Review #344: 'River's Edge' (1986)

There were two films released in 1986 whose youthful protagonists confronted death in the form of a dead body. The first, Rob Reiner's coming-of-age drama, Stand By Me, was set in 1959 and followed three friends on a journey simply to witness a dead body, what they find (as the narrator advises) is themselves and each other. But what this film also highlights in the closing moments, is that these three kids, are the generation that  will almost certainly be confronted with death in a more profound way, in Vietnam. Following shortly after Stand By Me, River's Edge was released, which tackled, not the nostalgic journey of three kids, who spend an encapsulated moment of perfection before innocence is lost, but portrayed a very contemporary place where the teenagers (the kids of the men who went to Vietnam) seem completely detached from death: desensitised perhaps. Vietnam was, after all the first televised war in world history.

This is a generation completely alienated from, and of course (as teenagers do) suspicious of the adult world, like no other generation before. These kids are from broken homes. 'John', a tall, bulking, detached guy nonchalantly tells his group of friends that he has killed a peer, Jamie (Danyi Deats), and left her naked by a river. Of course the friends do not believe him at first, but as they are all gradually taken to the site where the body lies, the event is proven. However, with such a fundamentally deep and seemingly unbreakable barrier between the adult world and the young, the murder is kept within the circle. Crispin Glover's Lanye (with his usual jittery, yet brimming style), takes the lead in covering up the conspiracy, but the group inevitably fractures and that adult wall is opened. Once this opens the adult world is confronted with a teenaged generation that is numb; that is, these 'young adults' have shown no emotion to the death of one of their fellow students.

It's a damning indictment of the MTV (or Gen X) generation, whose diet of consumption in all of its capacities, had seemingly completely detached from society. It had seen it's parents generation  fail in revolution, only to be eaten up be 'the system', becoming the executives of the money hungry 1980's. The only adult character that the group has any genuine contact with is a recluse, who's girlfriend is of the blow-up variety, selling weed to them, perhaps still living that '60's dream? Dennis Hopper's Feck provides this anchor between the generations - but his clearly boarder line mentality simply highlights that the dream has gone.

With some decent performances from the likes of Keanu Reeves, Joshua Miller (whose precocious performance probably lead to him being cast as a 50 year old vampire in Katheryn Bigalow's Near Dark (1987), and particularly the killer, 'John', played with distance, and genuinely hauntingly detached looks, by Daniel Roebuck. Along with some beautifully stark cinematography by Frederick Elmes (who had collaborated with David Lynch on Eraserhead (1977) and Blue Velvet (1986)), the project also seems aesthetically and thematically linked to the later Twin Peaks televisions series (for which Tim Hunter directed some episodes). The film leaves you with a sour taste, perhaps the start of societal detachment that might later lead to events such as the Columbine shootings: Writer Neal Jimenez did loosely base River's Edge on a real life incident involving 16 year old Anthony Jacques Broussard in Milpitas, California on November 3 1981.


Directed by: Tim Hunter
Starring: Crispin Glover, Keanu Reeves, Ione Skye, Dennis Hopper
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Marc Ivamy

Review #343: 'Blood and Black Lace' (1964)

When Isabella (Francesca Ungaro), a model, is brutally killed on the grounds of a fashion house by a masked killer, investigator Sylvester (Thomas Reiner) is called in. He discovers a nervous misfit group of employees and models, all seemingly nervous about the pending investigation. When Countess Cristina Como (Eva Bartok) finds Isabella's diary amongst her belongings, tensions run high, and a wave of corruption, drug abuse and blackmail is slowly uncovered as the body count piles up and the killer searches for the diary.

Generally considered as one of the most influential giallos ever made, Mario Bava's Blood and Black Lace oozes style and blood. Opening with a quite stunning credits sequence, the cast are framed in beautifully lit shots alongside the mannequins of the fashion house. It's a great introduction to one of the most gorgeous horrors I've ever seen. I've long admired the style of Dario Argento (his Inferno (1980) and Opera (1987) are up there with the most stylistic) but this film blows him out the water in terms of sheer beauty. The early set piece which sees the killer stalk a model through the underbelly of the fashion house employs bright reds and blues, and it's a hugely effective way to juxtapose the beautiful with the ugly (the inevitable murder).

Yet Black Lace seems to be a work of style over substance, and while there is a bucket load of style, there's precious little substance. Sylvestor's investigation is a prime focus early on, but seems to disappear when the revelation comes. The revelation itself is easily guessable, as the many red herrings are far too obvious, and the reasons behind the murders is a simply written story about blackmail. It was a flop on its release after Bava's two commercially successful films, Black Sunday (1960) and Black Sabbath (1963), and it's not too difficult to see why. I feel I'm yet to see the best of Bava (apart from the excellent Danger: Diabolik (1968) I have only seen the relatively flat A Bay of Blood (1971)), but I'm confident his reputation is there for a reason, and I'll look forward to discovering his better works.


