magic_marker Reviews

Frailty (2001)

Not an easy film to swallow, on any level

[17 September 2003]

Frailty is the directorial debut of actor Bill Paxton, famous for his roles for James Cameron (The Terminator, Aliens, True Lies, Titanic). Paxton has been good throughout his career at conveying both hysteria (His memorable turn in Aliens comes to mind) and menace (Most obviously his role in Near Dark, which Cameron produced), and so it is hardly surprising that he would choose a role for himself that combined those two elements. He plays the father of two young boys, revealed in flashback, who becomes convinced that he is on a mission from God to rid the world of demons who walk the Earth in human form. The fact that these people are real, and have to be killed with an axe, is not an issue; they're not human. One of the boys, played by Matthew MacConaughey, narrates their story as an adult to an FBI agent, played by Powers Boothe, (done up to look like Tommy Lee Jones) for he fears his brother may be carrying on the family tradition.

This film, despite what others may say, is fairly predictable, even up to the twist ending, which follows conventions of movies like this almost to the letter. However, the twist ending also has another twist ending, which is decidedly NOT predictable, but instead forces us to reevaluate the film's moral stance (It doesn't appear to have one) and to accept a rather stupendous coincidence (SPOILER: That one of those on the man's list just happened to be the cheif investigator of his brother's case). Well-acted all round, particularly by McConaughey.

Punch-Drunk Love (2002)

Not good. Not bad. Not even mediocre or OK.

[8/10 · 28 July 2003]

"Punch-Drunk Love" could best be described as "other." If "Annie Hall" is the "Finnigan's Wake" of cinematic romantic comedies, then "Punch-Drunk Love" is a glass of orange juice. Or a brick. It exists entirely outside the parameters by which we judge films of this nature, and as such it is difficult to review it. The whole film is an essay in conflict. As an experience, "Punch-Drunk Love" is alternately an assault on the senses and an transcendence of the mind. The groaning, hammering score is like the main character himself; grinding against its own melodic flow until it suddenly comes together in beautiful melodies. The wild, clashing colours that frequently invade the screen also, on occasion, suddenly resolve themselves into stunning, pastel creations so painterly they could be animated. Even the casting seems designed to engender awkwardness and uncertainty: pairing a foul-mouthed comedian known for juvenile humour and infantile rage (Adam Sandler) with one of the best and most versatile actresses alive (Emily Watson) was, if there truly is such a thing as chemistry, the recipe for a lab explosion. That the two work together is a testament to PT Anderson, who coaxes out of both his leads enough sympathy to each of the characters to allow their improbable attraction to proceed almost without question. The film works not as a romance (too distant) or as a comedy (too disturbing) but as an animate portrait of the soul of Sandler's character, Barry Egan. It is a graphic representation of the pain, humiliation and confusion with which he is flooded. In the film, Barry's soul takes the form of an abandoned harmonium; a burden he must lug from place to place, occasionally, tentitively plonking on it to see if he can make music, and only hearing the smallest, explosive whistle. Only when he takes it and drops it outside Watson's door does he begin to truly play it for all that it is worth.

The Eye (2002)

effective chiller

[8/10 · 26 May 2003]

"The Eye" is a very well-crafted and elegant chiller, with a number of interesting ideas. The lead character, played by the wonderful Lee Sin-Je, is very sympathetic and carries this film with little or no help from other co-stars. It is a fine example of the new generation of horror films that combine economically used "jump-out-of-your-seat" shocks with atmosphere and mood, begun by "The Sixth Sense" and continued by such modern classics as "The Devil's Backbone" and "The Others." Like those films, it uses horror not as the driving force of the story, but as a backdrop to other, more earthly dramas; "The Sixth Sense" was as much about a troubled kid in a single-parent family as it was about ghosts, "The Devil's Backbone" was as much a domestic tragedy as a horror story. In this case, the story is of a blind girl suddenly given sight, and finding that she is unable to cope with her ability. The fact that she also sees ghosts is almost incidental; you feel just as devistated when she realises she can no longer play with her orchestra, because she is no longer blind. Also, like "The Devil's Backbone", this film shows that computer graphics are levelling the playing field internationally in visual effects, and that Hollywood-standard production values are now within the reach of any international fimmaker. That would mean nothing if the directors (The brilliantly named Danny and Oxide Pang) did not use them well, but they do. They unleash some incredible, and incredibly realistic, visuals in this film, and clearly know how to scare an audience with them.

"The Eye"'s principal flaw, I'm afraid, is that it is simply too similar to other films; the "blind girl given sight who sees visions" plot has been done before (in Michael Apted's "Blink"), the "seeing dead people" shtick was used up by "The Sixth Sense", and the end bares a striking (though probably unintentional) similarity to "The Mothman Prophecies". That said, this film is good enough to stand on its own without those narrative riffs, and is well-worth your time. 8/10

Red Dragon (2002)

Surprisingly good

[7/10 · 6 October 2002]

The story of how this film was made is a personal experience shared by the millions of Lecter fans throughout the world. It involves pain, fury, anger and frustration, much like the movie itself. From the moment of its inception, battles raged over the internet, the first line of attack from movie geeks who demanded to know why Dino De Laurentiis, who is a hack by anyone's standards, DARED to "remake" Michael Mann's 1986 film "Manhunter," the second from "Silence" fans who wanted to know how could he POSSIBLY have chosen Brett Ratner, the director of "Family Man" and "Rush Hour" to helm the latest installment in the hallowed franchise.

