Starring John Turturro and Andie McDowell
Directed by Diane Keaton
Diane Keaton's first proper full length feature displays the actresses' fondness for the quirky and bizzare. Not too revelatory, perhaps, since her previous form - "Heaven", a documentary collection of interviews about, er, heaven, and an episode of Twin Peaks - gave warnings the size of planets to her off-beat leanings.
A happily married couple, Turturro is the archetypal mad scientist who gives his son a remote-controlled tent over his bed for his birthday, and Mac Dowell the adoring, beautiful but chain-smoking wife. Chain-smoking? Yes, and it can only mean that it's not too many minutes before she has cancer, throwing the family into emotional turmoil. Leading the field in aggrieved family members is the son, who runs to his two barking mad strict Jewish uncles living in some apartment building/cum asylum amid huge piles of old newspapers and cupboards full of balls. Under their influence he decides to become a proper Jew and even have his own Bar Mitzvah, much to the irritation of his own athiest father.
It's funny in places, and the paranoid uncles are a joy to watch, but this suffers from a terminal sense of having no clear direction - half way through you still don't really know where the film is going, if anywhere. Turturro is good, as ever, but Mac Dowell is the best lit, most beautiful dying woman I've ever seen - there is a serious credibility problem here. Maybe Keaton is making a point about how dying can be a beautiful thing, in which case why does it make everyone else in the movie so miserable?
It looks good though, with sepia tints throughout, and if you can swallow our Andie as a woman about to see a white light at the end of a tunnel, it's moving, too. It would be nice to see, however, Keaton's undoubted talents teamed with a storyteller with a bit more of a story to tell.
Starring:Gary Olsen, Samantha Janus & Neil Morrissey
Directed by:John Godber
Five minutes in, and you know how it'll end. A wager is placed between Olsen and Tony Slattery - Olsen must take a tired, rubbish rugby team and beat the never-defeated brutes that Slattery helms. With the implausible fitness-coaching help of rugger-loving babe Janus, the permanently one-person down side try to win the bet in eight weeks. Now what do you think might happen?
Now this needn't matter if the trip there was worthwhile, but it so very much isn't. A bunch of literally witless, tedious charcters from far better sitcoms limp their way through scene after tedious scene. I actually began to count the laughs - two in the first hour (the first connected to almost the only justifiable reason to see the film - Janus with rugby kit-off), and a gasp-inducing four in the last half hour. That's about 0.065 laughs a minute - for a comedy, scientifically poor.
Oh yeah. Six down-on-their-luck-Northern-lads-trying-to-make-good sound famliar by the way? Much worse than Brassed off, infinitely worse than The Full Monty, this sets back British film by quite some margin. The only other reason to see it is to catch one of the final all-to-brief appearances of Brian Glover, standing proud amongst the TV thespians.
The real responsibility for this scrappy scrum down has to sit sqaurely on Godber's shoulders for the iffy direction and absolutely dire screenplay. I've said it before, and I fear I'll say it again - how do these things get made? And it goes without saying - avoid any film with an 'n' in the title.
Starring Gabriel Byrne, Kevin Pollack, Kevin Spacey, Stephen Baldwin, Chazz Palminteri & Pete Postlethwaite
Directed by Bryan Singer
Five hardened criminals pulling a bungled raid in LA sounds, on the face of it, like a rather obvious rip off of Mr Tarantino's debut warehouse of horrors. This low budget independent, however, is about as far removed from the ear-slicing cult classic as it is possible to get without the use of animated furry animals.
OK, so we do see a lot of flashbacks, but that really is the last similarity. The FBI try to make sense of a Los Angeles docks incident - resulting in the deaths of thirty crew - by interviewing one of a gang of five, protected by an immunity deal. We learn the quintet first got together as the - hey! - usual suspects in a police line up for a major drugs deal, and after that, onion skin after onion skin are peeled off to reveal a complex series of deals, double deals and double double deals with extra side orders of deals.
The remarkably unflashy but stylish direction holds the complex script together well, never letting the viewer become too confused by each plot turn - pay attention and you'll do fine. Great performances by the ensemble cast are lead by Byrne as the man who has finally found love and wants to go straight, and Spacey, the supergrass cripple of lower criminal status but higher criminal brain. Being a twisty-turny creature, this film invites you to succumb to the temptation of second guessing every development as it happens, but it would be a much more rewarding experience to simply sit back, and let the story unfold in it's own way and time around you.
Once again featuring central characters that are, at heart, pretty nasty pieces of work (absolutely definitely the last Quentin comparison), this is far more involving intellectually than emotionally, and thus leaves you with the feeling that you've been distracted rather than involved. As distractions go, however, this is as damn fine a thriller as you're likely to find anywhere.
Starring: Catherine Keener & Anne Heche
Directed by: Nicole Holofcener
Cards on the table - this is another low budget yakking movie about late twentysomethings trying to sort out their lives. Yet unlike, say, The Brothers McMullen, this scores a bullseye on all counts - acting, writing and directing are all ace and, most importanty of all, it all rings true.
