Film Reviews by Steve

Absurd but ridiculously entertaining World War II action spectacular. It's one of the many productions of the sixties which took the model of the post war special operations film and then remade it with a huge budget, in colour with a wide screen format. Richard Burton and Clint Eastwood are the stars, but their stunt doubles get more screen time.

And there must be more explosions than in any other film. The two leads break into a German castle fortress in the Alps to free an Allied General and for Burton to deliver a ludicrous plot twist. Then the laconic, unkillable Eastwood basically blasts them back to London. The real purpose of the raid alters about every 15 minutes, but, who cares...

As this is a sequence of stunts and explosions, it might be argued that it should be eclipsed by modern action films with more evolved effects. But it still works. The climax on board a cable car is justly famous. It helps that the stars are legends of the cinema. Mary Ure is sympathetic as an imbedded British spy and Derren Nesbitt reliably odious as a Gestapo officer.

The Austrian locations are a plus, especially the imposing Hohenwarfen Castle. Most of all, the story has unstoppable momentum. There''s a long running time of 160m, but it passes in a flash. It's all extremely improbable, but many special operation missions during WWII really were! Maybe it's a low bar, but it's easily the best screen version of a novel by Alistair MacLean.

For many years, Up the Khyber was rated as the best of the Carry On series. There's a decent location shoot, with Snowdon, Wales standing in for the North West Frontier, Afghanistan, and reasonable production values. The plot is typically absurd, but more robust than usual.

While there's the standard barrage of smutty double entendres, a few still raise a titter and they are not as threadbare as some later entries. The cast of regulars isn't quite at full strength- Kenneth Connor is always missed- but most of the key names are present and Joan Sims is in good form as the vulgar wife of the Governor (Sidney James).

It's a spoof of those historical adventure films about the British in India during the height of the empire. Which would have been fair game to the cast and crew at the time, but now will be problematic to some. So there are silly puns made of Indian names, with Bernard Bresslaw as Bungdit Din. Half of the cast is in brownface.

So what was once the jewel in the crown of the Carry On series, now feels among the most compromised. If all that is set aside... this is genial, unpretentious stuff which really doesn't mean to offend. It seems unlikely that these films are still being watched half a century on. But compared to other lowbrow comedies of the period, this one stands up fairly well.

Sweet romance about the first love of two inexperienced, lonely teenagers in an isolated village in rural Gloucestershire. Hayley Mills is a wild local girl whose prospects are limited by her learning disability. Ian McShane is an uneducated Romany traveller who is camped in the adjacent countryside.

And they fall in love. The film isn't realistic. It's a fanciful daydream which is made poignant by the heartfelt performances of the two leads, and not undermined by the cutes of the nonprofessional contributions by the local children. There's an aura of guileless optimism which admittedly wouldn't stand up to more cynical scrutiny.

This was a family affair for Hayley. Her mother (Mary Hayley Bell) wrote the sentimental story and script. It has something of the feel of her Whistle Down the Wind. And her father (John Mills) directs with sympathy for the solitary, rootless sweethearts. Though is susceptible to the odd visual gimmick.

Credit should also be extended to Hamlet the dog. The story conveys an impression that, in the context of the mysteries of life and the universe, all of us are like trusting children. And we should preserve our sense of wonder. It's a simple film, but with plenty of compassion for the lives of others.

Expansive historical epic based on the Siege of Khartoum in 1885, with Charlton Heston as Charles Gordon almost singlehandedly resisting the army of a Sudanese warlord, played by Laurence Olivier. There will be differences of opinion on the politics. The film positions the Governor General as a hypocrite but the would-be Mahdi as a psychopath. So it expects us to take a side.

Heston is a natural for this kind of man of destiny, a Victorian adventurer with a mission. Those who are offended by traditional casting methods will be not appreciate Olivier as the Islamic warrior, but he certainly wins the charisma contest. Though he is in a support role, Charlie is the star. But even he orates in the shadow of the amazing, panoramic spectacle.

There is a huge cast of extras performing the sweeping battles across the ostentatious breadth of the Ultra-Panavision. Costumes, sets and locations (in Egypt) are all magnificent. And they are matched by Robert Ardley's Oscar nominated script which conveys historical depth and ideas without ever being pompous or long-winded.

