Film Reviews by Steve

Another tale from the neighbourhood... Martin Scorsese directs the memoir of Jake LaMotta, the Bronx Bull, former middleweight champion of the world (1949-51) and a legend as the boxer who put Sugar Ray Robinson on his back. There's a strange clash of styles, with the neorealism of the b&w photography, but also the sinuous, poetic Oscar winning montage.

Plus all the slo-mo artifice of boxing as ballet. Scorsese benefits from the landmark portrayal by Robert De Niro which is famous for his obsession with authenticity, including the massive weight gain and real-life boxing contests. The action is phenomenal and Scorsese/De Niro really communicate just how primal LaMotta was at his considerable peak.

But most of the suspense is generated by the anticipation of this violence bleeding into his personal life. The script apparently soft-pedals on this, and we mainly get the incessant verbal bullying of his wife (Cathy Moriarty) and his idiot brother/manager (Joe Pesci). But some is physical. The raging bull also threw fights and later sold booze to kids. 

Scorsese saw it as a redemption story. But the champ's arc is from delinquent, to wife beater, to bum. This is not tragedy. When Jake and his brother are in long, vacuous conversation, it could almost be comedy. But for the brutality. It has value as an amazing looking boxing picture and for De Niro's 4real performance. But this is not entertainment.

Everyone knows this is the third film to win the big five at the Academy Awards. Which was well deserved for Jonathan Demme's hyperkinetic direction plus the outré performance of Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter, the imprisoned flesh eating serial killer who may be able to help the FBI in their investigation into another psychopathic murderer...

Jodie Foster was also recognised as the anxious but intuitive FBI recruit who liaises with a convict so threatening, his entire world has been reduced to zero. So he lives inside his massive intellect. The Oscar for the screenplay is more contentious, as there's not much the scriptwriter can do with the narrative from Thomas Harris' bestseller which falls apart under modest analysis.

Still, the direction, the rapid editing and ostentatious characterisations mostly obscure the flaws. There's a genuine frisson of Hitchcock going on. And the fetish/gothic feel to the incarceration of Hannibal (the Cannibal) sustains a palpable sense of jeopardy all the way. There are some extremely compelling set pieces... Including Lecter's incredible escape...

...And the nerve shredding climax, which is shamefully manipulative, but still, a blast. It's a landmark horror-thriller and a must-see work of suspense. Though it's apparently controversial for its critical portrayal of a transsexual. By the way, has anyone else won an Oscar with a performance as restricted as Hopkins; inside the cell, often behind a mask?

Maybe not quite at the level of the Wallace and Gromit short films for the dose of sweet joy they impart, but the much loved claymation duo's first feature is still extraordinary, and the animation even a little more sophisticated. And it successfully sustains the magic formula over a longer format. Our heroes are still funny, and uncannily heartwarming!

It was made for DreamWorks, so there is a pair of proper stars for the publicity. Helena Bonham Carter is the lady of the manor who Wallace has a crush on, and Ralph Fiennes his idiot rival. But it doesn't compromise on the quintessential Englishness. Thankfully, Peter Sallis returns to voice Wallace. And it is dense with quality puns and other dad jokes...

The inventor and his companion are in business protecting local gardens and allotments as the annual prize vegetable competition approaches... But Wallace disastrously gets his pest control apparatus mixed up with a brain moderation gadget and creates a giant... well, a were-rabbit. The science isn't clear... but it's extremely hungry.

Gromit must save the day, again. The suits didn't like its parochialism and dropped the Aardman contract. Even though much of this was inspired by Universal horror. Still, it's a milestone in screen animation both in terms of craft and content. And a family film that appeals to adults and children alike. Yet it's more; W&G make the world seem kinder, and more charming.

Critically adored '90s neo-noir skilfully adapted from James Ellroy's even more labyrinthine crime novel about corruption in the LAPD after WWII. This is set in the early 1950s and there is plenty of rich period atmosphere and weaves a few real life incidents from the bad old days into a fictional account of vice, murder and narcotics in Hollywood.

It begins as an investigation by three contrasting detectives into the murders of an off duty cop and a sex worker fixed up to resemble Rita Hayworth. Then is complicated when the threads lead back to their own department. Kim Basinger won an Oscar as the agency's Veronica Lake lookalike. Plus there is a well chosen support cast...