Directed by: Mario Bava
Starring: Cameron Mitchell, Eva Bartok, Thomas Reiner
Country: Italy/France/Monaco

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #342: 'Don't Go in the House' (1979)

Another film in the horror genre that takes part of it's influence from both Ed Gein and Hitchcock's Psycho (1960), Don't Go in the House, originally titled - more appropriately - The Burning (this was altered due to the release of a slasher-camp film), it focuses on a troubled man who has been perpetually abused by his dominating mother. After a burning incident in an incinerator that Donny Kohler (Dan Grimaldi) witnesses at work, he returns home to find that his mother has passed away. Immediately, Donny hears disembodied voices telling him that he is now free to do whatever he likes. Donny shows a fear of fire, even when using matches. His memories flash back to his mother holding his arms over a burning hob, "punishing" the young boy, presumably due to the fact that he reminds her of his father.

After finding pleasure in burning his mothers body (he keeps his mother in the chair that she died in), he constructs a steel-lined room, purpose built to burn any woman he can get back to the house. He seems throughout to be tortured by these women, even seeming to believe that they have all done wrong with him. We only really see the first victim, Kathy Jordan (Johanna Brushay), being torched in the room, as she stands tied and naked, Donny enters the room with an all over fire resistant suit, before "opening fire" with the blow torch.

It's not a bad film, considering it is essentially a slasher film (without the slashing of course), which were so prevalent at the time. It is quite different also to this sub-genre, and it often feels more grimy, even dirty than the average fare (The Prowler or Final Exam (both 1981), for example). Of course some of the acting is appalling, but strangely, Donny's descent into madness seems quite palpable. Donny is that disenfranchised man, completely cut off from the world, and only due to his mother. As with many (even real) males who have had an abusive matriarch, this can often translate into an overbearing, all-encompassing misogyny. This madness crescendos in a now cliched, but still quite chilling, disturbing end.


Directed by: Joseph Ellison
Starring: Dan Grimaldi, Charles Bonet, Bill Ricci
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Marc Ivamy

Review #341: 'Signs of Life' (1968)

Werner Herzog's debut feature tells the story of a wounded German paratrooper Stroszek (Peter Brogle) who is transported to the Greek island of Kos to recover physically and mentally. Already there are fellow soldiers Meinhard (Wolfgang Reichmann) and Becker (Wolfgang Von Ungern-Sterngberg), who are taking life easy in the sun with little to nothing to do. Stroszek sets them to work, but soon, as the work begins to dry up, he becomes more and more unstable in the isolation and loneliness.

Nobody really knows what goes through Herzog's head, but it is clear he is a film-making genius and has one of the finest eyes for visuals in cinema. Signs of Life explores themes that Herzog would later become engrossed and almost obsessed with - isolation, obsession and madness. While he would later employ Klaus Kinski as the face of wide-eyed insanity, here the tone is quiet, contemplative and often very funny. The opening half of the film concentrates mainly on the three soldiers trying to find things to do. Meinhard becomes frustrated with the presence of cockroaches in their apartment and builds a trap to catch them. The feeling of being trapped appears throughout the film, usually using animals - the soldiers are given a strange toy that seems to move on its own, until they open it and find out that it's full of trapped flies; and we are shown how a hen is hypnotised.

But the comedy is soon put aside as Stroszek begins his descent into madness, holding himself up in the 14th century fortress where the soldiers are stationed with a horde of ammunition. It's in the second half that Herzog shows us the images he can conjure. It's breathtaking what he achieves with a stolen 35mm camera and a micro-budget. Amongst other things, we see a seemingly endless field of windmills, and fireworks set off into the night sky. The grainy black-and-white imagery gives the whole thing a fresh beauty. This is far from the greatest debut in cinema, but a very clear indication of a director's raw skill, and of course, Herzog would go on to make many fine films.


Directed by: Werner Herzog
Starring: Peter Brogle, Wolfgang Reichmann, Athina Zacharopoulou, Wolfgang Von Ungern-Sternberg
Country: West Germany

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #340: 'Hugo' (2011)

There must be something unifying in our globes collective consciousness, as 2011 saw two films that looked back at the cinematic past. Strangely, it took a French film maker, Michel Hazanavicius, to release a movie that pays homage to early, silent American cinema (The Artist). Conversely, Martin Scorsese, a well-known cinephile, delights with his love of early European silent cinema, in his often beautiful 'children's' film, Hugo.

Set in 1930's Paris, the main focus of this cinematic love is the work of the first movie magician, Georges Melies. We are introduced to Hugo (Asa Butterfield), a young man whose father left him a automaton after his death. It was a project that they worked on together, but never finished it. Hugo's main mission is to get the object working. As an orphan, Hugo hides in the rafters of a train station, maintaining the clocks that his drunken uncle used to do. After befriending a young girl, Isabelle (Chloe Moretz), he finally gets the automaton working, and it opens up a mystery that leads to the forgotten cinema of Melies (Ben Kingsley), now working on a store in the station.

The film shows love for silent cinema, and particularly the magic of Melies. Sacha Baron Cohen's station inspector is occasionally funny, and his character seems to be filtered through both Peter Sellers' Inspector Clouseau, and Jacques Tati's Monsieur Hulot, but he just doesn't seem to really progress at all, and feels almost like a filler character. Scorsese, like Robert Zemekis and Bob Gale before, reference that iconic Harold Lloyd moment in Safety Last! (1923), as Hugo hangs from a clock face.

