Pangborne Reviews

I Spy (2002)

COMEDY, people, not action

[26 August 2004]

It mystifies me how somebody can go see something like this, with

invisible planes and boxers as spies and Famke Jannsen as a sex-bomb

Amazon spy-lady, and expect it to be a serious action movie. EVERY

SINGLE MOMENT of this movie is comedy writing. The action is pure comedy

action, more like NAKED GUN than 48 HOURS. If somebody criticizes this

movie for having HOLES in the PLOT, then you know they are WAY OFF BASE,

and are trying to watch a completely different type of movie. These

people have nobody to blame but themselves, because it's pure spoof from

the very beginning, with Owen Wilson's Uzbeck misadventure and the way

he looks over the other spy's equipment. The ending is obviously a spoof

of spy movie endings, and even the heroes admit onscreen to being

confused. THIS IS A JOKE. It did strike me as strange that so silly a

movie had a $70,000,000 budget. Maybe the studio wanted to wish it into

being a real action movie, and, hoping to earn action movie box-office,

misleadingly sold it that way. As an action movie, it sucks. As a spoof,

it's a hoot

Entertaining Mr Sloane (1970)

AN UTTER DISASTER

[25 August 2004]

This adaptation of the brilliant Joe Orton play in an unmitigated disaster. Every joke is overdone to the point of surrealism. The wit is killed dead, and any pretense to psychology is thrown out the window in a late sixties psychedelic mish-mash completely at odds with the stage farce tone of the source material. If people like this movie, it's for the sheer oddness, not because it has any of the qualities evinced by the play. It's like watching a Noel Coward play performed by lunatics in an asylum.

Plenty (1985)

First half dull/second half electric

[10/10 · 14 July 2004]

The problem with PLENTY is that the first half is too slow and

spends too much time setting up the second half. The long scene

in the British Embassy, the "riotous" living with the loose set

in Pimlico - these scenes drag on and add little to our understanding

of Susan, or, at the very least, are told as though they were

merely necessary and not intrinsically interesting. However, once

she really starts going off the deep end, about the time she hooks

up with Sting, it catches fire, and burns brighter and brighter.

The quality of the second half is so strong that it easily nullifies

the ill-effects of the first half.

The Unnamable (1988)

Interstingly Primitive Suspense

[24 June 2004]

This is a cheapie, but interesting as an artifact of pure primitive suspense technology. A small group of college students creep around a house and confront an escalating series of scares, frights, horrors, attacks, deaths. To my way of thinking, creeping down a long dark cooridor when there's a monster in the house is as old-fashioned and bed-rock as scare tactics get, and anybody who has an interest in making suspense movies could look at this as a great way of sparking thoughts on the nature of filmed suspense. Very little in the way of special effects, extremely simple dialogue, and a rigid focus on those stairs and hallways give this a purity that gooses the fright-o-meter just a nudge. The biggest problem I have with this movie is a basic mistake story-tellers occasionally make: for too long the main characters are unaware that they are in danger. True horror requires that potential victims be mind-blowingly aware of their danger. The people in this movie don't really get a clue until about forty minutes into their tour of the haunted house.

The Speckled Band (1931)

Wonderfully Atmospheric

[10/10 · 4 June 2004]

This is exactly the kind of thing I look for in an old Sherlock Holmes movie; atmospheric, almost Victorian, with old clichés played straight.

The villain almost twirls his mustache. The whole thing creates perfectly creepy suspense with beautiful camera work and expressionistic sets that still have that silent movie movie, though four or so years into the sound era. Montage sequences pop up frequently, and the actors are often caught in a profile. Shots are often in deep focus, with shafts of light illuminating a distant figure in white - most often the heroine, terribly vulnerable in the cavernous spaces of the derelict old mansion. Simple suspense techniques remain effective, and the movie conjures a far more convincing world of fairy-tale menace than the Sherlock Holmes movies of just a few years later, when the light gets flat, the sets get thin, and the puzzle aspect of the crime overwhelms the horror and suspense. To my way of thinking, Sherlock Holmes movies should have a Grand Guignol element that borders on the supernatural; the more they become just puzzling crimes, the less interesting they are.

