mbruce007 Reviews

Death in Venice (1971)

Bogarde/Visconti at their artistic best!

[8/10 · 17 December 2020]

There are few films, I imagine, as picturesque as Italian director, Luchino Visconti's Death In Venice, based upon the novella by German writer, Thomas Mann. This is a film that could be described as one long series of paintings, permeated with deep and meaningful dialogue - an open-ended essay, perhaps, that reflects on the meaning of life; death; and art.

The ever-dependable Dirk Bogarde (most famous perhaps, to his own personal and artistic detriment, for his work on the light-hearted Rank Organisation comedies of the 50s and 60s) pulls out all the stops in his deadly serious performance of the protagonist, Gustav von Aschenbach, something of an unsung musical genius, who travels to Venice, Italy, to convalesce after a period of great stress which has weakened his heart. Aschenbach is an awkward, solitary figure, a people-watcher who settles into the background, haunted by his past, flashbacks including the unexplained death of his daughter and the harsh criticism of his colleague on his philosophy of music and the essence of art, and beauty. He is tired of life's petty inconveniences and distracts himself with the contemplation of a boy, a fellow holidaymaker called Tadzio (Bjorn Andresen), by whom he is completely mesmerized.

I have read the novella and, although some critics have argued that Aschenbach has a homosexual love for the boy, I think this is too easy an inference. To Aschenbach, Tadzio is youthful beauty made flesh, something that he longs to possess in his old, rather decrepit condition. Aschenbach's physical and emotional condition is made worse by the presence of Cholera in Venice, a fact which is being kept from him and the unwitting tourists. Upon learning the truth, Aschenbach is eager to warn Tadzio's family of the "pestilence" that has gripped the city.

Given the film's title, there are no illusions as to what happens in the end. I don't wish to say more for fear of spoiling the film for others, except that the end scene is incredibly moving, an indelible moment in cinema history, courtesy of Bogarde. The direction and acting are masterful, as is the cinematography by Pasquelino de Santis. Moreover, the film has some of the most beautiful classical music I've ever heard, particularly the recurring music from Symphony No.5 by Gustav Mahler.

It is curious how, in many ways, the character of Aschenbach is a reflection of Bogarde himself, who led a private life, of which he was very protective. Perhaps there was a sort of empathy that attracted him to the role. Some viewers may find the repeated close-ups and tracking shots, particularly of Tadzio, tedious, but one cannot deny, as a whole, that the film is its own work of art.

From Russia with Love (1963)

Closely aligned to the literary Bond...

[7/10 · 17 December 2020]

The major success of Dr. No, spawned 1963's film, From Russia With Love, based upon arguably one of Ian Fleming's best Bond novels and, famously, one of JFK's favourite novels of all time. It was also no secret that, during the Cold War, Soviet spies kept tabs on the Bond novels, including From Russia With Love, given that the novels were written with such verisimilitude, particularly regarding the details on apparent Russian spy outfits.

From Russia With Love, the film, begins with what appears to be Connery prowling around a maze garden of a property which looks like something the National Trust would take ownership of. Gun in hand, Connery begins to flinch at the sounds of a nearby enemy. We're immediately introduced to one of the villains of the piece, Red Grant, played by no-nonsense British actor, Robert Shaw, who would famously go "shaaark-hunting" a decade later as the sea dog, Quint, in Spielberg's Jaws. Grant unspools a garroting watch and appears to strangle 007 to death, until it is revealed that the victim is actually some dude with a moustache sporting a mask with Connery's likeness. The make-up department did a damn good job on this film, that ain't something from Smyths' toys...

The death scene segues into the thunderous opening titles over which are played John Barry's sexy, continental instrumental of the title song "From Russia With Love", complete with warm-coloured visuals on a jet black-background and titles emblazoned on the exposed bellies of Turkish dancers. Enough Turkish Delight to give Frys a run for their money...

The film progresses to beautiful images of Istanbul, Turkey, and we're introduced to Tanya, played by Daniela Bianchi, the future love interest of Bond, who will steal his heart and then betray him. Isn't it always the way...

Working for the Russians, Tanya comes to be in possession of a vitally important bit of spy kit, the Lector decoding machine, which the British want badly. Naturally, they send their Best man, Bond, to meet Tanya and, by whatever means possible, acquire the lector. This film introduces Q, a mainstay of the Bond films, played by the much-missed Desmond Llewellyn. Bond makes his way, firstly to Turkey, with one of Q's trademark toys, a multi-feature briefcase which houses a knife, gold sovereigns, and, if opened in such a way by an unsuspecting person, it will explode in their face!

While in Istanbul, Bond teams up with Head of the MI6 Branch there, Kerim Bay, who is basically like a jolly, benevolent Uncle, who proclaims that he has a multitude of sons at his service to assist Bond in any way possible. Once the lector is obtained in the city by force, Bond, Tanya, and Kerim make their way on to the Orient Express, little do they know that Shaw's Red Grant is tailing them. I don't want to say too much more and risk spoiling the film for those who haven't seen it, but luck out for a spectacular on-train fight sequence which still stands the test of time as well as a showdown at the end of the film between Bond and SPECTRE agent, Rosa Klebb, whose weapon of choice is a shoe with a retractable poisoned knife tip. Bond will send her kicking (if you'll pardon the pun) and screaming...

The film ends with the title song, a feature which would become a staple at the start the Bond films, sang by popular artists of the moment. From Russia With Love is famously sung by Matt Monro and plays out the film with the buildings and waters of Venice, Italy, as the backdrop.

Death in Granada (1996)

For The Love Of A Poet...

[6/10 · 17 December 2020]

"It was five in the afternoon...It was exactly five in the afternoon", the opening words that come to haunt Marcos Zurinaga's moving thriller, The Disappearance of Garcia Lorca, a partly-fictionalised story attempting to uncover the truth about the assassination of Federico Garcia Lorca, one of Spain's most respected and yet controversial authors, by the Civil Guard, at the turn of the Spanish Civil War in 1936. The film tells of a journalist, Ricardo (played passionately by Esai Morales), a Spanish exile who decides to return to his native Granada some 20 years after Lorca's death in an attempt to uncover the truth about the demise of his literary hero. However, now under Franco's dictatorship, the tensions of Spain's past are still palpable, and soon Ricardo's quest for answers becomes a dangerous one indeed.

This film is not particularly well known, unless perhaps you're a Lorca aficionado. It seems to have gone straight to video, and petered out over the years, and is not easily sourced in the shops. More's the pity, since this is a gripping work. Andy Garcia, a prominent actor at the time, takes the role of Lorca. His cuban roots means he has enough Spanish in him to execute the role well. Also worth a mention is Dutch actor, Jeroen Krabbé, who takes the role of the dubious Colonel Aguirre. Krabbé is an incredibly versatile actor and a very familiar face in cinema. Any Bond fan will know him as the bumbling General Koskov from The Living Daylights (1987).

As a Languages graduate having studied abroad in Andalusia, (Lorca's turf, as it were), I've become very interested in Lorca's history. Scarcely two weeks ago I visited Lorca's family home, which was, paradoxically, tucked away in the expanse of Granada. I couldn't help feeling a sadness in the rooms, given his tragic story. The film, in a broader sense, is also about time and memory. The recurring motif of the clock, which ties in with the quotation of "Five in the afternoon" from Lorca's "Lament for the Death of Ignacio Sánchez Mejías" recalls other European films such as Schlöndorff's The Tin Drum (1979) and Tom Tykwer's Run Lola Run (1999). The film's direction, by Puerto Rican director, Marcos Zurinaga, is inspiring, and the soundtrack by Mark McKenzie is both sad and beautiful.The cinematography by Juan Ruiz-Anchía is also very pleasing, featuring many nostalgic shots of Granada. The only thing that lets the film down in terms of authenticity is the mix of accents. Some actors attempt a Spanish accent, while others do not, but maybe I'm being pedantic there. This is a very understated film, consequently one can only hope for it's resurgence.

Foxtrot (II) (2017)

Dancing to a discordant tune...

[8/10 · 3 December 2020]

Israelian director, Samuel Maoz's drama, Foxtrot (2017) documents, in three segments, the malaise of present-day Israel. In the first sequence, a middle-aged married couple are visited by soldiers who deliver the news that their son, Jonathan, has been killed in action. The second, or "middle" section, brings us to a remote checkpoint in the desert where jaded soldiers pass the time, sharing stories, listening to music and, as the title suggests, dancing. (The trailer for the film features the cleverly incongruous scene from the film in which a soldier dances facetiously with his rifle in the absence of a dance partner).

The third and final sequence takes us back to Jonathan's parents who are trying to make sense of their new lives. However, all is not what it seems, as lies and cover-ups bubble under the surface. Faintly reminiscent of Sam Mendes' gulf-war drama, Jarhead (2005), Foxtrot picked up the Grand Jury Prize at the Venice Film Festival in 2017 and represents a follow up to Lebanon: The Soldier's Journey (2009) which followed a dispatched paratroopers platoon as they search a hostile town during the First Lebanon War of 1982. This film is especially poignant as Tel Aviv-born director, Maoz, was himself, at the age of 20, a gunner in one of the first Israeli tanks to enter Lebanon in that war. For Lebanon (2009), Maoz also won the Golden Lion in Venice that year, so you could say that he is on a directorial winning streak.

The themes of loss and grief reminded me readily of Spanish director, Carla Simón's largely autobiographical film, Summer 1993 (2018), shown at Lincoln Film Society early last year. This is a moving picture about life through the eyes of six-year old Frida as she attempts to navigate her "second life" with her extended family following the unexplained death of her mother. Following our original theme of conflict and its effects, I was reminded also of Simón's compatriot, Victor Erice, and his film, The Spirit of The Beehive (1973) about a girl (Ana Torrent) who becomes obsessed with the film, Frankenstein (1931) after seeing it at her village cinema, and goes in search of the monster, fixating on the spectral presences of Spanish Civil War-era Spain. These films also attest to the significance of memory, however painful it can be.

The Guilty (2018)

Suspense thriller with Orwellian undertones...

[9/10 · 3 December 2020]

The Guilty (2018) is a Gustav Möller film about a police officer called Asger (Jakob Cedergren) who is coping with routine problems at an emergency services call centre when he is jolted into action by an inordinately disturbing call by a woman calling herself Iben (voiced by Jessica Dinnage). Pretending to be calling her child, left alone at home, Iben alerts Asger to the fact that she has been kidnapped by her estranged husband, Michael (Johan Olsen) and is on the road in his van. Balancing the task of talking to the Copenhagen police while keeping Iben on the line and counselling her, is Asger, against his better judgement, investing too much emotionally in this incident?

The Guilty is a tightly-woven piece of suspense in which the action uniquely takes place in the minimalist surroundings of the call centre, forcing the cinema audience to rely heavily on its aural abilities to decode the mystery, much like the protagonist himself. This film put me in mind of Peter Strickland's equally taut British thriller, Berberian Sound Studio (2012), about a sound engineer from the Home Counties (the ever-reliable Toby Jones as Gilderoy) who comes to the offices of a schlock-producing Italian film company in the 1970s. Much like The Guilty, this film is also set entirely in one environment in which the psychological tension is amplified by the fact that it is impossible to tell day from night, coupled with the ungodly horror sound effects, and the repugnant objects used to make them.

If we go even further back, I'm reminded of Francis Ford Coppola's 1974 spy drama, The Conversation, starring Gene Hackman as an emotionally frigid man, Harry Caul, who is paid to eavesdrop on people's private exchanges and pays the moral price for it. The film reaches a great crescendo in which the hunter becomes the hunted and Caul turns his own apartment upside down as he tries to find a concealed bug, his suppressed emotions running to the fore. It is interesting how, despite the intervening years, all these films are incredibly current. With frighteningly fast advances in technology, we are now all acutely aware of the Orwellian notion that someone is watching and, indeed, listening...

Capernaum (2018)

Loss of innocence...

[8/10 · 3 December 2020]

Nadine Labaki's Capernaum is a brutally honest look at the impoverished existence of 12-year old Beirut slum-dweller, Zain (played by the precocious Zain Al Rafeea) as he takes matters into his own hands and sues his neglectful parents for "being born". Capernaum has been the recipient of many awards worldwide including, significantly, the Jury Prize at Cannes in 2018. The film's synopsis led me to thinking about the modern concept of childhood in general. Though the conditions which Zain is fighting in Capernaum are exceptional, it is interesting to note how children across the world, at an increasingly early age, are acting more like adults, to the point where an innocent childhood is perhaps bypassed completely. This fact is, questionably, the fault of technology.

On planes and trains, there is the increasing sight of tablets and other technical paraphernalia being thrust into the hands of children to keep them quiet, some of whom are so young they can barely hold the things. And, there is s a danger, is there not, in letting children have unfiltered access to a wealth of information online which their brains are surely too young to compute? I was recently in earshot of some preadolescents who were talking with their parents about the recent Extinction Rebellion protests. This precocious intelligence was indeed scary.

Having said all this, returning to the cinema, it's not the first time the movies have embraced the idea of children becoming premature adults through circumstance. More than half a century ago, Italian director Vittorio De Sica came to the fore with his Neorealist masterpiece, Bicycle Thieves (1948), in which a little working-class boy called Bruno (Enzo Staiola) helps his father Antonio (Lamberto Maggiorani) to find his bicycle after it's stolen. This, in turn, gave inspiration to French New Wave director, François Truffaut, who a decade later produced his chef d'oeuvre, The 400 Blows (1959), about a young Parisian adolescent, Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Léaud) who is forced into premature adulthood at the hands of neglectful parents who leave him to fend for himself to the point of making him run away from home completely.

Returning to modern filmmaking, this theme runs again in Sean Baker's wonderful pseudo-documentary, The Florida Project (2017), about the precocious 6 year old, Moonee (Brooklynn Prince) who lives with her troubled mother Halley (Bria Vinaite) in a cramped motel room in the shadow of the lucrative mecca that is Disneyworld. While all these films are sad, they are successful precisely because of the precocity of their child stars.

The Good Liar (2019)

One Sir, One Dame, one heck of a thriller!

[7/10 · 3 December 2020]

One Sir, One Dame, one heck of a thriller bedecked with twists and turns. Dame Helen Mirren and Sir Ian Mckellen, two stalwarts of British acting, play a deadly game of cat-and-mouse in director Bill Condon's The Good Liar. The film begins in a faintly Hitchcockian manner, with the opening titles comprising the typewritten names of cast and crew on a half-lit parchment background juxtaposed with the present day shots of Betty (Mirren) and Roy (McKellen) curating their online dating profiles and conversing over their laptops, all against the backdrop of Carter Burwell's understated tension-building music, which is reminiscent of Jerry Goldsmith's score for Basic Instinct, as well as, naturally, the work of Bernard Herrmann. The beginning of the film shows Betty and Roy meeting for their first date in a restaurant and engaging in old-timer badinage.

Despite the innocence of their first encounter, we soon discover that Roy is not all he seems, a ruthless wheeler-dealer with a chequered past whose raison d'être, and that of his dubious associates, is monetary gain. With the help of partner-in-crime Vincent (Downton Abbey's Jim Carter) posing as his financial adviser, they conspire to steal all of Betty's money through the ruse of setting up a joint account amalgamating her money with Roy's. However, not all goes to plan, and Betty's supposed grandson, Steven (Russell Tovey) uncovers murky details of Roy's historic activities in war-torn Berlin which will inextricably bind Roy and Betty in a way that you couldn't imagine.

Without revealing too much, the dénouement revolves around a subject matter which is very timely in the media and reminded me very much of Coralie Fargeat's bloodthirsty feminist thriller, Revenge, in which the "male gaze" is well and truly subverted. Moreover, the screenplay for The Good Liar by Jeffrey Hatcher is one of the best I've heard in a long while, with its wittiness reminding me of Mirren and McKellen's early tenures in the theatre performing Shakespeare. This is insistent viewing, with McKellen looking sprightly on screen at the grand age of 80, and Mirren still possessing that all-time beauty which appears to defy her slightly younger age. They can certainly still give modern-day acting initiates a run for their money.

Judy (II) (2019)

Judy's not in Kansas any more...

[8/10 · 1 December 2020]

It's amazing how time can change a person. When I recently saw Renée Zellweger's interview with Lorraine Kelly on ITV1, I was amazed how she had very much matured as a person and as an actress. In my view, she can no longer be associated with the ditsy Marilyn Monroe-esque parts that she played years ago in Chicago (2002) and Down With Love (2003). Nor, do I think, would she longer be quite right for the role which made her a household name, the romantically afflicted Bridget Jones.

it's public knowledge that Zellweger took a substantial break from acting for personal reasons. And the decision to take this sabbatical is very much to her credit as she comes back refreshed and wonderfully uncanny in the part of Judy Garland in this year's hotly anticipated biopic directed by Rupert Goold, known principally for his work in English theatre. Having seen Lorraine Kelly's interview with Zellweger after the film, I observed that she still appeared to be articulating the idiosyncrasies of Judy which she pulls off so well in the film. So perhaps, if Zellwgger did indeed make some spiritual connection with her alter go in her research for the part, it seems clear that the spirit of Judy, powerful as it seems, has not yet left her...

The film begins slap bang in the swinging 60s with a world weary Garland and her two young kids travelling around as she tries to make what money she can performing different theatre shows in America. Facing great financial difficulties, she makes the heartbreaking decision to leave her children with their financially stable but stony father, Sidney (the always understated Rufus Sewell) and accept the offer of a season in London at the famous Talk Of The Town theatre under the direction of renowned British theatre impresario, Bernard Delfont (the ever faithful Michael Gambon) and his associate, Rosalyn (the brilliant rising star, Jessie Buckley, recently acclaimed in Wild Rose).

Arriving in London, the prescription drug-addled Judy struggles to keep it together, nearly missing her premiere performance completely, and thereafter turning up late and often incoherent to performances, to the disappointment of Belfont, and the horror of uncomprehending audience members (who, on one occasion, throw things at her on stage as if she were some pilloried criminal and not the beloved star of The Wizard Of Oz). Speaking of which, the film is cleverly peppered with flashbacks to her adolescence in which she was insidiously groomed by studio staff for her role in the classic film, suffering emotional blackmail at the hands of the imposing studio boss, Louis B. Mayer (a small but brilliant performance by Richard Cordery) and given countless pills instead of food to supposedly "keep her weight down" for the role, setting her lifelong addiction in motion.

Amongst the bleakness, there are true moments of joy, such as when Judy sings on stage (Zellweger's actual voice, which can be both powerful and velvety, and can be heard anew on the film's soundtrack) and her courtship with her eventual second husband, the hip, young, Mickey (Finn Wittrock). Though Judy's was a largely sad life, the love for her children is clearly what gave her strength and purpose in later life, even while she was fighting back the tears. As she aptly says before performing her beloved standard, "Somewhere Over The Rainbow", "This is a song about hope. And we all need that".

Joker (I) (2019)

No laughing matter...

[8/10 · 1 December 2020]

Following the vapidness that is the recent technicolor yawn of "superhero" films in the Marvel franchise, where the characters are often clumsily thrown together, it's nice to see a stand-alone character, this time from the DC universe, given proper, serious biopic treatment by director and co-writer, Todd Phillips. The enigmatic Joaquin Phoenix stars as Arthur Fleck, an ill-fated wannabe comedian bullied by those around him and afflicted with a condition whereby he lets out an uncontrollable, maniacal laugh at the most inappropriate of moments. Fleck is a man approaching middle age who still lives with his now ailing mother. With political unrest and violence in Gotham city reaching breaking point (we assume by the decor and paraphernalia that we are in the 1970s/early 1980s), coupled with Fleck's dismissal from the employ of a small comedy agency, the atmosphere of madness, and the madness within the character, builds insidiously.

Slowly but surely Fleck cultivates the image of the "Joker" in the days before he becomes Batman (Bruce Wayne's) adversary. Phoenix's performance is considerably studied and appropriately unnerving, though he is not quite a match for Heath Ledger's incarnation in the 2008 film, The Dark Night, part of Christopher Nolan's revamped Batman series. (That is, if we're comparing at all. Perhaps we shouldn't, given that we'd have to include Jack Nicholson and Cesar Romero in that discussion, among others). What is true, however, is that Phoenix's Joker is deliberately more anti-heroic than Ledger's. The majority of the film immerses the audience in the problems of Fleck as a man with mental health issues who is let down by the system. It's interesting how this film is both knowing fantasy and a timely allegory concerning society and its responses to mental health.

Watch out also for the small appearances by Robert De Niro whose involvement, as many critics have pointed out, conjures up memories of him in Martin Scorsese's similarly dystopian Taxi Driver (1976). The sporadic moments of violence are eye-wincing and may be too much for many but, that aside, one cannot deny this film represents a welcome return to realistic, gritty superhero-world fare rarely seen since Nolan's The Dark Knight Rises (2012). Hildur Gudnadottir's original music is nicely understated and is superbly off-set at moments by a selection of well selected songs. Go and see the film, it left me singing Frank Sinatra's That's Life for days....

Summer 1993 (2017)

Long summer days?

[8/10 · 1 December 2020]

Lincoln Film Society brought another thought-provoking piece of World Cinema to audiences last week - Catalonian director Carla Simón's film debut, the largely autobiographical, Summer 1993 (Estiu 1993), a moving, sedate picture about life through the eyes of six-year-old Frida (the brilliantly natural and precocious Laia Artigas). Following the initially unexplained death of her mother, Frida must go and live with her Aunt and Uncle, and their daughter, Anna (the equally brilliant Paula Robles), and start life anew, albeit a life of newly lost innocence. Summer 1993 is wonderfully permeated with high-key lighting and point-of-view shots from Frida's perspective, techniques which serve to highlight the wonder and mystery of childhood. The protracted scenes of Frida and Anna playing make-believe and engaging with other children are moments to which we can all relate, drawing on our own childhood experiences.

I was touched by the recurring scenes of Frida's frequent visits to an idol of the Virgin Mary nestled among the foliage in the garden near her new house, to which she makes offerings as a means of communicating with her late mother. This childhood preoccupation with idolatry recalls other European films dealing with childhood such as French director, Francois Truffaut's semi-autobiographical Les Quatre Cents Coups (The 400 Blows, 1959) in which the child protagonist Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Léaud), the product of a loveless union, seeks solace in making a shrine to his literary idol, Balzac. Moreover, the scene in Simón's film where Frida explores the outdoors at night with a torch, calling out for her mother, recalls the actions of the protagonist Ana (Ana Torrent) in Spanish director, Victor Erice's The Spirit of the Beehive (El Espíritu de la Colmena, 1973), who, after seeing the film, Frankenstein (1931), in her village cinema, goes in search of the film's monster herself, becoming obsessed with spectral presences in Civil War era Spain. Simón's film will appeal to everyone because of its relatable experiences of childhood. However, for anyone like myself, who lost their mothers much too early in life, this film will have a much deeper meaning.

Red Joan (2018)

Spy thriller with the grande dame of British acting talent...

[7/10 · 1 December 2020]

In this increasingly unpredictable world in which the acquisition of acting roles is more difficult than it used to be for ageing actors, many such people in their 80s would have definitely hung up their costumes by now, basking in a certain serenity that comes with retirement. Not Dame Judi. She marches on defiant, making her latest turn in Trevor Nunn's Red Joan. The film is based on the true life story of Melita Norwood, a British civil servant who spent the Second World War and many of the Cold War years sending intelligence to the Russians, and who was exposed as a Communist spy in the late 1990s. In the film, Norwood is given the pseudonym Joan Stanley, incarnated by both Judi Dench (the later years) and the very promising Sophie Cookson (the early years).

The film is brimming with suspense, and the fidelity to period costume in the war scenes is brilliantly accurate. For someone of such star status, Dench is admittedly underused in the film, but her earlier years are brilliantly conveyed by Cookson, of recent Kingsman fame. Cookson indeed makes a welcome return to the spy genre, whereas some critics are dubbing Dench the "granny spy" who is both feeble and far-removed from the female authoritarian,"M", in the more recent James Bond films. Quiet honestly, though, the Bond series is an entirely different beast. Dench is more than convincing in her latest role, making us feel the pain of her long-winded interrogation at the hands of national security services -she portrays a quiet suburban octogenarian who is forced to dredge up her murky past. Of theatrical renown, Nunn directs ably but, one would admit, he certainly seems more at home when he's directing in the theatre.

The ending will perhaps make your lip tremble, if not make you shed a tear, as the moral complexities of the aged Joan's situation, and its effect on her son (Ben Miles), are truly brought to bear. God willing, Dench will go on for many more years, delighting us with her screen presence.

Under the Tree (2017)

A tree of delights...

[8/10 · 1 December 2020]

Joining a packed-out audience last night at The Venue cinema at Bishop Grosseteste University, Lincoln, I basked in the devilish, hyperreal pleasures that are part and parcel of watching a Scandinavian black comedy. Lincoln Film Society were hosting Hafsteinn Gunnar Sigurðsson's Undir trénu (Under The Tree, 2018), a film about warring Icelandic neighbours who blame each other for their different afflictions which, as the film goes on, get progressively worse, causing said neighbours to "up-the-ante" in their forms of retaliation, to comically devastating conclusions. The problems begin when the neighbours of ageing suburban couple, Baldwin and Inga, complain that their tree is casting a shadow over the sun-trap that is the neighbours' porch.

On a more profound level, the film is about differing, complex family relationships and the themes of life and death. Of these latter themes, the tree is a repeated symbol, and is captured in intimate sun-drenched close-up shots, often with the other-worldly voices of Baldwin's male choir group for background. The locations are expectantly dull, the weather is frequently overcast, and the suburban houses in which our main characters live are depressingly formulaic - all fitting tropes for a film largely about societal malaise.

Ultimately, the film's genius lies in its ability to manipulate our emotions in unexpected ways, making us both laugh and recoil in equal measure, often at inappropriate times. This black comedy is part of the surprisingly small filmography of director, Sigurðsson. However, judging by the audience's unanimous enjoyment at last night's screening, this work will continue to be greatly received and his career, one would hope, will go from strength to strength.

A Dandy in Aspic (1968)

The hapless Dandy...

[6/10 · 1 December 2020]

The 1960s, for want of a better word, "vomited" knock-off spy thrillers in the wake of the success of the James Bond films with Sean Connery. Such titles included: Daniel Mann's Our Man Flint (1965); Ralph Thomas's Deadlier Than The Male (1967); and David Miller's Hammerhead (1968), to name but a few. However, this little number, A Dandy In Aspic (1968), based on the novel by Derek Marlowe, has passed through time relatively unnoticed, despite its direction by Anthony Mann, a filmmaker renowned for his work on Westerns and Film Noir thrillers. Moreover, this film boasts quite considerable acting talent of the day. The haunting Laurence Harvey plays the protagonist secret agent, Eberlin, who is given a mission to assassinate a KGB agent, and who is repeatedly haunted by past and present moral crises, very much in the tradition of the characters of John Le Carré and Ian Fleming. The love interest of the film is Caroline (in my opinion, the fairly talentless) Mia Farrow, playing the stereotypical role of a "swinging sixties" photographer, who, rather irritatingly, gets herself caught up in the spy game.

British acting stalwart, Tom Courtenay, plays the very understated character of Gatiss, a rival British spy who distrusts Eberlin. Look out for appearances by Richard O' Sullivan, of '70s televisual fame in the comedy series, Man About The House. The audience is also treated to a few guest appearances by British satirist, Peter Cook, for once unaccompanied by his partner-in-crime, Dudley Moore. Cook plays a comical womanising spy, Prentiss, who delivers such sexist lines they would make a millennial audience wince. Discussing with Eberlin the fact that his latest sexual conquest is "Eine kleine raver", in her company, is one of them. Still, the film is, naturally, indicative of its time.

The action sequences in the film are gritty and the film has a suitably brooding atmosphere which is, ironically, sometimes offset by the rather vibrant costumes the characters wear, supplied by veteran stylist, Pierre Cardin. Furthermore, the cinematography by Christopher Challis is tactful and it is accompanied by the appropriately minimalist score by veteran Jazz musician, Quincy Jones, whose scoring work for Sidney Lumet's adaptation of the Le Carré spy thriller, The Deadly Affair (1968), I equally enjoyed. After the film's recent premiere on Blu-Ray by Powerhouse Films, I thought it was timely to unearth this nearly fifty-year-old curio. If anything, watch it for Harvey's performance alone. That is, if you can simultaneously support Farrow's frequently sickly and mopey character.

Johnny English Strikes Again (2018)

Our Johnny is back, in a more family-friendly vein...

[7/10 · 12 October 2020]

In this age of increasingly crass Internet humour, now more than ever we need a return to good old-spirited British comedy. In this respect, Johnny English Strikes Again delivers. Rowan Atkinson returns as the hapless, James Bond spy knock-off, Johnny English, who is brought swiftly out of semi-retirement, (he now teaches "spying" to children at a private school in Lincolnshire), and back into the field when a cyber attack on MI7 compromises the identities of all the current agents. English is forced to pit himself against the cause of this, and subsequent, attacks - a technology guru called Jason (an unfortunate lacklustre performance by American actor, Jake Lacy).

Aided by his sidekick Bough (a very welcome return by Ben Miller), English dispenses with all the modern technology MI7 has to offer, some of which he calls "a box of gobbledygook", in order to make himself "invisible to a digital enemy", with the aim of thwarting the villain when he least expects it. Emma Thompson gives a surprisingly so-so performance as a neurotic Theresa May-esque PM figure, but we are treated to a nice cameo scene with acting stalwarts Edward Fox; Charles Dance; and Michael Gambon as ex-agents competing for the assignment which our Johnny eventually gets. This is a brilliant moment where the senior agents play with old-fangled gadgets à la James Bond of the 20th century, inspiring a moment of Mr. Bean wonderment in the Johnny English character. There is also a nice performance by Olga Kurylenko, erstwhile Bond Girl (Quantum of Solace, 2008), as the ambiguous spy, Ophelia.

The film has received a predictably entertaining soundtrack by long-time Atkinson collaborator, multi-talented composer Howard Goodall. (You might remember his wondrous theme "Mad Pianos" from Atkinson's 1997 film, Bean: The Movie) The music hints at the catchy themes by Goodall and Edward Shearmur from the original Johnny English (2003), but it is also a brilliant score in its own right. While it is a sheer delight to see Rowan Atkinson in any role at any time, nothing lasts forever, and one wonders whether there is any life left in the Johnny English franchise given that this has been a rather disparate trilogy with nearly a decade in-between each film. Another thing of note, as the Johnny English franchise creeps on, the lines between the character and Mr. Bean are ever more blurred. Even Johnny English's car at the beginning is strikingly like Mr. Bean's British Leyland Mini 1000.

One thing is for sure, this third outing tops the disappointing sequel Johnny English Reborn (2011), a film which, I believe, tried to be bigger and better in scale than the first, but failed. As testified by the original Johnny English and this current outing, the key to success is "simplicity". A simple plot, fairly simple locations, and the old-school comedy that Atkinson does so well. In a similar manner to the debate surrounding a further Indiana Jones film and an ageing protagonist, the question is when is old too old? I suppose the answer is predicated on the success of this film, which will surely do well, at least with domestic audiences.

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018)

How Can You Resist It?

[7/10 · 12 October 2020]

When I heard over a year ago that a Mamma Mia sequel was in the pipeline, I thought...indeed, here we go again. The sequel will take away from the original, I thought, and there would be an expectation in the theatrical world to create another musical stage play that would correspond to the film sequel, and so on, and so on. With the more recent news that the original ABBA have reformed with another album on the way, a much talked-about prospect that people thought would never become a reality, I thought, are we not getting a bit carried away with this seeming ABBA mania some thirty years on from the original glory days? Don't get me wrong, I love ABBA's music - let's face it, who doesn't!?

So, I took my seat in the cinema on the much-fevered opening night and prepared myself for a disappointing sequel since, let's face it, many do not surpass the original! I have to say, Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again, is a rare exception to this notion. Not only is it a better conceived film cinematically, it also tugs on the heartstrings in ways that the original doesn't.

The film begins several years after the point at which Mamma Mia left off. Half of the film is resolutely in the present as we see a more mature (and pregnant) Sophie (Amanda Seyfriend) on the familiar greek island of Kalokairi struggling to maintain the dream projects of her mother, Donna (Meryl Streep) with one of her "fathers", Sam (Pierce Brosnan), by her side. The other half of the film looks back to the 1970s and how the young, free-spirited Donna (Lily James) graduates from Oxford University and goes travelling in order to "find herself", all the while encountering the men who would later become Sophie's aforesaid "fathers".

Lily James gives a fantastic turn as the young Donna (which is more than I can say for the younger incarnations of the fathers, who, in my opinion, have comparatively little personality). The old familiar faces are back again. Colin Firth and Stellan Skarsgard are back on form, and seemingly defy their age, as Sophie's fathers, Harry and Bill. It gives me great joy to see the ever-dependable Julie Waters given the much more prominent comic role that she deserves as Rosie, one third of the original "Donna and the Dynamos". Of course, I can't mention her without also mentioning the other third, Christine Baranksi, who makes an equally splendid return as that understated cougar character, Tanya.

Ol Parker directs this film, replacing Phyllida Lloyd, and he indeed shows great attention to the musical numbers, of which "I Kissed The Teacher" and "Waterloo" are my firm favourites. The latter takes place in the surroundings of a Parisian cafe in which staff and clientele suddenly come to life - something straight out of the elaborate musicals of yesteryear. Also of note is the scene where a parade of boats come into the island, reminiscent of the first film, which shows unequivocally that the actors enjoyed every minute making this film.

Thankfully, the musical repertoire in the sequel is varied, and a younger generation (of which I am a part) are introduced to some lesser-known but equally brilliant ABBA numbers, the most poignant of which is "My Love, My Life". For fear of spoiling the film, I am saying no more about that scene. For lads reading this......yeah, it's one of those "I've got something in my eye" moments. Be prepared to surrender your machismo, this is a touching film. And not just for more obvious reasons. While the film sports youthful energy, it is also a reminder that a lot of our treasured film stars are getting older, and no surprise - it is ten years since the first outing....

Look out also for the wonderful Andy Garcia in an unexpectedly small part as Fernando (wink, wink) Cienfuegos, manager of the Hotel Bella Donna. And, of course, who can ignore the much-hyped appearances of the pop goddess, Cher - a revelation at 72 years of age. This film is much more than summer popcorn fare - go and see it, how can you resist it?

Vertigo (1958)

Hitchcock's masterpiece, a film of dizzying heights...

[9/10 · 12 October 2020]

I was at the press screening of Vertigo at the BFI Stephen Street in London today, and I left the viewing theatre feeling more stunned than ever by this emotional roller-coaster of a film by THE Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock. Park Circus have just released the film in a stunning new 4K presentation and, quite honestly, though the film has always aged well, as testified by previous restorations, it has never looked better. I can see every minuscule detail on James Stewart's immaculate suits, and the exterior location shots look so fresh, it's almost as if they were filmed today, with 1950s Cadillac cars and signage thrown in for authenticity!

James Stewart plays the gentleman police detective, John "Scottie" Ferguson, who, after a traumatic rooftop chase across San Francisco, realises he has acrophobia (a fear of heights) which brings on sensations of 'vertigo'. This ailment forces him to retire from the force and regain his health. However, an old college buddy comes out of the woodwork and asks Scottie to use his police know-how to privately investigate the strange habits of his wife, Madeleine Elster (Kim Novak). It transpires that she is haunted by Carlotta Valdes, an apparent figure in her family's past. Scottie gets roped into a web of love and deceit as he becomes transfixed by Madeleine and her obsessions.

The most pleasing elements of the film are the beautiful soft-focus scenery, and the dramatic and swooning score by film music stalwart, Bernard Herrmann. The hypnotic opening titles and fantasy sequences with their avant-garde graphics would appear to be a precursor to Maurice Binder's famous title work for the James Bond films. The stunningly beautiful Novak and the ever-dependable Stewart are eminently convincing in their respective roles. Dare I say that Vertigo is perhaps a better Hitchcock film than Psycho, released a few years later? I hope those film buffs siding with the latter won't consider this comment "a stab in the back", or anywhere else for that matter...

Revenge (II) (2017)

A feminist fantasy thriller not for the faint of heart...

[7/10 · 9 October 2020]

When I sat down to watch this film, a film to which I had been invited, and, the sort of film I would not normally watch of a Friday night, I mentally prepared myself for every eventuality. Was this film going to be gore porn schlock à la video nasty of the 1980s? Was I going to have to use my popcorn box as a make-shift sick bucket? The audience in the foyer had been murmuring excitedly about this film, though....perhaps, contrary to my thoughts, it actually would be a well-conceived and methodic piece of work. The answer is: predominantly, yes it is.

Revenge is a feminist horror/thriller film by relative French newcomer, Coralie Fargeat. Matilda Lutz plays a girl called Jen who is enjoying a getaway with her boyfriend at his luxury desert pad until their romantic plans are cut short by the unexpected arrival of his two male friends proposing a hunting trip. While the situation starts off as amicable between the three men and Jen, considering the abruptness of the change of plan, tensions start to mount in the house after certain drunken antics lead to misconstructions. The next morning, Jen is suddenly raped by one of the male friends while her boyfriend is absent. When the boyfriend returns, all three males become intolerant of her distressed pleas to call the helicopter so she can leave. With tension reaching peak-level, the boyfriend pushes Jen off a cliff, after which she is left in a gruesome state, which she miraculously survives. Beginning the process of self-medication, she moves stealthily through the desert, determined to exact her revenge on this misogynous assemblage.

This film is perceptively shot, and the editing of the breathtaking showdown of the film is inspired. What's more, this film is accompanied by a great 80s-esque electronic soundtrack by "Rob" which sounds, at times, like a cross between Vangelis' score for Ridley Scott's Blade Runner and that of Wendy Carlos for Stanley Kubrick's 70s thriller, A Clockwork Orange. The actors are more than convincing in their roles, with Lutz showing enough resilience and raw emotion as the female action heroine to put Lara Croft in the dark. That said, I do not mean to trivialise the film. This is a movie with much black humour, but it is also wincingly shocking and serious. It's release could not be more timely in a society where women are belatedly getting rights they have so long fought for, and we are coming to terms with the horrible reality of rape and the controversial idea of the "male gaze" which cinema has so long engendered.

This film flips stereotypes on their head, and so it should. This film needs to be seen. My only hope is that the film will not encourage the lesser-known idea of misandry against men collectively, in some circles. Speaking as a man, I wish to say that we are not all like that.

Go and see this tour-de-force experience but this promotion comes with a disclaimer - it's not for the faint of heart.

The Florida Project (2017)

A tale of bittersweet lives in the shadow of DisneyWorld...

[8/10 · 9 October 2020]

It is true that nowadays many cinema-goers, or TV viewers, for that matter, have a penchant for what's "real" or "realistic" about the complicated world in which we live today. To use a technical term, you might say that many budding young filmmakers are on a personal quest to create "verisimilitude" in their films. It is this arguable semblance of truth that director Sean Baker attempts to uncover in The Florida Project. I was offered a free ticket for this film (a perk of having an annual membership at my local cinema). I had also seen a short trailer for the film preceding another feature a few months ago but, not knowing the work of Sean Baker, the prospect of watching it did not resonate with me immediately. However, merely two weeks ago, the tweeting of enthusiast film buffs and critics alike appeared on my radar. (I use the term figuratively, and I'm not just talking about the confines of Twitter). I decided that a much talked-about film, (and a freebie, at that), was too good to pass up. My verdict: one of the most simplistic, yet profound, films I've ever had the pleasure of watching.

The film follows a group of young children, headed by 6-year old Moonee (the wonderful Brooklynn Prince) whose families live in neighbouring cheap motels, the most prominent of which is "The Magic Castle", Moonee's "home". The manager of the business is Bobby (a seamless performance by Willem Dafoe, which has already brought him Oscar-hype). Bobby attends unfailingly to the maintenance problems, as well as being mediator in the many domestic disputes which surround him. The cause of most of these problems is Mooney's mother, Halley (Bria Vinaite), a dysfunctional young single parent who is scarcely able to get by with her rent, and, the money she does earn, she gets by improper means.

With no concrete story-line, The Florida Project is best described as a "slice of life" of the, perhaps, unseen Florida, the largely downtrodden sphere which hangs in the shadow of the money-spinning mecca that is Disney World. With the Cinderella Castle and other wonders remaining only a figment of the children's imagination, they are forced to create their own fun, often running amok, with not a parent in sight. They get into variously funny, serious, and embarrassing situations. The leader of the pack, the aforementioned Brooklynn Prince (a precocious young actress) has a certain joie de vivre that befits a young carefree child. However, this is, at times, curtailed by her being a premature witness to the harsh realities of life, often when we, the viewers, least expect it.

Most of the beauty of this film lies in its authentic location shooting, and, despite its quasi-documentary feel, I'm glad that the cinematographer opted for wide, often sun-drenched, shots, dispensing with handheld camerawork which, in my opinion, is overused in many of the films of today. These effects, plus the very natural acting of all the players, makes for a film which is anything but manufactured entertainment. So seemingly real is everything that one would think it possible, for example, to step right into the screen and join in on the shenanigans of the children. Absolutely essential viewing.

King Solomon's Mines (1985)

A lesser Indiana Jones...

[5/10 · 9 October 2020]

The success of Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones films of the 1980s set in motion a series of adventure films in a similar mould, such was the thirst for historic thrills. One can cite Robert Zemeckis' Romancing the Stone (1984), and its sequel, Lewis Teague's The Jewel of the Nile (1985), both starring Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner, as subscribers to this genre. While, perhaps, nothing more than sappy love stories to some, these films have the Jonesian characteristics of an adrenaline-fuelled treasure hunt, with a moral purpose, against the forces of evil. Some might even see Richard Donner's The Goonies (1985), a film about a group of misfit kids on a not dissimilar treasure hunt, with the intention of saving their home from foreclosure, as an unashamed camping-up of the formula set down by Spielberg. However, no film comes closer to ripping-off Spielberg's creativity than J. Lee Thompson's King Solomon's Mines (1985), a filmic re-working of the famous novel by Henry Rider Haggard of the same name.

The film tells of "intrepid" explorer, Allan Quartermain (Richard Chamberlain) who is hired by a woman, Jesse Huston (Sharon Stone), to help find her father who is believed lost on a quest to the folkloric "King Solomon's Mines". Laughter and chaos ensue as the seemingly incompatible duo join forces against the rather caricatured enemies of a Turkish slave trader, Dogati (John Rhys-Davies), and Bockner (Herbert Lom), a colonel of the German army. It transpires that both these enemies have taken Jesse's father captive in the hope of prizing answers from him as to the whereabouts of the Mines, and the treasure within.

Indeed, the film does not take itself too seriously. However, looking at the film from a modern perspective, it is hard sometimes to tell whether some moments of the movie are genuinely, or unintentionally, bad. Despite genuine location-shooting in Zimbabwe, cardboard sets abound and moments of studio fakery are blindingly obvious. It is true to say that watching a film like this in high-definition (as I did, on Netflix) has made these moments yet more conspicuous to the modern viewer.

However, it is the over-acting of Stone, of Basic Instinct fame, as the accident-prone eye candy, Jesse, and that of Chamberlain, who seems too polished for a rough-and-tumble adventurer, that would suggest that this film is mostly a send-up of Indiana Jones. This is made more apparent by the inclusion of the aforementioned Rhys-Davies, a genuine Indiana Jones stalwart, and Lom, the erstwhile ill-tempered Police Commissioner Dreyfus in Blake Edwards' Pink Panther comedy series.

What stands out a mile is the rousing film score by the ever-dependable Jerry Goldsmith. Only a man of such genius and longstanding could create a main theme which is uniquely satisfying, and yet, as near as damn it to the famed Raiders March by John Williams.

In sum, this is a film that will not go down in the annals of film history, but an evening of light-hearted, dispensable entertainment is certainly guaranteed. However, feel free to pass up the sequel, Allan Quartermain and the Lost City of Gold (1987), which is nothing more than a disappointing rehash of the first film.

La La Land (2016)

Movie of stars...

[8/10 · 9 October 2020]

It seems that La La Land has become the 'Marmite' of recent film releases - some people love it, and others hate it. A film such as this, with numerous award nominations, as well as in-your-face publicity, can raise people's expectations too high, thus putting pressure on it to be 'all things to all people'.

This musical tells of two individuals who, down on their luck in Hollywood, despite their best intentions at getting ahead in show business, form a beautiful yet strained relationship. Mia (Emma Stone) is an aspiring actress who frequents auditions for TV roles, while serving coffee at a Warner Bros' studio-lot cafe to pay her way. Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) is a retro jazz-loving 'James Dean' of sorts, who dreams of being a respected and successful musician. The film follows the various ups and downs of their professional and personal lives, with the real and the fantastical elements of Tinseltown intertwined.

While the opening sequence of the film, a traffic jam-cum-musical number, didn't grab me as it should have, the film grew on me considerably. Paradoxically, it was refreshing to see a modern film which drew, at various moments, upon the glamour and, at times, simplicity, of Hollywood's golden age. The scene of Gosling and Stone dancing by streetlight is reminiscent of the films of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and will surely go down in film history.

In terms of the cinematography by Linus Sandgren, many of the camera shots are beautiful and the colours are rich and vibrant. The opening acknowledgement of the film being shot in 'Cinemascope' was a wonderful nod to yesteryear. While some of the panning shots are a little too intimate and freewheeling for my money, and some of the 'fantasy' scenes are rather protracted, the subversion of a classic Hollywood ending is inspired, and is, more largely, appropriate to the more unpredictable and challenging times in which we live.

In terms of acting, Stone and Gosling are wonderful in the film, and deserve every praise. And last, but by no means least, the music is catchy and timeless - an absolute must for your Spotify playlist. In sum, I don't believe this film quite defines a generation, but it is one that will be talked about for a long time to come, and is a perfect evening's entertainment.

Jason Bourne (I) (2016)

Bourne again...

[6/10 · 6 October 2020]

As a massive fan of the James Bond franchise, I have always seen Jason Bourne as the perfect antidote to the 007 hiatuses. We've had imaginative titles, courtesy of Robert Ludlum, such as The Bourne Identity; The Bourne Supremacy; and The Bourne Ultimatum - each chapter with a similar plot, an ex-CIA operative with severe memory loss trying to rediscover his past and seek revenge for those who manipulated him. However, after the series' own hiatus, and after the disappointing spin-off chapter, The Bourne Legacy, with Jeremy Renner, which, for all intents and purposes, may as well disappear, comes the unimaginatively titled re-boot, Jason Bourne. This film teams Matt Damon (Bourne) with director, Paul Greengrass, a collaboration which lasted through Supremacy and Ultimatum. So, then, a tried and tested recipe for success? No. This really is Groundhog day. Trying to remember anything really distinctive or eye-opening about this film is a challenge. I was led to think that I was the amnesiac, not Jason Bourne. The only recurrence in the film that I welcomed was the incredibly catchy Bourne theme over the end titles, Extreme Ways, by Moby, which never gets old. Perhaps the film could have redeemed itself with its high-octane car chase on the Las Vegas strip, but the editing was so fast that the sequence was more headache-inducing than visually satisfying.

Gainsbourg: A Heroic Life (2010)

The story of the enfant terrible of French music, author of "Je t'aime..."

[7/10 · 6 October 2020]

As a student of French, as well as Spanish, I thought it was time to review an oeuvre française. Therefore, my subject for dissection this week is Joann Sfar's Gainsbourg (2010), a "surrealist", larger-than-life biopic charting the tarnished life of controversial French singer and artist, Serge Gainsbourg. You perhaps aren't too familiar with the name, but you will be with the music. The suggestive tones of Jane Birkin's voice in the Gainsbourg-Birkin collaboration, Je t'aime, are well-etched in many people's minds.

The film charts Gainsbourg's life from a nervous young piano prodigy and artist under his father's strict rule to chain-smoking enfant terrible. French actor Eric Elmosnino steals the show as the adult Gainsbourg. I don't think they could have found a better actor to portray the role if they had tried. Elmosnino is suitably rugged and perverse in his performance, with a near perfect physical likeness, to the effect that one of my friends, while watching the film, was sporadically recoiling. What is interesting is that this live action film is permeated with animation, mainly puppet caricatures of Jewish people, including a creepy representation of himself, which deeply haunts him. The film suggests that ever since his wartime persecuted childhood, Gainsbourg has been overshadowed by anti-semitism. While I enjoyed this bizzare dimension of the film, some may prefer a strictly down-to-earth biography.

The supporting cast are noteworthy too, the late Lucy Gordon plays Gainsbourg's long-time lover, the English actress/singer Jane Birkin; and Laetitia Casta plays Gainsbourg's preceding lover, the ever-sultry Brigitte Bardot. The music is an appropriate collection of Gainsbourg's songs, some of which are performed by Elmosnino himself, which, like Marmite, you'll either love or hate. Sfar's direction is wonderful, more's the pity that his filmography is depressingly thin.

In some ways this is an art-house film of the life of Gainsbourg, art for art's sake, you might say. In my opinion, this is a damn good effort at piecing together the life of a seldom-treated subject.

Dr Jekyll & Sister Hyde (1971)

A gender-swapping take on a classic story...

[7/10 · 6 October 2020]

I have never been a devotee of horror films. Certainly when I was younger I would always shy away from gore, which seemed to appeal to some of my curious friends. What I prefer is a happy medium between "horror" and "thriller". I suppose the name for this sort of film would be a "chiller", and I feel Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971) fits that description. This is one of many films produced by the British company, Hammer Studios, mostly famous , I would say, for the career-making Dracula films of Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. This film offers an alternative take on the classic story from 1886 of "The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" by Robert Louis Stevenson, in which a lawyer investigates strange happenings between his friend, Dr. Henry Jekyll, and the maleficent Edward Hyde, before it is discovered that, due to the dangerous miracles of science, they are one and the same.

In this film by Roy Ward Baker, Dr, Jekyll discovers a formula that, when drunk, transforms him into a dangerously seductive women, whom he dubs his"sister", Mrs. Hyde. Playing with these two identities puts Dr Jekyll's own love life in jeopardy and starts to arouse the suspicion of the neighbours, one of whom, Howard, develops an attraction towards the illusive "Mrs. Hyde". All leads to disastrous consequences.

In terms of the acting, Ralph Bates is suitably sinister in the role of Dr. Jekyll, and has that particular look and general quality of a leading man of the 1960s//1970s. Apparently Bates went on to make several other pictures for Hammer, though I cannot comment as I have not seen them. Moreover, Martine Beswick is quite wonderful in the role of Jekyll's alter-ego, "Mrs. Hyde". She has very little dialogue, but her mystical presence is what does her credit. The film's direction is very ably executed. Roy Ward Baker dabbled in many different genres and has many credits to his name, the most commendable of which is perhaps the Titanic film, A Night to Remember (1958). What stands out for me, however, is the soundtrack by David Whitaker, a man who is little known but who has a distinguished film music career all the same. Against the opening titles plays Whitaker's main theme, a memorable and moving waltz. As for the rest of the soundtrack, Whitaker's compositions are aptly suspenseful.

The film is generally frivolous and the premise is silly, but isn't that true of most Horror/Chiller films? This is also a film which features some fleeting scenes of bare flesh, which is indicative of a time in which Hammer Studios started to mix so-called "horror" with bawdiness, to relatively ill effect. Cue lesbian vampires, etc. All considered, this film will perhaps not go down in history, and if it did, it would only be recognised in the context of the Hammer Studios canon, which is undeniably impressive. As a Saturday night's entertainment though, I wouldn't knock it.

The Bride (2015)

"At the heart of all great art is an essential melancholy..."

[7/10 · 6 October 2020]

"At the heart of all great art is an essential melancholy", Spanish dramatist Federico Garcia Lorca's own words which also aptly describe La Novia, a new filmic adaptation by Paula Ortiz of his 1932 play, Bodas de Sangre (Blood Wedding), a tragedy which details a bride's indecision when she is torn between her newly-wedded husband, and her lover. I went to see this film at a Spanish cinema in Cadiz this week with friends, and I was not at all disappointed. Although I have never studied this particular play, I am quite familiar with Lorca's other work, having analysed his Romancero Gitano (Gypsy Poetry) at University and his equally influential play, La Casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba), at Grammar School. Throughout his work, Lorca's sympathy is always with the lower classes, from which come his protagonists. Lorca's own story is an interesting and melancholic one, coming from a wealthy farming background in Andalucia, and growing to dislike his status of wealth, and identifying instead with the lowly.

Not only was Lorca troubled by his own social identity, he was also homosexual, which, you will see, adds another dimension to his written work and which, along with his status as a political dissident in the Spanish Civil War, led to his brutal assassination at the hands of the Civil Guard. I digress... La Novia is a beautiful film which makes wonderful use of long shots to capture the warm, bare, aridity of Spanish countryside, almost a metaphor for death and devastation which the transgression brings in the story. It was, I imagine, almost a given that this film would win this year's Goya Award for Cinematography, with thanks to Miguel Amoedo. For the average film-goer, the plentiful, expressive shots may lag, and may be seen as "art for art's sake". All the same, one cannot deny the awe they inspire. In terms of the acting, Inma Cuesta is wonderful in the part of the bride, and often looks strikingly like a young Penelope Cruz. Equally great are the bride's love interests; Asier Etxeandia, who plays the husband; and Alex Garcia, who plays Leonardo, the lover. Spanish film aficionados will also be able to recall Luisa Gavasa, a stalwart of Spanish cinema, who stuns with her performance as the husband's mother - a character beset with horrific premonitions of a disastrous marriage. The music, by Shigeru Umebayashi, is also stirring.

Lorca also said in his lifetime that "In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world." This new (filmic) lease of "life" for Lorca is clear proof of this statement. As I have already seen, Spain is a country which refuses to forget its past, literary, filmic, or otherwise.

The Danish Girl (2015)

"God made me a woman, but the doctor corrected the mistake that nature made..."

[8/10 · 6 October 2020]

"God made me a woman, but the doctor corrected the mistake that nature made", surely the most memorable line from Tom Hooper's beautiful new film, The Danish Girl. This film, set in the late 1920s, details the life of artist Einar Wegener, (subsequently Lili Elbe), who, with the aid of his long-suffering wife and fellow artist, Gerda, comes to terms with his desire to become a woman in an age of intolerance, and gambles all in agreeing to undergo one of the first ever sex-change operations.

Eddie Redmayne triumphs as Einar/Lili, and is surely in for many a commendation. As I sat in the cinema, I felt ashamed at the fact that I was not too familiar with his work, though I do remember him alongside Gemma Arterton in a wonderful BBC adaptation of Thomas Hardy's Tess of the d'Urbevilles, which I saw in a GCSE English class several years ago. It is indeed criminal that I have not yet seen his interpretation of Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything, a performance by which, I'm told, even Hawking himself was bowled over. His transition from Einar to Lili is seamless, as he dons the full female attire, to the extent where I thought I was watching two separate actors. His poise and his every movement are proof that he has studied this part long and hard.

I was equally impressed with Alicia Vikander as Gerda. I remembered her from last summer's spy romp, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Clearly, The Danish Girl makes markedly better use of her serious acting talents. It is quite appropriate that this film is about the lives of two artists, as the film itself is very picturesque. I wouldn't be overzealous in saying that some of the lingering shots of Copenhagen in the film are like paintings.

This film is loosely based on a true story and it's release couldn't be more timely here in the 21st century, when we are all too belatedly coming to accept and admire sexual difference. It is faintly reminiscent of the not-so-distant story of flamboyant writer Quentin Crisp's struggle with homosexuality, which was brought to life in the 70s TV film, The Naked Civil Servant, with John Hurt in the title role giving the performance of his career. The Danish Girl is a film about which people will talk at length for a long time to come, and which will continue to bolster Eddie Redmayne's already flourishing career.