Film Reviews by Steve

This spectacular adaptation of Edmond Rostand's classic romance (1897) is surely destined to remain the definitive version. It's a lyrical tour de force in couplets (subtitles translated by Anthony Burgess) of a moral and immensely moving story. On the screen this is then elevated by Gérard Depardieu's huge performance.

This is a historical drama on a grand scale, with breathtaking artistic design of Paris in 1640 and Oscar winning costumes. Plus the magnificent orchestral score. But it's primarily a vehicle for its star, as the poet, wit and soldier; a romantic, raconteur and loyal friend with a colossal heart who reserves his true genius for his life.

Cyrano secretly courts the lovely, swooning Roxanne for his military comrade (Vincent Perez), assured his own abnormality- yes, the prodigious nose- makes him an unsuitable lover. Anne Brochet is so heartbreakingly beautiful as the inspiration for his unrequited love, viewers may also be moved to compose verse, in couplets.

It received 13 César nominations and its ten wins is still a record. This is the ultimate interpretation of perhaps the greatest love story ever told. It's astonishing that Rostand loaded all this romantic mythology onto an actual 17th century writer/libertine. And leaves us an eternal model to aspire to, even if it's only a dream of life! 

Yes, it's the last rites for Christopher Lee as Dracula in the series for Hammer Studios, which- since 1958- has strayed far from Bram Stoker's gothic novel. This is a sequel to Dracula AD 1972 , so it is contemporary, with the Prince of Darkness now established in a modernist office block in London rather than a scary castle in Transylvania.

But he still keeps sexy brides in the cellar and is pursued by Peter Cushing, as a descendent of Van Helsing. Lee- whose role is reduced to little more than a cameo- complained this Dracula is more like Dr. No (1962). In attempting to breath fresh life into the undead, the rules have changed. Now he can be killed by hawthorn, or a silver bullet.

So if you miss, you can eliminate the Wolf Man. And this Dracula seeks to destroy mankind with a new, more virulent strain of the Black Death... for reasons which are never satisfactorily explained. But this idea begins to get close to what is interesting about the final Dracula; as a reflection of its time, with the UK in a long economic recession.

So a cabal of rich, disillusioned and overweight dignitaries are planning to take charge. This impression of a deep national malaise should be undermined by the dire dubbing, blurred photography and horrible lighting... yet the shoddiness actually seems appropriate! And so, the series ends with neither a bang, nor a whimper, but with a pass.

Aside from the mild body horror... this is most like a late Victorian gothic fairytale. It seems an oddity it originated in 1990. Tim Burton's signature film is the story of a sad boy who grows up alone in a scary castle with scissors for hands... but is rescued by a kind Avon lady... and given a home among the more familiar absurdities of suburbia...

But his novelty to the community as a sculptor gives way to suspicion and then fear. And finally leads to the angry mob which winks at the other main influence; Universal horror. The outré ideas are enhanced by the impressive craft of the production, with the expressionist art design and Danny Elfman's haunting, hyper-romantic score.

The commonplace is distorted to emphasise its weird artificiality, but still provokes a real emotional response; deepened by Johnny Depp's sensational performance as Edward, nearly silent, mostly acting via his scared, inconsolable eyes. Yet Dianne Wiest escapes his shadow as the compassionate but bizarrely conventional saleslady.

There are reflections on loneliness, disability and suburban orthodoxy, and the unusual storyline surely lends itself to allegorical interpretation... maybe that only the true artist can live a pure life free of the corruption of the mortal world; yet may elevate us all... It's also an eternal romance. And a classic of both US cinema and gothic fiction.

This gets called a romcom, though the love story- between two women- is mostly in the background. And the humour is very abrasive. It's more of a rites-of-passage, except the point-of-view character is 30 years old, and doesn't learn any life lessons…

While the title refers to the postcode for central Reykjavik, surely 101 is intended to evoke George Orwell's concept of the ultimate terror. So maybe what this is- most of all!- is a satire on liberal bohemians seeking release from the freezing Arctic darkness.

