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Cuban Rebel Girls (1959)
Flynn's Last Ride
On the 1st of January, 1959 at 3am, the infamous dictator Fulgencio Batista fled Cuba. Fidel Castro, then admired by the US, became the country's leader. The night Castro was informed of Batista's ignominious exit, there was but one journalist in his company: actor and notorious bon viveur, Errol Flynn. Flynn, whose fame was waning and fortune dwindling, was a fan of Castro, having gone to Cuba to write a series of articles for the New York Journal American about the Marxist-Leninist revolutionary. While there, Flynn made two low budget, propagandist films, the awkwardly named 'Cuban Story: The Truth About Fidel Castro Revolution', and 'Cuban Rebel Girls'.
Directed by Barry Mahon and written by Flynn, 'Cuban Rebel Girls' is an intriguing, though not exactly illuminating, or well-made, venture. A docu-drama, the film loosely describes Flynn's activities in Cuba, as well as the fictional adventures of the titular girls. Despite the fact that he was a fine writer, Flynn's narrative is not compelling, nor does he offer a nuanced or unbiased view of Castro or his revolutionary plans. Further, the dialogue throughout is overly expository and awkwardly stilted; made no better by the wooden performances from most in the cast.
In his wildly entertaining autobiography 'My Wicked, Wicked Ways', Flynn describes the film as "an interesting side venture", though there is little of interest offered to the viewer, beyond seeing the great raconteur making his last on-screen appearance. Though his narration throughout is spirited, Flynn's appearance betrays his decades of rabble-rousing and carousing. He looks older than his years; sadly, but unsurprisingly, he would die two months before the film was released.
Technically, it is an uninspiring watch. Director of photography Merrill S. Brody adopts a documentary approach, though the absence of professional lighting leaves proceedings ugly and dark. At times, it is genuinely hard to see what's going on, which is made worse by poor sound quality that leaves dialogue muffled and indistinct. This technical inadequacy detracts from the film's potential impact, making it difficult to engage with the narrative.
The whole affair appears cheap, like a quickly made puff-piece- which, one supposes, it was. Conversely, the inclusion of actual footage from the Cuban Revolution adds a touch of authenticity, though feels disjointed and out of place within the overall narrative. This blending of fact and fiction creates an uneven tone, leaving viewers unsure of whether they're watching a poor documentary or a melodramatic dramatization.
Despite this, the film aptly serves as a time capsule, capturing a unique moment in history when Hollywood intersected with global politics in an unexpected way. Furthermore, Flynn's fascination with the Cuban Revolution, and his involvement in making these propagandist films, speak to his complex, often contradictory personality. Known for his swashbuckling roles and amorous off-screen antics, Flynn's latter years were marked by a sense of disillusionment and a search for new adventures. 'Cuban Rebel Girls', despite its shortcomings, stands as a testament to Flynn's enduring charisma and his willingness to take risks, even as his star was fading.
Flynn's girlfriend Beverly Aadland stars opposite him as the main rebel girl, an American on a mission to supply weapons for the revolution. Aadland was not a natural actress, awkwardly delivering lines as if she was held at gunpoint. Jackie Jackler, as her co-conspirator, does marginally better work; though also seems out of her depth. John McKay is no more than adequate as Johnny, Beverly's boyfriend, and the rest of the cast fade into the background, leaving little impression whatsoever.
Had Mahon take a firmer hand directorially, instead of the lax approach he seems to have adopted, the film could have been rather interesting. Flynn's passion for the subject matter is evident, and his performance is noteworthy; even if he appears a little drunk towards the end. Despite the clumsy dialogue and cliched narrative, Flynn's (admittedly biased) attempts to educate his audience about the Cuban Revolution is commendable; if executed somewhat gracelessly.
In conclusion, Barry Mahon's 'Cuban Rebel Girls' is perhaps best viewed as a curiosity rather than a serious cinematic achievement. It offers a unique window into a bygone era, complete with all the imperfections and peculiarities that come with it. For fans of Errol Flynn or those seriously interested in the history of the Cuban Revolution, it's a film worth watching, if only for its historical significance and the swan song of a Hollywood legend.
Xiao cai feng (2002)
Needs No Alterations
In 2000, Dai Sijie's semi-autobiographical novella 'Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress' was released. An elegantly told story full of humour and emotion, it is set during the time of Mao's Cultural Revolution, and follows Ma Jianling and Luo Min, two young men sent to re-education at a small mountain village. One day, they discover a stash of forbidden Western literature, including works by Balzac, which profoundly impacts their lives and thinking. They also befriend a local seamstress, with whom they share their newfound knowledge, which in turn changes her outlook on life.
The novella received near universal acclaim (apart from the Chinese government, somewhat unsurprisingly) and went on to be translated in over nineteen languages. In 2002, a film adaptation was released, directed by Sijie. Often, when powerful, simple stories are adapted to other mediums, their impact and poignancy are diluted, if not lost completely. Some stories are just better suited for the page and not the cinema screen: with 'Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress,' this is not the case.
Sijie's story translates beautifully to film. His narrative is compelling, with plenty of humour, despite its emotional resonance and dramatic depth. As in the book, the film shows how education and literature empower, especially within the confines of a society such as that under Mao. The film can be seen as a cutting diatribe against censorship and the small-mindedness of those who fear knowledge, free speech and education.
It is also a story about friendship, and how shared experiences forge deep, enduring bonds. The relationship between the two young men and the seamstress evolves through their mutual appreciation of literature, becoming a testament to the human spirit's resilience and the transformative power of art. Moreover, the film delves into the concepts of personal growth and self-discovery, as- through the forbidden books- the characters embark on a journey of intellectual and emotional awakening.
This journey is mirrored through Jean-Marie Dreujou's evocative cinematography and the picturesque, yet harsh, setting of the mountain village. Much like Thomas Mauch, Dreujou captures what Werner Herzog refers to as "the drama of the landscape" astutely, portraying the environment as both beautiful and foreboding. Dreujou highlights the contrast between the idyllic landscape and the oppressive political regime, emphasizing the tension between freedom and control, adding another layer of depth to the narrative. This visual dichotomy enhances the story's themes, illustrating the characters' internal and external struggles.
Furthermore, Jiuping Cao's production design adds a layer of authenticity to the film. The detailed set pieces transport the audience back to the Cultural Revolution, creating a vivid and immersive experience. Additionally, Huamiao Tong's costumes reflect the era's austerity, while highlighting the characters' evolving identities.
Moreover, Pujian Wang's elegiac score enhances the emotional impact of the film. The music weaves seamlessly with the narrative, underscoring the characters' journeys and the themes of love, loss and discovery. In addition, Luc Barnier and Julia Grégory's editing ensures the film has a smooth, steady pace that keeps the audience invested throughout.
Ye Liu, as Ma, delivers an introspective performance, capturing the character's intellectual curiosity and inner struggles with aplomb, while Kun Chen, as Luo, is charismatic and dynamic. Xun Zhou, meanwhile, shines as the Little Seamstress, embodying a blend of innocence and burgeoning self-awareness. Her transformation throughout the film is well-realized, making her character's journey all the more impactful. In addition, their co-stars- particularly Shuangbao Wang as the head of the village and Zhijun Cong as the tailor- cannot be faulted.
In conclusion, Dai Sijie's 'Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress' is a poignant and visually stunning adaptation remaining faithful to the essence of his novella. A celebration of the power of literature and the enduring strength of friendship, it is engaging and thought-provoking. Boasting stellar visuals from Jean-Marie Dreujou, a fine score and strong performances from all in the cast, it is a fairly seamless affair. In fact, 'Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress' needs no alterations.
The Substance (2024)
Anything You Can Do, She Can Do Better
In 2017, Coralie Fargeat's directorial debut 'Revenge' was released. A subversive tale of vengeance, like 'Kill Bill' mixed with 'Wolf Creek,' it was greeted with overwhelming praise, going on to make just under a million dollars at the box office. A strikingly shot picture overflowing with thematic weight, it showed Fargeat as a filmmaker unafraid to push boundaries and challenge conventions; a visionary with bold ideas.
A notion compounded by her second feature 'The Substance'. A satirical body-horror, it centres on Elisabeth Sparkle, a fading Hollywood starlet. After her 50th birthday, she is fired from her job as host of an aerobics show; her producer reasoning she is past her prime. Circumstances introduce Sparkle to a new wonder drug, creating a younger, more beautiful and perfect version of herself- if she follows the instructions, that is.
'The Substance' is a wild film, most easily described as being like 'All About Eve,' or 'Sunset Boulevard,' if directed by David Cronenberg. It contains much thematic depth, perhaps most obviously about fame, objectification and the ridiculous beauty standards faced by females in Hollywood. Fargeat's screenplay delves into the perils of a society obsessed with youth and perfection, showcasing the lengths to which individuals are willing to go to, to maintain their relevance and desirability.
It is a sad truth that, traditionally, opportunities for actresses dry up after they reach a certain age. Famously, in the early 1960's, Bette Davis was having such a hard time finding work that she placed an advertisement in The Hollywood Reporter, offering her services. In it, she stated that she possessed "thirty years' experience as an actress in motion pictures" and was "mobile still and more affable than rumour would have it." With her narrative, Fargeat cuttingly satirises the Hollywood machine, as well as the fickleness of fame.
Furthermore, as Sparkle becomes increasingly consumed by the drug and its effects, the film explores the duality of identity and the internal conflict between one's true self and the facade presented to the world, echoing Oscar Wilde's 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' and Robert Louis Stevenson's 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde'. Moreover, the grotesque transformations therein serve as a metaphor for the internal and external pressures faced by women in the entertainment industry. Other notions, such as addiction, control and obsession, are also examined; interwoven cleverly into the narrative and explored with tongue firmly in cheek.
It is a visually arresting film, with Fargeat's signature style evident in every frame. Alongside director of photography Benjamin Kracun, her use of vibrant, contrasting colours creates a surreal world for Sparkle to navigate; like some kind of 1980's hellscape. Furthermore, canny homages to other filmmakers (including Roman Polanski and Stanley Kubrick) serve to heighten the sinister atmosphere of proceedings, which the use of wide-angle lenses and extreme close-ups compounds. Combined with Gladys Garot and Stanislas Reydellet's meticulous production design, as well as Emmanuelle Youchnovski's costumes, the visuals are unsettlingly artistic and powerful.
The sound design is similarly effective at generating a sense of macabre disquiet. Much like the lush visuals, sounds are heightened to have the upmost effect. Moreover, Benjamin Stefanski's score is eerie and evocative, generating much dread, while songs like Bernard Hermann's 'The Nightmare & Dawn' from 'Vertigo,' and 'Pump It Up' by Earl Gregory are used to particularly strong effect. Furthermore, it is a well-edited picture, moving at a fast pace throughout.
In addition, the special effects and make-up are disgustingly breathtaking. Much like Rob Bottin's incredible work for John Carpenter's 'The Thing,' or Chris Walas and Stephan Dupuis's similarly brilliant efforts for Cronenberg's 'The Fly,' Pierre-Olivier Persin's mostly practical effects are jaw-dropping. In the latter half in particular, they are on full display, and are never anything less than bloody amazing.
Demi Moore stars as Sparkle, and is startlingly intense. She goes all out, holding nothing back- both literally and metaphorically. There are parallels between herself and the character of Sparkle, which serve only to heighten the impact of the narrative and the power of her performance. "Fearless" and "brave" are words often applied to actors, and are usually inaccurate overstatements- they're only acting, after all, not firefighting. However, they are probably the best terms to describe Moore's work in the film. It's a gutsy performance devoid of vanity, that may be her best so far.
Margaret Qualley does similarly powerful work as Sue, Sparkle's alter-ego. Much like Moore, she gives everything to the role, and is equally compelling. She brings a vibrant energy and unsettling allure to proceedings, making her character sinisterly beguiling, and the film all the more gripping for it. In addition, Dennis Quaid- in a role originally meant for the late, great Ray Liotta- is magnificently manic as Sparkle's producer; clearly having a ball with the material.
In conclusion, 'The Substance' is a thought-provoking and visually arresting film that solidifies Coralie Fargeat's reputation as a bold and innovative filmmaker. By blending satirical commentary with visceral horror, Fargeat crafts a narrative that is as entertaining as it is unsettling, making the film a must-watch for fans of body horror and incisive social commentary alike. Boasting strong performances and incredible special effects, it fires on all cylinders and doesn't disappoint. So, buy the ticket and take the ride, because 'The Substance' is a trip worth taking.
Venom (1981)
Schlocky Snake Shenanigans
In 1981, Oliver Reed was in a tough situation. His days of drinking to excess and playing games with his mates from the pub had taken a heavy toll on his purse strings. Moreover, the upkeep on his palatial manor house Broome Hall practically crippled him financially. He was forced to choose film roles that, frankly speaking, were beneath him. It is somewhat disheartening that, by 1983, he had starred in two hammy films about killer snakes, William Fruet's 1983 offering 'Spasms,' and 1981's 'Venom.'
'Venom', directed by Piers Haggard, pairs Reed with the ever-eccentric Klaus Kinski, as a pair of bungling kidnappers targeting the grandson of a hotel magnate. They successfully snatch the child, holding him hostage in his home, but their plans slither into chaos. Unbeknownst to the criminals, the boy inadvertently brought a Black Mamba with him, which escapes. As the situation deteriorates, the police surround the house, while the Mamba, lurking in the ventilation system, stalks his prey; fangs poised to strike.
