Finnish director Aki Kaurismaki is up to his usual deadpan business with one of his most enigmatically-titled features, Take Care of Your Scarf, Tatiana, a title which remains a mystery, to me at least, long after the credits have rolled. Shot in black-and-white, the film appears to be Kaurismaki's version of a road movie, often resembling the early films of Wim Wenders, such as Alice in the Cities and The American Friend, although the influence of Jim Jarmusch can also be felt throughout. As is often the case with Kaurismaki, dialogue is delivered with little emotion and passion, story is an afterthought, and the main characters are what many people would refer to as losers. Still, even with all the restraint on show and a running time that that barely touches the hour mark, this is one of the director's funniest features, and certainly one of his most relatable.
We open with Valto (Mato Valtonen), a huge doorstop of a man who resembles Eugene from The Walking Dead with an even more ridiculous haircut. He seems to run a clothing business with his mother, and when parent and son have a tiff over the lack of coffee (he has a serious coffee addiction), Valto locks her away in the cupboard and heads for the auto garage. Here he hooks up with his vodka-swigging friend Reino (Matti Pellonpaa), who has just finished work on Valto's car, and the odd couple head out on a road trip with seemingly no destination in mind. They stop at a bar and are spotted by Russian Klavdia (Kirsi Tykkylainen) and Estonian Tatjana (Kati Outinen), who see these two miserable-looking Finns as their free ride to the harbour for their journey home. And so begins one of the cinema's strangest road-trips, which mainly consists Valto and Reino sulking and ignoring their guests, even when they are forced to sleep in the same room.
Take Care of Your Scarf, Tatiana may frequently surprise those not accustomed to Kaurismaki's distinct auteur style. Not in a dramatic sense of course, but in the way it refuses to veer off into more comfortable genre territory. You keep expecting Valto and Reino to break their silence and start a romance with their new lady friends, but despite the presence of some romantic undercurrents, these men remain a mystery. This doesn't mean that they're unrelatable however, as anybody with the slightest social anxiety will recognise the awkwardness of their interactions, and get a good laugh from it. There's actually more going on here than I realised before reading up about the film after it had finished. Kaurismaki layers this incredibly slight tale with satire and social commentary, but this will fly over the head of most non-Finns such as myself. However, this doesn't dilute the sheer joy to be had with Tatiana. If the characters in Alexander Payne's Sideways were introverted and shy, it may have come out something like this. This is a low-key pleasure and surprisingly upbeat for Kaurismaki, and proves that happiness can be found in unhappiness.
Disney's The Lion King capped a highly lucrative 5 years for the House of Mouse, who were, before The Little Mermaid came along in 1989 and turned their fortunes around, in real danger. It seems ridiculous to think that the studio that now routinely make billions of dollars a year with their Pixar, Marvel and Lucasfilm output, as well as their recent fondness for re-imagining their so-called 'Disney Animated Classics' series in live-action, could have ever been in danger of actually going under. Yet Mermaid made the millions, Beauty and the Beast (1991) won critical adoration, and Aladdin (1992) charmed, and the rest is history.
I remember seeing The Lion King in cinemas back in 1994 with my mum, and not being particularly over-awed. I didn't shed a tear when Mufasa was betrayed, nor was I singing the songs to myself in the car ride home. However, it felt like I was the only one, as the film's popularity seemed to increase each year, with home release re-masters, soundtracks and a theatre production jamming every one of my senses, even now, 22 years later. It was because of this, and partially because I'm an old-school (1930's-60's) Disney loyalist, that I shunned The Lion King for all these years. After finally viewing it again, I wish I had a time machine to slap the 10 year old version of myself, as this is about as close to animated perfection as you can get.
For anyone who has somehow never seen the film, The Lion King tells the story of King Mufasa (James Earl Jones), a respected and formidable beast who rules over the Pride Lands of Africa. The arrival of his new son and heir, Simba (Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Matthew Broderick), is cause for celebration across the plains, except, that is, for Mufasa's weak and envious brother Scar (Jeremy Irons) and his hyena friends (Whoopi Goldberg, Cheech Marin and Jim Cummings). When Scar's plan to usurp Mustafa's throne ends in tragedy, Simba flees with guilt and shame, finding unlikely friends in the slow-witted warthog Pumbaa (Ernie Sabella) and motor-mouthed meerkat Timon (Nathan Lane). As Scar's rule leaves Simba's former homeland a hyena-ridden wasteland, will the would-be king fulfil his destiny and take back his crown?
