Film Reviews by Steve

Passionate Hollywood left polemic based on the real life experiences of a reformist prison warden in Arkansas, US and the astonishing crimes he uncovered, including rows of unmarked graves. These farm penitentiaries were intended to make money and were mostly run for the benefit of the board and parasitic suppliers.

The administration of the prison was mainly left to armed trusties who were themselves serving sentences. The level of corruption is scarcely credible and this institution was eventually closed after some jailbirds sued the state! Anyone committed to the idea of making public institutions self funding should refer to this case.

The strap and worse tortures were still in use. Robert Redford is probably no one's idea of a prison warden, but at least his star power brought attention to such obscenities. The Oscar nominated original screenplay is outstanding and there are convincing support performances, including an early role for Morgan Freeman.

The new boss sets about cleaning the place up, which is gratifying to watch; if only life was really like this! The system is run for the benefit those who enforce it, rather than the stated intention... This is an incredibly powerful, righteous denunciation which might usefully serve as an allegory for any public institution run for profit.

Claiming this is the best of the short-lived Mumblecore wave isn't setting a high bar. And admittedly, that's a terrible title. But actually, this is a pretty decent indie romance. It gets called a comedy, and that may be a stretch, but there is wit, plus a quartet of authentically flawed individuals in messy, real-life situations.

And while there is nothing much new on offer, the actors make it genuinely involving. Director Joe Swanberg devised the plot and the cast improvised the dialogue and created the characterisations. Which makes this close to a miracle. Normally improv is excruciating, but this is just a very relatable lifestyle entertainment.

There are ensemble roles, though Olivia Wilde brings the star quality and carries the film as the girl-Friday at a Chicago brewery who dates a self absorbed hipster (Ron Livingston) but gets into a will they/won't they scenario with a colleague (Jake Johnson)... who lives with his steadfast, long term fiancée (Anna Kendrick).

Okay, Kendrick's schoolteacher may be an ideal, but these are otherwise interestingly imperfect characters who eventually reveal unexpected depths. There's a cool soundtrack of offbeat stoner rock and for the Mumblecore genre, it's well made, even if still lo-fi. And it feels as close to dating again as I'm now ever likely to get...

Superior cold war paranoia which begins as strategic cat & mouse between a US destroyer patrolling international waters and a Soviet sub, then escalates into something far more deadly. Debut director James B. Harris usually worked with Stanley Kubrick, but this is more like documentary-realism than those films.

There are references to real life nuclear near misses and an authentic look, despite being mostly shot in a studio tank. Apparently this is Harris' response to Kubrick spoofing Mutual Assured Destruction in Dr. Strangelove (1964). Richard Widmark stars as the authoritarian skipper driven to the edge by misguided patriotism.

The suggestion is the relentless nuclear stand-off creates a unique pressure which will inevitably lead to mistakes. And accidents will happen; the final twist is pretty brutal. Sidney Poitier supports as the journalist who asks questions on behalf of the audience; this is only three years after the Cuban Missile Crisis.

And it's a bonus to see Eric Portman in an interesting minor role as a German veteran of the U-boats, now representing Nato. This is a UK/US co-production in b&w which feels like a glimpse into the secrets of cold war brinkmanship while also racking up considerable suspense from its conventional war-at-sea scenarios. 

Sentimental Italian romance written into the real life exile of the poet, Pablo Neruda. The Nobel laureate was exiled from Chile by General Pinochet, who later had him killed. But this is a fantasy. He never lived on a beautiful island off the Bay of Naples nor assist in the courtship between a lovelorn Italian postman and a curvaceous local beauty.

And the exile happened in the 1970s. As well as relocated to Italy, the historic events are moved back to the '50s with the nation at the lowest point in its postwar economic decline. The politics is muted but there remains a faint echo of the contemporary appeal of Communism and how it was ruthlessly extinguished, including by the Mafia.

For a film in the Italian language this was a huge success in English speaking countries, maybe for its warmth and gentle humour. There's a once in a lifetime role for Massimo Troisi as the self-effacing postman and Philippe Noiret is a felicitous match as the wise poet. Maria Grazia Cucinotta has little to do other than look sexy and very Italian....