A schlocky flick, it makes for a highly entertaining watch- for all the wrong reasons. Haggard fails completely to generate tension. Like a drunk on a tightrope, he struggles to balance the thriller and horror elements. The film is neither suspenseful nor tense, and the threat of the snake never feels more menacing than a misplaced garden hose. The dialogue is stilted and unnatural, while the narrative is as predictable as the setting sun. Moreover, the police procedural elements are dull and cliched, while the interplay between the kidnappers and their quarry seems ripped from an 'Idiot's Guide To Storytelling'.
It is a ridiculous film, the appeal of which comes from the general incompetence of Haggard's direction, the tacky snake POV shots and the over-the-top performances from the cast. The cinematography from director of photography Gilbert Taylor- who did impactful work on numerous films, from Roman Polanski's 'Repulsion' to Richard Donner's 'The Omen'- is nothing to write home about. His shots lack visual flair or creativity, while the lighting is flat, and his compositions conventional.
Michael Kamen's score is similarly uninspired, while the editing is frequently choppy and disjointed. However, while the aforementioned snake POV shots- which were also prominently featured in 'Spasms'- are tacky, adding to the film's unintended campness, the fact that a real Mamba was used in certain sequences is commendable and effective.
There is an undeniable charm to the film's absolute absurdity. It's sheer, silly fun, bolstered by the central performances from Reed and Kinski. Reed, a maestro of brooding, silent thuggery, is terrific. He embraces the over-the-top nature of the film with gusto, yet plays the material utterly straight, delivering his lines as if he's performing Shakespeare. His commitment to the role is so earnest that you can't help but be captivated.
Kinski, probably the most temperamental actor to have ever graced the screen, seems to be in an intensity contest with Reed. To paraphrase Spinal Tap's Nigel Tufnel, he turns it way past eleven. Watching Kinski is like watching a live wire sparking dangerously close to an open gas line- rivetingly unpredictable. He is so over-the-top, he's practically orbiting Mars. Apparently, he and Reed did not get along during filming (what a surprise, Kinski not getting along with someone); explaining why the tension between them feels so genuine. Their eccentric duel of egos adds unique, unintentional comedy to the film.
Susan George also has a small role as their accomplice Lousie, seeming bewildered as to why she's in a snake-based chiller. Sterling Hayden, as the hotel magnate, looks like he's wandered onto the set by accident, and acts like it too. Sarah Miles, as a snake expert, plays the material with a hilarious seriousness, while Nicol Williamson, as the main cop, phones it in completely; though is such a fine actor, he actually impresses.
In conclusion, Piers Haggard's 'Venom' offers a glimpse into Oliver Reed's latter career, marked by financial desperation and a willingness to take on any role. As a horror and a thriller, it fails completely, though as an unintentional comedy, it works wonders. The over-acting from Reed and Kinski is a constant delight, while the Black Mamba POV shots are always good for a laugh. Although the narrative, dialogue and cinematography doesn't impress, it's still a fun film worth watching. In short, though 'Venom' might not slither to greatness, it does have a bit of unintentionally comedic bite.
Terrifier 3 (2024)
He Sees You When You're Sleeping
For gorehounds, Damien Leone's 2016 offering 'Terrifier' was a bloody good time. A violent splatter-fest that didn't try to be anything other than that, it followed Art the Clown on a murderous Halloween night rampage. It's follow-up, 2022's 'Terrifier 2,' was an improvement in almost every regard: bigger, funnier and bloodier. Both films were met with critical acclaim (from a certain kind of critic, that is) and did good business at the box office. Self-funded, Leone's first two 'Terrifier' films are gruesome, grisly, grand guignol masterpieces. Can 'Terrifier 3' live up to its predecessors?
The third instalment in the franchise once again follows everyone's favourite mute psychopath, Art the Clown. It is Christmastime and, united with his newly-birthed head (watch the second film for this to make any semblance of sense) and resplendent in a Santa costume, Art embarks on another killing spree. Meanwhile, Sienna Shaw- the heroine from 'Terrifier 2'- is trying to move on with her life, after her close shave with the fiendish clown five years earlier. Art, however, has other plans for Sienna.
'Terrifier 3' is not an insightful movie. It doesn't have a message, or explore any themes, or contain satirical weight. Leone isn't interested in that. He isn't trying to make 'It Follows,' or 'Smile,' or 'Rosemary's Baby.' He doesn't want to make a horror with depth and nuance. He is out to make a spectacle of splatter; a celebration of blood, guts and gore. He aims to out-do other horror directors by upping the ante when it comes to carnage, by throwing everything, including the kitchen sink and the plumber, at viewers in an attempt to provide thrills and chills. He succeeds.
Armed with a bigger budget than before, Leone crafts a brilliantly brutal festival of the extreme that is a worthy addition to the 'Terrifier' franchise. It is wilder, funnier and darker than its predecessors. Over-the-top and excessively bloody, if you expect Leone to operate within the confines of what is traditionally called 'good taste,' you'll be in for a bitter disappointment. He doesn't just push boundaries, he beats them up and breaks them down, with a hatchet to the head and a screwdriver to the spleen.
Having said that, scenes that don't feature any violence are generally hammy, lacking power or momentum. While Sienna is still a compelling character, Leone's often awkward dialogue and cliched characterisation means the film has a tendency towards the dull when Art, and his accomplice Victoria, aren't on screen. Although handled better than in the first two films, these moments- which are the bulk of the narrative, really- underscore the fact that Leone's strengths lie not with narrative or characterisation, but with creative, insane bloodshed.
Which, thankfully, the film is full of. The practical effects and make-up are breathtakingly gruesome, and the action sequences are fabulously unhinged and brutal- yet funny. The film is reminiscent of Sam Raimi's 'Evil Dead 2', successfully balancing extreme bloodshed with dark comedy. While not as accomplished or as consistently amusing as Raimi's film, it's still hauntingly hilarious, full of unexpected moments of macabre madness.
Moreover, Olga Turka's production design is commendable, effectively contrasting violence with an innocuous Christmastime aesthetic. Leone and director of photography George Steuber's cinematography also impresses, compounding the film's suspenseful atmosphere. Paul Wiley's score is similarly effective at generating dread and mood, and the whole affair is well-edited, meaning that, even in its weaker moments, it doesn't drag.
As in the first two, the film's main strength lies with David Howard Thornton's incredible performance as Art the Clown. His is a masterpiece of physicality, as if Buster Keaton were reincarnated via some evil ritual. Thornton's background as a mime aids him immeasurably, and he portrays the sadistic killer's perverse glee and menacing mirth with aplomb. Over the three films, Thornton has created one of the best horror characters in years; his performance alone should have viewers clamouring for a 'Terrifier 4.'
Lauren LaVera also impresses in the role of Sierra, demonstrating the character's underlying trauma quite effectively. Although she has many awkward lines to deliver, she does so well, making for a compelling protagonist. Samantha Scaffidi is great in the all-too-small role of Victoria, Art's accomplice, while Antonella Rose and Margaret Anne Florence do fine work as Sierra's cousin and aunt, respectfully. Additionally, Daniel Roebuck leaves a positive impression as a doomed Santa impersonator, as does Alexa Blair Robertson as a podcaster. (Horror fans will also take note that the great Tom Savini makes an appearance, albeit in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo).
In conclusion, Damien Leone's 'Terrifier 3' is a bloody, brutal and brilliant horror comedy, brimming with the macabre menace the franchise is known for. Featuring remarkable practical effects and make-up, as well as an emotive score and fine cinematography, it is a wild ride from start to finish. Full of over-the-top violence, and boasting a terrific central performance from David Howard Thornton, 'Terrifier 3' is scarily good.
Smile 2 (2024)
What's The Use of Crying?
Parker Finn's feature debut 'Smile' was a tense horror that made commentary about the devastating effects of trauma. Featuring striking visuals and production design, alongside an atmospheric score, the film was both compelling and creepy, following a psychiatrist who becomes convinced an unseen entity is stalking her after witnessing a violent incident. Boasting a strong central performance from Sosie Bacon, 'Smile' performed well at the box office, taking in $217.4 million on a $17 million budget.
Although critical opinion was mixed, only months after its release, Finn was thinking about a sequel, noting "there is still a lot of interesting stuff to explore in the world of Smile..." Fast forward two years, and 'Smile 2' is upon us. This time around, the action follows pop singer Skye Riley, who starts experiencing increasingly disturbing events on the cusp of a world tour. Forced to face her dark past, can Skye regain control of her life before it spirals out of control?
'Smile 2' is a very rare beast: a sequel that is arguably better than its predecessor. As in the first, the theme of trauma is cleverly interwoven into the narrative, alongside which themes of control, psychosis, grief and addiction are made the lynchpins upon which the horror revolves. Riley must battle both her internal demons as well as the 'smile creature,' never sure what is reality or fantasy. This makes for both a compelling and unpredictable ride, as Finn, making excellent use of both visual and audio jump-scares, takes one into the grinning heart of terror.
Menace lurks in the corner of every frame, waiting to give you a sharp shock. From the brilliantly frenetic opening to the barnstormer of an ending, the film fires on all cylinders, never letting up. Finn's characterisation is astute, and his narrative surprisingly funny; it's a horror with pitch-black comedy at its core: in contrast to the overwhelming bleakness of its predecessor; 'Smile 2' has a bit more to offer viewers.
The film reunites Finn with the majority of the crew from the original, including cinematographer Charlie Sonoff. His work on the first film created an unnerving atmosphere of unpredictable instability; as it does once again. Sarnoff's use of lighting effectively generates contrast and mood, while his framing of images heightens the narrative's suspense. Similarly, he captures Riley's performances with aplomb, lending them authenticity. Although the camera might be flipped upside-down to create an ominous effect one too many times, overall, Sarnoff's stellar work compounds the impact of proceedings; and is creepily captivating.
Moreover, Cristobal Tapia de Veer's score generates a disturbing ambience, imbuing the film with a raw, horrific power. While the songs written for the Riley character are fairly generic, they are performed well (and are considerably better than the similar tunes written for the Lady Raven character in M. Night Shyamalan's recent 'Trap').
Lester Cohen's detailed production adds an element of realism, grounding the film despite the fantastical horror of its narrative. In addition, Alexis Forte's costume design effectively contributes to the personalities of the characters, particularly Riley's. Her work for Riley's on-stage costumes is particularly impressive. Furthermore, Elliot Greenberg's editing establishes for the film a steady pace, meaning- even at over two hours- it never drags.
Naomi Scott stars as Riley, delivering a powerful, compelling performance that is the stand-out of her career thus far- as well as, perhaps, the stand-out of the year. Scott portrays Riley's multifaceted, flawed personality with nuance, realistically capturing her internal struggles, adding depth to the character. Scott's portrayal of Riley's fear and resilience in the face of mounting horrors is both believable and gripping. An immensely versatile talent, Scott has all the qualities of a great scream queen, as well as brilliant comedic-timing and a strong singing voice. She is- to put it simply- absolutely terrific.
Her supporting cast don't let her down. Rosemarie DeWitt does stellar work as Riley's mother and manager Elizabeth, bringing complexity to the role. Dylan Gelula is commendable as Gemma, Riley's best friend, while Lukas Gage and Ray Nicholson both impress as Lewis, her drug dealer, and Paul, her ex-boyfriend, respectfully. In addition, Kyle Gallner briefly reprises his role as Joel from the first film, doing great work, and Iván Carlo is fantastically creepy as Riley's number-one-fan (somewhat comically named 'man with bad skin').
In conclusion, Parker Finn's 'Smile 2' is an improvement over its predecessor in nearly every regard. Both frightening and fun, the narrative engages and exhilarates, while Finn's characterisation is impactful. Boasting atmospheric sound design and cinematography, as well as fastidious editing from Elliot Greenberg; it is hard to fault. Moreover, star Naomi Scott is marvellous and her co-stars don't disappoint. In short, 'Smile 2' is sure to leave you grinning.
Star 80 (1983)
A Shooting Star
Dorothy Stratten was on the road to superstardom. In 1979, the Vancouver-born model was made Playboy's Miss August, as well as appearing in episodes of 'Buck Rogers' and 'Fantasy Island'. In 1980, she played the lead role in the sci-fi flick 'Galaxina,' and was dubbed Playmate of the Year, a prestigious title that came with $200,000 in cash and gifts from the Playboy organization. On April 30th of that year she was a guest on 'The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson', further cementing her fame. By August 15th, she was dead.
Bob Fosse's powerful biopic 'Star 80' tells the story of the murder of Dorothy Stratten, with the focus not on Stratten, but on her husband and murderer, Paul Snider. Based on Teresa Carpenter's article 'Death of a Playmate,' it chronicles Stratten's rise to fame and Snider's growing insecurities and obsessions. A small-time hustler with big ideas, Snider could not handle it when Stratten- not he- started making it big. When their relationship breaks down and she starts dating a Hollywood director, it's only a matter of time before his insanity turns to violence.
