Rainfox Reviews

Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003)

Tarantino's bloody Valentine

[31 October 2003]

Tarantino's bloody Valentine

• Clap your hands, stomp your feet and wiggle your toes

* * * * * (5 out of 5)

Kill Bill: Volume 1

Directed by: Quentin Tarantino, 2003



Kill Bill hits the ground running. With an uncanny grasp of film lore and a boy-scout's shameless innocence, Quentin Tarantino carves up a bloodied slice of geek mania in the finest of martial arts traditions - as masturbatory as it is exploitive and rewarding.

There's a popular saying about Tarantino. That he didn't go to film school, he went to 'films'. Kill Bill underlines this with a big, fat marker in screaming pink.

It is crafted with both a burning passion and a delicate sense of detail, amidst a grounded understanding of the history and style of its many scattershot origins. Be it Hollywood, spaghetti westerns, Che Chang, the Shaw brothers, a cult benchmark like Blade Runner (yes, that's the L.A. tunnel doubling for Tokyo) or pop-culture 60s TV-schlock like the Green Hornet (music and Kato mask) and Star Trek (how about that pompous opening quote?). Tarantino is throwing everything and the kitchen sink in the same cooker and it smells delicious. Tastes even better.

Is it a tribute or a parody then? Neither. It's a celebration.

The plot is deceptively simple: a woman known as The Bride (Uma Thurman) seeks revenge on a team of assassins (The Deadly Viper Assassination Squad, or DiVAS) led by a man named Bill, who massacred her wedding party (including The Bride's unborn child) and left a bullet in her brain. As if that wasn't enough, Miramax decided to cut the movie (180 minutes) into two separate parts. Whatever stand Tarantino made on this issue doesn't matter, because Volume 1 works effortlessly in its current running time, even though we don't get to see that much of head-honcho Bill (portrayed by sleaze icon David Carradine - remember how bad this man was at kung-fu?) or the whistling, hip-swinging, one-eyed Darryl Hannah. Instead we get an agile Thurman carving her way through opponent after opponent, leaving wounds and body parts that erupt like scarlet geysers.

As with his other films, Tarantino ignores chronological order and goes about his story in a mish-mash of information. Yes, this is the style we are accustomed to with him but it never felt as right as it does here. This is the cartoon (and anime) style of interwoven storytelling, where characters are rooted by their past experiences and charged by emotions of revenge, while defined by their weapons of choice and/or colorful names.

It turns out no one does it better and Tarantino naturally also knows where the line is drawn - he's a Ph.D. in congenial geekdom laws - so there's no plastered speech bubbles of "oomph" and "kaboom" and no awkward special effects just for show. He might tease us with bleeping out a name, go Manga anime for an otherwise too offending scene or suddenly turn black and white as a fingerpointer to TV censorship, but it's all direct homagés that fit as a whole. There's an unflagging spirit to Kill Bill, as if the tons of soul, trivia and history invested in it was meant to be.

There are also no digital effects during the fight scenes.

Tarantino brought in friend and choreographer Yuen Woo-Ping, best known to the MTV-generation for his Matrix and Crouching Tiger work. Yet the elaborate action in Kill Bill is like nothing you've ever seen before. It's a gorgeous throwback to Woo-Ping's original style from the 70s - his Zui Quan (Drunken Master) days - which translates to being real stunts by real people and an emphasis on, say, just how sharp a Japanese sword can be. CGI-less and based on hardcore flow rather than specific stiff kung-fu moves (see Matrix), even the rare wire-work feels fresh and elegant. Blended with a keen eye for editing (Sally Menke works miracles), Kill Bill takes genre material and elevates it to a whole other level. To a whole new world. The showdown in the House of Blue Leaves restaurant between The Bride and the yakuza underworld is the most exhilarating, well-staged and intoxicating swordfight ever brought to the big screen. Doubt me? Just watch Tarantino's smoke.

Thurman delivers a remarkable performance as The Bride. Never once do you doubt her moxie or capabilities. Physically, she's completely convincing and not just a "silly Caucasian girl playing with Samurai swords" (an actual quote from the movie ofcourse), evident from the opening, high-speed knife-fight with Vivica Fox (as killer vixen Vernita Green) to her eye-popping electric boogie twirls on a dancefloor cutting hundreds of yakuzas into bits and pieces. Literally. Thurman's martial arts mannerisms are dead-on - a performance for the history books. White girl, yellow heart. Indeed. She truly honors the tracksuit she wears.

While the yakuza showdown packs the most wallop, the best scene turns out to be a rather exquisite one. The final stand-off in Volume 1 between The Bride and another faster-pussycat assasin, O-Ren (Lucy Lui)- in an idyllic snow-covered garden - is a marvel. So where'd the snow come from? Don't ask and don't spoil the moment. Just acknowledge and respect that Tarantino is honoring an ancient Japanese tradition with the kind of love a mother has for her new-born. It's an angelic scene, enhanced by the loud dead calm that only lazy, falling snow produces. As the two warrior goddesses reflect in the crisp white landscape, the silence is broken momentarily by the caressing clank from a wooden waterpump. It's pure poetry.

The cast is perfect all around. Tarantino brings out both slapstick and relaxed realism in Sonny Chiba, while he gets the rather obvious Oriental fetiches (and his own?) covered with dressing Chiaki Kuriyama up as a schoolgirl with murderous inclinations. Her weapon of choice is a steel ball and chain with pop-out razors. What a deliciously funny performance by Kuriyama (however much is taken from Kinji Fukasaku's Battle Royale laid aside). But it's Lui that almost upstages our heroine. Her dotted, cheeky smile and twinkle of eye concealing a hidden ruthlessness is the object of much attention by the camera.

Lui is forgiven every bad episode of Ally (that's about 95%) and the shameless Charlie's Angels remakes for her performance as the sexy Godmother of the yakuza. I am reminded of John Ford's famous statement - when an assistent director questioned a shot he was making of a character's face, stating it was boring - that "What is more exciting than the human face?". Lui articulates a delicate cuteness and bruteness through the most subtle of facial expressions and as she fronts the yakuza entourage arriving at the restaurant, enhanced by the terrific main theme, it's as classic and cool as cinema can possibly get.

The mastermind behind the Wu-Tang Clan, RZA, has scored Kill Bill (together with Tarantino) and given it a pounding pulse to match the storm of visuals that come in from all sides of the universe. The overall sound is hard to define. Imagine old-school Nancy Sinatra ("Bang Bang") mixed with the savvy groove of Hotei's "Battle without Honor or Humanity" on top of the theme from "Ironside" by Quincy Jones, and you'll have some idea. Oh wait, those songs are already in the movie. Well, there you go.

