One of the more notorious films to come out of the 'nunsploitation' sub-genre, Flavia the Heretic is certainly a curious oddity, obeying the traditions of the genre with titillation and torture, while at the same time producing moments of art, exploring themes such as feminism, religion and sex. It tells the story of a 14-century nun, Flavia Gaetani (Florinda Bolkan), who after being placed into the church by her overbearing father, embarks on a journey through a world dominated by men. She witnesses one of her fellow nuns being brutally tortured after losing her way during a visit from the 'tarantula sect', sees rape at the hands of powerful men, and is even captured and whipped by her own father.
After the Moslems invade, Flavia falls in love with one of their leaders Ahmed (Anthony Higgins) and the two start a love affair. Returning to her convent, Flavia, with a band of Moslem warriors behind her, wreaks revenge on all those who have wronged her and succumbs to an orgy of sex and violence. It is here, within the last forty minutes where the film certainly ignites the interest. The juxtaposition of sexual violence (which includes male rape and sex with swords) with the violence is quite disturbing in the same way as Pasolini's Salo (1975) was, but came out the year before. Pasolini's controversial movie is by far a better film, but Flavia did surprise me with its world cinema attitude and scenes of almost avant-garde strangeness (a naked woman crawls inside a hanging animal carcass as the violence explodes around her).
Although I would say it is unfair to label this as simply 'exploitation', the film does succumb to the Grindhouse audiences desire for cheap thrills. The endless array of 1970's flesh does become tiresome in the first half, where the events that are supposed to be developing Flavia's feelings of injustice come across as nothing more as an excuse to get more tits on the screen. This causes the majority of the first film to be extremely slow-moving and often quite tiresome. Yet overall, when you peel back the layers of exploitation, there is an interesting movie beneath that does a lot with its apparent small budget, just as long as you can stomach scenes of sexual mutilation and human skinning.
Back in 1997, when the Batman franchise was given a thorough anal-raping and given cinema AIDS by director Joel Schumacher with the preposterous Batman & Robin, fans and audiences alike were left wondering if there was any hope left for one of the darkest and most complex 'superhero' characters in the comic-book world. Come 2005, up to this point, British director Christopher Nolan was still a relative maverick, having made indie breakthrough Following (1998), the mind-bending critical hit Memento (2000), and the solid re-make Insomnia (2002). Few realised that they were about to witness a re-defining of not only comic book adaptations, but blockbusters themselves.
We first meet Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) in a Bhutanese prison, where he is approached by the mysterious Ducard (Liam Neeson) who offers him a chance to learn to fight with the League of Shadows, a generations-old group that punishes criminality with an iron fist. As he trains, we learn about Wayne's childhood, where after falling into a well and developing a phobia of bats, witnesses his parents' murder. Returning to a Gotham believing him dead and in a state of utter tutmoil, he turns to faithful butler Alfred (Michael Caine) and Wayne Enterprises' weapons developer Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman) to turn him into a vigilante crime-fighter and a symbol of a stance against crime. He finds his childhood friend Rachel (Katie Holmes), the assistant district attorney, caught up in a scheme ran by Dr. Jonathan Crane (Cillian Murphy) to get mob boss Falcone's (Tom Wilkinson) thugs off with insanity pleas.
Tim Burton's once-definitive Batman (1989) made the mistake of having the film's villain The Joker engulf the majority of the film, keeping Michael Keaton's Batman almost in the background. Nolan knows that this is Batman's story, and wisely keeps the focus on Bale's anger-fuelled, guilt-ridden, and honourable leading character. In the hands of Nolan, Batman's origins are given the complexity it deserves, shifting back and forward in time to reveal more pieces to his jigsaw. This is no wise-cracking, tights-wearing Batman; when we meet him, he is giving a bunch of prison thugs a thorough beating, snapped legs and all. With the hugely talented Bale in the role, his character is given the weight it deserves - this is Nolan's world, and it is violent, real, and usually pissing down with rain.
As the norm since this film's release, Nolan has managed to gather a hugely-talented ensemble cast (and mainly British). While there is no obligatory main villain that may be a problem in anybody's else's hands, Nolan has instead given us a criminal ring for Batman to fight, from Wilkinson's ruthless crime boss, to Murphy's genuinely unsettling Scarecrow, who likes to fire his hallucinogenic poison in his victims' faces before donning his 'mask' (leading some some fine trippy moments). There is also Ra's Al-Ghul (Ken Watanabe), who plans to destroy Gotham along with Neeson's Ducard by infecting Gotham's water supply. With Gary Oldman's cop Jim Gordon, and Holmes' Rachel Dawes also in the mix, it may seem dangerously over-supplied with characters, but Nolan knows fully well how to handle such a large cast, tying their stories together with fine precision.
