Les Diaboliques (1955)

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Aka The Devils or The Fiends. Paul Meurisse est le directeur sadique d’une école de français provinciale qui a été assassinée par sa femme douce (Vera Clouzot, épouse du réalisateur) et sa maîtresse endurciée (Simone Signoret). Elles le noient dans une baignoire dans la maison de Signoret en vacances et le rendent à la piscine de l’école. Cependant, son corps n’est pas situé comme prévu et il est vu par d’autres personnes sur place. Cette adaptation du roman de Boileau-Narcejac (Celle qui n’était plus) serait l’inspiration pour Psycho: Robert Bloch a déclaré que c’était son film préféré dans le genre; Hitchcock a été battu aux droits du film par le réalisateur Henri-Georges Clouzot, qui l’a adapté avec Jérôme Geronimi; et il a ensuite acquis un autre roman par la paire pour faire Vertigo. L’atmosphère dans l’école maternelle est merveilleusement réalisée; la tension entre les femmes (à l’origine un couple lesbien dans le roman) superbement créé dans leurs caractères antithétiques; le monde terrifiant de l’après-guerre créé inoubliablement; et la fin de la torsion est simplement un choc classique. Suspense supérieure et infiniment influente, avec un prototype pour Columbo dans le détective joué par Charles Vanel. Le thème de Georges Van Parys joué sur les titres est sublime.

 

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Hacksaw Ridge (2016)

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Redemption. That’s the word that conjures the ambit of this film’s scope. The true story of conscientious objector Desmond Doss who rescued 75 colleagues on the eponymous battle site at Okinawa, a guy who enlisted in order to serve as a medic to redeem his own feelings of violence, because of almost killing his brother as a child, because of wanting to shoot his drunken WW1 vet father (Hugo Weaving) to stop his attacks on his mother (Rachel Griffiths), because of an obligation to serve his country and stand up for the values in which he believed. Andrew Garfield gives a heart-stopping, fully realised performance as the conflicted soldier and the film’s first hour delineates his family relationships, his meeting with the woman of his life, nurse Dorothy Schutte (Teresa Palmer) in the local hospital, and his awful training at the hands of a bullying Sergeant (Vince Vaughn), a tough Captain (Sam Worthington) and a bunch of fellows who like to beat the hell out of him. His Seventh Day Adventist beliefs lead him to a court martial but his father’s intervention with a former colleague saves the day. And he arrives in Japan. By 95 minutes we are entering the second wave of assaults and it is brutal and ferocious and horrifying. “They don’t care if they live or die,” exclaims one vet of the 96th whose battalion has basically been wiped out by the Japs. The action is reminiscent – inevitably – of Saving Private Ryan‘s opening sequence:  we are completely immersed  in a kind of hell with killings as unimaginable as have ever been put on screen. Doss and his mate Smitty (Luke Bracey) look out for each other – they’ve overcome their initial differences and bond at night, when Doss has a terrible nightmare. And then they go back in, and the results are awful. Doss hangs around, against all the odds, rescuing whoever he can.  He has prayed for help, not knowing any more if, as Dorothy accused him, his conscientious objection to combat is merely pride. He asks God for direction. So he saves lives. So many lives. One more, he keeps telling himself. One more. Written by Andrew Knight and Robert Schenkkan, adapted from this incredible true story of one man’s courage, photographed by Simon Duggan, with a rousing score by Rupert Gregson-Williams, this is a return to the fold for Mel Gibson, the meta story at work here:  a man who burned a lot of boats in Hollywood is now in the running for Best Director awards and they are fully deserved. There is a bravery about bringing Christianity to the forefront of any film at present and it is remarkable that Garfield has been the lead in both outstanding recent releases. His performance here is more complete than in Silence thanks to the writing and the expansiveness of the explosive setting. Yet nothing feels forced or exceptional because every man is sharply written and there is a sense of bringing it all back home with the standout Australians in the cast (it was eventually co-financed through tax incentives there.) This story took a long time to reach the screen, with Audie Murphy expressing interest in it several decades ago, and Bing Crosby’s grandson Gregory eventually developing an  initial treatment. Randall Wallace took a pass at the screenplay at one point but you have to admit that this is just right: the right people making the right film at the right time. Quite remarkable.

Krampus (2015)

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Ever dreamed of spending Christmas without your family when everything seems like it’s going to Hell in a handcart? Well young Max (Emjay Anthony) swaps one kind of home invasion (aunt, uncle, cousins and great-aunt) for another (a German folkloric nightmare) when he wishes exactly that. Grandma Omi (Krista Stadler) knows it’s all down to what she did as a kid back in Austria but that doesn’t stop the demons being unleashed, starting with an ominous looking snowman in the yard, a power cut and a big sister kidnapped on the way to see her boyfriend in a snowstorm. There are noises in the attic and suddenly there are psychotic gingerbread men, Teddy bears and porcelain dolls on the prowl and that’s before the elves get started. Way to see your obnoxious cousin disappear up the chimney! NRA supporting uncle Howard (David Koechner) figures there’s only one way to deal with the invaders, since you can’t placate a crazy cookie.  I know how you feel about family at Christmas too (aw! really?!)  but even I find this veering on the violent end of the spectrum – tho hey, what about that staple gun! Starring Toni Collette and Adam Scott as the put-upon PC hosts who become really quite ingenious with their home cleaning solutions. Written by Todd Casey, Zach Shields and director Michael Dougherty, responsible for Trick ‘r Treat. Only if  Gremlins really doesn’t do it for you. I must start looking for those baubles …

Sleeping With the Enemy (1991)

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Julia Roberts’ stardom really is the touchstone for the Nineties. Here she’s the abused young wife of violent OCD psycho Patrick Bergin, that dashing Irishman who wears a black coat and a great moustache and has his finest cinematic moment to date in Map of the Human Heart, Vincent Ward’s masterpiece. The unloved-up mismatched couple live on the beach in modernist fabulosity while he lines up all the cans so that they face the right way out (just like David Beckham). It really is a shock to see him administer a beating to America’s happiest hooker. A boating accident leads him to believe she’s dead – but she’s in the middle of Cedar Falls, Iowa, donning drag and a nifty moustache with her new and bearded neighbour’s assistance to visit her disabled mom in a nursing home having faked her funeral six months earlier. This is meat and drink to director Joseph Ruben who is working with the Ron Bass/Bruce Joel Rubin adaptation of Nancy Price’s novel. There are no real surprises here if you’ve ever wondered what it might be like if Fatal Attraction were to be reversed with added Berlioz. Just remember:  it’s all about the facial hair.

The Girl on the Train (2016)

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Spoiler alert:  don’t read this if you haven’t seen it! Paula Hawkins’ thriller novel was the watercooler special last year – the tale of Rachel (Emily Blunt), a sorry alcoholic divorcee who pretends to her roommate that she goes to work every day on the train but in truth is rambling around London unemployed. Her train route passes her old house where her husband is still ensconced but with the woman he married and their baby and down the street the young woman who appears to be having an affair disappears and our protagonist believes she’s been murdered. But she’s had a blackout and she finds herself at home covered in blood and thinks that she must have done it and works to clear her name. A good premise – but in truth the book shuffled back and forth from different characters and time frames and you had to leaf back through it to remember who was who and what was what … and you know what? It was a structure that made it seem better than it was. And so we have a change of location – to Westchester, NY, despite two English principals, Emily Blunt and Luke Evans, with no evident rationale. There is no attempt to establish a sense of place. The shooting style, editing, C-list casting choices and screenplay adaptation (altered very little, bad, bad idea…) means that there is effectively very little mystery, and it’s all handled so ineptly by director Tate Taylor that at the screening I attended, when Justin Theroux has the screwdriver plunged and turned harder into his neck (kinda like what Emily has been doing all along, just to bottles) people laughed out loud. You might make a claim for abject maternity (can’t have/won’t have/has baby and lords it over everyone) but that would be to give it credence. Worse than Thursday nights on Lifetime channel, this is dire beyond belief. It’s extraordinary that this trash was released by a major studio in this kinda shape and I’ll wager only Emily Blunt’s presence precluded it being quietly dumped. This was evidently fixed after a cut was delivered:  can you actually conceive of a film being any worse than this?! Money back? I wish! I need a drink …

The Godfather Part II (1974)

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An utterly compelling sequel? Yes, it’s possible.  In fact for many people this is better than the original. But then it’s a prequel as well as a sequel and has an absorbing richness deriving from the fabled origins of the Mob back in Sicily and its growth during the Prohibition era. Robert De Niro plays the young Vito Corleone and his life is juxtaposed with that of his son the current Don, Michael (Al Pacino), as a Senate Committee closes in on the Mafia and his rivals start wiping out everyone in sight while he tries to expand his casino interests in Las Vegas. An immensely fulfilling narrative experience with stunning performances including legendary acting coach Lee Strasberg as Hyman Roth and Troy Donahue playing Connie’s latest squeeze, Merle Johnson – Donahue’s birth name.

The Dressmaker (2015)

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Tone is a hard thing to pull off in a movie. Black comedy is probably the  most difficult of all but when it works it’s rewarding. This starts like a western with a train pulling into a wretched early Fifties Outback town of shacks and small minds but instead of a gunslinger or a sheriff disembarking it’s a dressmaker: her weapon of choice? A Singer sewing machine. The music underlines our anticipation of tumbleweed blowing through the unmarked streets. It’s rare enough to hear the names Vionnet or Balenciaga but in this context it’s disturbing. Kate Winslet is Tilly Dunnage, newly returned from Paris by way of Spain and London and Italy. “Why would a beautiful and clever girl like you come back here?” an old crone neighbour asks her. Turns out she was banished as a young girl, accused of murdering a boy whom we see in flashbacks. She has no recollection of killing him and her alkie mother Molly (Judy Davis) engages in verbal fisticuffs with her about that and everything else as Tilly cleans her up, gets a shedload of clients and changes the way all the women dress; the policeman (Hugo Weaving) apologises for sending her away while testing her textiles; a rival dressmaker turns up halfway through; and a sexy neighbour Teddy  (Liam Hemsworth) makes a relationship possible, if only temporarily. This is a compelling revenge western, with Winslet relishing the possibilities of the femme fatale/sharpsewer in this genre-busting adaptation of  Rosalie Ham’s novel  by director Jocelyn Moorhouse and PJ Hogan. Laughs are to be had at the effect of a great dress on an Aussie Rules game, a screening of Sunset Blvd., the Cinderella transformation of Gertrude (Sarah Snook) into ‘Trudy’ and a supreme act of sabotage. A dish best served cold, performed with great galloping gusto by all concerned.