Tag Archives: Crime

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.

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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. 

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Bull (2021).

This was just your usual shite and defines what’s so crap about British cinema.

I hated every minute of it, from the moment the director films a moving car in the most irritating way. The writing was frankly ghastly, and I despise, again with the vehicle stuff, scenes of characters looking all serious in cars at night with classical music inevitably playing on the radio. It’s the worst kind of writing. It was all pathetic. There’s even a bit in here involving parents arguing about murder as they are gobbling down fish and chips. TV-quality acting as always; these folk should just stick to Corrie Street.

Another disgrace to cinema this. But check it out if you want some torture.

Next.

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Hoffa (1992).

Without the performance, this movie would be nothing. It kind of still is a nothing motion picture, but for an intro to Jack, it works as just that. A tedious affair with so much unnecessary fictionalisation – like, what’s the point if it’s a biopic? – needs a bit more going for it than acting showcase material. As for the lad Hoffa, is he really as interesting as the surfeit of films suggest? Not really.

What’s the term, intimate portrait of an empty vessel?

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Dragged Across Concrete (2018).

What rubbish this was!

The lines weren’t delivered with any conviction at all. It’s just the writer/director shoehorning his own real-life monologues into every scene. The movie is essentially a rant. 

Nice bit of attempted world building but it’s all superfluous. And lots of stoic, emotionless men sighing. Over and over and over. 

Worst movie I’ve seen in quite some time. 

Watch it if you enjoy shite.

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Ah, the majesty that is Pine Barrens.

The funniest episode of any show ever. It’s not just the quotes but the brilliance of the situation. Big-shot mafia goons go a few miles outside of their comfort zone and they don’t know what to do. 

They get lost and almost die in a two-mile stretch of woods. Useless/hopeless/pointless individuals. That’s the genius of the writing.

Imagine them on an Ant Middleton show.

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Madoff: The Monster of Wall Street.

A surprise.

If you wish to see a labyrinth of corporate greed which the financial lay person (me being one of them) can almost understand, then this is one limited series for you. 

It’s an addiction. And this is in spite of the cringe slow-motion visuals every other minute of a Madoff doppelgänger circling his office with the same rictus grin, a “financial serial killer” in his element.

As a history lesson, it’s impeccable, and none of the willing participants are let off lightly.

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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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