Having seen The Dark Knight (2008) and eagerly anticipating The Dark Knight Rises (2012), this admittedly pales in comparison, being that The Dark Knight was a phenomenal leap forward in big-budget film-making and an iconic film that will no doubt be remembered as one of the best of its decade. Also, the action scenes here are quickly-edited and shaky to the point where it is hard to tell what is happening, but Nolan would step up in confidence with the film's sequel and the proceeding Inception (2010). But as superhero origin stories go, this is probably second only to Superman (1978), and a welcome kick up the arse for one of the most enticing comic-book heroes in existence.
We called him Flipper, but Richard O'Barry called the five dolphins - that he personally trained for the popular 1960's television series - by their real names. What the television series also created, with the help and support of O'Barry, was the multi-million pound earning sea park industries. However, after an encounter with one of the dolphins who died in O'Barry's arms (what he calls here suicide due to depression), he became an activist against the treatment of the mammals within this industry. O'Barry's interviews in this film highlights his passion for these majestic animals, that have proven self-awareness and high intelligence. So why, in a secretive Japanese industry, are the slaughter of these animals able to continue with seeming support from both the Japanese government and the IWC (International Whaling Commission)?
In an incredibly beautiful cove in the small fishing village of Taiji, Japan, thousands of dolphins are forced by the fishermen into the cove where they are killed for their meat (which incidentally have high levels of mercury within them, caused by industry dumping of course). The cove is highly guarded and activists are readily arrested for trying to see what exactly happens within the walls of the labyrinthine cove. However, with the help of a moulder from Industrial Light and Magic, a series of high-tec recording equipment (including HD cameras within mock rocks), the team begin a highly dangerous mission to film and record the sound of the dolphin slaughter.
In scenes laced with very real drama - in One Night in Paris filming mode (ahem, sorry, night vision) - we follow the divers and rest of the team as they risk their lives to set up the secret filming equipment. The sense of danger absolutely permeates the film, as ours and the teams hearts race. And the footage that they get is utterly astounding, sickening and horrific, as the sea water rapidly turns a deep red colour.
I'm not going to embellish this review with too much of the information from this film, as I feel the film needs to be viewed by everyone, and therefore will speak for itself. I will however highlight the fact that our species (humans) have to be the most despicable species alive, as the search for profit in a world dominated by greed, always leads to the suffering of other species. This needs to stop. So, please all watch this film, then go to http://www.takepart.com/cove and get involved as much as you are able.
Cocky and handsome playboy Johnnie Aysgarth (Cary Grant) romances the timid Linda (Joan Fontaine) and eventually convinces her to marry him. Her father, the wealthy General McLaidlaw (Cedric Hardwicke), strongly disapproves but cannot stop the two embarking on a very expensive honeymoon, and buying an extravagant home. It is at this point that Johnnie admits he is completely broke, and has numerous gambling debts, and was hoping that Linda's inheritance will eventually sort out their problems. After Johnnie accepts a job working for his cousin, two of Linda's valuable family heirlooms go missing, and the lies and suspicious activities start to build up.
Based on the 1932 novel Before the Fact by Frances Iles, Alfred Hitchcock's thriller is notable for the casting of heart-throb and screwball comedy regular Cary Grant as a possible homicidal maniac and compulsive con-man. The man with the longest arms in cinema gives one of his most memorable performances here, morphing himself into an irresponsible, childish and spoilt degenerate with apparent ease. Joan Fontaine won the Oscar for Best Actress (the only one for an actor working under Hitchcock), but Grant has remained strangely unrecognised, perhaps for the attitudes and behaviours of his character.
There were stories of a studio fallout during the making of this film, with RKO concerned with the fact that Suspicion may ruin Cary Grant's heroic image, and this led to major changes having to be made from the book-to-screen adaptation, and this is the film's main problem. For such a great build-up, the climax and the big unravelling is just a big let-down, with the studio's influence as clear as day. It also slightly beggars belief how much Linda's character takes from her slimy husband, whether he is a potential murderer or not. She is truly an old-fashioned female character, standing by her husband no matter what, as boys will be boys regardless. As handsome and charming as Johnnie is, it is hard to take watching Linda forgive him almost instantly as he reveals he was hoping her vast future fortune will solve his own problems.
Yet this is still a nicely played thriller, with Hitchcock's usual big set-pieces making way for something much more low-key. It has the same kind of money-focused, pulpy feel that the Coen brother's have come to perfect in the last twenty years or so, and would not seem out of place in a Southern gothic setting. Like most Hitchcock films, Suspicion is effortlessly watchable, but it is a shame that Hitchcock was still yet to become the colossal figure in cinema that would have seen him have complete artistic control over the film, and would have no doubt led to a much more satisfying experience.
