Saul Bass directs Michael Murphy, Nigel Davenport and Lynne Frederick in this cerebral sci-fi chiller where ants become the dominant species.

If stark imagery is your thing then you may get more out of this than I managed. For the first 15 minutes we hear narrated excerpts of reports over footage of solar flares, ant hives and desert landscapes – it feels like the iconic graphic designer’s only ever movie is going to be some alienating visual tone poem. It never truly settles into a homogeneous rhythm even after this mode is thankfully abandoned and you would struggle to eke out any entertainment from it but the visual horror is often powerful. Close ups of insects ominously swarming and devouring each other alive, scientists unleashing primary coloured pesticides on them plus collateral damage American farmers, while pulsating geometric wounds abound. Like I say this is never a romp and then it ends on a confusing note. The original deleted ending is bootlegged on YouTube and watching it makes the whole slog slightly more worthwhile. We get a revealing Escher / Dali inspired montage of humanity being subjugated then assimilated by our new insect overlords. At least I think that is what happens, it is open to interpretation. Either way the trimmed off finale resembles the stargate sequence in 2001: A Space Odyssey, which proves a telling comparison that at least justifies the aims and intention of this disturbing cold fish of a flick.

4

Jim Clark directs Bambi Woods, Robert Kerman and Christie Ford in this legendary porn film following a group of cheerleaders trying to make some fast cash by doing a variety of odd jobs.

One of those films that everyone has heard of but nobody has seen, I took a punt on this blast from the past. It is cheaply daft to the extreme with all the girls eager and naive while all the men are middle aged creeps who somehow still get their way. To be honest the improvised enthusiasm put into the set ups (carwashing, tennis changing rooms, candle shop threesomes, library spankings) for each sex session gives this a sleazy charm not dissimilar to an American Pie spin off or a Robin Askwith flick… Though some late in the day dialogue revealing that all the female characters are supposedly sixteen and all the girls agreeing not to cross any lines for money but then all eventually doing so really jars with the “innocent” fun. As for the sex itself, it is hardcore but with some very strange emphasis. There are a disturbing amount of shots of tongues flicking and popping out to eternally lick, to the point where you might never want to ever see a tongue again after 90 minutes. Also coyly fleeting shots of nudity but then almost neverending shots of genitals going at it from unappealing angles featuring maximum butt. The finishes are revealing too, as most of the performers’ faces have unguarded flashes of “Well that wasn’t as bad as I though it was going to be” as their individual sequences reach their climaxes. The pleasingly cliched soundtrack, the excessive bad hair and the appealingly natural bodies of the performers (no plastic surgery or diet ravaged hardships for these kids) make this feel a bit less harmful and bit more cheesily accessible than its dead eye, streamlined modern equivalents. If you go into it with an open mind it can be a decent time waster and a pleasurable museum piece though I doubt anyone is going to get the horn from it anymore.

5

S. Craig Zahler directs Kurt Russell, Matthew Fox and Richard Jenkins in this faithful western following a rescue party heading into the wilds.

135 minutes fly by in no time, in this impeccably judged Western. The language, look and tone are spot on even when it lurches in the finale into some of the most shocking body horror I have ever seen in a film, mainstream or independent. The villainous lost tribe of cannibals when revealed are not just brutal in their attacks but scuttle quickly at you and have a distinctly creative look that is part Preadator, part ash covered 9/11 survivors. They are the stuff of your new nightmares. And the White Hats who have to face off against them are a beautifully drawn bunch with Russell, Fox, Patrick Wilson, Lili Simmons and particularly Jenkins getting many affecting moments of light and dark to make you truly care for them. More faithful yet hardcore trips like this down the trail by Zahler would be quite the tonic for the dusty but beloved genre.

8

 

Anthony Waller directs Tom Everett-Scott, Julie Delpy and and Julie Bowen in this belated and dodgily related sequel to the comedy horror masterpiece. 

