John Cassavetes' last movie looks like 'one for the studio' compared to the ragged glories of his greatest independent films; in fact, Cassavetes claimed he was the film's director in name only. Though bland, it's still a bizarrely watchable spoof thriller, riffing on Double Indemnity, with Alan Arkin as the harassed insurance man who becomes involved in a scheme to bump off Beverly D'Angelo's husband, Cassavetes regular Peter Falk, so he can then afford to send his a cappella-singing musical prodigy triplets to university. Nuts, lightly salted.
Matthew Barney's extraordinary Cremaster Cycle has won outrageous accolades: "greatest living artist", "best fusion of art and cinema since Buñuel", etc. This is the climactic 31-minute scene of that epic, and it's every bit as wildly mind-boggling as you'd hope. Barney scales the Guggenheim Museum-staircase, assaulted by molten Vaseline, tapdancing girls, metal bands and a cheetah. The perfect intro to a warped genius.
Australian comedy starring Billy Connolly as fisherman Steve Myers, whose boat is destroyed by a lightning bolt. When the insurance company refuses to pay up, claiming the incident was an "act of God", Myers decides to take God to court and sue Him for damages. Judi Davis plays a local reporter who champions Myers' case (and wins his heart). No surprises here, but it's amiable enough.
Seamus McGarvey is proving himself to be the UK's finest director of photography, and this visual poem owes its beauty to his eye. A fable following a man as he looks back over his life, from rural Ireland to modern London, it's like Cronenberg's Spider with the imagination turned up to 11.
Dennis Hopper is Huey Walker, a '60s radical who's been wanted by the Feds for decades. When he's captured in the late '80s, repressed, clean-cut young FBI man Kiefer Sutherland lands the job of escorting him to trial through Reagan-era America, but Hopper turns the tables, and teaches him how to drop out. Your average, idealistic, pan-generational odd-couple road movie, but Hopper, spoofing his Easy Rider persona, is a howl.
Written by Coppola but directed painfully slowly by Jack Clayton, this expensive adaptation of Fitzgerald's novel looks lovely but doesn't understand real tragedy (quite important re: Fitzgerald). Robert Redford fails to suggest any depth of broodiness, while Mia Farrow is almost laughably dotty, and the passion is limp. Still, a Nelson Riddle score, some nice shirts, and top vintage cars.
READ OUR REVIEW OF THE 2013 FILM ADAPTATION OF THE GREAT GATSBY HERE.
Slick, entertaining debut from first-time director George Clooney, working from a typically off-beat Charlie Kaufman screenplay. The often irritating Sam Rockwell is outstanding here as trash TV pioneer Chuck Barris, who's either an arch-fantasist or the oddest CIA hitman ever.
Named after the Rolling Stones song, this moody melodrama from the City Of Angels director went unacknowledged, despite Jake Gyllenhaal starring sharply on the heels of Donnie Darko, When his girlfriend dies, he finds her parents, Dustin Hoffman and Susan Sarandon, eager to bond with him through shared grief. He's ready to move on, but hasn't the heart to tell them. Actorly, but honest.
Standout supernatural action movie from 1987. The tale of a poor young scholar who falls in love with a ghostly princess, it involves a journey to the underworld, a battle with a mile-long tongue, sword fights, songs, slapstick and some real shocks. Despite its evident lack of a budget, it's magical, mildly erotic and only marginally insane.
