This WWII melodrama from Delmer Daves, director of all-time classic western Broken Arrow, has two great showcase roles for Frank Sinatra (poor, principled officer) and Tony Curtis (wealthy, mean sergeant). The romantic sub-plot has dated badly, but the battle scenes are still worth a look.
The third in Robert Rodriguez's winning series sees the plucky youngsters enter a maniacal video-game world to confront misunderstood supervillain Sylvester Stallone. Plot barely matters, though, as the movie exists only for Rodriguez to indulge in a rampant, sweetly senseless exercise in reviving retro-3D gimmickry. All in all, how Tron should have been.
Hungarian monochrome master Bela Tarr doesn't piss around with frivolities like humour, logic or even much in the way of dialogue. And yet these lean, unstintingly intense films about people walking around a lot, suffering for love (in Damnation) or trying to prevent society from descending into chaos (Werckmeister Harmonies) are transcendent. At the very least, this will make illuminating viewing for fans of Gus Van Sant's last two flicks, Gerry and Elephant, since Tarr's work directly inspired them.
Gob-smackingly ill-suited to the small screen, Gus Van Sant's infuriating and addictive road movie is a tale of two Gerrys (Matt Damon and Casey Affleck) lost in the desert. It's also a sumptuous Utah travelogue. And a pompous Beckettian comedy. And a sly parable on human frailty. But by then you'll have switched off the TV.
Just when you thought that Pixar had colonised the universe of Western kids' imaginations, here came something fabulously rich and strange from the East. Spirited Away is an apt title for an animation classic that literally transports the viewer into a parallel visual world of gods and magic. Whether it's an allegory of greed and innocence or merely a psychedelic feast, this implicitly anti-Disney epic is never cosy or sanitised. And its decorative detail is breathtaking.
IN 1966, ROGER CORMAN MADE an offer to young assistant Peter Bogdanovich that the wannabe director couldn't refuse. Corman had two days left to run on a contract with Boris Karloff, and the challenge was this: use that time to film 20 minutes of new material with the veteran actor, edit in another 20 minutes of Karloff footage from Corman's The Terror, shoot another 40 minutes with other actors, then stitch the lot together. The result was Bogdanovich's first and, arguably, greatest movie.
Innovative, much admired collage documentary about mankind's physical journey from cradle to grave, culled from 100 years of archive footage by Simon Pummell and graced with an avant-rock score by Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood. Bodysong is hypnotically beautiful in small doses, even if Pummell comes across in the interviews as rather too pleased with a cod-profound idea which, in any case, Godfrey Reggio and Philip Glass pioneered much more convincingly 20 years ago in Koyaanisqatsi.
Macaulay Culkin (contractually refusing to kiss any men—fact) blows hard but fails to convince as camp '90s New York club cyclone Michael Alig. Seth Green's equally berserk, but when Alig brags of murdering his buddy/dealer, everyone assumes he's kidding. Much gay disco muzak, and cameos from Marilyn Manson and Chloe Sevigny, but this is no Last Days Of Disco or even 54.
Oscar-nominated documentary from last year which, unexpectedly, grips like a vice in its climactic stages. Swotty geek-kids competing for the National Spelling Bee contest might not strike you as gutsy drama, but the obsession, the commitment, the heartbreak and the pushy parents make for a brilliantly dynamic and ghoulishly funny interpretation of the American mindset. Word.
Already a boys' own classic, Kevin MacDonald's award-winning doc about two foolhardy Brit mountaineers scaling the 21,000ft Andean peak of Peru's Siula Grande is almost hideously gripping. Brilliantly paced, Touching The Void re-enacts the climb—and the descent, more to the point—with actors Brendan Mackey and Nicholas Aaron. But much of the drama lies in the memories of climbers Joe Simpson and Simon Yates, the interviews with whom are candid and vulnerable.
