Blade Runner 2049 (2017)

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In the face of the fabulous new your thought is to kill it?  Los Angeles 2049. K (Ryan Gosling) is a blade runner for Wallace, the new incarnation of the Tyrell Corporation led by blind Niander Wallace (Jared Leto) whose right hand woman Luv (Sylvia Hoeks) is enchanted by K’s story that a replicant may have had a child. He is ordered by LAPD (in the guise of Robin Wright) to get rid of any evidence that a replicant could have given birth in order to see off a war between replicants and humans. He returns to the site of a dead tree and finds something that makes him think he can remember something from his own childhood and it leads him into a spiral of discovery that involves tracking down his predecessor before Prohibition and the Blackout, Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) who appears to have something to do with the rebel replicants underground …. Where to start? This hybridised metafictive spawn of one of the greatest achievements in cinema is no easy ride. The way it looks for one. It’s horrible. Mostly greys with occasional harking back to the navy and neon and a sour yellow, a nod to the burnished autumnal shadings of the original. The Orientalised appearances are now more subtly rendered but are even more prevalent as though mixed into a Caucasian blender. Then there are the women. Luv is clearly meant to remind us of Rachael (Sean Young) while the reference to Nabokov’s Pale Fire is intended to tell us that there are two fictional characters sparring with one another here – but the question is, which two, and of them, who’s real and who’s a replicant? The quasi-Oedipal story steers right into a quagmire of identities and dreams and purported flashbacks. Other quotes – Kafka, Treasure Island, and even the songs that play as holograms in a burned-out Vegas – also serve to get us to look one way, instead of another. The idea of relationships as a figment of your imagination – literally, a hologram – is conceptually brilliant and well executed (in every sense) but takes too long as a narrative device to be told and then unravel. The ending is enormously clever and draws on facets of Philip K. Dick’s own backstory: it’s literally a tidal wash of action and memories. But are they real? Are they implants? Hampton Fancher is back but with co-writer Michael Green this time instead of David Webb Peoples. You can see the spliced DNA with Harlan Ellison (an insistence on procreation) as well as PKD  (what is humanity? what is reality?) and the literary turns which have some good jokes. There are some nice lines too and even if they’re on the nose they actually future proof it somewhat:  You’ve never seen a miracle.  Or, I know it’s real. Or, Dying for the right cause is the most human thing you can do. They actually conceal what is paid off by misdirecting us.  It gets away with its visual tributes to the original cast with the prostitute who looks like Darryl Hannah and Hoeks who clearly resembles Sean Young even in ill-fitting costume.  Directed by Denis Villeneuve who is one of the most audacious mainstream directors at the present time with Ridley Scott producing,  I appreciate what they’re doing here but it’s a pale twenty-first century facsimile, more replicant than human.  Ford enters the fray so late and Gosling is not my favourite actor albeit he acquits himself well as someone who starts to feel things he shouldn’t given his somewhat obscure origins as a police functionary. But I have feelings too. Nothing can compare with the sensory overload that is Blade Runner, the daddy of the species. Notwithstanding the foregoing, as all the best legal minds argue, the ending is brilliant. Oh! The humanity.

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Indecent Proposal (1993)

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The dress is for sale. I’m not. Adrian Lyne’s films have always pushed zeitgeist buttons and this is no different. High school sweethearts David (Woody Harrelson) and Diana (Demi Moore) are now an architect and realtor respectively but are in trouble with their mortgage payments and obliged to borrow to try and keep going while he wants to design his dream house on a tract in Santa Monica. They bring the last of their savings to Vegas and blow it all trying to win big. She’s eyeballed by billionaire John Gage (Robert Redford) and helps him get a million on roulette. He offers them the same amount if she’ll spend the night with him. The aftermath of their decision costs them – everything. This tacky premise is actually the basis for a film which deals with two big romantic ideas – a grown up couple who truly love each other and risk everything to achieve a long-held dream, and an older man who has everything he could want but still holds fast to the memory of a girl who smiled at him on a train thirty years ago and he’s forced to live with regret every day since. Sure it pushes buttons but it also deals in feelings and the limits of love and sacrifice and the difference between sex and a long lasting relationship. There are wonderful supporting performances by Oliver Platt as David’s lawyer friend and Seymour Cassel as Gage’s wise driver. Amy Holden Jones adapted the novel by Jack Engelhard and the score is by John Barry. A grand romantic drama which looks as gorgeous as you expect from Mr Lyne and there’s a great dog! PS does anyone know if the 2CV with the licence plate 209 LYN is the director’s?!

Viva Las Vegas (1964)

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Aka Love in Las Vegas. The legendary pairing of The King with Ann-Margret is literally the whole show in a town full of them. Even for an Elvis film the storyline is surprisingly weak but the eye-poppingly colourful scene-setting by supreme stylist George Sidney mitigates the problem. Elvis  is Lucky Jackson, a talented singer and driver whose luck has run out so he’s in Vegas to raise money to take part in the Grand Prix. He sees dancer and swimming instructor Rusty (A-M) and is smitten. But so is his rival, Count Elmo Mancini (Cesare Danova). Lucky and Rusty do some sightseeing around the Hoover Dam – nice helicopter views – and we learn a little about Nevada and her good relationship with her father (William Demarest).  Lucky winds up losing all his money in the hotel pool and having to earn his living as a waiter which leads to some nice slapstick serving Rusty and Elmo. Then his luck turns and there is the climactic race across the desert which is pretty well shot and there are some disasters along the route … The songs are terrific and the sequences of the city and casinos are wonderful. You can see Teri Garr in a bit part as a showgirl at one point but the most surprising element is that this was written by Sally Benson, responsible for Meet Me in St Louis. And then there’s the real-life romance between Elvis and Ann-Margret! In the film they marry at the Little Church of the West, the oldest wedding chapel in Vegas.

Diamonds Are Forever (1971)

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The second of Guy Hamilton’s outings as director (he did four altogether) this is James Bond verging on self-parody and hugely entertaining it is too. Sean Connery returns looking the worse for middle age. At the heart of it is some strange goings-on in the diamond market leading our favourite spy to Amsterdam (via Hovercraft!) where he encounters the smuggler Tiffany Case (Jill St John, the first American Bond girl). It seems evil criminal mastermind Blofeld (Charles Gray) is up to his old tricks, this time stocking up to use a killer satellite. Touching on real-life themes of nuclear weaponry, strong women (look at those bodyguards! Never mind Lana Wood as Plenty O’Toole!), cloning and plastic surgery, the American obsession with death (pace Jessica Mitford and Evelyn Waugh) leading to some hilarious (kinda – unless you’re keen to be in a coffin) scenes in a mortuary and great use of Las Vegas locations, this is also the one with those fabulously fey henchmen Mr Wint and Mr Kidd ( Bruce Glover  and  Putter Smith) and there’s an ending straight out of Road Runner. As close to a cartoon as Bond would ever get,  you’ll have forgotten that Bond is out to avenge the murder of his wife (in OHMSS) in the first few minutes: this is simply great entertainment. And what about that song! Adapted from Ian Fleming’s 1956 novel by Richard Maibaum and Tom Mankiewicz.

What Women Want (2000)

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This is the kind of film you can’t really unpick:  it’s put together like a watch by writer/director Nancy Meyers who was offered a rewrite on the script but only did it on condition it would be her directing debut. (She didn’t get writing credit.) Her marriage to producing/writing/director partner Charles Shyer over, she was ready to strike out on her own. She completely redid the original premise and boy did she hit a home run. She spent most of the Nineties making movies looking at men in the burbs, married and a little confused in the context of family; now she takes uber-male Gibson, macho advertising dude, and literally gives him insight into how women think. He cross-dresses, puts on makeup and in an accident worthy of magic realism, hears everything women around him are going through. Talk about a makeover! It helps him with his teenaged firebrand daughter Alex (Ashley Johnson) but it also gives him the edge on rival ad woman Darcy Maguire (Helen Hunt) with whom he inconveniently falls into a friendship that threatens to become romantic… There’s laughter, there’s tears, there’s romance,  there’s ads for women’s products. “If you know women, you can rule,” his shrink advises Nick. Nancy Meyers knows what women want. And for that she is one of the half-dozen or so Hollywood filmmakers with final cut. For more on this, I’ve written a book on the woman who celebrates her 67th birthday today. https://www.amazon.com/Pathways-Desire-Emotional-Architecture-Meyers-ebook/dp/B01BYFC4QW/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1481117503&sr=1-1&keywords=elaine+lennon.Pathways of Desire cover Amazon.jpg

War Dogs (2016)

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Comic auteur Todd (Hangover) Phillips doing a serious analysis of arms dealing in the Iraq conflict? Well … not so much. Arms and the Dudes was a Rolling Stone story about two supposedly clueless twentysomethings out of Miami who vacuumed up the crumbs of the US Army’s defence contracts and made a mint until their attempts to cover up ammo from China (literally – by rebagging them) caught them out when their Albanian contractor called the State Dept after their infighting left him without a payroll. Miles Teller is David, a college dropout with a pregnant girlfriend under pressure to earn more money than his private massages yield. Jonah Hill is his old friend and aspiring wheeler-dealer Efraim who needs help exploiting a gap in the defence market by the expedient of watching an Army provisions website. The story is set up like a comedy but with Scarface references (it’s the poster over Efraim’s desk and his drug intake is Montana-prodigious). There is a very funny sequence when they have to go to the Triangle of Death in Iraq to get their first delivery to its intended destination. This is expertly done with the amount of threat, humour and action you know Phillips delivers well. When they want to land a life-changing contract they head to Vegas (where else would arms dealers meet?) and encounter a very familiar figure (I was surprised, not having read any spoiler reviews) who can give them everything they need but he’s on a watchlist and they have to go to Albania to carry it through. The story is fatally wounded by David’s narration which is done as a serious commentary instead of a self-deprecating series of enlightening witticisms. (Teller was presumably cast to appeal to the youth market. Bad move. He’s about as funny as a funeral and his naif act is not a patch on Ray Liotta in Goodfellas.) His girlfriend is a wuss. The baby sentimentalises things too. So although this is a satisfying exercise in many ways we needed more fun, less moralising: when Efraim fires a machinegun in Albania like a gangster, that’s the real deal. And with this much money around and Efraim involved, you know there’s a stitch up on the cards. Jonah Hill is really good.  If this had had the courage of its convictions and weaponised the facts, it might have been great.

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 Las Vegas Story (1952)

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RKO made several film noirs and into the 1950s a few have them had Vincent Price smarming about uttering deathlessly smart lines. Here he’s a high roller called Lloyd Rollins married to singer Linda (Jane Russell) and when they hit Vegas they hit trouble. He wants to pawn her fabulous necklace for chips, she runs into former lover, cop Lt. Dave Andrews (Victor Mature) and there’s an insurance man on their trail over some deals back in Boston… Hoagy Carmichael is the piano man to Linda’s sultry songs, Leigh Harline provides the soundtrack and in typical RKO fashion it all ends up in a fantastic chase over the desert with a helicopter. Clever, fun entertainment, but what a pity the fabulous settings were shot in monochrome. Directed by Robert Stevenson.

Jason Bourne (2016)

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It’s surely a sign of an unhealthy cinema summer when the audience is going in droves to an exceedingly mediocre action movie.Tony Gilroy’s writing smarts (he knew what to do with Ludlum’s brilliantly tricksy emblematic character) are gone. In their stead is a cobbled together action-chase sequence from returning director Paul Greengrass and editor Christopher Rouse that trades on an Oedipal-type scenario with Bourne’s dad linked to the original Treadstone, uncovered by a very odd looking Julia Stiles who’s in league with a kind of brutal Julian Assange skinhead character. A Facebook company run by the twisty Aaron Kalloor (Jewish … Indian?!) that appears to have done a deal with the CIA for client info is repeatedly juxtaposed with faded images of Pop’s cryptic comments before he was blown up.Cyber memories are made of this. Ho hum. So 2010. We commence with bare-knuckle fighting, protests in Greece and fetch up in Las Vegas with a major street scene starring ugly baddie sniper Vincent Cassel while a bloodless performance by Alicia Vikander as right hand woman to the CIA’s Dewey (Tommy Lee Jones) is enough to make your teeth itch. Political correctness is just plain irritating and to make everything even worse is the horrendous cinematography by Barry Ackroyd. It’s like Jeremy Corbyn’s wet dream. Free non-existent houses and jobs for everyone! Yawn. Bring back Tom Cruise. Or Pierce Brosnan! For a real ReBourne.Please.

Lady Luck (1946)

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Babara Hale is the latest generation of Mary Audrey to fall victim to her elderly relative Frank Morgan’s predilection for gambling – this we learn in an amusing opening montage that brings us up to date in post-war Los Angeles. Then she falls for Robert Young who meets her because of her grandpa’s book – and not the kind she sells in her new bookstore. They get married, she realises he too is an incurable gambler but then  – literally – the tables are turned on him in Vegas. Genetics, you know. Tonally odd, this is ostensibly comedic but anyone who knows someone who married a gambler will feel distinctly discomfited – even if it concludes to everyone’s advantage. Some nice photography in LA and Vegas retains interest.