Ho hum, one of those predictable puffballs about a feuding loving couple where the wife's insincere flirting with another man makes her husband fume -- and the wise-ass little kid has to conspire to get them back together. OK, Errol Flynn works well. Much better fun watching him not take himself too seriously in a comedy than not take life seriously in his routine swashbucklers. (I guess he was drawn to predictable art.) The whole "Uncle Phil" thing became tedious through repetition. And the naive corporal was too naive to ever let loose with a uniform and a gun. The wife was beautiful and a trouper, and read her lines well. But the fun part for me was guessing whether or not it really was Bogie's voice dubbed over Errol Flynn's Bogie parody scene. I'm betting it really was Humphrey Bogart. Can anyone verify?
Reviews
10 Reviews
Please Believe Me
(1950)
Grifter farce with twists galore
27 December 2004
What superb direction -- and please, hard as it is, believe this is the same Norman Taurog that basted more Elvis Presley turkeys than any other director. Here, Taurog is the star, slowed down only by an uneven cast and a script that creaked in a couple of places as it flexed its plot. Deborah Kerr is supreme, though, as the sentimental English poppy who is tricked up and down until she buckles on her sound, common sense English ingenuity and carries the day. And she had some carrying to do: co-star Mark Stevens is pure avoirdupois with no sense of the camera. Nice jackets, though. Peter Lawford is perfect as the rich guy with a sense of fun, flaunting his sleek biceps and slim waist in a swimming pool scene he steals with aplomb. The script is a beaut, too, but the way Taurog fills each scene with exposition and shtick is a joy to behold. The lighting is highly skilled 40s workmanship. And check the roulette scene for b/w colour play. But the scene that is all Seven Wonders of Hollywood script- writing rolled into one is the showdown in gangster Quinn's office. Unbeatable for its half a dozen plot twists inside three minutes. Believe me.
The Wise Guys
(1965)
From a time in film history when smoking a Gitane was drama.
2 October 2004
A strange film. Riddled with clumsiness: fight scenes with punches missing by a mile and ridiculuous Foley work using interior echo for outdoor action; people working as lumberjacks wearing clean shirts at the end of the day, etc. etc.
Funny too that the actor Bourvil, best known as a comedian, comes across as
slightly mean, taciturn and unpleasant in a role obviously written to be warm- hearted. An aging Lino Ventura is frankly embarrassing as the romantic lead,
and his lazy gambit of instilling drama by lighting up yet another Gauloise or Gitane (count 'em!) should have been jumped on and stubbed out by the
director. The plot seems to borrow hugely from American films, and there is little local flavour. The bizarre highlight is the gang of convicts letting their hair down on a fairground carousel, gaily tossing confetti at each other, followed by the dramatic denouement when one of the convicts refuses to let a rival have a turn on a fairground game! Zut alors!
Funny too that the actor Bourvil, best known as a comedian, comes across as
slightly mean, taciturn and unpleasant in a role obviously written to be warm- hearted. An aging Lino Ventura is frankly embarrassing as the romantic lead,
and his lazy gambit of instilling drama by lighting up yet another Gauloise or Gitane (count 'em!) should have been jumped on and stubbed out by the
director. The plot seems to borrow hugely from American films, and there is little local flavour. The bizarre highlight is the gang of convicts letting their hair down on a fairground carousel, gaily tossing confetti at each other, followed by the dramatic denouement when one of the convicts refuses to let a rival have a turn on a fairground game! Zut alors!
Picking Up the Pieces
(2000)
Enough bad actors can turn a bad movie into a meltdown
7 January 2004
It's lucky for David Schwimmer that Fran Drescher and Woody Allen were along
for this loony ride, otherwise he would have had to take all the blame. The idea was crazy, the direction spliff-guided and the script lame. But the ACTING!
Woody does his stuttering, furrowed-brow, hands in the air schtick, but this is the umpteenth time and it is no longer just annoying, it's pathetic. Fran Drescher had one day, max two, on the set and treated it as a summer camp romp,
demonstrating ably that some people can build a career and a fortune on a
single act. Unfortunately, that act is on a TV set somewhere a million miles from this movie. But David Schwimmer!!?!! Oy-vey! He has one look (sensitive, troubled), one
tone of voice (ordering pizza on the phone) and no clues. Again, good luck to him for making a pile from being a Friend, but an actor he ain't. Kiefer Sutherland does his best with a stupid role but still doesn't convince as comic actor. Sharon Stone is great, but doesn't have more than a couple of
minutes on screen. But people -- this isn't a movie for watching. It's a movie for lying down, eyes shut, and hoping it will go away.
for this loony ride, otherwise he would have had to take all the blame. The idea was crazy, the direction spliff-guided and the script lame. But the ACTING!
