eyesour Reviews

The Passenger (1975)

Reminded me of Blacktop, 1971.

[8/10 · 29 May 2013]

Which you might call a better film, since it was more natural, less self-admiring and self-conscious, as well as three years earlier. There was a Girl-with-no-Name. She was a sort of a pick-up, in a way. Nicholson, like Oates, was someone who seemed to have lost his target in life, as well as the plot of his existence, and didn't know who he really was. We were told a little more about where Nicholson was coming from, though, which we never learned about Oates. Also, this was a kind of a road-movie, although the road criss-crossed the Mediterranean, not what I assume was the Bible belt, and the white convertible was more of a clipper than the 55 Chevy.

The other characters in their bit-parts didn't seem to have much existence, either, and were just hanging around, waiting for something. Some reviewers complain about Schneider's performance. I thought she was just fine and dandy. Pity about that stupid Tango film. Couldn't see that she was high or doped in any way. Hendry, on the other hand, seemed to me genuinely and permanently sozzled every scene he was in. After it was all over, I spent time racking my brains to discover who someone called Stephen actually was, as I couldn't recall anyone with that name, or anyone playing a part which would fit someone of that name. I think I finally managed to place him. I have this funny feeling that if my name was Berkoff, I'd change it.

Strange things happen in this movie. An African man, looking like a guerrilla leader, whose identity was obscure, was shot before our eyes, in real time, and in obvious reality. I never discovered why. Another man was suddenly kicked in the guts. I never worked that out either.

I enjoyed this film. Can't really say why. I liked the photography, and the pace. It was slow, but it didn't seem slow. I kept expecting for things to happen, just like Blacktop. Another similarity was in the long-shots, where actions were happening in both foreground and background --- as well as middle-ground. I'm sure I will watch this again, and you can't ask for more when it comes to cinema. If you haven't seen Two-Lane Blacktop, try it. Another thought, as film-makers advance in years, they seem to abandon the idea of telling coherent stories, and, like I think Hitchcock once said, they just make pictures. Doesn't matter if these pictures don't join up, just because they move. Like walking through an exhibition in a picture gallery. It's happened to Tarantino as well.

I was truly and exceptionally interested to see that Peter Wollen, an Oggsford man, had part-written the script.

Alice in Wonderland (1966 TV Movie)

Miller makes me wonder: 8 bats

[8/10 · 28 May 2013]

Carroll's two Alice books are among the greatest works ever written in the English language. Their perfection is only accessible to the intellectually enlightened, and not always to them. Miller probably considers himself one of these elected ones, but I wonder. His version is interesting, praise-worthy for making you, me and a few others think, but I honestly suspect he hasn't got the full story.

This (mostly) first Carroll book is about how an intelligent, growing child begins to encounter the reality of the nasty and irrational adult world. Starting, like the Count of Monte Cristo, with a birth trauma, which is not a dream but more of a nightmare, the child is ejected into this unpleasant place, via its passage through amniotic fluid. It gives itself the prize of the thimble of life. Its staccato physical growth, both embryonic and post-birth, is accurately reflected --- the caterpillar is a perfect personification of metamorphosis --- as are its subsequent meetings with the enigmas of adult laws, punishments and regulations, the bullying, uglification and derision of mankind; the peremptoriness of authority, and its penchant for hypocritical and homiletic moralising. The book also probes time and space, but not as deeply as its wonderful sequel, Looking-Glass, which actually impresses me even more The final conclusion, in Carroll's original, is that human society is merely nothing but a house of cards, as any mature intellect will recognise, sooner or later. Jonathan leaves this out, and he shouldn't have. But I'll give him eight stars, anyway. Ms Maxwell-Muller was known to me.

Miller doesn't seem to have fully cottoned on to my indubitably correct understanding of the work, and dithers about, in the persona of Ms Mallik, supposing it all to be a dream. It isn't a dream, except in the sense, as we are recently informed, that life as we know it is merely the figment of some alien person's imagination. Namely, the red king's. It's his dream, not ours. Carroll fully realised that our universe is an early numerical simulation with unimproved Wilson fermion discretization, but he was not able, in his time, to investigate potentially-observable consequences.There are the usual comments by the usual nitwits about the "budget" spent on this effort. Good work has totally nothing whatever to do with "budget". The only "budget" needed by genius is a pencil and paper, set in motion by a brain. It seems incredible that there actually are people reviewing this film who have never read the book.

The Sea Hawk (1940)

The mixture as before. But

[6/10 · 25 May 2013]

Brenda is not Olivia, and Henry quite definitely is not Philip St.John Basil Rathbone, MC. Sorry, folks, but with ersatz ingredients, the cake just doesn't taste quite right, although millions were spent in baking it. Flynn does his very best; he looks good, moves well, speaks well, flaunts his gear as if ladled into it, and he was an absolutely great swasher, but somehow I didn't feel his heart was truly into this buckler. The ship models were annoyingly unrealistic; Henry Daniell was such a pathetic pussy he had to have a blatantly obvious double in the fencing scenes, besides which Elizabeth's Walsingham should sue him for character assassination and outright defamation. Robson was a sight better than Bette Davis, but there have been several better Elizabeths since. Also, this film is too long, and it starts to drag about half way through, when they get to sepia-tinted Panama. There's too much talk, as well. And that monkey was robbed of its Oscar. Never mind, it's all good anti-German fun: there are definite parallels between the Nazis and the Spanish Inquisition. Korngold ratchets up the sound. Time Magazine reviewed the performance with its usual inaccuracy, calling Flynn "the Irish Cinemactor". I often wonder about these WW2 movies: do they show this in Argentina nowadays ? Do they show Henry V in France ?

