Roger Moore, Fantastic Beasts, and Sesame Street: Origins – Reviews #253

Just a quick round-up of the things I watched immediately before Christmas. Been mostly eating cheese and re-acquainting myself with a guitar since then.



CINEMA: It's a Wonderful Life (Frank Capra, 1946) – Frank Capra's immortal film about everyday heroism is a Christmas movie – but it's not just for Christmas. It's an enduring celebration of life, love, friendship and small-town America that doubles as an indictment of the rapacious capitalism that now defines the country.

It's perilously dark, delightfully left-wing and stuffed with unforgettable scenes and performances – from H. B. Warner nearly poisoning a kid, to Alfalfa from Our Gang as a graduation hop prankster, Gloria Grahame playing town flirt Violet Bick, Beulah Bondi doing her Best Mum Ever bit, Thomas Mitchell playing drunk (obviously) and Lionel Barrymore as the penultimate word in arsehole financiers.

Dominating it all is Jimmy Stewart's greatest performance: funny, utterly loveable and finally heartbreaking as selfless George Bailey, who one Christmas Eve wishes he'd never been born and gets to see what the world would be like without him, thanks to bumbling guardian angel Clarence (Henry Travers).

The wise, universal (and multi-authored) script is densely packed with charm, incident and insight, while Capra's handling is sublime, with stunning use of close-ups at key moments, and that intense, breathlessly-directed sequence in the hellish netherworld of Pottersville that culminates in Violet being dragged away by the vice squad.

All that, plus Donna Reed's beautifully-judged performance as George's wife, Mary, the genesis of Sesame Street's Bert and Ernie, that amazing joke about needing to be excused, and one of the most wonderful denouements in movie history.

Though if I read one more review from someone saying, "I thought old movies were rubbish until I saw this" and then not watching any others, I swear I will go full Mr Potter on them. (4)

***


"Psst, where can I find those fantastic breasts I keep hearing about about?"

CINEMA: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (David Yates, 2016) – A textbook family film, with just the right balance of story, characters, jokes, soppy stuff and moderate peril, as Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne) pitches up in 1920s New York with a suitcase full of fantastic beasts, while vitriolic anti-witch campaigner Samantha Morton and dodgy Colin Farrell battle for the soul of Typecast Weird Teenager Ezra Miller – and a mysterious little girl.

There's so much to enjoy, from Rowling's effortless expansion of her wizarding world to Morton in a cloche hat for the first time since Sweet and Lowdown (shame she's evil), and an immensely satisfying scene in which the city is repaired following the usual CGI destruction. (We neurotics would like to see this in every film from now on, please.)

I'm not a huge fan of Redmayne, who seems to have waltzed into a major-league career on account of his background and connections, but he's rather charming as the wide-eyed Newt, Katherine Waterston is delightful as his foil – a recently unemployed auror – and both Alison Sudol and Dan Fogler do well to mine pathos from rather familiar roles.

It helps, I think, that this was written for the screen, as there's no need to strip away subplots or skip from one set-piece to the next; instead there's a methodical but immaculate balance between the different elements (like when RKO used to plot each Fred and Ginger vehicle on a chart: comedy bit, romantic bit, dance number, etc).

In my eyes, you're usually onto a winner if you set your film in '20s America – just about the most fascinating, cinematic place imaginable – and though I'm sure the decision is rooted in the commercial, it's a delight to be there, and not just because Waterston dresses as a flapper in one scene.

And though I usually find CGI too synthetic and unbelievable to be wondrous, Fantastic Beasts manages to evoke a real sense of magic – and character – from those creations. Especially the echidna-alike with a magpie's eye for shiny things. The way that Rowling allows the story to hinge on their actions and the way they're used may be a little gimmicky (we'll see in future instalments), but it completely justifies this new series – and already I can't wait to see the next entry.

There's nothing here to challenge the Harry Potter books as Rowling's finest artistic achievement, but it's arguably better than the best of the Potter films, which for the most part left me fairly cold (it goes 3, 8, 5, 6 and the rest I can leave, really, if you were wondering). Fantastic Beasts has a few extraneous sequences and hamfisted supporting characters, but it's also a handsome, funny, immersive, appealing and entertaining movie, and those don't come along every week.

