The Panic in Needle Park (1971)

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It’s Election year that’s why there’s no shit. Following an illegal abortion Helen (Kitty Wynn) returns to the loft she shares with Mexican artist boyfriend Marco (Raúl Juliá) where she encounters hustler and occasional drug user Bobby (Al Pacino) with whom she becomes involved. She tries his heroin one night when he’s nodded out and immediately becomes addicted and turns tricks to pay for their $50 a day habit. Bobby proposes marriage and his brother Hank (Richard Bright) gets him involved in a burglary that goes wrong and while Bobby’s in prison, Helen turns to Hank for money and sex. Bobby persuades big dealer Santo to allow him handle distribution in Needle Park and narcotics cop Hotch (Alan Vint) approaches Helen to help him nail Santo when she’s caught selling pills to kids … I’m a sex-crazed dope fiend. Husband and wife team Joan Didion and John Gregory Dunne do a superb job of adapting James Mills’ 1966 novel, a romantic drama about two people whose heroin addiction does for them. Pacino was already in his thirties and had made a brief appearance in Me, Natalie but it was probably his Tony for a role as a junkie in Does a Tiger Wear a Necktie? that won him this part in Dominick Dunne’s production. He’s utterly captivating – streetwise, intense, antiheroic, outrageous, sympathetic, deliriously real and charismatic, and it would make him much sought after. The injecting scenes are horrifying, harrowing and graphic. This does not glamourise the addict’s life – quite the opposite. The rarely seen Wynn is superb as the somewhat innocent girl who finally succumbs to her curiosity about how her boyfriend is feeling and the scene where he recognises what she has done is very understated. Her descent into prostitution is matter of fact, part of the narrative’s realist drive. When Bobby and Helen travel by ferry to the countryside to pick out a dog to bring back to live in their Sherman Park room you just know it’s going to end dreadfully. Directed by Jerry Schatzberg who handles the gritty material and the convincing performances so sensitively. Watch for Paul Sorvino and Joe Santos’s scene in the police station. One thing you always gotta remember about a junkie, they always rat

 

 

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Georgy Girl (1966)

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Twenty-two and never been kissed. Pathetic, isn’t it. Wannabe singer Georgina (Lynn Redgrave) is a carefree and childlike frumpy 22-year-old who finds more joy in her relationships with children than with the adults in her life. Her parents’ wealthy employer James Leamington (James Mason), proposes that she become his mistress but Georgy avoids giving him an answer, as the idea of romance confuses her.  She feels a little jealous of her fecklessly trampy roommate the beautiful violinist Meredith (Charlotte Rampling) who keeps getting pregnant by boyfriend Jos (Alan Bates) and aborting the results. Jos finds himself attracted to Georgy but Meredith wants marriage in order to have his child. When Georgy finds herself the caretaker of Meredith’s unwanted baby girl, she seeks to find a way to shoulder the new responsibility while fending off a more permanent attachment ... She’s like some enormous lorry driver. Adapted by the late Margaret Forster from her own novel with Peter Nichols, this is one of the best British films of the Sixties, a piquant black comedy featuring an outstanding performance from Redgrave whose expressions ranging from pantomime horror to wounded calf are worthy of Gish. Mason too is at his very best in one of his (regular) comebacks in his portrait of a lascivious man who simply will have what he wants, society be damned. Bates is terrific as the chauffeur who can’t help himself with Meredith, whose astringent portrayal by Rampling is like a shot of arsenic in the mix, the amoral Swinging Sixties girl incarnate. Frank, funny and terribly familiar, this is just fantastic. Redgrave’s real-life mother Rachel Kempson plays Mason’s wife. And there’s that song! Directed by Silvio Narizzano.  The trouble with you is that you could say you’re a good girl

Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965)

