Frank Capra directs James Stewart, Jean Arthur and Claude Rains in this satirical comedy about a naive everyman who finds himself embroiled in senatorial corruption. 

An illustration of white collar duplicity, showing the mechanics of a political machine oiled with greed and lust for advancement with a rat-a-tat wit. Then throwing in good ole Jimmy Stewart, in a star making turn, as the honest wrench that chews up the cogs but almost gets ground up within them. When the villainous capitalists try to break him, they swing at him hard, harsher than we are used to in our less pointed comedies these days. This almost unpalatable mix of sweet and saltiness is trademark Capra – idealist hero framed with hardboiled snarky patter, chubby faced kids surrounding and hounding a man driven to breakdown by the very America the movie celebrates. So wise and constant is the back and forth, so as to give us no quarter of doubt to the modern fairytale’s wish fufilment. There is no room for you disagree with Capra’s worldview. It races along breathlessly then literally ends the moment the filibuster proves successful, the THE END card appears just as the gallery crowds get to their feet to cheer. There is no inch for you to question the happy ending, one that only minutes before looked so bleak and unobtainable. Stewart is delightfully gauche, Arthur thrillingly smart, and Harry Carey gets a million charming reaction shots. His face is a treasure, silently expressing a curious hope that the circus he witnesses unfolding in his Senate halls might end up on the side of the angels. A touch of class.

9

Simon Wincer directs Mickey Rourke, Don Johnson and Chelsea Field in this near-future biker buddy action flick, essentially Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid remade by idiots. 

It says something that this was always sitting on the shelf at both video rental places I frequented as a kid and not once did I ever bother to risk 99p on it. Made at the bitter end of both Eighties stars box office careers, it held zero appeal. Nowadays Johnson is a southern fried delight whenever he crops up in smaller roles and Rourke has had more comeback chances than John Travolta. Time will be kinder to their careers now they both have a couple of classics dotted around the 21st century resumes. This, however, is pap. Johnson even said while promoting it “If your a fan of mindless action. If you don’t have a single brain cell in your head, this is the film for you.” No doubt disgruntled at how rapidly his once hot trajectory was dipping. But it is, at least, a purposely bonehead film, self aware of its cheesiness and low ambitions. The first three action sequences come out of nowhere and serve no real narrative purpose. The baddie (a restrained Tom Sizemore) is a banker who dabbles in dealing a fantasy drug we never see anyone using. The T&A is bunged into the first act so gleefully that it is either there to distract us from the lack of chemistry between Rourke and Johnson… Or it was a contractual obligation to show at least six nipples and three buttcheeks and they wanted to get it done quick in case they forgot. The action is uninspired even when it does serve the dream-like plotting. But there are stepping stones of quirk and quality throughout. There’s a couple of nice running jokes that actually pay off in the finale “My old man told me, before he left this shitty world…”. Chelsea Field crops up as a disposable love interest and she’s great as always. There’s a pretty obvious unconsummated gay love affair between our leathers and Stetson wearing headliners, hidden in plain sight, especially during their loaded dialogue exchanges “I coulda had a family with Jenny Ann… but marriage is for those other guys, you know?” WE KNOW! Both waning stars might be running on empty together but they are never less than watchable even when discordant. And for fans of The Matrix this probably the first movie unofficially set in that world… henchmen in bullet proof black leather dusters, skyscrapers everywhere, Die Hard 5 already out on billboards… DIE HARD 5 ALREADY OUT!!… What hellish dystopia are these two closet butches frolicking around in?!

4

 

My Top Ten Buddy Movies

1.  The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966)
2. Papillon (1973)
3. Toy Story (1995)
4. The Man Who Would Be King (1975)
5. Kill List (2011)
6. 48 Hrs (1982)

7. Lethal Weapon (1987)
8. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)
9. The Last Boy Scout (1992)
10. Fight Club (1999)

Ron Howard directs Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr and John Lennon in this documentary recreating the excitement around The Fab Four’s live performance career.

There’s no revelations here, just glimpses of nice footage. You get a couple of lines from their tour manager, a quote from a roadie, a shot of teenage Sigourney Weaver classily not screaming along with the crowd but enjoying herself anyway, a brutal moment of disappointment for half a stadium when Ringo turns his drums 180 degrees so as not to play in the round. And there is the beautiful moment where all four vote together and decide it will be in their contract not to play segregated venues. If you want The Beatles to make you rich, you have to sell tickets to everyone. Telling though that the strongest bit of footage is the guerilla last performance on the roof of EMI buildings. Why? We hold on it for enough time to appreciate just how brilliant The Beatles were rather than feel them rush past us in the crowd.

6

John Carpenter directs Keith Gordon, John Stockwell and Alexandra Paul in this horror about a possessed vengeful car and the transformation it inspires in its meek new owner. 

It is not gun-for-hire John Carpenter’s fault but you cannot make a car scary. It is an inanimate object. So it can drive itself…wooooooo! So it can trap people in it for Final Destination style accidents… oooooooohhhhh! Look it can repair itself… shiver! Carpenter gives it all a nice metallic sheen. It is a bright, glowing film. Far more interesting as the long winded, scare-free, foul mouthed teen movie of the first hour, then as a Fight Club style transformation story of its nerd lead into brute antagonist in its final forty minutes. The nicest thing you can say is that Christine is a faithful adaption of mid-period King, but if you want true motor madness from your 2 day VHS rental, then check out the relentless paranoia of Spielberg’s Duel or the throw enough shit against the wall cartoonishness of King’s own Maximum Overdrive.