I was always on the fringe of these debates. I reminded myself that, despite the silly claims of a few lifeless fools, "Manhunter" was NOT as good as "Silence of the Lambs," and indeed was so unfaithful to the original novel in both tone and plot that it left "Red Dragon" begging for another adaptation. I also reminded myself that Jonathan Demme's films prior to "Silence" had been "Married to the Mob" and "Something Wild," both comedies, neither classic, so perhaps it was too early to judge Ratner.

His cast list for the film raised both hopes and fears; Emily Watson, my favourite actress in the world right now, was born to play Reba McClane, Ralph Fiennes was an excellent choice to play Dolarhyde, and it was nice that they got the series' lucky charm, Frankie Faison, (the only person in all four Lecter films) to play Barney again, but Edward Norton was too naturally restrained to play someone as emotional as Graham. Still, with Hopkins on board, the cast's pedigree (Four Oscar nominees and a Tony winner) would be the best seen since Kenneth Branagh's "Hamlet." So I waited.

Well I can now say, having seen the film at last, that I am surprised at how good it is. Ratner does a very good job emulating the pace and feel of "Silence," sometimes to a fault; the scene where Chilton (Again wonderfully played by Anthony Heald) leads Graham to Lecter's cell is so obviously a homage to the parallel scene in "Silence" that it only reminds you how much better that earlier scene was. I was particularly impressed with the way Ratner handled sound; people who never listened to music would have sympathised with Lecter at the bad playing of an unfortunate flautist, even though he was only slightly off-key and in the middle of an orchestra. Danny Elfman's score is evocative of, though different from, Howard Shore's score for "Lambs;" a rather difficult feat, and very well achieved. Dante Spinotti, who lensed "Manhunter," throws that film's "Miami Vice" look out of the window and instead tries to emulate the supernatural qualities of Tak Fujimoto ("The Sixth Sense," "Silence"), almost succeeding.

And the actors? Well, I'm sorry to say Norton was exactly as I expected him to be, flat and rather immature as the supposedly world-weary Graham. Fiennes, who demostrated in "Schindler's List" that he could wring sympathy from psychopaths like water from stone, ups his game a hundredfold with his terrifying and disturbing portrayal of Dolarhyde. What the previous Dolarhyde, Tom Noonan, relied on his eerie features and massive frame to convey, Fiennes manages through acting alone, creating a tortured soul of immense power and menace. Much has been said of Watson's performance in this film, and indeed she does nail her character, though I wish she was given more and better lines to deliver. That she managed to make such an impact with the little she had is a minor miracle. Hoffman, Keitel and Parker all aquit themselves well, though they don't bother shifting from their standard screen personas. Hopkins, well, he's back at the funfair and he's relishing every minute of it. You can tell he obviously loves playing this character (Who wouldn't?) and he goes all out giving us the Hannibal we remember, though not quite as powerful as his first incarnation (There is nothing in the film that equals his "spring lambs" interrogation with Starling, for instance). He still manages to both terrify and play the crowd with masterful aplomb.

No, if this film has a weakness, it is surprisingly, Ted Tally's script, which tones down much of the novel's more disturbing aspects, including its wonderful ending, which, sanitised, now lacks punch. There are too many overt references to "Silence," including one line near the end lifted wholesale. And Lecter is given very little of his ingenious dialogue to speak. However, the film's opening sequence, in which we see Lecter before he was caught, is brilliantly written and jibes with Lecter's now mythic status. The opening credits, in which we see the proceeding events played out through the pages of the killer's journal, are eerie and apt.

All in all, a good effort, but it cannot match "Silence," though it could have.

Ghostbusters (1984)

A severely underrated film

[9/10 · 16 September 2002]

What's that you say? Ghostbusters, one of the most financially successful and over-hyped comedies of the eighties, underrated? Yes. Precicely because it was so over-hyped and made so much money, there has been a stigma attached to this film identifying it as a childish FX piece, when it is nothing of the sort. Most of the lines people remember("He slimed me," "OK. So? She's a dog," "When someone asks you if you're a god, you say YES!") are not its funniest or wittiest lines, which often are missed on first or even second viewing. I laugh every time I observe a gag or a quip that I somehow missed the other 20 times I viewed a scene; "Egon, this reminds me of the time you tried to drill a hole through your head, remember that?" "That would have worked if you hadn't stopped me", or, to the driver of a van from a loony bin, "Dropping off or picking up?" Brilliant.

Not only is Ghostbusters funny, it manages to include some truly scary scenes. And not just lose-your-popcorn moments like the fridge from Hell, but also scenes of quiet, thoughtful chill, like Egon's retelling of how the possessed apartment building came into being, or Winston recalling the Book of Revelation. Which other film has managed to combine the Marx Brothers with HP Lovecraft?

The special effects hold up well, besides some obvious studio sets and models, but what really creates this film's world is the stunning cinematography. Manhattan, perhaps the pinnacle of Gothic architectural evolution, is brilliantly utilised here to create a sense of menacing grandeur. After watching "Ghostbusters" I couldn't imagine the realm of the Old Gods opening into our world from anywhere else. The soundtrack is great, not the overrated theme (Which was in fact lifted from Huey Lewis' "I Need a New Drug"), but the wonderfully blusey "Cleaning Up the Town," the creepy proto-techno chiller "Magic" and also the wonderful score by the late and much lamented Elmer Bernstein.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)

All together now...

