Review #1,265: 'Ghost in the Shell' (2017)

Hollywood remakes of beloved foreign-language movies are rarely a welcome idea, but Ghost in the Shell seemed particularly doomed from the get-go. Alongside the cries from fans claiming the industry has officially run out of ideas, and from those who hold the original close to their heart and fail to see any other purpose in a remake other than to allow the fat cats to count the green, the announcement of Caucasian Scarlett Johnansson's casting in a role originally voiced by an Asian actor generated all-too familiar claims of 'whitewashing'. Tempers were only inflamed when it was rumoured that Johnasson's appearance was to be digitally-tweaked to make her appear more Eastern-looking, an idea that was quickly abandoned. Predictably, Ghost in the Shell arrived in cinemas back in March to underwhelming box-office.

As a result, I approached Rupert Sanders' 2017 re-do with a sense of trepidation and caution, knowing full well that it would lack the philosophical musings of the Masaume Shirow manga the story originated from, and the big questions raised by Mamoru Oshii's landmark anime adaptation. After all, this is a blockbuster wannabe starring one of the most in-demand actresses around, so of course the makers will feel the need to dumb everything down to suit a mainstream audience (even though Christopher Nolan has proven more than once that a film can be complex and intelligent and still rake in the cash). It is perhaps thanks to my low expectations that I found much to enjoy with Ghost in the Shell. Like the 'shells' depicted in the film, it's certainly hollow and jittery, but as a piece of entertainment, I was never bored, and the visuals offer plenty of colour and detail to distract from the straightforward plot.

Taking inspiration from everything from Shirow's manga, Oshii's 1995 movie and its 2004 sequel, and the hugely popular spin-off series, certain scenes will certainly feel familiar while the story of a shady corporation turning human beings into weapons against their will feels like it could be lifted from most Blade Runner-inspired science-fiction movies of the past couple of decades. Major (Johansson) is the first cyborg to employ a fully mechanised body with the mind, or 'ghost', of a human. Her employer, Hanka CEO Cutter (Peter Ferdinando), decides to use her in the fight against cyber-terrorism, which has become a real problem since the majority of the population have now been cybernetically enhanced. She works at Section 9 with her gruff partner Batou (a bleach-blonde Pilou Asbaek) and boss Aramaki ('Beat' Takeshi Kitano), and they are forced into action when Hanka finds itself under attack from a mysterious hacker named Kuze (Michael Pitt).

Oshii's 1995 incarnation tackled big themes such as humanity and identity, offering explosive moments of action to allow some relief from the head-scratching central plot. The result was one of the best animes of all time. Sanders' Ghost in the Shell has much smaller ambitions, and feels very much like a product of the post-Matrix world we now live in, even though the Wachowskis were mainly inspired by Oshii's film. It works only as spectacle, and this world of spider-legged geisha robots and giant animated advertisements really does catch the eye. The action, while hardly breaking down barriers, has a physicality behind it, and the punches and bullets land with a force that really pushes its 12A certificate to the very limits. As the lead, Johansson has proved time and time again that she is accomplished with the physical demands of such a role, and she gives Major a hunched, stompy awkwardness, despite the blandness of the character. It will never justify its existence to the die-hard fans of the original, but Ghost in the Shell 2017 offers enough visual panache and energy to engage those curious enough to check it out.


Directed by: Rupert Sanders
Starring: Scarlett Johansson, Pilou Asbæk, Takeshi Kitano, Juliette Binoche, Michael Pitt
Country: UK/China/India/Hong Kong/USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,264: 'The Beguiled' (1971)

As the opening titles of The Beguiled flicker by with a collection of grainy photographs from the brutal American Civil War, it would seem we're in familiar tough, manly action territory, especially when the names of Don Siegel and Clint Eastwood flash on screen. These feelings appear to be confirmed as Eastwood grizzled Union officer John McBurney comes into shot, clearly wounded and hanging on for dear life following a bloody battle with Confederate soldiers. He is discovered by Amy (Pamelyn Ferdin), a 12 year old student at the nearby Seminary for Young Ladies, who quickly takes a keen interest in the handsome but battered young man. As some bloodthirsty Confederate soldiers trot by and they are forced to hide, John plants a lingering kiss on the child's mouth, which immediately cause feelings of discomfort for the viewer. No, The Beguiled is not your typical Siegel tough-guy actioner, but something all the more fascinating and complex.

