Reviews

Both of the lead players here, Spacey and Shannon, are very good. Some have criticized Shannon's performance as being overly mannered. Some say his looks are all wrong - but I think he captured the flamboyance (and the sullen glamour) of the King very well. No, he doesn't look like Elvis, but the crazy outfits and the swagger more than make up for this deficit. Kevin Spacey is a good Nixon - worried, homely and a chronic politician- even when stuck in an utterly bizarre situation with a rock star who wants to go undercover as a drug agent! The problem here is that the script (and the director) can't figure out how to deal with this material - is this a black comedy, a satire, or just straight storytelling, with a few kinky funny twists. The end result is uneven and un satisfying. Who would have thought to make a film about a such minor incident? A meeting of two minds - one clever and the other living in cloud cuckoo land.

Like some of the other posters, I cannot believe some of the good reviews this film has gotten. Based on the classic novel by Victor Hugo, the entire story is told with music - and spectacularly boring music it is, at that. Any high school kid (with or without a music background) could come up with stuff like this. Anne Hathaway sings well, Russell Crowe (famously) does not. He has the range of a bull moose snorting angrily through a foghorn. Most of the cast try really hard with this material, but major plot points are obscured (or ignored) by poor writing. It is never a good idea to render an entire story, with all its dialog, in music. If you don't want every detail shouted at you in feverish pitch, avoid this thing like the plague. I kept waiting for this to get better - and it never, ever did. The production values are OK, but the whole thing seems endlessly long, and by the end, I was just waiting for the whole mess to be over! Don't waste your time - see the wonderful 1930s version (no music there, thank God) with Fredric March and Charles Laughton (as the evil inspector). A true classic, that was.

I agree with reviewer Alice Liddell that this film, directed by 'women's director' George Cukor (I felt this was his work, even before I saw the credits) slyly points up the limitations of women's experience. The lead character, Anna (Crawford) is a potentially beautiful woman but for one thing: as a child, she was horribly disfigured by a burn scar which she received at the hands of her brutal, drunken father. Cukor is the perfect director for this type of woman's film, this is his element. This is not merely a noirish, humid romance/murder saga, the director gives us a sensitive essay on the effects of beauty in a woman's life. This isn't a simple parable of "beauty is as beauty does". After Anna's restoration, people react differently to her. The unfairness of this is made obvious. All of a sudden the ugly ducking, mean and ignored by others is fawned over by the very same men who passed her over in years past. Ignore the plot and the surface gloss; this is a master director's essay on the tragedy of beauty and its possibilities. Once ugliness is behind her, Anna is still intent on bettering her own status at the expense of others. The story hints that all this loveliness mellows and sweetens our dark heroine. Don't believe it; she does, in fact, walk off with the man of her dreams, in true movie star fashion. But what sort of life is she walking into? Years of domestic boredom? Cukor wisely leaves this a secret--we can read anything into Anns's final destiny.

Interestingly, the most sexually charged moments in the film are between Crawford and her earlier lover, a manipulative, evil man played to perfection by Conrad Veidt. One scene between them in electrifying. "The world is evil" he tells her. Yet she loves him because he does pay attention, and not all of his interest may be selfish. They have much in common. They are aware of their needs and know their faults. This may be the true message of this multi-layered masterpiece.

Joan Crawford looks handsome, though a certain mournful quality began to set in by her mid thirties. She is too old for the role, but she's still the perfect choice to play this bitter, damaged social reject. Joan came from a dark place, the product of a nasty, poverty stricken childhood. In her later career she excelled in roles of this type, playing women from tainted backgrounds who transcend their outcast status by dint of hard work, ambition, beauty and cleverness. Her women often achieve material success, only to realize (often too late) that such success does not equal real transcendence.

This is certainly one of the great curios of American cinema--on one level, the film, in its utter disregard for real history, is a romantic throwback to the 1930s, and on another level, it contains some sharp commentary about Western (including American)colonial ambitions in third world countries (though they weren't called that in those days). The quasi romantic relationship between Connery (as the Berber chieftain) and Bergen (his American captive) is tastefully handled, thank god. Still, this film is one of the strangest melanges of styles I've ever seen mushed together up in one film. The real problem here is that this thing belongs in another era, when glamorous sheiks scooped up equally glamorous blonde western ladies and introduced them to a fairy tale world of adventure and excitement. All in all, this is an entertaining film, beautifully photographed and staged.

