Lawyer Brick Davis (James Cagney) is a fresh-out-of-school law graduate with no clients. When his old friend Eddie Buchanan (Regis Toomey) stops in town, he approaches Davis to become a 'G Man' - a member of a newly formed federal force that uses brains combined with brawn to make the perfect law enforcement. Davis isn't interested, but when Buchanan is shot dead by a gang of organised thugs, he joins up instantly, and begins to distance himself from his criminal clients. Upon arrival at the FBI recruitment centre, he knocks heads with his newly-appointed mentor Jeff McCord (Robert Armstrong) who dislikes the amount of law graduates they are getting. When the gang that Davis left behind start to cause mayhem on a federal scale, Davis uses his knowledge and experience to bring the gang to justice.
With all the Pre-Code mayhem that was taking over the cinemas back in the 1930's, people began worrying about the flattering, anti-hero portrayals that the criminal underworld were getting. Films such as the 1932 version of Scarface (1932), and The Public Enemy (1931 - also starring Cagney) both showed them in a flattering light, so G-Men wanted to make the law cool again. Cagney's Brick Davis is very much like the villains portrayed in these films - he's ambitious, tough, intelligent - but he's also moral. The criminals, however, are portrayed as pure scum, and (in a quite shocking scene) capable of killing women without thinking twice. More of an FBI propaganda film than a film noir or a crime film, but it's easily watchable. Yet apart from a couple of bloody good shootouts and the odd surprise, the film never really grips and it does lack the usual bite from Cagney.
Whilst this is a 'short' film, running at only 30 minutes, it packs an incredible and potent image of the abuse of power; the abuse of ideas which were perpetuated at the beginning of the 20th century, and interpreted for sinister and horrific purposes. Night and Fog displays the horrors of the holocaust, and leaves indelible images that will never leave your mind.
The film opens with the derelict remains of 1950's Auschwitz. A narrator (Michel Bouquet) poetically describes the haunted emptiness of the area, a place were no person enters, but the ghosts of genocide still hang in the air, putrefying the very essence of place. Night and Fog mixes both the contemporary images of Auschwitz with documentary footage filmed by the Allied troops as they entered the grounds where thousand of malnourished, dead people lay strewn about; haunted death masks of anguish, hunger and desperation. The film shows the perversion of the Nazi's, with their seeming obsession with collecting every single element left by all the Jews, homosexuals and disabled dead. We see mountains of glasses, shoes, clothes, and even hair, kept for the records of a moment in history most would like to forget.
But, this is a moment in human history that we should never forget, for as we are told, this is something that happened and therefore it can happen again. (Which of course it did in both Cambodia and Bosnia in the 1970's and 1990's respectively). Toward the end of the film, the narrator poses the significant question - after we are shown Nazi officers in the dock stating that they are "not responsible" - 'who is responsible'? No single person can be held accountable for systematic torture, humiliation and ultimately death on people not seen to fit into a socio-political ideology of racial 'purification'.
Another film released 30 years later, also used the haunting images of the derelict concentration camps, but did not documentary imagery of the starving, abused prisoners. Claude Lanzmann's landmark film Shoah (1985) used interviews with survivors, members of the public who lived around these camps, and even Nazi officers to encapsulate a similar amount of pathos for the 'horrible' history. At a mammoth 9 and a half hours, it is quite surprising to find the 30 minute Night and Fog contain as much (perhaps even more) power to disturb and to (in a way) educate the spectator.
It really drives home the message that this is something that has happened before, and will certainly happen again. We are left with images of death. The camera pans across piles of dead people - something that clearly influenced Stan Brakhage's film of death and pathology, The Act of Seeing With Ones Own Eyes (1971). We are left with a strong message. One that we should heed. For, if we were to see such horrors on our own doorstep, would we turn a blind eye, as so many did during this period. Of course we should not. But it seems to be human nature to glance the other way when horrors occur. How many of us can say that if we see someone in distress in the street at the hands of human violence, would get involved? And if this were turned into violence on a mass scale, would we intervene?