An affecting, raw drama, it sheds light on a dangerous mind. Fosse's screenplay portrays Snider as psychotically obsessive and self-centred, exhibiting clear signs of sociopathy, such as a lack of empathy and a manipulative nature, while his insecurities fuel his need for control and validation. Unable to handle Stratten's rising fame, he views her success as a personal failure, deepening his sense of inadequacy. This toxic blend of envy, fear and possessiveness drives his descent into violent madness. The film starkly illustrates Snider's psychological unravelling, exposing the dangerous extremes one can go to in order to regain control.
By contrast, Stratten's character represents innocence and vulnerability. Her meteoric rise to fame captivated many, but beneath the glamour, she remained grounded. Unlike Snider, Stratten's appeal was genuine, drawing people in with her natural warmth. She navigates Hollywood with wide-eyed optimism, unaware of the dark forces closing in around her. Her relationship with Snider starts as a fairytale, quickly turning into a nightmare as his insecurities and jealousy surface.
The film juxtaposes Stratten's genuine desire for success and connection with Snider's pathological need for control. As Stratten's star rises, her inner strength and resilience become more apparent, making her untimely death all the more tragic. Her legacy is not just as a Playboy Playmate or an actress, but as a symbol of lost potential and the devastating impact of unchecked obsession.
Snider is a case study in destructive behaviour, while Stratten embodies the tragic vulnerability of someone caught in the orbit of a dangerously unstable individual, underscoring the film's thematic exploration of toxic relationships, fame and control. It serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked obsession and the fragility of innocence in the face of exploitation. The film's atmosphere is imbued with a sense of impending doom, generating suspense while effectively drawing one into the tragic trajectory of Stratten's life.
Fosse's direction, Alan Heim's editing and the screenplay's pacing ensure that even as the story navigates through flashbacks and present-day scenes, the tension never wanes. The film's visual and narrative style echoes Fosse's previous work, blending raw emotion with stark realism. Sven Nykvist's gritty cinematography lends proceedings the feel of a documentary, heightening the narrative's emotional impact.
Furthermore, the meticulous production design further immerses viewers in the grubby reality of the characters' world. Fosse's Hollywood is a neon-lit, gaudy playground of excess, where innocence goes to die. In addition, Ralph Burns's soundtrack- making good use of songs by the likes of Rod Stewart and The Village People- amplifies the era's hedonistic vibe, adding another layer of depth to the film's atmosphere.
Eric Roberts brings Snider to life with a chilling ease. He is both captivating and terrifying, yet also deeply human. His intensity and commitment to the role ensures that, while you don't empathize with Snider, you do understand him. With over 700 performances to his name, Roberts' tour-de-force work in 'Star 80' is one of the best.
Mariel Hemingway shines as Stratten, capturing both her innocence and ambition. Her performance is nuanced, portraying Stratten not just as a victim, but as a multi-faceted person with dreams and vulnerabilities. She brings depth and life to the character, making her ultimate fate even more heartbreaking. Hemingway's subtlety in depicting Stratten's naivety and eventual realization of the danger she's in adds emotional weight to the film.
In addition, Cliff Robertson does strong work as Hugh Hefner, playing the larger-than-life figure as a canny businessman with questionable morals. You're never quite sure what his end game is, or what he's really thinking. The character embodies the allure and pitfalls of fame; his interactions with Stratten highlighting the stark contrast between her innocence and the predatory nature of Hollywood.
Further, David Clennon and Carroll Baker both impress greatly as a psychiatrist friend of Snider's named Geb and Stratten's mother, respectfully, underplaying it masterfully. Meanwhile, Roger Rees- in his film debut- does typically fine work as Aram Nichols, a director- based on Peter Bogdanovich- whom Stratten starts dating.
Bob Fosse's 'Star 80' is a powerful biopic, detailing the dangers of obsession, as well as examining the intersections between fame and control. The film is a stark reminder of the darker side of Hollywood, where ambition can quickly turn toxic, and innocence is often a casualty. With raw performances and a gripping narrative, 'Star 80' leaves a lasting impact, urging viewers to consider the human cost behind Hollywood's glitz and glamour. It shows, above all else, that Stratten was a star, a shooting star that faded too soon; but, for a time, how she shone.
Joker: Folie à Deux (2024)
Folie d'un Seul
In 2019, Todd Phillips' 'Joker' took the world by storm. A moody origin story for the infamous Batman villain- as well as a powerful examination of mental illness- the film grossed over a billion dollars at the box office, and is still the second highest grossing R-rated film of all time. Superbly acted and beautifully shot, the drama- inspired by the films of Martin Scorsese, most evidently 'The King of Comedy' and 'Taxi Driver'- received near unanimous praise, from viewers and critics alike.
However, it was not without some critical controversy. Some writers, like Richard Lawson of Vanity Fair, suggested the film was overly sympathetic "towards white men who commit heinous crimes." Others, such as Jim Geraghty of National Review, felt that it would encourage "America's angry, paranoid, emotionally unstable young men" to commit crimes like the ones depicted in Phillip's narrative.
Despite this, most concede that the film acted as a poignant, cautionary tale; showing how a societal disregard for the vulnerable can create someone as dangerous as Arthur Fleck, aka: Joker. In this way, it was an important film, that actually had something to say (which the majority of Phillip's previous directorial features largely hadn't). This made it something of a rarity in the landscape of comic-book adaptations- as did the fact that Phillips never intended to follow it up with a sequel.
A rarity and a gamble, for studios want a sure thing. Indeed, it must have been incredibly difficult to get Warner Brothers to pony up the dough for a dark, stand-alone comic book adaptation in the age of the Marvel movie; where certainty is measured by quips, meta-humour and familiarity. That Phillips got 'Joker' made- combined with its whirlwind success- seemed to be a harbinger of sorts; heralding that smaller stories could be just as affecting and as successful as the juggernaut Marvel franchise; proving that not everything actually needs a sequel.
However, in Hollywood need is dictated by profitability; and if anything makes over one billion at the box office, a sequel will surely follow whether viewers, or the filmmakers, necessarily feels one is really warranted.
Hence 'Joker: Folie à Deux,' which, if the original was a gamble, is like a game of Russian Roulette with half the chambers loaded: a very risky business indeed. Whereas the first 'Joker' was a dark psychodrama following Arthur Fleck on his descent into madness, 'Folie à Deux' is a musical, detailing Fleck's struggles with his dual identity in the run up to his trial for murder, alongside his number one fan, fellow inmate and love interest Harleen 'Lee' Quinzel.
Off the bat, credit must be given to Phillips for taking such a risk and going in a new direction, genre-wise. He and fellow screenwriter Scott Silver could have easily rested on their laurels, simply remaking the first film all over again, knowing it was a blueprint for success (as has been happening with the Marvel movies since- what now feels like- the dawn of time). That they decided to make a musical of all things takes genuine guts and, while perhaps foolhardy, must be applauded. It's a massive swing, that not many directors would take.
A massive swing that doesn't exactly result in a hit. The first film had an engaging, tightly plotted narrative, with a compelling central character whose story arc felt organic and real. The sequel feels scattershot in comparison, as if Phillips and Silver weren't sure what to do with Fleck and Quinzel, nor in which direction their story should head. The musical numbers within- and the runtime seems to be at least 50% song and dance- are routinely strong and emotionally resonant, though often feel like padding.
Phillips has stated that Fleck sings when he can't find "the words to say what he wants to say," though, to a cynical viewer, it seems that Fleck sings because Phillips and Silver realized their narrative was too slim to justify a runtime of two hours and eighteen minutes. Indeed, much of proceedings are centred on characters recounting events from the first film, or consist of direct flashbacks.
In addition, the idea- hastily introduced at a late stage- that Fleck may not be comfortable being turned into an icon at the expense of his own personality is shoehorned into the cigarette-paper-thin veneer of a plot. This feels at odds with his established character as a whole and, especially, the ending of the first film. Furthermore, the trial sequence- bar an extended scene featuring Gary Puddles, the diminutive clown from the original- is surprisingly dull and forgettable.
Having said that, the doomed central relationship between Fleck and Lee is a genuinely affecting one. There have been on screen relationships between arguably insane characters before- Mickey and Mallory in 'Natural Born Killers' and Lula and Sailor in 'Wild At Heart' come to mind- but rarely are they as grounded and as tender as Fleck and Lee's. Had the narrative around them been stronger, or if he and Silver had been more assured with regard to the film's message; Phillips would have had a great work on his hands.
Unfortunately, as it is, 'Folie à Deux' lacks enough substance to make its own mark, outside the shadow of its predecessor. This is not to say, however, that it doesn't have anything going for it. As mentioned above, the musical numbers are heartbreakingly performed and expertly choreographed. A sequence involving a Sonny & Cher-style variety-show is a stand out, as well as a devastating moment when Fleck recites 'Ne me Quitte pas' into a courthouse phone.
Additionally, Mark Friedberg's production design atmospherically creates a seedy, cold Gotham City, where hope is a rare commodity; and love even rarer. Moreover, Lawrence Sher's striking cinematography recalls the first film, though his use of stylizations and colour makes 'Folie à Deux' a distinct beast; more like the films of Gene Kelly than Martin Scorsese (that Sher has mentioned Francis Ford Coppola's ill-fated musical 'One from the Heart' as inspiration is unsurprising, though also bitterly ironic).
Furthermore, the performances are all incredible. Joaquin Phoenix once again powerfully portrays the complexities of a damaged mind, and is electrifying. Intense, nuanced and sadly believable, he carries the film squarely on his shoulders. Lady Gaga does similarly fine work opposite him as Lee, credibly bringing to life a borderline psychotic with aplomb. The madness in her eyes is disconcerting, and she has rarely been better on film. She and Phoenix work well together, performing the various musical numbers masterfully, whether together or apart.
In addition, Brendan Gleeson does typically sterling work as the sadistic prison guard Jackie Sullivan; elevating what many other actors would have played as a straight villain into one of the film's more interesting characters. Catherine Keener impresses greatly as the film's only real 'good' character, Fleck's lawyer Maryanne Stewart, while Harry Lawtey brings the smug DA Harvey Dent to life well; even if the character is as generic as cardboard.
Moreover, Leigh Gill's excellent, impassioned performance as Gary Puddles in the film's best scene lingers long after the credits have rolled, while Zazie Beetz's strong work as Fleck's original love interest Sophie is similarly impressive. Both deserved more screen time. Contrastly, although Steve Coogan has made his bread-and-butter playing smarmy characters, from Alan Partridge to Tony Wilson, his stereotypical American accent as journalist Paddy Meyers is jarring; though he's still effective.
In conclusion, Todd Phillip's 'Joker: Folie à Deux' could potentially have been a great film, were it not for its weak narrative and familiar plotting. Where 2019's 'Joker' ran, it crawls, often straying into the drab territory of the underwhelming. Despite lush cinematography and terrific performances, it comes as a bitter let-down. Although the songs are admittedly well-performed, they fundamentally feel like filler in a film that doesn't know what it wants to be. It is neither as clever nor as controversial as its predecessor and- in comparison, sadly- decidedly disappointing. In the end, although it took guts, why Phillips made the film as a musical is not a folie à deux, rather a folie d'un seul- which makes the joke on the audience.
Monte Walsh (1970)
Riding into the Sunset
The death of the Wild West has been a recurring theme in many films. From Sam Peckinpah's 'The Ballad of Cable Hogue' to Don Siegel's 'The Shootist,' numerous movies have depicted the arrival of modernity and the end of days for cowboys and gunslingers. This transition period, often marked by the emergence of railroads, motorcars and industrialization, symbolizes a profound shift in American identity and values.
These films not only chronicle the physical changes in the landscape but also delve into the emotional and psychological impacts on those who lived through this era. The rugged individualism and frontier spirit that defined the cowboy way of life are juxtaposed against the inevitability of progress and the loss of a simpler, albeit harsher, way of life.
William A. Fraker's directorial debut, 'Monte Walsh' is a moving, powerful exploration of these themes. Set against the backdrop of a vanishing frontier, the film follows the titular character as he grapples with the inexorable march of progress. Monte, along with his friend Chet Rollins, embodies the frontier spirit that is slowly being rendered obsolete. The film poignantly captures their struggle to find purpose and identity in a world that no longer values their skills, not only telling the story of one man's journey but also serving as a broader commentary on the end of an era.
Furthermore, Monte's relationship with Martine Bernard, a prostitute, adds a deeply personal dimension to the narrative. She is more than just a love interest; she represents the human cost of the changing times. Their relationship is tender and genuine, marked by mutual respect and affection. Despite the societal stigma attached to her profession, Martine is depicted with dignity and depth.
Monte's interactions with Martine highlight his vulnerability and longing for stability in a world that is slipping away. Their moments together are the film's most poignant, and would move even the coldest of people. Their relationship serves as a microcosm of the broader changes happening in the West, illustrating how personal lives are intertwined within the larger historical shifts.
Fraker's direction brings a sense of authenticity to the film, with sweeping shots of the Western landscape emphasising the vastness and isolation of the frontier. Lukas Heller and David Zelag Goodman's screenplay brims with nuance and dramatic depth, though is also very funny in places, with sharp dialogue. In addition, David M. Walsh's cinematography contrasts the open, untamed land with the encroaching signs of civilization, complementing the narrative and enriching its themes.
The film is not just a story about the end of the cowboy era; it's a meditation on change, loss and the search for meaning in a world that is moving on. It's poignant exploration of these themes makes it a standout in the Western genre, offering a reflective, emotionally resonant experience. Moreover, John Barry's elegiac score adds a hauntingly beautiful layer, enhancing its depth. The music underscores the melancholy and nostalgia permeating the story, heightening the film's impact considerably.