Woody does his stuttering, furrowed-brow, hands in the air schtick, but this is the umpteenth time and it is no longer just annoying, it's pathetic. Fran Drescher had one day, max two, on the set and treated it as a summer camp romp,
demonstrating ably that some people can build a career and a fortune on a
single act. Unfortunately, that act is on a TV set somewhere a million miles from this movie. But David Schwimmer!!?!! Oy-vey! He has one look (sensitive, troubled), one
tone of voice (ordering pizza on the phone) and no clues. Again, good luck to him for making a pile from being a Friend, but an actor he ain't. Kiefer Sutherland does his best with a stupid role but still doesn't convince as comic actor. Sharon Stone is great, but doesn't have more than a couple of
minutes on screen. But people -- this isn't a movie for watching. It's a movie for lying down, eyes shut, and hoping it will go away.
Vertigo
(1958)
Masterpiece-schmasterpiece -- it doesn't even work!
17 December 2003
Clunky, that was the impression I was left with after seeing Vertigo again after 40 years. Yes, production then was horse-and-buggy against today's space
probe, but many other films from that period and before stand up better in that respect. Wordy was another impression. About half way through, it began to feel like a novel adaptation (which in a sense it was) with all the flaws of that technique -- mainly, intellect gets priority over gut. Tame, too. Where did Hitchcock get his reputation for being 'a master of terror and suspense'? Vertigo is certainly mysterious and intriguing, but scarcely
terrifying. And any suspense is brusquely diluted by those repetitive scenes of James Stewart behind the wheel of a car with the back-projection, bad as it is, stealing every one of those scenes. Stiff? What poor acting! The blame may be largely Hitchcock's, with his
notorious disdain for the craft, but also to blame are the casting director (if there was one) and certainly Stewart and an embarrassingly inept Kim Novak.
Gosh, what a let-down. And this is Hitchcock's 'masterpiece'?
probe, but many other films from that period and before stand up better in that respect. Wordy was another impression. About half way through, it began to feel like a novel adaptation (which in a sense it was) with all the flaws of that technique -- mainly, intellect gets priority over gut. Tame, too. Where did Hitchcock get his reputation for being 'a master of terror and suspense'? Vertigo is certainly mysterious and intriguing, but scarcely
terrifying. And any suspense is brusquely diluted by those repetitive scenes of James Stewart behind the wheel of a car with the back-projection, bad as it is, stealing every one of those scenes. Stiff? What poor acting! The blame may be largely Hitchcock's, with his
notorious disdain for the craft, but also to blame are the casting director (if there was one) and certainly Stewart and an embarrassingly inept Kim Novak.
Gosh, what a let-down. And this is Hitchcock's 'masterpiece'?
Matinee
(1993)
Unwatchable
9 November 2003
I tried. I really did. I had paid good money (altho it was a bargain bin deal) but I could not watch it through. Why? Somnolent acting, inept direction, a script that clumsily mocks thick anti-communists (while revealingly showing a contempt for people's fears in the hoarding riot at the supermarket, for example), and an
utterly uninteresting teenage love story...Gosh, what less can you wish for? The bright spots are all provided by the movie within a movie scenes. This is
obviously where Ron Dante thrives and excels. But the rest? As we used to say in the 50s: P.U.!
utterly uninteresting teenage love story...Gosh, what less can you wish for? The bright spots are all provided by the movie within a movie scenes. This is
obviously where Ron Dante thrives and excels. But the rest? As we used to say in the 50s: P.U.!
Winter Light
(1963)
Ironies upon ironies
10 August 2003
Warning: Spoilers
How can a film so grey, so slow, so thematically heavy, be so interesting? It could be because of the incessant roll-out of ironies: a Lutheran priest
(Bergman's father was a prominent clergyman) blunders through irony after
irony -- he can neither give nor understand help, and a woman who attempts to teach him how to love is rebuffed because the priest cannot forget his obsessive love for his dead wife (apparently such a nasty piece of work that she drove the parishoners away en masse); a man shoots himself after a counselling session
with the priest turns into a harangue by the priest about his own worthlessness; the suicide's widow turns out to have more fortitude and guts than the priest; the verger explains the agonies of Jesus to the speechless priest; even the bored church organist has more joy in his religion than the hapless priest. Check out the magnificent Ingrid Thulin, now a recluse in Rome, in her monologue on love and see an actress never old, never young, at her prime. And check the
cinematography of Sven Nykvist and his shadowless, edgeless pictures. Grey
because the film conveyed the greyness of our moral compromises.
