There was once a time that paranoid thrillers such as Sydney Pollack's magnificent Three Days of the Condor would have seemed like the mad ramblings of an extreme lefty. The government were not made up of powerful men with our best interests at heart, but a bunch of powerful men plotting, scheming and murdering their way to further themselves or whatever organisation-within-an-organisation they were working for. After the Watergate scandal, such cynicism didn't seem so out-there. It inspired a wave of great films, some of the finest in American history, with director Sydney Pollack and actor Robert Redford very much at the forefront.
Here Redford plays Joseph Turner, a CIA bookworm tasked with reading everything - books, newspapers, magazines - in the search for hidden codes and revolutionary ideas, operating from a small office with a close assortment of colleagues. After he pops out for lunch one day, he returns to find all of his co-workers murdered, and is plunged into a world of deep paranoia. When he seeks protection from the 'Company', he is almost murdered as he meets the man he thinks is bringing him in. With no-one to turn to, he kidnaps an artist named Kathy (Faye Dunaway) at gunpoint and shacks up with her, gradually bringing her to his side as his situation becomes utterly desperate.
Turner, now lumped with the knowledge that he can trust nobody, is forced to re-evaluate everything he knows about how his employees operate. The CIA are summed up in the film by two characters - the seemingly emotionless killer Joubert (Max von Sydow) and slick-talking suit Higgins (Cliff Robertson). It's a terrifying thought to think that someone may be listening to every phone call or reporting your whereabouts, and that every time there's a knock at the door it may be the delivery man with a machine-gun. It is Joubert's chilling monologue towards the end of the film that really speaks volumes about the men Turner is fleeing from. Pollack's direction is tight and clinical, effortlessly building suspense through Redford's increasingly rugged performance. An exciting, intelligent thriller from the greatest period in American cinema.
Early in 2015, word-of-mouth was spreading from festival-goers that The Lobster was a strange masterpiece, a dark and bleakly hilarious portrayal of modern relationships that could even compete for the Oscars as long as the voters were not put off by the general weirdness. It however limped into cinemas with little promotion (that I saw), gaining positive reviews from the critics, but was notably absent during awards season. This may have been down to the film being simply too out-there, but I believe it's down to the fact that the incredible precision of the first act gives way to a depressingly bleak and rambling latter half.
The first half of the film is where Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos sets the scene for this not-too-distant living nightmare, where couples must either find a loving partner or face being turned into an animal of their choice. Sullen David (Colin Farrell) arrives at a hotel in middle-of-nowhere Ireland hoping to find a mate. The rules are simple - find love within 45 days or become a wild beast, and David has decided he is to be a lobster. Escape into the surrounding woods and you'll have your former buddies hunting you at night with a tranquilliser gun in the hope of gaining an extra day for each 'kill'. David tries courting the 'Heartless Woman' (Angeliki Papoulia), as she is billed, but things turn sour and he decides to make off into the trees.
The hotel scenes are mostly uncomfortably hilarious. David's new friend, 'The Limping Man' (Ben Whishaw), tries to find common ground with 'Nosebleed Woman' (Jessica Barden) by bashing his head against a wall to cause his nose to gush so they can share something in common, while the Lisping Man (John C. Reilly) is forced by the stern Hotel Manager (Olivia Colman) to put his hand in a toaster as a punishment for masturbating (which is strictly forbidden, while the inhabitants are forced to receive a dry humping from the Maid (Ariane Labed) without ejaculating every morning). Courtship here is routine and emotionless, likely commenting on the ridiculous state of modern dating, which is usually based on linking shared interests and statistics electronically. Whatever happened to a good old natural spark?
It's also depressing, but absorbingly so, but loses its pace once David is in the woods. He meets the leader of escaped hotel guests the Loners, played by Lea Seydoux, whose way of life seems even harsher than the hotels. Romance and sexual activity are punishable by violence and mutilation, but nevertheless David falls in love with the 'Short Sighted Woman' (Rachel Weisz). Once the focus shifts away from the Hotel and the bizarre hook of the films title, the film is just not as interesting while in the world of the Loners. The satire loses its edge and the story could have benefited from 15 minutes or so shaved off. Still, The Lobster is an oddball experience I would recommend anyone to sit through at least once, and features a terrifically restrained performance from Farrell, playing against type.
