Tag Archives: Cinema

Crowe is unhinged in Unhinged (2020).

This terrible movie is just replete with so many clichés I thought it was a joke – within 10 minutes you get the failed dad who never turns up to his kid’s game because of work (I will never understand how kids think this is a ‘thing’). I think I’ve seen that leitmotif in a thousand motion pictures. And here we go again, the sudden white-collar psycho who has suddenly become unhinged!

This is like Falling Down (1993) but without the social commentary or the complexities of that protagonist who had motivation and a character arc, and who seemed to think he was doing the right thing. This is just a portrait of one-note unbridled rage. It’s a pathetic screenplay, something out of a student movie.

There is, however, a kind of life lesson here: never, ever fume at idiots you don’t know because there are A LOT of unhinged folk out there walking the streets; the Travis Bickles, the potential serial killers, the incels, the nutjobs. They don’t act and react rationally and they are capable of anything because they aren’t bound by anything.

Anyway, Crowe is brilliant in this shitter. It’s like he’s back in his Romper Stomper (1992) days before he hit the jackpot. He’s a legit fat bastard now but I guess he’s earned it. He was once on the verge of a sort of magical, era-defining pantheon of films but after Gladiator (2000) he just opted for the middling scripts and the trivial. He’s almost better as a supporting character these days.

In summary, this movie is pure garbage but desperately wants to be relevant. Which is commendable.

Somebody give Russell something to do. He needs a Brando renaissance moment.

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Chopper (2000) is simply brilliant.

Not much of a heroic individual on display but bloody hell is Eric Bana funny here; it remains to this day his best role by a country mile. The bloke is just nuts, so quotable, and yet it’s allied to a singular style that is up there with Aronofsky or Scorsese. You need a dynamic treatment with material like this.

It is now 20 years since its release. I first saw it on DVD around 2005; it still holds up today. Like the best films, they don’t date because they were made in such a way which precludes this. It’s up on YouTube, by the way.

You’re welcome:

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Filth (2013) – sometimes brilliant, but ultimately disappointing.

This is hilarious at times, black comedy done as it should be. And as an intro to Edinburgh it’s up there with the best of them. The Hamburg scene is off the charts in its accuracy. I’ve been on that messy adventure, believe me. However, I do feel this movie is a bit of a wasted opportunity. There’s not any kind of overarching message that elevates it into something other than a yarn, and the style is painfully nonexistent. One can only imagine what someone like Danny Boyle would have done with the script.

It’s a cracker. But it should be better.

Quality poster, though.

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The Last of the Mohicans (1992). Wow.

This blew my mind it was so good. On a simple action-adventure level it’s pure Mann, the framing and the cutting all signature style. What further distinguishes it are the connotations, though, the other world beyond the landscape. Mann always does this, always a subtext in the works. He makes deceptively uncomplicated yarns, but look closer and you unearth what he’s getting at.

This is pre-Revolutionary War (1775–1783) sparked by a Boston Tea Party. Get your head around that. The ending is magisterial, a literal crescendo of dimensions. The last shot – old America, current America, future America. It conveys more about American history than thousands of movies.

On a personal aside, I once synced the incredible Trevor Jones score to a panning shot of Edinburgh taken on a VHS-C camera from the top of Hillend. It was fucking pathetic but we can’t all be Michael Mann.

Essential cinema.

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Dark Water (2002) flashbacks on Fountainbridge.

Terrifying scenes the other evening. It all came flooding back (no pun intended). This was some movie back in the day. And like most of these Japanese and South Korean horrors from the noughties, it was subject to an inferior American remake.

They need to stop doing this because they are still doing it.

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I aped the Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan album cover on a Saturday afternoon spent creeping about the Meadows.

Bob Dylan. Not my kind of music. I go for the atmospherics and the bangin’ beats; take me back to the Sensation White Amsterdam era of alcopops and Ajax tops.

I have seen the movie Vanilla Sky (2001) 16 times, though. I know every single facet about the feature and WHY it is incredible yet folk still slate it. Some plebs just hate Tom Cruise; I think he is the best. He puts his all into everything and clearly loves his life. He also gets stick for the Scientology thing, as if every other religion isn’t insane.