Further, the film stands out not only for its thematic richness but also for its ability to evoke a deep sense of time and place. The minute attention to detail- from Albert Brenner's authentic production and costume design, to Phil Abramson's set decoration- immerses one fully in the waning days of the Wild West. It is also well-edited, with a good pace from start to finish- a testament to Fraker and the four credited editors' skills in the cutting room.
Lee Marvin stars as the titular character, delivering a nuanced, subtle performance that ranks alongside his very best. Marvin underplays the part of Monte beautifully, capturing the quiet dignity and inner turmoil of a man facing the end of his way of life. His performance is marked by a restrained intensity, allowing the character's emotions to simmer just beneath the surface. This approach not only makes Monte a deeply sympathetic figure but also adds a layer of realism to the film.
Often remembered as a heavy or a tough guy, Marvin here proves once again what a talented, intelligent actor he was; as Monte, he is unforgettable. Opposite him, Jack Palance delivers an equally compelling performance as Chet, bringing an affecting warmth and humanity to the role. He and Marvin- with whom he appeared on screen numerous times- work wonderfully together.
Additionally, Jeanne Moreau makes Martine dignified and tender, providing a strong emotional anchor for Monte. Moreau shares a believable chemistry with Marvin, her performance highlighting the personal sacrifices and emotional toll of the changing times. Mitchell Ryan also does strong work as Shorty Austin, one of Monte's fellow cowpokes, while the likes of Jim Davis, Matt Clark and G. D. Spradlin are equally commendable.
In conclusion, 'Monte Walsh' is a poignant film capturing the essence of a dying era. Through its rich characters and emotional depth, it offers a heartfelt farewell to the Wild West and the rugged individualism it represented. Quiet and compassionate, it's evocative visuals and score heightens the depth of its engaging narrative, while all in the cast perform masterfully- especially star Lee Marvin. A must-watch for Western fans, or fans of cinema in general, 'Monte Walsh' rides high in the saddle into the sunset, lingering in the mind long after the credits have rolled.
Death Sentence (2007)
A Matter of Life & Death
In a 1975 interview with Wayne Warga, Charles Bronson stated that he felt miscast as vigilante Paul Kersey in Michael Winner's 'Death Wish,' saying that the role "would have been better for Dustin Hoffman or somebody who could play a weaker kind of man." Author Brian Garfield- who wrote the novel Winner's film was based on- agreed, remarking that Bronson's tough-guy image spoiled the film, as the moment he appeared on screen "you knew he was going to start blowing people away."
Whether or not one agrees with the claims that a more timorous actor would be better suited for the part of Paul Kersey (Eli Roth certainly didn't, considering he cast Bruce Willis in the role for his 2018 remake) it must be admitted that the character Bronson plays is unlike Garfield's unprepossessing, reluctant vigilante.
Similarly, the whole film contrasts sharply with its source material, upsetting Garfield greatly. He felt appalled that audiences were encouraged by the film's violence and vigilantism, despite decrying both topics in his book. He felt that Winner "made a hero out of him. I thought I'd shown that he'd become a very sick man." He was compelled to write a sequel, 'Death Sentence,' that would act as a clear indictment of violence in all its forms, which was not the basis for 'Death Wish II', or any of the other Bronson-led films in the franchise.
In 2007, this was adapted for screen by James Wan. Very, very loosely based on Garfield's novel, 'Death Sentence' centres on Nick Hume, an insurance company executive. He lives the perfect life, happily married with two sons. One day, Nick witnesses his older son being shot dead during an apparent robbery. Determined to find justice, he hunts down the men responsible, though his actions threaten to destroy what little family he has left.
It is an entertaining action thriller, that doesn't break any new ground, though is engaging and has some thematic depth. Although not exactly a paragon of anti-vigilantism, Wan's film is closer in tone- and in themes- to Garfield's novels than Winner's. Unlike Bronson's Paul Kersey, who becomes a symbol of vigilante justice, Nick Hume's journey is portrayed with a raw emotional intensity, highlighting the personal cost of his actions.
Furthermore, the film raises questions about the cycle of violence and whether true justice can ever be achieved through revenge. It touches on the idea of violence as a dehumanising force, stripping people of compassion and perpetuating suffering. Through its exploration of these themes- although concerned with different events and following a differently named character- the film is a faithful adaptation of Garfield's novel.
However, while these ideas are initially explored in an interesting way, Wan doesn't make them the forefront of the narrative. Moreover, the further it goes on, the more straightforward the film becomes. It loses its complexity- as well as its nuanced approach to the idea of vigilantism. By the last act, the interesting themes and notions are all but abandoned, and the film- for all intents and purposes- is exactly like Winner's, just lacking Charles Bronson.
Conversely, Wan and director of photography John R. Leonetti's stark cinematography contributes significantly to the grittiness of the narrative, as does their adoption of a muted colour palette. Their usage of close-ups and tracking shots effectively creates tension, while their utilisation of lighting and shadows is atmospheric. They capture both drama and action with equal aplomb- a lengthy chase scene going from a street, through alleyways and onto the roof of a car park being most notable.
The film's action and violence are realistic and expertly choreographed, although some moments- especially in the last act- feel a bit comic-booky. Despite that, it remains a pulse-pounding, often frenetic affair, well-edited by Michael N. Knue. Additionally, Charlie Clouser's score compounds the film's emotional impact, as well as its tension, and the production design is generally commendable.
The ever-versatile Kevin Bacon stars as Nick Hume, and is terrific, astutely portraying his struggles and evolution over the course of the film. Whether grieving the loss of his son, grappling with acts of violence or contemplating multiple murders, Bacon is totally credible, making Hume a compelling character. Even in its weakest moments, he shines. Carrying the film squarely on his shoulders, Bacon never sets a foot wrong.
Opposite him, Garrett Hedlund does strong work as the contemptible villain Billy Darley, playing him with a winning blend of menace and sleaze. John Goodman does typically fine work as the seedy Bones Darley, an arms dealer and Billy's father. Additionally, Aisha Tyler brings a steady resolve to the underwritten part of Detective Wallis, while Kelly Preston is great, though underutilised, in the all-too-small role of Helen, Nick's wife.
In short, although perhaps not as consistently anti-violence as Brian Garfield would have liked, James Wan's 'Death Sentence' is still a solid piece of work. Boasting fine cinematography and well-choreographed action, as well as strong performances, it is quite entertaining. Despite some underwritten supporting characters, and a comparatively straightforward and weak third act, there is plenty of life in 'Death Sentence'.
White Lightnin' (2009)
Electrifying Ecstatic Truth
Werner Herzog is a believer in what he calls 'ecstatic truth', meaning one can fictionalise aspects of reality, in order to reach a deeper, more transcendent level of truth, going beyond 100% factual accuracy. Director Dominic Murphy seems to embrace this idea, considering his debut feature 'White Lightnin.' Based on the life of notorious Mountain Dancer Jesco White, who has been the subject of numerous documentaries (notably Jacob Young's 'Dancing Outlaw' and Julien Nitzberg's 'The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia'), Murphy's film is not a traditional biopic.
It does not accurately retell White's story, though captures the essence of the man. An absorbing watch, it follows White through his tumultuous childhood years, his time in an asylum and violent life in the Appalachian Mountains. A brilliant dancer, Murphy's White is driven by revenge, while battling drug addiction and psychosis.
Gritty and intense, the film paints a stark picture of addiction and poverty, casting a light over the dark side of life. It is unremitting in its depiction of the harsh realities faced by those living on the fringes of society. The unfiltered portrayal of White's struggles with substance abuse and mental illness is both harrowing and poignant. Furthermore, Murphy's version of the Deep South is a grimy place, teeming with violence and despair.
However, despite its bleakness, the film's authenticity and emotional depth makes for a compelling narrative. Murphy, Eddy Moretti and Shane Smith's screenplay is well crafted, blending raw dialogue with moments of unexpected tenderness. The script delves deep into the psyche of White, offering a nuanced portrayal that goes beyond mere caricature. Like Herzog, they reach a level of ecstatic truth; their fiction revealing a reality that transcends mere factual accuracy.
Murphy and cinematographer Tim Maurice-Jones utilise a muted colour pallet, emphasising the grimness of the narrative. The desaturated hues mirror the bleakness of White's existence, creating a visual metaphor for his internal struggles. This visual style, combined with the film's rough, unflinching storytelling, immerses one in a world where hope is a rare commodity. Moreover, during violent and drug fuelled moments, the cinematography becomes frenetic and disorienting.
In these moments, the camera work mirrors the chaos and instability of White's mind, with rapid cuts and shaky movements heightening the sense of urgency and confusion. This technique makes the scenes of violence and addiction all the more visceral. Further, Ivo Husnjak's grubby production design brings to life Murphy's version of Appalachia, in all its filthy glory. Nick Zinner's score- and the eclectic soundtrack- complements the film's gritty aesthetic perfectly. The music ranges from hauntingly atmospheric to jarringly intense, reflecting the tumultuous journey of Jesco White.
Edward Hogg stars as White, delivering a startlingly intense performance marked by a raw energy. He captures White's inner turmoil and descent into madness devastatingly, particularly through his physicality in the dance sequences. Hogg excels not only in intense, emotional scenes but also in quieter, introspective moments, offering glimpses of White's vulnerability. His nuanced portrayal allows one to empathize with White, despite his violent, erratic behaviour.
Carrie Fisher co-stars as Cilla, White's girlfriend, bringing a grounded presence to the film. Fisher's performance adds depth to the narrative, providing a counterbalance to White's chaotic life. Her portrayal of Cilla is both tender and resilient, capturing the complexities of loving someone as troubled as Jesco White.
Moreover, Owen Campbell, as the younger White, gives a strong performance, setting the stage for the character's later turmoil. Muse Watson brings a powerful presence to the role of D. Ray White, Jesco's father, the legendary mountain dancer. His portrayal adds depth to the father-son dynamic, highlighting the influence D. Ray had on Jesco's life. Additionally, Kirk Bovill is perfect as the seedy character Long; his performance adding to the film's tension and atmosphere.
In short, Dominic Murphy's 'White Lightnin' may not accurately retell the life of Jesco White, but in capturing the essence of the man, is a captivating story of violence and addiction. Well-written and featuring striking cinematography, it is an affecting piece of work. Star Edward Hogg delivers an intense performance, while Carrie Fisher is similarly good. It is well worth a watch, and an electrifying example of ecstatic truth.
Barbarians at the Gate (1993)
The Brutal World of Business
In 1989, investigative journalists Bryan Burrough and John Helyar released 'Barbarians At The Gate: The Fall of RJR Nabisco,' considered by many to be one of the finest books about business ever written. Detailing CEO F. Ross Johnson's attempts to buy out the rest of his shareholders after the failure of the new, smokeless Premier cigarette, the book is an engrossing, humorous peek into a cut-throat corporate world of greed and backstabbing. An instant bestseller moving at the pace of a spy-thriller, it is a fascinating true story that begged for screen treatment.
Consequently, in 1993, HBO released a TV movie adaptation. 'Barbarians at the Gate,' directed by Glenn Jordan, faithfully retells the events of Burrough and Helyar's book, and is just as gripping as its source material. Larry Gelbart's screenplay makes the arcane language of business easily comprehensible, while ensuring the narrative maintains tension and momentum. It is also a funny film full of irony, satirising the ostentation of the 1980's and the rapaciousness of the money men of the time.
Moreover, the dialogue- often taken directly from the book which was, in turn, taken from interviews with the real-life players involved- is delightfully vulgar and witty. There are many hilarious lines throughout, which one will recall long after the credits have rolled; nearly everything uttered during the sequence involving the Premier cigarette comes immediately to mind. Furthermore, the self-made millionaire Johnson makes for a compelling central character- though one not without faults.
Johnson, although charismatic and likable, is essentially just as greedy as his rival, the calculated Henry Kravis, who is also trying to take control of the company. In some ways, he is worse, as he hides his ambition and avarice beneath good 'ol boy charm, claiming to be a man of the people while flying his dog around the country in a private jet. He's an interesting man of contradictions, whose attempts to turn a foul cigarette into a hit, and buy out RJR Nabisco, makes for an entertaining watch.
On the technical side of things, the cinematography is nothing to write home about, leaning towards the conventional, in terms of set-ups, framing and angles. However, this lack of flashy stylizations compounds the realism of the narrative, which could be seen as a boon. Meanwhile, Richard Gibbs's overblown score is the musical equivalent of shoulder pads and spandex- so stereotypically 1980's it sounds like it was written for a 'Scarface' rip-off. On the other hand, Linda Pearl's production design is commendable, accurately recreating Johnson's opulent world.
One of the most beloved actors of his generation, James Garner stars as Johnson, delivering a typically nuanced performance with his trademark ease. He never sets a foot wrong, making Johnson compelling despite his faults. Jonathan Pryce brings a cold detachment to the role of Kravis, which is chillingly effective, while Matt Clark shines as Johnson's friend and ally Edward A. Horrigan Jr. Additionally, Peter Riegert and Joanna Cassidy both do fine work as Peter Cohen and Linda Robinson, Johnson's business partners, while David Rasche nearly steals the show completely in the all-too-small part of Ted Forstmann.
