From the opening credits of Agnès Varda’s Cléo from 5 to 7, you know this is going to be a stylish and important film of the French New Wave, a period of Cinema history dominated by François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard.
In the colour credit sequence Cléo (Corine Marchand), a young and beautiful Parisian, is having her future told and the Tarot cards confirm her worst fears as she awaits the results of a medical to detect whether she is suffering from an incurable disease.
The photography switches to the crisp monochrome, hand-held style that is typical of French films of the period. Varda creates an almost documentary feel as we spend the next 90 minutes following Cléo, a famous pop singer, around the chic streets of ’60s Paris in real time.
Cléo is very superstitious and sees omens of death everywhere, her maid encourages this, advising her not to wear the new hat she bought because it’s a Tuesday, not to drink coffee and to avoid cats! That’s not all; the film is split into 13 chapters so it really looks as though her fate is doomed! Still, she tries to look on the bright side musing, “Ugliness is a kind of death. As long as I’m beautiful, I’m alive.” How very French.
We soon discover that Cléo’s songs are going out of fashion, and despite efforts of Michel “Windmills of Your Mind” Legrand (who makes a cameo as her songwriter) to provide a new hit, she is sick of success and her empty existence. Her current lover briefly visits her but their busy lives don’t allow them enough time to even kiss!
Corine Marchand is excellent as the spoilt but tragic rich girl and gives a poignant performance bringing great depth to lines like, “Everyone spoils me – no one loves me!” Throughout, her tragedy is put into context by the conflict in Algeria; she is not the only person facing imminent death.
Don’t be put off by the gloomy subject matter; Cléo from 5 to 7 is an exuberant and very stylish film that benefits from many lighter moments. Not least a fantastic Silent Comedy parody, where a man wearing dark sunglasses thinks he’s seen his lover knocked down by a car, only to find that due to his obscured vision he’s looking at the wrong girl, “Damn dark sunglasses, make everything look so black!” Indeed.
With Rango, his first completely animated feature film, co-writer/director Gore Verbinski returns to the anarchic spirit of his movie debut Mousehunt as he follows the existential quest of hapless hero Lars, a chameleon voiced by the ever quixotic Johnny Depp.
I don’t want to dwell too much on the suitably of the film for younger children, it has been rated PG and I think that speaks for itself. If it had wished to be marketed specifically for family audiences it would have strived for a U certificate like the Pixar and Dreamworks movies it’s being unduly compared to.
Rango actually marks the foray of the George Lucas foundered special effects company Industrial Light & Magic into feature length animation; working under the guidance of the Coen Brothers regular cinematographer Roger Deakins they have crafted quite simply one of the most detailed, breathtaking and genuinely beautiful CGI pictures seen to date.
When we meet Lars he is stuck in a hermetically sealed world of his own imagining; an aspiring actor with an identity crisis, confined to a tiny terrarium he improvises scenes of would-be heroics, bouncing lofty dialogue off his inanimate inmates, a clockwork toy fish, a dead insect and a headless Barbie doll.
As Lars has the sudden realisation that the reason his life lacks definition is due to the absence of any real conflict his world is launched into space as the camera pulls back to reveal it’s being carried by a car hurtling at high speed along the freeway which has been sent into a tailspin after hitting an armadillo attempting to cross to the other side.
Despite having a deep tyre tread across his thorax the armadillo (Alfred Molina) doesn’t seem at all fazed by the accident as if it’s a regular occurrence; his metaphysical musings set Lars on a journey far off the beaten path, across the wasteland to the desolate town of Dirt where he shall glean self-knowledge and meet the ‘Spirit of the West’.
Before setting off on his epic quest the film doesn’t miss an opportunity to have Lars nearly run off the road by Johnny Depp’s character from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas the delusional paranoiac, Raoul Duke the first in a litany of iconic cinematic references that raise the movie above and beyond the expectations of mainstream entertainment.
On the outskirts of Dirt, Lars meets the outlandishly named Beans (Isla Fisher), the daughter of a recently deceased prospector, who suspects foul play is the cause of the town’s diminishing water rations. Much is made of the fact that Lars struggles with the physiognomic changes you’d typically expect from a chameleon, this serves as a metaphor for his personality disorder which manifests itself in his efforts to constantly re-invent himself as a heroic figure.
