Reviews

F.W. Murnau's 1922 silent horror ‘Nosferatu' is a genuine classic of must-see proportions, but the same regrettably cannot be said of this oddity based loosely on events surrounding the original production. Initially shot against the backdrop of a convincingly decadent looking 1920s Berlin, the premise is relatively straightforward – Mernau, (played by an unusually one-dimensional John Malkovich), decides to shoot his own version of Dracula having been refused the rights by Bram Stoker's estate, changing the Count's name to Orlock and casting a mysterious actor Max Schreck in the title role. The rest of the cast and crew are informed that Schreck (an almost unrecognisable Willem Dafoe) is a method actor who briefly studied under Stanislafsky. Consequently when they arrive on location, leaving behind what Murnau describes as ‘the artifice of the studio', Schreck insists on appearing in full costume and make-up, and that shooting can only be carried out at night.

Factual inaccuracies aside (the necessary film stock for night shoots hadn't been developed in 1922), the first third of this film displays some definite potential, refusing to conform to any generic ideal and swinging with occasional accomplishment between moments of high comedy and unsettling horror. The film rapidly becomes unstuck when it's revealed that Murnau has made some fairly unconventional casting decisions in his quest for the ultimate in cinematic authenticity. Schreck is neither employing the Method to get into the part of Orlock, nor is he strictly human. Whilst ignoring the exceptional performance of the actual Schreck in the original, this revisionist perspective is certainly interesting, and it's a shame that it's revealed far too early in the film. Had director E. Elias Merhige kept his audience guessing as to Schreck's true nature, the whole experience would have been considerably more rewarding.

Whilst the individual performances, notably a fiendishly OTT Dafoe and a spoofy Eddie Izzard (as the increasingly uneasy hero Gustav von Wangerheim) are invitingly watchable, the story as a whole fails to gel satisfactorily or sustain the viewer's attention. It's more of an exercise in psychological disintegration than a traditional horror movie, focusing on Murnau's obsessive need to complete the film at any cost. It becomes apparent that the despotic and drug-addicted director has entered into an almost Faustian pact with Schreck, promising him the neck of young starlet Greta Schroeder (Catherine McCormack) in return for his undead performance. He's fully aware of the morbid implications of his actions throughout; but by the time he realises that it's Schreck who controls the agenda it's far too late for his cast and crew, and also unfortunately most of the struggling audience. Some fairly fragmented editing inhibits any detailed development of characters and narrative structure, and the ultimate message that Murnau is more of a monster than his pitifully tragic leading man is blatantly signposted from the outset. For a film that attempts to evoke the dramatic gravitas of ‘Gods and Monsters' or the comedy value of the far superior ‘Ed Wood', ‘Shadow of the Vampire' ultimately captures neither.

It's 1958, and a group of the finest aviators the airforce has to offer known as team Daedalus, are on the brink of being the first Americans to be sent into space. Due to some backroom politics and the intervention of their moody commander, Gerson (James Cromwell) the team is grounded and replaced by a chimp.

Jump to modern day, and a crippled Russian communications satellite is in a degrading orbit with all systems offline. Gerson, now a NASA bureaucrat has no other option than to find the retired Frank Corvin (Clint Eastwood), original Daedelus team member and designer of the guidance system that has somehow found its way onto the satellite, and ask his old nemesis for help.

Desperate to have one last shot at space, and eager to rub Gerson's nose in it, Frank agrees on the condition that he can re-unite the team and take them all with him. Enter Hawk Hawkins (Tommy Lee Jones), Tank Sullivan (James Garner), and Jerry O'Neil (Donald Sutherland), combined age 250years plus, for the most ridiculous yet enjoyable space romp since Capricorn One.

The team have to settle past differences, pass a rigorous NASA medical test and embark on a training course which should take months, but of course our wrinkly heroes only have a few days....