Like so many others who speculate about the choices of Oscar nominations, Hugo, I feel, is not a contender for the best picture Oscar. There were some far better films produced in 2011. That said, the film is beautiful, accomplished , and often fun. Also, the resurgence of interest in a forgotten father of cinema, is completely touching, and leaves a warm feeling in the heart. Unfortunately, I did not see this in 3D; as far as I am aware, Scorsese uses it to brilliant degrees, so perhaps this would have made the experience perfect (despite the fact that I care not for the dimensions of 3.


Directed by: Martin Scorsese
Starring: Asa Butterfield, Chloë Grace Moretz, Ben Kingsley, Sacha Baron Cohen, Ray Winstone, Emily Mortimer, Christopher Lee, Helen McCrory
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Marc Ivamy

Review #339: 'The Great White Silence' (1924)

An extraordinary account of the doomed expedition on the Terra Nova by Captain Robert Falcon Scott to the south pole between 1910 and 1913, by cinematographer, Herbert Ponting. This document follows the ship from New Zealand as it lands on the antarctic coastline where the team set up a camp. Here, Ponting films both the people and their actions, along with the wildlife that inhabits the area.

Much of the middle section of the film focuses on the wildlife, documenting the habits of seals, penguins and gulls. Throughout these animal parts, the "narrator" (obviously being a silent film , these narrations are provided within inter titles) almost seems to place human characteristics to them (such as stating that a male penguin searches for his "bride"), his observations at times entertaining and occasionally amusing. Unfortunately, some of the practices for capturing footage seems very archaic to modern viewers, as Ponting often interrupts nature to capture certain footage; a practice that I'm sure David Attenborough would be astounded with.

Obviously, Ponting did not follow the five men who set off from camp to reach the south pole. As history is now aware, those men never returned alive. With some incredibly stunning images of polar caps, icebergs etc, the film is a beauty to behold. Unfortunately, the film was not really successful at the time, and Ponting died in poverty 10 years after its release. However, the British Film Institute has released the film in a beautiful digital transfer that means that this film of historical importance may live on for future generations to enjoy.


Directed by: Herbert G. Ponting
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Marc Ivamy

Review #338: 'Masters of the Universe' (1987)

During the 1980's the world of advertising and general marketing took on an all invasive, sinister tone. After the success of the Star Wars toy line from Kenner, the industry began a series of fantasy toy lines that used the 30 minute Saturday morning cartoon as an advertising tool. This led to famous toy's/cartoons such as Tranformers, Thundercats et al (there are way too many to list in this review). I believe the first of these was the He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, which hawked a band of sword-and-sandal-like fantasy characters, in a world called Eternia.

The cartoon and toy line were incredibly successful, and whilst as an adult, my cynical side sees the enormity of this exploitative marketing, as a child I was totally sucked in. With the unbridled achievement of cynical marketing, it was only a matter of time before the Hollywood machine would take the buff character of He-man and immortalise the cunt on screen.

The 1980's also saw an increase of over sized muscle-men on the big screen. This was of course reflective of Reagan's politics of big-is-good etcetera. So with such a low-rent project, the film needed a pretty low-rent, muscular "actor". I'm guessing that even Schwarzenegger and Stallone were too good for this film, as the actor chosen to play the homo-erotic, buff-dunce He-man was Dolph Lundgren, another of the increasingly large action stars of the decade.

The story involves a set of keys that can open a portal to other worlds/dimensions, and He-man's evil foe, Skeletor (Frank Langela) obviously wants the set. During a battle in Snake mountain, the hero's are forced to go through a portal where they find themselves in contemporary America, and take on the help of a native, Julie (Courtney Cox).

This derivative, insipid film is just awful. The action is more than likely placed in a Earth-bound setting for budgetary reasons. And to be fair, even if this was not the case, it would probably be just as shit. I did see this at the cinema at the time, and probably liked it. But seeing this as an adult just makes me realise that there was an abundance of genuinely awful movies in the decade of greed.


Directed by: Gary Goddard
Starring: Dolph Lundgren, Frank Langella, Meg Foster, Billy Barty, Courtney Cox
Country: USA

Rating: *

Marc Ivamy

Review #337: 'Crime and Punishment' (1935)

Classic Russian literature is a wealth of psychological intentions, brimming with historical depravity and conversely elegance. Poverty and degradation was rife during the 18th and 19th centuries. This depth of psychological characterisation can most certainly be found in one of Russia's greatest writers, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and particularly in (in my opinion) his greatest work, Crime and Punishment which was published in instalments in 1866. (This publication is also one of my favourite books of all time).

The book (and of course this 1935 film) follows Raskolnikov (Peter Lorre), a lauded graduate of criminology, who is witness to the depravity and selfishness of the culture around him. After seeing a young woman, Sonya (Marion Marsh), being ripped off by an old female pawnbroker (Mrs Patrick Campbell), he sees it as his duty to remedy the problem by murdering her. With his credentials as a master criminologist, Raskolikov believes he can commit the perfect crime. Unfortunately his actions do not go as he had planned, and the time spent after the murder he is overcome with paranoia.