Shakespeare-Wallah (1965)

Loss of past time

[10/10 · 11 May 2013]

The exquisite mood captured by this masterpiece is unique in my experience of motion pictures. "Colonial rule" in India was not English, but British. The many Irish, Welsh and Scots who lived and died in India would hate to be called English. However, the dedicated husband and wife thespians are eccentrically English, of course. Their daughter, Lizzie, has never been outside India, and knows less of England than Sanju, the man she thinks she loves. The action is not set during the last days of the Raj, as reported in some reviews. Nabokov's "Lolita", which is pointedly displayed early in the film (perhaps because it is also about the seduction of one culture by another), was first published in 1955, and Indian Independence took place in 1947. Sanju drives a white Mercedes, which I wouldn't like to date, but which is very definitely post-1955. The film was made in 1965. The rise of Bollywood must have been taking place at about this time. Much of the delicate ambiance of the film is totally lost if the audience is misled into believing that India was like this before Independence. Only the ghost of the Empire lingers on in this quiet story. It is not really about a "clash" of cultures, with the violent hostility which that word implies; rather, it gently acknowledges that the old order is changing, giving place to a new. Indian potentates no longer personally strangle unwitting intruders for entering their women's quarters. I hope not, anyway. The lives of Lizzie's parents are irrevocably inter-woven with a vanished time: they will die in India. Because Lizzie has no place in the new India, she has to be sent away to a home she doesn't know. Her Indian playboy friend cannot commit himself to marrying her.

Nevertheless, the truth is that in spite of the mockery directed against the theatre of Shakespeare by a more aggressively volatile element, very many actors on the imperial stage conceived a genuine love of India, and its high and ancient civilisation, and this affection could be recognised and reciprocated, and still is, in some parts. The love affair is, even today, not yet wholly extinct, at least at some levels. This is an infinitely more nuanced work than David Lean's rather nasty and one-dimensional interpretation of E.M.Forster's shallow "Passage to India". Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, who wrote the screenplay of Shakespeare Wallah, displays a far finer spirit, greater precision and deeper humanity. Separation at any age is also a loss.

Memento (2000)

Demento

[1/10 · 29 April 2013]

After watching this for about 2 or 3 hours, and not enjoying anything, I felt obliged to look at my watch. Yumping Yiminy ! Only 20 minutes had passed by ! At this rate it was going to feel like 24 hours before I got to the end. So I'll confess: I accelerated the action. I might have missed a few plot points, but it didn't seem to matter much.

Hang on. I guess I've said those words already about another movie made about the same time as this one. Actually made only 2 years earlier. I gave that one 2 stars, but I'll give this one just 1 star. Although this one had better actors. But the story was even more confusing. They made a film, then chopped it up into little pieces, and re-arranged these bits in a haphazard way. So they lost me. It was silly. The idea of Polaroid photos and daft little notes was just stupid. I couldn't remember anything that had happened, didn't want to, and it almost made me demented. This kind of playing with time worked great in Pulp Fiction, but there it was gripping and generally masterfully handled. Here it was fatuous. Eight point six stars ! Number 34 ! Has everyone in the world gone insane ?

Dark City (1998)

Black Hole

[2/10 · 29 April 2013]

After watching this for about 2 or 3 hours, and not understanding anything, I felt obliged to look at my watch. Yumping Yiminy ! Only 20 minutes had passed by ! At this rate it was going to feel like 24 hours before I got to the end. So I'll confess: I accelerated the action. I might have missed a few plot points, but it didn't seem to matter much. Many of the visuals were rather amazing, but they, too, grew repetitive, and I wasn't at all sure what they were meant to be telling me. Also, there were vast crowds of zombies from another world, like things from outer space, hanging around. I could tell they wanted something, but I wasn't sure what. Was it Get A Life ? Aw, yeah, they wanted our planet. I seem to remember that plot from another film, long ago. Was it called The Bodysnatchers from Another World? War of the Worlds? Mars Attacks? Seems to me this story has been done to death. Some SF is brilliant: Bladerunner, Back to the Future, Terminator etc. Other SF is schlock and dreck. This is the latter, but I feel sad to say so, since there was evidently a lot of effort put into it. But it was boring: I just didn't care what it was about.

Mary, Queen of Scots (1971)

Nice costumes

[3/10 · 29 March 2013]

Nice castles. Nice scenery. Pity about the phony accents, acting, writing, direction. The story of the wretched and unfortunate Mary is one ghastly never-ending muddle and mess, end to end. I never did manage to sort out the ramifications of her dealings with the Catholics and Protestants, the King of France, Darnley, Bothwell and Rizzio, not to mention her half-brother, and this screenplay is no help. It is talkative, and presumably this is why Mary and Elizabeth are presented as meeting not once but twice, but very little is made clearer by these silly, pointless, fictitious encounters.