If you're a fan of B-movie quirkiness, then you should be more than familiar with the great Larry Cohen. His films really should be bad, even awful, but Cohen's genuine talent for screenwriting and his ability to stamp his famous sense of humour onto his films makes them better than they should be. God Told Me To is his fifth film, after a few blaxploitation films (including the very entertaining Black Caesar (1973)) and the killer-mutant-baby film It's Alive (1974). Marketed as a Grindhouse picture under the title of God Told Me To Kill, Cohen's film contains little violence and after a seemingly methodical first half an hour, the film takes a sudden change of direction that, of all things, certainly keeps the film interesting.
Opening with a sniper picking off random people, he is approached by Detective Nicholas (Tony Lo Bianco), a New York cop. When asked why he is doing this, the killer replies 'God told me to' and flings himself off his perch. He is told the same thing by another murderer, and when a cop (played by Andy Kaufman!) goes nuts at the St. Patrick's Parade, Nicholas realises that more powerful forces could be responsible. He begins a search for a man with long, blonde hair that was seen with the murderers at various points before the began killing, and Nicholas must battle with his own faith and the possibility that he may not be quite who he seems.
Yes, this is a mad film. By the end, after a man shows our Detective a large vagina in the side of his torso and asks him to mate, you'll wonder what the hell you've just watched. But that's the great thing about Larry Cohen, he takes something strange and mundane and turns it into something entertaining. This isn't his greatest film by all accounts - it doesn't make a lot of sense, it's overlong, the love interest has the worst glasses in film history - but I certainly quite enjoyed it. The shaky camerawork, fast-paced dialogue and simply bonkers plot devices just takes it a notch above the usual pap. But maybe it was missing Michael Moriarty.
To give the film it's full title, I, Pierre Riviere, Having Slaughtered My Mother, My Sister And My Brother, Rene Allio's film has to be one of the most overlooked and unrecognised pieces of cinema in history. It tells the true story about a peasant farmer in Normandy in 1835, who, seemingly out-of-the-blue, butchered the majority of his family in cold blood. Whilst awaiting trial, Riviere wrote down a full and detailed account of his early life, the events leading up to the murder, and his brief time spent as an outlaw. For such an apparently uneducated farmer, it was seen as a remarkable piece of literature. In 1973, philosopher Michel Foucault edited together Riviere's statement, alongside various sources that remained from the case.
Beginning at a snail's pace, the film follows Riviere's (Claude Hebert) parents' increasingly unstable marriage. His mother (Jacqueline Milliere) seems to be mentally unstable, and intent on driving her husband (Joseph Leportier) into poverty and ruin. The two live apart, with Pierre favouring his father as opposed to the other children, who seem to be unaware of the huge debts that Mme. Riviere is building up. Pierre watches on silently as this takes place, and we are informed via voice-over that wishes he could somehow release his long-suffering father of his mother.
The film is filmed almost as a documentary, with naturalistic and cold exchanges between the majority of the characters. It even has various members of the village giving their account of Pierre almost to camera while their name and occupation appears below them. It works very well, and you get a real feel to the case and the attitudes of the time. It is made all the more realistic due to the fact that director Allio hired non-professional actors to play these roles who really were farmers. They talk, act and work like farmers, and the feeling of authenticity surrounds the film. I don't know if it is intentional or not, but it has the feeling of a Robert Bresson film, who famously called his actors 'models', and preferred them to act as little as possible. If it was intentional, then it is a bold and effective move, as it gives the feeling of mundanity to the farmers and their lives.
As Pierre Riviere, Claude Hebert is outstanding. His large nose, big eyes and tight mouth embodies that of shy awkwardness with a shade of uncertainty lying beneath the exterior. He spends the majority of the film lurking in the background, shuffling between feet and giving sideways glances as if trying to avoid eye contact. I genuinely believed that he would be capable of murder. The scene where he forces a horse and carriage over a large manure pile, tipping the carriage and almost killing the horse while Riviere stands by quietly laughing to himself, sent genuine chills down my spine. He is one of those strange kids at school that you would try to avoid.
