It wasn’t memorable.
Nothing else to report.
Bye for now.
The Killer (2023).
It wasn’t memorable.
Nothing else to report.
Bye for now.
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It wasn’t memorable.
Nothing else to report.
Bye for now.
Get Gotti (Netflix).
More valuable than most with its refreshing insight into procedural techniques, and it doesn’t delve much into the cultural appeal of Gotti at the time of his Al Capone status; why bother to dissect the masses’ tendency to elevate cunts into heroes? This creative decision was a relief (we could be here all fucking day).
I liked it mainly because the makers have clearly fashioned the music, the titles, the cinematography … the whole works on Drive (2011). That’s funny. I can picture the production team sitting down to watch the Gosling (birthing into ‘Gosling’) picture and concluding, “Our three-part series shall be Drive with a voice-over.”
Which it is.
Mortal Kombat (2021).
The brawls were okay but this was mostly a bore. The original video game spin-off from 1995 is cheesy hokum but it’s at least memorable. The characters in that pile of dirge hardly have dimensions but their one-liners make them stand out. That and you’ve got the techno soundtrack.
This was dull. And full of needless swearing which quickly tires.
Stick to the ’90s.
Napoleon (2023). Please be good. Please don’t be shite.
When Ridley gets it right, he gets it very right. I want to see a belter, something magical and magisterial. My hopes and prayers are with all involved.
Leprechaun (1993).
Warwick Davis and a pre-Friends (one would hope) Jennifer Aniston in a movie called Leprechaun which is incidentally about a leprechaun on a murderous rampage. I can’t believe at times that these flicks exist and haven’t been erased from history, but here we are. Today, in our distorted, feverish universe of … wokeness, you wouldn’t have a midget playing a leprechaun. There would be uproar, short and tall people picketing screenings because a midget is playing a midget with bad tendencies. But then you’d get the same if the leprechaun would be CGI. “Midgets deserve work.”
Anyway, it’s rubbish. It is, after all, about a leprechaun on the loose.
Page Eight (2011).
Nice wee proper slow-burning spy thriller here, with a magnificently creepy Ralph Fiennes cameo as the slippery PM trying to bury the dirt. It’s a movie of subtleties and you really need to pay attention to what the characters say, how they say it, and what they omit which you think they would say. Finely acted, tightly plotted, no irritating characters, well shot.
Worth a watch.
Devil in a Blue Dress (1995).
Despite my deep admiration for Denzel’s acting gifts, this movie is of little note, and I lost all interest with the central murder or anything that anyone was taking about. There’s not even a good thing about this; it is merely a copycat of Chinatown (1974).
It made no sense. The protagonist is in mortal danger yet keeps rocking back to the danger zone that is his house. Characters bubble away about how awful they have all been, but only when there’s a gun to their heads. Three goon cops – one of them Tom Sizemore – keep arriving with the same roughhouse antics over and over.
It was all just a pain to watch despite the perfectly fine performances. If it were even shot well I’d recommend it for something – but nah. Boring, boring, boring, more boring.
A boring film.
This lad Joe Queenan ‘gets’ Scorsese.
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‘Scorsese understands that moviegoers are essentially tourists: they want to get a glimpse of depravity but then retreat to the safety of their own humdrum lives. It’s not that Scorsese approves of the toxic masculinity that permeates his films. It’s just that toxic masculinity is a cornerstone of American life – and the public are fascinated by bad behaviour.’
Well ….
Moyenne Island – is this real life?
Nothing to add to any of the following articles, so you’re better off just reading them:
North by Northwest (1959).
The weird behaviour of the extras and background actors in this is hilarious to watch, as is the entire movie. Cary Grant’s accent makes no sense, nor does the film. The rear projection is so bad that it can only be a Hitchcock joke. As entertainment, I enjoyed every moment of it, because it’s self-aware and self-deprecating, and most unpredictable.
I think the career of Hitch was just a case of him taking the piss out of people whilst brushing up on his film aesthetics. And that’s fine with me.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 