La Dolce Vita (1960)

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In the summer of 1958 several layers of Roman society collided in the flashing lightbulbs of celebrity, with Hollywood actors, aristocrats, drug dealers, designers, artists, writers, prostitutes, journalists and street photographers engaging in salacious conflicts that kept several scandal rags going with outrageous tales of a demimonde that seemed to congregate around the Via Veneto. Federico Fellini was taking note. A photograph of Anita Ekberg frolicking in the Trevi Fountain seemed to encapsulate the scene and a story took root in his brain. Along with Ennio Flaiano, Tullio Pinelli, Brunello Rondi and some uncredited assistance from Pier Paolo Pasolin, he came up with the script that would define the time and the place like no other. Marcello Rubini (Marcello Mastroianni) is the urbane gossip journalist who secretly hankers after the life of his intellectual friend Steiner (Alain Cuny, playing a character loosely based on Cesare Pavese) but cannot cease his lifestyle of instant gratification. The opening shot is stunning:  a helicopter is taking a statue of Christ across a football field surrounded by ancient ruins, and chased by another helicopter. All at once the image shows us Rome ancient, imperial and modern, and God is leaving the city, opening up a world of self-indulgence. Marcello is in the second chopper and dallies with some beauties sunbathing on a roof. Right there we have some very economical socio-cultural analysis about contemporary values.  38 minutes in, the film’s raison d’etre occurs:  Fellini re-stages the Ekberg image, starring Ekberg herself. Surely this is the ultimate post-modern shot in cinema. This is a very glamorous film about incredible people in a state of pure decadence. It was much criticised at local level but Fellini had tapped into fascism’s true expression – the cultivation of image above meaning, the use of culture to promote an antithetical belief system, the failure of humanity, mob rule. Popular culture was the vehicle through which fascism was transmitted. Fellini was working as a caricaturist during Mussolini’s alliance with the Nazis, he was involved with several of the neorealist classics made right after the war and he had already made a couple of classic films:  his concept of reality did not mean the subtraction of meaning. Christening the scattini (street photographers) Paparazzo was only the start of it. He understood the power of voyeurism. Marcello’s disenchantment as he pursues his personal satyricon is groundbreaking and inimitable. The role changed Mastroianni, as he admitted. You cannot walk through Rome and not see it as it is here – ironically, Fellini recreated most of it at Cinecitta (a Mussolini factory that lured so many American filmmakers to free up their frozen profits and enjoy the sweet life):  that’s how I discovered the real Via Veneto is very hilly.  Rome is Fellini, Fellini is Rome. And as for Nino Rota’s score! As Jonathan Jones said some years ago, Fellini thought of everything first. We are still catching up. Simply great.

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Bachelor Party (1984)

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Anyone expecting the 1957 kitchen sink realism Paddy Chayefsky mini-epic starring Don Murray is in for a surprise. This is the Eighties ‘remake’ (not really) – with a time capsule quotient of nudity, raunch, lewdness, big shoulders, bigger hair and a lot of pastels. Tom Hanks is the charming bus driver dating the gorgeous shop assistant Tawny Kitaen (remember the Whitesnake videos?!) who happens to be the daughter of a disapproving millionaire who has a much better catch in mind. This is of course all about the suspension of disbelief. I for one have never been driven to school by Hanks. Naturally the guys want a big party before Tom makes the worst mistake of his life and everything but the kitchen realist sink is thrown at making it happen and persuading him to be unfaithful – but the hookers wind up at the girls’ and perform sex acts in front of her mother. Then they go see male strippers and Mom grabs a weiner. As it were. Dad shows up at the guys’ gathering and winds up having his ass whupped by whores and being photographed for posterity and the love rival takes potshots with a bow and arrow in revenge for having his Porsche souped up. There’s a gag with a donkey on cocaine but the best of all is a funny scene at a 3D movie. It’s the little things. Hanks’ winning ways save the day, in more ways than one. And the best thing? Now I never have to watch it again! From the world of Neal Israel.

9 1/2 Weeks (1986)

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Yes, I’m going there. It’s Friday after all. This was the secret shame of myself and several of my college mates courtesy of a guy who had it on VHS back in the day. We watched it regularly in a darkened room, as you do. Lunchtimes have never been the same since. I think this is how cults begin, isn’t it?! It was a notorious bomb on release and it’s not difficult to see why – how to explain an S&M memoir on date night?! 960 people stormed out of the preview audience of 1,000! One can only hazard a guess at what the remainers were doing. Really, it’s a home movie in every sense!  Ingeborg Day nee Seiler (daughter of an Austrian SS officer) wrote for feminist mag Ms. as Ingeborg Bachmann in the Seventies and documented this stage of her life pseudonymously in 1978 as ‘Elizabeth McNeill’. She had a breakdown afterwards. Gallerist Elizabeth embarks on an intense affair with Wall Street broker John who takes her places she’s never been … in her own body. The fact that she is played by the stunning Kim Basinger and he is the then-beautiful Mickey Rourke just makes it all the more, uh, pleasurable. In fact it’s their characterisation that makes this erotica work. Screenwriters Zalman King and Patricia Louisanna Knop (and Sarah Kernochan) turned soft porn into their avocation, while underrated director Adrian Lyne just makes everything appear lovely and astonishing as you’d expect from someone who helped change the look of cinema:  you’ll never look at the contents of your refrigerator the same way again. Seriously sexy and the soundtrack is great!

Viva Maria! (1965)

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Never did terrorists look lovelier than here, in Louis Malle’s subversive take on the buddy movie with Brigitte Bardot an IRA activist teaming up in Mexico with vaudeville performer Jeanne Moreau and getting more popular as they incorporate stripping into their musical act. They fall for the revolutionary leader Flores (George Hamilton) and join him and his comrades in trying to overthrow the regime of El Dictador (Jose Angel Espinoza). When Flores is shot Maria 1 (JM) agrees to fulfill his deathbed desire and the Marias organise a peasant army …  Malle instructed writer Jean-Claude Carriere to incorporate the tropes of the action adventure and westerns like Vera Cruz, just with female protaganists and financing was finalised only with Moreau’s participation. The two ladies got on very well together during a 16 week shoot on location and this was a huge hit in its day.  Hamilton is excellent as their male foil leading Malle to wonder why he didn’t act more. The cinematography by the great Henri Decae is sublime and Georges Delerue supplies a suitably gorgeous score. The laughs never quit!

Beat Girl (1959)

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One of those legendary Brit cult films that seem like such a curate’s egg at this distance. Divorced architect David Farrar brings a French poodle (Noelle Adam) home to his sulky beatnik teenage daughter Jennifer (Gillian Hills) and she discovers Maman was a stripper and a whore. She spends her time with other privileged kids like Peter McEnery and Shirley Anne Field and they groove to Adam Faith’s music at the Offbeat Cafe before taking off in a chicken run just for kicks. The strip club near the Offbeat run by Christopher Lee is the key to Maman’s past and Jennifer gets a taste for it after finding out from him that her colleague Greta (Delphi Lawrence) shared more than just a background in dance class in Paris. This is part-melodrama, part-shocker, with one extraordinarily lewd strip scene featuring the talents of ‘Pascaline’. Adam Faith’s musical partnership with John Barry finally bore fruit for him after this and he scored some chart hits (his speech impediment is what’s striking here); while this was Barry’s first film score and the first British soundtrack album ever released. Lawrence doesn’t feature in the credits despite being central to the plot;  Oliver Reed – whose uncle Carol got him the role – is in the ensemble as ‘Plaid Shirt’;  if you look fast you’ll spot Carol White in the Offbeat. The story and screenplay were by Dail Ambler, while direction was by Anglo-French Jew Edmond Greville, whose career came to a halt under the Nazi Occupation. Gillian Hills had already been in Vadim’s Dangerous Liaisons 1960, which, as far as snowy Alpine adultery dramas go, is top of the list. She later became famous as a ‘ye ye’ singer in France and she’ll always have a place in my heart for playing Alison in the TV version of The Owl Service as well as starring as Elizabeth in Demons of the Mind, written by my late friend, Christopher Wicking. She had several other acting roles but later turned to illustration and married the manager of AC/DC. Tres cool, daddy-o!