The actors come across as puppets pulled around by strings, spouting unconvincing artificial dialogue. Vanessa is far too physically angular, and unsympathetic, to play Mary; Glenda looks unwell throughout. McGoohan seems unusually constipated. None of these characters, Darnley, Bothwell, and so on seem at all real, let alone royal. Anyone less likely to go mad than Nigel Davenport is difficult to imagine. This is not a good film. Five Oscar nominations ? Incredible. Trevor Howard wasn't too bad. All the other Tudor film histories are better than this one.

Hud (1963)

What's good about this ?

[2/10 · 23 March 2013]

Just can't join in with the rave reviewers of this unappealing story. Everything about it may be as wonderful and special as they say, but in the end it's an intensely depressing, misery-making, simply feel-bad kind of film. Acting, writing, shooting are all excellent: but the characters and the theme are either deeply unhappy or repellent. There was an aura of cynicism and disillusion about many movies of this era, starting perhaps with Look Back in Anger, and the British school of kitchen sink, moving West with a variety of American productions, including this one, of course. The obverse of this trend was the birth of Rock and Roll, which took place at about the same time. Perhaps both trends had the rejection of parental values in common, but, frankly, I prefer the Elvis sneer to Hud Bannon's when it comes to offending the wrinkly and righteous. There is positively nothing interesting to me about Hud's personality: he's nothing but a good-looking jerk. Every episode presented, the opening scene, the pointless brawls, the greased pig contest, the ugly rape attempt, the cattle slaughter, the old man's death-rattle, just leave a nasty taste in the mouth. Don't bother.

The Bofors Gun (1968)

Reality

[9/10 · 12 March 2013]

At last it's on a DVD. I'm fairly sure I'd only seen this once before just now. That must have been in 1970. That's 43 years ago, and it had stayed with me ever since, though I'd forgotten the exact details. What I vividly remembered was the towering performance of Nicol Williamson, as a soldier teetering on the edge of a lucid, semi-rational insanity.

Isn't it interesting how brilliantly written and brilliantly acted low-budget films are so often far more memorable than most of the overblown mega-busters hyped to the skies. So many economically made masterpieces fit this minimalist category: Reservoir Dogs, The Duellists, Breaker Morant, Hard Times, Blood Simple, High Noon, Man for All Seasons. Those films seem one hundred percent real, not phony. Nothing beats quality; certainly not demented over-expenditure.

One or two of the reviewers in this site don't seem to have the faintest idea of what they'd been watching. The Bofors gun is not near-obsolete --- it's amazingly still in service, one of the finest ever examples of Swedish weaponry design and engineering. Quote from Wiki: "The gun remains in service as of 2013, for instance as main armament in the CV 90, making it both one of the longest-serving artillery pieces of all time as well as most widespread". Naval gun on the Atlantic? He cannot be serious; he must be joking. However, at the time the action takes place it was felt that all weaponry had been made obsolete, by the H-bomb. Not so, of course.

Since I'd joined the British Army of the Rhine as a two year National Serviceman in 1956 I knew precisely what was being shown here. Everything was dead accurate, down to the way we wore our berets, exactly horizontal round our heads, patted down and shaped to the skull, ribbons tucked in out of sight at the back. These are almost always shown wrong and sloppy in other films of the British military of this era, and it's extremely irritating. Also the NAAFI, the way the orders were barked, the swanky marching, commands to slope and order arms, stand at ease, stand easy. I picked up from Michael Lepine's slightly inaccurate booklet, which came with the DVD, that RSM Brittain, the legendary Coldstream Guards drill-master, drilled these actors, and he obviously did an outstanding job. Jack Gold, the director, confesses in an accompanying interview that he managed successfully to evade doing National Service himself.

One of the factors adding to the decline of Britain in the post-war period was the abolition of National Service. This two year period of training for every able-bodied British male was an invaluable formative element in uniting the country to its common benefit and advantage. It provided youths with skills, discipline and positive experience instead of letting them slide into becoming unemployed yobs, thieves, criminal gang members and dope addicts.

But this play isn't about National Service, in spite of what Lepine says. O'Rourke was a Regular. Since he is going to celebrate his 30th birthday in 1954 by committing suicide, he must have joined the army in about 1942, and served in WW2 as well as Korea and no doubt elsewhere. The play seems in fact to be a clinical study in post-traumatic stress disorder, much as that might surprise its author, McGrath. Excellent. Nine stars.

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974)

Played mainly for Laughs

[7/10 · 17 February 2013]