From the enchanting, wordless opening scene in which Simba is shown off to the crowd to the tune of Circle of Life, to the savage, expressionistic climax which sees hero and villain have their final showdown, I felt completely immersed in this world, regardless of the fact that I knew the story back to front. This is Disney at its most thoughtful, magical and hilarious. Perhaps taking a page from Studio Ghibli's environmentally-aware book, the film shows a real respect for the natural world despite anthropomophising its characters and dabbling in pseudo-mysticism. Lane and Sabella shine as Timon and Pumbaa, two of Disney's most beloved comedic side-kicks, who also get to belt out one of their most beloved tunes in Hakuna Matata. I'll most likely never be convinced that Disney will manage to recreate the beauty and warmth of the likes of Dumbo (1940) and Bambi (1942) during their Golden Age, but The Lion King is the closest it's ever come.
I remember that back in the mid-90's, when Tarantino-mania was in full swing, the motor-mouthed former video store clerk-turned-auteur was always surrounded by controversy. His two movies, Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Pulp Fiction were portrayed as cruel, violent and sadistic by the media, while movie critics swooned over his pulpy, reference-heavy characters and innovative dialogue. Over 20 years later, Tarantino's films seem laughably mild compared to the casual ultra-violence of most 18-rated movies regularly released today. But while Reservoir Dogs can arguably be dismissed as a marvellously scripted and meticulously acted rip-off of City on Fire (1987), Pulp Fiction seems as fresh as the day it was released.
The black-suited duo of Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Jules Winfield (Samuel L. Jackson), and the misty-eyed gangster's moll Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman) have been reduced to movie icons, adorning the walls of students and making it easy to forget just how well written they are. Tarantino is fascinated by the humdrum of these casual killers' lives, and their conversations about cheeseburgers, foot-massages and what constitutes a miracle sparkle with invention, intelligence and laugh-out-loud humour. It makes these cartoon characters, who seem they have been ripped straight from the pages of a book found in a dime-store book shop, seem real. Even though they have just shot two unarmed men in cold blood, you would still want to buy them a cup of coffee and pick their brains.
Pulp Fiction, as I'm sure you already know, tells three intertwining stories out of chronological order. After successfully obtaining a briefcase belonging to their boss, hit-man Vincent Vega is given the responsibility of looking after the big man's wife, Mia, for the night. He takes her to a retro diner where they talk pop culture and dance to Chuck Berry, and the night's events then take an unexpected turn. Travolta makes for an astonishingly sweet killer and heroin addict, and this story in particular sizzles with sexy dialogue and real chemistry between Travolta and Thurman. The now-infamous scene of an improvised adrenaline shock still has the power to make you wince, while remaining funny and utterly absurd all at the same time.
The second story, 'The Gold Watch', focuses on ageing boxer Butch (Bruce Willis), who after failing to follow thorough with his role in a thrown boxing match - organised by Vincent's boss Marcellus Wallace (Ving Rhames) - flees to the safety of a hotel room and into the arms of his lover Fabienne (Maria de Medeiros), who he intends on whisking overseas along with his wad of stolen loot. However, upon realising that Fabienne has failed to pack the gold watch handed down to him through many generations and eventually by his father's friend Captain Koons (Christopher Walken), he must return home to reclaim it. The events that transpire are some of the most outlandish work Tarantino has ever done, filled with gunfire, mutilation, rape, and a gimp. Such relentless brutality may have been off-putting, but Tarantino keeps you reassured that it's okay to laugh at what you're seeing, that it's only a movie. It's a textbook lesson in black comedy.
