Joseph_Gillis Reviews

Canyon Passage (1946)

Long Overlooked Western Perhaps Now Being Over-Praised

[5/10 · 19 January 2019]

When respected film people like Martin Scorsese and Jonathan Rosenbaum recommend a film for your consideration, you naturally welcome the opportunity to view it. (In my case, I'd bought this film as part of a package of 4 Westerns, a few years back and having filed it away at the back of the shelf, hadn't happened to notice it, in the meantime.)

The opening shots were familiar enough, and reassuring, but when too much of dialogue followed - much of it too literal and atypical for a Western - I began to fear the worst. Dana Andrews' character being assaulted in his hotel bedroom, under cover of darkness, raised my expectations somewhat, but I gradually got to appreciate why this film has been so infrequently mentioned.

I think other reviewers' comparisons with 'Drums along The Mohawk' are appropriate: doubly so, as that's one of my least-favourite of the 'name' Fords. Perhaps even more than with the Ford, for too much of this film's running length I felt I was being beaten over the head with a history book, and was being shown how it was for those first settlers, confronted by 'savages': being shown,too, how necessary compromises had to be made, to adapt, and at how justice was meted out in those rough-hewn, uncivilised territories (as if I wasn't convinced enough, the barely recognisable Ward Bond - who stole what movie there was to be stolen - was near-savage himself, perhaps for having lived too close for too long with them.) And too many of the characters had 'important' and 'weighty' dialogue to get off their chest. But there were too many scenes that jarred, too: was I really going to believe that a man newly-convicted of murder would be left unguarded, facilitating his friend's setting him free, while those who had imprisoned him were conveniently otherwise occupied; that a young bride, seemingly out of her mind after her home was ransacked by 'savages', should immediately afterwards choose to remain among them, when presented with what seemed an infinitely more attractive option.

Hoagy Carmichael's singing - if not his presence- was a highlight, particularly his rendition of 'Ol' Buttermilk Sky', but I just hated his pseudo-Fool wry commentator. The device worked brilliantly in Shakespeare's 'King Lear', in Kurosawa's 'The Hidden Fortress', and, yes, even 'Star Wars', but just jarred here, so much so that I felt like reaching in and smacking him in the mouth, every time he popped up. Perhaps it didn't help especially, here, for him having to depend on a slovenly low-to-the-ground donkey as his means of transportation: definitely not recommended when you need to escape the clutches of bloodthirsty savages. (I don't even want to consider it, in allegory terms.) Yes, the film looks great, but are you saying you watch Westerns for their beautiful vistas.

Jacques Tourneur directed arguably my all-time favourite film noir, 'Out Of the Past'; he was no slouch in the horror film stakes, either. I keep reading all these claims for him as a Western director; if this really is the best of them, I'll pass, next time. Of course, maybe he was just unlucky with the script.

Pitch Black (2000)

A Celebration Of Oscar Minor Categories Film-Making

[6/10 · 19 January 2019]

Which shows just how much mileage you can get from top-of-the-line production design and special visual effects, particularly when combined with inventive camera angles and lighting. To be fair, in a film which relies so much on 'make-the-audience-jump-out-of-their-seats' shocks, quality acting probably wouldn't have made a huge amount of difference, but it might have made those 'internal conflicts' of the group dynamic so much more credible. Too often, those conflicts smacked too much of 'Primer' calibre 'pulled punches', which fizzle out before they've built up a sufficient head of steam, at least until the next unconvincing argument rolls around. It didn't help, also, that the group's character profile smacked too much of quota-filling and genre stereotypes.

Story-wise, we've probably seen it all before, probably dating back 60 years and more: a spaceship crash-lands on an uncharted, unforgiving planet, and its motley crew - including one dangerous criminal - recognising that compromises need to be made, and unlikely alliances formed, if they are to make it off the planet alive. Story-wise, too, you can probably fill in the blanks although, to be fair, you can probably do likewise with the best of that sub-genre. Except that from early on, I frequently found myself comparing it unfavourably with far superior films, made by longer-established, if not also superior filmmakers: like the 1950s 'creature-feature' 'Them!' which, perhaps benefitted from being more homebound, and its creatures being a product of radioactivity, and from the presence of a lead actor of considerable and plausible gravitas; and 'The Thing', whose director, John Carpenter had acquired a certain facility in the short sharp shocks department; he was particularly well-served, though, in that film, by an ensemble of actors who knew their place and their roles, and rose to the occasion, no matter that the subject matter might have been just a little hard to swallow for them. Although, though to be fair, that's august company who would put most genre directors in the shade.

A feast for the eyes, rather than the brain: file under 'honourable failures'

The Score (2001)

Waldorf AND Statler will love it!

[8/10 · 18 January 2019]

And, like me, they won't get with all the negativity for this movie. Sure, we could've done with more Brando, with less Angela Bassett (a waste of fine acting talent), with less jazz-club ambience and sophisticated jazz-club owner De Niro lifestyle (which smacked too much of faux-Melville for me, but De Niro - even a close-to-what-we'd-come-to-love of De Niro - is no 'Bob Le Flambeur')

But as more than adequate compensation what we do have is a cracker of a 'how is he gonna get around that?' heist set-up; a heist with heart-stopping tense moments at every turn; a nice little wacky cameo from a not-to-be-messed-with mother-dominated computer geek; a doozy of a 'handover', in a public park; three memorable 'intros', for each of the stars. And not just one, but two 'twists in the tail'. And that's without even talking about the performances - from three generations of Hollywood acting royalty - each, in their own way, more than holding up theirs and their respective character's end (although, to be fair, Brando could've spent most of his screen time reading the telephone directory and I still would've been gagging for more!) And would it be controversial of me to say that I enjoyed this acting 'Summit Meeting' considerably more than I did its 'Heat' equivalent? (Well there, I've said it!) Although Jamie Harrold, who played the computer geek, might just have stolen the film from right under their noses!

And how many films with 119 minute running times have left you wanting more. Take a bow Mr. Oz, and scriptwriters Kario Salem, Lem Dobbs and Scott Marshall Smith. And editor Pearson, too. And I was fine with the jazz music, but only as background. Leave the jazz-clubs at Melville's door, next time

A most wonderfully unexpected pleasant surprise. And I thought I'd had my fill of heist movies. Who woulda thunk it, and from The Muppet King, too? No muppets, here!

DVD sidenote: usually when you see 'additional material' on the list of extras you go 'ho hum' and end up saying "yeah, interesting, but..' and you can see why it ended up on the cutting room floor. Included here you get four takes, shot in quick succession of a key exchange between Brando and De Niro, with Brando improvising and altering his dialogue noticeably, from take to take, without missing a beat. Don't miss it! (almost worth the price of admission alone, if it's not already up on YouTube!)

