Someone seems to have decided that Ashley Judd and Morgan Freeman are a marketable team, and their umpteenth crime thriller together is brought to you by the estimable Carl Franklin. Judd's a perky lawyer whose husband (a wooden Jim Caviezel) may or may not be a mass murderer. Freeman's an amusing drunk, but sadly the plot's the last word in generic, and the 'twists' wear neon signs on their heads.
Since The Last Seduction, John Dahl hasn't quite delivered the skilful thrills we hoped for. This pacy revamp of Duel and Breakdown is a lunge in the right direction, though. Paul Walker, Steve Zahn and Leelee Sobieski star as brash young things who turn yellow when a trucker they've taunted chases them cross-country, vengeance in mind. Fast and furious.
It's not hard to see why the second version of Hollywood's infamous morality tale of the tortured love between a rising starlet (Judy Garland in her best role outside of Oz) and her older, alcoholic has-been suitor (the impeccable James Mason) is generally regarded as the best. George Cukor's Technicolor palette and Ira Gershwin's music are the ideal accoutrements for what is basically camp melodrama at its most sumptuous.
Boisterous action ensues when colourfully tattooed extreme sports fanatic Xander Cage is press-ganged into the service of the US government. Rob Cohen directs with brutal bravado, there are some amazing stunts, and the whole thing is noisily entertaining. Vin Diesel's Xander, though, is no match for Kurt Russell's Snake Plissken, and a touch of John Carpenter's genuine anarchy would have been welcome.
The spaghetti western was flagging by 1970 when Enzo Barboni gave it a spoof shot in the arm with this breezy global smash and its sequel—now a one-disc double bill. Terence Hill plays the eponymous drifter with a lightning draw and an appetite for beans; Bud Spencer is his bear-like half-brother, Bambino, who dispatches opponents by thumping them on the head; a laid-back but lethal Laurel & Hardy favouring slapstick over ultraviolence.
One of the last spasms from the gross-out "wave", this National Lampoon effort has—among the boobs, belching and frat-boy self-fingering—moments of comic charm from Ryan Reynolds. He has a knack for letting us know he's above it all while throwing himself into the stench. Bet he sleeps nights by telling himself Tom Hanks began his career in such muck.
Made for HBO, John Frankenheimer's final film shows how the US stumbled into the Vietnam war. Alternating choppy chaos with slow control, it considers the view from the White House during Lyndon B Johnson's troubled administration. An ambitious three hours in length, with Michael Gambon's LBJ backed by an incredible cast including Donald Sutherland, Alec Baldwin and Philip Baker Hall.
