scorfield-51711 Reviews

Life in Danger (1959)

'I wonder how many of them are ever cured.' 'My dear they're criminal lunatics...they're little better than brutes.'

[4/10 · 11 January 2024]

One of a handful of budget British movies directed by Terry Bishop, whose career was largely devoted to helming TV costume dramas in the Fifties on the likes of Robin Hood and Sir Francis Drake. The film was also co-written by Malcom Hulke, who was not only responsible for the storylines of 53 episodes of 'Doctor Who' between 1964 and 1974, but also was co-creator of the concept of the Time Lords.

The plot centres upon a warning tale of the dangers of vigilantism as the residents of a quiet, rural English town become consumed by panic and fear when the local asylum's alarm is sounded signifying an inmate on the loose. Self-proclaimed head of the vigilantes is local war hero, Major Peters, played by character and voice actor, Howard Marion-Crawford, who himself served as a navigator in the RAF. It becomes clear from the outset that he considers the inmates a threat, declaring 'What do you do with a mad dog?' The Major has returned from London with his new schoolteacher girlfriend and reveals to her that that two years earlier a previous escapee had been on the loose for three days, and without any care for the safety of the locals, the asylum had failed to sound the alarm for two hours after discovering him gone. Having witnessed the young Darren Nesbit fleeing through the trees in the opening s, it also becomes apparent from the Major's explanation that the asylum alarm which sounded at the end of the opening credits was merely a weekly test that serves as a constant reminder to the local residents of their dangerous neighbours. The fact that the audience are then witness to the reticence of the asylum to sound the alarm for real whilst they attempt to locate a missing inmate raises the tension another notch.

Thus, the premise is set for what could have been a much more gripping thriller, and yet, ultimately this is a rather uninspiring feature, made worse by the completely misleading tagline of 'Terror rules as a mad killer-on-the-loose rips a town apart.' Part of the problem lies in the relatively poor supporting cast and the low-budget feel, making this appear more of an extended TV dramatisation. This despite the strength of Nesbit's lead performance as the handsome, nervy, and socially awkward character who appears at the doorway of the Ashley farm seeking liquid nourishment. Himself the product of TV costume dramas, Nesbit performs admirably well in his first leading role, coming a full decade before his most memorable performance in 'Where Eagles Dare'. The other cast member to shine here is Julie Hopkins, in her only notable role in a very short theatrical career, as the young, pouty and rebellious Hazel Ashley, who naively befriends our fugitive. Directing him to a nearby hayloft when asked for a place to rest, she and her little brother, discovered playing out there with his pet mice, are at risk of upsetting, and thereby becoming victims of this edgy, volatile newcomer. The tension mounts as newspaper headlines declare the insane inmate on the run is guilty of seven murders, while as the paranoia spreads, Mr and Mrs Ashley become ever greater concerned as to the whereabouts of their missing children.

Ultimately, the direction and tight budget fail to ignite what potential drama lay within the storyline. Consequently, the decent twist in the tale of mistaken identity, which the script has layered so well given the occasional tidbits of information seemingly linking together Nesbit's character with the escapee, such as their hatred of the sound of the siren and their work experience as farm labourers, lacks the dramatic effect it might have had.

The Case of Charles Peace (1949)

'A mixture of childlike simplicity and cunning evil.'

[4/10 · 22 October 2023]

The only starring role for Michael Martin Harvey, more typically cast as a bit player, such as the mullah in Alexander Korda's 'The Drum'. He would never attain the acclaim his parents received, especially that of his father, the Edwardian actor-manager, Sir John Martin Harvey, most renowned for playing Sydney Carton in his own stage and screen adaptation of Dickens' 'A Tale of Two Cities'. Though playing the eponymous and notorious Victorian murderer and burglar, Martin Harvey's performance is more impish than malevolent.

The film plays out like a solid TV courtroom drama with even the preamble to the central narrative being presented as an interesting case to serve as training material for the recruits at Hendon Police College. This is given a degree of gravitas by the appearance of professional voice actor, Valentine Dyall, as the narrator to this presentation of these real-life events. Written and directed by Norman Lee, an Elstree man who wrote the screenplays for a few of George Formby comedies, this second-to-last feature of his career serves as his swan-song. If the plot has one flaw, this is the unnecessary confusion surrounding the timeline of events between he murders of a policeman in Manchester and that of Peace's neighbour near Sheffield.

After being maimed in an industrial accident as a child labourer, Peace turned to a life of crime. His first brush with the law came when he was arrested for a spate of burglaries in 1854 and sentenced to four years. Upon his release, he married the widow, Hannah Ward, and, seemingly to all outward appearances, settled down to a law-abiding life as a picture-framer. Yet, he continued his housebreaking activities, and on the point of capture shot down the unfortunately named PC Cock at Whaley Range, Manchester in August 1876. For this murder, an innocent young Irish labourer was sentenced for execution, which his girlfriend and friends' tireless campaigning had commuted for life. In the meantime, Peace had became obsessed with his neighbour's wife, to the point where a summons was futilely taken out against him. Peace continued to harass the couple at their new address and eventually shot and murdered her husband, Arthur Dyson on 29th November 1876. A hue and cry, as well as a £100 reward for his capture was raised after his flight. It would be after another rash of burglaries in Blackheath in London that he was finally detained in another scuffle with the police where he shot and injured another police officer. Married under an assumed name, his wife gave his true identity away.

This is not the first cinematic treatment of Peace's story with a 1905 silent movie covering the same narrative. With regard to this feature, a strong supporting cast of relative unknowns is headed by the once British 'It-Girl', Chili Bouchier, as Mrs Dyson, the nature of whose relationship with Peace, and whether she witnessed her husband grapple with the assailant becomes the lynchpin of the defence lawyer's case at the celebrated trial. Bouchier, once proposed to by magnate Howard Hughes, here retains her pre-war beauty to convincingly play the femme fatale, despite her Irish accent faltering badly.

This feature's main weakness is the singular lack of melodrama, as it sticks so rigidly to court records of the events in question. The plodding, pedestrian pace is even true of the storyline's presentation of the plight of the innocent young Irishman, William Habron, finally able to clear his name with Peace's final hour confession.

Keep Fit (1937)

'Well, if that's the result of physical exercise, thank heavens I had a misspent youth.'

[4/10 · 29 September 2023]

A local newspaper launches a 'Keep Fit ' campaign in response to a local competitor who has doubled their sales after running a cookery competition. As part of this, the impassioned editor determines to find a local athletic champion: 'a Hercules, an Adonis, a superman'. Cut to our scrawny, gullible, weakling, George Green, a typecast working class underdog, so archetypal a role for Formby. When challenged as to his sporting prowess, George declares he came second once in an egg and spoon race where there were only two runners. Employed as a barber in the local department store, he is drawn into the physical contest in his attempt to not lose face with his love interest in the shape of the pretty store manicurist, played by Kay Walsh. His fortunes look bleak, given that he has a rival for her affections in the muscle-bound, thuggish sports department salesman, ably performed by Guy Middleton - a muscular Terry Thomas-like cad. The audience gradually learn that the latter is an ex-con, still answerable to the local heavies. When money is taken from the department store's tills, he ensures that suspicion falls on George, who consequently is dismissed. Thus, George's mission becomes one of clearing his name as well as of capturing his girl.

By this time the ukulele-wielding star was at the height of his box-office success, and Formby's long-standing producer, Basil Dean, gathered together a dedicated crew at Ealing Studios to develop vehicles starring the Lancastrian comedian. Chief amongst these was former naval officer and successful comedy playwright and director, Anthony Kimmons, who wrote and directed this release and would go on to direct Formby in his next four outings on celluloid.

This storyline serves as a sardonic commentary on the 'Women's League of Health and Beauty', a mass keep-fit movement started in 1930, which at that time had spiralled in popularity, albeit with some unnecessary racial undertones in its published ethos.

A serial womaniser, it was not only his talents in music-hall comedy performance that Formby inherited from his father. The latter was a notorious bigamist who was already married when he took George's mother to the altar in 1899. Equally distrusting and jealous, his browbeating wife and manager, Beryl, had already ensured his previous leading lady, Florence Desmond, was substituted. Unfortunately for her, her replacement, Kay Walsh, the future wife of David Lean, fell for Formby's charms and they started a brief affair. When Beryl found out she tried to have Walsh removed from the project, but found her demands obstructed by Dean, who informed her that the young actress would not only remain contracted for this picture but also for its follow-up, 'I see Ice'. In an attempt to mollify her, he would raise her husband's salary for that latter project.

The rest of the cast provide effective support, none more so than George Benson in perhaps his best ever role as the equally downtrodden store assistant, Ernie. As well as the jaunty titular theme tune, with its advice of 'don't flit to the armchair/You'll win no medals there', the film features one of Formby's catchiest tunes in 'Biceps, Muscle and Brawn' in which he comically declares that he 'wears most of my chest on my back'. However, the strength of the picture undoubtedly lies in its frequent opportunities to illustrate Formby's competent skills in physical comedy. Though no Charles Chaplin, who was prompted to seek his fortune in America by Formby Senior, he provides fine moments from the unfortunate attempt to perform on the parallel bars, to a lack of prowess in a rowing boat leading to a collision with a pleasure steamer, to the humorous training and sparring sessions ahead of the advertised boxing bout with his underhand love rival, to the grandstanding finale in which Formby sallies victorious, triumphantly borne aloft by the adoring crowd. As an interesting footnote, these boxing scenes were supervised by the uncredited champion wrestler, Bob Gregory, who would sail to New York the following year to try and launch his own Hollywood career, accompanied by his 'bride-to-be', British actress, Victoria Brooke, formerly Princess Baba, the youngest daughter of the last British Rajah of Sarawak.

Black Books: The Big Lock-Out (2000) Season 1, Episode 5

'You know what you are? You're a beard with an idiot hanging off it.'

[7/10 · 23 September 2023]

The main weakness of this episode is that of the recurring motifs from earlier outings which 'pepper' its plot-line and script, and which fail to embellish any of them. Although the main story-thread holds great promise, and hinges upon the hapless antics of the ingenue that is Manny, fuelling the wrath of his misanthropic employer, the writing appears to lack depth and is quite formulaic. There are moments which rise above the general lack of hilarity, such as the scene in which one customer declares that a box of leather-bound classics are worth much more than the forty pounds Black asks for, leading to the latter pointing out that pricing the books would entail too much work, the thought of which prompts him to pay the customer the said same amount to just take them away.

The plot centres upon the installation of a state-of-the-art security system after the bookstore has been burgled. As in previous episodes, just when Manny is required to pay utmost attention, in this case to the complex explanation as to the system's operation, he becomes distracted by the random happenstance that the engineer - played by the always reliable Nick Frost - has a subbuteo player tangled in his hair. Predictably, this leads to the best scene of this narrative thread, where Bernard is locked out of his own store, with the audience left to imagine his colourful cursing behind the sound-proof glass in response to Manny's frantic written messages. The set-up for this scene has also been well-executed with Bernard, having previously cut the shop's telephone cord when harassed for not having paid a bill, now not being able to ring Manny from a phone box.

The storyline now divides between Manny unable to escape the store and Black having to trudge along the rainswept streets in search of shelter. The former thread is completely underwhelming, not helped by Bailey's overplaying scenarios as he tries to implement a survivalist handbook, discovered amidst the store's legion of publications, in such an inappropriately urbane setting, after emptying a bottle of absinthe.

Given that Black's scouring of the streets is accompanied by the soundtrack to 'Taxi Driver' and the potential laughs at this churlish individual being let loose on the unsuspecting wider public, the results are quite disappointing. This is especially true of his becoming a front-of-house server at a burger bar, where writer Graham Linehan makes a quite forgettable cameo. Indeed, the best moment is when Bernard goes to the cinema for the first time since watching 'Planet of the Apes', and questions how his purchase of a ticket and a bag of popcorn has left him out of pocket. This opens the opportunity for him to deliver the most memorable line of this episode: 'What is it, magic popcorn? Does it produce some kind of dizzying high?'

For once the best writing has been devoted to Fran's story, where her infatuation with an old flame, a radio announcer, played superbly by Peter Serafinowicz, has her settle in for the night and comically masturbate to the sultry sound of his deep bass delivery as he reads the innocuous weather report - this accordingly being the first time female masturbation was depicted on British television.

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979)

"It knows only that it needs, Commander. But, like so many of us...it does not know what."