4

Fred Zinnemann directs Audrey Hepburn, Peter Finch, and Edith Evans in this procedural following the indoctrination and the doubts of a medically gifted nun through the interwar years.

A lovely way to spend an Easter Bank Holiday, though epic in length and lacking even a hint of adult content, this proved a satisfying exploration into the external rituals, politics and interior struggles of a young nun. Like Whiplash or Breaking Away we are absorbed into a sub-culture we may not massively relate to but then see the effort and obstacles our heroine must face, and therefore find ourselves absorbed into this alien world. Hepburn puts in a strong turn, her beautiful face standing out among the anonymous rituals, her charisma conveying her resilience to a personality devouring regime. Zinneman’s tale isn’t a scathing attack on a devoted life, more an attempt to reproduce the resolve needed in nuns to be at peace with themselves, the world and their sacrifices. It is presented here as something that even the most determined and faithful would struggle with. The on location middle act in a Congo mission is unique, and Peter Finch gives a dynamic performance as the atheist surgeon who grows to respect his religious head nurse.

6

Hal Ashby directs Peter Sellers, Shirley MacLaine and Melvyn Douglas in this tale of a very simple gardener who has never left his master’s (possibly father’s) house, made homeless after the old man’s death, who then somehow thrives in the high end house of a political power broker. 

An exceedingly gentle, simple, subtle film. It is essentially a screwball comedy with the posh and powerful universally mistaking a (most likely autistic) dim bulb for a font of economic wisdom. Despite Sellers presence, this is almost obtusely not played for laughs. A comedy without jokes, a clown without expression. Instead we are left to ponder the mystery of Chance’s back story, his preternatural success in navigating a world he has only previously witnessed on TV. One scene sees him avoiding the cracks in floor tiles like a first grader while everyone else sings lyrical about his intelligence. Is that how he makes it through life? Or is the final surprise shot of him walking on water the key to his enigmas? The above pictured graffiti is the only time we explicitly see his accidental achievements as a white man matched with any religious connotations. But Being There is a film so poker faced, that both or neither interpretations are valid. It can at concurrent times be a satire on the advantages and privileges of race in a capitalist world while also a fantasy fable. In many ways it is a sweeter less bludgeoning Forrest Gump. Like that contentious favourite, it is an experience I admire, more than love. Yet I cannot help but keep revisiting its open ended puzzles, its austere gorgeousness. Special mention and praise should go to Dianne Schroeder who assembled and edited all the TV footage that entrances and directs Chance through his journey. It is a magnificent collage of imagery and sound.

7

Wes Anderson directs the voices of Bryan Cranston, Greta Gerwig and Koyu Rankin in this animated adventure about an island of dispossessed dogs who help a young Japanese boy find his faithful bodyguard, Spots. 

Beautiful, witty, twee. Predictable, yet no less admirable work from Anderson then. This is an absolute intricate lark, full of spot on cultural appropriation of Japanese cinema. Hardly the most marginalised of cinematic cultures, so let’s not worry too much about the fantastical, and obviously obsessively affectionate, homage. There’s a line that states the leads should help “Because he’s a 12-year-old boy. Dogs love those.” You should love this as its a Wes Anderson flick. Moviegoers love those.

8

William E. Badgley directs Viv Albertine, Palmolive and Tessa Pollitt in this documentary charting the struggles of all girl punk outfit The Slits.

If there is a more intriguing story behind The Slits troubled existence then this isn’t it. Self aggrandising at best, vague about the challenges faced and fractions within the band, more often than not. This ends up a lot of noise with nothing clear to say. The music is solid punk, the era specific footage makes the first half watchable. Once we are stuck with the most obnoxious members cashing in on their name for a reunion though, the second half is a large, hard slog. A good documentary might ask: Why did Island drop them from their label? Where was punk without them? Instead we essentially get an AV wake for a dead member whose positives are talked about in platitudes but rarely evidenced on film.

4

Don Coscarelli directs A. Michael Baldwin, Bill Thornbury and Angus Scrimm in this low budget horror about two orphaned brothers investigating the terrifying going-ons around a shady mortuary. 

I enjoyed this a little more on a second try but it is still cheap and daft, overly ambitious. Better when it is trying to be Z-Movie David Lynch rip off (there’s a dream logic plot and Dadaist interiors) than an action adventure on $100 budget. Did we really need shotgun car chases to space out the spookiness? Not at all scary but with some nicely gloopy images that come out of nowhere.

5

 

Robert Stevenson directs Dame Angela Lansbury, David Tomlinson and Cindy O’Callaghan in this comedy fantasy musical about a trainee witch, some blitz refugee urchins and a posh dreamer. 

Not a patch on Mary Poppins even if the formula is repeated studiously. The songs aren’t as good, although I have a soft spot for Portobello Road. The animated sequence lacks charm. Dick Van Dyke appears to be being played by three cute yet haggered looking kids. Yet it is still also the closest we have ever gotten to the sheer perfection of Mary Poppins. Lansbury and Tomlinson are excellent sports with nice chemistry. The bed travel sequences are trippy. And then the bloody Nazis only go and show up for a wonderous action slapstick finale.

8