In short, Glenn Jordan's 'Barbarians at the Gate' is a masterful adaptation capturing the essence of its source material while providing a satirical look at the excesses of the 1980's. Its relevance today, in an era still marked by corporate greed and financial manoeuvring, makes it a timeless piece worth watching. Well-written and strongly acted, it is a portrait of the brutal world of business that lingers in the mind like the smell of a Premier cigarette.
Alien: Romulus (2024)
To Boldly Go
In 2013, the first feature film by director Fede Alvarez was released: 'Evil Dead,' a reboot of the gloriously gory Sam Raimi series. While some found it lacked the humour the franchise was known for- and most missed Bruce Campbell's demon-killing badass Ash Williams- it was a bloody good film, paying homage to Raimi's original three, while standing on its own two feet. It seemed Alvarez was a new master of the macabre; a notion his next film, the claustrophobic 'Don't Breathe,' compounded.
Having helmed a great new addition to a beloved franchise, and having proved himself adept at making grisly, tense features, Alvarez is the perfect choice to direct an 'Alien' film. 'Alien: Romulus,' set between the events of Ridley Scott's first 'Alien' and James Cameron's 'Aliens,' centres on a group of space colonists who come upon a derelict space station languishing amidst the stars. Intending to scavenge, they board, only to realize the station isn't really abandoned; and that which occupies it has murder on its xenomorphian mind.
It is a gripping horror, a worthy companion piece to Scott's brilliant original. Whether or not you loved Cameron's blockbuster 'Aliens,' its success ensured that all of the succeeding movies in the franchise have been focused more on action rather than dread, on spectacle rather than horror. Although Alvarez has time for action- the latter half of the picture contains some excellent fight scenes, especially one in zero gravity- 'Alien: Romulus' shares the same tone of foreboding menace as the original.
The xenomorphs are to be feared in Alvarez's film. They are not easily annihilated by myriads of weapons or exosuits. Similarly, the main character, Rain Carradine, is not an alien-killing-machine like Cameron's version of Ripley was. Rather, she is more like Ripley in her first cinematic outing: terrified, overwhelmed and in constant danger. She is a great conduit for the audience, as the film takes viewers on a journey into fear, in the confines of space; where no-one can hear you scream.
Alvarez and co-writer Rodo Sayagues craft a tale both engaging and frightening, though a cynical critic might suggest their characterisation is a bit cliched. The supporting characters are particularly ill-served; some are little more than cardboard cut-outs- especially Bjorn, a needlessly aggressive chap whose characterisation seems to have come straight from the pages of a Dummies Guidebook for Assholery. However, Rain and Andy- her synthetic companion- are compelling: one cares for them.
The production design- headed by Naaman Marshall- is immersive and atmospheric, while the efficacious use of both special and practical effects generates many chills and thrills. Alvarez cleverly hired various set designers and decorators, as well as model makers and special effects crew, who worked on previous films in the series. Every location looks like it could have been used in the first movie, while the xenomorphs and other creatures look like they came straight from a HR Giger nightmare.
Furthermore, director of photography Galo Olivares does sterling work under Alvarez's direction. The cinematography is striking and headily evocative. Their use of light and shadow is particularly effective at generating tension and intrigue, while irregular angles are utilised to further the film's suspenseful atmosphere. Further, they juxtapose the vastness of space with the cramped interiors of the station, generating the palpably anxious fear that made the franchise's first entry so memorable.
In addition, they shoot the pulse-pounding action masterfully, leaving viewers on the edge of their seat throughout the film's two-hour runtime- which goes by swiftly, thanks to the fastidious editing from Alvarez and Jake Roberts. Furthermore, Benjamin Wallfisch's score is creepily unsettling, compounding the film's horror and heightening its apprehensive, unpredictable mood.
Cailee Spaeny stars as Rain, delivering a sturdy performance that echoes Sigourney Weaver's as Ripley, though is in no way derivative of Weaver's work. She makes Rain compelling, and is difficult not to root for. As Andy, David Jonsson is brilliant, bringing a humanity to the role that is quite affecting- especially considering he isn't technically human. His relationship with Spaeny is the heart of the film; the two demonstrate a fine chemistry.
Moreover, Archie Renaux does fine work as the leader of the boarding party, while Daniel Betts- with the help of CGI- is terrific, playing Rook, a science officer fans of the original will immediately recognise. Isabela Merced and Aileen Wu both also impress in smaller roles, though, conversely, Spike Fearn is incredibly irritating as Bjorn- although, since the character was surely written to be irritating, in a way, he fulfilled his brief more than adequately.
In summation, Fede Alvarez's 'Alien: Romulus' is a fast-paced, frenetic entry in the 'Alien' franchise that acts as a homage to Ridley Scott's original, while making its own mark cinematically. Boasting a gripping narrative filled with chills and thrills, as well as striking cinematography and a stirring score, it fires on all cylinders. Well-edited and strongly acted, it is a terrific film, that boldly goes in new directions, while honouring where it came from.
John Bronco (2020)
A Bronco Worth Chasing
Most people accept that the 'Golden Age of Advertising' was the 1960's and 70's, and that the ingenuity and brilliance of the advertising executives of that time has failed to pass to their successors. Despite this, there have been affecting, effective advertisements since. For instance, the J. R. Hartley ad for the Yellow Pages in 1983- following Hartley in his quest to find somewhere that stocks his fishing guide- was so popular it spawned two books written by the fictional character.
The ads for Guinness starring Rutger Hauer- humorously emphasising the mystery and darkness of the drink- showed great audience response, apparently resulting in a 22 percent increase in the sale of the stout. The Nescafé Gold Blend Couple were beloved, as were Papa and Nicole in their campaign for the Renault Clio. People were invested in these characters, wanting to see what would happen to them. These ads were unforgettable, becoming ingrained in the public consciousness.
There have been many more over the years, that were clever and fun; but unfortunately, advertisements that aren't drably forgettable are rarely seen or made nowadays (bar during the Superbowl, and those are usually forced and unfunny).
Jake Szymanski's 'John Bronco' is the exception: a brilliant advertisement for Ford wrapped inside a terrific mockumentary, following the best pitchman the world never saw. The forty minute short centres on the titular character, a horse breaking, cowboy-boot-wearing good 'ol boy, charting his rise and fall as a pitchman for the Ford Bronco. From his role as a frontman for Ford, to his turn as a singer and actor, Bronco was everywhere. The question is: where is he now?
'John Bronco' is a very clever piece of work, blurring the lines between mockumentary and advertisement. Szymanski and screenwriter Marc Gilbar weave a funny tale, both satirising, and paying homage to, advertisement campaigns of the past. From the swinging 60's to the neon-soaked 80's, Szymanski seamlessly weaves nostalgia into every frame, while also telling a genuinely engaging story.
Bronco is a compelling character, whose life in-and-out of the eponymous Ford makes for an engrossing piece, while the dialogue is consistently sharp. In addition, Nate Hurtsellers's cinematography captures the essence of different eras, meticulously recreating the look and feel of vintage advertising. Throughout the film, his work immerses viewers in John Bronco's world, adding authenticity to every scene. Meanwhile, production designer Olivia McManus's meticulous efforts contribute to the overall visual aesthetic.
From retro news programmes to cereal packets, McManus ensures that every detail feels period accurate, which Alison Holmes's detailed costume design compounds. Furthermore, the score- from Jared Gutstadt, Jeff Peters and Jesse Siebenberg- is wonderful, featuring many stirring tracks. The hard to forget 'The Ballad of John Bronco/Mama Named Me Bronco' is a particularly good one. Moreover, the whole vehicle, as it were, is a great advertisement for Ford, showing the company not just as a maker of classy cars, but with a sense of humour to boot.
The inimitable Walton Goggins stars as John Bronco, delivering a layered performance of depth and wit. Goggins's easy charm makes him the perfect choice for the Burt Reynoldsesque Bronco, and he plays the part to a tee. Goggins imbues the character with a deep humanity, making him grounded, despite the often-ridiculous comedy, proving once again that he is one of the finest actors working today.
Opposite him, Tim Baltz does fine work as the befuddled Ford archivist Daniel Stacks, while Tim Meadows is excellent as Bronco's manager Donovon Piggot, whose casual approach to his job makes for much hilarity. Additionally, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Bo Derek are both great, showing they are not above self-mockery, while Dennis Quaid's narration is a constant delight. The mockumentary wouldn't have worked had the cast not played it straight; and they do to perfection.
Jake Szymanski's 'John Bronco' works both as a mockumentary and an advertisement, and is a witty and entertaining example of both. Its narrative is engaging, with sharp characterisation and dialogue. Boasting period-accurate cinematography and production design, as well as striking costumes and a sublime score, it's a fun ride all the way. Walton Goggins is terrific, while his co-stars don't let him down. In short, as an ad and as a film, 'John Bronco' is marvellous. So, buckle up- it's a Bronco worth chasing.
Mandy (2018)
Surreal & Psychedelic
Nicolas Cage seems drawn to the surreal. From David Lynch's 'Wild at Heart' to Sion Sono's 'Prisoners of the Ghostland,' he has appeared in many bizarre films, making full use of his self-styled nouveau shamanic, Western Kabuki acting approach. He shines in ventures like these, never phoning it in; more often than not, to borrow Nigel Tufnel's phrase, turning it up to eleven. Cage revels in playing eccentrics, in films that explore the dark, weird and sinister side of human nature; such as Pantos Cosmatos's 'Mandy'.
Cosmatos's second feature follows Red, a lumberjack, who is in a loving relationship with the titular lady. Together, they live a quiet life, hidden away from the world among the trees. However, in the woods surrounding their home is a darkness- one that is coming their way. A drug-taking cult happen to cross Mandy's path one day, and its leader Jeremiah takes a fancy to her. She is kidnapped by the cult, sending Red spiralling down a dark path of vengeance and violence.
'Mandy' is perhaps best described as being like 'Death Wish,' if it had been directed by David Lynch in an acid driven episode of psychosis. Its narrative- written by Cosmatos, Casper Kelly and Aaron Stewart-Ahn- is wildly gripping, inviting viewers into a world of depravity and death, as Red tries to avenge his lost love. However, while it's an occasionally thrilling picture, it is not a particularly original one. Murderous hippies and revenge sprees are features of countless films, and Cosmatos's characters don't have much depth.
Red doesn't have much personality, Mandy has none whatsoever and Jeremiah is your typical ranting, raving cult leader- the Charles Mansonesque type viewers will have seen in countless movies. His followers, meanwhile, are basically cardboard cut-outs, so little character do they possess. Conversely, the minimal dialogue displays Cosmatos's offbeat humour, and some of the lines are quite memorable.
The film's main strength is its ominously oppressive visual and sound design. It is a stunning looking film. Cosmatos and director of photography Benjamin Loeb capture proceedings with an artist's eye, making excellent use of light and shadow. Dominated by blues and reds, the psychedelic lighting helps generate the film's moody atmosphere, which Loeb's use of irregular angles and unconventional framing heightens. The sinister sound design also adds to this mood, while Jóhann Jóhannsson eerie score runs throughout the picture like an evil wind; bringing death and destruction in its wake.
Furthermore, Hubert Pouille's production design is outstanding, as are the sets. Unique and creepy, the structures and locales that populate Red's world are incredibly detailed and interesting (most notably Red and Mandy's many windowed home and the cult's chapel). In addition, Alice Eyssartier's costume design is striking, adding to each character's personality- arguably more so than Cosmatos's screenplay.
Conversely, a cynical critic might suggest that Cosmatos and editors Brett W. Bachman and Paul Painter should have been more hands on in the editing booth, with particular regard to the first half of the picture. The film moves very slowly for the first forty-five minutes or so, and while this builds mood and suspense, it could also be seen as being a little dull and self-indulgent. Cosmatos could have easily trimmed twenty minutes from the runtime without negatively affecting the narrative; nor impacting the film's aesthetic.
On the other hand, the fight scenes are terrifically realized. Shot at night, set against red and blue lighting, blood spills, chainsaws clash, as heads roll- literally. The action is inventively shot, with the gloriously excessive gore of a Sam Raimi 'Evil Dead' picture. You're on the edge of your seat throughout these sequences, and they are the best part of the film.
The whole affair is anchored by Nicolas Cage's Red, a taciturn man thrust into a world of pain. Through Cage's layered performance, the film becomes not just a moody revenge piece, but a display of how great loss can change a person irrevocably. As only he can do, Cage- though outlandish at times- instils in Red a believable humanity, that not only grounds the film, but makes it utterly engaging.
Andrea Riseborough stars as the titular character and, while not on screen for as long as Cage, overcomes Cosmatos's slim characterisation, making Mandy an intriguing person. Linus Roache is marvellously manic as Jeremiah; if ever there was someone to out-do Cage in the crazy department, it is he. His squadron of slack jawed yokels and acid loving cultists are all played well, by the likes of Ned Dennehy and Olwen Fouéré, while Richard Brake, as the LSD maker, steals his sole scene with a remarkable ease, leaving a lasting impression on the viewer.
Pantos Cosmatos's 'Mandy' may have its faults- mainly regarding the narrative and the lax editing, particularly in the first half- but it is an exciting, entertaining film all the same. Visually stunning and boasting a great score from Jóhann Jóhannsson, it's an audio-visual feast. Nicolas Cage turns in another outstanding performance, while his co-stars Andrea Riseborough and Linus Roache also do strong work. In short, 'Mandy' is another surreal work in Cage's filmography that is well worth seeking out.
