The L-Shaped Room (1962)

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Everybody tells me how to get rid of it. Nobody tells me how to have it. 27-year old French woman Jane Fosset (Leslie Caron) moves into a seedy Ladbroke Grove boarding house and gets to know the other residents who are a motley crew of waifs and strays.  Toby (Tom Bell) is a lovelorn wannabe author;  Johnny (Brock Peters) is a black jazz musician  who hears everything in her living quarters through a paper-thin dividing wall; Mavis (Cicely Courtneidge) is an old unemployed actress who has hidden her Lesbian tendencies;  Sonia (Patricia Phoenix) is an ageing prostitute who runs her business from her basement room. When Jane starts a relationship with Toby, Johnny tells him she’s pregnant – she’s been in two minds about whether to keep the result of her sexual initiation with an actor from whom she’s split and she realises she loves Toby as she didn’t love the father of this baby and his departure prompts a crisis … As a child I was always in mourning. The novels of Lynne Reid Banks were something of a talisman for me and I would imagine for many other adolescent girls – and this adaptation of her key work does it justice, rooted in the kitchen sink realist style of the era. Bryan Forbes adapts and directs with some startling compositions (courtesy of Douglas Slocombe). Caron is wonderfully touching as the French woman (originally English) impregnated by her first ever lover; and while Bell wasn’t entirely my image of the Jewish writer created by Banks, he is nonetheless impressive. You believe their tentative friendship that blossoms into something else while their dealings with third parties hover at their shoulders. The whole ensemble embody their roles with real feeling. How fascinating to see the legendary Phoenix (Coronation Street‘s Elsie Tanner) while her long-time legendary love Tony Booth has a bit part (‘Youth in the street’). Nanette Newman aka Mrs Forbes plays the new girl in the L-shaped room at the end. There’s a credible jazz score by John Barry as well as some nicely chosen Brahms to enliven a sensitively told story, so very nicely played and staged in a ghastly London run by slum landlords, a few years before certain of its ‘burbs began to swing and before either legal abortion or the Pill were available. If you haven’t read the author, then for goodness’ sake do. She’s great – a proper Angry Young Woman capable of utterly unsentimental sentences about profoundly moving experiences. Don’t fall in love with me. You don’t know me

 

 

In The Cut (2003)

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I wanna get married once… just for my mom. Frannie Avery (Meg Ryan), a middle-class lecturer in New York City, witnesses a sexual incident that could have been the prelude to a murder by a killer roaming the city. Detective Giovanni Malloy (Mark Ruffalo) arrives to interview her following the murder of a young woman in her neighbourhood which he’s investigating with his partner Ritchie Rodriguez (Nick Damici) but their relationship soon moves from personal to passionate.  Soon she comes to suspect that he is the serial killer he claims to be hunting down so who can she really trust? …  You know what your problem is? You’re fucking exhausting. Fuck this, you know, I was doing just fine before I met you, just fine. Susanna Moore’s novel was a new take on the subject matter of that controversial exercise in female masochism Looking for Mr Goodbar and Nicole Kidman spent five years shepherding the adaptation by Moore and director Jane Campion (with co-writer Stavros Kazantzidis) only to bail on the lead role when her marriage to Tom Cruise ended abruptly. Thus it was that America’s romcom sweetheart Ryan stepped into the dark heart of this voyeuristic thriller in a performance that seemed to frighten critics even after her impressive turn in the earlier Courage Under Fire. This is a formally beautiful, graphic and stunningly shot (by Dion Beebe) analysis of female sexual desire and as such twists the usual misogynistic genre tropes even as the body count mounts. Some of Ruffalo’s scenes may grate but Jennifer Jason Leigh has a fantastic role as Ryan’s tragic, romantically obsessed sister and Kevin Bacon has a terrific (unbilled) part as a man with whom Ryan has had relations and he is now stalking her. Ryan is superb, not just technically, but emotionally, and this is intense on every level, an intelligent slasher film with things to say about what women really want and how dangerous that can prove. The final sequence, when she contemplates the scene of her intended death, is outstanding, a masterpiece of empathy. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees

Patrick (2018)

