Ivanhoe (1952)

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Wilfred of Ivanhoe (Robert Taylor) is determined to right the wrong of kidnapped Richard the Lionheart’s predicament, confronting his evil brother Prince John (Guy Rolfe) and Norman knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert (George Sanders). His own estranged father Cedric (Finlay Currie) doesn’t know he’s loyal to the king but feisty Rowena (Joan Fontaine) is still his lady love although his affections are now swung by the beautiful Jewess Rebecca (Elizabeth Taylor), daughter to Isaac of York (Felix Aylmer), who is almost robbed by the knights and whose fortune can aid the King. Robin Hood appears and Ivanhoe joins forces with him and his men, there’s jousting at the tournament and love lost and won, and a trial for witchcraft ….  Adapted by AEneas MacKenzie from the Walter Scott novel, this was written by Noel Langley and Marguerite Roberts, whose name was removed subsequent to her being blacklisted. It’s glorious picture-book pageantry in Technicolor, such a wonderful change from those grim grey superhero and historical excursions to which we are being currently subjected in the multiplex. Everyone performs with great gusto, there’s chivalry and action aplenty, a great baddie, a kangaroo court, a ransom to be paid, a love triangle, a king to rescue, costumes to die for and properly beautiful movie stars performing under the super sharp lens of Freddie Young to a robust score by Miklos Rozsa. It was the first in an unofficial mediaeval MGM trilogy shot in the UK, followed by Knights of the Round Table and The Adventures of Quentin Durward, all starring Taylor (Robert, that is) and shot by Richard Thorpe. Prepare to have your swash buckled. Fabulous.

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Scarface (1983)

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‘Say hello to my little friend!’ Ah, Cuba. What it has given to the world. Cigars. And… coke dealers! This probably isn’t the film to recommend to people opposed to the mass entry of refugees in their back door. Oliver Stone interpreted the great Ben Hecht’s original story (for director Howard Hawks and producer Howard Hughes’s 1932 classic) to incorporate the influx of criminals to Florida in 1980 with Castro’s amnesty, flooding the area with jailbirds. It was Pacino’s idea to remake the film and Sidney Lumet came up with updating it setting it in the Mariel boatlift but Stone then picked up the reins while dealing with his own cocaine habit when Lumet dropped out. Stone and producer Marty Bregman got access to US Attorney and Organized Crime Bureau files in Miami so we have to say in our defence, m’lud, these things may actually have happened … Teamed with director Brian De Palma we get a great, baroque, violent tale of the rise and fall of Tony Montana (Pacino, peerless, unforgettable, brilliant), who’s just assassinated a Cuban  government official and gets a green card to a very unwelcoming Miami. He teams up with Manny (Steven Bauer) and they take on the local crime lords to become drug kingpins, picking up the stunning Michelle Pfeiffer along the way with little sis Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio joining in the drug-addled fun. The violence is just jaw-dropping – and yes, I’m referring to the chainsaw in the shower. Jesus. With a great supporting cast giving wonderfully detailed performances – Paul Shenar and F. Murray Abraham among them, and goodness, why doesn’t Pfeiffer do more films? Or Mastrantonio?! – cinematography by John A. Alonzo and a pretty groundbreaking score by Giorgio Moroder, we have to say that this is … INCREDIBLE!

Casablanca (1942)

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Round up the usual suspects. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she has to walk into mine. Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.  Play it, Sam. We’ll always have Paris. Here’s looking at you, kid. I stick my neck out for nobody. Sometimes you have to go back to the source to remind yourself that there was a time when mainstream cinema produced work with remarkable, quotable dialogue and not every film was a comic book rehashed  for a market where people boil dogs as a pre-prandial treat. Romantic thriller Casablanca is notorious for being rewritten on the set, nobody knew what was going to happen next and certainly nobody concerned thought it would be the embodiment of all that was great about Hollywood. Humphrey Bogart is Rick Blaine, one of the great screen protagonists, an apparently jaded uncommitted man of the world and a dedicated ex-patriate pragmatist who is in fact a passionate, patriotic and loyal friend who sticks his neck out for absolutely everyone. Ingrid Bergman is the woman he loved in Paris, showing up at his cafe in occupied Morocco, unaware that he is there. And we flash back to their coup de foudre and realise she is now the other half of famed Resistance fighter Paul Henreid, who needs to escape the Nazis on his tail. Rick’s friendship with local police chief Claude Rains smooths a lot of issues regarding his backroom business in supplying refugees with Letters of Transit but this new situation is brimming with complications.The writers who adapted and altered the unproduced play Everybody Comes to Rick’s were Howard Koch (maybe), the Epstein brothers (definitely) and Casey Robinson (whose rewrites were uncredited), Michael Curtiz directed a cast made in heaven and the music is just perfection! The character of Victor Laszlo, played by Paul Henreid, was based on a Jewish activist who allegedly fathered Marlene Dietrich’s daughter back in Berlin (her marriage was very happily open.) After WW2 he became persona non grata in exile and was executed by the Czech government with his remains used for surfacing a road. Not a Hollywood ending. The film that he inspired is sublime.