HenryHextonEsq Reviews

Bulldozer (I) (2022)

A clear slice of class conflict

[8/10 · 20 November 2022]

In this pint-sized filmic dosage of class war, Ray has told a lie to her daughter Liza that they and all of the previous residents of their tower block will be moved into a gleaming new luxury block of flats that is right by the council estate where they have been living. She has to admit it isn't true, in a melancholy moment.

Mother and daughter inveigle their way into the luxury block, get revealed and the situation becomes a confrontation, especially when Liza smashes a plate, deliberately. Ray smashes everything - or a lot - up, in a focused rage, at the end and goes at the camera, as if to throw down the camera itself.

Yep, this climax is almost literal sledgehammer stuff, but there's a representational history of frustrated impotent class rage going back through "The Hireling" (1973) and evidently so much of Ken Loach's work. BBC Films' overseer Rose Garnett allows a bit of Tony Garnett's conscious screen activism here. Curiously, this short film has strong echoes of Roy Kendall's Play for Today "Housewives' Choice" (1976), with its class war and housing-themed climactic confrontation, but, I'd argue, is more distilled and subtle. And it feels more rooted in direct contemporary issues: notably, East London's Focus E15 Campaign is given special thanks in the end-credits.

Indeed, class conflict is the dominant theme. We see how people of colour act as security guard functionaries of the system and a woman customer, about to move into the luxury flats, instinctively starts to film when Ray is effectively 'making a scene', when being messed around by security. Ray isn't allowed to just leave quietly as she seems willing to do. The Sales Negotiator guiltily puts some coins into the pram, pennies for the guy... The film contains a piquant visual contrast of Liza's Guy Fawkes effigy in the pram with the showroom mannequins in the luxury flat. The fire and sectarian conflict signified by bonfire night and the gunpowder plot. Like the disturbing contemporary horror film "His House" (2021), there is a theme of home being unsteady, assailed or threatened and people being uprooted by forces beyond their control, lacking in autonomy within their own lives. These forces are malign and banal: in that earlier film, the UK Home Office, here, UK capitalist real estate. Both of these have covert support from that fraction of the public happy to elect right-wing governments.

Writer-director Stella Scott, who already has a remarkably varied screen résumé, is certainly a trenchant voice to follow.

After Love (2020)

A subtle, deft tale of cultural translation and discovery

[8/10 · 20 November 2022]

This film, the first in a welcome second run of the BBC's British Film Premieres, is an engaging, deftly told tale of marginality, difference, cultural translation and cosmopolitan openness. Mainly set on the North Coast of France, it involves Joanna Scanlan giving a fantastic, deeply thought-out performance as Mary, a white English woman who converted to Islam when marrying her Pakistani partner. There is an especially telling moment when Mary says that she has learned Urdu so that she can practically understand what her husband's family is saying about her: Mary is pragmatically open, learning in order to decipher personal relationships and not to be the unwitting butt of gossip! Mary being employed as a cleaner illuminates the film's clear social class dimension. This is her ideal cover to listen, learn and find out how her husband was here having an affair and, indeed, a child. There is a power to the scene with the memory-capturing cassette tape at the end. Scanlon and script subtly convey Mary's grief, alongside her complicated feelings about what her husband had done. The film has a fairly wistful, upbeat-ish ending, as we see familiar white chalk cliffs and the characters have advanced their knowledge of each other.

Memorably, the film opens with her husband's death. Aptly, the sound disappears. This whole opening scene is one long static observational take. Director Aleem Khan's filmmaking is sedate and with a thoughtful visual style; it suggests and shows, rather than tells. While the final section is certainly more dialogue heavy and verges on the family melodrama, this works, with the film's small ensemble cast: an odd, disparate group of connected people. The film's spaces are extremely well selected: highly apt locations and exemplary production design which has a rare combination of spareness and telling detail. The underscore is there but very sparing and it has a European art house-like deliberation and lack of facile manipulation or telegraphing of the viewers' emotions.

Is "After Love" part of a wider trajectory in British cinema: away from localised British concerns and locations and towards 'Other' forms of identity and overseas locations? Yes, perhaps, and winningly so. There are, probably, a sufficient number of 'rooted' films like BBC Films and Netflix's Bradford through-and-through "Ali and Ava" (2021) to be able to accommodate such fascinating excursions as Khan's film. This is my 200th review for this website, 24 years - to the month - after my first review, of "O Lucky Man!" (1973). This is an infinitely more modest, less bravura, but also in some ways more searching British film than Lindsay Anderson's Brechtian epic, all the more so for how its powerfully particular English southerner Mary experiences French and Pakistani cultures.

Captain EO (1986)

Rather ghastly corporate farrago

[3/10 · 26 July 2010]

Do not get me wrong: Jackson did produce some excellent short-films in his career, and possessed a strong sense of what would work visually - of what would be unique and strange. I would advise film-goers and pop fans to seek out "Thriller" and "Ghosts" to see his artistry well conveyed on film.

This, however, is less a short-film than a piece of corporate propaganda: for Jackson as 'The King of Pop', for Disney, for George Lucas and even for US consumer capitalist culture as a whole. Rock 'n' roll, dance and 'cute' anthropomorphised animals will win the day, inevitably, against the 'evil aliens' as led by Anjelica Huston's Supreme Leader. The scenario is sketchy, and relies on special effects, choreography and artless noise to keep the audience engaged.

Jackson is painted as the humane dictator, appealing to the SL's better nature or her 'beautiful side', and then in effect crushing her and her people when they refuse to yield. Her forces become EO's due to a spot of magic; she is eventually transformed into a human, which, surprise surprise makes for the sort of Happy Ending that Ronald Ray-Gun would have adored.

This whole venture can be summed up as efficient propaganda for the American way of life and globalisation more broadly.

Ghosts (1996)

"We don't need freaks like you telling ghost stories" - Jackson justifies the Weird

[8/10 · 26 July 2010]

From the three Michael Jackson related 'films' I have watched today (the others being "Thriller" and "Captain EO"), this contains the man's best acting and dancing.

