Review #1,188: 'La La Land' (2016)

There was a time I remember, sometime during the mid-to-late '90s, when the idea of watching a musical was laughable. It was a silly trend that was once popular with the movie-going audience back when cinema was relatively primitive, which saw a kitschy revival in the '70s and '80s with the likes of Grease (1978) and Xanadu (1980), but died a death when the rapid evolution of CGI made anything possible on screen. Then came Moulin Rouge! and its use of modernised classic tunes in 2001, and movie-goers have been in love with the genre again ever since. Its popularity shows no sign of stopping either, and writer/director Damien Chazelle, who made a big impression in 2014 with the excellent Whiplash, has sculpted one of the best musicals of recent times with the Oscar-nominated La La Land, a film that manages to feel both traditional and contemporary.

The film combines two elements clearly dear to Chazelle: The lavish musicals of the 1950s (and to a lesser degree the '40s), and pure jazz. The two wandering souls at the story's centre dream of leaving their mark in their respected fields, but both are in love with the past in industries always looking forward. Actress Mia (Emma Stone) spends time between humiliating and soul-crushing auditions serving coffee near a studio lot, where she occasionally crosses paths with a glamorous star as the rest of the room whisper excitedly. Musician Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) cannot resist ignoring the festive playlist at his restaurant haunt in favour of some improvisation on the piano - much to the annoyance of his boss Bill (J.K. Simmons) - while he dreams of opening his own traditional jazz bar. Sebastian is quick-tempered, neurotic, and plain rude, but Mia pursues him anyway. They fall in love, and express their feelings through impromptu song-and-dance routines.

Chazelle knows the genre inside out, and seems to favour the lavish MGM musicals and the glamorous physicality of the era's stars such as Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Opening with a near one-shot song-and-dance routine, beautifully photographed by Linus Sandgren, it goes on to deliver many dazzling and classical numbers, which are often glorious to behold and backed by a soundtrack of memorable tunes that manage to stay in your head for days afterwards. They are performed admirably by the central pair, who have real chemistry. One of the few saving graces of the Amazing Spider-Man films was the chemistry between Stone and Andrew Garfield, and here she sizzles with Gosling. It's the movie's main strength. Rather than merely go through the motions and familiar tropes, you really want them to be together. You can truly feel their happiness every time they see each other.

La La Land stutters when exploring deeper, more complex themes. The second act sees the two achieve some degree of success, with Mia developing a one-woman show and Sebastian joining up with a fellow musician played by John Legend in a band making waves in the world of jazz. Will Mia ultimately degrade herself in order to make it in a brutal industry that may not deserve her, and how can Sebastian, a hardcore old-schooler, be happy in a flashy group looking to move the genre forward? It seems like a poor excuse to simply tear the couple apart to experience their inevitable rough patch, and doesn't really fully explore the characters' emotional quandaries. But this slight lag doesn't last for very long, and the final moments are simply perfect. One of the great things about Whiplash was that final, heart-pounding moment of physical and spiritual triumph, and La La Land wraps up the story with grace and genuine tugs on the heartstrings. proving itself to be much more than a mere homage.


Directed by: Damien Chazelle
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone, John Legend, J.K. Simmons, Rosemarie DeWitt
Country: USA/Hong Kong

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,187: 'The Prowler' (1951)

The infamous Hollywood blacklist, which saw writers, actors and directors alike accused of harbouring Communist sympathies and forced others to name names or else face exile from the business altogether, may have been one of the darkest times the industry has ever faced. Yet, it also inspired great anger in the movies, and writers and directors channelled this frustration into some of the best movies of the era, taking the opportunity to delve into and pick apart the underbelly of the so-called perfect American society. Director Joseph Losey and screenwriter Dalton Trumbo - the latter already on the blacklist and working under a pseudonym - combined to create one of the darkest and most fascinating film noirs ever to come out of Hollywood with the inexplicably obscure The Prowler.