The Sun (2005)

The Sun: Script, Direction, Lead: all mesmerising, in cohesive whole.

[10/10 · 8 January 2019]

My introduction to the works of Aleksandr Sokurov was by way of a friend's recommendation of his 'Mother and Son', which I consider visual poetry of the highest order; I'd been somewhat wary of viewing his 'Russian Ark' because of the emphasis that too many reviewers were placing on its technical accomplishments. I can agree on those, but there's so much more to the film, which is probably the least of the three Sokurovs that I've now seen.

Because of their subject matter - the last days of a confined-to-bunker defeated World War II Axis-state 'Emperor' - this film has been recommended as a good companion-piece to Oliver Hirschbiegel's (overlong) 'Downfall', but by doing so would only expose the latter film (whose merits largely derive from Bruno Ganz' lead performance) to its inadequacies. 'The Sun' is a VASTLY superior film, and about far, far more than just acting performance.

For me, its impossible to assess the respective contributions to the film's overall quality of script, direction, and of lead performance beyond noting each's overall excellence. I'd LIKE to know how much of Yuri Arabov's script remains in the finished 'product' - and to what extent, if any, Sokurov changed it, but then I'd also like to know how much direction Issey Ogata obtained. But I don't NEED to know. At the very least, given that director Sokurov also acted as director of photography, the visuals are worthy of the director of 'Mother and Son'. And, while usually I'm wary of a film's production design, here, also, EVERYTHING fits, whether we're talking about the colour schemes to fit a particular mood, or the opulence in which the Emperor is received, by his conquering nation's representative General MacArthur, which might reflect equally on the character of the General.

The portrait of Hirohito which the film suggests is of a man who had greatness (or more accurately deification) thrust upon him: an all-too-human man - as evidenced by his secretive lingering over his personal collection of photos of Hollywood screen goddesses ; a man who perhaps delighted in comparisons made of him with Charlie Chaplin; a man who loved his wife and family; who liked to occupy his brain and mind to the fullest, even when his subjects preferred him not to, for it not being required of a deity; a man who may not have involved himself enough in affairs of State and warfare to the extent, perhaps, that he should have, and that his intelligence and apparent compassion warranted; a man who perhaps had something of the child about him, who welcomed the release from the stultifying repression his birthright had subjected him to, more than he would have liked his subjects - or General Macarthur, even - to know.

With my limited knowledge of Japanese history - which I intend to rectify - I don't know how accurate such a portrait is, but its brilliantly, cohesively presented.

A cinematic Masterpice

Side notes: 1)Its unfortunate that the shape of actor Robert Dawson's head (especially his forehead) kept reminding me of a (benevolent) alien in 1950's sci-fi classic, This Island Earth' (Of course this may have been intentional, if there was considerable 'makeup' involved.) 2).In his DVD production notes the director stated that he considered Japanese people as being closer in nature to English people than to the peoples of their East Asian nations neighbours. Watching a perhaps deliberately comical interlude of exaggerated 'After you, Claude' deference, between the Emperor and a visiting scientist, one could well believe it.

The Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick (1972)

Mesmeric, under-the-microscope probing of a psychopath

[10/10 · 18 October 2018]

Wim Wenders was always the most cerebral, the most cinematic of the three Giants of New German cinema (albeit Giants enough to bear favourable comparison even to cinematic Giants-For All-Ages such as Fritz Lang, and FW Murnau). In his hands, even a work so clearly of its maker as Ripley's Game became a perhaps even greater work, even more clearly of its maker such as The American Friend was, or as the Sam Shephard-scripted Paris, Texas was. And perhaps, too, this adaptation of a German bestseller likely is. This film, despite the directors acknowledgements of the influence of Alfred Hitchcock - evident throughout - is A Masterpiece of control and content - admirable in a mature work by an established director, astonishing as a feature debut.

The title is relevant only in a later, casual, conversation the eponymous character has with a provincial policeman, where the policeman innocently spills out his m.o. when confronted by a criminal, but such is the nature of this study that we can't immediately be sure the psychopath is taking everything in. The murder itself isn't even shown in its grisly intensity, merely its foreplay and aftermath. And there's nothing to forewarn us of the killer's intentions: no taunting, no leering looks, no stalkings. (I saw parallels in the murder scene with a similar scene in Hitchcock's underrated 'Frenzy', but only in the way it was shot, and the aforementioned foreplay).

His scanning of every subsequent news report might suggest he's worried, that the noose is tightening around him. But his immediately subsequent actions suggest otherwise. Like the prototype psychopath, compassion is conspicuous by its absence from his every thought and action. But yet, in best cinematic tradition, what 'he' doesn't know is that we can see his every action, can scrutinise his every thought. Can condemn him for his indifference.

Only by giving every frame of this masterly film your full attention will you get to truly 'enjoy' its final frame.

Jack Taylor: Headstone (2010) Season 3, Episode 2

Undemanding, fun, entertainment, and best yet

[7/10 · 3 August 2017]

I'm not sure how many I've seen - probably at least four or five now, and two in the past seven days - but this is easily the best of them, and much of the credit for that might have been down to the quality, and contrasting nature, of the two English-born support actors. (Fancy that! a series set in one of the most Irish of cities, featuring a most prototypically Irish detective, has as its lead a Scottish actor boasting the worst Irish accent this side of Pierce Brosnan, and two decidedly English supporting actors, albeit of decidedly contrasting mien. Some Irish joke, eh?)

The plot is fun, no less so for mostly being of the 'seen-it-all-before' variety, with plenty of red herrings, larger-than-life characters, back- stories, and 'exotic' locations; there are cults, too, and people with more money than sense, of pasts coming back to haunt people, and the inspirations of Nietszche, Sun Tzu, and the like. What's not to like? So anyway, to start with, Jack is hired by a reformed poor little rich girl to rescue her poor little rich boy beau, who's just had his finger cut off, with promises of more to follow, including hers. Problem is, the boy's father, mistrustful of Jack, has hired a reputable English detective to do the same job , a specialist in technology and more modern methods than Jack tends to favour, and they take an instant dislike to each other.

Iain Glen, alone, has always been reason enough to watch these stories, but not solely to laugh at his Irish accent, or spend too much time trying to extrapolate back to his native enunciations: a real man's man, with the grizzled good looks and laconic drawl perfect for this part. I don't recall having seen him in anything else, but he fits the character like a glove, as does his inhabiting of Galways bleak, windy, rainswept streets. The sun never shines much on Galway, in my experience, but then people don't tend to go there for the sun and the city looks great shot from the air, and the producers never fail it in this regard.