Trap (2024)
Another M. Night Misfire
Even his most vociferous critics concede that M. Night Shyamalan has made some interesting, entertaining films. 'The Sixth Sense' and 'Unbreakable,' his third and fourth features, are generally considered to be his finest, though later works- most notably 'Split'- are also quite enjoyable. However, his filmography is populated more by duds than hits. From 'The Happening' and 'After Earth' to 'Old', Shyamalan has made many convoluted, dull and downright moronic movies, that no-one- not even his mother- could love.
His newest venture, 'Trap', follows Cooper and his daughter Riley, who attend a concert for their favourite musician, pop star Lady Raven. They've been looking forward to it for ages, and are excited as all get out. However, the gig is not what it seems. The whole show is, in fact, an elaborate sting operation, to capture a serial killer known as The Butcher. With the police outside, and The Butcher among the fans, will anyone survive; and with this film, does Shyamalan have a hit on his hands, or yet another dud?
Perhaps unsurprisingly, considering its ludicrous premise, 'Trap' is tatty nonsense, with a predictable narrative so full of plot holes and cliches it makes Shyamalan's egregious 'Old' look like the work of Orson Welles. One would be forgiven for assuming that a four-year-old child wrote the screenplay, so mindlessly ridiculous the film is throughout its interminable 105-minutes. Nothing in it makes sense. From the beginning to the end, it's balderdash of the highest level. Logic has no place in Shyamalan's world. Take the police, for example. Nearly everything they do in their hunt for The Butcher is the opposite of what they should be doing; almost as if the entire force were on the serial killer's side.
Moreover, the characterisation involved is asinine, slim and cliched, especially that involving The Butcher. In addition, characters do not act rationally, nor do they act irrationally in a consistent manner: they are whatever Shyamalan wants them to be in the moment, whether or not it makes sense. What's worse: the film lacks suspense, without any tension or gripping moments- the death knell for a thriller.
Further, the dialogue is laughably stilted, making one wonder if Shyamalan has ever had a conversation with a real person before. It is so utterly unnatural it's genuinely puzzling how anyone who read the script could possibly agree to star in it (unless, of course, you were related to the filmmaker).
However, there are some reasonably bright spots in the teeming pit of underwhelment that 'Trap' is, namely Sayombhu Mukdeeprom's cinematography. His use of close ups and quick pans effectively generates the energy that the narrative sorely lacks, which Herdís Stefánsdóttir's score compounds. However, Saleka Shyamalan's songs for Lady Raven- which are made such a focal point one wonders if her father made the whole film simply to give her a platform to sing and dance- are generic and dull, though she performs them well.
Josh Hartnett stars as Cooper, and his performance is either quite clever, or rather poor, depending on how you look at it. On the one hand, the character he is playing is acting themselves, trying to project the visage of normality, as it were. In the stressful situation Cooper finds himself in, that visage slips and begins to crack, appearing unnatural and forced. Therefore, the fact that Hartnett is over-the-top and slightly off could be a clever approach to the role. On the other hand, maybe that's not the case, and he just misjudged his performance.
Ariel Donoghue stars as Riley, and doesn't get all that much to do, really, bar shouting and screaming for Lady Raven, which she does energetically enough. The aforementioned Saleka Shyamalan stars as Lady Raven, and her father really should have gone in a different direction other than home when casting that particular role- and when getting someone to write the songs too, for that matter.
She brings to mind Sofia Coppola in 'The Godfather Part III.' Directed by her father, Coppola was incredibly wooden, much like Shyamalan in 'Trap.' Although, considering the terrible dialogue; no one could perform admirably in her role. Additionally, Alison Pill and Hayley Mills both have small roles as Rachael, Cooper's wife, and an FBI profiler, respectfully, and anyone could have stepped into their near miniscule parts and been as effective as they.
In short, M. Night Shyamalan's 'Trap' is another in the long line of misfires the director has had over his career. In fact, looking at his filmography, he's had more misses than hits- a lot more. With a senseless narrative, stilted dialogue and slim characterisation, it's not got much to offer. Although the cinematography and score are both good, the songs performed by the Lady Raven character are dull, and the cast do uncommendable work. To put it succinctly and not beat around the bush, 'Trap' is utterly crap.
Eine Armee Gretchen (1973)
Nude Nazi Nonsense
For better or worse, films in the Nazi exploitation genre aren't really made anymore. Also known as 'nazisploitation', these movies- made primarily in the 1970's- generally focused on Nazis committing sex crimes, often as prison camp overseers during World War II. Most were simply softcore pornography wrapped inside a cigarette-paper thin veneer of plot, though a few- perhaps most notably Liliana Cavani's 'The Night Porter'- had some actual artistic merit, and explored interesting ideas.
Erwin C. Dietrich's 'She Devils of the SS'- also referred to as 'Eine Armee Gretchen', 'Frauleins in Uniform' and, somewhat bizarrely, in Turkey as 'Queen of Vampires'- is not one of the few. As an independent film à la 'The Night Porter', it fails completely, having nothing whatsoever to say- interesting or otherwise. Neither is it a funny film, despite a carefree atmosphere and many moments that seem to have been intended as comedy. Furthermore, as a piece of softcore pornography, it also fails, as it is boring and strangely tame, surely failing to titillate even the most easily arousable individual.
Based on a novel by Karl-Heinz Helms-Liesenhoff- a former German army officer who fled to Switzerland after being sentenced for desertion in 1943- the film is light both on plot and excitement. Dietrich's screenplay- which he wrote under the name Manfred Gregor- centres on Marga Kuhn, a young woman drafted into the Army as a 'Lightning Girl,' essentially a German version of the Japanese 'Comfort Women'. Her job is to further the Aryan cause by giving soldiers pleasure, though with the Red Army closing in, time is running short both for fighting and for fun.
It's a strange beast of a movie, that doesn't follow the usual pattern of nazisploitation flicks: the Nazis aren't portrayed as villains and the women willingly participate in the action, so to speak. It's an oddly light and breezy venture, like 'Carry on Camping' for fascists. Nazis gaily roll about in fields, or enjoy swastika-topped cakes, cheerily praising the Führer whilst cavorting in the nude. Had Dietrich intended it as a straight parody, and leaned more into the comedic side of things, the film could have actually worked. However, he doesn't; large parts of the narrative are turgid melodrama, which- combined with the film's happy-go-lucky air- results in an unusual tonal schizophrenia.
Additionally, the dialogue- written by frequent collaborator Christine Lembach - is stilted and, oftentimes, unintentionally funny. Moreover, as alluded to above, it is a surprisingly dull feature, despite the subject matter. Dietrich seems reticent to show anything graphic or erotic, meaning the nude and sex scenes- of which there are many- are weirdly subdued and insipid. It makes one wonder who Dietrich's intended audience was, as it is too mild for aficionados of filth and too lacking in story for feature film fans.
Having said that, it clearly has high production values. The production design, from Rolf Engler and Vladimir Lasic, looks authentic, while Georg Heiler's costume design appears consistently period-accurate. The weaponry and sets are also strikingly realistic. Moreover, Walter Baumgartner's score is quite stirring, and the cast are generally impressive- with Karin Heske and Carl Möhner doing particularly fine work. However, in a tale devoid of artistic or salacious merit; all that quality is rather wasted.
In short, if you go into Erwin C. Dietrich's 'She Devils of the SS' with carnal pleasures in mind, you'll be disappointed, and if you watch it as a 'straight' feature, you'll be left wanting. In fact, there really are very few reasons to seek it out; unless you're the sole member of the Dietrich fan club, and want to watch everything in his filmography. In that case, you've probably already seen it, and know how underwhelming it is in nearly every regard. Narratively lacking and erotically uninteresting, it's an overwhelmingly banal work. Despite some good performances and high production values, the only memorable thing about 'She Devils of the SS' is its title.
Sympathy for the Devil (2023)
A Predictable Journey Into Fear
For some, the promise of Nicolas Cage playing a psychopathic, red-haired Bostonian is simply irresistible. The actor has delivered many entertaining performances as mad characters in the past, from his turn as the chaotic yuppie Peter Loew in 'Vampire's Kiss,' to the criminally insane Castor Troy in 'Face/Off'. Cage has made his bread and butter- and garnered legions of fans- delving into the mind of crazed characters, as he does yet again in Yuval Adler's 'Sympathy for the Devil.'
The film follows David Chamberlain, a married man living in Las Vegas whose wife is in the hospital, having just gone into labour. As he arrives, a scarlet-haired menace with a gun climbs into the back of his car, demanding that he is driven to Boulder City. With a gun to his head, Chamberlain is taken on a journey into fear through the Nevada nightscape; a journey that can only end in violence.
Adler's 'Sympathy for the Devil' is a fairly predictable, though entertaining, thriller that will please Cage fans considerably. Essentially a two-hander, the narrative is slim on originality or surprise, though still keeps one engaged. It is a tense affair, the passenger's unpredictability making for some effectively thrilling moments. Screenwriter Luke Paradise seems to have tailored the dialogue for Cage, giving him some marvellously madcap monologues, which he spouts with his typical nouveau shamanic, Western Kabuki brilliance (nouveau shamanic and Western Kabuki, for those who may not know, being Cage's self-titled acting styles).
However, Joel Kinnaman- as Chamberlain- gets considerably less to do. His character is the grounded parallel to Cage's deranged villain, a stoic man lacking personality or charisma. A wet blanket, he is hard to root for in the face of Cage's magnetic mania. Though Kinnaman performs admirably, and shares a good chemistry with Cage; he does not deliver a memorable performance. Moreover, the cliches that abound throughout the film become quite tiring, leading to an ending as forgettable as it is underwhelming.
Conversely, Steven Holleran's cinematography is a neon-soaked feast for the eyes. Atmospheric and striking, his work compounds the narrative tension. He captures the seedy unease of the Las Vegas night astutely, lending proceedings a Lynchian mood of sleazy agitation. This is complemented by the production design from Burns Burns, as well as Ermelinda Manos's costume design and Anthony Fitzgerald's art direction and set decoration.
Furthermore, Ishai Adar's score contributes to the sordid, mysterious tone, as does the eclectic and evocative soundtrack, making great use of songs from the like of Scott Walker, Alicia Bridges and Jimmy Radcliffe. It is also a well-edited picture, with a good pace from the beginning. At just over an hour and a half, it is relatively short, although Adler and editor Alan Canant's work ensures it doesn't feel in any way rushed.
As alluded to above, despite its faults- predictability chiefly among them- it's a film Cage fans will love. As the erratic gun-toting passenger, he is terrific, clearly having a ball with the material. It's a classic Cage performance- full of unexpected vocalisations, shouting, creepy facial expressions and a little bit of song and dance. He is electrifying to watch and works well with Kinnaman, who- as previously mentioned- is perfectly adequate, though his role doesn't demand much of him.
In short, Yuval Adler's 'Sympathy for the Devil' is one that Nicolas Cage fans will enjoy, though may leave those who do not appreciate his work, unmoved. While Steven Holleran's cinematography is striking, and the soundtrack- as well as Ishai Adar's score- complements the atmosphere, the narrative is unfortunately cliched. Joel Kinnaman's character is also dull and the ending disappoints. In conclusion, while Nicolas Cage is great, the film around him doesn't live up to his talents.
Hana to Arisu (2004)
Heartfelt & Heartrending
Hana and Alice are best friends about to enter high school. One day, they see Masashi, a boy about their age, on board a train. Alice develops a crush on him, though it is but a passing fad. For Hana, it is something more serious, and she begins to shadow Masashi, determined to make him her boyfriend. After he has an accident, Hana convinces him he has amnesia, and has forgotten that they are a couple. Matters are complicated further when Hana makes Alice pretend to be his ex-girlfriend; and further still when Alice and Masashi fall for each other. In the face of such drama, can Hana and Alice's friendship last?
Subtle and moving, Shunji Iwai's 'Hana and Alice' is a deceptively simple comic-drama speaking depths about the human condition. It is a striking picture, the subtly strong narrative of which is all the more incredible when one considers it began life as four short films celebrating the 30th anniversary of Nestlé's Kit Kat chocolate bar in Japan. A poignant character study, examining the personalities of two complex girls, Iwai's characterisation is rich and full of depth.
Both Hana and Alice are multifaceted, layered characters, with ambitions, faults and secrets. Though not immoral or unempathetic, they are not above using others to get their own way. Through Iwai's nuanced storytelling, a vividly realistic portrayal of these two characters is created. Manipulative, but charming, they are compelling, realistic cinematic creations, with fascinating backstories; and their tale is engaging.
Throughout the film, their friendship is put to the test. Iwai uses them to make a larger point about the importance of friendship, especially during one's formative years. He also delves into the complexities of youth, displaying great insight into the adolescent mindset. Hana and Alice are on the cusp of adulthood, a strange time when one re-examines one's life, readjusting priorities. Both Hana and Alice struggle; trying to act like adults, while suffering from a dearth of positive role models.
Alice's mother is far too concerned with her own romantic entanglements, while her father is distant and awkward. Hana's mother, meanwhile, seems disconnected from her daughter, focused on her work. At one point, she addresses Masashi as Hana, seemingly not recognising that he isn't, in fact, her daughter. It is no wonder that Hana and Alice create fabulous lies when they have no-one offering them guidance.
