Don’t Look Now (1973)

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Nothing is what it seems. Grieving over the accidental death of their daughter, Christine (Sharon Williams), John (Donald Sutherland) and Laura Baxter (Julie Christie) leave their young son Johnny in an English boarding school and head to Venice where John’s been commissioned to restore a church. There Laura meets two ageing sisters (Hilary Mason, Clelia Matania) who claim to be in touch with Christine’s spirit. Laura takes them seriously, but John scoffs until he himself catches a glimpse of what looks like Christine running through the streets of Venice. Unbeknownst to himself, he has precognitive abilities (which might even be figured in the book he’s written, Beyond the Fragile Geometry of Space) and the figure of local Bishop Barrigo (Massimo Serato) seems to be a harbinger of doom rather than a portent of hope.  Meanwhile, another body is fished out of the canal with a serial killer on the prowl …  Director Nicolas Roeg made one masterpiece after another in the early 1970s and this enjoyed a scandalous reputation because of the notorious sex scene between Christie and Sutherland which was edited along the lines of a film that Roeg had photographed for Richard Lester, Petulia, some years earlier. The clever cross-cutting with the post-coital scene of the couple dressing to go out for dinner persuaded people that they had watched something forbidden. That aside, the adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s short story by Allan Scott and Chris Bryant is a clever mix of horror, mystery, enigmatic serial killer thriller and a meditation on grief. All of that is meshed within a repetitive visual matrix of the colour red, broken glass and water. None of that would matter were it not for the intensely felt characterisation of a couple in mourning, with Christie’s satisfaction at her dead daughter’s supposed happiness opposed to Sutherland’s desire to shake off the image of the child’s shiny red mackintosh – the very thing that leads him to his terrible fate. Some of the editing is downright disturbing – particularly a cut to the old ladies busting a gut laughing whilst holding photographs, apparently of their own family members. John’s misunderstanding of his visions coupled with the literal crossed telephone line from England creates a cacophony of dread, with Pino Donaggio’s score and Anthony Richmond’s limpid shots of Venice in winter compounding the tender horror constructed as elegiac mosaic by editor Graeme Clifford. A heartbreaking work of staggering genius? Probably. I couldn’t possibly comment.  I never minded being lost in Venice.

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How To Murder Your Wife (1965)

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Follow the adventures of America’s favorite hen-pecked boob! Stanley Ford (Jack Lemmon) is a successful cartoonist with his syndicated Bash Brannigan strip and happily single, cosseted by his disdainful valet Charles (Terry-Thomas) who maintains the status quo which includes his weight. That’s until Stanley gets drunk at a friend’s bachelor party and impulsively proposes to the beautiful woman who pops out of the cake (Virna Lisi). Once sober and back home the next morning with a total stranger, he regrets the decision, but she won’t agree to a divorce – she’s Italian! And doesn’t speak a word of English until she stays up all night watching TV. During the day she cooks him delicious fattening meals and he can barely jog around the gym any longer. Stanley jokingly vents his frustrations in his comic strip by having the main character kill his wife with Charles  returning to the fold in his usual role of photographer in chief. But when his actual wife goes missing and Stanley is arrested for her murder, he has a change of heart – then there’s a trial and he has to find a way to demonstrate that he doesn’t always draw cartoons from pre-photographed scenarios … Written and produced by George Axelrod and directed by Lemmon’s regular collaborator, Richard Quine, this is as good-looking as we’ve come to expect of the team and is a lot of fun. Part of the charm is in the casting which has some fantastic supporting characters, especially Eddie Mayehoff as Harold Lampson, Stanley’s lawyer, who himself harbours fantasies about murdering his own wife, Edna (Claire Trevor) an Italophile who suspects Stanley of foul deeds. Lisi is a delight as Mrs Ford (we never learn her real name) and this was the first of her Hollywood films in which she was clearly being groomed to emulate Marilyn Monroe, whose death pose (itself widely acknowledged to have been carefully staged) she unfortunately emulates in one of Stanley’s fantasies while she is asleep. And what about that white gown! Fabulous. Nonetheless, despite the misogynistic aspects, this is great fun and … the women have the last (gap-toothed!) word. As it should be.

