tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32243495534503064042024-03-05T09:22:00.418+00:00 0.50 Action Express<center>Movies, culture and things I thought were a good idea at the time.</center>Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-70761332042069625002012-01-07T14:22:00.000+00:002012-01-07T14:22:07.740+00:00Holiday on the Buses (1973)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4y4wvWGuZX8oV0fV8T4J0VDgWhh1gnA5U3dT39J-GcdamjPX6qcW0kfERsftRvI4NPyEsXd5Od-EKTTmMSq2uelK_E1Jsu_zHYO0WV0GJ4RHwst178Lk2l_ZJ7GHQOo2Y5Rq4LRlZn2c/s1600/Holiday_On_The_Buses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4y4wvWGuZX8oV0fV8T4J0VDgWhh1gnA5U3dT39J-GcdamjPX6qcW0kfERsftRvI4NPyEsXd5Od-EKTTmMSq2uelK_E1Jsu_zHYO0WV0GJ4RHwst178Lk2l_ZJ7GHQOo2Y5Rq4LRlZn2c/s320/Holiday_On_The_Buses.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
1973 was a vintage year for film-goers: <b>The Exorcist</b>, <b>The Sting</b>, <b>Magnum Force</b>, <b>Enter the Dragon</b>, <b>Amacord</b>, <b>Badlands</b>, <b>Coffy</b>, <b>The Crazies</b>, <b>Don't Look Now</b>, <b>The Holy Mountain</b>, <b>The Wicker Man</b>, <b>The Stone Killer</b>, <b>Live and Let Die</b>, <b>The Asphyx</b>. <b>Hammer Films</b> managed to keep its end up with the mighty <b>Holiday on the Buses</b>. The original<b> On the Buses</b> series ran from 1969 until 1973, starring<b> Reg Varney</b> and <b>Bob Grant</b> as a couple of sexual predators, who use their jobs at a bus depot as a licence to pull the birds (who are invariably half their age and clad in the miniest of mini skirts).<br />
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The series contained all that British comedy held dear at the time: sexism, racism, homophobia, toilet humour, the crudest of <i>double entendre</i>, hackneyed stereotypes and rotten acting. Watched nowadays, the series is, admittedly, mediocre. The film adaptations, however, are far better stuff. <b>On the Buses</b> and<b> Mutiny on the Buses</b> are supremely watchable, but<b> Holiday</b> is the true masterpiece. The<b> Carry On</b> films were running out of steam and the<b> Confessions...</b> films were looming on the horizon, but possibly the best comedy of the 70s had arrived.<br />
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The beauty of films like this is the ability to sit agog at the parade of offensive jokes, women screaming at spiders and and men nearing retirement still living with their mothers. The cast of the series are transplanted to a holiday camp in Wales, but the jokes are the same. Over the next 85 minutes suitcases will fly into a river, toilets will explode, subtle seduction techniques are rebuffed, Arthur Mullard will dance and a bus will be abandoned on a beach.<br />
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The plot is, essentially, irrelevant. <b>Stan</b> and <b>Jack</b> (<b>Varney</b> and <b>Grant</b>) wave it at anything in a skirt, with varying degrees of success. Wannabe nymphomaniac <b>Olive</b> appears in cinema's most horrendous swimsuit, accompanied by the silver screen's biggest twat, husband <b>Arthur</b> (who gets most of the best lines).<b> Blakey</b> continues to hate <b>Butler </b>and so on. The decline of the British film industry was, by then, pretty inexorable, and films like these act as a time capsule for pre-Ben Elton comedy, and in their own way kept the industry going for a while. I remember walking past the Plaza Cinema (sadly now a snooker hall), which showed nothing but soft core 70s sex films. The posters normally had a badly done painting of a partially unrobed <b>Mary Millington</b> on them. For reasons that have never been made clear, they once showed the Disney cartoon<b> Pete's Dragon</b> in the late 70s.<br />
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I remember trooping into a dark auditorium, with ripped, stained seats and a then-unidentifiable smell in the air (I was only 6 at the time!). There were no curtains on the screen and not even the pre-feature adverts for local Indian restaurants. When the film had finished, a queue of shifty-looking patrons were outside, presumably waiting for the latest<b> David Sullivan</b> epic. Its a strange concept that these seedy wankers were keeping Hollywood at bay for a bit longer.<br />
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Its not a subtle film, as the photo above shows (talk about punching above your weight), but <b>Holiday </b>is a long way from the <b>Confessions </b>films or <b>Come Play With Me. </b>However, for a film that's usually screened in the afternoon on ITV 2, there is a goodly amount of flesh on show, with a parade of mini skirted girls, who are probably now as old as my mum, and a few bra and knickers shots (the bras are inevitable the twin-pyramid style as seen in the old Cross-Your-Heart adverts).<br />
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There are several classic scenes, including the aforementioned exploding toilet, a nookie-wrecking bout of sea-sickness, an old-time dancing lesson (complete with a <b>Jim Davidson</b>-style joke about 'fairies') and a leg-over session in a nurse's office. <b>Wilfred Brambell's </b>ageing Irish roue seems a little sinister now though. The mysterious animal magnetism of the two stars is still as incomprehensible as ever. As my wife says, "He [Jack] looks like a fucking horse". Perhaps his face isn't his only equine quality. If you can take the dodgier aspects of the film as being 'of their time', then you can't spend a Sunday afternoon in a better way.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-11979057123283152382011-12-07T15:03:00.000+00:002011-12-07T15:03:17.277+00:00Quick round-up of films I've watched this weekI've managed to squeeze in a bit of film watching this week, but haven't had the time to do any proper reviews, so here's a few capsules:<br />
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<b>Paul (2011) </b><br />
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<b> Pegg</b> and <b>Frost</b> fail yet again to replicate the impact of <b>Shaun of the Dead</b>. Having said that, the film starts with a very funny, <b>Galaxy Quest</b>-type pisstake of a Sci-Fi convention. I know its an easy target, but the sight of a dozen Princess Leia slave girls always gives good value. <b>Seth Rogen</b> is a touch irritating as the voice of Paul, but the CGI is brilliant, <b>Sigourney Weaver </b>is obviously enjoying chewing the scenery, and a fundamental Christian has her beliefs shattered by the big-eyed bastard. <b>Paul</b> is nothing earth-shattering, but its far, far better than I expected and worth a look when it comes to TV.<br />
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<b>Cowboys and Aliens (2011)</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RvkkCaprw_QVNqJ7NAgIv-57u8uMwAozvg4DlUjBEazUBeLRJZDw1b-Tu9yP18uG38Sg_gA5d_2kO0H-1Ajx1czQwNXBgg_DcJVKr_Ogfp5HTrZAkZHfKP81zz2f9HIc-cMChr-8S-o/s1600/Cowboys+and+Aliens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RvkkCaprw_QVNqJ7NAgIv-57u8uMwAozvg4DlUjBEazUBeLRJZDw1b-Tu9yP18uG38Sg_gA5d_2kO0H-1Ajx1czQwNXBgg_DcJVKr_Ogfp5HTrZAkZHfKP81zz2f9HIc-cMChr-8S-o/s320/Cowboys+and+Aliens.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Another one I wasn't expecting much from. Its a solid Western, with aliens instead of Injuns. <b>Daniel Craig </b>is particularly impressive as the amnesiac abductee, a slightly less taciturn <b>Harmonica</b>. The cinematography is good and the aliens themselves are vicious devils. There are a few plot holes, including the ease at which Craig escapes the spacecraft, but on the whole, its surprisingly enjoyable.<br />
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<b>Snake Strikes Back (1981)</b><br />
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A <b>Godfrey Ho</b> bit of Kung-foolery. In a triumph for fat bastards everywhere, the secret to martial arts prowess is a huge beer gut. The comedy is a little strained, and the cross-eyed imbecile is not exactly politically correct, but the choreography is passable and the dubbing will provide a few laughs. As in most of these films, the women are eye catching and the haircuts are of the pudding basin variety.<br />
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<b>The Exterminator (1980)</b><br />
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I remember watching this as a teenager, and for years, all I could remember was a guy getting his head sliced off and an industrial mincer. When it was released on DVD, I bought it again and was surprised by how good it actually is. <b>Robert Ginty</b> is a good, low key action hero and, while the direction is terrible, I love it. The car/motorcycle chase is an excellent example of sheer incompetence in film making, but any film which contains the line "That nigger was my best friend, motherfucker!" has got a lot going for it in my book. Paedophiles are murdered and hookers are suitably sleazy-looking. The climax is a touch of a let down though.<br />
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<b>Puce Moment (1949)</b><br />
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A film I watch at least once a month, and is the perfect short film. <b>Anger</b> is one of my favourite directors, and this is his greatest moment. The best 6 minutes you could possibly have. Great music, stunning visuals, sad and euphoric at the same time.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-79012612862998390892011-11-09T22:28:00.000+00:002011-11-09T22:28:50.639+00:00Apollo 18 (2011)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWFrXXgP-CG6nNWr8CWpE_lNrMM701_Se-cG8ah9V_ZFxmcu3ez3XQxKmqVORrSZJP8L3QZWof6kt_Si6QAilrEMRZ5cc4S0v-KCwEdGl1QegFA9fYf6BfEps81konoCTMwb4WgHvOPc/s1600/Apollo+18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWFrXXgP-CG6nNWr8CWpE_lNrMM701_Se-cG8ah9V_ZFxmcu3ez3XQxKmqVORrSZJP8L3QZWof6kt_Si6QAilrEMRZ5cc4S0v-KCwEdGl1QegFA9fYf6BfEps81konoCTMwb4WgHvOPc/s320/Apollo+18.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Conspiracy theories concerning the moon landing have been around for decades. The most popular being that the Apollo 11 moon landings were faked due to the technical shortcomings of the day. The official photographs, certainly, raise a few interesting points and the Van Allen Radiation Belts would sure give a kick to anyone travelling through them. There still is an intruiging 'tennis match' between both sides of the argument, with plausible data coming from both believers in the conspiracy and their detractors. Most such theories are based on an innate disatisfaction with the powers that be, a situation that has probably been around since we came out of the caves. The political landscape in America during the 50s, 60s and 70s, with the politically (as ever) motivated Red Menace; the assassinations of public figures, both home and abroad; Nixon and the Foreign-Policy-gone-hopelessly-awry Vietnam War gave a fertile atmosphere for the Conspiracy Theorist. Disbelief in the official verdicts in the three great assassinations of the 60s, JFK, RFK and MLK, is practically <i>de-rigueur</i>, and the current, rather dubious, reports on the deaths of Bin Laden and Gaddaffi carry on this theme. The veracity of such things is outside of our remit here, but it does make for a certain public mindset.<br />
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<b>Gonzalo Lopez-Gallego's Apollo 18</b> uses the claim by some that Apollo 11 astronauts spotted evidence of extraterrestrial activity on the lunar surface as its plot device. Rumours abounded on the internet that the 'found footage' style trailer was purportedly real, suppressed film of the supposedly-cancelled mission. This type of viral marketing was seen during the advertising of <b>The Blair Witch Project</b>, where a team entered the woods and never returned. Only their film was retrieved. This device is nothing new, and <b>Ruggero Deodato's</b> 1980 classic <b>Cannibal Holocaust </b>and <b>Stefan Avalos</b> and <b>Lance Weiler's The Last Broadcast </b>from 1998 use a similar theme.Whilst the<b> Blair</b> marketing fooled the credulous, given the massive success of the film, it is curious that people were fooled again by an identical technique. No doubt the hugely grossing <b>Paranormal Activity</b> franchise played a part in<b> Apollo 18'</b>s inception, it perhaps says something interesting about our thoughts on our govenors when a film openly features an Governmental conspiracy.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The film features totally convincing replications of the authentic (or was it) Apollo footage, complete with grainy, high contrast visuals of the Moon's surface from the lunar module. There are a few errors, most noticeably the lack of time lag between the radio transmissions from the lunar surface, to Houston and back. The total distance is approximately 500,000 miles, radio waves travel at about 186,000 miles per second, so there should be a lag of around 3 seconds at least. Only a small point, but noticeable. <b>Ron Howard's Apollo 13 </b>featured an excellent approximation of the claustrophobic confines of the spacecraft, and a similar feeling is present here. The discomfort and forced camaraderie which must have been present is very well portrayed, as is the ennui of the astronauts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is difficult to relate much of the plot without giving the game away, but it is probably safe to say that extraterrestrial life is encountered on the surface, and things do not go well for the crew. The physics look as they should, and the freezing temperatures and total darkness of the craters is addressed in a nicely-done sequence lit by the flash of a camera. There are far less jumps than, say,<b> Paranormal Activity</b>, but there are the same fleeting glances of <i>something</i> seen via a grainy, indistinct monitor. The alien activity is understated, without the CGI creatures you would expect, and an abandoned Soviet lunar module looks surprisingly like a Cylon from the <b>Battlestar Galactica</b> re-imagining. The fact that a NASA-trained astronaut could fly a Soviet lander is not particularly convincing, but the ending is ambiguous, in a <b>Blair Witch</b>-type way.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">All in all, Apollo18 is an enjoyable experience. Not earth-shattering and certainly inferior to the <b>Paranormal Activity</b> franchise. There are effective moments, and the acting and production values are excellent. The Government's betrayal of the crew, and subsequent cold-blooded reaction to their plight is totally convincing, and that's probably the scariest thing of all.</div>Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-1076681871215830742011-11-07T21:44:00.001+00:002011-11-08T14:45:46.948+00:00Melancholia (2011)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Pp6rWNqgOPEA1LN3ZJelqxhmLHT2N5d5W9tBoK_dtcO1HlhDGHsCuPEawElcdMo9xI3XsTkNnmU6qMfT0IzmP2rUzsddP7ON_qzH93HjiTQ5c5VGW5E1JdPVYuk7Q6iOD1_bCkLWrYA/s1600/Melancholia1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Pp6rWNqgOPEA1LN3ZJelqxhmLHT2N5d5W9tBoK_dtcO1HlhDGHsCuPEawElcdMo9xI3XsTkNnmU6qMfT0IzmP2rUzsddP7ON_qzH93HjiTQ5c5VGW5E1JdPVYuk7Q6iOD1_bCkLWrYA/s320/Melancholia1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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The end of the world has long been a staple feature in cinema. There have been the good: <b>Romero's</b> early <b>Dead</b> films, <b>Dr. Strangelove, </b>a whole raft of 50s films; the bad: <b>Armageddon</b>, <b>2012</b>, <b>The Day After Tomorrow</b>; and the ugly: <b>Deep Impact</b>. The Danish auteur<b> Lars von Trier, </b>who is definitely not a Nazi<b>, </b>would seem an unlikely choice to make an apocalyptical film, but his latest offering could be the best of the lot. After making intensely personal and intimate films, such as <b>Dogville</b>, <b>Breaking the Waves</b> and the controversial <b>The Idiots</b>, the conventions of the disaster movie should not lie easily with his usual style. <b>Melancholia</b>, however, while dealing with the usual exigency (this time a planet is on a collision course with Earth), <b>von Trier</b> uses it as an exploration into the workings of the mind of a depressed woman (<b>Kirsten Dunst</b>).<br />