Milius has a great sense of adventure and a love of the exotic. But there is one consistently discordant note--the endless violence depicted herein doesn't match the sophisticated, almost civilized tone of the rest of this tall tale.

Watch closely for Brian Keith's brilliant performance as Teddy Roosevelt. Too bad he was never given the opportunity to play the Rough Rider again.

Overall, a pleasant, though somewhat confusing experience.

I'll give this one two points because, some parts of it are really visually interesting (as one would certainly expect in a film about fashion). Altman, whose work I've always mistrusted, shows his true colors here. His take on the superficiality of the fashion world is as superficial as fashion itself! I guess our auteur thinks shots of feet stepping in poo will subtly express a righteous disdain for the fashion world.

Mr.Altman, taking cheap shots at obvious (and incredibly easy) targets is not clever. Your lack of subtlety (and understanding) of your subject amazes. Your trademark intertwining of several plot lines does not work here. Know this--its a simple topic, really, and deserves a simple approach. Even your self righteous disgust at the superficiality of the fashion world is misplaced. This marks you as an intellectual snob (I just always knew your were).

Fashion is silly, but it's also fun, and it's more important to us than we care to admit. You show no empathy for any of your many characters,you just set them up like bowling pins and proceed to knock them down as noisily and messily as possible. Some of your most unpleasant traits persist here--this is clearly a director's statement, your gig, and the actors, famous as they are, are just chess pieces to be moved about according to whim--is this sort of power amusing to you? The story line is so poorly thought out, that it just doesn't exist. You are clearly annoyed with the idea of celebrity, but guess what--you're one too--don't we get any fun out of status--are we that proud? Why the hostility towards fashion people? I suppose they're not thinking the sorts of important thoughts that you deem necessary to justify one's existence.

This is a great masturbatory mess of a movie, a so called social critique/fantasy that tells us nothing and goes nowhere. Even the last scene, the now-infamous nude modeling romp, doesn't cut the boredom or blot out the odious stench of pretension. I'm with the English--subtlety is the key to effective humor, including satire (I assume this piece was intended be a satire--of something!)

This is one of the strangest, most confusing films I've ever seen. Still, I've never been able to forget it. It doesn't really work, because the script is way too confusing to make for a satisfying narrative. Still, this strange thing has its own exotic charm. Ava was never more lovely, or sensual, and she's given able support by Warren Stevens, Bogie and Edmund O'Brien (in an Oscar winning turn as a venal, pushy Hollywood publicity man). The sensual decadence the international jet set was never more artfully presented. But still--what is this thing about? Is it a rags to riches story? An indictment of Hollywood commercialism,or is it just a critique of human nature in general? The ending is unbelievably strange. Ava, a young girl of gypsy background, has become an international star. Then she chucks it all to marry the man of her dreams (a rather gloomy Italian Count, played by Rossano Brazzi.) She goes with him to his Italian palazzo, thinking she's about to become a happy housewife. Then he tells her that he's impotent (a war injury). She flips out, runs away with the gardener, and gets pregnant. He, of course is furious and kills them both. Crazy! We are meant, I suppose to think that this is high tragedy, but its all too unbelievable to register as a serious work. Why didn't she just get an annulment (quite doable in Catholic Italy, given the circumstances). Why does he lie to her--does he think his condition doesn't matter? He kills himself, of course. What is the writer saying? Is this a comedy of errors? Still the sheer dreaminess of it all is fascinating--the doomed star, the doomed husband, all that glorious sensuality suddenly snuffed out. Another unpleasant negative message comes to mind, is Mankiewicz telling us that a woman like Maria Vargas (Ava) deserves to be destroyed because she violates the marriage contract? It is all very very 1950s, and so fascinating that it should be remade (but with a drastically tightened up and more credible script). A real curio from the latter part of Hollywood's golden age.