It has to be said: Kill Bill is extremely gory. The violence is ludicrous, sometimes hilarious, but it actually walks a fine line between simply bringing bloodsplattering anime to life and the repulsive horror of Michael Madsen's ear-cutting moment in Reservoir Dogs. One minute Kill Bill gets down, dirty and dangerous for fun or shock, and in the next Tarantino brings everything to a screeching halt - as when The Bride and Vernita simultaniously hide their knifes away, welcoming reality walking in the door in the shape of Vernita's kid coming home from school. You just might be able to sense Tarantino laughing contently in the background. He's toying with us, but it's as thrilling for us as it is for him.

Kill Bill is glorius pulp fiction. A trancelike celebration of the pulp in the fiction. A martial arts benchmark and a slobbering, bloody Valentine's kiss from Tarantino to movie geeks all around the world. Right smack on the mouth.

Now, that's a first.

Escape from L.A. (1996)

Burn, Hollywood, burn

[30 October 2003]

* * * ½ (3½ out of 5)

Directed by: John Carpenter, 1996.

Going back to Escape from L.A. - 5 years after my first viewing - turned out to be a nice surprise.

I remember disliking the movie originally; not just as a poor sequel to the cult benchmark Escape From New York (1981), but as a bad movie.

While I can still relate to the hokeyness I objected to back then, I also discovered so many more charms to 'L.A.' on my second time around. Maybe the lighter, goofier style in 'L.A.', compared to the dark bluster of 'New York', provoked me more than it should have since I was (and somewhat still am) biased about Carpenter making a sequel to a (his own) great movie by simply doing a shot for shot remake on a larger bag of money. What on Earth was Carpenter thinking? Well, in fact, it turns out he was thinking about a whole lot of things, including our Earth, and with 'L.A.' he managed to bring some intriguing what-ifs to the screen in his trademark part-screwball, part sci-fi action-adventure style.

These were the early days of computer generated effects (James Cameron's Titanic would surface a year later) and on a mid-range budget of $50 mill - however big that was for director Carpenter and co-writer/producer Debra Hill - the special effects in 'L.A.' seem to fit somewhere in between ludicrous and intentionally funny. It's then a testament to Carpenter and Kurt Russell - who reprises as the bad-ass, cynical Snake Plissken without missing a beat - that they make the cartoonish and apocalyptic world not only seem fresh and sharp but downright audacious.

There's actually so much vibe to 'L.A.' that you forgive it being largely identical to 'New York'. Here we are in California where a massive 9.6 earthquake has separated Los Angeles from the mainland and the area has become a deportation prison for all of America's unwanted. An island of the damned, home to murderers, immigrants and those guilty of "moral" crimes. In 2013 the United States is a non-smoking nation. No drugs, no alcohol, no women - unless you're married - no foul language and no red meat. The land of the free. It's hilarious.

The brilliant added bonus now though, what nobody could have foreseen, is the relevance of Carpenter's prophecies today. He spoofs a future America as a police-governed, ultra right-wing Christian theocracy, unpopular and isolated from the rest of globe (at war with most of the Third World and the Middle East), featuring a President-for-life in a White House that's relocated south (okay, to Virginia, not Texas). Geez, huh? It's 2004 and we're well on our way already. On a highway to hell.

'L.A.' also addresses the charming denial and magic lure of the city of Los Angeles. Today, tomorrow or in 2013.

In a future Beverly Hills people stalk for fresh body parts to supply and support their deteriorating mass plastic surgery (a great cameo by Bruce Campbell) and in downtown L.A. gang crime is at an all-time fever pitch. The best scene comes as an eerie shock amidst the bubblegum glossy feel - "It's actually not a bad place, if you learn to understand it," says inmate Taslima (Valerie Golina) in trying to defend her hometown and other Angelinos. A second later she's gunned down out of the blue by a 13-year old Korean gang-banger.

With the big quake of 1994 still fresh in mind, the bad economy and power shortages, the yearly mudslides in Malibu and the fires that ravaged California as late as 2003, it all rains support to the core of the thread that Carpenter is displaying. "What are you doing in L.A.," Taslima asks Snake in an earlier scene. "Dying," he dryly replies, in reference to the deadly virus he's allegedly been injected with by the police so he won't skip town. But Carpenter's metaphor is redwood-thick shtick all the same.

Still, it's unfortunately not all a flickering, beautiful neon sea as viewed by an evening cruise on Mulholland Drive. The action scenes are mostly stiff and slow and 'L.A.' is maybe the best example of how Carpenter was never an action director - much like Tim Burton never was - no, like Burton he's an inventive and suspenseful creator of unique movie places and worlds but not the man for editing interesting physical action. It also doesn't help that new baddie Georges Corraface as Cuervo Jones pales immensely compared to Isaac Hayes' Duke of New York. Furthermore there's a feeling of wasted opportunity in the otherwise smart casting of ageless hippie Peter Fonda and indie hero Steve Buscemi. Although they do evoke a smile now and then.

Russell is luckily super game and - it's amazing, to his credit for reprising this role - the man fit the same clothes he wore back in 1981, 16 years ago. The famous gladiatorial fight in 'New York' has been replaced with Snake shooting clocked hoops at the Coliseum (shots Russell made himself). It features another cool blow from Carpenter by way of Jones declaring to Snake: "You might have survived Cleveland. You might have escaped New York. But this is L.A., and this city can kill anybody!"

Having the City of Angels as the new 'Escape' playground is every bit the meaty material the Big Apple was. Carpenter and Russell are enjoying a field day on the west coast and the colorful setting makes for a fun, punchy time.

Hey, even Snake seems thrilled. When offered yet another Presidential pardon instead of a deportation, Snake says no deal - "F**k you, I'm going to Hollywood." He's in denial too.

The Matrix Reloaded (2003)

Get Me An Exit!

[26 October 2003]

* ½ (1½ out of 5)

The Matrix Reloaded

Directed by: The Wachowski Brothers, 2003



This movie has been getting a bad rap and I have to join in. I wasn't that much of a fan of the original either (a 2½ rating, so imagine my solitude when everyone was raving madly about it in 1999).

Keanu Reeves was poor in The Matrix. He's a really, really bad actor and the whole concept of the Matrix itself was not only dumb, it lacked simple logic and at best entertained like disarming nonsense. For a sci-fi freak like myself the basic idea was technically charming but the structure and themes were wafer-thin. Guns? Fistfights? Black leather? Suits? Too stylized, too nerdy, folks. You can tell it was written by nerds, for nerds, an "action-utopia" or "perfect computer game enviroment." To my knowledge and if I tune my future-goggles right here, hey, machines would never build something like the Matrix. On the contrary: Why cater to humans? They're all drugged and locked down anyway.