[5/10 · 15 September 2023]

From the original show's cancellation a decade earlier, series creator, Gene Roddenberry had striven to see it translated to the silver screen. The cult-like status the show had attained led to the project being originally green-lit by Paramount in 1975. However, everything stalled as the studio and creator failed to agree on a storyline, with teams of different screenwriters brought in to later be removed. Amongst these, were British screenwriting duo, Bryant and Scott, who had penned the impressive thriller 'Don't Look Now'. Their treatment, which had the crew of the Enterprise meet the mythical Titans and teach prehistoric man to make fire, was abandoned a fortnight before the release of 'Star Wars'. With the latter's overwhelming success, Paramount decided that the franchise would return to the television screens. Thus, work began on 'Star Trek: Phase II' with most of the original cast, and several new characters and cast members who would later make it to the motion picture release. The first among these was Ilia, the beautiful Deltan navigator, portrayed by former Miss India and Revlon model, Persis Khambatta. Requiring her head to be shaved to be cast as the bald-headed member of this highly sexual alien race, sworn to celibacy, Khambatta was so disconcerted that she is reported to have kept her hair in a box and demanded that Roddenberry take insurance out on it in case it never grew back. Introduced as a means to replace Kirk should Shatner refuse to accept a pay cut, a second character to make it to celluloid was that of Willard Decker. As a concept never utilised, the film cleverly presents the charcter as the promoted captain of the Enterprise, at the instigation of desk-bound Admiral Kirk, who in the face of an imminent threat to Earth has himself reinstated in command at Decker's expense. The only cast member therefore to be chosen by Wise, Stephen Collins, had never even watched a single instalment of the original TV series. A third character to transfer across was that of Janice Rand, the female officer who appeared in the first series of the original show. Portrayed by Grace Lee Whitney, her original sudden unexplained disappearance was blamed upon TV executives who felt the unspoken sexual attraction between her and Kirk obstructed any entanglement between him and females of other species. Budgetary cuts have also been singled out, but the actress has pointed to her alcoholism and being the victim of a sexual assault by one of the executives. Finally, of interest is the brief appearance by David Gautreaux as the commander of the ill-fated communications station, Epsilon 9. With Nimoy's refusal to return as Spock on the small screen, he had been cast as the replacement Vulcan character, Xon. Having faced death threats from enraged Trekkies, Gautreaux learned that his part was shelved with Nimoy's return. The success of Speilberg's 'Close Encounters' chimed with studio executives' feelings that the planned TV'pilot', based on Roddenberry's original motion picture pitch, would better grace the 'big screen'. Thus, in early 1978 Paramount announced that 'Star Trek: The Motion Picture' was in development with Oscar-garlanded Robert Wise at the helm. Not only did Wise accept the director's chair due to his wife's influence as an avid fan of the original TV series, but was also led by her in seeking the return of a disgruntled Nimoy - over non-payment of royalties - to the 'Star Trek' fold. Thus, the studio executive in charge of production, and future head of Disney, Jeffrey Katzenberg, was despatched, cheque in hand. The box office hit secured by George Lucas' 'Star Wars' had a massive influence on the direction taken with this project, and in its ultimate weaknesses. In perceiving their product as a more cerebral treatment of science fiction, and distancing it from any charge of profiting from Lucas' success, those backing the project, led by Roddenberry, intentionally ruled out battle-led action sequences, thereby impacting negatively on its pacing and on the lighter interplay between the main characters, which had and continued to endear fans of the original series. Appeals from the old stalwarts on the cast to rekindle such interplay went unheeded, and the lack of pace was so apparent to Shatner at the world premiere that he believed the film would mark the end of the franchise. Dubbed sarcastically by one critic as the 'Motionless Picture', the film suffers from long sequences where the special lighting effects, or close-ups of crew members' astonished reactions to them, dulls both the pace and interest - though for the one oft criticised scene of Kirk and Scotty's lengthy tour of the exterior of the Enterprise, this reviewer can appreciate the nostalgia value it held for both avid Trekkies and the casual fan of the original series. The lack of incident is a shame given the initial intriguing and merciless appearance of the alien cloud in attacking the Klingon fleet - interestingly, the Klingon commander is played by Mark Lenard cast as Spock's father in the original series. This ponderous pace is maintained when the Enterprise comes into contact with this massive nebulous entity whose trajectory threatens Earth. In spite of some wonderful visual effects provided by pioneer in the field, Douglas Trumbull, who had worked on Kubrick's '2001', and a clever twist on the identity of 'V'Ger', the entity at the heart of this unknown celestial phenomenon, the sophistication of the philosophical edifice doesn't sit well on pop-culture foundations. The plot and characterisation were not the only points on which cast and critic agreed, with the unisex uniforms unveiled here so unpopular that the former refused to countenance any sequel unless they were replaced - Nichelle Nicholls felt them too androgynous for her character, Uhuru. Yet, one unknown contribution from the stalwarts of the TV series was the linguistic one provided by James Doohan, aka chief engineer, Montgomery Scott. Not only did he create the Klingon vocabulary, but also in fashioning the Vulcan language, structured it so it lip-synced the footage previously shot in English of Spock's aborted ritual to attain a state of pure logic. Overall, in spite of the lengthy production delays and woes, including having to fire the original special effects team, the hammy acting and lack of plot, the return of these beloved characters and intrepid vessel imbues wistful affection among its legions of fans - many of whom peopled the scene where Kirk informs the extensive crew of the Enterprise of the dangers ahead. Finally, this movie provided the franchise with one of its lasting and memorable legacies in its majestic score by Oscar-nominated Jerry Goldsmith. Written when Wise rejected his original offering, it became so popular with Roddenberry that he would use it in future adaptations of the franchise.

Bush Pilot (1947)

'A couple of my pals were shot down over the Channel because he left them wide open.'

[1/10 · 11 April 2023]

A tale of sibling rivalry set amidst the community of bush pilots in northern Canada, this Canadian-American feature is considered one of the first Canadian films to be produced outside French-speaking Quebec. However, the commercial failure of this release meant that the production company, Dominion Pictures, in which its director, Sterling Campbell, producer, and its main star, Austin Willis, were partners on its board, would never make another film. The company's main backer, Geoffrey Wood, who had built his fortune running a sanitation company, later confessed that he had foolhardily invested $160,000 in this venture, when he knew as little about movies as movie people knew about sanitation.

The plot centres on Willis' main protagonist and pilot, 'Red' North, trying to eke out a living running a commercial cargo operation across the Canadian wilderness, combatting his own good-heartedness as much as the distances to be covered and unpredictable weather conditions. The last thing he needs is for his belligerent and over-competitive brother to try and muscle in on the same territory, and on his 'girl'.

This is Willis' debut on the silver screen in a lacklustre career the highlights of which were bit parts in 'Goldfinger' and 'The Boston Strangler'. As for his malfeasant sibling, this role was performed by long-established Sicilian actor, versed in playing thugs and villains, Jack La Rue. Discovered on Broadway by Howard Hawks, La Rue was set to star alongside Paul Muni in 'Scarface', but was replaced after just four days by George Raft due to the fact he towered over the main star and had a more commanding voice. The love interest is supplied by Rochelle Hudson, contracted to RKO Pictures at the tender age of fourteen, and whose crowning moment was appearing as Claudette Colbert's adult daughter in the 1931 version of 'Imitation of Life'. Suffice to say here that her laughable display of facial expressions and emotional distress while searching skywards suggest she learned little from her time at the studio. Especially ridiculous is her skyward smile of relief at her beau's safe landing, on the household porch amidst a fog so dense he is warned from making a landing at all. Completing the main cast is the deplorable Frank Perry as Red's mechanic and Hudson's brother, whose death in transporting highly sensitive explosive material cannot come soon enough. Yet, worst member of the cast has to be the supposed comic relief whose dismal Scottish accent suggests the production costs should have included the employ of a dialect coach.

The sole point of interest is the beauty of the Canadian wilderness on show, and one can admire the skills of the real Canadian bush pilots employed on the shoot. The film is full of elliptical narrative gaps, the script predictable, and the pace is sluggish at best. Mercifully, this uninspiring drama is short of an hour, with even the film's finale underwhelming. Having laid the blame for her brother's death upon Red and moved away to marry, Hudson's character is persuaded to return to this outpost to help guide Red's brother on a mission of mercy to get medication to an isolated community suffering from an outbreak of an unidentified disease. When they fail to report in, Red flies out to locate them. A dying confession from La Rue opens up the possibility of reconciliation , while also setting the climax of the feature, with the audience having to experience another extended gallery of silent-era worthy facial reactions as our desperate Hudson tries to signal her location to Red above.

Given that former bit-part actor, Sterling Campbell, had, after serving in the Canadian army in the First World War, acted uncredited as stunt supervisor and military advisor on such classics as 'Wings' and 'All Quiet on the Western Front, and had fought in the Royal Canadian Air Force during the Second World War, it should not be surprising that his only turn in the director's chair should be on a movie based on aviation. Yet, also surprising that the aerial sequences featured here be so uninspiring, suggestive that budgetary constraints were to the fore. The film's commercial failure would end his days within the film-making business, leading him to try and enter Canadian politics. However, during his 1956 campaign to run for a place on the city council of Toronto, he fell and exacerbated an old war injury, effectively ending any chances of success. Nevertheless, this promoted his wife to run for office thereby launching her career as a successful Liberal politician.

Fog for a Killer (1962)

'In spite of his record, I think there's some good in him.'

[3/10 · 23 March 2023]

Based upon one of the more than one hundred novels written by Bruce Graeme, the nom de plume of ex-serviceman Graham Montague Jeffries, one of the founding members of the British Crime Writer's Association, this is a satisfying at best crime drama. This feature, which runs for just over an hour, was released under the original source novel title of 'Fog For a Killer' in the United States, though the 'fog' in question disappointedly is nowhere to be seen until the final scenes.

The plot opens with the soon-to-be-released central protagonist, George Mallon, revealing his snide and belligerent attitude in an exchange with the cynical prison governor at an interview at the bequest of the more supportive prison chaplain. The governor agrees to give Fallon an opportunity by leaving him in the capable hands of Tom Daniels, who runs a hostel set up for discharged prisoners, though stating that he was still undecided whether 'it's a home for curable or a breeding ground for incurables'.

The aforementioned Daniels, played engagingly by respected character actor, James Hayter, more familiar to audiences as Friar Tuck in Disney's live-action Robin Hood of a decade earlier, picks Fallon up from outside Wandsworth prison and takes him back to his halfway house cum hostel. There he introduces him to a colourful group of supposedly ex-convicts, amongst whom is the more recognisable face for filmgoers of Hammer stalwart, Michael Ripper, who are in effect awaiting the arrival of another jailbird for their next 'job'. Keeping an eye on these inhabitants to ensure they remain on the straight and narrow is Detective Tracey, played satisfactorily enough by another familiar face, that of Jack Watson, uncharacteristically not typecast as a gruff soldier.

When a spate of murders of young blondes occur on nights with a full moon on an area of scrubland near our protagonist's lodgings, suspicion falls on Mallon. This intensifies when one of the victims happens to be his ex-girlfriend who had just dropped him that same evening on learning that he was an ex-convict. The pace of the movie is decidedly pedestrian, with even the murders all happening off-screen. If the film picks up any interest at all it is with the introduction of the brave young female officer, played so persuasively by Susan Travers, daughter of actress Linden Travers, sent undercover to Fallon's workplace to lure the killer out. Thee audience are left unsure as to whether Mallon's suspicions are aroused when he catches her talking to Detective Tracey, and should he turn out to be the murderer, how much danger she is in. What is certain is that she deserves an award for simply tolerating David Sumner's moody, almost puerile, performance as Mallon. Soon the audience are witness to how his touchy persecution-complex stems from being cut off by his wealthy mother. The latter is played by Olga Lindo in her final cinematic appearance, whose career highlight was in performing the role of Mrs Birling so admirably to Alistair Sim's Inspector in the 1954 movie adaptation of JB Priestly's seminal play.

Given the shoestring budget, director Montgomery Tully, as was his norm, produced a competent if not standout police procedural, this time from his own original screenplay. Unfortunately, however, this feature amounts to an opportunity lost, as though the film touches on the interesting and crucial subject of how hard it is for an ex-convict to go straight, and put his or her past behind them, this issue could have had greater weight should it have been pursued to a greater extent. The stereotypical establishment response is given in the opening scene by the prisoner governor: 'You cant do anything for his type. He's one of the regulars. No sooner out than they're in again.' Despite the fact that at the film's finale, such views are shown to be precipitate and potentially unfounded, there is no certain indication that Mallon will succeed in escaping his past.

Shot mostly at locations in Twickenham and Chiswick, with the exterior of Twickenham police station featuring a couple of times, the film is also graced by a jazzy score from Ken Thorne, who five years later would win an Academy Award for his work on 'A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum'. Unfortunately, at times here the score appears at odds with the events unfolding.

Columbo: Murder by the Book (1971) Season 1, Episode 1

'You wanna know the irony of all this? That is my idea, the only really good one I ever had.'

[9/10 · 17 March 2023]

'You wanna know the irony of all this? That is my idea, the only really good one I ever had. I must have told it to Jim over five years ago. Whoever thought that idiot would write it down.'

This first ever episode is notable for launching the careers of two future heavyweights in both cinema and television. Firstly, it was written by Steven Bochco, later to win great acclaim with the likes of Hill Street Blues and LA Law. He would later relate the fact that series co-creator and producer, William Levinson, told him quite clearly that he was not to write any quirks for the main character because 'Peter Falk is Columbo'. Thus, his scripts for the series left Falk a blank canvas for Falk to work with. One perfect example of this is the omelette making scene where our detective first talks to the victim's wife in her own kitchen. Secondly, it was directed by none other than Steven Spielberg, a 24 year-old college dropout who had managed to obtain entry as the new boy on the Universal lot. Still, Falk had to personally intervene to persuade the producers that this unknown talent should be given the director's chair on this episode. Spielberg later revealed in interview that it would be his work here which landed him the directorial seat on his debut movie, 'Duel'.

Though this was filmed second in sequence after 'Death Lends a Hand', so impressive was the script, which Spielberg later declared was one of the best he was ever handed, so well shot, and so well performed that it was bumped forward to launch the series. Spielberg's already apparent flair can no better be exemplified than by the introductory title sequence alternating between long shots of the approach of the murderer's Mercedes to close-ups of our first ever victim pounding away on the keys of a typewriter.

The cast is equally superb, principally in having the equally charming and cold-blooded Ken Franklin, as Columbo's first adversary. Supposed co-author of a highly successful series of murder mystery novels featuring fictional sleuth Mrs Melville, the reality is that it is his writing partner who possesses all the literary talent and Franklin just brings his charisma and marketing prowess to the table. Thus, when his partner decides to go solo, Franklin decides to murder him to use the insurance pay-off to sustain his playboy lifestyle. There could be no better casting for this role than the suave, dimpled Jack Cassidy, who would later be invited back to play two other murderers over subsequent series. The tussle they perform here would be the first whereby our murderer underestimates the intellect of our dishevelled detective. One can relish how gradually Columbo's queries, such as why Franklin drove back upon learning of his friend's death rather than fly, and why he calmly opened his mail upon supposedly discovering the latter's corpse dumped on his front lawn, start to irritate the assured murderer, One other contribution Cassidy would make to this episode is in providing the location for the lakeside cabin. The one used in the shores of Big Bear Lake in San Bernardino County, California, belonged to his former wife, Oscar winning actress, Shirley Jones.

In terms of the plot line, as Columbo notes later, the first murder was executed almost perfectly by Franklin. Having lured his soon-to-be ex writing-partner to his lakeside cabin on the pretence of a fishing trip to 'bury the hatchet', he has his victim make his fatal phone call to his wife to let her know he is working late in the office. Hence, the victim's wife upon hearing the gunshots mid-call would testify to her husband having been murdered in his office, while Franklin's alibi would appear cast-iron that he was out of the city. Furthermore, to create a false motive for the crime, prior to their departure, Franklin had planted a list of mobsters' names and staged a break-in, creating disorder as if some assailant had ransacked the office in search of something.

