A weird, atonal big budget release.
Ron Underwood directs Billy Crystal, Jack Palance and Bruno Kirby in this comedy western where three middle-aged friends go on an adventure holiday so they can get to be cowboys for a fortnight.
Witty, colourful and surprisingly rousing. There are some big and convincing stunt sequences involving the stars and cattle played for thrills as much as laughs. This was a favourite of mine as a kid that lived up to fond memories on rewatch. Crystal (“HELLOOOOO!”) fills even the already funny scenes with relentless bonus patter. The man is a joke machine. His chemistry with Kirby and Daniel Stern is rich. The only negative is everyone gets a bittersweet, moment of self-realisation monologue in the second act… and they do start to feel formulaic once you notice the trend. This mid-level Hollywood release was the fifth most successful film at the 1991 box office and it is still so crowd pleasing and smart thirty years later, you can easily see why!
Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack direct King Kong, Fay Wray and Robert Armstrong in this fantasy adventure where a film crew sail to Skull Island in search of the mysterious giant beast the natives worship and fear.
The first 15 minutes of ropey, hokey dialogue and blunt exposition always trick me. I assume King Kong is going to creak, show its age, unravel like an ancient scroll. Then we get to Skull Island and it is blockbuster heaven. A magical, spectacular and action packed adventure. As entertaining as anything made these recent summers. Sure, you can see how all the special FX are achieved but the lantern show is gamely complex and detailed. It is a rollercoaster of monster fights and dangerous deaths. Fay Wray screams her lungs out… she is quite the sexually frank character… the willowy innocent… one hot meal away from whoring herself out in Manhattan… to scantily clad lure for our furry titan. No wonder the dinosaur stomping, native chewing old romantic can’t wait to make her his. Yes, the iconic ending in New York is still as tragically sad as it is utterly thrilling. The limitations of 1930s filmmaking aside, this still feels a very modern, mature piece of popcorn hokum. Old furry butt has stood the test of time as a top afternoon watch!
Paul Dano directs Carey Mulligan, Ed Oxenbould and Jake Gyllenhaal in this 1960s-set family drama where a teenage boy starts to realise his parents are fallible human beings.
“Boy, boy, boy! Boy!” Confession – I don’t really rate Carey Mulligan. I might have to reassess that opinion. She is a powerhouse here. Shifting personality from Madonna to Whore in her son’s eyes when in reality she’s just surviving. Gyllenhaal is superb as usual as the depressed, unreliable father. His performance reminded me of Brad Pitt in The Tree of Life but this film is far subtler and controlled in its pretensions. Like The Ice Storm, this gets a sense of time, humanity and loss of innocence from the POV of a teenager absolutely correct. Dano is going to be a sensitive director of actors with a nicely restrained visual sense – his use of both colour and long shots are excellent. This is tense, heartbreaking but non-judgemental piece of debut filmmaking. I’m excited to see what he does next. Amanda Ford’s costume design is also spot-on.
Joseph Losey directs Jeanne Moreau, Stanley Baker and Virna Lisi in this Venice-set drama where a young author with inner demons falls for a malicious high class call girl.
Lust becomes a warzone. Jeanne Moreau’s enigmatic and callous siren manipulates, berates and destroys her prey. She slinks about to jazz records like a jigsaw puzzle piece. She appears at Venice landmarks like a phantom. She laughs in your face with animalistic glee as you forsake your last shred of dignity. It is a great physical performance by Jeanne Moreau who looks fabulous. Stanley Baker is a bit of a lunk so you have no real sympathy for him as the brainwashed victim of her sexy bullying. Italy looks damp, ornate and harsh – still very beautiful. Losey’s direction experiments with jump cuts and symbolism. Everything is desolate, and yet even the desolation is gorgeously enthralling. Would make a great double bill with Don’t Look Now.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 