John is eventually smuggled back into the school run by Miss Martha Farnsworth (Geraldine Page), a woman with a secretive past of her own. She wants the Union soldier gone immediately, but the soldier is charming and badly wounded, so she and the fellow ladies of the school tend to his injured leg and give him a bed. He is kept under lock and key, but he is often visited by the curious ladies, including virginal teacher Edwina (Elizabeth Hartman) and precocious 17 year old student Carol (Jo Ann Harris). With Martha still insistent on turning him over to Confederate troops once he has regained his strength, John seizes the chance to seduce as many of them as he can, taking full advantage of their time away from men and natural curiosity towards the opposite sex. He becomes unnervingly comfortable with his methods of manipulation, and is soon playing the women off one another. But these ladies have seen it all before, whether it be a father, a sibling or a drunken soldier stumbling onto the school grounds with cruel intentions.

The Beguiled is a film about jealousy, sexuality and bitterness, so it's no surprise that it flopped and didn't go down well with fans of Siegel's tougher, more straight-laced output. The film also threatens to venture into horror territory, as emotions begin to spill over and John's scheming becomes apparent. There were cries of misogyny upon the film's release, but although the claim is certainly open for debate, this is not a film by a director who hates women. To label the film misogynist would be to cruelly over-simplify it, as the likes of Martha and Edwina aren't just coy women to be easily taken advantage of, but incredibly complex characters both scarred and enlightened by past experiences with men. John is clearly the most loathsome character, an evil man who uses his physicality and charm to worm his way into their lives and gain their trust, and Siegel makes little attempt to make him sympathetic. It's an incredibly claustrophobic and intense experience, with career-best performances from Page and Hartman. It is Siegel's favourite of his extensive filmography, and it isn't difficult to see why.


Directed by: Don Siegel
Starring: Clint Eastwood, Geraldine Page, Elizabeth Hartman, Jo Ann Harris, Pamelyn Ferdin
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,263: 'Tower of London' (1962)

Tower of London represented the first time Roger Corman and star Vincent Price had worked outside of the American International Pictures studio, and likely soon regretted the decision shortly into the shooting process. Producer Edward Small had approached Corman with the idea of making a film based on Richard III, and the thought of tackling Shakespeare clearly appealed to the B-movie auteur. Knowing that audiences were tiring of his still-popular Edgar Allen Poe cycle, Corman could stick to his gothic, cobweb-laden style, only this time under the guise of the Bard. Tensions began to simmer almost straight away, as Small only informed Corman that the film would be shot in black-and-white days before filming was to commence. Price had a legion of fans anyway, but the box-office receipts quickly started to dwindle as word-of-mouth got around that the film was not in colour.

The result is a mixed bag. Part a loose adaptation of Shakespeare's Richard III and part remake of Rowland V. Lee's superior 1939 effort of the same name, Tower of London still has plenty to offer to fans of these low-budget spook stories, and Price has so much fun that his performance would be more digestible if served with mayonnaise and bread. He plays the sneering, hunchbacked eldest brother of the dying King Edward IV (Justice Watson), and is shocked and angered when his younger brother George, the Duke of Clarence (Charles Macaulay), is named Protector of the Realm instead of him. It isn't long before George finds himself in a vat of wine with a knife in his back, and Richard sets about turning family against family in his bloodthirsty quest for the throne. Price actually played the Duke of Clarence in Lee's previous film, and it almost feels like Price takes great pleasure in stealing the lead role and disposing of his replacement.

Although Corman was working away from home, the aesthetic is certainly recognisable. The sets are small but detailed, but there aren't many of them. Price schemes and snarls in only a handful of locations, but Corman counteracts this by focusing more on the supernatural elements. The ghosts of those Richard kills frequently haunt him, driving him to a paranoid madness that results in the death of his beloved wife. Price goes way over-the-top in these moments, even for an actor who was well-known for delighting in ham, but watching him engulf the screen never gets old. The budget restrictions set in place by Small were even too much for Corman, and he insisted their three-picture contract be torn up after the film was released. The result is a laughable climax that has ended before you even realise it has begun, and the great Battle of Bosworth Field is reduced to a few silly close-ups and re-used stock footage from the 1939 version. It doesn't demand much at 79 minutes, but Tower of London feels limp and hurried when compared to the lushness of Corman and Price's Poe adaptations.


