Tag Archives: Movies

Great scenes in otherwise forgettable/bad movies.

Most films are rather terrible, either your average generic copycat picture (sequel, superhero, franchise) or a total disaster zone. A very small elite of films are incredible, and then we have a hefty batch of escapist fare which feature a sublime scene deserving to live within a better movie.

Blade (1998).

Operation Blade (Bass in the Place), a song so synonymous with late ’90s techno it defines it. And that is the essence of the scene. Ropey CGI, Wesley Snipes struggling to make the choreography work, but the 100% chav tune papers over it all. It is a ghastly movie and the sequels likewise. Incredible music, though.

Deep Blue Sea (1999).

This film was dire, but Samuel L. Jackson’s stirring speech interrupted by extreme-close up bite-action was something else, totally unexpected, utilising the Hitchcock technique to perfection. If it happened later on in the movie it would have been wiser, as after this scene of madness there is no point in watching the remainder of it.

The Matrix Reloaded (2003).

An unabashed muddle, a shambolic mess as coherent as The Architect’s monologue. The highway chase, though. That’s what a short movie should be. And that’s what sequels should have been – short snippets.

Hannibal (2001).

I think the first hour of Hannibal (2001) is a mightily classy affair. You’ve got Florence and vistas and art chat and Hannibal running the show. If they kept the movie there it could have approached masterwork status. But they didn’t and it descends into calamity as soon as Italy is discarded. Sad.

 

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Doctor Sleep (2019) isn’t shite and I am almost shocked.

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I never found The Shining (1980) scary on any level. Instead, it remains after about 20 viewings an endless fascination. It’s the meticulousness of it, the banality, the … pointlessness of the whole affair. It isn’t about anything except pure aesthetics, a director exerting his OCD over every painterly composition. There isn’t even a single character in it and perhaps that’s the point.

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Doctor Sleep (2019) does things the right way: it barely has anything to do with Kubrick’s number yet makes subtle allusions to the picture, knowing the audience will understand the references. It also has three-dimensional characters, which I never expected to ever find associated with the Overlook Hotel. A decent movie with nothing specifically annoying going on is a rarity these days. Well done.

More shock: I did not know until this week that the Stanley Hotel in Colorado (location of the Overlook) is also the plush dwelling where the demented Harry and Lloyd stay in Dumb and Dumber (1994), blowing their noses with Mary Swanson’s cash.

Further reading/viewing:

https://www.nme.com/blogs/the-movies-blog/why-does-stephen-king-hate-the-shining-movie-stanley-kubrick-doctor-sleep-2574226

https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-the-shining-1980

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The Right Stuff (1983) – the wrong stuff.

 

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This movie was fucking awful. I’d heard all about it for years but put it on the shelf for a rainy day. It rained and I took the plunge.

Why is it that most ‘space movies’ are dull as dishwater? The subject remains an endless fascination but the movies are mostly pathetic. The filmmakers’ think that ‘getting it all right’ on the physics and equipment equals a masterpiece. They continue to disregard a need for drama, a human conflict that sucks you in and makes you invested in proceedings.

This film is sadly another snore-fest. No one gives a fuck about the scientific dimensions of the story, only the conflict and the feels. We have here a rather ultra-talented array of actors – Scott Glenn, Sam Shepard, Ed Harris, Fred Ward, Dennis Quaid – all looking … bored.

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It’s so uninspired and prosaic, real lazy filmmaking. Imagine Michael Mann made this; you’d have a masterwork on your hands.

Fucking hated this film. Shite.

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The Swarm (1978). So bad it’s good?

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Michael Caine and … killer bees. Yes, the bloke – now a global institution – from Zulu (1964), The Italian Job (1969), Get Carter (1971), Hannah and Her Sisters (1986), and a smorgasbord of Christopher Nolan films in a twilight career resurgence, plays a constantly-shouting macho entomologist (one of a kind) in this thoroughly ridiculous disaster movie from the director of The Poseidon Adventure (1972) and The Towering Inferno (1974). It’s entertaining because it’s shite.

The attraction with garbage like this is that it’s comforting sometimes to see lauded thespians and ‘the elite’ brought down a peg or two; I’m thinking of ‘It’s a Royal Knockout’ as the prime example, though this escapade did not involve sociopath insects … oh, wait a minute.

Anyway, I can’t get my head around how some movies have come into existence, and struggle to picture the pitch made to executives who greenlit the thing – “This is about hyper-aggressive killer bees. We want the cockney bloke from The Ipcress File (1965).” I personally find it a hoot that Caine justified the dross in an interview by declaring the wage he earned bought him a house. Fair enough.

“Will history blame me or the bees?”

What a line.

Further reading/viewing:

https://www.denofgeek.com/movies/the-swarm/27505/10-remarkable-things-about-the-swarm

https://movieweb.com/the-swarm-movie-michael-caine-bees-deficating/

https://worstmoviesevermade.com/best-worst-movies-ever-swarm-1978/

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Lost in Translation (2003) is garbage.

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Saw this in the cinema when I was 16 and thought it was incredible, my generation’s bit of peak Bertolucci or something. It’s been a long hiatus but I caught it again the other day. My god, it’s fucking appalling, an arty-farty piece of silly, trivial gibberish, and unbelievably racist. The characters are one-note, self-obsessed twats, and the picture depicts the Japanese as a mass of hysterical idiots. About 20 minutes in I couldn’t believe what I was watching. It’s concocted anthropology à la Nanook of the North (1922). Never again. Sad!

 

 

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Creed II (2018) is gash.

