Last Cab to Darwin (2015)

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Rex (Michael Caton) is dying and his days are spent with his friends down the local boozer and his nights with his dog (Dog). Polly (Ningali Lawford) his Aboriginal neighbour across the street is the woman in his life and they enjoy some banter about his difficult ways. His pain has led him to pursue euthanasia, not legal in New South Wales. He sets off in his taxi to the Northern Territory to the one doctor who is prepared to assist his death. En route he picks up Tilly (Mark Coles Smith), an Aboriginal drifter who’s also a talented footballer;  and British nurse Julie (Emma Hamilton) who’s keen to experience life Down Under.  The three develop a very particular kind of friendship on the 2,000 mile road trip. The mordantly witty tone ensures that this never descends to bathos and when Doc Farmer turns out to be the splendid Jacki Weaver you are assured that Reg Cribb’s adaptation of his 2003 play (based on a true story) gets the treatment that it deserves:  a terrifically game cast performing this considered, humane, very contemporary subject of self-determination with great dignity. It even has a twist ending. Engaging and compelling. Directed by Jeremy Sims.

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Sideways (2004)

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Pinot’s a very thin-skinned grape, it doesn’t like light or humidity. Miles (Paul Giamatti) is a wine-loving high school English teacher and wannabe author whose best friend actor Jack (Thomas Haden Church) is getting married next Saturday:  road trip! To California wine country, where he can educate Jack in the mysteries of tasting. Two middle aged men on an emotional journey, one a depressive mourning his marriage, the other a past-it who can’t wait to get it up. Maya (Virginia Madsen) is the college professor’s wife waiting tables who has the best palate for wine of any woman Miles has ever met and Jack fancies her smartass friend and single mom Stephanie (Sandra Oh). There ensue some funny sexcapades (Jack), sad drunk dials (Miles), terror on the golf course and major education in oenology:  sometimes all it takes is the feel of a bunch of grapes in the hand to get the mojo going and a bottle of wine can bring anyone back to life. The marvellous Maya turns out to be the woman who coaxes Miles to his truest expression. Funny, louche, and humane with killer lines and tone-perfect performances from all concerned. Beautifully written, staged and shot, this is the comical male midlife response to Thelma and Louise, minus the violence and police. Mature, full-bodied and earthy, it simply gets better every year. From Rex Pickett’s unpublished novel, adapted by Jim Taylor and director Alexander Payne. Savour it.

The Banger Sisters (2002)

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Bob Dolman’s story of two former groupies hooking up again twenty years after their heyday is long over is a mild affair sparked by the wonderful pairing of Goldie Hawn and Susan Sarandon. Suzette (Hawn) is fired from her job tending bar at the Whisky in LA and she needs money so decides to look up her old partner in crime Vinnie (Sarandon) who’s now a respectable Mom in Phoenix. On the way there she runs out of gas and picks up a phobic writer (Geoffrey Rush) who’s headed to the same destination to confront his bullying father. A prom night at their hotel sees Suzette bailing out Vinnie’s elder daughter (Erika Christensen) after a bad acid trip and the women’s reunion over the younger daughter’s (Eva Amurri, Sarandon’s own offspring) failed driving test starts the tightly wound Vinnie unwinding faster than you can say Cock Rock Photos (we don’t see what they look at in that drunken basement Polaroid fest).  There are some funny scenes that are underwritten – when Suzette sees the typewriter in the pool wasn’t there a smart line in that about rock star behaviour? More could have been made of the music backdrop and the family’s bizarre concept of their mother doesn’t ring true given the elder daughter’s penchant for sex in the pool.  (I’m still trying to figure out how Christensen got this gig.) Nobody really lets rip here, as one would have expected given the backstory … But the ladies are a terrific match and if it’s not Thelma and Louise it makes for a very good companion piece with Almost Famous, starring Hawn’s daughter Kate Hudson a couple of years earlier. I’ve waited a long time for Hawn to act again:  please release her next movie, like, now, already!