With the Ice Age coming to an end, Manny (Ray Romano), Sid (John Leguizamo) and Diego (Denis Leary) learn that the valley they are living in will collapse and ultimately flood. They set off on a journey to reach higher ground, with Manny depressed at the fact that he may be the last mammoth alive. They come across two mischievous opossums Crash (Seann William Scott) and Eddie (Josh Peck), who are travelling with their 'sister' Ellie (Queen Latifah), a mammoth who believes that she is an opossum. Facing some hungry sea creatures, an army of mini-sloths who wants to sacrifice Sid (who they believe to be a fire God), and a temperamental volcano, the group must face physical perils, as well as their own company.
Following the mega-success of the first film, the first sequel (there are now four films all together) arrives with an increased budget and some much improved animation, and was naturally a huge success. It is a damning indictment of audience's thirst for originality, as The Meltdown is nothing more than a less-funny re-hash of the first film. The wafer-thin plot of the first is given a slight twist with the fact that they are escaping a massive world event, rather than returning a baby to some humans, but it is the same basic, threadbare story. Only this time, the ever-annoying Queen Latifah is on hand to give her trademark sass, and make me want to throw things at the screen.
That said, the film is as mindlessly entertaining as it predecessor, with Sid providing the majority of the laughs within the central plot, even though the focus seems to have moved to the less interesting Manny and his relationship with Ellie. But Scrat, the sabre-toothed squirrel that was highlight of the first film, is on hand again to provide some inspired animated physical comedy, as his endless quest to retrieve his acorn carries on, inadvertently getting caught up with the events around him. Overall, a bit of a disappointment given the fact that the first film wasn't bad at all, but is still able to provide enough laughs to make it worthy of 90 minutes of your time.
Did anyone really want a modern update of 21 Jump Street, a cancelled TV show that ran between 1987 and 1991, a show that is only really remembered for being Johnny Depp's big break? The answer is, tragically, yes, it's the same people that watch tripe such as the recent remakes of Hawaii Five-O and Charlie's Angels, lapping up its generic story lines and unchallenging episodic structure. Thankfully, we're not going to have to watch two failed movie actors accepting a career in television (in the case of Hawaii 5-O), as 21 Jump Street has been given a full-blown movie, and rather than following the same tone and style as its predecessor, Jonah Hill and Michael Bacall have written as an absurd action-comedy, taking a giant gamble and casting heart-throb Channing Tatum, an actor that has looked more comfortable in recent years in action films and romantic comedies.
Schmidt (Hill) and Jenko (Tatum) are two recent police graduates who became best friends in helping each through their own difficulties during the police examinations. In high school, just seven years earlier, Schmidt was a nerd who dressed as Eminem ("not-so-Slim Shady"), and Jenko was the long-haired popular jock. After a failed drug bust, the two are assigned to a recently re-instated program that was cancelled in the 80's (get it?), and are shipped off to 21 Jump Street to play undercover at a local high school that has seen an influx of a new hallucinogenic drug. To their surprise, they find that the politics of high school have changed, and now the nerds rule, and the jocks are the ones that don't fit in (Jenko blames recent TV shows, "fuck you, Glee!"). With Schmidt seeing his new popularity as a way to re-live his high school days the way he would have wanted, his friendship with Jenko suffers, as does their drug operation.
Given the recent comedy disappointments that have starred the likes of Jonah Hill and his posse, I wasn't expecting much more than a few titters from 21 Jump Street. To my surprise, the film is actually hilarious, thanks to a witty, smut-filled script, some fast-paced action scenes, and real chemistry between the two leads. It also plays out like a love-letter to the 1980's, where mismatched-buddy action comedies seemed to be out every other week, and is wise enough to be well aware of this, embracing the cliches of the genre (during a high speed chase, there is a nice running joke about vehicles not exploding as they would usually in movies, and Ice Cube plays the obligatory angry black captain - "I'm black, and occasionally I get angry!").
Hill, love him or hate him (I tend to be in the former category) gives the performance you would expect - nervous, foul-mouthed, and wasting no opportunity to make a clever pop culture reference - and it's interesting how he makes the audience almost despise the nerd when we are so used to them being the sympathetic character. Tatum is the film's trump card, proving a brilliant comedy actor, and does not simply play the straight man to Hill's funny man. Jenko is big, handsome and stupid (in the opening calamitous drug bust he forgets the Miranda rights -"you have the right to... suck my dick, motherfucker!), yet he has a big heart, bonding with some science nerds to both infiltrate a dealer and to learn about science.
The jokes are about as crude and as vulgar as I've heard for a while. There are as many cock jokes than there are sight gags, often blending the two together- a funny scene sees Jenko childishly doing ridiculous sex positions with a toy giraffe on Schmidt as he talks to his potential girlfriend on the phone. But if you can stomach the smut and would find the lead characters tripping their balls off on drugs funny, then there's plenty of fun to be had here, as at its core there is a lot of heart. Fans of the original show are in for a treat too, as there is an inspired revelation at the end, as well as homages and references to the series and the era in general ("I look like Fred Savage in the Wonder Years, only naked!"). A film that proves that taking an old idea and re-doing it can work, as long as your wise enough to make it seem fresh.