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The eventual fate of Earth is revealed at the beginning of the film, and so the usual last-minute attempts to rescue the situation can be dispensed with, and the main focus can be on the characters. The opening, wordless sequence of disparate images is reminiscent in feel to the earlier <b>Antichrist</b>, with the use of slow-motion photography and seemingly meaningless imagery. Of particular note is a brilliantly posed reference to <b>Millais' Ophelia</b>. While lacking the wince-inducing scenes, <b>Melancholia</b> is an equally disturbing piece of film making. As always, <b>von Trier</b> is more interested in subtext and artifice, which is exemplified by the cracks in the veneer of <b>Dunst's</b> wedding to <b>Zoolander's Alexander Skarsgard</b>. Based on the director's own struggles with depression, the wedding slowly degenerates into rejection, anxiety and a brilliantly-worded resignation.<br />
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Not helped by her father (<b>John Hurt</b>) acting the twat, her mother (<b>Charlotte Rampling</b>) pouring distain on the whole event, or her sister (<b>Charlotte Gainsbourg</b>) manically rushing the couple through the timetable, <b>Dunst's</b> wedding is over almost as soon as it has begun. The camera is kept close to the actors and the lighting is fantastic, especially in the exterior scenes, with faces lit by orange lamps in contrast to the darkening sky. <b>Von Trier's </b>use of the female face has been, rightly, compared to his compatriot<b> Carl</b> <b>Dreyer</b>, with both <b>Dunst </b>and <b>Gainsbourg</b> given no place to hide. The male characters, including a monumentally pissed off <b>Kiefer Sutherland</b> and a very funny <b>Udo Kier</b> are secondary to the actions of the two sisters as the titular planet approaches.<br />
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<b>Von Trier</b> and his cinematographer,<b> Manuel Alberto Claro</b>, use the camera beautifully, even as <b>Dunst's</b> mental state reaches its nadir. In a particularly arresting shot, she is seen, naked, bathing in Melancholia's sickly blue light-a neat visual metaphor for the character's eventual acceptance and utilisation of her mental state. Several intruiging notions are hinted at. In <b>Antichrist</b>, <b>Willem Dafoe </b>used his psychoanalytical training in a disasterous attempt to help his wife. Here, <b>Sutherland</b>, an amateur astromoner, acts as the voice of reason with his assertion that the scientists have got it right, and all will be well. The failure of science against the forces of nature is complete, and as the fox said in <b>Antichrist</b>: "Chaos reigns", and it seems that <b>von Trier </b>agrees. Despite the nihilistic vision, both films end in an almost serene, Zen-like acceptance of reality. The Taoist concept of <i>wu wei</i> or non-action seems appropriate in both cases.<br />
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Given a cast like this, it is unsurprising that the acting is uniformly excellent. <b>Sutherland</b> is a slightly less homicidal <b>Jack Bauer</b>, <b>Gainsbourg</b> shows again the depths of hysteria and <b>Dunst</b> is truly mesmerising. Wasted for years as screaming meat in the <b>Spiderman</b> trilogy and a string of forgettable pap, she moves from happiness, through to mild depression, into an almost complete mental breakdown and out the other side to become, perhaps, the most sane person around. Her character is stripped of all glamour, and clothes occasionally, and the anguish behind her facade is brilliantly portrayed, especially in the first half of the film.<br />
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<b>Melancholia</b> can certainly be seen as a final parting of the waves for<b> von Trier</b> and the naive<b> Dogme 95</b> movement. As in all rigid belief structures, the rules were broken almost immediately (in the first<b> Dogme</b> film, <b>Festen</b>, in fact), and <b>Melancholia's</b> elaborate CGI effects and highly effective use of the music of <b>Wagner</b> would hardly adhere to the <b>Vows of Chastity</b>. Where, perhaps,<b> von Trier</b> follows the <i>spirit </i>of the movement is his fixation on character and storyline in the face of a catastrophe which is almost incidental.<br />
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Yes, the whole film does look as good as the image above, but all is not perfect.<b> Alexander Skarsgard's </b>beard is possibly the most feeble in the history of cinema.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-2164384539404718692011-10-31T14:20:00.000+00:002011-10-31T14:20:04.233+00:00Drive (2011)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNn295ZgDaRUy3_0esgDHAnh9LlQgDaCYxkG9gYFGleoPu1UOyQ_gTPT_iCbexaqverody9vHxMzGMeuwJdQOz9uCd8TysQI4g74jlIVAf_ZZ6HxE07A7lyzyjtAUsIgd0aIegbjWBHIk/s1600/a_drive-film-2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNn295ZgDaRUy3_0esgDHAnh9LlQgDaCYxkG9gYFGleoPu1UOyQ_gTPT_iCbexaqverody9vHxMzGMeuwJdQOz9uCd8TysQI4g74jlIVAf_ZZ6HxE07A7lyzyjtAUsIgd0aIegbjWBHIk/s320/a_drive-film-2011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The 80s has never seen a particularly cool decade. The 70s was a time of <b>Scorcese</b> coming up to speed, <b>Argento</b> was making good films, the <b>Star Wars</b> saga was born and the most frightening film ever, <b>Jaws</b>, was released. The 90s was a time of<b> Britpop</b>, <b>Tarantino</b> and me leaving university. Scratch beneath the surface of 'Greed is Good', terrible fashions and doing chemistry A-level, and there were a few high points during 1980-89: <b>the Smiths</b>,<b> Stone Roses</b>, <b>Pixies</b>,<b> The Goonies</b>,<b> Raging Bull</b> and<b> Ghostbusters</b>.<br />
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My interest was piqued when I heard good reviews of an 80s-inspired car film from <b>Nicolas Winding Refn</b>, the man behind the excellent <b>Valhalla Rising</b> and the unseen by me, but highly praised<b> Bronson</b>. Given the nature of the country, American cinema has been in love with the car almost since its inception, and many memorable films have resulted: <b>Bullit</b>, <b>Two Lane Blacktop</b>, <b>Vanishing Point</b>, even the execrable <b>2 Fast</b> franchise. So, a talented director, funky leading man (<b>Ryan Gosling</b>) and a great piece of eye-candy (<b>Carey Mulligan</b>) allied to a retro feel should give us a winning combination. Unfortunately, despite the hyperbole surrounding<b> Drive</b>, it is pretty standard stuff. Cinema is full of nameless, enigmatic characters: the <b>Narrator</b> in <b>Fight Club</b>, <b>Clint Eastwood</b> in the<b> Dollars</b> Trilogy, <b>Harmonica</b> in <b>Once Upon a Time in the West</b>, and so on.<b> Gosling</b> is a similar, rootless American Adam, with very little characterization or back story, whose character is referred to simply as 'the Kid'.<br />
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Although set in the present day, the influence of the 80s hangs heavily over things, including the <b>Pretty in Pink</b>-style credits and a particularly horrendous bomber jacket with a scorpion print on the back. The opening sequence is a brilliantly staged, almost dialogue-free bank job, introducing <b>Gosling</b> as a <b>Stuntman Mike</b>-style guy who moonlights as a getaway driver. <b>Gosling's</b> nascent professional race driving career is sponsored by dodgy Mafia-types, including the always-fun-to-watch<b> Ron Perlman</b> and <b>Albert Brooks</b>. <b>Mulligan</b> is effective as a fairly standard, helpless housewife married to a minor criminal, who's homecoming from prison goes spectacularly wrong. Shades of <b>Pale Rider</b> can't be avoided, as<b> Gosling </b>becomes embroiled in an increasingly vicious tussle with the mobsters, albeit without the stetson but with a great pair of leather driving gloves.<br />
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The plot is standard stuff, with the Driver, who isn't afraid to smack his bitch up, matching the villains for ferocity, particularly in a nicely nasty head-stomping in a lift. The whole thing is well acted, and the direction and cinematography are professionally done, but despite the rotten electro-pop soundtrack, there is no <b>Miami Vice</b>-type sheen, which would at least make things interesting. Instead, there is an almost 70s feel to things, with gritty visuals and washed out colours. Apparently, <b>Refn</b> was inspired by films such as <b>The Day of the Locust </b>and the works of visionary film maker <b>Alejandro Jodorowsky</b>, and the scorpion jacket was a reference to <b>Kenneth Anger's Scorpio Rising</b>, but<b> Drive</b> simply cannot compare to company like this. Essentially, its a workmanlike thriller, with some memorable moments (especially the knife fight near the end: the lighting and camera angle reduces the protagonists to <b>Giacometti</b> statues) and capable performances.<br />
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Scandinavian-style Existentialism notwithstanding, the film is a little dull, with no memorable dialogue and a predictable plot.<b> Refn's</b> prior <b>Valhalla Rising</b> had a similar main character (in fact, <b>Mads Mikklesen</b> had absolutely no lines at all), but the fantastical plot and spectacular visuals came together in a seriously underrated work. A taciturn, enigmatic character who can explode into violence when the situation calls for it. Unlike<b> Valhalla</b>, I came out of <b>Drive</b> disappointed. What looked like a knowingly retro take on a well-known genre was, to me, a TV movie with a few set dressings. The 80s-style soundtrack is pointless, and the whole thing feels like an extended cut-scene for the old PlayStation game,<b> Driver</b>.<b> Refn</b> is obviously a considerable stylist, and his cast are all proven performers, but<b> Drive</b> is less than the sum of its parts. The hype around the film, while undeserved, at least will raise the profile of the lovely Ms. <b>Mulligan</b>, so its not all bad.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4vtlvztCRz2iNT0w46dUhuTWUn2ohDexAsfvjhCv_ReIAJQvp2bAGZ2RyCtZ5-s5t-EIiIN6PahK498MVvW5Izdrp-zMOGeo2hApoQbb2bpXxtsbyH8wGHO9vYf-5Se9ZxqHS0BW1CRU/s1600/drive-2011-movie+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4vtlvztCRz2iNT0w46dUhuTWUn2ohDexAsfvjhCv_ReIAJQvp2bAGZ2RyCtZ5-s5t-EIiIN6PahK498MVvW5Izdrp-zMOGeo2hApoQbb2bpXxtsbyH8wGHO9vYf-5Se9ZxqHS0BW1CRU/s320/drive-2011-movie+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-56181373206309715812011-10-05T14:12:00.000+01:002011-10-05T14:12:41.731+01:00I Saw the Devil/Akmareul boattda (2010)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOiSEMgPx1129oGEOFYOxtS7_XNGG2D_hrIMFPkrSzcBRInoRke_CYEOczs0Ap4aej0tYJ6wfN4xta_lYHxc_QXYHWuelWoF6dZlR6vHnZYHgq0crOW4v5G3NgjbgET82zGYUgitTkUDM/s1600/i+saw+the+devil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOiSEMgPx1129oGEOFYOxtS7_XNGG2D_hrIMFPkrSzcBRInoRke_CYEOczs0Ap4aej0tYJ6wfN4xta_lYHxc_QXYHWuelWoF6dZlR6vHnZYHgq0crOW4v5G3NgjbgET82zGYUgitTkUDM/s320/i+saw+the+devil.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><br />
South Korean cinema, whilst not perhaps quite gaining the same overseas recognition as that of Japan, continues to produce a great deal of interesting films. <b>Bong Joon-ho's</b> <b>The Host </b>was a sizable success in the West, and <b>Park Chan-wook's Vengeance</b> trilogy contained the film buff favourite,<b> Oldboy, </b>which gave star <b>Choi Min-sik </b>an<b> </b>international reputation.<b> Kim Jee-woon's</b> latest offering,<b> I Saw the Devil</b>, is a partial return to form after the wildly overpraised <b>The Good, the Bad and the Weird</b>. Whereas his<b> Tale of Two Sisters</b> was a superbly creepy tale of child abuse and aberrant psychology, <b>The Good... </b>was an unfocused <i>Kimchi</i> Western, which meandered like a cheap<b> Leone</b> pastiche.<br />
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<b>Choi Min-sik </b>returns here as a brutal serial killer, <b>Kyung-chul</b>, in the vein of <b>Kevin Spacey</b> in<b> Seven</b>, with added brutality.<b> Kyung</b> ill-advisedly murders the pregnant fiancee of a secret agent,<b> Soo-hyun </b>(<b>A Bittersweet Life's Lee Byung-hun</b>), who, predictably, uses his expertise to hunt down and torment <b>Kyung</b> . Much has been made of the film's excessively violent set pieces and neutral moral stance, but the bloodletting is far more restrained and realistic than it could have been, and the good-guy-becomes-a-monster-in-order-to-kill-a-monster is hardly new or innovative.<br />