After seeing a strange man lurking in the backyard of her hacienda, Susan Gilvray (Evelyn Keyes), the wife of a radio personality, calls the cops and is greeted by partners Webb Garwood (Van Heflin) and Bud Crocker (John Maxwell). It's a routine visit, but Webb falls for the striking Susan, and is soon back to pay her a follow-up call in the hope of seducing her while her husband is at work. The two start a passionate and dangerous affair, but Webb becomes frustrated as Susan cannot bring herself to leave her husband. Retreating to his squalid, cramped apartment, Webb ignores Susan's calls while hatching a 'perfect crime' - to become a prowler himself and take out the man standing in his way of happiness in the process. But there's no such thing as a perfect crime in the world of noir, and the couple are soon under suspicion and on the run.

One of the key aspects to the film noir genre is the idea of the femme fatale - the beautiful blonde or brunette who, frustrated and bored with their current situation, start to manipulate events with devastating results, and usually duping some poor love-struck sap in the process. The Prowler is in many ways incredibly similar to Billy Wilder's masterwork Double Indemnity, but with the gender roles reversed. Here, it is Van Heflin's Webb Garwood who is the schemer, and he does so with such arrogant relish that I found myself almost willing him on. The cogs start turning the moments he lays eyes on Susan, and they turn ever faster when he takes a peek at her husband's generous will. He is a truly hideous, wretched creation, played with incredible naturalism by Heflin. The devious intentions glisten in his eyes from the moment he turns up at Susan's house for the first time alone.

Trumbo, who produced some of his greatest work while on the blacklist (and winning two Oscars), clearly enjoyed dissecting a trusted American institution and showing its ugly side. It's shocking to see Webb, a police officer often in uniform, act with such malicious intent in a time when America was still promoting the idea of the 'American Dream'. Webb knows what his dream is and goes about taking it with all his might, mirroring the proud capitalist ideals of his country. It's incredibly subversive stuff for the genre, and is even bold enough to let Susan, an adulterer carrying a child conceived out of wedlock, off relatively easy for her sins. It's a miracle it got past the Hays Code, and its somewhat taboo subject matter and the matter-of-fact way in which it goes about its business is probably why it isn't better known. Yet this deserves to find a new audience, as on top of being one of the most intriguing film noirs out there, it's also significant both historically and culturally.


Directed by: Joseph Losey
Starring: Van Heflin, Evelyn Keyes, John Maxwell, Katherine Warren
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,186: 'Pandora's Box' (1929)

The journey taken by Georg Wilhelm Pabst's Pandora's Box to reach its status as a classic of Weimar German cinema is an interesting one. It received mild praise upon its release, but was shrouded in controversy due to its frank depiction of sexuality, even featuring one of cinema's first portrayals of a gay woman. The film was soon forgotten about, until it was re-discovered by a group of socialites and film enthusiasts in the 1950s - some close friends with star Louise Brooks - who heralded the film a masterpiece and set out to spread the word. Soon enough, Pabst's work was undergoing a revival, but this was overshadowed by the attention Brooks received. She was being talked about as an even more striking screen presence than the likes of Garbo and Dietrich, much to her amusement.

The truth is, Pandora's Box would perhaps only be an okay movie without Brooks in the title role. A known party girl, she started as a flapper dancer and bit-part actress before she was signed to Paramount by producer Walter Wanger, catching the eye of Charlie Chaplin in the process. As the film roles came in, she developed a hatred for the Hollywood scene, and fled to Europe after being denied a pay rise. She was unofficially blacklisted in her homeland, but it would be in Germany that she would make the two movies that would cement her as a goddess of the silent era, Pandora's Box and Diary of a Lost Girl, both directed by the Austrian pioneer of the psycho-sexual melodrama, Georg Wilhelm Pabst. Both told a story of a care-free, and careless, woman brought down by a society that had different plans for her, and Brooks was the perfect face to channel such a dangerous force of nature.

Here she plays Lulu, a young dancer and aspiring performer engaging in an affair with the soon-to-be-married newspaper publisher Dr. Ludwig Schon (Fritz Kortner). On the night of her performance as a trapeze artist, Lulu refuses to go on stage while Schon's fiancee is in the crowd, and kicks up such a fuss that he ends up marrying her instead. Events eventually force her to go on the run with Schon's son (Francis Lederer), and she finds herself in the hands of increasingly unscrupulous men as her naivety and promiscuity invite trouble. At over 2 hours, it's too long, but the film always holds your interest because of Brooks. Her performance is incredibly modern and playful, and there's something almost dangerous about her. Like a beautiful woman who is obviously nothing but trouble, you cannot help but be drawn in by Brooks' seduction. Pabst tastefully weaves a story of drama, tragedy and sexuality with an intense eroticism, but it is the star, with her perfectly symmetrical face and iconic bob hairstyle, who leaves the great impression.