It is an affecting picture, not to mention a funny one. Iwai's dialogue is witty and many sequences will have viewers- possessed of a certain sense of humour- grinning from ear to ear. Additionally, it is a strikingly shot film, containing artful cinematography from Noboru Shinoda. His muted work is couched in the traditions of realism, yet has a certain stylized edge to it. It is as if the film were shot as a reflection of life in a carnival hall of mirrors; visuals projecting a slightly heightened version of reality, carrying much emotional weight.
The mournful score, from Iwai himself, doesn't just complement these visuals; it heightens them, compounding their dramatic power. Further, it is well-edited film, with Iwai establishing a steady pace from the beginning. Although some criticise it as being overlong, even at two hours and fifteen minutes, in the company of Hana and Alice, time flies.
Anne Suzuki and Yu Aoi star as Hana and Alice, respectively, delivering two remarkable performances of depth, wit and nuance. Whether delivering impassioned monologues- as Suzuki does masterfully in the latter half- or performing ballet- like Aoi, beautifully, in the last act- both of them impress greatly. They'll have you laughing and crying in equal measure. Alongside them, Tomohiro Kaku does fine work as Masashi, while Sei Hiraizumi is great as Alice's father, in a solitary- but memorable- scene.
A compelling character study, Shunji Iwai's 'Hana and Alice' offers viewers a profound meditation on the complexities of youth, friendship and love. Funny and sad both, its narrative- and the characters involved- are engaging, while the cinematography and score are memorably striking. Strongly acted- especially by stars Anne Suzuki and Yu Aoi- it is a heartfelt and heartrending comic-drama that is well worth a watch.
Kubi (2023)
Blood-Soaked Brilliance
In 2019, Takeshi Kitano released 'Kubi,' a Samurai novel, retelling the events of the 1582 Honno-ji incident, in which the powerful feudal Lord- or Daimyo- Oda Nobunaga was assassinated. It was an idea Kitano first had in the early 1990's, intended as a film. Akira Kurosawa was an advocate for the project, stating that "if Kitano were to make this film, it would be a masterpiece on par with 'Seven Samurai'."
In 2021, shooting finally took place, with a release two years later. The result is a sprawling, Shakespearian epic, bloody, thrilling and darkly funny. The film reimagines Nobunaga as a psychopathic ruler, sadistic and unpredictable. He pits the Samurai under him against one other, promising each the throne after he steps down. However, the various clan leaders, such as Hashiba Hideyoshi and Ankokuji Ekei, alongside Samurai general Akechi Mitsuhide, band against him, plotting his downfall.
It is a tale that makes for a sweeping, action-filled picture, rocketing along at a brisk pace. The narrative is brimming with volatility, every character out for their own personal gain. There is plenty of back-stabbing- both literally and metaphorically- with betrayal as the dominant theme. Everyone is scheming and plotting; trust is not an easy virtue in Kitano's representation of the Sengoku period, and nothing- even love- gets in the way of self-interest.
Kitano demystifies the notion that Samurai were bound by honour, portraying them as vicious killers, with little time for morality. More broadly, he shows how power-structures dictate relationships, as Nobunaga abuses- physically, mentally and sexually- those around him, taking advantage of their subservient position. This mirrors reality, and is a powerful, subtle piece of social commentary. Although perhaps not entirely factually-accurate, Kitano's depiction of the time-period and its characters is compelling and engaging.
Furthermore, like most Kitano films, the undercurrent of humour, means that- despite rivers of blood and decapitations galore- it doesn't get too dark. In fact, it is a very funny film, striking a fine balance between comedy, thrills and drama. Moreover, Kitano's characterisation is astute. Every person is distinct, with their own quirks, while the dialogue is sharp and witty. Hashiba Hideyoshi is a particularly risible character, who features in the film's most hilarious scenes.
In addition, the action is pulse-pounding and frenetic. Battle scenes are messy and visceral, as they would have been in real life. Katanas sweep through skin, limbs fly, heads roll- it is a gory and riveting affair. Much like his previous 'Zatoichi,' Kitano directs the action magnificently, leaving viewers on the edge of their seats throughout. Moreover, the unpredictable nature of the narrative ensures one doesn't know who will die next, or how; making things all the more exciting.
Further, it is a striking looking film. Takeshi Hamada's grittily realistic cinematography is atmospheric and evocative. Much like his sterling work on Yojiro Takita's 'Departures,' his avoidance of flashy stylisations compounds the film's authenticity. He and Kitano shoot the fight scenes expertly, making them appear utterly crazy, while approaching the film as a whole with an artist's eye; some of the images and sequences involved are simply stunning.
Moreover, the production design is minutely detailed. Everything looks period-accurate, and Kazuko Kurosawa's costume design is texturally rich and intricate. Additionally, the subtle score from Taro Iwashiro- who worked on Yoichi Sai's 'Blood and Bones,' which also starred Kitano- heightens the film's emotional impact. It is also a well-edited picture, moving at a stallion's pace from the start and never lets up.
Part of the reason Kitano waited so long to film 'Kubi' was because he could never get his ideal cast, but, as he explains, when he was "able to gather talented actors in the Kitano-group, and when such excellent actors come together, I felt like it was finally time to make it... and that's how it finally came to fruition." The cast he gathered is vast and noteworthy, which reads like a 'who's who' of premier acting talent.
Ryo Kase is chillingly effective as the psychopathic Nobunaga, clearly loving the opportunity to play such a madman. Kenichi Endo does fine work as Araki Murashige, who is the first to rebel against Nobunaga, showcasing a vulnerability that is most affecting. Fans of his work will delight in seeing Kitano's longtime collaborator Susumu Terajima, brilliantly playing Sahei, a ninja, while Nakamura Shido II is most effective in the role of Naniwa Mosuke, a mad peasant who is determined to become a Samurai general, at any cost.
Moreover, Nao Omori and Tadanobu Asano do typically excellent work as Hashiba Hidenaga and Kuroda Kanbei, accomplices of Hashiba Hideyoshi, underplaying effectively (as an aside, fans of 'Ichi The Killer' will surely enjoy seeing them on screen together again). Hidetoshi Nishijima brings a steady resolve to the role of Akechi Mitsuhide, and is very believable as one struggling, not just with his love for Murashige, but with the life he's found himself in. Finally, Takeshi Kitano, as arch-schemer Hideyoshi- disparagingly nicknamed The Ape- is marvellous, delivering a bewitchingly funny, layered performance that ranks alongside his best.
A monumentally entertaining Samurai epic, Takeshi Kitano's 'Kubi' is a gripping story of betrayal and violence. Well-written, funny and thrilling, it's blood-soaked brilliance must be seen to be believed. With striking cinematography, stunning production and costume design and a stirring score, it fires on all cylinders. Boasting excellent performances from all in its star-studded cast, 'Kubi' is, as Akira Kurosawa predicted, a masterpiece.
Looking Glass (2018)
Not Worth A Glance
There are few actors who alternate between commercial and personal projects- that "one for me, one for them" concept- more than Nicolas Cage. For every interesting, quality film he makes, like Michael Sarnoski's 'Pig,' there are ten others, lacking artistic merit or entertainment value. Forgettable actions films, like Dimitri Logothetis' 'Jiu Jitsu,' or mediocre melodramas like Maria Pulera's 'Between Worlds' litter Cage's filmography, outweighing the genuinely good films he stars in. However, even in the worst of his movies- those clearly made just for the paycheque- Cage is usually interesting to watch, and, more often than not, highly entertaining.
Unfortunately, this is not the case with Tim Hunter's overwhelmingly dull 'Looking Glass.' The film follows Ray and Maggie, a married couple suffering from the loss of their daughter. They purchase a motel in an isolated town in Arizona. One day, Ray discovers a secret underground hallway, leading to a two-way mirror, allowing him to see into one of the motel rooms and spy on the guests. As Ray becomes obsessed with voyeurism, sinister events unfold, as he becomes embroiled in a seedy plot that he and Maggie may not survive.
It is a cliched picture, a David Lynch rip-off that lacks the suspense and surrealness of his work. Written by Jerry Rapp and Matthew Wilder, the narrative is predictable and unengaging. The film moves at a pace that would irritate a snail, and the underwritten characters lack depth. Moreover, the dialogue is stilted, the characters acting like robots; disconnected from the reality of their situation.
Ray and Maggie are plunged into a dark underworld of sadomasochism and violence, and do not react to it like real people would, pottering around in the motel, disassociated and confused. The supporting characters are one-note cliches, and the identity of the villain of the piece is evident from the moment they appear on screen. It is a shame it is so mundane and quotidian, as the concept of a motel owner becoming a voyeur- mirroring the real-life case of Gerald Foos, who reconstructed his motel to allow him to spy on his guests- could make a great film.
However, director of photography Patrick Cady effectively generates a Lynchian atmosphere of murky danger. The low-lighting, combined with Cristopher R. DeMuri's ominous production design, creates tension and a headily menacing mood. Additionally, the score- from Mark Adler, Kristin Gundred and Andrew Benjamin Miller- signifies doom.
Unfortunately, the visuals and score don't elevate the picture out of mundanity. Despite scenes of S&M, brawling and murders, the film isn't in any way suspenseful or engaging, and the cast do unimpressive work. Cage underplays the role of Ray, trying to give a subtle performance, but overdoes it. He is criminally boring, moping about the motel, looking like a lethargic, bespectacled rabbit caught in the headlights. Robin Tunney is given nothing to do as Maggie; her talents are completely wasted, and she fades into the background. Marc Blucas, as the local Sherrif, does the strongest work, though his character is woefully one-dimensional.
While it's interesting how Nicolas Cage alternates between diverse projects- and while some miss the mark- his performances are generally intriguing. Unfortunately, this can't be said for his work in 'Looking Glass'. Although the visuals and score are atmospheric, the narrative is formulaic, the dialogue is mannered and the characters- as well as the situation they're in- are unbelievable. Sadly, 'Looking Glass' is not worth a glance.
Family Romance, LLC (2019)
Blurring The Lines
Yuichi Ishii runs a rental family service called Family Romance, offering clients the chance to hire people to act as their spouses, friends or family. He and his stable of actors fill the gaps in lonely people's lives. One day, Ishii is contracted to act as the father of a girl named Mahiro. The two become close, though Ishii begins to doubt his own reality, and his profession: to quote Werner Herzog: "the paradoxical situation is that although everything is performance, everything is a lie, everything is fabricated and acted, there is one thing always authentic, and that's emotions."
Herzog's 'Family Romance, LLC' is a moving drama, treading the line between feature film and documentary. Shot by Herzog himself, using a handheld camera, the film postulates that performance, artifice, is rife in society, that we are but, to paraphrase Shakespeare, "poor players strutting and fretting our hours upon the stage."
For many years, Herzog has spoken of "ecstatic truth," by which he means a storyteller, through fabrication, can reach a deeper, transcendent level of truth, going beyond mere factual accuracy. Essentially, it's a truth transcending the mundane, reaching into the mysterious, elusive realms of imagination and stylization. In other words, a lie that reveals truth, that is more authentic than reality itself. This is an undercurrent in 'Family Romance, LLC,' forming the foundation of Ishii and Mahiro's relationship.
To quote Herzog, "the girl lies to her 'father', who lies to be her father. She's lying to him as well, but her emotions for him are authentic." Weaves of ecstatic truth run throughout the tapestry of the film, as does the notion that we are all performers. This is heightened by the casting of Ishii as himself, as he, in reality, really runs a company called Family Romance, which actually provide the services mentioned above.
Throughout the film, Herzog invites viewers to question the veracity of our experiences, comparing us to robotic fish in a tank; endlessly swimming in an inescapable compound. Further, he highlights the loneliness of many in contemporary Japan, a land bustling with people where many feel isolated and alone.
According to CNN, "across Japan, nearly 1.5 million people have withdrawn from society, leading reclusive lives largely confined within the walls of their home... These are Japan's hikikomori, or shut-ins, defined by the government as people who have been isolated for at least six months." Japan faces an isolation crisis, and Herzog's film shows how Ishii's company breaks the dark spell of loneliness, how, in the words of Ishii, they "create illusions to make the lives of (their) clients better."
It makes for poignant drama. Watching young Mahiro form a relationship with a man she assumes to be her real father, and knowing that their relationship cannot last, is devastating. There is an improvisational, informal feeling to the film, so one really believes in their relationship, and is invested in their characters. While there are moments of humour throughout- such as when a mime performs a brilliant routine with a mobile phone- it is primarily a touching film, exposing deep truths, tugging at the heartstrings.
The film also shows other cases Ishii works on, such as a lottery winner who wants to re-experience the high of the win, or a man who wants someone else to take credit for a mistake he made at a train station. These are generally more comedic in tone, though no less believable, adding to Herzog's authentic depiction of life in Japan.
Herzog's handheld cinematography contributes to the film's realistic feeling. It is intimate, getting in close to the characters. Viewers feel like voyeurs, peeking into the lives of Ishii and Mahiro. At times, the visuals take on a dreamlike aspect, making Japan feel unreal, like a figment of the imagination. Ernst Reijseger's elegiac score adds to this feeling of unreality, complementing Herzog's imagery, while his and Sean Scannell's editing is astute. Reportedly, Herzog captured over 300 hours of film with Ishii; to cut it down to a coherent 90 minutes is an effort deserving applause.