This is a pleasant, if dated murder mystery (actually, the murder is not a mystery, but the film's outcome is). It is sad that this little film hasn't been better preserved, since it is a fine example of lower budget film making from the thirties. Film features tons of depression era atmosphere (fancy dress parties, overdressed socialites) and pleasant performances by two fairly well known character actors (Herbert Mundin and Paul Cavanaugh, who portrays a slick gambler cum gigolo with a heart of gold). One major flaw here: the storyline overall is a bit thin to make for a really engrossing crime drama. Still, it is a pleasant diversion and and time capsule-like glimpse into another era. Six out of ten.

Which is indeed what "La Notte" is. Antonioni is at his best here, when dealing with interpersonal relationships, rather than wallowing in his supposedly "new revelations" about left wing politics, as he did in Zabriskie Point, a vastly inferior film. Antonioni was probably the best director ever when it came to depicting the modern European spirit of ennui and alienation in personal and sexual relationships. Contrast his sensitive handling here of Moreau and Mastroianni, as a bored married couple, with the heavy handed misuse of the stereotyped characters in "Eva", an art house entry by Joseph Losey, an expatriate American director who was working in Europe at the same time. The failure of Eva had nothing to do with Losey's nationality; slow moving characterizations of failed, dull relationships just aren't every auteur's strong point. Tellingly, "La Notte" works well with the sound off--the director's midrange shots of Moreau posed against dead, empty walls speak much louder than any words could.

This is a true (unintentional) laugh riot, punctuated by long country miles of boredom. Many reviewers, I see, have used a lot of words to describe this bizarre, Z grade laugh fest. Not that these many words are necessary, of course, but its just so much darn fun to go on and on about this preposterous mess of a movie. There is no real plot, just a grab bag of elements snitched from fifties horror flicks (evil monster, radiation, radiation creates evil monster, who is a lecherous evil monster who chases young girls, then get his just desserts--and Tor certainly ate a lot of desserts to prepare himself for this sucker--he's absolutely huge here, even bigger than he was in Plan Nine from Outer Space). Yes, that's Tor in the lead role, and it says a lot about his strange career that he spends a great deal of time running around with something that looks like egg on his face. Tor was finally given a lead role, and made to carry the ball--which he promptly dropped about three minutes into the picture. Significantly, perhaps, he never made another movie. I guess he just felt that he could never top this performance--and, if truth be told, he couldn't. To be fair though, most of the other actors are just as bad, especially the lady who plays the mother of the lost boys. When they're lost in the desert, the look of concern on her face is priceless--she's about as expressive as a mummy-hey, maybe she is a mummy (mommy?). Never mind, that isn't as funny as the sound track, which is made to substitute throughout the film for dialog. A bizarre idea that doesn't work. Most of the commentary (done by the director himself) is a pastiche of off the wall comments that seem to come from another movie, supposedly deep philosophical musings about the nature of life (?) and corny comments designed to spell out what's going on in the film (as if we cared). Truly an amazing viewing experience. I never thought I'd see anything as bad as an Ed Wood opus--until I got my hands on 'The Beast of Yucca Flats'. I give it a three (for its unique comedic value). But beware, if you're not a complete insomniac, this may be a gruelling experience. Try staying awake during some of the interminable chase scenes/LOL.

This is a decidedly dated wartime comedy filled with tons of stilted, unfunny dialog. Poor Bogey is forced to utter lines which would sound better coming from the likes of his sidekicks, comics such as Phil Silvers and William Demarest. Overall, their approach contrasts oddly with the acting styles of the bad guys (the Nazi sympathizers played by Peter Lorre, Conrad Veidt and Judith Anderson) who play it completely straight, (as befits their villain status). One can almost see the US flag waving over every scene, and a giant war bond ad is practically plastered over the whole picture. Not that the Americans weren't the heroes of this piece, mind you, this just doesn't make for a very convincing story. Bogart, to his credit, handles the proceedings with a completely straight face--a difficult task when one is faced with such ridiculous, jingoistic lines (I wish I could remember some of them for a good quote, but I guess they didn't make that much of an impression). The keystone cops style chase scenes are rather amusing in places, so this gets a 4 out of 10 for that.

Unfortunately, I agree with reviewer 1227. from Finland. This is a product of the music video age, and looks it. The story is loosely based on real incidents, and could easily be turned into a great, ironic film noir mood piece. The storyline here (such as it is) gets lost among all the spectacular music sequences. This film gets a '4' rating for the music spots alone--some of them are great, especially the finale in which Renee Zellweger proves she can dance every bit as well as Zeta-Jones. Zeta-Jones got an Oscar, too--for what-singing and dancing well? I thought the academy awarded performers for acting, not hoofing.