Directed by: Georg Wilhelm Pabst
Starring: Louise Brooks, Fritz Kortner, Francis Lederer, Carl Goetz
Country: Germany

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,185: 'Cocaine Cowboys' (2006)

Anyone familiar with the story of Pablo Escobar and the Medellin Cartel will know how the mass manufacturing and distribution of cocaine turned Colombia into a war zone, with top politicians and judges routinely assassinated, and gang wars spilling violence onto the streets on a daily basis. Billy Corben's documentary Cocaine Cowboys focuses on the effect the most fashionable drug of the 80s had on Miami, which was the main entry point for masses of imported cocaine. Soon enough, the city once seen as the holiday spot for retired old folks was turned into the richest place in the world, with luxury car dealerships and expensive jewellery shops popping up all over, and of course, lots and lots of banks. The sudden boom was all down to cocaine consumption, and this came with a heavy price.

Corben tells the story using a variety of interviews, news reports, archive footage and photographs, lending a voice to everyone from smugglers, enforcers, politicians and law enforcement. The most fascinating insight is given by pilots Jon Roberts and Mickey Munday, who decided to get into the drug trade early on, making an unfathomable fortune in the process. They offer entertaining anecdotes about their experiences, and were making so much money that they lived in little fear of getting caught, even buying their own airports to import the goods in complete secrecy. Roberts and Munday were just regular guys who never dreamed that they could ever become so wealthy, and made sure to enjoy the high-life while it lasted. The main threat came from the cartel itself, which was so powerful and far-reaching that one foot out of line and you were dead, often by way of horrific torture.

The film's final third focuses heavily on the 'Cocaine Wars' that became so out-of-hand and brazen that it led to military intervention. This segment is told through the recollections of the deceptively charming inmate Jorge 'Rivi' Ayala, a former hitman for crime family matriarch Griselda Blanco - known as the 'Godmother' - a woman capable of unspeakable cruelty and brutality. If she didn't like your face, you were a goner, and often entire families, including young children, were wiped out in order to leave no witnesses. It's a mind-blowing tale of how one drug can have such a devastating effect on a country, and it's told in a fast-paced, almost coked-up fashion, with the clever use of subtle animation to make stills feel alive, and a wealth of shocking and revealing archive footage to paint a clear picture of a city in crisis. A 'Reloaded' edition was released in 2014, which adds over 30 minutes of footage and provides updates on some of the subjects. I've seen both, and the original, shorter version tells a much tighter story.


Directed by: Billy Corben
Starring: Jon Roberts, Mickey Munday, Jorge Ayala
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,184: 'Patriots Day' (2016)

Teaming up once again with actor Mark Wahlberg to tell a true-life tale of American heroism in the face of disaster and tragedy, director Peter Berg tackles the very recent Boston marathon bombings, which occurred just four years ago in 2013, with Patriots Day. Starting with 2013's Lone Survivor, which followed a close unit as they are surrounded by a hostile Afghan enemy, and continuing with Deepwater Horizon last year, which followed the events that led to the Gulf of Mexico oil spill, Berg has saved the best of his trilogy until last. The second of two films he released in 2016, one would expect Patriots Day to be hastily put together, but is in fact Berg's most accomplished and well-crafted movies to date.

Tommy Saunders (Wahlberg) is a Boston police sergeant facing a slap on the wrist by his superiors for a bust-up with one of his fellow officers. Already carrying a swollen knee, he feels humiliated for having to don the police uniforms and carry out routine police duty at the finishing line of the Boston marathon. The day is all going to plan and the spectators are having fun taking part, until two bombs detonated by terrorists Tamerlan Tsarnaev (Themo Melikidze) and his younger, more Americanised brother Dzhokhar (Alex Wolff), send the city into panic and action. The film follows the events immediately before and after the attack, switching between various characters who will eventually be caught up in the aftermath. There's a young, attractive couple at the starting line as the explosions hit; Chinese student Dun Meng (Jimmy O. Yang) who has his car jacked by the brothers; and a police sergeant of nearby city Watertown, Jeffrey Pugliese (J.K. Simmons).