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This doll had almost been loved to death. You know, love inflicts the most terrible injuries on my small patients. When American single mother Ann Lake (Carol Lynley) reports her small daughter as missing after she dropped her at nursery school when she arrives in London, Scotland Yard Superintendent Newhouse (Laurence Olivier) investigates and begins to wonder if the child isn’t a figment of the woman’s imagination. Her relationship with her journalist brother Steven (Keir Dullea) also raises questions … Ever heard him read poetry? It’s like a Welsh parson gargling with molasses. Adapted for producer/director Otto Preminger from Evelyn Piper’s (domestic suspense pioneer Merriam Modell who also wrote The Nanny) New York-set novel by husband and wife team John and Penelope Mortimer after unsuccessful attempts by Ira Levin  and Dalton Trumbo, this fits into the director’s psychological noir films where the escalating of suspense is less interesting than the sheer strangeness of people’s lives. From the intricate editing and soundtrack alternating between Paul Glass’ score and rock songs by The Zombies (including one that comments on the action) to the title sequence by Saul Bass, this is a beautiful interrogation of the space between what is real and unreal. Sumptuous looking, it’s a film that simply glides on the surfaces of a society that has not yet erupted into sexual freedom and that knowledge feeds into the solution of the mystery which is altered from the source novel. There is an astounding supporting cast including Clive Revill, Noël Coward (as Ann’s landlord who’s into S&M memorabilia), Lucie Mannheim, Martita Hunt, Finlay Currie and Megs Jenkins.  Olivier has top billing but it’s all about the brother and sister and both the young actors do very well. During production Lynley and Dullea discovered not only that they had in common an Irish heritage but they even shared living relatives in Ireland which makes sense when you look at them, echoing the implication of incest in the story. Lynley claimed that Dullea bore the brunt of Preminger’s legendary bullying. Noël Coward (No autographs please but you may touch my garment) didn’t think much of Dullea as an actor either. He apparently walked up to him on the set one day and whispered, “Keir Dullea, gone tomorrow.” Dullea had the last laugh – Stanley Kubrick offered him the lead in 2001: A Space Odyssey after seeing this.  He didn’t even have to audition. I have some more African heads in my apartment. Small, pickled ones. Do drop in anytime you care to meet some unsuccessful politicians

The Looking Glass War (1970)

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I’ve never been a spy before. It will be a new experience for me.  Polish defector Leiser (Christopher Jones) is lured into the world of espionage by a shadowy adjunct to MI6 run by Leclerc (Ralph Richardson) and Haldane (Paul Rogers) with the promise of British residency so that he can see his pregnant girlfriend (Susan George). Trouble is she’s aborted the baby and he drowns his sorrows with his training operative John Avery (Anthony Hopkins) before entering East Germany to clarify if blurred photographs from Hamburg are proof of a missile site. He pairs up with Anna (Pia Degermark) who wants out from the Iron Curtain and together they embark on a treacherous undertaking with high risks and mixed results … Never lean on your opponent.  Never lose your temper.  And why fight over a knife when there’s a gun under your arm? This adaptation of John le Carré’s novel by writer/director Frank Pierson starts with an intriguing encounter at an airport which winds up with a roadside death. Accident? This downbeat deconstruction of the spy’s life continues in the vein of The Spy Who Came in From the Cold and its satirical intent is conveyed in that first sequence – the spy can’t get taxi expenses and loses the film he’s paid a pilot to smuggle, killed by a camper van sliding along the snowy road. The author claimed it’s the most accurate depiction of his own experiences in espionage – including a misplaced longing for the glory days of WW2, utter incompetence and the futility of much intelligence activity. However the tone of anti-nostalgia in this story of The Department’s ineptitude is sacrificed for a more straightforward (and duller) exposition. The classic character of George Smiley is dropped from the source novel. There are plenty of incidental pleasures however, not least the cinematography by Austin Dempster; Jones’ gear (like a forerunner of Robert Redford’s getup in Three Days of the Condor), all peacoat and steel-rimmed mirror shades; a rare performance by Elvira Madigan herself, Degermark; and a score that is both modish and interesting from Wally Stott (responsible for arranging Scott Walker’s first three solo albums) who changed sex two years later and became Angela Morley. Morals are a bitch on heat

First Reformed (2018)