During an extended improvisation the lizard takes on the persona of a fearless gunslinger in order to impress a local bar room crowd, he brags about killing the notorious Jenkins Brothers – all seven of them – with one bullet! Taking the name of ‘Rango’ from a bottle labelled ‘Made in Durango’ his exalted reputation is confirmed accidently when he takes out a menacing hawk by chance; the townsfolk of Dirt are so in need of something to believe in that they appoint him as the new Sheriff.
Rango is a post-modernist comedy co-written by John Logan (Sweeney Todd) which manages to pay homage to every great Western from the Gary Cooper classic High Noon to the ‘Spaghetti’ variety of Sergio Leone; not content with celebrating cinematic cowboys it also borrows the Valkyrie sequence from Coppola’s Apocalypse Now and a mysterious watery plot direct from Polanski’s Chinatown with the malfeasant Mayor of Dirt (Ned Beatty) being a dead ringer for John Huston.
It’s worth mentioning the quartet of Mariachi owls who also act as a chorus in the classical Greek sense whilst serenading the audience with amusing little ditties proclaiming the hero’s imminent death. Rango sticks to its six shooters and brings the whole metafictional tale full circle with Lars finally arriving on the other side of the freeway to find the ‘Spirit of the West’ embodied by Clint Eastwood’s Man with No Name (Timothy Olyphant) from whom he learns that attaining self-knowledge is the ultimate heroic act and that we are all the stars of our own stories.
Despite being every bit as odd as it sounds the film is consistently entertaining and easily held my son’s attention without him needing to be au fait with the many in-jokes or countless movie references. Rango was obviously conceived as a star vehicle for Depp’s quirkier sensibilities by Pirates of the Caribbean director Verbinski and the pair are clearly relishing the refreshingly surreal sabbatical and have crafted a landmark work of startling originality in the process.
Almost 20 years before the overhyped Inception focused on the phenomenon of dreaming Emir Kusturica directed Johnny Depp in the surreal comic fantasy Arizona Dream. The movie was produced by Claudie Ossard (Delicatessen/Amélie) and is typical of the sort of strange art-house films that Depp used to regularly appear in before finding mainstream appeal as a Disney Pirate.
The plot, such as is it, follows the dreamlike escapades of Axel Blackmar (Depp) a drifter who has taken the obscure job of tagging fish for the New York State Department of Fish and Game. His cousin wannabe actor Paul Leger (Vincent Gallo) turns up announcing that their Uncle Leo (Jerry Lewis) plans to marry his Polish fiancé Millie (supermodel Paulina Porizkova) a girl more than half his age and that he wishes for Axel to be his best man; reluctantly Axel accompanies Paul back to their Arizona hometown.
In his best role since playing a version of himself in Martin Scorsese’s King of Comedy, Jerry Lewis is outstanding as Axel’s Uncle Leo; a successful, infectiously upbeat Cadillac salesman and living testimony to the “American Dream” paradoxically wracked with survivor’s guilt from causing the crash that killed Axel’s parents, he persuades him to stay on after the wedding and try his hand at selling cars.
Axel’s first potential customers are eccentric widower Elaine Stalker (Faye Dunaway) and her suicidal step-daughter Grace (Lili Taylor) their brazen arrival sparks the interest of both Axel and cousin Paul who’s gift of the gab ensures an invitation to dinner at the Stalker’s home that evening; here screenwriter David Watkins (Novocaine) delivers one of the most flabbergastingly funny surprise scenes I have witnessed and from here on in I was totally hooked.
Axel embarks on an affair with Elaine and despite their madcap behaviour and slim grasp on reality this May to September romance is convincing and genuinely moving to watch, especially his attempts to build the flying machine she has always dreamt of. The film’s theme of the pursuit of dreams in the face of reality is explored thoroughly; Uncle Leo dreams of stacking Cadillacs high enough to reach the moon, Grace dreams of being reincarnated as a turtle and Paul aspires to be a great actor by reproducing his favourite movie scenes, providing one of the bizarre set pieces when he re-enacts the entire crop duster sequence from the Hitchcock classic North by Northwest for a local talent show.
Kusturica is clearly a master filmmaker and he manages to maintain a dreamlike feel throughout the movie’s 142 minute running time, it is consistently funny but also has a haunting mystical quality making it compelling viewing and fortunately the French Blu-ray release contains a DTS-HD 5.1 English audio master track with enforced subtitles only for the excerpts from Raging Bull and The Godfather: Part II, the full 1080p picture quality is gorgeous and 20 minutes that were cut from the theatrical release have been totally restored.
Arizona Dream is impeccably acted and although it’s obvious that an element of improvisation has gone on the story and script are strong and stay true to their purpose in evoking the absurdist, surreal quality of dreams, an element totally lacking in Christopher Nolan’s Inception the same could be said for laughs of which there is also an abundance here making it a must for fans of Depp’s earlier work.
The original television airing of Twin Peaks in 1990 coincided with my recent interest in the films of David Lynch after renting a copy of Blue Velvet on video and the break between the first and second seasons also saw the release of Wild At Heart at the cinema which launched a sudden and unexpected wave of Lynch mania that swept across both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. Around the same time I visited America for the first time, landing in Los Angeles in January 1991 I couldn’t wait to pick up a copy of the L.A. Reader so I could see Lynch’s notorious cartoon strip The Angriest Dog in the World with my own eyes!
Twin Peaks has recently been celebrating its 20th Anniversary and is back in the public conscious with current shows like Psych reuniting some of the original cast members in the Dual Spires tribute episode which revolves around a Laura Palmer style copycat murder. After the initial distribution rights battle which prevented the second season being released on DVD for years, CBS Paramount have now released the entire show in its David Lynch approved Gold Box set and it’s even available to download on iTunes in HD which has sparked talk of a potential Blu-ray edition to follow.
When I met my wife-to-be one of the first things we did was sit through the original series, she was instantly hooked and we watched the pilot and all 29 episodes back to back followed by Fire Walk With Me within the space of one long weekend. To mark our recent Wedding Anniversary we have just watched them all again for the first time in 5 years and it remains an astonishing landmark in the annals of mainstream television history; all credit is due to creators Mark Frost and David Lynch as few programmes can claim to have been as groundbreaking or influential as Twin Peaks.
The show was cancelled in the middle of the second season due to falling viewing figures once Laura Palmer’s killer had been revealed and a spate of weak, largely comic subplots failed to fill the void despite a tour de force performance from Kenneth Welsh as Agent Cooper’s former partner and Nemesis, Windom Earle and the introduction of a Sci-fi element with the Project Blue Book investigations into the local Black and White Lodge mythology; there was still much to enjoy in the show and many questions were left deliberately unanswered in the final episode which is very reminiscent of the end of Patrick McGoohan’s seminal 1960s series, The Prisoner.
Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me was released in cinemas during 1992; a year after the bemusing final episode had left Agent Dale Cooper trapped inside the Black Lodge. The film serves as both a prequel, as it examines the death of Killer Bob’s first victim Teresa Banks and the last 7 days of Laura Palmer’s life leading up to her murder providing psychological insights into the deranged mind of her father Leland, and a sequel as it clarifies the fate of Agent Cooper, expands the Dugpas back-story and lays to rest Laura’s troubled spirit in the closing moments. For many unfamiliar with David Lynch’s darker movies this was a total shock as the show’s amusing supporting characters were not present to offset the deeply disturbing secret that had always been at the heart of the series and it was actually booed by hostile audiences at the Cannes Film Festival premier.
There is no getting around the fact that there are some gut wrenching scenes in the film that deal head on with the psychological pain of acknowledging that stripped bare of all of its fanciful mystery this is the story of the long term physical abuse of a teenage girl by her father and this is something that Lynch had felt had been long forgotten by the end of the second season and he had remained troubled by the character of Laura Palmer. Actress Sheryl Lee who had only got to play Laura in stylised flashbacks or her lookalike cousin Maddy in the TV show wanted to truthfully bring her to life and give her doomed existence an element of closure.
There are many Hitchcockian influences in Lynch’s work the obvious one here is the name of Maddy Ferguson, a nod to Vertigo in which Kim Novak had a dual role; she plays Madeleine who Scotty Ferguson (James Stewart) falls madly in love with and also Judy who Scotty meets after witnessing Madeline’s apparent suicide and whilst in a psychotic state he re-styles Judy in Madeline’s image, changing her hair and clothes to conjure up the woman he is morbidly obsessed about.
When Hitch was asked if he could cut the “rape” scene from his 1964 film Marnie by hired screenwriter Evan Hunter who felt that it would make the character played by Sean Connery unsalvageable at least in the eyes of the female members of the audience, Hitchcock refused explaining that the only reason he wanted to make the movie in the first place is because of that one scene and replaced Hunter with renowned feminist playwright Jay Presson Allen who reworked the screenplay keeping the “non-consensual sex” scene between Connery and Tippi Hedren firmly in place. Likewise, I believe the only reason Lynch wanted to make Twin Peaks was due to the abusive father/daughter relationship at the core of the story and Fire Walk With Me is his way of emphasising that point.
