Starring: Guy Pearce, Kevin Spacey, Russel Crowe, Kim Basinger & Danny De Vito
Directed by: Curtis Hanson
Every once in a while comes a thriller so densly plotted that you have to grab hold of both arm rests, sit forward and concentrate just to keep up. The last one was the Usual Suspects - this time it's L.A. Confidential.
Not about any old criminals this time, L.A. Confidential concerns corruption in the 1950's LAPD - obviously it's the 50's, for such things couldn't possibly happen now. Anyhoot, the film follows a great number of incidents and threads, but before long comes the film's centrepiece - a downtown cafe slaughter, where an off duty cop is blown away, amongst many other diners. Ambitious squeaky clean Pearce sows the case up to everyone but his self's satisfaction, and when he starts to dig a little deeper, the real trouble begins.
This is a really well told tale by co-writer/director Hanson from the blockbusting novel. The male leads are all superb, but Basinger, as a Hollywood star-lookalike hooker, somehow fails to light the fires that she should. In fact, her character and assosciated shenanigans are uniformly the weak link in the chain, and a few plot turns are, frankly, not credible.
Be that as it may, there is enough else here to sink your teeth into, and the film will surely put ex-Neighbour Pearce and especially Russell Crowe on the map. Just try to hold on and keep up...
The Last Of The Mohicans *****
Starring Daniel-Day Lewis and Medeline Stowe
Directed by Michael Mann
Lovers of lumbering great historical epics have had a field day recently, what with 1492 sailing onto the big, big screen. Fortunately the antidote to that overstuffed pile of meandering hogwash can be found here in a tight, lean and gripping tale of true love.
It is 1757, and civil war is raging in New York State between the English and French. Natives are used as malitia, and it is during the ambush of an English party from one base to another that a small group of the Mohicans, led by Day-Lewis, come to the rescue. Soon the maverick tatooed one is fighting not only for the English - reluctantly - but also far more willingly for the heart of Stowe, the general's daughter.
This relationship is right at the core of the story. The battles are exciting, the photography and set-pieces are breathtaking and sound is magnificant, but all this dwarfed by some truly awesome screen chemistry between the two leads on top form. In addition, the political background is also interesting and well told, and director/co-screenwriter Mann has adapted the 1936 script with a sharp focus on the story at hand, as opposed to a plethora of redundant subplots. Although it falls neatly into the politically correct revisionist view of American history, it doesn't exactly leave you pleading for mercy from the moralising.
The supporting cast and chief bad guy are all well up to the job, but this really is Day-Lewis - and the vulnerable-yet-tough Stowe's - hour. This is a screen pairing so strong that even Clannad bleating out a soppy lyric about true love in the soundtrack adds to the magic. The greatest period movie of the 90's, bar none.
Starring: Mischa Barton, Sam Rockwell & Kathleen Quinlan
Directed by: John Duigan
Well this is an odd one, to be sure. Director Duigan has a number of solid films under his belt - Flirting, The Year That My Voice Broke and most recently Hugh Grant's Sirens. In tone, Lawn Dogs most resembles a cross between this latter movie and Edward Scissorhands. But unfortunately, Johnny Depp's razor sharp blades have had a go at the script.
The film tracks the relationship between a disturbed but bright-eyed 10 year old girl (Barton) and the gardener (Rockwell) who tends her parent's immaculate lawn. The walled community to which they have just moved is a freakish place. A permanent soundtrack of lawnmowers and sprinklers gives the spacious homes an other-worldly quality, and so the girl seeks secretive refuge in the "white trash" gardener's trailer home. It's all obviously leading to no good.
The whole thing is told in the manner of a fairy story, but is itself far less coherant. Unsavoury characters flit in and out for no discernable reason, plot threads just drift off never to be seen again and an unevannes in tone makes some sections "real" and others fantastic. Unfortunately much of the real stuff is as impossible to believe as the stylised. Also, the erotic touch with which Duigan handles his material is not always so well-judged with a ten year old in front of the lens.
On the plus side, the performances are excellent - the long sufferring gardener is beautifully played by Rockwell. But it is Mischa Barton who is the real find, an extraordinary and mesmerising performance and the only utterly believable aspect to the whole film. If this girl decides to stay in movies when older, I'll lay a fiver on her being the finest actress of her generation. As for this movie, it will probably only be known as the one which introduced her to us.