Although there will be those watching who followed the events closely as they unravelled through the media back in 2013, Berg is meticulous with detail, seemingly following every decision made as the cops and FBI try to figure out who was behind the attacks, and having the actors eerily reenact the surveillance footage that was released to the public during the manhunt. There is a workmanship quality about it, with Berg opting for a matter-of-fact dramatisation of the events rather than sensationalising them. Some of the best scenes have seasoned actors verbally spar with each other, with the FBI initially hesitant to label the bombing an act of terrorism and later to release photographs of the suspects to the media. These moments are brought to life by a slimmed-down John Goodman as Boston Commissioner Ed Davis and Kevin Bacon as Special Agent Richard DesLauriers.

Like the Berg/Wahlberg movies that came before, Patriots Day is clearly well-intended. But while Lone Survivor took place in 2005 and Deepwater Horizon in 2010, the dust has barely settled in Boston. and the attack must still linger in the mind of those who witnessed it. It would be justified to label the film as too soon, but Berg makes a point of highlighting the spirit of Boston as a whole. While this leads to some of the film's cheesiest dialogue, Patriots Day feels like a raised fist of defiance rather than a potentially insensitive cash-in of a very recent tragedy, interviewing some of the characters' real-life counterparts at the very end. It is also incredibly good at building tension, depicting the everyday actions of those who will later cross paths with the fugitives before exploding into an action-packed finale. Berg is more than capable of staging an accomplished set-piece, and he is successful in delivering a realistic and riveting climax, rounding off a solid piece of storytelling that is respectful of all the Bostonians who came together in 2013 for the city they love.


Directed by: Peter Berg
Starring: Mark Wahlberg, Kevin Bacon, John Goodman, J.K. Simmons, Michelle Monaghan
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,183: 'Silence' (2016)

At the age of 74 and with 50-odd years in the business, Martin Scorsese shows no sign of letting up, whether it be in terms of quantity or quality. His movies are still routinely up for all the big awards, and his name alone is enough to sell a picture (although the presence of Leonardo Di Caprio in recent years will surely have had a hand in that). His last feature, The Wolf of Wall Street, saw the director at his most free-spirited, spinning a tale of white-collar crime that was both incredibly funny and outrageously over-the-top. It now feels like Scorsese may have been flushing some pent-up energy out of his system before he finally tackled a passion project 25 years in the making: his long talked-about adaptation of Shusaku Endo's novel Silence.

In 17th-century Japan, Christians are being forced to renounce their beliefs in the face of horrific torture, as a samurai referred to as 'the inquisitor' prowls small villages hoping to snuff out anyone hiding religious idols with the image of Christ or the cross. In Macau, Jesuit priests Sebastiao Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Francisco Garupe (Adam Driver) learn that their former tutor Father Ferreira (Liam Neeson), who had travelled to Japan to spread the word of God, has apostatised and integrated himself into Japanese society. Believing the rumour to be nothing but propaganda, the two priests travel to Japan with the help of drunken sailor Kichijiro (Yosuke Kubozuka), who has witnessed first hand the brutal acts of the inquisitor. Upon arriving in Nagasaki, Rodrugues and Garupe find poor communities going to desperate lengths to worship in secret as eyes and ears lurk everywhere.

Scorsese has spoken often about his Catholicism, and has made it the subject of many of his best works. The most obvious being The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), but you can trace themes of Catholic guilt way back to Mean Streets (1973). A few of the characters in Silence struggle with the absence of God, and Rodrigues in particular struggles to comprehend a God who would sit back as thousands are tortured and murdered because of their faith. Scorsese explores this theme in a slow, considered manner, and it's clear that this may be the most personal film he's ever made. At almost 3 hours, the scope and vision of the story are a perfect fit for Scorsese's eye for classical film-making. There are plenty of beautifully framed shots, capturing both the beauty of the landscape and the brutality dwelling within. With a cast full of Japanese faces unfamiliar to Western audiences and a narrative happy to dwell on contemplative conversations, it's no wonder that this is one of the film-maker's lowest-grossing movies in years, but there is plenty to savour here from a purely cinematic perspective.