[9/10 · 8 September 2002]

"We're Knights of the Round Table, Our shows are formi-dable, But many times We're given rhymes That are quite unsing-able! We're opera nuts in Camelot We sing from the dia-PHRAGHM A LOT!"

The real danger of thinking about this film is that, once you begin reciting a sketch, you won't want to stop until you've finished it. The lines flow after each other so perfectly and naturally that every one becomes the punchline of the one before it. Classic examples are the Politically Aware Peasants, ("Help Help I'm being repressed!") the Logic of Witch Burning, ("If she weighs the same as a duck, she's made of wood- and therefore... a witch!") the warning of Tim the Enchanter ("Death awaits you all; with nasty big pointy teeth!") and so on. The film does have a few dud gags, in particular the tale of Sir Lancelot, but these are far outnumbered by the good ("Allo daffy English Kniggits and Messeur Arthur King who has the brain of a duck you know!"). Despite its self-deprecating tagline, this film feels like an epic, especially since it was made for less than the cost to cater a modern Hollywood film, and is beautifully shot. Perhaps the most innocent and sweet-natured of the Python's films, it still features a liberal amount of sensless murder and bleakness, particularly near the beginning and end. It is still the most addictive of their films.

Monty Python's and Now for Something Completely Different (1971)

Strictly for Python neophytes

[8/10 · 8 September 2002]

To most hardcore Python fans, this film will be irrellevant, as they probably have every single sketch on DVD already, and this is essentially a "greatest hits album."

So I am going to direct this review at those who have never heard of Python before.

The film opens with a sketch called "How not to be seen," during which the narrator shoots several people in cold blood, blows people up, and then finally breaks down into hysterical laughter when he bombs a children's hospital.

This sketch is hillariously, gut bustingly funny. Why? That is the great mystery of Python. Is it the impeccable timing, the wonderful acting, or the peerless gags? Could be. But I think it is more the brilliant sense of anarchy and loony logic that makes them so brilliant. It was, after all, those people's own bloody fault they were shot; they could be seen!

Beyond this, there are the sketches that are so well known they have become cliches: the Dead Parrot sketch ("Listen mate, this parrot is dead! It's a stiff! Bereft of life it rests in peace; if you hadn't nailed it to the perch it would be pushing up the daisies! This is an ex-parrot!") the Lumberjack Song ("I chop down trees, I wear high heels suspenders and a bra!/I wish I'd been a girlie, just like my dear Mama!"), the Dirty Fork sketch ("A dirty, ugly smelly piece of cultlery!!") and so on.

There is still no substitute for watching the show. Indeed many of their best sketches aren't on here; the Cheese sketch, the Adventure Holiday sketch, and my personal favourite, the Eric the Fish sketch ("Why should I be TARRED with the epithet "loony" simply because I have a pet 'alibut?"). Still this is a fairly safe introduction to their unique (That's putting it mildly) brand of humour.

Monsters, Inc. (2001)

Ooh, the sweetest thing

[9/10 · 7 September 2002]

Quentin Tarantino once claimed (In a deleted scene from "Pulp Fiction") that there were only two kinds of people in the world; Elvis people and Beatles people. You could love both, but eventually you had to make a decision. Now there appears to be a new societal division forming- between "Shrek" people and "Monsters Inc." people. Now I love "Shrek;" it had moments of real wit and its target (the Disney empire) was long overdue for a thrashing. But ultimately I was left cold by it. The reason? It was afraid to be a fairy tale. It is true that young people nowadays would not respond well to fairy tales; Disney has transformed fairy tales into something toxic and false, so new ways of telling them have to be invented. "Shrek" told a basic fairy tale story, but peppered it with post-modern references and nudge-nudge jokes to make it clear to is jaded and cynical young audience that it didn't REALLY believe in any of it, it was just having fun. That is, I think, the easy way out.

"Monsters Inc." (Which is officially a Disney film but is actually made by the far more innovative studio Pixar) chooses a harder route; to tell a fairy tale straight, but in a way modern audiences will appreciate. In this, they succeeded masterfully.

The plot of "Monsters Inc." is well known by now. In the city of Monstropolis, which is pretty much like any city you know except that it is populated by monsters of all shapes and sizes, children's screams are the only source of power. To obtain them, the power company Monsters Inc sends professional scarers through a network of trans-dimensional doors into children's closets around the world. The rules of the job are strict; no children or even children's clothing must come into contact with a monster, for there is nothing more dangerous than the touch of a human child. The company's top scarer is "Sulley" Sullivan (John Goodman), who with his partner Mike (Billy Crystal) is in a contest with the number 2 scarer, the evil chameleon Randall Boggs (Buschemi, playing it smooth instead of whiny for a change) to break the all time scream record. However, Randall is actually engaged in a shady plan that involves one of his assigned kids. When that plan backfires and the kid ends up in Monstropolis, Sulley is left alone to deal with her, and with the utter chaos that ensues.