For me, Jack Monaghan, as Darragh Noonan, has been a vast improvement on Killian Scott,possessing far more personality and uniqueness: a perfect counterpoint to Jack, and frequent annoyance to the cousin who's the object of Jack's desires. Hopefully, we'll see more of the English detective, Mason, too, played here by Christopher Fulford, and shots of Connemara: that, at least, would do wonders for the Irish Tourist Board.

A little more screen time for Garret Keogh, Jack's ex-Garda boss, wouldn't go amiss,either, although the cameo nature of Jack's priest buddy is just right, and the smart-arse one-liners that their chance encounters provokes - from both sides - are taken in good humour by both sides, too. In a previous episode the priest had, unwittingly, helped Jack solve the mystery; here, he merely helped Jack put a better spin on his mother's mistreatment of him. But then, isn't that what priests are supposed to do?

The World at War (1973–1974)

It's Been Worth The Wait!

[9/10 · 24 July 2017]

I missed the original TV broadcast, through not having a television set at the time, and although this was one of the first box-sets I've bought - about ten years ago - I'm only now finally getting to watch it. As I write, I'm only five episodes in, but I'm certain that my overall assessment won't change by the time I've watched the complete set.

I also have to confess to having a personal interest in this period of history as my mother worked as a nurse in London, during The Blitz, which was covered in The Alone episode, in Disc Two. she'd talked of it as a great big adventure - she was still a teenager at the time - but watching that Alone episode tonight, alone, I had the odd sensation of wondering how close I came to not being born, given the number of casualties London suffered during the bombing. (My mother also got up close enough to shake JFK's hand, during the New Ross leg of his Irish visit, in 1963, but that's another story entirely. And, no, her name isn't Zelig!)

As a history buff, of course, I'm lapping up the archive film, and the brilliantly written and edited narrative, but what makes the series special for me is the people, the cast of thousands: the faces on the admiring throngs of Germans, young and old, particularly the women and young boys; the contemporary interviews with Londoners; the London woman, whose home suffered during the bombing, who was yet to be convinced by Churchill; the faces of the Russian civilian defenders; the frost-bitten German soldiers, and colleagues who froliced naked in Russian snows; but famous faces, also, such as Russian Foreign Minister, Molotov, defiant throughout his Berlin visit who, Hitler's interpreter tells us - as if the film hadn't already told us - that he wasn't one to mince his words.

Last, but decidedly not least, the brilliant narration by Laurence Olivier - his finest hour? - strikes the perfect tone throughout: defiant, also, when it needs to be, but melancholic, and intermittently optimistic, also.

I'd been worried that the series might have been too Brit-centric - that most of the eulogies I've read have been by Brits; it remains to be seen, of course, whether that is the case. Inevitably, you won't be able to please all of the people all of the time, but what I can say is that, as a historical document, and as a work of art, it is unquestionably a triumph, and one which I intend to revisit, many times over.

Sole Survivor (1970 TV Movie)

Brave choice for a TV movie, and a beautifully realised one.

[8/10 · 19 July 2017]

The movie's title was only a partial clue; the opening scene of airmen lounging by a plane wreck in the Libyan desert, and talking of their life in that inhospitable wilderness for the preceding 17 years, immediately alert you that we're venturing into 'Twilight Zone' territory. Except that this film is more about the twilight zone of the conscience of a guilt-wracked man: a man who'd suppressed his guilt for 17 years, but is now being forced to confront it, publicly, and by men who had come to respect him.

There's so much that's admirable about this film it's hard to know exactly where to start: I suppose everything has to start with the script, which is superb, as is its editing, structure, and direction. Using the ghosts of dead men as both commentators and judge and jury of the navigator who'd abandoned them is an inspired choice, as is leavening the drama and tragedy with the comic relief they provide, a relief derived partly from their tacit recognition of their powerlessness.

At times it plays like a detective story, too, as the most likely scenarios are assessed, and as pressure is brought to bear upon the Major leading the enquiry, reminding him of the necessity to think of his career, and of the distinguished officer whose career and reputation he may be about to damage, irreversibly, should he make the wrong conclusions. Until we learn of the mistake the major had himself made.

Inevitably a decision had to be made, but even then the director and screenwriter found a way to ingest a little poetry: those beautiful, elegiac final scenes, where the ghosts feel their immortality slipping away, were a fitting end to a wholly admirable piece of work.

It was interesting that I would have first become aware of two of the three leads playing commanding officers in science-fiction ships of different eras - respectively Richard Basehart, as the general (Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea), and William Shatner (Star Trek). Unsurprisingly, Basehart, being the more feted actor, shone brightest here, but Shatner acquitted himself well as the pragmatic enquiry leader, focused on his career, and his imminent pension. Vince Edwards did well, also, as the major, with his own debt to pay.

The Drop (2014)

"No Animals Were Harmed In The Making Of This Production"

[6/10 · 18 July 2017]

which is more relevant here than in most films, and might even be considered a sub-text for it.

Perhaps more telling, though, is that the screenplay was adapted by author, Dennis Lehane from one of his short stories; I can recall successful short-story adaptations, but from such as Borges, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, and Conrad; more often than not, when adaptations of less-feted authors, the plot tends to be stretched to breaking point, where the screenwriter has too many gaps to fill, too much screen-time to pad, and where the story might not have been all that, to begin with.

I haven't read the source Lehane short story, so I can only judge what's on the screen, but two things have jumped out at me after viewing the film: one, the conflict between the story's title, 'Animal Rescue', which suggests warmth and compassion, and the film's title, 'The Drop', which the opening voice-over informs us refers to gangsters practices of using legitimate businesses as temporary storage for illicit funds. But yet I don't believe the short story title is entirely ironic, because so much of the film is devoted to revealing Tom Hardy's lead barman Bob character's care and attention for a brutalised and neglected dog. The conflict between those titles suggests more that Lehane was badly compromised between commercial film-making demands, and the intimacy of his short-story characterisation.

The other problem I had is the long slow build up, and what it led up to: it's not quite 'deus ex machina' but I had difficulty reconciling the climax with the characterisations that had been slowly and tortuously developed, over 80+ preceding minutes. Which leads me back to the compromise question again.

What I did like, though, was the interplay between Bob and the detective, with the detective using their common church-going familiarity to both try to extract information from Bob, and also to get his message across. There weren't enough such inspired ideas, though. I liked Matthias Schoenaerts controlled-scary performance, as legend-in- his-own-mind punk, Eric Deeds. John Ortiz' insidious quiet nagging, as the detective, is another supporting standout. Tom Hardy was just a tad too precious and calculated for me, although he may just have been the victim of too much low-key screen time. (In character motivations, I could make connections with Charles Bronson's similarly-implausible 'Mr. Majestyk')

Not the best swansong for James Gandolfini, though - too much of Tony Soprano,albeit a latter-day tired and beaten-down Tony; I would have preferred him to go out on the movie-stealing high of 'Killing them Softly'. That film had all the mood and menace of this one, and then some. Tellingly, perhaps, it's adapted from a novel.