It was a disappointment in 1997 and time has been even crueller to this misjudged cash-in. The CGI werewolves are dreadful, the cast of Pepsi Max Extreme bozos grating, the humour all over the shop but never finding the aisle that sells Laughs. You feel sorry for Delpy and Everett-Scott as their natural charisma gets lost in the choppy edit. The biggest casualty of this misfire though is Anthony Waller who brings all the impressive camera swoops and gothic mastery from his eye catching debut (Mute Witness – worth tracking down) to this very flat and uncertain retread. His attempt to add some visual vim to the flailing plot and unlikeable characters is a textbook case of a turd being desperately polished.

2

Spike Lee directs himself, Danny Aiello and Ossie Davis in this hyper reality snapshot of life in an impoverished New York City black community on the day leading up to a tragic death. 

We watched this yesterday as prep for our upcoming New York trip, only to read about Bill Nunn’s (Radio Raheem) real life death almost immediately after. Double tragic happenstance as there are other blatantly obvious reasons why this is still achingly timely for Americans. His is one of a plethora of great performance in Lee’s didactic, frantic, colourful, experimental work which jibes at everyone’s own inherent racism by making you pick sides and form bonds (or reject with laugh raising ridicule) with all manner of directionless predjudice, hate and anger in a setting that is both recognisable yet theatrical. A powerful work currently sitting stylistically in that weird limbo where the visuals and risks feel a little dated rather than classical. Still it is funny, engaging and complicatedly honest. Back to the brilliant ensemble; Aiello is the stand out as the white man business owner who does not recognise his own hidden racism as he openly loves the community he profits from until the heat gets too much. An early Samuel L Jackson role is also blisteringly cool. In a decade’s time this will be back on top as many people’s favourite movie about race and city life and just being human. And that’s the triple truth, Ruth!

10

Martin Scorsese directs Leonardo DiCaprio, Daniel Day-Lewis and Cameron Diaz in this sprawling epic and Marty’s longheld dream project set around the tribes of criminals and influencers in early America.

At times brilliant, other times frustratingly simple – much like Cameron’s Titanic; this is a big budget monster that you admire as often as you enjoy, are stunned by when you aren’t being stupefied by it all. The much discussed longer cut has never come to light so you can see great character actors weaving around in the background like glorified extras and entire sequences that feel more like trailers for their own feature length movie rather than complete set pieces as intended. Some lines of dialogue literally fadeaway mid sentence, no doubt in an attempt by Scorsese to brutally edit it down to Miramax’s contracted length. Another Titanic-a-like flaw is Leo has not yet being matured into the fine leading man he eventually became, meaning he is carrying a big fucking movie on narrow, young shoulders. There’s moments where he looks as swamped as we are by the shuddering narrative especially when being blasted off screen by Day-Lewis’ Bill the Butcher; one part Godfather, one part psycho ringmaster, three parts Bobby DeNiro in Cape Fear. Still the opening act feels almost like some horrific fantasy sci-fi, the finale has the sweep and guts to end on a high, while the middle two hours grab away at any issue or genre they can lay their scrabbling hands on. The effect is like channel surfing through some terrifying 1800’s public access TV shows rather than watching a consistent film. If you get lost, the set design and costumes dazzle the eyes with outlandish accuracy. A big rotten buffet of masterful movie making, but you would struggle to call it perfect.

7

Hossein Amini directs Viggo Mortensen, Kirsten Dunst and Oscar Isaac in this 60s set Highsmith adaptation of a trio on the leisurely run in Greece.

A classy little thriller at its best when it just lets the three stars grate against each other rather try to outrun or outfox whomever they are currently mistrusting. It all looks gorgeous but the languid pace and the waste of the usually excellent Dunst, in an ambiguous and oft offscreen role, means it never really pays out on its promised value. There is a wonderful moment where the initially impeccably turned out tourists find themselves wandering the dusty, scrubby countryside, their clothes dirty and sweaty and any vestige of being civilised (Greece, hey?) far behind them. Visual metaphors, no matter how strong, do not a gripping night out make though. At least this prestige adaptation gifts you a new book to give a try now the source material has some beautiful faces and places for your brain to already hook onto.

