Film Reviews by Steve

Procedural account of operations in the French Resistance during the Nazi occupation. It is adapted from a contemporary record (by Joseph Kessel) and it has the feel of a journal; it is episodic, without a cohesive narrative. It reflects on the structure and strategy of the civilian army; the ethics, and the human cost.

And inevitably, their incredible bravery, which isn’t muted by Jean-Pierre Melville’s leisurely, understated approach. He was a soldier in the resistance and this seems authentic. Partly this is technique, with the distressed set design and barren locations and the chilly colour palette.

There is a plausible impression of emotional trauma. Of living in fear when no one can be trusted. And death is just a matter of time. All the performances are subdued. Lino Ventura has the central role as the ruthlessly pragmatic leader of a resistance cell, though Simone Signoret makes a greater impact as his astonishingly committed deputy.

And her story gives us the devastating conclusion. There are no major action scenes. There’s a lot of exposition and no explosions. It is utterly convincing. It’s conceivable that one day someone will make a better film about the French Resistance. But it won’t be directed by someone who was actually there. 

Sergio Leone’s mythic Dollar trilogy is the most influential western series ever made. They have been picked so clean by other film makers that it is now less obvious why they were a revolution. And in this low budget initial entry, the director’s pop art visuals are not as ostentatious as they would become; though we get the grotesque closeups.

In his breakout big screen role, Clint Eastwood is the stranger in a dusty, dirty, flea-bitten Mexican border town who aims to make money by exploiting the feud between the two prominent clans. The release was held up by a legal challenge from Ikira Kurasawa who noticed the similarity with his 1961 picture, Yojimbo.

Still, as the samurai film took the premise from Dashiell Hammett, it’s hard to be sympathetic. The detective in Red Harvest was even a Man With No Name, like the gunfighter in Leone’s trilogy. The drifter has no real motivation, other than money. Besides greed, there are no themes. This is about violent, stylish action and iconic motifs.

Which includes Clint’s instantly recognisable costume. He joins the ranks of stars known merely by their silhouette. His dialogue is stripped back to make him the original of the laconic/impassive/ironic ’60s tough guy. Accompanied by Ennio Morricone’s seminal mariachi score, this reimagined the western for another generation.

Ominous period drama with supernatural themes and a few moments of genuine horror. This is most memorable for its location, staged in meadows of tall dark grass which sways over the heads of the astonishingly pragmatic protagonists… set in feudal medieval Japan during a long civil war.

The mother and wife of a missing conscripted soldier survive by murdering samurai warriors and selling their armour and weapons, dumping the corpses in a deep abyss. His companion (Kei Satô) flees the war and reports the son/husband dead. Then has sex with the young widow (Jitsuko Yoshimura) while rejecting the older woman (Nobuko Otowa)...

And then things get really strange, with the appearance of a mysterious warlord in a demon mask. The dense eeriness of the period is engulfed by the uncanny, drawing on mythic buddhist legend. And the final, spine chilling sensation that all of this is intended to represent the horror of Hiroshima.

This superstitious, primitive, lawless society may even imply a post-apocalyptic future… Well, that’s my interpretation! The superior widescreen b&w photography, the sound editing, the weird jazz/percussive score… this is high quality cinema; an unorthodox historical spectacle like no other. 

Louis Malle’s best picture is a detailed and very compassionate account of the last 24 hours in the life of a depressed alcoholic who traverses his old support network searching for a reason to go on. Maurice Ronet is outstanding as the man who seems to have everything, but is consumed by his emotional sterility.

The script makes further gestures towards the cultural atrophy of the Parisian intellectual set. And the struggle for progressive causes. But this is mainly a precise examination of a psychological and philosophical degeneration. And an inability to find a second act for the causes of youth.

Every possible reason to endure is considered, and rejected. The music of Erik Satie is employed as a kind of wistful refrain for his emptiness. It’s astonishing that Malle makes this futility so compelling. His visual impression of internal despair is extraordinarily potent.

Today, the condition would be classed as a disease, though this isn’t examined. The psychiatrist has no insight. This is a sensitive and artistic, but inevitably challenging experience. The ambience of existential paralysis is so powerful. It’s my pick as the standout film of the French New Wave. 

This invented a whole new sub-genre; the conspiracy thriller. And inspired a wave of films that imagined secret corruption at the heart of the establishment. And really, what could be more now? For that, novelist Richard Condon deserves credit as his bestseller provides the twisty intrigue of the plot.

Which is expertly adapted into pure cinema by John Frankenheimer. It looks so fresh; surely he’s been studying the Nouvelle Vague? This is the most compelling film imaginable. It grips all the way to the last reveal. A US army platoon goes missing for three days in Korea. Have they been programmed to act against the state?

Military intelligence (Frank Sinatra) investigates a well connected war hero (Laurence Harvey) who may be a communist agent. The two stars are effective- with Harvey well cast for that slightly repellant quality. But Angela Lansbury steals the film as his conniving, frightening mother.

It is the first of the director’s conspiracy trilogy. Maybe there’s disappointment that the theme of the subterfuge is anti-communism, which reflects the real objectives of the American government. So it isn’t actually subversive. But the assassination of JFK a year later made it seem thrillingly intuitive. 