There is so much to love in this film, but I must draw attention to the relationship between Sulley and the child, who he nicknames "Boo." Somehow, and truly I am at a loss to explain it, the scriptwriters, animators and actors pulled off the amazing feat of making the relationship touching without being nauseatingly sweet. Boo is the most adorable little kid in animaiton history, and I think the reason for this is that she was actually voiced by a real three-year old, and not by some affected adult (After all, what do adults really know about what it is like to be three?). The scriptwriters got her to say some incredibly funny things, but her innocence makes them funnier, since she is not trying to be self-aware. John Goodman is wonderful at conveying Sulley's gradually mounting affection for the little tyke, making it more humourous and moving by spicing it with some understandable aggrivation.

I loved the reference to Tex Avery's legendary animated short "Feed the Kitty," (Which must have heavily influenced the filmmakers; Boo also calls Sulley "kitty"), and this film has plenty more to entertain- particularly some wonderfully designed snow sequences and a virtiguous closet door chase that is one of the best ever. "Monsters Inc" is a film I will watch again, and from me, that is high praise.

Talk to Her (2002)

If this is love, I know love not

[7/10 · 1 September 2002]

Pedro Almodovar's "Talk to Her" is as suprisingly sweet as it is profoundly disturbing. It is an examination of the nature of love that attempts to challenge our idea of what love is by taking it to its very limits. The lead character is a typical sad sack; slightly disturbed, isolated and sexually inexperienced. He spends his days staring out of his window at a rapturously beautiful dancer, and tries to form a relationship with her by becoming a patient at her father's psychiatric practice. This eventually leads to disaster when he sneaks into her room to steal an item of hers and finds her just coming out of the shower. But the guy perseveres. After spending years looking after his mother (Who wasn't an invalid, she just didn't like moving very much) he gains a degree in nursing and works with camatose patients. To his joy, one of the camatose patients turns out to be the dancer, and so now he can spend all day expressing and demonstrating his love for her. At least, you could see it that way. Or you could see it as an innocent and helpless girl delivered into the hands of a sexual deviant stalker who now can manhandle her and fantacise about her in any way he pleases. I think you can guess by now where the film is heading, and when the ultimate act is committed, Almodovar presents it in such a way as to show the audience how it could be interpreted as an act of love and selflessness. We never see the act itself, only the man's interpretation of it, and the sequence is, suprisingly, quite funny and, in strange way, touching. But that does not alter the fact that Almodovar is attempting to make rape emotionally acceptable. The film makes this particularly clear by its ending, which, if you have been following this review, I am sure you could also guess. Call me a prude, but I have always felt that love that is only felt by one person is not truly love. True love is something that built by two people by constant attention and care. If I tell someone, "I love you" and she cannot say "I love you too," then I am only really in love with an illusion, not a person.

Insomnia (2002)

Warning, this review will contain spoilers

[8/10 · 1 September 2002]

One thing that very few film directors, even good ones, seem to understand is that light can be just as frightening and disturbing as dark, if not more so. Bright light creates the same obscuring blanket as dark, depriving you of sight, hiding what should be in plain view, and creating a sense of otherness. Stanley Kubrick employed the disturbing power of light masterfully in "The Shining," the Coen Brothers transformed snow into negative night in "Fargo," Hitchcock used it brilliantly in the "Psycho" shower sequence, and now Christopher Nolan, the craftsman who created "Memento," transforms it into a metaphor for the terror of guilt.

Al Pacino plays Detective Dormer, a name that ironically recalls the Latin 'dormio,' sleep. He and his partner Hap Eckhart are sent to Nightmute, Alaska- the place where night does not speak- to unravel the disturbing murder of a local teenager. Dormer is being investigated by Internal Affairs, although the reason why is unclear. Hap has decided to rat him out, and tells him so, because he is afraid of losing his job. Dormer is a legendarily good cop and Hap assumes that IA will not be able to pin anything on him, but Dormer has been a cop a long time and knows that if you try hard enough, you can pin anything on anybody.

When they arrive in Nightmute Dormer is exhausted, but he soon learns that summer in Alaska is the time of the White Nights, and the sun does not set. He meets up with a young and inexperienced detective (Swank), and soon realise that the girl's murderer is a psychopath. Upon drawing the killer into the open, Dormer chases him into a fog bank, and, lost in the featureless light, he shoots the first form to come up to him, which, shockingly, is actually his partner Hap. (Hap, which means "luck" is another rather ironic name). Realising that IA will convict him of his murder, he decides to cover up the accident, but he figured without the light of Nightmute. Soon, he finds himself unable to sleep, as he desperately searches for ways to block out the light streaming round the edges of his curtain like the searchlight of God. Suddenly he starts getting phone calls from the killer (Williams, excellent), who tells him that he saw him kill his partner. He wants to be let off, and another person found guilty in his place; after all, he never intended to kill the girl, and he is sure the detective will agree that everyone is allowed to make one mistake...

Soon Dormer is a man whose mind, body and soul are screaming. As day after day without sleep pushes him closer and closer to the edge, he must deal with the killer drawing him deeper into his game, acting like his evil muse, while the light streaming through the cracks in his window eats at his conscience. And meanwhile, unexpectedly, the inexperienced detective is beginning to suspect him.