The problem is there's no third act and it runs out of story well before the fadeout. But it revived interest in love poetry, and Neruda. And with the gorgeous photography, the astonishing touristic locations, the period atmosphere and sincere performances- with a twist of melodrama- it brought a little old fashioned romance back into the multiplex.

Richard Linklater says he was trying for a more authentic alternative to the '80s High School comedies of John Hughes. But to anyone from the UK this seems more mythic than real. And maybe to some Americans! This is a very Texan take on the genre, but most of all it displays the signature of the writer-director of Slacker (1990).

So there's no plot and is mostly dialogue spoken by a wide variety of talking heads. It's described as a coming of age picture, but the events occur over less than 24 hours; it's a snapshot of a day in the life. There are the usual High School subcultures; the jocks, the metalheads, the stoners, though it's 1976 so there are no goths...

Whatever their tribe, they all drive from mall to to pool-hall looking for beer and pot and girls/boys, listening to rock FM and talking about sex and Aerosmith. While it's a struggle to empathise, the script is quotable and funny and the paper-thin characters are engaging. But there isn't the complexity of Linklater's Before trilogy.

The obvious conclusion is that this US everytown is such a banal hell that life can't be done sober. This is an exercise in futility where the reward is a slightly disappointing keg party, which will be remembered as a good time. It's fun to watch the ensemble cast of future stars and listen to the mid-70s hits, but the aftertaste is bitter.

Mythic journey down the Amazon- or the 'serpent'- loosely written into the experiences of two real life explorers. In 1909 a German ethnologist is in search of an exotic plant and a cure for his own sickness. Then in 1940 a US botanist surveys the same locations for rubber to support the war effort, while claiming to also seek this elusive wildflower.

The young indigenous shaman/philosopher who assists the earlier academic, travels with the second one as well, but as an old man. These westerners are played by professional actors (Jan Bijvoet, Brionne Davis) and the ethnic characters by local amateurs (Nilbio Torres, Antonio Bolívar) with the dialogue in various regional dialects.

We see the changes in the environment and the mystic loner over many years under the duress of western exploration. For such a slow, languorous film this is a wholehearted polemic aimed at colonialism and the exploitation and eradication of tribal cultures. The approach is occasionally hallucinatory, but this isn't really a head movie.

The indigenous actors are imposing, but don't convey a range of emotions. And while the widescreen b&w photography is stylish, the director isn't skilled at visual storytelling.  This is an unusual experience, maybe unique (except it draws on Heart of Darkness!) and the ethnography is astonishing. But sometimes the narrative drifts downstream...

If this is remembered at all, it is for the troubled production. It was made twice, first on location and again on the Zoetrope soundstage. For a while there was a rumour Francis Coppola directed the second version, though Wim Wenders says not. It was bombed by the critics and soon forgotten. But perhaps this was before its time...

We now call this fan fiction. Maybe it's overreach to claim it was influential because no-one saw it, but today this is an established formula. It imagines what might have inspired Dashiell Hammett to write his classic novel, The Maltese Falcon (1930). The ex-Pinkerton detective is lured back onto the mean streets to find a runaway.

Reviewers complained the plot is a mess, but it doesn't matter. We just need to spot the connections. Sure, some pre-knowledge of either the novel or John Huston's screen version (1941) is essential, but this is amply rewarded. There's a stunning period production in the neo-noir style with chewy hardboiled dialogue- and a voice over.

Frederic Forrest is inspired casting as Hammett. There are glorious cameos, including Elisha Cook Jr. from the Huston film. And Sylvia Sidney! John Barry's jazz score isn't classic noir, but brings the atmosphere. For fans of the writer/genre this is a sugary treat and reappraisal is long overdue. Such a shame the original is destroyed.

Slow cinema from the Irish Republic which delivers a massive surge of heartfelt emotion without ever spilling over into sentimentality. Still, be prepared to suppress a few sobs. Most of the dialogue is in Gaelic and so it qualified for the Best International Picture award at the Oscars. Which it really should have won.

This is a slender, understated drama about a painfully shy nine year old girl who is neglected by her own parents, but gently, quietly prospers under the care of some distant relatives over a summer on their farm, while her mother has another baby. And we learn the the foster couple has a tragic secret of their own.