When I first heard about the film, I wondered why Scorsese hadn't opted for Driver, who is clearly the stronger screen presence of the two leading actors, in the central role. But, combined with his Oscar-nominated performance in Mel Gibson's Hacksaw Ridge earlier this year, Garfield has cemented himself as a compelling leading man, and has finally rid himself of Sony's Amazing Spider-Man stigma. Driver has surprisingly limited screen-time, but he commands the screen whenever he's on it. The same can be said for Neeson, who leaves an impact in what adds up to only a handful of scenes. The film belongs to Garfield, whose boyish good-looks make his inner turmoil all the more gut-wrenching, as he watches folk put to death by high-tide crucifixion or burned at the stake, after they refuse to take part in a symbolic denouncement of faith by stepping on a slab with the image of Jesus. It received only a solitary Oscar nomination for Best Cinematography, but it seems Scorsese made this for himself, and the most personal visions can speak the loudest of words.


Directed by: Martin Scorsese
Starring: Andrew Garfield, Adam Driver, Liam Neeson, Tadanobu Asano, Issei Ogata, Ciarán Hinds, Yôsuke Kubozuka
Country: USA/Taiwan/Mexico

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,182: 'Hellraiser: Revelations' (2011)

There was once, way back, a little horror movie called Hellraiser. From the mind of English writer Clive Barker, the movie took place within a dark world in which the Lament Configuration existed: a puzzle-box fascinating to anyone with an affection for mind games, and irresistible to those looking to push the boundaries of earthly pleasures. It also opened a gateway to Hell, in which a gang of sadistic demons named the Cenobites roamed in search of thrill-seeking fools to prey upon. It is now an established horror classic, and naturally spawned sequels, each declining in quality as the movies were farted out by a Dimension Films keen to keep hold of the rights to a franchise they could someday reboot. A matter of weeks before the rights expired, Dimension, now owned by the Weinstein Company, rushed production on the ninth entry in the series. The result, dubbed Revelations, was such cinematic cancer that Barker took to Twitter page to distance himself from the tripe.

Steven (Nick Eversman) and Nico (Jay Gillespie) are two young horndogs who escape their middle-class family for the seediness of Mexico, where they hope to guzzle tequila, fuck prostitutes, and generally act like annoying arseholes. A year later, the boys haven't been heard from, and their two families gather for dinner and drinks. Steven's mother Sarah (Devon Sorvari), via a private detective, has obtained her son's video camera, which shows Nico opening the Lament Configuration and being approached by Pinhead (Stephan Smith Collins) and his cronies. We flash back and forth in time between Steven being forced to lure victims for his friend in order to regenerate his body and skin, and the family's utter shock at Steven's sudden re-appearance and increasingly bizarre behaviour.

Series regular and all-round horror icon Doug Bradley turned the movie down. Despite having to straight-face his way through Rick Bota's torturous sequels - which were already taking enough of a dump on Barker's mythology - he took one look at the script and walked away. Newcomer Collins already faced an impossible task of filling such iconic shoes, but with little to do other than rattle a few chains and donning some terrible make-up, he comes across like a chubby kid in cosplay making his own movie at home. The acting is unspeakably bad, with Eversman in particular failing to convince as an actual human person. Director Victor Garcia doesn't seem interested in even half-arsing a set-piece, with the majority of time spent with Steven's cardboard parents fretting over their blood-spattered emo child. There was only one thing in mind when this celluloid sneeze was bungled together: money. A vision that was once so fresh and shocking now represents a studio at its greedy worst, disrespecting the artist who created it all and the fans who love him for it.


Directed by: Victor Garcia
Starring: Steven Brand, Nick Eversman, Tracey Fairaway, Jay Gillespie, Stephan Smith Collins
Country: USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,181: 'Nocturnal Animals' (2016)

Seven year after fashion designer Tom Ford surprised everyone by delivering a tender, stylish romance with A Single Man, the writer/director returns for another tale of romantic exploration tinged with danger and sadness. Adapted from Austin Wright's 1993 novel Tony and Susan and renamed Nocturnal Animals for the screen, Ford expertly weaves three narratives, each with their unique look, tone and mood, into a brooding character study. One of the few criticisms thrown at A Single Man was its tendency to place style above substance, but I disagreed at the time, and offer Nocturnal Animals as proof that Ford is a skilled director who balances aesthetic and narrative seamlessly, and often to devastating effect.