5

Antoine Fuqua directs Chris Pratt, Denzel Washington and Ethan Hawke in this crowd pleasingly efficient update to the classic blockbuster Western.

Saloons go quiet when a stranger enters. Heroes emerge through the blurry desert haze. Horse riders are silhouettes on a hill top ride. Eyes before gunfights fill the entire screen. The Magnificent Seven has nothing new to add to the Western genre except the enthusiasm to remind you just how endearing it can be if done right. Don’t worry this doesn’t shit on the classic as feared, merely celebrates its strengths and updates the visuals and cast for a current crowd. Fuqua understands gorgeous landscapes, star power, comradery and staring down and standing tall against relentlessly unbeatable odds are what works here. So he mounts it all handsomely with an admirably straight enthusiasm (a career best for the often uninspired action director). Hell, it should really be called The Magnificent 9 if you keep track of how many heroes show true grit in the blistering 40 minute closing battle. And that battle is relentless, in a 12 rating kinda way. Bullet wounds are only shown from a safe distance, blood barely glimpsed but it’s a gripping massacre all the same. Mag 7 2.0’s casting works so well it is genuinely hard to pick a man of the match. Denzel grounds the whole thing with the most genre faithful turn. Chris Pratt has yet to see a script where he doesn’t feel a little 21st century Han Solo impression couldn’t just be perfect (him grinning like a schoolboy as he runs around banging his revolver’s hammer reveals a lovely abandon in the current megastar.) Ethan Hawke mines the most value from the most fully fleshed character but one that is easily the most charming too. And then there’s Vincent D’Onofrio’s strangely captivating turn that might win him an Oscar if the Academy is feeling particularly quirky this year. Saarsgard’s villian is something else too – super creepy and almost as if he is being filmed at a different frame rate in his languid reactions and sleepy threats. That’s a pretty packed roster of eye catching work and I still want to mention that Byung-Hun Lee and Haley Bennett probably haven’t hurt their Hollywood careers either. And Yee-haw, we even get Bernstein’s iconic score at the end to send us off back to reality on a high. I went twice this weekend.

8

Brad Furman directs Bryan Cranston, John Leguizamo and Diane Kruger in this true story of an ageing undercover customs agent who poses as a money launderer to cripple Pablo Escobar.

Possibly the best undercover movie away from the more fantastical stylings of The Departed / Infernal Affairs series. Sure, the true story basis means we hit the standard Serpico, Donnie Brasco, Blow et al beats but Cranston is the far more convincing lead as a man who exists in two jarring lives and the surrounding cast hum with a uniformily sexy premium quality. It is handsomely shot and has the added advantage of ending on a unique if almost surreal set piece rather than the merely cliched standard “mixed emotions about the bad guys arrest” that often ends these affairs on a lull. If you like crime cinema there is enough variation in this to make it a worthy addition to your collection.

7

 

 

Robert Zemeckis directs Theresa Saladana, Nancy Allen and Wendy Jo Sperber in this day in the life of a group of teens trying to see The Beatles in person on the historic date of their Ed Sullivan Show appearance. 

A popping little screwball teen comedy where the energetic direction and mugging (but sincere) performances match the youthful beat of the iconic band this centres around. It shares a shocking amount of its DNA with the later smash Back to the Future… and not just in the talent in front and behind the camera or in the beautiful recreating of a nostalgic moment of teen history that manages to be accessible to a more modern audience. By the end we have a prototype of one of BTTF’s most famous scenes, a generational changing pop performance, characters precariously hanging off structures in lightning storms, automobiles racing against the clock down empty streets and unlikely teen soul mates finding each other. Stand out performances include Sperber as the most gawkily obsessive Beatles fan and Allen as the good girl dragged along, who after the most intimate encounter with barely glimpsed but terribly accented Fab Four realises there is more to life than just being some boy’s fiancée. Yet everyone hits good laughs and sweet moments, no plot threads dangle about long enough to snag the forward propulsion. The soundtrack is unsurprisingly excellent too. A forgotten treat.

7