The intimate interiors are shot in that postwar Japanese style often used for domestic subjects, with the static camera set at about the child's height and long patient edits with the frame in the old Academy ratio. The outdoor photography is unobtrusive yet still lovely. But this is primarily about the performances.

These are so genuine the cast hardly seems to be acting at all; particularly the glow of mutual love that emerges between the lonely, skinny kid, played by Catherine Clinch, and Carrie Crowley as her summer-long surrogate mother. If the last scene doesn't draw a single tear, then perform a self-check. You may be AI.

This account of the Dutch resistance to the German invasion of May, 1940 is a big deal in the Netherlands where it usually appears near the top of public polls. It doesn't tell us anything new; there is a familiar run through scenes of brutal Gestapo interrogation and the incredible bravery of the homeland fighters. But it is their national story.

It is presented as a war thriller, but really it's more interesting for the history; this is reportage. Like the rest of Europe, the Dutch are complacent and unprepared for war. Surrender takes only four days, the country is slow to respond to the new reality. There is widespread collaboration and the Nazi response to infraction is grotesque.

So who can you trust? The events- based on a memoir- are told via the diverse experiences of six college students, mainly Rutger Hauer as a debonaire dandy who fights the Nazis in a dinner jacket, like a Dutch Roger Moore, and then joins the RAF. He gives the film some welcome charisma. And it's competently directed by Paul Verhoeven.

There are moments of graphic violence and female nudity, though not excessive by present standards. The Dutch sense of humour doesn't translate well and making the heroes such wealthy jocks seems an odd choice. But it's still compelling because the formula is so durable. And at least we are certain to get a happy ending.

Back in the days of the spaghetti western this must have seemed awfully old fashioned, with its retro-studio era conventions. There's the corny country title ballad; the extensive chat promoting American individualism; all the way to the elegiac conclusion in a graveyard. Henry Hathaway (or Ford/Hawks) might have shot it in the '50s.

Most of all, there's John Wayne who won his only Oscar as Rooster Cogburn, the frontier Marshal with an eyepatch who goes into Indian country to bring back a cold blooded killer (Jeff Corey) with the dead man's teenage daughter. Though it's a standard Duke performance, which doesn't look much into the dark side of gun law.

Ultra-square country singer Glen Campbell is also in pursuit of the murderer. Wayne had been cast against pop acts at least as far back as Rio Bravo (1959) so this wasn't a novelty. And post-Woodstock, such a mainstream artist wasn't going to bring in the kids. This is for fans of the Duke, and it's easily the best of his later westerns.

Wayne establishes some odd couple chemistry with Kim Darby, who portrays the vengeful teenager as an androgynous kook; though her dialogue says she's another conservative. The year before, Sergio Leone made Once Upon a Time in the West and in comparison this is passé. But still above average for a '60s Hollywood western.

Polemical account of the real life military trial of three Australian soldiers for the murder of prisoners during the Second Boer War (1899-1902). Edward Woodward plays Harry 'Breaker' Morant, a lieutenant born in the UK who enlisted in Adelaide after years of settlement. Bryan Brown is his larrikin comrade-in-arms with Lewis Fitz-Gerald as a younger, more naive recruit.

The standout- and central- performance is from Jack Thompson as the inexperienced lawyer who has to defend the accused against a stacked deck. Writer-director Bruce Beresford claims this is not intended to be about the duplicitous officer class selling out colonial oiks in order to facilitate their own objectives while preserving moral superiority. But that's exactly what it is!

This belongs in a subsection of the Aussie New Wave which creates an origins myth to encourage the drive to independence. This isn't objective truth, but it is an emotive condemnation of Empire and the privilege/hypocrisy of the ruling class. And who can't get behind that, wherever you're from? Beresford claims it's more about the validity of the Nuremberg defence...

Which is the mitigation they were just following orders. And that is also a theme. The action is opened up with skill from a stage play, with South Australia standing in  for the Veldt in the flashbacks. The Oscar nominated screenplay obviously channels Paths of Glory (1957); while this isn't quite in the same class, the history is compelling and it lands a big climactic haymaker.

This is a spectacular historical epic, but the costumes and art direction never overwhelm the narrative drawn from an astonishing true story. This is an account of Pu Yi who was appointed into the nominal role of Chinese emperor aged three, and was sealed within the feudal magnificence of the Forbidden City in Beijing while the world changed beyond the walls.