War of the Worlds (2005)

It might have been 20 minutes longer than the Pal version, but it didn't feel like it...

[8/10 · 3 July 2017]

..and although it had some trademark Spielberg-schmaltz, it was wholly justified in it's case, which yes, means that it was pretty much an unqualified success, and is a film I'll probably enjoy re-watching, every bit as much as I enjoyed watching.

That editing, and tightly-scripted screenplay, is the key though, because it being a Spielberg film we know it will be technically superb, even while we steel ourselves against the schmaltz. He quickly establishes the kind of Dad that The Cruiser is, before getting down to the scary business, and never really letting up, even in the temporary sanctuary that Tim Robbins' flawed would-be saviour provides.

The scary elements are superb, of course: highlights for me are when the aliens loom large, as the crowd look for refuge on the ferry; the scenes of bodies being spat out, and the view from within, of the blood- spattered landscape. Of course, Spielberg's close-ups are mostly focused on Dakota Fanning, who's hugely impressive throughout; a particular highlight for me were her observations of and reaction to the dead bodies floating downriver; The Cruiser's scooping her up, then, is surely an homage, of sorts, to the classic 'Frankenstein' scene.

I loved the colour palette, too, particularly those scenes in the vicinity of the ferry, and of that blood-spattered countryside: it's almost a quarter of a century since I last saw the 1950's version, which I know would pale into insignificance if I were to compare and contrast, but from memory I think Spielberg's colour palette was being faithful, at least in those scenes.

I hadn't recognised Gene Barry in that closing scene, although I would also remember him from a childhood favourite, 'Bat Masterson', and to a lesser extent, from 'Burke's Law'. That was a nice touch, as was the inclusion of co-star, Ann Robinson. The closing scene was stunning- looking, beautifully-lit, the icing on a wholly-satisfying and enduring cake.

In one of the DVD extras it was mentioned that it was a part of a trilogy, began with 'Close Encounters', and continued with 'ET': the former, I'd always thought too long and too saccharine; the latter, while charming, I'd considered just a particularly technically- proficient Disney film. This one nails it, nails everything, and is in a different league for me.

I'd probably rank it higher if it had been more ambitious, rather than the personal film it clearly is. I might still rank it higher, because it's movie-making perfection.

Phone Booth (2002)

You're not supposed to like a Joel Schumacher film, but...

[7/10 · 1 July 2017]

I could see myself watching this again, although that's mostly for Forest Whitaker's alternately balletic and swaggering performance (the best big-screen fat man since Jackie Gleason's 'Minnesota Fats?), and the dialogue that Kiefer Sutherland gets to speak, and his demonic cackle.

The phone booth of the title is located in mid-town Manhattan, and it's special for being the booth that fast-talking, lying, cheating publicist (Colin Farrell) uses for making motel dates with his girlfriend, because he knows his wife checks his cell-phone bills. Kiefer's an embittered crack-shot tech-wiz ex-Vietnam vet. psycho who's set himself up as some kind of moral arbiter (versatile, isn't he?); he's privy to Farrell's work and play mis-steps, and decides he's fair game for atonement (His previous targets - ultimately, victims - were proper criminals, which would cause one to question his basis of target-selection, given small-time Farrell's inclusion on his list. But at least he claims that he's prepared to set Farrell free, if the degree of his atonement warrants it.)

Given that the movie is set almost entirely in and around the phone- booth it's something of a high-wire act to maintain a viewer's interest. That's partly overcome by Kiefer's frequently hilarious demands, and the almost staggering incompetence of the small army of cops that descend on the scene, 'Dog Day Afternoon'-style. But once Forest Whitaker arrives, you know you'll not want to take your eyes off the screen for a split second.

Colin Farrell's is a somewhat thankless task, given the character he portrays, and the confined space he has to operate in - in contrast to the wide open spaces available to Whitaker - but I think he pretty much wrings every last inch out of his dialogue, and his reactions to Kiefer's demands. Which frequently cut me up; credit to him for keeping a straight face, throughout. And, given that he's playing a liar and a cheat, there's always the possibility that those tears, and those cries of anguish, are fake.

But despite Farrell's tour-de-force performance, Forrest Whitaker bestrides this film like a colossus, in more ways than one.

Of course, once you see Larry Cohen's screenplay credit you know it's going to be chock-full of implausibilities, and no little black humour, and it didn't disappoint. But the much-maligned Mr. Schumacher must bear substantial credit for pulling all the strings together, without you seeing the joins.

Watch, and enjoy - without prejudice.

A Walk Among the Tombstones (2014)

Captures Much Of The Darkness of Scudder

[6/10 · 28 June 2017]

The debut novel in Lawrence Block's Matthew Scudder series is arguably the darkest and most unrelentingly bleak of the countless private eye novels I've read, and although I haven't read the novel which this film is an adaptation of, I suspect director Franks has nailed its tone.

The subject matter - of the executions by a pair of renegade ex-DEA agents of drug kingpin wives and, in the final case, child - and the graphic nature of the killings might suggest cheap thrills appealing to fans of such as 'Death Wish' and other vigilante-style films, but there's a dark intelligence here, even if the focus might suggest otherwise.

Based on the Block novels I have read, it's fair to say that they vary wildly in quality - I would also say that his ex-crime-writing buddy, Donald E. Westlake has a higher strike-rate - but this is one instance where I would urge anybody who has recognised the intelligence at work to seek out the source novel, because I strongly suspect that considerable extra depth and value will be added by Scudder's interior monologues.

I won't claim to be a huge Liam Neeson fan but although from my vague recall I suspect the Scudder of the novels is bulkier and more beaten down - perhaps Brian Dennehy at his peak might have been a better fit - Neeson is probably as good a fit as anybody now, given commercial dictates, and he does an adequate job here.

I particularly liked the scenes with the park attendant, and the performance and look of the more talkative psycho, Ray. The drug 'trafficker' who hired Scudder had just enough believable 'humanity' about him to make him seem real, and a cut above the stereotype. Dan Stevens' performance was probably as good as anybody's, in the role. I liked the dark look of daytime New York, too: that's how I would have pictured it in 'Sins Of The Fathers', also. The young sometime-assistant was novel, I suppose, but I could have done without his lightness and frequently-tedious street, and classic PI-smarts. Perhaps this was another concession to commerce?