The narrative then jumps back in time to Vincent and Jules in the aftermath of the hit seen at the start of the movie. After an extremely gory accident, they are forced off the road and seek the hospitality of Jimmie (played by Tarantino himself). They hire professional fixer Winston Wolf (Harvey Keitel), who races against the clock to clean up the mess before Jimmie's wife arrives home from a night shift. The film climaxes at the diner shown in the opening scene, as Vincent and Jules's quiet breakfast is interrupted by a husband and wife stick-up team (Tim Roth and Amanda Plummer). The third segment is the funniest and features the most memorable dialogue, as Winston tries to motivate an objectionable Vincent ("pretty please, with a cherry on top, clean the fucking car,"), and Jules educates his new foe's following the life-altering miracle he believes he has just witnessed.
Featuring highly on practically every 'best of' list from 1994 to the present, Pulp Fiction needs no introduction and I doubt it ever will. Though I have enjoyed all of Tarantino's movies with the exception of 2007's tedious Death Proof (though it fares better when viewed in its Grindhouse entirety), I don't rate him as a truly great film-maker, as I don't feel he has ever managed to shake his compulsion to homage. But Pulp Fiction is undoubtedly a masterpiece, like nothing else made before or since (though many attempts have been made in vain). A thrilling exercise in style and substance, beneficial to cinema as a whole and responsible for re-igniting a few careers on the way. I cannot see Tarantino ever topping his achievements here, but then again his movies never fail to surprise me.
Documentaries rarely get to the true heart of their subject, at least, none more than Crumb, Terry Zwigoff's passion piece on the work and soul of one Robert Crumb, comic-book innovator, serial piggy-back rider and loather of practically everything modern. The notoriously reclusive Crumb, who self-proclaims that he doesn't like to interact with people he isn't completely comfortable with, would normally be a near-impossible target for any self-respecting documentary film-maker to get even an interview out of. But life-long friend Terry Zwigoff, who reportedly threatened to kill himself if Crumb wouldn't allow him to film him, achieves an immaculately intimate portrayal of what drives the man, and how this strange and often extremely dark-humoured man came to be.
Born in 1943 and growing up closely with his brother Charles and Maxon (he also has two sisters who declined to be interviewed), the brother's developed an early fascination with comic-books, mainly thanks to Charles' obsession with the medium. Living with a tyrannical father who often beat them, the three boys grew up extremely damaged and socially inept. Charles was good-looking but, as he describes, there was "just something wrong about me,", but Robert would use these experiences as amusing pieces in his sketches. As he got older, Robert wrote for Zap! Comics, and was one of the front-runners in the underground comic-book scene, where he developed the Keep on Truckin' serial, as well as his most famous characters Mr. Natural and Fritz the Cat.
Given what seems like unprecedented access to Crumb, Zwigoff doesn't bombard the film with archive footage or talking head interviews (though there is a bit of the latter), he instead allows the story to be told by Crumb interacting with his family and friends, who all seem to regard the man with a lot of love, regardless as to how damaging he has been to their lives. We meet his two brothers - Charles still lives at home with his mother in a room piled high with literature, discussing his inability to get an erection due to the vast amounts of medication he has been given, and Maxon, having recently discovered his own artistic potential, is compelled to sit publicly on a bed of nails and pass linen through his body to cleanse his intestines. This isn't your typical all-American family.
Which makes it interesting is that the idea of a husband happily greeting his wife and kids after a hard day's work to sit down to a wholesome dinner in middle-class suburbia, became one of the focal points of Crumb's work. It is something that obviously appals and amuses him, this idea of 1950's all-American perfection where consumerism took centre-stage and capitalism reared it's ugly head. He frequently refers back to a simpler time, where America lay relatively untouched, when people's problems were real and poured their souls into the blues songs he so obsessively loves and collects. His piece A Brief History of America, where a peaceful and green bit of land slowly gets taken apart and replaced by all manners of ugly wires, pylon's and advertising boards, shown here in the film, is especially powerful.
