John Andrew Gallagher's shambling 1997 comedy about an Italian-American storekeeper (Mike Starr) with gambling problems, unwanted mob buddies and endless eccentric customers is a fun idea which never quite takes off. There's shades of Blue In The Face, while various future Sopranos regulars—notably Michael Imperioli—cameo.
The 1985 film that launched the careers of the Brat Packers. This finds Emilio Estevez drooling over Andie MacDowell, Demi Moore coked out of her box and Rob Lowe being annoying and fratboyish—like much of the script. A must for those who thrill to the antics of self-absorbed young Americans.
A terrific Japanese rites-of-passage drama shot Dogme-style on digital cameras, this puts a fresh twist on the timeless themes of alienation, dislocation and teenage angst. Shunji Iwai's impressionistic, cutting-edge ensemble drama weaves together the lives of several emotionally wounded Tokyo teens united by their blank worship of a distant pop idol, Lily Chou-Chou. Pretentious, but still a punky new voice in Japanese cinema.
The first screen outing for a post-collegiate comedy team calling themselves Broken Lizard, Super Troopers is a spoof knockabout farce concerning clownish highway patrolmen in small-town Vermont. With Brian Cox as the indulgent police chief presiding over the goofy jokes and motorist-baffling stunts, writer-director-star Jay Chandrasekhar's feature debut is slight but sporadically hilarious.
A return to classic Mike Leigh terrain, this examines desperation, loneliness and family tragedy on a grim south London housing estate. Leigh regulars Timothy Spall and Lesley Manville are long-suffering parents who manage to invest their bleak lives with tenderness, truth and humour. Leigh may sail dangerously close to self-parody here, but nobody does it better.
Kathryn Bigelow's Cross Of Iron, basically, with Harrison Ford's Soviet submariners the embattled equivalent of James Coburn's Wehrmacht platoon, both groups of men fighting for their lives in films that perhaps unsurprisingly failed to make a huge impression at the box office. Terrific in parts, with imperious turns from Ford and Liam Neeson, Bigelow handles the action stuff brilliantly though comes close to mawkishness in a tear-stained coda.
A labour of love—or perhaps of jealousy—for writer/director Yvan Attal, who stars in this French farce as a journalist convinced his movie-star wife's having an affair with Terence Stamp. She's Charlotte Gainsbourg, Attal's real-life wife, so maybe it's all good therapy for him. For the rest of us, it's lively for half an hour, then the frisson fades.
Underrated comedy-drama from Chuck & Buckteam. Jennifer Aniston's fine as a frustrated store-worker who cheats on pothead John C Reilly with Jake Gyllenhaal, in another Holden Caulfield-type role. The feel reminds you of James Mangold before he went shit.
Commendably lurid directorial debut from Asia Argento—international soft-porn horror princess and Vin Diesel's way-cool goth-vamp co-star in xXx. Dario's daughter not only writes and directs but also stars as a thinlyveiled version of herself, shagging and fighting her way through a sinister, male-dominated, sex-driven film business. Demented, narcissistic, monstrously self-indulgent—all the qualities, in fact, of the very best cult cinema.
Sterling 1949 comedy from the Ealing stable, directed by Henry Cornelius (Genevieve) and featuring Stanley Holloway, Margaret Rutherford and Charles Hawtrey among others. A London community demonstrate typical British verve and spunk in establishing their right to devolve from Britain altogether, asserting their ancient right to be part of the duchy of Burgundy, thereby avoiding the miseries of post-war Britain like rationing and licensing laws. Lots of "We'll soon see about that!" and harrumphing civil servants. Marvellous.