French distributor MK2’s Blu-ray release of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me is never going to be the definitive edition, whilst the full 1080p picture quality is a marked improvement on the DVD version and the DTS-HD 5.1 soundtrack is solid and fixes the infamous mixing problem in the “Red Room” sequence which was subtitled due to the excessive volume of the club’s live music; on the previous DVD release the music had been turned right down so you could clearly hear all the dialogue rendering the onscreen subtitles ludicrous. There are no new extras included on the disc and still no sign of the deleted scenes that hardcore fans have long been clamouring for, my gut feeling is that these may never see the light of day.
Not for the feint hearted and probably only really for true fans of Lynch’s oeuvre as a whole Fire Walk With Me is a fitting footnote to a landmark television series and a cathartic release and appropriate closure to a story steeped in the indignant suffering of its central character, it also marks the end of a period when for a fleeting moment David Lynch was the coolest cat on the planet.
When I heard that teenage heartthrob Zac Efron was going to star in Richard Linklater’s film based on the novel by Robert Kaplow about a fledgling actor who gets his lucky break playing Lucius in Orson Welles’ legendary Mercury Theatre Broadway debut production of Julius Caesar in 1937, I was a little uneasy yet undeterred due to my enduring fascination with Welles it was always going to be compulsory viewing.
Having sat through at least two of the High School Musical movies my expectations were set suitably low, however much to my surprise Efron acquits himself rather well here as his easy looks and effortless charm are a perfect fit for the role of Richard Samuels, an indefatigable stage-struck romantic who forms a rapport with the celebrated iconoclast Orson Welles played with startling verisimilitude by newcomer Christian McKay.
The film is set just after Orson and producer John Houseman (Eddie Marsan) had their admirable run in with the government over the censorship of the musical The Cradle Will Rock due to writer Marc Blitzstein’s affiliation to the Communist Party. This was a Federal Theatre Production; the project was one of FDR’s New Deal initiatives aimed at giving jobless men practical work during the Great Depression, however Blitzstein’s play had a pro-unionist message that did not sit well with the presiding administration and the theatre was locked and all the props seized provoking Welles and Houseman to hire an alternative venue out of their own pockets to stage an impromptu performance requiring some of the cast to deliver their lines from seats in the audience; the cause célèbre was documented in Tim Robbins’ 1999 movie of the same name.
After the incident both Welles and Houseman resigned from the Federal Theatre and formed the Mercury Players starting a repertory company including Joseph Cotton (James Tupper) and Norman Lloyd (Leo Bill) many of whom would feature in most, if not all, of Welles future productions on stage, radio and screen. Their debut show was to be a modern dress version of Shakespeare’s tragedy Julius Caesar drawing a comparison to contemporary Fascist Italy under Benito Mussolini; adapting the key scene featuring Cinna the Poet and having him brutally murdered not by an angry mob but a secret police force.
One of the film’s great strengths lies in showing a working theatre from both sides of the curtain. It also shines a light on Welles’ eccentric working methods, particularly the way in which he handled his fellow actors, seducing or inciting their very best performances out of them. It also depicts his dedicated dashing from one radio show to another, lending his vocal talents at the drop of a hat either as The Shadow or another random character part, to fund his own productions; apparently he hired an ambulance to beat the New York traffic as there was no law saying you had to be ill to travel in one!
Whilst it’s fair to say that due to Welles’ massive persona Christian McKay steals every scene he is in, Zac Efron and Claire Danes still have ample screen time to explore their mutual attraction in a series of well played “meet-cute” wisecracking scenes reminiscent of the screwball farces of the period. Director Linklater does remarkably well with a relatively low-budget and no-frills approach, the obvious area in which there has been no scrimping is in the script’s marvellous attention to historical detail, taking its time and never underestimating the attention span of the audience.
Given Zac Efron’s bankability there must have been a huge temptation to make creative compromises in order to reach a wider market, luckily the producers elected to make the movie in the Isle of Man, a tax haven, allowing them far greater artistic control but unfortunately limiting the distribution options and consequently the film has been seen by few people which is a great shame.
The initial home video releases in the UK were strictly limited to one supermarket chain and it has yet to emerge in high definition, although fortunately the German Blu-ray release has a full 1080p VC-1 picture resolution and an optional DTS-HD 5.1 English audio soundtrack, without forced subtitles. I can imagine how hard it is, given the subject matter, to get a movie like Me and Orson Welles made at all, so praise is due to Richard Linklater and I hope in time the film finds the audience it truly deserves.
Like most teenagers of my generation I became fanatical about music, obsessive even, and at the high point I was acquiring an average of 4 record albums a week. It’s hard to imagine a world before iTunes or even the Compact Disc where you had to search shops for recordings of your favourite artists and a lot of my most treasured albums were obtained second hand as they were out of print.
Collecting records was an active pursuit, often involving train journeys to London or Cambridge and on the way home I’d read every single printed word on the album cover and the record sleeve in anticipation. I’m not saying I appreciate the music that I download in a mouse click now any less but the pride one had in physically building your own “record collection” has gone.
It was on one such record buying trip to London that I stumbled across a copy of Stop Making Sense on video in HMV. I already had a couple Talking Heads albums on vinyl although I was not familiar with the entire set list but I was intrigued to read on the cover that it was photographed by Blade Runner cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth and directed by Jonathan Demme and whilst this was before Silence of the Lambs, I had seen his films Something Wild and Married to the Mob and I’d recently seen Spalding Gray’s incredible monologue Swimming to Cambodia on television which Demme had directed; that was pedigree enough for me to buy this sight unseen.
Nothing could prepare me for Stop Making Sense as I had only heard Talking Heads on record and seen them in the Road to Nowhere video and whilst I had read an interview with David Byrne in a Rolling Stone magazine anthology I had got as a Christmas present that year, he had come across as a completely sane individual. As you can imagine, once the familiar Pablo Ferro titles (as seen in the classic Stanley Kubrick satire Dr. Strangelove) fade and Byrne walks out and places a tiny cassette player on the stage and announces “I’ve got a tape I want to play” staring direct into the camera, singing Psycho Killer and accompanying himself on his acoustic guitar in his strange staccato-like manner, I did a massive double-take!
I’d never heard this strange song before and I’d never seen Byrne, or anyone else for that matter, perform like this before. Add to that the deconstructive technique of slowly assembling the set, adding the band members, their instruments and the lights one by one until the entire ensemble are on stage lit for the concert performance; I knew I was watching something unique, something important that was going to be remembered for years to come.
The 25th Anniversary Blu-ray edition of Stop Making Sense has been remastered from a 35mm interpositive print and it is vastly superior to the previous DVD release. As so much of the stage action takes place in stark lighting the DVD suffered from intense grain and washed out colour so to see such rich flesh tones and the deep reds and blacks is a radical improvement. There are even more striking audio enhancements in the two 5.1 DTS-HD soundtracks, one of the original live recording and a studio mix which was made by the band for the DVD release which is definitely worth listening to as it was the first concert film that was recorded digitally.
Apart from the bizarre David Byrne self-interview that was also on the initial DVD release the exclusive Blu-ray extra is an hour long press conference featuring all the band members recorded to mark the 15th anniversary of the film in 1999. Whilst it’s not broadcast quality video the discussion is vibrant and it’s good to see Byrne reunited with Chris Franz, Tina Weymouth and Jerry Harrison and hear their first hand perspective on working on the film and marvel at the landmark that it has become.
I could happily watch Stop Making Sense once a week, perhaps even once a day, and never tire of it, be in no doubt that this is the definitive concert movie and it’s of little surprise that there hasn’t been a concert film since that holds a candle to it, now does anybody have any questions?!
When Fantasia was first released on home video tape back in November 1991 I was working in a retail Video shop and I was actively involved in its promotion, I think we must have played it 4 times a day for the best part of 3 months and the sales were phenomenal; in fact it sold 15 million copies worldwide during that initial release. I can remember people buying a copy to watch and another copy to keep wrapped in mint condition; I had never seen anything quite like that before or again since and consequently the movie is embossed in my memory.
Making the sales figures even more remarkable was the fact that the only portion of the 50 year old film known to the public was the Sorcerer’s Apprentice sequence starring Mickey Mouse, that aside there are long periods of dissonant music, Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain, music critic Deems Taylor’s dry commentary and the silhouetted rear view of conductor Leopold Stokowski on the podium. Nonetheless, it would appear that when Mickey Mouse shook Stokowski’s hand the barriers between high and low culture were dismantled and modern audiences appreciated Walt Disney’s experiment to create an ongoing, animated promenade concert series.
