With a moody slow-mo intro, followed by a wickedly funny history of methamphetamine and capped by an intriguing roll call of deviant speed-freaks, the first 15 minutes of The Salton Sea promises, and delivers, far more than the rest of the movie can handle. Val Kilmer is the widower hunting his wife's killers among Los Angeles' drug detritus.
Kathleen Edwards was one of the highlights of this year's South By Southwest Festival in Austin. Surely, I thought, she couldn't sound as good on a dull Wednesday night in a dingy London basement. But she could and she did.
The buzz created by her debut, Failer, attracted some top London record company bosses to her first ever UK date. Among those were alt. country specialists Loose—although if they have designs on her, they must have been dismayed by the competition, which included Warner's chief, John Reed.
And he surely could not have failed to be impressed.
Two vintage Alastair Sim comedies released as a double-pack. In 1956's The Green Man he plays a political assassin whose plans are interrupted by the arrival of bumbling vacuum cleaner salesman George Cole; in 1960's School For Scoundrels—based on Stephen Potter's One-Upmanship books—he teaches downtrodden nice chap Ian Carmichael how to get the better of dastardly cad Terry-Thomas.
Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder sleepwalk their way through Arthur Hiller's one-joke 1989 comedy as the accidental owners of a missing microchip who are pursued by an assortment of shady villains. Pryor's blind and Wilder's deaf, but Hiller's pedestrian direction settles for routine caper thriller moves rather than fully exploring the comic potential of this offbeat premise.
Dennis Hopper-directed noir-by-numbers from 1990. Don Johnson's ambiguous stranger drifts into a sultry small town to run a con, and gets caught between lust for married Virginia Madsen and troubled teen Jennifer Connelly. Routine; but cherish this movie for the once-in-a-lifetime soundtrack Hopper persuaded Miles Davis, John Lee Hooker and Taj Mahal to jam.
The James M Cain novel The Postman Always Rings Twice (femme fatale seduces drifter into murdering her husband) has often been revisited: this 1942 Luchino Visconti version, a Scorsese favourite, was considered immoral and subversive on release, yet spawned the Italian neo-realist school. Noir to the core, it's long and fatalistic.
Riffing on early David Mamet or Neil LaBute, writer-director Patrick Stettner's superb three-hander anatomises the airless, amoral culture of top-rank executives. In a faceless airport hotel, high-flyer Stockard Channing plays sadistic sex-and-power games with young business rival Julia Stiles and corporate headhunter Frederick Weller. Sharp, astringent, and proof that complex ideas and strong performances transcend even minimal budgets.
Thirty-one years after its initial US release, Wes Craven's debut retains its power to shock, detailing the worst night in the (short) lives of two teenage girls and the bizarre comeuppance of their tormentors. Dated (and overrated) but worth a look.