It looks amazing. Basil Dearden normally made small progressive protest films, but is equal to a more epic scale. Perhaps surprisingly for a liberal director, Khartoum isn't critical of the Empire. Heston's General Gordon is nuanced, but ultimately a hero. In some ways it is dated, but certainly the vast scale of the action would never be recreated now, without CGI.

Though this melancholy spy thriller was made under the obvious influence of John le Carré, it isn't a cold war story. British intelligence attempts to shut down a subversive organisation in West Berlin. And it's not obvious why they would interfere in internal West German politics at all... but it employs all the motifs of the cold war mystery to good effect.

The big error was casting an American star as the agent sent by the repressed, unscrupulous bureaucrats of Whitehall to infiltrate the neo-Nazis. George Segal is engaging enough, but this character only really works if played by a resentful Brit. His strategy is unsubtle... He makes a big bloody fuss and waits for the dissidents to chase him!

But any fan of the cold war genre will find plenty to love. There's an authentically chilly score from John Barry. Harold Pinter wrote the laconic, pessimistic script. And there's a quality support cast playing a gallery of archetypes. Santa Berger is the beautiful and enigmatic Berliner who may not be all she seems. Alec Guinness is our man in Berlin. Max von Sydow makes a flamboyant villain.

Though aside from killing and torturing British agents, it's not clear what are the objectives of his organisation. The plot is relatively uncomplicated for this genre and at times it loses momentum. There's a scene at the Olympic stadium of 1936 and other touristic sites which contribute local atmosphere. Most of all, it's the aura of fatalistic despair that stays in the memory.

Handsome and intelligent account of the English Reformation under Henry VIII from the point of view of his Chancellor Thomas More, who became its martyr. This was a huge Oscar winner and not just for its sumptuous production design but for many of the big ones, like best director for Fred Zinnemann, best actor for Paul Scofield as More, and best picture.

And crucially, Robert Bolt for his adaptation of his stage hit. While the early exchanges dawdle, once the legal hostilities erupt between More and Thomas Cromwell (Leo McKern) the scenes crackle with cerebral vitality. Scofield is convincing as the erudite, resolute More, who is presented as a flawless hero. But despite his Academy Award he is eclipsed by the more charismatic support roles.

Robert Shaw plays Henry as a shifty, malevolent toddler. A sociopath. But with enough charm to suggest why he might be indulged as well as feared. Susannah York makes an impression as More's shrewd, educated daughter. And McKern is equal to the star. But credit to Scofield, he is up on screen for the entire running time.

The production makes excellent use of real locations, like More's rural mansion, and especially the River Thames. But for all of its richness of detail, it doesn't stray far from the theatrical source, which draws on contemporary records. The politics is fascinating, but it is a sedate, scholarly film more likely to appeal to those interested in the period.

Grand but realistic adaptation of the Thomas Hardy classic is one of the greatest films ever made from a Victorian novel. Without the meticulous profundity of the author's prose, instead we get an epic romance, quite brilliantly cast as three contrasting suitors pursue the independent young mistress of a working farm.

The four stars have something of the 1960s about them, as well as the 1860s. This is most true of Julie Christie who plays the proud but well intentioned Bathsheba Everdene. Peter Finch best absorbs the period as a reserved, middle aged landowner destabilised by her youth and beauty. Terence Stamp is charismatic as the flamboyant, capricious Sergeant in scarlet red.

Best of all is Alan Bates as the steadfast Gabriel Oak, one of the great heroes of Victorian literature. The script does a fair job of taming Hardy's long novel, though the conclusion is fluffed. Unfortunately, Gabriel is offscreen for much of the last third. It's a romance but mostly about unrequited love. Even when Gabriel and Bathsheba finally marry, there is an impression she is burned out by tragedy.

This is a beguiling experience. Some scenes are heavy with enchantment, like the harvest supper when Miss Everdene sings to the labourers. There is evocative use of period ballads. The film captures the ambience and appearance of Hardy's Wessex. But also his sadness; that fate is malign for most and happiness just a fleeting release from adversity.

Sombre sequel to the 1965 spy caper The Ipcress File which moves the action from London to Berlin with a major style makeover. Gone is the pop art photography and the froideur of the John Barry soundtrack. It's only a year on but sadly Michael Caine's iconic suits are not quite as stylish. Though he still has the glasses.