Semi-Tough (1977)

First Rate Seventies Screwball

[10/10 · 7 March 2004]

People don't seem to know how to respond to this movie. The people who

want "Smokey and the Bandit" think it's weird and not funny; the people

who want "Scenes from a Marriage" think it's sophomoric. Well, it is

weird and occassionally sophomoric, but it is very, very funny in an

underhanded, ironic way - and also in an over-the-top goofball way. You

better be prepared for different kinds of jokes coming at you

unexpectedly. This obviously big-budget studio comedy has more in common

with discursive satires like "Smile" or "Nashville" than other studio

comedies of the period, although it is far more well-made and plotty

than either "Nashville" or "Smile": I think it's the best of both worlds

• satire and spontaneity wrapped up in a comfy old-fashioned romantic

comedy. Think "My Man Godfrey" with four letter words and football. It's

true the characters do not have exactly novelistic depth, but surely

Carole Lombard's character in "Godfrey" was as thin as a pancake - but

it didn't matter because Lombard was playing her, and she made up in

dizzy star-power what the writers left out. Here Jill Clayburg is the

Lombard part, a real star at the top of her game, radiating star-powered

charm. Matching her watt for watt is Burt Reynolds, perfectly cast, and

able to make the odd-ball anti-intellectualisms of the writing sound

perfectly effortless. Kris Kristofferson is in the Ralph Bellamy part -

the guy whose job it is to get jilted - but he oozes a full-bore sexual

magnetism that makes the heroine's confusion perfectly understandable.

This is real neglected gem - you shall recognize it for the dunces are

in a c

Zero Effect (1998)

Phony, Fake, Cliche, Immature

[1/10 · 4 March 2004]

Don't believe the people who say this is a great film. It was made by the 23 year old son of a famous movie director, and it has all the weaknesses that implies. There is not an ounce of reality or originality, which leaves a bunch of genre cliches floating around like a slow-motion Cuisinart. The acting is what happens when talented actors are left to their own devices without a strong guiding hand - show-offy, undisciplined, incoherent, charming, sexy (how actors want to be seen), scenery-chewing, and "quirky." The writing is the same - surface polish that comes off in your hand if you watch till the end. The plot seems intriguing at the beginning, but peters off into a disappointing end - sort of on a level with a seventies TV detective show. The cool ideas never go anywhere, and the "quirky" characters never pay off. The appeal for most people, I think, seems to be the cleverness of the great detective's mystery-solving, but it is the same cheap, unbelievable tricks pulled by Sherlock Holmes and his immitators for the past hundred years: "I deduce that you are the daughter of a gardener from Shropshire from the dirt on your boots." Nonsense, but it seems tricky and smart, and people get a real rush from identifying with a genius character. Plus, we never even get to see the detective do one piece of real detective deuction; the most crucial plot points (finding the keys, arriving at the bathroom), are either lucky or unexplained. The movie starts out with Ben Stiller as the lead guy, but then he just sort of disappears as Bill Pullman takes over. The leading lady is hopelessly inadequate. Only Ryan O'Neal comes across well. Even the music choices are bad (although a running gag about Bill Pullman's character writing bad songs might have something to do with that. The only reason I take the time to slam a movie by a twenty-three-year-old first-time writer/director is because I hate to see so many people praise such a disappointing effort. I have no doubt they all sincerely enjoyed it, but make no mistake: it is a bad movie all the same. People are just taken in by the writer/director's insistant hammering away at his (baseless) claim that this is a clever film.

The Golden Bowl (2000)

It's the Terrible Screenplay

[11 November 2003]

So many of the commenters on this board talk only about the actors -

which is interesting because it shows how overwhelmingly audience

members respond to performers first and foremost - but the real problem

is with the screenplay. Perhaps the choices made are a reflection of

Henry James' writing style, but the end result is every scene in which

something happens or something is at stake is skipped, and all we are

left with is the scenes in which people talk about what has already

ocurred. Also, the dialogue is stilted. There is nothing spontaneous in

anything anyone says, and this is not a result of a more formal

Edwardian diction, it's a result of an approach to the scenes in which

characters NEVER make discoveries before our eyes. Every change that

happens happens off-screen. Of course, James Ivory's direction does

absolutely nothing to clue us in on the character's inner lives, and it

is left to the overwhelmed actors to do EVERYTHING. No actor can carry

such a heavy burden, and they all crumple under the weight. Another

commenter on this board mentioned a question-and-answer session in which

James Ivory claimed there was no attempt to tell more of a story than

what was visible on the screen, and I too saw the man speak to a group

of students, and I got the unmistakable impression of a very dense man

who didn't have a clue as to what he was doing - he could not make one

intelligent or insightful comment about his technique - which led me to

believe he has no technique. He and his crew just try to film the events

of the novels they pick. Sometimes they are lucky - Remains of the Day,

A Room with a View, Howard's End - and the rest of the time they are not

• just look at every o

The Krays (1990)

Real Krays Unimportant Next to Movie

[10/10 · 29 October 2003]

The only people who complain about this movie on this comment board are

people who have some idea about what the Krays were really like and they

dislike the movie because it does parrot back at them ideas they already

hold. Well, I'd never heard of the Krays before I saw this movie and

I've never heard them mentioned in any other context since I saw this

movie, so ultimately, it really doesn't matter at all what the real

Krays were really like. To call this wondeful, creepy, scary,

entertaining and well observed movie "rubbish" is to fundamentally

misunderstand how movies work or what they are supposed to do. Stick to

the History Channel if all you want is history. And stick to

eavesdropping at Starbucks if you want to hear how people really talk.

If you want a dazzling exploration of psychic violence passed through

generations, and the creeping horror of living side-by-side with

homicidal maniacs who are strangely beloved by a hero-starved populace,

the watch The Kra

Clockwatchers (1997)

It's Not About Office Life

[10/10 · 24 September 2003]

CLOCKWATCHERS is mainly about friendship, and the various ambitions and

suspicions that can destroy it. In fact, it's one of the best movies

you'll see on the subject of twenty-something female friends. It is not

exactly skillfully made or written, but somehow it works anyway. My

recollection of it was that it was bitingly funny, but when I watched it

a second time, what hit me was the sadness. I hate the Voice Over, and

LOVE Parker Posey (some of her best work). The rest of the cast is aces,

too. (This is the movie that made me fall in love with Toni Col

The Shining (1980)

In Defense of Shelley Duvall

[2 September 2003]

First, let me say I'm one of those who thinks THE SHINING is a

masterpiece of a horror movie. I don't understand the people who don't

think it's scary, but I assume they're not lying, so who knows. It

worked for me. It is not my intention to discuss the hypnotic camera

work and pulsating rhythm, the tracking shots, the Diane Arbus twins,

elevator of blood, production design, music, or great reaction shots.

Neither will I discuss the book, which I read as a kid, but quickly

forgot. No, I am writing this in spirited defense of a genius

performance by Shelley Duvall that even some fans of the movie seem not

to appreciate.

She is the heart and soul of the movie. Jack is terrifying in a Grand

Guignol way, and Danny Lloyd is great, too, but it is left to Shelley

Duvall to carry the full weight of being scared - in other words, she

has to be frightened for everybody. She is the on-screen person who

perceives the full scope of the horror that is going on. (If nobody

onscreen is scared, a horror movie becomes a comedy.) Shelley does this

with a believability that is unique in screen history. Most actors can't

do it; they just fake it and get worked up. When Shelley Duvall is

trapped in the bathroom, she reacts with an unhinged hysteria that

obviously comes from a very deep and dark place within her. The hooror

of the moment comes only partly from the ax, only partly from the

malevolence in Nicholson's performance. The real horror comes from

looking into the eyes of woman about to be hacked to death, and

Shelley's eyes convey truth.

Now, as for those people who either ignore her, or worse deride her,

they have a hopelessly shallow view of acting. I imagine they look for

maximum coolness or maximum minimalism, two things that are highly

prized in Hollywood lately, and in horror films especially. Shelley

Duvall does neither. Instead she presents an accurate portrait of a real

woman - and the reality of the characterization rests on the

eccentricity of Wendy. Wendy is not a Sigourney Weaver character, all

taciturn strength surrounding a wounded vulnerability, or a Sharon Stone

character, all highly strung tics surrounding a wounded vulnerability,

or a Julia Roberts character, all smiles and goodwill surrounding a

wounded vulnerability. No, Wendy in THE SHINING is a wounded

vulnerability surrounding a wounded vulnerability. Her character is

NOTHING like the Wendy in the Stephen King book - thank God - with her

strong legs and blond hair and take charge attitude. Stanley Kubrick's

THE SHINING is not about the downtrodden family of a drunk fighting back

when he goes too far. It is not about empowerment. It is about having no

power; it is about being trapped; it is about evil coming to get you. It

is about the ax you are powerless to stop, and that is why Kubrick went

and got Shelley Duvall. Her Wendy is a hopelessly unsophisticated - but

not ignorant (she reads CATCHER IN THE RYE) - country girl who is

completely in the power of her husband. This is a VERY REAL character.

The Shelley-Duvall-Wendys of this world are the kind who axe murderers

prey upon, far more so than the Sigourney Weavers or Sharon Stones. We

know that this Wendy is hopelessly ill-equipped to deal with this

situation, as is little Danny, and those of us with hearts to feel (few

of us, I fear) are scared for her. Most importantly, she is unable to

protect her young son. If she could, it wouldn't be a horror movie, it

would be a LIFETIME TELEVISION FOR WOMEN movie, and she'd be played by

Valerie Bertinelli.

But beyond the characterization, there is the task of acting it, and

Shelley is great at this. She is scrupulously honest throughout the

movie, and I'm including those loopy line-readings that may be the

reason her critics seem to hate her performance. Line readings like

"That's OK. I understand." Do you know the one I'm talking about? What

we have here is Shelley showing us Wendy acting. Wendy is acting upbeat

and positive for Jack, and Wendy can't act. Shelley can - Wendy can't.

There are moments when Wendy is annoying, because Shelley Duvall is not

out to make the audience love her. This does not reflect on Shelley.

But besides an emotionally accurate characterization, and brilliant

acting talent, there is the face. It is an exceptionally emotionally

expressive face. Her bone structure is very much like Loretta Young's,

but missing half the beauty. Half the beauty is there, but the other

half is Alfred E. Newman. The limpid eyes do most of the work, conveying

a child-like fear in step with the habit horror movies have of putting

children in the path of danger. The first time Jack yells at her, her

face collapses in a confused hurt that is disguised by NOT ONE emotional

defense. Michelle Pfiefer would well up with tears and shoot back

resentment, but that would be ro

The Secret Lives of Dentists (2002)

What's with the boom mic?

[3/10 · 30 August 2003]

Why have none of the 24 commenters (so far) mentioned the incredibly annoying and omnipresent boom-mic visible in just about every scene? The audience I saw this movie with was laughing in utter contempt and I don't blame them. Such base-line incompetence is laughable. Did the film-makers not have time to refilm anything? Was it a crack-pot stylistic choice? It ruined the movie. No ifs-and-or-buts. Sorry.

HOWEVER, IF the boom-mic had NOT ruined the movie (which it did - if you're thinking to yourself that I'm a philistine for finding it annoying, you're wrong - you are for not), it would still be a bad movie: a movie that flirts with being good, but certainly never comes near being a masterpiece.

There a dangerous group of middle-brow people who assume that if a movie is character based and about "real" people, then it must be better than an action flick or a romantic comedy, or any of the other twaddle that gets released, but the sad fact is that serious minded independant films sometimes go wrong, and that's what we have here. The film-makers seem to me to have nobly attempted to translate the peculiar pleasures of the contemporary short story to the screen, but failed. The best short stories can grab a moment of ordinary life and like a flash lightening over suburbia, connect it somehow, ever so briefly, with the sublime. This story is gloriously realistic, and its primary pleasures and little profundities come from an intimate knowledge of the day-to-day transactions of family life, but it is never sublime. I kept waiting for it rise to the dramatic heights of something like YOU CAN COUNT ON ME, in which seemingly small exchanges carry the weight of salvation (or despair), but the moment never came. There are a thousand reasons why this happened, but there is no point in going into it. The point I want to make is that I find it disappointing when people over-praise semi-serious failures merely in reaction against the prevailing comic-books that rule the screens. Most true masterpieces have more than a dash of hokum and showmanship, and turning a microscope on the mundane is not a foolproof recipe for quality.

Rob Roy (1995)

Better than Braveheart

[18 July 2003]

This movie came out the same year as Braveheart and often gets compared

to it, usually to Rob Roy's detriment, but don't be fooled. The only

good things about Braveheart are its battle sequences and those aren't

all THAT good. But the rest of Braveheart is laughably bad - it was even

named by several critics as the worst movie ever to win an Oscar for

Best Picture. Rob Roy, in comparison, is thoroughly engrossing

throughout, with a great final sword-fight, probably the finest

swordfight ever filmed. This movie is well worth your time, especially

if you're in the mood for some Scottish history better served than the

stunningly awful Braveheart

Lady of Burlesque (1943)

The Sublime B-movie

[12 June 2003]

William Wellman, the man who brought you NOTHING SACRED, BEAU GESTE, ROXIE HART, THE PUBLIC ENEMY, A STAR IS BORN, and WINGS, brings you this neglected gem starring the one and only Barbara Stanwyck. Available for some reason in a thousand cheapie video bins for under five bucks, this 91 minute classic B-movie puts the B in sublime. An A-list group decided to adapt Gypsy Rose Lee's exploitation sex - murder - laughs novel for the silver screen, and the sheer joy brought to the tawdry enterprise somehow transmutes the base material - the murder plot was creaky for 1943 - into show-biz gold. When you think of old-fashioned entertainment, you are picturing LADY OF BURLESQUE, in which a maniac is killing the show-girls in a run-down burlesque theater, and a baggy-pants comic steadfastly pursues Barbara Stanwyck with wisecracks and dutch-treat dates. The real stars are the burlesque performers, lovable freaks from the Hollywood gutter spouting a hard-bitten patter with the nano-second timing of people who'd been doing this since their parents dragged them onto the vaudeville stage when they were three. Stanwyck was the only major screen queen from the thirties and forties who specialized in hopelessly vulgar heroines (see STELLA DALLAS and BABY FACE), but here she's the class act because she's the only one not trying to be classy. Her love interest is the wonderful Michael O'Shea, who plays the false nose comedian who falls for Stanwyck. Stanwyck puts a spin on the word "comic" that makes it sound like a four letter word. One scene above all others stakes this movie's claim to greatness - while in the middle of a hoary old comedy sketch, Stanwyck and O'Shea are interrupted by the off-stage wailings of a stripper being beaten up by her thug boyfriend. No one backstage will stop the brutality because they're all scared of the thug, so the onstage performers strike up the band and try to drown out the screams with an up-tempo musical number and improvised jitterbugging. Note, too, the big built blonde with the lisp who declares of the most recent murder "How gruethome!"

Alice (1988)

Imagery that Bores Inside

[10/10 · 6 June 2003]

This movie may be labeled frustratingly plotless by some, and that's fair, but the imagery in this strange combination of stop-motion animation and live footage is so hauntingly rich and evocative that you get the feeling that someone has secretly filmed your own childhood dreams and translated them into Czech - perhaps for the viewing pleasure of the former commissars. The basic idea is that all of ALICE IN WONDERLAND is occurring in Alice's house, and a staggering variety of household items are animated into jerky sort of life, while all the character voices - Mad Hatter, Queen of Hearts, White Rabbit - are spoken by Alice. Alice's house, however, is a Czech house, and the items are old even by Soviet bloc standards. It's as if an antique rummage sale suddenly sprang to life to act out a monstrous little comedy for one girl. And the architecture is simultaneously comforting and frightening. Windows, for example, merely open onto other rooms, all lit by bare light bulbs. What keeps the thing tied to Lewis Carroll is the performance of the little girl playing Alice. She appears to be about six or seven, and despite the disturbing events going on around her, she never appears frightened, and always investigates events as they grow curiouser and curiouser with a determined pluck. This little girl is always in control. What this adaptation lacks in forward momentum or narrative drive it makes up for with a surreal poetry of the domestic space as dreamed by a child.

The Rules of Attraction (2002)

Why I like RULES OF ATTRACTION

[10/10 · 5 June 2003]

I've read a lot of bizarre stuff about this movie, even from people who liked it, so I thought I would weigh in with my two cents. First of all, full disclosure, I went to a college very much like the one depicted in this movie, and every character was a grim reminder of what those years - and those people - were like. More importantly, this movie IS NOT, AND NEVER HAS BEEN, AND NEVER WILL BE, A COMEDY. It is a darkly disturbing drama that has a few funny moments. If any of the marketing seemed comedic, then blame the marketing people. I was stunned to read a review that treated the opening - in which a virgin girl is raped while passed out, and even vomited upon - as funny. It isn't and isn't meant to be. It is a slap in the face, and the look of sick horror in Shannyn Sossamon's eyes makes that frighteningly clear. The two sequences that follow - introducing us to the two other main characters - deliberately establish these "heroes" as morally bankrupt. It is visible in their eyes, and the camerawork deliberately makes them appear diabolical - a low-down evil leer is a motif in the movie throughout. The fact one of the characters starts to lose his erection during sex - when have you ever seen that in a American movie? - should be a heads up that this is not a comedy. Now there is a funny segment about in the middle in which Faye Dunaway and Swoosie Kurtz appear briefly and memorably, but the tone throughout is outrage and despair. Outrage that life like this goes on, and despair at how common it really is. Some people have described the movie as bleak, but it seems unmistakable that the main characters are desperately trying to climb out of the morass their lives have become, and that is why it grows to such a powerful ending. My advice to anyone watching THE RULES OF ATTRACTION for the first time is think of movies like HAPPINESS and YOUR FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS, and remember the original novel was written by the man who wrote AMERICAN PSYCHO. THE RULES OF ATTRACTION is an emotional slasher flick.

Valmont (1989)

Why No One Should Prefer VALMONT to DANGEROUS LIAISONS

[2/10 · 5 June 2003]

Occasionally I run into someone who blithely claims to prefer VALMONT to DANGEROUS LIAISONS, and this mystifies and infuriates me. The only possible reason someone could have for such a counter-intuitive response is pure anti-populism, for DANGEROUS LIAISONS is a superior film in every way (that matters). Valmont is a complete structural mess; its story makes no sense. Milos Forman admits he based his film on a youthful impression of the original novel; unfortunately his impression was all wrong. The novel is darkly scathing and terrifying. How could one ever hope to transform such vicious behavior into a light-hearted summer romp? One couldn't, and the result for Forman is a misbegotten - if pretty - disaster. DANGEROUS LIAISONS, however, is a perfect combination of wit, sex, and controlled fury. Sometimes the popular film is the better film. (btw, Glenn Close is not chewing scenery in DANGEROUS LIAISONS. Make no mistake: her performance is understated - it's the story that overwhelms.)

The Lion in Winter (1968)

Grand Campy Fun

[5 June 2003]

I would never say that The Lion in Winter is a great movie; I would even hesitate to say it's a good movie; but it does seem to have enduring appeal beyond the mere camp. Actors seem drawn to parts in which scenery chewing is positively required - an understated Henry or Eleanor is impossible, as the characters themselves are ham actors - and audiences respond like Pavlov's dogs to the exquisite timing of the writing. The characterizations may be overwrought, the lines overwritten, the plot over-plotted, but the structure is a miracle. Based on a stage-play, the movie deliberately slows the pace and goes to great lengths to make the medieval castle appear real, but there is no hiding the source: pure stage hokum. Watching Katherine Hepburn and Peter O'Toole go to town with their parts is about as close as people of the Twenty-first Century can come to seeing the living, breathing traditions of Nineteenth Century theater come to life - not as a derisive send up, but as an immediate, gripping, vital presentation of human character. Stanislavsky and Strasberg may have changed the rules, but the old ways still work. The highlight: a twenty-minute duel in which Henry and Eleanor fight over the succession to the throne of England and Hepburn and O'Toole fight to the death over who will wipe the other off the screen.

The Bliss of Mrs. Blossom (1968)

Shirley MacLaine in a Mod, Mod World

[10/10 · 5 June 2003]

I am hesitant when recommending this movie, not because I doubt the movie, but because I doubt people. There are so many criticisms that non-believers could throw at THE BLISS OF MRS. BLOSSOM - that it's silly, obvious, crude, cartoonish, dated - but they would all be beside the point. The point is that this movie is a sweet-natured ding-bat adolescent pro-feminist look at sex and marriage in a world where people don't seem to have naughty bits - except women, whose most noticeable naughty bits need to be covered by industrial strength brassieres. The dialogue is a step above Benny Hill, but the performances (Shirley MacLaine, Richard Attenborough, James Booth and even [briefly] John Cleese) lift it to the level of Noel Coward, just by putting an aching sincerity into the outlandish situations. Most memorable, however, is the art direction, costume design, and editing, all of which take off from Carnaby Street and land somewhere on the planet Swinging Mod Paisley Surprise. The editing is particularly trippy, with deliberate disjunctions of time and space that give the title character an almost otherworldly cool. And why reach for THE BLISS OF MRS. BLOSSOM when there are so many other relics of Mod London in the late sixties to choose from? Because, like Linus's pumpkin patch, it's really and truly very sincere: whereas other movies of the period where aimed cynically at the youth market, T.B.O.M.B. is aimed at adults.