But back to Matrix Reloaded. The things that worked in the first one and that I liked - the atmosphere, the larger-than-life feel on a decent budget and the impressive still-motion wire stunts (that already back then got overdone) - are missing here. Well, the 'feel' of them are. This is just the Wachowski brothers with more money. Huge fights and huge chases but no excitement. It's soulless, it's heartless. Keanu is even worse than in previous outings - yes, it's actually possible - because here he has to tackle a romance with first lady Trinity. He delivers lines so bad, so wooden, they made me laugh. Funny also, because Carrie-Anne Moss is both cool, charming and sexy but she's just kissing and staring into the face of this bland neanderthal. Sad stuff.

The fights in Reloaded are way over the top. More of the same to begin with. Punch. Block. Kick. Punch. Jump. Kick. Say what? Why? Read Harry Knowles' review for more. He's completely on the money. We've seen it all before and it's idiotic. So just shoot the damn gun, alright? Oh wait, Neo can block bullets now. So why can't he block kicks and punches with a "mindwall" like he can bullets? Ah, the logic.

Agent Smith is back for no other reason then.. well, he's back. The public wanted him. Pretty obvious. So how to bring him back from the dead.. How about we make him a computer virus? Nice one, we'll buy that, but the thrill is lacking despite Hugo Weaving's characteristic spoken drawl and sleek meanness. Furthermore, Smith manages to turn up at two pivotal junctions in the story, just after Neo has delivered crucial dialogue to either The Oracle or Morpheus. How does he do that? The third installment, Revolutions, might shed a light on that, fanboys, but it's writing based on audience reactions, not vice-versa now. Contrived populism that destroys whatever shards of integrity the original had.

The grand fight scene that got all the trailer buzz - the many, many Agent Smiths against a lone Neo - made me speechless. Because I didn't care. Been there, done that. Neo will win. There is no intensity, no drama, just a retread of effects from the first one and juiced up. Then when the brawl escalated into a computer game (completely computer generated) I had to look away. I went into the kitchen and made some coffee, contemplating on how few moviemakers today have actually realized how CGI just isn't good enough yet. They want us to think so, but it's not. Talk about denial.

Later on, a freeway chase has logistics to die for. The Wachowskis actually built 1.4 mile of freeway just south of San Francisco to make this scene. That's moxy, considering how everyone else would just CGI-y it. I was psyched when this scene began hence it was maybe the kick in the face Reloaded needed. But it just doesn't resonate. I must direct people's attention to other recent movies: in Spielberg's Minority Report (that is even more CGI-drenched in its chase scenes) we cared because the story and storytelling was so good. In Terminator 3 - lesser all around to the two before it, but not as bad as we could have feared - the firetruck scene is gawking simply because there's a focus on the nitty-gritty basics of the action and struggles itself, real steel and glass, real automobiles burning rubber and colliding. In Matrix Reloaded the whole freeway slam-bam scene feels like a computer game. You know how you just always floor your car, pedal to the metal, when you play a computer game because you just don't care? It's all speed and velocity? Same thing here. Trinity, Neo and Morpheus whiz in and out of traffic, chased by agents and bad guys and there's just no tension whatsoever.

That scene is a full-on free shot. That hits like a powder-puff.

Same can be said for the movie as a whole. I didn't even get to the underworld of Zion, the long pandering neo-classical religious and philosophical speeches or the two new henchmen, The Albino Twins, who - when they morph into spirits - reminded me of the effects in Poltergeist (22 years ago).

Matrix Reloaded is bad. A disappointment even for moderate fans of the first one. The program doesn't just need patches, it requires a real upgrade. Somebody call Bill Gates.

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (2003)

A legit blast from the past - the battle has just begun

[10 August 2003]

* * * ½ (3½ out of 5)

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines

Directed by: Jonathan Mostow, 2003

Let's get right to it, shall we? Is Jonathan Mostow's Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines ("T3") bad? Is it what we feared, considering it's primarily a box office vehicle and career savior for a forgotten Arnold Schwarzenegger and completely without mastermind James Cameron's involvement? And does it seriously wrong the two previous? No. No. And no.

Not at all. In fact, it's very good. Worth the wait? Yes. Would we rather have had James Cameron's vision still? Of course we would. But T3 is a legit blast from the past evident from the somber and charming opening voice-over by Nick Stahl (as John Connor, bringing us up to speed) all the way to the clever plot twist at the end. T3 holds its very own. Or as Ah-nuld's returning Terminator dryly remarks: "I am nod shidding you."

What do we get then?

We get Ah-nuld - back and ready, now 55 - slipping seamlessly (physically too) into the one role we must remember to give him credit for. As the twisted steel endoskeleton killing machine, covered in human tissue, the heavy-accented non-actor is a welcome kick in the face.

We also get a storyteller with a heart in director Mostow. Operating on a gigantic budget of $170m he wisely remembers that bigger and louder isn't necessarily better. There's a story to be told here. Maybe T3 predictably follows the traditions of the first two (time zone arrivals, introductions, a big chase and a final shootout and confrontation), but Mostow is surprisingly refined in his approach and passes the Cameron-test with ease. T3 has the same texture, the same grit and the same vacuumed atmosphere of despair, making it - okay, in its best moments - slither right in alongside its two predecessors.

Sarah Connor is dead and her son and future rebel leader, John, is now a twenty-something drifter, living "off the grid" with no address or phone. Stahl plays both to the juvenile (and, honestly, bad-acted) pop charm of Furlong from T2 and to his own (and Mostow's) idea of an older and emotionally wrecked loner. Amidst the mayhem and inferno, Stahl lends weight with a natural command of what's at stake here: the human race and the integrity of a renowned action franchise. Stahl is an absolute steal. Co-star Claire Danes even brings back fond memories (of Hamilton) from the first one.

The same can unfortunately not be said of Kristanna Loken as the new villain(ness), the liquid metal T-X. Don't blame Loken - she's fine when she's on screen even though she naturally lacks some of the spine-tingling intensity of Patrick in T2 (a case of having been there, done that). It's when she morphs into computer effects there's a weird occurrence. 13 years have passed since the last time, but the liquid metal of the T-X - you'd imagine that CG has improved since then - seems strangely more stingy and effects-pasted than the fluent ooze and flubber of the old T-1000 from 1991. Also, the T-X is maybe too much to swallow as a concept: In my review of T2 I questioned the ability of the T-1000 to form human skin and clothing fabric, but here it is completely out of bounds. The T-X can form interchangeable firing weapons (rockets too) with her hands. Well, can the liquid thing - the matter - then generate new matter so that it doesn't "shoot off" its own essence? If so, why not just change into an atomic bomb and go off?

The old Terminator flicks were likewise rich on goof-holes, but this does bog T3 down. There are also too many one-liners dating back to Ah-nuld's annoying celebrity traditions, a grand helicopter crash that doesn't spark any intensity and Earl Boen shows up (out of nowhere) as Dr. Silberman purely to generate recognition other than Arnie himself. This is where T3 sticks out like a sore thumb.

