Reviews

This is a movie that's desperate to be liked. Amidst all the swashbuckling, dagger thrusts, pelvic thrusts, housewives of Dahomey and emotional manipulation of the large scale Hollywood epic, there's a heart beating softly, hoping to be discovered. The performances are spot on, they carry the weight of a movie that otherwise would have been heavy baggage. We should also applaude the fact that this film is about women and loves women, possibly the most integral reason to respect The Woman King. Its all well worth it and I like it. (More Characters More Characters More Characters More Characters)

One of the greatest gifts of cinema is realising you still haven't seen some of the more important films of our time, until by chance they just happen along. A true 'lost' film if ever there was one, as a cinephile, or so I like to think of myself, I came to find I had never ever even heard of this film, its title or its existence until quite recently. Quite a feat. Upon discovering such gems as this, one positively radiates. Truly. Like a couple of other 60's masterpieces ('Who's Afraid Of' and 'They Shoot Horses') that delved into the hopelessness of existence and of lives gone terribly wrong, The Swimmer is easily as strong a contender status wise. Its sad and scathing depiction of a man who's not everything we initially believe him to be will affect everyone differently. For some, it may prove a bitter pill as we journey along with him. Burt Lancaster as a performer has normally been in a neutral place in cinema for me but this film and his character has basically changed history for me. Another feat. You must see this film, it's truly a lost and abandoned treasure.

Marcel is always slightly out of breath and sees beauty in everything. Talks in cliques like an annoying 12 year old girl and face it, he's a crashing bore. Coy and bordering on the obnoxious, Marcel and his movie has a few cute concepts bouncing around in it but the the majority of the time I just wanted to put my foot on him. Crack... What's more challenging to fathom is the ballyhoo and the number of internet viewers that are so desperate to grasp any sort of thing like this and worship at its alter. Marcel's alter ego is an equally dreary helmsman, also incapable of making his relationships work. This movie is just so well intentioned and so wanting to please that you feel like you need to make a donation towards it. Meanwhile the rest of the world burns....

Its a film within a film, which might make you think you're onto something with some degree of artistic merit. Sorry. Maybe artistry such as those paintings of people with the big droopy eyes. Its a vanity film within a schlocky adventure yarn with its fingers in many, many past pies. Sandra gets her glittery garb all torn, enduring all sorts of torturous upheavals but still looks fabulous. Channing gets to go nude and do a cute, dumb routine and Bradley obviously wrote his own script. Daniel's just Daniel. And be assured, every line is a zinger. Tailor made for your enjoyment. Its sweet and sassy, so much so that you might start feeling queasy after awhile. If you're not too discerning, you'll love it. What's not to love about Hollywood megastars having a ball doing what they do and being paid millions of dollars for it. The goat worked for free...stole the show actually.

Watching A Clockwork Orange yet again after an interval of 20 or so years has met with yet another different analysis and appreciation of the film (of sorts). Its magnificent to look at visually and stylistically, even more so on this viewing, of that there was never any doubt, Kubrick being the craftsman he was. His interpretion of the novel and in filming it does however differ. The philosophical dilemma of moral choice is handled efficiently but through such a turgid filter of ugliness and constant pain that one has to question the director's true motives at the time and wonder if perhaps he reaped what he sowed in the emerging cinema of permissiveness, sex and violence. The monster he unleashed in 1971 was certainly to plague his later life with the same bad vibes that his anti-hero Alex suffered in the second half of the picture. Some claim ACO a masterpiece, I would say more a 'piece' ,undoubtedly an important film in the canon of cinema with many memorable and breathtaking sequences and images to savour. However, even after repeated viewings over the years, one such as myself find I simply can't get the bad taste out of my mouth after watching. Its a complex and dastardly beast to be sure and its lurid and polluted vision of the future might be seen as an exercise in cinematic exploitation by some or a prophetic vision of what was to become. I'm no major fan of the film its true and I can't stop talking about it!

Ever watch a movie so dreary and mind numbingly boring that you find yourself willing and wanting it to end for virtually its entire length? Here is that movie. Its so totally uninvolving and uninteresting no matter how patient one might be or how hard you scour for some form of merit. Connery, miscast, trudges along making unending Holmes style deductions, his young nemesis Slater is reduced to uttering 'Master' the entire film and loses his virginity to an oversexed tart from the local leper colony. Meanwhile, pasty faced monks are being knocked off and found upside down, drowned in huge vats of claret. Eventually we find out why.... Its an uninspired, grey and horrible film with the result of leaving one feeling listless and detached at its fiery finale.

