Film Reviews by griggs

Days of Heaven is a visual marvel, boasting painterly cinematography and extraordinary use of natural lighting. The unforgettable locust scene is a standout, with close-ups of the swarming insects showcasing their eerie beauty, followed by chaotic shots from their perspective as panicked farmhands scramble to eradicate them. It’s a brilliant mix of tension and artistry, but such moments are rare. The story feels thin and emotionally distant, more a canvas for the visuals than a compelling narrative. I’d eagerly awaited to see this film, but Malick’s focus on beauty ultimately prioritises prettification over substance, which left me slightly disappointed.

While watching this, I realised, much to my surprise, that I’d never seen The Blues Brothers—just one scene. So I spent two hours of chaotic car chases and musical numbers for the payoff I had already seen, disappointedly entertained.

You've Got Mail is a modern retelling of The Shop Around the Corner, but where Ernst Lubitsch brought depth and timelessness, Nora Ephron opts for polished sentimentality. The premise—anonymous correspondents unknowingly falling for each other—remains delightful, and Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan are undeniably likeable. However, their chemistry feels more familiar than electric. The film also trades heavily on reuniting the duo from Ephron's Sleepless in Seattle, though this pairing feels safer than inspired.

 However, it's hard to ignore that these are two people in long-term relationships, living with their partners, who use the internet to essentially have affairs—eventually running off together. This is perhaps the first time the internet was an enabler for infidelity on film. Ironically, despite being the newer film, it feels more dated than its 1940 predecessor. Its depiction of late-90s New York and the excitement of email is firmly tied to a specific era, making it a quaint time capsule as technology has since leapt forward. An enjoyable, if unremarkable, rom-com with questionable undertones.

For one reason or another, I missed Joker: Folie à Deux whilst it was in the cinema. Now that it’s available on home media, my curiosity got the better despite the wave of negative reviews. I knew it was a musical—so no shock there—but what caught me off guard was how dull the whole thing felt.

Yes, the musical numbers are there, but they rarely elevate the material. Lady Gaga, is criminally underused, and whilst her performance has moments of brilliance, the script doesn’t give her enough to sink her teeth into. It’s not all bad—the production design is solid, and Joaquin Phoenix is as committed as ever—but it doesn’t land as a whole. A bold idea, sure, but one that falls frustratingly flat.

This was a letdown, especially as Nicholas Ray’s debut. Given his later contributions to film noir, you’d expect something sharp, moody, and unforgettable. The visual style hints at the brilliance Ray would bring to the genre. There’s a glimmer of his knack for atmosphere and emotional tension. But the plot? Weak as dishwater. The characters are so unremarkable that you hardly care what happens to them. For a love-on-the-run story, it’s surprisingly dull and lacks the grit or emotional punch to draw you in. Ray showed promise here, but this one feels more like a warm-up than a classic.

Luis Buñuel’s The Young and the Damned is a gripping portrayal of poverty’s crushing grip on youth, delivered with raw, unflinching honesty. Buñuel’s sharp eye for human behaviour and biting social critique make this a haunting experience, blending gritty realism with moments of surrealism that feel both brutal and poetic. Its themes—violence, survival, and lost innocence—resonate deeply, drawing a clear line to the vibrant chaos of City of God. While Buñuel’s film lacks the kinetic energy and slickness of the latter, its stark simplicity hits harder. The unrelenting focus on desperation and fractured morality ensures it stays with you. Buñuel doesn’t just tell a story; he immerses us in a world stripped of sentimentality, and his immersive storytelling captivates and absorbs us forcing us to confront its harsh truths. There’s a timeless universality here, and Buñuel’s fearless storytelling proves mesmerising and deeply unsettling.

Broadcast News caught me off guard. I went in expecting a sharp, fast-paced satire, something in the vein of Network. Instead, it leans heavily into its romantic comedy elements. The love triangle becomes a central focus, which , while not my preferred pace, is handled with finesse. The performances are truly top-notch—Holly Hunter's energy is infectious, and Albert Brooks' portrayal of neurotic charm is impeccable. There are some clever moments about the ethics of journalism, but the story doesn't delve as deeply as I'd hoped. It's an enjoyable watch, but it lacks the biting edge I was expecting from the premise.

Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave is a tough but essential watch. It rips down the rose-tinted view often taken with stories about the Antebellum South. Based on Solomon Northup’s 1853 memoir it tackles the horrors of slavery head-on, giving the enslaved centre stage instead of shoving them into the background. This raw honesty feels like a wake-up call to confront history without sugar-coating it.

Chiwetel Ejiofor is incredible as Northup, showing his strength, pain, and resilience in every moment. McQueen’s direction is bold and uncompromising, letting the horrors of what you see sink in without rushing past them. It’s shocking, but that’s the point. Too often, films focus on the slave owners, either trying to make them look complex or feeding into nostalgia for the “good ol’ South.” McQueen won’t have any of that, showing slavery for the monstrosity it was—and how its echoes still haunt us.