Sincere though laborious adaptation scripted by Alan Sillitoe from his own short story and filmed in the style of the British new wave. So it’s a look at ordinary lives made with authenticity and documentary style realism in legitimate locations, with the use of hand held cameras and natural lighting.

The frame of the author’s original story is sturdy but there is so much ballast loaded onto it that it becomes awkward and overextended. A feral kid (Tom Courtney) who habitually commits petty crime is sent to borstal where he is handpicked by the governor (Michael Redgrave) to represent the institution in a prize race.

The prison scenes endure, including the runner’s final act of futile rebellion. Tony Richardson’s Free Cinema vérité approach is robust. But the flashbacks to the boy’s impoverished existence in Nottingham slums are commonplace and burdened with mundane political insight.

The language of the unruly adolescents is dated and inert, though as a visual record of how things once were done, it stands up. There’s too much Sillitoe; not enough Richardson. Tom Courtney’s debut performance is convincing, but this feels more like something to study than entertainment. 

Dated culture clash comedy that supposes an introverted American academic finds another way of living among the spontaneous and non-materialistic residents of the Athenian port of Piraeus. But then attempts to change a carefree but illiterate sex worker to be more like himself.

So it’s Pygmalion, but set in 1960s Greece. Presumably this was personal for its writer/director Jules Dassin who settled in the country while a political casualty of the Communist blacklist. He also plays the earnest traveller of good intentions. And maybe there is some satire of American imperialism.

This was a box office success, and nominated for five Oscars. Its ethnographic approach to postwar Athens now feels patronising, though nostalgic for a time before mass tourism. The musical theme became hugely popular and will be instantly recognised by anyone who has ever been in a Greek restaurant.

It is most memorable for the performance of Dassin’s future wife, Melina Mercouri, as the happy-go-lucky working girl, a symbol of a naive but uncorrupted proletariat. She is really the whole film. Perhaps this had a greater impact in the ‘50s, a decade of conformity, but now seems ironically to lack spontaneity. 

Intriguing modernist enigma. Or pretentious arthouse bore. Few films have polarised its audience as decisively, and for so long. Alain Resnais’ puzzle is problematic because it is many different things. It moves between layers of symbolism and mood. And it is one of the most visually arresting films ever made.

At a grand Baroque estate populated by aristocrats in evening dress, a man (Giorgio Albertazzi) tells a woman (Delphine Seyrig) that he met her last year at Marienbad. Or was it Frederiksbad? Which she denies. To emphasise that this is a riddle- or a game- they and her husband are identified by letters.

And the viewers wonder what the hell is going on. There are many diverse opinions. The figures that occupy the palace are like ghosts who never quite connect with each other, who reflect on events that may never have taken place. It scored by the eerie, ominous drone of the organ and poetry of loss, impermanence and regret.

Resnais creates a unique space which is instantly recognisable. The visual imagery gives the film a surreal, dreamlike quality and a cool, aloof beauty. The symmetry and formal design emphasise the schematic nature of the plot. And we get lost- once more- in its mysterious, labyrinthine passageways.  

Fascinating though complex- and yes, difficult- arthouse classic which famously aroused loud disapproval at its opening in Cannes, though ultimately won a prize. It reflects on the themes which became characteristic of Michelangelo Antonioni’s films: isolation, communication and cultural atrophy.

And there is the familiar satire of some kind of elite; here, of the wealthy fashionistas of la dolce vita. A party of well connected yet trivial socialites visit the volcanic islands around Sicily and mysteriously lose one of their group (Lea Massari). Her partner (Gabriele Ferzetti) and friend (Monica Vitti) try to find her.

The opening titles are scored like a Mediterranean thriller and the disappearance might trigger that kind of story. But the two photogenic sleuths are soon distracted. They have an affair and their lives return to usual patterns. This unwillingness to pursue, or even resolve the puzzle is what got everyone upset at Cannes.

But of course, Antonioni is representing the condition of being alive. The scenes among the rocky islands are the most haunting, illustrating the inert isolation of the characters. Sure, sometimes this is frustrating, even boring, but that’s part of the experience! Antonioni was an esoteric, cerebral film maker, but usually more accessible than this sounds.

Gorgeous and ultra-stylish version of Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley set on the touristic Amalfi Coast, Italy, which deservedly made a star of moody Alain Delon in the title role. Its serene pacing allows for atmosphere without compromising on the suspense.

The sunny locations are so lovely that although this is about a schizophrenic who kills a couple of filthy rich expats, the tourist board of Naples must surely have approved. And with the shabby-chic clothes, beautiful stars and elegant interiors this is one of the most fashionable films ever made.

That aspirational quality is ideal for story about an insolvent, sociopathic American (Delon) who wants some of what the rich have and will do anything to get it. And given how cooly he goes about it, may have done it before. Which means danger for the affluent dilettante (Maurice Ronet) he was hired to bring home.

Delon is a sensation. At first, as the poor nobody, he is sympathetic. Until we see just how crazy he is. The whole photogenic cast is excellent. And it is superbly edited and photographed. There is nothing else like this. The remakes don’t come close; this is one of the great thrillers. 

This raw, spontaneous musical made a significant critical and cultural impact in 1959; it won the Academy Award for best foreign language picture and introduced the bossanova to a worldwide audience. It updates the Greek mythology of Orpheus and Eurydice to a favela in contemporary Rio de Janeiro.

Which caused a ruckus in Brazil as critics felt the ethnological approach trivialised the characters, who just want to sing and dance and be joyful. But hell, it’s a musical! That’s how people usually are! Though it certainly established an enduring impression of the country, with the samba rhythms and the carnival.

There is a cast of (mostly) amateur actors led by a footballer (Brent Mello) as Orpheus and the director’s wife (Marpessa Dawn) as Eurydice, and they are quite limited. The script is poor and the slim premise is mainly there to present a focus to the authenticity of the location.

Which is the slums; this isn’t really touristic. Gradually, the abundant documentary footage overwhelms the drama. This badly needs an edit. What survives is the vibrant colour palette, and the bossanova score by Antônio Carlos Jobim and Luiz Bonfá, which includes the gorgeous Manhã de Carnaval. 

Landmark blockbuster set within the biblical story of Jesus of Nazareth. But it’s an account of another life which connects only occasionally with the gospels. An epic tale of seagoing adventures, a celebrated chariot race and heroic human endurance, staged over a demanding 3 hours and 42 minutes, including symphonies.

William Wyler is among the standout film makers of old Hollywood, but this is not the best example of his virtuoso visual storytelling. This is more about the prodigious production. The cast of thousands. The Panavision, the Technicolor and the stereo sound. But most of all, the inspired casting of Charlton Heston in the title role.

He is magnificent as the Jewish nobleman of Judea who is enslaved by a commander (Stephen Boyd) of the Roman occupation and swears revenge. And in doing so, becomes a Christian. The amount of naked male flesh has led some to detect a homoerotic theme, but it isn’t obvious. This is about spectacle, not subtext.

It is a triumph of set and costume design, of photography and music and logistics and the usual virtues of the studio system on the threshold of decline. It will entertain those with an interest in the period and its emerging faiths. But despite the record 11 Oscars, it’s a disappointment for disciples of its great director.

This is an atomic age paranoia thriller but its procedural approach recalls the documentary noirs of the postwar period. It’s a downmarket, low budget rip off of Panic in the Streets (1950). Only this time the public health hazard comes from radiation.

An escaped prisoner (Vince Edwards) steals a canister which he thinks is filled with cocaine but actually contains Cobalt-60, for use in nuclear reactors. His greed ensures he never lets it out of reach, while it gradually kills him and makes everyone he contacts dangerously sick.

Obviously this has potential as an allegory, but it’s played entirely for thrills as the police pursue the killer convict to save Los Angeles from a major catastrophe, while he tries to actually break into the cylinder to get his hands on the narcotics! And the situation is as tense as that sounds!

There’s another level of interest in the pushers and users who form the slowly dying fugitive’s’s support group, a gang of witless creeps and goofballs who just want part of the windfall for themselves. It’s a B film with a minor cast, but decent tough-guy dialogue and directed with some style. 

Sensual love story about a beautiful, privileged woman who feels trapped with her wealthy husband and unfulfilled by a frivolous affair. She discovers romantic and sexual fulfilment in a chance meeting which alters the path of her life. It’s an ideal star vehicle for Jeanne Moreau as the sad, elegant lady of leisure.

She and Jean-Marc Bory share a potent chemistry as the photogenic lovers. With the lonely, hazy country lanes, the classic cars and clothes and the shabby-chic chateau, this is just beautifully directed by Louis Malle, and photographed in ultra-widescreen b&w.

And scored too, with the romantic chamber music of Johannes Brahms. Despite an overload of good taste, this ended up in the US supreme court, though eventually acquitted of obscenity. The sexual content is almost invisible today but was a revolution in ’58.

Like Lady Chatterley, re-imagined by the Nouvelle Vague... There is some eroticism, but it is more philosophical about love. What else can you want from a French film! It’s a poetic daydream remarkable for a depth of romantic intimacy beyond the range of ‘50s English language cinema. 

Wordy WWII drama about the ethics of combat, which can’t quite escape its origins as a television play. The set designer creates an impressively dense swamp jungle, but it still all looks artificial and the action is static. It’s more instructive than spectacular.

Stanley Baker plays the inflexible, pragmatic leader of a dwindling and exhausted British army brigade which takes a Burmese village off the Japanese and gathers crucial intelligence by ruthless means, including the murder of civilians. When the enemy recovers the camp, the captain has to answer for his methods.

The brief moments of battle are well staged, and the situations- based on actual events- are tense. But this is mostly conversation, initially between the captain, a priest (Guy Rolfe) and a journalist (Leo McKern) attached to his tiny fighting force. And then Japanese intelligence (Philip Ahn).

The diverse assembly of archetypes feels like a Hollywood war film, though the constant moral debate doesn’t at all. But it is still interesting with a fine British cast, including Gordon Jackson as an extremely compliant sergeant. And Baker is superb. It’s a minor UK war film worthy of rediscovery.