Yet, ultimately, Franklin had committed a fatal error in stopping en route to the cabin for supplies, laying himself open to blackmail from local store owner, Lily La Sanka, who not only is a huge fan of Mrs Melville, but also is infatuated with the debonair Franklin. Faced with this unforeseen risk disclosing his crime, he commits a much more rushed murder, bludgeoning his blackmailer with a champagne bottle and disposing of her corpse in a capsized boat in the lake. Once more, Spielberg reveals his skills in cutting the sound of her scream of terror as she realises her fate, fading the shot to intensify its power upon the audience. In a tragic note on life imitating art, actress Barbara Colby playing La Sanka would herself become the victim of an unsolved murder in July 1975 when she and her actor boyfriend were gunned down without reason in a parking garage.

Though Falk would polish his characterisation of Columbo across the rest of this first season, especially in being far more experienced in 'working' his suspects than he demonstrates here, he does introduce elements here of the disarming detective as in when he helps the victim's wife in her hour of loss by offering to make her an omelette in her own kitchen. Hence, he is able to glean two key aspects of the case. Firstly, Columbo learns that Franklin did not in effect share the writing duties and instead completed the media duties, and just how the separation would hurt the latter's ego. Secondly, Mrs Ferris, played earnestly by Rosemary Forsyth, formerly groomed by Universal as an alternative to Grace Kelly, reveals that her husband would constantly jot down ideas for the mysteries on scraps of paper she would find littering the house. Ultimately, this knowledge helps Columbo track down the very idea for this homicide - as Franklin would confess the only truly good idea for a narrative he had ever had - within the detritus of the deceased's office.

The Fast and the Furious (1954)

'You Can't Prove You're Innocent Running Away.' 'I Can't Prove It Dead.'

[2/10 · 22 February 2023]

The second feature produced by Roger Corman, and both written by Jerome Odlum based on original storylines from Corman himself. In this instance the man on the run, truck driver Frank Webster, is wrongly accused of killing another trucker by running him off the road, and escaping custody takes a female racing driver hostage, setting out to cross the border into Mexico. With this release Corman would begin his long association with future American International Pictures, agreeing to their distribution of this film as they were prepared to immediately stump up the necessary finance to cover the costs of this release.

Surely, one would expect without his having seen the doleful script, John Ireland only agreed to star in this feature if he could direct it himself. For her part, Dorothy Malone had recently split from her agent and so readily jumped at this offer of work. Shot in just nine days, the resulting completed project appears rushed with next to zero plot development. Despite their box office draw, Ireland is leaden, as if directing himself was not an option, whilst his unconvincing onscreen relationship with Malone consists of a series of unpredictable confrontations, embraces, and attempted escapes with no identifiable arc of growing attraction. This situation is not aided by their dialogue being pitted with constant bickering and constant threats: 'I hate you.' 'Just hate me all the way to Mexico'.

As for any pace or tension, the incompetence of the police pursuing our protagonist is just comical, especially given they are on the look out for a pretty easily identifiable white Jaguar, and a highly attractive female hostage. One choice scene has an officer appear at the car race organiser's desk detailing exactly who and what they are looking for, just as the suspect and vehicle in question speeds past, only for the officer to declare to not having seen anything suspicious. In another, two obviously deaf and blind motorcycle cops fail to react as our duo wheel the car round them and then hit the pedal, all within visible and hearing distance. Indeed, the later appearance of former Keystone Cop, Snub Pollard, in full silent-era make up, as a park official, suggests a tongue-in-cheek irony which unfortunately is far from this film's authors' intentions. And yet, the best line in the entire movie has to be that of the race official on the tannoy announcing to the gathered spectators: 'Mrs John Howell, your small son Peter is at the announcer's booth. He says he isn't lost, but you are.'

The largely forgettable supporting cast of unknowns contains two members to note for different reasons. The first is the brief appearance of the co-author of the screenplay, a youthful Jean Howell, as fellow speedster and one of Malone's character's female friends. The second is the hilarious Iris Adrian, frequently to be found as comedic turns for the likes of the Marx Brothers and Abbot and Costello, as the road stop cafe waitress and completely unreliable witness to Frank Webster's taking of Malone as his hostage. Another cast member, Bruno VeSota, would go on to feature in many of Corman's B-movies, surprising given he couldn't even play a convincing coma patient here.

The film was ultimately shown as the supporting feature within a double-bill but proved successful enough for Corman to be offered a three-picture deal. The main audience draws had to be the appearance of a range of sports cars and vintage classics, together with the racing sequences which are crammed into the final quarter hour of the runtime. Certainly, as a petrolhead himself, Corman immersed himself in the racing himself, recounting in his memoirs, that aside from appearing in an uncredited role as a Highway cop, due to his not being able to afford the costs of stunt drivers, it was actually him behind the wheel of the sports car of Webster's main rival in the cross-border race. Accordingly, in his eagerness in the first take, to Ireland's consternation, Corman floored it and overtook the white Jaguar which should have maintained the lead, resulting in the sene having to be shot again.

This movie would also have two legacies for the future film industry. The lesser of these was in famously providing a title for the at-a-loss producers of what would become the franchise of high octane action thrillers starring Vin Diesel. The second was that in his passion for fast cars, Corman acted as second director on the race sequences, resulting in him gaining experience and confidence in movie-directing himself.

Perhaps the best review of this lacklustre feature is that of leading film critic, Derek Winnert, declaring that a better title for this early Corman production would have been 'The Cheap and the Cheerful'. Much better and far more appropriate than the film's original poster tagline: 'A Wanted Man Meets a Wanting Woman'.

To Our Loves (1983)

'You think you're in love, but you just want to be loved.'

[2/10 · 31 January 2023]

Gallic obsession with promiscuity here centres on a fifteen-year-old girl's naive attempts to navigate her way through the tempestuous waters of teenage love and emotional entanglements by utilising her own charms to enter meaningless physical relationships. As she openly confesses: 'I'm only happy when I'm with a guy.' Yet, unlike many young female characters in all art forms, she is a free spirit and remains in control of her dalliance with an array of male lovers who she captivates and abandons at whim.

The film's undoubted attraction is that of the beautiful, fresh-faced adolescent muse, Sandrine Bonnaire, the same age as the character she plays, Suzanne, with whom the camera as well as the audience falls in love. Moreover, both actress and character share the same sexual awakening, as the actor playing the American sailor who deflowers Suzanne became the 16-year-old virgin actress' first love. Bonnaire had initially come to Maurice Pialat's attention when she auditioned to be an extra on a project which was later sidelined. Bonnaire has always maintained that the director became a second father figure during the shoot, and though there is nudity it is handled tastefully and sensitively. In fact, post-coital reflective conversation abounds with no need for scenes of the physical act itself. No matter one's views on just how appropriate is the relationship between Bonnaire's character and her father, and the fact that those men who seek to conquest her refer to her attractive smile, the sweetest scene is the one in which father and daughter discuss a vanished dimple. Unquestionably, Bonnaire was more than a worthy winner of a César award for most promising newcomer.

As a director, Pialat is noted for his boldness in subjects he wished to cover, but also for doing so in a harsh and unsentimental fashion. To a great extent, his style was similar to John Cassavetes in that the scenes of his movies appear largely improvised but were in reality scripted. Greatly influenced by the work of legendary French director, Jean Renoir, he strove through the body of his own work to capture a similar vein of realism. The main issue with this feature is that it appears to have two distinct foci which do not seamlessly merge. In the first we encounter our young protagonist, seemingly doted upon by almost everyone, above all by her brother. In the second we are witness to a family in full disintegration with no real narrative arc to get us there. In a blink of an eye, Suzanne is being physically attacked by her father for planning an evening out late with some boys before he confesses his own adultery and plans for leaving the marital home. She is then constantly set upon by her brother to the point that others talk openly of the abuse he is meting out - this is a great performance from Dominique Besnehard who was actually Pialat's casting director until the auteur decided after so many unsuccessful auditions to offer him the part. One could argue that the father's departure has derailed the family home, but there is no attempt at any explanation for how Suzanne is mercilessly targeted. Another issue is that this 'rite of passage' at times has no discernible timeline with scenes suddenly merging from one to another, and given how unremarkable are some of her lovers left this reviewer uncertain as to whether she had moved on to the next or not. As such, the film lacks both structure and coherence.

The screenplay was written by the sister of director Claude Berri, Arlette Langman, who having divorced her first husband after a short marriage to be with Pialat, included elements of her relationship with the director within the narrative here. In addition, she apparently included biographical details of her her own adolescence, much to the dislike of her illustrious brother. Still, with the character of the father presumed gone for good, and only members of the crew in on Pialat's intentions, the film's standout scene of the dinner party interrupted by his surprise entrance was a genuine shock to the cast who were left to improvise on the spot. None more so than film critic and future collaborator with Pialat, Jacques Fieschi, playing his son's brother in law. During the scene, the father accuses the latter of having written a disparaging review of his son's work, in the knowledge that in real life Fieschi had conducted an acerbic interview on Pialat himself with a disgruntled former cinematographer who had hated the aggressive director's methods. Another member of the cast, Evelyne Ker, in the role of Suzanne's histrionic mother and long-suffering wife, had become so exhausted by the director's abrasive manipulation of his cast that her abrupt turn and slapping of his cheek was as real as it appears.

In terms of a soundtrack, Pialat has chosen just one musical motif that appears with the opening credits as the audience are invited to gaze at our virginal beauty staring out from the prow of a boat, and returns with the end credits. This is Klaus Nomi's chilling version of Henry Purcell's 'The Cold Song'. The German counter-tenor and New York vaudeville performer would succumb to AIDS the same year.

As the Criterion review of this feature highlights, Pialat was 'a difficult, truculent, even impossible' individual whose 'abrasive personality comes through in his films'. Certainly, his characters tend to not make psychological sense, as in the case of Suzanne's choice of who to elope with after her marriage of convenience fails to satisfy her desire for fulfilment. She seems to be happy just in the knowledge that in similarly abandoning a marriage of only surface contentment she has finally earned her father's approval. One is left with the impression that true happiness will evade Suzanne, as it does for the youthful characters of Alfred de Musset's 1834 play 'On ne badine pas a ex l'amour' which Suzanne and her fellow summer camp attendees rehearse for and perform at the outset of the movie. As her father later quotes from a dying Van Gogh: 'There'll always be sadness'.

Arizona Raiders (1965)

'I respect a good soldier no matter the colour of their uniform'.

[3/10 · 26 January 2023]

Essentially a remake of 1951's 'The Texas Rangers' but here a vehicle for Audie Murphy. As such, the original screenwriting team were here joined by the husband and wife team of William and Mary Willingham. The former had appeared as both a stuntman and supporting cast member in earlier Murphy westerns, while both had written episodes of Murphy's western detective TV series, 'Whispering Smith', which had been broadcast in 1961. Though the plot was virtually identical, this time the writers equally borrowed from, and took liberties with the historical accuracy of, events surrounding Quantrill's Raiders.

Though it is factual that in the post-Civil War years members of Quatrill's men turned their hand to crime, this did not include their leader, who died in August 1865 at the tender age of 27 - so not the aged officer as portrayed by seasoned veteran actor Fred Graham. Moreover, the real Quatrill never even set foot within Arizona. Other inaccuracies surround the founding of the Arizona Raiders, who weren't actually founded until 1901, and the supposed meeting arranged by the state governor to propose the creation of the force shown here as having taken place in Tombstone, which itself was not established until 1879, a good thirteen years after the date in which the film is set.

Clint Stuart and his best friend Willie Martin are two ex-Confederate soldiers who served in the Civil War with great gallantry, but return from war to find their family have been murdered or their future denied by northern opportunists. As such, they fall in with Quantrill's raiders until the latter are cornered in an abandoned farmhouse by a Union army search party in the wake of another raid on a small town. This turn of events interrupts a stand-off between Stuart, acting as witness against the attempt of a disgruntled fellow gang member, Montana, to take over leadership from Quantrill by ensuring the latter would succumb to a bullet from a rifle aimed at him from a rooftop. As the gang now strive to breakout on horseback from their encirclement, Montana takes the opportunity to seek revenge and gun down his accuser and or prevent him escaping the law. Both Stuart and Martin are apprehended, and despite best efforts of their arresting officer, Captain Andrews, to plead their case for clemency, firstly as not having joined the gang till after the infamous and murderous raid on Lawrence, Kansas, and secondly upon their previous meritorious war record, they are sentenced to twenty years hard labour.

With Montana reappearing as leader of the ex-vigilantes as they terrorise the state on a crime spree, Captain Andrews agrees to head the force of Raiders if given sanction to fake the escape of our two protagonists from custody and 'plant them' back with their former comrades.

Audie Murphy gives an earnest, creditable performance as Stuart, who certainly is no whiter-than-white hero, and whose shame extends to wishing his idealist younger sibling would forget him. Likewise, the perennial boyish-looking Ben Cooper, who at this time was making appearances in every Western TV series that was being aired, offers great support as Martin. The plot retains some interest value in the audience wondering whether this duo will fulfil their mission or cut and run for the Mexican border. Yet, it is a shame that Buster Crabbe, giving one of his finer performances in the twilight of his career as Captain Andrews, disappears for most of the second half of this feature.

In terms of the casting of the bad guys, George Keymas, whose swarthy and rugged appearance often led to his being cast as Native American Indians, here gives a satisfactory performance as Montana, who in taking control of their pueblo and killing their priest has become the nemesis to a band of Yaqui Indians who had abandoned their savage ways for conversion to Christianity. In some ways, Murphy's character's duel to exact vengeance against Montana arrives too early, robbing the film of a more memorable climax. To be fair, Michael Dante offers greater threat in the more savvy Brady, and a further target for Stuart's revenge after shooting Martin in the back having discovered the latter's duplicity as an undercover Raider. Yet, even so, the film peters out rather than build to a crescendo.

The worst characterisation is that of our Yaqui Indians, who almost appear as a sort of indigenous native version of the Keystone Cops, especially when hilariously lobbing cacti down upon the gang attempting to flee with their horde of gold to the border. In her penultimate appearance on the big screen Gloria Talbott was cast as the chief's daughter and principal female protagonist. Refreshing to not have a typical love interest, the feature has her thank Stuart and begs him one last favour at the movie's conclusion in sending her people a new priest.

Ultimately, helmed by one of Quentin Tarantino's favourite action directors, there are flourishes of prolific William Witney's talent at choreographing action sequences, no more so than the shoot-out between Stuart and Montana around the environs of the pueblo's church. Overall, the film fails to ignite and too often the pace is languorous. Yet, at least this copy of the feature was not saddled with the incongruous and over lengthy eight-minute preamble which was inexplicably added years after the film was released in the cinemas.

Black Books: The Blackout (2000) Season 1, Episode 4

'They blanked me. That's an incredibly powerful thing to do in civilised society. It's like...it's like when the Mafia send each other...fish in the post'.

[9/10 · 19 January 2023]

The central plot-line for this episode is that Fran and Bernard are desperate to tell each other a story that has really unnerved them. How they decide whose turn it is to go first is decided in their own inimical style by having a rather childish but amusing 'girly' fight. In terms of Fran's story, that very morning she has seen her boyfriend Peter, played by Wayne Morris, best known for his role as Robin in Tony Robinson's 'Maid Marion & Her Merry Men, caress the cheek of another woman through a coffee shop window. As for Bernard, he has been completely blanked by his friends for a faux pas yet shrouded by intoxication. One only has to see the polite, reserved couple in question and be filled with trepidation as to what calamity Black has subjected them to.

Once again, this episode has some gem moments, such as when Black reveals that his friend Gerald, who had taken him in when he first arrived in the city and had even helped him set up the store, might have taken offence at his making passes at his wife Sarah. 'I did not make a pass at her. Well once. Twice. A few times. But not after I realised just how angry it made him. Well, once...' Moran then delivers comedy gold when sharing with Manny that Sarah is an interior designer working on 'Pet Surprise' - 'Oh, you know the thing, they take the dog out for a walk, he thinks it's a normal walk, but when they come back the kennel has a patio and French doors'. There are also continuing opportunities for Bernard to prove himself loathing of his clientele, such as informing one unfortunate customer about their purchase: 'It's dreadful but it's quite short'.

The next time we encounter our hapless shopkeepers we find Fran in a neck brace and Bernard in an arm brace. This time they squabble for the other to tell their embarrassing story first by poking and prodding at their respective injuries. Taking her stance from the power of the snub which has so unnerved Bernard, Fran had decided to publicly do the same to her boyfriend. Seeing him pass by the beauticians' window, she rushed out of adorned in a white robe and so nonchalantly 'looks the other way' she fails to notice she has walked into the road and is hit by a passing vehicle. Worse, in continuing to avert her gaze from Peter in the ambulance, the latter in exasperation to get her to look at him loudly cricks her neck. Cringeworthingly, it turns out the other woman was his sister, who Peter was consoling for losing her job.

One of the recurring motifs of this episode is the effect upon Manny of having spent the whole night awake with his birthday presents - a box set of The Sweeney and an espresso machine. Firstly, donning a Dennis Waterman- like brown leather jacket, he hilariously throws himself in line of fire tackling Bernard to the floor in response to a customer closing a book. Next, he decides to intervene when a thug steals an old lady's handbag outside the bookstore. Cue Bailey at his best at physical comedy, giving chase until both amusingly stop at a red light at a pedestrian crossing, and when the criminal finally turns to confront him, continuing to run past pretending he is on a morning jog. This intervention leads to his being mistaken for a real policeman and surreally becoming involved in the interrogation of another suspect. Taking the name 'Carter', when asked about his beard, Manny brilliantly says he is undercover trying to break a ring of heavy-metal musicians who have stolen some furniture. Playing opposite a great guest appearance by Colin McFarlane as Inspector Barry Norris, Manny's strange behaviour and confession that he is no policeman and has just drunk too much coffee so unnerves the criminal that it gets results.

Yet, the best is reserved for our discovery of just what Black gradually pieces together of his actions prior to his 'blackout' of the episode's title. Having already arrived at their residence so inebriated he was accompanied by a female police officer, when reintroduced to the couple's son, he painfully asks what he does for a living, and when reminded that the lad is just a boy, the audience wince as he declares: 'Oh thank God...I thought you had a disease'. We then are provided with one of his party tricks, 'Belly Savalas' and just imagine how fortunate the gathered guests were that Black had no cigar to follow-up with his 'CoBumbo'. Therefore, it comes as a slightly disappointing denouement that his impropriety ends up being having urinated on a wicker chair in the kitchen in front of the couple's child. Still, we witness Black's awful attempt to apologise which turns into a completely unbefitting move to take the moral high ground punished by his tripping unceremoniously down the garden steps.

A Woman Under the Influence (1974)

'I can be anything you want me to be, Nicky. Tell me what you want.'

[9/10 · 13 January 2023]

This reviewer would agree with the summation Richard Dreyfuss gave on a daytime talk show, where Peter Falk was also a guest, that this feature is 'the most incredible, disturbing, scary, brilliant, dark, sad, depressing movie'. As we accompany Mabel Longhetti's struggle with a non-defined mental illness, and her husband Nick's desperate attempts to cope with her strange mannerisms and increasingly erratic behaviour, we find witnessing their marital battle between love and hate emotionally exhausting, and consequently, both a difficult but unforgettable, and ultimately compulsive, watching experience.

The genesis for this movie was Gena Rowlands' request to her husband, John Cassavetes to write a play for her which would encapsulate the difficulties women faced in contemporary society. When the script was finalised, it was so emotionally intense that Rowlands shied away from having to perform it eight times a week on stage. Therefore, Cassavetes decided to adapt it for the screen.

However, when trying to raise investment for the movie, Cassavetes was told categorically that nobody would wish to watch the story of a deranged, middle-aged housewife. This merely fuelled his desire to complete this as a personal project, and convinced of the worth of the project, Cassavetes mortgaged his own house and borrowed from family and friends to raise the funds to make the movie. One of the latter, Peter Falk, was so enthralled by the screenplay that he personally invested $500,000. Still, it would be nigh on two years after it was filmed that it would find a distributor, and only then after Scorsese, a fan of Cassavetes' work, threatened to pull his own movie, 'Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore' from the New York Film Festival unless this feature was allowed entry.

In terms of the casting, Cassavetes turned to his usual coterie of close collaborators, including Falk. There is no question that the latter's exceptional performance as husband, Nick Longhetti, in conflict with his warring emotions of devotion for his wife, and growing discomfort at her irrational behaviour, was worthy of greater recognition. He is at pains to point out to all who will listen: 'Mabel is not crazy, she's unusual.' In a warts-and-all exploration of this blue-collar character's treatment of his wife, including physical restraint and beatings, this film bravely details the harrowing survival of a marriage always on the brink. Other cast members providing great support include the director's and Rowlands' own mothers. The former appears as the despairing grandmother to Nick's children, and the latter as fictional mother to her own daughter's character, valiantly and futilely trying to keep up appearances that all is sound in the Longhetti household.

Yet, this is above all else Rowlands' picture. Her characterisation of Mabel, unfairly criticised in some quarters as melodramatic, brilliantly captures the highly sensitive longing for her husband's and children's affection and her uninhibited approach to life so unacceptable to those who require nothing but conformity. Yet, when Mabel feels such acceptance lacking, she can respond in unpredictable and at times destructive ways. Hence, in one scene when Nick fails to make a pre-arranged 'date night', she picks up a random stranger from a bar and brings them back to the marital home. Rowlands displays a series of facial and physical manifestations of her peculiar characteristics throughout, which become ever more evident as her grasp on normality unravels. Rightful winner of a Golden Globe for best actress, Rowlands would lose out to Ellen Burstyn's performance in Scorsese's movie at the Oscars. Yet, so brutal was her commitment to the role that for years afterwards Rowlands could not bring herself to watch the film.

Chief of a construction team, Nick attempts both to blind himself to Mabel's more desperate attempts to be accepted, and to keep up appearances by inviting the gang to his suburban home for lunch. This backfires as conviviality around the dining table soon collapses into tense conflict as Mabel misjudges her level of interest in one of his team. In another emotionally shattering scene, she first attempts to get the obtuse and strait-laced father of children she has invited to a hastily arranged party to 'enter the spirit', before the freedom she allows the children disturbs him, leading to him trying to take his children away, amid accusations against her sanity, and upon Nick's return a physical tussle.

Aware that her erratic behaviour is becoming more of a talking point amongst his friends, family and neighbourhood, Nick's reactions become more and more physical, while his anger and frustration convince him of the need to secure his family's safety by having his wife committed. In the most distressing scene in the movie, when Mabel realises he has summoned the family doctor to the house for the purpose of providing a professional opinion on her inability to reason and present herself as a responsible parent, she suffers a complete mental breakdown, accusing him of being a demonic presence. Accordingly, even the actor portraying Dr Zepp was caught off-guard by the strength of her reactions and found the scene unbearingly uncomfortable. Ultimately, the irony is that Nick's parenting decisions are more questionable, sharing a six-pack with them en route back home from a day at the beach he has organised through guilt at separating them from their mother.

Cassavetes always sought in his movies to capture life in its full variety of experiences - cinéma vérité - and would therefore film scenes time and again from different angles, and each time, as per his norm, left the camera run for long uninterrupted takes. Never one to shy away from those uncomfortable moments, he allows his audience to linger where many would cut away from potentially distressing scenes. Such a moment surrounds Nick's angered and repeated attempts to take his upset children against their wishes to bed to 'protect' them, from his perspective, from their mother's latest outburst upon her return from the institution she was committed to. Just how well directed are those children in this harrowing scene. Filming was intense with arguments aplenty, especially between the director and his wife. It has to be noted that unfairly overlooked is the simplicity of the handheld camerawork of Mitch Breit and Al Ruban, which bears such potency throughout the feature.

If the film has any weakness, it is that it is overlong. The extended scenes of Nick and his construction team add no value to the central trajectory of the narrative so could have been pared back. More worthwhile could have been an exploration of Mabel's plea to her ineffectual father at her return to the marital home and in the face of Nick's continuing aggressive reactions that she wished he would stand up for her. The audience is left wondering how much her mental health has deteriorated as a result of pressure to please her reactive husband. As Mabel fondly reminisces: 'I always understood you, and you always understood me and that was always just how it was.' Given all indications this woman appears 'under the influence' of her husband's mixed signals of affection Timon and intolerance. Having been so often an involuntary and intrusive guest and witness within the Longhetti household, the film ends with our couple once more rearranging the furniture and drawing the curtains to finally shut us out with no indication as to whether their chaotic co-existence will continue or come to an end.

This is Cassavetes' major work, earning him an Academy Awards nomination for best director, and one of the purest character studies in cinema. The film has rightfully been recognised as a work of cultural significance by the US Library of Congress and thereby selected for preservation in the National Film Registry.

Thunder Bay (1953)

'Now if I can reach down there and bring up the results of all those millions of years and make them work for the present and the future...then I've sort of put all time toget

[3/10 · 29 December 2022]

Shoe-horned in amongst a series of great westerns starring James Stewart and directed by Anthony Mann, this feature resulted from Universal wishing for another collaboration between them. As other reviewers have noted, this screenplay almost replicates the Western format of cowboy versus farmer, but set at the dawn of the oil rig business off the coast of Louisiana, and pitting Stewart's oil entrepreneur against the local shrimp fishermen. As Mann later confessed the story was 'weak' and all 'too fabricated'. This was despite the presence within the team of screenwriters of John Michael Hayes, who just twelve months later would receive an Oscar nomination for his first collaboration with Hitchcock on 'Rear Window'.

Just having been demobbed from the Navy, Stewart's character, ex Navy-engineer Steve Martin, and his erstwhile friend and companion, Gambi, thumb a ride into fictional Port Felicity for a pre-arranged meet with the oil executive and financier they hope will fund the former's innovative and storm-proof design for an offshore oil rig. No matter the strength of the storyline, there can be no better actor to take on the role of an impassioned dreamer than Jimmy Stewart. In this case, his passion for the storyline was also due to the fact that like a few Hollywood A-listers, he held vested interests in the oil business, using investments within the industry as a convenient tax loophole. He commands attention as always and is totally believable when he assures his potential investor that: 'lots of times you can learn more from failure than you can from success'. Dan Duryea provides earnest support as Gambi and gave more than most to the production having slipped and fallen off the roof of one of the tugboats and suffering a broken rib, extensive bruising and contusion. The financier they approach is played by instantly recognisable character actor, Jay C. Flippen, a regular support to Stewart in his Anthony Mann pictures, who decides, against his lawyer's advice and Martin's litany of failures, to back his ambitious plans.

Yet, they will have to face the concerted opposition of the local long-established shrimp fishermen. Ironically, production of the film itself suffered at the hands of these same fishermen, when all the boats rented for use in the movie were suddenly reappropriated as news of a shrimping bonanza halted filming for a week. One immediate issue is that from today's more enlightened perspective their challenge to the oilmen as the small man fighting much more organised corporate interests would receive our full support, thereby undermining the narrative's moral stance. As such, dynamite-yielding Steve Martin trying to face down a mob of angry fishermen stating: 'There's oil down there and we need it...Without oil this country would stop. It would die' would surely face our own wrath. Another weakness of the narrative is the seemingly irrational character arcs of some of our protagonists, moving conveniently in one heartbeat from complete opposition to Stewart and his team to complete acceptance or vice versa. The prime example being the sudden and inexplicable transformation from bitter experience-hardened fisherman's daughter Stella, played admirably enough, given these motivational inconsistencies, by Joanne Dru. This is even more astonishing given how hurt emotionally she has been by her treatment and exploitation at the hands of monied men in her youthful escape from this backwater to Chicago. Thus, Stella's romantic attachment to Steve Martin is poorly developed, lacking sufficient scenes together for her to abandon her fear of being hurt again.

Despite bravura performances from Stewart, Dru and Duryea, the film suffers from some pretty dire ones from members of the supporting cast. The first of these is by the first Latin heartthrob of silent cinema, Spaniard, Antonio Moreno. On this showing it is understandable how his celluloid career fell away with the arrival of sound. Of similar incomprehensibility is the Latin Popeye, Gilbert Roland. On evidence here, it is unbelievable that Vincent's Minnelli could within twelve months coax him towards a Golden Globe nomination for 'The Bad and the Beautiful'. Worst of all in terms of performance has to be that of debutante Robert Monet as the ill-fated Philippe, whose girl, Stella's younger sister, is unceremoniously taken away from him by Gambi. Unsurprisingly, given his 'cardboard' delivery, his film career would last no longer than twelve months.

The feature's main issue is a singular lack of action save for the highly predictable storm sequence foreshadowed from the outset as the true test for Martin's oil rig design. Stretching credulity to the maximum, Philippe persuades Roland's character to brave the tempest to enact revenge on the oilmen by blowing up the oil rig laughably trying to light dynamite in hurricane-strength winds. Accordingly, the studio's decision to film this picture as its first in widescreen and stereophonic sound, led to complaints from some audiences that this storm sequence was too loud. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on one's perspective, not many theatres were equipped at that time to accommodate this advance in sound.

The film then plays to its conclusion by having previously peaceful Dominique, father to Stella and her sister, become so enraged at his younger daughter's entanglement with Gambi that he convinces the fishing community to descend on the oil rig as a baying mob whose blood-thirst against these outsiders is only prevented from playing itself out by the sudden and hugely timely strike of oil. Ultimately, the confrontation between the two warring factions is ended by the discovery of the MacGuffin of the 'golden shrimp' the least said about which the better.

Aside from the aforementioned acting and direction, the saving grace for the picture has to be the wonderful cinematography of William Daniels, he who had so often and so well captured the beauty of Greta Garbo. However, overall one would have to concur with Mann's estimation of the movie's major failing being accurate as there is very little which is compelling and the storyline feels more than a little contrived.

The Gorilla (1939)

'Why couldn't all of this have happened tomorrow?' 'What difference would that make?' 'Tomorrow's my day off'. Couldn't agree more Kitty.

[2/10 · 15 December 2022]

It is unsurprising that this would be the Ritz Brothers' final major movie for 20th Century Fox, but to be fair to the Brooklyn siblings that would be to ignore the issues surrounding their appearance in this feature. Supposedly the studio's answer to MGM's The Marx Brothers, their appeal had gradually waned, all the while with studio boss, Daniel F Zanuck attempting to split up the act. The latter always considered the star of the trio to be Harry with the elder brothers regarded as excess baggage. Indeed, Zanuck would interfere with the trio's scripts to try and ensure that Harry would enjoy the greater part of any dialogue.

Though the source material for the screenplay was a hugely successful 1925 Broadway play by Ralph Spence, such was their poor estimation of the quality of the screenplay that the brothers unsuccessfully demanded a rewrite. Worse, when they missed the scheduled start of filming to attend to the death of their father and remained absent for around a month the studio threatened them with a $150,000 breach of contract lawsuit. This is undoubtedly an inferior and unnecessary remake of a treatment of the play distributed by Warner Bros nine years earlier and featuring Walter Pidgeon. Whereas the original play served as a parody of popular theatrical mysteries of the time, this film sets out to have a human murderer 'ape' an escaped simian from the carnival in order to get away with their crimes.

Given the general reliability of prolific director Allan Dwan and the expertise generally demonstrated in cinematography provided by eventual seven-time Academy Award nominee, Edward J Cronjeger, it is remarkable that this feature is so amateurish and largely forgettable. As per usual with a Ritz Brothers vehicle, the trio were surrounded by a cast of studio reliables, in this case starting with Bela Lugosi and Lionel Atwill, who had both just appeared together in 'Son of Frankenstein'. It is the latter who stars as wealthy businessman and financier, Walter Stevens, the latest intended victim of The Gorilla, at whose home the film is set. In a role originally intended for Peter Lorre, Lugosi does admirably well as Stevens' avuncular butler, Peters, with the little screen time he is given. Obviously, he acts as the most conspicuous 'red herring' in this house of suspects, appearing as if by magic, at the most opportune moments, in locked rooms as commented upon often enough by the rest of the ensemble. Another notable cast member is beautiful Anita Louise playing Stevens' niece and the real target of our hirsute murderer. This becomes clear when Her uncle reveals they would be the sole beneficiary of a substantial will should the other die. At this juncture of her career, she was about to slide into obscurity with a raft of minor roles in B-movies. Finally, the studio brought in renowned comedienne Patsy Kelly as a further foil for the Ritz Brothers. Discovered by Hal Roach, Kelly herself had formed part of a successful comedy duo with Thelma Todd until the latter's untimely death in 1935. In terms of horror films, she would achieve greater acclaim for her role in 'Rosemary's Baby' some thirty years later.

One of the most often quoted mercies of this feature is its short running-time, clocking in at just 66 minutes. That can still feel like an eternity when the Ritz Brothers are in screen. Cast as the bumbling detectives hired by Stevens in his desire not to involve the police, their contributions consist of facial gurning and nervous stuttering. So annoying are they that one feels Lugosi should have won an Oscar for the martial arts he utilises at one point to take one of the infuriating trio out. Add on Kelly's constant shrieking and this reviewer hoped there would be a few more corpses within the screenplay. Though Kelly should be credited with delivering the one true humorous line of dialogue by responding to Peters' chastising: 'I wouldn't be frightened like that if I were you' with 'You be frightened any way you want...This is my way.'

Fortunately, the secret entrances and exits in this dark old house make for some diversion from the amateurish antics as does the revelation of who in reality the murderer is. One can point out the poor standard of the gorilla costume but this is supposed to be a comedy-mystery so this can be excused. Overall, it is the lack of comedy talent which is the film's main failing, and therefore, such a shame that when Lugosi's character is informed of the detectives' disappearance and his retort 'What a pity' delivered with such a chilling smile, that they never returned to the storyline. With all the wrangles over the script and their contract, given their lacklustre performance on top, it is no wonder that 20th Century Fox parted ways with the brothers.

The City of the Dead (1960)

'I have made my pact with thee O Lucifer...I will do thy bidding for all eternity. For all eternity shall I practice the ritual of Black Mass...shall I sacrifice unto thee'.

[6/10 · 8 December 2022]

This low-budget release was shot entirely on soundstage at Shepperton Studios. It was produced by former rock and roll composer and budding American filmmaker, Milton Subotsky, alongside his commercial partner, Max Rosenberg, who would both go on to co-establish their own independent horror production company, Amicus Productions, two years later. In addition, Subotsky also re-wrote the screenplay under a pseudonym, attempting to lengthen what had been originally intended as a television pilot for Boris Karloff. Though it failed at the box-office it is deserving of far greater renown, amounting to an agreeable black and white Gothic tale set in rural Massachusetts.

Released in the States with the far inferior title 'Horror Hotel' (even worse accompanied by the laughable tagline 'Just Ring for Doom Service'), this feature also suffered in American theatres by having the opening sequence set in the sixteenth century removed, thereby denuding it of relevant plot background. This sequence has the audience witness the burning of the witch, Elizabeth Selwyn, brought to the stake by her neighbours of the fictional Massachusetts hamlet of Whitewood. Not only does she commit her soul to Lucifer, but also places an eternal curse upon her accusers and executioners. Cut to the present-day and this event forms part of a college lecture by history professor, Alan Driscoll, who agrees to support one interested student to pursue her curiosity in the case by visiting modern-day Whitewood to further her research.

The undoubted strength of this feature is in the casting of the three main sinister protagonists. Firstly, it benefits from the appearance of Christopher Lee as Driscoll just two years after he first donned the fangs of Count Dracula - though for one, Venetia Stevenson, who plays Nan Barlow, the doomed young female student, was oblivious to his fame within the horror genre, regarding him as a very nice gentleman. One cannot imagine anyone else in the role, his glowering at those he considers beneath him is first-class. Secondly, there is the telling contribution made by Valentine Dyall, as Selwyn's accomplice, Jethrow Keane, who equally sold his soul to the Devil. A consummate voice actor, his dark, resonant, and hypnotic tone had been used to maximum effect in thrilling and scaring radio audiences throughout the Forties and Fifties, and does so here. Nevertheless, the true star of this feature has to be the mesmerising Patricia Jessel as Selwyn and her reincarnation, the innkeeper of the Raven's Inn in Whitewood, Mrs Newlys - an obvious anagram of the name of the local witch. Jessel was primarily a stage actress and this by far is her most successful role in her half dozen or so appearances on celluloid.

The film is more than ably directed by Argentinian-born John Llewelyn Moxley, whose subsequent career would largely feature directing television series. He creates a dark, gothic atmosphere and allows the audience's imagination to roam free, as opposed to opting for cheap special effects. Two memorable scenes are the ominous vanishing of Dyall as our female victim's night-time hitchhiker, and the sound of revelry outside in the lobby of the Raven's Inn suddenly dying away as she leaves her room to join the fun. Undoubtedly, the best piece of editing has the plunging of the knife of the human sacrifice of our young female researcher cut away to the cutting of a cousin's birthday cake at a gathering she would have been better off attending. This movie also features wonderful monochromatic cinematography from Desmond Dickinson, best remembered for his work on Olivier's 'Hamlet' twelve years earlier. The fog-filled hamlet serving as such an ominous representation for audiences to transplant within their imaginations to Salem. Returning for a moment to Moxley, he was unfairly accused of 'borrowing' aspects of Hitchcock's 'Psycho' which was released just four days later. As he later recounted: 'I remember going to a drive-in to see 'Psycho and being scared to death but not really realising Janet Leigh was Nan Barlow'.

The supporting cast is another plus point with Venetia Stevenson, daughter of successful Hollywood director, Robert Stevenson who gave us Welles in 'Jane Eyre' and 'Mary Poppins', cast as our intrepid and ill-fated female student, Nan Barlow. She herself made light of her billing, stating that all she had brought was her youth and American accent. Yet, as a regular face on 'Juke Box Jury' she would have added to the box-office appeal of this feature, as would have done the appearance of popular Fifties, South-African born, Dennis Lotis, as her troubled academic elder brother, determined to investigate what has befallen her in Whitewood. Strangely for its time, the female characters have much more memorable roles than their male counterparts, and this is also true of Betta St John as the granddaughter of the besieged and aged pastor of Whitewood who has recently returned to Whitewood to run the family antique shop and becomes the next intended sacrifice to Lucifer. Even poor mute servant Lottie, played admirably by Ann Beach, commands more screen presence than many of the supporting male cast.

One weakness of the movie lies in its score, with jazzy interludes accompanying scenes set outside our creepy Whitewood lowering the foreboding atmosphere which the rest of the score helps to build up. Another is the inclusion by Subotsky of a romantic subplot with the more than annoying boyfriend played by the more than wooden Tom Naylor. Unfortunately, the film slightly suffers from the pedestrian and underwhelming final fiery confrontation in the church's graveyard with our devil worshippers.

As a final cultural footnote, despite suffering from distribution issues which prevent this movie from reaching wider television audiences, Iron Maiden used scenes from the movie for their music video to 1990's 'Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter'.

Cover Girl (1944)

'What does a young girl think about when she's going down the aisle to be married. That's the look I want.'

[4/10 · 1 December 2022]

It is astonishing to think that originally Colombia, and Harry Cohn in particular, were dead set against Gene Kelly starring in this feature, and more interested in securing from MGM the now relatively unknown Dennis Morgan to star alongside Hayworth. Yet, it is an indication of just how unappreciated were the potential talents of Gene Kelly at this juncture early in his career that MGM were more than happy to extend their loan of him to Colombia rather than release Morgan. Fortunately, one has to credit first-time producer, Arthur Schwartz for the courage, or intuitiveness, to give Kelly free rein in creating his major dance scenes, which, without question, are the most inspired moments of this otherwise standard fare musical. In the first instance, he was permitted to knock down soundstages to create a continuous street scene, albeit in this case for a dance sequence shared with Hayworth and Silvers, which acts very much as a precursor for that moment of movie magic in Singing in the Rain' eight years later. Secondly, he was given free rein to experiment with trick photography to create this movie's most memorable scene to dance with his 'alter-ego'. In choreographing this piece where he dances with a spectral reflection of himself in order to denote his inner conflict in fighting for or letting go the love of his life, Kelly stated: 'I wanted to further the plot emotionally and not just be a musical interlude.'Accordingly, director Charles Vidor had complained that this would never work on screen. Yet, this piece was beautifully and miraculously choreographed by Kelly's 19 year-old assistant, and future co-director on 'Singing in the Rain', Stanley Dolen. The trick was to have Kelly hit the same mark at the same point of the musical track, and Dolen was able to rely on Kelly, the man dubbed by some the 'human metronome'.

Hayworth was at the height of her box-office appeal and became one of the few to share musical top billing with both Astaire and Kelly. She positively shines resplendent in her role as chorus girl, Rusty Parker, who, when fame comes a calling with an opportunity to become the cover girl on the fiftieth anniversary edition of a popular fashion magazine, has to choose between celebrity or her dance manager and fiancé, Danny, played earnestly by Kelly. It transpires that the aged and wealthy editor's choice of Hayworth's character for the cover shot is due to her resemblance to the stage girl who had captured and broke his heart in his youth - Rusty's own grandmother.

It is the plot which is this feature's weakest element, fitting predicable formulas for the musical genre. Accordingly, screenwriter Virginia Van Upp cobbled this together from at least seven previously rejected scripts. In addition, she hastily wrote dialogue specifically for Hayworth, even on set. What holds it together is the quality casting of the supporting characters in Phil Silvers as the vaudeville comedian and third corner of our protagonists' friendship triangle, and the wonderfully acerbic Eve Arden as the magazine's marketing executive who attempts to provide the voice of reason and feminine guile countering the open sexism of all the male stereotypes of the period. Silvers would accordingly state in one interview that he was typecast in many of his early roles as the The other drawback, unbelievably given the fact that the film would be garlanded with an Academy Award for Best Scoring of a Motion Picture, is the lacklustre musical numbers throughout. Aside from the memorable music motif of 'Long Ago and Far Away', which not only became a musical standard covered by many artists, as well as a favourite amongst couples separated by the conflict of the Second World War, the rest are at best entertaining without being exceptional. This was the first and only collaboration between Jerome Kern and Ira Gershwin and is another example of a body of work popular at the time but one which has not dated well. The only exception being the aforementioned standard which was Gershwin's greatest ever hit. This reviewer would agree with those who point out that the fact that the musical show-pieces lack lavish productions is because many are set in the amateurish Brooklyn joint owned by Kelly's character. However, worst of all has to be the inclusion of traditional British music hall folk number 'Poor John', originally written in 1907, where Hayworth's singing voice, Martha Mears, has to improvise a Cockney accent which just might shade Dick Van Dyke's as the worst ever.

Given the focus on glamour magazines, this was an excellent choice for the first Technicolor musical for Colombia. Certainly, one beneficiary of the focus on fashion magazine cover girls, allowing him an opportunity for creative freedom was costume designers, Travis Banton, and Muriel King, best known for personally designing Katherine Hepburn's personal wardrobe. Rightfullyk earning Oscar nominations for art direction and cinematography, with the latter representing the fifth for respected Polish-born cinematographer, Rudolph Maté. The film is ably directed by the always reliable Charles Vidor, who would achieve one of cinema's masterpieces with Hayworth in 'Gilda' a mere two years later.

The obvious conclusion to the romantic plot line with Rusty ditching her richer but wooden suitor at the altar for the true love of her life, much in the same vein as her grandmother, is made more original by tying this denouement in with Danny's finally having discovered a pearl, no matter the imperfections, in the couple's shared bar game. In a case of fact following fiction, the same day as the shooting of the wedding scene, Hayworth eloped with Orson Welles, running off set in full make-up during her lunch-hour. Even more of a coincidence, Welles had first clapped eyes on Hayworth on the cover of 'Life' magazine while he was filming a documentary in Brazil and determined to seek her out upon his return to the United States.

Ending up as Columbia's biggest grossing film of 1944, the film propelled Hayworth into stardom. In fact, so popular was the film that red headed girls around the US started to call themselves 'Rusty'. It is hard to imagine now that the role of Rusty was originally going to be offered to Lauren Bacall, who the previous year had appeared as a cover girl on Harpers Bazaar, but she opted to star in 'To Have and Have Not' instead.

The Core (2003)

'Three months and we're back in the Stone Age, a year and we're fried'.

[5/10 · 11 November 2022]

The very idea of a former RSC director fronting a 70s style disaster movie sounds like a disaster in itself, and to many reviewers that is exactly what occurred. The poor critical reception would effectively 'grind to a halt' Amiel's career as a movie director, who has since almost universally plied his trade on the small screen.

Dubbed by some as 'Armageddon in the dirt', the film's questionable scientific credibility and lacklustre CGI do not prevent it from being a viewing 'guilty pleasure'. Without any doubt, the film's saving grace is that it does not take itself too seriously. In terms of the former, the backlash against the absurdity of some of the faux science of this feature actually led Dustin Hoffman to join an advisory board to help ensure future Hollywood productions minimise inaccuracies in how they represent science and technology. In terms of the latter, even the special effects team for this feature had light relief in inserting a fish - blink and you miss it - amongst the disorientated flock of birds which crash into a shop's plate-glass window just off Trafalgar Square. Perhaps one of the most unconvincing is the tear in the Earth's protective atmosphere which results in the laser-like obliteration of San Francisco but which then seems to not have any further effect around the globe.

Whatever the film's weaknesses are, they are not down to the performances of the quite impressive cast Amiel attracted to the project. Principal amongst these are academy award winner, Hillary Swank, and the ever watchable Stanley Tucci. The former stars as Major Rebecca 'Beck' Childs, an intuitive and ambitious pilot who single-handedly outthinks the whole of NASA to chart a safe landing aboard a space shuttle which finds itself hundreds of miles off-course plummeting towards downtown LA. Accordingly, originally the screenplay had it land at Los Angeles Airport rather than the LA River until unrest in the wake of 9/11 ruled out the former - yet, even this can't explain either the flight path changing from west to east and the incredulous lengthy descent whilst Childs' plan is pondered over. For her heroics, and those of her commander, played earnestly by Bruce Greenwood, they are dubiously honoured by being assigned to become the first 'terranauts'. From the moment the latter cautions her that: 'It's just you're used to winning and you're not really a leader until you've lost', you know his character is toast. As for Tucci, he is sublime as the pompous, and egomaniac, eminent scientist, Conrad Zimsky, who soon becomes noted for taking the credit for others' ideas and trying to gain lasting recognition while desperately trying to save his own skin.

The film is a guilty pleasure, as unlike so many other disaster movies, the team which comes to the rescue is not made up by muscle-bound action heroes, but rather by 'geek' scientists and a borderline-everything computer nerd. Our chief protagonist, Dr Joshua Keyes, a geophysicist and expert on sonar waves who postulates Armageddon will occur as the Earth's core has stopped rotating, is played convincingly enough by Aaron Eckhardt, who confessed he accepted the role merely as a means of paying the bills. God, his character is genius though, surmising from bare facts of 17 people simultaneously falling dead in Boston, ironically enough on 'Green World Day', and without any medical examination, that an electromagnetic impulse has stopped their pacemakers, and persuading Washington to part with $50 billion simply by burning a peach. Keyes' bromance with his French associate and weapons specialist, Tchéky Karyo as Serge, where the actor's dramatic skills are reduced to simple Gallic charm, amounts to a wisecracking double act, until Keyes' ear-piercing, infantile squeals at the latter's loss - a terrible case of overacting. Then, there is Delroy Lindo's hirsute hermit-like designer of the exploratory craft enlisted to get the team to the core to kickstart the Earth's rotation, bitter at Zimsky's earlier plagiarism of his research. Finally, we have the embarrassingly weird recluse with a human heart computer hacker played by DJ Qualls.

The cast do admirably well with some of the unashamedly corny dialogue. The scriptwriters are those responsible for 'Catwoman', so maybe audiences should not have expected much. The screenplay is littered with unsubstantiated and ludicrous scientific propositions, such as a windshield on a craft supposedly built to withstand the most extreme pressures under the earth's mantle. Moreover, the preposterous walk-about in spacesuits amidst a lava flow is probably one example of Amiel trying to live up to the ideals by which he had been able to attract the cast to this movie, whereby the characters supposedly would be given as much attention as the special effects. And how dated and cheap the CGI is throughout, resembling in the main those of Seventies' arcade games, and including the most obvious model of the Coliseum in Rome. The film also includes obvious clichés, most notable of which is that from the moment we meet Richard Jenkins' concerned general, there has to be a secret military operation behind these cataclysmic events, and let's just give it the corniest title and fit together a chain of impressive terms to form 'DESTINI'.

The movie is overlong, with the last hour pitted with risible scenarios, such as those just mentioned, contrived to try and enliven the second half. It is inconceivable just how many times this apparent group of experts, having been given three months of intensive planning, fail to have considered possible outcomes. This is even highlighted by Greenwood's Commander, when after questioning whether their estimation of the core's thickness is accurate and receiving Zimsky's dismissive retort of 'what if the core is made of cheese?..That's all science is...best guess,' responds himself: 'So my best guess is you don't know.' In addition, when they do arrive at a solution, Eckhart's character sums up the plan, thereby humorously underlining its fantastical properties: 'So we hotwire the nukes...we seed them through the core at locations that have to be accurate to the inch. We detonate them in a sequence that has to be accurate to the millisecond. Then we outrun the biggest nuclear shockwave in history.' After the mission has predictably claimed the lives of all but the young attractive duo, in this reviewer's favourite tongue-in-cheek moment, Childs sums up their current predicament: 'We've got no communications...we're probably 800 feet down but we might as well be 800 miles...we're in an unobtanium cigar tube with the sonar signature of a rock...we've got just enough power to make the ultrasonics burp but no one is listening on those frequencies anyway...and nobody even knows we are alive', Keyes wonderfully responds 'Give me a minute on this one'. Given we already know his area of expertise, and, more importantly, the solution was already foregrounded on the launch, it doesn't take any genius to arrive at the solution which will result in DJ Qualls leaping around an aircraft carrier shouting: 'It's whales...It's whales.'

This is the type of mindless but entertaining escapism Irwin Allen became synonymous with in the Seventies. In this respect, even Roger Ebert had an inexplicable affection for this feature. The audience need to suspend belief and allow themselves to just be taken along with this exaggerated tide of faux science. Summing up neatly, and poking fun at Lindo's character's simplistic claim of having discovered the elusive 'unobtanium' to construct his subterranean 'cigar', Joe Morgenstern in the 'Wall Street Journal' described the storyline as 'Built from an alloy of absurdium and stupidium,'. What the audience also need to decide is whether this was originally intended to be a spoof of such disaster movies, or one which happened by chance to fall on the right side of light-hearted entertainment. Despite it only grossing just over half of its original budget of $60 million, as one reviewer has put it, it is ultimately a victory of wry humour, intended or not, over content.

Serena (1962)

On the portrait of his murdered wife, the artist states: 'I think anyone could recognise her from it, or could have done.'

[4/10 · 16 September 2022]

This low-budget British thriller has more of a TV potboiler feel to it than a true cinematic experience, and would in effect be one of only two relatively successful forays into cinema for its director. His family having fled Vienna in the 1930s, Austrian-born director Peter Maxwell, whose given name was Peter Magitai, would change his name so that he could be recruited into the British army. Professionally, after first garnering experience working as an assistant to Alexander Korda, he would later emigrate to Australia to ply his trade mostly on Australian TV police series.

The plot surrounding the apparent, seemingly motiveless, murder of an artist's estranged wife and the sudden disappearance of his model and mistress has sufficient intrigue, even if, ultimately, its resolution is a little telegraphed. At the outset, we are witness to an intruder entering the wife's rural Surrey cottage and shooting her at point blank range. The victim is shot in the face making identification impossible. When the audience are immediately drawn to the London studio flat of her estranged, bohemian artist husband to witness a passionate embrace with his mistress, and her sudden departure across the rooftop at the arrival of the police, they are instinctively led to view him as the main suspect. It is only when he is asked to identify the body and finding no missing characteristic birthmark, concludes that the victim is not is wife, that the audience countenance the prospect of another murderer. This is even more the case soon after with his wife's sudden appearance in the film verifying his evidence that they were intending to heal their rift which has seen them live apart for three years

Playing this central couple and thereby heading a decent cast, are former Powell and Pressburger cast member, Emrys Jones, and Honor Blackman, on the verge of becoming a household name for playing Cathy Gale in the second series of 'The Avengers. Here she makes the grand entrance as the very much alive supposed victim, revealing that a close friend who had been struggling financially had come to live with her at her cottage and had started wearing her clothes so that she could elude a mysterious female stalker with long black hair. The third central character is that of the chief investigating officer agreeably but stiffly portrayed by former leading man, Patrick Holt, once dubbed 'the Dennis Price of B-movies', whose main objective becomes one of a search for the missing model, and now chief suspect, the eponymous Serena Vaughan, for whom, in a nod to Otto Preminger's noir thriller, 'Laura', there is only a painted portrait to go on. The police's interest in Jones' character's mistress intensifies when they learn that on the day of the murder, Miss Vaughan had been on a shooting party with the artist and had separated from him long enough to have committed the crime.

This satisfactory suspenseful thriller of just over an hour's length was typical of the output of the low-budget production company behind it, the unglamorously named Butcher's Film Service. The team of writers, which included actor Reginald Hearne, who also makes a cameo appearance as the doctor, created a plot, which despite its merits, too obviously relied on the influence of the aforementioned Preminger classic, without attaining its foreboding mood or polished style. The fact remains, as mentioned earlier, that this feels more akin to a TV drama, which is hardly surprising as, just like with the female lead, cinematographer, Stephen Dade, would ply his trade on 'The Avengers'. Moreover, given the screenplay largely being confined to the artist's flat, and the static camerawork throughout, it is surprising to learn that the original material has not been sourced from a theatrical play. One incongruous element is the sultry jazzy soundtrack which plays throughout and at times clashes with the storyline unfolding.

Overall, the film has no moody edge to it, and is too neat in its completion for its own good. Ironically, the true identity of the murder victim comes to light as a result of the strictly adhered to religious beliefs of the artist's wife, whose staunch Roman Catholicism had acted as a barrier to granting her husband a divorce. The fortunate discovery by a plainclothes female police officer of Honor Blackman's character's choice of Sunday worship finally unravels the mystery and as a final confirmation, Holt's superintendent tests whether she recognises the family solicitor and when she fails to do so is able to unveil the murderous pair just in time to prevent them absconding abroad.

The Black Knight (1954)

'You have ambition: fashion it like a suit of armour.'

[2/10 · 11 July 2022]

Unaware of how well received critically his finest celluloid appearance as 'Shane' would be, Ladd followed the advice of his agent and wife, Sue Carol, in appearing in a trilogy of low budget films in the UK to qualify for tax exemption. This feature was the final film and places him firmly within a historical context where his American accent is so alien amongst a cast trying their utmost to make as Shakespearean as possible this outlandish tale where different epochs of history clash together, especially in the depiction of stone-built castles which would only appear after the Norman invasion.

His negotiated fee as the most popular male artist and box office draw of that year, together with a sizeable cut of the film's gross, was a substantial earner, especially for just 11 days work. Ladd appears uninterested at best, not helped by Carol's instruction, having drafted in eleventh-hour dialogue writer, Bryan Forbes, to keep her husband 'monosyllabic'. Yet, It is not just his accent that is out of place as a supposed humble English blacksmith, but also his wavy shoulder-length blonde mullet.

The series of films Ladd made in England for Irving Allen and Albert Broccoli's 'Warwick Films' also marked the cinematic debut of Harry Andrews, a stage veteran, who would feature in most British movies produced over the next two decades. Here, Andrews plays Ladd's employer, the Earl of Yeonil, for whose daughter our erstwhile hero carries a torch. The latter is portrayed by the voluptuous Patricia Medina, an Anglo-Latina actress and regular siren in historical costume dramas. Their forbidden romance, crossing too great a social divide, is unearthed when the lord stumbles upon their embrace in the forge, and Ladd's character is expelled from court. Yet, moments after he departs, the castle is raided and torched, and its inhabitants butchered by a band of what appear to be Vikings. Having witnessed the identity of the murderers who take the life of his beloved's mother, the blacksmith trails them to King Arthur's Court at Camelot. Attacking them there, our blacksmith is detained and his life spared by the intervention of his old friend and respected elder knight of Camelot, Sir Ontzlake.

In terms of the casting, the English supporting actors would adorn a 'Doctor Who' convention, given the presence of Patrick Troughton as the machiavellian King Mark of Cornwall, and Peter Cushing as his Saracen henchman and turncoat in King Athur's Court, Sir Palamides. In reality, Palamides was a loyal Arthurian knight, who would ultimately kill the treacherous King Mark. Cushing, always the consummate professional, does his best with the role he was given, but ultimately, this may rank amongst his most forgettable celluloid appearances. The film also features Old Vic regular, and Watson to Cushing's Holmes, Andre Morell, as the good knight and mentor to Ladd's blacksmith, Sir Ontzlake. The latter prepares Ladd's character to be unveiled as the mysterious champion who rides in to thwart King Mark's plans to have his disguised Cornishmen as Vikings, and his Saracen allies, topple Arthur go claim the throne of England as his own. Playing King Arthur, is friend of Olivier and associate producer of the latter's 'Hamlet', Anthony Bushell, in one of his more prominent celluloid roles.

Given the director's start as a gag writer for Mack Sennett and Hal Roach, one would excuse the audience for wondering if this were intended similarly as a comedy vehicle. Even more so, considering director Tay Garnett's last venture into Arthurian costume drama had been the light-hearted, but far more commercially successful 'A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court', five years earlier. One major flaw of the production is the ludicrous hotchpotch of historical and cultural themes which has England home to Saracens pretending to be Viking marauders, and complicit with pagan Druids for Cornwall in threatening the realm of King Arthur and his knights of Camelot. This reaches the heights of absurdity with our eponymous hero riding in to rescue his damsel from a 'Pythonesque' Druid sacrificial ceremony at Stonehenge. In a chequered career, Australian screenwriter Alec Coppel would have sporadic episodes of critical success in both Hollywood and Broadway, including being the main contributor to Hitchcock's 'Vertigo' in 1958. However, he would also be responsible for lacklustre low-budget fiascos, with this feature perhaps representing a career low.

It as this juncture that mention must be made of the extravagant and unbefitting costume design. One wonders how Oscar-winner, Beatrice Dawson, could regard the short-sleeved, white-breasted armour, topped off with a veritable pterodactyl adorning the helmet, as appropriate for either the eponymous character's nomenclature or the actor portraying him's stature. In one of the film's most ludicrous scenes, Ladd, so attired remains undetected eavesdropping on our villains' plans, when from his proximity they could feel his breath on their necks, let alone by the fact that his helmet should have cast much of the throne-room into darkness. Of all the Arthurian interpretations this must rank amongst the worst, with slapstick action sequences and our hero seemingly perpetually at full gallop without any real purpose. In fact, one is left wondering if this could be the highest-paid salary ever for a leading man whose appearances are so scant compared to the far more apparent scenes of his stunt double having to career around in the aforementioned top-heavy armour. A chaotic, charmless, and comedic two dimensional, cardboard Camelot.

The Magic Sword (1962)

Hard to live-up-to tagline: 'Feats beyond description. Spectacle beyond imagination.'

[1/10 · 3 July 2022]

Directed by Bert I. Gordon, specialist in low budget fantasy B-movies, this feature stands out as being atypical in his collection of work. This is due to its not being centred upon over-size beasts, but consisting instead of the director's take on the legend of St George. His co-author on the screenplay for this movie was Bernard C Schoenfeld, who had made his name as writer on many of the episodes of 'Alfred Hitchcock Presents' in the mid-Fifties, and had previously been nominated for an Academy Award in 1951 for 'Caged'. Unbelievably, the British Board of Censors gave this feature an X certificate, leading it to having to be re-released on a very limited theatrical run with its original title, 'St George & the Seven Curses'. Accordingly the censor was perturbed at some of the special effects, which, given the film's cheap budget, appears to have been quite an impulsive and mistaken decision.

In Gordon's version, George is an orphaned prince brought up by a sorceress, Sybil, whose witchcraft has largely deserted her. This derring-do young Prince is played by former stuntman, and stand-in for Anthony Perkins, Gary Lockwood. On the evidence here, he should have stayed off-camera. In terms of the storyline, when the object of his affection, Princess Helene, is kidnapped by the evil wizard Lodac, the impetuous George tricks his foster mother Sybil, a sorceress in her own right who reared him as her own child when she found him alone, his parents having died of the plague. Locking her up in her magic basement, he not only helps himself to the magic sword in question and the fastest steed in all the world, but also resurrects six ossified knights to accompany him on his quest to rescue her. One can understand why anyone would become smitten with the alluring Anne Helm, former model and dancer at the Copacabana club in New York, who would briefly become the girlfriend of Elvis Presley the following year. It is quickly apparent that were it not for his travelling companion knights, it is doubtful this bumbling buffoon of a hero would have survived long on his arduous journey. If these knights' longevity were determined by acting ability, then their fates may have been radically different. It is unbelievable, given the fact that a voiceover specialist was called in to dub over the contributions of the the actor playing Sir Ulrich of Germany, as the latter's accent was so bad, that the risible Irish accent attempted by John Maudlin not only stood, but also that the latter enjoyed so much dialogue, and that his character was not killed off sooner.

Whilst tackling the seven deadly curses in his path, George must also face the treachery of his rival for the Princess' hand, Sir Branton, played gleefully by stage and TV performer, Liam Sullivan, secretly in league with Lodac. In terms of the special effects, these range from satisfactory, given both the epoch in which the film was made and budgetary constraints, to the quite farcical. The star of the how in terms of the special effects is Lodac's dragon, the model of which was only eight foot long and took four months to construct. It was activated by wires and mechanical controls. Equipped with gas ducts enabling it to spew flames of fire, tragedy was averted by the quick reactions of a standby fireman when its costly innards caught fire. The worst special effect has to be the 25 foot ogre, which in any other universe the knights aboard their steeds could easily have outrun. It seems preposterous to what children can see today, but what perturbed the censor of the day was the seemingly horrifying effect of the voluptuous maiden trying to entice our French knight revealing herself to be a hideous old hag in the employ of Lodac. As an interesting footnote, playing said old hag, as well as the abductor of Princess Helene, was TV's Vampira herself, Maila Nurmi.

With regard to other more notable and experienced members of the cast, they appear to be just going through the motions. As for George's foster-mother, Sybil, English character actress, Estelle Winwood, virtually plays her stereotypical role of that time of an eccentric old woman as if in a trance herself. The film is notable for the presence among the cast of Basil Rathbone, cast as the evil wizard Lodac, who hams it up in pure pantomime fashion. Rathbone claimed he was drawn to play the character as he considered him 'the most villainous, treacherous, wretchedest evildoer it has ever been my very good fortune to play.' Sullivan would later recall that the cast were all entertained during the shoot by Rathbone's colourful anecdotes.

All in all, the contrived plot developments and 'step-by-step' acting are all given lenient treatment by film critics, well aware of this film's true appeal as children's entertainment.

City Hall (1996)

"Rise up with me. Rise up on the wings of this slain angel."

[5/10 · 14 June 2022]

This promised much, and as a political drama has many fine moments, but ultimately, fails to deliver by being drawn into the realms of an unconvincing thriller with the Mayor's astute deputy leading the investigation into the burgeoning evidence of corruption at the heart of New York's political halls of power, all the while becoming enmeshed in a tiresome romantic sub-plot.

The original screenplay was composed by Ken Lipper, an ex-deputy to New York mayor Ed Koch, and contains many elements which draw comparison with Koch's scandal-ridden final term in office, principally in terms of suspicion of corruption through links to shady political associates, and racial tension resulting from the shooting of a young Afro-American. Overall, the film successfully captures a feel for the murky underbelly and inherent corruption, even if the script at times feels clunky and contrived. What is apparent is that the further writing credits of such an illustrative band as the writers of 'Taxi-Driver', 'Goodfellas', and 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest', should have led to cinematic gold, but the net result is rather underwhelming.

The storyline focuses on the tragic death of a young Afro-American child, struck down by a stray bullet as he is being walked to school by his father. The fateful exchange of gunfire on a street in north Brooklyn is between a narcotics detective working without back-up and a drug dealer who happens to be the nephew of the local mafiosi. When it becomes clear that the latter should not have even been on the streets, had his probation not been doctored to avoid a custodial sentence of between ten to twenty years, the trail will uncover those within both the political and judicial realms willing to bid for favours from the local mob boss, payed ably by James Francisco's in what would be his final cinematic role. The latter, hoping to keep his family's name out of the newspapers sets in motion attempts to frame the deceased cop, leaving his widow, again played competently by Lauren Velez - who would later win plaudits playing a detective herself in 'Dexter' fighting to have her husband's name cleared so that his pension could support her and their children.

The direction of the film does have issues, especially with confusing plot leaps, despite being helmed by one of Hollywood's most reliable directors in Harold Becker, who returns on this feature to working with Pacino after their successful collaboration on 'Sea of Love' seven years earlier. Becker also calls upon a great ensemble of supporting actors including Richard Schiff. Later to find fame in another political drama, 'The West Wing', as the under pressure probation official and lowest rung in the ladder of corruption at the heart of the city, and the ever reliable Martin Landau, as the soon-to-be disgraced judge.

Having spent time in preparation for the role, meeting Koch, and the then incumbent mayor of NYC, Guiliani, Pacino gives one of his more credible performances of recent years as the populist, and increasingly evident vainglorious, city mayor, John Pappas. In doing so, he convinces most when portraying the savvy seasoned political mover and shaker, with the only blemish on an otherwise spotless performance, being his bombastic speech at the funeral of the young child whose tragic death lies at the heart of the political storm to come. This scene divides audience reactions, but this reviewer finds it wholly unconvincing that a bereaving family would so readily allow a political figure to so openly use their loss as a stage for political point-scoring. Moreover, reference to classical orators such as Pericles, though in line with the mayor's own Greek heritage, would surely not evince empathy with the congregation of a Harlem church. Worst of all, Pacino plays it with the unleashed aggression of his iconic character, Tony Montana - all that is missing is him brandishing a gun himself.

The plot hinges on the heartbreaking death of the aforementioned child, caught by a stray bullet in a shoot-out between one of the city's detectives and a known felon. What appears at first to be a lamentable accident, is transformed by the revelation that the stray bullet came from the nephew of one of the city's leading Mafia figures. Moreover, there follows the unveiling that this felon's criminal record should have resulted in their already being behind bars rather than loose on the city streets, thereby gradually revealing a web of political corruption stretching as far as the mayor's own office.

Pappas' idealist deputy and confidant, Kevin Calhoun, played earnestly by John Cusack, is determined to unmask those responsible. As such, he shares some of the film's best scenes with Pacino, but struggles to maintain credibility. This is in large part due to the fact that we are led to believe that this skilled spin-doctor, who has used his political acumen to rise to the position of Deputy Mayor in NYC, can so readily be drawn into amateurish detective work alongside the vacuous love interest provided by Fonda. By contrast, Danny Aiello is majestic as the seasoned political boss of Brooklyn, Frank Anselmo, whose links to organised crime, and the mayor's own rise to office, ultimately reveal the rotten core of corruption at the heart of the city. Aiello is able to showcase his skills at delivering a performance which combines pure menace with great affability, with Anselmo's character demonstrating punchy political wrangling together with a love of musical theatre. In the film's best scene, with the full truth emerging, Anselmo receives a visit at home from the under-utilised Anthony Franciosa, in his final screen performance, as the mafia boss Paul Zamatti. The latter casually proposes that Anselmo sacrifice himself to maintain silence on the case, rather than as is his proclivity, especially facing long incarceration, 'sing' to the authorities. In a final touch of irony, Anselmo shares the fate of the lead of his favourite musical, Billy Bigelow, in turning his weapon upon himself rather than face arrest, with the show's 'You'll Never Walk Alone' blaring from his car radio.

As the plot unravels it becomes clear that political favours have led to Pappas compromising his integrity and position by making a phone call influencing the judge's ultimately fatal judgement in a chain of political favours linking back to Anselmo and Zamatti. If only he had given more notice in how he sculpted his own career trajectory to the sage political advice of JFK, which he himself quotes: 'An error doesn't have to become a mistake, until you refuse to correct it.'

One final creditworthy contribution is that of Jerry Goldsmith in producing a score which resonates with the hustle and cultural undertones of the great city of New York, with its bluesy tone and pounding timpani - elements brought to even greater success for 'LA Confidential' a couple of years later.

Stealth (2005)

'It's got no heart but it sure can fly. That's not bad for a Tinman'

[3/10 · 4 May 2022]

A cautionary tale of the use of artificial intelligence in military hardware, this film is the natural successor to Clint Eastwood's 'Firefox'. Whereas the latter had the political backdrop of the Reagan-era Cold War, the former deals with the consequences of that War's end in a Bush- presidency world facing rogue states and international terrorists. Word had it that offbeat screenwriter, W. D. Richer, responsible for adapting the remake of the 'Invasion of the Bodysnatchers', intended for this to be a satire. Yet, enter director Rob Cohen and the project became infused with an adolescent perspective of wall-to-wall action sequences and machismo at the expense of character development. The shallow ambitions of the movie to light up our screens is underlined by the fact that for the scale and intensity of one explosive scene NASA had to be notified in advance.

In terms of the plot line, this reviewer agrees with those who regard this feature as having been seemingly ghostwritten by the Pentagon. The overall implausibility of the premise has to carefully balance the sleek CGI and mindless violence with what ultimately feels like a token nod to the need for modern warfare to be waged with a heightened care for avoidance of unnecessary collateral damage in terms of civilian deaths. Even recent history has shown how too often attacks by fighter pilots or drones have military objectives where such altruistic attitudes are blithely ignored.

One of the film's few strengths is the chic look of the high-tech fighters, the Talons. Indeed so realistic were they that when the US Navy agreed to their being allowed on a real aircraft carrier, an Australian aviation magazine published a photo of them reporting that the Talon was an actual prototype aircraft being tested by the US Navy. Secondly, there can be no denying the high-octane entertainment and pure escapism of the movie. As such, one would have to share Jamie Foxx's character's awe at the Unmanned Combat Aerial Vehicle's ability to do a back flip at full speed to regain position in the battle formation. In addition, a third plus point for the movie is that when the latter goes rogue when its onboard computer pilot, EDI, is short-circuited by a bolt of lightning during its first mission, the storyline of our trio of fighter ace pilots chosen to fly this new generation of stealth fighters having to prevent an international conflict from erupting by taking down EDI holds great promise.

Finally, despite deserved criticism of the acting overall, there are a couple of minor standout performances, especially from Sam Shepard as the bullish Captain George Cummings, whose unflinching advocation of the AI Talon project he leads, to avoid any further servicemen returning home in body-bags, will certainly envisage costing human lives as means of covering up when EDI goes haywire. A further satisfactory performance is that of Joe Morton as the commander of the aircraft carrier taking on the complete reverse of his role in the Terminator franchise by his open opposition to having this AI project forced upon him and his ship.

One wonders whether his parents' avid commitment to antinuclear activism, which saw the family have to relocate thirteen times, influenced Lucas' decision to star in this feature. Certainly, he gives a rather cardboard performance as Lt Ben Gannon, the lead pilot with grave concerns that machines will never have emotional attachment or principles, while simultaneously flaunting his objectification of women, like his groin is on autopilot. This attitude is shared by Jamie Foxx's fellow pilot, Lt Henry Purcell, who having had the acronym EDI explained to him as 'Extreme Deep Invader', cringingly declares: 'Yeah. I've been called that a few times.' It should be immediately noted at this point that Jamie Foxx made this movie ahead of the critical acclaim that met his performance in 'Ray'.

One could not expect an art house treatment given Rob Cohen. Even attempts at any character development appear comical with Purcell, who had previously crowed: 'War is a team sport', suddenly finding his utilitarian soul whilst strolling through verdant Thai countryside with a beautiful local girl he has casually picked up who can't speak English - all that's missing is Louis Armstrong's 'What a Wonderful World'. The clunky and groan-inducing dialogue is laced with jaw-dropping contributions throughout, such as when Gannon finds his exit from Wade's room blocked by her washing-line and she proclaims 'Pardon my C-cup'. As many a reviewer has noted, the action is pure video-game theatre, whilst EDI represents the surly adolescent version of HAL from '2001', downloading bad-ass tracks from the internet. Moreover, it is hardly reassuring that the supposed genius behind EDI's creation, the superbly named Keith Orbit, played by Richard Roxburgh, simply declares about his cutting edge military hardware: 'He could learn from Adolf Hitler. He could learn from Captain Kangaroo.'

A true case of spectacle over substance, there are quite unbelievable plot developments. None more so than having Lt. Wade, Jessica Bill's character, bail out over North Korea, and outrun a whole battalion of troops, led by a crazed sniper, to make her way to the border on the demilitarised zone. The film is packed with every hackneyed motif one could expect, including the machismo and bravado aforementioned, the simplistic world-view of the evils of state sponsored terrorism in the east versus the free democracy of the United States, and the machinations of a secret politico-military cabal behind the science, prepared to do anything to cover their tracks. In summary, the plot is as light as the atmosphere from which Gannon demolishes the high-rise harbouring a meeting of the 'Team America'-like Axis of Evil in downtown Rangoon. In addition, whereas Jessica Biels' ace female fighter pilot briefly hinted at the possibility of breaking the mould on the testosterone fuelled combat movie, her character ultimately offers merely eye-candy for male audiences, and just one further conquest for our male protagonist.

Perhaps the most far-fetched development centres on the unlikely alliance which develops between man and machine, after attempts to erase both EDI and Gannon, to come to Lt Wade's rescue. Then rubbing further salt into our incredulous wounds, having sacrificed itself to save its blood and guts compadres, at the end of the credits, the audience passes over the wreckage of EDI to suddenly be witness to an ominous red eye start blinking, as if the producers envisaged that this huge box-office flop could engender a sequel.

Thank god that project never took flight.

The Desperadoes (1943)

'I've seen a lot of men with itchy trigger fingers like you - and they're all in Boot Hill with dirt in their faces. Somebody cured them of that itch.'

[3/10 · 20 April 2022]

This feature is 'saddled with' a rather hackneyed storyline of a young 'ne'er do well' risking capture after deciding to stop riding away into the distance and hanging up his gun, having fallen for the charms of a local girl. The former, Cheyenne Rogers, a very fresh-faced Glenn Ford, becomes infatuated with the daughter of the man who employed his skills to rob the local bank, unaware at first that she has identified him as a horse thief , given that the horse he has ridden into town she recognises as being that of Scott's local sheriff. As the friendship between the two men surfaces, she warms to the advances of the younger man, and admires his earnest attempts to leave his lawlessness behind him.

Randolph Scott and Claire Trevor play much less substantial roles than their stardom would suggest, with a young Glenn Ford and sprightly Evelyn Keyes enjoying the lion's share of the more meaningful scenes. Scott still plays to type in terms of embodying the staunch defender of law and order, whilst Trevor should have been given more scenes of import to strengthen the 'love triangle' which lies barely discernible in terms of the plot. Having made her career break playing the younger sister of Scarlett O'Hara four years earlier, this feature was her second pairing with Ford after 'Flight Lieutenant' twelve months earlier. Despite rumours of an offscreen romance between them, they did not openly strike up a relationship for a few more years. The romance which did start up was between Keyes and recently divorced director, Charles Vidor. Keyes would have a very self-serving attitude towards the 'casting-couch' culture of Hollywood, once proclaiming: 'I always took up with the man of the moment and there were many such moments.'

As for the Hungarian director, he was finally given a chance to make his mark at Colombia Pictures, where he would frequently clash with the autocratic studio president, and production chief, Henry Cohn. Although this would seem a strange choice of feature, compared to other studios' first launches of Technicolor, Vidor and his cinematographer, George Meehan, do their best with what they were handed - two scenes of note being our first encounter with Scott's sheriff as he advances across a beautiful expanse of an endless valley, and the action climax of the cattle stampede through the town. However, one wonders how much of the film's better aspects were influenced by the presence of assistant director, Budd Boetticher, and how much the latter learned at the feet of Vidor. What is known is that this would be the first feature where Boetticher would meet Scott with whom he would enjoy a future fruitful collaborative working relationship.

Set in the frontier ranching town of Red Valley in Utah, 1863, the film starts with the robbery of the Clinton bank, where the robbers themselves find themselves duped into cracking an empty safe. It soon becomes apparent that despite outwardly appearing to try and compensate his clients for their losses, local banker, Stanley Clinton, played ably by seasoned character actor, Porter Hall, has employed a small band of local thugs to rob his bank. The latter are led by Jack Lester, a true 'snake in the grass, so well portrayed by Bernard Nedell - with moustache bearing a striking similarity to Lee Van Cleef. Enter Cheyenne Rogers, late for the bank-job, having been hired by Clinton's accomplice, and Keyes' character's father, Uncle Willie McLeod. The latter is superbly played by Edgar Buchanan in perhaps his best cinematic role. As his daughter becomes embroiled with Cheyenne and in greater risk of falling foul of his unwelcome partners, Uncle Willy belatedly takes heed of his own admonition to his daughter of striking up a relationship with Ford's character: 'A bad man's bad for himself and for everyone else.' His realisation of how greed has led him astray leads to a showdown with Clinton, whilst Cheyenne seeks retribution for coming close to the hangman's noose after being framed for the murders which accompanied the staged bank robbery.

One main weakness of the movie is what many regard as the incongruous touches of light comedy throughout the feature. Many of these scenes revolve around the literally explosive character of Cheyenne's partner in crime, Nitro, played by ex-stuntman Guinn 'Big Boy' Williams. Here he once again plays the dim, fiery, but reliable sidekick that was his standard character role in the late 30s and early 40s. Another comedy cameo is provided by Irving Bacon as the bar manager trying and comedically failing to safeguard his glassware and bar so that he can finally escape Red Valley. Cue a bar brawl worthy of the silent film era. Another issue surrounds some convenient holes in the plot, none more so than that of Cheyenne drawing a gun on Scott's sheriff to steal the latter's horse without neither recognising their former friend. A third aspect which detracts from the whole are lost opportunities to heighten the melodrama, such as the aforementioned failure to explore Trevor's Countess' feelings for Ford's wayward 'man on the run', whose brushes with law and order stem from his coming to her defence in their youth. The film script is also full of historical inaccuracies, from Clinton's description of the bank's new safe as a 'battleship' when they would not appear for another twenty years after the date of the film's setting, to a similar gaffe from one character referring to the stampede in comparison to Custer's last stand which took place in 1876, a full thirteen years after the film's Civil War setting.

Despite these flaws, this feature did serve as a vehicle for Columbia to groom their young male star whose ascendancy would be much better served with his next collaboration with King Vidor on 'Gilda' three years later. As a footnote, the screenplay was based on a novel by Frederick Faust, the creator of 'Dr Kildare', under one of his pseudonyms. Faust had enlisted as a war correspondent for 'Harper's Magazine' in the conflict in Italy in World War Two, hoping that his experiences of the battlefield on the front-line would garner material for a war novel, but he was killed having been hit by shrapnel during heavy fighting just twelve months after the release of this picture.

Blade (1998)

'You better wake up. The world you live in is just a sugar-coated topping. There is another world beneath it. The real world.'

[7/10 · 23 December 2021]

The first genuine pop culture hit from Marvel's comic stable, taking an incredible 131 million at the box office from its modest budget of $45 million. It would also serve as the progenitor of the brooding, bleak representations of comic-book heroes to follow. Until Blade's arrival in the late Nineties, Marvel served as a cautionary tale in how not to attempt to launch one's product within Hollywood. Unbelievable to comprehend now, with the crash in the comic-book collectors' market, the company had filed for bankruptcy just two years earlier.

Having first appeared in Marvel comics in 1973, the character was retroactively transformed into a 'dhampir', the result of a union between a vampire and a female mortal, a decade later. This allows their human-vampire hybrid offspring to use his physiological abilities as a 'daywalker' to hunt down members of the secret society of 'blood-drinkers' who inhabit the shadows.

When screenwriter, David Goyer first pitched the idea of a 'Blade' movie to New Line Cinema, they amazingly asked that the character be recast as white. Sticking to his guns, the screenwriter also pushed hard for his first choice to play this atypical superhero, Wesley Snipes, to be cast ahead of studio suggestions, Laurence Fishburne and Denzil Washington. In a powerhouse performance, Snipes perfectly encapsulates both the tortured soul and charismatic action figure the role required. As the 'Washington Post' review stated it: 'Wesley Snipes isn't so much cast in the title role of a comic-book superhero vampire hunter as he is infected by it.' His conviction to the role resulted from the fact that he himself had spent the best part of a decade trying to bring another black superhero to the screen, finding 'Black Panther' hard to pitch to studio executives for whom the name bore unnerving connotations to Huey Newton's radical political movement.

In a concession to the studio executives, Goyer created the character of Abraham Whistler, as played ably by Kris Kristofferson, in a heavily-criticised act of 'whitewashing' Blade's original Afro-American mentor. Another character change made by Goyer to the original comic-book representation had a much more positive effect. This was in rejuvenating the murderous Deacon Frost into a young upstart, thereby making it possible for Stephen Dorff to encapsulate the role. Dorff, who openly revealed that he thought this feature would spell the end of his career, is completely watchable throughout, as he seeks to supplant the pure-bloods who are content to comply with a tacit agreement for co-existence with humans, thereby making vampires the dominant species. As he declares at one point in exasperation: ' For f*^!'s sake, these people are our food, not our allies.' It is hard to believe why the studio would offer Jet Li the role, but thankfully he turned it down to appear in the 'Lethal Weapon' franchise. Further good support comes from perennial vampire performer, Udo Kier and Tracey Childs. The weakest casting surrounds that of N'Bushe Wright, and one wonders if the character of Karen, aside from conveniently being a haematologist, purely acts as a vehicle for what exposition there exists over the history of the relationship between Blade and Whistler.

The dark and sinister horror elements the story contained attracted the interest of David Fincher, but became endangered in the face of studio wrangling to have the feature become more of a comic-book spoof. When Fincher grew tired waiting for the 'Blade' project to come to fruition he moved onto other ventures, while no other known Hollywood director appeared interested in filling the empty director's chair. However, Goyer had been impressed by an action-packed, low-budget horror flick produced by first-time Brit director, Stephen Norrington. Having started out as a make-up artist and part of the special effects team under the likes of Rick Baker and Stan Winston. Norrington's arrival enabled, in conjunction with garlanded Dutch cinematographer, Theo van de Sande, this feature to be seeped with glorious imagery, such as the infamous opening scene in the underground nightclub where the gathered revellers are soaked in blood from overhead water-sprinklers.

Norrington began on this feature to acquire the reputation of being someone difficult to deal with, such as his unnecessary ridiculing of the quality of Goyer's sleeve tattoos, and his clashes with Snipes over the latter's constant ad-lobbing for comedic effect. On future occasions he would not see many of his projects beyond pre-production, so this remains his greatest directorial achievement. One of his biggest mistakes was his lack of foresight as despite 'Blade's box office success, he would turn down directing its sequel.

One of the film's greatest strengths is the quality of the action sequences. The acrobatic style of the martial arts on show foreshadows those of 'The Matrix' which would appear just twelve months later. Certainly, much of the cool, badass quality of the central protagonist comes from the character's original comic-book creators, writer Marv Wolfman, who gave the character a bandolier of blades, and artist Gene Colman, who based the character's appearance on American Football legend, Jim Brown. Though the former tried to sue the studio for having not financially rewarded them for use of their foremost creation on celluloid, all they obtained was a screen credit. The film has our protagonist tooled with guns and knives, as well as a bladed boomerang, and as he explains to Karen: ' Silver hollow-point bullets filled with garlic. You aim for the head or heart. Anything else, it's your ass.' Although the CG appears dated now, at the time it was cutting edge and stil remains effective.

Another strength remains the edgy electronic soundtrack provided by Mark Isham, which was augmented by contributions from a range of hip hop artists, together with Bernard Sumner and Peter Hook of New Order.

However, there are elements of the film which slightly detract. The pace is frenetic throughout, which is great aside from leaving the explanatory detail over the Vampire Bible a little thin and a missed opportunity to add greater gravitas to the final product. Even though, the year-long delay in the film's release was so that they could improve the final duel between Frost and Blade after poor screen-testing responses, it still appears perfunctory and unfulfilling. For a great deal of the film's running-length the audience have been anxiously and excitedly awaiting the arrival of the 'blood god', 'La Magra', which Frost intends to invoke to lead his army of vampires to their ultimate victory. Thus, it comes as a disappointment that the only appearance this entity makes is as a 'red-eyed' Dorff, and not a diabolical spectacle. Accordingly, the original final fight sequence attempted a version, but was wholly unconvincing so the idea of this entity appearing disappeared.

The best summary is provided by Roger Egbert who wrote: 'Wesley Snipes understands the material from the inside out and makes an effective Blade because he knows that the key ingredient in any interesting superhero is not omnipotence, but vulnerability.'