Zwigoff isn't afraid to show the dark and ugly side of Crumb either. Shown sketching random passers-by on the street, he formidably judges and satirises them without uttering a word to them. This is a man whose opinion of humanity is nigh-on misanthropy, voicing his disgust at the brands and slogans people feel compelled to wear. His work also went places that most people would leave untouched, such as Nigger Hearts, where a perfect, all-white family sit down to a dinner of African-American organs, or the sketch in which a man and his friend rape a woman with no head (later revealed to have been simply pushed down within her). He's certainly a troubled man, but all great geniuses are, or at least should be, and Crumb the film lays it out on the table. Undoubtedly one of the greatest documentaries ever made.
The line between reality and fiction in television has always been a blur. Before every household had their furniture pointed at the TV, news reels in cinemas were a medium in which governments filled people's heads with propaganda, quite easily manipulating viewers into believing that what they were seeing was fact - after all, back then, it was the only way to see what was happening outside of your own country, without actually leaving it yourself. As soon as studio heads realised how gullible audiences were, they seized the opportunity to rake in the cash. With the explosion of the Internet making the world relatively tiny, you would think people would be more aware of the dangers of believing what they see. Yet reality TV, a sickening creation that quite obviously plays out scripted scenes in natural environments, still has people duped. It seemed a fitting time to re-visit Robert Redford's thoroughly underrated Quiz Show, a meditation on the unrivalled power of television, and the hold it can have over a nation.
In 1950's America, Twenty One contestant Herb Stempel (John Turturro) wows audiences every week with his encyclopaedic general knowledge. With his approval ratings wavering, the big studio heads decide America is tired of cheering for the underdog, and order Herb to be removed from the show. Producers Dan Enright (David Paymer) and Albert Freedman (Hank Azaria) seek out a poster-boy, a figurehead that would give American someone to look up to, and ultimately aspire to be. Freedman spots Charles Van Doren (Ralph Fiennes) auditioning for another show, and immediately snaps him up, offering the chance to win big money with relative ease - he will be given the answers. Van Doren is handsome, well-spoken, highly intellectual - the complete opposite to the mentally unstable Herb, who is paid off to lose to Van Doren. With Van Doren becoming a national treasure, Herb is appalled and takes his claims to the Grand Jury, catching the eye of young Congressional lawyer Dick Goodwin (Rob Morrow), who takes a special interest in the case.
Artistic license was obviously taken with Quiz Show, but Redford uses his directorial skill to create a crime story with no crime and no criminals, and no mystery given that the audience are in on the rigging from the start. So, the film is left as a damning portrayal of naivety, and a disturbing insight into the machinations of the most powerful corporation in the world - television itself. Goodwin, the "Uncle Tom of the Jews" is an outcast Harvard graduate, a small man in stature and societal hierarchy, believing that exposing this manipulation with cripple television and ultimately cause it to re-evaluate itself. Of course, it is Stempel and Van Doren - the pawns (albeit guilty pawns) - that suffer the most, being humiliated and having their reputations rocked, while studio head Robert Knitner (Allan Rich) and the executive of show sponsor Geritol, Mark Rittenhome (Martin Scorsese), emerging unscathed. Hanging Enright and Freedman out to dry, Rittenhome explains to an appalled Goodwin that "audiences forget, corporations don't". The footnotes at the end of the film explain that Enright and Freedman returned from their exile a few years later, becoming millionaires in the process.
Quiz Show is also a fine character piece, and while Rob Morrow grabs the majority of the screen time, it is Ralph Fiennes who truly impresses. Van Doren could be viewed as a rather despicable character; a man who sells his soul for money he doesn't really need, and for fame it brings him. Yet in Fiennes' hands, Van Doren becomes undeniably human, causing you to truly evaluate your own ethics, and what you would do if placed in a similar situation. This feeling is shared by Goodwin, who befriends Van Doren despite investigating him. He sees Van Doren as a victim who has been swept up in a tide of money and fame, manipulated in the same way as the people watching him, and it is the friendship between the two that is the beating heart of the film.
What makes Quiz Show so enjoyable and enthralling is the fact that it never lets its weighty issues get in the way of the emotional drama, and is a quite fascinating story to boot. Redford depicts Goodwin's struggle through legal bureaucracy, juxtaposing it with his refreshingly stable home life with wife Sandra (Mira Sorvino), a factor that can often be intrusive in movies about real events. We also witness Van Doren's guilt-ridden relationship with his famous father Mark (an excellent Paul Scofield), and Herb's strained marriage to Toby (Johann Carlo). But it is Goodwin's reaction to the events that ultimately linger in the mind, with his resigned realisation that television is simply to powerful to fight proving a rather depressing sentiment. Perhaps more people need to see this film before they completely succumb to escapism, and we become a nation of red-eyed zombies.