The concept is simple, but in a good way; children and adults find themselves in a ghostly, haunted manor house upon a dark evening. Their cynical Mayor takes against the house's proprietor, the Maestro (Michael Jackson). The Maestro summons up a horde of ghosts, in an attempt to both scare and entertain the assembled people. Predictably enough, the children love it and the Mayor hates it, berating the Maestro as a 'freak', who would be better off in the circus.

There is some sense of Jackson playing on themes from "The Elephant Man", one of his favourite films - playing an outsider, hated by many in adult society. Magic and oddity are seen to win out, with the Mayor confounded at every turn and indeed inhabited by MJ's spirit at one point and even doing the Moonwalk in a memorably amusing sequence. The ghosts work well in tandem and individually - we are treated to Elizabethan ruff wearers, arch Gothic ladies and a rather sinister zombie-jester.

The music contains some of the better 1990s Michael Jackson numbers: 'Is It Scary' and '2 Bad' are not classics but are well used; 'Ghosts' is a cracking song given its perfect visual accompaniment here. Some of the ghosts' dance routines are superbly realised, and it is notable just how at home Jackson is with these spectral figures around him. Compare with his uncomfortable attempt at R&B normality in the 'You Rock My World' video, where he achieved no chemistry whatsoever with the lady he is supposed to be romancing.

"Ghosts" truly shows a Michael Jackson in his element, a weird man in weird surroundings, putting on an unusually entertaining horror show.

Michael Jackson: Thriller (1983 Music Video)

An expansion which serves the song well

[7/10 · 26 July 2010]

This is a music-video turned short-film, very well directed by John Landi - using some of the same trickery and style adopted for his 1981 comedy-horror classic, "An American Werewolf in London".

Beautifully shot by Robert Paynter, a veteran British cinematographer who learnt his trade photographing British Transport Films back in the 1950s; he captures some vividly dark blues, purples and reds throughout.

There are film-within-a-film games going on here, plus a surprisingly overt story about burgeoning sexuality, with Jackson's girl clearly more frightened of what is potentially to come in the bedroom than what she is seeing on the cinema screen. Then the actual music part, with the werewolf Jackson leading her astray, backed up by a gang of "Dawn of the Dead" style zombies and ghouls. Vincent Price's voice-over makes a lot more sense in the context of this film than in the song as it appears on "Thriller". The film's final shot is rightly famous, and I can well imagine it scaring quite a few children. Interesting to ponder whether Jackson was entirely conscious of the sexual subtext, or not.

Overall, a fine little piece of film-making to support a phenomenally successful album, which turned Jackson into a 'mega-star'. Here, he seems very much in touch with his music and with his horror lore.

The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry (1945)

"Why do we torture ourselves trying to find out what's good and evil?"

[7/10 · 20 July 2010]

Well-acted and neatly translated to the screen, "The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry" is an enjoyable and at times intriguing Universal picture, something of a mix between woman's picture, crime narrative and familial melodrama.

As another IMDb reviewer says, this could have made excellent material for Hitchcock to work with; whilst Siodmak's handling is lacking in the sort of tension and suspense old Alf would have brought, he does create a memorable melodrama with reflective moments.

Sanders is excellent as the 'good guy' lead, playing a thoughtful and rather hidebound man looking to break away from his somewhat stifling New Hampshire small-town life. The Quincy family, including the possessive Lettie (Geraldine Fitzgerald), are thrown into sharp contrast by the outgoing urban girl, Deborah Brown - played with an easy-going warmth by Ella Raines. Lettie and Deborah embody the contrasting options that Harry has open to him in life: stifling, picturesque seclusion, the country versus sensual adventurousness, the city. Miss Brown with her New York city flat and 'library of detective stories' is an immensely attractive figure, and it is testament to Sanders' acting ability that he conveys the depth of tradition and family ties that make it a more complicated 'choice'.

Overall, a very satisfactory New England melodrama that does not outstay its welcome at a lean 77 minutes, and provides excellent work for Sanders, Raines and Fitzgerald.

Capitalism: A Love Story (2009)

Moore takes on his largest target yet, and exposes some cracks in the edifice

[7/10 · 19 July 2010]

"Is this the United States Congress, or the Board of Directors of Goldman Sachs!?"

Perhaps this subject is too big for one film to encapsulate, but Moore has a jolly good go. He is really taking on neo-liberalism rather than capitalism itself, as he continually advocates that America should follow the European and Japanese examples of more moderate, mixed-economy capitalism.

He misses the point entirely if he characterises these economies as fundamentally 'socialist', when they are merely more successful capitalist societies that integrate bits of socialism in order to keep the majority happier. They are not countries which guarantee full employment or affordable homes for all, as any British or Japanese citizen would be able to tell you.

However, Moore does capture some of the core injustices inherent in capitalism and particularly the neo-liberal economic model; he rightly dates the advance of this model to Reagan, though concedes that FDR's dream never comes to pass. The clip of FDR, outlining his never legislated 'Second Bill of Rights' is well selected and opens up some tantalising 'what-ifs', though clearly American individualism was always going to be too strong to succumb to his moderately socialist aims. Moore covers the causes of the economic crisis adequately and graphically shows how people lost their homes and jobs so that the bankers could continue to receive bonuses once their supposedly 'free market' businesses had been bailed out by the state.

The film is very insightful on how embedded Wall Street and the stock market are in terms of the running of the government; this 'elite' being disdainfully wary of the 'peasants' who could potentially overthrow them. Moore is not critical enough of the Democrats, however; excusing their eventual caving in and support for the bail-out of the banks, and implying that the mere election of the Obama is itself reason for believing that things will change. Whilst 33% of young people did indeed express faith in socialist ideas (only 4% less than backed capitalist ones), there is only one elected socialist senator, Bernie Sanders, whom Moore interviews. He undercuts his own 'hope' message by making the relevant observation that Tim Geithner was appointed by Obama after a failed stint as regulator within the Federal Reserve. Moore exposes the back-room deals and does concede some disillusionment with most of the elected politicians (Christopher Dodd, for example, is singled out). He makes the valid point that direct action from the people is the only way to establish any gains - giving some concrete examples where unionisation or occupation of foreclosed homes, has led to some redress against the capitalist system.

