Nobody Knows Anything

Just one cinema release, marked with a *. Roll on, Hellboy 2, I’ll be able to see it on DVD from America sooner than it appears in UK cinemas.

Out of Time (2003)

There’s a second (or maybe it’s the third) tier of American film directors who can be relied upon to helm solid character pieces or decent genre work, the kind of films that are too good not to release in theatres, but a long way from being straight to DVD fodder. Discovering these directors is a little more tricky than being, say, a Tim Burton film, since the nature and scale of their productions means the promotional budget gets scaled down appropriately (worst case scenario: there is no marketing budget). Carl Franklin is one of those directors, and Out of Time is eminently solid genre fare with one absolute standout fight sequence that starts in a hotel room that really caught my attention (as it will catch yours, should you catch this film). Carl Franklin is not going to let you down if you want to see a real movie like they used to make them. And he’s not alone.

The Prestige (2006)

I want to see this again. Immediately. Even after it told me I was going to be sideswiped going in (the film is about magic and magicians after all), it still caught me out with the kind of twist that only seems obvious in retrospect. Almost casually thrown away between the two batbusters, this is Christopher Nolan reminding everyone that he’s the same director who made Memento (2000), and his mastery of non-linear storytelling that retains its clarity remains intact.

The X-Files: I Want to Believe (2008) *

Hmm, yes, it was a bit of a let-down after the build-up, and it was more like a good TV episode than something that demanded to be told as a movie. Duchovny and especially Gillian Anderson remain very watchable, but Chris Carter et al really don’t seem to have quite worked out the climax of the A-plot and seemed at times rather more interested in the subplots of the narrative than the main event. The one thing the original X-Files movie had which this one doesn’t was size and ambition. And the final Easter egg for the fans in the credits may tell you that the filmmakers know this as well.

Planet Terror (2007)

Well, it took a year but I’ve finally had my Grindhouse (2007) experience (sort of). Although we know why Rodriguez and Tarantino did this (actually to deliver on the promise of grindhouse trailers instead of shortchanging the audience in true exploitation style), I remain ambivalent about the end results. There’s something very misguided about spending an awful lot of money to reproduce (sort of) the effects that were achieved back in the 1970s with chump change and a lot of audience goodwill (and sometimes not even that - some grindhouse films are so ineffably awful that even Tarantino can’t bring himself to champion them - maybe). The most celebrated moment in Planet Terror is the missing reel jump in which all sorts of mayhem happens. Oh, and Machete: there were times I was thinking I’d much rather have watched that movie.

Death Proof (2007)

There’s an awful lot of talk, then a really good stunt, then there’s an awful lot of talk, and a really good chase. And someone somewhere should start an online petition to remind Tarantino that he really isn’t a very good actor, and his cameos should be smaller rather than larger. Anyone for the 6th film from Quentin Tarantino? Me, I’m waiting for his 8 and a half.

No cinema visits this week.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)

One of the secrets of modern fiction is the 20 novel series about HMS Surprise written by Patrick O’Brian. This film encouraged me to pick up the first in the series, and it was, rather unfortunately, so good that I’ve resigned myself to reading the other 19. They’re on the list. This is the kind of movie that digital effects were intended for, a highly detailed recreation of a bygone era that, had it been made 30 years ago (and it could have been), would have had highly unsatisfactory models bouncing around in the tank at Pinewood. If you don’t believe me, check out the supertanker in The Spy Who Loved Me (1977); not for a moment is that believeable as a real ship, despite the best efforts of the Thunderbirds-trained effects technicians. There is something highly attractive about this kind of seafaring yarn, and, even better, due to the complex nature of the financing that required Universal, Miramax and 20th Century Fox to come together, there’s unlikely to be a sequel, even though the film’s ending begs for one.

Foxy Brown (1974)

To finally do away with the bad guys at the end of this film, Foxy Brown persuades the local gang of urban terrorists in a seedy basement filled with automatic weapons to help her out. It did strike me that, apart from all of the other stuff you couldn’t get away with nowadays, this is something you really couldn’t get away with nowadays. This is less fun than Coffy (1973), but still has Pam Grier with a shotgun blowing people away, and Antonio Fargas as 1974’s most badly dressed, most sleazy drug dealing relative (he’s Foxy’s brother).

Sin City (2005)

Still looks highly impressive. Although the movie is all on one note, it’s a helluva note, and if you get that note and enjoy listening to it, the movie does not stop delivering for you. This definitely seems to be one of those divisionary movies, so if there’s anything the slightest bit PC about you, the film’s guaranteed to offend. And there’s nothing wrong with that. We need more offensive art in our culture, not less.

Alien (1979)

Probably in preparation for The Week of Blade Runner (1982) (coming soon), I found myself drawn first to Charles De Lauzirika’s three hour making of documentary, then the film, and then the commentary track. The first time I saw Alien was the first time it was shown on ITV, in full screen, in mono, with adverts, back in the 1980s. My memory is that it was shown on a bank holiday and we had to rush back from a beach in Wales at my insistence to catch it. The first time I saw Alien in the cinema was I think at an all night screening in Brixton in the late 1980s. Since the film isn’t terribly great as a screen original (it’s a film as derivative of other media as The Matrix (1999)), most of the pleasure of watching Alien these days comes from admiring the sets and not necessarily the actors or the script. It’s a b-movie elevated through production design, and that’s not all that bad.

Seabiscuit (2003)

As befits a former scriptwriter for Bill Clinton, the films of Gary Ross, as both screenwriter and director, are straight down the middle Democrat fantasias of America, and Seabiscuit is utterly irresistible. Most of the unlikely plot twists of the film are true, and Jeff Bridges is handed the thankless task of providing a whole bunch of gooey exposition about Seabiscuit being the little man given a second chance in the wake of the Great Depression, and a whole bunch of dewey-eyed reporters are assembled around him eating this stuff up. The patriotic hokum at the press conference in The Right Stuff (1983) is subtly flagged by the sotto voce comments of the astronauts and the irony of Philip Kaufman’s script. There’s no irony in Seabiscuit, Gary Ross really believes this stuff, and I think as long as you don’t buy into it too wholeheartedly, so can you. Maybe. The liberal utopia of America will probably always remain a dream, mostly as long as the Democrats seem unable to come up with as convincing a Presidential candidate as Bill Clinton, and we all know what went wrong with that.