(Bergman's father was a prominent clergyman) blunders through irony after
irony -- he can neither give nor understand help, and a woman who attempts to teach him how to love is rebuffed because the priest cannot forget his obsessive love for his dead wife (apparently such a nasty piece of work that she drove the parishoners away en masse); a man shoots himself after a counselling session
with the priest turns into a harangue by the priest about his own worthlessness; the suicide's widow turns out to have more fortitude and guts than the priest; the verger explains the agonies of Jesus to the speechless priest; even the bored church organist has more joy in his religion than the hapless priest. Check out the magnificent Ingrid Thulin, now a recluse in Rome, in her monologue on love and see an actress never old, never young, at her prime. And check the
cinematography of Sven Nykvist and his shadowless, edgeless pictures. Grey
because the film conveyed the greyness of our moral compromises.
He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not
(2002)
The triumph of story over poor execution
28 April 2003
Do you like wacky French movies? I love 'em, but I almost walked away from this one, until...the strength of the story kicked in, and I was hooked! Audrey Tautou (from Amelie de Montmartre) plays Angélique, a beautiful girl madly in love with a handsome doctor. She is so sweet -- so angelic -- that even though she seems naive in the extreme, you root for her in the romance. But wait, this is after you've writhed in your seat for 20 minutes, sighing through one corny, dully planned scene after another. And talk about writing on the
nose! Laetitia Colombani proves with this movie that not only can she not direct, she can't write either. And neither she nor her co-writer are even faintly
interested in research, so you get embarrassingly poor dialogue in every scene with some kind of specialist demand: doctor-talk, police inspector-talk, etc. There's so much technically bad with the movie that when the brilliant plot starts to work on you, you're reluctant. Then you're sold. Because the delightful acting and the intricacies of a romance dangerously
careening into crime and tragedy are so solidly cinema. The narrative is
straightforward until the mid-movie change, when it is retold from a different perspective. Then the final reel is in real time, and by then you're stapled to your seat. There's a whiff of Run Lola Run in it, but without the humour. This, instead, is distilled menace. With the beautiful, doe-eyed, you-want-so-much-to-believe- her Audrey Tautou on screen for most of the movie. Give me more!
nose! Laetitia Colombani proves with this movie that not only can she not direct, she can't write either. And neither she nor her co-writer are even faintly
interested in research, so you get embarrassingly poor dialogue in every scene with some kind of specialist demand: doctor-talk, police inspector-talk, etc. There's so much technically bad with the movie that when the brilliant plot starts to work on you, you're reluctant. Then you're sold. Because the delightful acting and the intricacies of a romance dangerously
careening into crime and tragedy are so solidly cinema. The narrative is
straightforward until the mid-movie change, when it is retold from a different perspective. Then the final reel is in real time, and by then you're stapled to your seat. There's a whiff of Run Lola Run in it, but without the humour. This, instead, is distilled menace. With the beautiful, doe-eyed, you-want-so-much-to-believe- her Audrey Tautou on screen for most of the movie. Give me more!
Was this the last time literature and film met?
28 November 2002
All the acting was superb. The sets were...well, it was 1960. But the script! To hear Mark Twain so joyfully transposed, and so artfully accurate for the film characters and actors! What a straight, simple joy to see this film, made to entertain and doing it proudly, with all concerned -- actors and director mainly -- working on the same premise. And tell me Tony Randall didn't go home whistling after every day on the set! But this was Mark Twain done proud. How many other great writers so easily lend themselves to film scripts? What a writer! What fun he had with phrases, sayings and words. And how well all that was put to use in this movie. And PS Archie Moore was a great heavyweight.
Bait
(2000)
A vehicle for a fresh funnyman
11 November 2002
Jamie Foxx is the movie. His portrayal of a f**k-up with a good heart -- that melts when he gets out of jail to find he is a father -- is not new but it's fresh. He's that classic: a scared small-time no-good with lip. But funny lip, so he gets away with it. He plays Alvin Sanders with just that wonderful mix of fright and bravado -- turned up to 11 at the climax, but by then you're so on his side that you'll let him and the director get away with anything. Wonderful dialogue. And kudos to the director, cinematographer and editor: the action stuff is whirlwind exciting, and camera business takes the place of spurting blood. Girlfriends can like this movie!
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