The cast really milk the OAP gags in these earlier scenes, and it's all done with tongue firmly in cheek. Sutherland's character is blind as a bat so he cheats the sight test by memorising the sequence of letters, and there's generally lots of one-up-manship as the old codgers attempt to impress various female members of the technical and training staff by behaving like they're 20 again...

The plot is fairly ridiculous, as it gradually transpires that Gerson has some hidden agenda behind his reasons for wanting to rescue the satellite, and subsequently has no intention of actually sending the team up to do the job until there's a press leak, and the whole project becomes a John Glenn-esque media circus. The fogeys instantly become national heroes and the vice president HIMSELF insists they're the right stuff.

The space scenes themselves are extremely accomplished, and although director Eastwood decided not to film aboard the 'vomit comet' which produced such excellent effects in Apollo 13, space has nonetheless rarely looked so detailed and realistic.

Needless to say, nothing on this particular mission goes according to plan, and what starts out as a relatively routine salvage job turns into a fully-fledged disaster requiring the astronauts to perform above and beyond the call of reasonable duty.

It's cheesy, it's very American, and there are more out-and-out gung-ho heroics than a dozen Top Guns, but eastwood keeps any saccharine sentimentality to a bare minimum and concentrates on keeping the story moving along at a decent tempo.

It's not an essential movie that will change your life, nor is it as good as The Right Stuff, but it is a lot of fun, and if you want to spend your five quid on two hours of unpretentious straightforward entertainment, you could do a lot worse than checking this one out.

Lester Burnham hates his life. He hates his mediocre job and the corporate brown-nosing it involves, he hates the fact that his wife and daughter think he's a total loser, and he's none too impressed with the inevitability of middle age decline either. But rather than having a mid-life crisis, Lester instead opts for a much more positive approach - a sort of mid-life rebirth. To some extent, his newly rediscovered youthful vigour is triggered by the resurgent lust he feels for his daughter's teenage friend, Angela.

Suddenly it's time for radical life change; he quits his job - an occupation which apparently involves "jacking off to a fantasy life that doesn't quite so closely resemble hell", befriends the weird teenage loner next door, starts smoking copious amounts of extremely potent weed and begins a fitness programme that will make him "look good naked".

It's almost impossible to categorise this film, as it encapsulates so many themes and dramatic conventions. Kevin Spacey's narration immediately signifies that his character is deceased - so there's the who-done-it? element. It's extremely funny in parts, but in no way could it be described as a comedy. It's a romance of sorts, where love and relationships are at first satirised and dissected, but ultimately idealised. And to call it melodrama is oversimplifying matters, ignoring the depth of social commentary and indeed the whole promotion of a philosophical discussion on the meaning of life and perhaps more significantly, death.

Spacey has misfired in a couple of questionable roles recently, principally 'The Negotiator' and to a lesser extent 'Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil', but his Oscar winning turn as a latter day Willy Loman sees a successful return to the kind of form usually associated with 'The Usual Suspects' and 'Seven' star. Annette Bening is in career best mode as Carolyn, the most frighteningly neurotic female lead since Liz Taylor's Martha in 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf', and the newcomers Wes Bentley as Ricky, Mena Suvari as Angela and perhaps the biggest revelation of all - Thora Birch as Jane - all hold there own in an excellent ensemble cast. In fact this movie succeeds in interweaving a series of slice-of-life plotlines to better effect than Paul Anderson's plodding 'Magnolia' or even the benchmark by which all multi-layered American dramas are judged, Altman's 'Shortcuts'. The reason this structure works so effectively is that it doesn't insult the audience's intelligence by employing scenarios that entirely rely on coincidence, alternatively using a more realistic narrative approach.

The movie has a feel of 'Peyton Place' gone awry, or a 'Blue Velvet' minus the Lynch-esque surrealism. It's a tribute to the faith invested in debutante Sam Mendes directorial skills that this thought provoking masterpiece was handled with such understated flair and sincerity. Mind you, he did have all the experience that years spent as a theatre director brings and award-winning Conrad Hall as his cinematographer, and along with Thomas Newman's poignant score, this combination dictates the whole atmosphere.

