Film Reviews by Steve

This low budget horror was once controversial for the ultra-gore which led to a VHS ban during the '80s video-nasty panic. Some mature looking college kids crash a remote cabin to party, but the woods are possessed. Soon four of them are ghouls who want Bruce Campbell to join them.

The old school aspects have lasted best, like the use of darkness to stimulate the terrors of the imagination, so much scarier than can be shown on screen. Plus the arcane Lovecraftian paraphernalia about the book of the dead opening up a portal of demons, which is genuinely spooky...

Though not really groundbreaking. This made an impact because of the extreme grotesquery, which has dated badly. OK it's home made splatter horror, so what can you expect? But the makeup, models and stop-motion effects are dreadful. Even if some of the camera tricks are innovative.

Sam Raimi's debut feature may have undermined the moral crusade against gross-out horror, because it was admired by respectable critics, and the violence has a slapstick feel- apparently inspired by The Three Stooges! There's a big cult out there, but the uninitiated may be disappointed.

Anti-bloodsports docudrama adapted from Henry Williamson's 1927 novel. It's set in period, before otters had the legal protection which saved them from extinction. It takes place over a year in the birth and short life of Tarka within his habitat on the rivers of North Devon.

Nature exists in a kind of balance, except for the human hunters who kill for pleasure. They are portrayed as ignorant lickspittles or careless aristocrats. But this is more about the wildlife. Anyone of a certain age will notice how influential this was on kids' tv.

And it's usually rated a family film; except the body count is off the chart... It's just that none of the victims are human. We observe at length the otters as predators. While all the animals are anthropomorphised, this is still realistic; red in tooth and claw. It is not Disney.

The gorgeously photographed scenes from the riverbank are set to Peter Ustinov's avuncular, poetic narration. Apparently Williamson was not opposed to bloodsports, but this film clearly is. And there is a palpable sense of wonder for the otters and their precarious lives. 

The first of seven horror anthologies by Amicus intended to break into a UK production market utterly dominated by Hammer. The five original stories by studio boss Milton Subotsky are not on the level of later script ideas by Robert Bloch, and are extremely derivative of the old favourites.

So there are vampire and werewolf tales, and even one about a disembodied hand! Most memorable is the newer concept of a house invaded by a sentient killer vine... This stars radio dj Alan Freeman! Then Roy Castle turns up as a nonchalant jazz trumpeter menaced by Caribbean voodoo.

There are also the horror stars of the period, with Christopher Lee pursued by the severed body part. The standout is Peter Cushing as the mysteriously accented Doctor Terror who relates the malign fate of his fellow passengers on a steam train to hell via his well thumbed deck of Tarot cards.

A decade later, this would be made for tv, but in 1965, the Technicolor and Techniscope format made it worth leaving the house. Oscar winning cinematographer Freddie Francis directs with gusto. But the big shocker is how much Michael Gough resembles future horror star Nigel Farage- aargh! 

Long intelligent biopic about Carlo Levi, a dissident painter/writer who was exiled by Benito Mussolini in 1935-36 to a feudal backwater in southern Italy, isolated from the more prosperous north. While assisting the peasant workers as their doctor he identifies the reasons for their political indifference.

So there is some extended political chat. But it's as much about the social history of the rural south, including their superstitions and the burden of corruption. There is an overwhelming impression of poverty, though ironically this is Matera and now the whole region is a UNESCO World Heritage Site!

Today the hovels carved out of rock sell for millions of euros...  Gian Maria Volontè- from the Dollars films!- is impassive as the political exile, but has a quiet charisma, while Irene Papas lifts the second half as his lively maid and the mother of innumerable children. And Levi's stray dog is adorable!

The title implies history only ever gets as far as the towns and the rural poor always remain left behind. For anyone with an interest in politics between the wars, this is fascinating. I suppose it isn't authentic neorealism but Francesco Rosi directs with a similar approach, and this is his masterpiece.

