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!
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 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 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.
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.
Directed by Jimmy Page, it took a year of intensive research to assemble this five-and-a-half-hour digital re-tooling of the Zeppelin legend. Previously, the only officially-sanctioned live footage was the 1976 film The Song Remains The Same. Here, a trawl of the band's own unreleased archives combines with reclaimed bootleg material to tell the Zep story in chronological fashion, via 30 performances from four memorable concerts—the Albert Hall (1970), Madison Square Garden (1973), Earls Court (1975) and Knebworth (1979).
The Clash imploded just as promo videos became the norm, which is a shame, as their "Rock The Casbah" short, shot on an oil derrick, is more timely than ever in the wake of the current Iraq conflict. But the really great thing about this collection is the numerous incandescent live performances culled from throughout their meteoric career.
First issued on video in 1985, this is a fully absorbing, occasionally revealing insight into the country legend's late '60s heyday. A fly-on-the-wall documentary charting a typically grinding US tour, Cash is never less than engrossing, be it gleefully jamming with a nonchalant Dylan (a searing version of Billy Edd Wheeler's "Blistered"), duetting with 'er indoors June Carter ("Jackson") or cutting rug with lead guitarist Carl Perkins ("Blue Suede Shoes").
Two years ago, Bill Wyman published a superbly researched history of the blues. Now bearing the same name comes an unmissable visual companion to the book. The commentary is instructive, and Wyman's knowledge and passion for his subject is palpable. But the real thrill lies in the archive footage. There's Leadbelly and Bessie Smith, John Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters, Sonny Boy Williamson and Jimmy Reed and lots of evocative footage of the Delta.
