In its 1946, Hays Code day, this adaptation of James M Cain's novel was provocative and erotic, although it was later out-raunched by the '81 Jack'n'Jessica version. This drips with textbook noir, and echoes Double Indemnity in both story and style. Femme fatale prototype Lana Turner tempts John Garfield to off her husband, but their comeuppance is inevitable. "He had to have her love—if he hung for it!"
There's a saying in the pubs of Dublin that there are only two kinds of musician—the Irish, and those who wish they were. The likes of Emmylou Harris, John Prine, Richard Thompson and the Everly Brothers prove it by lining up alongside some of Ireland's finest in 20 performances designed to showcase the global influence of Celtic music.
Orson Welles' darkly comic 1963 adaptation of Kafka's paranoid fable is still visually stunning, with an unforgettable performance by Anthony Perkins as the hapless Josef K, placed on trial for reasons unknown. "He's guilty as sin," was Welles' verdict, and so Perkins plays it all the way as a shifty, twitchy ball of nerves. Superb.
Pretty funny farce from the Farrellys: not back to their best, but at least regrouping. Greg Kinnear and Matt Damon are conjoined twins who leave smalltown life to seek fame in Hollywood. Evil Cher's mad scheme backfires, and they make it. But what they really want is love...awww. Sweet and slick, with fine gags like, "He's drinking; I'm the designated walker."
As South Africa celebrates the 10th anniversary of Mandela's election, Lee Hirsch's documentary, which won a brace of awards at the Sundance Film Festival, pays moving tribute to the central role music played in the struggle for liberation. Contributions from the giants of South African music like Hugh Masekela, Miriam Makeba and Abdullah Ibrahim are intercut with footage showing the horrors of apartheid.
Jack Lemmon is the boozy PR man. Lee Remick is the teetotal secretary. He buys her a brandy. They're hooked! They lose their jobs, have an unwanted baby and get stuck into the hard stuff. He reforms. She doesn't. "You and I were a couple of drunks on the sea of booze, and the boat sank!" Hysterical yet Oscar-worthy stuff from Blake Edwards.
Adapted from a Robert Ludlum potboiler, Sam Peckinpah's demented final movie from 1983 ostensibly centres on TV reporter Rutger Hauer, who, coerced by sinister CIA men Burt Lancaster and John Hurt into selling out old pals, allows them to rig his home with cameras to monitor their weekend reunion. It's soon clear Peckinpah has far more interest in Hurt, brilliant as the betrayed rogue agent whose maniacal plotting drives the film over the edge. A bizarre pile-up of double-triple-crossing, it's almost impossible to follow; but then, confusion and panic are what the film is about.
Susan Hayward won the Oscar for committed scene-trashing in this 1958 movie, which—based on the real-life execution of Barbara Graham, a "goodtime girl" (possibly) framed for murder and sent to the gas chamber in 1955—was very much the Monster of its day. Robert Wise directs as if it were a jazz documentary, taking cues from the great score by Johnny Mandel, itself cooled to within an inch of its life by the Gerry Mulligan Quartet.
The 1932 and 1941 adaptations of Stevenson's landmark work of horror fiction on one disc. The earlier movie finds director Rouben Mamoulian going heavy on the claustrophobic atmosphere and sexual undercurrents with Frederic Marsh on Oscar-winning form as the doctor and his bestial alter ego. The later version teams Spencer Tracy (transformed via a bad wig and bushy eyebrows) with Ingrid Bergman (putting on an appalling cockney accent). Enough said.
