Tony Bill directs Marisa Tomei, Christian Slater and Rosie Perez in this romantic melodrama where a hard working waitress falls for the near-silent, possibly mentally ill, kitchen porter at her diner.
He thinks he has a baboon’s heart. He’s too dreamy for this world. He’ll stop the bad men from raping you, then break into your bedroom. The leads elevate this wodge of gritty fluff. It is wildly imbalanced – not sure if it wants to be a streetwise Mystic Pizza… or Love Story meets Awakenings. So star power drags it through kicking and screaming. Tomei (gorgeous) and Perez have a winning dynamic. Slater is also cast for his looks. And while it is hard not to swoon towards his renaissance man retard you do wonder why cast such a charismatic motormouth in a near dialogue free role. Wintery. Of its time. Still kinda cool. Sleepover VHS rental choice of the week.
Dev Patel directs himself, Sharlto Copley and Pitobash Tripathy in this Indian set action fantasy where a vengeance filled underdog works his way up a ladder of insidious corruption and kicks ass.
Blood soaked and almost permanently set on intense tight close ups. Should be right up my alley. A bit too repetitive by the bruising third act. The bare knuckle tournament subplot seems to have little to do with the main thrust.
Ken Loach directs Dave Turner, Ebla Mari and Claire Rodgerson in this British drama where a pub owner allows the new Syrian refugees in his area to use his failing business as a community space.
With Loach now retired, has this brand of socially informed cinema had its day? The Old Oak rarely feels made for the people affected by the issues it churns up. The push and pull of sentimentality and dystopia feels manipulative and didactic. The community theatre acting is woeful in the smaller roles… frequently dragging you out of the thin narrative. My heart is with the movie but my head feels divorced from it. Even the ultimate message that good deeds are ephemeral yet they might at least produce small (rare) echoes of decency in the futures of individuals is quite pessimistic. But also pragmatic…?
The superior remake. Brooke Adams’ weird erratic eye trick that proves she’s human. The drenching of alienation that Kaufman soaks both San Francisco and marriage in. The sly cameo of Kevin McCarthy, the original hero, massive jump scare as Easter Egg as bridging moment between the two flicks. One is a clone but an evolution – taut, fraught and full of dwindling human emotions. Veronica Cartwright is horror’s unsung character actor of note, she’s the most believably frantic performance here. Goldblum, Nimoy and Sutherland add star value, cult value. Hopeless desperation. One flinch will make them out you with an ear piercing scream, one sleep will see you lose yourself, one wrong foot and they swarm you en masse. The only way to survive is to give up on what makes you you. The sci-fi horror masterpiece. Cold terror.
Zack Snyder directs Sofia Boutella, Djimon Hounsou and Ed Skrein in this direct follow-up to his sci-fi epic where the warriors defend a village on the farm planet Veldt.
There’s something quite cunty about following up something so expansive and visually unrestrained with a two hour war movie set within one dusty cubed mile. The days of galaxy hopping team assembling over strange new worlds is over. This is a curiously inert homage to Seven Samurai and Witness that just kinda happens in front of you with minimal excitement.
McG directs Drew Barrymore, Cameron Diaz and Lucy Liu in this sequel to the big screen reboot to the fluff TV show about three hot female private investigators.
A museum artefact. Not in any definable way a “good” film but very of its time. Incoherent, struggles to land a joke. Yet there’s a goofy charm to a movie essentially made up of 3 million dress up trailer shots. Money has never so extravagantly wasted on your and their good time.
Alex Garland directs Kirsten Dunst, Wagner Moura and Cailee Spaeney in this dystopian thriller following a jeep full of journalists through the battle zones of a modern alt USofA at war with itself.
Wow! We are seeing. We are seeing violence. We are seeing what is happening in a world where truth is no longer trusted. We are seeing a “what if” America unimaginable 15 years ago yet now seems a little too on-the-nose. We are seeing what other parts of the world suffer in a landscape and population familiar. We are seeing the people who feel they need to put themselves right into that violence to protect the truth. We are seeing the effect being within that violence has on them. We are seeing their doubts that capturing that violence as an indelible image does anything but perpetuate it. The rookie photographer’s photos are in that old fashioned, peak visual integrity, black and white. Her monochrome freeze frames of the chaos all uniformly have another of our journalists within them. Her story is Garland’s story. Why choose to be in the war zone if nobody cares for perspective anymore?
