This movie defines fate and foreboding, superstition and subterfuge. It’s ostensibly about two blokes with shady pasts, but segues to a hysterical Puritan sermon on the dangers of drink, with a style which harks back to German Expressionism
It all gets a bit hardcore. You’re on a lighthouse island and with no escape, stranded with two total lunatics, the nominally quiet one and the macho man – and a descent into madness is the only outcome. It’s a gnarly movie.
I was a bit dubious of this because it’s a British production about WWII, which are typically dull, mannered, mawkish, and entirely made-for-TV fare. It saddens me to report that Munich is all of the above and worse. It’s fucking atrocious. I don’t know where the tendency came from to depict these world-historical events from the POVs of superfluous (and entirely made up) secondary characters, but it’s vexing. Maybe just make a movie involving the actual statesmen, nah? This pointless, drama school-level acted show even has its forgettable range of third-wheels hog the screen time.
The screenplay is annoying to the max, every line of dialogue straight out of an alleged quote stemming from an alleged secondary source. One accidental highlight: I was taken aback by a smug-as-fuck SS character who appeared to be doing a very bad impersonation of the August Diehl bad boy from Inglorious Basterds (2009) – he had his voice and mannerisms and looked like him a decade on. It’s a truly embarrassing copycat acting job. And then I realised it was actually him. It’s the only what-the-hell and almost interesting moment of a placid and pointless excursion into revisionism.
Trash. But even cruddier than your usual sort because the topic is important. I’ve read a few reviews and it’s highly regarded, with a whopping 96% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. What are these critics on?
This is Guy Ritchie but Ritchie without most of the silliness, as in it’s silly but less silly than his usual fare. It’s actually quite entertaining, and at least shows some interest in how crime works, its structures and ins and outs. It’s also quite accurate in its depiction of gentry and their stately manors, and the lengths they will go to maintain their country estates. Additionally, there aren’t many Jack the Lads loitering about the frame, a standard Ritchie annoyance.
The movie peters out but it’s a not entirely wasted 90 minutes. There are a few grisly scenes which capture the omniscience today of horrifying YouTube videos luxuriating in street violence, and the movie builds to the extent that you wait for a deus ex machina but unfortunately it never happens, which is kind of irritating because you’re expecting an audacious twist.
Matthew McConaughey is excellent as always, and there are lots of bunnets, a.k.a. flat caps. I like bunnets.
I was never sceptical that Nicolas Cage couldn’t do it, but when you hear ominous rumours swirling about of a movie consisting of Nicolas Cage trying to find his stolen truffle pig, I was a wee bit … concerned. But I shouldn’t have been.
Cage pulls it off with aplomb (of course he would have). He excels at normal-weird, if this makes sense. I define it as weirdness with an explanation. He’s a rather unorthodox actor, to say the least, but even in flicks ripe for garbage disposal, he’s always interesting.
Pig (2021) did surprise me. It wasn’t shit or pretentious or boring. It’s a curious wee arthouse number with Cage at the centre, occasionally losing his shit as Cage does, but ultimately all in service of the character. It’s no masterpiece but feels like it should be.
Shockingly not shit and occasionally great, Villain (2020) isn’t a make-believe gangster movie with fake tough guys à la Guy Ritchie. It feels real. And that’s down to the understated performances and the atmosphere of simmering menace. And the fact it’s actually shot with competence and not edited to within an inch of its life.
Craig Fairbrass has been around for decades and I never thought him a bad actor and he does have a physical presence. But I never knew he had this in him. He’s not his usual direct-to-video/straight-to-streaming lead here; it’s a long-awaited starring role in a proper movie that isn’t balls. The Rise of the Footsoldier movies, and I’ve lost track of how many of them are kicking about now, have their moments of entertaining mindless carnage but enough is enough.
I’ve never seen the Richard Burton film from 1971 and I don’t think it has anything to do with this. I won’t bother myself with it.