Maybe I was wrong to view this 1974 version not before, but after seeing the Tony Scott version of 2009. Comparisons are often odious, but I don't think it's as good as his, even though he says so himself, in his own commentary. This one, directed by Joseph Sargent, doesn't seem to know if it's a genuine, gritty thriller or a semi-jokey, wacky but slightly flimsy comedy. Scott is right: these are two quite different films. This one has Shaw, as an Irish (according to Scott) mercenary, named Bernard Ryan, taking the train, and holding the passengers to ransom. He doesn't sound Irish but it's an Irish name. He doesn't seem to be as highly motivated as he ought to be, and not as ruthless as he pretends. He doesn't follow through on his threats with proper conviction, because he gives his targets an extra ten minutes, and he only kills the conductor. In fact, what is his underlying psychological motivation? The story contains a lot of wisecracks, the Mayor is a total dipstick, and it all builds up to a final sneeze. Big laugh. Earlier laughs come at the expense of a bunch of what Matthau calls monkeys, goofily thinking they can't speak English. They are actually Japanese subway executives, although one of the NY subway staff calls them Chinese. There is a wide roster of stereotypes making up the hostages. In fact, there's a kind of sub-current throughout of social minorities being slightly mocked and ridiculed: female staff, homosexual passengers, hooker passengers, bag-lady passengers, Jewish passengers, undercover cops (are they male or female?), black chief of police, who really gives Matthau a double-take. However, Matthau handles it all very well, being alternately tough, smart, cool, weary and witty. It's entertaining, but never remotely believable. In the style of The Sting, or Butch and Sundance. With all those wisecracks, you never feel the hostages are in any serious danger. The Scott version felt dead real, and it seems he thought so too.

Atonement (2007)

To be at one with oneself

[7/10 · 17 February 2013]

A mainly glum, disturbing, and strangely creepy fiction of doomed romance. In one of the features on my disc, one of the participants describes the house, which is a character, as creepy. I haven't read the book, or any of McEwan's tales, but this depressing story could be his self-addressed excuse for telling porky pies, and makes him feel better. Many (most ? all ?) gloomy writers make use of other people's misfortunes, and their own, when creating their fantasies. Perhaps they sometimes even create these misfortunes themselves.

The way the narrative is filmed continually reminds us that a lot of it, perhaps all of it, is not actually happening: this socially divisive love story is end-to-end imaginary. That must be why it rambles over the place. The narrative is intercut with puzzling flash-forwards, anticipating later events. Did Briony actually see two figures clutching at each other on the library ladder? Or did she just make it up in her embryonic little scribbler's head ? The bookish setting, suspended among stacks of literature, is appropriate. All art is unreal, if you will; but there are degrees of unreality. In this case the reality of English interwar types (Cambridge or Oggsford men) during the mid-1930s is quite distancing, even though I was sufficiently alive myself to recall the run up to WW2. This distance annoys and clouds. Still, the package is not uninteresting, very well-made, well-dressed, well-acted, and all that. Seemed like an excessive amount of time at Dunkirk. Was Dunkirk really like that ? I can't quite believe it. There really are rather too many plot holes, and I had one question. Why didn't the young redhead, Lola, come clean ? However, this has been more or less answered on this site. She was out to snare a chocolate millionaire, no matter how creepy. I was going to give this eight, but now it's seven.

The Taking of Pelham 123 (2009)

Travolta: great actor

[8/10 · 1 February 2013]

Not until I'd watched through this film and started reading these reviews did I fully understand that it was a remake, although I was dimly aware that Matthau had been in something similar. Anyway, seeing Travolta in this was something of a revelation. I think I've seen Grease, but don't remember it too well. Recently watched Saturday Night Fever, and, natch, Pulp Fiction. That's about it, as regards Travolta. Watching this I kept asking myself: "Is that really John Travolta?" What a great performance ! That's what I call acting, when someone immerses himself so deeply in the part you can't recognise him.

Not having seen the previous version(s) I found this story entertaining and enjoyable to watch. First time I'd seen Denzel, and he was good too, although his character turned rather American-type corny, dumb and shallow towards the end. Tony Scott was a very good, professional director, poor fellow. True Romance is truly a great movie. Here things got a bit erratic at times: Denzel flitting all over the place, in the control room, in the tunnel, on the street, up in the copter. Couldn't really swallow the logistics of this. Some of the plot escaped me, moneywise. Anyway, I recommend this film. Nice cameos by Turturro and Gandolfini. Now I'll have to pick up the Matthau/Shaw version.

17 Feb. Now that I've seen the 1974 version I realize this is not a remake. Also, it's a much better, grittier, more genuine piece of work. Tony Scott was criminally underrated as a director. Maybe that's what depressed him.

The Duellists (1977)

A Flawless Miracle.

[10/10 · 27 December 2012]

Ridley Scott obviously recruited God as his Assistant Director in this, one of the two or three most marvellous films I've seen. After 75 years I've seen a few. Perfectly cast, perfectly written, perfectly acted, perfectly directed and perfectly shot. Towards the end Ridley simply said: we need to bathe the scene in sunlight here; and God obliged. The scene is reminiscent of a famous painting by Caspar David Friedrich.

At a certain point Ridley thought it would add spice if the horses started to love each other, and God agreed. There are the usual occasional half-witted reviews, by people who can't understand what the story is about, or who object to the accents. Do these people have the faintest idea what early 19th century French sounded like? Keitel and Carradine were perfect in their parts, accent-wise and every other-wise.

Given the reported budget of a farcical $900,000, these actors must all have played their parts for nothing. So Finney walked off with a crate of champagne.

It is sadly true, and must be accepted, that Scott must have taken some notice of clunky Barry Lyndon, in particular the natural lighting. It's as if Scott said to himself, I think I can see what you're trying to do, Stanley. I'll just show you how to do it.

I saw Kubrick's Lyndon, many years ago, and, except for the lighting, it struck me, end to end, as utterly tedious, pointless garbage. Kubrick was essentially little more than a somewhat mediocre stills photographer.