"Insomnia" is an extremely taught and precise thriller, which is to be expected from the man who gave us Memento. It is exceptionally paced and the photography, so important when one of your characters is light itself, is excellent. It's biggest debit, I think, is the performance by Pacino, who, though he does a great job capturing the mannerisms of a man gradually going through nervous collapse, is not very good (Hasn't been for years really) at creating truly sympathetic characters. The audience is unable to look at him and say "What if that were me?" something that is necessary in a film about guilt and personal fear. Still, all in all, a very good suspenser

Alien: Resurrection (1997)

The re-release is unlikely to proclaim 'From the director of "Amelie"'

[5/10 · 1 September 2002]

Jeunet was wrong for this film, no question. He has the style, the darkness, the claustrophobia and the sci-fi experience ("Delicatessen" and "The City of Lost Children" prove that); what he lacks is a true gift for terror. His films, even at their most disturbing, are not frightening in the way the "Alien" films should be. He also has a strange, dark sense of humour, which sits uneasily with the Alien story. I have no idea if Joss Whedon, who can write decent scripts when he wants to, is responsible for the incomprehensible story that is this film's main handicap, or if Jeunet rejigged it to suit his more baroque style, but in either case an acknowledged talent screwed up somewhere.

Dangerous Liaisons (1988)

The wages of evil

[8/10 · 30 August 2002]

One of the most effective morality plays of modern times, Stephen Frears' adaptation of the 1782 novel "Les Liaisons Dangereuses" manages to convey its message without preaching to its audience, subtituting images and glances for homilies and exposition. The movie opens with a wonderful preparation scene, in which the two hyena-like central characters, the Vicomte de Valmont (John Malcovich) and the Marquise de Montruil (Glenn Close) are gradually armoured in layer upon layer of unwieldy 18th century clothes and mask-like makeup. The parallels here are strong; the two characters seem to be preaparing to act in a play, or perhaps to fight a war. Thier reptilian, blank expressions are hidden behind the elegant facades they place on themselves. In the film's final shot, we see Montruil, standing in front of a mirror as she takes the make-up savagely from her face, her true features revealed, her secrets laid bare, the lies dispelled.

Both characters, you see, are supreme martial artists; masters of the world's most powerful weapon, love. They have learned to use love to further their own advantage, and to destroy and humiliate those who displease them. There is however a price to be paid; if you only see love as a weapon, than you must never feel it yourself, for to do so would be like a warrior falling on his sword.

Meeting together like old Captains on the battlefield, the two hatch a bet. Valmont will seduce and thus ruin a virtuous and pious married woman, Madame de Tourvel (Michelle Pfieffer), and as a reward he will have one night with the Marquise. Unencumbered by such frivolities as pity or compassion, the Vicomte takes to the plan like a fish to water. He begins a long and slow seduction of the ingenue, and eventually wins her; only to realise that somehow he has come to believe his own lies, and has actually fallen in love with her. Once this happens, tragedy is inevitable.

Much has been said of the casting of Malcovich as Valmont. No he is not a dashing handsome figure but he doesn't need to be. He has all the intensity and power of the greatest seducers, and also conveys the cold-eyed soulessness of the character better than any other actor could have. Close matches him brilliantly. I don't really like her as an actress but she is a master at playing heartless evil characters. Pfieffer got an Oscar nom but essentially plays the same teary, dew-eyed innocent she always does. The other actors in the film are less noteworthy, with the possible exception of Uma Thurman, who is both stunningly gorgeous and very sweet.

All in all, a simplistic yet masterful story, well told. Not without faults, but still the best 18th century costume drama in years.

Brotherhood of the Wolf (2001)

How does one review a film like this?

[23 August 2002]

"Brotherhood of the Wolf" is so over the top, so manifestly ridiculous, that it simply defies criticism. Once you have seen 18th century French peasant women engaging in kung-fu, as you do in this film's first quarter hour, any qualms about lapses in plot or historical innacuracy become somewhat redundant.

If that wasn't enough for you, it also contains an Iracois warrior done up in 21st century tatoos, who also, for some reason, is a kung-fu expert, a naturalist who can fire two guns at once, an evil, hatchet faced villain who can wield a wicked knife-chain, and one big armoured cyborg wolf.

Did I mention all this takes place in pre-revolutionary France? So in addition the film manages to include a classic tale of the wiles and trials of aristocratic courtship.

Got all that? No? Well it doesn't really matter. A film already straining to contain a reference to virtually every kind of film ever made (action, martial-arts, werewolf, monster, period romance) was never going to be very credible, and it would die if it took itself seriously. Fortunately, "Brotherhood" does not; it just pushes ahead full throttle distracting our attention with some excellent fight scenes and, of course, this being France, naked women (A dissolve in which Monica Bellucci's breasts become mountain peaks tells you everything you need to know about this film's style). As long as it entertains, "Brotherhood"'s rather obvious flaws can be ignored, however, this film is a ludicrous 140 minutes long and after a while tedium does begin to set in. Still, all in all an enjoyable experience.

Quills (2000)

Disturbingly not disturbing

[7/10 · 23 August 2002]

When one decides to see a film based on the life of the Marquis de Sade, one has certain expectations. One expects to learn about how he gained his infamous reputation, not in a quick summation by Michael Caine walking down the stairs, but in depth. Given that his name is now used to describe serial killers, despots, and practitioners of all the worst kinds of depravity of which mankind is capable, one expects to see that reflected in a film. One expects to be disturbed, shocked, horrified.