Starring: Steve Martin, Debra Winger & Liam Neeson
Directed by: Richard Pearce
Christian faith healers. A duck that spends his life sitting is no easier target.
When preacher-man Martin and his travelling religious circus makes an unscheduled stop in Smalltown, Texas, local sherrif Neeson smells a rat. Sure enough, the charletons put on their show, spellbinding the simple 'ol townsfolk with "miricles", and it's all done, not with mirrors, but with the aid of video serveillance, radio mikes and computers containing a whole Ryan of gigs in the memory stakes. But hold on just a cotton-pickin'-mo, Martin's long time not-quite-love Winger is developing a conscience, as her heart-strings are tugged by the locals and loins are stirred by the "astute" sherrif out to save the town from near financial collapse.
I really can't say much more than that, since the development that should launch the main part of the film actually manifests itself as the final plot twist. This is a movie with a basic structure problem - nothing interesting actually happens. The humour is way too obvious to even raise a smirk, the insights banal and the whole thing suffers from being far less interesting than the real life exploits of the notorious Bakkers, for example. Martin pereforms the wacky showman and hard nosed businessmen with ease, Neeson has little to do, a small part for Meatloaf amounts to nothing and only a gorgeous Winger stands out as a three dimensional character from the screen.
In the end, the film does show itself to have it's heart in the right place, and the attention to detail and atmosphere are nice. But Janus Cercone's script has terminal problems which really should have been fixed before anyone loaded the cameras with film - an unsympathetic lead and no third or second acts. It really must have taken a leap of faith from Paramount to put their money into this one.
Starring: Nicolas Cage & Elisabeth Shue
Directed by: Mike Figgis
This is a movie with a chilling story behind it. The film - alchoholic Cage gets fired from his high flying position as a Hollywood script reader, and sets off for Las Vegas to literally drink himself to death. The story - it was based on a novel whose author was an alchoholic, sold it to Hollywood and went on to drink himself to death.
Back to the plot for a moment, and Cage falls in love with hooker Shue, who returns the compliment, assuring him she will never ask him to give up drinking. Cage (and we) can't quite belive his luck - unconditional love with no strings attached. Not that it's exactly Mills & Boon - just as Cage's alchoholic binges sometimes end in violence and in truly disturbing bouts of illmess (one day he has to drink some more before his hand is steady enough to sign a check), Shue's hooker is no Pretty Woman. He obviously can't ask her to give up her job, and the occasional violent rape comes with territory.
Not a barrel of laughs, then. Both the leads are excellent, and the film is certainly powerful and disturbing. Yet in an odd way, the film sells us a fundamental lie - that the best form of love is weak, and powerless to help or influence. The real life background (which affected Cage's decision to take the part) fits in with the belief that it is "deep to die".
Figgis (who also does a fine job) would point out that there is nothing less glamorous than the world the characters inhabit. Yet the love story behind it taps into classic tragedy, a la Romeo & Juliet and Bonnie & Clyde. I suppose the difference between Leaving Las Vegas and them is that Shakespere wasn't Romeo. The line between tragic fiction and real life has been crossed and, like other depressives before him, it sems like this is an author's extreme self-pitying and attention-grabbing publicity stunt.
Lethal Weapon 4 *** (Short Review)
Starring Mel Gibson, Danny Glover, Joe Pesci, Rene Russo & Chris Rock
Directed by Richard Donner
Firmly stuck in filmmaking of a decade ago, this is (overlength aside) a largely enjoyable bit of cartoon making. Team newcomer Rock (5th Element) fits in well, Pesci is given a nice opportunity to almost stretch his acting wings at the end, the prologue is a lot of fun and the car chase an awful lot of fun. Some really boring bits though, and Russo nine months pregnant?
Er, right.
Starring: Jim Carrey, Swoosie Kurtz & Jennifer Tilly
Directed by: Tom Shadyac
"My Father's a liar", says cutie lil' son of Carrey, when asked of his father's occupation at school. "You mean a lawyer", says his teacher. The boy shrugs - whatever.