George Romero takes us into the Amusement Park of life, in this case in particular, old age. Predictably we discover that its not all gaiety and all the fun of the fair but rather a sobering and at times harrowing indictment on the plight of the aged population in society. While at times moralising and at other times unmistakably a Romero film in its horror outing leanings, the thing I found most predominantly coming through to the surface in this lost 1973 film is the director's heart of gold. Yes, it was made partly as an educational offering but it has Romero stamped all over it and reminds us, well me anyway, that in spite of the rather 'colourful' nature of Romero's own self made genre, he must have been a most wonderful man if the underlying emotions firing this film are any indication. People have said they found this film disturbing and I have a sure feeling that these particular spectators are of a younger age. Myself, belonging now to an older age bracket, instead find it incredibly wise. Of course watching its protagonist stagger through the park, on a limited income, being ridiculed, beaten, and even having the clergy close their pearly gates on him, you can't help but realise that the film was perhaps just too accurate and ahead of its time for the people who originally requested that it be made. Its a potent and important film that finally saw the light of day nearly fifty years after its making. Bravo George...

M3gan is basically a funny/scary movie for kids and young teens. For anyone else, particularly the horror movie aficionado, you will probably be howling at what this film 'could have been' done right. Instead, M3gan plays it safe and despite its polish and all round proficiency, it may induce mere yawns from anyone else. Still, its a numbers game in the movie business, its not really about making a film the way one would like, rather more procuring a target and intended audience and then catering to them accordingly. When you think of it, the movie's as blatant a rip off of Child's Play as is, in fem form but in this instance, M3gan is a little bit too well mannered and spoken for my tastes.

In the 70s, there was a bit of an obsession with the new permissiveness in cinema and the revelation of nudity, evidenced by such schlocky pictures like Alvin Purple, Libido and Barry Mckenzie and whilst Journey Amoung Women inadvertently was relegated to that genre due to its full frontal nudity, it however is a film with form, substance and most importantly, even disregarding the basic penal storyline, is a celebration of women. Its lyrical, beautifully photographed but primitive to look at and must be considered a milestone of Australian cinema. Think of what English punk band The Slits would carve out of creating a civilisation for themselves and you get the picture. A liberating and essential time capsule.

In the exploitation hungry 80's, Happy Birthday To Me was launched to become the next big thing in Slasher Movies. It didn't have a hope...instead, it became something better and far superior. Yes, the poster (one of the most outlandish and iconic images of cinematic horror was of someone who wasn't even in the film but then ask yourself, do you really think the actor in question would want his own image to go down in celluloid history as the fellow gaping in horror at a certain rogue shish-kebab? J. Lee Thompson, probably not well versed with the then current slasher trend, unwittingly made a superb, teenage whodunnit. Its classy, well acted, beautifully photographed and scored and full of nostalgic humour, even back in '81. It struck a chord with me and many others who might have initially been disappointed on first viewing, given what it had been marketed as. However though, on repeated viewings, it was to be seen as a curiosity, then something quite unique and now it is of legendary status, I feel anyway. Although no movie could ever have done justice to the advertising campaign and with the kills typically trimmed and censored down at the time , Happy Birthday To Me does have its own sense of overwhelming dread, nastiness and tragedy. The finale is true Gothic and whilst far fetched it all makes perfect sense. It was all too much work for many and while the film might have made its money back, people were begrudging of it. If Hitchcock had made the same film 30 or 40 years earlier, no doubt it would have been considered a masterclass of genius. Happy Birthday To Me, the true black sheep of the 80s horror fad - its still a great experience revisiting this strange, surrealistic shocker 40 years on.

I laughed all through Terrifier, which is a good thing. To the contrary, one of the most important ingredients to an effective horror/slasher film is a sense of humour. That way we can all bask in our guilty pleasures. Slashers and horrors without humour can more often than not be merely depressing, unpleasant and leave one feeling definitely guilty but without the pleasure. There is a fine line. Terrifier comes through strongly on all counts. It knows what it is, what its origins are and pays homage to many past iconic horrors and quirks. The humour and gags are diabolical, the kills are messy and jaw dropping but still given this, half the time one doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at what's up on the screen. It may be and look low budget but this works to its favour as we become stranded in its desolate, twilight mis en scene. Its a movie for smart aficionados who like to be manipulated and only becomes slightly rickety during the final scenes where the connection between Art and another character seems blurred and dislocated. What and who is Art, anyway...? So many questions that may well be answered in a coming sequel...

Sequels of the Franchise can never usually better the original. Sure, they're Cash Cows but as long as they don't disgrace the original product or become mere clones, its all good I guess. This number 2 entry isn't as good as the first. The characters have less to do and plod around being miserable until the young ones finally ignite a spark. Its more their movie. Its bigger, more sophisticated and has had more money thrown at it budget wise (rarely a good sign), babies never cry in it, and people don't eat, they just have rad, hair-raising adventures instead. The monsters look like something from Plants vs Zombies (still look good) and women will never be safe or empowered against men, now, or even once the apocalypse hits (or so it's implied). I just found much lacking with this - it reminded me of a big scale deja-vu episode of a Walking Dead series. The third installment will no doubt be an improvement. Mmm....