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The hyperbole surrounding<b> Kim's</b> latest appears to be solely due to the presence of <b>Choi Min-sik</b>, who undoubtedly is an icon, but the film itself, while competent, is wholly unremarkable. <b>Kim</b>, for certain, is a talented director. In the first half of the film, he positions his camera almost square-on to the actors, who deliver their dialogue directly to the viewer, and most of the violence occurs just off-camera. In the latter stages, he doesn't pull away from the bloodshed, which looks authentic and painful. <b>Choi's</b> performance stays just on the right side of plausible, but occasionally drifts into caricature, while <b>Lee </b>makes an underwritten part interesting.<br />
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The clockwork behind the scene can be heard at several points. In order for the plot to develop, <b>Kyung</b> has to suffer several horrific injuries, including a broken arm, severed Achilles tendon and a beating to the head which would kill a gorilla. Unfortunately,<b> Kyung</b> has to recover supernaturally quickly from what would hospitalize someone for weeks, if not finish them off altogether. This may work in <b>Wolverine</b>, but in a serious film, it just appears ludicrous. Further suspension of disbelief is required as<b> Soo-hyun</b> allows several women to be degraded and two men killed in order for his hunt to continue. A superbly staged double murder in a taxi is undermined by a seriously implausible discovery in the boot, and <b>Kyung</b> manages to fire three shots from a double-barreled shotgun, without reloading, with a broken arm.<br />
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There is an intriguing aspect in the violence:<b> Kyung's</b> murders are quick and shown sparingly, whereas the torture inflicted by<b> Soo-hyun </b>is prolonged, sadistic and shown head-on. Characters such as <b>Oh Dae-su</b> in <b>Oldboy</b> and<b> Lee Geum-ja</b> from <b>Lady Vengeance</b> are multi-faceted, complex personalities. Here, the players are little more than ciphers, and generate precious little empathy or interest. Technically, there is little wrong with <b>Devil</b>, but the plot is hackneyed and predictable, the film is about twenty minutes too long and the ending will surprise no-one. More could have been made of the battle of wits between the two, but, apart from the last ten or fifteen minutes, its all one-way traffic. Professionally done, well acted on the whole, but too generic to raise much interest. There's not enough blood for gore fans, and not enough innovation for genre fans. Don't believe the hype.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgAY3B8jnRX6NR5YCzCLdwESb9S5fDVOfB_uGrdGnzsJLVsMFXcbHwBa4Kdi0nnEI2p1mTXTdAsOmPoU5ZTOIn30VEWHGyxhUjJ05UKgQH9gy_VuauJTNmlUKGg85OtQz5T91qATsuMk8/s1600/i_saw_the_devil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgAY3B8jnRX6NR5YCzCLdwESb9S5fDVOfB_uGrdGnzsJLVsMFXcbHwBa4Kdi0nnEI2p1mTXTdAsOmPoU5ZTOIn30VEWHGyxhUjJ05UKgQH9gy_VuauJTNmlUKGg85OtQz5T91qATsuMk8/s320/i_saw_the_devil.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-20931318144541726752011-09-27T15:20:00.000+01:002011-09-27T15:20:06.883+01:00Mad Detective/Sun Taam (2007)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjYpv7Ckr3PHzgI9W3sIgjRFblKKGBiNqfN2F9zbTi9ZttO-zozEIio_xbwny8uePiVD0rzaxycSfVQU40CnIfLI0fQym2l8EKgvXkCt9SmOhCmMXdtj_-zR8bMj4PTMk52NCL2_8dpY/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjYpv7Ckr3PHzgI9W3sIgjRFblKKGBiNqfN2F9zbTi9ZttO-zozEIio_xbwny8uePiVD0rzaxycSfVQU40CnIfLI0fQym2l8EKgvXkCt9SmOhCmMXdtj_-zR8bMj4PTMk52NCL2_8dpY/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
Detectives in fiction usually have major foibles, from <b>Sherlock Holmes'</b> drug addiction to <b>Adrian Monk's</b> OCD (and he must have been <i>seriously</i> deranged not to have a pop at the curly-haired temptress who tailed him). Directing duo <b>Johnnie To</b> and <b>Wai Ka-Fai </b>add another to the list with <b>Chan Kwai-Bun</b>, an ear-slicing, literally 'mad' former detective. The directors had previously come to my attention with the brilliant, Buddhist <b>Running on Karma</b> (although my favourite alternative title is <b>An Intelligent Muscle Man</b>) starring <b>Andy Lau</b>, and <b> Election</b>. Impressive as these films are, <b>Mad Detective</b> is a step up both stylistically and thematically.<br />
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Whereas the Intelligent Muscle Man could see other people's past and future reincarnations, Bun (the ever-excellent <b>Lau Ching-Wan</b>) can see the different facets (represented by one or more people) which make up an individual's personality. While the psychology may be dubious, the visual effect is impressive, particularly in a scene where a suspect is shown as being split into seven distinct people (one of whom is <b>Rikki-O's</b> wonderfully named <b>Lam Suet</b>). The effect is a little disconcerting at first, but soon becomes a great game of 'guess the facet'. Any fan of Asian cinema will know that these are two gifted directors, but some of the static shots here are the epitome of balance. Where <b>Takashi Miike's </b>tableaus are, probably deliberately, usually asymmetrical and off-kilter, here they take on a Zen-like harmony of composition and stillness.<br />
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The plot, featuring missing policemen, gun serial numbers and possibly-murderous Indians, is a touch convoluted, but the sheer imagination of the film makers makes up for any shortcomings. The look of the film is, superficially, similar to <b>David Fincher's Seven</b> (no numbers instead of letters here!), with dark, rainswept streets and noir-ish characters. However, instead of being saddled with <b>Morgan Freeman</b> playing a slightly miserable <b>Morgan Freeman</b>, we have <b>Lau Ching-Wan</b> giving a superbly nuanced performance. Cinema hasn't, perhaps, been kind to mental illness over the years: treating it as a 'Movie of the Week' style issue, or as a reason for murder frenzies. In the annals of horror, trauma usually leads to a <b>Michael Myers</b> or <b>Hannibal Lektor, </b>but <b>To</b> and <b>Wai</b> give us a sad, dysfunctional man, living with his imaginary wife who has almost supernatural 'gifts', not a million miles away from <b>Millennium's Frank Black</b>. <br />
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Bun is bought out of retirement by Inspector Ho Ka-On (<b>New Police Story's Andy On</b>) to investigate the disappearance of a policeman during a chase in a forest with an Indian suspect. The policeman's gun went missing, and has subsequentally been used in a series of armed robberies. With a bizarre methodology, including being buried alive, Bun helps to solve the case. The climactic scene is hardly original (there has to be a Mexican Standoff in a crime film somewhere), is fantastically done. The setting has as many mirrors as <b>Han's</b> hideout in <b>Enter the Dragon</b>, but this gives the directors ample opportunity to use them as literal reflections of the protagonists inner personalities. The images look brilliant, but it must have been a nightmare for the cinematographer to position the camera out of sight.<br />
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Basically, <b>Mad Detective</b> could be described as <b>The Three Faces of Eve</b> crossed with <b>Hong Kong Bronx</b>, but the quality of the cast and direction give us a film that really is more than the sum of its parts. Tortured detectives have been with us since cimema began, but the genre just keeps on going. From the early <b>Sherlosck Holmes</b> adaptations, through the <b>Maltese Falcon</b>, many a Western (epecially the spaghettis), <b>Dirty Harry Callaghan</b>, the list goes on. Chan Kwai-Bun is, surprisingly, as original a character as you will get nowadays: mad, complex, delusionable, sad and brilliant. His sacrifice at the climax of the film is inevitable, but still moving, with a pleasingly practical touch in the rearranging of the crime scene.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_kAmBH67-L5T59s9m5YdGUDSwxkcgxS6VtpnFMEQe80hgH9jp0qLkn5n_F0OfIb2NPenUS9ZKWC_EuBU6OuhfgXspSHljDdlT19QBuPVyN3GI4MPoBjEBqdVPiYkfN279SRVPbLo5hxw/s1600/maddetective21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_kAmBH67-L5T59s9m5YdGUDSwxkcgxS6VtpnFMEQe80hgH9jp0qLkn5n_F0OfIb2NPenUS9ZKWC_EuBU6OuhfgXspSHljDdlT19QBuPVyN3GI4MPoBjEBqdVPiYkfN279SRVPbLo5hxw/s320/maddetective21.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Perhaps not the best starting place for newcomers to the world of asian crime thrillers, <b>Mad Detective</b> is certainly a brilliant piece of film makers craft.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-58893495490486988132011-09-23T14:57:00.000+01:002011-09-23T14:57:28.701+01:00A Whole Lotta Blu-raysThese new smartphones make it distressingly easy to buy films, and the Amazon and eBay apps have been taking a hammering lately. Having a wife, daughter and a job, there aint too much quality film-watching time, but I can't resist buying more. There are the usual pushed-to-the-back-when-I-bought-three-new-films titles that I've had for months, and the pile that were delivered on Wednesday.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3rE-1gHR5w0Jqq5wOqJ80G0Qd8imw-x4UX_zSTfaq3QGAltw6tZPuvrCL9y_Qlo0OTsBUHFOfIsrgqXmtbzCfR6JJ9ROG7SLMJRz9eemjNL764SKaVz7F-7Hsxy_WIxMEvFA2hVYZIk/s1600/swbrtrilogy2-930x1124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3rE-1gHR5w0Jqq5wOqJ80G0Qd8imw-x4UX_zSTfaq3QGAltw6tZPuvrCL9y_Qlo0OTsBUHFOfIsrgqXmtbzCfR6JJ9ROG7SLMJRz9eemjNL764SKaVz7F-7Hsxy_WIxMEvFA2hVYZIk/s320/swbrtrilogy2-930x1124.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Star Wars Episodes IV, V and VI</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I know purists are annoyed that <b>Lucas </b>has fiddled around again, but I don't care. These are three of the best films ever made, and I'm genuinely excited, and can't wait to watch them.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyo1_aeftv_ktJe4zvdHACkm0h5T94wx2G_kDf_cTDBc4aG6MCTaqOWro2pYrseFoIEZd5TRa6GMXhQE0BV9g_Z4pSMlhdxKQrz3ZQqCVpEOnA8mYeukjlgE2-yYw8x8VpYITmLrBtwM/s1600/51hYkJynIwL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyo1_aeftv_ktJe4zvdHACkm0h5T94wx2G_kDf_cTDBc4aG6MCTaqOWro2pYrseFoIEZd5TRa6GMXhQE0BV9g_Z4pSMlhdxKQrz3ZQqCVpEOnA8mYeukjlgE2-yYw8x8VpYITmLrBtwM/s1600/51hYkJynIwL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Eden Lake</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">I've deliberately not read up much on this, but now a few people have recommended it. I don't know the first thing about the plot, so I'm intruiged. Only cost 6 quid from Amazon too.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOHXCgT8xdIBzmkdPQLbcOlQMpX7lPFqQuHTnnebJzotUvUwNzREE4H7I75KIZ-rVvfw6XJXTuN70gzUiAgBsOUyPNlL-iYf85c8PnOaPhwU5Tu3RP3hg9TubiBGSI35CpTLD82-VavE/s1600/the-children-dvd-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOHXCgT8xdIBzmkdPQLbcOlQMpX7lPFqQuHTnnebJzotUvUwNzREE4H7I75KIZ-rVvfw6XJXTuN70gzUiAgBsOUyPNlL-iYf85c8PnOaPhwU5Tu3RP3hg9TubiBGSI35CpTLD82-VavE/s320/the-children-dvd-poster.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Children</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Another one I know nothing about, but <i>all</i> kids are scary, right? I picked it purely because it was cheap, and the cover art looked good, and I've come a cropper many times doing that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheLzJSBSZsGQuJvOG0rOa3D7ZPcti5WK4k5Nq6-LmUTMhKJeqOdSf9FCRyBfopqLuSZFPa13PGg2NRNOpHytQxRnmd57PI6UlKdb39ecMyqbBJ39cQcMraee9uWSSCN_ccWyx9li2pKM/s1600/i-saw-the-devil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheLzJSBSZsGQuJvOG0rOa3D7ZPcti5WK4k5Nq6-LmUTMhKJeqOdSf9FCRyBfopqLuSZFPa13PGg2NRNOpHytQxRnmd57PI6UlKdb39ecMyqbBJ39cQcMraee9uWSSCN_ccWyx9li2pKM/s320/i-saw-the-devil.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>I Saw the Devil</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I've read reports that <b>Jee-woon Kim </b>has gone a bit far with this one, but as <b>A Tale of Two Sisters</b> was so good, its got to be worth a look. Being subtitled, it'll be a good one to watch with the sound turned down while they're both in bed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6rVcUZz94YFu0xv3P1pUeuQfBpBZm-_JoIe4lOXP-F_z8RcvHyXwHUz7WRe7yLzqfIyuxaG5OA2l27WwATXhq3-0rrIYjbr85hDTp51KIuWPwh346dsKEJC0WwZ0I8hXeNkSdcVgVtg/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6rVcUZz94YFu0xv3P1pUeuQfBpBZm-_JoIe4lOXP-F_z8RcvHyXwHUz7WRe7yLzqfIyuxaG5OA2l27WwATXhq3-0rrIYjbr85hDTp51KIuWPwh346dsKEJC0WwZ0I8hXeNkSdcVgVtg/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Gran Torino</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I've had this for months, and still haven't watched it yet. For some reason, I don't think I'll enjoy it, so it gets pushed further and further down the pile. Sorry <b>Clint</b>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavyGpRFkMlRRL04e0yDckq1LO8ij14Z7fhESNxFWWS7h1VnUc5XWVSPihvfPh6LNiv40taITzlIJgbSHGv7tb-6O3kg9q_kcNpZpS5OemE3RQFhCkaF_vOx3QlRcrTLottgzPmS8oJjY/s1600/1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavyGpRFkMlRRL04e0yDckq1LO8ij14Z7fhESNxFWWS7h1VnUc5XWVSPihvfPh6LNiv40taITzlIJgbSHGv7tb-6O3kg9q_kcNpZpS5OemE3RQFhCkaF_vOx3QlRcrTLottgzPmS8oJjY/s1600/1.jpeg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Zatoichi</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I bought this at the same time as <b>Gran Torino</b>, but, despite being a huge <b>Beat</b> fan, and having owned it on DVD, its never found its way onto the Sony. I really don't understand it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm really not expecting great things of this, but its got the bloke from <b>Band of Brothers</b>, and one of <b>The Black Eyed Peas</b>, so it can't be that bad, can it? I always used <b>Chun-Li</b> or <b>Blanka</b> when playing SF2, and that (as well as getting it for 2 quid) is the main reason for getting it. I managed to avoid the <b>van Damme</b> original <b>Street Fighter</b> film though.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31_GIGTHNWxJ1jaSATw2aoVnssPEuKPwBi8soK3NXhFQriW7G5Aw6tIxFos_JWibjlgMkOAXzkSWRigFpoh3z9V67z5wKILdbKcJll4XviReEd1OW8IFrMhJDl31lZpek9dHBleNXGpM/s1600/panslabyrinth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31_GIGTHNWxJ1jaSATw2aoVnssPEuKPwBi8soK3NXhFQriW7G5Aw6tIxFos_JWibjlgMkOAXzkSWRigFpoh3z9V67z5wKILdbKcJll4XviReEd1OW8IFrMhJDl31lZpek9dHBleNXGpM/s320/panslabyrinth.jpg" width="217" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Pan's Labyrinth</b></div></div><br />