One does not expect a film that glosses over the Marquis' actions and presents him as a kind of proto-Crowleyan, free-spirited libertine. I understand the film's wish to present him as a sympathetic figure but I have to wonder if the character created by Geoffrey Rush, a kind of erudite court jester with the mind of a dirty old man, is a true reflection of the Marquis as a person. That said, "Quills" is an entertaining film, a kind of black farce with elements of tragedy. Rush gives a hillarious performance as the Marquis, delivering his juiicy lines with a forked-tounged relish. He never once appears evil, just completely self-absorbed. Kate Winslet plays another ingenue here, but her old-fashioned sensuality works well in this context. Phoenix plays the same character he did in "Gladiator" but for sympathy. Ultimately though, he comes across as far more disturbed than the Marquis, which was probably the point.

The Sixth Sense (1999)

Captured the essence of the "altered place"

[9/10 · 23 August 2002]

There are certain places in this world (you know the ones I mean, for you have all seen them), that though they might appear perfectly normal in every way, are somehow... different. They may be a street near your house, or a disused park behind your office. They may only take on this difference at a certain time of day, or perhaps only you see it. But that difference, that altered state, manifests itself in, to use Cole's phrase, the prickly things on the back of your neck. These are the kinds of places in which you feel compelled to whisper, even when outdoors, and that make you feel you are not alone, even when you are. Somewhere, inside these places, you feel, other worlds must exist.

For me, the greatest achievement of "The Sixth Sense" was not its well-constructed plot or its twist ending; both of these lose their punch on repeat viewings, but rather its masterful evocation of that sense of otherness, as if it had managed to turn the entire city of Philadelphia into an "altered place." In the main the man responsible for this is Tak Fujimoto, Shyamalan's cinamatographer, who shot "The Silence of the Lambs." His shots are both hyperrealistic and dark, mixing shade with sudden bursts of colour, creating a feeling of a world decidedly different from our own. Credit must also go to James Newton Howard, whose elegant, beautiful and creepy score was kept almost subliminal, leaving over its notes a wall of silence that ways down on the heart.

"The Sixth Sense" is of course, Shyamalan's film, but it was those two who made it immortal.

Mulholland Drive (2001)

Dali, Picasso and David Lynch

[10/10 · 22 August 2002]

It is right that these three names should be mentioned together? I think so. Indeed, I think it is not quite praise enough for Lynch, who could very well be the greatest Surrealist artist ever. Dali understood dreams, but Lynch MAKES them. "Eraserhead" was a nightmare projected into reality; "Wild at Heart" was the fitful dream of a bad hangover. "Mulholland Dr." is the most accomplished and precise of Lynch's creations, fusing his dark Surrealism with a kind of cinemtic Cubism. Like Picasso's bull, he shatters his film into jagged pieces and then reassembles them; forcing us to examine his narriative from all angles simultaneously.

We see Naomi Watts first as young naive Betty, overplaying the chirpy blonde to the point of absurdity, (All characters in Lynch's films overplay their roles to the point of absurdity, just as characters in dreams do) who finds an amnesiac in her apartment, played by the almost unbearably sexy Laura Harring. The amnesiac, who takes the name Rita from a Rita Hayworth poster, had been about to be murdered when joyriders crashed into her car on Muholland Drive, and now Betty is caught in the web of those who want her dead. So far, so Hitchcock.

We learn that "Rita" once had a roommate, called Diane Selwyn, and when they break into her house, they find a dead body (hers?) there. The two amateur detectives bond, and eventually fall in love, engaging in one of the sexiest love scenes to hit the screen in decades. It is after this that Lynch takes the hammer to his mirror. A mysterious blue box is found, to which Rita apparently has the key. The key is turned...

Suddenly, Betty isn't Betty anymore; she's Diane Selwyn, and events are spiralling towards the tragic conclusion that may (or may not) open this film.

What does it all mean? By the actors switching roles, is Lynch demonstrating the love that both Diane and Betty feel for "Rita"? Or are these two characters actually one and the same, and one is dreaming the other? Who can tell?

There is much, much more to this film; a film director who gets caught up in a cult-like organisation that runs his movie, a dwarf in a wheelchair, a premonition of doom in a diner. Some may have meaning, or it may not. I will need to see it again.

Sleepy Hollow (1999)

Well, Burton succeeded in what he was trying to do.....

[6/10 · 20 August 2002]

which was to make a homage to the old British Hammer films of the 60s. The film could have been following a checklist:

Does it have dark, gothic set design? Check

Does it share a title with a work of classic literature? Check

Does it bear absolutely no resemblence to said classic? Check

Is it instead a needlessly complicated whodunnit with an anticlimatic resolution? Check

As far as costume design, does it think mainly of tight corsets straining to contain amply endowed women? Check

Does it contain overwrought and melodramatic dialogue straight from a penny dreadful novel? Check

Does it conain oodles of blood? Check

And Christopher Lee? Check

With "Sleepy Hollow" Tim Burton forgets the cardinal rule of homage; refer but do not recreate. The film's main fault is that it is not so much a homage to Hammer horror as a carbon copy. Fidelity is not always a virtue, for while the film manages to capture all that was good about Hammer horror, it also manages to capture all that was bad.