The Duellists is multi-layered, subtle, thought-provoking; historically, politically, socially, psychologically, stimulating. It raises questions, and suggests answers.

It is known that Conrad fairly closely based his tale on the animosity recorded between two actual Napoleonic officers, named Dupont and Fournier. Fournier gained the soubriquet "El Demonio". These two fought at least 30 duels over a 19 year period, starting in 1794. Dupont referred to Fournier as "the worst subject of the Grande Armée". Look them up.

The Duellists reminds me of what Polanski said about Chinatown: that he didn't realise he had created what others called a masterpiece. It's time the public, and perhaps Scott himself, began to understand that with this film he created a true masterpiece, for all ages. But the self-appointed connoisseurs voted for Vertigo, God Help Us.

Animated Epics: Beowulf (1998 TV Movie)

Best Introduction to Old Scandinavian Epic

[10/10 · 27 December 2012]

This is a delightful retelling of the Anglo-Saxon tale, which is set in Denmark and Sweden, and contains nothing English whatsoever, using animated graphics; half narrated, half enacted with the spoken voices of several well-known British actors, including Derek Jacobi and Joseph Fiennes. Quite short, at 27 minutes, it is infinitely more true to the original than the recent productions by Zemeckis and Sturluson. There are no silly interpolated extra characters, sub-plots, or post-modern interpretations of the story's "meaning". The monsters are traditional, shapeless, scary and mysterious. The mead-hall is splendid and magnificent. Beowulf is noble, brave and gentle. All aspects are left unexplained: things just happen and the viewer is free to read whatever interpretation he feels like into the events. Consequently it is really more intellectually stimulating than the big-budget films. Although it is violent, there is nothing distasteful about any of it, and should be suitable for older children as well as adults. I was left wishing it had been longer.

Dracula (1931)

Dreadfula. Ghastly, in fact.

[2/10 · 25 November 2012]

By steadily repeating to myself "be charitable; 1931: make allowances", I almost managed to watch this all the way through, but finally had to fast forward the two or three last sections. If anyone wants to call this an "American classic", then they are of course wery velcome. It's American, that's for sure. Otherwise, however, this simply devalues the meaning of what is "classic". Strangely fantastic and deeply unimaginative at the same time. Lugosi has a kind of strictly one-note presence, a limited creepy charisma; the girls look quite pretty; van Helsing has many more than four goggle eyes; and Seward is actually not too bad. The medical students in the post-mortem operating theatre are truly petrified. The basic truth is that this is just a hopelessly incoherent mess; and I won't be watching it again for a long time. Lee and Cushing are the only Dracula and Helsing on the cinematic map, in the hall of fame, and I can't see them ever being bettered.

The Train (1964)

Not that easy to buy into this one

[7/10 · 9 November 2012]

If you can believe Paul Scofield as a highly mannered, almost camp Wehrmacht colonel teetering on the brink of insanity, or Burt Lancaster completely mis-cast as a French railwayman with a Gauloise dangling from his lips, or the entire Impressionist and Modernist artistic heritage of France packed into a goods train headed for a WW2 Germany by this time virtually reduced to rubble, then this is for you.

The whole set-up is implausible, a lot of the dialogue is clichéd and unconvincing, several of the minor characters are stereotypes (look French, wear a beret), and the acting isn't too bad, but it's really A-/B+ most of the time. Nevertheless it's all quite entertaining. The real leading character is the train, and we get to see a lot of how it runs, how it huffs and puffs, how it gets pushed and pulled around, crashes into its buddies, gets strafed, veers off-track.

Dozens of innocent Frenchmen, and I daresay women and children, get ruthlessly slaughtered by inhuman Germans, although these Germans are not specifically singled out as Nazis. The underlying debate seems to be about whether Art is worth more than Human Life. Art is Long, Life is Short, as the saying goes. So large numbers of little people on both sides of the fighting divide can get liquidated, provided the painted canvases survive. All-American Lancaster, clench-jawed and indestructible, also survives, of course. Perhaps he retires in post-war France with jolie-laide Moreau. It's not that easy to tell what the moral of this tale really is. It reminds me a little of the fictions of Alistair Maclean. Frankenheimer has directed better films than this one. Also, Scofield was a 100% British actor.

The Young Lions (1958)

Brando plays the Good German

[5/10 · 29 August 2012]

Marlon Brando's patrilineal ancestor, Johann Wilhelm Brandau, was a German immigrant to New York in the early 1700s. Marlon must have had the genes for his part in this rather soggy drama, as "Christian" --- would you believe! Actually, in real life, Brando was raised as a Christian Scientist. See Wikipedia. He did not play a Nazi in this film, in spite of what some reviewers say. They could not have been listening to the dialogue. Nor was he a member of the SS. He is supposed to have been a Bavarian cobbler, living in a mountainous ski-resort, who should have stuck to his last. Why does he then say: "Uh, I vish I vas back in Austria! I vish I was beck in ze snow... in ze vinter... in ze mountains..." ???? The truth is, in spite of what is misquoted on this site, he doesn't say "Austria". There is something faintly ludicrous in the motorcycle scene, with two Germans, Brando (Brando is NOT a Nazi --- another misdescription) and Schell, talking to each other in English with German accents. The language problem remains unsolved in many movies.