But it's not as black-and-white as I think I'm making it out to be. Riviere is not just a strange psychopath. The film poses the same questions that were posed by the psychological investigators assigned to his case back in 1836. Riviere could be a victim of social alienation. Or perhaps it could have been a moment of insanity brought on by witnessing years of torture set by his mother. Or it is suggested that Riviere could have built up a misogynist mindset by taking in various pieces of literature, and because of his overall fear of women. It will certainly provoke discussion, and probably stay with you for a very long time. Absolutely magnificent.
Co-directed by Ludwig Berger, Michael Powell and Tim Whelen (along with three uncredited co-workers, Alexander Korda, Zoltan Korda and William Cameron Menzies), this lavish fantasy-adventure tells the tale of blind beggar Ahmad (John Justin), who spins a yarn about his life as king before the evil current king Jafar (Conrad Veidt), usurped his place and left him desolate. The story is told in flash backs, and follows his story beginning with his incarceration by jafar, where he meets Abu (Sabu). They escape and go on a quest to regain Ahmad's' rightful place as king.
Filmed in technicolor, the sumptuous visuals are exacerbated by the stark, beautiful colours. It has been hailed by the likes of Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola as a masterpiece. It is a very beautiful fantasy. It reminded me of a contemporary travelogue, that shows its mystical, exotic landscapes for an untraveled spectator - although, this is clearly fantasy environments, and was not filmed on any locations except for sets. It also reminded me of the fantasy films of my childhood such as the Sinbad and Jason and the Argonauts (1963) adventures, sans Harryhausens fantastic monsters. The simple tale of redemption and fundamental achievement against evil is a story over told. However, with the cinematography and set pieces, this film is pure unadulterated delight. It genuinely is the perfect Sunday afternoon movie. (Although John Justin's diction and general performance does begin to grate).
This haunting film directed by fashion designer Tom Ford shows the pontentially final day in the life of English teacher George Falconer (Colin Firth). Lonely and in mourning after losing the love of his life, Jim (Matthew Goode), in a car crash eight months earlier, George reflects on his life and throughout the day comes across various people who all see the sadness within him. These include pupil Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), who is seemingly fascinated with George, his old friend Charley (Julianne Moore) who may have a doomed love for him, and a Spanish immigrant and gigolo Carlos (Jon Kortajarena). Unknown to them, George is carefully planning his suicide.
Being directed by a highly-successful fashion designer who owns his own label as well as managing to revamp Gucci, the film looks as impeccable and polished as one of his famous suits. A Single Man is directed with an unnerving confidence for a newcomer, and makes the most out of its 1960's setting. George is a rather wealthy man, and as he fiddles around his large, modern house in all its fastidious neatness, Ford manages to create a feeling of both beauty and style, mixed with emptiness and loneliness. As fantastic as this film looks, it never loses its grip on the story, and all the long slow-motion shots of George reflecting or driving his car allows you to really grasp the hole in his heart.
Firth is outstanding. For all the recognition he got The King's Speech (2010), his performance here blows it out the water. I've never really understood the mass appeal of Firth, but watching him in the scene where he is informed about Jim's death by a family member, finding out he's not invited to the funeral, and that the majority of the family didn't even want to inform him, his embodies a mixture of British stiff-upper-lipped dignity and utter breakdown. And the scenes near to the end where he spends a night with the impressive Nicholas Hoult, he gazes upon him with a mixture of wonder and lust, and self-loathing and guilt.
My girlfriend felt it was style-over-substance, but I disagree. I feel the style was often reminiscent of high opera, where tragedy is commonplace. The slightest facial movement from Firth brought me right back into his story, when the film risked losing me. A moving, emotional, tragic, funny, and (dare I say it?) sexy film that could see the birth of an interesting filmmaker.
