Bill Paxton directs himself, Matthew McConaughey and Jeremy Sumpter in this gothic horror where a pair of boys have to decide whether their caring father has become a god sanctioned demon slayer or a lunatic serial killer.

So Bill Paxton died. Brilliant character actor, utterly cool dude and one of those faces that made little 10 year old me realise there was more to movies than the famous name at the top of the poster. He was foul mouthed Hudson, foul mouthed Severen, foul mouthed Jerry Lambert, foul mouthed Simon and loveable family man Bill Henrickson all at once. This movie though fits in with a series of underrated dramatic thrillers he starred in the 90s. It makes a perfect triple bill with the atmospheric One False Move and brilliant A Simple Plan as gripping small town crime stories which showcase a sensitive, unshowy but heartfelt rare lead turn from the cult actor. He is great here as a genuinely likeable man whose mental illness / mission from the angels puts his children in an increasingly violent and precarious pit. His direction is unmannered, yet he plays with dark and shadows better than any visualist I can think of, and all the actors, young and old, are given ample breathing space to shine and convince. Only the framing device and its expected for its time “twist” ending let the side down. When we are stuck exploring the dark upbringing these boys went through and their Dad’s struggle with his extreme faith, we are watching a great fucking movie.

8

James Mangold directs Hugh Jackman, Patrick Stewart and Boyd Holbrook in this third solo adventure for everyone’s favourite X-Man that at last might actually satisfy X-Men fans for the first time. 

Gorily violent, sweary, dour and even with a knowingly unnecessary shot of boobs. Mangold and Jackman have taken full effort to make Wolverine’s ninth and last appearance everything his previous solo adventures were not. There’s no brewing atmosphere suddenly sacrificed for giant robot finales. There is no ensemble of characters based around a toyline rather than a plotline. So, the movie avoids the crippling errors of Origins and “2” almost as deftly as it adds what the fan boys crave (the first 20 minutes featuring nothing much more than a broken Logan driving around as a fancy Uber driver and yet has enough hungover naughty words and crimson chunks to sate even the most bloodthirsty punter.) Does this make for a perfect blockbuster cinematic experience? Well… Logan lacks say the utter carnage of Fury Road, the mindblowing intricacies of The Dark Knight or the classy spectacle of Rogue One, preferring to deliver its adult thrills as pit stops in a rather unfussy road movie. The action is relatively low key (but by no means rote or uninvolving), the touchstones are not IMAX influenced but revisionist Westerns like Shane or Unforgiven… and, as my boy Davey pointed out, the arc entire is accidentally identical to Mel’s recent comeback Blood Father, no bad thing. And while the look and heft of it is all grit, cynicism  and melancholy you still get niggles from the more immature franchise attempts of past inching their way on screen. Sketches from a less hardcore movie appear slightly gratingly behind the frame. X-24, when he appears feels like he belongs in the PG-13 world of the previous movies, as do the “death squad” chasing kids to execute them, only to round them up instead for a good old rescue attempt. Support wise Stewart (old hand!), Dafne Keen (deadly little Wolvie!) and Holbrook (charming villian!) all impress thoroughly. But this is Jackman’s movie. He has been incomparable as the anti-hero of X-Series for the past 17 years, suffering Last Stands and Origins, boosting everything else with his convincing beserker rages, world weary gruffness and old school, hidden romantic masculinity. It is a travesty it has taken this long for us to get the movie that that first shot of him back in 2000 promised. Drinking shots in a cage fight, begrudgingly ruining a man for a dollar. Full circle at last. Now we have it, feature length, I’m going to watch it as much as I can on the biggest screen I can. Logan rocks!

8

Martin Scorsese directs Michelle Pfeiffer, Daniel Day-Lewis and Winona Ryder in this Edith Wharton adaptation of unrequited passions in new New York.