Directed by: Roger Corman
Starring: Vincent Price, Michael Pate, Joan Freeman, Richard Hale, Sandra Knight, Justice Watson
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,262: 'Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi' (1983)

As a child, I owned all of the original Star Wars trilogy on VHS, purchased when 'remastering' was all the rage and the iconic sci-fi saga found itself on the receiving end of a much-needed cleaning-up. This was, however, before George Lucas tampered with his already-near-perfect legacy, adding unneeded special effects and elongating certain scenes for seemingly no other reason to show how far CGI had come (although it now looks incredibly dated). Despite the perfection of episodes four and five, my go-to Star Wars movie on a boring Sunday afternoon was always Return of the Jedi, the third instalment now widely remembered as the poorest of the bunch. I don't quite know what it was about Jedi that always caused me to reach for it. It certainly wasn't the Ewoks, those cuddly fur-balls shoe-horned in to sell more merchandise, although they aren't as annoying or distracting as I remembered.

Jedi is most certainly the least effective of Lucas' creation, but there's still plenty of charm and excitement to solidify the entry as, at the very least, a satisfying closure to the saga, despite Disney's welcome efforts to further explore the Star Wars universe. The Empire Strikes Back broke up its characters but managed to keep a firm grasp on the various story-threads. Jedi does the same again, but is less successful at holding all the action together. Nevertheless, the characters get to enjoy an early reunion at Jabba the Hutt's palace on Tatooine, where the slug-like abomination hangs Han Solo (Harrison Ford), still frozen in his carbonite prison from the last movie. C-3PO (Anthony Daniels), R2-D2 (Kenny Baker), Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew) and Lando Calrissian (Billy Dee Williams) all arrive at various intervals as part of a rescue operation, as does Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher) and Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill), the latter having completed his Jedi training and going about his business with a brooding confidence.

A horrific car crash may have robbed Hamill of some of his boyish good-looks, but it did nothing to dampen his skills as an actor. Skywalker's newly-found intensity, which no doubt stems from his flourishing grasp on the Force and skill with a lightsaber, is matched by Hamill's execution. He stops by to see Yoda (Frank Oz), who confirms that Darth Vader is indeed his father and a fallen Jedi, and has a brief chat with the spirit of his mentor Obi-Wan Kenobi (Alec Guinness). Skywalker's thread is by far the most interesting, inevitably heading towards a showdown with his father and the puppet-master behind the Empire, the rasping Emperor (Ian McDiarmid). Although Vader's brutality has been turned down as he plays lap-dog to his boss, audiences back in 1983 must have been holding their breath as the Emperor tortures Luke in an attempt to turn him to the Dark Side, and Vader is clearly shown to be wrestling with his allegiance.

The rest of the action fares less well, as Han Solo and Leia find themselves captured by the community of Ewoks who seem to want to eat them, while C-3PO bares a close resemblance to the God the little critters worship. Their aim is to take down a generator controlling the energy shield of a brand new Death Star - yes, they have somehow managed to nearly complete a bigger, meaner planet-killer in a remarkably short space of time. Lando and the remaining Rebel Alliance are forced to repeat the climax of A New Hope, and while it's certainly a spectacular battle, it can't help but feel like more of the same. Jedi is best remembered as a series of memorable moments than a truly great film. It's easy to forget the film's messy narrative and cynical desire to boost merchandise sales, especially as a child, but it's hard to forget Leia in a gold bikini, Jabba's grotesque rat-like pet, the high-speed chase through the forests of Endor, or the shockingly crap death of fan-favourite Boba Fett. Nowhere near the annoying child-pandering misfire some believe it to be, but also some way off the magnificence of its predecessors.


Directed by: Richard Marquand
Starring: Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, Billy Dee Williams, Anthony Daniels, Peter Mayhew, Kenny Baker, Ian McDiarmid
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,261: 'Brokeback Mountain' (2005)

It may now be 12 years old, but Ang Lee's Brokeback Mountain, based on the short story by Annie Proulx, is still more relevant than ever. At the time of its release, the debate around gay marriage was raging, and continued to do so in the subsequent years. Thankfully, same-sex marriage is now practised in many countries across the world, although it would still be deemed a crime and a sin elsewhere. But anyone who thinks that the themes explored in the film only relate to a relationship between two gay men or women have profoundly missed the point. The story applies to the love between any two people which may be considered taboo, or just plain wrong in society's eyes, whether this be for religious, political or sexual reasons, and this is something that will continue to be a talking point for many years to come.

Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) are two down-on-their-luck young cowboys in 1963 Wyoming. They arrive at Brokeback Mountain looking for work, and are hired by the bigoted Joe Aguirre (Randy Quaid) to herd sheep over the summer months. The work is hard and dangerous, and the pair spend most nights winding down passing a bottle of whiskey. After one particularly heavy night of drinking, Jack makes a move on Ennis and the two make passionate, almost violent love. Aware of society's attitudes towards gay men, the two agree that their relationship must be kept secret and their feelings locked away, and they part ways determined to forget the experience. They both marry (their wives are played by Michelle Williams and Anne Hathaway) and have children in the following years, but neither can forget the time spend together on the mountain.

Ang Lee's primary focus has always been on character. Even his worst film, the superhero misfire Hulk, spent far more (most would say too much) time concentrating on the human side of its lead instead his angry, green alter-ego. Following Ennis and Jack over the course of a couple of decades, we experience Ennis' inner turmoil and Jack's complete frustration, with the latter's anger stemming from both society's refusal to let them be who they want to be, and Ennis' dismissing of Jack's idea to buy a ranch with him so they can live out their days together. Jack is more accepting of his own sexuality, occasionally attempting pick-ups in bars and often forced to pay prostitutes in dingy alleys. Haunted by an experience with his father as a child, Ennis is in a constant battle with himself. Angry at the discrimination he would face were he display his true emotions in public, and possibly disgusted at himself for possessing such feelings, he stoically drinks and smokes his nights away after his marriage falls apart.

The script, by Larry McMurty and Diana Ossana, refuses to over-simplify the characters and force labels on them. It isn't entirely clearly whether the two men are homosexual, bisexual or even heterosexual, as their relationship is built on something far more transcendent. It's one of the many reasons why the film shouldn't be remembered as that 'gay cowboy movie'. Ledger and Gyllenhaal are both terrific, and received Academy Award nominations for their efforts. Ledger is undoubtedly the standout as the buttoned-up, tight-lipped tough guy repressing a range of emotions he doesn't full understand behind his incredibly sad eyes. Tragically, he wouldn't completely shake off his pretty boy image until three years later - the year of his death - after The Dark Knight. It is a film that will no doubt resonate with most people whose feelings fall outside of what society considers the 'norm', and will continue to do so for many years to come. On top of that, Brokeback Mountain is simply a beautiful piece of cinema, with one of the most heart-breaking final scenes ever filmed.


Directed by: Ang Lee
Starring: Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Williams, Anne Hathaway, Randy Quaid
Country: USA/Canada

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,260: 'Dog Eat Dog' (2016)

Despite his recent track record, Paul Schrader's overall contribution to cinema should not be scoffed at. He was, after all, responsible for penning three great Martin Scorsese movies (Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and The Last Temptation of Christ) and one okay one (Bringing Out the Dead), as well as directing the likes of Blue Collar, American Gigolo and Light Sleeper, all interesting movies in their own right. Of recent years, he's been stuck in the straight-to-DVD game, churning out schlock to help raise funds for his own underwhelming personal projects. Teaming up with cinema-dodging king Nicolas Cage for the second time (after 2014's Dying of the Light), Schrader's latest - an incredibly violent and misanthropic crime thriller called Dog Eat Dog - may just be worst thing the once-respectable writer-director has ever put out.

Back in 1976, Schrader's script for Taxi Driver immersed us in the seedy and scum-laden underbelly of New York, a part of the world unseen by the majority of us, and demanded that we contemplate this world of our making. With Dog Eat Dog, Schrader seems happy to relax into a cliche-ridden world of motor-mouthed ex-cons, prostitutes in hotel rooms, and the "one last job" that will allow these anti-heroes to escape their life of crime. Cage plays Troy, the brains of the gang fresh out of prison. His friend Mad Dog (Willem Dafoe), has recently committed a double murder and certainly lives up to his nickname. Diesel (Christopher Matthew Cook) is the muscle of the group who, we are told, possesses great intelligence despite his ogreish appearance. They are rounded up by crime boss 'The Greek' (Schrader himself) to pull off a baby kidnapping, a job that could land them a handsome payday.