It seems appropriate that this film was produced in the 1930's, during the Great Depression. The poverty and hypocrisy redolent in that decade were found in the Russia of the novel. Peter Lorre plays a fantastically paranoiac, and sweaty character, his facial contortions perfect instruments of doubt, scared awkwardness, and justified anguish. Raskolikov's path leads him to the chief of police, Porfiry (Edward Arnold), and his guilt begins to unravel.

This film was an incredibly low-budget affair, which hampers the director, Josef von Sternberg's, usual visual flares (in films such as The Blue Angel (1930) and Shanghai Express (1932)). This film was produced under Columbia Pictures, as Sternberg's previous employers, Paramount, had ended his contract with them. However, whilst it is technically flawed, and is largely unimaginative in the art department, it is still a beautiful film to watch. Certainly not the greatest adaptation of Dostoevsky, it does carry a great performance from Lorre, and packs in some of the psychological tension produced from the narrative.


Directed by: Josef Von Sternberg
Starring: Peter Lorre, Edward Arnold, Marian Marsh
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Marc Ivamy

Review #336: 'Friday the 13th Part 2' (1981)

After narrowly escaping death in the first film, Alice (Adrienne King) is in recovery when she is murdered by an unknown killer. After dreaming about being dragged into the water by Jason Voorhees at the end of the original, the apparently dead son of mass-murderer Mrs. Voorhees, rumours spread that Jason is out for revenge after seeing his mother decapitated. Five years later, a fresh bunch a naive horny teenagers arrive at the rebuilt Camp Crystal Lake for some relaxation time. Soon enough, murders start occurring and it becomes clear that a masked Jason is indeed out for revenge.

The main problem with the Friday the 13th franchise is that every film seems to be a re-hash of the previous, and this is no exception. The basic premise of an unknown killer stalking clueless teenagers is exactly what happened in the first film, except this time it has a bit of a trump card in Jason (played by Warrington Gillette). Mrs. Voorhees was a rather lame and unrealistic reveal in the climax of the first, and although he is yet to don his iconic hockey mask (here he wears a flour bag with an eye hole), he makes for a much more effective and physically intimidating killer.

But the film doesn't really have any effective or memorable murders, which, let's face it, is why you watch a Friday the 13th film. The only scene worth any mention is the killing of the boy in the wheelchair, which provides an unintentionally hilarious moment that sees him rolling down the stairs backwards after being stabbed. It also has possibly the most annoying horror character in history who not only has the nerve to survive the film after disappearing half way through, but is also ginger. Certainly an improvement of the original, but it's still a rather uninspiring and pedestrian slasher film.


Directed by: Steve Miner
Starring: Amy Steel, John Furey, Adrienne King, Warrington Gillette
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #335: 'Last Action Hero' (1993)

When young Danny Madigan (Austin O'Brien) is given a magic movie ticket by friendly cinema owner Nick (Robert Prosky) at an advance screening of new action movie Jack Slater IV, he is magically transported into the movie and into the car of supercop Jack Slater (Arnold Schwarzenegger). Danny starts to inform Slater about who the bad guys are after seeing them on screen, and the two are paired up as a mismatched investigative duo by Slater's screaming boss. Glass-eyed bad guy Mr. Benedict (Charles Dance) manages to get his hands on the magic ticket, and escapes into the real world, where he finds things are much easier for the bad guys. Slater must leave his action movie cliche of a world where he is nigh on invincible behind, and enter one where things are slightly more difficult.

Last Action Hero had one of the most expensive and turbulent page-to-screen stories in recent cinema history. Originally written as a self-mocking action movie that embraced the cliches of the genre, that was also a proper action movie in its own right. After an unexpected bidding war, the young scribes Zak Penn and Adam Leff were shocked to find that Arnold Schwarzenegger had taken a personal interest in it (the original hero name was Arno Slater). This was to be the turning point. Arnie saw the potential for a franchise as a kid's film and immediately wanted to tone down the violence, so Penn and Leff were fired, and genre legend Shane Black was hired to spruce up the script. Things changed yet again when director John McTiernan was brought in, and, due to the success of his previous films, was given full control.

A few script re-writes, firings, and storm-outs later, the film was shot and ready to hit the market. A toy franchise and a ridiculously expensive and calamitous advertising campaign (they paid half a million dollars to have the film's name on a NASA rocket, only to have the launched delayed till long after the film's release) were put into motion, and the film's release date was announced for the week after Jurassic Park's. Last Action Hero had disastrous test screenings, but the release date was not changed, and naturally, Jurassic Park stormed the box-office and merchandising range, and Last Action Hero was revealed to be an over-ambitious, confused dud of a movie. However, the legend is rather cruel on Schwarzenegger's biggest flop, as although it is a gigantic mess, it has plenty of interesting ideas than are unfortunately spewed out onto the film in ungraceful belches.