Any film which leaves the viewer pondering its ramifications for days after they've left the cinema, can only be regarded as essential viewing.

Mary Harron's intelligent adaptation is much funnier than Brett Easton Ellis' controversial novel, and manages to capture the essential ambience of the book without relying on gross-out schlock horror tactics. The ultra-violence is completely toned down in favour of a more subtle approach, and the most effective scenes are frequently not the ones featuring Patrick Bateman's nocturnal chainsaw frenzies, but instead those concerned with the banal, superficial world of designer-obsessive, over competitive uber-execs working on Wall Street in the 1980s.

In this respect it's something of a period piece, employing 80s trappings such as absurdly chunky mobile phones, decidedly suspect hairstyles and Hugo Boss power suits.The ability to secure a reservation at the latest exclusive restaurant is the benchmark by which these characters are judged. Essentially it's as much a satire on the materialistic ethos of the decade as it is a study of terminal psychological disintegration.

Christian Bale, in what might be a career-defining role, carries the whole movie - but that's not to detract from the extremely witty script which recreates some of the book's seminal scenes to great effect. It's a tribute to his strong central performance that despite Bateman's glaring character flaws (vanity, self-obsession, a penchant for slaying innocent people with nail guns) he actually succeeds in making him quite sympathetic. He even attempts to warn people about his psychopathic tendancies, but these random pleas for help go totally unheard by the hip disaffected Manhattenites he's forced to hang out with.

Trapped in a nightmarishly amoral world, and devoid of any recognisable human emotions other than anger and disgust, Bateman ultimately comes across as the biggest victim of them all. Even when he openly admits to his multiple crimes, his yuppie contemporaries refuse to accept the confession, because mass-murder just isn't the done thing. There's even the hint of a conspiracy of silence, a suggestion that somebody might be covertly covering up the evidence of his deranged activities.

There are also some great supporting roles, notably from Chloe Seveigny as his doting secretary and Willem Dafoe as the cop who is aware of Bateman's guilt but doesn't seem that concerned with stopping him.

Like the book, the film has no satisfactory resolution, and the audience is left with the impression that Bateman is still out there, drilling holes in prostitutes heads, waiting in vain for someone to catch him. Considering the problematic pre-production period, this film has triumphantly emerged from development hell to give moviegoers a serious slice of the very blackest humour. And thankfully, no Leo Dicaprio to spoil the fun....

'Just some good ol boys, never meanin' no harm - they been in trouble with the law since the day they wuz born...' So began the classiest of all hicksville county roadchase shows, where each week those loveable two modern day Robin Hoods, Beaureguard "Bo" Duke [John Schneider] & Lucas K. "Luke" Duke [Tom Wopat] would pit themselves against some ner do wells, probably from Chickasaw county, and inadvertently manage to rub Sherriff Roscoe P Coltrane [James Best] up the wrong way to boot. Cue slo-mo shots of an airborne General Lee [1969 Dodge Charger]flying down leaf littered byways with Roscoe's cruiser once again in hot pursuit.

This was a fantastic early Saturday evening kid's classic, mainly because of the shows hugely appealing basic premise -Bo & Luke are on probation for running moonshine, and they have the fastest motor in the county. So they're basically outlaws with hearts of gold who never really do anything particularly anti-social, they're just fighting the system that's run by corrupt town official Jefferson Davis Hogg, AKA "Boss Hogg" [Sorrell Booke]. He's fat, he's greedy and he wears a ridiculous white suit. And to make matters worse he's always trying to aquire the deeds to the Duke's farm, managed by his long time rival Uncle Jesse [Denver Pyle]with the help of Daisy Duke [Catherine Bach]. Show me a ten year old boy who, in 1981, didn't have a major Daisy Duke fixation - I mean, her legs were insured for two million dollars. Crikey.