It is arguable whether the planet can afford for all to reap the benefits of FDR's dream; if it is ever to be enacted, consumerism itself must be drastically cut back. It is a self-evident truth that free market capitalism has failed not just the USA but the world, but it is far from clear that a rehashed Keynesian social democrat approach is a viable alternative.

Moore should have spent more time honing his central argument regarding alternatives instead of the toothless attempts to make citizens arrests of the bailed-out bankers; he could have made the point that these are in effect robbers of tax-payers' money much more succinctly.

BBC documentary maker Adam Curtis has perhaps been the best at capturing the gaping void at the heart of neo-liberalism, in series such as "The Century of the Self", "The Power of Nightmares" and "The Trap". With this film, Moore has a reasonable stab at nailing it, though occasionally undermines his own case by inconsistencies and inadequately checked facts. Same as ever then, but it is still good to see somebody at least trying to tackle the elephant in the room that is global capitalism and the stock market. When he is providing good evidence it is a scatching indictment of the capitalist virus.

A Time to Kill (1955)

"The pretty little Miss Cole, dead, sir!"

[5/10 · 19 July 2010]

This is a 'quota quickie' which at least has brevity on its side: clocking in at under 62 minutes, it has enough pace to avoid boring the audience.

We are presented with the curious spectacle of John Horsley, later famous as Doc Morrissey in "The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin", cast as a man of action, possibly the hero, possibly the criminal. He is given lines like "I'll be there or bust!" - and one can obviously only think of We have female parts barely sketched in by the screenwriter, Doreen Montgomery; Rona Anderson as the bland romantic lead Sallie and Mary Jones does a lot of sub-Celia Johnson lower-lip trembling as Florence Cole. Kenneth Kent treats it as if a pantomime and why not, frankly? Dialogue such as "Have a care my dear! Indiscriminate tippling can lead to alcoholism. So unattractive, especially in women" and "Put these effusions in the fire" really do beg to be delivered with a certain ripe pomposity and KK certainly delivers.

John Le Mesurier's puritan father is a nice decoy within the context of the film's Whodunnit nature; blundering into the courtroom declaiming "I am the father of the unhappy Madeline Tilliard!" as if he was in a Victorian theatrical melodrama. It is a shame we don't get to hear that much more from this character, speaking of "the devil's brew" and his sinful daughter, associated with "furtive meetings, whisperings in the dark and heedless laughter..." "A Time to Kill" is frankly routine, often humdrum fare, but still remains infinitely more watchable than many current Hollywood products of double, even triple, its length. We get to hear good old English phrases like "who is this preposterous man!?" "good hunting!" "rigmarole" "oh, what 'ave I said..." and "he's a fiend for fresh air, Mr 'Astings!" Which is all preferable to a punch on the nose, or an hour's daytime television.

Mary Poppins (1964)

Rich, ripe musical with a heart

[8/10 · 13 June 2010]

'A British bank is run with precision!'

"Mary Poppins" is a lively family musical that fashions an inviting fantasy world out of Edwardian London. It is a rare film that successfully incorporates potshots at fox-hunting, accessible song craft and an exploration of parenting.

Before the arrival of Mary 'practically perfect in every way' Poppins, we are introduced to the children's parents - too busy with their various concerns to truly give their children any time. Mrs Banks (Glynis Johns) is a skittish campaigner for women's suffrage; Mr Banks (David Tomlinson) is a patriarch of the old-school, a moralising leftover from the Victorian era. A Galsworthian man of property, business and propriety.

Disney's view of London has a strange charm all of its own: a delusional old sea captain and 'crew' presiding over a mock-ship in the sky; sooty chimney-sweeps engaging in elaborate rooftop choreography; an absurdly penny-pinching banking business located in a grandiose building of Neo-Classical proportions, propped up by Athenian columns. A police constable (Arthur Treacher) every bit as reassuring as old George Dixon of Dock Green himself. One gets a sense of the London of E. Nesbit; the progressive middle-classes influenced by Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw and the Webbs, captured in novels like "The Story of the Treasure Seekers" (1898). There is social change, yet there are still advertisements for nannies placed in The Times; still straight-faced claims that 'the British pound is the admiration of the world'.

The dialogue and song lyrics are crafted with a good deal of wit and lightness of touch: from the famously long nonsense word I needn't reproduce, to odd mentions of 'rum punch', to 'Chim Chim Cheree' to the stately vocabulary afforded Mr Banks in speech and song, it is a film that takes joyous liberty with language. Some of the lyrics match W.S. Gilbert in their satirical capturing of the English gentleman.

Julie Andrews? Well, she is perfectly cast as the utterly strait-laced lady of misrule, Mary Poppins. The chaos she creates is controlled, and with a decided point: to educate both children and parents, coating some unpalatable truths in sugar. Bert and Poppins work to bring the family together, helping the children to understand their father, and vice versa. As with so many family films, there is explicit criticism of capitalist greed and an assertion that people will see the error of their ways and behave better: the bankers forgive Mr Banks and he is accepted back into the fold.

As David Thomson argues in his seminal Biographical Dictionary of Film, Julie Andrews only really made sense in films of this particular time; her Poppins is redolent of an era marked by its security, despite JFK's assassination and the Cuban Missile Crisis. She captures a pre-Beatles practicality; an Englishness of controlled amusement but little time for 'frivolity'. A cheeriness underpinned by responsibility, only the coyest hints of sexuality permitted (in a brief moment with Van Dyke in the painting sequence). P.L. Travers, the author of the original novels, thought that her Poppins was diluted, made rather too palatable. It is interesting to speculate what a Glenda Jackson or Diana Rigg could have made of the role.

Of course, the Van Dyke accent is awful, wandering between stage cockney and his own, and I do confess to some irritation at his incessant, Donald O'Connor-in-your-face performance, but it fits within the context of what is a stylised fantasy London; indeed, an American imagining of it. It will be interesting to compare with the same year's "My Fair Lady".

