Inferno (2016)

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Humanity is the disease, inferno is the cure. The second sequel to The Da Vinci Code begins horribly. By which I mean it looks like one of those cheapo knockoffs you see on The Horror Channel in the wee small hours (and otherwise). A lecturer (Ben Foster) throws himself off a tower after being chased. Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks, returning for the third entry in the series) wakes up in a hospital being tended by a doctor with an enormous overbite (Felicity Jones) – frightening in itself. She tells him he’s been shot while he has terrible hallucinations with blood pouring in torrents and people with faces back to front (you can see how that might happen given the company and a presumed brain injury). He’s lost his memory and has no idea how he’s wound up in Italy. Then some woman pretending to be police murders another doctor and the pair make away from the gunfire with some difficulty given he’s hooked up to IVs all over the shop. He’s been given a painting that depicts The Inferno but his copy contains elements that don’t belong in the original. And so we set off on a chase around the Uffizi and then we’re off to Istanbul and a rather interesting ending in a cave with shades of The Man Who Knew Too Much with some visits to the World Health Organisation in between. The visual palette is awful. It looks just like a brown below-par giallo. There is nothing to indicate that this is any good but its place in the Dan Brown symbology behemoth is typically humourless (despite the presence of the hilarious Paul Ritter) and unimaginative – let’s face it, we’re in Florence with a doctor called Sienna, which would indicate a left/right brain issue and not just Langdon’s. And so it goes. The lecturer though is revealed to be a billionaire keen to solve a global issue. We can all read the legal judgments on where Mr Brown got his stories:  I’ve read Lewis Perdue’s novels so I’ve a pretty good idea. However this is tampering with Dante. I know David Koepp is the rather gifted screenwriter entrusted with the book (and I must put my cards on the table and admit I’ve not read this one) and he’s not responsible for the choices of director Ron Howard (him again) or any aesthetic decisions. Hey – it’s an action thriller with Tom Hanks (paired again with Sidse Babett Knudsen after their desert romp …) and the world overpopulation problem. If you can find those old rose-tinted spectacles (literally) you might quite enjoy some of the incendiary scenes and a somewhat tantalising villain. And some running. Ho. Hum.

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The Beachcomber (1954)

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Muriel Box was a rare bird in British cinema:  a woman writer/director. This adaptation of Somerset Maugham’s story The Vessel of Wrath was written by her husband producer Sydney Box and stars the inimitable Robert Newton as Ted, a boozer sent by his family to the Welcome Islands where he encounters Resident Ewart Gray (Donald Sinden) and a missionary, Owen Jones (Paul Rogers) and his do-gooding nursing sister (Martha) the marvellous Glynis Johns. They take him in for a while but he finds their religiosity oppressive. He winds up in court after getting a local girl to steal money from the mission to fund his drinking. Martha decides he’s innately good after she gets stuck overnight with him on an island where he’s doing hard labour. Shot on location in Ceylon it was the second adaptation of the book and the colour cinematography greatly assists the atmosphere. A cholera breakout puts everyone on the back foot and Martha goes to the profoundly unwelcoming northern islands with Ted and they narrowly avoid being killed by the natives whom they’ve helped survive a disease the natives think they’ve brought. There’s a wonderful payoff with an elephant that Martha cured earlier in the film – these are probably the best scenes in the film. Although Maugham was a great writer this feels like mild stuff indeed but worth catching for that cast. Newton died a couple of years later, succumbing to alcoholism at just 50.