Gabriel Byrne and Julianna Margulies head up a nautical salvage crew who discover a derelict ocean liner that's been missing since 1962. On board is a fortune in gold bullion—and several hundred ghosts. Pure formula—occasionally bizarre and gory, but in the main outrageously schlocky, with Margulies in plucky heroine mode—and comfortingly reliable.
After the ponderous Al and the not-as-clever-as-it-thought-it-was Minority Report, Spielberg delivers a sleek, slick 1960s-set caper movie based on a true story, with Leonardo DiCaprio as the teen con artist attempting to stay one step ahead of Tom Hanks' FBI agent. Leo's smug, Hanks is nerdish, but Spielberg carries off the action with flair.
Nouvelle Vague-inspired camerawork plus a searing central turn from Carol White remain supremely effective in Ken Loach's 1965 teleplay about naïve bride Cathy (White) and her descent into poverty. The tone occasionally veers into public service hysteria, especially after the Capitalist State Apparatus removes Cathy from her tenement, fires her husband and steals her children. A landmark British film nonetheless.
Colin (son of Tom) Hanks proves his worth as a responsible wannabe writer constantly thwarted by his manic stoner brother (Jack Black), drunken mum (Catherine O'Hara) and surfer dude buddies. Many most excellent jokes and comic cameos from John Lithgow and Jane Adams make this a fine Friday-nighter.
Ben Affleck plays Marvel's blind superhero, with Jennifer Garner as his love interest (the ninja assassin Elektra), Colin Farrell as hitman Bullseye and a suitably imposing Michael Clarke Duncan as the crime lord Kingpin. The fight sequences are impressively executed, and it's a solid stab at the source material; sadly, some substandard CGI lets it down.
Robert Mitchum plays the world-weary captain of a US destroyer patrolling the South Atlantic, who becomes involved in a chess-like battle of wits with noble U-Boat commander Curt Jürgens. Dick Powell's tense 1957 WWII movie is notable as one of the first to accord the Germans some respect, unfolding as a game of cat and mouse that will be played to the death.
Banned in 1939 by a pre-War French government, for being 'demoralising', Jean Renoir's transparently allegorical film is set in a decadent chateau during a hunting weekend when pointed badinage, back-stabbing and partner-swapping suddenly erupt in an act of murder. Watch out for the ominous 'shooting party' scene, with heavily armed toffs turning a rabbit-hunt into a bloody massacre/metaphor.
Non-stop Yakuza-v-zombie action shouldn't be this boring. Director Ryuhei Kitamura knows how to stage a flesh-munching, sword-flashing set piece, but simply stringing a bunch of them together doesn't make a movie. Something to watch when you're in a stoned stupor, perhaps.
Kathleen Turner stars as peachy suburban housewife Beverly Sutphin, who merrily murders most of her annoying neighbours (and anyone else foolish enough to offend her). Turner's fabulous, and John Waters' black comedy is like a blend of Disney and David Lynch. An utter delight.