Also... it's a sombre black comedy about an aimless deadbeat (Hilmir Snær Guðnason) who can't engage with life on any level. The brutal northern winter seems to freeze his soul. Mercifully, Victoria Abril sparks a little warmth as his mother's Spanish lover.

This is adapted from an Icelandic best seller and retains the first person narrative; its focus is on how the misfit sees his world. As a look at an alien culture, there is interest. But actual engagement may depend on identifying with the sociopathic anti-hero! 

Unlikely buddy picture about the relationship between Edward D. Wood (Johnny Depp), the legendary director of bad films- responsible for Plan 9 From Outer Space- and a heroin ruined Bela Lugosi (Martin Landau) going through the final indignities of a career that peaked two decades earlier.

The fictional story is written into the crazy real life events and then polished by an impressively imaginative script. Depp and Landau make one of the screen's most endearing odd couples; as a pair of deadbeats we are encouraged to reappraise for their love of cinema, and for their endurance.

You really root for them! The support cast playing the diverse ensemble of exotic outsiders and weirdoes is astonishing. Jeffrey Jones' charlatan clairvoyant is a standout. The recreation of the period and the lustrous b&w photography are genuinely thrilling. Even the opening credits are a blast

Miraculously it manages to avoid sentimentality while delivering a massive dose of feelgood optimism... plus a fascinating, vicarious experience of life on poverty row, on the peripheries of '50s Hollywood. There's a lot of warmth up on the screen, and a love of B films will only increase the glow.

Devastating real life biopic from the civil war in Cambodia, which led to the murder of up to two million citizens by the Khmer Rouge under the dictatorship of Pol Pot. Inevitably the focus is on an American... Sydney Schanberg was a reporter for the New York Times caught up in the bloodletting initiated by the Communist regime.

But the emotional driver is his relationship with local translator Dith Pran, who was sent to the labour camps where survival was mostly a matter of luck; and from where he attempts an extremely hazardous escape by foot over the mountains into Thailand. Sam Waterston is fine as the brash American taking huge risks for his byline.

But the main the reason to watch is the Oscar winning performance as Dith Pran by Haing S. Ngor, himself a Cambodian who survived the killing fields, but who had never acted before. Director Roland Joffé- on debut- noted that the conflict is ultimately the context for the emotional overload of the friendship, which is overwhelming.

Except for the human interest, this doesn't get made; though the recreation the of genocide is still harrowing. The Oscar winning photography is mostly about the edgy anxiety of the constant danger, but also at times reflects the tranquil beauty of the country. The only significant flaw is playing Imagine by John Lennon in the epilogue.

Ominous state of the nation address from Mike Leigh about the collapse of society, provoked by the Thatcher revolution. It's absolutely the London I remember from this period, of rootless, insecure outsiders who got on their bikes. With the dark, desaturated colours and relentless pessimism, it feels like the end of the world.

David Thewlis dominates as a literate, traumatised Manc motormouth delivering a contemptuous stream of consciousness; roaming the capital by night while spitting out cruel, apocalyptic conspiracies. His violent misogyny prevents him from being even an anti-hero, but it's easy to identify with his wounded alienation.

He confronts the unconsidered precariat, the pitifully waged, the mentally ill and the merely anxious, the homeless and the chronically lonely in a country which he sees as irrevocably damned. The centrepiece is his meeting with a security guard (Peter Wight) who watches over empty office space... which is utterly spellbinding...

It's uneven and ends badly, but any reservations are eclipsed by the good stuff. It's so funny- but so desolate; and a must-see even if only for the rapture of Thewlis' ecstatic performance. Mike Leigh once again captures the zeitgeist forensically and prophetically; though like all his films, it gets a hugely polarised response.

Glossy polemic aimed at class inequality and western consumerism, which will divide any potential audience along the pressure points of its ideologies. This opens up like a hip political thriller inspired by the direct action of millennials turned off by laissez-faire government.

