Psycho

On a bright December Friday afternoon, Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) returns to work after some afternoon delight with her similarly cash-strapped lover Sam (John Gavin). When her boss sends Marion to the bank to deposit a client's $40,000 in cash, on a whim she hastily backs her bags and flees with the money, but draws the attention of a road cop during her escape. When darkness and an incessant downpour prove too much for Marion, she checks into the run down, deserted Bates Motel, where she meets motel manager Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins), a kind yet awkward young man, unfamiliar with pretty young women entering his life. Norman's bedridden mother disproves of the presence of Marion, and refuses to let her into the house, but this is no concern of the girl's as she still has to plan what to do with the money.

North By Northwest

This is the last review I've got left unposted from the recent reviewing competition at the Lamb, I hope you enjoy it.

Is it really possible for North by Northwest to live up to its hype? It’s rare to find a Top Films list deprived of its inclusion, it features scenes that have become the stuff of legend, that also tend to top Best Scene lists, and it’s one of the greatest movies ever made by one of the greatest directors who ever lived.

If you haven’t seen it yet, then I strongly advise you to stop reading anything about it and go and watch it now, for North by Northwest is truly a tremendous film that is best enjoyed with as little outside knowledge as possible. When Cary Grant’s Roger O. Thornhill quips shortly after being kidnapped into the back of a car, “Don’t tell me where we’re going, surprise me,” this is not merely Hitchcock’s intentions for Thornhill, but for all of us watching as well.

Guaranteed Happiness: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is a film I've loved since the fist time I watched it, and always proves to be an enjoyable experience, yet I fear that from now on I won't enjoy it any more, because I will have horrific, Vietnam-style flashbacks to my latest viewing, or rather the repercussions from it. You see, I volunteered to appear on The Lamb's weekly podcast, The Lambcast, for their Movie Of The Month segment, and I was overjoyed to discover that said movie was Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Granted, I may have voted 7 or 8 times for it and hoped that one of the primaries would drop out so I could discuss such a great film with some similarly-minded individuals, so I can't say I was overly surprised when it won. However, this was my first ever podcast (recorded last Sunday), and I was so horrifically bad in it that I'm not sure I'll ever be able to enjoy said film again. The episode has now dropped, and is available on iTunes (search Lambcast in podcasts) or via this link. I urge you to listen to it more for the scintillating discussion between Dan Heaton, Justin Gott, Kristen Lopez and Nick Jobe  than for my dismal contribution, however if I've ever wronged you in the past (a list longer than I'd like), then you may also enjoy the podcast, for different reasons. If you could just ignore my horribly grating, nasally drone whenever it aggravates your eardrums and pretend instead it was just a four-way chat then I'd appreciate it.

Maybe it was because I'm a first timer and everyone else there seemed far more experienced at it than I, probably because they are and some of them regularly hold podcasts of their own, or maybe it's that I'm genuinely not very good at talking about films with real live actual people without using a keyboard (it doesn't happen very often), but I'd like to issue an apology to Dan, Justin, Kristen and Nick for lowering the quality of the podcast, and for relentlessly interrupting and talking over them when I had nothing very interesting to say. I was nervous, and it's never been more abundantly clear that when talking about films, I truly do not know what I'm talking about. Also, I hate public speaking, so signing up for a podcast was probably a pretty dumb thing to do. Don't worry, I won't do it again.

Guaranteed Happiness: Wall-E

Welcome to the first post in my new semi-regular feature, Guaranteed Happiness. I've discovered that a lot of the films I've watched recently haven't necessarily dealt with very happy subjects, and this has been getting me down a bit. Now and then, I'd quite like to watch a happy film, or one that's uplifting and ensures that I'll have a big stupid grin on my face for at least 80% of it, and definitely at the end. After all, I'd much rather write about a film I'm passionate about, and I tend to have more to say about films that make me smile than those that make me suicidal. Praise should be aimed squarely between the shoulders of my girlfriend then, for sticking on Pixar's gem Wall-E when I was in a decidedly cranky mood a little while ago. The aim was for me to sit down and write some posts, which to be honest I was in no mood to do after a fairly crappy day at work and having to shell out over a considerable amount of cash to fix my bike, yet as soon as the film began all thoughts of blogging and even glancing at my laptop screen were out the window.

L.A. Confidential

In 1950s Los Angeles, mob boss Mickey Cohen has been put away, and rival crime factions are warring for his place. Against this backdrop, three very different cops are following three very different cases; brutish Bud White (Russell Crowe) despises wife beaters and is more than willing to frame a suspect in the name of justice as he works as hardman for James Cromwell’s kindly police chief. Ed Exley (Guy Pearce) is the straight-laced, ambitious son of a deceased police hero, investigating a multiple homicide at greasy spoon the Nite Owl, whilst Kevin Spacey’s smooth headline-hunting NARC Jack Vincennes traces a lead found on a drugs bust, uncovering a ring of hookers cut to look like movie stars. Throw into the mix Danny DeVito’s sleazy journo, David Straithairn’s oily businessman and Kim Basinger’s high class whore with a strong resemblance to Veronica Lake and you’ve got a top notch cast all bringing their A-game in a stunning film with tight script and direction. Spacey especially is sublime, stealing every scene in a movie full of memorable ones. The little moments are the finishing touches – Exley removing his oversized glasses and pouting for a photographer, Vincennes bumping into a man he put away on the set of TV show Badge of Honor where he acts as technical adviser, but the big scenes – the masterful interrogation of 3 suspects, several showdowns and a final act with all guns blazing are the parts best remembered. Credit of the month: Ginger Slaughter.

