How this lad is somehow an ‘actor’ will never cease to beguile me.
Bye for now.
Danny Dyer.
Romeo Must Die (2000).
This turn-of-the-century slice of hip hop-infused kung fu hokum is worth seeing as a curiosity piece, and Aaliyah is so naturally gifted as an actress you do wish this was a stepping stone to more hefty material. It wasn’t meant to be.
The Timbaland-produced ‘Try Again’ is a banger and a half; the music video is amusing, as even in 2000 the lad was incessantly mugging and rolling his eyeballs like Judge Doom in Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988). The lack of self-awareness is nuts. Mate, you look like a plonker.
Speaking of which, the theatrically maladroit Anthony Anderson demonstrates that he was always an infuriating pudding to watch and hear and should not have ever been in front of a camera. He would for some oblique reason rock up in The Departed (2006), and I’d like to think his character’s grisly fate in that film has subtext.
Jet Li is fine but his martial artistry is ruined with cruddy CGI and I cannot fathom why it’s there. A desperation is in the works, like the commercial ramifications of The Matrix (1999) are still being felt and the filmmakers felt the need to ape the aesthetic.
But it’s entertaining enough.
Banger Alert:
The Bonfire of the Vanities (1990).
First viewing after years of hearing the most scathing reviews, and they’re not wrong.
I thought Brian De Palma was meant to engulf daft, badly scripted projects with his patented style; whatever happened, the movie is that of visual neglect, as anonymous as the work of the next hack.
I didn’t get any of it. Was it satire? Was it meant to be funny? Was there an underlying point to anything?
I didn’t believe a moment of the picture and even the title vexed me.
It’s as shite as they say, and Tom Hanks is as awful here as he has been anywhere else.
Rubbish.
Heretic (2024).
Compelling situational horror that wisely draws back from the metaphysical just when you think it’s taking that route. How did this bloke graduate from Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994) to this? Well done, Hugh. Only took you 30 years.
He’s a superficially charming nutjob on a mission. He has a facade about him that is truly creepy, one of those folk who try and act more posh than they are as they feel it is disarming, and he nails the masquerade with the occasional flaws in his accent.
No spoilers here. Watch it just for him.
Nuremberg (2025).
Russell Crowe as Hermann Göring. Now I’ve seen everything.
Carry-On (2024).
This is not a Carry On movie, but it does share the series’ diabolical dialogue, though I doubt that was the intention.
The lead actor looks like the ersatz version of Joseph Gordon-Levitt, which adds curiosity, and Dean Norris is in it. And it sums up creatures in airports; in one exchange at the start of the movie, a character even says something like, “Why do airports always bring out the worst in people.” That is true.
But it all gets way too far-fetched and repetitive for an airport drama to the extent that it got so dull that I wished to just watch Airplane! (1980).
An okay movie, mostly crap, but with a smidgen of good bits.
Nobody 2 (2025).
Lots of fun in this sequel, which ramps up the mayhem in a fairly inventive way.
In this tired, post-Taken (2008) period of the genre, you don’t really expect much beyond heads (among other body parts) being smashed, but it had some depth to it. I was reminded of A History of Violence (2005) in the lad’s inability to escape the ‘sins’ of the past, and that you can’t deny your true nature when confronted with the wrong ‘uns. And the redoubtable John Ortiz features – one of the best character actors out there.
Unfortunately, Sharon Stone was mostly annoying in a limp, unconvincing turn as a demented big momma crime lord, but I suppose that’s the point.
You’re rooting for Saul Goodman to tear her a new one.
The Brutalist (2024). Wow.
This is what it’s all about.
A work of pure cinema with a mastery of style, I felt I was in the presence of Bernardo Bertolucci, Stanley Kubrick, and Martin Scorsese all at once.
Even the opening credits are some of the most enthralling I’ve seen; their arrival is unexpected, their form unorthodox in this monumental drama. It feels like a throwback to a time when a film was an event, but this marries the grandiose with the human element, searing, mind-blowing images sans any spaceships or capes.
The air of dread that simmers in this magnificent work is startling. You’re aware it’s all building to an unfathomable crescendo but can’t look away.
It’s always a privilege to watch a fucking amazing film.
This is one of them, privilege and film.
The International (2009).
An intriguing first scene that takes place in Berlin promised a good thriller; anything featuring Berlin is promising.
Nice font on the opening title, and the once omniscient James Rebhorn is briefly in it. Good job.
It’s so boring, though, and anything germane it had to say about amoral bankers was lost in the relentless, mind-crushing tedium. I was hoping for Jason Bourne meets Interpol. What I got was the urge to jettison The International (2009).
I lasted 46 minutes.
Terence Stamp vs. Peter Fonda, a good 25 years ago.
Terence Stamp as ‘Wilson’ in the sublime crime thriller The Limey (1999), a true gem from the tail-end of a decade littered with far too many guns and crooks.
“You tell him … you tell him I’m coming. Tell him I’m fucking coming!”
His best role, without question.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 