Arriving at Key Largo, Florida, ex-Major Frank McCloud (Humphrey Bogart) meets up with Hotel Largo proprietor James Temple (Lionel Barrymore) and his former daughter-in-law Nora (Lauren Bacall), widow of one of Frank's unit from the war. The hotel is near deserted, with only a small handful of unruly looking characters staying there. It turns out that they have rented the hotel for a fishing holiday, but after an alcoholic woman they are with, Gaye Dawn (Claire Trevor), is manhandled by one of the group, Frank starts to suspect that there is more going on than it first seemed. With a hurricane approaching, Temple closes the hotel to wait out the storm, but the arrival of notorious gangster Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson) and his injured police officer prisoner, confirms Frank's fears.
John Huston made many films in his long Hollywood career, and this was the last of four films that Bogart and Bacall made together, but Key Largo is far from the most fondly remembered of all their films. Yet although it doesn't achieve true greatness, especially when you compare it to the likes of Huston's masterpieces The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948) and The African Queen (1951), the talent on display allows it to be a tense, visually striking and occasionally riveting little film noir. The theatrical roots (it was adapted from Maxwell Anderson's 1938 play) of the film means the scale is minimal, but if nothing adds to the sweaty, closed-in atmosphere, all rendered beautifully by Karl Freund's cinematography, and Huston and Richard Brooks' script gives plenty for the cast to chew on, especially the colossal Robinson and the Academy Award-winning Trevor.
Although he comes second in the credits, Robinson dominates the film when he enters about twenty minutes in. He lies sprawled in the bath chomping a huge cigar, like a revolting beached animal, and emerges to truly push Bogart out of the limelight. Even the opening title sequence reflects this, with Robinson's name higher than Bogart's. It's an alarmingly restrained performance from Bogart, who we are all used to as either the bad guy, or the tough anti-hero, and Bacall is disappointingly mute, her character being no more than the put-upon love interest when will always be remembered for playing the sultry femme fatale.
Robinson dominates, but Trevor steals the show as Rocco's boozy, gambling ex-star girlfriend, who is the figure of desperation when Rocco masochistically makes her sing for everybody for a drink. She sings a story of a woman abused by her partner, and breaks down during the climax. Rocco, affected by the similarity, refuses her a drink anyway, only to have Frank pour her a hard drink and hand it to her, enraging Rocco. It's a great scene, and most likely the scene than won Trevor the Oscar. It is the quality of the acting, and some fine technical work that really bring the B-movie plot to life, as well as Huston's ability to craft an exciting, yet dark thriller.
The 1980's, it would seem, is back with a bang. Modern music is filled with synthesised melodies and dodgy outfits, fashion brought back leg-warmers (albeit briefly), big sunglasses, and tight jeans, and films have recently been taking a sentimental look back at a time when teen comedies, gory horrors and oiled-up muscle men action films ruled the roost. Yet it is a decade looked back at with as much disdain as it is warmth, pointed out by John Cusack's character Adam in Hot Tub Time Machine, as although he recognises it as the best time of his life, he states that "we had Reagan and AIDS," and exclaims "I fuckin' hated this decade!".
It seems almost pointless to draw out the plot given the film's to-the-point title, but it tells the story of three friends, Adam, who has just seen his girlfriend leave him, Lou (Rob Corddry), an alcoholic who is in hospital after an accidental suicide attempt, and Nick (Craig Robinson), who is harbouring the knowledge that his wife has cheated, and is busy pulling car keys out of dog's arses for his job. Returning to their favourite place as teenagers, the Kodiac Valley Ski Resort, with Adam's nerd nephew Jacob (Clark Duke), they find the place desolate and far from the place they remember. After a wild night of drinking in the hot tub, they wake up to find themselves transported back to the 1980's and realise they have the chance to remedy the pains from the past, as well as party like they did years ago.
In a world that releases gross-out comedies by the barrel, Hot Tub Time Machine manages to include both the sweetness of the Judd Apatow comedies of late, as well as the misogynist, bad taste teen comedies of the 1980's that saw a revival in the early 2000's thanks to American Pie (1999). Although the film wasn't quite as funny as I was hoping it to be, it does make up for this by having several appallingly distasteful, yet very funny, set-pieces, including one that sees one the group having to face performing fellatio on his friend. We would like to think that we have moved on from the homophobic, racist and sexist humour of the 80's and that we have developed a more politically correct outlook on life, but we haven't really - it's still very funny (when done right).