Well...there's this hunk who has a navy and green beanie surgically affixed to his head for most of the film and Miss Lonelyhearts in the shop across the way, of whom men are her only means of survival. A second rate tryout for The Seventh Seal remake is in the deep freeze and....oh yes, a thing with a hook has a penchant for chasing hot-panted hookers around the curiously empty streets of LA (is it LA?), while their tricks can only look up with sorrowful eyes that seem to say 'kill me kill me'. A horny cop makes a nuisance of himself and belittles women at every opportunity. Typical, but Bad Lieutenant he 'ain't. If you want to see a pretty bad movie, then you owe it to yourself to see this one. Others like myself may well fall under its silly spell and find the whole enterprise quite sweet and likeable - how else could you critique it? Besides, stay the course and you'll be treated to an admittedly unexpected third and final act. Bizarre...

Here's a dopey outing where if the two main stars were uncertain at the commencement of production, then by the end, they are both obviously mugging it for all they're worth. Who can blame them. As a wish-fullfillment story it fails. As a buddy movie it fails. As a comedy, when the camel elicits the most laughs, you know something is amiss. Can I claim Director May to be the brunt of all further jokes and criticism? No, because I just don't know enough about her and plus I 'still' have not caught up with 70s staple The Heartbreak Kid or A New Leaf, etc to make such comparisons or judgements. I actually feel sympathy for her and other Hollywood mavericks whose egos may be well intact but whose visions fall short and thus are torn asunder by the fickle world of Hollywood, its critics and yes the general public. Sure Ishtar isnt a good film, but I know that others like myself continue to seek out all of these landmark turkeys and megaflops over time all the same. I want to see these films so I can form my own opinion but still be entertained in a strange way. Every film you watch can't be a stunning success, its part of being a film student I guess. Some projects are meant to be while others are just not. Ishtar's worse vice even in 1985 was to ridicule the Arab people and in particular their dialect and language as demonstrated in one crucial scene of the movie. Which further begs the question - who looks more silly, another particular race of people or the Americans, who have the licence to make a pretty average movie costing $50 million, only to see it return $14 million in revenue..?

Surely this was intended as a horror-comedy, or were the laughs I derived not an intention of the makers of Raw? I mean, seriously...On media the film's all dressed up as strictly a straight up horror or 'Body Horror' as they like to call them. Did they get it wrong in some huge miscarriage of purpose or am I just solely intent on making fun of this movie? You see, there's this Veterinary College which doubles as an insane asylum where two sisters are reunited to learn their trade. Like the strict vegetarian she is, the younger develops a taste for raw flesh during a hazing stunt and eventually becomes a dirty girl vixen at the dorm discos which swing late into each morning just before class. Her sister however, even more perplexing, has the annoying habit of throwing herself in front of local vehicles to cause bloody road accidents by which to satiate herself. Their pansy room mate, played by a rugged, no doubt heterosexual actor, after one mere blow job and twenty years of a 'given' sexuality, simply shrugs it off and has rough sex with the vampire. Eventually the older sister gets a right case of the munchies for him and winds up in the clink. The homosexual in film always gets what's coming to him. Coming of age metaphors abound but Daddy has even more drastic news however... Ok sure, points for the look of the thing, some flashes of style and I liked the music. Oh its French too isn't it? In fact I quite liked watching Raw, I certainly wasn't bored but I still have this nagging feeling I enjoyed it for all the wrong reasons...

Spielberg's adaptation of WSS is just that and nothing more. Its flashy, updated and peopled by new stars, some miscast and some queer.. (why have we allowed the the word 'queer' as currently acceptable to define our sexuality..? If it even needs to be defined as such or bankrolled in 2022?) Topically, WSS comes across now as a fairly accurate depiction and warning of the perils of toxic masculinity, not so much bigotry as with the first film. The role of the women has remained antiquated as it was in the 60s. Its still a thrilling concept and the songs are legendary, a staple in the Musical genre but just how much can you improve upon a classical original?

Stuffy, old fashioned and dated to the point where its virtually unwatchable, this saga of three high society dames spending an impeccable afternoon out but agonising over which of their husbands has possibly taken off with a mystery woman that the picture is devoted to might have been fresh back then but is now stale and boring. In between they go to parties, drink martinis, dress exquisitely and also have the obligatory black servant. This film turned me off with its trivialities and fake pomp. It thinks its sophisticated but the plot really revolves around nothing, nothing but stuffed shirts. Someone may also be kind enough sometime to explain the ending for me...? Like how it was resolved? I'm none the wiser and still shaking my head, perhaps I'm just not sophisticated enough for this type of fodder...