Excellent, excellent film, which I've also got on DVD. Sad, moving and featuring a great creature with eyeballs in his palms. <b>Del Toro's</b> best by a long way, I think.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLl8sn7HmmeIYMCvqUKba0zOia2wuedK8iiv5zAg6s9428YDn5gmJhMPzA9G_OS0ManwXi1XjOwHCZ0DAQe5m3kCOTW_xwnusz-EIHNZR6UKLSxYjg0W1FOmd7TJgUOtgJdxR9FbYkucA/s1600/Raging-Bull-Blu-Ray-cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLl8sn7HmmeIYMCvqUKba0zOia2wuedK8iiv5zAg6s9428YDn5gmJhMPzA9G_OS0ManwXi1XjOwHCZ0DAQe5m3kCOTW_xwnusz-EIHNZR6UKLSxYjg0W1FOmd7TJgUOtgJdxR9FbYkucA/s320/Raging-Bull-Blu-Ray-cover.png" width="267" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<b>Raging Bull</b><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">For some reason, I've never owned a copy of this on any format. That's been remedied now.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">So, thats 11 films I've got to watch (not including the half-dozen on sky+) before I buy any more. Yeah, right...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div></div>Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-85059193730993351232011-09-16T22:03:00.000+01:002011-09-16T22:03:17.553+01:0013 Assassins/Jūsannin no Shikaku (2010)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicH9nbNAq6dLi8fKogQfyoGd3_hiYgT1RIBoyxiop95YebjdrZfb1YgMoWVu-URVmVt7uvIaIFA4mkWtrgOM7WMAF7ZQQinTxie-rFLcP0ecrJpUvPVt7h9ILNxC5B0TvWGWVBbCgoGG0/s1600/13-assassins-poster_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicH9nbNAq6dLi8fKogQfyoGd3_hiYgT1RIBoyxiop95YebjdrZfb1YgMoWVu-URVmVt7uvIaIFA4mkWtrgOM7WMAF7ZQQinTxie-rFLcP0ecrJpUvPVt7h9ILNxC5B0TvWGWVBbCgoGG0/s320/13-assassins-poster_2.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><br />
<b>Takashi Miike</b> is one of the most satisfyingly perverse directors around. <b>Audition</b>, <b>Ichi the Killer</b>, <b>Visitor Q</b>, <b>Gozu</b>: all deliberately pushing at the boundaries of the acceptable, without resorting to cheap sleaze. One of his more extreme scenes, necrophillia with an incontinent corpse in <b>Visitor Q</b>, is not done in an exploitative way, but as an ingredient in a subverse, witty contemplation, and a deliberate provocation. Beneath his acupunture needle-wielding, face-slice-offing protagonists, <b>Miike </b>has the cinematic skill to pull off controversial films which would, in lesser hands, be consigned to the bargain bin. The <i style="font-weight: bold;">Yakuza </i>genre of films from Japan is full of the standard stuff, but<b> Miike's Dead or Alive</b> is a hyperactive, kinetic visual treat, which transcends the generic script and crude characterization. Likewise, <b>The Happiness of the Katakuris </b>is a bizarre musical based on a luckless family running a bed and breakfast. Despite an unpromising premise,<b> Miike</b> gives us an interesting take on the Japanese trait of the fear and shame of failure and a surprisingly touching portrait of family life. It is a rare director indeed that can have a film which features a sumo wrestler crushing his girlfriend when he dies during intercourse, followed by a beautiful shot showing the passing of the family's grandfather.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijH2bOUImTgh9CqLcq3w1FsLe3v0NRaMkk694P9d-MGFiTruWJ4d-s2PKMLwfCVXA9hF8IpT14ObSWt4K341-UYTUjcqO2Wvv6lKaY2CIdPoLh1sWMp2IrM-cUGxNFSd24U1uRA2Mf7O4/s1600/gnj0907200504007-p1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijH2bOUImTgh9CqLcq3w1FsLe3v0NRaMkk694P9d-MGFiTruWJ4d-s2PKMLwfCVXA9hF8IpT14ObSWt4K341-UYTUjcqO2Wvv6lKaY2CIdPoLh1sWMp2IrM-cUGxNFSd24U1uRA2Mf7O4/s320/gnj0907200504007-p1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
With an oeuvre as compelling as<b> Miike's</b>, I was intrigued to discover that he was attempting a remake of a 1963 samurai film, <b>Jūsannin no Shikaku</b>. Most people are familiar with <i>Jidaigeki</i> films such as <b>The Seven Samurai</b> and<b> Ronin</b>, shot in a cool, rigorous style by directors such as <b>Akira Kurosawa</b>, so for an artist as singular as <b>Miike</b>, it seemed an interesting choice of project. The storyline follows the attempted assassination of a psychopathic brother of the <i>Shogun</i> by a band of samurai hired by governmental officials. The deranged lord,<b> Naritsugu</b>, is a thoroughly nasty piece of work, raping and murdering with abandon. The leader of the samurai band, <b>Shinzaemon</b>, gathers a group of 11 more fighters and plans an ambush of <b>Naritsugu</b> and his retinue.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvPPAZ-zUIViIpGz4Bgd0tC5W1e_uu25zCLsRekjiKHhHx461a34zkSw0LeV70EcqlJiqn_yoFl4CD3nlrzVh3VZos5y_BYOiZum7b78Qs7rwfcIlIvVPgBClG1Afn-LHeWK2MIFJi2nk/s1600/13-assassins1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvPPAZ-zUIViIpGz4Bgd0tC5W1e_uu25zCLsRekjiKHhHx461a34zkSw0LeV70EcqlJiqn_yoFl4CD3nlrzVh3VZos5y_BYOiZum7b78Qs7rwfcIlIvVPgBClG1Afn-LHeWK2MIFJi2nk/s320/13-assassins1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Proceedings begin promisingly, with an authentic-looking<i> seppuku</i>, and<b> Mikke's </b>prowling camera is kept at an<b> Ozu</b>-style low level. The main characters are introduced efficiently, and 1840s Japan looks suitably <b>Shogun</b>-like. Fairly soon, one of the main shortcomings becomes apparent: the samurai are, probably by definition, too similar to make any individual impression. While this was arguably the case in <b>The Seven Samurai</b>, at least there were only seven. Of the original 12, only a few stand out, with the rest disappearing into the background.<b> Naritsugu</b>, as played by <b>Goro Inagaki</b>, is a sinister, effete presence, contrasting nicely with the rough-hewn soldiers surrounding him. In a flash of typical <b>Miike</b>, he is surrounded by the twitching, arrow-riddled bodies of the family of the official who committed suicide.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcGkM8a_IKuyAnSGEEV3na0eDlzhEZJr-fN1G4nJfJo7w2pGP5chMkBpXbwCmJnrKSA0DgwnJXl2pv-6-ucDCf3pmprtpai-prWa_0rf3Chs0Yz98U6P4K92cG5oZtKvLcuFhH5ZBLUk/s1600/13_assassins_still.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcGkM8a_IKuyAnSGEEV3na0eDlzhEZJr-fN1G4nJfJo7w2pGP5chMkBpXbwCmJnrKSA0DgwnJXl2pv-6-ucDCf3pmprtpai-prWa_0rf3Chs0Yz98U6P4K92cG5oZtKvLcuFhH5ZBLUk/s320/13_assassins_still.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Never a director to rush things,<b> Miike</b> allows the plot time to develop, but there isn't really enough material to stretch out. There are hints that the time of the samurai is passing, with frequent questioning of the<i> bushido </i>code, and a few competently-staged swordfights, but none of the iconoclasm you would expect from the great man. The whole thing seems too 'straight' and conventional to mark it out as anything special. Even in <b>Miike's</b> lesser films, the viewer knows they are in the presence of a master, but here,<b> </b>he all but disappears behind the subject matter. There are hints at his genius- the scene mentioned earlier, and a brilliant POV sequence towards the end of a dying samurai watching his master kill and be killed.<br />
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On the way to the inevitable showdown, the band are joined by a hunter, <b>Kiga</b>, who is the film's most interesting character. Ostensibly used as a critique of the samurai caste,<b> Kiga's</b> character is possibly a mountain or forest spirit, and certainly survives severe injuries with little ill-effect. The much-vaunted final third of the film is an epic close quarters battle between the 13 assassins and 200 soldiers, set in a small village. The usual limitations of the genre are evident here: enemy soldiers are instantly killed or incapacitated by single slashes, and helpfully hold back, instead of rushing the heavily outnumbered heroes. The fight never comes across as a desperate struggle, has little flow and, surprisingly, less gore than you would imagine. The climax is predictable, but nicely done, with much crawling in the mud and refreshingly short dying words.<br />
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<b>13 Assassins</b> is a professional job and, from a different director, it would perhaps be enjoyable. However, coming as it does from the man who brought us some of the most provocative films of the last 20 years, it comes as a major disappointment. Another 2010 <b>Miike</b> film is<b> Ninja Kids!</b>, a family film, which doesn't bode well for the future. Hopefully, <b>13 Assassins</b> is not<b> Miike</b>'s bid for mainstream acceptance, but a <b>Salaryman Kintaro</b>-style glitch. Cinema needs agent provocateurs like<b> Miike</b> and<b> Lars von Trier</b> to spice things up between the latest 3-D shitfest and <b>Michael Bay</b>'s latest atrocity.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-55988901943776551192011-09-07T12:16:00.001+01:002011-09-08T14:00:05.882+01:00RoboGeisha (2009)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutZR3pFvhlxuncRLs00KzV0rJJ0JulrsepnOpHl44ah0ZCehHfNgSoFYxBuL7b5TZ2cqfIQNgJ8mxOJOXLSn0ZlLlBM94iptd2Is-MiLu-y95ql5cNg7CiwoN9jw5vJleWW1Piar9Wx0/s1600/2bffddf1d760f86c11bc5556fc209e49+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutZR3pFvhlxuncRLs00KzV0rJJ0JulrsepnOpHl44ah0ZCehHfNgSoFYxBuL7b5TZ2cqfIQNgJ8mxOJOXLSn0ZlLlBM94iptd2Is-MiLu-y95ql5cNg7CiwoN9jw5vJleWW1Piar9Wx0/s320/2bffddf1d760f86c11bc5556fc209e49+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
From the fecund imagination of enema-fetish director<b> Noboru Iguchi</b> comes this offering, a combination of <b>Iguchi's</b> own <b>Machine Girl</b>,<b> RoboCop</b>, <b>Tetsuo</b> and<b> Power Rangers</b>. As with most of <b>Iguchi's</b> films, the plot is secondary to attractive girls dressed in fetish gear, usually with cybernetic enhancements, dispatching people in increasingly bizarre ways. The storyline, such as it is, concerns the kidnapping of two geisha sisters by an evil corporation, and their conversion to robo-assassins. Whereas OCP merely had Alex Murphy and ED-209 on hand, Kageno Steel have a harem of killer geishas, kept in line by two underwear-clad <i>Tengu</i>.<br />
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Anyone who has seen<b> Machine Girl</b> or <b>Tokyo Gore Police</b> will know what to expect: histrionic acting, deliberately bad special effects and the sanity levels of a Bedlamite. One of my favourite ideas is ported across-the bereaved relatives turned attack squad from<b> Machine Girl</b> are replaced by a team of geriatrics and mummy's boys, whose relatives have been abducted by the Corporation. As with many films of this type, projectile weapons are strangely ineffective-machine gun breasts blaze away, clouds of<i> shuriken</i> are launched, all having little or no effect. Okay, any film with fried shrimp used as weapons isn't reaching for high levels of realism, but it is a curious thing.<br />
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The director's experience in fetish porn<i> </i>is especially evident in a fight scene<i> </i>which involves a (just) legal-looking girl, dressed in the obligatory school uniform, being stabbed in the backside by a <i>kitana</i>. The resulting loss of blood is, perhaps, a reference to <b>Iguchi's</b> <i>nakadashi </i>films. The story includes the crude psychology typical of the genre, with the two sister's enmity given an explanation that would make<b> Carl Rogers </b>vomit.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The list of weapons alone would make most film fans want to watch this: the afore mentioned<b> Fried Shrimp</b>, <b>Geisha Chainsaw</b>, <b>Handicap Gun</b>, <b>Tengu Milk</b>, <b>Geisha Transform</b> (yep, <b>Transformers</b> gets a look-in too),<b> Butt Sword</b>. All present and correct. Unfortunately, the film-makers have tried a little too hard. Whereas <b>Machine Girl</b>, while undeniably trashy, stayed<i> just</i> the right side of crazy. This time, the heroine transforming into a car and the Corporation's HQ turning into a giant robot with a super-bomb around its neck grates a little. The finale on the peak of Mount Fuji is hilarious, but the effect is diluted by the overload of insanity that preceded it. If<b> Iguchi</b> had toned things down a little, then the effect of two <i>Tengu</i> with swords protruding from their arseholes would have much more impact. Instead, the scene is just another camped up sword fight.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVJXKzfQ5bIZd1k7jiHzVCoDdQyTziHvQwQJiqXX6vXeV3J2l4Rmo7Vg9M5afECPr2C_T_s8Zc-HEU5_6lTdEsX4wUNthvdyk0ZnztUxXdy_fCVbuwr95UXNbFLnuA1uCsRgKm4NHSvM/s1600/robo-geisha-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVJXKzfQ5bIZd1k7jiHzVCoDdQyTziHvQwQJiqXX6vXeV3J2l4Rmo7Vg9M5afECPr2C_T_s8Zc-HEU5_6lTdEsX4wUNthvdyk0ZnztUxXdy_fCVbuwr95UXNbFLnuA1uCsRgKm4NHSvM/s320/robo-geisha-01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I'm pretty positive that <b>Iguchi's </b>motives were not those of <b>Paul Verhoeven</b>, but given the right treatment, <b>RoboGeisha</b> could have been an Eastern b-version of <b>RoboCop</b>, with added perversions. The <b>Geiger</b>-esque fetishism and the serious social comment of the<b> Tetsuo</b> films use a similar theme, but with a far greater impact. Having said all that, there is still much to recommend <b>RoboGeisha</b>. The visuals are striking, the CGI blood splatter is still as unconvincing, the sheer energy is infectious and the <i>tengu</i> are a heck of a lot better looking than those in<i> Kobu-tori Jiisan</i>. The best film of this type, I think, is still<b> Tokyo Gore Police </b>(if only for an image as striking as the quadruple amputee with limbs consisting of swords, and later assault rifles). <b>Nishimura's</b> epic was considerably more sophisticated, despite the eyeball-bullets and severed-hand miniguns.<br />
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The usual cliches apply: if you enjoy films like <b>Yo Yo Girl Cop</b> or Japanese<b> Pink Films</b> (and I certainly do) then <b>RoboGeisha</b> is OTT, but fun.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-10280665868560584452011-09-02T14:20:00.000+01:002011-09-02T14:20:41.591+01:00Last House on the Left vs Last House on the Left<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhnnUxl-h-ICg0tX00GE33gJqfu90WYWJ0x7dUjPiRE39MvfgIv4IHUyImYaM8jZN3CXbLAhwWUBFToz9a0jeVsvjmc0BBaGhiLn7H1ezxTD8Ql6zoRdMIFZcLgiGAH8JdSMpz0sgTD4/s1600/the-last-house-on-the-left-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhnnUxl-h-ICg0tX00GE33gJqfu90WYWJ0x7dUjPiRE39MvfgIv4IHUyImYaM8jZN3CXbLAhwWUBFToz9a0jeVsvjmc0BBaGhiLn7H1ezxTD8Ql6zoRdMIFZcLgiGAH8JdSMpz0sgTD4/s320/the-last-house-on-the-left-poster.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Can a remake of a remake of a literary adaptation be any good? Its common knowledge that <b>Wes Craven's </b>1972 film was a remake of <b>Bergman's The Virgin Spring</b>, which itself was based on a Swedish ballad, <b>Tores dottrar i Wange</b>. The overriding theme is the rape and murder of two young girls, followed by the bloody revenge taken by the parents of one of the girls.<b> Craven's</b> 1972 original was seen by many as a condemnation of the breakdown of the Western nuclear family: the corrupt 'family' of Krug and company was mirrored by the less than perfect familial relationships of the nominal heroine. The killing of the gang of criminals by the 'straight' family indicated that beneath even the most outwardly respectable surface, we are all the same, given the appropriate circumstances.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The original film was slated upon its release, due to the then extreme violence, and even now retains its notoriety. Before watching the remake, I thought I'd better watch the original version. I must say that I was disappointed-I've not watched it for a few years, and was struck by the cartoon nature of Krug and </span>friends<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. Their list of criminal offences is laughable, and, <b>David Hess</b> aside, the playing is more pantomime than serious villain. The investigating police are, seemingly, played for laughs, and seriously affect any grim tone when they appear on screen. On the plus side, the rape, degradation and murder scenes in the wood are </span>appropriately grim and dirty (if marred slightly by an unnecessary disembowelment), with the protagonists seeming ill at ease and lost after the killings.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The brutal revenge of the parents (</span><b style="font-family: inherit;">Gaylord St. James</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">!) never sat right with me: given a houseful of potential killing implements, what self-respecting mother would bite off the penis of one of your daughter's killers? The ending, however, strikes just the right tone. As in</span><b style="font-family: inherit;"> Craven's</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> similar</span><b style="font-family: inherit;"> The Hills Have Eyes</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, the </span>realization<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> of the final act is hammered home (despite the slightly unrealistic 'death by chainsaw'). Gaylord is as bad as Krug. The 2009 remake, however, changes things slightly. Director<b> Dennis Iliadis</b> and writers <b>Adam Alleca </b>and <b>Carl Ellsworth</b> expand on the skimpy character development of the original, and provide the Collingwoods with a little more back story.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> The gang themselves are slightly more realistic, but all too often resort to eye-rolling. Krug himself is slightly less of a complete psychopath, and his relationship with his son is not <i>quite</i> as bad. The story has been updated slightly-no pre-rock concert hash-hunt, but follows the same general plot. The rape etc scene in the woods seems to be over much quicker than before, and surprisingly, there is far less<b> Hostel</b>-style torture than I was expecting. The actual rape itself is considerably more realistic-looking. Of particular note is a nicely low-key double stabbing scene, albeit into a rather unrealistic rubber torso. AND there is no cringe-inducing 'ribbit' scene. Crucially, there is far less contact between the two girls during their ordeal, which made it a little more unsettling for me.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">After these scenes, the major differences begin to show. What follows are a few spoilers, so turn away now if you don't want to know. In the original, Mari is shot and killed, but in the remake, she survives and makes it back to her house. The violence in the new version is a touch more realistic, with prolonged beatings rather than the more abrupt scenes in the original (possibly due to more liberal views nowadays).<b> Roger Ebert</b> must be pleased that his 'Talking Killer' is still alive and well, and I'm certainly pleased that I've not got a garbage disposal system in my sink.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The major philosophical change is the ending. The original was downbeat and nihilistic, with a shattered family and an uncertain future. Now, the Collingwoods are still together, if a little battered and bruised. </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">Craven's</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> original, while flawed, was seriously thought-provoking, with some claim of being a serious work. By fatally ruining the ending, and thus the point, </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">Iliadis</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> has made a competent, if unremarkable, film. Special mention must be made, though, to the<b> Gremlins</b>-style 'death-by-microwave.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> The 1972 version can't stand up the the other controversial classics, like</span><b style="font-family: inherit;"> The Texas Chainsaw Massacre</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> and </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">I Spit on Your Grave</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, but at least it spiced things up a little. Its probably not a good </span>indictment of the times that a remake which is far more violent than the original slips out, and the only noise made is by fans of the original.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
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</span>Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-42212089600975823282011-08-29T19:57:00.000+01:002011-08-29T19:57:56.097+01:00Reboots, Remakes and Rehashes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51zA8Qw_uN_5kcgxyvI66dIuOACSEbiIgpQ6LDNuuc3oLOXBoMacsUTGETeK1wPzuqHUOqHT-WqX-MpvrT4WRWALLztvDplqRRklECmMjQ2jSqQjEA01HshnwoMfxX4yc-rCFbhrwfjo/s1600/2275230_det.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51zA8Qw_uN_5kcgxyvI66dIuOACSEbiIgpQ6LDNuuc3oLOXBoMacsUTGETeK1wPzuqHUOqHT-WqX-MpvrT4WRWALLztvDplqRRklECmMjQ2jSqQjEA01HshnwoMfxX4yc-rCFbhrwfjo/s1600/2275230_det.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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It seems to be everywhere at the moment: remakes of classic and not-too-classic films. At first glance, it looks as though every horror film ever made has been redone, or is about to:<b> Halloween</b>,<b> Friday 13th</b>, <b>Nightmare on Elm Street</b>,<b> Last House on the Left</b>, <b>Fright Night</b>, <b>The Eyes of Laura Mars</b> and so on and on.<br />
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Some have no right to be done again, the most obvious being <b>The Wicker Man</b> and<b> I Spit on Your Grave</b>. Both classic, controversial films, which lost all of the elements which made them great. Their only purpose is to sully the memory of a couple of great films.<br />
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The success of the J-horror films led to an ill-advised spate of Westernized rehashes, most of which didn't survive the cultural transition across the Pacific. The oriental memes of evil children and women just didn't work in the translations. Compare Sadako and Samara in <b>Ringu</b> and <b>The Ring</b> respectively-I know which one I would rather not be stuck in a well with. Even the <b>Ju-on: The Grudge </b>remake, which utilised the same director, and much of the same cast, utterly failed to reproduce the sheer terror that the original invoked.<br />
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Trying to avoid the temptation of simply listing the failures, the remakes have been almost uniformly inferior: <b>The Eye</b>, <b>Dark Water</b>,<b> Phone</b>,<b> Tale of Two Sisters</b>, etc. All lacking.<br />
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The trend is not only restricted to the horror genre either: remakes of <b>The Wild Bunch</b>; <b>Wargames</b> and <b>Battle Royale</b> are in the works. Of course, this isn't a new thing. Since the beginning of cinema, successful films have been redone, often at fairly regular intervals, especially those adapted from major literary works. Perhaps in these new, media savvy days, people take ownership of films more than they used to. Personally, I was disgusted when I heard the news that <b>Sam Raimi</b> was about to remake<b> The Evil Dead</b>, a film I loved as a teenager, and still do. Another slap in the face from the man who never achieved the potential he showed in 1981, and single-handedly wrecked the Spiderman franchise so badly its being rebooted already (more on this later!).<br />
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When my indignation had died down, I thought to myself "Why am I so bothered?". I love the original, and would probably watch the remake out of curiosity. In this little Double Slit experiment, there could be two outcomes: the remake is better than the original, so I get two good horror films; the second outcome is that the remake is dire, I've wasted 90 minutes, but my love of the original has deepened. My volte-face surprised even myself. I was no longer angry at the filmmakers.They just want to make the maximum amount of money with the minimum effort, and what easier way than to make a film with an already-established fan base. Ironically, the remakes rarely make much impact, so the joke is on them.<br />
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Indeed, some remakes are great films on their own:<b> A Fistful of Dollars</b>,<b> The Front Page</b>, <b>The Lost Patrol</b> to name but three. Okay, for every<b> Mogambo</b> there is a dozen<b> Mean Machines</b>, but the morally-dubious remake machine has given us some classics. Think of them as cover versions. Some are <b>Hendrix's</b> <b>All Along the Watchtower</b>, some are <b>Paul Young's</b> <b>Love Will Tear Us Apart</b>.<br />
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Another controversial are is the <b>reboot</b>. The nature of the superhero genre marries itself to this particularly well. Comics periodically 're-invent' heroes, especially when a new writer takes the helm (<b>Alan Moore's Killing Joke</b> springs to mind). The <b>Batman</b> film franchise was moribund after a series of absolutely terrible films when <b>Christopher Nolan</b> took Bruce Wayne back to his dark, Gothic roots with the aptly-titled<b> Batman Begins</b>. Similarly, <b>Spiderman 3</b> was seen by many as a total disgrace, and so Marvel have moved quickly to resurrect the series with the impressive looking<b> Amazing Spiderman</b>.<br />
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All I can say to those who were once like me is: if a film close to your heart is being remade, then think twice about watching it. You will probably be disappointed, going by the law of averages. If you do take the chance, then, as I said earlier, it could be a win-win situation. A director may have pissed on your cinematic memories, but, hey! the original is still there, and probably closer to your heart. The film business has always been about making money, and ideas are rehashed all the time. Perhaps we look back on the past with nostalgia, an complain about 'all these remakes', but they have always been around. Some superb, original films are still being made, and plenty of generic, unoriginal crap too. Just like its always been.<br />
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Just to contradict myself a little: If anyone remakes<b> Ichi the Killer</b> or any of <b> Park Chan Wook's Vengeance</b> trilogy, then I will happily <b>Hostel</b>-style torture them myself (and yes, I've heard the<b> Lady Vengeance</b> rumours too).<br />
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Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-34880991304080891242011-08-11T12:31:00.000+01:002011-08-11T12:31:40.753+01:00Sucker Punch (2011)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09G2f-b9OihqeB81eT_9qErRnNfoXm5O__SkFVqiR-u1p1ygTg44A6LboZQInBGIdFsZ4xtUCEMRKgsoxTgpd_B34cJEU_Em_lGyguKLHkpWojx90twYOreopi4wS9hslQPwzjVlJLh8/s1600/sucker-punch-robot-photo-29-7-10-kc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09G2f-b9OihqeB81eT_9qErRnNfoXm5O__SkFVqiR-u1p1ygTg44A6LboZQInBGIdFsZ4xtUCEMRKgsoxTgpd_B34cJEU_Em_lGyguKLHkpWojx90twYOreopi4wS9hslQPwzjVlJLh8/s320/sucker-punch-robot-photo-29-7-10-kc.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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This is probably the epitome of a high budget, high concept film. Combine two of the most interesting films of the last couple of years,<b> Inception</b> and <b>Shutter Island</b>, throw in a little <b>Sailor Moon</b>, <b>Tokyo Gore Police, Martyrs</b>, <b>Moulin Rouge</b>,<b> Appleseed</b>, and don't forget <b>Lord of the Rings</b>. Now, get a good-looking bunch of girls, preferably one from <b>High School Musical</b>, dress 'em all in kinky outfits, and give 'em guns. Mix in a script that isn't quite as profound as it thinks, and sit back and see what happens. This is exactly what director<b> Zak Snyder</b> does, and by golly, it works a treat.<br />
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The story begins with a girl, Babydoll (Emily Browning), falsely institutionalized by her evil stepfather. Lobotomies are mentioned, orderlies bribed, etc. This portion of the film is fairly perfunctory, but Babydoll soon retreats into a fantasy world, where the action really starts. Ostensibly, Babydoll, in her dream world, ends up in a brothel run by a Clark Gable-a-like, Blue (Oscar Issac, who also plays an orderly in the asylum). In order to promote his new acquisition, Blue forces Babydoll to perform an erotic dance, which is where the fun starts. As soon as the music begins, the scene (very nicely) shifts to feudal Japan. A sailor-suited Babydoll is given a set of swords by a Master Po-style wise man. Here, important plot points are given about escaping the brothel. three giant Manga samurai appear, and in a super-stylish live action anime sequence, all are dispatched by Babydoll.<br />
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The main plot point is that five items are needed to escape, but really this is an excuse for one set-piece after another. Recruiting several more 'dancers', Babydoll embarks on her quest, which leads to a Steampunk version of the Somme. Steam-powered German zombies, giant mechs, modern weaponry and truly impressive direction results. Zeppelins are shot down, evil Germans crushed by a stray<b> Gundam</b>, the undead are mown down.<b> Peter Jackson</b> must have winced at the next part, where orcs, knights and dragons clash. The girls arrive in a 1940s B-25 bomber, battle a giant dragon, liquidize orcs on the propellers, and generally cause mayhem.<br />
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More breathless sequences follow, including an assault on a mechanized train. Girls are shot, men are stabbed, and things end up a little<b> Martyrs</b>/<b>Shutter Island</b>. <b>Sucker Punch </b>has been criticized for being shallow, misogynistic, derivative, exploitative and looking like a video game. Probably guilty on all counts. In terms of visual flair,<b> Kasuaki Kiriya's</b> 2004 <b>Casshern </b>outdoes it, and the sexy-girls-dressed-in-dodgy-outfits angle is nothing new. However, <b>Snyder</b> plays it dead straight. Done tongue-in-cheek, this could have been a straight to video, geeky wankfest. It will definitely appeal to a certain demographic, but the strong performances, spot on art direction and state of the art visual effects raise it above the<b> Paul W.S. Anderson</b> crowd.<br />
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If the viewer wants deep, thoughtful drama, the stay away. If you want to turn up the volume, draw the curtains and see a good-looking bunch of girls take on the Kaiser's finest with samurai swords, then look no further. Okay, its a big, dumb action pic, and in the wrong hands could easily have become a <b>Machine Girl</b> type thing. <b>Sucker Punch</b> brings nothing new to the language of cinema, many of the ideas are appropriated from elsewhere (especially Manga), but as a package, it works brilliantly well. Not all films can be<b> Mulholland Drive</b>, just like in the art world, there is room for <b>Jeff Koons</b> and<b> Giorgio de Chirico</b>. Only one caveat: the soundtrack contains several horrendous cover versions. If you thought it was impossible to ruin a <b>Pixies</b> song, then think again.<br />
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How can anyone not love a film which ends with a guy with a pencil moustache singing a<b> Roxy Music</b> song?<br />
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I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do, but watch this film...Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-82565110922081501022011-07-31T15:51:00.000+01:002011-07-31T15:51:37.322+01:00Hobo With a Shotgun (2011)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGFTqBTq-sgu3GNPOYA5yV72IIb2pR3s0JD1aCHzXqJNuvntBl02XmNyXu4Py2X7NKA2oDrNVFIkR-mgO9yqfL_LFjOqZliQ7c8OY5VvnIEcexvK3AOQ7km5U4EBCnQkh7zBLyncr2s1M/s1600/hobo_with_a_shotgun_poster1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGFTqBTq-sgu3GNPOYA5yV72IIb2pR3s0JD1aCHzXqJNuvntBl02XmNyXu4Py2X7NKA2oDrNVFIkR-mgO9yqfL_LFjOqZliQ7c8OY5VvnIEcexvK3AOQ7km5U4EBCnQkh7zBLyncr2s1M/s320/hobo_with_a_shotgun_poster1.jpg" width="215" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The latest in a line of exploitation pastiche/homages is Jason Eisener's<b> Hobo With a Shotgun. </b>Whereas <b>Planet Terror</b>,<b> Machete</b>,<i> et al </i>are content to ape the sleazy, cheap look of their antecedents, Eisener and his cinematographer Karim Hussain give us a visual treat. The dominant colour is a sickly yellow (as seen in the poster), which gives the 'old-Detroit' style city a real atmosphere of disease.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;">Exploitation</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;">fans need not worry though. Seven minutes in, a head is ripped off by a barbed wire noose attached to a car, and a bikini-clad slapper has danced in the arterial spray. </span><b style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;">Rutger Hauer </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;">stars as the nameless Hobo, a lawnmower-coveting, meths-swilling vagrant, who arrives by railcar in the ironically named Hope Town, which is run by the Televangelist-like Drake (Brian Downey). Aided by his Tom-Cruise-in-Risky-Business-look-a-like sons, Slick and Ivan, Drake terrorizes the local population. No self-respecting Hobo could put up with this shit, and when Hauer's purchase of his beloved lawnmower is </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;">interrupted by a robbery, he spends his $49.99 on a pump-action shotgun, and a seemingly infinite supply of shells. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;">Aided by his only friend, a prostitute (Molly Dunsworth: a Ho' with a shotgun?) who he saved from a beating from Slick, Hobo gut-shots his way through the local scum, who are turned against Hobo and friend by Drake. The gore now moves to the fore, with large splashed of blood and intestines, murder by JCB, and the flamethrowing of a bus full of schoolchildren. In one of the funnier scenes, Hobo blows the head off a paedophilic Santa, who is masturbating while watching children play through a pair of binoculars.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;">In due course, genitals are shot off, people are electrocuted by a toaster and our hero escapes a lynch mob by hiding in the corpse of a cop who he eviscerated with a few well-placed shells. Special mention must be given to 'The Plague', a pair of armour-plated villains, who bear a striking resemblance to Metal Mickeys demon cousin, and the old 70s comic character, Brassneck, complete with WW2 German helmet. The bullet-proof pair slaughter their way through a hospital, leaving interns swinging from the ceiling, trying to find the Ho', who has had her head partially sawn off (yes, you read that right, don't worry though, she'll be fine). </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;">Rarely is a film this chaotic and insane, but so well made. The character development is nil, the performances knowingly broad, the gore Troma-like, the plot hackneyed, the music is an 80s nightmare, but it works. Made with real skill, </span><b style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;">Hobo</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; line-height: 17px;"> is far from a lame entry on a cycle that has perhaps run out of steam. There are touches of sheer brilliance, most notably on the surprise reappearance of a scorched school bus, which arrives as an unlikely psychopomp. The ending, while not as abrupt as that in <b>Death Proof</b> (which was brilliantly effective in a straight-to-video way) certainly comes as a surprise, as does the horrendous closing theme. All in all, this film cannot be recommended enough. The blu-ray is only a tenner, so there is no excuse.</span></span>Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-37147378832819786652011-07-13T14:05:00.000+01:002011-07-13T14:05:41.332+01:00Films I've tried, but failed, to watch this week.<b><u>Small Town Folk (2007)</u></b><br />
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Sub-League of Gentlemen style frolics starring everyone's favourite Ewok. I got about 15 minutes in, and gave up in disgust. One man band Peter Stanley Ward gives us country folk stereotypes and amateur acting. The only plus point are the 70s retro backdrops, especially during the driving sequences (think the beginning of Kill Bill part 2).<br />
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<b><u>99 Women (1969)</u></b><br />
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Only a film maker as spectacularly inept as Jesus Franco could make a film set in a women's prison unerotic. Herbert Lom and Mercedes McCambridge look suitably embarrassed. Gave up after 15 minutes.<br />
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<b><u>Venus in Furs (1969)</u></b><br />
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Franco again (curse you Horror Channel). Klaus Kinski is as good as ever, but this psychedelic tale about a Chet Baker type is truly tedious. Gave up 35 minutes in, bored to tears.<br />
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<b><u>The Blood Beast Terror (1968)</u></b><br />
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Brilliant Tigon horror, featuring Dave from Minder (sporting an awesome set of sideburns), Roy Hudd, a giant moth-woman (who looks like a 2nd division Mexican wrestler) and Grand Moff Tarkin. The film is great, but my 4-year old daughter came home whilst I was half way through, so off it went, and on went Grampa in my Pocket.<br />
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<b><u>Into the Mirror (2003)</u></b><br />
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Korean director Sung-ho Kim's creepy horror was remade in the states as <b>Mirrors, </b>starring Keifer Sutherland. Heretically, 50 minutes into this, I think I prefer the American version. Kim's tale is too slow to develop much tension, and lacks any real shocks. I'll watch the rest in a day or two, but I'm disappointed thus far.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-79258070335650674202011-06-28T14:30:00.000+01:002011-06-28T14:30:12.096+01:00The Living and the Dead (2006)The on-screen disintegration of the nuclear family, which was hinted at during the 50s, and became a common thread during the 70s, is the premise of writer/director Simon Rumley's début. The setting is a dilapidated stately home, which gives Rumley and his art director plenty of opportunity for unusual camera angles and effective externalisation of the state of mind of the protagonists.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgptQXVvcRYOdB8OsEAdOvujMSjmbjs16sg6KNkJH1U73-V8_uPbQbDYSsYJhOOo03D9tU00AvmPlTZnolJ3GtsfISGWeqpXNWany3ZaUDpNSYUCDw_JV33eSredw7mRaVzqO5iSX7GCnc/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgptQXVvcRYOdB8OsEAdOvujMSjmbjs16sg6KNkJH1U73-V8_uPbQbDYSsYJhOOo03D9tU00AvmPlTZnolJ3GtsfISGWeqpXNWany3ZaUDpNSYUCDw_JV33eSredw7mRaVzqO5iSX7GCnc/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div>Visually, the overall look is reminiscent of David Lynch's<b> Mulholland Drive</b>, especially in the later, nightmarish segments of Lynch's masterpiece. The mansion is full of sickly greens and yellows, and the faded décor allows for good use of chiaroscuro in the dark corners of the large, mostly unfurnished rooms.<br />
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Details are kept not spelled out, but the Lord of the Manor (Roger-Lloyd Pack) is called away on a vague errand in order to stop the family home being sold off. His, presumably, terminally ill wife (again, details are vague), played by Kate Fahey in a fearless performance, is left in the care of their mentally handicapped son (Leo Bill).<br />
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The plot is a little predictable, with the son refusing to take his medication, and the situation soon becomes desperate. The treatment of mental illness is fairly well handled; the son is no monster, and just wants to be 'the man of the house', possibly to impress his cold, distant father. Unfortunately, the performance from Bell is not at all convincing. His histrionics appear too 'acted', and not for a moment does he seem sympathetic. Things are not helped by Lloyd-Pack giving his usual non-Trigger performance of enunciating very clearly, in an unemotional, slightly upper-class accent. All acting honours must go to Ms Fahey. Her character is completely shorn of dignity, whether being dragged to a filthy bath after soiling her bed, or being force-fed pills by her well-meaning son. The character's discomfort, and later, terror, is palpable.<br />
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The mental state of the son is often shown in distracting fast-forwards sequences, accompanied by pounding dance music. While initially effective, the technique is repeated too many times, and becomes annoying. <br />
The police eventually arrive, and all seems well, but the Lynchian theme continues. Possibly in the tormented mind of the son, proceedings take a hallucinatory turn, with characters (<b>Mulholland Drive</b>-like) not appearing as they seem. The dream-like sequences appear amateurish at best, with an uncomfortable looking Lloyd-Pack in bizarre make up. The last third takes on the appearance of a film student's homage to <b>Un Chien Andalou</b>, and severely tax the viewer's patience. <br />
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Rumley is obviously a stylist of considerable skill, especially in his skewed, static shots, and slow, gliding camera work. Unfortunately, while disturbing at times, the film doesn't stay with you in the way that similar works, such as Jee-woon Kim's <b>A Tale of Two Sisters</b>, or Scorsese's <b>Shutter Island</b> do. Despite the sometimes grim proceedings (especially the multiple injection scene), the plot is slight and the nowadays obligatory multiple readings seem tacked on.<br />
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Written after his mother's battle with cancer, Rumley is achingly sincere in his intentions, but his writing and cast let him down.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-45163825729887485152011-06-15T14:36:00.001+01:002011-06-15T20:28:04.578+01:00Amedeo ModiglianiHere are some of my favourite paintings by my favourite artist, <b>Amedeo Clemente Modigliani</b>. I've seen a couple of his pictures in 'the flesh' so to speak, and they really do take your breath away. Modigliani, in the best artistic tradition, died penniless in 1920.<br />
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No comments are needed from me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhra38-xJgvIlvaZWAl3XR9dYFyjvdiuK0W2PmZiLC_PKr8dMXOoU_oqub_x335T8j2xVUQBpzRRUc3hFhjoScDnHNQSJ6_Oj8gm1DoscsbcWVLpnx__VY_4s9NPJuNZxGvQThV8Yxa6ew/s1600/Jeanne+Hebuterne+in+a+large+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhra38-xJgvIlvaZWAl3XR9dYFyjvdiuK0W2PmZiLC_PKr8dMXOoU_oqub_x335T8j2xVUQBpzRRUc3hFhjoScDnHNQSJ6_Oj8gm1DoscsbcWVLpnx__VY_4s9NPJuNZxGvQThV8Yxa6ew/s400/Jeanne+Hebuterne+in+a+large+hat.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_joePKtbQHRecT-gO7Gu8JBqgqsWQpBksRBvJqRgsKpOmly3M_cZF5mgZ7M3_2nUkrjwL3Is2m-c-5z1mtM1-gV58m6YNyQaRK4lz04dpugLT8YK-5E3iCY6EX2CYbw227aS7CSX2SY/s1600/Portrait+of+Jeanne+H%25C3%25A9buterne+%255Bhead+in+profile%255D..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_joePKtbQHRecT-gO7Gu8JBqgqsWQpBksRBvJqRgsKpOmly3M_cZF5mgZ7M3_2nUkrjwL3Is2m-c-5z1mtM1-gV58m6YNyQaRK4lz04dpugLT8YK-5E3iCY6EX2CYbw227aS7CSX2SY/s400/Portrait+of+Jeanne+H%25C3%25A9buterne+%255Bhead+in+profile%255D..jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ57ezSl4NxlExDwFQRaBmpzXb77ODXISdrKNm6oQbsT6w8anCXlntJSc9oArU7gJW8VVvB5N4OXfmSrmR1f_yugZOcBJ7Jqt1yl57wcxyIiR0pNxuZxQKWb6p-SmY4YBk6aoVM68mimU/s1600/portrait-of-a-young-woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ57ezSl4NxlExDwFQRaBmpzXb77ODXISdrKNm6oQbsT6w8anCXlntJSc9oArU7gJW8VVvB5N4OXfmSrmR1f_yugZOcBJ7Jqt1yl57wcxyIiR0pNxuZxQKWb6p-SmY4YBk6aoVM68mimU/s400/portrait-of-a-young-woman.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMrCpBZV4dWJWSD9luA7Mi1YOcpEdgzKhNlHYDTlBtBQcQZpFqW18EkT-_38SlVyvC9rX6xcfuOv2Q-RYkvmbALnk0wWUoeUdGrGePaYtjfSFR6ec0xuuHBne7ZAEORkOiXeEOA_dgmY/s1600/venus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMrCpBZV4dWJWSD9luA7Mi1YOcpEdgzKhNlHYDTlBtBQcQZpFqW18EkT-_38SlVyvC9rX6xcfuOv2Q-RYkvmbALnk0wWUoeUdGrGePaYtjfSFR6ec0xuuHBne7ZAEORkOiXeEOA_dgmY/s400/venus.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQnwLui0wsIkjVzfKbJcI91qfiojXUzoHONLuMR3HimVYWWdMnoiFHCcP9Z4fIBAuyQ9ZYtx8xR77PPU8FdpBlow10npzvvFIaysSS6Nvdb_HHWQDfDQlL6X-U_JNh0Y8bwhpr8z-4hAY/s1600/Protrait-of-jeanne-hebuterne-Modigliani.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQnwLui0wsIkjVzfKbJcI91qfiojXUzoHONLuMR3HimVYWWdMnoiFHCcP9Z4fIBAuyQ9ZYtx8xR77PPU8FdpBlow10npzvvFIaysSS6Nvdb_HHWQDfDQlL6X-U_JNh0Y8bwhpr8z-4hAY/s400/Protrait-of-jeanne-hebuterne-Modigliani.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The last picture, Portrait of Jeanne Hébuterne, is possibly my favourite work of art in any medium.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-83626629087662002782011-05-01T11:18:00.000+01:002011-05-01T11:18:46.231+01:00One-Eyed Monster (2008)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hfHEX2Hhvw0cITE7-oh7rpn14wMTUrUyCnpfpYI-_qMfYpAQahyphenhyphendTeODJcEr4jesks978t8Zj5_xvT51EzM8v1i52I67-XZQXOePW0HTUcSUvwBVClznPoquxkpRCfUrbEVcNZXPq7c/s1600/monsterattackscarmen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hfHEX2Hhvw0cITE7-oh7rpn14wMTUrUyCnpfpYI-_qMfYpAQahyphenhyphendTeODJcEr4jesks978t8Zj5_xvT51EzM8v1i52I67-XZQXOePW0HTUcSUvwBVClznPoquxkpRCfUrbEVcNZXPq7c/s320/monsterattackscarmen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Here is a film that ticks all the boxes: a group of porn film-makers shooting at an isolated cabin are attacked by Ron Jeremy's penis. What could very easily been a cheap excuse for nudity and gore actually transcends the genre and becomes a reasonable film.<br />
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The film wears it's influences on it's sleeve, stealing the plot of a whole raft of 'good-looking-youngsters-trapped-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-flicks', and a cheeky nod to the Alien films. The performances are better than you would expect for this genre, and all parts are played straight. The whole thing could have come off the rails if not treated seriously- the plot is so ridiculous, the temptation to play it for obvious laughs must have been strong.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kA1GEqVsggmhPsanJWKxIb-ZEX-edeHOvhU8XH5RTPPf3UlKdnV-KgDRvMBmBN4eM1Ue2WdjywaHzrLm4csvlMy01ocqj6QmZPShoYs_wHrnDu7GUi5QU9j-YyWvlPxguKGImJcH0Bs/s1600/rondoesveronica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="213" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kA1GEqVsggmhPsanJWKxIb-ZEX-edeHOvhU8XH5RTPPf3UlKdnV-KgDRvMBmBN4eM1Ue2WdjywaHzrLm4csvlMy01ocqj6QmZPShoYs_wHrnDu7GUi5QU9j-YyWvlPxguKGImJcH0Bs/s320/rondoesveronica.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Perhaps the most horrifying image in the film is the Hedgehog himself coupling with fellow retro porn star Veronica Hart. While Ms Hart has aged surprisingly well, Ron wobbles dangerously whilst 'in action'. The interplay between the two veterans comes across as sincere and poignant, and throws into focus the differences between the Golden Age of pornography and the modern-day equivalent.<br />
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Ron's member soon moves to centre stage, after an encounter with a UFO, and systematically slaughters it's way through the cast. The penis itself is only seen in glimpses, possibly in tribute to Ridley Scott's <b>Alien</b>, but more likely because it is a really cheap effect. There are several amusing POV shots as it moves in for the kill, and the penis finds a wince-inducing method of possessing a corpse.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WPf3fIBlC_aeXkv8tgbO22sQGXen-qevMoO6WBrjFzsq8MtNbvzPjopwVud5zMRLeFlroxBLZQWk8djeOuCnusXAv0LV7CDmCegCXxPQad_EdJ1C_lhIvkBMmI8DkdbLLDNsWiKnExI/s1600/hwfw3t0bscjmsjiljp21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="178" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WPf3fIBlC_aeXkv8tgbO22sQGXen-qevMoO6WBrjFzsq8MtNbvzPjopwVud5zMRLeFlroxBLZQWk8djeOuCnusXAv0LV7CDmCegCXxPQad_EdJ1C_lhIvkBMmI8DkdbLLDNsWiKnExI/s320/hwfw3t0bscjmsjiljp21.jpg" /></a></div><br />
All in all, I was expecting far less than I got. One-Eyed Monster will never set the horror world alight, but the ambiguous finale raised the possibility of a sequel, and any film in which Ron Jeremy can melt the snow on an entire mountain has got to be worth watching at least once.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimFhTYWet1pajWN_m_Dp98PXXYhHnBdt7nTz5vwrHd65HO2J6PxjBaRaGVPsChYKvJOZnwdXZIZ5Rvuvyi5qRo0B5VK_w_uCT4Rxez9elwlG8Qq8SrL3RSO2Yi2Z9pVroUNdVFWDAVTBk/s1600/b4c7e0e3f8cb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="181" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimFhTYWet1pajWN_m_Dp98PXXYhHnBdt7nTz5vwrHd65HO2J6PxjBaRaGVPsChYKvJOZnwdXZIZ5Rvuvyi5qRo0B5VK_w_uCT4Rxez9elwlG8Qq8SrL3RSO2Yi2Z9pVroUNdVFWDAVTBk/s320/b4c7e0e3f8cb.jpg" /></a></div>Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-58458925944313744812011-04-12T15:27:00.001+01:002011-04-13T08:15:26.996+01:00Smash Cut (2009)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCuQ10H4cM5kltACyzy5c2z4uul25yp3BPaHi83MxvrdMds6xJDZvIl-LFHQPc3scdUpHNpQmckjMUDGDqFmZ4GkEAazVHHEvmn3UlKoWDBPpHGe9dtyKhKepH-obUf5B2GIlCJvvReoA/s1600/cut041109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCuQ10H4cM5kltACyzy5c2z4uul25yp3BPaHi83MxvrdMds6xJDZvIl-LFHQPc3scdUpHNpQmckjMUDGDqFmZ4GkEAazVHHEvmn3UlKoWDBPpHGe9dtyKhKepH-obUf5B2GIlCJvvReoA/s320/cut041109.jpg" /></a></div><br />
What could go wrong? Hire possibly the only truly sexy porn actress, David Hess, Michael Berryman and H.G. Lewis (yes, that H.G. Lewis) and make a homage to cheapo gore films, but with a decent budget and real production values. Unfortunately, it totally misses the point of a good exploitation film: its no fun to watch.<br />
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<b>Planet Terror</b>, <b>Death Proof</b>, <b>Machete</b> and the upcoming <b>Hobo With a Shotgun</b> prove that the aesthetics of the Grindhouse married to talented directors can yield impressive results: <b>Planet Terror</b> was, for me, the best film of 2007, and Machete shows that Danny Trejo and Jeff Fahey should be major stars.<br />
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Hess plays a rotten director of terrible horror movies. After a showing of his latest effort goes about as well as the one in Tim Burton's <b>Ed Wood</b>, Hess accidentally kills his girlfriend and uses the body parts as FX for his movies.<br />
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What could have been a knowing update of trash like <b>Blood Feast</b> soon reaches its nadir with the appearance of poor Michael Berryman in the worst toupee ever seen in motion pictures. Things pick up with the appearance of Porn actress Sasha Grey, who is undeniably sexy, but looks lost with the material. Think what Jenna Haze could have made of the role.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUNEgG1HriAzvL2WP8rJe_UZz6cC_gSS11jBEtJjasgwz-9jcK_oozHR5NrDS4WCKqYcYWZjh16JV9e9clsf0y8m7orPYfc8GH7aFWp6XERzI8PmwcBsxnsfqallKgNdcWy8l_EN4jUI/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="130" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUNEgG1HriAzvL2WP8rJe_UZz6cC_gSS11jBEtJjasgwz-9jcK_oozHR5NrDS4WCKqYcYWZjh16JV9e9clsf0y8m7orPYfc8GH7aFWp6XERzI8PmwcBsxnsfqallKgNdcWy8l_EN4jUI/s320/images.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
The plot meanders along, involving a detective and the dead girl's sister, but who cares? The gore itself is pretty impressive, with garish, Argento-red blood and reasonable prosthetics, and Hess tries his best to inject some life into the proceedings. Unforgivably, Ms Grey remains fully clothed throughout.<br />
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Michael Dubue score, however, is well worth mentioning, perfectly matching the onscreen action. It really is wasted on rubbish like this.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmPw9cEGFWtrY_-GEvsi4k3BKCJRgm6dRYwe6rfr3OPBdhEpQx0n-AORQ7TGY5PBI2O7J75nuXyHCqT4ysTEMDaggb7zf3nGpnId5fIifMGVAh86lp98V2xHrTOJb2P1_bcqEekA-iuA/s1600/Smash-Cut-DVDRip-XviD-DiVERSE1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="213" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmPw9cEGFWtrY_-GEvsi4k3BKCJRgm6dRYwe6rfr3OPBdhEpQx0n-AORQ7TGY5PBI2O7J75nuXyHCqT4ysTEMDaggb7zf3nGpnId5fIifMGVAh86lp98V2xHrTOJb2P1_bcqEekA-iuA/s320/Smash-Cut-DVDRip-XviD-DiVERSE1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The only real reason to watch this is to see a Sasha Grey movie that you won't feel dirty watching, but if you're not bothered about that, then watch <b>Fuck Slaves</b> instead. It's far more enjoyable than this.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-63912992211776181242011-04-06T13:50:00.000+01:002011-04-06T13:50:27.770+01:00Necrosis (2009)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqQQtGcH5n96j-HEM0hEltMUWnP5i_EWga4HMKs2hP8NZ5Y0LSI0zPbqnxNJqRA3t0ztTdlMh50Ot7VD2fDXp6VVX930Bng4K1SbsWtNgz4RoSxCwFSckuVmAMPCf27CCujcX6k7HTbo/s1600/necrosis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqQQtGcH5n96j-HEM0hEltMUWnP5i_EWga4HMKs2hP8NZ5Y0LSI0zPbqnxNJqRA3t0ztTdlMh50Ot7VD2fDXp6VVX930Bng4K1SbsWtNgz4RoSxCwFSckuVmAMPCf27CCujcX6k7HTbo/s400/necrosis.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><br />
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If you like the sound of 80s popster Tiffany dressed in a red bikini, sat in a hot tub, then this may be worth a look. To be honest, that's the only thing going for this turgid straight-to-video rubbish.<br />
Ostensibly, the plot involves the usual group of photogenic youngsters holidaying at a isolated cabin, high on a snowbound hilltop.In the opening sequence, there is a flashback to a group of early settlers getting trapped on the hill in a snowstorm, and resorting to cannibalism. No prizes for guessing the rest.<br />
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Michael Berryman from <b>The Hills Have Eyes</b> shows up looking embarrassed to be there. He gives a few dire warnings, then disappears for a while before being mercifully bumped off when things go tits-up. To be fair, the cast do their best with the clunky dialogue, but fans of dire acting will enjoy Tiffany's fantastically wooden delivery when she wakes up after a nightmare.<br />
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The ghosts move with the jerky, fast-forwards motion that they all seem to nowadays, and one actually says the the horror film favourite "Save yourself". There are a few moments of unintentional humour, but the funniest is when one of the girls slides down a slight incline, screaming all the way<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcU9GHDVkiFgJqXiIOlialAKpUBH9jK_CtVfYKRuUD600sUONx0pmw1ur34W2ZhuZFzZ-VFF3JOcVaMnsQ7inuC2u4J4UqNq8qfCf6hUU-GEa38qmW2ADyDiH8mhAgg5chriHKFSeuaZI/s1600/100218012344110249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="113" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcU9GHDVkiFgJqXiIOlialAKpUBH9jK_CtVfYKRuUD600sUONx0pmw1ur34W2ZhuZFzZ-VFF3JOcVaMnsQ7inuC2u4J4UqNq8qfCf6hUU-GEa38qmW2ADyDiH8mhAgg5chriHKFSeuaZI/s200/100218012344110249.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The film ends in what can only be described as a great anti-climax, similar to Carpenter's <b>The Thing</b>, but without the impending menace. All in all, there really is nothing to recommend this.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-35944985660450504752011-03-29T14:22:00.000+01:002011-03-29T14:22:12.821+01:00The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra (2001)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsP78rmZbvvFzLRl5y0QJKw4j1WoP0QWJuR5lTsQ1OMKl_eHzIdeA1F9Y63QKrkQwiRASXOa9Pr99lD_QFc7Hy9ye217LyE7VfkAZduT0yR9yOlDCLr7lVvR_VwWXU5RppNdZHVZaOFiM/s1600/the-lost-skeleton-of-cadavra-2001_poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsP78rmZbvvFzLRl5y0QJKw4j1WoP0QWJuR5lTsQ1OMKl_eHzIdeA1F9Y63QKrkQwiRASXOa9Pr99lD_QFc7Hy9ye217LyE7VfkAZduT0yR9yOlDCLr7lVvR_VwWXU5RppNdZHVZaOFiM/s320/the-lost-skeleton-of-cadavra-2001_poster.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Are you prepared to be "Sterilized With Fear"?<br />