Based on the novel by Eddie Bunker, which I haven't read, Dog Eat Dog feels like it has been thawed out from the 1990s, back when Quentin Tarantino's output was still influencing every low-budget, independent feature. With Cage and Dafoe turning their bonkers shtick up to eleven, it's clear that Schrader intended for this to be a comedy. Are we meant to laugh at a knife murder because the woman is overweight, or at Troy as he threatens to blow a woman's backbone through her belly? Apparently we are, although I can't imagine anybody actually raising a chuckle. Dog Eat Dog is an unpleasant and utterly aimless piece of trash, with scenes connected by a plot so thin that it feels like Schrader's finger is on the random button. There's a brief moment of tension when the gang find themselves in an increasingly hostile neighbourhood, but True Detective already did it with more pizzazz 3 years ago. Above all, Dog Eat Dog is painfully boring, and even at just 90 minutes, I found my eyes constantly checking the running time.


Directed by: Paul Schrader
Starring: Nicolas Cage, Willem Dafoe, Christopher Matthew Cook, Paul Schrader
Country: USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,259: 'Maniac Cop 3: Badge of Silence' (1993)

With Maniac Cop 2, director William Lustig and screenwriter Larry Cohen imagined a mixture of bloody slasher and crime thriller The French Connection, and delivered just about the most satisfying sequel imaginable to an original that was hardly great. It delivered on car chases, action set-pieces and slasher mayhem, backed with a witty, sharp script and an impressive cast. It also delivered a full-body-burn climax that was as exciting as it was technically impressive. While part two looked at William Friedkin's classic thriller for inspiration, just where Maniac Cop 3: Badge of Silence found inspiration is anyone's guess, other than perhaps the sort of drivel you used to find buried on the bottom shelf of the video store. Lustig and Cohen have both disowned the movie since its release, and it isn't difficult to see why.

Citing studio interference, Lustig walked from the set half-way through filming for the movie to be picked up by inexperienced producer Joel Soisson, who is uncredited. The resulting film is less than a half-baked idea: a lumbering mess of a film, primarily made up of filler that is, at times, downright unwatchable. Having clear Matt Cordell's name and buried him with honours in tact, Detective Sean McKinney (Robert Davi) had hoped to have seen the last of the 'Maniac Cop'. His close father-daughter-like relationship with young police officer Katie Sullivan (Gretchen Becker) is ground to a halt when she is gunned down and placed into a coma by junkie Frank (Jackie Earle Haley), only for two 'nightcrawler' cameramen to smear her name with some edited footage. After being resurrected by a Voodoo priest, Cordell sees Sullivan as an equally tortured and unfairly disgraced soul, and sets about claiming her for his own.

It's hard to know where to start with Maniac Cop 3, as the film is so lacking in ideas and structure that it barely has a beginning, middle and end. When it hits a wall, it looks to its predecessor for ideas. So we are treated to another convenience store shootout, another high speed chase, and another finale involving a full body burn. In its defence, the climax mixes both a high speed chase and a full body burn, and while it goes on for a little too long, you have to appreciate the complexity of such an intricate set-piece. Cordell, again played by Robert Z'Dar, is relegated to little more than a glorified cameo in his own movie, appearing ever now and then to carry out a bloody deed seemingly for Voodoo priest Houngan (Julius Harris), whose motives are still unclear when the credits roll. As a fan of the first two Maniac Cop movies, it's easy to feel as cheated as Lustig did as he stormed off set.


Directed by: William Lustig
Starring: Robert Davi, Robert Z'Dar, Caitlin Dulany, Gretchen Becker, Jackie Earle Haley
Country: USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,258: 'Disturbia' (2007)

Back in 2007, Steven Spielberg pushed for Disturbia to be a vehicle for up-and-comer Shia LaBeouf, the kid he was so impressed with in Holes. He would also later cast the young star in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and no doubt played a part in hiring LaBeouf for the lead in Michael Bay's Transformers franchise. It hasn't quite gone to plan for the once cherub-faced and effortlessly charming actor, but his off-camera antics are perhaps more to blame than his film choices, as well as his frequently bizarre artistic endeavours. Anyway, LaBeouf is the best thing about Disturbia, demonstrating the sort of motor-mouthed confidence and assured screen presence Spielberg no doubt saw in him when he was still a child actor. Still, he cannot save Disturbia from turning into a conveyor belt of cliches and slasher tropes.