Civil War is a deep, complicated film with no straight answers. It is also… more notably… an A-Grade exploitation thrill ride. A parallel universe sci-fi a la The Purge or Punishment Park but with prestige trappings and broadsheet prescience. A war movie that takes modern warfare and rebottles the gore, tactics and tragedy into a country that felt untouchable until the time of Trump and Antifa. Apocalypse Now for the new generation. We are on a road trip of burnt out malls, snipers on the Dairy Queen and gunships through the capitol. Given the mid-range budget this out marvels the modern CGI fest with its clarity and intent. Anything can happen. Exciting, isn’t it? The closest release it feels akin to in terms of achievement is Edwards’ The Creator.
So many meaty quality elements. The discordant jukebox soundtrack featuring choice deep cuts from Silver Apples, De La Soul and Suicide. The clean look of it. No obvious FX joins. The aftermath strewn with graffiti and paintball wound spatters of bright colour. Dunst adding class and her top game. Part Lee Miller, part Margo Channing. Her hubby’s already iconic creepy as fuck one scene, one man death squad cameo. The fact that Garland’s last ever directorial effort (really?!) immerses you in an experience that is totally overwhelming, literate and inspiring. The multiplex doesn’t get much better than this!
Tony Richardson directs Rita Tushingham, Dora Bryan and Murray Melvin in this British kitchen sink drama where a schoolgirl escapes the smothering influence of her wayward single mother with a black British sailor and, later, her new gay friend.
Saw the original stage version of this a few years back which I enjoyed. Hard to believe something as sharp and emotionally intelligent as A Taste Of Honey was written by a seventeen year old working class kid back then, and somehow found backing and stood the test of time. Well done, Shelagh Delaney, well done. The arguably more famous Woodfall screen adaptation is very cinematic. Adding wonderful visual on -location moments to the intense relationships and hopeless dynamics.
Richard Linklater directs himself, Louis Black and Kim Krizan in this true shoestring budget American indie where we follow the outsider population of Austin as they meet in the streets and coffee houses sharing ideas and theories in a domino rally of interactions.
Slacker is a very specific time capsule. Generation X. The coolest city in Texas. The wage slave artists and weirdos who dug conspiracy theories and formal experimentation pre-The Internet. Linklater self funded the trivial $23000 budget before kickstarter was a thing and Sundance had yet to break a movie like this… Or Reservoir Dogs, Clerks or even the star laden Sex, Lies And Videotape. The structure is inspired. Find the quirkiest and most compelling figures on the Austin scene. Audition them to do their thing or perform monologues written by Linklater. Then stitch together these diatribes, hook ups and larks on the street. Each conversation or encounter linking like a relay race of ideas. The movie isn’t beholden to one performance or a single human’s availability. The tone is variable. There’s a restrained horniness to nearly all the female / male meet-ups. There’s a freak show dark comedy to the more obsessed street preachers and alt history nuts. Nearly everyone is within their own little bubble – some with no great dramas, others in a moment of genuine tragic emotional jeopardy. Everyday, but unusual. Erudite and literate. Casual yet desperate. Lonely yet part of a community. Slacker can be very light, very inspiring and if you don’t care about one section you kinda know the next encounter around the corner will be something completely different. Which makes it all gravy. The sidewalks of Austin can be a scary place but the scruffy dreamers we meet over this random day acknowledge the nightmare and fantasy of normal existence. For a time capsule, it is a very present film.
Basil Dearden directs Nigel Patrick, Earl Cameron and Yvonne Mitchell in this British mystery where police detectives investigate the complicated life of a murdered biracial girl who could ‘pass’ for white.
A complex, vivid movie – very progressive in many aspects but still struggling with stereotypical portrayals of certain black characters. Dearden’s issues pic masquerading as a potboiler works best when letting the two white detectives flinch against each other. One is casually racist, the other more worldly and sensitive but not willing to openly challenge the status quo prejudice. Interestingly it is the older investigator who has the more modern, humanist outlook. Black British life is leant some rare detail (still largely missing from this nation’s cinema) showing a mix of middle class characters who have little to do with the vibrant but seedy underworld the film flirts with. The ultimate whodunnit spine of the movie goes around the houses to reach the most guessable suspect. The mystery trappings are a gateway to the wider intent. A Citizen Kane for a life less prominent, a riff on Otto Preminger’s Laura with a social conscience. Do we ever really get to know Sapphire? Also, I’m a sucker for London crime flicks were you can experience the forgotten streets and lost pubs from before I was born.
Bobby Carroll's Movie Diary 