During his later incarceration by the Communists, there's a flashback from a modern country back to the crackpot traditions of his childhood, which is so disorientating it might induce whiplash! The history is captured by Bernardo Bertolucci with conspicuous craft, intelligence and splendour. Vittorio Storaro's Oscar winning photography is... simply awesome.

The main strengths are implied by its Oscars; it won big for the visual and technical aspects, but none of the actors were even nominated. Still, all four who play Pu Yi through his life are well cast, even if not star names. And Peter O'Toole as the incorruptible Scottish tutor is missed when he exits on halfway. He appears in the best scenes, inside the palace.

There are also well deserved Academy Awards for the big ones; Best Picture and Direction. Plus the score by Ryûichi Sakamoto et al, which made the album charts. Maybe the episodic events after Pu Yi leaves the Forbidden City lose some coherence...but the (Oscar winning!) screenplay tells the story pretty well. And any interest in the history is amply rewarded.

Lightweight but fun comedy-drama which, like Noah Baumbach films generally, makes some engaging observations on contemporary, urban, bourgeois lifestyle, while rarely being actually hilarious or profound. This one owes a massive debt to Woody Allen, particularly Crimes and Misdemeanours (1989)...

Though not on a similar level of quality. There are decent ensemble performances with Ben Stiller and Naomi Watts as married documentary film makers shaken out of their midlife rut by a younger couple in a hurry to succeed in the same field. Well, Adam Driver is; his kooky wife (Amanda Seyfried) makes ice cream.

Which may hint at a weakness. The script seems overextended for such a slender premise, yet the female roles are underwritten.  Plus Baumbach loses his self-assurance in the more dramatic material, which means he squanders a potentially clever climactic twist... Though the last shot in the airport is a doozy!

Maybe it's not reasonable to expect more when what we get is entertaining enough. There are witty insights on Millennials and social media. There's some acute, commentary on what we lose as we get older and how that might not be a bad thing... Anyway, Millennials are middle aged now; and this film is already a period piece.

Superior comedy-drama from Mike Leigh set among his boomer contemporaries as they become aware of their fears of growing old; mainly the loneliness. A series of commonplace encounters revolve around a comfortable North London couple (Jim Broadbent, Ruth Sheen) who have done quite nicely for themselves.

Meanwhile, their friends are struggling. There's a familiar cast drawn from the director's stock company, with Lesley Manville best as a dizzy middle aged singleton who is fast becoming a burden on her pals... though her desperation doesn't extend to considering the corpulent boozer (Peter Wight) interested in her.

The ensemble of interlopers palliate heavily with alcohol as they re-run long ago memories of youthful adventure, while their future options dwindle over another year. Their neediness is sometimes exasperating, but the settled husband and wife have the reserves of kindness typical of all Leigh's ordinary, quiet heroes. 

There isn't the intuition for the zeitgeist we often get with his films; this a happy-sad look at the early premonitions of old age. But there is the usual emotional awkwardness, plus the reflections on class, social mobility and metropolitan living. And it's worth seeing just for Manville's last, long closeup, which is a heartbreaker.

This critically adored arthouse-fantasy made little impact on release but is now standard in lists of all time horror classics. The setup is pure gothic, though this is more like dreamy/languorous screen poetry which chills through unsettling b&w imagery and transgressive themes. So there are zero jump-scares... 

But there is a seriously impressive cast led by Pierre Brasseur as an imperious surgeon who means to transplant a new visage onto his once beautiful daughter after she is burned in a car accident; and is willing to expend other young women in his crazy enterprise. Alida Valli is no less disturbing as his submissive enabler.

Presumably this alludes to the Nazi doctors of WWII. Everything the mad medic does is insane, but- to the duo- unavoidably, regrettably necessary; as with the fascists, the end always justifies the means. Though what makes it so horrific and unsettling is his aristocratic assumption of superiority over his lonely victims.

And director Georges Franju absolutely understands that while hospitals are modern white palaces of medicine, they also accommodate practices which might look to the uninitiated like torture, endorsed by staff who are just following orders.  Édith Scob's sad-face mask is a horror icon, but there's so much more...