Traumatised by his father's death a year earlier, teenager Kale Brecht (LaBeouf) struggles to focus in school. When a classroom incident leaves his Spanish teacher with a swollen face, Kale is sentenced to three months house arrest wearing an ankle monitor that bleeps when he ventures further than 100 yards from his house. After a montage of video games, junk food and Red Bull, Kale's mother Julie (Carrie-Anne Moss) takes away all his television and music privileges. Boredom soon sets in, until he spots his beautiful new neighbour Ashley (Sarah Roemer) taking a dip in the pool. Using his binoculars, he starts to watch his neighbours intently, buoyed on by his comic-relief best friend Ronnie (Aaron Yoo). Ashley soon joins in on their games, as their attention is turned to creepy neighbour Mr. Turner (David Morse), whose car and general behaviour matches that of a serial killer being reported in the local news.

Clearly aiming for Rear Window for the teenage crowd, Disturbia forgets to add that one key Hitchcockian ingredient: suspense. If you have seen the trailer for D.J. Caruso's film, then there's really no need to see the whole thing. A fast-paced beginning that introduces the three perfectly likeable teens zips by smoothly, and offers the odd genuine laugh. When the central serial killer story kicks into gear, the action descends into a series of loud bangs and quick edits, so all hope for anything resembling tension quickly flies out of the window. Almost as if film is afraid of offending its young target audience, the moments of 'horror' are frustratingly soft, and it fails to convince that any of its attractive young cast are ever in any real peril. I was left waiting for a twist, or even a moderate surprise, that never came, so I was forced to sit through a plot I had worked out within the first twenty minutes. If this is what passes for suspense nowadays, Hitchcock would turn in his massive grave.


Directed by: D.J. Caruso
Starring: Shia LaBeouf, Sarah Roemer, Carrie-Anne Moss, David Morse, Aaron Yoo
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,257: 'After Death' (1915)

Many of cinema's earliest innovations tend to be rewarded to D.W. Griffith, the controversial director who, despite his obvious talents behind the camera, did himself no favours by releasing the incredibly ambitious but undeniably racist The Birth of a Nation. The annals of film history seem to have forgotten the Russian filmmaker Yevgani Bauer, who made around 70 films during the silent era, many of which are now lost. He was experimenting with cinematic techniques such as tracking shots, silhouettes and close-ups long before they became common practice in the industry, and was incredibly gifted at blurring the lines between reality, fantasy and dream. After Death, a spooky melodrama about the dead's grasp on the living, is a solid place to start for anyone seeking out his work.

Based on a short story by Russian playwright Ivan Turgenev, After Death tells the story of Andrei (Vitold Polonsky), a scholar living a reclusive lifestyle following the death of his mother. He spends his days in his study pouring over a portrait of the deceased, while his aunt (Olga Rakhmanova) tends to his needs. A friend comes to visit Andrei and begs him to break his cycle of sorrow. inviting him to an upper class social gathering. After much persuasion, Andrei eventually agrees. At the party, Bauer cleverly captures the atmosphere with a three-minute tracking shot, as all the party girls gossip behind fans at the sight of the recluse and the men chuckle as he walks by. It's a claustrophobic surrounding and Andrei is visibly uncomfortable, until he catches the eye of Zoya (Vera Karalli), a beautiful and fashionable actress who seems to develop an instant attraction to the awkward young man.

Zoya writes him a very forward letter declaring her love and arranging a meeting. Again, Andrei reluctantly agrees, but Zoya flees after disliking his stuttering reaction. Three months later, and Zoya has killed herself by taking poison before a big show, and Andrei's obsession with the dead reemerges. Bauer captures Andrei's descent into depression and despair with a collection of haunting, blue-tinted dream sequences, often switching back into reality in the same scene through clever use of editing. Andrei cannot be with his lost love in the real world world, so he spends his time in the world of the dead, laying with the soul he can only visit through pictures and memories in reality. It's incredibly sad, as most Russian silents are, but After Death is also incredibly poignant, succeeding in exploring how death plays such an important factor in many of our lives, and doing so within a 45 minute running-time.