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When writing about oneself, one should show no mercy. Forty-six year old Reverend Ernest Toller (Ethan Hawke) is the pastor of a small Dutch Reformed church in rural New York stage.  His faith is threatened by the death of his son and he turns to Catholic teachings as well as alcohol. One of his congregation Mary (Amanda Seyfried) appeals for help for her husband, a climate change activist who has become suicidal and who wants her to abort her pregnancy. The historical church struggles in competition with Pastor Joel Jeffers (Cedric the Entertainer) at a nearby megachurch to whom Ernest appeals for help … Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world. Those of us familiar with the oeuvre of writer/director Paul Schrader will know that he had a career as a critic and academic and one of his tomes deals with transcendental style and French auteur Robert Bresson is one of his subjects. And anyone who’s ever seen Diary of a Country Priest (or not) will immediately recognise the thematic reference to a man questioning his capacity and relevance for the spiritual life as he experiences decline, his own physical deterioration a measure for what is occurring in his environment. The modern twist is the monetising of the religious experience (or maybe it’s not that new after all). Schrader’s own life speaks to the background in Dutch Reform Protestantism which is confronted here with modernity while the filmmaking style reflects the austerity of the religion as well as the Bressonian template (with Bergmanesque flourishes). Hawke is brilliant in this intense exploration of man’s purpose with Schrader confidently going for it in all his tormented late life vainglory. Travis Bickle goes mediaeval? Yes, that’s it. Quite splendid.  Even a pastor needs a pastor

Fame (1980)

Fame 1980

I mean, if I don’t have a personality of my own, so what? I’m an actress! I can put on as many personalities as I want! Accepted in the Drama department of New York’s High School for the Performing Arts are sensitive Montgomery MacNeil (Paul McCrane) who thinks he’s gay, Doris Finsecker (Maureen Teefy), a shy Jewish girl, and brash Ralph Garci (Barry Miller) who succeeds after failed auditions for Music and Dance. In the Music department, Bruno Martelli (Lee Curreri) is an aspiring keyboardist whose electronic equipment horrifies Mr. Shorofsky (Albert Hague), a conservative music teacher. Lisa Monroe (Laura Dean) is accepted in the Dance department, despite having no interest in the subject. Brazen Coco Hernandez (Irene Cara) is accepted in all three departments because of her all-around talent. Leroy Johnson (Gene Anthony Ray) goes to the school, performing as part of a dance routine for an auditioning friend, but the dance teachers are more impressed by his talents than hers. We follow the progress of the students through four years of high school until it’s time for graduation …  I’s young, I’s single, and I loves to mingle! Time to ‘fess up:  like all kids of the Eighties my Thursday nights were Top of the Pops followed by Fame, the TV show inspired by this Alan Parker film. And two of the highlights of my life were – therefore – seeing the back of Lee Curreri at NBC when he was recording a kids’ show; and some years later, Debbie Allen (Lydia the taskmaster dance teacher) leading the parade at New Orleans Mardi Gras, cher! That’s the fame of Fame, which had us delirious on all platforms before the term came into use. Its diverse cast pleases millennial taste although the un-PC jokes (about being gay, Jewish, black, female) would probably tee off some. It’s an equal opportunities offender! Personable, characterful, there’s one for everybody in the audience which is why everyone could relate. It’s bold and dramatic and fun and the Hot Lunch sequence makes you squeal with sheer enjoyment while the songs are just great.  Some of the plot lines strain to reach a conclusion and it’s not exactly tied up with a big red bow at the end, but you know, it’s kinda wonderful in an enervating way and no way can you not sing with delight and dance yourself dizzy watching it again! The film within a film is The Rocky Horror Picture Show and for those of us who used to go see it as a weekly performing event it’s a fabulous aide memoire. Shot at a time when Annie and Grease were on Broadway, this is a liberating, joyful viewing experience and the cast are wildly talented and charismatic in a NYC before it was cleaned up.  It’s simply teeming with infectious energy, danger, ambition and inchoate teenage rage. Written by Christopher Gore.  Music is the hardest profession of them all

Solaris (2002)