David Tomlinson is perhaps the unsung hero of the film, indeed its heart; his Mr Banks is an utterly convincing archetypal traditionalist who gradually opens up, becoming a man who can relish his own absurdity; who learns to live anew. His songs are my favourites of the film - particularly the late, reflective one ('A man has dreams'). The child actors somehow manage the feat of being enthusiastic without being cloying. It is a limitation, however, that Glynis Johns is not given more to do; her character undergoes little development in comparison with her husband.

Whilst there are minor reservations and gripes to be found, the life-affirming qualities of this film cannot be denied. It is an achievement - a monument even - that Disney has not been able to surpass; offering something for everyone, child and adult alike. Bankers and fox-hunters not withstanding.

Day of the Dead (1985)

Brisk, enjoyable elaboration of the zombie series

[7/10 · 13 June 2010]

This third instalment in Romero's series of zombie films is a mixture of the thoughtful, the satirical and the downright gory.

The zombies are generally more of a sideshow in the early part of the film, with more emphasis on the semi-military group dynamics of the humans under siege. Romero expands upon this theme, by contrasting the 'egghead' Dr Logan (Richard Liberty) with the twisted, action hero-gone-wrong Captain Rhodes (Joseph Pilato). Both are anti-heroes in their different ways, fitting in with the 'Dead' series' clever refusal to countenance good and evil. Logan represents a fascinating, if potentially deluded and irrelevant academia; Rhodes a stunted, shoot-first, ask-questions-later militarism. Both are dismembered, neither approach shown to be 'right' or effective in the face of the undead onslaught.

Again, the zombies are wonderfully crafted, though there is less poetry and surrealism in their depiction than in the magisterial "Dawn of the Dead". Barring perhaps the pivotal scenes of Dr Logan, with his application of behaviourist theory in training a lone zombie in his lab. These experimentation sequences have the sort of evocative use of sound that runs throughout the earlier film: the same sense of melancholy and dislocation, and Romero clearly relishes elaborating the 1978 film's core theme of the zombie regressing to previous learnt behaviour. There is a woozy, ambient calm to the scene where he tries to instill in the zombie a liking for Beethoven through textbook behaviourism. Otherwise, the music tends a bit towards the post-Carpenter 1980s norm.

Performances are excellent, make-up and assorted guts present and suitably incorrect. However, whilst Lori Cardille is excellent, she could have been given more to do, and the progression towards the resolution is rather more contrived than in the previous two films. There are stretches towards the end where it gets close to standard action territory, and several characters are barely developed.

This hasn't quite got the style and engagement of the previous films, but works on the level of a satirical exposure of mainstream action films and of dry academic theory. "Day of the Dead" is an admirably cynical and at times thoughtful piece of entertainment, always holding the interest.

The National Health (1973)

'There should be clinics where one could get one's death like a library book' - interesting, flawed 'film'

[5/10 · 3 June 2010]

"The National Health" falls into the trap of so many British films: that of staying faithful to its previous incarnation in another medium. This is a stage-play only nominally opened up, made cinematic. I suppose this makes a marginally refreshing change from 1970s British cinema's more common ploy of barely adapting television sitcoms to the big-screen. Marginally.

It attempts allegory through the use of irony; counter-posing scenes of idealised US television depictions of hospital life with the 'reality' of NHS life in grimmer 1970s Britain. The film certainly captures some of the loss of faith in the Welfare State that was occurring, and eventually led to the rise of Margaret Thatcher and the 'New Right', who looked to reform state services. It should be noted, however, that the NHS was not privatised by Thatcher, and remains, broadly speaking, a public health provider with care free at the point of use (despite the experience of greater marketisation that staff have had, behind the scenes).

It seems curious that this 1973 film barely expresses any faith in public health provision, considering that in 2010 the NHS remains a loved British institution. Nichols clearly saw himself as 'saying the unsay-able' at a time when social democratic politics seemed thoroughly embedded in almost all aspects of British life. The script gestures towards this with one hospital ward named after Sir Stafford Cripps, one of the Labour politicians responsible for the post-WW2 welfare settlement. Nichols sets out to critique socialism, basically saying that socialism had not truly arrived in Britain, with lazy staff and bickering patients. The system is seen as part of the usual British 'muddling along', rather than fulfilling the humanist efficiency foreseen by NHS founder, Aneurin Bevan.

There are jibes at the coarsening of British life: 'We want to rise, not sink in the bog', Clive Swift lamenting the reduction of English, 'the most beautiful language in the world' into 'a string of obscenities' by 'most people' you meet. There is the sense of a Britain having lost its old certainties; the 'simple dignity' and stoicism of WW2, with people now expecting a lot more from life and the reality often falling short. This is stated - with sledgehammer subtlety - through the idealised US hospital scenes. Perhaps making the point that media images and advertising have given people false idols to worship; antiseptic product and the unobtainable romance of Mills and Boon.

Hollywood did hospital satire rather better two years previously with "The Hospital", a coruscating drama that captures the conflicted nature of public service in modern consumer society rather more bitingly. That film is often just as verbose, but has a magnetic central performance from George C. Scott to anchor the whole thing. This has a fine ensemble, but a lack of dramatic tension or direction. It tends to meander, with its scatter-shot potshots at the mores of Blighty.

The acting is, naturally, faultless; from the fine character actor Clive Swift, to a well-cast Jim Dale - making a conscious link to the "Carry Ons" - to Bob Hoskins (playing the socialist Foster, the one character unreservedly defending 1970s Britain) and to Colin Blakely as the laconic, archetypal gloomy Loach. Oh, and the presence of the striking, mellifluous Eleanor Bron is recommendation enough for any film.

This film clearly has a lot to say about the state of the nation, but, in contrast to that other 1973 film "O Lucky Man!" it does not work as cinema and ironically comes across as much more long-winded than Anderson's flawed masterpiece, despite being about half its length.

Blood Suckers (1971)

A perfunctory horror, containing flashes of what might have been

[4/10 · 3 June 2010]

Yes, "Incense for the Damned" is a rather shoddy piece of work; you can tell that right from the off with the ludicrous choice of yellow lettering against a grey background for the title sequence.