I have to say that "Sleepy Hollow" had one advantage over its source, there were moments in this film that were genuinely scary and suspensful, and I can't remember being scared once while watching any Hammer film. However, Hammer's failings ultimately undermine it. Most of the cast deliberately camped up their roles, and so did disservice to themselves (Miranda Richardson, Michael Gambon, Christina Ricci, and Johnny Depp are all excellent actors and it is a bit depressing to see them as they are here) but Christopher Lee, who only appears briefly, reminds the world why he is and always has been the greatest conveyor of primal menace in the history of film; a fact Burton makes all the clearer by pairing him with his lesser modern counterpart, Christopher Walken. I find it interesting that Lee's career shot into the sky after this film was released.

Given its aims, "Sleepy Hollow" could be called a success. But since it was aiming so low I can really only call it a failure.

Gladiator (2000)

a battle to get through

[4/10 · 16 August 2002]

This must be the most overrated film of the last 30 years. I have sat through the idolisation of David Finscher, the rise of Michael Bay, and "The Matrix" becoming the philosopher-film of my generation, but I draw the line in the blood-soaked sand at the attention given to this movie. Three hours long when it should have been 90 minutes, the film has little to go for it apart from Russell Crowe's glower and a wash of grainy CGI effects. I will never understand how Joaquin Phoenix, who is a descent actor (Just watch "To Die For") managed to get an Oscar nomination for aping Malcom McDowell's performance in "Caligula." Am I really supposed to feel touched when Maximus returns to see his family dead; a scene from countless better films? If that is enough to move the hearts of people these days, than for God's sake send me back to the silent era.

Rent Spartacus instead

American Beauty (1999)

Cliche, or true originality? Does it matter?

[8/10 · 16 August 2002]

All things considered, it is rather astounding that "American Beauty" has attained the status it has. The story is hardly original, constructed as it is from every tired stereotype about the middle-class, middle age and middle America; the materialistic, self-destructive wife for whom the American Dream has become a psychotic delusion, mid-life crisis man, who assumes the way to regain his vitality is to flirt with teenage girls, smoke pot and drive a firebird, the borderline pervert kid next door who is really just a passionate misunderstood artist, and rebellious, sulky teenage daughter.

Many scenes are lifted from the bottom of the movie plot stock barrel; the dead man narrating his story from the grave, the wet dream of the girl in the bath ("I was hoping you would join me..."), the suddenly predatory office worker who threatens his boss with exposure, the snarky one-liner upon catching someone in flagrante delicto, etc, etc.

So, how, after all of this, does this film manage to seem so compellingly, wildly original?

The answer, I think, lies not with its story but with its execution. The gorgeous, ethereal cinamatography by Conrad Hall, the wonderful precussive score by Thomas Newman, the wildly orginal editing, and above all the stunning performances by its top-calibre cast.

Kevin Spacey is brilliant here, creating a character that is both believable and yet incredibly charismatic. As his wife, Annette Bening finally redeems herself for every performance she's given since "The Grifters." Her portrayal of a hysterical corrupted soul is both terrifying and sympathetic. Thora Birch seems ready to take the mantle from Martha Plympton and Christina Ricci as cinema's pet crucible of female adolescent angst.

The beauty of "American Beauty" is that it manages to turn a stale and reheated story into a meditation on the nature of life and death. That in a way is a far more profound achievement than turning a discarded plastic bag into a symbol of the purity of nature.

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Someone needs to rescue this film from the inexplicable bad opinions on this list

[10/10 · 16 August 2002]

"The Silence of the Lambs" is one of the best films of the 1990s. A police procedural that shapeshifts nightmarishly into gothic horror, it is one of the most intense, brutal and elegant thrillers of all time.

Those who claim the film is boring probably first saw it on video, where much of its impact is lost due to the tinny sound and the tiny screen. This film derives its power from the intricate use of sound effects and the masterful evocation of clausrophobia, which is best appreciated when the screen is 20 feet across and you are trapped in a theatre. The cinematography is both grittily realistic and otherworldly, not superising since the film was shot by "The Sixth Sense"'s Tak Fujimoto. Jonathan Demme, a comic director, somehow manages to create the only Hitchcockian film that is truly worthy of the name. The wonderfully paced final act, in which we assume the SWAT team are on the way, but... is one of the greatest hoodwinks I have ever seen. Ted Tally's script is phenomenal, outclassing even the novel on which it is based.

But ultimately, this film belongs to its actors. Not just Hopkins, who of course creates the greatest screen monster in history, or even to Foster, who delivers the performance of her career (and seems to have had a talent-ectomy shortly afterwards), but to Ted Lavine, for his courageous performance as a killer transvestite, and to the world weary Scott Glenn.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

"You will be answering to the Coca-Cola Company"

[10/10 · 2 August 2002]

Who says this movie has dated?

It is more relevent than ever with our very own Major Kong in the White House, ready to ride that bomb to glory, and Pearle and Rumsfeld as raging Tugidsons taking the hawkish mentality to the point of absurdity. And who can forget our own, lost Mandrake, Colin Powell, the outnumbered voice of reason.

This film will never age because ultimately it is not about the Cold War; it is about the stupidity of absolute power. Why do humans feel the need to invest the power to destroy the world in anyone, let alone someone who yells about "Mine shaft gaps" or for that matter, one who thinks he was a small business growth.