Solaris 2002

It seems to be reacting:  almost like it knows it’s being observed.  Clinical psychologist Chris Kelvin (George Clooney) is hired by the DBA corporation to investigate the unexplained behavior of key scientists (including Viola Davis and Jeremy Davies) on space station Prometheus orbiting the planet Solaris. They are traumatised by a phenomenon which appears to have caused the suicide of his friend Dr Gibarian (Ulrich Tukur). Once aboard he too falls victim to this unique world’s mysteries as well as to an erotic obsession with someone he thought he had left behind, his late wife Rheya (Natascha McElhone) who appears beyond his dreams. Are the remaining crew crazy? Is he?... Who is it? What is it? Does it feel?  Can it touch? Does it speak? Stanislaw Lem’s classic novel was adapted for Soviet TV in 1968; and then in 1972 to acclaim by the great Andrei Tarkovsky. Therefore it would appear at first glance to be rather unnecessary for an American auteur filmmaker (Steven Soderbergh shot and edited this too) to take on an unoriginal project and remake an acknowledged classic of world cinema. The additions to Lem’s and Tarkovsky’s narratives take the form of flashbacks, creating a tapestry of memories – real and otherwise. It establishes the parameters of Chris’ beliefs, upholstering his character and clarifying the nature of his obsession, building towards a solution for his guilt and a hope of redemption via virtual reality. It’s beautifully designed and looks splendid but somehow it’s hard to care beyond the immediate attractions. Cleverly constructed to form a logical continuum between time, space and memory, it lacks the mystery of really great sci fi in which the universal and the personal become interwoven to the point of being indistinguishable so it’s ironic that despite this being the narrative’s overt theme, it never really lifts off, even if it’s half the length of Tarkovsky’s inimitable and admittedly ponderous version. Produced by James Cameron.

Flatliners (2017)

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I didn’t know the side effects would show up and start hunting us down.  Five medical students embark on a dangerous experiment to gain insight into the mystery of what lies beyond the confines of life, initiated by super-smart Courtney (Ellen Page) who attempts to regain contact with the younger sister she killed in a car crash when she drove off a bridge. They trigger near-death experiences by stopping their hearts for short periods of time. As their trials become more perilous, each must confront the sins from their past while facing the paranormal consequences of journeying to the other side … Directed by Niels Arden Oplev, this remake of the fabulously trashy 1990 original takes itself a little more seriously – and who wouldn’t, with little Ms Page to be dispatched. Once One Takes The Anatomy Final Very Good Vacations Are Heavenly, she declares to her dumb classmate Sophia (Kiersey Clemons) and she has to explain that it’s a mnemonic. Except she pronounces it pneumonic. What a great idea for a movie, exploring the concept of the afterlife. Except that this turns it into quasi-horror with the ghosts of people’s guilty past coming back to get revenge, thus avoiding any more complex explorations of life beyond biology. When Courtney flatlines she is plunged into the past and her medical knowledge ratchets up several notches impressing their senior doctor Barry Wolfson (Kiefer Sutherland, making us hanker for the original and very good looking cast). Rich kid Jamie (James Norton) lives on a boat and after he flatlines he is haunted by the ghost of his still-living ex, a waitress at his father’s country club whom he impregnated and abandoned the day of her abortion. He becomes more intuitive. Marlo (Nina Dobrev) however is haunted by the ghost of a man whom she killed in the ER. Sophia figures she’ll gain academic advantage but she just becomes a sexpot and then wants to get the forgiveness of a more gifted student she screwed over in high school. Former firefighter Ray (Diego Luna) is the conscience of the group who just doesn’t go under and urges Marlo to come clean over the death she caused. Then things get murky and murderous…  Adapted by Ben Ripley from the 1990 screenplay by Peter Filardi this self-absorbed millennial mindlessness avoids profundity at every opportunity and is satisfied with the minutiae of dull people in darkened apartments which would be a lot less creepy if someone just switched on a light occasionally. Personally when I awoke from my own brief death on the operating table all I could think about was Guinness.  I didn’t even drink it. No insights there! Or here. So it goes.  It’s an awakening. See you later Jesus!

The Snowman (2017)

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You could save them you know… gave you all the clues and everything.  Norwegian detective Harry Hole (Michael Fassbender) is back from a week on a bender and he is looking for a woman who has disappeared after her scarf is found on a snowman.  He is accompanied by newly drafted detective Katrine Bratt (Rebecca Ferguson) who unbeknownst to him has a mission to find out who her father is. Meanwhile, as a serial killer dismembers women who have an abortion and fertility clinic in common, Harry has to deal with his responsibilities to his ex-girlfriend Rakel (Charlotte Gainsbourg) and her teenage son Oleg while her boyfriend Mathias (Jonas Karlsson) appears to broker a peace between them … Jø Nesbo’s beloved Harry Hole novel (the first of a projected series – nope, I don’t think so!) was adapted by Hossein Amini, Peter Straughan and Søren Sveistrup and directed by Tomas Alfredson and boy is it an unholy mess – apparently they just cobbled it together as they went, production schedules being unstoppable once the money starts to flow.  Fassbender is passable as the drunken cop but gifted he ain’t and things are just daft in the improbable office with Ferguson on her own bizarre mission. The story is illogical which doesn’t work when you’re doing a police procedural. Some of the shot choices and edits are laugh-out-loud bad due to the lateral implications.  In fact it starts with a flashback that in terms of the story construction is clearly supposed to suggest that Harry is the killer. Without that intro the text is even more nonsensical. A film that is not just stupid and wretched it is totally dense and tasteless – frankly this is a narrative about fatherless bastards and their supposedly whoring mothers and the dismemberment the women have coming to them for their sins.  Somebody should remind filmmakers to actually think about their subject matter before they lose the run of themselves and it all goes to hell in a handcart. I started to giggle every time I saw a snowman no matter what the killer did – I didn’t care.  This is quite literally misconceived. Mad, bad and dreadful. Oh joy!

I am a Camera (1955)

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I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking.  In the 1950s the writer Christopher Isherwood visits his London club and discovers that he has arrived in the middle of a book launch by a woman called Sally Bowles and regales his friends with stories of their life together just before the Nazis ascend to power in 1930s Berlin. Chris (Laurence Harvey), an aspiring novelist from England and ‘confirmed bachelor’ meets vivacious cabaret entertainer Sally Bowles (Julie Harris) at a nightclub where she’s performing her act and an unusual friendship is born. She moves into his boarding house and their lives become inextricably intertwined as he struggles to write and she tries to make her way with men, a ‘future would-be film star’ as she tells the landlady (Lea Seidl). As Sally feeds her extravagant tastes, Chris goes along for the ride and they are financed by American Clive Mortimer (Ron Randell) until their pal, Fritz (Anton Diffring), encounters trouble after ingratiating himself with Natalia Landauer (Shelley Winters) the daughter of a wealthy department store owner and confesses he himself has been concealing his Judaism. Meanwhile the Nazis bully people on the streets prior to a popular election result … Adapted from the play by John Van Druten, itself based on Goodbye to Berlin, part of the memoirs of writer Christopher Isherwood, this story also served as the inspiration for the later acclaimed musical Cabaret which Bob Fosse turned into a garish and extraordinary fascist-baiting extravaganza. This adaptation by John Collier of Van Druten’s play is of an altogether more modest variety but is entertaining for all that – the charming Harvey (I’m prejudiced, I love him) and the winsomely over the top Harris are wonderful together in their drab bedsits as they try to make their lives fit their pretensions. The treatment got a lot of criticism at the time and you might even be vaguely shocked by what Sally does in the aftermath of her abortion which is characterised as a false pregnancy here. It still ran into censorship problems because there are no moral lessons. Isherwood himself didn’t like it at all and believed Harris to have been ‘mis-directed’ (she had won the Tony for the role on Broadway) but it was his life of course so he could say what he liked. (Me no Leica.) Watch for Patrick McGoohan as a Swedish Water Therapist! Directed by Henry Cornelius.