I've read elsewhere that this ending fell considerably short of the novel's, which is a particular highlight. Which is a matter of some relief, also, as this ending - apart from the juxtaposed attendant AA recitation - looked just too familiar for me.

6 might be too low, but 7 certainly too high. It's functionally done, but just too lean in its 'execution' to be even considered for ranking among the great crime films of the 21st Century. Perhaps a 6.5, or a 6.4 would be fairest rating, mainly for Lawrence Block and his creation.

Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid (1982)

I'm Already Looking Forward To A Re-Watch

[8/10 · 21 June 2017]

Picked this up in my local charity shop recently, although my decades- old memory of it was somewhat underwhelming. But I'm nothing if not fair. Maybe it's just that my critical faculties have improved with age, because in damn near every respect - and I'm even prepared to cut Rachel Ward some slack here - it's a cracker.

Another reviewer has compared it to 'Zelig', and in its case I'm not even going to go there because the latter's concept alone is tedious. This film always had far greater potential, because of how classic film noir conventions and dialogue now lend themselves so easily to lampooning.

Steve Martin was at the top of his game when he made this one - hopefully, my local charity shop receives a copy of 'The Man with Two Brains' anytime soon - and his timing and mugging is rotflmao flawless here. The film noir insertions are well-chosen, too, and integrated beautifully, cinematically. The hysterics of Babs Stanwyck and Joan Crawford; Bette Davis' toasted day-old bread scene; the follow-on from Edward Arnolds' 'Pick It Up!' are hilarious, of course, but as regards which gag is the best of the bunch, for me it's a toss-up between the sidekick Bogie sartorial tickings-off, and the climactic scene where Martin and Reiner look to assert their plot 'reveal rights', but ultimately settle for a seamless, breakneck-pace, collaborative effort .

Dustin Hoffman and Robin Williams might just have the edge on Martin in drag, though.

Watch it and weep...with laughter!

Mister John (2013)

Probably More Interesting as a 'Spot-The-Inflences' Game

[5/10 · 22 August 2016]

off the top of my head, I could see snippets/influences of Claire Denis 'The Intruder', and David Lynch, in addition to the more obvious, such as Antonioni's 'The Passenger', and Bogdanovich's similarly-themed, and Singapore-set, 'Saint Jack'. (and at a stretch, I could probably make some Bergman connection, also).

So I guess you could safely conclude that I would classify it as an 'art-house movie', although, perhaps more kindly, an interesting failure than a cinephile's self-indulgence.

'The Passenger' connection might seem the most obvious, on the face of it, but I thing the Singapore connection is more relevant, and particularly to the degree that the filmmakers sought to make an exotic, even mystical connection with the notion that the waters in which the 'Mister John' of the the title had drowned were attempting to claim his soul; which led to brother Jerry immersing himself in those waters with the aim, presumably, of reclaiming his brothers' soul.

I found more interesting the dreamier images set in the bar/brothel, but the filmmakers seemed too focused on domestic pregnant pauses and stares - mostly featuring Aidan Gillen's Gerry - and trivial or tedious dialogues: not so much 'sound and fury' as sound and boredom, signifying nothing.

But I will watch out for the filmmakers next work: if for no other reason than that they've been influenced by the right people.

Drug War (2012)

Drug War (better even than Election 2?) Masterpiece

[10/10 · 13 June 2016]

Is Johnnie To the best visual storyteller working in cinema today - or for that matter, during the past 20 years, plus. Is The Pope Catholic?

Funnily enough, the story - as in who's doing what to whom and what eventually happens to each of them - doesn't matter, especially. Well it does, in the sense that we're interested in knowing that the police are looking to infiltrate and eventually defeat the drug syndicate that has been doing such damage to both the local Chinese populace, and their counterparts in neighbouring Asian countries; but there really would be no point in trying to track, minutely, the evolution and construction of that story.

The best way - maybe the only way, in Drug War's case - to enjoy Johnnie To is to just sit back and watch the knitting together of a story through immaculately-chosen visuals, and a succession of frequently rapidly-edited images, viewed from a wide variety of perspectives. If you focus on one character and try to follow his or her story arc you will probably quickly throw up your hands in exasperation.

I got the plot, and I loved the resolution, and I enjoyed the thrill- ride. I thrilled at the editing, and the choreography and recognised that this story just couldn't have been told better, if you ditched 70% of the characters, and scenes - to make it more easily-digestible. There were some great characters, action scenes, charismatic acting, and great support bits. Have I covered everything you need in a great film? Pacing: top-notch; the rapid switches of perspectives to show how the relevant characters were reacting had me drooling. Technology is used, but not abused.

Masterpiece. And there was me thinking that by 2012, Johnnie To had most likely lost the plot, given his age. Not a bit of it.

I've just ordered the DVD (Saturday night's viewing was a late-night TV broadcast). I can't wait!

The Tempest (1980 TV Movie)

The Stuff of Pleasant Dreams

[7/10 · 10 May 2016]

Second in my viewing of BBC Shakespeare adaptations: as with the previous 'Measure for Measure', I'd not previously seen any version of the play, and was only vaguely acquainted with the plot.

Although the vengeful wizard, Prospero and to a lesser extent his sprite aide/conscience, Ariel, are the key characters, the title is an apt one in that it is the eponymous tempest, or storm - brought about by Prospero - which drives so much of the plot in that it causes to bring to Prospero's island those who had most wronged him. Not surprisingly, given that it is one of Shakespeare's later plays, I found it to be one of his most satisfying and intricately plotted, and although officially classed as a comedy, I'd probably also consider it a moral tale, in the choices and decisions it ultimately has Prospero make when he finally has his hated opponents at his mercy. Although I haven't done any further research or re-reading since my only viewing of this production, I was also interested with one of Prospero's speeches where he seemed to be suggesting that much of his situation might be entirely a dream, which would make the plot richer still (And, incidentally, the actual quote "We are such stuff As dreams are made on" was the source for Bogey's similarly memorable "that's the stuff that dreams are made of", from and about 'The Maltese Falcon')

As regards the production itself, I'd absolutely no problem with any of the sets, which more than fulfilled their functions, and allowed for the intelligence of the viewers to flesh them out; the scene where Nigel Hawthorne and Andrew Sach's character first appeared reminded me of various sets for Beckett's 'Happy Days', which is no bad thing. Acting- wise, Hordern was supreme, and well-nigh faultless; I don't understand some reviewers problem with David Dixon's Ariel, as he seemed to me to fit all the requirements of the role. Similarly, Hawthorne and Andrew Sach's characters' interaction with Warren Clarke's hirsute and mildly scary Caliban provided the necessary comic relief, ably, as they did their roles. The remaining performances and characters I'd largely consider functional.