It's one of many Berlin set spy films of the sixties, and this one is pitched somewhere between John le Carré and Alfie. Whitehall sends Harry Palmer to assist a Soviet general to defect to the west. Then the sprawling plot reaches way back to Nazi war crimes and acquires the interests of the Israeli secret service.

It's the nerdy cool of Caine's reprisal as the impassive but provocative British agent which provides most of the entertainment. It remains his signature role. And he has many excellent, insolent ripostes to deliver. Eva Renzi is a remarkably sexy counteragent and Oscar Homolka is engaging as the would be defector. But who can you trust?

There is no politics. There's nothing at stake. It's just a convoluted spy story. Instead we get the cold war atmospherics of the divided city, including some cabaret drag, checkpoint charlie and the bombed out buildings either side of the wall. It's not as good as The Ipcress File, but far better than its own sequel, Billion Dollar Brain.

Surreal enigma from the Italian modernist Michelangelo Antonioni, which is a candidate for the definitive film about sixties London. David Hemmings plays a trivial, but chic and successful fashion photographer who aspires to work in social realism. While shooting in a park he appears to capture a murder in the grainy background of his snapshots.

Or does he? He is an unreliable observer; everything he says in the film is arguably a lie. He soon loses interest and moves on to other diversions. The film is a riddle and each viewer will bring their own meaning. But there are recurrent Antonioni themes, of alienation, failure of communication and existential fatigue/apathy. 

Behind the vogue of swinging London, these are superficial and capricious people. We get to observe the scene, with a live performance by the Yardbirds, the Mary Quant style frocks, and the youth subcultures. Plus appearances by sixties ace-faces like Jane Birkin and Veruschka. But this is a satire not a celebration. And the scene is pretty dead.

Hemmings is on screen every minute, supported by cameo performances. And he's convincing as the indulged, exploitative antihero. The plot slowly meanders. The mystery of the possible killing is only a brief deviation which isn't resolved. It's a hallucinatory head-movie, but the director has a gift for making the obscure accessible.

Offbeat black comedy which was a change of direction for Roman Polanski after his critical hit with Repulsion. Its most memorable aspect is the location shoot on grey, rainy Holy Island, Lindisfarne, including the sixteenth century castle, which gives the film a particular aura of end-of-the-world desolation.

There's the obvious influence of Harold Pinter in the caustic menace of the script. And a thread of absurdity. A pair of bankrobbers (Lionel Stander and Jack MacGowran) attempt to take refuge with a middle class couple (Donald Pleasance and Françoise Dorléac)- at gunpoint. But get entangled in the bitter conflict of their marriage.

While it's an original screenplay, there's the impression of a stage play barely opened up for the screen. Polanski would work on that smaller scale many times over the years. Once MacGowran has been buried in a shallow grave it's mostly a three hander with Pleasence the standout as an effete artist of rather vague accomplishments.

It's more eccentric than purely entertaining, but it is a thrill to witness the technique of a great director. There's a feeling of liberation in the virtuosity of Polanski's style, which includes a famous unbroken eight minute edit. But his best creative decision was to set the film in the windswept seclusion of the stark Northumbrian coast.

Unusual and intense WWII film set in a military prison in Libya (shot in southern Spain). As an attempt by Sean Connery to find a future as an actor beyond James Bond, it is a big success. He is superb in a fine ensemble cast, with Ossie Davis also memorable as a Caribbean prisoner who unilaterally quits the British army.

There's a hilarious finale when he strips off his uniform in protest. But it's not a spoof. This is an examination of the psychology of hierarchy and oppression. Like a premonition of the Stanford prison experiment. It mostly sidesteps allegory for a forensic look at the bureaucratic, pitiless, idiotic abuse within armed forces.

Connery is the nonconformist who stands up to the system and the barbaric Sergeant Major (Harry Andrews). But the oppressiveness of the desert prison is mostly channeled through Oswald Morris' glistening b&w photography, with the distorted close ups, eye popping edits and the feel of the overwhelming heat of the sun.

Sidney Lumet directs with liberal intelligence and an artistic eye. There isn't a great deal of plot, this is all about the performances and the ideas; a vision of collective insanity. The theme of individualism is more relevant to the sixties than wartime. But as a depiction of the brutality within the British military, it's timeless.

Arthouse horror which is a brilliant model for how to unsettle an audience. Catherine Deneuve plays a Belgian abroad in London. During a period of isolation, her various neuroses, particularly her anxiety at being touched by men, develop into schizophrenia and her world begins to rupture, literally.