There's something dissatisfying about this movie, but difficult to say exactly what. It's certainly overlong. It also seems just a wee bit too goody-good for its own good, and therefore lacks the bite that it might and ought to have had. Dean Martin is an unattractive character; Clift is just too shy, sweet, and weedy for words; Brando is very good, very charming, and makes one keep wishing the Germans had won. Some very silly reviewers wonder if his German accent would be considered plausible by Germans. How the devil would they be able to tell? I thought it was excellent --- better than his English accent, when he played the Fop on the Bounty.

Worth a watch, but very dated. Will appeal more to Americans. Half-marks.

Inland Empire (2006)

Slow Torture

[3/10 · 27 August 2012]

Many years ago I went to see "Eraserhead" at my local flea-pit. The screening was late at night. Around midnight. Slouching into my seat, I counted the audience. There were eleven of them. After about 20 minutes one of them got up and walked out. I soon found myself repeatedly asking myself: "Why am I sitting here, watching this, alone, at this time of night?" There was no answer, but I sat through the entire flick, to the bitter end. An achievement, of which I was proud.

In the case of "Inland Empire", I asked myself the very same question, although I was watching it at home, via DVD. I got quite a similar answer: ie none at all. But I failed to achieve what I had managed all those years ago, and simply couldn't last the distance. But then "Eraserhead" is only 1½ hours long, whereas "Inland Empire" is a full 180 minutes. That's three hours. I just couldn't make it. In fact I gave up after only fifteen minutes. Although I did zip back and forth for spot checks here and there. It availed me nothing. The pacing of this movie was next to stationary. I also felt pain.

Both these films are dogs, of the Andalusian breed. "Eraserhead", however, has a story, of a sort. If "Inland Empire" has one, it eludes me, and I don't feel tempted enough to find out what it might be. I know I couldn't sit through any more of those hours, desperately seeking to unravel meaning. On the other hand, Buñuel had made it quite clear that he and Dali had had only one objective, which was that no idea or image should lend itself to a rational explanation of any kind. Good for them. That makes perfect, logical sense. It's a rational explanation.

It is arguable that Lynch, in these films, uses cinema the way it should be used. It's a naturally surreal medium. It doesn't have to have meaning. I seem to remember even Hitchcock saying, somewhere, that he was just making pictures. He certainly didn't bother too often about plausible plot-consistency. I've read that Lynch has said in interviews that he thinks of the image first then works it into the movie. Well, I still miss the story. "Inland Empire" is for those who do not need one. They can perhaps find one, inside themselves. You will like this, if this is the sort of thing you like. I hope this verdict has been helpful.

Three stars, in case the star system isn't working.

The Eagle (2011)

Not the First King of Scotland

[2/10 · 24 August 2012]

Fairly promising start. But it soon degenerates into madly inconsistent confusion. Downhill, all the way. There's an awful lot of running around going on in this movie. Everybody, bar the robotic Roman infantry, is at it --- what's that sport called ? Orienteering. This is Dawn Age orienteering. Without compass or map. Over the hills and far away: from Land's End to John o'Groats. Aka Le Jog.

What comment does a film of this calibre deserve ? How may one expect to satisfy the IMDb request to be "helpful" ? There is never any point in listing the actors, or trying to explain the plot. These aspects have always been already dealt with by other reviewers. Let us therefore limit remarks to the Seal People.

Magnus Linklater allegedly wrote in The Times that "Kevin Macdonald will bring to film pre-Celtic clash of the cultures". The Ninth Spanish Legion in the Roman army operated from the first century BC until mid 2nd century AD. The speculation that it vanished in Caledonia about 117 AD, inspiring several works of fiction and movies, has been replaced with a belief that it was transferred out of Britain between 108 AD and 125 AD. Not in this movie, which is said to be based on a 1954 book. I don't think I've read it, although the Seal People (who are supposed to have finished off the Ninth Legion, and nicked its Eagle) seem familiar. Perhaps I'm thinking of a book by Eric Linklater, called "Sealskin Trousers". The book must have been much better than this movie. In San Diego it was noted that "there where a few different things here". Yes, indeed their where. Young Kevin said that the book didn't say much about what the Seal People looked like, so he invented them out of his head. Presumably, Seal People are both pre-Celtic and pre-Pictish. Pre-anything, in fact.

The result is hilariously pre-Posterous. No people looked like this, ever. All they inspire is stifled laughter, with their allover African blackface makeup, Red Indian haircuts, semi-Aztec millinery, Neanderthal weaponry (including steel daggers), and Inuit raiment. Their women were a gaggle of gigglers. Channing looks quite stolidly Roman; Uncle Don Sutherland looks more like a truly Arch-Druid; and Wee Jamie doesn't look as if he'd last long in those conditions. What is it about bad films? I can seldom resist watching them to the bitter end.

Captain Kidd (1945)

Charlton Heston gets his break ?

