Otto Preminger directs Jean Seberg, Deborah Kerr and David Niven in this teen drama where a spoilt only child schemes to stop her beloved Daddy from remarrying on the French Riviera one horny summer ago.
Lacks the subtle depths of the novella. Everyone is a setting too sunny and well adjusted, though all very watchable. Preminger’s gambit of showing the jaded near future in black and white lends a certain air of style. A pleasant watch… I’m pretty sure this was aiming higher though.
Robert Greenwald directs Olivia Newton-John, Michael Beck and Gene Kelly in this musical where a sexy muse inspires a graphic designer and a retired nightclub owner to open a classy roller disco.
A notorious flop. Sure sure, Xanadu is genuinely batshit mental but it is also pure of heart and never boring to watch. Michael Beck from The Warriors is so out of his element that you hope the Baseball Furies might turn up and put him out of his misery. Gene and Olivia however suit this brand of candy ass nonsense to a tee and add a lot of value. The ELO’s songs are all quite catchy. The neon SFX are well deployed. The big dance numbers are unadulterated and unashamed cheese. If you were 6 years old and off your nut on sugar and e-numbers you might think this is actually the finest work of cinema ever released. Cute.
Martin Scorsese directs Liza Minnelli, Robert DeNiro and Lionel Stander in this revival of the big MGM musical that feels more about an awful relationship that a talented singer begrudgingly has with an utter prick, with occasional song and dance numbers.
Marty makes a movie about toxic masculinity and abuse that just goes on and on and on. Has the cocaine fuelled over confidence that destroyed New American Cinema. Wobbly Scorsese is better than no Scorsese. Some of the fake environments just look stunningly artificial. Liza is pretty special, the famous theme song thumps, this is an obvious influence on La La Land’s structure. Still, an abrasive endurance test whatever and whichever cut you watch.
Tony Scott directs Denzel Washington, Gene Hackman and James Gandolfini in this submarine action drama where two officers violently disagree on whether to launch their nuclear weapons when a transmission is compromised.
Denzel in his most heroic role. Hackman chewing scenery as the pissiest little bitch ever to rise through the ranks of the navy. Tarantino’s really really really obvious script doctoring punch-up scenes. They stand out like sexy big toes. Scott relishing the sweat, claustrophobia and rapid cut scenes of “what would you do?” stand taking. It is 12 Angry Men with live ammo. If you read this blog, I reckon you’d wager I’d eat all this up with a spoon. This feels tailored towards all my tastes… on paper. And I’ve watched the flick a fair few times since racing to see it on opening weekend but it always leaves me a tinsy bit lukewarm. The plot goes around in circles a few dances too many times and you are never sure why certain characters take the unexpected sides they do. It’s just a little too repetitive and messy to reach maximum potential intensity. Yet that doesn’t diminish what an effective Saturday night entertainment Crimson Tide can be once your expectations are tapered. Also: one of the reddest films ever made.
Garry Marshall directs Michelle Pfeiffer, Al Pacino and Nathan Lane in this romantic comedy set around a New York diner where two lonely people work.
Based on a clearly grittier stage play this feels misjudged, softened. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t pass as entertainment. Pfeiffer is far too breathtaking to play dowdy but her acting is strong. Marshall can’t resist his light romcom schtick but to be honest it actually works with the support ensemble. The bruising content never rubs smoothly against the soppy gloss yet I’d watch this a dozen times again before Runaway Bride or New Year’s Day. The messages about recovery from past trauma and renewed trust resonates, rare to see such uncomfortable themes work in this genre.
Stephen Frears directs John Cusack, Anjelica Huston and Annette Bening in this neo-noir based on Jim Thompson’s novel about two con women battling it out for the attentions of a short game hustler.
A video rental years favourite of mine. I probably enjoyed the sharp suits, sharper practices and blocky colour scheme back then as a pre-teen. As I grew older I began to appreciate more and more, away from the sunny location shoot (Los Angeles plays itself wonderfully) and jaunty Carter Burwell score, just how misanthropic and despairing this truly is. The Grifters is one rotten orange. The adaptation is by crime fiction heavyweight Donald E Westlake, and he typed it up with Scorsese in line to direct. Frears keeps things pretty playful, his strength is with actors, delivering an early career best from Bening and spectacular work from Huston. She is otherworldly nasty here, when she shows a vulnerability we know to also be very scared. When I was a kid, I loyally followed Cusack, now he’s the least engrossing performance. As about as awesome as crime cinema can get. I don’t remember a single gunshot.
