Another day, another Bond movie. Forgive me if I can't get worked up about the McConcept, although David Arnold is, by any standards, a slick operator who does as much as anyone could to keep the formula fresh. Paul Oakenfold has a stab at remixing the James Bond theme, and, of course, Madonna and Mirwais concoct that title song. Here Madge contrives to sound like a tracheotomy victim rattling through an outtake from the Music album. "Sigmund Freud," she croaks. We wonder why. Then we realise she's simply trying to tell us she read a book once.
Tony Richardson's 1961 take on Shelagh Delaney's kitchen-sink drama of schoolgirl pregnancy is a travesty. Delaney wrote her play at 18, but its sweet sadness—heroine Jo's taste of honey is brief indeed—is obliterated by the director's clumping Brit-new-wave clichés. Fairground anyone? Rita Tushingham and Murray Melvin remain facially memorable, but acting honours go to Dora Bryan.
Remembered now as Michael Caine's debut, playing a posh officer opposite Stanley Baker, Cy Endfield's epic recreates the massacre of the Welsh redcoats by the Zulus at Rorke's Drift. Jack Hawkins runs the gamut from demented missionary to drunk, and the battle scenes are terrific.
Four magnificent hours of documentary narrated by Kris Kristofferson which trace the history of indigenous American music throughout the 20th century. Thrilling ancient footage of Muddy Waters, Hank Williams, BB King, Woody Guthrie and dozens of others drawn from the ranks of the true pioneers of blues, gospel, cajun, folk and country makes this an essential purchase for anyone with a passion for America's musical heritage.