Luckily, there are more positives than negatives. Stan Winston's gorgeous and glittering silver cyborg designs are a welcome return in these sickening times of CG overload courtesy of over-reaching ambitions by formerly inventive filmmakers (take your pick: Spider-Man, Hulk, Matrix Reloaded, parts of the Lord of the Rings series and the Star Wars prequels). And when Arnie and the T-X slug it out in a kind of robotic martial arts slam dance (destroying an office restroom complete with urinals and toilets), it's an intoxicating blend of adrenaline, mechanical power and sexual energy. You feel the bruises and bending steel. Back to basics fist fighting, bare-bones dogme action at its finest. T3 actually seems like a throwback to the nitty-gritty cinema heyday of rugged stuntmen, breathing explosions and cool editing (a superb job by Neil Travis and Nicolas de Toth). Full of B-movie values and subtle plot-moving stopgaps but operated from a mega budget.

Sure, T3 is clouded with zippy CG effects, but the best scenes and set-pieces are for real. You may speculate just where all the money went then. Relax. That's a real street, a real area of Los Angeles, that gets demolished in the gawking crane and fire truck chase that not only bolts out as a shocking display of property damage, but as the most intense and satisfying Armageddon on wheels since William Friedkin's freeway spectacle in To Live and Die in L.A. (1985). Leaving CG-drenched stinkers like 2 Fast 2 Furious (2003) and Driven (2001) in a cloud of Judgement Day dust. The action in T3 is worth the ticket alone.

But Mostow's spice of choice is subtlety and the little things add up. Arnie picks up biker gear a third time around while you smile, the technical evovlement of Cyberdyne is displayed but not pondered upon, and I did enjoy the 'heat plus sand equals glass' detail. Nice touch and a perfect example of how well-rounded this sequel was approached by the filmmakers.

Mostow effectively marries old and new with a tight and thought-provoking sci-fi story. The ending is a triumph, as Mostow and writers John Brancato and Michael Ferris keep the best for last and almost caressingly open Pandora's Box. An ending for the ages, logically - not just in typical greedy Hollywood fashion - paving the way for another sequel with the actual war of man against machine.

T3 is a pleasant Tinseltown surprise and a biggie with purpose. Don't be put off by a non-Cameron Terminator and shy away, or as Ah-nuld simply states in a hilarious scene: "Don't do dat."

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

He came back

[10 August 2003]

* * * * (4 out of 5)

Terminator 2: Judgement Day

Directed by: James Cameron, 1991



Entertaining and technically fascinating $100m grand action movie does go 'soft' a few times, but is otherwise both a satisfying and refreshing sequel.

Rich on impressive special effects wizardry – the liquid-metal villain T1000 is a gawking sight – and pretty much loaded with the same heavy action and raw drive that writer/director Cameron injected into the first one, even though a careful eye will reveal that it goes along in almost complete symmetry to the original too. Put simply: there's an arrival, a first encounter and establishment of the human characters, an escape and re-evaluation scene, a major car chase (featuring a truck) and a final confrontation at a metalworks factory. Sound familiar?

Arnold Schwarzenegger returns – of course – and he's equipped with a nice story-twist that he makes the most of. Beefed up Linda Hamilton is completely sensational as Sarah Connor. There's a fitting and rugged growth not only in her biceps but in her character due to her many tribulations from the first encounter with these mechanical assassins.

Robert Patrick is a stand-out as the metal-organic terminator and not only in terms of effects. His rendition of a cold-blooded robot is simple and relentless – the T1000 never gets discouraged no matter the opposition or damage factor – thus lending a very scary edge to the suspense.

However, more story and continuity paradoxes emerge than need be. Maybe time-travel logic was never one to be thoroughly divulged into but how can the T1000 re-generate clothing and human skin? Hm. Not important – it's never a hindrance to Cameron's energetic flow and slam-bam visuals.

Terminator 2: Judgement Day, or "T2" as it was billed in marketing ads, is a lean, mean and terrific effects bonanza. Featuring Guns N' Roses' rousing song "You Could Be Mine" and James Cameron both co-wrote and produced.

The Terminator (1984)

It can't be bargained with, it can't be reasoned with

[10 August 2003]

* * * * (4 out of 5)

The Terminator

Directed by: James Cameron, 1984

Tense and taut sci-fi action hit.

Tightly plotted, fast-paced and impressively put to life – all on a budget of mere $6.4m (!). That didn't stop director Cameron in re-inventing and re-energizing simple action staples like gun fights and car-chases. Cameron is at his finest here – there's a surging energy in the minimalistic violence – and his razor-sharp savvy approach to suspense and terror redefined the whole action movie genre.

Brad Fiedel's score is classic. Arnold Schwarzenegger's (career-shaping) robot is classic too, but it's Linda Hamilton and Michael Biehn in the (human) lead roles that add texture and depth with some gripping performances.

Fear X (2003)

No fear

[13 April 2003]

* * ½ (2½ of 5)

Fear X

Directed by: Nicolas Winding Refn, 2003



No fear

Nicolas Winding Refn is easily the most interesting Danish director around today. While his tracklisting before Fear X included only two movies - the gritty, streetwise and perfectly captured debut Pusher (1996) and the more ambitious and pseudo-melancholic Bleeder (1999) - he'd already worked up a name for himself as the enfant terrible of, if not European, then Danish cinema.

Refn, like Tarantino (a major influence) and many other angry young directors from the 90s, grew up a movie nerd, raised on action b-movies, Hong Kong slambang and drawing inspiration from cult movies rather than mainstream (accepted) classics.

Yet he also belongs to the elite here (where Tarantino is still CEO) as he has a keen understanding of pure movie making, storytelling and creating angles and unique approaches in what has turned into some sort of predictable genre by itself.

Notice how in Pusher the downright rotten character of Frank (intoxicatingly portrayed by Kim Bodnia) gradually gains our sympathy in his many struggles as the movie progresses. And how in Bleeder Refn still keeps you glued despite the raw and sudden turn in events (Bodnia in another amazing performance) that might have seemed simply uncalled for and repulsive in the script.

Fear X is Refns $7 million dollar American (filmed in Canada actually) debut starring John Turturro and the always welcome James Remar (remember 48 Hours?).

What exactly went wrong here is hard to pinpoint. See, Refn not only had everything going for him, he enlisted Stanley Kubrick's famed photographer (The Shining) Larry Smith and wrote the story together with Hubert Selby (Last Exit To Brooklyn) and he got Turturro to star.

It opens like magic. Refn might be an obsessive perfectionist but the visual ripe beauty and subdued enigmatic thriller qualities of the first hour are breathtaking in both their simplicity and perfectionism. Turturro too seems completely at home here, actually displaying an honest apprehension I have longed to see him take on since Redford's Quiz Show.