And in her fear, she protects herself by killing the men who intrude into her Kensington apartment. In his first English language film Roman Polanski uses the tools of his art to explain the frightening world she inhabits, including distorted sounds, expressionist effects and stark black and white contrast. And there are jump scares too.

This is an abstract film. It's tightens the pressure of apprehension slowly and inexorably. It focuses completely on the fragile woman's gradual mental collapse. In one scene, we are watching her sleep! Many horror films use madness as a plot device, but here the audience is immersed into her psychosis. It is a disturbing experience.

Eventually it becomes unmissable that this fractured psyche was the victim of sexual abuse as a child. And it should be recognised that Polanski was later guilty of this. Which makes a disturbing film actually problematic. And it's also an original and inspired work of cinematic imagination... featuring an affecting and provocative performance by the star.

Creepy occult horror expanded from a short story by Robert Bloch which doesn't deliver any big scares but creates a nice atmosphere of supernatural dread. A dishonest trader in paranormal nick-nacks (Patrick Wymark) wants to sell the skull of the evil Marquis de Sade to an obsessive collector (Peter Cushing) despite the warning of its former owner (Christopher Lee).

The skull is possessed and has a malign authority over anyone who acquires it. Consequently the film has a sedated, hypnotic ambience, as all the characters are to some degree under its influence. Then on the night of the new moon, the terrible power of the dead French aristocrat is revealed. OK, the effects are rudimentary, but the impression is unsettling.

The plot is padded out from its brief source. A strange Kafka-esque dream sequence is particularly ill suited to the style of the rest of the film. The best episodes have the feel of an MR James story, with dusty, male academics meddling with weird, arcane paraphernalia which they don't understand. There isn't much of a female presence, beyond screaming.

It was made by Amicus and maybe it would have been better tucked away into one of their horror anthologies. Still, the cast do fine work in treating the hokum with sincerity. The abundant clutter of black magic novelties adds to the spooky atmosphere and creates dark shadows and blind spots. It's not sophisticated, but still an eerie, fatalistic curiosity.

Rugged action adventure which is a tribute to the Norwegian Resistance during WWII, particularly their sabotage of a heavy water plant implicated in the potential manufacture of Nazi atomic weapons. This kind of memorial was typical of the immediate post war years but is made more spectacular with the use of stunt teams, explosives, Panavison, Technicolor and helicopter shots.

While the events are broadly true, they are distorted to fit the conventions of a popular entertainment. The heroics are not underplayed. Kirk Douglas is a kind of playboy boffin who opens the film getting it on with one of the lab assistants in a darkroom. Soon he is leader of the underground and liaising with London on their perilous, courageous insurrection.

And romancing his ex-wife played by Ulla Jacobson. The corny love story actually detracts from the suspense and too much screen time is wasted trying to make Kirk look like a conventional Hollywood hero. Richard Harris is more credible as his sidekick, a pugnacious and tenacious patriot. Michael Redgrave's peripheral role is bewildering.

The real star of the film is Robert Krasker's widescreen photography of the awesome Norwegian landscape. The missions are exciting and well staged and the history is fascinating. It works as a testimonial to the bravery of the Resistance and the sacrifices of the civilians. It's one of the better war blockbusters of the sixties.

Released right on the bang of when The Beatles exploded as a cultural as well as musical phenomenon, their debut film also feels like a turning point in the decade. The UK still looks like the tatty, sooty industrial wasteland of the British new wave, but the screen comes alive with a freedom and optimism which heralds the swinging sixties.

George, John, Paul and Ringo are the essence of the band as a gang.  They inhabit a shared, secret domain, which separates and protects the group from outsiders. They wryly mock the old England of social class, war heroes, bobbies on the beat and the old school tie.

And this feeling of emancipation is in Richard Lester's direction too. All is movement, with the hand held cameras, the zooms, pans and jump cuts. Not all in focus. It is a day in the life of the band, which they mostly spend horsing around with Wilfred Bramble, then climaxes with a performance at a tv studio to an audience of screaming girls.

The script draws on their image as four ordinary lads from Liverpool. There is barely a plot so when the narrative gets stuck it coasts on surreal humour. But the action is stuffed with music, including three UK/US number ones. Now it's a period piece, and a reminder of a time when pop groups could become global superstars without expensive dentistry.