It's easy to forget that the first time the world was introduced to Mike Myers' wonky-toothed and bespectacled British superspy back in 1997 with Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery, precious few people went to see it. The film eventually gathered a huge following when it was released on VHS, and the formula was recycled again for the smash-hit sequel, The Spy Who Shagged Me (1999). The character and his arch-nemesis Dr. Evil are now so ingrained in popular culture that it's quite bizarre to think that you could once shout "oh, behave!" or "yeah, baby!" at a friend to receive a look of utter bewilderment in return.
The franchise proved so popular that its two sequels repeated the same gags and failed to really move the story on. Despite this obvious flaw, The Spy Who Shagged Me and the (as of 2016) final instalment Goldmember still managed to generate enough belly laughs to give them a pass, often relying on the irresistible comedic charm of its star Mike Myers. However, it was clear that the series was running out of steam by the time number 3 came around, as Goldmember remains the least funny of the trilogy, introducing a forgettable baddie in the form of the titular gold-obsessed, skin-munching Dutch supervillain, also played by Myers.
Yet the film kicks off with the greatest gag of all the movies. Just as we think we're watching an over-the-top set-piece from one of Austin's missions, its soon revealed to be a movie within a movie, with Tom Cruise wearing the spectacles and Kevin Spacey as Dr. Evil. We are then treated to the expectedly ridiculous, but entirely endearing, opening dance sequence, this time involving Britney Spears. Its a level of hilarity that the remainder of the movie sadly fails to maintain. For the first time we get to meet Austin's father in the form of Michael Caine, and Beyonce Knowles donning an impressive afro and plenty of sass as Foxxy Cleopatra, in a loving tribute to blaxploitation.
The bulk of the movie consists of the characters being restrained by their own eccentricities, which after two previous movies starts to stretch the humour a bit thin. Like Fat Bastard from the second entry, Goldmember is a one-joke character when the joke isn't that funny to begin with. His innuendos and disgusting habit repulse to the point of being simply unpleasant. Its at its best when it sticks to what made the franchise so loveable to begin with - the Bond pastiches. There's a ludicrous masterplan in there somewhere and the scenes in which Austin and Evil go face-to-face are as priceless as ever, but when Myers tries to insert some dramatic weight to the mix involving Austin's daddy issues the movie starts to drag. By the end, its clear that he picked the right time to wave goodbye to his most successful character (although he hasn't had much luck since).
Gabriel Axel's Babette's Feast, adapted from Karen Blixen's short story of the same name (written under the pen name Isak Dinesen) and winner of the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, is about both the richness of true artistry and the spiritual necessity of sampling what few pleasures life has to offer during our short time on Earth. Like an exquisite, expensive meal, it moves at a slow pace and requires you to savour the delicate starters before the wholly satisfying climax arrives like a rich dessert and fine malt whiskey, resulting in the most romantic film about living a quiet, pious life ever made.
Two elderly sisters, Martine (Birgitte Federspiel) and Filippa (Bodil Kjer), have lived in a windy, remote hamlet in Jutland, Denmark their entire life. Years ago, their father (Pouel Kern) was a highly respected pastor, and with his two young and beautiful daughters (played in flashback by Vibeke Hastrup and Hanne Stensgaard), ran a small conventicle, who still meet up occasionally to converse. The sisters are courted in their youth by two men - cavalry officer Lorens Lowenhielm (Jarl Kulle), who falls in love with Martine, and opera singer Achille Papin (Jean-Philippe Lafont), who happens to hear Filippa's flawless singing voice and longs to make her a star. Both reject their suitors advances out of loyalty to their marriage-spurning father, and remain alone together for the remainder of their lives.
One day, a French refugee named Babette (Stephane Audran) arrives having being sent by the ageing Papin to escape the bloody Paris Commune. The sisters have no money to pay her, but take her in when Babette offers to work for food and shelter. Her swaggering nature makes her hit in the small coastal town, and she stays with Martine and Filippa for years. When she receives a letter from Paris informing her that she has won 10,000 francs in the lottery, she begs the sisters to put aside their rigorous routine and allow her to cook them and their white-haired conventicle a fine French feast. They reluctantly agree but soon become concerned at the exotic ingredients arriving at their doorstep (including a live turtle), but Babette's feast with be spiritually enlightening for everyone involved.