Now I can't wait to compare and contrast with Julie Taymor's much- maligned adaptation; on the evidence of her enthralling and visually arresting adaptation of 'Titus Andronicus', I've no doubt that it will make for a worthwhile watch. On a side note, watching Andrew Sachs in this version, I was reminded of his recent very public 'spat' with Russell Brand and, given that they both played Trinculo, it should be interesting to see whose characterisation is the better one.

The Lookout (2012)

The End Of French Crime Cinema As We Know It, Jim!

[3/10 · 11 March 2016]

In some ways, 'The Lookout' reminded me of the truly awful 'Primer', in that there seemed to be a lot going on, but with the characters only allowed brief scenes and the briefest of conversations to clue you in as to what it was, the odds of you making sense of it all before the credits rolled were so long as to become infinitesimal. Maybe that's just as well, because I suspect neither the director, scriptwriters, or editor(S) had managed to themselves fully join the dots before they'd committed their work to celluloid.

The opening heist and Paris city-centre shoot-out, and especially the intriguing use of flashback prologue that preceded it provided enough of a teaser to buy one's interest for at least a good half-hour, but ultimately it only served to leave me cheated, in the way the cruellest of con-tricks does. Successive scenes of gloomy late-night action, and apparent cross and double-cross, might look great on paper, but ultimately, not enough to make one even consider giving it a second - or even third - watch to try to pick up on what you missed, because you quickly realise that what you might have missed was never actually there in the first place.

I'd officially given up on French crime cinema about 5 years ago - or whenever the over-hyped and overrated 'The Prophet' was released. I'd determined that all the younger directors were following some template, which usually featured sombre, moody, colours; savage violence - usually including superfluous and titillating misogyny - and slick fast-paced productions designed to compensate for plot-holes.

'The Lookout' has all of these - and then some - but 'The Lookout' trumps them all because it has the 'Primer' factor that the other films lacked: "Regardez, mes amis: you don't need to have any coherent plot, because you can use bikini-brief scenes, and half-begun sentences that explain nothing!"

This film might be the first truly 'Second Unit' film: it's all about the action, and the slick, fast-paced non-plot, and location shooting. Yes,it features Daniel Auteuil and Mathieu Kassovitz who've done good work in the past, but their presence was required solely to sell the film to a baker's dozen of international financiers. Acting-wise, their presence was superfluous. The presence of so many technicians who are experts in their field might have provided at least a temporary boon to the French film industry, but ultimately I fear it will only become self-defeating, as it will turn off potential viewers.

Jean-Pierre Melville must be turning in his grave! (or even pirouetting...!)

Argo (2012)

Argo: GUBU

[8/10 · 7 January 2016]

Or, to give the late CJ Haughey's legendary acronym its full name: Grotesque, Unbelievable, Bizarre, Unprecedented.

although, in Argo's case - Ben Affleck's film, and its original - it worked just fine, even if some of the finer details have been changed - for artistic licence, even plausibility stakes, as in... ...With anti-American feelings at fever-pitch following the overthrow of the Shah of Iran, A CIA operative (Ben Affleck) devises a daring and original plan to rescue six American Embassy officials who'd found refuge in the country's Canadian Embassy.

The paradox of Ben Affleck's first Oscar-winner is that it's less bloated, more focused, and more tightly-scripted than his two previous lower-budgeted films; it's also a comparative rarity in Best Film Oscar-winners of recent years in that it's hugely-entertaining, to boot - even if, of necessity, it sacrifices a smidgin of quality for mass-market appeal. But yet, although I was expecting to find fault with it - mostly because of the glaring faults of its too-ambitious predecessors - the faults,more minor quibbles, were largely in the early too-breakneck pacing, which sacrificed dialogue clarity, far too often, and the over-stretching of the tension in the climactic airport scene.

Initially, I was looking for comparisons with Costa Gavras' 'Missing' - which is perhaps the benchmark combination Hollywood entertainment-political thriller - and judging it somewhat unfairly, in comparison; but that was largely due to the surfeit of Hollywood-set comic elements; once the Affleck character left home, things started to get serious, most notably in a tense scene in a claustrophobic bazaar, where the six officials suffered a testing dry run. But, anyway, ranking it equal with 'Missing' would be impossible, because it's an altogether different beast, with different aims, although proclaiming it equally-successful in achieving those aims might be the best comparison I could make.

Perhaps its closest 'Missing' comparison might be Bryan Cranston's portrayal of Affleck's middle-aged, conservative middle-American, superior, who at times resembles Jack Lemmon's 'Missing' character's,when he begins to lose faith in everything he'd held dear, but even in a film which features notorious scene-stealers like John Goodman or Alan Arkin, performances - apart from the officials' real-live ones - were always going to play second-fiddle to plot.

Of course, there'll be the usual quibbles from the usual suspects about the usual Muslim caricatures, but, as Bob Marley once said 'an angry mob is an angry mob', and providing balance and fair play is best left to the history and civics classes.

A most pleasant surprise, and an absolute cracker of a movie.

Cash on Demand (1961)

Great Expectations, Scrooged

[4/10 · 30 December 2015]

Although the friend who'd raved about 'Cash On Demand' has - to maintain the Dickens analogy - provided me with at least as many 'worst of times' for his thumbs-up verdicts, as he has 'best of times', so effusively did he praise this one that I really had to check it out; and, anyway, I'd already bought the DVD box-set.

But he really should have warned me about the 'Christmas Carol' connection because, once I'd made the seasonal connection - not so subtle, given the early calendar shot - and spotted the Bob Cratchitt character, and then his Scrooge, and - somewhat less certainly, as I don't recall the nuances of his character - the Jacob Marley character, it really didn't matter how close or otherwise the script and plot would follow its Dickens inspiration, as I was always expecting it to, and watching through to the end credits was more a case of: "well, I've started, so I'll finish".

Peter Cushing's character was different to his usual, and I suppose in that he was relatively convincing, but André Morell's part was always going to be the most winning, and he revelled in it.

A massive disappointment: Bah, humbug!

Ed McBain's 87th Precinct: Ice (1996 TV Movie)

Larry Cohen, Or Ed McBain - Or Maybe A Bit Of Both?

[7/10 · 18 December 2015]

I haven't read the book, but this little gem immediately made me want to seek it out: being familiar with the work of both men, though, I suspect that I'll eventually find that both can claim significant credit for the success of the film.

It hasn't set the record for the length of time I'd put a viewing of a DVD bought/film taped on the long finger, but I know I've previously found plenty of excuses for not watching it - TV movie; the previous small-screen 87th Precinct adaptation which had been too much of a Randy Quaid star vehicle, and then there was the no-name director. Pity my eye hadn't previously settled on the scriptwriter's name: in fact, it didn't register until about half-way through and I was ready to admit just how much I was loving it.