Reed Richards (Alex Hyde-White) and Victor Von Doom (Joseph Culp) are University friends who decide, with the arrival of comet Colossus imminent, it is the perfect time to try their long-planned experiment. Naturally, things go wrong and it appears that Von Doom is killed in the accident. Years later, Richards and his friend Ben Grimm (Michael Bailey Smith) venture into space as the same comet passes again, this time with their old friends Sue (Rebecca Staab) and Johnny Storm (Jay Underwood). Again, things go wrong, as the diamond that was going to be used in the experiment has been stolen and swapped by a thief, and the four crash back to Earth with new superpowers.
Well, where to start? The fact that this film is still unavailable practically anywhere (it was even ignored in the obligatory cash-in release when the big-budget 2005 version hit the theatres) speaks volumes about its quality. Stan Lee admitted that the film was never intended for release, and that the film was only made due to the fact that their rights to make a film were running out. And so we have this colossally and diabolically awful shit-stain of an excuse of a movie, utterly amateurish in every imaginable way. It's a film that the Sci-Fi (sorry, Sy Fy) channel would be proud of (or not).
The main distraction is the ridiculous sub-plot, which has The Jeweller (Ian Trigger), the thief of the diamond (which he just walks in and picks it up, by the way), kidnap a blind sculptor who after a 10-second meeting with a pre-Thing Grimm, falls in love with him. It's one of those what-the-fuck moments that causes you to wonder where the script-writers got the crack they've obviously been smoking from. It constantly takes the action away from the Four and makes the film all the more tedious. And it's the most laughable use of a blind female sculptor since Lionel Ritchie's music video for Hello.
The film is full of these moments, really. One that stuck with me the most was how Reed and Grimm, preparing for their trip into space, simply drop by the Storm's to ask them if they'd like to, y'know, come up into space. Not that it needs any training or anything. The Four themselves (with the exception of The Thing), once transformed are really quite awful. If you've ever seen Master of the Flying Guillotine (1976) and the guy with the extendible arms in that, then you'll have an idea about Reed's power. If you've not, then I'll tell you, it looks shit. The Human Torch actually turns into a strange cartoon-computer effect hybrid at one point as if the film-makers just couldn't be arsed anymore, and the invisible one (whatever she's called), well, can't be seen, so they get away with it. The effects guys must have put all their money into the Thing's costume as it's actually quite good.
Apart from the Thing's costume, I fail to think of anything remotely good or even average about this film. It's just awful. Dr. Doom's costume is so amateurish, he looks like an S&M-loving, gay Robin Hood hybrid. And you can't tell what he's saying half the time. Shame on you, Roger Corman. But saying that, the 1994 film is no less heartless or emotionless as the 2005 version, which was only slightly rescued by a big budget and a good performance by Chris Evans. Apart from that, also very shit.
There has been numerous stage and film adaptations of Goethe's tragedy Faust, where the eponymous hero sells his soul to the Devil in exchange for the Devil serving Faust during his time on the Earth, as long as upon death, Faust will serve him in return in Hell. F.W. Murnau's 1926's Faust is probably the most acclaimed film adaptation, whilst Istvan Szabo's 1981 masterpiece Mephisto transformed the setting of the play to WWII-era Germany. I would imagine that there has never been such an imaginative and unpredictable interpretation than animator Jan Svankmajer's 1994 effort. Combining live-action, stop motion animation, and puppetry, the Czech's various talents come together to make a surreal, and brilliant, piece of art.
The film begins as Faust (Petr Capek) finds a map on a train that leads him to an abandoned theatre. When there, he accidentally creates a clay baby that develops quickly from a foetus into a fully formed baby. It quickly starts shifting its face into adults, as the Devil starts to attempt communication with Faust. He destroys the baby, and ends up unwillingly on a stage, in costume, accompanied by large wooden puppets who act as the supporting characters. The play and reality start to blend together, as even when our hero pops outside for a cigarette, the puppets follow dressed in human's clothes. The play/story goes on, as Faust plays with his new powers, and is frequently influenced by the Devil.