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A bit disappointed in Creed II (2018). Not that the Rocky movies didn’t regurgitate the same stale stuff (accidental alliteration) over and over and over, but the OTT formula worked for the majority of chapters in the franchise. My personal ranking is: Rocky, Rocky II, Rocky IV, Rocky Balboa, Rocky III, Creed, and the total shitstorm that is Rocky V, a movie that is clearly mentally ill.

Sadly, this new episode is also rubbish. Stallone is basically the same ‘will = win’ verbatim figure as always – every line he spews out is Rocky Balboa (2006) and Creed (2015) put through a Microsoft Word thesaurus – but seems totally out of sync with the the hip hop Kendrick Lamar-soundtracked reboot surroundings. He’s an incredibly boring actor at times, and he sleepwalks through this.

And there’s not enough Drago. There are so many opportunities to develop dimensions in this character, but they are wasted. He remains a one-note villain, a snarling mute who may as well be a brick wall.

However, seeing Brigitte Nielsen look like a pancake chucked in acid was a highlight. Something out of a Brazil (1985) facelift, it’s the only item of curiosity in the snoozefest.

There is no reason for this movie to exist.

Bye for now.

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The 1999 movie vault is something special and scary.

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1999 produced some truly cracking movies, dare I say two-in-one arthouse entertainments. They were from the sunny prism of the Clinton-era dot-com bubble, but laden with doom, premonitions of a darker age, and concerned with the very nature of reality itself –  its comforting distractions of material consumption and conformism. 9/11 changed everything; apathy was suddenly pummeled. The Y2K bug turned out to be fuck all and instead actual shit hit the fan. These movies – American Beauty, Fight Club, and The Matrix – capture that pre-9/11 unease with elan.

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They’re films of their era yet transcend the age because of the superior artistry on display. It’s not exactly fashionable today to laud the acting chops of Kevin Spacey, but he is superior in American Beauty, middle-aged melancholy defined as he squirms his way around suburban hell. The Matrix heralded a new dawn in special effects – bullet time and all that – yet was also one of the first pictures to probe with caution the digital landscape, 20 years before possessing a talking robot called Alexa was considered a normal pursuit.

In Fight Club, peculiarly a flop at the time (the pitfalls of bad marketing, they say) we find an Americana in the throes of an existential meltdown, angst-ridden males looking for something to fight for, a purpose or quest, amidst the dreariness of normalcy. Every generation needs a war.

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Though products of corporations, American Beauty, Fight Club, and The Matrix do not hesitate to bite the proverbial hand that feeds. There is a deep skepticism and paranoia running through them, that of the office as enslavement and deindividuation, the Michel Foucault Panopticon theme quite rampant. There’s also the sanguine at work here, that with mental and physical self-sacrifice and by disconnecting oneself from the cultural hegemony there is light, self-awareness, … happiness.

Further reading:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2015/jul/23/panopticon-digital-surveillance-jeremy-bentham

https://geekswipe.net/art/films/how-matrix-bullet-time-works/

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2000/jan/28/4

https://www.bustle.com/articles/178756-on-fight-clubs-20th-anniversary-author-chuck-palahniuk-talks-about-the-cult-classic-book

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James Bond is ruined.

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The Jason Bourne films coupled with a mighty dose of political correctness defeated the James Bond films. The rot began at the beginning of the noughties with the near-simultaneous release of The Bourne Identity (2002) and Die Another Day (2002). The former was an ascetic, bare-boned spy thriller sans gadgets and one-liners; the last Pierce Brosnan outing was a Roger Moore movie on steroids. And with an invisible car.

Die Another Day, a 40-year anniversary Bond replete with references to previous episodes in the franchise, riled the critics to no end; even today it’s deemed the ‘Worst Bond ever’ etc. The thing is, it’s not that bad. Bond has always been ludicrous, and that’s the appeal. Roger Moore knew this so played to the gallery. He’s impossible to kill and every shady fucker knows who he is the minute he checks into a hotel.

The custodians of Bond looked at this new gritty Bourne phenomenon and had a lightbulb moment. They did away with the special effects and made Bond a well-dressed Matt Damon – humourless, dour, and more boring than Matt Damon, who incidentally isn’t boring. The whole point of Bond is that he’s meant to be impervious to change, an anachronism spanning developments in the cultural landscape. These days he drinks Heineken, is the subject of psychoanalysis sessions at MI6, and proclaims he doesn’t give a damn if his voddy martini is shaken or stirred. And apparently Generation Snowflake think it would be more inviting if Bond were a woman.

I’d also like to add that Skyfall (2012) is an absolute howler of a movie. It’s as exciting as unblocking a toilet. To top this off the third act descends into a minimalist Home Alone (1990) set in the Scottish Highlands. Bond is fucked. Bring back the gadgets.

 

Further reading/viewing:

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/43qp4d/daniel-craig-james-bond-boring

https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-news/spectre-how-the-multiverse-era-killed-james-bond-65346/

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VHS was/is better.

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I was given a VHS player last month and a big batch of videos. I was always a DVD aficionado but realised something about 70 minutes into Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989), this the movie in which Sean Connery plays Harrison Ford’s dad yet is a mere 12 years older than him in real life.

My thought was: I never skip scenes on a movie if it’s VHS because I can’t be fucked pressing the fast-forward button. It creates a whole new appreciative viewing experience, even if the film is pish.

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N.B. The Rock (1996) is a masterpiece. I’m convinced a Michael Bay clone made the picture.

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Phil Collins is in Hook (1991).

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I am fistpumping like Nadal today because I reached the magic 10. That’s 10 folk to whom I’ve now disclosed the crucial trivia that Phil Collins is the cop in Hook (1991). It took me until the age of 28 to realise this. It was a Saul on the road to Damascus moment.

Phil Collins immediately elevates a film a couple of stars.

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