*note, the dvd is 150m which suggests it is the cinema release, not the 220m tv version, or 200m as advertised above... So the aspect should be in 1.66 (according to IMDB) but the dvd is in 1.37 which suggests it's the tv copy. I'm not going to guess why, because I don't know....

For about an hour its possible to imagine this was influenced by Auf Wiefersen, Pet, with its motley crew of labourers from around the UK who left their home towns due to unemployment in the '80s recession and then are mixed up in amusing misadventures on a building project in London.

But this is Ken Loach working from the only ever script by Bill Jesse, a former construction worker. So initially this represents the UK as a divided nation adrift in drugs, crime and homelessness; it's a polemic aimed at the contemporary Tory government a year after Margaret Thatcher resigned.

Of course, the workers are transforming a hospital into luxury apartments, while the bosses exploit a shocking disregard for health and safety... Robert Carlyle plays the main character, an ex-con with tiny dreams who joins the posse, then shacks up with a delusional wannabe (Emer McCourt).

But the heart of the film is (ex-builder) Ricky Tomlinson as an exile from Merseyside who argues for union representation and loses his job. And then it all gets much darker... It isn't the '80s of tv nostalgia shows, but it's the one many of us will remember. And this acutely captures the zeitgeist.

Ultra-stylish mood piece from arthouse writer-director Alan Rudolph's brief period of critical acclaim. It's an ensemble crime story which is much bigger on atmosphere and eccentricity than suspense. It should really have built up a cult following among noir aficionados, but it hasn't happened yet...

Kris Kristofferson plays an ex-cop released from a stretch inside for murder, who goes back back to Rain Town, which is Seattle, made more noir by neon and drizzle and broken dreamers. He takes up the case of a beautiful young mother (Lori Singer) whose partner (Keith Carradine) can't get a break.

So dad drifts into violent crime which transforms him into a decadent, narcissistic freak. Geneviève Bujold owns a diner where much of this ambient pessimism occurs and her customers exchange poetic aphorisms while served all day breakfast and coffee. Meanwhile, the army patrols the streets...

Which is curiously like the US now! The nucleus of all this fatalistic atmos. is the heartbreak torch ballads sung by Marianne Faithfull and scored by Mark Isham, including the title song, a blues standard from the 1920s. I love this stuff- and also looking at Lori Singer's eyes- but it never found an audience.

This was a box office bomb and the problem is obvious; it's a David Mamet film about US mixed martial arts. So, will the arthouse crowd buy a ticket for a story about showbiz sport? Alternatively, are fans of ringside razzle-dazzle going to sit still for an allegory on the iniquities of American capitalism?

Well, no and no. But for those on the first half of that conundrum this may have been a win-win. This is a pretty decent Mamet drama about the struggle of a virtuous practitioner to stay aloof from the sleaze and corruption of the moronic inferno. Plus he's also brutal on sport as a fake spectacle for tv.

This isn't a Rocky (1976) ripoff. It's not entirely successful- and feels cut down from something more complex- but it's fun to hear the Mamet-speak around the fight game. And Chiwetel Ejiofor is engaging and charismatic as an honourable redbelt forced into the phoney MMA circus when his life implodes 

Mamet practices  jiu-jitsu, which hardly matters in terms of combat, but may have inspired the stuff about the code of the warrior. Or it was lifted from a Japanese Samurai film. It's long on chat and short on action and Redbelt 2 will never be made... But the cool pessimism may appeal to noir aficionados.

One of Christopher Nolan's less complex films, but still convoluted by normal standards, even if it simplifies Christopher Priest's source novel. The story about rival stage magicians in Victorian London is itself a sort of intriguing illusion, though it exceeds its grasp in the final reveal- what it calls 'the prestige'.

And like any magic trick, it loses fascination once the apparatus of the deception is shown, which means it's only a one time deal. However, until it lays that last card, this is a beautifully produced period thriller, with standout photography- in Panavision- and set design, for which it received Oscar nominations.

Nolan relates the tangled tale with suspense and contributes a well designed screenplay which isn't difficult to follow despite the non-linear plot structure. Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman get close to making the obsessive magicians credible, and there's a surplus of major star quality in the support cast.

Then... for its ultimate act of showmanship, the story casts aside the arcane laws of 'magic' and mutates into science fiction... The director works hard to make this okay, but the big climax is a disappointing hoax. Still, it's well worth experiencing once and this- for me- is the director's most accessible picture. 

This was once my idea of a quintessential French film; a chilly, intellectual analysis of a love triangle between members of an elite which is dense with elliptical talk about feelings and philosophical abstractions; where the woman is extremely gorgeous but the men more what is best described as characterful.

Though that also sounds like Harold Pinter... A talented classical violinist who specialises in Ravel is about to move into an apartment with a married man but then falls in love with his partner in the business of repairing string instruments. So we hear some tasteful music set against their psychological anguish.

Emmanuelle Béart is the standout not only for conveying her emotional vulnerability, but also miming pretty well on the fiddle. Plus she brings her exceptional beauty. Daniel Auteuil- her then real life husband- plays a genius at evaluating the tone of a musical instrument, but a mere dilettante in the art of love.

And it is his heart which is in deep freeze. André Dussollier is the least starry of the trio as an entrepreneur whose dream second act is suddenly in doubt. Claude Sautet directs with an absence of style because it's an actors film which is a little theatrical. It's one of those French films they sadly no longer make.

Sensitive and beautiful period adaptation of Rebecca West's debut novel set during WWI. There's an exceptional cast, with Alan Bates as a wealthy landowner and officer whose PTSD triggers the amnesia which takes away his memories of the previous 20 years...

Which means the entire marriage to his selfish and proud- but attractive- aristocratic wife (Julie Christie). He renews a connection with his earlier love for a tenant of the estate (Glenda Jackson) who has grown careworn in relative hardship.

Ann-Margret is improbably cast as a poor relation/spinster, but she's fine. There's an implication the shell-shock has allowed the soldier to subconsciously reject his social rank, as well as his marriage. Certainly the old flame is more steadfast than the wife.

There's a sumptuous production, from the lovely music to the Edwardian set decors. The events unravel at leisure. It gently finds fault with the inherited privilege of the aristocracy, but this is no polemic. Everyone accepts their status, which ultimately, is their tragedy.

The third in Richard Linklater's cultish 'Before' trilogy, co-written with its stars, Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke. Nine years after the romantic cliffhanger of Before Sunset (2004), Céline and Jesse are now a couple, with adorable twin moppets, but the compromises essential for a lifelong love affair are starting to unravel.

It loosely follows the template of walking and talking in a European setting, which began with Before Sunrise (1995), though this isn't applied as rigorously. While on the idyllic Greek coast they riff on issues relevant to middle aged parents, mostly related to gender responsibilities. And this builds to a bitter and epic row.

This instalment references the earlier films. In particular it draws on Céline's sudden, alarming meltdown in the back of the car in Sunset. Now she is more openly volatile, and this clashes with Jesse's natural complacency. They still share an incredible rapport, even when they are fighting! And they fall apart so eloquently.

But surely the fans expect the intelligent flirtation of the earlier films! This is something else, yet still irresistible! It's a reflection on how romance is challenged by the grind. And yet... the bitter altercation and barely suppressed resentment ends in reconciliation. Maybe their crazy on-off relationship will survive! I hope so...

In which Ryan Gosling completely absorbs the late '60s urban samurai persona of Steve McQueen... And director Nicolas Winding Refn appropriates the existential alienation of Walter Hill's classic LA noir, The Driver (1978). As the title suggests, the story mainly deals with motivation. And how far will the protagonist go...

The answer is, all the way. This is superficially a gangster picture. Gosling plays an emotionally frozen getaway driver who is thawed by Carey Mulligan's lonely jail widow. Which brings him into jeopardy with the mafia. But despite the car chases and extreme violence this is really an arthouse review of urban sadness.

The weakness is the plot, including the banality of the stolen suitcase of laundered mob money. Its strength is the nocturnal atmos. Most of this is technique, with the turned up room ambience (the sound mix is excellent!), the lethargic performances, the soundtrack of '80s-style techno and the neon of the naked city.

Crucially, Gosling has enough star charisma to sustain all this numb despair. Mulligan is miscast and the rest of the cast hardly registers. But despite the narrative wrong-turns, Refn's craft makes it a decent ride; even the framing and the tracking shots crank up the thrills. One of the standouts in the 2010s noir revival.

Many decades on, This is Spinal Tap has aced the test of time- and there is zero cringe... Perhaps the pop culture reference points are less relevant. And overfamiliarity may have eroded the hilarity of arguably the funniest film ever made. Especially those scenes fans tell each other in pubs and on tour buses...

Like the disappointing model of Stonehenge, or the uniquely loud amp... But credit is due, as this stuff has entered the idioms of the English language. And now, a gag once overlooked may well get the laughs. Plus there's a surprising amount of fun just observing how much the actors are enjoying themselves...

Including the US cast doing the English accents, with Michael McKean and Christopher Guest giving us more or less Jagger as the scene dictates, with that strain of nasal camp. Or how uncannily Harry Shearer modulates his proletarian vowels. Americans really shouldn't be able to impersonate Brits so well...

Without their obvious affection for these guileless optimists, it might be too cruel to endure. Tap may be idiots but they are matchless companions on a screen for 82m. The legendary script is all bangers. My own favourite is the irrefutable logic of Viv Savage's personal philosophy: "Have a good time... all the time'.

Prominent entry in a small wave of films inspired by the 2008 global economic recession.... So when the tremors of the incoming collapse in US sub-prime mortgages are picked up by a risk assessor at a Wall Street investment bank, his boss unethically elects to dump stock on their competitors to save themselves.

It's essentially a filmed play which is heavy on reportage and exposition but lacks interesting plot complications. The Oscar nominated screenplay is a mixed bag; while the characters and situations are credible, the dialogue is clumsy. It's written in the David Mamet style, but without any of the verbal music.

The cast is generally solid even if there's no standout; they perform miracles with the clunky lines.While writer-director JC Chandor- on debut- clearly knows how financial markets work, he is less concerned with how all this impacts on the public. There is no one to voice popular opinion; this is not a polemic.

Most of the commentary is in the subtext; miss it and it's almost as if we are invited to empathise with these relentless sociopathic monsters. But the real-life poison is so toxic it saturates the film anyway... yet there is no anger. Still, any evidence of those horrifying events is welcome, because we seem to have forgotten.

Superior Japanese ghost story from the period when J-horror was rejuvenating a lacklustre genre. With Ringu (1998) this is the best of that wave, maybe because both are directed by Hideo Nakata and adapted from stories by Koji Suzuki, about the pressure of modern life on the traditional family.

In this case, it's a mother with a young child, who is going through a messy divorce. Hitomi Kuroki stars as the vulnerable, isolated working mum, whose long ago history of mental illness is being used against her by the father in a bitter custody battle over their feisty six year old daughter (Rio Kanno).

So is she crazy, or is she being menaced by the plumbing of her grimly brutalist apartment building? Or is it a spectral cry for help? There's a slow build while the maternal bond is established, plus a spooky back story about a lost child. Then Nakato goes for the big horror climax he delivered in Ringu.

While he doesn't pull it off, the twist is so incredibly heartbreaking, it's still a knockout. He is a master of the style of millennial Asian horror but also conveys a huge emotional surge. It's an eerie ghost story which mirrors back our own existential fears; which is what the classics of the genre always do.