[3/10 · 18 August 2012]

There have been many movies about pirates, some better than others. This is certainly one of the all-time silliest and most farcical. Randolph Scott looks a bit like a stuffed shirt version of Errol Flynn. His buddy, John Qualen, doesn't have much to say. He usually plays Scandinavians with a funny accent. He was the Norwegian in Casablanca. Henry Daniell was quite convincing as William III, and looked the part. There was a pretty girl, who had almost nothing to do. Otherwise the story, the script and the performances were truly laughable: so bad they were good. Only missing were Abbott and Costello, and I believe they turned up in a later version. Sample dialogue. Last pirate alive on Laughton's hilariously hidden hitlist says: "You can't kill me. I've left a letter with my lawyer, to be opened if I don't come back to London." Captain Laughton: "Spoil sport." Wink, wink, blink. I kid you not! Reminds me of "The Outlaw".

However, there is one brief scene which I've watched over and over. Just about 20 minutes into this total nonsense (a better title would be "Carry on Pirating"), a gang of dirty, filthy pirates have been told to get cleaned up, and they are waiting their turn in the hot tub. One of those in the queue is a bloke with a towel round his nether parts. Stap me vitals, and shiver me timbers if this shipmate ain't Charlton Heston! Features --- both face and physique --- are a perfect fit. All that bothers me slightly is the hair, but his hair, if it was his, always did seem to sit a little oddly on his head.

This film was made in 1945. In that year, according to Wikipedia, Chuck Heston had just left the army and got married, and was doing some modelling work. It does look as if he picked up a few more pennies as an extra. Can someone confirm or refudiate the possibility? It's one of the main reasons for watching this shipwreck. Three stars for the laughs.

The Public Enemy (1931)

One scene just follows another

[16 August 2012]

After watching this again last night, for about the third or fourth time over a five year period, I came to the conclusion that it just wasn't very good --- as a film. However, my disc comes with the Scorsese interview, and after listening to him I thought perhaps I was wrong, and that this film was a work of genius after all.

There's not much of a story, and nothing that could be called a plot. Irish-American youngster steals roller-skates, and is viciously given the strap by his evil-looking keystone copper father. He graduates up the crime ladder, earns a minor mint from Prohibition, functioning simply as a thug enforcer employed by what appears to be a multi-millionaire Jewish crime boss. He kills men and horses with a total lack of remorse, gets involved in mobster warfare, and ends up as a parcel, delivered home to his mother by special courier. The loose ends are multiple. A number of characters, such as Cagney's first live-in squeeze, simply vanish from the narrative. But for Cagney's charisma the whole business would be oddly boring and uninteresting.

The lack of narrative continuity make one suspect that great chunks of footage have been cut away at some stage, creating a strangely staccato sequence of scenes. This left Scorsese to convince me that each scene had been extremely inventively planned and shot, with ingenious lighting, framework and camera angles. I'll buy it, if he says so. I'd agree that a number of them of them were vivid. Many of the personalities were unfortunately also annoyingly fake, like the dopey mother, the goody brother, the cipher-like sister, Paddy Ryan the crime lord. Even when all allowances are made for the early date, I'd much rather watch Hell's Angels.

The short extra featuring the 1932 US women's Olympic team was a genuine eye-opener. One reviewer thinks the moll who got the grapefruit was Jean Harlow. The gaffes on these reviews never cease to amaze me.

Six stars for Cagney. Zero for the rest.

Prizzi's Honor (1985)

An unfunny comedy. Jack is too dumb not to be nasty.

[4/10 · 14 August 2012]

Many years ago --- it must have been in about 1986 --- my sister told me that she and her husband walked out of this film before the end. They hadn't seen the jokes, I suppose, and felt an ever-increasing sense of nausea and distaste. The tale is certainly sick, and it must have been a great deal more fun to make than it is to watch. It could also be seen as a multi-barbed satirical attack on all three parts of "The Godfather", mercilessly mocking the ethos of that second (after Shawshank) most loved and praised of all iconic American masterpieces, portraying the society of the US to the rest of the world. Instead of secreting cotton wool in his cheek pouches, like Brando, Nicholson tucks a roll under his upper lip, making him look even dumber than he's acting.

Most reviews here agree that this is all just taking the mickey, and for that reason it may merit moving up a couple of rating notches. However, it still isn't that good. I couldn't really understand the plot, with all its intricate insurance angles, but that didn't matter much, as it was mainly about caricaturing a well-known stereotypical group which nobody wants to get on the wrong side of.

Perhaps the story repels to some extent because there isn't a single sympathetic or likable character in the entire cast. Was this why so many stars appear to have turned down offers to play various parts ? Every character looks upon taking other people's lives as just another job, an unimportant happening, which is all in the day's work, not worth a second thought. Only a relatively mild reservation about offing one's wife. Money is the most important commodity in the business world: it's business, just business. No hard feelings.

There is one special feature of this movie which elevates it into unusual memorability, and that is the performance of William Hickey as the Grandfather, Godfather, Don. In 1985 this actor, born 1927, was only 58 ! I do not believe I have ever seen a more convincingly undead Zombie, aged at least 200, than Hickey delivers. Perhaps he was sustained, in common with all vampires, by the blood of his victims.

I see Hickey's act has been noticed by several others. 4/10.

Amazing Grace (2006)

Well-intentioned. Sadly, it fails badly.