To Live and Die in LA (1985)

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– Why are you chasing me? – Why are you running? – Cause you’re chasing me, man! When his longtime partner on the force Jimmy Hart (Michael Green) is killed, reckless U.S. Secret Service agent and counterfeiting specialist Richard Chance (William L. Petersen) vows revenge, setting out to nab dangerous counterfeiter and artist Eric Masters (Willem Dafoe). Partnered with the seemingly straight-arrow John Vukovich (John Pankow), Chance sets up a scheme to entrap Masters, resulting in the accidental death of an undercover officer. As Chance’s desire for justice becomes an obsession, Vukovich questions the lawless methods he employs:  Chance is ‘sextorting’ Ruth Lanier (Darlanne Fluegel), promising her her freedom in exchange for information and his dangerous methods include landing Masters’ flunky Carl Cody (John Turturro) behind bars which triggers a series of violent events … Directed by William Friedkin, this feels a lot like a feature-length episode of Miami Vice with added vicious. It starts in quite an extraordinary fashion – a mad mullah swearing to destroy civilisation on the roof of a building – which somehow makes it very contemporary (albeit he’s not taking anyone with him). Based on Gerald Petievich’s autobiographical work and adapted by him with Friedkin, this holds up surprisingly well but there isn’t a single character with whom you can empathise:  they are all singularly sleazy. Luminously shot by Robby Muller, this is a burnished LA, all sunsets and cement and chrome, with corruption a thread running through everything and a stunning car chase that’ll have you clutching the arms of your chair. It’s surprisingly full-frontal in its sex scenes and scored by Wang Chung. Now that’s not a sentence you read every day. This swirls around in the brain long after the last, very unusual shot happens at the tail end of the credits:  Petersen’s face.

Mansfield Park (1999)

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It could have all turned out differently I suppose. But it didn’t. Fanny Price (Frances O’Connor) is born into a poor family with far too many children so she is sent away to live with wealthy uncle Sir Thomas (Harold Pinter), his wife Aunt Norris (Lindsay Duncan) and their four children, where she’ll be brought up for a proper introduction to society. She is treated unfavorably by her relatives, except for her cousin Edmund (Jonny Lee Miller), whom she grows fond of. However her life is thrown into disarray with the arrival of worldly Mary Crawford (Embeth Davidtz) and her brother Henry (Alessandro Nivola). The path of true love never runs smoothly and then there are matters of money. Matches are made and Fanny rejects Henry which sends everyone into a spin and certain romantic fancies turn to actual sex … Well what a palaver – a Jane Austen adaptation that puts sex and politics and money front and centre in the most obvious way. Patricia (I’ve Heard the Mermaids Singing) Rozema’s adaptation plays with the form and breaks the fourth wall and even introduces some very out-there drawings which take Uncle Harold Pinter down a moral peg or three:  he’s made his money in slavery and his son Tom’s return from the West Indies with a terrible illness makes him produce some very realistic impressions of his father’s predilections and the depredations of the slave trade. Austen was the hottest screenwriter in the world in the 1990s (not that she knew a thing about it) and survives even this quite postmodern dip into adaptation by the Canadian filmmaker with some delightful performances, particularly by O’Connor who is given lines from Austen’s own private correspondence in her addresses to camera. But sex? In Austen? Tut tut! Charming, in its own perversely witty fashion.

Effie Gray (2014)

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He must be mad.  Young virginal Effie (Dakota Fanning) marries art critic John Ruskin (Greg Wise) shortly after her family has endured financial hardship. When she enters his family home she finds that he has an unhealthy relationship with his mother (Julie Walters) and his father (David Suchet) is genially oppressive. On their wedding night her husband looks at her with … distaste. And never touches her. Her mother in law insists on dosing her with some strange herbal concoction that knocks her out. Mingling with the great and the good she finds a sympathetic friend in Lady Eastlake (Emma Thompson) the wife of his patron at the Royal Academy and she suspects all is not right particularly on a visit to their stifling home during a spectacularly awkward dinner.  On a trip to Venice it is assumed that Ruskin is quite mad and Effie is pursued by Raffaele (Riccardo Scarmarcio) who almost rapes her. When Ruskin commissions a portrait of himself from his protege John Everett Millais (Tom Sturridge) the trio decamp to the countryside and an affection grows between the two young people:  it is clear Effie is starved of genuine human warmth. She summons her little sister Sophy (Polly Dartford) to visit her and makes a plan to escape… This project had a very troubled birth following two plagiarism suits against actress and screenwriter Emma Thompson. Notwithstanding the issues that caused the script to be redrafted this doesn’t come to life – something of an irony given that the living Effie was immortalised as the suicided Ophelia by Pre-Raphaelite Millais. Fanning isn’t the most energised or personable of performers at the best of times but she really is given little here and the interrelationships aren’t especially well exposed. Wise has likewise little to do except look pained and self-absorbed:  mission accomplished. It may well be true but it doesn’t mean it works on the screen. For a story with so much scandalous content this is a disappointment on a massive scale. Look at the paintings instead. That’s Tiger Lily Hutchence as the young Effie in the opening scene and how lovely it is to see Claudia Cardinale as the Venetian viscountess. Directed by Richard Laxton with some staggeringly beautiful landscape photography by Andrew Dunn.

Lolo (2015)

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Superwoman au travail et un goofball dans la vraie vie. C’est Violette (Julie Delpy), directrice du défilé de mode, qui rencontre Jean-René (Dany Boon), même s’il est un peu branché, en vacances dans un spa de Biarritz avec sa meilleure amie Ariane (Karin Viard) . Dans le style romcom typique, ils se rencontrent – mignonne sur un thon massif qu’il laisse tomber sur ses genoux. C’est un bumpkin de Biarritz, c’est une Parisienne avec un grand cul. Ils sont faits l’un pour l’autre! Ils passent une semaine dans le bonheur sexuel et se retrouvent à Paris où il est employé en informatique, ayant conçu un système ultra-rapide pour une banque régionale. Quand il passe la nuit, il rencontre son petit garçon Eloi (Vincent Lacoste) qui se révèle être un narcissique de dix-neuf ans encore appelé par le diminutif de l’enfance, Lolo. Il est un artiste wannabe et sa co-dépendance envers sa mère est en fait une couverture pour saboter sa relation, mais elle est aveugle à ses escapades et continue à le cosset. Il met de la poudre dans les vêtements de Jean, drogue son verre quand il est présenté à Karl Lagerfeld (lui-même) et quand rien de tout cela n’aboutit, il engage son ami Lulu (Antoine Loungouine) pour infiltrer le programme informatique de Jean. et le rendant célèbre comme terroriste cybernétique. Jean lit le journal de Lolo où il a documenté son plan – et se rend compte qu’il fait partie d’une série d’hommes intimidés par le garçon, mais Violette n’y croit tout simplement pas. Il faut la fille maussade d’Ariane (Elise Larnicol) pour faire comprendre à Violette que Lolo a ruiné ses relations (y compris son mariage avec son père) depuis l’âge de sept ans. Elle coupe finalement le cordon. Il s’agit d’une satire œdipienne, drôle et drôle, sur la vie sexuelle des femmes quand elles atteignent un certain point et que leurs enfants refusent de les laisser partir. Joliment joué par toutes les pistes, ce romcom Oedipal, d’une écriture sombre et amusante, a été écrit par Eugenie Grandval et réécrit avec la star et metteur en scène Julie Delpy, s’inspirant de The Bad Seed (1956). Il faut beaucoup de coups à la mode pour les femmes, la paranoïa relationnelle et les parents sont victimes d’intimidation par les enfants qu’ils se sont livrés. Le dialogue est extrêmement drôle et pointu et présente plusieurs brins de difficultés pour les femmes de carrière qui cherchent à entamer une relation sérieuse: j’en ai marre des smartass parisiens qui me décoiffent, déclare Violette. Beaucoup de plaisir avec des références sexuelles très explicites

Beverly Hills Cop (1984)

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What’s the fucking charge for being pushed out of a moving vehicle – jaywalking? Daniel Petrie Jr’s screenplay for this action comedy thriller is designed to showcase the extraordinary talents of standup turned movie star Eddie Murphy. It originated as a Simpson-Bruckheimer concept and evolved when Petrie gave Danilo Bach’s original screenplay a funny rewrite and several actors dropped out to do other projects. Axel Foley is a Detroit detective taking shore leave in LA to find out who murdered his friend Mikey because he can’t do it officially. His contact there is another childhood friend Jenny (Lisa Eilbacher) who’s also a mutual friend of the murder victim. She’s front of house for Victor Maitland (Steven Berkoff) an art gallerist who has a sideline in cocaine distribution. Axel winds up – and then winds up with – his BHPD sidekicks Judge Reinhold and John Ashton:  just see what he does to their exhaust pipe.  His encounter with gay Serge (Bronson Pinchot) in a posh Rodeo Drive shop would tick off a lot of people today but is pretty funny. One of the real pluses is seeing the town in the Eighties when Giorgio was all the rage so there are a lot of residual pleasures outside this incredible star vehicle. Murphy’s foul-mouthed charisma just fills the screen in the definitive Eighties action comedy with its iconic electronic signature by Harold Faltermeyer. Stephen Elliott, the villain in Cutter’s Way, turns up as the police chief while National Enquirer readers might remember the Brit-accented receptionist at Maitland’s company, Karen Mayo-Chandler, who recounted her raunchy sexcapades with Jack Nicholson for the tabloids. She died in 2006. Directed by Marty Brest, who hasn’t made half enough films for my liking. Great fun.

Why Him? (2016)

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Her spine meets the arch of her tailbone and I want to pitch a tent and live in there. Tech millionaire Laird Mayhew (James Franco) introduces himself to the print-business owner father Ned (Bryan Cranston) of his Stanford student girlfriend Stephanie (Zoey Deutch) by flashing him over Skype on the older man’s 55th birthday. Invited to celebrate Christmas in California Stephanie takes her family to her boyfriend’s modernist mansion where the tattooed ignoramous bro hugs everyone, says everything that is inappropriate (likes Mom Megan Mullally rather overtly, charms little brother Griffin Gluck) and introduces Ned to a newly constructed bowling alley decorated with his image. He is just too much. And as for his assistant Gustav (Keegan-Michael Key) who does a Cato/Clouseau act with Laird which neither recognises when Ned understands the obvious reference… But when Laird asks Ned for his blessing in marriage to Stephanie he oversteps horrifically and it doesn’t end there … From a story by Jonah Hill, this was co-written by Ian Helfer and director John Hamburg and works both as (actual) lavatory humour (a huge plot point) and Silicon Valley satire (listen to what the poor intern says) while overtly reworking the story of Father of the Bride as it negotiates the problems a dad might have with a boor screwing his daughter on a table while he’s hiding underneath Get past the foul-mouthed quasi-autistic socially awkward techno savant fatherless antagonist and enjoy Cranston’s facial expressions which were made for just such a hellish but amusing meeting of bizarrely attuned minds in this generational bromance clash where it would appear both men are hiding problems with the state of their very different businesses. Mullally gets a chance to do what she does best too while you might recognise Zack Pearlman, Adam Devine and Andrew Rannells from The Intern which makes this rather meta. Definitely for fans of the band Kiss! (And Elon Musk…) A Christmas movie with a difference.

When Marnie Was There (2014)

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The final Studio Ghibli production is another adaptation, this time of the eponymous children’s novel by Joan G. Robinson. Transposed from its original Norfolk setting to Sapporo, it’s the story of fostered child Anna (voiced by Hailee Steinfeld) whose asthma attacks prompt her government-paid carers to send her to the seaside where she is drawn to an abandoned mansion across a salt marsh where she becomes faint.  There she sees the blonde-haired Marnie (voiced by Kiernan Shipka) who has blue eyes like her and they form a close bond through their experience of adversity:  Anna’s parents died years ago, Marnie’s ignore her and throw parties, leaving her in the hands of nasty household staff. Marnie wants Anna to keep everything a secret. The mansion seems abandoned still but only comes to life when Anna visits. When Anna meets an artist, Hisako, the woman looks at Anna’s sketches of Marnie and remarks that the likeness resembles a girl she knew when she was young herself … There are revelations of long-buried stories and the teary ending will have you hugging whatever comes in handy as Anna comes to terms with the reality of her real parents’ lives and her origins.  A proper, old-fashioned romance. Adapted by Masashi Ando, Keiko Niwa and Hiromasa Yonebayashi the director, who previously made Arrietty.

The Big Lebowski (1998)

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Nobody fucks with the Jesus. The Dude abides. Where to start with one of the most cherished films there has ever been? Not in the beginning. I may have almost had a coronary from laughing the first time I saw this at a festival screening prior to its release, but a lot of critics just did not get it. It’s the Coen Brothers in excelsis, a broad Chandler adaptation and tribute to Los Angeles,  a hymn to male friendship and the Tao of easy living with some extraordinarily surreal fantasy and dream sequences – not to mention some deadly bowling. Jeff Bridges is Jeffrey ‘Dude’ Lebowski, a guy so laid back he’s horizontal but he gets a little antsy when some thieves mistake him for The Big Lebowski and piss on his rug (it really tied the room together). Best friend Walter Sobchak (John Goodman) is his bowling buddy, an uptight Nam vet with adoptive-Jewish issues in this hilarious offside take on director John Milius. Steve Buscemi is their sweet-natured friend Donny and John Turturro is the unforgettable sports foe, a hispanic gangsta paedo in a hairnet, Jesus Quintana. After the rug issue is handled, Dude is hired by his namesake (David Huddleston) a wheelchair-bound multimillionaire philanthropist, to exchange a ransom when his young trophy wife Bunny (Tara Reid) is kidnapped. Naturally Dude screws it up. There’s a band of nihilists led by Peter Stormare, some porn producers (Bunny makes flesh flicks), Lebowski’s randy artist daughter (Julianne Moore) and a private eye following everyone. And there’s Sam Elliott, narrating this tale of tumbleweed and laziness.  Everyone has their signature song in one of the great movie soundtracks and Dude has not only Creedence but White Russians to really mellow his day. Just like The Big Sleep, the plot really doesn’t matter a fig. This is inspired lunacy and I love it SO much.