However, there are hints of what might have been; as David Pirie in the "Time Out" Film Guide and other commentators here have argued, a Roman Polanski or Mario Bava could have done great things with the basic material and with more adept use of a budget. Robert Hartford-Davis (who went on to disown this film) does not marshal whatever meagre resources were available to him with any panache. In fact, technically it is a mix of the ludicrous and laughable: the aforementioned titles, endless half-hearted scenes of fisticuffs and one of the most inane voice-overs in the history of cinema, dispensing exposition with all the perfunctory baldness of Iain Duncan Smith on auto-pilot. "Sunset Boulevard" and William Holden this is most definitely not! It is a shame that so much is bungled and botched; there was scope for an enjoyable occult romp, and potential even for an edgier exploration of vampirism and sexuality. The all-too-brief scene with 'guest star' Edward Woodward hints at a much more interesting film, with his straight-faced thoughts on the links between vampires and masochism: 'Sado-masochism, my dear man, is no joke [...] Some get their excitement from statues, what we call the Pygmalion syndrome. Other men can only make love in a coffin..." There is nothing as interesting in the way the narrative is developed, with Imogen Hassall's voluptuous Chriseis entirely uncharacterised, and the enigma of Patrick Mower's protagonist Richard Fountain untapped.

The premise has promise: young Oxford undergraduate cannot cope with the expectations and restrictions of university life and turns to the dark arts, in a bid to get revenge against Cushing's provost (who is again an under-developed character with little screen time) and the system. This theme only comes into focus with Fountain's outburst at the University 'formal', and then the effect is bewildering rather than illuminating, as one might expect it to be in Simon Raven's original novel. Mower is given poetic, pithy lines about the dons - "smooth deceivers in scarlet gowns" - but the source of his anger is barely addressed. Little is done with the classical allusions that are occasionally shoe-horned in. We are told that Patrick Macnee's character 'was fond of Greece', but this never comes across in the actual script: another case of Hartford-Davis's "Tell Not Show" approach.

The dialogue provided in Julian More's script is a mixture of the sharp and ridiculous, suggesting an imperfect adaptation of the novel, capturing some but far from much of its style. There are hints of a satirical approach not taken up - Cushing's "Bloody socialist ministers" jibe at the then-Labour government. The dialogue is far from the worst problem with the film, however, as many scenes retain an amusement value due to an absurd melodrama inherent in the dialogue; for example: 'You've got your witches' covens in Mayfair, voodoo in Soho! How do you explain that? Logic!? Science!?' No excuse, however, for hoary old chestnuts of hokum like these: "Suppose it was murder..." "I think I'll just go for a walk..." Too often, the film mutates into a tourist video for its Greek settings, and it wastes time on the most tedious 'orgy' you will ever see in 60s/70s British cinema and the many inexcusably risible fight and pursuit scenes. With such a cast and potentially potent elements - sexual deviance, Oxbridge, vampires, anti-establishment - it is ultimately very disappointing. Hartford-Davis was right to disown it, as surely he recognised how much better it should have been. "Show not tell" should have been the watchword. Having said all of that, this film remains watchable; its saving grace being that it is only 79 minutes long, and it does gradually get less boring after the desultory titles and voice-over, with one starting to appreciate that wasted promise.

The Hospital (1971)

Flawed, but often inspired black comedy about 'the whole wounded mad-house of our times'

[8/10 · 19 May 2010]

As David Thomson argues in his unimpeachable Biographical Dictionary of Film, this film is not about Arthur Hiller; his contribution is barely noticeable. It is about screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky and a towering central performance by George C. Scott as Dr Bock, a haunting performance of a conflicted man: a conscientious Doctor embodying the decaying ideals of public service and enlightenment as chaos reigns in his hospital.

The film stands on the cusp of the changing times, as the new 'realism' of the 1970s began to be felt: in the cold, harsh light of a new decade, the assumptions of consumer-driven economic growth and a benevolent welfare state came under threat. As prosperity began to dwindle, the divisions of the 1960s between new and old ideas - political and personal - came to the fore in a much less comfortable new context.

Chayefsky is even-handed with the new counter-culture; young people - perhaps rightly - protesting at the state of the hospital, but unlikely to be able to assume the sort of responsibility exercised by Dr Bock. Bock is dismayed that so much of the 'revolution' is merely personal - it is not about serious issues like race or even Vietnam, for many of the young, but a sexual revolution: inward looking ("Kids are more hung up on sex than the Victorians"). But then there is the eccentric 'acidhead' Barbara Drummond, played with matter-of-fact charm by Diana Rigg, who just might prove Bock's salvation, in several ways; someone at last with whom he can at last who can have a soul bearing conversation.

The film loses some focus, I feel, in the morning after Bock's liaison with Barbara; the killer-at-large business, whilst amusing in a wacky, playing-with-melodrama sense, does not really work as well as the earlier institutional satire and thoughtful characterisation. The character Dr Welbeck (Richard Dysart) comes across as too obvious a bogeyman, although his inclusion is justified by the brilliantly concise verbal assassination he receives from the world-weary Bock (87mins in).

The film is best when it explores the lack of responsibility, the passing of the buck; an ailing bureaucracy that kills its patients, with staff agents of what is effectively an institutional virus. This film conveys better than most the melancholy of good intentions being undermined, of obstacles to good work; of the noble vocation of public service in jeopardy. Fans of the justifiably acclaimed media satire "Network" (1976) will appreciate an equally scabrous, truth-telling script by Chayefsky - surely one of the finest, though sadly least prolific, Hollywood scriptwriters. And, the great George C. Scott, superb in "Dr Strangelove" and "Anatomy of a Murder", is even better in this neglected, minor classic of a film.

The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer (1970)

Fair satire on politics and the media, though works best as a 'Spot the British Thespian' challenge

[6/10 · 19 May 2010]

Kevin Billington's "The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer" is a reasonable enough satire, with many observations on polling, politics and Britain relevant not just then but now.