It's quite hard to write a formal review about a film that had its impact on me a couple of hours after the credits have rolled, and some scenes where I genuinely did not know what was happening. It plays out like a sort of medieval Punch and Judy show, with some strangely creepy characters. It's undoubtedly quite childish and playful, but at the same time it is dark and complex, and more than anything else, frequently surreal.
In my favourite scene, the Fool character who is reading Faust's textbook discovers that he can the Devil whenever he likes and dismiss him just as quickly. When dismissed, the Devil quickly legs it out the door, dressing himself up in an overcoat and hat and passing the smoking Faust in the street. As he is called back, he is forced to shed the clothes and rush back to the stage to make a explosive entrance. He goes back and forth for about 5 minutes. I couldn't help but laugh at the sheer absurdness of it all.
While quite not as stunning as Alice (his 1988 Alice In Wonderland adaptation), Faust does constantly surprise, entertain, and bewilder.
As He Qiwu (Takeshi Kaneshiro) jogs around a deserted sports field in the pouring rain, he narrates 'we're all unlucky in love sometimes. When I am, I go jogging. The body loses water when you jog, so you have none left for tears'. For me, that quote summed up this quite wonderful movie. In any other film, the line would be so appallingly pretentious. Here, it fits the movies styles and attitudes. This is a playful, sensitive and almost mocking love-letter to the complications and folly of, well, love.
The film tells two stories, one focusing on He Qiwu, also known as Cop 223, who, having recently broken up with his long-term girlfriend on April Fools Day, decides to buy a tin of pineapples with the expiration date of May 1st (his birthday) every day until May 1st. He feels this is the date to move on if they haven’t gotten back together. Meanwhile, lonely and drunk, he spies a mysterious woman in sunglasses (Brigitte Lin) sat alone at a bar, who has just seen her drug smuggling operation go drastically wrong. In the second seemingly unconnected story, a quirky snack bar waitress Faye (Faye Wong) falls in love with Cop 633 (Tony Leung) who has also recently broke up with his air stewardess girlfriend. Faye, spotting his obvious loneliness, takes it upon herself to rearrange his apartment every time he is out to try and improve his outlook.
Director Wong Kar-Wai made the film whilst on a break from editing his messy but still rather excellent film Ashes Of Time (1994), wanting to make something light and down to earth in the wake of all the martial arts and visual poetry that went on in Ashes. To think he made this as a side project to calm his nerves speaks volumes about the Hong Kong directors’ abilities. Originally seen as three stories, as opposed to two, the director had to cut out the third story feeling the film was too long, eventually making it into a full feature on its own, 1995’s Fallen Angels. Although the two stories are seemingly unconnected, they are ultimately the same story told in slightly different ways, and both contain the same themes.
It appeared to me at first that Chungking Express was ultimately about loneliness and longing. But in the couple days following, it came to me that perhaps it was actually about love. All the characters are lonely, disconnected and sad, and are all like this as a result of love. Love makes you do strange and bizarre things. He Qiwu, after building up a large collection of pineapple tins as May 1st hits, he decides to eat them all in one sitting. The strange and enchanting Faye, buys the oblivious Cop 633 fish and buys new furniture for his apartment, without him even noticing. He is so caught up in his lovesick rut that he almost believes the changes happening in front of him are a result of it.
If the wonderful script and acting aren’t enough, Kar-Wai films it all like a giddy schoolboy given a new camera for Christmas. It’s the only film post-1960’s I have seen that truly embodies the spirit of the French New Wave. Many have attempted mirroring the style, but Chungking Express has a restless and almost excitable style that boils over with fresh ideas. A bold and inspired film, full of intelligent writing, astonishing acting, and a beautiful setting in Hong Kong. And one that tackles the true complexities of love.