Kubrick, no idealist, understood the nature of evil better than most. He knew that evil does not eminate solely from charismatic individuals but rises like smog from the collective stupidity and madness of many people, some of whom may not be evil in themselves.

In the knife-edge political climate of today, certain administrations would do well to heed his message.

Osmosis Jones (2001)

A fun animated film- I only wish the live-action scenes were better

[31 July 2002]

The selling pont of "Osmosis Jones" is the quirky plays on bodily functions, which it brilliantly transforms into cop-buddy movie cliches-sweat glands are Mob steamrooms, vaccines are informers, the lymph nodes are police precints, the bladder is the Last Bus Out Of Town. When Oz sees a villainous germ in the stomach, he immediately hits the "PUKE" button- creating the ultimate "panic button" scene. Chris Rock, who made his career playing comic cops, here gets the ultimate straight man in David Hyde Pierce (Frasier's Niles) who somewhow manages to play a superhero cold pill convincingly. The two work well together; I'd like to see them both on "Frasier" sometime. But the best thing about this film is Fishburne, whose brilliantly designed Thrax (Looking like a cross between Ice-T and the Red Skull from Fantastic Four) is complimented by his unusually campy performance. In one of the film's wittier allusions, Thrax causes damage with a literal "fever spike," an extended, sharpened digit that heats up whatever he touches.

The problem with this film is the live action sequences, which are dull and uninvolving. Bill Murray, one of the world's greatest physical comedians, is forced to spend much of the film moaning on his back, so one would expect him to rely on his snarky sarcasm for laughs. Unfortunately he isn't allowed to. Instead the "humour" is derived from grossing the audience out as much as possible, which worked in the Farrelley Brothers' previous films as long as the actors were allowed to play along, but here they all wear serious faces.

I think this film would have done better as a fully animated film, perhaps even as a weekly show. Instead it is merely average, which is a shame.

Breaking the Waves (1996)

Pure emotion

[10/10 · 22 July 2002]

Many people adore "Breaking the Waves." Many people hate it. Many people, like myself, can adore or hate it at different times. No one, however, could forget this film, and indifference to it is not an option. As a sheer, rushing force of emotional power, "Breaking the Waves" is unequalled, I think, in all of cinematic art; certainly in anything produced in the last 20 years. Whether the emotion you will feel will be detestation or adoration is unknowable, perhaps even irrellevant. "Breaking the Waves" does not care for your opinion, only for your attention. And it will get it. From the soulful smile and epiphanic eyes of Emily Watson (In a performance that, should the God's of history prove just, will stand alongside the greatest ever given in years to come) to the beautiful elegance of the handheld cinematography, "Breaking the Waves" defies you to turn away. By taking such elemental themes as love, hate, good, evil and faith, and expressing them through the personality of Bess MacNiell, a person without the needless complexities of mind that we use daily to shield ourselves from truth, the film forces us to confront our feelings at their most primal, and their most violent, levels.

The Fugitive (1993)

A superior thriller

[10/10 · 2 July 2002]

The Fugitive is not an action film; it is a top-notch thriller that moves at such a fast pace that it FEELS like an action film. The number of explosions, deaths and stunts is actually quite small, although the legendary train wreck still holds up as a remarkable action set piece. What creates the majority of the film's tension are the remarkable performances by Tommy Lee Jones and Harrison Ford; the one generating such an incandescent intensity he appears as an inescapable Nemesis, the other showing more in one look of his tortured eyes than a page of dialogue could convey. The script is almost air-tight. There are so few plot holes that when they do appear they seem out of place. The cinematopgraphy is as naturalistic as possible, creating a sense of realism that most thrillers eschew in favour of slick fantasy. The music, by the gifted composer Thomas Newman (American Beauty, Six Feet Under) is quite possibly the best action film score ever. The editing, particularly in the beginning, is beyond belief.

All in all, a near perfect film.

Apt Pupil (1998)

Good, but could have been so much more

[6/10 · 9 June 2002]

Anyone who has not studied the Holocaust has no idea what evil is. Anyone who has not read the casually molevolent testimony of Randolph Hoess at Nuremberg about why zyklon B was so much better than carbon monoxide, or the interviews with Broucher as he inspected the slowly withering bodies of starving babies to ensure they were dying efficiently, or the reports of survivors of Auschwitz of the eye experiments of Doctor Mengele, or seen the racks upon racks of preserved children's brains recently uncovered in a University in Vienna, cannot truly comprehend the dark depths to which the human soul can descend.

Given that this film perports to use the legacy of the Holocaust to explore the nature of evil, one would expect it to take the audience with it into those depths, to give the desenitised viewer a glimpse of hell. It cannot; it is too timid. The gradual tainting of Todd's soul as he exposes himself to evil like a junkie with a needle should have been the focus of the film; instead the script minimises its impact, while Brad Renfro delivers a performance that is too flat to capture the subtle viciousness that Ian McKellen's Nazi is slowly feeding him.

If the film had been true to the hideousness of the Holocaust, it would have focused on the psychological battle between the two characters, a gradual dance of insanity that lead to their mutual dissolution. Instead in transforms into a typical Hitchcockian domestic thriller, complete with a body in the basement. What a shame. The Holocaust is a story that needs to be retold. No film has managed to capture its true evil, not even "Schindler's List." No filmmaker would dare upset his audience that much. I thought "Apt Pupil" would be the exception.