There are hints of Muriel Spark's "The Ballad of Peckham Rye" (1960); Cook's Rimmer comes from nowhere, like Dougal Douglas in the aforementioned novel. He does not merely analyse, satirise and disrupt like DD, but rather gradually assumes greater power - Rimmer is a Machiavel in the guise of a Time and Motion Man. A polling calculus where his heart should be.

The style also has hints of Reginald Perrin and Monty Python - fittingly enough given the involvement of Cleese and Chapman. It is scatter-shot in its comic approach - direct jibes at the likes of Enoch Powell and Harolds Macmillan and Wilson. George A. Cooper figures as a pipe-pondering Wilsonian PM (though he looks rather more like the self-styled 'Quiet Man' of the current-day Conservatives, Iain Duncan Smith!), deciding to run a presidential style election campaign much as Wilson actually did in the 1970 General Election.

The section where the Tories - including Rimmer as Chancellor - get in is remarkably accurate in anticipating the situation today: 'Blame it on the last lot', as the new government faces up to a difficult economic situation inherited from a defeated Labour government. There are also lines about creating an impression of being tough on immigration for the media which resonate with the recent election campaign.

Rimmer is a precursor of David Cameron, of course; a particularly marked resemblance: both are public-relations men, endlessly adaptable and without a clearly defined set of principles. All political moves calculated in terms of how things will play out in the "news cycle". A general public which proves gullible enough to buy into the image of these leaders foisted on them by the press.

So much is spot on and relevant, so why didn't I this more than I did? I think it has something to do with the nature of the script and characterisation; the characters are broad caricatures and the progression of the script entirely predictable, perhaps proving a victim of its own prescience. So many politicians now follow the Rimmer rulebook that there is absolutely no shock generated by watching this now. "Nothing But the Best" (dir. Clive Donner, 1964) has a rather more interesting trajectory, with Alan Bates and Denholm Elliott and incisive exploration of social class and the media.

The whole would be a greater film if there was a greater sense of conflict, uncertainty or urgency generated; it is instead an obvious, if admirable, closed-book of a film. It is especially watchable in terms of spotting the esteemed British thespian; this film has more renowned names drawn from several acting generations (those born 1910-40) than most films. Denholm Elliott, Julian Glover (amusing clipped caricature of the military mindset), Graham Crowden (sublime actor in a lovely cameo as the archetypal new Christian of the 1960s), John Cleese, Harold Pinter, Ronald Culver, James Cossins (pre-"Death Line"), Dennis Price (post-"Kind Hearts and Coronets"), Graham Chapman, Valerie Leon (though used as omnipotent 'eye candy' as always), the magnificent Arthur Lowe, Norman Bird, Frank Thornton, Dudley Foster, Ronald Fraser, Ronnie Corbett, Diana Coupland and Norman Rossington. Such a litany in itself justifies a viewing of this reasonable film.

Pressure (1976)

"Have you been long in this country?" / "I was born here, sir"

[7/10 · 17 May 2010]

Vivid, only occasionally heavy-going account of African Caribbean experiences of Britain in the 1970s. Much interesting material on the cultural shift from the original post-WW2 generation of immigrants and the younger generation now native to Britain. It begins as an even-handed study and gradually takes sides - with good reason.

This is particularly of interest as an examination of how the original Trinidadian immigrants differed from their children who were born and bred in England. The older generation tend to be content to achieve on the terms defined by the English - hard work and respect for authority. This is not an option open to the youth, as represented in Herbert Norville's Tony. Perhaps the most incisive scene in the film is his job interview early in the film, with the unctuous insincerity of the boss Mr Crapson (John F. Landry), a Steve Pemberton lookalike complete with Bobby Charlton comb-over; who is noticeably uneasy behind the false bonhomie. There's also a fascinating disco scene, with Tony meeting an old white girlfriend, who has managed to escape from the poor, inner city neighbourhood through getting work.

Horace Ove uses an eclectic cast, with such distinctive familiars from British culture as Tommy Vance and Norman Beaton present and correct. This works an intriguing cultural artifact from the mid-1970s - evocative terraces and tower blocks - and as a rare insight into the black British experience, as Black Power began to reflect concerns over unemployment, police brutality and racism.

Overall, "Pressure" is slightly too didactic to work as a whole for me, but an urgent, interesting piece of film-making all the same.

The Conformist (1970)

Chilly detachment works well in context

[8/10 · 17 May 2010]

Bertolucci's "Il conformista" is a gradually powerful film, with a lot to say about opportunism and, you guessed it, conformity. A man blending into the culture, adapting without any principle. Good performances and stylish cinematography.

Jean-Louis Trintignant gives an absorbing performance as the man who keeps up neutral appearances whilst stabbing supposed friends in the back in the name of personal and political expediency. As David Thomson says: 'His personality in The Conformist is the weakness of the obsessive fantasist, his face closed to guard his own private image of the world.' Italian society's corruption is mirrored in this individual, with Stefani Sandrelli's stylish Giulia an accomplice in her willing blindness to politics and the darker details of her husband's life. Giulia is all stylish surfaces - abstract dresses and flapper instincts - and is one with the lingering moral vacuity prevalent in the wider society.

There are subtly memorable moments and sequences, which persist in the memory like strains of opera; Bertolucci directs in a stately, but underplayed fashion - capturing a fine sense of colour and mise-en-scene within the frame. Slightly reminiscent of Antonioni, in this sense.

Overall, an absorbing portrait of a man who, in Tom Milne's terms is 'so anxious to live a normal life that he willingly becomes an anonymous tool of the state.' (Time Out Film Guide)

The Naked Kiss (1964)

A cracking jackhammer of a film

[9/10 · 16 May 2010]

This is another of Samuel Fuller's intense, explosive films, exposing hypocrisies and subverting the usual signposts.

The suave pillar of the community and romantic interest turns out to be a subtly monstrous figure, the reformed prostitute the true heroine. Superb use of melodrama to unsettle - applied with more emotive bombast than Douglas Sirk; it makes a fascinating contrast with that old master's work. The film goes against the grain in so many ways, cunningly deploying Paul Dunlap's music and avoiding some expected plot twists. The cinematography is from Stanley Cortez, who certainly came with form on low-budget films, having worked on the sublime "Night of the Hunter" nine years before. This film actually shares a lot with Laughton's; both are warped fairy tales, treading an incredibly fine line between sentimentality and brutality.