The biggest problem is that it doesn't know what kind of film it is. At its heart, its a kid's film, complete with annoying mop-haired child, a kindly old man, magic tickets and, um, a cartoon cat. Yet on its surface, its a rather uninspired action film that is actually rather violent and, once in the real world, is quite grim. The film never seems to know whether it wants to homage, spoof or simply in-joke. The movie world it creates is itself confused - while it has some funny touches such as the police line pairing together various mismatched partners - it also has women walking around in sexy, futuristic costumes, and the aforementioned cartoon cat called Whiskers (voiced by Danny DeVito). Seriously, whose idea was that? I've never seen a cartoon cat in a live-action action movie!

However, the sheer mess that is the complete film does prove Last Action Hero to be a curious little oddity. There have been much finer examples of action-movie send-ups, namely in Shane Black's own excellent Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005), so perhaps the producers weren't ready back in 1993 to take on such an ambitious project. Arnie is pleasantly game for sending himself up, and Charles Dance chews the screen with his gloriously hammy British bad guy. But Last Action Hero will ultimately always be a reminder of how the Hollywood system to suck up an interesting maverick project, fuck it over a few times, and bundle it over the finishing line with such unbelievable inefficiency. I did love it as a kid, however.


Directed by: John McTiernan
Starring: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Austin O'Brien, Charles Dance, Robert Prosky, F. Murray Abraham, Anthony Quinn
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #334: 'Guerrilla: The Taking of Patty Hearst' (2004)

In 1973, a left-wing militant group calling themselves the Symbionese Liberation Army shot and murdered black school superintendent Marcus Foster and wounded his deputy. Led by prison escapee and black political activist Donald DeFreeze, Foster's murder was a confused statement about fascism, apparently revealing Foster to be a pawn in what was essentially an ethically corrupt school system. The following year, they kidnapped newspaper heiress Patty Hearst from her home and caused a media sensation. The SLA made demands that her father Randolph Hearst pay to feed the starving, while the media storm gathered even more momentum. It reached its peak when recordings of Patty were released to the media declaring her sympathy towards the SLA, and her wish to join them.

The 1970's was a time of revolution and a new political awareness. Like the Red Army Faction (or the Baader-Meinhof Group) in Germany, the children of the 1970's were children of Nazi's and, in America, of blatant political corruption (the Watergate scandal, for example). The SLA were inspired by Marxism, anti-Capitalism, and Che Guevara's revolution in Cuba, believing that America would benefit from an equal society, and from the eradication of corruption and racism. "Death to the fascist insect that prays upon the life of the people!" was one of their motto's, and although it is easy to sympathise with their relatively naive hopes and views, the SLA certainly went about their business in a strange way. They committed murder, bank robberies and kidnapping - acts that certainly aren't beneficial to the people.

Sadly, the former SLA members that are interviewed in the film are not those that experienced the Patty Hearst scenario first hand (those people are either dead or in jail), so the interviewees don't draw from personal experiences and are quick to distance themselves from the darker aspects of the SLA. Hearst herself is sadly absent from the film, which is a shame, because as a result, she gets off relatively lightly. She is now a part-time actress and media darling, which is quite sickening given what she did. As to whether she was brain-washed or she was acting on her own accord is left unexplored. Robert Stone's documentary, is, however, well-constructed and contains plenty of fascinating archive footage. Plus, this is one of the most fascinating stories in America's recent history, and a poignant commentary on the role of the media in creating national treasures out of scandal and sensationalism.


Directed by: Robert Stone
Starring: Patty Hearst
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #333: 'J. Edgar' (2011)

The first half of the 20th century was an incredibly corrupt and conspiratorial period, particularly in American politics. A figure within this rich history was John Edgar Hoover, founder and head of the FBI from it's inception in 1935. He did much for the modernisation of police procedure, but he was also a very contentious character. He kept secret files on public figures, using them to blackmail. This also kept each new president in check, creating a position in the country who was above the law, unaccountable, and practically untouchable. His FBI was corrupt, and Hoover himself publicly stated that organised crime did not exist on the level that was claimed about The Mafia. It's interesting that it was not until Hoover's death in 1972, that the US supreme court et al began investigating and eventually prosecuting organised gangs.

Obviously this first paragraph is unable to summarise the full complexity of a man, - speculated as being homosexual (something that has never been proven) - I was expecting good things for a project directed by Clint Eastwood (who has been active over the last decade or so, producing some incredibly accomplished films), and starring Leonardo DiCaprio (who has himself been involved in great films, and performing spectacularly - despite still having the "heart-throb" label attached to him due to one film, Titanic (1997).

J. Edgar's main focus is not necessarily the full complexities of the real man. It's attention is focused upon the man as a public figure, a character that he plays himself in life. The image is important to him; he is shown as being a great PR man. In the early stages of the FBI, he influenced the content of radio shows, comic books and movies (such as 'G' Men (1935)) that were depicting the courageous activities of the bureau. Hoover's public image is portrayed as being practically identical to his private persona, keeping only three people close to him: His mother Anna Marie (Judi Dench), his secretary (Naomi Watts), and Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer), his close associate at the FBI. Tolson and Hoover were close their entire careers, leading to the speculation that they were lovers - something that seems plausible on the evidence, but has no concrete conclusion. Therefore, the film only really briefly suggest this, leaving the viewer to ponder personal conclusions.