He is nuts in this, a total riot, and clearly loving his epic life. Some scenes approach a scale of madness, and it’s almost a parody of a Jack Nicholson role, but not quite. The masterpiece revolves around the whims of this lad, every other character in awe of him. Even if he goes full-Joker, he still manages to imbue Frank Costello with pathos, and dare I say it, tragedy. You can’t picture anyone else in the role, and it’s a tragedy in itself that Scorsese and Nicholson only tangoed for the one motion picture.
Best scene? Jack impersonating a rat. A decent impression.
Is this the only movie ever made about the US invasion of Grenada? I’m not sure but I don’t think any others are warranted.
It’s highly entertaining stuff despite the jingoism when the invasion kicks off. In fact, they should have just ended the movie once Clint sorts out his grunts and turns the shambles of an ensemble into fighting men. I guess audiences craved/crave a shoot-out.
Clint is one hard bastard in this as usual but also funny. And I didn’t know that Mario Van Peebles could act. Perhaps I’ll give New Jack City (1991) a watch. And this wouldn’t be made today with the constant homophobic insults flying around the place. I suppose this was the go-to way to insult someone back then. A product of its time.
This curious movie wouldn’t be made today, with its suicide bombers and hijackers. And Seagal (sort of) headlining a motion picture. The good news is he isn’t in it for long, which kind of adds to the charm. Roger Ebert’s review at the time is hilarious, “I perked right up” his description of Seagal’s death. And when a sleazy J.T. Walsh turns up in a film you just know it’s going to be a ludicrous ’90s riot.
It has the most irritating scene and character title intros ever, this digital text at the bottom of the screen with that gimmicky digital noise. You know what I’m referring to? If not, then watch it. This was an age when shite like this was churned out monthly. Almost every single one of these films contains an identical round table discussion of generals/admirals with the lone voice of reason/geeky interloper in the middle. It’s the Golden Age of shite. Before everyone got so sensitive.
Anyway, it’s a highly entertaining hoot, popcorn nonsense for a lazy Sunday.
This was way ahead of its time, and quite the clever picture. It goes for moments of transcendence rather than thrills, but it mildly feels like a wasted opportunity despite how cerebral it is. You need some thrills to go with the admittedly effective navel-gazing. The casting doesn’t help; can you imagine a proper thesp in the lead, the intensity of a peak Clive Owen?
It’s a very good movie, though, despite the stilted performances. It’s about something. This is a rarity; most of the stuff blasted into cinemas these days – I don’t even know what these movies even purport to be. There’s a glimmer of a theme but in most cases it’s 20-odd topics mashed together by committee.
This has the odd effect of being a film without an obvious style; I can’t remember a single striking shot (SSS), but it somehow works in its favour, anonymity successful.
And Michael Nyman once again proves he’s the best at … Michael … Nymanesque scores.
Edward Norton was the last zeitgeist of the 20th century.
It sounds risible but it isn’t if you look at the body of work – he somehow captured everything, hit every nail. It was most likely by accident; that or he was incredibly good at choosing projects. He’s not really hit those heights since but the talent remains. He just needs a director to take a chance on him.
This is a sometimes horrifying movie and there are moments you almost have to skip. The film is biblical in its capturing of the transitory nature of happiness. These very real characters are stuck there with no escape. But they have a few wee happy moments. A few. It’s a long time since 1998 but not really, in the sense that someone said to me the Berlin Wall has been down longer than it had been up. You couldn’t make a movie these days with Ed Norton emerging from a cathartic shower with a Big Bertha-sized swastika on his chest. Today, this narrative would have the compulsory strong-willed female, a disabled character, obvious life lessons, and a happy ending. Cinema today is essentially and only social politics.
Derek Vinyard is the pre-eminent example of charismatic authority – everything he says at the dinner table is incorrect but he captivates through the intensity of the delivery. Bloody hell, who got Best Actor (when the Oscars were relevant) over this lad?! I think it was that exasperating Italian bloke who thankfully disappeared from cinema after his Academy Award.
And what the fuck was happening with the director calling himself ‘Humpty Dumpty’? My research is limited.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 