Keener is single, sees a therapist but is now so sorted she is going to give up. Then her soppy-in-love if a-tad-bored-in-bed best mate Heche gets engaged, throwing Keener back into turmoil. She dates a gawky video store owner (Kevin Corrigan - superb) who takes her to a fantasy / horror convention. All his mates smile at her in a way that suggests they're all thinking one thing - WOMAN.
And so it all meanders on, but it's filled with enough memorable one liners, three dimenional characters (even the video store guy) and cringe inducing situations that it's all supremely watchable. For this, top credit must go to newcomer writer/director Holofcener (a female cross between Mike Leigh and Cameron Crowe), and the two superb leads. Keener, who shone in Living In Oblivion, makes herself a definite face to look out for, but Heche (The Juror) is every bit her equal.
For every winner like this, there are dozens of also-rans. This only makes this small gem more enjoyable - it may not amount to much, but it has a very nice time getting there.
Starring Kevin Costner, Jeanne Tripplehorn and Dennis Hopper
Directed by Kevin Reynolds
This is a movie which you already know so much about when you place bum on seat that much of the hoped for magic and mystery is dissipated. Stories of sky rocketing budgets, multi-million dollar sets sunk in the ocean overnight, director and star falling out and several on-set casualties (thankfully none fatal) do not bode well for what has been dubbed Mad Max on water.
This is a pity, since it is largely a unique and one-of-a-kind movie, which over the two and a quarter hour running time draws you into its anarchistic water world, set after the polar ice caps melt. The Mariner (Costner) is a lone half-man half-turbot trader, peddling desirable commodities such as - golly - dirt to the inhabitants of a huge floating town. Domestic bliss is under threat for Loaner and towners alike, however, since they live in fear of constant attack from the evil smokers, led by Hopper, who zip about on groovy jet-ski's. But - hurrah! - the Mariner escapes from town imprisonment in his even groovier custom boat during one such onslaught with the help of Tripplehorn and daughter. The artistic tyke has a map tattooed onto her back - a cryptic guide to the location of the mythical place Dri-land - and the seafarers set off in search.
The action sequences are stirring indeed, although on more than one occasion confusion reigns as to exactly how a perilous dilemma is resolved, due to flash-frame editing. The women are strong and gutsy, Hopper has a fabulous time as his best baddie in ages, but Costner gets the short straw as the sullen and unsympathetic lead. Kevin, me old mucker, do us all a favour and cheer up for crying out loud. This conflict of acting styles (reminiscent of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves upon which director and star previously teamed) is complemented by clever gadgets and stunts versus a couple of moments so laughably ludicrous they bear more resemblance to the wacked out Baron Munchausen than Mad Max.
Despite these shortcomings and overlength, there are exciting moments aplenty and enough stuff on screen to account for not far off half the budget. The flaws in characterisation also ironically set this apart from the other formula releases of the blockbuster class of '95. Oh, and due to the horrific budget, this is one movie which you can see safe in the knowledge that you'll never have to worry about sitting through the sequel.
Starring Adam Sandler, Drew Barrymore & Christine Taylor
Directed by Frank Coraci
DVD Review *****
Watching this makes it all seem so easy - why are so many romantic comedies so bad? The Wedding singer works because it follows the number one formula rule of screenwriting - give the audience a sympathetic hero with a clearly indentifiable goal. And to boot, the film also follows the lesser known number two rule - pack your movie full of toe-tapping 80's hits and TURN THE VOLUME UP!
Adam Sandler is the eponymous wedding singer, carving out a poor existence for himself by being quite good, and really nice. Yet on his wedding day, the unthinkable happens and his wife-to-be makes a no show, earning the sympathy of just about everyone including catering waitress Barrymore. Herself due to be hitched to a clearly unsuitable older-guy, she enlists the expert help of Sandler in getting her big day organised.
I'll leave it to you to guess the rest.
Romantic comedy doesn't work by giving you surprises, and the Wedding singer is certainly true to type here. In fact, as the film goes on, some scenes look as if they were churned out from a scriptwriting program, but - it really doesn't matter! Sandler is so likeable every female audience member would want him, and for the lads, Barrymore is no moose. There are a number of laugh out loud moments to zip things along, and director Coraci pulls it all together in a sprightly fashion.
This is a safe bet for the date crowd, and a thoroughly enjoyable antidote to the ballistics filled mayhem of the summer season. One up on the already tired 70's stuff, it trades heavily on the 80's nostalgia card, appealing to twenty and thirtysomethings with its in your face soundtrack and in-jokes at the expense of The Cure, A Flock Of Seagulls and Billy Idol - who makes a cameo. A cameo by Cameo really would have been the finishing touch.
Starring: Steven Dillane, Woody Harrelson, Kerry Fox and Marisa Tomei
Directed by:Michael Winterbottom
Bravely trying to tackle a subject still very much fresh in people's minds, Welcome to Sarajevo was always setting itself up for trouble, especially since it is based on a "true story".
Dillane is an ITN reporter covering the war. He soon becomes emotionally caught up with the fate of an orphange in the middle of the war zone, with only a matter of time before the luckless children become part of a gruesome statistic. Against his and everyone's better judgement, he decides to smuggle out a nine year old girl he has promised to help, but can't get out through legitimate channels.
