In John Ford’s rueful 1946 allegory about the human cost of America’s new role as global peacekeeper, Wyatt Earp (Henry Fonda) agrees to clean up Tombstone, Arizona, as a pretext for revenging his teenage brother's murder by Old Man Clanton (Walter Brennan) and his rustler sons.
An affectingly restrained Australian drama of adolescent development coloured by the repercussions of a parent undergoing gender transition, 52 Tuesdays may initially seem understated in its exploration of the balances (and imbalances) of family relationships under stress, but finally achieves something rather deeper than its innovative broken-up narrative style at first suggests.
Marshland is set on possibly the last section of the Andalusian coastline which doesn’t have high-rise condos planted all over it. Imagine the Kentish marshes of Great Expectations, but with a harsh sun cracking the parched earth, while overhead the sky throngs with geese and flamingos. It’s in this inhospitable corner of Spain that young women keep disappearing, apparently lured away to the big city, never to be heard from again.
Don’t on any account be late for the first couple of minutes of the woolly mammoth that is Russian director Alexei German’s last film, Hard to Be a God, since the opening narrative voiceover gives a rare suggestion of explanatory background to a work that, put mildly, does not greatly trouble itself, over a lumbering length of just under three hours, with much in the way of plot explication.
People who live in glass houses should be careful who they antagonise. That's the superficial starting point of The Gift, the directorial debut of actor Joel Edgerton, who takes the cuckoo-in-the-nest thriller template – which became ubiquitous in the early '90s with films like Pacific Heights, Unlawful Entry, Single White Female and The Hand That Rocks the Cradle – and, by introducing psychological depth and a streak of social conscience, fashions an intriguing morality tale.
Jason Bateman (pictured below right) and Rebecca Hall play Simon and Robyn; prompted by his fancy new information security sales job, they move from Chicago to an exposed modernist house high atop the California hills. She's a successful designer emerging from a depression brought about by a failed pregnancy, trying to build her business back up from home. When they bump into one of Simon's old schoolmates, Gordo (Edgerton himself), this awkward man takes a rather overzealous shine to them and starts showing up uninvited and leaving gifts on their doorstep.
Operating with a keen sense of the couple's vulnerability from the outset, both in terms of their easily penetrated abode and Robyn's fragile mental state, Edgerton skilfully ratchets up the tension and, along with cinematographer Eduard Grau – who did such beautiful work on A Single Man – crafts a cool, unnerving thriller, which contains a handful of decent jump-scares before it evolves into something more emotionally rich.
This first-time helmer (who has also penned the screenplay) fleshes things out admirably, showing an eye for incidental background action (a husband is chided by his wife after belittling her at a work party; we notice Gordo clock Simon in the street long before he makes his initial approach) and this care stretches to the casting, characterisations and performances. Allison Tolman (TV's Fargo) and Wendell Pierce (The Wire) are amongst the skilfully selected supporting players, while Edgerton the chameleon-like actor plays Gordo as an atypical, enigmatic psycho; still and subtly strange, he's the anti-Ray Liotta, right down to his dark, inscrutable eyes. He's difficult to read and interesting to ponder, with the audience invited to pick and puzzle over him as we size up the threat.
He's well matched by seasoned comedian Bateman, in a rare serious role, whose easy charm is shrewdly employed and who proves he has the dramatic chops to slip into the skin of a man whose slick facade is gradually peeled away to reveal something substantially more ugly. And Hall is compellingly sensitive in the film's most sympathetic role, bringing a welcome note of sweetness to the abounding cynicism and increasing aggression, and going from passive to active as her investigations lead her to uncover the uncomfortable truth about the state of her relationship. We also view events through her compassionate eyes, adding further complexity to our perception of Gordo.
The Gift is ostensibly about the power of an idea, but this thoughtful film encourages us to look afresh at our own behaviour and relationships, and it has plenty to say about the way in which women (or indeed anyone) can become victims of, or be diminished by, a domineering personality, about our failure to see what's right in front of us, about the far-reaching consequences of our actions, and about the take-no-prisoners world of big business where bullies and psychopaths rise to the top. This gift might be wrapped up in the paper and ribbon of a generic thriller, but what's inside will pleasantly surprise.
Stepping in for Brad Bird, who helmed 2011's Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, director Chris McQuarrie has brought a high-speed sheen and effortless technical assurance to this fifth outing for the franchise. In so doing, he at least partially erases memories of his previous directing job with its star Tom Cruise, 2012's misfiring Jack Reacher.
Dziga Vertov’s narrativeless “city symphony” Man With a Movie Camera celebrates the modernity and energy of the post-Bolshevik Revolution metropolis – a composite of Kharkov, Kiev, Moscow and Odessa filmed over three years. Propaganda for the harnessing of machinery in the building of the Soviet Union’s future, it was much more besides – a masterpiece of avant-garde experimentalism and, fleetingly, an unexpected critique of the continuing class struggle.
The boxing movie has been a gift to filmmakers virtually since the dawn of cinematic time. In 1932 Jimmy Cagney was swinging for the title (and the gal) in Winner Take All, but some say 1947's Body and Soul, starring John Garfield as boxing champ Charley Davis, is the one most of the other screen boxers are indebted to, from Sly Stallone's Rocky to Robert De Niro's Jake LaMotta in Raging Bull.
As Noah Baumbach moves into his forties, his youthful archness is becoming increasingly tempered with a wry melancholy. It adds depth and piquancy to this story of a forty-something couple trying to come to terms with the fading of youth’s infinite possibilities (“What’s the opposite of 'the world is your oyster'?”) by embracing, occasionally literally, a pair of Millennials who introduce them to cool enthusiasms such as cycling, walking in disused subway tunnels, and ayahuasca ceremonies (self-realization through shamanic ritual and copious magic mushroom-induced vomiting).
Its title may hint at exotic worlds – a Western, even – but Robert Carlyle’s directorial debut is anything but. Carlyle himself plays the title character, one of life’s losers (“haunted tree” being one of the more memorable descriptions we get of him) who’s barely getting by as a Glasgow barber until the story, and his own unplanned actions, pitch his mundane existence to another level altogether.