Mark Mylod directs Anya Taylor-Joy, Nicholas Hoult and Ralph Fiennes in this dark satire where the wealthy visit an exclusive island restaurant only to discover chef has some unusual plans for them.
More “eat the rich”. Imagine the intentional industrial accidents of Willy Wonka’s factory but for people in designer clothing. Technically this is faultless, yet there’s not a lot of surprise or spark. It runs its rail, “tweezered to fuck.” Looking impeccable but cold and unfulfilling. There’s no real exploitation value or grander truth exposed, only occasionally biting enough to raise a laugh. You never get bored of the key cast, Hoult probably understands what the audience crave more than anyone else here does, yet my biggest take home was Anya Taylor-Joy looks even better with her hair down. And that ain’t exactly the most earth-shattering doggy bag to pop in your fridge.
Kevin Lima and Adam Shankman direct Amy Adams , Patrick Dempsey, Susan Sarandon, James Marsden, Idina Menzel and Maya Rudolph in this fantasy musical romcom series where an animated Disney Princess comes to life and hits the streets of New York.
There’s a perfect overhead shot near the start of the original Enchanted. Giselle – stuck in a massive, impractical meringue of a fairy tale wedding dress – is forced down into a Time Square subway by the hustle and bustle of the metropolis, only to re-emerge dishevelled and transported, shell shocked, up into another borough without a noticeable edit. A family movie doesn’t need this level of sweep. But every element of Enchanted is just that setting better than it needs to be. Especially Amy Adams, who hits every song, joke and sexy naïf moment with aplomb. She’s the best fish-out-of-water to lose it in the Big Apple since Mick Dundee. In a strange way this could easily have been the last great blockbuster of the Eighties. It just arrived a couple of decades late. The movie was a deserved sleeper smash and landed her swiftly on the A-List.
15 years is probably far too long to wait to reheat what worked. Though you can completely understand why they have returned to the well for Disenchanted. The overly fussy plot takes 50 minutes to get to the central hook (Giselle makes a bad wish that threatens both worlds, and is slowly turning her into an evil stepmother). There’s only one good song. Amy Adams is lit rather tragically rather than just accepting her natural mature beauty. The jokes aren’t really there. It looks flat, washed out, uninspired. At least Idina gets a tune this time.
Neither film in the series are perfect. The finales feel perfunctory – never fully exploiting their well cast and strongly established villains. You always crave a little more time in the perfectly animated Andalasia (which looks more Don Bluth than Disney Renaissance). Dempsey is a creaky himbo romantic interest. Yet what the first movie had was eager charm, the second one certainly feels more craven. We come to these films to see magic and romance triumph. Not algorithms and contract fulfilments.
Greg Mottola directs Jon Hamm, Lorenza Izzo and Marcia Gay Harden in this detective comedy where undercover reporter I.M. Fletcher tries to track down some stolen masterpieces and the kidnapped Count whose daughter he is fucking.
Mad amount of affection for the Fletch movies and novels. So its fair to say I was going to give this an easy pass on opening night. An “easy pass” is a fair assessment. There are only a few truly funny scenes (thank you, Annie Mumolo) and I missed the sarcastic narration and Harold Faltermeyer score. These are quibbles – this is purposely built to be gently entertaining, more like a pilot for a very attractive Sunday evening TV series. Hamm might bring a different energy than Chevy Chase but he fits the character like a glove. Pretty much every face in the deep cut ensemble has quirky comedy chops. Marcia Gay Harden notably hits her mark every time she mispronounces our anti-hero’s name as “Flesh”. As good as Knives Out in my opinion.
Ruben Östlund directs Harris Dickinson, Charlbi Dean and Woody Harrelson in this dark satire where two influencers on a cruise for the megarich find themselves engulfed in chaos.
Fun if a little obvious at times. The final act contains the best moments. It is a true ensemble piece and the less recognisable players really come into their own as the satire erupts.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 