Directed by: Yevgeni Bauer
Starring: Vitold Polonsky, Olga Rakhmanova, Vera Karalli, Mariya Khalatova
Country: Russia

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,256: '9 Songs' (2004)

Michael Winterbottom is one of the most important and challenging filmmakers around. Over the past couple of decades, he has directed a prolific stream of interesting features across a variety of genres, refusing to settle on a particular style and seemingly always working on a minuscule budget. But no filmmaker is immune to producing a stinker, and after a successful 2002 which saw the release of the excellent double-header of 24 Hour Party People and In This World, Winterbottom hit a grey patch with Code 46 and 9 Songs. He would push the boundaries of what could be tolerated in terms of cinematic violence in 2010 with the divisive The Killer Inside Me, but 6 years earlier he would test the BBFC's waters with 9 Songs, a film that may still be the most sexually explicit film ever to be released in British theatres.

It tells the story of two lovers: Matt (Kieran O'Brien), a British scientist, and Lisa (Margo Stilley), an American exchange student. As the film opens, the couple have broken up and Matt is heading to Antarctica to conduct research and reflect on their doomed relationship. He remembers their time together through the sex they had, and they had a lot of it. 9 Songs quickly falls into a pattern: Sex scene, concert scene, and then a trip back to desolate mountains of Antarctica. They met at Brixton Academy and share a love of live music, so between the sex we get to experience the various gigs they go to - the 9 songs of the title - shot guerrilla-style from afar over the heads of the audience, which is pretty much how most of us experience a concert. The sex is passionate, spontaneous and exciting, but love is much harder. As it becomes clear to both of them that they won't be together forever, they employ blindfolds and handcuffs to spice things up, but nothing can mask the distance opening between them.

Winterbottom doesn't shy away from explicitness. We get to see full penetration, oral sex and even a money shot - pretty much everything you would expect from a cheeky browse on Pornhub. But what separates 9 Songs from pornography is the complete lack of sensationalism. There is absolutely nothing arousing about the sex, despite the attractiveness of the two leads, and this is likely what convinced the BBFC to pass it uncut (it's 'art'). The problem with 9 Songs is that the idea is infinitely more interesting than the execution. This is an incredibly dull and repetitive film, made all the more of a chore to sit through by the two thinly-realised and rather annoying characters at the forefront. Winterbottom seems to be trying to say something profound by occasionally switching the action to the South Pole, but it comes across as allegory on the level of a student-film. The concert footage is filmed with the same grungy energy as 24 Hour Party People - one of my favourite Winterbottom films - so there's some relief to be found in performances by the likes of Primal Scream, Franz Ferdinand and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, if you're into that sort of thing.


Directed by: Michael Winterbottom
Starring: Kieran O'Brien, Margo Stilley
Country: UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,255: 'The Limehouse Golem' (2016)

The Limehouse Golem, adapted from the novel by Peter Ackroyd, has lingered in development hell for years, being passed between various directors and actors (Alan Rickman pulled out at the last minute due to his failing health), before finally getting the green light in the hands of rookie filmmaker Juan Carlos Medina and screenwriter Jane Goldman. Boasting a terrific cast, a blood-drenched, smog-filled atmosphere, and a murder mystery that is as grisly as it is engaging, the film has sadly struggled to find an audience. With a measly number of ratings just shy of 4,000 on IMDb, its failure is truly unfortunate. The Limehouse Golem is, at its heart, a Sherlock Holmes-esque mystery set in a pre-Jack the Ripper London, complete with a frustrated detective, a handful of red herrings, a small band of colourful suspects. But dig a little deeper, and there's an interesting feminist work at play.

Beginning, as charismatic music hall performer Dan Leno (Douglas Booth) announces, at the end, Medina introduces to this eternally grey world with the death-by-poison of wannabe playwright John Cree (Sam Reid). His wife Lizzie (Olivia Cooke) is distraught, but her conniving maid Aveline (Maria Valverde) - whose role in the story becomes clearer through flashbacks - drops the hint to police that Lizzie is the one to make his nightcaps, and insisted on doing so the night the husband she wasn't very fond of died. The beginning, at we come to learn, is more like the middle, as this opening scene not only sets in motion Lizzie's story (she is arrested and faces the noose is found guilty), but may also hold the key to the identity of a brutal killer who has terrified the community of Limehouse with a series of nasty slayings - The Limehouse Golem.