Eventually it becomes more like a dramatised debate- so not very cinematic. Daniel Brühl, Julia Jentsch and Stipe Erceg play the photogenic dropouts who aim to challenge the system by breaking into the secure mansions of the 1% to contaminate their pristine privileges.

Until one of the complacent fatcats (Burghart Klaussner) unexpectedly returns home. So the activists kidnap him, leading to an extended exchange of ideas on what happened to the idealism of the '60s counterculture from the perspective of the radicals of the new century.

 And there's a decent twist. OK, it looks like the revolution will be sponsored by Gap... maybe because advertising has absorbed the symbols of rebellion! But it's an effective nudge for disengaged liberals which doesn't compromise on its recycled message- never trust anyone over 30.

Back in 1990 this seemed a bittersweet French sex comedy which also twists some tasteful eroticism into the sadness of a tragic romance.... Jean Rochefort is a middle aged loafer who grew up with a fetishistic desire for the sensual intimacy of a haircut... but only by a voluptuous woman.

And he lucks out when he meets and quickly marries a curvy, sexy hairdresser, played Anna Galiena. And within the respite of their salon they find true love and lasting happiness, plus a few outré encounters with their oddball clientele. Who it seems have their own personal idiosyncrasies.

However, since me-too this is widely called the male gaze. And sure, it does feel creepy, even if Mathilde loves Antoine even more obsessively. And actually who is likely to visit their parlour when the amorous couple are likely to momentarily initiate lovemaking during your haircut or shave?

It would be shame if nothing can be salvaged. The photography of the seaside town in pastel colours is simply gorgeous and there's some quirky humour and sincere performances. It's a brief reflection on the complexities and joys of human desire, but I doubt it will ever be released on bluray... 

Sensitive indie melodrama about a sincere, dedicated history teacher who educates poor ghetto kids in Brooklyn, New York while locked into his own downward spiral of substance abuse. Naturally he is unorthodox, but also conscientious...

So he tries to protect a 13 year old black girl with bad connections. And she discovers his heroin addiction and the wreckage of his personal life. Despite their precarious situations and unsuitability, they find unconventional moral support.

There's an ultra-realistic documentary approach, which means maximum handheld camera wobble, natural light and VHS level clarity; and the combination of regional accents, poor sound and extreme mumbling may be an issue for some*. 

The focus is on the raw, fragile relationship. Oscar nominated Ryan Gosling and Shareeka Epps, on her feature debut, go straight to the heart, despite the slightly contrived set up and bleak themes. It's a persuasive insight into the lives of others.

*note, there are no subtitles on the dvd.

This is a sequel to Mystery Road (2013), and both are apparently from a wave of post-millennial Australian crime pictures collectively called Outback Noir. Which seems to be inspired by Scandi-noir, but this one has an additional racial aspect. Aaron Pedersen stars as a cop locked into a boozy downward spiral after a messy divorce.

If this is a cliché, then the difference is he's an Aboriginal detective, which adds another level of prickliness to the already cantankerous rural rednecks. He's on the trail of a missing Chinese woman trafficked into prostitution for a mining company which is beyond the usual reach of the law. Which is the reason for all the noirish pessimism.

The story is compelling, even though the resolution depends on unscrupulous scumbags developing a conscience, which surely happens more in fiction than real life. But it hits several worthy political targets, including the corrupt dominion of big business. Because once the settlers took this land off the indigenous people...

...And now the corporations have stolen it from everyone. The performances are strong with Jackie Weaver contributing another of her psycho-wrong 'uns. It's just one more laconic, low budget neo-noir; but better than most and well directed by Ivan Sen, whose use of the widescreen format is ideal for the lonely desert panorama. 

After their massive success with colour revisions of Dracula and Frankenstein, it must have been inevitable that Hammer studios would return to the Universal vaults to remake The Mummy (1932). A major difference is the previous legends were filtered through classic novels, whereas the concept for this ancient Egyptian melodrama came from a Hollywood staff writer.