Babette's Feast manages to gaze warmly on a life that may seem harsh and miserable to many, and the early scenes of the sisters turning their backs on a life of true love and fame is difficult to watch. But Martine and Filippa remain without any bitterness; their only concern being the dwindling resources due to a lack of new members to their flock. In their old age, the rest of the group have become quarrelsome, but as each beautiful course is served, the petty issues are mended as they all experience the earthly miracle being set out in front of them. We taste every bite and get light-headed as the wine is supped, and it's a truly sincere experience. It also retains a tenderness and a grace usually lost in movies designed to pull on the heart-strings, and this is embodied by Audran who is outstanding as the eponymous artist.
Written by David Leland and directed by Alan Clarke, Made in Britain was originally broadcast on the BBC as part of a quartet of pieces dubbed Tales Out of School, all of which shared a focus on Britain's educational system. The films, all written by Leland, were a reaction to Margaret Thatchers political regime, and Made in Britain depicts the sort of character that was emerging from the increasingly violent and racist youth culture of the time.
When we first meet Trevor (Tim Roth in his debut), he is being tried in court for throwing a brick through a Pakistani family's window and shoplifting. Defiant to the very end, the 20 year-old neo-Nazi with a swastika tattooed on his face is sent to an Assessment Centre while his fate is determined. There he shares a room with a black teenager with learning difficulties who he takes with him to the Job Centre where he throws a brick through a window and steals a car. Trevor is told by the superintendent that time and time again Trevor has ensured his life will result in an endless cycle of poverty, crime and prison, and this is his last chance to make a choice.
Roth is a ferocious force of nature as Trevor. Alan Clarke's films always manage to turn its despicable lead into a charismatic, and almost sympathetic, human being. Normally, someone like Trevor would be an unbearable character to spend 70 minutes with, but Roth, Leland and Clarke make him into a fascinating embodiment of nihilism. The moment during his late-night rampage when he stares perplexed at a shop display of an idealistic family makes for a powerful social message. Everything is "bollocks" and everybody is a "wanker", but there's an empathy to be had with his complete disillusionment with the system. He doesn't even come across a particularly racist, it's almost like it's just another thing for him to hate. Surely one of the best TV movies ever, and a great achievement for the BBC during one of its most creative periods.
With the phenomenal success of Marvel's 8-year (and still going strong) moulding of their cinematic universe, the fashionable goal for studios now seems to be to create a vast world for their ensemble of characters to co-exist and occasionally cross paths. Marvel's output now includes some of the highest-grossest films of all time, so it was never going to take other studios too long to realise the potential in their comic-book property. Fox's X-Men franchise expanded itself this year with Deadpool, and the box-office success of Man of Steel in 2013 now have publishing behemoth DC flexing their muscles.
Subtlety isn't something Zack Snyder, director of 300 (2006), Watchmen (2009) and Sucker Punch (2011), is known for. Like Joss Whedon at Marvel before his departure, Snyder has been employed as head honcho for DC's expanded universe. Rather than taking the time to build the world from the ground up and teasing fans with what's to come, Snyder throws everything (including the kitchen sink in one scene) at Man of Steel's follow-up, which introduces a seriously pissed-off Batman into the mix, as well as a hoard of famous and not-so-famous fellow superheroes who are all due their own stand-alone movies in the future. To summarise, Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice is a colossal mess.
Picking up during the climax of Man of Steel that saw Superman (Henry Cavill) cause mega-destruction and the deaths of thousands of people during his fisticuffs with General Zod (Michael Shannon), Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck) arrives at Metropolis to witness the carnage first hand. This older, more damaged Batman holes up in his mansion and discusses Superman's alien threat with his trusted butler Alfred (Jeremy Irons). An unsupervised being of almost unlimited power, Wayne sees Superman as a threat to humanity and hopes to turn the public against him using his influence at the Daily Planet newspaper.