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He grunts and snores but I’m kind of getting used to it. Sarah (Beattie Edmondson) is the underachieving secondary school English teacher whose boyfriend has just dumped her and she inherits her grandmother’s pugnacious pug Patrick despite despising dogs. While learning to live with him, she dates the socially awkward local vet (Ed Skrein), her BFF Becky (Emily Atack) persuades her to run a 5K even though she is totally unable to compete, she bitches about her superior older barrister sister and falls for Ben (Tom Bennett) who turns out to be the father of one of her students – whose parents’ divorce is sending her off the rails to the extreme point of not showing up for her GCSE English exam … Nobody covers themselves with glory in what is essentially a valentine to the loveliness of Richmond Upon Thames with its herds of deer and upwardly posh population. There is a laughable nod to social realism by having Sarah stumble upon her male students ripping the wheels off a car. This is so carelessly ‘written’ by Vanessa Davis that Skrein does not have a name:  in the cast list he’s ‘Vet’. Edmondson’s real-life mother Jennifer Saunders turns up just in time to see her cross the finish line where Patrick has finally escaped a predatory cat. As bloody if. Patrick of course is not the point. Miaow! There’s a soundtrack of Amy Macdonald songs, which might please some people. Mildly directed by Mandie Fletcher, who directed Absolutely Fabulous: The Movie.

Under the Volcano (1984)

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He on whose heart the dust of Mexico has lain, will find no peace in any other land. A day in the life of a man in 1938. Geoffrey Firmin (Albert Finney) is an alcoholic former British consul living in Quauhnahuac, a small Mexican town. As the local Day of the Dead celebration gets underway, Geoffrey drowns himself in the bottle, having cut himself off from his family, friends and job. When he goes missing, his ex-wife, actress Yvonne (Jacqueline Bisset), who has returned from the US in the hopes of resurrecting their relationship, convinces his half-brother Hugh (Anthony Andrews) to conduct a last-ditch search for him, hoping that Hugh might be able to rescue her self-destructing husband… How, unless you drink as I do, can you hope to understand the beauty of an old Indian woman playing dominoes with a chicken? Finney and Bisset are reunited a decade after Murder on the Orient Express. This is a very different experienceAdapted by Guy Gallo (his only screenplay to date) from Malcolm Lowry’s 1947 masterpiece, this late John Huston film (and he rejected over 20 versions of the screenplay over the decades) is a powerhouse film: brilliantly interpreted by everyone concerned. Reunited with his director following Annie, Finney offers one of his great performances, committed and charismatic, as the dissolute man who nonetheless has a core of humanity. Huston said of it, I think it’s the finest performance I have ever witnessed, let alone directed.  Huston had lived in Puerto Vallarta for a period and shot The Night of the Iguana there as well of course as having made one of his other films in Mexico – maybe his best ever, full stop – The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Clearly the country brought something special to his aesthetic – and vice versa. There is nothing more real than magic. Here the various elements churn and dissect a life, symbolised in the wonderful titles sequence. It’s marvellous to see Katy Jurado as Senora Gregoria, a key supporting character in this drama that constantly threatens us with being on the brink of something – death? Truth? War? It was originally written by Lowry in 1936 but underwent many rewrites. It’s so special it’s the subject of two documentaries including the Oscar-nominated Volcano: An Inquiry into the Life and Death of Malcolm Lowry, in which Lowry’s words are read by Richard Burton, who Huston had hoped to cast as the lead right after they shot Iguana. Quite, quite the film then, with a legacy all its own. Hell is my natural habitat

The Bible (1966)

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In the beginning, God created the Heaven and the Earth. And the Earth was without form and void. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, “Let there be light.” And there was light. The first 22 books of the Old Testament are dramatised in 5 main sequences:  Creation, narrated by God (John Huston);  Adam (Michael Parks) and Eve (Ulla Bergryd) meet and procreate;  Cain (Richard Harris) slays his brother Abel (Franco Nero);  Noah (Huston again) creates his ark for the animals and there’s a spectacular flood;  and Abraham’s (George C. Scott) story is recounted – his long life with the beautiful but barren Sarah (Ava Gardner), the conceiving of his only son Isaac, with Sarah’s maid, and his calling by God to make a sacrifice. There are two shorter sections, one recounting the building of the Tower of Babel;  and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah… Am I my brother’s keeper?  An awesome epic of tension-free tedium that is quite literally beyond belief with some (few) honourable exceptions:  director Huston himself, who also narrates this Italian-American co-production and makes for an amiable animal lover;  the lustrous Gardner;  O’Toole in his brief appearance as the Three Angels; and the final sequence in which Abraham comes closerthanthis to putting his only son Isaac on the BBQ instead of the more conventional sacrificial ram. Nero was the film’s still photographer until Huston spotted him and started his screen career. Adam and Eve’s nude frolics were choreographed by Katharine Dunham. Huston’s girlfriend Zoe Sallis features as Hagar. Notable for a score by Toshiro Mayuzumi with uncredited work by Ennio Morricone, this will have you reaching for your own traveller’s friend – it’s light work after this. The screenplay, on the other hand, is credited to Christopher Fry although Orson Welles and Mario Soldati also contributed something or other. There is nothing that He may not ask of thee?

L’Amant Double (2017)

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Aka Double Lover. I often imagined I had a sister. Yes. A twin. A double who would protect me. Chloé (Marine Vacth) a 25-year old model with a fragile mental state now working in a museum, falls for her psychoanalyst, Paul (Jérémie Renier). When she moves in with him a few months later, she discovers a part of his identity that he has been concealing, his identical twin Louis, also a therapist but with a startlingly different approach that involves having sex in the office with his clients …  Lying to seduce is common among pretty women. Especially the frigid ones. The films of Franςois Ozon (who has just won the Golden Bear at the Berlinale) usually come in one of two varieties:  cool, psychological thrillers or gleefully funny, parodic comedy dramas. The screenplay by Ozon and Philip Piazzo is freely adapted from the 1987 Joyce Carol Oates novel The Lives of the Twins, written pseudonymously as Rosamond Smith. It fuses the two strands of Ozon’s filmmaking (appropriately, in the womb) in an erotically charged Hitchcockian homage that also calls to mind that epic Cronenberg masterpiece of twin gynaecologists, Dead Ringers but goes straightforwardly beyond that tragic body horror work to become a spin on duality and sex and narcissistic obsession. Vacth is adequate rather than compelling, reprising her confused temptress act from Jeune et jolie and enjoying the dated trashy silliness of it all. Rather wonderfully, Jacqueline Bisset turns up in (what else) a dual role. Utilising every visual opportunity to exploit and express the possibilities, this is fluid in the language of cinema and sure-footed in each dramatic step yet also threatens to tip rather pleasingly into the realm of camp at every juncture without boasting the serious nuttiness of a De Palma outing. Tongue in cheek psychosexual kink with graphic sex scenes and a really great cat (or two) but ultimately seems to be in two minds about what it is. When it comes to twins we assume that if we know one we know the other

From Russia With Love (1963)

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Blood is the best security in this business.  Russians Rosa Klebb (Lotte Lenya) and Kronsteen (Vladek Shybal) who are deployed by SMERSH (a crime syndicate to whom key Russian agents have transferred their allegiance) are out to snatch a decoding device known as the Lektor, using the ravishing Tatiana Romanova (Daniela Bianchi) from the Soviet embassy in Istanbul to lure James Bond into helping them. Bond willingly travels to meet Tatiana in Istanbul, where he must rely on his wits to escape with his life in a series of deadly encounters with the enemy including his stalker Red Grant (Robert Shaw) masquerading as an English gentleman agent called Nash; while his presence in Turkey inflames Anglo-Russian tensions even as he takes his lead from Karim Bey (Pedro Armendariz) She should have kept her mouth shut. The first great Bond film and the second in the series, with a story by Irish screenwriter Johanna Harwood from Ian Fleming’s novel then increasingly loosely adapted by Richard Maibaum (and an uncredited Berkely Mather aka John Ewan Weston-Davies) although it should have been written by Len Deighton but he worked too slowly.  (Harwood worked for producer Harry Saltzman and also wrote on Dr No and would make uncredited contributions to the screenplay adaptation of Deighton’s The Ipcress File). This moves like the clappers taking inspiration from North by Northwest and The Red Beret and has everything you want in a spy thriller: wit, ingenuity, Cold War problems (SMERSH is replaced by SPECTRE so as not to antagonise the Russkies a year after Cuba, but we know that), a revenge plot devised by a chess grand master, a dangerous journey on the Orient Express, a psychotic peroxide assassin (a brilliant Shaw) and a sadistic Lesbian Colonel with killer heels (the unforgettable Lenya). She had her kicks! In many ways it’s the truest to Fleming of all the films. You may know the right wines, but you’re the one on your knees. How does it feel old man? Smart, well-staged and action packed, from the fantastic pre-titles sequence (the first in the series) to the nailbiting climax, this is directed by Terence Young whose own wartime exploits and personal style were intrinsic to coaching Connery in how to present himself. And what about the Lionel Bart title song performed by Matt Monro! This was the first Bond proper with all the distinctive elements intact: the theme song, the gadget, that titles bit, Blofeld (played here by Anthony Dawson) as the ultimate rogue with his lovely white furry pussycat, Desmond Llewelyn appears as Boothroyd from Q branch, and the promise of a return bout (in this case, Goldfinger). The central relationship between Bond and Tatiana has a real humanity that is missing from other Bond girl romances – Bianchi is quite charming in the role. Edited by Peter Hunt, who would direct O.H.M.S.S. Tragically Armendariz was suffering from cancer during production and took his own life afterwards. Don’t leave me. Never leave me

Les Amants du Pont-Neuf (1991)

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Hello, dreamed of you. Love woke me. Artist Michèle (Juliette Binoche) who is losing her sight, encounters fire-eater Alex (Denis Lavant), a homeless guy with addiction problems.  They embark on an unlikely relationship at the Pont-Neuf in Paris, closed over the summer for repairs. They have to deal with a landlord of sorts (Klaus-Michael Grüber).  Leos Carax’s enervating romantic drama is beautifully shot by Jean-Yves Escoffier with a soundtrack featuring David Bowie, among others. Set during France’s 1989 Bicentennial celebrations this is a weirdly brutal, bewildering, compelling, rather magnificent oddity. Quite thrilling, like a nutty modern-day silent movie. Spot Edith Scob in the last scene, an homage to L’Atalante. Do you like it?/Yes./Yes yes or yes no?/Yes yes!

What a Carve Up! (1961)

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Aka No Place Like Homicide. One thing is certain – this is only the start. When wealthy recluse Gabriel Broughton dies of fright his heirs are summoned to his isolated country mansion Blackshaw Towers for a reading of the will. Then they are killed off, one by one and the nearest telephone is in the village … If he thinks I’m going to wait here and wind up in a deckchair on the lawn he’s got another thing coming. Adapted from Frank King’s novel The Ghoul by eminent British farceur Ray Cooney and Tony Hilton (they had co-written The Hand the previous year), this is an opportunity for Carry On regulars Kenneth Connor and Sid James to essay a pleasing Laurel and Hardy act (including a shared bed) as proofreader Ernest (nephew of the deceased) and his bookmaker roommate Syd, attending as his legal advisor. They are accompanied by pretty Linda (Shirley Eaton) a nurse, whom Ernest fancies; Ernest’s cousin Guy Broughton (Dennis Price) an ex-Army officer with an alcohol problem; Guy’s grasping sister Janet (Valerie Taylor); their father Doctor Edward (Michael Gwynn); their batty aunt Emily (Esma Cannon); solicitor Everett Sloane (!!) (Donald Pleasence); and the butler, Fisk (Michael Gough). It plays with all the notions of the haunted house and might remind some of Clue but is mainly a showcase for some good slapstick and mild innuendo which might still raise eyebrows. Genial fun performed by a very game ensemble with pop star Adam Faith turning up in the final sequence, which is explicitly used by author Jonathan Coe in his titular satirical homage to the film. Produced by Robert S. Baker and Monty Baker and directed by the brilliant documentary maker Pat Jackson. Syd, look! French Impressionists – Rembrandt!

And Then There Were None (1945)

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Aka Ten Little Indians. Are you quite sure that there’s no one else on the island? Eight people, all total strangers to each other, are invited to a small, isolated island off the coast of Devon by a Mr. and Mrs. Owen. Ferried over by a sailor called Narracott (Harry Thurston) they settle in at a mansion tended by two newly hired servants, Thomas (Richard Haydn) and Ethel Rogers (Queenie Leonard) but their hosts are absent. When the guests sit down to dinner, they notice ten figurines of Indians in a circle. Thomas Rogers puts on a record on the gramophone, from which a voice accuses them all of murder: General Sir John Mandrake (C. Aubrey Smith), of ordering his wife’s lover, a lieutenant, to his death; Emily Brent (Judith Anderson, of the death of her young nephew; Dr. Edward G. Armstrong (Walter Huston), of drunkenness which resulted in a patient dying; Prince Nikita Starloff (Mischa Auer) of killing a couple; Vera Claythorne  (June Duprez) of murdering her sister’s fiancé;  Judge Francis J. Quinncannon (Barry Fitzgerald) of being responsible for the hanging of an innocent man;Philip Lombard (Louis Hayward), of killing East African tribesmen; William H. Blore (Roland Young) of perjury, resulting in an innocent man’s death and the Rogers are accused of the death of their invalided employer … I slept very well, thank you. I have nothing on my conscience.  One of the great murder mysteries, this is a superb adaptation of one of Agatha Christie’s most ingeniously constructed novels by screenwriter Dudley Nichols permitting director René Clair to obtain marvellous performances from a well-chosen cast. Haydn is hilarious as the butler who takes to the drink when everyone suspects him. Enhanced by a witty score from Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, this is one of the most satisfying suspense films of its era. You cannot lock up the Devil