Whilst the screenplay (written by Dustin Lance Black, who had previously won an Oscar for the fantastic Milk (2008)) fails to really explore the ambiguities, or even much of the psychological complexities of Hoover, the production is exceptional. The film's span brings it through the 1920's into the 1970's and costume, sets and cinematography is dazzlingly beautiful, and exacting of their periods. DiCaprio's performance is good, but the screen is quite often filled with prosthetically 'enhanced' pensioner's, which at times actually aggravated me. This is not to say that the make-up is bad, it is very good. This could have been less distracting had there only been one character, however, with three or more, is too much. With some great talent attached to this project, I would have expected a more interesting film. As it is, it's not the worst biopic that I have ever seen. However, for my money, if you want a film about this interesting historical figure, I would advise you watch Larry Cohen's excellent low budget The Private Files of J. Edgar Hoover (1977).


Directed by: Clint Eastwood
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Armie Hammer, Naomi Watts, Josh Lucas, Judi Dench
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Marc Ivamy

Review #332: 'The Descendants' (2011)

Hawaiian-based lawyer Matt King (George Clooney) is on the verge of brokering the sale of 25,000 acres of land which will make him and his extended family millionaires, when his wife is placed into a coma following a boating accident. Learning that she will never wake up, and that because of her will, the doctors will soon turn off the life support, Matt tries to re-connect with his two daughters, 17 year old Alexandra (Shailene Woodley) and 10 year old Scottie (Amara Miller). Scottie is in trouble at school for making inappropriate art and picking on fellow students, and Alexandra has problems with drinking. Matt also learns from Alexandra that his wife was having an affair with an estate agent named Brian Speer (Matthew Lillard), so they all travel to Kaua'i to confront him.

Director Alexander Payne's previous films have all focused on deeply flawed yet entirely real human beings, and The Descendants is no exception. His 2004 masterpiece Sideways, one of the finest comedy-dramas of its decade, focused on a depressive, bitter writer and his adulterous friend on their stag holiday. These were quite despicable characters, yet thanks to a smart script, brilliant performances, and some genuine humanity, you became invested in them almost instantly. Clooney's Matt is hardly as unlikeable as that, but he is a man who has all but neglected his family for years, and one that holds the cards to a land sale that could see one of the state's most beautiful and natural location turned into a tourist hotspot.

This is ultimately a story of re-discovery. Matt comes from a line of mixed white and Hawaiian descendants, and is constantly locked in a battle with himself over the sale of the land. He and his cousins plan to sell to a Hawaiian native, but the land is a vast area of beauty that he used to enjoy with his wife and children, and so by selling it, he will be ultimately selling himself out. Hawaii is key to the plot. Usually portrayed as a place of beauty and serenity, Payne breaks this trend in the first few scenes where he shows us the homeless shacked up on the beach, and the urban areas blowing with dirt and litter. It is also volcanic, and Payne shoots it with as many blues and greys as there are oranges and yellows. It is thought of as paradise, but as Matt tells us in the opening narration, "paradise can go fuck itself."

Clooney gives possibly the best performance of his career here. He has no beard to alter his appearance like his Oscar-winning turn in Syriana (2005), here he is laid bare, and gives his most emotionally naked performance. He has truly come a long way since Batman & Robin (1997) almost single-handedly destroyed his career before it started, and I wouldn't be surprised if his name is called for Best Actor in the upcoming  Academy Awards. Woodley is also impressive, quickly evolving from a generic bratty teenager into a mature confidant to her father.

The Descendants has been advertised and portrayed as a comedy-drama, and although their is some fine comic moments in the film, usually stemming from Nick Krause's surfer-dude Sid's inappropriate comments, the film is ultimately an emotional drama. This led to frustrated shufflings in the cinema by people expecting either a generic rom-com or a full-blown comedy, and caused one very annoying fat idiot behind me repeatedly yawning. It is about 15 minutes too long, and lingers too much on the rather predictable and un-involving sub-plot about the land sale, but The Descendants is powerfully written and often very moving, and is a fine example of how Alexander Payne is the finest storyteller of real human beings working today.


Directed by: Alexander Payne
Starring: George Clooney, Shailene Woodley, Amara Miller, Nick Krause, Beau Bridges, Matthew Lillard, Robert Forster
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #331: 'The Fantastic Four' (1994)

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.


Directed by: Oley Sassone
Starring: Alex Hyde-White, Michael Bailey Smith, Jay Underwood, Rebecca Staab
Country: Germany/USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #330: 'The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T' (1953)

Bart Collins (Tommy Rettig) hates playing the piano. His egotistical piano teacher Dr. Terwilliker (Hans Conried) insists he perfects his art for an upcoming performance that will prove Terwilliker the greatest teacher. Bart drifts off into a sleep, where he dreams of an alternative world where he is imprisoned in Terwilliker's castle, who also has Bart's mother Heloise (Mary Healy) under his control in a trance-like state. Terwilliker forces Bart to practice on his giant piano where he plans to capture 500 children to perform all at once. The only person that Bart can turn to is plumber August Zabladowski (Peter Lind Hayes), who Terwilliker plans to execute once he has finished his sink installations.