It's also the only family film I've seen where a middle-aged man is almost raped by a magic rhino. On second thoughts, that sentence doesn't need the word 'family' in it. (3)

***



The Man Who Haunted Himself (Basil Dearden, 1970) – A cracking, eerie thriller about staid suburban businessman Roger Moore getting in a car smash and cheating death, only to find that he now has a corrupt, womanising doppelganger.

The film is hampered by a few naff elements – dated music, weak back projection and Freddie Jones as an eccentric Welsh psychiatrist – but the story is great, Moore is terrific fun in a dual role, and this one reaches a fantastic domestic climax, only to rather throw it away in the final seconds.

A pity, but The Man Who Haunted Himself is well worth seeing: gripping in itself, and with some heavy-handed but interesting points to make about conformity and repression. Listen out too for Moore talking about James Bond, three years before taking the role that would define his career. (3)

***

Thanks for reading.

Summer round-up 2011 - Part Two - Reviews #78

Get off the beach at once and go and watch some movies.

Since you've been so good this year (at least so far), here's the rest of the summer round-up, including a strongman, a midget, four clones and a mad scientist. They're all in the same film.

Elsewhere, I heap praise on DreamWorks' latest, go all gooey over a Steve Carell comedy-drama and quickly tire of Bulldog Drummond, the world's worst detective. He makes Inspector Clouseau look like Charlie Chan.

Actually, Neil Simon made Inspector Clouseau (or at least Peter Sellers) look like Charlie Chan. In Murder by Death. Not a good film, the wonderful Eileen Brennan aside.

Ready? I was born ready, myself...



CINEMA: Kung Fu Panda 2 3D (Jennifer Yuh Nelson, 2011) - This is a beast every bit as rare as a panda that can do kung fu: a superior sequel. A mix of heart, humour and action, the first outing raked in $600m at the box-office, so here’s a follow-up, helmed by first-time director Jennifer Yuh Nelson, who devised the original’s striking opening sequence. Po, voiced by Jack Black, is the Dragon Warrior - a kung fu master and perpetually hungry panda. When a villainous peacock (Gary Oldman) looks to wrestle control of his valley via a dock-off cannon, our hero is sent to face him down, accompanied by his trusted cohorts, the Furious Five. The first thing to say is that the film looks incredible, packed with sumptuous landscapes dominated by vast mountains, dappling rivers and towering pagodas. Its 3D is rarely used to fling props at the audience, but rather to provide depth to its vividly-realised world, allowing the viewer to wallow in that sheer opulence. Few modern movies have realised the possibilities of the big screen in such an assured, ambitious manner.

Perhaps even more importantly, the film boasts an engrossing, engaging and affecting story that’s never worthy or, ahem, po-faced, and reveals just why Po was raised by a goose. Its humour is rich, intelligent and unpretentious, epitomised by a terrific set-piece in which a ceremonial dragon filled with our brave warriors consumes and dispels a series of baddies; the most heightened display of toilet humour you’ll ever see. And the other action sequences are similarly superb: vastly superior to those in the first outing, with tremendous variety and imagination. There’s a fight to save a village that throbs with energy and invention, a breathless, hilarious rickshaw chase and a quietly destructive cannonball climax. Such wizardry is augmented by effective voicework, a lovely score from Hans Zimmer and John Powell, and an unashamedly sentimental punch-the-air slo-mo moment in which Po turns to his buddies and simply yells: “I love you guuuuuuuys!” Fast, funny and fleshing out its story with emotional wallops, Kung Fu Panda 2 is a total triumph - and knocks even its predecessor into a conical hat. (3.5)

Just to refresh your memory:



Kung Fu Panda (Mark Osborne and John Stevenson, 2008) - A rotund, clumsy panda (Jack Black), obsessed with martial arts, is selected to be the mythical Dragon Warrior, setting him on a collision course with a psychotic, power-hungry snow leopard (Ian MacShane) who's planning to lay waste to his valley and see off his former father figure, Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman). The film begins in striking fashion with a manga-ish dream sequence, stutters for a while, then judders back into life around the half-hour mark, courtesy of an intensely moving flashback. After that it never looks back. It isn't perfect, but it's a fun mix of gags, fight scenes and pathos with an impressive visual sense and a very strong second half. (3)

***



Dan in Real Life (Peter Hedges, 2007) – There’s a lovely feel to this offbeat picture, which mixes family comedy, human drama and broad farce to unexpectedly effective, affecting ends. Steve Carell is a newspaper columnist, widower and father-of-three who visits his parents for the holidays and falls for a girl (Juliette Binoche) in a bookstore – only realising later it’s his brother’s new love. As he struggles to contain his feelings, he awaits news of possible syndication and faces the slings and arrows of outrageous daughters, who want to drive, date boys or just have his attention for a moment. The jumble of elements gels surprisingly well, thanks to neat scriping, Carell’s excellent performance and a fine ensemble that includes John Mahoney and Dianne Wiest. It’s an extremely satisfying movie. (3.5)

***



The Cheyenne Social Club (Gene Kelly, 1970) – Cowboy Jimmy Stewart arrives in town to collect his inheritance and finds his brother has left him a brothel, in this very funny Western comedy. The picture’s a little stagy in its mid-section and there’s the odd joke that misses the mark (a couple just don't make any sense at all), but the story is involving and amusing, there are a dozen big laughs and the chemistry between Stewart and tactless, chatty pal Henry Fonda is a joy to behold, old pros and real life best buds that they are. Elements of tension, action and human drama are also incorporated quite elegantly. After all, what would a Western be without a gunfight or two? (3)

***



Give a Girl a Break (Stanley Donen, 1953) – Three girls compete for the chance to headline a Broadway show in this trim, straightforward MGM musical. The simple story is just something to be diverted from – and the frequent numbers are a treat, particularly two each pairing Marge and Gower Champion, and Debbie Reynolds and Bob Fosse. The latter pair made The Affairs of Dobie Gillis the same year, which is a minor classic. (3)

See also: Did I mention that I met Debbie Reynolds? Yes I did, several times. MGM had a plan to remake all of Fred and Ginger's films, starring Marge and Gower Champion. They only managed one, turning Roberta into Lovely to Look At.

***



Run, Fatboy, Run (David Schwimmer, 2007) works as far as it does - and that's a lot further than you might think - on the strength of Simon Pegg's performance. He's excellent as a hopeless schlub trying in vain to ingratiate himself with the heavily-pregnant fiancee he left at the altar five years ago. His solution: to tackle the marathon her new fella is about to take on. The plot is overly formulaic - though the race is cleverly conceived - the material variable and the product-placement excessive, but Pegg is a brilliant comic actor, wringing laughs out of almost every situation. (3)

***



Shallow Hal (Bobby and Peter Farrelly, 2001) is the ultimate in high-concept romcom shenanigans (yep, I said shenanigans), as superficial skirt-chaser Jack Black's perception of the laydeez (yep, I said laydeez) becomes based entirely on their inner self, causing him to fall heels-over-head for morbidly obese charity worker Gwyneth Paltrow, whom he sees as a slimline hottie. The film's a little confused in places, relying on fat jokes whilst peddling its "appearances aren't everything" message, but its heart is in the right place and it's frequently both sweet and funny. At least until the Farrellys indulge their old bodyshock fetish with all that stuff about a tail. The film's main virtue is Black's sparring with similarly misguided buddy Jason Alexander, which works really nicely. Alexander's timelessly juvenile one-liner may be my favourite of the year so far (I am really sorry): "You're right. l'm probably more immature than you, but at least l have a bigger willy." (3)

*I.e. a film based on a one-line premise; "high-concept" makes it sound clever and admirable, which it rarely is.

***



The City of Lost Children (Mark Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 1995) – A gaggle of misfits – a brain, a midget, four clones and a mad scientist – take to stealing children in order to experience the one thing their creator could never give them: dreams. On their trail is good-hearted, taciturn circus strongman One (Ron Perlman), who’s looking for the perpetually-hungry little brother they swiped from his caravan. The big guy is accompanied by Miette (Judith Vittet), a streetwise orphan who’s fallen in love with him. This fantasy is disjointed, muddled and almost self-consciously peculiar, but worth seeing for a knockout opening sequence, a couple of very special performances from Perlman and Vittet, and an astonishing visual sense. (2.5)

***



Catch-22 (Mike Nichols, 1970) – As an attempt to film an unimpeachable, untouchable, unfilmable book, it’s OK: a meeting of the sublime and the ridiculously useless in both scene and characterisation, with a passage of utter dullness to offset each sequence that works, and a lot of yelling to contrast with every bit of spot-on comic anguish. Alan Arkin is superb as Yossarian and Jon Voight makes a suitable Milo, but Martin Balsam is all kinds of shouty wrong as Col. Cathcart. (2.5)

***



Bulldog Drummond Escapes (James P. Hogan, 1937) – Lively entry in the comedy-adventure series, with a slightly manic Ray Milland (in his only appearance as Drummond) looking to rescue damsel in distress Heather Angel from beardy villain Porter Hall, who’s got the young heiress locked up and drugged. The plot’s nothing new and the staging can be a little static, but the young Milland’s eager, slightly over-ripe characterisation keeps proceedings buoyant and there’s fun support from series regulars Reginald Denny and E. E. Clive. Kudos also to the writers for creating a bolshy love interest who’s not averse to whacking someone over the head. Sometimes even the right person. (2.5)


A film so poor that even J. Carroll Naish is bad in it. He's still impressibly unidentifiable, though.

Bulldog Drummond Comes Back (Louis King, 1937) – The first Drummond entry starring John Howard starts off terrifically, with vengeful crooks swiping his girl and promising a series of riddles he must complete to save her life. Sadly they’re incredibly tedious and not even the great John Barrymore, whose role consists of trying on some fake noses and pretending to be Scottish, can save this one. (1.5)


You see how this isn't very good?

Bulldog Drummond’s Bride (James P. Hogan, 1939) – As a devotee of '30s and '40s mystery-comedies, I've been pretty unimpressed by this series, even while acknowledging that it's a serial-like affair placing the accent on adventure. This entry is poorly-written, with misguided comedy interludes and a one-note performance from Reginald Denny, while Drummond (John Howard) is a simply awful detective, boasting the sole virtue of persistence. (1.5)

See also: To see how this sort of thing is really done, check out the Michael Shayne series. The last film in the series was Time to Kill.

***



Shorts (Robert Rodriguez, 2009) looks like it was made by kids, as well as for kids, with plenty of elements that will appeal to the nine-year-old in your life, but a shaky grasp of narrative and a staggeringly misguided chapter about a giant, murderous bogie. Perhaps realising his story wasn’t up to scratch, Rodriguez split it into sections and shuffled them, so it’s essentially like Pulp Fiction, if Pulp Fiction was a disappointing film about a magic rock. There are crocodiles that run on their hind legs, tiny, destructive aliens and a contraption that makes the iPhone look like a calculator watch, but the lacklustre plotting, heavy-handed moralising and sometimes wooden acting mean it’s a bit of a letdown. The best gag, with the aliens and that much-maligned bogie, is saved for the credits. (2)

See also: Rodriguez used to make great kids' films, like Spy Kids and Spy Kids 2. I'm afraid he also made Spy Kids 3. He also makes kids for grown-ups. You can read about his Mexico Trilogy here.

***



Happy Feet (George Miller, Warren Coleman and Judy Morris - let's name and shame them, 2006) - It's as if March of the Penguins had been remade by Satan. This is an embarrassingly ill-conceived animation about a community of singing penguins and the travails of one plucky little member (his plumage like an evening suit, his face and voice reminiscent of Elijah Wood), who's tone deaf but can dance. The makers seem to have no concept of storytelling, the visuals are dull and undistinctive, and without wanting to sound like Mary Whitehouse (a sure sign that I'm about to), a lot of the material is just incredibly inappropriate for kids. Would you pay someone to stand in front of your beloved, toddling offspring and talk about booty and - well - sexing? Because I probably wouldn't. The Amigo Penguins are pretty funny and the first chase sequence is exciting, but the rest of this is just absolutely excruciating. (1.5)

Kim Novak, B-Westerns and taking off all of your clothes for money - Reviews #65

Picnic (Joshua Logan, 1955) – William Holden is the muscly drifter who blows into a small-town to see an old college buddy and rips the lid of the local women's repressed sexuality. The opening and closing scenes are utterly wonderful; everything in between is a little overwrought in the '50s style, dealing with over-familiar themes and pulled down by some mannered, obvious turns (not least from Rosalind Russell). There's still plenty to admire and enjoy, with Holden utterly explosive in his atypically theatrical performance, Novak ideally cast as the young woman in his sights, and some spectacular cinematography from the legendary James Wong Howe – like those lantern-lit picnic scenes. (3)

See also: William Holden also appeared in Garson Kanin's sensational Born Yesterday.

***



Pushover (Richard Quine, 1954) – Fans of Double Indemnity won't be surprised to see investigator Fred MacMurray getting talked into murder by a sexy laydee (Kim Novak) in this slightly tired psychological noir. Novak sizzles, MacMurray sweats and there are some nice stylistic touches, but such exertions are spent on a largely uninteresting script. There are some intriguing parallels with the work of Alfred Hitchcock, though. As with Rear Window, released two days later, large portions of the film are shot from a stakeout position and, like Vertigo, the film deals with what happens if you get obsessed with Kim Novak (timely, as I've watched three of her films this weekend). There's also a nice romantic subplot featuring Dorothy Malone and Philip Carey. (2.5)

***



Bell, Book and Candle (Richard Quine, 1958) is a minor but enjoyable romantic comedy that appears to have no significance beyond its immediate story, until a lovely last 15. Kim Novak is a New York witch who – literally – charms publisher Jimmy Stewart to stop him marrying her high school nemesis. It's a gentle and entertaining film, even if there are only a handful of real laughs ("Taxi! Oh taxi!”), with fine chemistry between the leads (reunited after Vertigo) and a really awesome, snow-tinged set. In support, Elsa Lanchester spouts vacantly, Ernie Kovacs drinks a lot and Jack Lemmon offers a vivid demonstration of what he'll do if you don't rein him in. Mug incessantly and play the bongos. (3)

***




The Full Monty (Peter Cattaneo, 1997) – Before The King's Speech, there was... The Full Monty. Yup, that was the last time the whole of Britain went to the cinema. It's a neat comedy-drama, of a piece with the cycle of such home-grown successes released in the mid-'90s, though shorn of the heavier social commentary of Brassed Off and not in the same league as the remarkable Little Voice. The film traces the fortunes of six sons of Sheffield who decide the way to reverse their ailing fortunes following the collapse of the steel industry is to take off all their clothes in public for money. Its main virtues are an inventive, literate script by Peter Beaufoy (though without wanting to sound like a killjoy, I'm not sure an "epi" is really acceptable slang for a fit) and a game cast, including Robert Carlyle and Tom Wilkinson. The emotional moments are nicely handled and that celebrated scene in the dole queue where they all start dancing in sync is indeed joyous. (3)

***



A Lawless Street (Joseph H. Lewis, 1955) is a thoughtful, exciting and flamboyantly-directed Western from Lewis, who began in oaters but made his name with a couple of incredible films noir, Gun Crazy and The Big Combo. Randolph Scott plays a lawman troubled by the town he's trying to tame and the memories of the men he's had to kill. Into his life rides Jessica Fletcher (Angela Lansbury) off of Murder, She Wrote, a music hall actress who also happens to be his estranged missus. Meanwhile, hired gun ("Don't ever call me that again”) Michael Pate arrives in town, wanting a showdown with the marshal. This is a cut above the Scott fare that had come before – if a little short of the Ranown run on which he was about to embark with Budd Boetticher – with original dialogue, a progressive worldview and a knockout performance from Pate as the rubber-lipped hitman. The only shortcoming is a rushed and somewhat unsatisfactory final reel. (3.5)

***



Coroner Creek (Ray Enright, 1948) – Incredibly boring Randolph Scott Western, notable only for introducing his new, hard-bitten persona. He plays a (not overly) mysterious man seeking vengeance against the kingpin of Coroner Creek, who committed some (not overly) mysterious wrong 18 months back. A strong cast – including Forrest Tucker and veteran character actors Edgar Buchanan and Russell Simpson – is largely wasted, the plotting relies on frequent coincidence and the dialogue is just awful. Curious, as this by-the-numbers effort was penned by Kenneth Gamet, who wrote eight Scott vehicles (and the earlier Pittsburgh), including A Lawless Street. (1.5)