What an absolute treat to watch this on the big screen. One of Scorsese’s most diverting and unique movies, taking his favourite themes of societal responsibility, the formation of New York, the seduction of wealth and the futility in going against the tribe. He enters into a project that has the initial feel of a completely alien genre to him. The first hour sees him working his magic subtly, dialling back all his confident strengths, but the occasional masterful flourish still appears. Flashes of primary colours burn the screen to express stirred up desires, the camera waltzes around a social occasion like a child playing tag between the adults and the overhead shots of elaborate dinner party food being prepared shift from wholesome and delicious looking in the early chapters to sugary and artificial as this world of gossipy dining and prying opera eventually reveal its true nature. Two great female leads; Pfeiffer has never been better as the trapped, worldy yet fragile Countess, Ryder puts in a deceptively layered turn as outwardly naive fiancée Meg. So it all grinds to a noticeable halt in the penultimate act, we awkwardly spend a little too long than is pleasurable watching the lovers silently suffering as they fully realise their imagined happy ending is being edited away by all around them. That doesn’t disclude how powerful and masterful a work this is on the whole from a great director taking long strides out of his comfort zone. Beautiful and affecting, proof that literary period romances do not need to be comforting or staid. Fans of LaLa Land’s controversial ending might see a familiar echo here too.

8

John Lasseter directs Tom Hanks, Tim Allen and Annie Potts in this classic animated adventure about a pair of lost toys who have to team together to return home before moving day. 

As well as the obvious eye-poppingly colourful presentation and groundbreaking technical achievement, Toy Story boasts one of tightest ensemble comedy scripts ever committed to the big screen (it could easily be four great episodes of an Emmy winning sitcom at its midpoint peak) and some of the most intricately orchestrated set pieces outside of any traditional action blockbusters. But really it is the characters that make it fly (or at least fall with style). My favourite will always be Woody. Manufactured plastic body aside, he is human.  Insecure, grumpy, vain, the perfect critique of modern masculinity (the cowboy without a gun) and somehow Tom Hanks’ endearing voice just papers over all these gaping cracks. The star’s easy going vocal presence makes him an old friend by the end of the first scene. I also think Buzz Lightyear is a bit of a dick, but couldn’t justify the statement in court. Movie perfection and would be my Film of the Week any other week.

10

Gore Verbinski directs Dane DeHaan, Mia Goth and Jason Isaacs in this movie mystery puzzle about an executive trying to escape a Swiss spa that no one ever leaves. 

Mixed emotions on this one. At two and a half hours this is frustratingly baggy, but there’s a decent creepy 90 minute long film in here that evokes Fincher, Polanski, Kubrick, Hitchock and Bernard Rose…. but by the eighth time our unlikeable protagonist finds himself back at the spa, chasing his own tail, you want to eat the screen… And yet there are some sharply nasty spikes outside of the endless looping plot. A nerve wracking visit to the local town, a gloopily gruesome revelation long after you’ve given up on the plot and many extreme sexually suggestive moments have a squirming transgressive tension. At its strongest, the movie feel like your are watching a porno version of an old Boris Karloff movie. All those names, all those influences above, maybe A Cure For Wellness works best as a primer, a gateway drug for the better creatives’ work. If young people catch movies late night anymore (do they?), then this distracting failure might inspire kids to explore energetic hack Verbinski’s cribbed influences further. And that’s no real bad thing, he’s at least misappropriating from the very best.

5

Theodore Melfi directs Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer and Kevin Costner in this glossy true tale of black female mathematicians who helped NASA win the space race.

A satisfying crowd pleaser that pleasantly kills an afternoon. Imagine A League of Their Own with a more historically momentous outcome and an inoffensively button pushing racial angle. Despite its admirable cast and some captivating period recreation, the 1960s black experience aspect seems muddled to a honky cynic like me. The African American characters feel like amalgamations of modern concerns (they get their sassy moments, their triumphant moments, their oppressed moments fed to us as we the “right on” audience members require)  rather than flesh and bone citizens of their time. With the exception of the always exceptional Octavia Spencer, their opposing reactions to these wobbly arcs often feel schizophrenic from scene to scene. Taraji P. Henson can go from enraged to enfeebled to dominant to meek depending on what the easiest emotional reaction needed to be elicited happens to be. The character who efficiently flirts with a handsome church goer, furtively deals with a highway patrolman and screams at the head of NASA about a coffeepot feel like three very different people. I don’t put this shakiness down to either complexity (it’s not that kinda movie, it admirably wears its pure heart on its sleeve) or bad acting. There is no strong, sustainable throughline in the writing leaving two of these important yet regular people in history feeling like mere cyphers on the screen. It jars, leaving way too much room for old hand Costner and new star in the making Glen Powell to pretty much steal the film with broader but more consistently nailed down roles. And as fine a feelgood experience as Hidden Figures is, I’m pretty sure the end goal was not to have you leaving thinking just quite how good the white male co-stars were. Clunky manipulation aside, this is classy, fun and charmingly crafted.

6

Miloš Forman directs Jack Nicholson, Louise Fletcher and Brad Dourif in this ensemble drama looking at an opportunist but sane man trying to not conform to the regime of a head nurse in an oppressive mental ward. 

One the most intelligent and sensitive cinematic satires ever produced. Watching Randle P McMurphy’s individuality scrape and chafe against Nurse Ratched’s cruel regime creates laughter, tears and long lasting further thought. Each and every time Jack Nicholson’ lead aggressively battles against the mania, passivity or rules of the ward and its denizen you see him lose his grip on reality and shining bright sense of self a little bit more. It is an epic piece of acting, towering high within a fine ensemble of weirdos and freaks (early appearances from Christopher Lloyd, Danny DeVito, Vincent Schiavelli and, especially, Brad Dourif makes this feel like a flashpoint in modern movie character acting.) Louise Fletcher’s totalitarian head nurse proves more than a test of his mettle in a viciously cold performance. You can feel the ice forming on her constant steely suppression of anyone’s happiness in the ward, none more so than in her eternally painful group therapy sessions. Forman’s grip on this world where everything is a dirty, flavourless off-white and everyone is resigned to their role within it makes for a terrifying stage for a very funny tragedy. He expertly knows when to let everyone explode but then is also quite adept at slowing the pacing right down. Watch his pleasure in stretching awkward moments out with painful reaction shots from the cast at whatever madness is taking place, whether it be psychological or societal.

10

Fritz Kiersch directs Peter Horton, Linda Hamilton and John Franklin in this Stephen King adaptation about a farming community taken over by murderous children. 

A creepy kick off and some fun initial moments with Linda Hamilton disappear in the rear view mirror pretty early. For over an hour the movie finds longer and more elaborately yawn worthy ways to kill time, cutting its short story source to shit. The underground monster finale kicks things up a notch but with a random, guessed-at logic that could easily have been set-up with a bit of bullshit exposition while the protagonists are endlessly wandering around a deserted town.

4

 

Denzel Washington directs himself, Viola Davis and Stephen Henderson in this faithful adaptation of the August Wilson play following a black family in the 1950’s coming up against their own thwarted ambitions and emotional compromises.

A tough one this. There are at least a half a dozen sequences of dialogue and monologue so masterfully acted, painting emotions and unspoken truths so raw, that Fences should really be a five star classic. But more often than not the clumsy attempts to open the play out, plus some of the more lyrical and idiom heavy writing, remind you you are watching a fish be fowl. It does not help that a few characters are out and out walking metaphors rather than flesh and blood humans either. Watching something that works better, would be more involving and takes risks more forgivable in a live theatre environment than on the multiplex screen 8, Wednesday evening showing. (Walkouts galore at my screening… the plebs.) Something that needed to be adapted more to be a good movie rather than a play with a real sky instead of painted backdrop behind it. Still Denzel the actor brings it, when was the last time Denzel brought it? Man on Fire? Training Day? The Hurricane? Viola Davis, who always brings it, is more than a match for him. #OscarSoWon.

6

John Lee Hancock directs Michael Keaton, Laura Dern and John Carroll Lynch in this period biography of the man who franchised McDonalds from one busy takeaway into a global brand. 

Like last week’s Gold this latest colourful adventure in capitalism is an interesting story well told rather than anything special in terms of moviemaking craft or risk. And likewise it is elevated from solid to spectacular by a pitch perfect central performance by a well loved star. The irrepressible Micheal Keaton keeps his foot on the gas so you get caught in the whirlwind of a man who will stop at nothing to be a success. He inhabits the mania of someone who zealously knows what needs to happen to make the idea fly, the intense charm of a seasoned salesman and the cold calculation of a man who can’t share his success, as it needs to be solely his success. And after the strong but subdued comebacks in Birdman or Spotlight, suddenly we have the devil eyed, motormouth warrior that stood out in movies as diverse as Mr Mom, Beetlejuice, Pacific Heights or The Paper back, front and centre. The positive credit Keaton’s entire oeuvre cashes in on here means you cannot help to be conflicted by Ray Kroc’s distasteful blitzkrieg victory in business. You leave troubled about whether you have seen a success story or a tragedy even though Hancock essentially presents his all out war on anyone who may hold the brand back with a warm even-handed, matter of factness. Keaton brings the sweet to wash down all the hidden salt of the true tale. And as milkshake flavours go, a supersize Michael Keaton flavour shake is one you wish was available with every meal.

7