[2/10 · 5 August 2012]

The script seemed to have been abandoned in a half-finished state, after perhaps its second draft, and could have done with at least another 10 revisions, and very substantial tightening. The director appeared to have lost his grip on the project, as though he feared running out of funds at any moment. The result falls embarrassingly short of doing justice to a subject much too big and intricate for this confusing, haphazard treatment.

One of the other reviews tells me the narrative covered a 35 year period. None of the characters aged in any visible way. Dishy Miss Spooner was in the bloom of glowing youth throughout. And what did she have to do with anti-slavery? There was virtually nothing to say what year any incident was taking place. At one point the message "Two Years Later" came up on the screen. Two years later than when ? Besides which, several other events, e.g. the death of Pitt, must have been two years later than two years before. I didn't even know he'd been ill. At another point a group was meaninglessly told that a certain phrase was in Latin, but even when thoughtfully translated for the modern movie audience, I still didn't know what it was about. Very clumsy.

Newton's hymn was spliced into this chopped-up presentation of Wilberforce and his friends at irregular intervals. The only reason seemed to be to justify the film's title. The tune wasn't used until 1835, after both men had died. The real Wilberforce is said to have had a fine singing voice, but the same could not honestly be said of Gruffudd. Wilberforce, sometimes called William and sometimes what sounded like Wilbur, is also said, according to Wikipedia, to have been a sickly, delicate child, who transformed himself from a shrimp into a whale when making speeches. Not true, either way, of Gruffudd.

The sets, clothes, hats and hairstyles were very striking. The permanent height of fashion, no doubt; but were some of those wigs really that fluffy and ill-fitting? Make-up varied. Sometimes William had dark shadows under his eyes, and his face was lined with care (and laudanum?), at other times he was white as chalk.

Perhaps the most disappointing aspect was that the whole show was tweaked so as to pander to the American market, which is seriously deluded about its own history concerning slavery and its ludicrously hypocritical Dec of Ind. In recent years one or two books have come out which plainly demonstrate that the true underlying purpose of the American Revolution was to preserve slavery, and expedite slaughter of the native peoples. Jefferson changed the original draft document from "All men are born free" to "All men are born equal", since asserting the freedom of "all men" would be too unpopular in America. "Equality" was meant to target the British alleged hereditary dynasties. It sounded better to the Americans, and was repeatedly used in the film. In truth, of course, men are neither born free nor born equal --- they have to work and fight for their freedom; and each man is different from every other. No human being is less free than a newborn infant, imprisoned by the circumstances into which it is born, and over which it has no control at all.

An honest biographical film of the true, turbulent, amazing, early life of John Newton would be infinitely more interesting and exciting, and would convey the anti-slavery message far more effectively. Why are you waiting, film-makers? A film with this subject would be a smash hit --- if properly managed.

Citizen Kane (1941)

Just don't give me Vertigo

[10/10 · 3 August 2012]

Some thoughts on the recent vote by that collection of pretentious nobodies called Sight & Sound critics. They've replaced Kane with Vertigo. Insane. While there may perhaps be about 5 films that are "better" than Citizen Kane, there must be at least 50 that are "better" than Vertigo, that farrago of zilch. One fairly interesting suggestion has been made that Kane is about Truth, where Vertigo is about Fantasy. For me, Truth is a million more times more interesting and much stranger than Fiction. Kane is a great, great film: creative, courageous, original, deep and gripping, mentally stimulating, superbly shot, written, acted. It tells you things about the world and yourself. It is youthful, vigorous and vital. Vertigo meanders along like superannuated sludge, baffling from beginning to end, telling you nothing. Incipient mental decay. Stewart is not too bad an actor; Bel Geddes is very good; and Novak is abysmal. All the actors in Kane are beyond excellent. But Charlie Kane is hard to take: the Truth hurts. Vertigo is merely soporific: a puzzle not worth solving.

Kane is about America, and the American Nightmare. Barbarity to Decadence, via Hypocrisy, without Civilization. Vertigo is about San Francisco, and the Flimsiness of Tinseltown. Sidling into Eventide. However, it is arguable that the theme of both films is an attempt to recover or re-discover the past. Blade Runner is more brilliant than either of them. The memories of the replicants are simply faked.

Here are a dozen films no better than Citizen Kane, but far, far "better" than Vertigo: Chinatown, The Seventh Seal, The Pianist, Un Flic, Breathless, Badlands, Once upon a Time in the West, in America, True Romance, The Hit, Hard Times, Sweet Smell of Success. I could easily think of forty more.

Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964)

Like a lead-lined coffin

[1/10 · 17 July 2012]

Watched this again just now, as although I'd seen it some time ago I'd forgotten what it was like. I remember thinking it was bad. It certainly is bad. Incredibly slow, slow, slow, and boring. Every event, especially the penultimate climax, is signalled about ten minutes before it happens. And it's of no interest, anyway. I could not care less about anything that these characters did, and shuddered at what seemed to me their excruciatingly painful, but inconsistent, accents. The writing is dreadful, the acting is wooden beyond belief --- in scene after scene these actors speak their lines mechanically, without the slightest sensation. Except for a heavy dose of ham. The pacing is funereal. The trivia note says that Bette Davis was publicly derisive of Joan Crawford's extensive location wardrobe. Was Joan Crawford in this movie ? I'd better read the cast list again.