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.
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.
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.”
This movie had so much potential; during its production I was sincerely anticipating the greatest motion picture event … ever. Upon first viewing I desperately wanted to love it but couldn’t help but make a mental note of everything about the shitter which vexed me. There was something seriously wrong with this movie.
It is pointlessly and relentlessly weird, depicting 1860s New York as something out of a comic book. I’m sure the experience of living in what was by all accounts a cesspit approximating a cartoon strip at times, but it simply can’t have been as baroque as the ludicrous fancy dress show on display in GONY.
The movie has this irritating tendency for revelling in micro details about stuff that has zilch to do with the overall narrative, as if it’s half history lesson and half entertainment. I see no reason for the Manhattan draft riots to be treated with such gravity. This is the only Scorsese film in which he appears overwhelmed by the material, which I find completely baffling as it’s about New York, crime, and religion, his cinema oeuvre.
Weirdly (again), it is bereft of energy. It feels like a painful Baz Luhrmann film, the cinematography and editing just jarring – insert bonkers Speedy Gonzales shot here, a rapid cut there. Even the voice-over is draining. And it ends with a U2 song and a shot of the Twin Towers. Is this MTV?
And why even insert Cameron Diaz in this? Her ‘accent’ (or whatever) is diabolical, as is Leo’s. The latter appears way out of his depth, evidently awed by the full-method Daniel Day-Lewis. I must also confess that I think it’s the great Day-Lewis’ worst ever performance. He’s just comedy, nothing else; I can’t take him seriously any time he gets … serious.
Sadly, I keep giving the film a chance every few years. The only parellel I can think of is when you open the fridge expecting a different result from when you opened it 30 minutes prior.
Shite.
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
That is, the 2012 version and not the mess from 1995 that always popped up on Channel 5 in the late ’90s. I was going to maintain that a movie featuring both Sylvester Stallone and Rob Schneider is a recipe for sci-fi disaster, but then Demolition Man (1993) was a decent film, probably because the intolerable Schneider barely speaks in it.
The 1995 one is pure cheese, but blue cheese. You can see the extent of Stallone’s ego during this time, his performance one of simple vanity. The film is Sly’s hero worship vehicle for … himself. And it’s so badly made, your bog-standard video game aesthetic.
Anyway, that was then, and this is the era of the pandemic and the search for cinematic treats; it’s more accurately been a period spent revisiting lost treasures. Dredd (2012) seemed to go under the radar and I can’t even remember it being released. My first encounter with the Judge’s reboot was in a Bangkok hotel room after a grand night of hammering Samsong Thai rum with a pal who broke 9/11 to me (true story).
This movie is cracking, and aye, he never does once take his helmet off, which I find baffling. I know the bloke isn’t a massive star but he’s certainly a widely respected and recognised thespian. It’s violence done right – it matters, has a visceral role in law enforcement, and is mandatory in certain circumstances. It’s so rare to find a comic book adaptation which portrays violence for what it is in all its explicitness.
One of the many reasons I cannot stand these Marvel movies is the sheer cheek of them; it is nonstop carnage but designed for kids. The audience rarely sees the graphic consequences of bludgeoning someone to fuck with a massive hammer. The cannon of silly films in essence trivialise their own existence.
Back to Dredd. It’s strikingly shot and choreographed, and the dystopian future on display seems reasonable as it merely amplifies the ghetto milieu of some present inner cities. It is also rather funny, most of the humour stemming from Dredd’s apparent complete nonchalance as to the dangers around him.
Get it seen.
Further reading:
https://www.ign.com/articles/2012/07/12/dredd-review
The first trailer was released the other day for the latest adaptation of the Frank Herbert classic (1965). As promising as it looks, one is wary. Has there ever been ripe source material so consistently ruined by the moving image? Aside from a few pedestrian made-for-TV films, we have the rotten behemoth, the stupor-inspiring megaflop that is Dune (1984).
Even as a child I hated it and could articulate why it was so terrible. It was like a lesson in how to make a movie boring. The screenplay is all over the place, extended scenes existing for no apparent reason, characters possessing zero capacity for thought, all washed down with ropey special effects, hammy acting, and just a general … stylistic weirdness completely out of sync with the bare bones of the story.
David Lynch, with all his auteur talents, is not a director one associates with epic spectacle and character development mirroring the vistas. He cannot help himself here, insisting on going full-Lynch. God knows why he was handpicked for this, or why he accepted the mission. And what was Sting doing there?
I convinced myself that I could not wait to watch it again for fear is the mind-killer ….
It was pathetic. I fucking hated this stinker, then and now. Everything about it is vile. It’s like Nick Cotton every time he returned to Albert Square.
This crime against humanity needs tortured.
Further reading/viewing:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/jul/03/dune-50-years-on-science-fiction-novel-world
https://screenrant.com/dune-2020-trailer-movie-1984-differences-explained/
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.
Based on the 1996 Mount Everest disaster, this is your generic retelling fare. I hated this movie, utterly hated it. The picture comprised an array of rather irritating archetypes feeling very sorry for themselves because they experience the harsh elements on the highest mountain on the planet. There is no drama to proceedings at all because they are barely characters and get what is coming to them. Like, what did you expect? It’s Mount Everest, not an indoor climbing centre.
What the fuck even is a ‘guided climb’? I do not understand why it is even legal. There is a quote from the only semi-interesting ‘character’ in the movie (the redoubtable Jake Gyllenhaal) which is something like, “If you need help getting up the thing you should not even be here. “
I like the sound of that and it is a rather universal statement which applies to any endeavour. The movie looks nice – well shot and framed. It’s just pointless, a fawning ode to stupidity.
Avoid.
Further reading:
Another memorable number from the 1993 movie vault, which I often posit the ‘best year ever for movies’: Mrs. Doubtfire, Schindler’s List, The Fugitive, Jurassic Park, Tombstone, Falling Down. Am I wrong? Have I missed anything?
It’s in all honesty not much of an action movie, the scenes terribly staged and edited, another case of the viewer not having a clue what is going on. It’s as unimaginative as it gets, ADHD Eisenstein. However, as satire and social commentary it is terrifyingly on the ball about today’s nightmarish cultural landscape. It actually predicted 2020.
It nails the all-out assault on language, the SJW proscription against alternate viewpoints, the restriction of real individualism in the quest for Utopia. Who knew that offending someone could be a crime? Well, it sadly is these days. Because they (the crusading creatures) have been allowed to get away with this.
The only thing this movie gets wrong is the method of wiping one’s arse. Britons will be doing it ‘Old Skool’ until the next extinction-level event.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 