Town And Country is brim full of snobbery. Its about rich affluent couples making fools of themselves. Are the cast actually playing themselves in real life? Who knows, but that stands as probably the most damning element of this film. How many mansions could one have bought for what it cost to make this film? How many mouths could it have fed? Town And Country easily bought its own way into the Hollywood 'name and blame' game before it even reached the screens. I laughed a couple of times, I smiled whilst watching it, but only out of amusement at how much the film was lacking. Its a flat and hollow experience. The stars of course probably did their best but the whole enterprise was just too creaky and 'weird' to substantiate their efforts. It strived for outrageousness but attained stupidity. It strived for humble pathos but stayed in the shallows. Everything it grabbed for was lost for the mundanity - this film, whilst it did mildly entertain me for 100 minutes, alas made me feel and register nothing. It was just actors picking up a pay check and a few lovable antics. Whatever approbation I surrender here was surely only out of curiosity. The same goes for any renowned bad movies I seek out, that require viewing just to see just how bad. They can't all be masterworks you know.

You can almost hear the parents of the young cast after the release of this movie.."well dear, its really time you thought about what you'd like to do at college" Especially the young girl from the final scene of this film, all poised to work her evil magic upon the Worlds but unfortunately having had the limelight stolen from underneath her when this particular world decided they hated The Last Airbender with a vengeange. Hollywood has this habit you see of trundling along and sitting on well known and respected properties and throwing millions upon millions of dollars to throw them back on the screen in full blown franchise formula but sometimes they just dont quite manage to connect with the original material. I'm no devotee of the original product(s) here,so I can't really be in authority to criticise too much but The Last Airbender comes across as a pretty dull and ponderous film. Cut away all the CGI and effects and what you have is a rather sweet children's pantomime ala The Never Ending Story and every other film bearing mystical lands with superhuman characters and wacky furry behemoths. I found it mildly entertaining but only in the way I also find very expensive, flashy television commercials somewhat sporadically curious. I assume like A Series Of Unfortunate Events, another dismal attempt to capture the blithe, somewhat self-mocking spirit of the books in question, The Last Airbender is just another product, designed to try to cash in on what only readers and other fans probably ever knew and felt the true value and magic of. Some things have to be felt and treasured and understood to be translated onto celluloid if they absolutely must be, otherwise the results are fodder to be sneered at.

The effectiveness of a horror movie is often demonstrated by its staying power after it has finished. You find yourself processing it in your head in a fun but delirious way to comprehend certain scenes and their impact on you and the finished product. In this, The Eyes Of My Mother does succeed and despite the black and white gimmick (still very stylish) and some truly murky undertones early in the piece, quietly builds to something quite shattering in its ability to mesmerise and undoubtedly horrify. The ending is rather flat and concise but its tidy and as far as an updated slice of American Gothic and a silent study of lonliness and ever encroaching madness, you'd be hard pressed to find anything close to what this film delivers. Its not perfect but its no throwaway horror that you'll easily sleep off by morning. It's near catatonic characters are sublimely refreshing to relate to. Its a movie that works hard to arrive at a particular destination and it is to be admired accordingly. Be careful with this one, it wants your love and is determined to have it.

Forget a lot of the New Permissive cinema of the early 70's and the counter culture persuasions - brilliant as some of it may be, its a woman (of course) who walks away with the top prize in 1970. For the film for which she deservedly won a top prize. Its a dirty looking, grainy little indie named Wanda and of course it flopped, showed for about a week in the dingiest cinemas and then like most other masterpieces was cast aside and lost in time. Now its been dusted down and shined up and its been worth every cent. The trials and tribulations of the true masterworks of cinema, often treated pretty much as tawdrilly as poor Wanda. Wanda's not a feminist, not a tart, in fact she's not much of anything. Just a bit lost in this big, ugly old world we inhabit and the roles she's been forced to inhabit. If you can't find it in your heart to love and understand this woman and descend from your privileged perches for 103 minutes to take a long hard look at the world we live in and the choices most of us have, then cinema is not the art form suited to you. As Cate Blanchette brilliantly surmised once, regards the place and importance of women in cinema - "The world is round people". See this film, because unlike most of today's modern offerings, its 'about something' and is truly a thing of rare, steely beauty.

Cold and clinical, aloof and detached, Brandon Cronenberg's film retains many of his father's trademarks. From the human vs technology fusion to the grey overcast skies. Its entertaining without being spectacular and garish and gains merit by way of succeeding without CGI. The moody performance by the leading man is mesmerising and of course with screen Goddess Jennifer Jason Leigh in tow, you feel secure in what you're watching. There's always Mother to step in and sort things out when life gets a bit complicated. A wonderful film full of intrigue and brooding menace.