Some reviewers argue we don’t need films like this anymore, claiming it’s time to move on from stories about slavery. But that’s precisely why this film matters. Pretending the past doesn’t exist doesn’t undo its impact. McQueen’s work makes it clear that we have to face these truths, no matter how uncomfortable.

Yes, it’s a heavy watch, but it’s masterfully made. Every shot, every performance, every moment feels purposeful. It’s not just a film; it’s a reminder—one we can’t afford to ignore. 12 Years a Slave doesn’t let you look away; honestly, you shouldn’t want to.

Being There is a clever and funny film that feels surprisingly relevant today. Peter Sellers plays Chance, a simple gardener who knows nothing about the world except what he’s seen on TV. When he ends up outside his sheltered life, people mistake his basic comments for deep wisdom, turning him into an unlikely celebrity. Sellers is brilliant, making Chance innocent yet oddly charming.

The story, directed by Hal Ashby, is calm and slow, but that’s part of its magic. It’s not flashy—it wants you to think. The film pokes fun at how powerful people can be fooled by appearances and how easily the media shapes opinions.

The ending is unforgettable, leaving you wondering what it all really means. Funny, strange, and thought-provoking, Being There shows how sometimes the simplest people can reveal the silliest truths about the world. I really enjoyed every moment of it.

Devil in a Blue Dress is a solid, well-crafted genre piece that sidesteps the pitfalls of neo-noir imitation, offering a fresh yet familiar spin on the classic formula. Carl Franklin’s direction is refreshingly straightforward, letting 1940s Los Angeles take centre stage with its smoky jazz clubs and sun-dappled streets steeped in corruption. The story unfolds with an assured rhythm, layering its themes of race and class with subtlety beneath the surface.

Denzel Washington brings an understated warmth to Easy Rawlins, a man reluctantly drawn into detective work by necessity rather than choice. Don Cheadle injects a welcome jolt of energy as the unpredictable Mouse, stealing scenes with ease.

The noir staples—a missing woman, a dangerous femme fatale, and tangled deception—are all here but feel slightly reimagined. The film doesn’t aim to reinvent the wheel, but its mix of taut mystery and thoughtful period insight hits the mark.

Badlands is a stunning debut from Terrence Malick, whose direction turns a grisly story into something strangely poetic. The landscapes, with their breathtaking beauty, almost become the third lead, their vast open plains and dusky skies captured with a painterly eye. Nature isn’t just a backdrop here; it feels like a silent observer, starkly contrasting the chaos Kit and Holly leave in their wake.

Sissy Spacek is mesmerising, her detached, dreamy narration giving Holly an unsettling innocence. Martin Sheen nails Kit’s reckless charm and psychopathic bravado, his fearlessness as chilling as tragic.

That said, Badlands has lost some of its bite over time. Once fresh, its themes of doomed young love and casual violence now feel diluted, especially after True Romance borrowed heavily from it, including its glockenspiel-driven leitmotif. Still, as a tone piece and visual masterpiece, it remains an evocative exploration of beauty and brutality. It lingers, even if it doesn’t shock anymore.

Mildred Pierce is a solid noir melodrama soaked in betrayal, ambition, and questionable parenting. The film's cinematography, with its use of shadows and stark lighting, perfectly captures the dark and brooding atmosphere of the noir genre. But let’s be honest—if I’d been in Mildred’s shoes, that film would’ve ended in the first act. One sharp glare from Veda, and I’d have nipped her bratty scheming in the bud. No lavish parties, social climbing, or time wasted on ungrateful offspring. Sure, I’d have ended up in prison, but at least I’d have some peace—and maybe even a storyline for a sequel.

Bones and All is a surprisingly delightful feast of romantic cannibalism, and it’s the first film featuring Timothée Chalamet where he hasn’t turned my stomach — an impressive feat considering he plays a cannibal. The film attempts to elevate a love story between two misfits with beautiful cinematography and dialogue that is both riveting and grotesquely poetic. Who wouldn’t want to hear heartfelt confessions about devouring one’s love interest? Bravo to Chalamet for making cannibalism almost charming!

Perfect Blue, a cult anime film that remains as relevant today as it was when it was first released, follows the story of a teenage girl on the brink of insanity. Its exploration of unsettling themes such as consent and exploitation may make for uncomfortable viewing, but it's a stark reminder of the issues we still face. Despite some parts feeling dated, its prediction of the Internet as a tool for stalking and the rise of social media for harassment is particularly noteworthy.

Repulsion is an alarming and compelling psychological thriller that presents an unsettling exploration of a woman's descent into madness. Polanski masterfully creates an atmosphere of claustrophobic dread. What sets this film apart is its bold decision to centre the narrative on a female protagonist who, in a rare move for the genre, is the killer rather than the victim. The film's chilling portrayal of isolation and paranoia lingers long after the credits roll, making it an unforgettable entry in psychological horror.