Children's author and illustrator Dr. Seuss is a national treasure in his native U.S., yet here in the UK, his work is less known and loved. Works like How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Cat in the Hat have been made popular by recent Jim Carrey and Mike Myers movie vehicles, but I went into this film not really knowing what to expect, with this being Dr. Seuss' sole movie writing credit. Dr. T. plays out like The Wizard of Oz (1939) with less colour, campness, and much more imagination. The songs that Seuss wrote for the film are instantly forgettable, so the film works less as a musical, and better as a rather strange and twisted children's fantasy.

The sets are the film's main strength. From the start, which has Bart fleeing from a group of men with different coloured nets in a barren, futuristic and industrial landscape, to Terwilliker's gigantic piano hall, the film is rich with imagination. I can only assume the set designers were influenced by German expressionism, as it immediately brought Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari (1920) to mind, all jagged angles and exaggerated features. Dr. T is occasionally ridiculous, but the film's heart and playfulness make it a thoroughly enjoyable experience, and features a surprisingly annoying-light central performance by young Rettig.


Directed by: Roy Rowland
Starring: Peter Lind Hayes, Mary Healy, Hans Conried, Tommy Rettig
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #329: 'The Muppets' (2011)

I have previously written about the Muppet 'franchise' when discussing the last great Muppet movie (The Great Muppet Caper (1981)). I had stated the brilliance of the late Jim Henson who began this visual plethora of beautiful characters. At a later stage I will be writing something more personal and fundamentally reflexive of his career, but at this point I will simply comment on this particular film that attempts to combine the love of a new audience with the more ferrel likes of it's original fans.

Since 1984's The Muppets Take Manhattan, the film career of the Muppet's has taken a very slow decline. OK, so the Christmas Carol adaptation was genuinely brilliant (adequately emphasised by repeat Christmas broadcasting), but subsequent films have been incredibly questionable. So after about 12 years in obscurity, the Muppets seem to make a comeback? Well, possibly. It was an absolute joy when I discovered that Nicholas Stoller and Bret McKenzie (of Flight of the Conchords fame) were advertised as being involved. This film, it would seem, would be a film fundamentally aimed at the people that were originally influenced by the band of felt characters.

The story of an oil tycoon, Tex Richman (Chris Cooper), who wants to overtake the Muppet studios, due to an apparent oil flow under said ground, is a very obvious choice of story arc in the cannon of Muppet movies. This was unfortunately an apparently contentious issue with the always level-headed Fox News (sic). (As a side-line they stated that this film was communist in it's ideological stance - cause it didn't show an evil Obama administration - check the webosphere if you think I'm making this shit up!)

The story of the rebranding of the Muppets is fundamental to the full concept of this film. We see motifs taken from the more interesting films of the cannon. Muppet movies are always self-reflexive, and almost always comment on the fact that what is happening is in fact film making! The crux of this particular film hinges on Walter. He is essentially a Muppet, but has been brought up as the brother of Jason Segal's Gary. Walter, essentially represents the generation that this film represents. What the Muppet franchise holds, is something that was not represented through the 1990's (certainly after the death of Jim Henson).

Every element of this film is entirely made for the audience that firstly succumbed to the wonder back in 1976 (as well as previously through Sesame Street). All good Muppet movies are self-reflexive. They are able to transport the viewer to place that transcends their adult life, bringing them back to a place of absolute comfort. Not only does the presence of a character like Animal bring you back to a child-like state, but it also rekindles your concept of values.

With all The Muppets propensity to good, the fact that the film seems to have a cross-over of independent and mainstream ideas makes the film far more interesting than the usual "kiddie" fodder. I'm guessing that only time will tell if the non-computerised Muppets will endure any further beyond their felt restrictions. For my money, I would rather watch 460 minutes of Kermit, rather than 230 minutes of some computer generated frog-monster!


Directed by: James Bobin
Starring: Jason Segel, Amy Adams, Chris Cooper, Rashida Jones, Steve Whitmire, Eric Jacobson, Dave Goelz, Bill Barretta
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Marc Ivamy

Review #328: 'The Iron Lady' (2011)

I was at first perplexed by the announcement of a biopic of the first British female prime minister, until I gave it some thought, particularly in terms of the political and financial situation that the globe finds itself in currently. We currently watch as we are repeatedly told through the media of the crisis - similar to the Wall Street crash of the late 1920's - that bankers have fucked up the world! We can in many ways trace this obsession with massive profit to Margaret Thatcher's and Ronald Reagan's collaboration throughout the 1980's, which essentially led to that filmic '80's mantra: "Greed is good". This globalisation of monetary philosophy, along with many more home grown policies, created Thatchers image, and added to her iconic status as one of the most reviled public figures in modern day politics (e.g. Thatcher, Thatcher, milk snatcher). What is problematic with the timing of the film, is the fact that the subject is yet to die - and is (within the realms of British politics) absolutely revered. We have seen since her tenure, an absolute influence of her no-holds-barred political technique - we have seen since the likes of Tony Blair (noted in opposition in the Labour government) who's ideologies were thoroughly influenced.