Bloody Hollywood. Stealing everybody's ideas and Americanising everything (I suppose I should have spelt that 'Americanizing'!). Stealing UK ideas (Get Carter (1971), The Wicker Man (1973), Deal Or No Deal), Asian films (The Ring (1998), Infernal Affairs (2002), The Grudge (2002)) and the best of world cinema (Let The Right One In (2008), The Vanishing (1988), Wings Of Desire (1987)) for their own profit! Just kidding. It's easy to say all that without realising that the U.S. are most bum-raped of them all when it comes to other countries stealing their ideas. They've been criticised most recently for their seemingly endless remakes of Asian horrors and turning a quick buck. But the remakes are usually so damn awful that people are quick to forget that the originals are pretty shocking too.
Su-Mi (Su-Jeong Lim) and Su-Yeon (Geun-Young Moon) are young sisters who arrive at a remote house with their father. They are going to live with their stepmother who they both dislike. The sisters are very close, and Su-Yeon especially clings to her sister like a safety blanket. Things soon start to get strange - bruises start appearing on Su-Yeon's arms, a unknown entity sneaks into their room at night, and a strange figure appears at the base of Su-Mi's bed and drips blood from between its legs. Su-Mi believes that the stepmother is up to no good and is trying to mentally torture the two, but then it becomes clear that all may not be what it seems.
What begins as a slow and quietly menacing film quickly loses its grip. The long, beautifully framed shots led me to believe that this would be a slow-burner, and would creep up on me to take a drastic turn like many a good Asian film does. But it soon became apparent that the fact that not much was happening was not a clever build-up, but a way to deceive me while covering up just how frightfully dull it is. I felt like every scene I was watching after the first fifteen minutes or so I'd seen countless times before.
I don't quite understand why Asian horror films all seem to feel the need to include the long, black-haired spectre with one eye poking out underneath. It was first done (as far as I know) in the thoroughly enjoyable and effective Ring, which seem to kick-start the whole Asian horror boom. Then it turned up in The Grudge, which was pretty damn terrible. And now here, a film that likes to think it belongs in the more sophisticated category. The scene where it appears just seemed like such a desperate cloy for a cheap scare that sat uneasily with the rest of the film, and just lacked any sort of imagination because it is literally the exact same 'character' seen before.
An absolute crushing disappointment, as I'd heard so many good things about this film. But I found it unoriginal, uninteresting and lacking any kind of genuine shocks, scares or psychological torment. The film is beautifully filmed however, and the two girls in the lead roles are very good, showing a timidness and mental unbalance way beyond their years. The film was, of course, was remade into The Uninvited (2009), which I've heard is truly, and inevitably, terrible.
When a model unexpectedly dies during an abortion procedure, the doctor carrying the operation out phones for help and sets it up to look like the girl died of natural causes. Shortly after this, the doctor is brutally murdered outside of his home. And so begins a string of brutal killings, all connected by a modelling agency named Albatross. One of the main suspects is Carlo (Nino Castelnuovo - who had previously starred in The Umbrellas Of Cherbourg (1964)and Rocco And His Brothers (1960)), and slightly sleezy and ambitious young photographer who we first meet hiring a model and then trying to sleep with her in a steam room. He begins to date photographer Magda (Edwige Fenech), but can he protect her from the vicious killer who seems to be bringing down Albatross single handedly?
For all the perverts out there, this is possibly the greatest film ever made. For an apparently up-market modelling agency, the models seem to get their private parts out a hell of a lot. Well I suppose they had to get the audiences in somehow, as the film has very little else going for it. Even for a giallo, the dubbing is atrociously bad. The best they could come with for the killer is to dress him/her up in a motorcycle costume and helmet. And for all the usual style of the giallo genre, the scenes of violence and gore are disappointingly tame and bloodless (and when there is blood, it's clearly just paint!). No suspense is built by the quite boring set-pieces, and the director seems to think the longer the set-piece, the more tense it will be. Another case of great title, crap film.
Based on the book written by French-Iranian journalist Freidoune Sahebjam, The Stoning Of Soraya M. is a powerful and damning uncovering of the state of human rights for women in Iran. The book was a massive best-seller and is still banned in Iran to this day. While travelling through Iran, Sahebjam (played by James Caviezel in the film) arrived at a small village when his car broke down and learned of the terrible story of Soraya Manutchehri through her aunt, as she revealed to him how the lies and the corruption of powerful men in the village led to the brutal murder of her niece.
Soraya (Mozhan Marno) is unhappily married to the violent Ali (Navid Negahban), who after falling for a 14 year old girl, wants a divorce and to take his two boys away with him. Soraya refuses, as the pitiful support that Ali had offered in return would not be enough to sustain her and their two daughters, whom Ali has no interest in. When Soraya goes to help out the recently widowed Ebrahim (David Diaan) by looking after his house and child, Ali accuses her of adultery, which is a crime punishable by stoning in Iran. Ebrahim is threatened if he doesn't agree with the accusations, and Ali along with the town's mullah (Ali Pourtash), cook up rumours about the infidelity, and eventually Soraya is 'tried' and sentenced to death by stoning. Her aunt Zahra (Shohreh Aghdashloo) campaigns against it but to no avail, and must wait with Soraya while they await the inevitable.
I wouldn't be ruining anything by saying that Soraya is stoned to death towards the end of the film. I mean, the film is called The Stoning Of Soraya M. When it does arrive, it is the most brutal and realistic portrayal of a stoning I've ever seen on screen. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen it done before, but it's a sickening scene that really forces the point home. The film teaches a lot about what some of the laws dictate in Iran and the appalling attitude it has to women. When Soraya is first accused, she is told she must prove her husband wrong. She asks that surely it is down to him to prove that he is right? But she is told that if it was a man that was accused by a woman, then the woman must prove herself right, and when the other way around, it is again down to the woman to prove the man wrong. It is truly a man's world, and women seem to be damned regardless.
I have to mention that I am basing my opinion solely on this film, as I have never been to Iran, and want to make that clear. But amongst all the news reports of women being stoned to death after being raped, and having a child outside of marriage, it doesn't sound like the most liberal, forward-thinking country. It is an appalling state of affairs that in the modern world women would be treated with such disregard.
The film itself, however powerful, seems to be a little one-dimensional. It is undoubtedly an eye-opener and delivers a gut-punch message, but the scheming men behind this terrible crime are portrayed so viciously and without trying to show a reason behind why they are like this. These men are evil, there is no doubting that, but I felt the film could have delved deeper into the social attitudes of the country on a larger scale, to help me understand how Iran has become this way.
But the film did have an effect on me. Afterwards I felt angry and appalled, and stunned that this is an event that actually happened. How can these men gather around like a pack of wild animals and watch a helpless woman die in one of the most horrific and painful deaths imaginable? I feel this could have been a much better film if director Cyrus Nowrasteh wouldn't have been so focused on simply telling the events that unfolded, and put more emotion into the script and the character development.
In a subway, university student Cheryl (Natasha Hovey) is pursued by a strange looking man wearing metallic clothes and a bizarre mask. Thinking he is going to her hurt her, she flees only for the man to pursue her. He eventually catches up to her, only to give her a leaflet for a local cinema. Relieved, she hooks up with some friends and they go to catch a movie there. At the cinema, another girl scratches her face on an out-of-place looking statue whilst trying to wear the mask that the statue holds. Feeling unwell, the girl goes to the toilet only for the scratch to ooze pus and turn her into a demented demon, thirsty for blood. The other cinema viewers soon find themselves overrun by these strange demons, and must find an exit before they are all killed.
For a horror film with a title as definitive as Demons, and coming from the son of a giallo master and director of comic book masterpiece Danger: Diabolik (1986), I expected much better. It's harder to fuck this up than to get it right. Mario Bava's son Lamberto doesn't seem to have been genetically passed his father's skills (although this is the only film of his I've seen, so perhaps I'm being judgemental), as he fumbles through this film, failing to deliver a decent set-piece or a memorable moment of gore or special effects. In fact I find it hard to find anything remotely memorable about this film. Seriously, with a title like Demons, an 80's synth-horror feel, and the names Bava and Argento (as producer) on the crew list, this is a huge disappointment. And now I have to sit through the sequel!
Originally shown as a 2-parter alongside 1964's I Eat Your Skin (you can see what they did there) in the Grindhouse theatres of the 60's and 70's, the film follows a group of Satanic hippies as they arrive in a ghost town, devoid of inhabitants due to a mining project nearby. They make themselves comfortable in one of the many abandoned homes and attack a young girl. Her grandpa goes apeshit and confronts the Manson family-esque group, only to be dosed with LSD and almost killed. The girl's young brother rescues the old man, and exacts revenge by infected a tray of mince pies with rabies (!), only for the remaining occupants of the town to one by one become infected by the disease and begin a rabid, frothy-mouthed killing spree.
I thought I'd seen it all when I struggled through shit-fest Island Of Death (1977), but I Drink Your Blood is another example of how the genius of Grindhouse flashed an exploitative and lie-filled title in my face, only for me to giddily clap my hands in excitement only to be exposed to the cinematic equivalent of an anal raping. At least Island Of Death had a little bit of gore to appease my blood lust, but this just has a bunch of hippies waving their hands around and spitting what looks like soap from their mouths. Even though the film was one of the first movies to receive an X-rating due to violence rather than nudity, it spends most of its time painfully building up to violence that never comes. Utter crud.
Margot (Nicole Kidman) is a neurotic and mentally unstable writer, who with her son Claude (Zane Pais) head out to the country to visit her free-spirited sister Pauline (Jennifer Jason Leigh) who is soon to be married. It is shocking to Margot that her attractive and intelligent sister would be marrying someone like Malcolm (Jack Black), an overweight failed musician whose past is soon to catch up with him. The two sisters have apparently put their troubled pasts behind them and seem to be getting on well, but Margot's penchant for spreading secrets and generally strange and aggressive behaviour threatens to place the sisters at loggerheads once again, and jeopardise the whole wedding.
Director Noah Baumbach's work seems to autobiographical, giving his films an independent insight into relationships and family. His 2005 film The Squid And The Whale explored divorce through the eyes of two young brothers, and was uncomfortable and real in a way that can only be known through experience. Margot At The Wedding explores sibling rivalry, and issues of selfishness, frustration and jealousy and is executed with the same amount of intelligence as his previous effort, but does not hit the same heights. This is mainly because the characters are just repellent and unsympathetic that I wondered why I should watch a film revolving around them. However, the film remains interesting and is sporadically funny, and is well performed by an ensemble, namely by Kidman.
German journalist Philip Winter (Rudiger Vogler) has a case of writer's block whilst trying to write an article about his travels across the United States. He turns up at his publisher's with nothing but a huge collection of polaroids and is sacked. Facing flight delays on his return to Germany, he befriends mother Lisa (Elisabeth Kreuzer) and her 9 year-old daughter Alice (Yella Rottlander). Drawn together out of their situation, Alice is left in Winter's care temporarily, until, that is, it becomes apparent that Lisa has legged it. Winter and Lisa must begin a cross-Europe search for Lisa, all the while becoming closer as they spend more time together.
Shot in black-and-white, Alice In The Cities, explores many of the same themes covered in Wim Wenders' other and more popular film Paris, Texas (1984). Loneliness, friendship and parenthood are clearly of importance to the great German director, and they are all covered with a beauty and simplicity. The mysticism of the road is a key theme, as the dullness and emptiness of the various hotel rooms become a metaphor for Winter's heart. He is simply stuck in the middle of nowhere, without a job or anyone around of any importance. Alice is abandoned by her mother, and the two lost souls connect in what is an extremely moving and affecting film, which deserves to be more popular.