The music is fine, but every song spot is treated as if it were THE ultimate set piece for the whole show. This is not good . . . .

OK, lets be clear-I am not a fan. This show is way too derivative (think Buffy, etc.) plot heavy and poorly written. On occasions, the dialog is so silly that I can actually see the actors trying to stifle their smirks. Hmmmm-distracting. The plot lines are so outlandish that its difficult for a mere mortal such as myself to get interested. I hear tell that Shannon Doherty was pretty good in the earlier episodes (I'll bet she was, since she's a witch in real life too). But, you ask, you watch the thing! Of course I do--Aaron Spelling, the maestro of jiggle TV provides us with THE viable alternative to intelligent story lines--three nubile young witch ladies dressed-always-in (1) skin tight sweaters, (2) skin tight jeans, and/or (3) skin tight cute cocktail dresses (usually in black, let it be noted). The setting is perfect- San Francisco, then and now the actual witch capital of the world (I should know, I live one hour away from the vortex of arcane power). I see witches every time I go there. Now, back to the dramatic center of the show, those teeny little costumes. I notice that Alyssa Milano (the ring leader, I think)usually has the sexiest outfits. This is way cool, since she's one of the shows producers, too. This suggests to me that some of the back stage drama here is just as interesting as what happens on screen.

This is probably the most mature film ever made about the realities of gay life in 1960s Europe (not just Britain). Bogard's unflinching portrayal of a gay lawyer's search for the truth about an attempted blackmail of his ex lover is masterful. Sadly, a lot of the particulars depicted here still hold true-gays in public life are still persecuted and subject to blackmail (since not all are "out" in the current sense of the word). There is none of the hideous sniggering anti gay attitude here that characterize many later films about homosexuals (ie, Cruising, and especially, Staircase-a truly awful film featuring two straight actors, Richard Burton and Rex Harrison, both engaged in a disparate attempt to prove they are 'not gay' I suppose). Beyond the subject matter, actually much too serious for a standard film noir, the film is photographed beautifully in moody early sixties black and white, perfect for a noirish crime drama such as this.

Many have blasted this film as pure camp, some without having even seen it, I'm sure. While this is no masterpiece, it really isn't that bad--it plays for the most part like a standard noirish "woman's film" from the forties. Since this sort of thing was Davis' specialty, she isn't particularly out of place here. Some of the dialog is dated and over the top, but not nearly so much as this film's detractors would have one believe. What truly stays in the mind is Bette's awful appearance--she's obviously too old to play the part of the small town sexpot, Rosa Moline. Beyond that, she's made to wear some awful black fright wig that makes her prematurely saggy face look positively witch like! As a romantic interest, she stretches our sense of credibility (however, I will allow for the fact that black Maria Montez type hair was probably thought sexy in those days-and she does grasp a sense of how a faded small town belle might try to put herself across, as she swaggers around with false bravado in her tight dresses and sexy ---- me shoes. All in all, not as bad as they say--the whole project probably shocked Davis herself (as well as quite a few critics who generally not kind to it) into realizing that her leading lady days were numbered. A strange career move in the lengthly career of a great, if misunderstood star.

It is true--they don't make 'em like this anymore! The plot line is so complex, and at times subtle--I doubt if present day audiences could concentrate this long on such detailed material! The best of its kind (sixties horror films featuring long in the tooth actresses from Old Hollywood), it is beautifully photographed (in black and white, thank god), in outstanding locations (the mansion is on a real southern plantation, a very old one which is currently a popular tourist site). As for the performances, its fortunate that Joan couldn't stand the heat from Bette--Olivia does a much superior job as the evil cousin Miriam--her controlled performance tempers some of the heat generated by Bette (and especially Agnes Moorehead as Velma, the maid). Moorehead hams it up so outrageously that she almost makes Bette look tame--some viewers thought this was great acting--we didn't. Her turn as Velma reminded me of some shameful Stepin Fetchit routine-only Velma is white!