We learn of the Golem's activities through John Kildare (Bill Nighy), a disliked Scotland Yard investigator brought in as a scapegoat when previous investigations have led to dead ends. Upright and quietly-spoken, Kildare is known as "not the marrying type," and has therefore found himself dumped in menial department ushered away in some dark corner, despite his obvious skills in the field. To help navigate the filthy slums, he procures the help of highly competent copper George Flood (Daniel Mays). Yet Kildare's hunt for the killer is made even more desperate by the ticking-clock that is Lizzie's trial, and saving her from the gallows becomes as equally important as preventing another murder victim. Man's urge to rescue a 'woman in need' is a prime focus of Medina's film, and Lizzie seems to find one at every turn. A victim of childhood abuse, she is also doted over by Cree, a nice guy on the face of it, but one driven by the need to sweep a girl away from nothing and into his handsome, middle-class arms.

Kildare quickly learns that Lizzie doesn't need to be, or even want to be, saved. Nighy may have received top billing, but this is very much Cooke's film. She has the most screen time, and handles Lizzie's development from a strong-willed working-class girl, into a star of the music hall, and eventually into a possible murderer, astonishingly well. As Leno, Booth plays the role like a big-toothed and less annoying version of Russell Brand, and shows remarkable restraint and skill in avoiding stumbling into caricature. But much praise must also be lavished on Medina and Goldman, who both manage to juggle the thrills and intrigue of a Victorian whodunit with a character piece that reveals far more layers than you would expect. When it does delve deeper into the mystery, Medina relishes the squalor, employing different characters to monologue the killer's diary as Kildare lines up the suspects, and delivering some surprisingly gory moments. Surely a film destined to enjoy cult success later in life, The Limehouse Golem is a truly unexpected delight.


Directed by: Juan Carlos Medina
Starring: Olivia Cooke, Bill Nighy, Douglas Booth, Daniel Mays, María Valverde, Eddie Marsan, Sam Reid
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,254: 'American History X' (1998)

Watching American History X again 19 years after its release, the sight of Edward Norton's enigmatic frame captured in stark black-and-white quickly reminded me of just why I loved the film so much, and why it was one of the first DVDs I purchased when the transition from VHS was starting to take hold. I was 13 when I first saw the film in 1998, and now I'm 32 with more life experience and many, many more movies under my belt, the cracks and problems with Tony Kaye's tale of brotherly love and neo-Nazism also became apparent. It was something I could never quite put my finger on as a youngster, but the film's main issue is with trying to resolve a lifetime of hate and dysfunction in a single night, and by setting itself such time constraints, over-simplifies an incredibly complex and sensitive subject, although its heart is certainly in the right place.

American History X tells the story of two brothers; Derek (Norton), a charismatic and hardened skin-head freshly released from prison following a brutal double-murder, and Danny (Edward Furlong), an intelligent kid following in the doomed footsteps of the older sibling he admires so much. Danny has just written a paper on Adolf Hitler, glorifying the fascist leader as a civil rights hero. His (black) schoolteacher Dr. Sweeney (Avery Brooks) is outraged, but sets Danny the task of penning a paper on his brother, who had walked free that very morning. Hurrying home to reunite with his hero, Danny finds his brother a changed man. Derek has grown his hair, and no longer proudly displays the swastika tattooed on his torso. Something happened in prison that allowed Derek to let go of his misguided hate, and sets about ensuring that Danny doesn't follow the same path by confronting hate teacher and former ally Cameron (Stacy Keach).

This impeccably-performed and suitably rough-around-the-edges movie is far more successful with depicting Derek's rise to legend-status amongst his gang than it is with handling his drastic change of heart. Despite a rather silly basketball game, the bulk of the black-and-white flashbacks offer a keen and convincing insight into the mind of a highly-intelligent leader of men who has inherited prejudice and hate. When he enters prison following the shocking murder, Derek becomes torn between the hypocritical Aryan Brotherhood and his laundry-room work mate Lamont (Guy Torry). These moments, which are supposed to convince us that a man of Derek's single-mindedness could learn the error of his ways, are reduced to a handful of clumsily-written conversations and a particularly nasty rape. It ultimately fails to deliver on its initial promise, and whether this uneven narrative was the result of Norton being brought in to help with the final edit, causing Kaye to completely disown the film, I couldn't tell you. Despite the glaring flaws, American History X still retains its raw power, and Norton gives a performance of such staggering intensity that he will likely never best it.


Directed by: Tony Kaye
Starring: Edward Norton, Edward Furlong, Beverly D'Angelo, Ethan Suplee, Fairuza Balk, Avery Brooks, Elliott Gould, Stacy Keach
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie