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Reviews
Lifeforce (1985)
Beyond Good Or Bad
Now, I don't subscribe in general to that 'so bad it's good' idea about films, usually they're one thing or the other, but Lifeforce is that rare beast that falls into such a category. It's almost unutterably bizarre, with a naked Mathilda May wandering through the streets of London, Patrick Stewart talking in a girl's voice and then dissolving into a welter of blood, Frank Finlay doing his standard loony performance, Steve Railsbeck in full on shouty mode, Michael Gothard looking lost and Peter Firth wandering around in a nasty trenchcoat and being the world's least convincing SAS soldier ever. The plot, such as it is, concerns vampiric beings from space who drain the lifeforce of humans, but that's all lost in the mix of dodgy 80's visuals and a schlockily enjoyable Henry Mancini score (hard to believe it's the Pink Panther man). It's a typically incomprehensible sci-fi horror of the type that emerged in the wake of Alien, but as a British version of such things, it probably explains why we stuck to grim social films about housing estates in the years that followed. Weird? Yes. Very bad? Probably. A guilty pleasure, to watch on late-night telly when nobody else is around? Undoubtedly.
The Night They Raided Minsky's (1968)
Lost Classic
And I mean that most sincerely, this is one of the great films of the 1960s, charting the last days of the burlesque music-hall theatricals in America. The plot of the film is something of a mish-mash, mixing up Britt Ekland as an Amish runaway who finds herself onstage, with Denholm Elliot as a moralistic do-gooder trying to close down Minsky's theatre, but in truth, as with a large number of films of the period (see also The Pink Panther films), the plot is merely a convenience, a washing line upon which to hang a large number of characters, theatrical set-pieces and little illustrations of life in and around the theatrical world. A host of fine actors grace the screen, with Elliot Gould making an early appearance as Minsky jr, Harry Andrews as Ekland's glowering father, Joseph Wiseman as Minsky sr and most affectingly, Bert Lahr in his final screen performance. Even Ekland is OK, and it takes a lot to say that. But at the centre of it all are Jason Robards and Norman Wisdom as the theatre's chief comedy double-act. An odd pairing that works amazingly well, with Robards an effectively sleezy straight man (his seduction of Ekland is both funny and stomach churning). But if Robards is good, Wisdsom is fantastic, his comedic skills honed in England finally being given full rein (I enjoy a lot of his British films, but few of them really allow him full use of his abilities), and the song and dance routine and when he defines burlesque to Ekland rank as his finest on-screen moments. it's a bitter shame that the failure of this film and personal circumstances forced him to leave Hollywood, because with the right material he could have gone so much further. Truth is, if you have no sympathy for this sort of material, this will not change your mind. But for an utterly unique film, packed with beautiful little minutiae of theatrical life and a great mix of dark humour and bawdy comedy, this is really something to be cherished.