As a demonstaton of the ethical and physical perils of being a war correspondant, the film is excellent and genuinely difficult to watch, particularly in its early stages. Hearing Blur and other Britpop bands on the soundtrack serves as a constant chilling reminder that this city is closer to home than we may like.
All the performances too are good, but what lets the side down is the central narrative, which misses the mark in following our journalist's journey. We never feel we get to know him or understand why he either does his job, or puts it on the line. Perhaps too constrained by reflecting the true events, the on-screen drama suffers.
Comparisons to Schindler's List are perhaps a little unfair - with events still so recent, it is hard to get the right angle to portray such a bewilderingly complex war. Although it may not always fulfil it's grand ambition, it's faliures are not from wanting to make a quick buck from human suffering. If anything, they're from being too reverent. This remains, however, never less than involving, and you feel glad that someone, at least, is trying.
Starring Sandra Bullock, Bill Pullman & Peter Gallagher
Directed by John Turtletaub
It's amazing how driving a bomb rigged bus across LA and saving everybody else's lives can transform your own. And here Ms Bullock, THE girl next door, further demonstrates her ability to not only charm the socks off the entire world, but also to act off her own.
She plays the sad familyless girl that no-one, including megahunk Peter Callorhan (Gallagher), notices pushing train tickets at a booth in Chicago. When the aforementioned stud is mugged and left on the line, she makes her move in dramatic fashion by going the whole hog and saving his life. As a non-family member she is barred from visiting her comatose object of lust in hospital, but is overheard fantasising about their impending marital status, and - voila! - the delightful Callorhans meet Peter's new fiancee. Unable to tell the truth and precipitate a heart attack from the boy's mother, she finds herself falling in lurve with not only the whole family thang, but Peter's brother (Pullman), in particular.
It's a sweet idea, but this is that rare film that belongs to the casting director. One can't help feeling that given less gorgeous performances, the by-the-numbers and uncomedic script would be laid bare. Even so, you are constantly waiting for the film to shift up a gear, especially with the arrival of the splendid, normally put upon Pullman, but that drab screenplay keeps things pootling in third gear oblivious, right to the very end.
The film's success in the US is testimony to the now bone-fide megastar status of Bullock, and also to the public's never ending - but often unheard - demand for sweet, innocent, romantic fare. If While You Were Sleeping can do this well, just wait 'till a cast like this gets hold of a proper script...
Starring: Helena Bonham Carter, Linus Roache and Alison Eliott
Directed by: Ian Softley
You've got to admire our own dear Helena - not phased by typecasting alegations, here she plunges straight into yet more period drama. Bu this isn't yet another repressed-emotions study of correct manners, rather a passionate - yet oddly cold - tale of twisted love.
Bonham Carter is in love with Roache, and he is decent enough to return the favour. However, with the threat of financial ruin and harm done to her estranged father, their love is essentially forbidden by her aunt. Enter Eliott, a rich, beautiful but dying American, who too falls for Roache, this time not doing the decent thing and recipricating. However, desparate Bonham Carter schemes to let the two of them marry, wait for her to die and thus claim the money for their own.
This is an effective piece of cinema, with fabulous performances all round, and a stunning denument. However, on further analysis, the plot doesn't make a great deal of sense, the character's motivations are shaky at best and Bonham Carter's character in particular is hard to feel any genuine sympathy with. But at least you are forced to think to reach some of these conclusions, which is no bad thing by itself.
Director Softley succesfully brings less reverance and more accesibility to the genre, and the film certainly looks superb. But for all the passion on display, the film's cold heart is what you remember most when the house lights come up.
Starring: Jack Nicholson, Michelle Pfeiffer and James Spader
Directed by: Mike Nichols
This is a terrifying horror movie. Scream, as you hear that the budget was $65m! Hide, as Jack Nicholson hams it further up than anyone has dared go before! Run, to avoid the the film dragging it's way to over two bum-numbing hours!
The horror is fortunately tempered with comedy, with script and direction competing with the wolf himself for Best Howler. It spices up the plot, worked out on the back of a matchbox. Our man Jack's car crashes and he is subsequently bitten by a warewolf. He is then demoted in his high-flying job in favour of Silly Slimey Spader, who is also knocking off his wife. Pity The Slime though, since Jack is soon in need of a short back and sides and having his sideburns seen to by the increaingly amourous Pfeiffer.
Oh help. In an attempt to put a new spin on a very old and tired idea, the film suggests it may be trying to make clever analogous points about corporate America and just what a wolf-eat-wolf world we all live in nowadays etc, etc. Fair enough, but it all comes across with the subtlety and insight enjoyed by the pack at feeding time. Even Pfeiffer, normally 100% reliable, struggles with lines so clunky they are drowned out by screaching metalwork.
Nothing good to say, really. The make-up is just that, the camera direction apalling (Nichols!! NO!!!!!) and visual effects nowhere near the $65m bracket. All back to my place then - it's time to watch An American Werewolf In London again.
All reviews / articles copyright Guy Rowland (1998).