Pussywhipped by Madonna into remaking Lina Wertmüller's 1974 film, Guy Ritchie betrays the fact that he can't direct outside the bad-lads genre, while Madge proves, for the umpteenth time, her inability to act. She's a rich socialite falling for a poor Italian on a desert island: watch Nicolas Roeg's Castaway instead.
One of the worst products of Hollywood's epic era stars a youthful Richard Burton as the bold conqueror, replete with fluffy blond wig. Decently performed by Burton and the likes of Frederic March, Harry Andrews, etc, Alexander The Great is beautifully shot (and nicely cleaned up on this DVD by MGM/UA) but suffers from pacing so leaden that it makes El Cid look like The Terminator. Amazing to think that, five years later, writer/director Robert Rossen would redeem himself by making The Hustler.
A double header, featuring two of David Lean's finest directorial efforts. Hobson's Choice (1954) sees Charles Laughton's magnificently overbearing Lancastrian patriarch butt heads with his equally stubborn daughter Brenda de Banzie, while John Mills is splendid as her husband, the worm who turns. The Sound Barrier (1952), in which Ralph Richardson attempts to devise the first faster-than-sound plane, sees stiff upper lips wobble as his efforts come to grief. It's also notable for some fine aerial sequences. Bravo, chaps!
Mike Figgis' one-take, four-camera, split-screen Hollywood satire is avant-garde without being pretentious, innovative without being wearisome. Here, like a Dogme remix of The Player, Figgis and his nimble cast ridicule the aching venality of the movie industry over one long and ultimately homicidal November afternoon.
Ken Loach at his best. First-time actor Martin Compston is outstanding in the role of Liam, a teenager growing up with a mother in jail, a drug-dealing stepfather and no future to speak of. But Liam is a bright kid who dreams of a normal family life. He's determined to make enough money to rent a home for his mother for when she gets out of jail. It's heartbreaking stuff that combines a political message with real humanity and a rich strand of black comedy. Highly recommended.
South African director Oliver Schmitz revisits the same territory as his angry anti-apartheid classic from 1988, Mapantsula, delivering a wry but equally scathing account of his post-Mandela homeland. Researching a role as a street hoodlum, a middle-class black actor (Tony Kgoroge) returns to his childhood township near Johannesburg to learn street cred from his former friend, a car-jacking gangster (Rapulana Seiphemo). A gripping, funny, darkly satirical thriller.
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.