Chocked full of references and homages to everything 80's, this will obviously appeal more to people growing up in the era. Although my pubescent days were spent in the 90's, I still grew up around the movies, which were then still relatively modern, so I did feel a slight tinge of nostalgia (genre legends Chevy Chase - looking old as fuck - and the ever-entertaining Crispin Glover make appearances here). The movie is slightly held back by some predictable plotting, a plot twist you can see a mile away, and some gags that fail to hit the mark, but the film is well aware of its ridiculousness, embracing it's silly plot and thankfully not dwelling on the details. This is simply an excuse to have some 80's fun, and fun it certainly is.
After seeing his father 'Priest' (Liam Neeson) murdered at the hands of rival gang leader Bill 'the Butcher' Cutting (Daniel Day-Lewis) 16 years before, Amsterdam Vallon (Leonardo DiCaprio) returns to the Five Points in New York seeking revenge. Not much has changed since he fled, as tension remains between the 'Natives', the Irish immigrants, the Chinese and the blacks, only Bill now rules over with an iron fist, helping corrupt politician William 'Boss' Tweed (Jim Broadbent) gain votes. With the help of old friend Johnny (Henry Thomas), Amsterdam finds himself working his way up Bill's ranks, and after thwarting an assassination attempt on Bill, Amsterdam wonders if he did it out of his desire to kill Bill himself, or a growing loyalty to his new employer.
Following a lengthy book-to-screen adaptation, Scorsese's historical epic reached the cinema screens 23 years after he bought the rights to Herbert Asbury's book The Gangs of New York: An Informal History of the Underworld,amongst stories of studio fall-outs and arguments over final cut. It seems all those years of pondering did not allow Scorsese to fine-tune his vision, and although the film looks absolutely astonishing, the result is a bit of a mess, albeit one that never gets boring. Telling such a detailed historical account of America's fist-fights for power amongst mass immigration and racial tension could not have come at a more suitable time, as the 9/11 attacks occurred during production. But Scorsese chooses to cram this in with sub-plots of political corruption, a love-story between Amsterdam and thief Jenny (Cameron Diaz), the New York Draft Riots, and the central revenge story.
Of course, the film's ultimate saving grace is Daniel Day-Lewis, who gives a theatrical, sledgehammer performance as the one eyed-monster, and his scene where he sits talking to Amsterdam with an American flag draped over his shoulders is worth a thousand Academy Awards alone. Among the wave of dodgy Oirish accents, DiCaprio's isn't that bad, pulling of a credible performance which would jump-start his close relationship with Scorsese in the years after. Amsterdam is no regular hero, he's just as violent as the next thug, and one of the most interesting aspects of the film is how Scorsese tends not to show any race or group in a particularly good light. This is America's dirty beginnings after all, and boy is it bloody - heads are bludgeoned, cheeks are torn from their face - it's probably Scorsese's most gruesome since Casino (1995).
Second time around, Gangs of New York did seem admittedly better paced and more fleshed out (I thought I might even be watching a director's cut), with the political goings-on and the various sub-plots making much more sense. But the film is still a mess, and it progresses with a taste for almost glamorising the violence. The opening scene depicting the bloody fight between the Butcher's natives and the Priest's Dead Rabbits comes with slow-motion and electric guitar music, and this punk-ish approach causes it to clash with its historical setting. However, it looks staggering. The costumes, the huge sets, and the dirt and grit, has an epic David Lean quality, almost old-fashioned in a way. Yet this is a very modern film, and perhaps a more classical approach may have benefited the film which is ultimately unfocused, but effortlessly thrilling.
Successful realtor Steven Freeling (Craig T. Nelson) and his wife Diane (JoBeth Williams) live peacefully in their suburban community with their two daughters and son. Falling asleep in his chair one night, Steven wakens to find his youngest daughter Carol-Anne (Heather O'Rourke) talking to the static TV screen. She does the same thing the next night, only to announce to her parents that "they're heeerre!". Strange things start to happen around the house, until one night Carol-Anne is sucked into her closet which seems to be the conduit for the 'white light'; a light that the dead must walk into if they are to achieve peace. With their daughter missing, Steven and Diane call in a team of paranormal investigators, along with a creepy old woman called Tangina (Zelda Rubinstein).
Although it says 'directed by Tobe Hooper' in the credits, it has long been debated who in fact directed Poltergeist. All of Hooper's usual traits of screaming women, a masked or disfigured killer, grisly deaths, lots of blood, all with a Grindhouse feel, are noticeably absent. Instead, the film feels something much more Speilbergian, with the industry's most famous Jew listed in the credits with production and writing duties. Spielberg was heavily involved in the production, working on it almost back-to-back with E.T. - The Extra Terrestrial (1982), and it does have the same atmosphere as his family-friendly alien blockbuster. This works both for and against the film.
During this era, Spielberg was arguably at his best, and was one of the finest craftsmen of blockbusters and sheer entertainment perhaps ever. One of the key attributes to his 70's/80's films was his realistic portrayals of often broken families, and the characters of Steven and Diane are fully-realised, and more importantly wholly believable. The characterisation here is better than most horror films care to give, and these joint-smoking liberal parents are funny and real, and give a much-needed heart to the story.