The plot might be standard-construct McBain - albeit still enough to rank it in the upper ranks of policier plots - and there were plenty of stock scenes and characters, and heard-it-all before dialogue, but the devil was in the detail, and particularly the playing of well-drawn support-character roles, such as the killer/drug-dealer, and a delightfully-devilish odd-couple pair of opportunist small-time criminals.

It starts off as shocking-murder - which might be someway theatre- district connected - then gravitates to apparent standard serial-killer type, before roping in related drug-deals,in a wonderfully-implausible way, by way of typical 87th Precinct sidelined sub-plots. Give credit where credit is due, though, it's actually quite niftily directed, and smartly paced, too, but I strongly suspect that in the way apparently- unconnected scenes are knitted together, and those sub-plots are made to appear all-in-a-night's work by the 87th Precinct crew, genre-movie scriptmeister Cohen is due at least as much credit as director, Bradford May, is.

In fact, I'd go even farther and say that this little effort compares more than favourably with Johnnie To's glorious policier,PTU, which I reviewed here recently: they'd even look good on a double-bill, together.

Now the question is: can I award a humble TV movie an 8, or will I stick to the safe 7? If the IMDb had a 7.5 rating, it'd be a no-brainer.

Great Expectations (1998)

Too High Expectations

[6/10 · 17 August 2015]

I'm usually wary of remakes, but I was convinced by the glowing review from a usually reliable reviewer. Big mistake: I should have trusted my 'usually' more than his.

And it started off so well, too as the young Pip's encounter with the convict - particularly in that magical nocturnal scene - had promised so much, as had the Everglades location and that faded elegance of Miss Havisham's mansion.

But then, gradually - perhaps in the director's wish to have his film less of a remake/update - it became less about how best to use that rich cast of supporting Dickens/Lean characters, and more about how best to use failsafe Hollywood tropes - such as the fish-out-of-water New York arty-world - of 'Crocodile Dundee' - and the stirring 'running-up-the- steps' soundtrack music from the first 'Rocky'; and the notion that the poor and downtrodden could succeed against all the odds - if given just one chance.

And that wasn't the half of it: Robert de Niro's interpretation of his character was an amalgam of past glories: of his 'Cape Fear' and 'Angel Heart' characterisations; even his great revelation speech was delivered in the monotone of his 'Raging Bull' stand-up dressing-room monologue. This wasn't just phoning it in, it was sleepwalking it in. Truly horrible.

Ultimately,'Great Expectations' (the Remake) deteriorated into the worst kind of Hollywood love story, albeit one that for the most part looked gorgeous.

On this evidence, Alfonso Cuaron confirmed himself as a wonderful visual artist, but he shouldn't have allowed himself become hostage to the worst Hollywood conventions, or at least got himself a decent scriptwriter.

File under: Coulda been a contender, instead of the bum(mer) it turned out to be

PTU (2003)

Style Matters

[8/10 · 30 July 2015]

A police captain assigns his unit to help a colleague retrieve his gun, lost in an altercation with a street-gang, before a reporting deadline expires.

Just as much as the style and the look, it's the choreography and orchestration - and the way To shuffles the characters and objects about on his late-night chessboard; and the sound-scapes, in addition to the glorious night-lit streets and skyline which delight almost to the extent that the opening restaurant confrontational, ultimately tragic, musical chairs and climactic set-piece shoot-out serve as mere book-ends for what comes between. Or even, as brief irritants.

The characters don't particularly matter either - although there are some particularly wonderful-looking villains - because they're all just pawns for this visual, and aural feast.

You've seen plenty of tyre-squealer car-chases - maybe you've seen too many of them; To's come up with a new angle: the cars that glide at intervals through city streets, unobtrusively, apparently disinterestedly, and almost noiselessly - perhaps just to get you thinking "now I wonder what they're up to'? A crime film where all the cars keep within the speed limit? Shurely shome mishtake?

And then there's the kid on the bicycle: by the time of his third sighting you're wondering is he a midget gang member, or undercover cop - or afterhours drugs mule, even; and will it be his fate to be ripped apart with bullets, by all sides? How cruel could that be, for somebody so young? It's all about building tension, and keeping you on edge - or maybe filling in the spaces on that chessboard.

There are some great scenes and ideas, too - of course: as with that opening restaurant scene where various customers get re-assigned according to their place in the hierarchy, and phone messages that we only later become privy to, have fatal consequences. Then there's the tense confrontational scene in the video-game arcade, with the array of flashing video screens vieing for our attention with a synchronised symphony of unanswered cell-phones; and there's the men in cages, bent over almost triple.

Thematically, it reminds me of Kurosawa's 'Stray Dog' - and there may have been more than one scene of that classic referenced; visually; and to a certain extent narrative-wise, it reminded me of Scorsese's 'After Hours'. The boy on the bicycle reminded me of the boy in 'The Third Man', and also of 'M'. But these were only in passing: To obviously has his influences, but his style is all his own. And, sometimes, style matters.

The Place Beyond the Pines (2012)

Founders on the Catch-22 of Its Own Ambition

[7/10 · 28 July 2015]

Father-son relationships of two families are compared and contrasted in the context of a crime which they both fall victim to.

One thing you can't fault writer-director Derek Cianfrance for is ambition, and he certainly deserves an A for that, or even an A+, because he tackled a difficult subject in a novel way, probably more to avoid slipping into the pit of mawkishness and sentimentality, than for a desire to appeal to a broader base of crime movie fans. Laudable, indeed, but I think he has inevitably fallen victim to a particular movie kind of Catch-22: in order to make the subject more palatable, he's dressed it up in attractive crime movie 'wolf's clothing', and therefore muddied - and even compromised - his intent. Inevitably, also -and to meet both demands - he's employed a multi- character story which is just too contrived and contains far too many implausible situations and coincidences to explain the relationship, satisfactorily. In contrast, if he had tackled the subject more subtly,and plausibly, he was always going to turn his intended audience off. Particularly for a mainstream Hollywood movie.

Catch-22; hoist by his own petard;fall between two stools. Whatever.

Aside from its ambition - for which I stuck with it to the end, despite my huge reservations - I enjoyed it mostly for constituent elements, and in particular for the acting. Bradley Cooper - who plays the guilt-wracked rookie cop - is unfamiliar to me, but his performance above all in a scene with a psychiatrist is as good a piece of acting as you'll see anywhere. All done with his eyes, and face, and demeanour - which is what distinguishes the best screen actors; he's largely a slave to the script, otherwise, but this one scene is evidence enough that he's worth watching out for. And to prove how good that performance was, he more than held his own against notorious scene-stealer, Harris Yulin. Yulin - one of my very favourite character actors of the past 40 years - threatened to grab the film and take it home with him in his pocket, but Cooper - and quite right, too - was having none of it: and he proved it, especially, in a swimming-pool scene they shared. Ryan Gosling, who plays the bike-rider errant-father turned to crime - and who'd I expected to be the major focus of the film - is somebody that on the evidence of this and 'Drive' I remain unconvinced by: he's all about bleached-blond wistfulness, and mumbling - and now pecs and six-pack, apparently; I breathed an audible sigh of relief when the Cooper story took centre-stage.

Dane DeHaan as Gosling's son reminded me of a young Leonardo di Caprio, and was quietly effective; I wouldn't be as dismissive of Cooper son Emory Cohen's performance as one reviewer - certainly not on the evidence of one performance: his annoying mannerisms might just be down to script requirements; Eva Mendes looked great in 'Holy Motors', but I've never been convinced by her as an actor; Ray Liotta seems irreversibly typecast, now, and here he just seemed to be 'phoning it in'. I'd contrast his performance with James Remar's in 'Fear X': he showed genuine breadth,there, and willingness to experiment, and to break free from movie-villain typecasting.

Script and acting aside: The soundtrack was almost unbearably intrusive, at times, - particularly in scenes of approaching conflict which the composer seemed determined to forewarn us: a musical 'look out, behind you', as it were. Cinematography was top-notch: particularly impressive was the fatal chase scene, but close-ups were effectively used, also.

Overall, the film was well made and well-intentioned, but maybe the director needs to hire an independent scriptwriter, or choose a subject which allows for a more subtle telling of a tale, or imparting of a message.

Election 2 (2006)

Belongs At The Top Table in the Gangster Movie Pantheon

[10/10 · 27 July 2015]

Even if I was given a week to consider my verdict, I'm certain that I'd come up with the same answer: 'Infernal Affairs' is the best crime movie of the past 40 years; the best gangster movie since the first Godfather movie. 'Election: Volume 2' deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as 'Infernal Affairs'; it really is that good. It's never going to displace 'IA' in my affections, but in the way that you come to recognise great movies on a first viewing, I know its appeal will endure and not diminish. And, in contrast to the Godfather series with which it might be compared, this 'sequel' is far superior to the first movie.

I wasn't a huge fan of the first movie: it was just too much about style and ritual, and bore too much of a Kitano influence in its alternation of serenity and violence; but I did see enough in it to want to investigate Johnnie To further, even if - after the massive disappointment of the 'Infernal Affairs' sequels - I was reluctant to risk viewing another failed Hong Kong crime movie sequel. But this one was a joy, right from the get-go. Given its pace, I decided not to overly concern myself with plot complexities and especially who's doing what to whom: the introductory scene - despite the number of 'interests' present - was set up in such a way that I knew there was really only one character I needed to focus on: a young, charming, and ambitious businessman whose rise had been facilitated by Triad gang membership, but who was now looking to expand his horizons. It's called 'setting your stall out' - both character and film-maker.

The settings are mostly recognizable and familiar to fans of such as 'The Godfather' and 'Goodfellas', not to mention its predecessor, and - to a certain extent - the great Melville: the quiet, lyrical scenes and locations, the domestic scenes, the triad summit meetings, the nightclubs; and then there's the dialogue: threats - implied and expressed; or ambitions and concerns expressed; plus the occasional burst of savage violence, just in case the messages hadn't 'gotten through'. And the importance of loyalty. All of which might suggest an excess of reverence and homage, or even the dreaded pastiche - but not a bit of it. Maybe it was more a case of To setting his sights high - and in a Daedalus, and in no way an Icarus way - and wanting to be judged alongside those more epic films, because he knew how good the story he had to tell was.

Because its shorter than either of the aforementioned Masterpieces - and less ambitious - it might be considered a lesser film, but I'm having none of it, because there's not one milligram of flab here, and it tells all the story it needs to tell, and tells it well. And its the pacing, the editing,the choreography, the moulding of a succession of scenes into a satisfying whole. It's not even so much the ending, because I could see that coming from a mile away; it's just that everything fits in the way you wanted it to fit, and not in a seen-it-all-before kind of way. It's just perfect, and I can't wait to watch it again.

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Great ride - shame about the script!

[6/10 · 4 June 2015]

Well, it looks great - and there's even more of those marvelously costumed and made-up bad guys that helped make 'Road Warrior' so memorable, albeit that, there, it was done in moderation. Naturally, it being a George Miller-helmed Mad Max movie, the editing and shots of vehicles powering down that outback highway are to marvel at, although as with a roller-coaster-ride, the best rides are when you get some relief, even if you know thrills are just split-seconds away. Cinematography-wise, it rivals Nic Roeg's 'Walkabout' in its use of barren desert - except Roeg employed thousands less people to tell his story - and more tellingly.

I don't know: 'exposition' is considered by many to be a four-letter word and, in cinema's case, its absence is often justified with the dictum 'a picture tells a thousand words': I'm a great believer in exposition, though, in both film and written storytelling: blanks need to be filled in, and an optimal harmony can be achieved, of show and tell. I'd read about the film's 'feminist' subtext and been somewhat wary of it, particularly when its defenders had cited Charlize Theron's 'Furiosa' heroine as being more critical than Max, himself: now, having seen the film, I don't see that as being a particular problem; at least hers is a more plausible characterisation than Sharon Stone's turn in 'The Quick and The Dead', for example. My main problem is with the basic script itself - and the somewhat muddied/half-baked feminist agenda/sub- plot: like what, really, was the journey really about, and why did they ultimately make the decisions they did; how critical were the 'travails' of the rescued Supermodels, and their pouting and dress-sense; and, especially, what was the deal with those hold-out female warriors - what, exactly, were they holding out for, and from whom; how did they survive for as long as they did.

With regards to basic plot elements I was put in mind of the 'Animal Farm' mantra: 'four legs good, two legs bad', in the films divide of men and women characters; and, indeed, of the nursery rhyme, 'The Grand Old Duke of York', as regards the journey; is that, really, all there is? And then there's arch-villain, Immortan Joe (a welcome return for 'Mad Max' chief villain, Hugh Keays Byrne - albeit in a different guise): How did he survive as long as he did; and surely there would have been at least one ambitious successor, waiting in the wings.

It looked great: it just needed even a half-decent, half-thought out, semi plausible screenplay to make the ride that bit smoother. I'll be returning to 'The Road Warrior' and 'Mad Max', but I'll pass on re-watches or the DVD of this one - unless the Director's Cut gets to tell the whole story.