Meanwhile, billionaire eccentric Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg) takes a special interest in Superman, and convinces Senator Finch (Holly Hunter) to allow him access to Zod's fallen spacecraft as well as the General's body. Wayne learns of Luthor's activities and attends one of his gatherings in the hope of stealing encrypted files, and learns that a mysterious woman by the name of Diane Prince (Gal Gadot) is also seeking the same thing. Knowing that Superman and Batman will always stand in his way, Luthor imports Kryptonite from the Indian Ocean and begins to set in motion a great battle between the two, from which surely only one will walk away.
The plot seems to only concern itself with the bigger picture, with its eyes firmly on the Justice League movie due next year, Without any sense of immediate threat and with such an emotional detachment from its characters, it's extremely difficult to care about much that happens during Batman v Superman. It's all too much, too soon. On top of the muddled plot, Snyder throws in glimpses of future members of the superhero team - The Flash (Ezra Miller), Aquaman (Jason Momoa) and Cyborg (Ray Fisher) - that act like mini-trailers jammed into the middle of the movie without much thought, and a seemingly random, yet beautifully captured, dream sequence that foreshadows the big bad Darkseid.
Most of the characters motivations are left unexplained too. While Superman's actions with Zod left catastrophic damage, the public are pretty clear that they view him as a hero fighting an alien threat, even concocting a monument in his honour. So why is Batman so utterly pissed at him, especially when Superman doesn't even harm him during their first encounter when he could have snapped him like a twig? Luthor, played by an Eisenberg who seems to believe he is on the set of Adam West's 1960's TV show, is hell-bent of neutralising Superman's threat. Does he have daddy issues? A fear of God? Luthor rants like a teenager hyped-up from sugar and video-games and hints at these and many others, but no real explanation is given. And just what was he hoping to achieve by unleashing the part cave-troll, part what you couldn't flush down the toilet this morning, at the end?
The movie's main positive is Affleck. The groans echoed throughout social media when his casting was announced, but he nails both Bruce Wayne and Batman. He is the Darkest Knight there has ever been, with a brute physicality that could flick Christian Bale's incarnation across the screen. Snyder has the skill to bring a comic book panel to life better than anybody, and Batman v Superman is frequently astonishing to look at. Gadot also excels during her small amount of screen-time, and is the only one appearing to be having any fun. Of the smack-down itself, it's an exciting and brutal affair, brought to a close by one of the most ridiculous moments of mutual enlightenment in cinema, ever. Like Man of Steel, Batman v Superman has defied mixed (and some utterly unforgiving) reviews and stormed the box-office, so I think it's safe to say that the DC train will plough on.
One of the ugliest and blatant money-spinning schemes to emerge from Hollywood in recent years is the trend of splitting up the final entry of a successful book series unnecessarily into two parts. Although I wasn't overly keen on The Hunger Games' second entry, Catching Fire (2013), it was at least - along with the original 2012 movie that kicked off the successful movie franchise that helped launch Jennifer Lawrence into super-stardom - decently paced; a tight, nifty thriller with some enjoyable set-pieces. Part 1 of Mockingjay lacked anything in the way of spectacle, and while Part 2 certainly delivers on the action front, it still stutters due to stretching a pretty slim book into over 4 hours of screen-time.
Following a slow start during which we meet up with heroine Katniss Everdeen (Lawrence) who is coming to terms with the horrors of war and the re-emergence of the emotionally damaged Peeta (Josh Hutcherson) in her life, things pick up when Katniss defies the orders of revolution propaganda chief Plutarch Heavensbee (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and the increasingly shady President Coin (Julianne Moore), and forces her way to the front line. What Katniss and her team face on their way to assassinate President Snow (Donald Sutherland) is a city booby-trapped to the gills with giant machine guns, flamethrowers, and other imaginatively-designed instruments of death awaiting them at every turn. Circumstances have changed but the Games remain the same.