The film opens with shocking images of obese women dancing provocatively, and naked, in front of the camera. It's the opening of artist Susan Morrow's (Amy Adams) latest work, and it's a hit amongst the champagne-guzzlers who occupy the room. Susan seems to have everything: a lavish, modern mansion; a wardrobe full of expensive clothes; and a dashing (and rich) husband in Hutton (Armie Hammer). Everything, that is, other than happiness. At a dinner with her pompous artists friends (including a scene-stealing Michael Sheen), she voices her concerns about her husband's suspected affairs and her struggle to take herself seriously in her line of work. As Hutton jets off on a business trip, Susan is home alone when she receives a package from her ex-husband Tony (Jake Gyllenhaal). It's a draft of his finished novel, called Nocturnal Animals.

There a multiple stories within the film, and we are transported into the novel as Susan reads it. It begins with a family driving down a deserted highway at night when they are suddenly run off the road by a group of rednecks. The father (also Gyllenhaal) attempts to diffuse the situation by offering to pay for the damages, but the hooligans, headed by the psychopathic Ray Marcus (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) wind up kidnapping the wife and daughter. The further this dark, violent tale takes us, the clearer it becomes that it is mirroring Susan's reality, and that there may be a hidden message in there somewhere. Is Tony fucking with his ex-wife for a prior incident, or could it be his bizarre way of trying to win back her affections?  Either way, this fictional narrative clearly holds the key to unravelling the couple's part turmoil, and the mindset of both Tony and Susan after their marriage fell apart.

The performances are impressive throughout. Adams demands your attention whenever she graces the screen, expressing the most powerful of emotions with the subtlest of facial movements. Michael Shannon, who was shockingly the only one of the four leads to receive an Oscar nod, is particularly memorable as a long-past-giving-a-fuck Texan lawman riddled with cancer. Yet it's Ford who emerges as the star, delivering an expertly crafted crime psychodrama that is both a curious study of the grotesque bourgeois and a lean, mean Texas revenge thriller. While it's certainly true that the male characters are much more layered than the females, the film received unfair accusations of misogyny upon its release, which may explain its absence from the major categories during awards season. It's a shame, as Nocturnal Animals deserves some recognition for its intoxicating cocktail of Hitchcockian tension, gritty human drama, and decadent visuals.


Directed by: Tom Ford
Starring: Amy Adams, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michael Shannon, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Isla Fisher, Ellie Bamber, Armie Hammer, Michael Sheen, Andrea Riseborough
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,180: 'The Kid' (1921)

Back in 1921, the idea of a feature-length comedy was practically unheard of, with the general consensus amongst the big studios was that it would be incredibly difficult, if not impossible, for a comedy to hold an audience's interest for a long period of time. English writer, director, star and all-round comic revolutionary Charlie Chaplin had other ideas. After being warned against making a war comedy by First National Pictures, Chaplin's Shoulder Arms (1918) was a huge success, and the former vaudeville performer requested more money for his next picture. They refused, and frustrated at the studio's preference for quantity over quality, Chaplin left to form United Artists with Mary Pickford, D.W. Griffith and Douglas Fairbanks, putting the artists in control in what was a game-changing move for the industry.

With free reign to develop his craft in his own time and without the pressures of studio heads looking over his shoulder, Chaplin created his most personal work to date, and one of the finest silent movies ever made. Masterfully combining social observation, slapstick comedy and gut-wrenching drama, The Kid opens with a single mother (Chaplin regular Edna Purviance), whose "only sin is motherhood," leaving hospital with a newborn baby in her arms. Fearing societal attitudes towards being a single parent, she leaves her baby in an expensive car, hoping that the rich owners can offer the child a better life. However, the car is stolen by a couple of mobsters, who dump the babe in an alley to be discovered by the Tramp (Chaplin). The lovable scamp tries to give the newborn away at first, before deciding to raise him on his own. Naming him John, the kid grows up to become the Tramp's partner-in-crime, as his mother, now a famous movie star, fills the void in her life by giving away charity to orphans in need.