The story is interesting. Security guard Harry Caine works at a shopping mall but is stunned by grief when his wife is viciously shot and murdered in the underground parking lot. Caine then spends all his spare time insanely going through CCTV security tapes, hoping to spot the identity of the killer.

Refn's patient opening and sleepy but crispy audiotative visuals makes everything seem in slow-motion. Fear X promises to be a truly effective thriller by now. Notice how cars seem to roll rather than drive and how the scenes within the mall are un-hectic and almost drugged. We feel comfortable in Refn's sure hands but also sense a layered unease about to be revealed later on.

Already here - with cops and security guards in furry Parker coats, minimal and loopy dialogue and brooding snow-covered suburdan scenes that melt into each other - many will draw parallels to Fargo (1996), but that can really only be deemed a testament to how defining the Coens benchmark still is and not as valid critisism of Fear X.

No, what is troublesome is how Refn goes absolutely nowhere in the last part of movie. Caine's journey leads him to a hotel that in itself will have you screaming for another Coen gem also starring Turturro (Turturro, hotel, get it?) That is, if you're not already bogged down by the shameless nods to The Shining with the suspiciously dark red colors of the hotel furnishing, the tricky lighting and the substitute violent red-liquid scene.

There's more. Refn even spices things up with David Lynch mannerisms and comments. Caine is on a kamikaze downfall by now, but the subplot (I won't reveal it) of why and who murdered his wife is so blatantly poor that when the hotel bell clerk comments to Caine: "We provide all sorts of entertainment here" - we don't feel that Refn just popped in a cheerful thumbs-up to Lynch's Twin Peaks, but is desperately trying to thicken his sullen gravy of a plot.

It's a shame. Fear X ends as a pretentious and self-conscious mess that started out like a long-lost classic and perfect thriller.

Director Nicolas Refn is a natural - a master of sound and image - with an astute feel for vibe and engaging storytelling, but Fear X is pretentious way beyond its title alone, dumb when it should be smart and edgy for all the wrong reasons.

Superman IV: The Quest for Peace (1987)

Crashing down to Earth

[21 November 2001]

* (1 out of 5)

Superman IV: The Quest For Peace

Directed by: Sidney J. Furie, 1987

Perversely bad. With major budget cuts (from $28 to $16m) and story problems, the moviemakers suddenly found themselves cutting corners in all areas. And it shows. Completely lacking in awe, fun and excitement, Superman IV most of all feels like a bad joke.

The fact that it comes across more cartoonish than the previous three is hardly intentional, as everything - from effects to dialogue - just seems oddly rushed and second-rate.

The only highlight is Gene Hackman - who returns in high spirits as Lex Luthor. Christopher Reeve co-scripted this time and he again personifies the Man of Steel. But most of his co-stars are either wasted (Mariel Hemingway) or hysterical (John Cryer).

The new villian, Nuclear Man (as played by Mark Pillow), looks like a Swedish showwrestler in a home-made Halloween suit, complete with mullet hair and horrendous over-acting mannerisms.

Director Sidney J. Furie (the man behind the otherwise taut thriller The Entity) seems unable to create any sparks and Superman IV falls completely flat, head first. Game over.

Note: Certain scenes had to be borrowed from the previous movies, most notably Superman and Lois on their romantic evening flight above the Manhattan skyline. How they even managed to make this scene look worse than in the original is really mind-boggling.

Fight Club (1999)

Knockout

[21 September 2001]

* * * * (4 out of 5)

Fight Club

Directed by: David Fincher, 1999

A surprising, glamorized and visceral pop-culture feast by David Fincher (Alien3, Se7en, The Game) based on the writings of Chuck Palahniuk. Alternative only in style (Fincher all the way), Fight Club is really just another coming-of-age movie along the lines of American Beauty (1999).

While it's sensibilities are none too deep there's still plenty too get excited about. Both Brad Pitt and Edward Norton deliver some pounding performances and Helen Bonham Carter is a slick cartoon slut come to life. Fincher's visual style leaves you pinned in your seat - he simply rubs you raw - and Fight Club screams for repeat viewing to catch the subtleties and re-experience the plot twists.

The funny - and true - thing about Fight Club is that it actually works and comes full circle against impossible odds.

Criticized for almost everything when it was released; the whiny and infantile philosophizing (courtesy of the narrator and the machine-gun pep-talks by Pitt), the hefty blood n' guts routines of the bare-knuckle brawls, the general gung-ho testosterone filled outlook on life and the fact that it offers no answers to the muddled ideology it preaches, Fight Club got as much of a rough beating in the press as it served up itself.

But the issues in Fight Club - primarily the sheer desperation of the shuttering male angst - can never be deemed vacuous because they are genuine signs of our times and to depict them this colorfully and with this much energy, anger and invention is frankly entertaining as hell.

Supergirl (1984)

Girl power hardly super

[14 September 2001]

* * (2 out of 5)

Supergirl

Directed by: Jeannot Szwarc, 1984

Tedious, hokey and bland superhero movie. Jeannott Szwarc is a bad director (Somewhere in Time, Jaws 2) and Supergirl lacks both passion and wonder. The pacing is dull and many scenes are badly scripted (and acted). Most action and suspense scenes are trite and silly and the story never really makes any sense (or takes off.)

Despite all of this - Supergirl has moments that succeed.

There's camp, there's inventive action and there's science fiction rubbishness to boot. Take for example the villainess witch Selena, a great Faye Dunaway, living large in an abandoned amusement park - naturally on the Ghost Train - and throwing Halloween parties constantly (complete with smoke-fizzling longdrinks). She is backed by her assistent Bianca, amusingly played by Brenda Vaccaro (a nice little homage to the pairing of Gene Hackman and Ned Beatty in the Superman series).

And the scenes of Supergirl flying over the Chicago skyline at nighttime are crisp and breathtaking. Well done.

Helen Slater is fitting as Supergirl/Kara and she put a lot of effort into her performance. It transcends. Then there's Maureen Teefy as Lucy Lane (yes, as in Lois Lane) - Kara's roommate at the boarding school for girls - and the two share some funny scenes together.

Only Marc McClure (as photographer Jimmy Olsen from the Superman movies) sticks out - obviously only onboard for the continuity. He never rises above that. And Mia Farrow's brief appearance as Kara's mother is borderline awful.

The special effects were better than any Superman movie when released, as more wires than bluescreens were used. Watch Supergirl's acrobatic "dance" in the sky above a forest as she learns to fly for the first time. Almost sublime.

Jerry Goldsmith tried to match the original Superman theme (by John Williams) with some of his own. A nice, catchy 'super' march to match the visuals, but it doesn't come anywhere near Williams' monumental original theme.