Yet when Spielberg (sorry, Hooper!) gets over-excited and insistent on giving the audience something spectacular, I felt the film failed. Flying household objects and static tentacles I can deal with, but giant tree-arms, demon heads and a computer-generated monster take it many steps too far, and crushes any real feeling of atmosphere. The film is just too ridiculous to be remotely scary. Perhaps a more low-key approach would have been more effective, and as entertaining as the film was throughout (although it does have a climax too many), the theatrical effects make the film look dated and suffocate any chance of real scares. A clean, enjoyable horror, but hardly a memorable one.
Eurydice (Marpessa Dawn) arrives in Rio de Janeiro in time for the festival to escape a man whom she believes is trying to kill her. She catches a tram driven by popular playboy Orfeu (Breno Mello), who naturally falls for Eurydice's youthful beauty. Ofeu is engaged to Mira (Lourdes De Oliveira) but is particularly unenthusiastic about the idea, and uses his new pay packet to get his guitar from the pawn shop in time for the carnival rather than to buy Mira an engagement ring. Discovering that Eurydice is staying next door to him with her cousin Serafina (Lea Garcia), Orfeu falls in love with her. But during the carnival, the man Eurydice believes is trying to kill her tracks her down, revealing that he is in fact Death dressed in a skeleton costume and has come to claim her.
Winner of the Palme d'Or at the 1959 Cannes Film Festival, as well as the Academy Award and Golden Globe for the Best Foreign Language Feature, Black Orpheus is a rather strange beast, and the surprise victor in a year that saw Francois Truffaut's The 400 Blows and Alain Resnais' Hiroshima Mon Amour released. Although it can be argued that these are technically better films, it's not hard to see why Black Orpheus won, as its sheer individualism in its beauty, colour and culture makes it stand out above the rest. Many directors, including Orson Welles, had tried to capture the wonder of Rio's carnival, but French director Marcel Camus somehow manages to place you there amongst the samba and the sun, yet never letting the visuals overshadow this poetic, and actually very funny, re-telling of the Orpheus myth.
Perhaps the most popular telling of this story in film is Jean Cocteau's Orphee (1950), the central film to his Orpheus trilogy. Cocteau invested his own ideas of surrealism, poetry and art into his film, and was more re-interpretation than re-telling, and as magnificent as that film is, it does tend to ignore the thing that Orpheus was known for, which is his almost God-like gift for music. Transporting the story to Rio's carnival, an explosion of tribal samba amongst an array of outlandish costumes, writhing bodies, and beautiful women, brings the story to life, and rather than Gods, we have voodoo doctors and fancy dress. It seems strange that Marcel Camus has done nothing of any real note since this film's success, as he somehow manages to juggle neo-realism and fantasy to a stunning degree, and created one of the most memorable films of the 1950's.
In the 1950's, high school jock Tony (Adam Arkin) travels to Transylvania with his father, and gets bitten by a werewolf. After attacking some high-jackers on the plane ride back, Tony starts to terrorise his home town by attacking the locals, choosing to nip girls on their arses rather than actually eating them. Fearing he will be discovered, he leaves town and starts a trip across America for the next few decades (he's immortal too, see) only to return to his home town, pretending to be Tony's son. Caught between his old flame Jane (Roz Kelly), now married to his old friend, and lusty, mousy teacher Miss Montgomery (Elizabeth Hartman), he struggles to hide his affliction as the attacks re-surface.
'Written, produced and directed by Larry Cohen' is something that would normally delight me whilst watching the opening credits of a film, but although Cohen's trademark wit is their occasionally in the script, Full Moon High ultimately fails on all levels, never reaching anywhere near the level of quirk, or containing the endearing oddball characters, as the likes of It's Alive (1974), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982) or The Stuff (1985). Although he is annoyingly whiny at times, Arkin does give a game performance, and has the chance to spout lines such as "I don't believe in vampires or werewolves or virgins," (it made me laugh anyway). And the film did make me laugh a number of times throughout, with spinning newspapers giving headlines such as 'Werewolf Annoys Community', and a pretty talented comedy support cast (Ed McMahon, Kenneth Mars, Pat Morita and Alan Arkin) - Mars is a particular stand-out, playing the once-sexually repressed gay gym teacher who, decades on, is a full-blown queen.
But the mix of spoof, childish visual gags, Benny Hill-esque sped-up smutty humour, and outright farce doesn't quite blend, and ultimately, the film is an absolute mess. One scene near the end sees a cop shooting a bullet at the POV werewolf, only to hit the cameraman. The screen goes black as Alan Arkin and the crew rush the get the film going again. It could have been a moment of offbeat self-reflexive surreality, but its poorly-handled, and the film's budget constraints seem to get the better of it. It tries to homage the comedy of the Zucker brothers and Mel Brooks, but you'd be better off watching them instead of his lame effort, because although the film did amuse me at rare occasions, when I wasn't laughing I was generally cringing. Full Moon High is not something that will exactly tarnish Larry Cohen's CV, but it is certainly a massive disappointment from the man behind some of my favourite B-movie guilty pleasures.