However, the movie-going public of 1940 were not so convinced and instead of becoming the perennial release introducing new material, whilst keeping the Sorcerer’s Apprentice as a core performance that Disney had imagined, it would be 60 years before Fantasia 2000 would revive the concept to cinema audiences. So now, 10 years on, both films have been re-released in high definition, the original version has been extended to a 124 mins running time by getting a voice-artist to dub Deems Taylor’s commentary restoring the cuts in these passages and returning the 15 minute intermission section which includes a Jazz jam session.
The Special Edition Blu-ray release featuring both films looks immaculate, sporting a full 1080p MPEG-4 video quality picture and an incredibly rich 7.1 DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack which invigorates the classical programme significantly. Surprisingly for a major Disney classic title like Fantasia the supplements initially felt a little thin, a short featurette per film presented by Walt’s daughter Diane Disney Miller, focusing on the new Disney Family Museum in San Francisco and a piece examining the notebook of Herman Schultheis, special effects wizard who was responsible for many of the revolutionary techniques developed at the Disney Studio, including the multi layered glass pane system used to give great depth of field to the intricate background tracking shots.
However, the extras on Fantasia 2000 more than make up for it starting with Musicana which explores in detail Disney’s original concept for Fantasia being an ongoing classical music presentation and focuses on an attempt in the 1970s by some of the surviving ‘Nine Old Men’ to revive the project and whilst excellent it is topped by the totally unexpected, remarkable feature length documentary Dali & Disney: A Date with Destino which explores the collaboration between Salvador Dali and Walt Disney in exhaustive biographical detail and culminates with the final realisation of abandoned Fantasia segment Destino which was brought to fruition by Walt’s nephew Roy Disney in 2003 and is presented finally on this disc making it a must have for movie, music and art fans alike.
David Suchet has been playing Hercule Poirot on television for 20 years, almost every story has been filmed and finally one of the most anticipated has marked Poirot’s debut on the hidef format; Murder On The Orient Express is considered by many to be the definitive Hercule Poirot story, and perhaps the best-known Agatha Christie work of all time.
The story was famously filmed, during Christie’s lifetime, in 1974 by legendary director Sidney Lumet, starring Albert Finney as the diminutive Belgian Detective and a host of Hollywood guest stars including, Sean Connery, Lauren Bacall, Anthony Perkins and Ingrid Bergman. This frothy, yet intricate and sumptuous version was much-loved by the author that, for many years after her death in 1976, the Christie Estate was reluctant to grant permission to make alternative versions. However, with almost all of the 33 novels and 51 short stories featuring Poirot to Suchet’s credit, it seemed inevitable that he would eventually get to do it.
It’s interesting to chart the progress of the Poirot franchise; it began as a modest, relatively low-budget TV series in 1989, the focus of which was the original collections of short stories featuring Poirot, his associate Captain Arthur Hastings, his secretary the inscrutable Miss Lemon and the regular Scotland Yard presence of Chief Inspector Japp. Whilst the house-style was light and charming the attention to period detail, characterisation and authenticity in keeping to the original Christie plots was exemplary and to extend the series the production was expanded to also include feature-length adaptations of the Poirot novels, starting with Peril At End House in 1990 and ending with Murder In Mesopotamia in 2001.
The brand was re-launched in 2003 with Five Little Pigs but not featuring the regular extended cast or the now synonymous Christopher Gunning theme music and reduced to a stringent 90 minute running time. For the most part these subsequent feature length adaptations have been solid, but they often lack charm or humour and, in recent years, the writers have sought to dramatically alter the original storylines and, largely due to the shorter duration, spend much less time in drawing believable supporting characters on which the resolution of the plots so often depend; the one lasting mark of quality is David Suchet’s leading performance.
I have to admit that Murder On The Orient Express is not my favourite Agatha Christie story, it’s not even my favourite Poirot story; however as a child the 1974 film gave me some of the most vivid nightmares I care to remember and as an adult, appreciating Lumet’s entire oeuvre, I have a very soft spot for it. The Suchet version decides to be more faithful to Lumet’s film than to Christie’s original book, which is largely taken up with a series of repetitive face to face interviews between Poirot and the 12 suspects and is hardly the most riveting read in the world.
