Category Archives: Crime

Shaft (2000).

Bit of a trivial non-story this one but what else do you expect from a rejig of a silly caper?

It starts off all kitsch and almost in awe of its prototype, but it gets much better once the police corruption is exposed; it ended up delivering more than I expected.

Christian Bale is a Very Bad Bale, just a slimy, smug yuppie, and as shameless as it gets, but he somehow imbues the scumbag with vulnerabilities; it’s just before his Full-Bateman turn before he went Full-Batman. But the big kudos go to Jeffrey Wright’s wannabe socially protean drug baron. He’s a ludicrous Tony Montana imitation. And extremely funny. 

The small pleasures from these movies mostly consist of spotting the actor. We’ve got George Costanza’s boss from Seinfeld, Dan Hedaya (the bloke who is in everything), and both Kima Greggs and that annoying prat Bubbles from The Wire. And the mom from The Sixth Sense (1999).

Good theme tune. 

It’s not bad. 

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In the Shadow of the Moon (2019).

This was just plain annoying, featuring a very annoying protagonist with a very annoying voice. I realised it’s one of the blokes from Narcos and the reason I stopped watching that show. Michael C. Hall is also in this and he also has an annoying voice. We also have Bokeem Woodbine, who possesses the softest, suavest voice, but he’s not in it enough for the movie to be decent.

I lost interest in it all after half an hour and doubt I’ve missed anything worth writing about. It’s just an array of annoying voices.

Next.

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Waco: American Apocalypse.

Another week, another slice of Netflix mayhem, this series says a lot about the power of cults and how disturbed, megalomaniac manipulators make it to the top in these organisations.

A docu of a pre-digital age, the vintage nature of analogue broadcasting and videotape puts it in another century, which it is, but it’s no less contentious because of it. By default, one of its major concerns is the news media’s obsession with and reaction to havoc, co-dependent symbiotic twins. The Second Amendment is surprisingly given little focus, nor is just how this fits into any broader narrative of Carnage Americana.

Decent enough as a basic history lesson.

Waco, more like WACKOS (plural).

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Hannibal – blimey.

I think I’d wander into the spurious were I to declare Hannibal the best TV show ever made, but for its sheer entertaining unpredictability, the majesty of its visuals, and the simply captivating Mads Mikkelsen, it’s up there and not quite such a ludicrous statement.

In many a show I have moaned like a wee bitch about constant switching allegiances and a deus ex machina chucked in the mix every other episode, but with Hannibal it’s like this from the off so never feels desperate. You’re living in a world of absolute loons here and it’s a perverse pleasure to be exposed to the nether regions of the human experience.

It’s as flawlessly engrossing as anything I can think of in recent years, and even the dialogue exchanges are cutting edge; I found myself googling just exactly what the fuck the characters are alluding to in their psychobabble exchanges, but it’s never pretentious in the way they do it. The show defines world-building.

What a treat.

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Ripley’s Game (2002).

This is the John Malkovich Show.

He is so perfect as Ripley, camp and creepy and always funny, you almost wish he could de-age a wee bit in 1999 and play the eponymous nutjob in The Talented Mr Ripley, which is a belter in its own right.

This film is just great, a thriller which is amusing, and a proper character piece. It’s about how little innocuous things lead to grand dramas, and how petty acts have far-reaching consequences. And how Ray Winstone really should not have an earring.

A riot of a movie.

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Red Sparrow (2018).

Riotously entertaining if totally ludicrous and unnecessarily graphic in its violence and shagging. This is preoccupied with sleazy old men and delectable items of the flesh plucked to seduce them. It’s awkward to watch and I suppose that’s the point of the honey trap premise, which is apparently a widely-practised tactic by intelligence services.

There is nothing complicated here and it doesn’t really matter what city the characters are in. I don’t think I can recall a spy thriller with such a nonchalance as to its locations, which are without distinction.

But whatever, it’s just high trash with a cast who seem to know what it is.

Enjoyable hokum. 

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Bugsy (1991).

Warren Beatty was/is a movie star powerhouse, combining glamour looks and supreme acting talent, a 2 in 1. His notorious obsession with control over projects is confusing here, as he didn’t direct this. Anyway, he is magnetic as always, charming and unnerving and frequently hilarious. From his tantrums to his child-like enthusiasm and naïveté, he is totally credible. I suppose that’s acting.

An impressive movie if not quite great, its best attributes are the pacing and the fact it trusts its audience. There are none of the usual biopic pitfalls of the lengthy exposition which explains everything, and the schematic insertion of historical facts for the audience.

A glossy borderline melodrama which does it just the right way. Worth a watch for Beatty.

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That poster.

Whiplash (2014) is a cracking movie, eh. I would say … draining. It promotes a bit of an American Dream fallacy, though, namely that hard work = success. Nonsense. I could work like a sheep dog for 19 hours a day for seven years trying to fathom how the Tim Robbins character managed to escape Shawshank State Penitentiary yet perfectly place the poster (from the assembly point of the tunnel he dug) back on the cell wall … and still have no answers.

It makes no sense.

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Red Dragon (2002). Shame.

This was pathetic from the very first second, the opening a superhero movie-style newspaper headlines montage to make up for the lack of a well-written exposition.

It’s so dull, the script going like this:

Character one: “Something is happening.”

Character two: “What is happening?”

Character one proceeds to explain what is happening and then reeling off a line with a time and date of an event in order to segue to the next scene.

What else? No one in it appears to be affected by anything that happens to them in a case of ordinarily excellent actors phoning it in. It is so badly edited, cut to the max in desperation yet still dull. Framing is without purpose. Music is better suited to a two-hour sequence shot of a pigeon napping. This movie is an abomination. 

Watch Manhunter (1986) instead.

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A Perfect Murder (1998).

I must confess, I loved this.

It is unabashed glossy trash of the highest order, with Douglas at his peak of sleaze. It’s how I image Gordon Gekko would be in his private affairs. I didn’t care much for the machinations of the plot, but merely for the level of smug on display, though David Suchet’s detective seems to think it’s an actual Cannes-worthy art piece he’s in.

I’ve never seen the Hitchcock one. A new quest.

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