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Take <b>Robot Monster</b>, add <b>Plan 9 From Outer Space</b>, plus any other 50s b-movie and combine with <b>Airplane</b> and you may get something like this. Director and star Larry Blamire has created a fiendishly accurate parody which, like <b>Airplane</b>, has plenty of fun with the genre. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlYxVIJjpjlILp4esA05UL-lC84CnYMI0daEf9lgSVZOLhSSCSYKUGJAsouqW3YRBX0b28_20kFNgkoJt4uJiv3SYV3L1kvwhouRcHsO4rjnuvhS86T5ak5NCTD1FjcSlzZ1f3rqP-NZg/s1600/lost_skeleton_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="217" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlYxVIJjpjlILp4esA05UL-lC84CnYMI0daEf9lgSVZOLhSSCSYKUGJAsouqW3YRBX0b28_20kFNgkoJt4uJiv3SYV3L1kvwhouRcHsO4rjnuvhS86T5ak5NCTD1FjcSlzZ1f3rqP-NZg/s320/lost_skeleton_02.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The plot, such as it is, involves aliens, mutants, a creature made from woodland animals and the most inanimate creature since the octopus in <b>Bride of the Atom </b>. The lead alien has obviously watched <b>Robot Monster</b>, sports the fantastic name of Kro-Bar, and the mutant costume would make George Barrows green with envy. Highlights include deliberately rotten acting, wobbling sets and bizarre alien 'dancing'. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhPtMd1oz7ia4c3zAf6-KBkx9-tsc4XP5sqC2Ajt3p0w3lEJshvcjlbzEQRbcpPOnVTW0LKmb1UuIcPz2ajI8SziygHtBQfBhGNTtrogLJ2HmWVVL3I6NgxwoVRJBUCx9LMP6ZjbxXJOM/s1600/Lost-Skeleton-of-Cadavra-Animala-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="154" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhPtMd1oz7ia4c3zAf6-KBkx9-tsc4XP5sqC2Ajt3p0w3lEJshvcjlbzEQRbcpPOnVTW0LKmb1UuIcPz2ajI8SziygHtBQfBhGNTtrogLJ2HmWVVL3I6NgxwoVRJBUCx9LMP6ZjbxXJOM/s320/Lost-Skeleton-of-Cadavra-Animala-1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Jennifer Blaire, who plays Animala, the human-creature thing, actually makes the part surprisingly sexy, giving it her all. The rest of the cast deliberately vacillate between oh-my-gosh overacting to seemingly improvising the dialogue on the spot. The titular Skeleton is a marvel of ILM-style special effects, being swung around on strings or thrashed about during the climactic fight with the mutant.<br />
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The film was actually filmed in Bronson Canyon, home of many of the movies being parodied, giving more authenticity, and showing real attention to detail.<br />
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The soundtrack also deserves a mention, with stock tunes erupting from nowhere, almost coinciding with the action,<br />
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Inevitably, a sequel appeared, <b>The Lost Skeleton Returns Again</b>, followed by the unrelated, but very similar, <b>Trail of the Screaming Forehead</b>.<br />
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Check out youtube for the trailers, which are dead-on spoofs, compete with portentous, Criswell-like voice overs.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-13705533144827576702011-03-27T12:17:00.000+01:002011-03-27T12:17:02.181+01:00F (2010)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Ntuu1ODNH5QFP3lvJShOJ_MaBZs-lwU7h2nFqIrbwoJube0W9_wevxOibarCP8pgbKeKdqV7DNfz7pfrgSw27IQuXQSHHMCI3O9Uiu-fEnMeHuurZEy6TmrrFmXJ9GvCljt4GsanRcw/s1600/f-2010-movie-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="241" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Ntuu1ODNH5QFP3lvJShOJ_MaBZs-lwU7h2nFqIrbwoJube0W9_wevxOibarCP8pgbKeKdqV7DNfz7pfrgSw27IQuXQSHHMCI3O9Uiu-fEnMeHuurZEy6TmrrFmXJ9GvCljt4GsanRcw/s320/f-2010-movie-poster.jpg" /></a></div><br />
In today's culture of banned sports days and downgraded educational standards, it is increasingly difficult to fail at school. Johannes Roberts' movie follows the consequences of a student being given a 'F' for a half-arsed assignment.<br />
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The reliable David Schofield is the offending teacher, who is suspended after failing a student, and returns months later as a haggard alcoholic. Further complicating things are the fact that his daughter and her boyfriend are in his English class, and Schofield's drinking is making his return to work more difficult.<br />
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Before long, faceless youths invade the school, incinerating security guards and torturing the caretaker.<br />
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What starts as an interesting variation on Carpenter's 'Assault on Precinct 13' degenerates into the usual faceless-killers-stalking-in the-dark fare. the shocks are predictable, and the only worthwhile sequence is the murder of a female teacher who has an ill-advised, scantily clad workout in the school gym. There are plenty of gratuitous shots of Eliza Bennett, who plays Schofield's teenage daughter, crawling around the floor dressed in a school uniform, but even this fails to ignite much interest in the fate of the cast. The characters are little more than caricatures, especially the security guards, who threaten to derail any tension, much like the poorly written cops in 'Last House on the Left'.<br />
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The film is well shot and acted, but, while the killers look impressive, with their faces obscured beneath their hoods, and the ending is pleasantly pessimistic and ambiguous, one can't help feeling that this is a wasted opportunity. While its good to see more British horror films on the market, it really is a shame that the quality is so variable <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVZVwPshLLnQ1jZ2lCRdTuXUPz7_hTXMvYWYyWn8Y8o4mVG6ic3aQXB2qsFYegk_7E9T-qsy9Iky3T5bvohaxQUMii5m7RNaL9PMhfsRwiWUp8L3pLQl0HtTpCCh5cVUmsecq9OultsQ/s1600/fffnq3577827.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="178" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVZVwPshLLnQ1jZ2lCRdTuXUPz7_hTXMvYWYyWn8Y8o4mVG6ic3aQXB2qsFYegk_7E9T-qsy9Iky3T5bvohaxQUMii5m7RNaL9PMhfsRwiWUp8L3pLQl0HtTpCCh5cVUmsecq9OultsQ/s320/fffnq3577827.png" /></a></div>Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-69208175642682262652011-03-24T14:35:00.003+00:002011-03-25T20:30:51.239+00:00Ichi the Killer (2001)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGbiCwTVe7caWc9vAsUH7BQE0lUS3o6S39GHMnUG8ifY-FRE_WYQ6DA5ifOavbFkSFi_k_IWqFZfxKJ9_nYcvjikihqlChO1Vo7jPSRqktITpn0gjWaXACz4og3mRMkkCa-G7uZlryInw/s1600/IchiBlack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="242" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGbiCwTVe7caWc9vAsUH7BQE0lUS3o6S39GHMnUG8ifY-FRE_WYQ6DA5ifOavbFkSFi_k_IWqFZfxKJ9_nYcvjikihqlChO1Vo7jPSRqktITpn0gjWaXACz4og3mRMkkCa-G7uZlryInw/s320/IchiBlack.jpg" /></a></div><br />
In the days before The Human Centipede and A Serbian Film, Takashi Miike's ultra-violent Yakuza offering caused a bit of a stir, featuring human tempura, face-slicing, schoolgirl rape and extreme S&M. Somewhat of a departure from Miike's other Yakuza films, such as the Dead or Alive series, Ichi warps the nominal plot of two warring syndicates, and brings to it skeins of child abuse and deviant sexuality. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6Pfm51IrDpqYC_wXo3BTZxAb6mh31Yurt7LRM7AgZ5uPOcRk2e_8o7IjNY7i3lPpWruVx4G9cGmtKNxzJcpL445ZAVv04LYfQu7wrhT1WyEax34DJgwDotaIYuh_j_a5HhT6eOtjuNI/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="159" width="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6Pfm51IrDpqYC_wXo3BTZxAb6mh31Yurt7LRM7AgZ5uPOcRk2e_8o7IjNY7i3lPpWruVx4G9cGmtKNxzJcpL445ZAVv04LYfQu7wrhT1WyEax34DJgwDotaIYuh_j_a5HhT6eOtjuNI/s320/images.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
Deviating somewhat from the manga series upon which it is based, the main protagonist, Kakihara, an enthusiastic masochist, endures a violent quest to find his missing boss, punctuated by graphic and bloody scenes where pimps are cut clean in half by the titular Ichi, legs are sliced off, skewers are used as torture implements, and Miss Singapore Universe (1994) is killed with a lethal pair of shoes.<br />
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The crude psychology common to many Far-Eastern movies is present here, with a simplistic explanation for Ichi's murderous rampages presented to explain the over-the-top mayhem. The performances are uniformly excellent, especially Tadanobu Asano as the masochistic enforcer, and Nao Ōmori as the cringing Ichi. <br />
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The movie has what can only be described as one of the most iconic images I've ever seen: Kakihara draws on a cigarette, and blows the smoke through the large slashes cut into his cheeks. <br />
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A notoriously hit-and-miss director (remember One Missed Call?), Miike is on top form here, leading us from one elaborate set piece to the other. Who can resist a film where two corrupt cops dress as dogs to 'sniff out' a fugitive gangster? <br />
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The level of violence has long been surpassed, but Ichi's style and impact still makes this a superior addition to the genre.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-42199322782682446322011-03-23T15:11:00.001+00:002011-03-25T20:29:29.282+00:00Forget Judge Reinhold! Or, why John Saxon is the ultimate movie star.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhPEt-UDAx1syg5Ggjq4e-Q1wU1ctuBhzG-_zSd9ObhbV7X8NMZvCiMi-aYuzEVBWbc9_XDb5JjxjlnhrPP4ZfHHRw-gWr39vQtjTViduY7bGx8dDD9MQn_5h06YU0H7hWqdjI20vDVk/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhPEt-UDAx1syg5Ggjq4e-Q1wU1ctuBhzG-_zSd9ObhbV7X8NMZvCiMi-aYuzEVBWbc9_XDb5JjxjlnhrPP4ZfHHRw-gWr39vQtjTViduY7bGx8dDD9MQn_5h06YU0H7hWqdjI20vDVk/s200/images.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
Make a list of your favourite films: Cannibal Apocalypse,Tenebrae, Enter the Dragon, From Dusk til Dawn, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Napoli Violenta, The Girl Who Knew Too Much, Queen of Blood? Who is the common denominator? Carmine Orrico, better known as John Saxon, the thinking man's Michael Ironside.<br />
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Now, consider your list of favourites that do not contain Saxon: Taxi Driver? If Saxon had played Bickle, he wouldn't have taken that crap from Cybill Shepherd, Palantine would be a dead man and Bickle and Sport could have set up together, pimping out Iris and company.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhKGANldLSzcUCcmeV_14gnuylBAJ_21GypaPxa0dHTAq4dr0yBQPGMGiRDaRV8eHkPEcJ9nMLs-mi-sWAOfu2bjTxCjq4923EzMYLV1V3PW5IbUAp-56qlVv6zwH9Wxq6vFMuVxvQgI/s1600/John-Saxon-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhKGANldLSzcUCcmeV_14gnuylBAJ_21GypaPxa0dHTAq4dr0yBQPGMGiRDaRV8eHkPEcJ9nMLs-mi-sWAOfu2bjTxCjq4923EzMYLV1V3PW5IbUAp-56qlVv6zwH9Wxq6vFMuVxvQgI/s320/John-Saxon-1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Now, picture Saxon in Raging Bull. No fatboy wife-slapping for him, he'd still be champ now. Avatar? Those blue bastards would be toast, and Saxon could watch Pandora burn with Sigourney Weaver sat on his knee. A Saxon Terminator? No crusher for him. The resistance would be finished before it got started, and the T-800 would have a string of dried Connor-ears around his neck.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-_RpVKYSqVjLLux6Gxtl1VZy-p35OYuWsPaGg842r1HGYxQD0c00jJCMh1tTke_9koV2zuTlqHKpSecTzV2rmSVBQqOHA97FxONMPYLh5xjc0PBO3A5ztbPclXZEwpS8rLHL7rA05mg/s1600/posse-from-hell-1961-dvd-audie-murphy-vic-morrow-john-saxon-518-p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-_RpVKYSqVjLLux6Gxtl1VZy-p35OYuWsPaGg842r1HGYxQD0c00jJCMh1tTke_9koV2zuTlqHKpSecTzV2rmSVBQqOHA97FxONMPYLh5xjc0PBO3A5ztbPclXZEwpS8rLHL7rA05mg/s320/posse-from-hell-1961-dvd-audie-murphy-vic-morrow-john-saxon-518-p.jpg" /></a></div><br />
He even makes Posse From Hell look almost watchable.Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3224349553450306404.post-42906492181553453902011-03-21T16:07:00.001+00:002011-03-25T20:29:57.185+00:00Jen Pringle: an appreciation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFO9Ou3fD-OKyVocUFoG5ZZTAdIhZHIJ4Lgjn1vfh6d4TpmI8BihswOU_WpKJKImxFQfG8qpmab6HG_k3XV1be6aIhZfX-tEzzEhyphenhyphenP73NZRiLIXXMXjGgUTH7hVki4Fr3IzvtjATt5pk8/s1600/tv.jpg.display.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFO9Ou3fD-OKyVocUFoG5ZZTAdIhZHIJ4Lgjn1vfh6d4TpmI8BihswOU_WpKJKImxFQfG8qpmab6HG_k3XV1be6aIhZfX-tEzzEhyphenhyphenP73NZRiLIXXMXjGgUTH7hVki4Fr3IzvtjATt5pk8/s320/tv.jpg.display.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Anyone with a child under the age of 10, who owns a television, must have stumbled onto Channel 5's 'Milkshake'. What appears at first glance to be for children soon reveals itself to be the channel of choice for the casual pervert. <br />
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The programmes themselves are the usual fare, and include the entertaining 'Mr. Men Show' (which has inexplicably changed some of the characters - Mr. Nosey doesn't have a big nose anymore). Where the channel comes into its own is the continuity announcers. Discarding Derek, the remaining three are girls of the highest quality. The main reason for watching, despite Beth, Naomi and Kemi being true foxes, is Jen Pringle. Small, petite and northern, Jen often does the (surely for dads) 'Jolly Body Jig', a dance routine, supposedly for a bit of exercise. A quick perusal of youtube will show the real demographic. <br />
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Perhaps the best excuse to leer is 'The Milkshake Show', where all 4 presenters supposedly live in the same house. The format of short sketches and songs give ample opportunity for dressing up, and unless I dreamt it, the girls once went to cheerleader practice. <br />
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Ms. Pringle can even perform the impossible - she can make crimped hair look almost attractive, although she usually sports bunches and tight t-shirts. So, Channel 5 (or five, if you like), from about 0630 onwards!Rich Flannaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17155636100765113518noreply@blogger.com5