All in all - Supergirl is messy, boring and packed with goofs. The opening and end scenes (Supergirl's origins in Argo City and the final battle between Selena and Supergirl) are downright laughable and totally uninspiring.

Still - Supergirl is not nearly as poor as the stinker Superman IV: The Quest For Peace (1987).

Midnight Run (1988)

You lied to me first

[7 October 2000]

* * * * (4 out of 5)

Midnight Run

Directed by: Martin Brest, 1988

Unsurpassable and rich action-comedy, keenly directed by Martin Brest (Beverly Hills Cop).

Dynamic duo Robert De Niro and Charles Grodin are a sheer delight – featuring a tremendous and electric by-play. Universal Pictures wanted Robin Williams opposite De Niro instead, but after screen testing Grodin director Brest battled the studio to persuade them to cast the latter. It's easy to see why.

Brimming with great dialogue, swashbuckling action and incisive humour, Midnight Run is intelligent and deeply satisfying entertainment within its genre. Highly recommendable.

The Godfather Part II (1974)

Family Ties

[7 October 2000]

* * * * * (5 out of 5)

The Godfather Part II

Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola, 1974

Stunning and utterly compelling sequel.

A side story telling the saga of how the Corleone family came to America is told in conjunction with the continuous saga of new Don Michael Corleone (Al Pacino). This is done with a puppeteer's focused hand (pun intended) by co-writer/director Coppola and the result is amazing. He seems to somehow intertwine the two stories of the old and new Don effortlessly and deliver grand entertainment.

Deservedly the movie won an Oscar for Best Picture – and for a sequel that's no small feat.

Robert De Niro is exquisite (watch those subtle Brando mannerisms) and under-plays elegantly as the young Vito Corleone, while Robert Duvall is brilliant once more as Tom Hagan – a voice of reason in a dark and sinister mob world.

By and large Al Pacino's film though. Michael Corleone was a great character and a great role for one of the greatest American actors of the 20th century. The new Don has become spiteful and Pacino's performance is harrowingly intense. His anger and pity comes so naturally; it's simply disturbing. Probably Pacino's finest hour.

The Godfather (1972)

We'll get there, pop

[7 October 2000]

* * * * * (5 out of 5)

The Godfather

Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola, 1972

The epic and quintessential motion picture depiction of the Italian Mafia in America and a bona fide classic as such. Almost physically magnetic in its appeal.

Written for the screen by author Mario Puzo and director Coppola. Filled with universal themes and coming-of-age mantras, interlocking characters and story twists with the greatest of ease. Coppola's The Godfather is seamlessly wonderful; well written, intelligent, engaging and beautifully filmed and scored. A pleasure to watch from beginning to end.

Al Pacino and Marlon Brando deliver legendary performances, but neither James Caan (never better) nor Robert Duvall (awe-inspiring) are overshadowed. A must-see.

The Green Mile (1999)

Inflated and groaning ordeal

[3 September 2000]

* ½ (1½ out of 5)

The Green Mile

Directed by: Frank Darabont, 1999

Sterile and chummy Stephen King adaptation. Filmmaker Frank Darabont wrote the screenplay and directed, with Tom Hanks planned for the lead role since the beginning. Formulaic and sentimental drama has few highs and many lows (including a three hour running time). David Morse – a terrific and charismatic actor – is seriously wasted.

Way inferior to The Shawshank Redemption (also King and Darabont) and it undeservedly got caught up in much hype. The superficial tone isn't convincing at any time and the special effects and slick characters are too glossy for the movie to touch in any sense.

Mission: Impossible II (2000)

Mission failed

[2 September 2000]

* ½ (1½ out of 5)

M:I-2 (Mission: Impossible 2)

Directed by: John Woo, 1999

John Woo-infested and contrived sludge. A hollow made-for-Summer movie if there ever was one, featuring product-placement overload and basically just too much of everything.

The first one worked neatly so you come back smiling and wanting more. Don't. Plenty of gadgetry and plot twists can't make up for the extreme self-aware vibe.

Featuring ridiculous and annoying cinematography. More of a commercial or vehicle for the well-toned Tom Cruise (complete with new neck-long hair) than anything else.

Woo's action sequences are (as always) impressive. However – they're also unbelievable and pretentious and it's amazing how he sticks to his guns (and own formula) not realizing how he's destroying his own legacy. Woo is for action movies what Status Quo are for classic rock bands; numbly beating the same old horse because it still pays the bills.

M:I-2 qualifies as brainless and uninspired box office flubber. Only the soundtrack offers a glimmer of hope as Limp Bizkit do a slamming job on the theme song (listed as Take A Look Around).

Mission: Impossible (1996)

Mission successful

[2 September 2000]

* * * (3 out of 5)

Mission Impossible

Directed by: Brian De Palma, 1996

Premeditated, slick and intoxicating remake of the classic TV-series. Directed by Brian De Palma and co-produced by Tom Cruise. Features a muddled plot but the electric pacing makes the suspense ring true.

Cartoonish spy-thriller elements go hand in hand with alluring special effects. Great fun. Cruise and Jon Voight headline a solid cast , with Adam Clayton and The Edge (from U2) having successfully re-recorded Lalo Schifrin's thumping theme song.

Braveheart (1995)

Passion prevails

[2 September 2000]

* * * (3 out of 5)

Braveheart

Directed by: Mel Gibson, 1995

Loud and booming tale; passionately brought to the screen by director/actor Mel Gibson. The Aussie actually does a great job as the legendary Scottish rebel from the 13th Century (based on myth and legend mostly though), and his grand and heroic epic is both engaging, thrilling and involving.

Features some bloody battle sequences – simply breathtaking. A shame that the love story is too labored and the English are depicted as if doing a good-cop/bad-cop routine.

The Sixth Sense (1999)

Seeing dead people

[30 August 2000]

* * * * (4 out of 5)

The Sixth Sense

Directed by: M. Night Shyamalan

Chilling and taut thriller (featuring a huge surprise ending) that almost demands repeat viewing due to its contrived nature. But The Sixth Sense is also a clever and well-developed psychological drama featuring blazing performances by Bruce Willis and child-actor sensation Haley Osment.

Great and inspired craftsmanship by director M. Night Shyamalan and cinematographer Tak Fujimoto lend an unshakable and creepy atmosphere throughout. A subtle Toni Collette is exceptional as the mother.

The 13th Warrior (1999)

Inconclusive journey to Valhalla

[30 August 2000]

* * (2 out of 5)

The 13th Warrior

Directed by: John McTiernan

Intriguing but fragmented and limp adventure tale that suffers from post-production re-shoots and incoherent editing. A mixture of sword and sorcery (Conan, Excalibur) yet appealingly featuring the same monumental, raw and ragged surge also present in Jean-Jacques Annaud's classic Quest for Fire.

Based on Michael Crichton's 1976 novel Eaters of the Dead (from the Scandinavian tale of Beowulf). Thirteen Viking warriors set off to fight a rival tribe in 1000 AD northern Europe, only to encounter remnants of a vicious Neanderthal clan.

Director McTiernan and writer Crichton disagreed on the final cut and it shows. There's a misplaced romantic opening (featuring Omar Shariff) and a disappointing rushed ending.

Other than that, there's quite a lot to get excited about; McTiernan infuses a nice, honest and unself-conscious atmosphere and he makes his characters believable with just the bare essentials of dialogue. Audacious performances by most of the cast. Great sets and scenery, dark and fascinating battle scenes and astonishing outdoor cinematography (shot in British Columbia, Canada).

However, the make-up department should maybe have taken it easy. Why have the rugged warriors all got unblemished faces and why is Antonio Banderas wearing mascara? Not forgetting to mention the preposterous way that Banderas' Arab character learns to speak the indefinable language of the Scandinavian Vikings.

Red Dawn (1984)

Credible portrayal

[30 August 2000]

* * * (3 out of 5)

Red Dawn

Directed by: John Milius, 1984



Reagan-era what-if scenario: kids from a rural US town escape to the Colorado mountains and become guerrilla fighters when Soviet and Cuban forces invade and World War III is brute reality.

Famous (and infamous) for a shocking opening sequence that's impossible to shake off: foreign paratroops land outside idyllic American high-school and suddenly open fire.

There's plenty of posturing and lame action sequences (these kids get a little too good at what they do) – but that was to be expected (when the director/writer is John Milius). What is surprising is the amount of human depth the movie offers. And the lack of one-dimensional propaganda.

Red Dawn also addresses loss of innocence and national identity, while establishing realistic characters. Morally it's not just patriotic and gung-ho bravado – clearly evidenced by the intertwined and effective side-story seeing everything from the eyes of a war-weary Cuban Colonel (great performance by Ron O'Neal). A man who seems more disgusted and disillusioned than any of the civilians struggling in the country he is helping to occupy.

The young cast is solid (Patrick Swayze, Charlie Sheen, C. Thomas Howell, Jennifer Grey), and Powers Boothe adds a fitting dimension as an US fighter pilot who's path crosses the young rebels.

Story by Kevin Reynolds (Waterworld). The beautiful "four-seasons" cinematography of the Rocky Mountains by Ric Waite coupled with the melancholic Basil Poledouris score add an almost epic feel.

Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957)

Future events such as these will affect you in the future ..

[30 August 2000]

[0] Zero stars (out of 5)

Plan 9 From Outer Space

Directed by: Edward D. Wood Jr., 1958



Universally dubbed "the worst movie ever made".

Bloody awful but also hysterically funny, Ed Wood's cult turkey is actually great entertainment if merely considered sheer camp craziness.

Everything stinks here; the scripting, the performances, the dialogue, the effects, the editing. But the killer is the dead-pan narration – literally chiding the viewer into doubting the reality of it all. Oh boy.

End of Days (1999)

A show of faith

[10/10 · 25 June 2000]

* * * (3 out of 5)

End Of Days

Directed by: Peter Hyams, 1999

This is Arnold Schwarzenegger's alleged comeback, after almost three years of recovering from heart surgery and Batman and Robin. You decide which was worst.

Me, I have never remotely understood what the fuss was about. Schwarzenegger was and is a big stiff lacking even the most basic acting tools, who has moaned and groaned his way through so many dimwitted and expensive Hollywood vehicles that I have lost count.

As an actor he leaves so painstakingly much left to be desired, that I wouldn't know where to begin. Ah-nuld, as he is lovingly dubbed by fans and critics alike, really is an institution. He's like a computer game. Like one of those `shoot-em ups´. What you get is what you expect. Every time.

So watching this movie on opening night in a cinema full of Arnie buffs (blue-collar, white males mostly) really was something of a shock. Some were boohooing sporadically after just ten minutes. Why is that? Easy. Because this movie bravely presents Arnie in a new light. He puts one foot out of his typecast cocoon – lo and behold – he gets jumped by his own fans.

Do they care that End Of Days is clearly his most original and homogenic work since the first Terminator? No, they squirmed in their seats because they wanted big brawn, lots of guns and a bunch of stupid one-liners (hasta la vista style) from the get-go.

As if they were asking: Arnold always delivered in the past, so what gives? The funny thing is – End Of Days does deliver.

It delivers, and in a much more subtle and relaxed way than any of his past movies ever did, including James Cameron favorites Terminator 2 and the overly loud, sexist and ludicrous Bond rip-off, True Lies from 1994.

The difference being that End of Days actually has an issue worth more than an abrupt macho statement and that it sets its own pace early on. It effectively blends horror and gore with straight-faced and classic Ah-nuld mega action, spiced with both humor and even adventure. While the entire recipe is old and sometimes annoying (Kevin Pollak's constant comic comments can be a strain) it never comes across tired or contrived.

Confusing as it may be (and occasionally funny: do not start to decipher either time zone logic or how 666 is suddenly 999 and thereby 1999), End Of Days seems oddly fresh throughout.

This is mainly because the movie steals left and right and with such haste that you are busy lapping it all in. There are connections to many movies (most notably Rosemary's Baby, Omen, Blade Runner, Seven, The Matrix), but director Peter Hyams moves forward in his own admirable and unique style and lends End Of Days a rare continuity.

Especially considering the weight he is carrying and has to balance out here, and Ah-nuld – mind you – he's a load if there ever was one.

Has his acting improved? Not really, and his accent is still as bad as it ever was, but his engagement is loose and the focus on him is lessened, and this kind of low-key approach is very fitting.

Our man is trimmed at 52, and he is still the star, sure, but backed by such an effective film-noir (some wonderful scenery of New York City) and some good sparring from Kevin Pollak, Rod Steiger and especially Byrne, he really doesn't halt the proceedings to the point where you start to get annoyed.

Byrne as Satan is a steal. Once more we are reminded of past movies (Al Pacino in Devils Advocate), but his performance is both hypnotic and provocative. He also seems strangely at ease against Schwarzenegger, and the two share the movie's greatest moment. Together in Jericho Cane's (Arnie) apartment, the two engage on a verbal battle regarding faith. Great stuff indeed.

A question I was armed with beforehand was: does Ah-nuld just kick the devil's butt? Does violence overcome evil? And if so I would be ready to crucify (no pun intended) End Of Days right there.

That would clearly be on the terms of the old Schwarzenegger movies then. No, again the movie is well rounded. There is a whole lot of shooting going on as the devil has taken over Byrne's human body and is therefore somewhat fragile, but always with the sense of something grand and invisible lurking behind the curtains.