Where Orient Express does score highly is in its setting, cast of exotic characters and morbidly engaging subject matter, inspired by the real life kidnapping and murder of the Lindbergh Baby in 1932. It also differs significantly with its surprise resolution to Christie’s other more traditional whodunits. The 1080p HD video quality is used to full effect in both the early Turkish scenes, the breathtaking train journey and snow-bound scenes in Belgrade, the DTS-HD 5.1 soundtrack and expressive score are also outstanding. The film opens with Poirot observing both the suicide of a young British Army Officer whilst he cross-examines him and the stoning of an adulterous Muslim woman thus sowing the thematic seeds of crime and punishment, retribution and redemption; developing significantly Suchet’s notion of Poirot’s devout Catholicism.
Poirot’s first release on Blu-ray is much welcomed and contains the excellent David Suchet on the Orient Express (HD 47 mins) examining the exotic 100 year history of the train itself. I am glad that Acorn Media are dedicated to releasing the entire collection upscaled to high definition.
A great advantage of parenthood is having the wonderful opportunity to revisit the movies you loved when you were growing up and experience them afresh through your child’s eyes. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is one of those timeless family films that still captivate generation-spanning audiences and its bonnet has never looked shinier than on this high definition Blu-ray release.
Loosely based on Ian Fleming’s children’s story of the same name and scripted by Roald Dahl, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was produced by long term James Bond franchise mogul Albert R. “Cubby” Broccoli and released in time for Christmas 1968 in between You Only Live Twice and On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. The film stars Dick Van Dyke as Caractacus Potts, a Heath Robinsonesque crackpot inventor and widowed father of two young children for whom he builds a “Fantasmagorical Motorcar” in which they have fairytale style adventures.
The James Bond connections don’t end there; weapons expert “Q” (Desmond Llewelyn) has a cameo as Mr. Coggins the scrap merchant whom the Potts children implore their father to save the wrecked car from and arch-villain Auric Goldfinger played by German actor Gert Fröbe gets a chance to use his circus training in the physical role of Baron Bomburst ruler of the kingdom of Vulgaria where all children are banished and are forced into hiding in underground caves. Legendary production designer Ken Adam provides the stunning set interiors and also was the draughtsman for the car’s unique special features.
Whilst playing truant the Potts children have a near miss car accident, the driver is Truly Scrumptious (Sally Ann Howes) the daughter of a sweet factory tycoon (James Robertson Justice) concerned for their education and general well-being she takes them home to their father and despite acknowledging an attraction to her he dismisses her as a do-gooding busy-body. They meet again when Potts take his accidental ‘Toot’ sweets (dog-whistle like candy) for evaluation by Truly’s father, providing one the movie’s outstanding set pieces culminating with 100s of canines rampaging through the set.
The children invite Truly out for the car’s maiden voyage, a trip to the beach and this allows a genuine love-interest to develop between her and Caractacus when the four of them are cut off when the tide comes in. From here on the film embarks on a massive fantasy subplot involving Bomburst’s attempt to capture the car and the Potts family’s efforts to liberate the children of Vulgaria. The car has been equipped with the ability to drive on water and fly through the air (not unlike some of the trademark Bond vehicles) and this allows for some frenetic chase sequences.
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is peppered with good supporting performances with Lionel Jeffries on hand as the children’s eccentric Grandfather and Benny Hill convincing in his understated performance as the Royal Toymaker. However, it’s ballet dancer Robert Helpmann’s utterly terrifying turn as the exceedingly creepy Child Catcher that will leave an indelible mark on younger viewers and still manages to make me feel uncomfortable over 30 years on!
The film makes great use of the exterior of Schloss Neuschwanstein which Walt Disney based the Sleeping Beauty castle on and became their prominent company logo; it also benefits from a marvellous musical score from the Sherman Brothers who are also associated with Walt Disney Pictures providing the songs for Mary Poppins,The Jungle Book and Bedknobs and Broomsticks. The title song, along with Toot Sweets,Truly Scrumptious and Hushabye Mountain have all become popular favourites and continue to expose lyricist Richard Sherman’s penchant for convoluted wordplay.
I’m disappointed that so many critics dismiss Chitty Chitty Bang Bang as overlong, shoddy and forgettable and can only assume they were adults when they first saw it and therefore were unaffected by its magic, which perhaps can only really be enjoyed when viewed through the eyes of a child as I had done and now my son has. One thing for sure the film is far from shoddy as this Blu-ray edition demonstrates with a glorious 1080p video transfer and 7.1 DTS-HD soundtrack, I am confident that this high definition remastering will preserve the film long enough to be enjoyed by my grandchildren.
In 1990 I was the resident videographer at Bowes Lyon House, a youth centre and arts venue in my home town of Stevenage that would transform once a week into TheeKlub Wiv No Name attracting artists such as The Ragga Twins, The Bleach Boys and The Cranberries, I was tasked with capturing the live performances on tape.
At the time I was an active member of The Bancroft Players a renowned drama society based at the Queen Mother Theatre in the neighbouring market town of Hitchin. Mike Lukey, my best friend from my early school days, was the keyboardist and songwriter for local band Budadada, now known as the New Town Centres.
The pair of us had tried in vain to make the eponymous Ex & Lukes: The Motion Picture on Super 8 cine film whilst we were still at school and we hit on the notion that we could borrow the camcorder from Bowes Lyon and use it to finally get a movie made and within a couple of weeks we had knocked up a script, gathering a small cast of friends from the theatre group and the band together, many of whom had never acted before.
The plot revolved around the exploits of two supposed pillars of society, Reverend Laurence Dressing (Ex) and Doctor Paul Toombes (Lukes) whose twenty year friendship had seen them descend into corruption leading to murder, incest and ultimately, for the Doctor at least, suicide. It was thought that in order to help me age for the role of the Vicar my curly locks should be bleached white, however due to the natural amount of red in my hair the best the barber could manage was straw yellow, which appeared either orange or green under different light, leaving us no choice but to present the film in black and white.
Whilst the themes were dark the subject was treated as a black comedy, satirising the privatisation policies of the Thatcher government of the day and pondering what might have happened had the Church of England been subject to stringent, commercial, market pressures; enter Archbishop Dorsal Fine played by the stalwart of the Bancroft Youth Theatre Julian Newman Turner, he gives the Vicar one last chance to turn around the fortunes of the church of St. Kilroy before it’s listed for demolition and the land redeveloped.
Reverend Dressing has a more sinister motive for saving the church, for walled up in its belfry is the corpse of a fallen lady from his past who took to blackmail when she fell pregnant by him. The Vicar called upon his good friend and hypnotist Doctor Toombes to discretely dispose of the troublesome woman. If the church is torn down their little secret would be discovered giving them no alternative but to revitalise the church coffers in the easiest way possible by generating an increased demand for funerals and the copious costs that accompany them.
We were actually allowed to film in St. Nicholas church in Old Stevenage on the pretext that this was a community story about a group of local people trying to save the parish church. With the same cunning we were able to convince the Director of Bowes Lyon to let us keep the camera over the course of one weekend (usually we had to return it before the offices closed) and this single exception provided the chance to shoot the requisite spooky night scenes in the woods; no self-respecting, low-budget movie would be complete without them!
Once the Doctor had dispensed with the bulk of his regular patients thus filling St. Kilroy’s graveyard, the second act introduces the character of Georgina played by Claire Garvie, who had recently starred as Sandy in the Lytton Players production of Grease at the Gordon Craig Theatre. Georgina worked at the local nursery and was involved in a fatal car accident resulting in the death of a young child for which she held herself responsible. During a visit to Reverend Dressing for spiritual guidance his dog collar slips once more and he embarks on a May to September fling with Georgina that quickly escalates to talk of marriage; perhaps the clergyman believes he can find salvation by rescuing the young, troubled girl.
Georgina also visits the clinic of Doctor Toombes for counselling and whilst under hypnosis it’s revealed through flashbacks that perhaps he isn’t completely evil after all; whilst he did-away with the pregnant woman from his pal’s past, he managed to save the baby and delivered her to the Salvation Army where she was fostered. Once he realises that the Vicar is about to marry his own daughter unwittingly, this tragedy of Greek proportions is too much for the Hippocratic practitioner to bear and the guilty knowledge sets him in a tailspin of depression and madness culminating in death by his own hand.
Grave Misconduct was originally shot on a Panasonic M10 VHS camera and edited in the linear fashion direct to U-Matic Beta-SP master tape over the course of two days. The equipment available at the time didn’t allow for complex effects, transitions or sound montage and the original now feels a little tired and slow by today’s standards.
Lukes did a very short edit which played more like a trailer to commemorate the film’s first decade but I thought it would be a worthwhile exercise to produce a brand new edition to celebrate the film’s 21st anniversary using my new found skills with Final Cut Pro X. I wanted to remove a lot of the glitches from the original that have bothered me over the years whilst keeping the storyline and key performances intact; by cutting 21 minutes of footage and introducing an alternative soundtrack I have injected much more pace and energy into it and I now consider this to be the definitive version.