Constance Towers gives a suitably towering performance as the unfortunate Kelly, giving the character real depth and humanity; she has a fascinating mix of fragility and strength.

Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999)

Unusual, deadpan classic from Jarmusch

[10/10 · 16 May 2010]

The instructively titled "Ghost Dog - The Way of the Samurai" is a frankly magnificent film; it is immensely satisfying with its winningly subtle humour and is ultimately profound. This is the third and definitely the best Jarmusch picture I have seen. I did appreciate "Stranger than Paradise" and enjoyed "Night on Earth" up to a point, but this goes way beyond what those films managed, in my opinion.

RZA's score is superb, appropriately meditative, ghostly and haunting. The whole thing seems a remarkable coming together of talents: Whitaker, Jarmusch and Wu-Tang pooling their resources to produce an odd, requiem-like crime film, which articulates a Zen outlook. The locations - mainly Jersey City, NJ - are well selected and the supporting cast deftly underplays in a way you so rarely see in today's films.

And then there is this pivotal bit of dialogue towards the end that I instantly recognised as being sampled (*very* appropriately) in Burial's dubstep elegy 'Gutted' (2006):

"Me and him we're from different ancient tribes Now we're both almost ancient Sometimes, you've got to stick with the ancient ways The old-school ways Do you understand me?"

Watch this film with an open mind; you will be immersed.

Control (2007)

All the monochrome Manchester clichés

[7/10 · 16 May 2010]

"Tell me about Macclesfield..." (spoken in sensuous Belgian accent)

A reasonably strong film, this; Corbijn adopting an appropriately gloomy naturalism. For a richer understanding you will also require Paul Morley's side of the story ("Piece by Piece", his 2007 compendium of writings on the band) and a familiarity with the collected works of JG Ballard, Franz Kafka and Werner Herzog. However, this is worth watching all the same - unfolding from the perspectives of Deborah and Ian Curtis, mainly being drawn from Deborah's memoir, "Touching from a Distance" (1995).

There is some sense of the rich cultural terrain of Post Punk Britain; "Radio On" was clearly an influence and the soundtrack includes the Kraftwerk and Eno, to place Joy Division in their rightful context as European forces of nature (and machine). Curtis is portrayed as a self-educated working-class intellect and instinctive European who is constrained by, and yet drawn back to, his Cheshire roots. Perhaps Owen Hatherley is correct when he describes the film as a hagiography of Curtis - it does perhaps fall into the trap of many biopics that make things a bit pat and obvious. His character seems a bit simplified and reduced; perhaps due to the adaptation of a book written from one person's perspective. This is avoided in "Nowhere Boy" (2009), with its portrayal of the flawed young John Lennon; that film also has a more robust sense of the social context than this film.

Riley and Morton give expert, if predictable performances, doing their best with what they are given; as do the bit-part strollers playing the visionaries and jesters of Post Punk Mancunia: Toby Kebbell as Rob Gretton, and Craig Parkinson as Mr Manchester himself, Tony Wilson. Hooky is played as a Neanderthal and Sumner as a sensitive sort, powerless to aid Curtis. Alexandra Maria Lara is competent enough as Curtis' Belgian mistress, perhaps straining for the Euro-ennui of Lisa Kreuzer in "Radio On".

Overall, this has a certain power on first viewing, though a lot of this is due to its careful assimilation of so many cherished post-punk tropes. It is too perfectly crafted to upset any boats - a kind of English Heritage simulacrum of our formerly alternative culture.

Help! (1965)

A likable, ramshackle potpourri of Paul, Ringo, John, George, Leo and Eleanor!

[7/10 · 16 May 2010]

"Help! is a rather enjoyable film, with impressive jet-setting, vivacious colour (see the wonderfully restored print released in 2007 on DVD) and deadpan mop-toppery.

The Beatles are even more at ease here than in the previous year's "A Hard Day's Night", and play off the great Leo McKern and the glorious Eleanor Bron to finely low-key comic effect. Bron and McKern play deliberately vague 'eastern' types; McKern with his absurd 'oriental' babble, and Bron decked in a befuddling array of costumes, from Indian fashions to pink leathers.

This film rattles along affably, with amusing escapades and odd little bits and pieces; it has the air of a more good-natured, absurdist Bond film. A fine cast, in fine locations (from Chiswick to the Salisbury Plains to the Alps to the Bahamas!), indulging in some surreal and yet down-to-earth knockabout. Much more fun than the frazzled "Magical Mystery Tour" 'film' and many other would-be-picaresque British comedies of this particular era.

Oh, and there's some bloody good music too.

The Flesh and Blood Show (1972)

Nifty enough seaside shocker: Walker's crimson period starts here

[6/10 · 16 May 2010]

"The Flesh and Blood Show" bookends Pete Walker's 'golden period' of horrors, with "Schizo" (1976) at the other end; it is a gruesome piece of film-making that shows improvements in Walker's work from "Die Screaming, Marianne" - and yet he is still limbering up, in truth.

Patrick Barr - to be used again by PW - is excellent here, playing 'the Major', the first in a line of Walker protagonists who appear to be harmless English eccentrics, but are actually... well, that would be telling! The youth characters may be rather stereotyped, but that is part of Walker's approach: to set a licentious, permissive youth against a resentful and uncompromisingly vengeful older generation. It is much to Walker's credit that few if any characters could be described as typical heroes. And he doesn't take sides; the photography indeed mimics the voyeur's view at times - implicating the audience, using the trick first deployed by Michael Powell in "Peeping Tom" (1960).

The out-of-season seaside setting - Cromer, apparently - fits aptly into this dialectic. The troupe of young actors' arrival seemingly doubles the ageing population of the resort, who can seemingly only dream of the past. It can even be argued that there are pre-echoes of Alan Bennett's use of Morecambe in "Sunset Across the Bay" (BBC, 1975) - though of course, lacking quite the same sad humour and dry insight.