What Part 1 lacked most of all was the Hunger Games themselves, and here they are cleverly woven back into the story. As absurd some of the set-ups are (surely a couple of well-placed soldiers armed with walkie-talkies and sniper-rifles would have been more efficient and cost-effective?), they undoubtedly eject the film with the excitement it sorely needs. Mockingjay Part 2 is also extremely dark and violent, pushing its UK 12A certificate to breaking point. One set-piece set in a sewer that sees a horde of snarling monsters chase our heroes in a scene straight out of a horror movie and a genuinely shocking (if you haven't read the books) moment of brutality near the end prove to be brave and mature decisions. And why shouldn't young folk see death depicted without the usual padding or sentimentality?
I also applaud the story for taking an unconventional approach to the inevitable Everdeen-Snow showdown, but its here that events take a confusing turn as Lawrence's Everdeen is kept at an emotional distance that clouds her motivations without the aid of narration, and the movie struggles in the closing moments. It's also an ending that should have come the film before, with the slicing of the story resulting in Part 2 going out with a slight whimper when it could have been explosive. On a positive note, it seems that audiences are finally catching on to the kind of studio greed that forced them to watch the likes of The Hobbit for nine hours over three years, as Lionsgate's movie performed poorer than expected at the box office (though it still made a shed-load).
Emilio Miraglia only directed a handful of films throughout his career (though he was more prolific as an assistant to the likes of Luciano Salce, Carlo Lizzani and Lucio Fulci), the two films he made between 1971 and 1972 - The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave and The Red Queen Kills 7 Times - stand out most of all. Although the two films are pretty recognisable titles to any giallo enthusiast, Miraglia's name hardly echoes throughout the annals of the genre, most likely down to his slim body work as it certainly isn't down a lack of quality.
The premise of The Red Queen is giallo at its most gleefully ludicrous. While the film is mostly a gory thriller, there are elements of gothic with its cobwebbed, desolate mansion setting during the opening scenes. A dying grandfather tells two of his granddaughters of the tale behind the gruesome painting overlooking his death-bed, of one sister ('The Red Queen') who stabbed and murdered the other sister ('The Black Queen'). This cycle repeats itself every 100 years, due again in 1972. When the dreaded year comes, the grown up Kitty (Barbara Bouchet) works as a fashion photographer and believes that her sister Evelyn died in a freak accident years ago. When people start dying, murdered by a manic woman in red, has Evelyn returned from beyond the grave as the Red Queen or is something even more sinister at play?
When the movie finished, I was left wondering how such a convoluted build-up could lead to such an easily-explained mystery, but that's the beauty of giallo and The Red Queen itself. The infusion of gothic undertones peppered throughout the film only add to the fun of the piece, although its feet lie firmly in its pulpy paperback roots. Complete with impressively staged, gory set-pieces, this adds pretty much every element of the genre into the mix - the world of high fashion photography, beautiful, big-eyed women, a gruff detective, and plenty of sexual deviancy. So, it offers little in the way of originality, but it's certainly a lot of fun (the scene with the fence spike is a cracker). See it for the bonkers plot and ghostly, Hammer-esque sets if nothing else.
There has perhaps never been a more obvious metaphor in cinema for the loss of childhood innocence and the sudden arrival of the big, scary, grown-up world out there, but Irish director Lenny Abrahamson, who helmed 2014's magnificent Frank, translates Emma Donoghue's internal monologue-heavy novel of the same name with tenderness and care, successfully avoiding sensationalising the horror at its disturbing core. Room is one of the year's most complex and awe-inspiring films.
Five year-old Jack (Jacob Tremblay) has never left the place he knows as Room. To him, the tiny shed he has lived his entire life is the whole world, with the pictures on the television screen beamed in from some distant galaxy. He and his devoted mother Joy (Brie Larson) spend every day in a set routine, with Joy using every waking moment to tend to her son and shield him from the terrible situation they're actually in. We come to learn that Joy has been locked in Room for seven years, taken a long time ago by a man she only knows as Old Nick (Deadwood's Sean Bridgers), who routinely re-ups their supplies and rapes Joy while Jack peeks through the cracks of his wardrobe.