The film is an odd blend of acting styles--the great Mary Astor is perfect as the subdued, defeated Jewel Mayhew, as is Cecil Kellaway as a curious insurance investigator still fascinated by the case all these years. Other smaller roles complemented the bombast of Bette's main show, such as Wesley Addy as a local police officer. No need to recap the plot here, suffice it to say this film requires at least three viewings to pick up all the plot threads. For all the uneven quality of the acting, its still a classic, and miles ahead of anything done in the last ten years. 8 of 10

Regarding one British reviewer who commented that Borat reveals "a society just brimming with hate" or whatever, just once, just once I'd like to see some film maker put the damn shoe on the other foot. Preferably a European fed up with his culture's random snobbery, maybe he'd find credibility with old world audiences. Any asshole (like his eminence Michael Moore, for example) can play around with allegedly off the cuff documentary footage to construct his own ugly picture of any society-and I do mean ANY society. How many shots, I wonder, did Mr.Cohen need to take to arrive at his contrived assemblage of supposedly representative vignettes of US manners and mores? Actually, some of Borat's victims seemed enormously tolerant of his bizarre provocations. But interviews with intelligent, pleasant folks wouldn't make for a very funny film, would they? I'm sure there are plenty of brilliant intellects out there (you know who you are, you've never even been to the US, just like your culture hero LVT) who would say that all of us were as dumb as the rodeo guy, since they value their own preconceived ideas about us more than any form of actual observation or interaction. Such persons, when they do actually encounter US visitors, are often wickedly skilled at doing and saying things that will only make these encounters fit into their preconceived notions about what proper transatlantic relationships should be. So many seem to believe that THEY know the true realities of life --they possess the truth with a capital T, and we are only allowed to worship their sacred opinions from afar, never to question, only obey, like good little colonials. I know these things--I've traveled in Europe several times. I have never ceased to be amazed at the sheer arrogance, the rudeness and the supercilious, vicious snobbery I've encountered as an American. In Europe I learned what it felt like to be treated like a minority--such behavior is never excusable, by politics or anything! I do not behave like the stereotypical ugly American. Plenty of Americans do read books, do object to the war in Iraq (isn't it obvious?) and some of us (such as myself) actually know where Kazakhistan is! Its in Central Asia, its a very large country, and the people there don't look like Caucasian Romanians, or European gypsies, either! Cohen is a talented performer who seems not only to be chronically lazy with the cheap laughs-he is also unaccountably addicted to potty humor of the lowest type. He is capable of much more, but perhaps his own issues (being Jewish and foreign, perhaps) prevent him from accessing any 'higher' levels of creativity (higher than the anus, I mean). Having said all this, there are some clever ideas here which get flushed down the drain about 20 minutes into the film. Some of the grossness is actually amusing (even the awful nude wrestling scene, I confess). But the potty humor dilutes the film's satiric impact, and all the random story threads (making fun of absolutely everyone at all times, for example) make the whole deal look like a giant spit wad, composed of bits and pieces of all things good, bad or indifferent. As I said before, Cohen is a talented performer, given the right material, which this certainly isn't.

BTW, if this post sounds like a diatribe (yes, yes I do know what that big word means), it is! This particular innocent, when abroad, was never impressed with old world 'wisdom' or whatever you'd call it. Not that I didn't have pleasant experiences, but somehow the bad stuff always stays longest in the memory.....

All this film does is insult the intelligence and lifestyle of adult gay men. The shock value of watching two famously heterosexual male actors primp and mince about as poofs is about all this mixed up mess has going for it. I don't recall (for some strange reason) much of the specific lines of dialog, but I do remember that much of that was just as bad as most of the acting and all of the direction. This film survives the years as a curio only. If the director wanted to make fun of gays, he should have made a film with Nazi punks beating up their fellow gay officers, or better yet killing them-or something.

BTW, the Burton character is not a hairdresser, he's actually a barber, cutting men's hair--not necessarily a gay profession. Sexy Rexy plays a down on his luck, never-was actor who helps his boyfriend around the shop. Talk about stereotypes--neither one dresses ladie's hair!

