Big Kahuna Burger
Not only am I late after the Russ Meyer blowout, but I’ve only watched three films this week. I really needed the break. One cinema visit this week, marked with a *. Language may offend.
Death Proof (2007) *
I’m too tired to rehash the whys and wherefores of this film that crept into UK cinemas and out again after two weeks because American audiences are so stupid that they start walking out of Planet Terror (2007) when the credits roll and don’t stick around to see the second feature, which is probably the better film (Planet Terror verdict forthcoming). Duh. Thankfully, what Death Proof has going for it is that rather than being a totally out there breakthrough film, it’s just a cool place to hang out and watch two groups of girls talk and interact before they’re interrupted by some vehicular madness that is some of the best vehicular madness that has ever been filmed by anyone. However even as I’m typing this, I can imagine Tarantino giving an interview in which he talks about the films with far superior car chases he was aiming to emulate but did not succeed. Can you too? The only thing that’s a slight indicator of the beginning of the Tarantino decline (apart from the receding incline of his hairline) is the self-referential phrase that forms this week’s title. It’s really, really not a good idea to be so indulgently quoting yourself 13 years after you made Pulp Fiction (1994). Really, really.
A Good Year (2006)
Would this have been a better film if it had been a Working Title production with Hugh Grant, just like all the reviews said? NO, IT FUCKING WOULDN’T. Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t you hear me at the back? As a man of advancing years, Ridley Scott has been slipping micro productions inbetween his macro films for the last few years before time runs out on him, and this French sorbet, filmed, as Scott says on the audio commentary, all within eight minutes of his own home in Provence, must have come as a welcome change of pace after Kingdom of Heaven (2005). There is a slightness to the project that suits the subject matter perfectly, and people with too ingrained an image of Russell Crowe hacking people to death in the Colosseum only have themselves to blame. Crowe was an actor long before he inadvertently became a movie star, and there are plenty of scenes in this film in which Crowe’s character acts like a total shit that a lesser actor would have had removed from the script before he would even deign to read it. Hugh Grant and his schtick are not welcome here.
Deja Vu (2006)
Meanwhile, brother Tony was busy in New Orleans with this thriller that begins with an explosion (it is a Tony Scott movie, after all), edges into science fiction of the mindbending Twelve Monkeys (1995) kind, and ultimately becomes a unexpected love story. To say more would spoil a treat you know you owe yourself. Meanwhile, brother Tony was busy in New Orleans with this thriller that begins with an explosion (it is a Tony Scott movie, after all), edges into science fiction of the mindbending Twelve Monkeys (1995) kind, and ultimately becomes a unexpected love story. To say more would spoil a treat you know you owe yourself. Wait a minute…