It's obvious that Chaplin knew he was onto a winner with The Kid. The preface labels it as "a picture with a smile -- and perhaps, a tear," and audiences have been laughing and crying with it ever since. The early scenes depicting the Tramp and the Kid partnering up to fuel their window-fitting business (the youngster smashes the windows while his adopted father just happens to be walking past with a backpack full of glass panels) cements their unique bond. This builds to the movie's most celebrated moment, in which Chaplin runs across rooftops to search for the child taken away from him by child services. The image of Jackie Coogan, Hollywood's first child star, screaming for his father is now one of the most iconic moments in cinema history, and if it doesn't bring a lump to your throat, you may wish to check yourself for a pulse. While it does go slightly overboard with the sentiment, it only goes to show that Chaplin knew exactly how to pull a reaction out of his audience. The Kid was recently entered into the National Film Registry, and deservedly so. At only 50 minutes, it managed to change the face of cinema forever.


Directed by: Charles Chaplin
Starring: Charles Chaplin, Jackie Coogan, Edna Purviance, Carl Miller
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,179: 'Rita, Sue and Bob Too' (1987)

British playwright Andrea Dunbar combined two of her stage plays to create the movie script for Rita, Sue and Bob Too, a movie which, in my family at least, is somewhat fondly remembered as a naughty and gleefully foul-mouthed comedy about an older, married man who starts a sexually-charged relationship with two schoolgirls who babysit his children. 30 years on, the subject matter could be slightly troubling, and it just may be exactly that for some people seeing it for the first time. Yet with the tagline "Thatcher's Britain with her knickers down!" and the socially aware Alan Clarke at the helm, it's clear that the film is much more than a titillating throwback to the Carry On days, and paints an incredibly grim picture of working-class life in Bradford, and of Britain as a whole.

Rita (Downton Abbey's Siobhan Finneran) and Sue (Michelle Holmes) are two bubbly and outgoing girls making some extra cash on the side by babysitting for middle-class couple Bob (George Cositgan) and Michelle (Lesley Sharp). While driving the girls home one night, Bob takes a detour to the moors where he proceeds to have sex with both of them, one after the other. The threesome start a potentially damaging relationship, with the girls having to deal with a troubled home-life and the pressures of school gossip, and Bob coming under scrutiny from his wife, who he has cheated on many times before. As Bob and Rita grow closer and Sue finds herself in an abusive relationship with young Pakistani Aslam (Kulvinder Ghir), close bonds are broken and lives are ruined, when all Bob really wants is to get his rocks off.

It is a film that would never get made nowadays, but Clarke's film never attempts to make any stance on the morality of the characters' actions. For a guy who sounds like a complete scumbag on paper, Bob is a surprisingly likeable, if obviously flawed, chap. Rita and Sue are so loud, abrasive and willing to participate in the bizarre three-way that they it's impossible to view them as victims. The picture painted by Dunbar and Clarke of a crumbling Britain in the grip of austerity suggests that the central characters are acting out of boredom and to escape the banality of their suffocating environment. It is a socioeconomic drama cleverly disguised as an old-fashioned sex farce, and succeeds in being socially observant and laugh-out-loud funny. The introduction to Sue's frenetic home-life is a mixture of amusing one-liners and kitchen-sink angst, and this lopsided tone is consistent throughout the rest of the film. With its lack of ethical judgement amidst such a potentially creepy subject matter, Rita, Sue and Bob Too with unsettle some but delight others.


Directed by: Alan Clarke
Starring: Michelle Holmes, Siobhan Finneran, George Costigan, Lesley Sharp
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,178: 'Switchblade Romance' (2003)

Following a successful run at the Toronto Film Festival, Alexandre Aja's Haute Tension - released as High Tension in most countries apart from the UK, where it was given the title of Switchblade Romance - was picked up for a wide release in the US and had to be heavily edited to achieve its desired R rating. Snipped of a few gore-soaked scenes and, in a desperate attempt to attract more English-speaking punters, was dubbed, a device which only seems acceptable in 1970s kung-fu flicks. Fans were understandably pissed off, especially die-hards of the genre, until the 'Unrated Cut' was inevitably released. Even with the director's original 'vision' restored, Switchblade Romance is still a trashy horror disguised as quasi-art-house, and one that relies on a tacked-on 'twist' ending that becomes more and more questionable after the credits have rolled.