Valley of Love (2015)

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Les stars du film anciennement mariées Isabelle (Isabelle Huppert) et Gerard (Gérard Depardieu) se retrouvent dans la vallée de la mort pour honorer le souhait de leur fils Michael qui s’est suicidé là-bas après avoir passé une semaine dans le parc national. Il a coupé le contact avec eux (mais surtout avec elle) à l’âge de 16 ans. Il a écrit des lettres à ses deux, expliquant qu’il veut qu’ils passent une semaine là-bas et il leur apparaîtra à la conclusion. Ils ratissent les charbons de leur situation actuelle, leur relation échouée avec lui et révèlent peu à peu des informations sur eux-mêmes (son mariage défaillant, sa santé défaillante) alors que autour de lui, l’Amérique se révèle dans des moments absurdes et même surréalistes: l’apparition du tennis est un ressortir. Leur culpabilité et leur horreur à ce que leur enfant a fait se manifeste différemment contre un paysage splendidement tourné qui aurait pu être utilisé pour un meilleur avantage. Ils sont engloutis par des marées d’émotion dans différentes scènes qui sont brillamment exécutées, alors qu’est-ce qui est nouveau? La musique de Charles Ives est habituée à un effet formidable dans ce voyage émotionnel étonnant de Christophe Offenstein dans des nuances de chaleur intolérable. Écrit et réalisé par Guillaume Nicloux. Huppert. Depardieu. Parfait.

 

Psycho (1998)

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The Hitchcock film is so ingrained in the collective psyche it was some kind of madness to remake it shot for shot (almost – there are some surreal inserts.) When Gus Van Sant’s name was attached it didn’t even make lunatic sense. Nor the fact that some cast members (I mean you, Anne Heche) didn’t even seem to know the original. The cinematographer (Chris Doyle) didn’t even understand the point of some shots, it appears. If you can get past the fact that this is sacrilege; that paradoxically Pat Hitchcock O’Connell, the keeper of her father’s flame, approved it; and that huge dead-eyed Vince Vaughn was selected to play the delicate bird-like Norman Bates (okay, Vaughn is truer to Bloch’s image, but who but the indelible Anthony Perkins is Norman?!), this can be viewed as an interesting homage to the most important film in (some people’s) living memory. It is about identity and its negation;  the camera articulates vision and perception (just look! A crane shot introduces Marion Crane! And the final shot of her eye is the single most important image in cinema); and Anne Heche’s underwear is kinda wonderful – the whole first section of the film is all about the colour orange. It’s about a man in a dress pretending to be his dead mother, whose rotting corpse is in the fruit cellar. The original film was censor-bait – when Janet Leigh flushed her calculations down the toilet censorship was literally flushed away in American cinema: that doesn’t even register nowadays. It is a reverie about a kingdom of death, as Donald Spoto has it. Joseph Stefano’s screenplay (he had a lot of help from Mrs Hitchcock) is shot word for word;  and Bernard Herrmann’s score is reworked by Danny Elfman. So this is an empty act of nostalgia and avant-gardism inasmuch as it is doing a Warhol to something that effectively belongs to everyone. But it is Hitchcock. Not to be reproduced. Like I said, sacrilege.

Another Day in Paradise (1998)

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Another controversial work from auteur Larry Clark, this is a 1970s-set tale of junkies whose crime spree goes horribly wrong. Young Vincent Kartheiser (unrecognisable as Mad Men‘s weaselly Pete) carries out a disastrous vending machine robbery and girlfriend Natasha Gregson Wagner gets his mentor and friend James Woods to help fix up his injuries. Woods trains him in safe-cracking and they all go on the road with his girlfriend Melanie Griffiths and get embroiled in a series of terrible robberies which wind up with death and destruction all around them. Woods and Griffiths are re-teamed for the third time and work well in this febrile situation even if her wig sometimes outacts him. Kartheiser and Wagner do okay in this sordid story with full-frontal sex scenes but it’s the bizarre and uncredited (why?!) performance by Lou Diamond Phillips as a bejewelled feminised gay co-conspirator that fascinates. Adapted from Eddie Little’s novel (allegedly plagiarised by James Frey…) by Stephen Chin and Christopher B. Landon. A very alternative, nasty road movie. Not for all tastes, as they say.

Midnight Run (1988)

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Robert De Niro is the taciturn bounty hunter called in on one last job by Joe Pantoliano, to bring in an accountant for the mob (Charles Grodin) who’s stolen millions of his employer’s money and given it to charity in a fit of pique on finding out they guy’s true identity. His faked fear of flying means a cross-country journey from NYC to LA – with the FBI, the mob and rival bounty hunter John Ashton on their tails. This handcuffed odd couple are like chalk and cheese, the phobic money man and the smartass no-nonsense ex-cop in this near-definitive buddy movie: their byplay is priceless, with both De Niro and Grodin turning in brilliant performances. This action comedy written by George Gallo is one of the great screenplays of the Eighties. Directed with verve by Martin Brest in what is his best film to date. Simply sublime.

All Roads Lead to Rome (2015)

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Be honest:  it’s January. It’s miserable. You’re back at work weeks early (February is about right – right?!) and you need to escape. So where better than la bella Italia?! And in the fine company of Sarah Jessica Parker, a woman I have adored since Square Pegs, way back in the days of analogue. She’s Maggie, the divorced former journalist now college lecturer (CCNY, since you ask) who takes her bolshy teenage daughter Summer (Rosie Day) to her old haunt in Tuscany to bail the kid out of a relationship with a vile junkie who wants her to take the rap for drug possession because she’s underage and it won’t criminalise her. Lovely. No sooner have they arrived than Maggie’s old lover of decades past, artist Luca (Raoul Bova) materialises in the villa next door where a very young woman, his presumed girlfriend, and his bitchy mama Nonna (the marvellous Claudia Cardinale) also show up. Summer wants out and so does Nonna so they steal Luca’s car. Nonna has a wedding to attend in Rome – her own! and Summer wants to go back to NYC to do the right-wrong thing for the junkie BF. Maggie and Luca chase them in her rental the whole 300km to the Eternal City … As we know road trips are emotional journeys (sob!) and all parties get the opportunity to share and care with each other amid some mayhem that could have been better choreographed – and there are a lot of long driving scenes along very dull looking roads until the police get involved and Luca tells them Summer kidnapped Nonna. Summer is a horribly noxious teenager whose view on her behaviour is altered not by the wisdom of her elders but by a come-on from a Lesbian who picks her up hitching a lift. Talk about playing into the zeitgeist of ‘gender fluidity’ as they now call it. Neither particularly well written (Josh Appignanesi, Cindy Myers) nor directed (Ella Lemhagen) or shot (whoever), this could have been so much sharper and better handled: they meant well but then there were 20 producers, this decade’s version of a Europudding …  The only scenes that really work are with Parker and Bova (they have nice chemistry) and those TV sendups when Paz Vega gets the chance to imitate the peculiarly slutty Italian journalists in the kind of cod-hysterical news presentation that characterises Berlusconi-dominated media. SJP deserves a whole lot better but it’s nice to see Cardinale in action.

Irreconcilable Differences (1984)

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Nowadays Nancy Meyers is more celebrated for her rightful foregrounding of the older woman’s experiences:  in the early 80s after having her screenplay (with Charles Shyer) for Protocol rewritten by Buck Henry (apparently at Goldie Hawn’s behest after they wrote Private Benjamin for her) she decided to write a very caustic appraisal of Hollywood, marriage and the whole darned thing. Ryan O’Neal is the film professor hitching a ride west to Hollywood;  Shelly Long is the wannabe writer who picks him up. He’s cherrypicked by a producer and mentored to write a movie and becomes a director who abandons Long and their young daughter Drew Barrymore and when his movie with new love Sharon Stone fails and Shelly’s career soars, Barrymore sues for emancipation from their madness. It’s brilliantly written, performed – look at Barrymore! Extraordinary! – and smartly directed by Shyer, cunningly incorporating screwball staging with references to Ernst Lubitsch (and Peter Bogdanovich). I’m a huge fan of Nancy Meyers – so I wrote a book about her:  https://www.amazon.com/Pathways-Desire-Emotional-Architecture-Meyers-ebook/dp/B01BYFC4QW/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1481113546&sr=1-1&keywords=elaine+lennon.

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Home Alone (1990)

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Sensational, kinetic, lively action comedy from the late and beloved chronicler of childhood and adolescence, auteur John Hughes.  Little Kevin is terrorised by everyone in his family – and they forget about him when they depart for a trip to Paris for Christmas, leaving him on his own in their big suburban Chicago house to deal with a pair of bungling thieves. Macaulay Culkin is brilliant as the kid whose dream comes true – to be spared his awful family, even for a short time. This held the record as the biggest grossing live action comedy in the US until Hangover Part II came along to spoil the party.  Simply sublime entertainment for any time of year.