But it all goes horribly wrong for the great big daddy of lying lawyers when - would you believe it - his son wishes for him to be unable to tell a lie for a whole day, and it comes true, gasp. Somehow. And not on any old day either - on a day crucial to his entire career. The case of the serial-adulterer divorcee seeking half her ex-husband's fortune is an apparent no-hoper, so his ability to lie in front of the boss - looking for a new business partner - is, of course, essential.
By and large, this is a return to Carrey form. A neat premise is seen through effectively by director Shadyac, and there are belly laughs to be found if not in spades, then at least in trowels. Unfortunately, though it may seem a bizarre critisism of the rubber faced loon, he has a tendancy to overdo it occasionally, and his abilities at straight stuff are not exactly overwhelming.
Nitpicking aside, this is the sort of film which either works or it doesn't. And happily, it does.
Starring: Ewan McGregor, Cameron Diaz, Ian Holm, Holly Hunter & Delroy Lindo
Directed by: Danny Boyle
Not quite what the British public ordered, this. After Shallow Grave and Trainspotting, you might have expected more hip and disturbed stuff to keep the under 21s happy. And on the face of it, all is well - guns, kidnapping and a soundtrack featuring The Prodigy, Underworld, Ash et al. But blow me down, if it doesn't turn out to be a slightly surreal feel-good romantic comedy in the end.
Things open in Heaven, where the archangel Gabriel is disturbed to note the poor state of earthly relationships. He duly dispatches Hunter and Lindo, two minions, who are charged with teaming up the put-upon, sweet but rather hopeless cleaner McGregor and his boss' spoilt daughter Diaz. Whats more, failure means a fate worse than death - an eternity spent on earth. So, with the benefit of some violent and judicious intervention, McGregor kidnaps Diaz almost by accident. And the big joke is - he is so bad at it that she needs to give him constant encouragement and instruction.
As with all one joke movies, the question is - is the joke a funny one? Fortunately yes, with both leads quite excellent. McGregor avoids the pitfalls of just whining and being irritating (and displays a deft comic touch), whereas Diaz shows a great range and pulls off the trick of making us like a pampered rich-kid. It should also be noted that she looks even more gorgeous here than in the literally jaw-dropping The Mask.
Most films set partly in Heaven (It's a Wonderful Life excepted, of course) are truly awful, so hats off to writer/driector team of John Hodge and Danny Boyle for finding a tone that works. Slightly reministent of Lynch's Wild At Heart without the maelevolance, this may be totally inconsequential, but it is still a fine way to spend a couple of hours.
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels ****
Starring Dexter Fletcher & Vinnie Jones
Directed by Guy Ritchie
You approach with trepidation any action movie with the words "low budget" ringing in your ears, and the first fifteen minutes of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels seem to confirm your fears. With the best will in the world, the flashy direction can't initially hide some of the extremely ropey performances from the various ex-boxers and I-don't-know-who-else writer/director Ritchie cobbled together.
But then then the plot kicks in, and the performances improve with it. We centre on four East End mates who owe half a million pounds, having been successfully shafted in a card game. When they learn of a robbery planned by their neighbours, they hatch a desperate plan themselves to rob the robbers. Clearly everything is going to go wrong, but you've no idea how much, or how bizarrely (if that's a real word).
This is a real treat, with the four young leads and even Vinnie Jones ably acquitting themselves. The tangled story is expertly woven together by newcomer Ritchie, with every penny of his meagre budget eeked out and apparently trippled in on-screen value. Ultimately, this is just a hugely enjoyable throwaway romp, more so than our other recent crime successes such as Shallow Grave, and it revels in it - it just keeps getting better and better right to the closing credits.
A film to make you stand up and cheer "I'm British and I'm proud". Fantastic.
Starring: Al Pacino, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Spacey & Winona Ryder
Directed by: Al Pacino
A laudable effort, this.
So much noise has been made over the centuries that William Shakespere is, well, William Shakespere, that those of us who "just don't get it" are left with social egg on their faces at dinner parties and have to get their coats.
So enter stage right Al Pacino, a bard lover and Richard III obsessive, who has decided to try and cinematically examine just what makes the old boy so engimatic. He thrashes through the story of Richard III, rehearses and performs key scenes, visits various locations pertinent to the subject at hand and interviews Joe and Joanna public about their takes on the man.