Anyway, an album cover from something from Bob Dylan features in the film. I have never listened to the album and never will but it’s a belter of a photo. I feel about Bob Dylan as some do Tom Cruise.

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More Alex DeLarge visions.

I like to frequent this little Anthony Burgess habitat at least once a year to remind me of one of the greatest movies ever put on celluloid. When I depart I say to myself, “I was cured alright.”

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Ronin (1998) revisited.

My 2020 massacre of Netflix took in the refreshingly old-fashioned Ronin (1998) the other day. When I say old-fashioned, I refer to the non-CGI (as far as I could deduce) action sequences and car chases, the absence of silly comedy lines or winks to the audience in the dialogue, and the general maturity of proceedings. This is an anti-postmodern movie.

It doesn’t surprise me that the helmsman is John Frankenheimer as it does hark back to his earlier work in the ’60s and ’70s, decidedly ‘masculine affairs’ but which still retained strong female characters (Angela Lansbury, anyone?). Natascha McElhone is the woman calling the shots here, definitely not the damsel in distress among the boys.

And it’s some assemble, particularly Sean Bean who totally convinces as a bullshitter way out of his depth, and Stellan Skarsgård as your buttoned-down ex-Stasi (one presumes) tech expert who just happens to be a complete psycho. De Niro is … De Niro, but De Niro before he became a pratfalling big baby in all those godawful ‘comedies’ from the noughties and beyond.

Rather than simply recommending Ronin for its throwback action and characters, though, there’s a bit more subtextual depth to it, a sense that this is the real world for a lot of folk, independent contractors segueing from job to job, making transient connections but nothing ever more than the odd fleeting bond. It’s a story of existential loneliness and a relatable one.

And regarding the MacGuffin, the perpetually elusive case which drives the narrative. Like Pulp Fiction (1994), we are never privy to the contents. It doesn’t matter.

Further reading:

https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/ronin-1998

https://movie-locations.com/movies/r/Ronin.php

https://www.autoweek.com/car-life/a1707451/ronin-20-years-later-john-frankenheimers-spy-thriller-car-fanatics/

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12 Monkeys (1995) is way better than I remembered.

In the midst of a global pandemic as it grabs peak humanity by the testicles, I sat down to watch 12 Monkeys (1995) again after a decade-long hiatus. And what smashing, thought-provoking, thoroughly enthralling sci-fi it is, a Terry Gilliam movie that isn’t uneven and all over the place, which basically makes it an anomaly. 1995 was kind to movies, and Bruce Willis was at his peak in the year of the Eric Cantona kung-fu kick.

There is a mind-blowing scene in this set on the Western Front during WWI; it is so magnificent that it almost derails the rest of the film. However, the character dynamics and pacing manage to keep it together and build to a stunning denouement, that and the inspired Vertigo (1958) references.

And this is one of the few movies that actually depicts people in ‘mental hospitals’ or ‘institutions’ as actually having meaningful, occasionally profound insights into the peculiarities of the social order.

And seek out its art-farty precursor La Jetée (1962). It’s definitely not shite.

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Miami Vice (2006) is peak Michael Mann.

It may not have the character-driven intricacies (and intensity) of Heat (1995) or The Insider (1999), but this is a technically perfect cops-and-robbers flick, pure genre. It takes itself so seriously; indeed, on this recent viewing I did not detect a single comedic moment or anything even approaching irony.

Once again, Mann displays bizarre music choices; why on earth would anyone use Audioslave/Chris Cornell in a movie? It works here, though, something one can not say for Casino Royale (2006).

It’s all about the transcendental moments. Any other director wouldn’t feature the speedboat scene at all but Mann turns it into the movie’s centrepiece. It’s here that Farrell’s Sonny Crockett illustrates everything Mann thinks a … man should be. I imagine the filmmaker would be ashamed at the sight of a grown man crying.

As visual experiences go, the movie is dynamite, action cinema as art. Mann has a thing for dance sequences; here they supplant the need for dialogue. And it doesn’t matter because they are so … cinematic.

And I’ve never seen the TV show Miami Vice so I have no idea how this movie relates to it. Am I missing anything?

Further reading/viewing:

https://www.empireonline.com/movies/reviews/miami-vice-review/

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