Hunter S Thompson, that is. Wayne Ewing shot the bulk of this loose but extremely entertaining documentary during the pre-production for Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. The author wavering between guru and asshole, and Johnny Depp getting into character by following Thompson around like a groovy little monkey, are good value. For fans of Dr Gonzo, a must-see. (Available exclusively through www.breakfastwithhunter.com)
Craig Lahiff's impassioned, if wearily familiar, courtroom drama is based on Australia's (apparently) infamous 1958 "Max Stuart Case"—where a rape and murder confession was beaten out of a young aborigine. It's got two crusading, system-shaking lawyers (Robert Carlyle and Kerry Fox), an oily Crown Prosecutor (Charles Dance) and plenty of rousing speeches about justice. Watchable.
Ken Russell's 1975 adaptation of The Who's rock opera cast Roger Daltrey as the deaf, dumb and blind boy who finds enlightenment, but downplayed the mysticism in favour of addled Freudian guff. It's a real mish-mash, with some truly embarrassing moments (Paul Nicholas, for one), but is redeemed by the performances of Ann-Margret and Oliver Reed, interesting cameos from Elton John and Tina Turner, and a stylish sense of design.
It's New Year's Eve 2003, and Josh Rouse is wowing a hometown Nashville crowd with an Isley-tastic version of "Under Cold Blue Stars" that virtually melts into Stevie Wonder's "My Cherie Amour". An excellent concert DVD in its own right, this gets five stars for the added Many Moods Of... documentary in which we see the BBC's Janice Long being visibly moved to tears. Watch and weep with her.
This 1978 throwback to the all-star men-on-a-mission genre of the late '60s delivers a cracking carbine-load of ripe boys' own adventure, mainly thanks to the quartet of scenery-munching hambones (Richard Burton, Roger Moore, Richard Harris, Hardy Krüger) cast as the eponymous squad of cigar-chomping Africa-bound mercenaries.
Ted Turner's pet Civil War projects, both directed by Ronald F Maxwell. 1993's Gettysburg tells the tale of the bloodiest battle ever fought on American soil while its prequel, 2003's Gods And Generals, recounts three earlier battles (Manassas, Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville) through the eyes of Joshua Chamberlain (Jeff Daniels), Stonewall Jackson (Stephen Lang) and Robert E Lee (Robert Duvall). Solid, stirring stuff, if you can sit through the three hours-plus running times of both these films.
Considering the testosterone on display both in front of and behind the camera (Mickey Rourke stars, Michael Cimino directs, screenplay by Oliver Stone), this 1985 cop thriller, with Rourke's decorated Viet Vet turned NYPD cop taking on the Triads in Chinatown, is nowhere near as deranged as you'd hope. The two set pieces—a gun battle in a Chinese restaurant and the final shoot-out—barely compensate for a disappointingly muted feel.
An exuberant two-disc anniversary set includes all the videos—the sugar-buzz of "Alright", "Late In The Day"'s pogoing in the rain, the inspired foam-puppetry of "Pumping On Your Stereo" et al. There's also home movies, unseen material, TV appearances and fresh interviews with the lads, who emerge as that rarest of musical beasts: mates first, a band second.
Pacino is electric in this shamefully overlooked, brilliantly scripted parable of an ageing New York PR man reaching the end of his tether. Footage of the Twin Towers meant its release was screwed up by cuts, but a charged, engrossing film remains, with druggie starlet Téa Leoni and 'good' woman Kim Basinger adding to the heat Al's getting from his health, clients and politicians. No one does stressed like Al: a neglected gem.
Stephen Fry adapts Evelyn Waugh's Vile Bodies as a rom-com. Great cast of luvvies (notably Peter O'Toole), but the central romance between Emily Mortimer and Stephen Campbell Moore evokes no more sympathy than the endless parade of aristocratic jazz babies subsisting on champagne and "naughty salt". A lively mess.