The first hour rattles along in a hugely entertaining way, enjoying many a jolly jape with his yankee luvvies. As the reels spool on however, Pacino can't resist the temptation to fall increasingly into angst ridden performance. Presumably, the intention is to win the viewer over, and take him / her on the journey of the story. However, if all the rhetoric and navel gazing still hasn't convinced you, you once again feel left out.
Pacino puts the whole shabang together with a lot of flair, ably demonstrating that he hasn't spent his whole life on a movie set sitting in his Winnebago. Most of America's thespians seem to want to go through this with him, and they are a delight to watch. As a sum of it's parts however, this is an excellently concieved, but patchily executed documentary.
Starring Matt Le Blanc, Gary Oldman, William Hurt, Heather Graham & Mimi Rogers
Directed by Stephen Hopkins
A plea to all the studios - please stop giving Akiva Goldsman any more money. You only encourage him.
The object of my disaffection is the "writer" and one of the producers of Lost In Space. One of his other recent works of art was Batman & Robin.
They both share the same opening - headlong into a lot of frenetic whizzing about, with barely enough time for the studio's logo to disappear from the screen. In my screenwriting bible, writers are urged not to do this, beacuse the technique is designed for lowest-common-denominator TV show producers who have to grab an audience in 30 seconds, and keep them hooked all the way to the next commercial break. Even a Bond movie gives us a couple of minutes build before blowing something up.
As with Batman & Robin, the rest of the script is even more obviously dire. Appaling dialogue battles with a simply hideous structure, with any focus or goal lost in space along with the crew. Unlike his other blastfest, this at least has some redeaming qualities - although, me being male, most of them seem to be connected with (or to) Heather Graham. Essentially this is a kid's romp at heart, and I guess the target audience of 13 year old males will appreciate the video game action sequences and maybe even Ms Graham. The effects, mainly from London based computer graphics companies, are also largely very good.
The acting is quite bizarre, meanwhile. Gary Oldman really doesn't seem to be able to put his heart in this sort of thing any more, William Hurt is SO serious he clearly seems to believe he's treading the boards at The Golbe and Matt Le Blanc resembles less Joey from Friends as Dr Drake Ramoray, the hammy daytime soap character that Joey played in the series.
So it's the usual re-hash of tired ideas we've reluctantly come to expect (the bewildering opening reminded me most of Battlestar Gallactica, for crying out loud). When all is said and done, when the most exciting part of the film is Apollo 440's rehash of the old theme over flash-frame closing credits, you know something ain't right.
The Lost World: Jurassic Park ****
Starring: Jeff Goldblum, Julianne Moore, Pete Postlethwaite & Richard Attenborough
Directed by: Steven Speilberg
Well, what can you say? Given that no-one admits to liking the first superb rollercoaster ride, the chances of this making the critics choice at year end are probably slim. And yes, it's a contrived, money motivated sequel, along with most of the summer's big releases. But - ah ha! - it's Speilberg. And even when he's not on absolute top notch form, the effortless ease with which he smacks yer gob is still something to behold.
The set-up is simple; there is another island. Site B was the factory floor, abandoned in chaos several years before. Goldblum's paeleantologist girlfriend is duly despatched to make a living record of the place before the big bad company make a hash of it, so of course Goldblum tags along to bail her out come lunch time. For desert, the crack team of company big game hunters arrive, who are foolishly trying to capture a T-Rex to slap on the bonnet of their pick up truck.
Astonishingly, it transpires that there are worse sequel premises, and David Koepp's very loose and witty adaption of the weak Michael Chricton novel makes it as logical as humanly possible. Goldblum is nicely elevated to lead, and Moore makes a likeable heroine. But hey, it's those dinosaurs you want to know about, and they're just fine and dandy, thank you. Much of the daytime sequences - especially involving some nasty little critters called Compys - are fabulous, and better Jurassic for finesse.
Topping even these are a few action moments which, in Spielberg's capable hands, are movie magic. In stark contrast to the "throw everything at the screen and some of it may stick" school of moviemaking, his style is simple, original and memorable. Predictably it all becomes daft by end credits of course, but ah, if only all tacky sequels were made this way...
All reviews / articles copyright Guy Rowland (1998).