Larson won an Oscar for her performance here and rightly so. The relationship between Joy and Jack is more than simple mother-and-son, as it comes quickly to light that the boy is the only thing keeping her alive. Still, she struggles with his energy and growing curiosity of things he cannot comprehend, until one day she decides to tell him the truth and plans their escape. Her depression is becoming overwhelming, to the point where she may commit suicide, and then what then for her son? If you're unaware of the plot then don't read any further, for it is the moment Jack finally breaks free, followed shortly after by his mother, when the film moves into different territory altogether - Jack coping with this mind-blowing revelation. There now exists things he has never seen before, such as other people, other places, and the sky.
Tremblay is equally as good as Jack with arguably a more complex character. It's appalling that his name was missing from the Academy's line-up, as this is the finest male performance of the year (as lovely as it was to see Leonardo DiCaprio receive his long-overdue award). His experience of this new, massive planet is amplified by some intelligent camerawork from cinematographer Danny Cohen, who films in sparse wide-shots to heighten the scale, and employs intense close-ups during the early scenes in Room to almost offend your sense of space. Yet its the two leads and their natural chemistry that really assist Room in delivering its intended emotional wallop. Whenever they're apart, you feel the tear and their need for each other. This is powerful, intelligent film-making, with a real hint of the greatness that could come from Abrahamson in the future.
This years Academy Award Best Picture line-up was one of the most underwhelming in recent memory, but there was a little cheer when director Tom McCarthy's underdog Spotlight took home the top prize. My personal favourite of the nominees, The Big Short, lost out, and the stand-out film of the year, Inside Out, wasn't even on the list (although it took home the Best Animated Feature), but the lack of truly great films this year doesn't take anything away from Spotlight, which is a riveting little procedural hampered by a surprising emotional distance from the disturbing subject matter.
Like most films set amongst the huddled office meetings, desk-thumping and pen-chewing of the newspaper room, Spotlight takes its inspiration from Alan J. Pakula's seminal All the President's Men (1976), and concerns itself solely on the noble efforts of the staff trying to piece together that big story that will change everything. Here, we're at the Boston Globe in 2001, and the newspapers new editor Marty Baron (Liev Schreiber) and almost instantly notices the importance of delving deeper into eccentric lawyer Mitchel Garabedian's (Stanley Tucci) accusation that Cardinal Law (Len Cariou) has covered up the molestation of various children by a priest in their very city.
Baron hands the task to Spotlight, a team consisting of 'Robby' Robinson (Michael Keaton), Mike Rezendes (Mark Ruffalo), Sacha Pfeiffer (Rachel McAdams) and Matt Carroll (Brian D'Arcy James), who takes months exhaustively researching their subject matter before publishing their findings. What they uncovered were hundreds of cases in Boston alone of child molestation by priests, and the fact that this was ignored by people in a position to do much more. In fact, some of the most powerful moments come from the revelations that some of the Boston Globe staff sat on the story for years without taking notice of the extent of the abuse. With Operation Yewtree still hitting the headlines here in the UK, the subject of sweeping these kinds of cases under the rug couldn't be more relevant.
Spotlight depicts, in breathtaking detail, the work carried out by Robinson and his team to uncover the truth and to obtain the required evidence. Keaton, after last years Birdman, gives another assured performance, and Ruffalo is routinely terrific as the pit-bull Rezendes. Aesthetically, the film cannot be faulted, and McCarthy sticks strictly to the facts. However, the lack of an emotional connection means the film does not induce the kind of anger it really should. Without doubt the movies stand-out scene is Pfeiffer's reaction to a priests blunt response to her equally blunt questioning, and the film should maintain the sort of power and shock this moment inspires, but keeps itself frustratingly distant. Spotlight is still an accomplished piece of work with some sparkling dialogue, and McCarthy hints that he may have found the same form he had with his terrific debut The Station Agent (2003).
Here Redford plays Joseph Turner, a CIA bookworm tasked with reading everything - books, newspapers, magazines - in the search for hidden codes and revolutionary ideas, operating from a small office with a close assortment of colleagues. After he pops out for lunch one day, he returns to find all of his co-workers murdered, and is plunged into a world of deep paranoia. When he seeks protection from the 'Company', he is almost murdered as he meets the man he thinks is bringing him in. With no-one to turn to, he kidnaps an artist named Kathy (Faye Dunaway) at gunpoint and shacks up with her, gradually bringing her to his side as his situation becomes utterly desperate.