As are the performances from the cast, all of whom are not primarily actors, and most of whom had not acted before, and have not done since. Yuichi Ishii, as a version of himself, is terrific. He has an inherent emotional intelligence and decency, which is evident on screen, making him a compelling character. Mahiro Tanimoto, playing Mahiro, is similarly excellent. A natural actress, she brings a vulnerability to the part that is most affecting, and is never anything less than believable. Her relationship with Ishii feels remarkably real, and they work wonderfully together. In addition, Miki Fujimaki does strong work as Mahiro's mother, and the rest of the amateur cast cannot be faulted.
Werner Herzog's 'Family Romance, LLC' blurs the line between fact and fiction, as his films often do. A touching, heartbreaking drama, it movingly examines human nature, loneliness and interpersonal relationships. It also ponders the meaning of truth, and how performance impacts our daily lives. Featuring striking cinematography and a powerful score, and led by two remarkably real performances from Yuichi Ishii and Mahiro Tanimoto, it is- much like its director- original, fascinating and unique.
Longlegs (2024)
Turns It Up To Eleven
It is hard to think of a better promotion strategy than that utilised by production company Neon for Osgood Perkins' 'Longlegs.' Their guerrilla marketing tactics- focused on powerful, vague clips, images and coded messages- ensured that Perkins' entertaining, though far from magnificent, horror became a must-watch event. Speculation and interest were at an all-time high before it was released, as no-one was quite sure exactly what it was about, only that it looked terrifying.
The film follows Lee Harker, a rookie FBI Agent who possesses some kind of psychic ability. After proving herself in the field, she is assigned to a series of murder-suicides. They go back some thirty years, and are connected by coded-letters found at each scene, signed by a mysterious figure calling themselves Longlegs. As Harker investigates, it becomes apparent that she has a personal connection to the case, and that the Devil may be in the details.
It is a headily atmospheric, tense film, that is- at its best- reminiscent of 'The Silence of the Lambs,' or the work of David Fincher. For the first two acts, Perkins keeps proceedings running along smoothly, slowly immersing viewers in an atmosphere of sheer dread. Terror lurks in every corner, and the innocuous- open doorways, snow-capped fields- become conduits of horror. Alongside cinematographer Andres Arochi, Perkins ensures that, visually, the film is a masterpiece of the macabre.
Arochi makes excellent use of low angles, giving viewers a stooped perspective, like one was cowering in fear. Skies and ceilings tower over the frame, oppressively boxing one in with no escape, while the muted lighting used throughout casts a palpable gloom over proceedings, heightening the darkness of Perkins' narrative. Danny Vermette's desolate production design adds to this immersive despondency, which Trevor Johnston's minimalist set decoration compounds.
Furthermore, the sound design is evocative and startling; every scene bubbles with an electric undercurrent of unsettling agitation. Sounds don't just jump out at you, they grab you by the shoulders, giving you a short, sharp shock. Moreover, Elvis Perkins- working under the name Zilgi- crafts a score so creepy it would be hard to forget even under the deepest of hypnosis. In addition, it is a very well-edited picture- at least for the first two acts- moving at its own pace through a mire of menace and malaise.
Unfortunately, however, it is not without its issues. Considering the mystery of Longlegs and the murders is so engaging, and so effective at instilling fear in the audience, the last act- when all is revealed- comes as a bitter disappointment. For some reason, Perkins suddenly adopts a "tell, don't show" attitude, treating his viewers to a poorly executed, exposition-dump that infuriates rather than enlightens, followed by a cliched ending that feels like it was ripped from another film entirely.
Additionally, a cynical critic might suggest there are a few too many elements to his story, meaning some get lost along the way: namely, Harker's psychic abilities. Initially, they seem like they'll be important to the plot, though are never really mentioned again after two brief scenes at the start of the movie. One wonders whether or not the inclusion of these barely mentioned mystical powers came from a first draft of a screenplay that was considerably altered, or as a 'get out of jail free card', in case Perkins felt he needed a gimmick to explain his main character's competency at her job.
Whatever the case, they aren't important to the plot, nor to the development of Harker's character, which is- in fact- rather lacking overall. She is not a multifaceted personality, rather a one-note, rather dour person, whose lack of charisma is matched only by her lack of humour. Secondary characters don't have much more depth, although at least Harker's boss Carter gets to enjoy the pleasures of a drink or two, and has something approaching a light side.
Having said that, Maika Monroe delivers a strong performance as Harker, credibly portraying someone totally committed to their job, with nothing else in their life. It might not be a very showy or multidimensional role, but she handles it well nevertheless. Blair Underwood, as Carter, also does fine work, bringing a dryness to the role that is much appreciated. Furthermore, Alicia Witt is great as Harker's mother Ruth, who has some serious issues, and Kiernan Shipka totally steals her solitary scene as a survivor of Longlegs' spree with a remarkable ease.
However, towering over the film and everyone else in it, dominating every scene he's in and most of the ones he's out of, is Nicolas Cage, as the eponymous Longlegs. To borrow Nigel Tufnel's phrase and say he turns it up to eleven would be putting it mildly. Under heavy prosthetic makeup, he looks like a cross between a bloated Marc Bolan and Frosty the Snowman, with the voice of an insane asylum escapee sinisterly muttering a Crispin Glover impression. Cage has never been creepier- nor has he been much funnier- and his performance is never likely to be forgotten by those who see it.
While it is not the pinnacle of terror, as its marketing would suggest, Osgood Perkins' 'Longlegs' is an entertaining, disquieting venture all the same. Although its narrative has its shortcomings, it is still engaging, while the cinematography and sound design is of a particularly high quality. Maika Monroe does a fine job in the lead, though is ultimately overshadowed by the satanic brilliance of Nicolas Cage. At the end of the day, despite its faults, and much like its titular character, 'Longlegs' is devilishly good.
Late Night with the Devil (2023)
Worth Staying Up For
It is 1977, and Johnny Carson reigns supreme over the world of late night television. Looking to usurp his throne is Jack Delroy, host of Night Owls, a programme that has always played second fiddle to Carson in the ratings. Delroy thinks the show he has planned for Halloween night will finally land him the top spot on the Nielsen ratings list. A psychic, a conjurer-turned-sceptic and the sole survivor of a Satan-worshipping cult are to be his guests- though when the broadcast gets underway, his dream show turns into a nightmare.
Written and directed by Colin and Cameron Cairnes, 'Late Night with the Devil' is an original, enjoyable comic-horror packing chills and thrills a-plenty. Taking on the form of a piece of found-footage, the narrative has some genuinely unsettling moments, which are very well-realized; a worm-filled display of conjuring power in the latter half being particularly hard-to-forget. Furthermore, the Cairnes brother's characterisation and satirical take on 70's programming is consistently entertaining, if not exactly profound, and their dialogue is sharp.
However, the whole affair is rather predictable, with the denouement effectively given away in the film's opening minutes. In addition, although much mention is made of the rivalry between Delroy and Johnny Carson, Dick Cavett- whose show Delroy's more closely resembles and who, in reality, was often a close second to Carson ratings wise- never comes up. Neither, in fact, do the numerous others who had late night style shows at the time; which seems like an oversight.
Further, the found-footage gimmick doesn't make much sense, as during the ad-breaks that would have occurred in the broadcast, the film adopts a documentary style- begging the question: why were there two documentary cameramen filming a behind the scenes look at a show that doesn't do particularly well in the ratings?
Despite that, it is a fun film, and a fine looking one to boot. In fact, the only reason that the aforementioned issues with realism matter at all is because the 1970's visual aesthetic is so faithfully recreated. Production designer Otello Stolfo, alongside costume designer Steph Hooke, perfectly capture and reproduce the look and feel of a 70's, Dick Cavett-style talk-show, from the orange and beige dominated colour scheme to the cartoon intertitles- created with the help of AI.
Moreover, director of photography Matthew Temple makes clever use of the traditional three-camera set-up, lending proceedings additional authenticity. Furthermore, Glenn Richards' score is stirring, while Roscoe James Irwin's arrangements with The Night Owls Studio Orchestra are headily atmospheric. Additionally, the special effects and make-up are effectively disquieting and the aforementioned sequence involving worms features some truly stomach-churning practical effects.
David Dastmalchian, starring as Delroy, gives a thoroughly convincing performance as one powered by ambition, willing to risk it all to get ahead. He carries the film squarely on his shoulders, working well with his co-stars, all of whom do fine work. Ian Bliss is particularly good, as the arrogant, James Randiesque sceptic Carmichael Haig, as is Fayssal Bazzi as the psychic Christou, whose abilities might be greater than even he thinks. Although each of the characters are essentially one-note parodies of real people; the cast elevate them nevertheless.
An entertaining comic-horror, Colin and Cameron Cairnes' 'Late Night with the Devil' may not be perfect, but it is an awful lot of fun. The production design and costumes effectively harken back to the 70's, while Glenn Richards' score is stirring. Boasting brilliant practical special effects and make-up, as well as a frighteningly strong performance from star David Dastmalchian, 'Late Night with the Devil' is well worth staying up for.
Kolja (1996)
Plucks at the Heartstrings
It is 1988, and Czech bachelor Frantisek Louka is struggling to make ends meet. A talented cellist, his main source of employment is playing at the various crematoriums in Prague; though he'll do most work that comes his way. One day, a friend offers him the chance to earn a large amount of money through a sham marriage to a Russian lady, which would enable her- and her five-year-old son Kolya- to stay in Czechoslovakia. However, weeks after they are married, the woman uses her new citizenship to emigrate to West Germany, leaving Louka to look after a boy he barely knows.
A touching comic-drama, Jan Sverák's 'Kolya' tells a familiar tale; though tells it well. Rather like Takeshi Kitano's 'Kikujiro,' the film follows an unlikely father-figure who grows to love the ward in his charge, changing as a person as he does so. As Louka and Kolya become comfortable with one another, the narrative- written by Zdenek Sverák and based on an idea from Pavel Taussig- examines the importance of connection, detailing how one's life can be enriched by even the most unlikely of relationships.
A poignant character study, the film shows Louka's journey from a gruff, womanising cynic to someone with a greater appreciation for life- thanks to his experiences with Kolya. His time with the boy changes him for the better, and the film's bittersweet ending hints that he will never be the same. While not original on paper, the genuinely heartwarming story has a sardonic edge, while Sverák's screenplay abounds with thematic depth and irreverent, dry humour.
Additionally, the film can be seen as a reflection of the end of the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia, offering a nuanced critique of same, highlighting the tensions and ironies of the time. Most evidently, Louka's interactions with the Soviet bureaucratic system are emblematic of the inefficiencies and frustrations experienced by many Czechs under Soviet rule. His sham marriage to a Russian woman, and the subsequent responsibility of caring for her son, can be seen as a microcosm of the larger political dynamics at play. This relationship mirrors the complex, often strained interactions between Czechs and Russians during the occupation.
Moreover, the film poignantly portrays contextual conflicting attitudes towards Russians through its characters. For instance, Louka's initial reluctance to care for Kolya reflects a broader societal scepticism towards foreigners, particularly Russians, who were often viewed with suspicion and resentment at the time in occupied lands. Conversely, Louka's gradual transformation symbolizes a potential for reconciliation and understanding amidst political turmoil; paralleling his country's own path towards greater openness and eventual independence.
In addition, Vladimír Smutný's lush cinematography expertly captures Prague's beautiful melancholy, enhancing the narrative's depth and resonance. Smutný uses a rich colour palette and varied lighting to reflect the film's shifting moods. The muted tones and soft lighting in Louka's apartment convey a sense of isolation and mundanity, while the brighter, more vibrant scenes with Kolya highlight the boy's innocence and the joy he brings into his world. This visual contrast effectively underscores Louka's transformation throughout the film.
Smutný's cinematography also adeptly captures the essence of late 1980's Czechoslovakia, with a visual style reflecting the period's socio-political atmosphere. Many scenes subtly incorporate elements of Soviet influence and the impending change brought by the Velvet Revolution, which helps immerse one in the historical setting and reality of the narrative. Milos Kohout's art direction, as well as Katarina Hollá's costume design, only compounds this immersive realism, while Ondrej Soukup's stirring score drifts through the picture like a euphonious wind, heightening its emotional impact.
In addition to writing the screenplay, Zdenek Sverák stars as Louka, delivering a nuanced, grounded performance that is engaging and heartrending. His portrayal of Louka's transformation is subtle yet powerful, capturing the character's journey from cynic to father-figure astutely. Opposite him, Andrey Khalimon, as Kolya, lights up the screen, showing a natural acting ability, and the two work wonderfully together. Meanwhile, Libuse Safránková and Ondrej Vetchý excel in the supporting roles of Klara, one of Louka's girlfriends, and Broz, the friend whose actions get the narrative moving, respectively.
In short, though Jan Sverák's 'Kolya' tells a familiar tale, it tells it very well, and is memorable and moving both. Resonating on multiple levels, its narrative is engaging and its characters compelling. Boasting striking cinematography, as well as a fine score, it is routinely well-acted, especially by stars Zdenek Sverák and Andrey Khalimon. To put it simply, 'Kolya' is a bittersweet symphony that plucks at the heartstrings and plays all the right notes.