I thought this would be total crap, a patronising ‘message movie’.
But it was fine. It held interest and serves as a gateway to a historical time and place that continues to be contentious. The main actor passed away recently, which is a shame as he was tremendously good in this. It’s nothing special but as a genre piece it’s a decent watch.
Bogart’s Sam Spade is fascinating to watch. His business partner is murdered and he doesn’t seem particularly bothered by this loss, but his jaded schtick runs the full gamut, distorts itself, the lad by the end a kaleidoscope of emotions (some real, some not so) in this riot of a film noir. I’ve never been so engrossed by the pursuit of an ornament. There is a grand metaphor in there somewhere.
Pristine deep-focus cinematography, mainly of conversations between shady characters in rooms cocooned by Venetian blinds, the occasional appearance of a pistol, typifies this period of noir. But this is as riveting as it gets. You remain captivated as you’re constantly trying to interpret what a person really wants and what their words actually reveal about themselves – you become a detective, deciphering signs, actively reading language.
This is a deserved classic. You cannot take your eyes off Bogart as he’s so unusual in look and delivery.
And Peter Lorre’s deranged eyes were born for celluloid.
Not to to be confused with Dragnet (1987), just in case you are like me and somehow conflate Sandra Bullock into Tom Hanks and Dan Aykroyd, this is all about that newly crowned girl next door (Ms. Bullock) in her post bomb-on-a-bus pomp showing us all manner of technological wonders in this hackneyed cyber thriller.
A promising premise – the dangers of our dependence on computer systems – that goes nowhere in particular, you know you’re in for a hard time when the opening scene features Sandra Bullock as a shy loner ordering pizza off the Internet for only herself, as an Annie Lennox remix of ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’ accompanies a panning shot of her apartment.
There is a lot wrong with all of that, but the main part is that it’s 1995 and Sandra Bullock is on her own, ordering pizza from a computer that we used in primary school to play solitaire on. Yeah, right! This movie also features one of the worst chase scenes in a thriller ever, and this at a funfair of all places – an insult to funfairs because the fun was non-existent.
You’re best viewing this as a movie about 1995 and how stupid we all were. I’m certain that future generations will look upon us with such smug glee.
For sheer entertainment alone this is a 5/5 but it’s suffused with added value because of its influence on its 007 progeny. More so than Dr. No (1962), this is the prototypical Bond, all the ingredients coalescing but not at the expense of plot or pacing. It’s a Bond 101, and few subsequent entries have been up to scratch.
Stunning vistas, flawlessly executed set pieces, it’s at its core a glorious spy thriller with intentional, which always helps when the jokes are not by accident, comedic elements that aren’t too outlandish. Even a scene as basic as Bond checking into a hotel and casually scouring the room for listening devices somehow dazzles.
And Lotte Lenya whacks Robert Shaw in the stomach with a knuckleduster.
The landscape offers a lot to work with, ripe vistas aplenty, but there’s no enduring image from the cinematography side of things.
I was expecting tension and chills; this was mainly boring and unimaginative. Nothing seemed to be at stake despite all the bloodshed, and the lack of any dynamic between the driver and the demented hitchhiker is a letdown. I couldn’t locate a personality in anyone here in what in essence is a variation of the same violent road encounter occurring every 10 minutes.
The laziness of writing pisses me off, be this in a slimy thriller like we have here or a mega bucks operation. It’s not difficult to insert a few character traits and attempt to build depth but nah, apparently it’s too much of a Herculean task.
Rutger Hauer could be a scary man, though. And what happened to C. Thomas Howell?
This was a low-key semi-thriller, a slow-burning affair that worked perfectly for a bit. For an entire 80 minutes, it was genuinely unpredictable and with a fleeting romance that convinced. Then it got boring and I was bored.
Last 20 minutes were hard work. I wish I turned it off.
Next.
It’s Jaime Lannister with outrageous moustache in a leading role, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau a world away from Westeros in this brutal crime drama.
I do like a gritty thriller with a bare-bones clinical style, no faffing around. The opening voice-over is nauseating and sounds like it was written by Rocky Balboa during his … Rocky Balboa (2006) phase. But after this misstep, it got bloody good.
It shows you that anyone can end up in the slammer given unfortunate curve balls. A hellish urban landscape follows the frightful prison experience, the reality that you’re in it for life. The odds are stacked so high against this lad you just pray he makes it out alive.
It’s got its cliches aplenty but it doesn’t matter as it’s damn well put together. And the music had a bit of Nick Cave & Warren Ellis about it.
Superb movie, proper carnage.
This movie is the Al Lettieri Show – the Sollozzo fella who was good with a knife. He dwarfs everyone else, and makes a bit of a mockery of them. A star vehicle that goes nowhere, with the worst actress you’ll ever see. I watched Love Story (1970) once and wished to string myself up.
The constant zoom shots and unnecessary cuts to insignificant items was breathtakingly amateurish. Pekinpah had no idea where to plonk his camera and no conception on how to even focus on a narrative connectivity between shots; accidentally crossing the line was his only defining characteristic. The most overrated director. The sound design is also horrible and the music is intrusive and contributes nothing.
The remake is somehow better. And that’s also a pile of shite.
Brian Blessed sans the beard and his general all-round formulaic Brian Blessedness was at least a shock. We also have shite costumes and dodgy wigs chucked into this insipid, very British mix/mess.
It’s essential history and for the time, I assume, it was event television. But bloody hell it isn’t half fucking boring. I couldn’t get beyond the embarrassing plastic sets and that did it for me. Did they shoot this in a prison? I had to pull the plug for I couldn’t suspend my disbelief.
The likes of Lars von Trier needn’t bother with an art department because that’s his obvious (oh so provocative!) intention; here, the skullduggery had the appearance of a school play.
I’m sure it’s captivating but no thanks, I have a toga from a fancy dress shop I need to attend to.
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It’s a promising premise that gradually feels like it’s segueing into gritty Euro thriller territory, a mature version of Taken (2008), but sadly doesn’t. We have a barely interesting character study by the end and the decisions the lad makes don’t appear logical (or believable).
I almost wished it to descend into mindless bone-crunching mayhem. Just for the ‘lolz’.
It was not meant to be.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 