Similar to Russ Meyer's debut feature The Immoral Mr. Teas (1959), this barely 60-minute film follows a geeky and awkward man as he gawks at all the large-breasted beauties on show. Our protagonist is, as the title suggests, a handyman, and moves from job to job where he is teased by women played by the same woman (Eve Meyer - the then-wife of Russ). He moves from coffee-shop to office block to arthouse where he just can't seem to escape those sexual temptations. All the while he is pursued by Eve (again, played by Eve Meyer), a woman who seems to be fascinated with him and his 'masculine' behaviour, making notes and seeing him as some kind of wild beast.
There are two kinds of Russ Meyer films. Firstly, there are those with a budget which allow Meyer to show off his genuinely massive talent and produce thoroughly enjoyable and incredibly stylish films such as Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965), Vixen! (1968) and his best Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls (1970). What are on the surface are softcore porn flicks, but are really inventive and laugh-out-loud funny, while often being just bizarre. His second range of films are made quickly and cheaply, and amplify his love for buxom women with huge breasts that would always make a huge profit. Eve And The Handyman is sadly one of these. Although we often get a glimpse of Meyer's sense of humour, the film is ultimately a bore. Clocking in at 65 minutes, it really did feel a hell of a lot longer. This was however only his second feature, and you have to admire a director who was the first person to bring an actual storyline to the soft-porn genre.
When cab driver Ted Striker (Robert Hays) tries to win back his girlfriend Elaine (Julie Hagerty), she tells him its over and boards a plane where she works as an air hostess. Quickly boarding the same plane without her knowledge, he aims to win her back. But when the pilots and passengers are struck down by food poisoning, its down to Striker, an ex-pilot haunted by his memories of war, unorthodox doctor Rumack (Leslie Nielsen) and an inflatable co-pilot to help steer its passengers to safety. Also, the pressure is on the air traffic controllers who must help Striker overcome his fear of flying, so they bring in Striker's old commander Rex Kramer (Robert Stack).
Spoofing the old airplane disaster films of the 70's, Airplane! is quite possibly the best spoof ever made. Back in the day when Jim Abrahams and the Zucker brothers were inspired and were actually capable of making good films, they don't miss any opportunities. I've never seen a film so packed and condensed with visual gags and witty jokes literally from beginning to end. This was Leslie Nielsen's first comedy role, and from the moment an air hostess asks him if he's a doctor and he sits their straight faced with a stethoscope round his neck and says 'yes, I'm a doctor', it's clear that they have stumbled upon someone truly special. Spending most of his career as a leading man (notably in the fantastic Forbidden Planet (1956)), he was a true find as a comedy actor. There are many so funny moments that I felt exhausted when it ended.
Based on a true story, Steven Soderbergh's 'black comedy' follows whistleblower and closet psychopath Mark Whitacre (Matt Damon). When the FBI are called in when ADM employee Whitacre reports some apparent dodgy dealings with a Japanense rival company, he reveals a price-fixing scandal. Employed by the FBI to act as an undercover agent, Whitacre's delusional state of mind causes him to become fully engrossed in his role, picturing himself as some kind of super-spy. But Whitacre has a little secret - he's making practically everything up and soon sees the investigation turn on him. As he digs himself into a deeper hole of shit, Whitacre must lie and cheat his way out, the only problem being that he can't let go of his new role.
What is an absolutely fascinating story is royally fucked up by Soderbergh. Why he chose to make this film into a comedy is beyond me. Actually, I retract that, why he decided to make this a comedy completely devoid of laughs is beyond me. Soderbergh insists on making this apparent to the audience by placing silly trumpet music over every scene, even though it's played relatively straight. It's a silly device for a film that would have worked much better as a serious drama into the mind of a seriously disturbed man. That said, there is still some things to enjoy - Matt Damon's impressive performance, moustache and all, is convincing. And the story is interesting enough to carry the film along. Mark this amongst Soderbergh's dodgy films.
Aggressive and highly-intellectual skinhead Danny (Ryan Gosling) enjoys spending his time getting into trouble and beating up the local Jewish population, whilst proudly displaying his swastika-branded t-shirt. Only Danny has a secret, one that if revealed to his gang of like-minded hoodlums would land him in hot water and would probably lead to his murder - he was born and raised a Jew. Falling in with respected racist and anti-Semite Curtis Zampf (Billy Zane), he is forced to put his violent behaviour behind him in order to spread the hate in an intellectual way. As his hatred for the Jewish community increases, so does his guilt, and so begins a long and confused path for Danny.
I'd heard great things about this film, but I found myself disappointed as the opening scene played out in front of me, which sees Danny frighten a young Jew on a train before violently attacking him in the street. I thought this was going to be another Romper Stomper (1992)and American History X (1998) inspired neo-Nazi film that would offer nothing new. Yet as the film went on, and Ryan Gosling shows why he is probably the most talented young actor working in film today, I was completely engrossed. Danny's character is so fascinating and conflicted that he drives the entire film. There are no cliches here. One of the key scenes in the film is when Danny sits down with a journalist to talk about the Jewish problem. He is asked why he hates the Jews. Danny comes up with an unconvincing argument about the ways Jews like to have sex. He simply does not know why. And when he is confronted by the same journalist about if he himself is a Jew, Danny holds a gun to the journalists head and threatens that if he were to print that information, he will kill himself. Danny has more hatred for himself than for anything else. Fascinating stuff.
Alfred Hitchcock's only screen writing credit follows the story of two aspiring boxers as they slowly work their way to the top of their game. 'One-Round' Jack (Carl Brisson) works in a carnival show, using the gimmick of being able to knock any challengers out in one round to draw the crowds. When onlooker Bob Corby is reluctantly talked into going a round with Jack, he knocks him out, much to Jack's dismay and surprise. Caught between the two fighters is Jack's girlfriend Mabel (Lilian Hall Davis) who takes a liking to Bob, especially as he begins his rise up the boxing ranks. As Jack's frustration and jealousy grows, so does his success. As the two fight their way to the top, the likelihood of a climatic bout between the two protagonists increases with every fight. Ultimately it becomes a mental and physical battle for the love of Mabel.
The meaning of the title is multi-layered - of course referring the boxing ring, but also the arm bracelet that Mabel receives from Bob that comes to represent the everlasting loop that the three lead characters are caught up in. Although relatively little-seen compared to some of the popular boxing movies, Hitchcock's silent has undoubtedly had a great impact of the sport genre, especially on Scorsese's Raging Bull (1980). Hitchcock was fascinated with boxing - the idea of a physical and mental duel between two gladiators, and also with the dirty feel of the arena. Halls would be filled by both smartly-dressed socialites, and the working-class looking for a bit of escapism. The place would be filled with cigarette smoke, sweat and dirt trampled in by the masses. Although this doesn't quite have the cinematic flair of Scorsese's masterpiece, the photography is clearly comparable, and is extremely impressive given its era. This is Hitchcock's early experiment, where he would develop techniques he would come to perfect in his long-list of truly great films. A fascinating film from the man that would become one of the giants of cinema.
Lawyer Brick Davis (James Cagney) is a fresh-out-of-school law graduate with no clients. When his old friend Eddie Buchanan (Regis Toomey) stops in town, he approaches Davis to become a 'G Man' - a member of a newly formed federal force that uses brains combined with brawn to make the perfect law enforcement. Davis isn't interested, but when Buchanan is shot dead by a gang of organised thugs, he joins up instantly, and begins to distance himself from his criminal clients. Upon arrival at the FBI recruitment centre, he knocks heads with his newly-appointed mentor Jeff McCord (Robert Armstrong) who dislikes the amount of law graduates they are getting. When the gang that Davis left behind start to cause mayhem on a federal scale, Davis uses his knowledge and experience to bring the gang to justice.