Still, it is an serviceable enough shocker. Not as bizarrely gripping as Walker's subsequent Melodramas of Discontent, but a decisive step in that direction. And with a script by Alfred Shaughnessy (one of the prime wits behind LWT's "Upstairs, Downstairs") and a suitably eerie score from Cyril Ornadel (who composed all of the music for ATV's seminal "Sapphire and Steel"). Oh, and Robin Askwith... who is enjoyably absurd in horror films (see also the ludicrous "Horror Hospital" from the following year), where he is rather more horrific in myriad dire sex comedies to come.

It's a Gift (1934)

Sharp, at times definitive comic vehicle for Fields

[9/10 · 16 May 2010]

There is considerable fun to be had in watching this fine old comedy; such expert timing, with Fields proving master of the slow-burning visual gag and also the offhand, unremittingly sour retort.

Raymond Durgnat wrote extensively on Fields in his book on early Hollywood comedy, "The Crazy Mirror", as has David Thomson in his Biographical Dictionary of Film. These critics rightfully see Fields as embodying a certain isolationism in the American soul, a reluctance to go along with the cosy family values often proffered by Hollywood. As Geoff Brown argues in his Time Out review, "It's a Gift" is 'Fields' definitive study in the horrors of small town family life.' Few comedies of this era match it in terms of avoiding easy sentiment and padding: perhaps only "Duck Soup" comes to mind. It was still a few years before the screwball comedies fully found their feet, with the magnificent likes of "My Man Godfrey" (1936) and "Bringing Up Baby" (1938).

"It's a Gift" is as gloriously chaotic as the best of the Marx Brothers, as precisely measured as the best Jacques Tati, but it is imbued with an irascible philosophy all of its own. There are some truly wonderful set-pieces: the kumquats scene and the slow build of WCF's time on his makeshift bed on the outer landing, to name two examples.

Die Screaming Marianne (1971)

Competent but tedious early Pete Walker

[4/10 · 16 May 2010]

Not particularly gripping tale of a 'free spirited' Susan George becoming embroiled in a seedy crime racket, led by a 'defrocked' Judge.

Not just *a* Judge, but 'The Judge' - Leo Genn's character who is continually accorded the definite article by sundry friends and enemies - who are largely interchangeable. This melodrama, with a heavy accent on the corrupt authority figures, bears some resemblance to Pete Walker's later baroque horrors. But the formula isn't developed as of yet - and he had yet to work with the waggish scriptwriter David McGillivray. Walker followed this film with the relatively interesting curio, "The Flesh and Blood Show" - collaborating with the talented veteran Alfred Shaughnessy of "Upstairs, Downstairs" fame - and then his fecund period began with "The House of Whipcord" in 1974.

Susan George and Judy Huxtable are done a great disservice by Walker and scriptwriter Murray Smith here with their reductive portrayal of female characters. Such as shame for George in particular, subject of much brutality in Peckinpah's "Straw Dogs" the following year, but also Huxtable, who was the evocative beauty at the heart of the whimsical "Les Bicylettes de Belsize" two years earlier.

There is always some degree of objectification of women in Walker's films, but what is lacking here is the suspenseful, charged context of his later films. "Frightmare" and "House of Mortal Sin" have something of the Hitchcockian about them: Hitchcock-meets-the Grimm Brothers-meets-British exploitation cinema of the 70s. This is a rather more humdrum affair, with even the exotic locations eliciting no more than a Gallic shrug in this viewer.

16 Years of Alcohol (2003)

Passionate, occasionally pompous film debut from film man Jobson

[8/10 · 16 May 2010]

Excellent film about the problem of alcoholism; a problem keenly felt in the director's native Scotland.

There is an autobiographical veracity about the whole thing, plus an intimate knowledge and use of Edinburgh locations, and songs by the magnificent Glasweigan band the Blue Nile. McKidd is a revelation as the central protagonist Frankie, Laura Fraser is, as always, effortlessly sexy.

Yes, the film is rather portentous in tone and spare in cinematic style, but that tends to suit the subject. 'Creepy and sad'? 'More dull dross from a pretentious Scotsman'? Such IMDb user criticisms seem ridiculously unjustified to me, though users have a point when they criticise the film's lack of continuity at times: the characters not changing in appearance or dress across more than a decade's time-span. It might be nitpicking, but I think these people have a point; it does kind of undermine the verisimilitude that Jobson is aiming for.

Overall, though, a fine film from that hard-boiled, all-round renaissance man, Richard Jobson. It seems some of his subsequent films seem less promising; a shame, as this film suggests that he could make films up there with the better Neil Jordan fare.

Thriller: Murder on the Midnight Express (1975) Season 4, Episode 3

Worth it for Charles Gray's acidic tour-de-force

[6/10 · 16 May 2010]

This is an ultimately passable instalment in the long-running 1970s anthology series from ATV, although it took me several attempts to finish watching this, having started watching late a few times and fallen asleep.

Most notable for a star turn from character actor, Charles Gray, a perennial element in so many British films and television shows of the 1960s and 70s: everything from "The Devil Rides Out", to "The Rocky Horror Show" to the BBC Shakespeares, to "The Galton and Simpson Playhouse", indeed to a superb performance in a 1972 "Upstairs, Downstairs" episode, 'Married Love'. Here, Gray portrays a waspish author, seemingly channelling the spirits of actor Clifton Webb ("Laura" and "Sitting Pretty") and High Tory British journalists such as Christopher Booker and Auberon Waugh. Some of Clemens' dialogue is excellent, making Gray's Hilary Vance an eccentric to rival those in his earlier series, "The Avengers".

Another 60s/70s archetype, Judy Geeson, is well cast; an actress with beautifully sad eyes, given to playing rather hunted characters: for example, John Reginald Christie's victim in "10 Rillington Place". She is luminous as the bereaved Helen Marlow.

Overall, a bit slow to get going, but it becomes a fairly enterprising thriller. Admittedly, it never threatens "The Lady Vanishes" or "Caught on a Train" in terms of train-set narratives, but it is a solid enough entry in an anthology series that remains compulsively watchable.