The mythology isn't as strong as for the other icons of Universal horror- even if it clearly borrows from Dracula- mainly because of the idiotic rituals and incantations. Hammer never got much out of the mummy franchise but they set their best creatives on the task and at least it's the best of the series. It recycles the original ideas, then gives them the novelty of Technicolor.

The main weakness is the long flashback of the burial of the Egyptian queen which is overextended. And Hammer, who were so good at budget set design, are out of their comfort zone in the ancient world. They do much better with the scenes in Victorian London. Yvonne Furneaux has an important dual role both as ancient royalty and the wife of the leader of the excavation...

But her contribution is underdeveloped and she doesn't do much more than scream while the reanimated mummy goes on the rampage, which Christopher Lee performs as well as can be expected under layers of latex. Peter Cushing is appealingly sprightly as the limping explorer... But it's not as good as the classic '30s version, or the other Hammer horror remakes of the late '50s.

Polished neo-noir with a big switcheroo. This isn't an unexpected plot twist... but, instead of conventional lovers who conspire to eliminate an unwanted husband, there is an affair between two young women. Maybe something like this was done covertly in classic noir. But this isn't coded...

So I suppose it invents... lesbian-noir. Jennifer Tilly is the ditzy femme fatale who lures her butch neighbour- Gina Gershon- into a scheme to rob the mafia of two million dollars and leave her psycho-boyfriend (Joe Pantoliano) holding an empty bag. Which leads to unexpected complications.

It's directed with ostentatious style by the Wachowskis (on debut) who make a big impact on a small budget And they contribute a lively script loaded with irony and laconic wit. Admittedly, the plot is standard noir and the twists are nothing special. The pitch is mostly that the lovers are female.

Otherwise- except for the violence- this could be made for tv. It's not creepy, and there's no nudity but it's still tastefully hot. Tilly and Gershon have chemistry to burn, like a pair of prowling cats. Pantoliano as the male dupe barely registers. For lovers of noir or sexy thrillers this is a cult classic. 

Raw, mythic love story about a couple of derelict lost souls living on the Pont-Neuf under reconstruction. In the title roles, Juliet Binoche and Denis Lavant seem to slowly evolve from monsters into vagabond angels. This is a romance, but volatile, wild and unorthodox.

And very French. It isn't much like contemporary cinema; it continually echoes the early sound films of René Clair and the conclusion on the barge is an obvious reminder of Jean Vigo's L'Atalante (1934). So it's in the tradition of pre-WWII French poetic realism.

And as in that era, it's mostly set on a huge soundstage with location footage cut in. The stars are incandescent, whether water ski-ing down the Seine during the Bicentennial fireworks, or even just living with the sadness; and yet both creative in contrasting ways.

Which is a classic French rejection of bourgeoise convention! There was a famously exploding budget, but posterity doesn't care how much things cost. Leos Carax creates screen poetry; and as he didn't make another film on this level, it feels even more like a miracle.

Harrowing documentary style polemic based on the racially motivated murders of young black Americans by Detroit police in 1967. During a ghetto riot, three cops separate some bystanders for unlawful interrogation at gunpoint, leading to homicide. The film builds slowly to the historic incident. Which is hard to watch.

Then afterwards... a sham trial which acquits the guilty parties, with the lawyers more intent in putting the victims in the dock. There's a strong ensemble cast led by John Boyega as a security guard who gets tangled up in the offence. Algee Smith is memorable as a black soul artist who loses faith in American justice.

The impression of malign racial hatred is intensified by a genuinely horrifying portrayal by Will Poulter of an ostentatiously racist patrol officer already on a charge of killing a looter. But still on the street with his badge. Clearly this is meant to reflect on the fatalities still inflicted on black men in custody.

There is some editorialising, and it's needlessly long. But Kathryn Bigelow constructs a strong impression of the period... and the reduced rights of the black urban poor. There may be some doubt about how closely this relates to a UK audience. Though there are some parallels. It is at least a warning from history.