I’d like to think that the truly great François Truffaut would be disgusted with this sneaky snap I took from behind a bus window, a wee ‘Ned’ at the back of the vessel screaming into his mobile the pros of beating a rival thug into a “fuckin’ bin”.
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.
Worth a bash.
For the exposition, I thought this one of the worst performances I’d ever seen. It was like Carlyle watched Richard III – play or any movie – and decided to limp about like Crookback for the duration of a gunpowder plot. And spice it up with a bit of Begbie. His James VI/I is a foul-mouthed little bastard with no grace or manners, an opportunistic cockroach who would murder an OAP for a bag of sugar.
I was thinking this and then I thought: this is 1603+. These creatures chucked one another onto bonfires and ripped their entrails apart. And the same sort would do the same today if they could. And then I got the genius of the performance.
Carlyle is keeping it real.
This is the only place I could find it. It’s very good, and with a young(ish) Michael Fassbender as Guy Fawkes:
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.
He just wants his pig back.
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.
This was magisterial and a joy to watch. It’s not exactly a ‘fun’ movie but it’s captivating in its sincerity and … power. There’s a sense that at any moment something awful could happen, and that’s mostly down to Cumberbatch, who is as unpredictable as he is scary. His Phil Burbank recalls Daniel Plainview in There Will Be Blood (2007), and The Power of the Dog is quite similar to that seminal film in atmosphere and lurid landscape.
Don’t be expecting a knockout punch moment because it’s not that kind of movie, more a series of jabs, each progressively harder.
A strong contender for film of the year.
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.
A strong 3/5.
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.
It is not scary in any way; I’ve found the state of one of my jobbies to me more terrifying. What often puzzles me upon the viewing of atrocious movies is, did they realise they were making utter rubbish or were they under the impression that a masterpiece was in the works? The lunacy of the script aside, the ‘acting’ here is hysterically bad, with Owen Wilson giving perhaps the worst ‘performance’ of 1999. One does, however, feel some sympathy for the lad given that his dialogue is from the bargain bin.
So badly shot and edited, but hilarious in unintended ways, I would recommended this to film students. We could maybe have a module: ‘This is how not to make a movie.’
Just … wow.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 