Author Archives: Ben Gould

Million Dollar Baby (2004) is a horrifying watch.

Saw this once. Hated it.

Saw it again last week. Hated it.

Not the movie – I’d say it’s extraordinary, but I hated the experience of watching it. The gloom and the dread and the realism and Clint being a very unhappy Clint. I just mind folk were peeved because he won the Best Director Academy Award over Marty for his The Aviator (2004), a standard Oscar bait biopic and one of the few Scorsese movies not even worthy of a second viewing.

Clint does this thing – he will make five stinkers in a row but then pull a motion picture out the bag that totally blows away all doubters.

But I’m never watching it again.

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The Card Counter (2021). Brilliant and vintage Paul Schrader.

This guy makes movies about the worst people, humans you don’t even want to know. But he always draws out the dimensions and probes at the reasons why people are the way they are. He’s the most mature filmmaker, a bloke actually interested in the human psyche and how film can treat this. He’s also clearly obsessed with Robert Bresson. The ending here, I think he’s done the Pickpocket (1959) tribute a dozen times now.

The acting in this is magisterial and the style of Schrader always suits his stories; he’s so underrated as an artist, perhaps because he’s not razzmatazz, but he can be when the moment needs it.

Most films these days are fucking pathetic, either derivative tripe, childish nonsense about superheroes, or leftist politics running riot at the expense of story or ideas. There is no fun in The Card Counter but that’s the essence and point of it – it’s gruelling and heartbreaking, like Travis Bickle taking a WASP to a porn movie (thank you, Paul Schrader).

Schrader is one of the few left with a soul and the lad has been kicking about for half a century. I define ‘The Few’ as writers and directors who make cinema about and for adults and aren’t afraid to take risks and put themselves out there. He’s incredible and we need many more gems from the lad.

This is a proper masterpiece.

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Jean-Luc Godard. Cheers.

I’ll leave it Roger Ebert to summarise the master: ‘Godard is a director of the very first rank; no other director in the 1960s has had more influence on the development of the feature-length film. Like Joyce in fiction or Beckett in theater, he is a pioneer whose present work is not acceptable to present audiences. But his influence on other directors is gradually creating and educating an audience that will, perhaps in the next generation, be able to look back at his films and see that this is where their cinema began.’

Scorsese brought me here:

Further reading/viewing:

https://variety.com/2022/film/columns/jean-luc-godard-tribute-remembered-breathless-1235371061/

https://loeildelaphotographie.com/en/in-memoriam-jean-luc-godard-1930-2022-dv/

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2022/sep/14/godard-shattered-cinema-martin-scorsese-mike-leigh-abel-ferrara-luca-guadagnino-and-more-pay-tribute

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American Made (2017).

With his natural, unforced charm and (still) boyish looks, it’s easy for many to dismiss Cruise as being of a limited range, a man of few talents but maximising them. It’s a nonsense argument when you scroll through the magnificent works and superlative performances. You can name at least 15 films worthy of repeat viewings, some verified modern classics. I don’t think he’s ever had a bad role, and to lazily use a well-worn idiom, he has aged like a fine wine.

American Made (2017) is rollicking fun, an ’80s throwback which is amusing as Cruise remains an ’80s throwback but he’s an ’80s throwback … throwing back … the present. What I’m trying to get at is: he’s still relevant.

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Tron (1982) is better than almost all movies about computers despite the stinking … special effects.

When I say special effects, I mean that the CGI (is it?) on display is the worst ever but it works to perfection because of how daft it looks. This was the way things were back in 1982; the movie is a remnant of its time more than anything else.

It’s the only movie that doesn’t seem outlandish yet it is. Jeff Bridges being zapped into a computer is somehow credible in this joyously entertaining film. As for the sequel – terrible dialogue, boring cast, but a Daft Punk score for the ages. Bangers!

Ozark – another eventual letdown.

It started so well and the jam they are in certainly has its enthralling moments initially but the series soon ran out of ideas, each successive sticky situation more risible and repetitive. Though the characters remain credible, their incessant switching allegiances started to grind my gears, and so too did Laura Linney’s Lady Macbeth impersonation; probably the most embarrassing I’ve seen, I’ve been more terrified of an unflushed shite in a KFC.

There isn’t really anyone worth caring about, especially as they all get increasingly Walter White. Unlike Breaking Bad, this, aside from a bit of Harris Yulin banter, is bereft of humour of any kind.

The most vexing: the characters’ addiction to addressing one another by name EVERY FUCKING SENTENCE.

“Listen, Marty.”

“I am listening, Wendy.”

“I don’t think you are, Marty.”

No one speaks like this.

Like the later seasons of House of Cards (US), I lost interest in everything so committed the Wikipedia thing.

No regrets.

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Better Call Saul was the best.

Well, that was one magisterial journey. A flawless show, every episode a veritable treat for the eyes and ears. To be just that bit more reflective, it was better than Breaking Bad, though dependent upon it.

Nothing much else to add, really.

Magical.

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The Painted Veil (2006).

The music of Alexandre Desplat can elevate even the most prosaic of scenes but the exposition here would have been just as glorious without his Malick-esque melodies. It’s the cherry on top, though.

I was intrigued from the start, and the movie never faltered in its pacing and performances, the way in which its characters continued to evolve and adapt. The stylistic flourishes, too, were a surprise, as this sort of fare is usually a static camera affair.

Naomi Watts is captivating, and Edward Norton is as far away from an Edward Norton performance as you can get. What a talent he is, as is the seemingly omniscient Diana Rigg.

A lot of these period pieces are a grind, the usual stiff yarns concerning archetypes without agency simply reacting to events. This is different, with characters influencing their calamitous environment, or at least trying to. It also felt like another time and place, not merely an attempt to depict one.

It’s so entertaining, and yet it shouldn’t be.

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Wolf (1994) – where was this buried?

It’s like it never existed, a forgotten flick, a secret wee thing that few know of. But it’s very good.

A standard horror premise mixed with office politics, James Spader chomping on the Yuppie remnants of his late ’80s heyday, and Jack just loving his life. If I think of a black comedy/thriller done well, Wolf (1994) is sinking its fangs into my mind. Jack could do any role and be great; he’s not capable of ever being uninteresting.

And Ross Geller is in this. Jack steals his handcuffs.

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Prey (2022).

This was way better than I expected – the bar is low these days.

It got so good at one point, I was awaiting a Predator and protagonist temporary collaboration against a truculent tribe. But it lost the momentum, as most movies do.

We also have the worst ever acting job (ever) from a bear, and a highly irritating and needless appropriation of a classic line (“If it bleeds ….”).

And a most unsubtle score rip-off from The Last of the Mohicans (1992).

However, the film has its moments for 55 minutes so it gets a 3/5 on my wee scale.

Definitely better than taking a shit.

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