When a group of sabre-toothed cats led by Soto (Goran Visnjic) attack a group of humans that have been hunting their pack, a mother of a new-born baby escapes, inadvertently leaving the baby with the giant mammoth Manny (Ray Romano) and his clumsy, clueless tag-a-long friend Sid (John Leguizamo), a sloth. Soto puts his lieutenant Diego (Denis Leary) in charge of finding the baby and bringing it back to him alive, so Diego befriends Manny and Sid, who are returning the baby to the humans, in an attempt to mislead them into the path of Soto and his savage pack. But they have treacherous caves and a group of idiotic dodo's in their path, amongst other things.
With a relatively microscopic budget (of around $60 million) in terms of modern funding, 20th Century Fox have managed to create a lovely-looking (although it suffers in comparison to the likes of WALL-E (2008)) piece of animation with a host of talented voice actors. Of course, due to its massive popularity, the Ice Age films have now produced three sequels, a Christmas special, and a rather impressive profit. I was interested to see why this was so popular, given the massive amount of CGI animated films being churned out these days that are of mainly poor quality. Although the film isn't exactly a classic, the well realised characters (and the voices behind them) and its genuine heart raises it above the rest.
This kind of story has been done before, for instance it was bettered in Pixar's Monsters, Inc. (2001) that came out a year before, and although it would be harsh to call the film unoriginal, Ice Age does suffer somewhat because of this. But whoever's idea it was to cast Hollywood misfit John Leguizamo as the idiotic Sid deserves a firm pat on the back. He is the comic relief to the film, and if mishandled could have come across as annoying, yet Leguizamo's voice (coming across as Louis Spence crossed with Mort from Family Guy) and some impressive facial capturing makes him a very funny and endearing character. And every time the story seems to be heading into predictable territory (which is does often), a clever running joke involving Scrat, a sabre-toothed squirrel, trying to smuggle an acorn to be frequently interrupted, makes the film fun again. Hardly anything breakthrough, but there's much fun to be had and I will be watching the sequels.
Famous painter Claude Zoret (Benjamin Christensen) is in love with friend, muse, and model Michael (Walter Slezak). They live comfortably and happily in their mansion, which is littered with Zoret's pieces with Michael as their inspiration. When the bankrupt Countess Lucia Zamikoff (Nora Gregor) comes to visit to ask Zoret to paint her, Zoret accepts but struggles to put any life into his painting. He can't depict her eyes, but Michael steps in and completes the painting. Sensing his infatuation with her, the Countess seduces Michael, and Zoret witnesses his relationship become more and more distant. Michael steals and sells Zoret's sketches and paintings in order to satisfy the Countess' spending habits, and Zoret eventually falls ill.
Although it's hardly tackled explicitly, and more suggested in looks, exchanges, and title-cards than sexual imagery, Michael's tackling of homosexuality was quite revolutionary in its day. Naturally, it failed financially and critically (although when Dreyer made The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) and became auteur, it has since been re-visited and praised), but it should be a film that any cinephile should see, especially those with an interest in the origins of Queer Cinema and the depiction of homosexuality in film. Benjamin Christensen, perhaps best known as director of the silent docu-horror masterpiece Haxan (1922), is masterful as Zoret, his face darkened with sadness, subtle jealousy, and tragic sentiment. Slazek and Gregor fair less well, and suffer in comparison to Christensen's depiction.
Although the climax is predictable, it has a feeling of inevitably which makes it fittingly moving and quite beautiful, similar in many ways to the ending of Dreyer's Ordet (1955). But the film is surprisingly rich and luscious, with Dreyer's usual blank canvas and bleak settings replaced by detailed sets, all captured by cinematographer's Rudolph Mate and Karl Freund (who appears here as art dealer Le Blanc, and would go on to work on some Universal's finest horror output in the 1930's). A wonderful, 'minor' work in Dreyer's wealthy filmography.
One of the most under-appreciated innovators in cinema history, Roger Corman, is given the celebration he deserves here. Most commonly given the tag of the 'king of the B-movies', it is often criminally ignored just how much influence Roger Corman had on the industry, and how many major industry players he set up in the game. Of course, his filmography as director and producers is possibly around 95% crap, but Corman is the king of reminding just what fun we can have at the movies, regardless of whether we're watching a rubber shark, an attack of crab monsters, or a sexy girl in knee-high boots firing a machine gun.