Two young women, Marie (Cecile De France) and Alexia (Maiwenn), arrive at the latter's parents house in the French countryside for some time away from the city to work and study. After a tour of the place and dinner, Marie settles down for the night by masturbating. Her fun is interrupted by the arrival of a huge man dressed in overalls (Philippe Nahon), who proceeds to systematically butcher the entire family, including a young boy who is thankfully killed off-screen. Alexia is spared, but is bound, gagged and thrown into the back of a van, but not before Marie can join her without the killer being aware of her presence. And so begins a road trip across country, with Marie and the killer playing a deadly game of cat-and-mouse, as it appears that the psychopath has finally met his match.

Ignoring the obvious plagiarism of Dean Koontz's novel Intensity (even down the title!), Aja's movie follows the slasher tropes to a T, attempting to pass itself off a something more than a mere Texas Chain Saw wannabe by filming the action with a blood-sticky sheen. But make no mistake, this is far more interested in riffing on far better movies such as Tobe Hooper's aforementioned classic, as well as Psycho, The Hitcher, Maniac and the film Aja would remake in 2006, The Hills Have Eyes. While the special effects are skillfully done and the movie is anchored by a strong performance by De France, there's little in the way of originality here, further evidenced by Aja's subsequent remake-laden career in Hollywood. For the most part, this is nasty, unpleasant stuff, and one that will undoubtedly satisfy gore-hounds. For those of us who expect more from horror than a few murder scenes strung together by the slimmest of plots, it will leave a bad taste in the mouth.


Directed by: Alexandre Aja
Starring: Cécile De France, Maïwenn, Philippe Nahon, Franck Khalfoun
Country: France/Italy/Romania

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,177: 'Force Majeure' (2014)

Wounded machismo and domestic disintegration are the order of the day in Swedish director Ruben Ostlund's comedy drama Force Majeure. Holidaying together at a fancy ski resort in the French Alps, the family at the centre of the story are presented as the pinnacle of bliss and success. Mum Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli) and Dad Tomas (Johannes Kuhnke) and both good-looking and financially comfortable, and along with their children Vera (Clara Wettergren) and Harry (Vincent Wettergren), make for a Kodak-cute unit, highlighted in the opening scene where they are badgered into posing for a few snaps by a tourist photographer. Tomas is taking a break from his busy work-life, and Ebba is happy to have her husband by her side for a week. As they ski, nap and dine together, frequent explosions - creating 'controlled avalanches' - boom in the distance, suggesting that something troubling is looming.

On their second day. the family relax in a cafe when an avalanche starts to rush in the distance. What begins as curiosity and excitement soon turns to terror as it appears that the giant wall of snow is heading straight for them. They are engulfed in mist, but are relieved to discover that the avalanche came to a halt some way off. As the fog clears, Ebba still embraces her children, while Tomas is nowhere to be seen, although he has remembered to save his iPhone. It would seem that the husband and father isn't quite the man they thought he was, and this sets off an incredibly uncomfortable yet shrewdly funny breakdown of the photogenic unit over an increasingly long week away. At first, Tomas refuses to admit any wrongdoing, but is pecked away at by his wife and eventually confronted in two particularly uncomfortable scenes over dinner and drinks. Even his buddy Mats (Game of Thrones' Kristofer Hivju) struggles to defend his cowardly actions.

Shot with a Michael Haneke-esque eye for emotional violence and domestic unravelling, Force Majeure is often far more awkward than the work of Ricky Gervais, thanks to Ostlund's ear for witty, realistic dialogue and some committed performances from the leads. Tomas' fall from hard-working patriarch to emasculated cry-baby is both brutal and utterly hilarious. Ostlund clearly doesn't like the privileged bourgeois, and has fun picking them apart. The most wince-inducing scenes are somewhat relieved by the comedic timing of Hivju, who inspires humour by merely reacting to the horror playing out in front of him, siding with his friend as his much-younger girlfriend Fanni (Fanni Metelius) comforts Ebba. The gender divide is drawn in the snow, and thanks for a conversation between Mats and Fanni where the latter throws hypotheticals at her recently-divorced fella, this is perhaps the worst film in the history of film to watch with your partner. While it could have benefited from a running-time trim, Force Majeure leaves you with the disturbing idea that you may never truly know the people closest to you.


Directed by: Ruben Östlund
Starring: Johannes Kuhnke, Lisa Loven Kongsli, Kristofer Hivju, Fanni Metelius
Country: Sweden/France/Norway/Denmark

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie