Category Archives: Film

The Whale (2022).

First of all, let’s get the ‘controversy’ out of the way: the director is correct when he says these critics make no sense. How many actors could fit the comeback story of Brendan Fraser in this? How many obese actors are out there? Haven’t fat suits been around for a long time? More importantly, what is the big overall deal? There isn’t one, just something for folk to moan about.

Anyway, it’s not a brilliant film but it’s worth watching. The performances are fine, and Fraser does a rather sublime job at eliciting sympathy without mugging it. And it doesn’t feel like a marathon experience despite the entire story being set within the confines of a house, the shots mostly of Fraser. It reminded me of Tom Hardy in Locke (2013), a sort of less indulgent and more engaging companion piece. Maybe the latter was more captivating for I viewed it melted on a rickety plane dancing over Siberia.

I must confess that I have expected more in recent times from Aronofsky, but I suppose his mega-impressive triple bill of Pi (1998), Requiem for a Dream (2000), and The Fountain (2006) are his stylistically expansive works; he appears to have withdrawn into the interior these days. The shackles are back on.

Decent movie, though. It shows what is possible with a minuscule budget and a whale.

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Escape to Victory (1981).

How does this even exist? The cast is something out of a piss-up, a charades gone wrong. Sly, Bobby Moore, Michael Caine, Ossie Ardiles, Pelé, Max von Sydow. Erm, what? And to boot it’s made by John Huston.

Less interesting is the movie, a run-of-the-mill affair, the footy action shot with all the imagination of your random YouTuber.

But it still fascinates merely by its existence. And that’s why it hasn’t been destroyed. It’s a testament, a relic, if you will.

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The Stranger (2022).

An expertly put together drip-feed narrative and an atmosphere from the world of peak Michael Mann keeps this enthralling to the very end, the gloom and the whispers working where most movies flounder. It demands patience and it is rewarded. A film that respects the concentration span of its audience is something to be revered these days. That, and the captivating performances. Can Joel Edgerton ever supply us with a bad one?

And what is it with Sean Harris? He is your go-to actor if one requires a creep, a bad boy, or just your general weirdo. Would love to see him in a whimsical romantic comedy.

Get this seen.

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The Pledge (2001).

Saw this years ago, a pal lending me it on an ex-rental VHS. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but viewing today, seeing it within the prism of the Indian summer of Jack’s film career, it’s given extra significance, the decade-long swansong exhibiting his craft and cementing his legacy.

The movie sets a grim and melancholic tone straight away, a scene of Jack on his retirement day looking forlornly out of his office window at a bloke on a zimmer, the room adorned with photographs of him in his heyday.

The film carries an air of convincing menace, the isolation of the milieu matching that of the character, the bloke always correct in his hunches but clearly losing his marbles. It’s not exactly an uplifting experience, but if you fancy dwelling in depression for two hours, this is the one for you.

Great.

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Brussels by Night (1983).

I am most familiar with Brussels by night – a vignette from real life that was the glorious Eurotrip of 2010. Belgium was my Waterloo (1815), hell but like a dreamland in retrospect. I’ll never go back. No point.

This was most interesting as a documentation of a time and place as well as for its drama and peculiar narrative style

The protagonist has quite the rugged and haggard face, unusual for a film, aye. He isn’t likeable but you still keep engaged.

The seemingly random progression of scenes and their emphasis on the mundane – everyday tasks which accompany our hissy fits – do a proper job of drawing you in to this wholly unpredictable and almost peak Godardian semi-banger.

It reminded me of Last Tango in Paris (1972) a bit, but without the psychobabble and the creepiness.

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The Courier (2020).

The pull of this being a true story is enough for one to recommend it, but it does have more than that, capturing the fear and suspicion of the time in impressive ways, the claustrophobia seeping from every room. The casting and performances also elevated it above your standard spy fare. The premise appeared ripe for the pedestrian BBC-style treatment, but it was a surprise to see a riskier exercise in the spycraft genre.

The actor Merab Ninidze who plays Oleg Penkovsky. He needs to be in more movies. He’s simply excellent here.

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The Guest (2014) is a phenomenal homage to cool.

It’s silly and ludicrous and daft and nonsensical but it works because of the music cues and the overarching unapologetic style of it all which screams ‘This is the 1980s’.

But it isn’t. We can, however, pretend otherwise.

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Love, Death & Robots.

Sonnie’s Edge from season one of Love, Death & Robots, a truly spellbinding visual feast. This was something else. And I don’t just mean the Glaswegian ring announcer. Animation done right.

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Limitless (2011).

The concept is a bit better than the end product but still, this is a movie deserved of revisiting from time to time, despite the inevitable thriller elements that take over towards the denouement. It’s an intriguing premise, what you can achieve when you reduce thinking to its salient elements and get rid of the background noise.

It excels in its exposition and depiction of the cutthroat financial arena as a den of thieves with half of them on some variation of the gear (NZT-48). I hear it got adapted into a TV spin-off that was cancelled after a season, which sounds about right. There’s only so much you can squeeze out of the story.

But De Niro is a gift in this. He always is. 

“Don’t make me your competition.” 

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Volcano (1997) isn’t exactly volcanic.

Volcano (1997) has it all – highly convenient money shots, ludicrous dialogue, every character intro cliché in the book, and the usual late ’90s anything-goes-because-logic-doesn’t-matter action. 

The effects are sometimes great, sometimes shite, and usually just ordinary. Anne Heche is in this and looks like she was made to by her agent. Tommy Lee Jones looks bored off his tits in another one of those “It paid the bills and got me a yacht” performances. And an armoured division of fire engines defeat lava. 

Better than Dante’s Peak (1997), though. 

Testament to a looney age.  

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