Subsequently the ending – a nice touch that is dished out perfectly by Hyams – is all about faith. It is about temptations and traps, about life and death, about holding ship when everything else collapses.

While it may seem clichéd (a priest even goes: `It is in our darkest hour that we must show our real faith.'), End Of Days addresses an issue of faith, not necessarily in terms of Christianity nor Satanism, but one that is universal thus making the movie both somewhat poignant and rewarding.

Jericho Cane is rewarded too – so to speak. By whom or what we (luckily) never learn. End Of Days doesn't stray from the initial path. Well done.

So is End Of Days simply an apocalyptic thriller or a doomsday shootout? Well, both actually, yet it is also beautifully filmed and scored and while it has plot-holes the size of Wyoming, this Ah-nuld vehicle is frankly entertaining as hell. Pun intended.

Superman II (1980)

The adventure continues

[25 June 2000]

* * * ½ (3½ out of 5)

Superman II

Directed by: Richard Lester, 1980

Worthy sequel remembers what made the original great: sincerity.

Some of the scenes were filmed simultaneously with the first Superman and in having already (and carefully) outlined the characters and origins, Superman II jumps right into action. At the same time it takes a slightly more dark and daring approach and director Richard Lester (some scenes by original director Richard Donner were re-shot by Lester and he got final credit) even added a loose slapstick edge to the proceedings.

The continuity is striking; the story is once again by Mario Puzo, the dialogue is fresh and the whole cast from the original return in good form. Margot Kidder and Christopher Reeve get to share several genuine love scenes and the otherwise innocent and naive feel of the franchise is momentarily abandoned as Superman gives up his powers (for Lois Lane) and gets a roughing at a roadside diner. Watching Superman/Clark Kent hurting and bleeding was more than some could take – but it works well.

Gene Hackman as the twisted but humorous Lex Luthor is clearly having a field day once more, verbally sparring with the three new super villains as played by Terrence Stamp, Sarah Douglas and Jack O'Halloran. Also thrown in the mix is Clifton James as a funny local hick sheriff – practically portraying the same redneck peacemaker he did in two old James Bond movies (Live and Let Die, Man With The Golden Gun).

Somehow Superman II looks more dated than the original though – maybe because it goes for action where the original went for awe – but also because it in many scenes seems uneven. The battle scenes in and above the streets of Metropolis (on a huge set) look spectacular but feel restrained. Kids will love these scenes (I know I did back in the early 80s) but again: much of the wonder of the original is gone, replaced by action-packed and matter-of-factly brawn.

Side-note: Look out for the immense product placement; a Marlboro van and huge Coca Cola sign during the aerial battle scene.

Being John Malkovich (1999)

Consciousness is a terrible curse

[18 June 2000]

* * * (3 out of 5)

Being John Malkovich

Directed by; Spike Jonze, 2000

Absurd, frenetic and initially interesting mix of Barton Fink and Brazil, but lacking the humorous depth of the Coen brothers and the visual poetry of Terry Gilliam.

Being John Malkovich talks about identity, gender, soul and creativity, and is content to conclude that consciousness is a curse under which we all try to exist.

An inventive idea and good choice of "host", but a self-labelled intellectual comedy must never be this overlong and pretentious.

After the first few portal trips, screenwriter Charlie Kaufman goes on automatic pilot, the built up love triangle never heats up, Cameron Diaz starts to struggle in her bombed-out wig and our intriguing and Kafka-like main character of Craig Schwartz (John Cusack) seems somewhat lost.

Not without moments though. A chase through Malkovich's subconscious and a flashback as seen through the eyes of a tame chimpanzee are major highlights. Much hyped Catherine Keener is too distant in her role as the office vamp - she's unassuming without any subtlety, while Malkovich himself seems inspired and very thrilled to be in on the joke. Ironically one of his finest and most reflective performances to date.

Andy Warhol once said that everybody gets fifteen minutes of fame, and maybe these words spawned it all. Maybe not. Filmmaker Spike Jonze (who starred in Three Kings) is heavy on artsy swagger and good at it too, but Being John Malkovich would have been an instant classic as a taut Twilight Zone episode instead.

Superman III (1983)

I asked you to kill Superman, and you're telling me that you couldn't do that one, simple thing?

[18 June 2000]

* * * ½ (3½ out of 5)

Superman III

Directed by: Richard Lester, 1983

"I asked you to kill Superman, and you're telling me that you couldn't do that one, simple thing?" – Ross Webster, played by Robert Vaughn

Enjoyable and effective third instalment, high on comedy and spoof elements.

Of all the African-American candidates in Hollywood in the early 80s, Richard Pryor was the least likely to pioneer a cross-over into mainstream Caucasian-dominated motion picture family entertainment. That's nevertheless what he did by way of Richard Lester's Superman III. Before other stars like Eddie Murphy, Will Smith and even Bill Cosby.

After the epic original and the more dashing and dark sequel, Superman III turned out to be a true delight that nurtured its roots but also subtlety re-invented the formula. Once again offering neat visuals, there's also loads of laughs and an inventive plot. As Superman seemed to have run out of villains after the first two movies, finding him a worthy adversary would be the main concern. Enter the computer age. Superman III not only boldly paired the Man of Steel with an African-American sidekick, it had him battle a piece of machinery. Real sign of the times however: the super computer.

A computer capable of everything from changing the weather conditions in South America to switching the traffic lights in Metropolis. This makes for an interesting sequence in which Superman battles his own evil twin – created by computer genius Gus Gorman (Pryor) from a defunct recipe of Kryptonite (with a little help from a pack of Camels, naturally).

Superman III was bold; casting Pryor was one thing, but also notably missing is the omnipresent crime lord Lex Luthor as portrayed by Gene Hackman. To take his place are some new villainous characters; Robert Vaughn as the slick and sharp corporate mogul Ross Webster with Annie Ross as the bitchy sister-in-crime Vera Webster. Annette O'Toole is endearing as Superman's new love interest Lana Lang (staying true to the origins), and Gavin O'Herlihy makes for a great alcoholic small-town loser in Brad – a man who cherishes his high school football achievements but hasn't taken another step since then. Jackie Cooper, Margot Kidder and Marc McClure all return – only for small scenes – but they lend the movie a nice continuity.

However, it's Lester's comic take on everything (and Pryor in top form) together with a strong performance by Reeve that saves the day. Richard Pryor has great mannerisms and Superman III ranks among this great comedian's best films. Reeve seems grittier than before and his transition into his ‘evil' alter ego makes for some intriguing scenes as Superman becomes frighteningly subversive. Well done.

Side-note: The opening slapstick sequence – meticulously crafted by Lester – is straight out camp but makes for a charming set-piece in the tradition of Blake Edward's Pink Panther series.