All the big names he's helped promote in his career are on interviewee duty, namely Jack Nicholson, Peter Bogdanovich, Martin Scorsese, David Carradine and Ron Howard. Even though most of them will be completely embarrassed with the work they did under Corman, their gratitude and appreciation for the man who set them up, and even gave them artistic license is embedded into their faces. One especially touching scene sees Jack Nicholson break down whilst reflecting on his early career with Corman, and how a fresh-faced kid with apparently little hope in the industry was given more lead roles than he perhaps deserved, and even offered writing opportunities later on with The Terror (1963) and The Trip (1967).
His tale is told chronologically (after a visit to the set of his then-latest film Dinoshark (2010)), beginning in the 50's when he was a reader of new scripts, and later a self-styled director/producer when he didn't receive the recognition he deserved after recommending the successful The Gunfighter (1950). He rolled out cheap double-bills such as Monster from the Ocean Floor (1954), Swamp Women (1955), and the hilarious-looking It Conquered the World (1956), but it wouldn't be until the 1960's when Corman would make his mark. His numerous Edgar Allen Poe adaptations received critical acclaim, and he would become a counter-culture icon with biker movie The Wild Angels (1966) and drug movie The Trip. He also bought and screened art-house classics such as Ingmar Bergman's Cries and Whispers (1972) to the drive-in audience, and even strived to make a 'proper' film with The Intruder (1962), a film about social segregation starring, er, William Shatner.
I know I'm mainly talking about the career of Roger Corman rather than actually reviewing the film, but that's probably the best thing about this documentary. Corman's story is all the film needed to be entertaining, as it remains refreshingly unfussy throughout and allows the often fascinating talking heads (which also include Bruce Dern, Joe Dante, Robert DeNiro, Dick Miller, Jonathan Demme and Pam Grier) to simply tell the story. After being told such a story, the climax that sees Corman collect his long-overdue Academy Lifetime Achievement Award, is suitably, an inevitably, very moving. Director Alex Stapleton has hardly re-defined documentaries here, but with such a likeable and fascinating subject, it remains highly informative, fun, touching, and entertaining.
To mark the tenth anniversary of the overthrow of Russia's Provisional Government by the Bolsheviks (dubbed 'the October Revolution'), the Soviet government commissioned a propaganda film to be made depicting the events by Sergei Eisenstein. Fresh off the success of his masterpiece The Battleship Potemkin (1925), Eisenstein was seen as the ideal choice to celebrate one of the most significant revolutions in recent history. American John Reed's book Ten Days That Shook the World was the main inspiration for the film's execution and style. The final film, however, was not to the government's liking, describing it as unintelligible to the masses, with Eistenstein taking full advantage of his freedom of artistic expression. The result is a rapid and highly detailed account, full of Eisenstein's trademark fast editing and metaphorical cutaways.
It is useful for the viewer to have at least some prior knowledge of the events that took place and the various figures and parties that were involved, as Eisenstein quickly switches his focus from the lower classes, to the Bolsheviks and Lenin (Vasili Nikandrov), and to the Provisional Party and its leader Aleksandr Kerensky (Nikolay Popov). Even with my, admittedly somewhat limited, prior knowledge, I found the film confusing at times. This, however, is more of a damning indictment of my level of intelligence than a criticism of Eisenstein's abilities as a story teller. I would even go so far as saying that modern film-making was created here, as I have to see a pre-1928 film that is quite so technically innovative as this. It is part reconstructed documentary, part artistic interpretation.
It may not be quite up to the epic scale of Potemkin or his two Ivan the Terrible (1944/1958) films, but October does include a set-piece that eclipses even the Odessa steps sequence in Potemkin. After the government have beaten back a workers demonstration, many lay dead or dying. The bridge that they lie on begins to open from the middle, and we see a woman's corpse lie motionless, her long hair being lifted up by the opposing side of the bridge. And a dead horse, still attached to its cart, hangs limply from the edge, eventually falling into the river. It's a quite brilliant moment from Eisenstein, who, seemingly without effort, allows the audience to make an emotional connection to a historic event without having to establish any characters in and amongst the chaos. Not the Soviet masters finest achievement, but certainly his most visually impressive, and possibly the most exciting.
After the Moslems invade, Flavia falls in love with one of their leaders Ahmed (Anthony Higgins) and the two start a love affair. Returning to her convent, Flavia, with a band of Moslem warriors behind her, wreaks revenge on all those who have wronged her and succumbs to an orgy of sex and violence. It is here, within the last forty minutes where the film certainly ignites the interest. The juxtaposition of sexual violence (which includes male rape and sex with swords) with the violence is quite disturbing in the same way as Pasolini's Salo (1975) was, but came out the year before. Pasolini's controversial movie is by far a better film, but Flavia did surprise me with its world cinema attitude and scenes of almost avant-garde strangeness (a naked woman crawls inside a hanging animal carcass as the violence explodes around her).