I'm giving this a six because the atmosphere and brilliant location camera work make this a fascinating experience. The "old fashioned" attitudes criticized by the other reviewer were not really that old fashioned for westerners in the early fifties! The film world didn't (and hasn't) budged much in its depiction of Middle Eastern societies. The three stories are fascinating, if not too well matched--how does a fairly conventional romance tale sit beside a very unusual story about the plague and a unique tale of two bumbling Yankee crooks stranded in a Coptic Christian town? The metaphorical language and strange subject matter does, however set this above the usual Hollywood fluff about the Middle East.

Again a six, mostly for the fascinating location work, which gives this film an amazingly authentic atmosphere.

This 1965 offering, directed by the famed horror/schlock director William Castle, on one level, is quite fascinating. The idea of two teens making creepy prank calls to unsuspecting victims is rife with possibilities. The film starts out with our two heroines paging through a phone book. A food stain lands on the name of their next victim, a middle aged man named Steve Marak. The prank call begins with their standard line, "I saw what you did, and I know who you are". This time there's a switch-you see, Marak has just finished murdering his wife in a particularly brutal fashion. Needless to say, he doesn't see this message as a harmless prank. He demands to see them, thinking he can either shut them up permanently or bribe them to stay silent. The girls, intrigued by his sexy voice, sneak off in their parent's car to see him. After a good start, the film begins to show its flaws. Joan Crawford, top billed as Steve's girlfriend, is actually on screen only a few minutes. The only really big name in the cast, she chomps up the scenery mercilessly, all the while wearing some ridiculous piece of jewelry which distracts us from just about everything except for her ridiculous performance. The two little pranksters are played by virtual unknowns, who remained unknown thereafter for no unknown reasons. The acting honors here go to John Ireland as Steve. As the wife killer and victim of the girl's tricks, his is the only believable performance in the film. This is unfortunate, for better acting could have made a real difference for the interest and tone of the film. Overall, a better cast (excepting Ireland) and a much better script could have lifted this from just another routine horror melodrama to a fascinating study of voyeurism, and the role this plays in these young girls' lives. The prank call angle is the most interesting angle in what is otherwise a routine melodrama centering on infidelity and murder. Five out of ten (for some good atmosphere, an interesting idea, and Ireland's performance).

Hangmen Also Die is an OK sort of film, fatally marred by the fact that it is pure propaganda, obviously slanted towards a wartime audience. The plot, involving an elaborate scheme to incriminate a Czech, who is both a businessman and Nazi informer is a complete fiction! One is left with the idea that the real assassin simply got away with it! The real facts were generally available at this time, and I'm amazed that Lang and the others involved here got away with this! The real story is a bit less upbeat: Heydrich was killed by not one, but two Czechs, who fired at him and finally killed him by lobbing a bomb at his vehicle. The two hid out in a church and were hunted down and killed just shortly thereafter. Sadly, not all the Czechs were as loyal to the resistance as those shown in this film. Someone informed on the killers, which led to their speedy demise. This is the incident which triggered the famous reprisal, carried out by the Nazis: for revenge for the murder of Heydrich they destroyed an entire Czech town, Lidice, the locale chosen at random. Since this is very famous part of wartime history, I am sad that so many viewers don't know what the real story was. The theme of Nazi reprisal is worked in very well, but the film steers clear of the much more shocking and ugly truth. A pity-for the real story would have been a much clearer picture of the true brutality of the Nazis. I guess 1940s audiences weren't considered mature enough to handle the truth! Again this gross distortion of the facts here is a fatal flaw. Sad, since I think the director, with more accurate material could have produced a great film...tragedies such as these were more his forte.

And it needs to go away. Not that it hasn't produced introduced some great comic talents to the screen (everybody knows who they are). Nobody, no team of writers can keep up the momentum for that long. I know, I know, they aren't the same writers from year to year (but how do we really know, huh?) The first five years were great -I'm old enough to remember that,too), but the whole enterprise seems to be sliding inexorably towards repetition, excessive focus on politics (save that for Jon Stewart, that's his business), and endless self congratulation. SNL, you've made your contribution, now step aside and let somebody else take center stage.

BTW, some recent comedy sketches have been so awful, they make MAD TV's stuff look sophisticated-and that's bad news! Also, I've always felt this show to be a bit shrill and overly self-congratulatory. If the SNF writers want clever stuff about politics, they should look up the Colbert Report--at least you can figure out what that character is, and what he's talking about (also, he enunciates accurately too).