Aside from the political machinations of the political spectrum, we are offered in this film an attempt to humanise a character so readily hated. The main focus of the film from the outset is Thatchers memories of her personal life and political career. We see her struggle to place herself in the male dominated world of politics, along with her life with Denis (Jim Broadbent). This gender battle does dominate much of the uprising of the politician, but fails miserably towards the closing as we are offered an insight into a powerful woman's paradigm with the world of men. The film shows throughout that Thatcher has the opinion that men are childish fools. However, this is contradicted as we see her psychological deterioration to dementia highlight her adoration of her husband Dennis.

The actions and policies of her time as head of state are thought through in terms of seeming grief. We observe the implications of the Falklands war, the break-up of the workers unions and the fall of mining that led to nationwide protest. These fundamental decisions of the party are not really explained - therefore it becomes difficult not to feel something for this withering figure, lonely in her old age. Without the information of the true impact of these policies we are unable to make a genuine judgement of the person.

Herein lies the problem with this film. the screenplay tries far too hard to give some vain of pathos to Thatcher as she looses her mind, dormant in a lonely place. This concept of loneliness is played out throughout the film, even when Thatcher is at her prime, dominating men of her cabinet, she seems isolated but her character and her gender. It's surprising that this isolation of gender is so prevalent in the film, when we consider the closing where we are aware that she needed men. It almost seems that the duo of feminine influence (director Phyllinda Lloyd and screenwriter Abi Morgan) has done nothing to what could have been a feminist tract of fish out of water, actually turns on itself and becomes practically anti-feminist.

Whilst the film has many issues, it has to be noted that Meryl Streep's performance (or impersonation if you like) is exceptional, at times she seems more Thatcher than Thatcher. However, I really hope she does not get the Oscar for this performance, as through the screenplay, we are not really given a very interesting, insightful, or even exciting film. It is amazing that I felt a sense of pity for the person. This will not do. We need to see something far more truthful for such an utterly despised political figure.


Directed by: Phyllida Lloyd
Starring: Meryl Streep, Jim Broadbent, Anthony Head, Richard E. Grant
Country: UK/France

Rating: ***

Marc Ivamy

Review #327: 'Coonskin' (1975)

Randy (Philip Michael Thomas) and Pappy (Scatman Crothers) escape from prison and await a pick-up from their friends Sampson (Barry White) and Preacherman (Charles Gordone). Pappy begins to tell a strange story about three crooks, Brother Rabbit (voiced by Thomas), Brother Bear (White) and Preacher Fox (Gordone), who rise up throughout the Harlem crime ring. They come up against an evangelistic maniac who teaches his followers to kill whites, a crooked white cop with a hatred of Brother Rabbit, and a fat, Italian-American, Godfather-type who put out a contract on the trio.

Ralph Bakshi, one of the most revolutionary cartoonists in recent times, had a long history with the making of Coonskin. He experienced segregation first-hand growing up in Brooklyn where he was forced out of an all-black school due to the fear that the whites may discover it and cause havoc. These racist attitudes seem to have left their mark on Bakshi and he wanted to satirise it brutally, leading to the birth of Coonskin, a film that was picketed and protested against by various groups before any screenings of the film had been arranged, and a film that remained so misunderstood by many until recently.

Bakshi savagely attacks stereotyping and racist iconography by using, well, stereotyping and racist iconography. He employs characters in minstrel show blackface that were so popular in Civil War-era America, and portrays the black characters as loud, crude and violent. Yet no one is safe here - homosexuals, Italians, white-trash, Jews - all are portrayed as wildly over-the-top stereotypes. Bakshi conquers the problem by facing it head on, exaggerating it ten-fold, and then throwing it in our face. If you don't get satire or if you completely miss the point of Coonskin, then this is possibly the most offensive film ever made.

The animation is crude and dirty-looking, but I believe this was Bakshi's intention. By giving it a grimy, almost sloppy feel, he brings the story closer to the street, where his characters live out their lives. The mixture of animation set against real backdrops evokes Disney's still-banned Song of the South (1946), a film that Disney are so ashamed of due to the fact that it could be construed as racist, that they placed the ban on it themselves. The film is also quite strange, jumping between different styles and tones, and the result is as often confusing as it is mesmerising.

They are some truly inspired moments, such as the scene when our animated trio enter Harlem (the "home to every black man") to be greeted by a wailing saxophone in the street, as well as Scatman Crothers' rendition of Ah'm a Nigger Man over the opening credits. I would recommend anyone with a fleeting interest in racial history to watch this film as long as they can stomach the viciousness of the satire, as it is as powerful as it funny, and as smutty as it is sophisticated. How this film was managed to be made escapes me, and how it was made by a white man simply perplexes me. Essential viewing.


Directed by: Ralph Bakshi
Starring: Barry White, Charles Gordone, Scatman Crothers, Philip Michael Thomas
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie