Film Reviews by Steve

This was released a few months after the last Monty Python series was broadcast on tv, and already there is a huge leap in quality. The main difference is the sketches are linked into a loose narrative; King Arthur (Graham Chapman) assembles a band of knights to join his quest for the Holy Grail. This single overarching plot is more satisfying over the length of feature film.

And the gags and situations are better, and funnier, though just as absurd. Ideas in this comedy have broken free into the wider culture. Public figures who back down at the first hint of opposition are taunted with 'brave Sir Robin'. People who obstinately refuse to admit they are beaten are likened to the Black Knight, who won't concede defeat even though his limbs are hacked off.

Most of the best ideas are in the first half, but it sustains itself quite well for such a ludicrous fantasy. There is broad satire, but it's not really political. The anarcho-syndicalist peasant who lambasts King Arthur's right to rule (Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system!') is a sendup of student politics as much as the iniquity of monarchism...

The film still works because there is knowledge behind the foolery, which spoofs the customs of the middle ages. Personally, the animation is a drag, though part of the Python image. Fortunately there are few songs, though it was turned into a musical. Humour is subjective and some will find this too silly. The majority will laugh their socks off.

My pick for the best film project for a rock or pop act, ever! And one of the most effective portraits of the seventies in the run down industrial wastelands. This was made just as Slade were going into decline. Presumably it was conceived as promotion for the band, but it is incredibly gloomy; all raw social realism with a few tales from the road worked in.

Even the two hits from the soundtrack, How Does it Feel and Far Far Away are unusually downbeat and find the boys in reflective mood. It's a rags-to-riches-to-rags story arc set in a Britain of bingo, working man's clubs and the dogs. In classic rock and roll tradition, Flame (Slade) are screwed by the dodgy gangster who is their manager (Johnny Shannon).

When they wriggle free they are taken on by an agent of a multinational corporation (Tom Conti) who treats them like another commodity. Which is worse. The members of Slade are directed thoughtfully, usually paired with with a professional actor. Dave Hill is mostly hidden away, but Jim Lea, Noddy Holder and Don Powell offer a trenchant, fatalistic commentary on their rise and fall.

Everything is shabby and fake and cheap. Flame's brief success doesn't allow their escape but confirms their cynicism. Most of all, it's about that most British of themes, social class. If this had been a conventional rock and roll vehicle, it would be barely remembered. But it has acquired a cult following because its dirty pessimism captures the period, and the country.

Energetic and very clever update of the old fashioned country house mystery which is adapted with a light touch by Anthony Shaffer from his own stage success. But this isn't really Agatha Christie revised for the seventies. Beyond its scintillating and playful wit, this has plenty to say about contemporary Britain, particularly the class system.

Laurence Olivier plays a middle aged writer of detective stories about the kind of amateur sleuth who was typical in the golden age of crime fiction in the 1930s. Michael Caine is the much younger lover of his trophy wife; a second generation immigrant with a developing chain of salons. So the famous author devises an incredible screwball revenge.

And the parvenu hairdresser fights back in similar fashion, until their escalating hostilities end in tragedy. This evolving war of ego and oneupmanship expressed through role play is the main attraction. The stars are excellent in demanding roles and Joseph Mankiewicz's camera captures the spirit of the theatrical production with verve and insight.

The play/film also operates as a reflection on how the establishment protects itself from outside threat. And there is an impression that the new arrival is learning how to belong. This is exceptional in almost every way. The only negative is the awful period fashions. Caine went from wearing the coolest suits in film history, to Man at C&A in barely six years.

One of the last, and the best of the horror anthologies that were popular around the turn of the seventies. The title comes from an American comic series of the 1950s from which some of these stories were taken. The others were from its sister publication, The Vault of Horror. So this is a selection of five tales of the grotesque, each with a deft climactic twist.

This is normally the domain of television, like in The Twilight Zone, but these collections were in widescreen and in colour. With extra gore. There is an excellent cast of well known British film actors. Ralph Richardson is the mysterious keeper of the crypt who hosts the round of story telling and then reveals to the miscreants their ultimate, dreadful fate.

All the stories are engaging and gradually become more gruesome, building to the final episode when Nigel Patrick is devoured by his own dog, at the hands of a gang of blind, elderly men! There's a pretty good retelling of The Monkey's Paw. Peter Cushing is quite poignant as a lonely, impoverished widower who is driven to suicide by his yuppie neighbours...

Until he emerges from his grave to take revenge on the ringleader. Most of the stars were coming to the end of their careers, but bring an abundance of ripe panache to their roles. The constant humour keeps the horror playful rather than cruel. While this is all extremely formulaic, it's also entertaining and obviously made with respect for the genre.

Ultra-low budget cult survivor which is a hybrid of the biker and occult genres. The plot is so ludicrous that it might easily have been shelved or shunned, and yet after half a century, it still lives. Nicky Henson plays the longhair leader of a motorcycle gang of antisocial thugs. He discovers through his mother (Beryl Reid), a necromancer, how to die and live forever undead.

Soon all his posse follow, killing themselves through ever more extravagant methods. They become literally delinquents from hell. Or Hell's Angels. Sadly, they use their special powers to commit witless acts of hooliganism, like riding their bikes through a supermarket. But that's part of the fun. At times it achieves so-bad-it's-good status.

Some details are gloriously kitsch, like the acoustic ballad Riding Free, which sounds like John Denver. Parts are ridiculous, including the premise of the satanic order of the frogs... But as can happen with B films, quality happens as if by chance. Don Sharp was a competent director, and obviously did some proper work on this. The frequent stunts are professional.

There's an Oscar winning cinematographer and a twice nominated set designer. But it's the experimental prog/psychedelic soundtrack which does the most to bring it all together. There is a feel of the period; of social disintegration and moral nihilism. This is a long way from art, but far better than most teenage exploitation films. 

Slow burning relationship drama set just after WWI, adapted from the LP Hartley novel. It's about the connection between a wealthy aristocrat (Sarah Miles) and the combat veteran (Robert Shaw) she occasionally hires to drive her. She is lonely and grows to favour his company and encouragement.

The story explores the impact of the war on its survivors. The woman's husband died of an illness (presumably flu) and she is traumatised by her guilt and depression. The driver was a veteran of the trenches and is brittle and volatile. They hide their agonies behind the conventional roles of their class. But there is an awful feeling of impending calamity...

Though the film reflects on the aftermath of war more broadly, it mainly focuses on these repressed people separated by the gulf of their status. Robert Shaw is excellent as a prosaic man consumed by futile anger. But it's Sarah Miles' numb, burned out widow who slowly breaks your heart. Behind the big eyes, she is hollow.

The narrative takes the long way home, and proceeds at leisure. The period detail is evocative and sombre, with muted brown and cream interiors. The ending isn't a big strength, but is still appropriate. This is an observation on a country dazed by the shock of violence and loss, and of a class system that never really went away.

Conventional cold war spy thriller which overcomes its familiarity thanks to a wonderful ensemble of British character actors, and John Huston's expertise in the genre. It's quite uneven, but still absorbing entertainment. Paul Newman is an agent for MI6, who goes undercover as an Australian diamond thief in order to expose a gang trafficking imprisoned Communist agents to the East.

This casting is undeniably offbeat, but Newman is at least nonchalantly charismatic. He is backed up by Dominique Sanda as his implausibly elegant intermediary. And there is the superlative support of many veterans of the cold war on screen, including Harry Andrews and Michael Horden. Best of all is James Mason as the contemptible villain, a Commie spy posing as a Tory MP.

Maurice Jarre's score derived from Russian folk music is a genre cliche, but still works. The twisty plot is interesting and there are striking, touristic locations in Malta, Ireland and central London. Admittedly, the premise is much better than the resolution, but there is that satisfying mood of pessimistic melancholy which is standard in cold war spy films.

Credibility becomes dangerously stretched in the climax when Newman suddenly demonstrates a talent for swimming underwater, in his suit. There's nothing new here, but it's a lot of fun for fans of the genre. And a cameo by Nigel Patrick is bonus. By the way, the undercover spy doesn't wear a Mackintosh, that is the name of his Whitehall contact.

This is usually tagged as horror, but really it's a grim satire on the macho values of the Australian outback in the 1960s. It's the mythic journey into hell of a schoolteacher (Gary Bond) who gets tangled up in the lowbrow pursuits of the interior rustbelt of Victoria. It was initially a flop down under, though has since become a cult classic.

Its self analysis is brutally grotesque. The teacher intends to catch a plane to Sydney, but loses his funds in a game of 2-up and so penniless gets dragged down into the rituals of mateship; fighting, drinking and bloodsports. Then he drunkenly tumbles into the ultimate expression of male bonding with a debauched medic (Donald Pleasence).

It's is a surreal experience; a hallucinatory allegory about the way society instinctively confronts and assimilates otherness. This is accentuated by some freakish performances, with Pleasance predictably memorable. Great to see Chip Rafferty in his last role. It's a must-see for connoisseurs of the outré, students of Aussie cinema, and horror fans.

But there is a reservation. The darkest part of the academic's fall from grace is a horrific kangaroo hunt. We see their actual slaughter. This is hard to watch, which is sort of the point, but surely unethical. There is a postscript claiming it was included as a rebuke to this legal bloodsport. So you decide. In my view, it should not have been passed by the censors.

It's a little surprising how many directors over the years have attempted to pastiche the private eye films of the 1940s. This is the most successful. Albert Finney is a bingo caller/comedian who whimsically places an ad in the Liverpool Echo offering his services as PI. But as this is northern England, not LA, he is the sort of gumshoe who travels by bus.

His first case begins with an anonymous phone call, and soon he is opening a mysterious package containing a gun and a large bundle of folding money. And he finds himself investigating his own brother (Frank Finlay), a mercenary businessman recently married to the heartbroken sleuth's former squeeze (Billie Whitelaw).

The film's ace card is the script. The fast, snappy crosstalk that Finney employs to better emulate the celluloid heroes of film noir is witty and pretty funny. And there are cute plot similarities with The Big Sleep and The Maltese Falcon to amuse the film buffs. The location shoot around Merseyside, plus appearances by local actors, add some regional character.

The twisty plot is fine, if not particularly inspired. It's just an excuse for Finney to make like Humphrey Bogart and pull out his gat. But beneath the droll repartee, there is a deep layer of melancholy that makes the film more satisfying than the usual spoof. There is a sadness to this night club comic who finds solace in fantasy, because reality is such a disappointment.

Taut woman-in-peril thriller made by the people who created sixties tv classic, The Avengers. It was shot around the Loire Valley, France and it's unusually bright and sunny for a suspense film which uses a lot of horror technique. But this allows Sandor Elès as the mystery man you are not really sure about, to hide impassively behind his cool shades.

The film is memorable for its casting of the two teenage English nurses on a cycling holiday. Blonde Michele Dotrice is the sexy/flirty girl who suddenly vanishes. Pamela Franklin is the sensible, practical friend who tries to find her. She's even called Jane. And she's on her own and doesn't speak the language or know who to trust.

It feels a bit unworldly now that this alien and unknowable foreign land of suspicious locals is the country just over the Channel. But it doesn't really matter. The film creates a lot of tension from not much at all. Just a stretch of road in rural France. It's stylishly directed, with lots of focus pulls which gives it a 60s/70s look.

This has the feel of an urban myth about the dangers of wandering off alone in a strange place. Principally, it's the two stars that stay in the memory. Franklin is, as usual, a reliable lead. But Dotrice, the victim, is more affecting. While her terrible fate is just a plot devise, there's  sadness to her loss, which isn't usual in this sort of film..

Low budget black comedy which bombed in the UK but was a cult hit in USA. It's an unusual film, but imagine a seventies British horror rewritten by Joe Orton. The four title characters are a family of posh psycho-killers who bring strangers back to their derelict mansion to role play nursery games, and then murder them.

So, not for all tastes. This could be video nasty material except there is no onscreen gore. But for those with relish for the genre, this is my pick for the best horror-comedy ever made. The situations are genuinely strange and, after a slow start, it is grotesquely hilarious.

Girly (Vanessa Howard) is a mature woman but acts like a pouty nymphette to attract unattached men to their stately home, which is decked out in Edwardian nursery clutter. And where Mumsy (Ursula Howells) is in charge. But when they capture a tough, chippy prole (Michael Bryant) he fights back by introducing a few new rules of his own.

The cheerful cruelty of the four murderers makes this a guilty pleasure that will offend some. There is interesting subtext about rules and role playing (which anticipates the Stanford Prison experiment), and how that relates to social class. And some satire of the aristocracy. But it chiefly succeeds as a bad-taste comedy and a surprisingly clever psychodrama.

This faithful biopic of the life and death of the famous Australian outlaw is flawed, but still the best big screen account. Its strength is the incredibly authentic recreation of the period, leading up to Ned Kelly's hanging in Melbourne jail in 1880. The most powerful episode is the graphic, gruesome prologue recreating his execution, shot inside the prison, which conveys genuine horror.  

Most prominent is the stunt casting of Mick Jagger as an Irish-Australian bushranger. At the time Mick had an image as a rock and roll outlaw, so maybe it made sense in 1970. And while quite subdued, he isn't actually bad. But the role is too demanding for a dilettante; his character must completely dominate the screen, and his dialogue becomes increasingly lengthy and poetic.

Plus, with hindsight, Jagger doesn't seem like much of an outlaw anyway. The support roles- played by Aussie actors- are diminished. It's really all Jagger, and the pungent recreation of the squalor of the Victorian outback. Eventually Ned becomes less of an outlaw, and more of an Irish rebel, fighting a civil war against the English political establishment.

The big disappointment is how much the story becomes like a conventional western. Especially the commentary of folk songs recorded by Waylon Jennings. Presumably to sell the film to a US audience. Maybe this- and a Pom playing Ned- is why it bombed down under. But there is a strong sense of colonial Australia, and the Kelly gang's legendary shootout, in their ploughshare armour, is haunting.

Maybe the best film for children ever made in this country. Sure it's old fashioned and cosy and its assumptions about class are dated, but it hits a special sweet spot for British audiences of family films. This is the setting of the story in the early Edwardian period against the background of steam railways...

Add in the splendid locations in rural Yorkshire and this gentle drama attains a state of bliss. Like most films for children, it's a story about the family under threat. The kindly father is- wrongly- sent to prison for treason. So for financial reasons, the mother and three children relocate to the north where the youngsters must adapt and learn life lessons...  

Sadly, these don't include not patronising the lowly station master (Bernard Cribbins). Jenny Agutter's performance as the eldest child on the threshold of womanhood is legendary. Twenty year old Sally Thomsett is remarkably convincing as the 11 year old middle child. And Dinah Sheridan is warm and comforting as the best possible mother.

The story is prefaced by an older Jenny Agutter looking back. And the film has the feel of an idealised memory.There is little realism here. It's an adventure, a daydream of a far away age when girls ran through the green fields in pinafores and old gentlemen were kindly and wise. When there were buns for tea. A long, long way from now.

This frantic black comedy adapted from Joe Orton's controversial stage success no longer has the power to offend. But the satire about the British establishment, the catholic church and the police is still relevant and funny. Hywel Bennett and Roy Holder play a couple of bisexual longhairs who rob a bank and stash the loot in the coffin of Holder's recently dead mother.

Which leaves them with a body on their hands. The play was controversial and some were affronted by the comic use of a corpse! Which hard to work out, because this is farce. It's all slamming doors and bare behinds. Gradually their caper unravels thanks to an incredibly mercenary and sexy Irish nurse (Lee Remick) and a brutal and corrupt copper (Richard Attenborough).

And so the swag has to be split into ever smaller shares. The whole bundle is directed with great energy and the well chosen cast makes the most of some great dialogue. There's a genuinely eccentric gimmick in just about every shot. It now feels cartoonish, with the gaudy primary colours, the eye-popping edits and the commentary of rock and roll songs.

Joe Orton was reinventing the farce in the context of the revolution of the late sixties counterculture, to represent the generational divide and a growing suspicion of authority. It was intended to be confrontational. It no longer has that impact, but it's still a breathless, spontaneous bad-taste comedy which is full of surprises.

Tale of the occult set in rural England in the early 1700s, which is the definitive example of what came to be known as folk horror. Without Blood on Satan's Claw, it's difficult to imagine this sub-genre would exist at all... After a mysterious, furry skull is unearthed by a plough on the remote country estate of a lazy aristocrat, the children of his feckless peasants begin to worship the devil.

And then they ritually murder each other. The details are murky, but it seems the kids intend to coat a devil-beast with the uncanny patches of hair that now grow on their bodies. Which may be a metaphor for puberty! The rituals of the satanic children are actually quite extreme, and include the sexual assault and sacrifice of one of their group.

The film conveys its frisson of arcane wickedness with solemnity. It's the decadence that sells the tickets. It is most remembered for the famous scene when the naked leader of the cult (Linda Hayden) attempts to seduce the village priest: 'do you like what you see'. Then climaxes abruptly with the landowner (Patrick Wymark) cutting down satan with a sword.

The acting is unsubtle, but then this is exploitation horror. The plot is erratic. This is a cult item for blokes of a certain age, who remember seeing it- and particularly Linda- on tv as teenagers. But even without the lure of nostalgia, it is an eerie film which became quite influential. There are a couple of big scares, but its appeal is in the deviant mood of long ago occultism.