So our renegade heroes would have at least a couple of car chases each week, they'd hang out with Cooter in the garage, take the p**s out of the educationally sub-normal deputy Cletus, stop some really bad guys from doing something dastardly and probably blow up a barn or something with a stick of dynamite fired from a bow and arrow. And that's just before lunch.

It all went pretty badly wrong in about '83 when the the boys were replaced by some pseudo Duke-lite wannabes named Coy and Vance. Their names alone speak volumes. This kind of signalled the beginning of the end, and I'm not sure the show ever quite recovered. Still, it's better not to dwell on this shamefully duff period in the show's history, instead it's better to fondly remember the Dukes in all their glory - flagrantly disregarding the law, and only ever climbing into and out of the General Lee via the windows, as the doors were soldered shut. Yee-haww.

Dr. David Banner. Physician. Scientist.... and cult hero to any puny, geekish kids growing up in front of the TV during the late seventies/early eighties. Despite the fact that this classic television programme made virtually no attempt to remain faithful to the Marvel comic book from whence it spawned (the producers changed Banner's name from Bruce), it was one of the best genre shows of it's era, mainly because of the exceptional performance by the late, great Bill Bixby as the tortured scientist struggling in vain to 'find a way to control the raging spirit that dwells within him' i.e. former Mr Universe Lou Ferrigno, painted green and wearing a shocking wig and contact lenses.

Bixby's performance was extremely sympathetic, and even though the prospect of him discovering a cure for his 'Hulkism' would signal an end to the show, viewers couldn't help but feel sorry for his rather tragic predicament. As anyone who's ever watched the show will remember, Banner was exposed to a massive dose of gamma radiation during a genetic experiment which went disastrously wrong, and now has the nasty habit of turning into an eight foot green monster whenever he gets angry. (Tip; don't make him angry. You wouldn't like him when he's angry.)

Each week, Banner would arrive in another small town, looking for a place to lie low and using an alias, perhaps find some part-time work that he would obviously be ridiculously over-qualified for.

Meanwhile, McGee the persistent investigative reporter would be pursuing him in the hope of getting the elusive big scoop he's always dreamt of.

Being such a nice guy, David would invariably befriend some poor kid or lonely woman who was in some kind of local trouble with the town bullies, and despite his best efforts to control his raging anger, would always Hulk-out on the bad guys at least twice an episode.

This basic formula was to a certain degree borrowed from The Fugitive - a man wanted for a murder he didn't commit, unable to ever really settle down, hunted by the authorities, but also encompassing such classic horror themes as metamorphosis (Jekyll & Hyde) and the sympathetic monster (Frankenstein). With all these ingredients, The Incredible Hulk couldn't fail to be a hit for CBS during its run from 1977 - 1982.

My personal favourite episode was actually a double episode called 'Prometheus' which aired in 1980. The story involved Banner discovering a recently crashed asteroid, which, unbeknown to him, has emitted some radiation that causes him partially transform into the Hulk. Trapped halfway between human and Hulk, he is captured by special government forces who believe him to be an alien. This feature has excellent production values, a great story and very good special effects.

Another absolute gem was called The First, and the story follows Banner to yet another small town where it is rumoured that another Hulk exists. Desperate to find out if the story is true as it could possibly lead him to a cure, Banner investigates. The townsfolk are extremely hostile to him because they typically don't like strangers asking questions, and just to make matters worse, the other hulk does exist and is an extremely nasty piece of work indeed. Cue brilliantly staged battle between the two creatures. I think that both these double episodes are available on video, and if you're keen on rediscovering what exactly it was that made Dr Banner so angry, these are certainly the best examples of this genuinely entertaining cult classic.

I remember this show, particularly one episode which ended with the two agents at the top of some observation tower with a large white UFO floating away from them. As I recall the FX were actually OK, and the whole thing had quite a cool Close Encounters-type feel to it. Certainly a predecessor to the X-Files, Sci-Fi channel or somebody could re-run this and cash in.