But the screen is dominated by the three stars. Guy Pierce is the square jawed but devious new recruit with an instinct for self advancement. Russell Crowe is a kind of a battering ram in a cheap suit. Kevin Spacey is a showbiz cop who liaises with television and runs a blackmail scam on the side. His death scene is truly phenomenal.

 There isn't much subtext, aside from how out of control the LAPD got, which maybe relates to present times. The sexism/racism/brutality is off the chart. This is an articulate, complex, hardboiled crime story. The voice over, the smoky jazz score and the '50s LA production design make this feel like classic noir; and a sugary treat for genre fans.

Eccentric medieval comedy-adventure which imagines Robin Hood (Sean Connery) returns from the Crusades to reunite with his band of freedom fighters/bandits, and for one last time resist feudal oppression and the Sheriff of Nottingham (Robert Shaw). And rekindle the embers of his long ago romance with Marian (Audrey Hepburn).

Except, they are much older and a little wiser. The humour touches on the absurd, but the film mainly resonates because of its melancholy. Robin reflects on a life misused by the ambitions of idiot kings, the murder in the name of god and all the senseless slaughter and persecution. Plus regret for his great lost love.

It's an arthouse adventure, with more dialogue than action. There's a sweet score from John Barry, ambient locations (in Spain) and an authentic feel for the period, despite obvious budget constraints. Also, an immense cast of British actors as the legends who have grown weary and shabby. There's Richard Harris as the Lionheart...

...Nicol Williamson as Little John... Ronnie Barker as Friar Tuck! And many more! But Connery dominates. It also addresses Robin as a mythic figure. Some momentum is lost in the last third, but recovers for a lovely, elegiac finale. There is something of Monty Python in the comedy, but also bass notes of anguish and mortality. 

Mythic Vietnam war allegory inspired by Joseph Conrad's 1899 classroom classic, Heart of Darkness. It's an extraordinary looking technical triumph, particularly with the ostentatious editing and the Oscar winning photography and sound. Francis Coppola contributes an impressive flair for visual narrative and spectacle.

Martin Sheen plays a special-ops soldier who must travel downriver through the horror/insanity of war to terminate an officer who has gone rogue. It's an odyssey into the interior of the country, as well as the assassin's psyche as he comes under the same pressures which set adrift the rationality of Colonel Kurtz.

It's a flawed masterpiece mostly because all this operatic bombast merely restates that war is hell, however persuasively. The initial narrative impetus is slowly lost. OK, it depicts a psychedelic journey which becomes more surreal as the party floats downstream... but also less compelling. And the climax is squandered.

Marlon Brando gives the closing scenes some folkloric weight, but is oddly presented like a confused west coast hippie cult leader- with an interesting library of modernist classics- rather than the essence of the heart of darkness. Still, it's a landmark Vietnam war film full of memorable scenes and dialogue. My pick is the longer 'redux' version.

*Warning- the film features the inhumane slaughter of a living animal.

Minor John Ford western with a familiar narrative and most of his standard motifs. So the film opens with the rich baritone harmonies of the Sons of Pioneers. On 25 minutes there's an extended fistfight. Then a tenderfoot on a wild horse and an improvised square dance. At length, a wagon train crosses a river...

There is attractive b&w photography of the same old locations. But no stars. This has an ensemble cast drawn from Ford's stock company of support players performing the usual archetypes. Ben Johnson and Harry Carey jr. are the scouts who take a party of god-fearing Mormons- led by Ward Bond-  west across the Utah desert...

They have many adventures, including picking up a medicine show run by Joanne Dru and Alan Mowbray. Naturally he's always drunk. Western veteran Charles Kemper plays the patriarch of a gang of inbred outlaws. It hasn't got the critical status of Ford's classics, but will appeal to his many disciples.

And it's such an unassuming film that it may entertain some agnostics too. There are zero surprises, but it's a short, unpretentious genre picture which presents the customary scenarios with a broad, comical approach. It inspired the popular television series Wagon Train, which kept Ward Bond in work for the rest of his life.

Adorable neorealist musical-comedy set among the urban decay of Dublin, well before the Irish economic miracle. It is staged like a heist picture with a diverse group of hard up chancers who come together in a common cause, but are ultimately destroyed by their differences. And their own flaws.

There is mostly an amateur cast drawn from local musicians who hadn't yet broken through. Robert Arkins plays a switched on soul aficionado who wants to bring together a band, to reflect the struggles and aspirations of working class Dubliners during the '80s financial meltdown. Everyone is signing on and going nowhere.

But their pessimistic sense of humour survives. And the need for self-respect. And that is really what this is about. The greatest hits of US soul classics (Mustang Sally, Take Me to the River) offer some ersatz, ebullient positivity that speaks for the resilience of the people even better than the prickly, profane dialogue.

The cast of non-professionals are a formidable ensemble. The music brings passion; Andrew Strong makes a connection with his authentic soul vocals. Though Johnny Murphy steals the film as the likably mendacious trumpeter. It's good on the tribal impact of pop music, and how it nurtures a sense of identity and community.

Poignant memory film set in the US just before the profound social changes of the 1960s. With the nostalgic narration and rural locations it has the feel of many adaptations of William Faulkner. Except this happens in Oregon rather than the deep south, and is from a story by Stephen King.

Four boys aged about 12 shrug off their disinterested parents to search for the body of a child who has gone missing from their small town. Of course, like most pilgrimages, the significance is in the journey rather than the destination and they learn life lessons which may feel profoundly relatable for younger audiences.

And will be more nostalgic for older viewers, though all the cultural reference points and the late '50's soul/r&b soundtrack is specifically American. The quartet of child actors is extremely good, especially River Phoenix as the empathetic leader and Wil Weaton as the sensitive romantic who will tell the story many years later...

It's uneven- the older characters are shallow and some of the situations are laboured. It's like ersatz Faulkner... but the sunny day evocation of long ago friendships is haunting, as the boys start to test the boundaries of their small world. The recreation of the period is satisfying and it's thoughtfully directed by Rob Reiner. 

Extraordinary true story about Aron Ralston, a climber/explorer who was trapped down a crevice in the remote Utah desert with his right arm stuck under a rock... for five days! He reflects on the circumstances that got him there, while weighing up the extreme measures it will take to survive.

It's mostly a one man show; James Franco delivers a standout performance as a sort of introverted free spirit, while flashback, hallucination and visceral recreation of the ordeal takes us through the 127 hours of entrapment. And his existence is suddenly reduced to a crack in the earth.

But we get deep inside his head... Director Danny Boyle employs an extreme, hyperkinetic visual style, particularly with the accelerated montage and split screen compositions. There's an abundence of ostentatious technique, but it snaps together with immaculate precision.

Ralston's eventual release is a vicarious spiritual exultation- enhanced by the music of Sigur Ros. This is incredibly 4real, and an unusual cinematic experience. Even though film buffs may notice the similarity of the scenario to Japanese arthouse classic, Woman in the Dunes (1964)!

There are 1950s sci-fi films which reflect on the breakdown of society or even the end of mankind. But this is the first to show us what this might look like. A nuclear cloud has enveloped the earth killing nearly everyone, but leaving buildings intact. An African American (Harry Belafonte) was buried underground. When he digs himself out, he is alone in New York City.

Eventually the engineer encounters another survivor (Inger Stevens). Though they are the last people on earth, the conventions of the vanished society still limit their freedom. When a white male (Mel Ferrer) joins them, the acrimony is mostly motivated by masculine rivalry rather than race. Conflict is bred in the bone of mankind.

The events are interestingly compromised by censorship; a romance between the resourceful, charismatic black man and the blonde is forbidden. But while race is a factor in the balance of power between the three, sexual jealousy is more prominent.

The main attraction is the eeriness of Belafonte walking the Manhattan ghost town, and beginning a new life in its empty buildings. This would be copied many times but never improved on and the b&w CinemaScope captures the otherworldly emptiness of the metropolitan wilderness. 

This begins like it was made for the Mexican tourist office to promote one of their fabulous holiday destinations. There’s a very slender idea for a thriller as a gangster’s moll (Linda Darnell) is chased around the sights of Taxco in Guerrero by a psycho-assassin (Jack Palance).

Her second chance is to testify against the mob. Robert Mitchum is a boxer, and his is to survive the guilt of killing an opponent in the ring. He protects/romances her among the historic hotspots of Mexico, trading sardonic dialogue which might easily be leftovers from his role in Out of the Past (1947).

Almost nothing happens. Then suddenly in the last 20m the action lurches into motion as the protagonists face off on a vertigo inducing cable car- which I now want to visit- as the support wires fray… threatening to pitch them into the rocky abyss… This should have been the whole film!

It gives this humdrum Technicolor-noir a thrilling climax. It was originally released in 3D which apparently was even more effective. The print is is need of an upgrade. But still the denouement is worth seeing, and the stars make the rest worthwhile. And who knows? If you visit, you may have an adventure too!

Effective hardboiled crime picture which suggests western specialist Budd Boetticher might have operated just as profitably on the mean streets of noir. It was made cheaply and quickly, but there’s a decent cast and the slender yet compelling story is told with suspense. It’s High Noon done as pulp fiction.

Wendell Corey is ultra-intense as an introverted bank worker who is found guilty of being the inside man on a violent robbery. When a detective (Joseph Cotten) kills the crooked clerk's wife by accident, the prisoner swears to execute the cop’s wife (Rhonda Fleming) in revenge. And then he wastes a guard and breaks out of jail…

The dialogue might have been edited, but this is still a spare and tense thriller, with good LA noir locations. Corey is scary as the avenging psycho-killer, and there is plenty of disturbing violence- for the period. OK, the narrative is underdeveloped, but then this is a low budget B picture.

Though any credibility- and fun- is eventually sunk by the ridiculous role of the detective's unhappy wife. When it turns into a home invasion/woman in peril film, she is too erratic to be credible. Or tolerable. Which is implied to be because she is pregnant! Still, its punchy noir aesthetic has a way of staying in the memory. 

Bittersweet Australian road-comedy which was groundbreaking for its wider exposure of the drag queen circuit as three cabaret performers travel from cosmopolitan Sydney, via the majestic interior, to the rural backwater of Alice Springs- meeting with confusion, hostility and sometimes, acceptance. In 1994 this was praised for dragging an underground subculture into the public gaze.

Pun alert! Some critics are now sniffy about the casting of mainstream actors as the artistes, though the trio give performances which seem authentic and sincere, at least to an outsider. Terence Stamp is best as a post-op transgender female dealing with the disappointments of middle age as well as maybe being too old for all this full-on fabulousness and sequins.

Plus the constant attritional cosmetic work. Guy Pearce as the wild, hyperactive rookie and Hugo Weaving as a wiser, more diplomatic gay dad also offer sympathetic, detailed portrayals. The plot feels like a greatest hits of anecdotes from the road, but this really cares about their motivations and experiences. And there's a soundtrack of the usual disco classics. Including ABBA...

By the fade out, it is possible to imagine how it feels to walk in their shoes. Or rather, heels. Unfortunately, a disastrous subplot about a Filipina bride wrecks the middle section, and betrays an absence of the empathy and tolerance the story expects for its heroes. And brings into focus a wider lack of taste. So, without judicious use of FF this potential crowd pleaser is ultimately flawed.

My pick for Harold Lloyd’s funniest picture. He plays a rich hypochondriac who travels to a South American island for his health, only to unwittingly get involved in a revolution. And eventually fall in love with his long suffering nurse (Jobyna Ralston). It was extensively ripped off by Woody Allen for Bananas (1971).

The star is more pompous, affluent and entitled than usual. Yet still another naive optimist. The comedy trades on mistaken identity. So the rebels who wage a coup d'état think Lloyd has been sent by an American bank to put down their insurrection, rather than an effete toff in search of restful privilege.

Most of the story relates to our hero's relationship with a giant hermit (John Aasen) who becomes loyal after Harold removes his bad tooth and who carries out all the dangerous work behind the wealthy tourist’s back. As usual, there isn't much to do for the female lead.

Ralston would be Lloyd's foil for the rest of the decade, and while not much of a change from Mildred Davis (who Lloyd had married in real life…) she is still appealing. This is a fast paced, well plotted comedy full of crazy, imaginative sight gags and athletic stunts. And one of the great silent comedies.