Being one of the most popular figures of the mystical Old West, Wyatt Earp has been dramatised a countless number of times on the big screen and on television. His notoriety as a no-nonsense lawman, his friendship with the drunken and dying Doc Holliday, and his participation in the legendary gunfight at the O.K. Corrall, has made him the stuff of legend. Of all the portraits, this 1994 epic, directed by Lawrence Kasdan is possibly the most accurate and detailed, following Earp's childhood amongst his many siblings, through to his old age heading to strike lucky during the Gold Rush. It's just a pity that for all it's trying and accuracy, the film isn't at all very good.
The film begins on the Earp farm where the young Wyatt is taught the words of wisdom by his father Nicholas (Gene Hackman) - 'blood is thicker than water' - which stays with Wyatt throughout his life. It's clear that his family are important, and he and his brothers are soon grown up and are making a living out on their own. Wyatt is refereeing bare-knuckle boxing matches and is soon making enemies. He romances an old flame who dies tragically, causing the recently-married Wyatt to lose his ways and becomes a drunkard, stealing from good Samaritans who offer him food and shelter. After a visit from his father in prison, he changes his ways and finds himself appointed Deputy Marshal in Wichita, after bravely shooting down a violent drunk when the cowardly sheriff watches. As his reputation as a good lawman grows, he is offered a job in Dodge City along with his brothers Virgil (Michael Madsen) and Morgan (Linden Ashby), where his reputation starts to take a turn for the worse.
After the huge success of Dances With Wolves (1990), this film seems to take a similar approach - epic, sweeping storytelling as opposed to the more action-packed angle usually taken when filming an Earp biography. Yet the majority of the film is handled with such a ham-fisted and amateurish approach by Kasdan that the film is nowhere as good as it should be. Kasdan, whose films have mainly consisted of Kevin Kline vehicles, had directed a very young Costner before in a western in the very enjoyable Silverado (1985). It's a strange performance by Costner, who in the first half seems to be sleepwalking his way through his role, delivering his lines like a nervous primary school kid finding himself cast in the lead role. The second half, when he becomes the more Republican, violent Earp, is very good. He can do brooding very well, and even though Wyatt Earp is portrayed as a complete bastard, with Costner playing him he remains an engaging character.
Even with all the star actors on show - Madsen, Hackman, Bill Pullman, Tom Sizemore, Jim Caviezel, Jeff Fahey, Isabella Rossellini, Catherine O'Hara, and the excellent Dennis Quaid as Doc Holliday, the film does begin to drag. I almost feel bad saying that, as I have a lot of respect for a director when he takes his time to develop a good story and fully-realised characters, and clocking up a long-running time. But around the 2 hour 30 mark, I found myself wanting the film to end. After the infamous O.K. Corral gunfight (which is refreshingly low-key), the film carries on for another 40 minutes as Earp begins his vendetta against the 'cowboy' gang. In a better directors hands, the last segment could have been a way to portray Earp's fall from grace and his descent into blind blood-lust. But instead it just becomes a long, drawn-out manhunt.
Perhaps I'm being harsh, but I feel this was a missed opportunity. Personally, the definitive Wyatt Earp film is John Ford's magnificent My Darling Clementine (1946), and although it may not have the historical accuracy of this, it is a typically mystical, moving, and surprisingly dark masterpiece, featuring a great Henry Fonda performance.
We open with Valto (Mato Valtonen), a huge doorstop of a man who resembles Eugene from The Walking Dead with an even more ridiculous haircut. He seems to run a clothing business with his mother, and when parent and son have a tiff over the lack of coffee (he has a serious coffee addiction), Valto locks her away in the cupboard and heads for the auto garage. Here he hooks up with his vodka-swigging friend Reino (Matti Pellonpaa), who has just finished work on Valto's car, and the odd couple head out on a road trip with seemingly no destination in mind. They stop at a bar and are spotted by Russian Klavdia (Kirsi Tykkylainen) and Estonian Tatjana (Kati Outinen), who see these two miserable-looking Finns as their free ride to the harbour for their journey home. And so begins one of the cinema's strangest road-trips, which mainly consists Valto and Reino sulking and ignoring their guests, even when they are forced to sleep in the same room.