Choose film 10/10

Fargo

Snivelling, double-talking car salesman Jerry Jundegaard (William H. Macy, Oscar nommed but somehow losing to Cuba Gooding Jr.) has a plan. He needs money. His father-in-law Wade (Harve Presnell) has money, but hates Jerry. So Jerry hires two thugs (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) to kidnap his wife and demand a ransom, of which Jerry will keep half. What could go wrong? Well, quite a lot it turns out, especially if everyone involved is an idiot and you’re being directed by the Coen brothers. The men’s escapades are chaotic, unstructured and are all heading off in different directions until, at the 32 minute mark, heavily pregnant Sheriff Marge Gunderson shows up to set them in order. Frances McDormand deservedly won an Oscar for her portrayal, nailing that wonderful sing-song North Dakota accent “Yah, you betcha” and, once full of eggs, keeping a straight face whilst clearing up the handbasket Hell’s clearly fallen out of around her. 

Few films as short as this (98 minutes) have room to divulge us with background lives – a meeting with an old school friend, conversations about stamps – whilst still keeping the action moving briskly. Every line is considered and real, every character feels genuine, and this is the greatest proof you can find against the argument that the Coens can only write caricatures. Often underrated, this film can never be over-seen, and no-one can call themselves a film fan unless they’ve both seen it, and loved it. The title of this blog was very nearly called Your Accomplice in the Wood Chipper, and a car boot opening has never made me laugh before.

Choose film 10/10

Jaws

Der-dum. Derr-dm. Derrr-dn. Derrrr-dn. Der-dn. Derr-de der-de de-de de-de de-dn-de-de-de-de!

Two notes. The most memorable two notes in history, signalling to the world that a skinny dipper won’t be home for dinner.  Composer John Williams, here winning his second of five Oscars – so far – and whom celebrated his 80^th birthday last Wednesday, used these two notes to produce a primitive, devastatingly simple theme tune more recognisable than any other in cinema. Would Jaws have had such an effect without the tune? Probably, but it might not be quite so memorable.

Some credit should be given to the director too. A 26-year old working on only his second feature after the mild success of The Sugarland Express and his direct-to-TV man vs. truck classic Duel, cocky young upstart Steven Spielberg was eager to prove his worth. After purchasing the rights to Peter Benchley’s novel, what followed was one of the most famously arduous shoots ever experienced until Apocalypse Now. The actors hated each other. Boats almost sank or repeatedly drifted unwanted into shot. The pissed off Martha’s Vineyard locals incessantly badgered the crew, it all cost too much and took too long, with reshoots needed to make it just right (some scenes were reshot in the editor’s swimming pool). And of course, the shark didn’t work. The eyes looked weird, the jaws wouldn’t close, the thing wouldn’t float or just didn’t work full stop. Everything had to be geared around that giant mechanical fish. But in a way, all these obstacles came together to add to the whole. The three leads – Roy Scheider’s chief of police Brody, Robert Shaw’s salty sea dog Qunit and Richard Dreyfuss’ techie oceanographer Hooper are supposed to distrust each other, so a mutual dislike between the actors could only heighten that. Continued reshoots allowed shots to be perfected. And a malfunctioning shark meant they couldn’t show the monster, allowing audiences imaginations – always able to outdo any Hollywood special effects – to add in the gnashing teeth, piercing eyes and circling fins where needed. The film set the template for every blockbuster and mainstream monster horror since – only the best creature features save the big reveals to the end.

Whilst there is much to thank Mr. Spielberg for with regard to Jaws’ impact, there are some downsides too. Jaws was released nationwide in over 400 screens – unheard of in its day. Everyone involved assumed it would flop, so they prayed for a fair to middling opening weekend with which to gain back the millions lost in the making. Instead, they found the weekly grosses did nothing but rise, so a complete market saturation became the norm for all summer blockbusters, most notably Star Wars two years later. So nowadays you can blame the tentpole summer pictures – the floods of superheroes and giant robots beating the crap out of each other – at least partially on Jaws.

Not everything good came from the bad or accidental though. The script and staging is impeccable, with one notable scene – the three leads in the galley of Quint’s boat the Orca – passes from tension, to camaraderie, through heavy emotion, back to a sense of fun and then intense action, all without any sense of confusion or feeling rushed. There is some great blindsiding; assuring you something obvious is going to happen, before smacking you in the face with the exact opposite, and even the little moments – the ominous clicking of an unwinding fishing line under Quint’s steely gaze, Hooper’s boyish glee at the menagerie of jawbones hanging in Quint’s shack – all register with great impact.

Choose film 10/10

Cinematic Cure for the Common Cold

I have a cold, it’s quite possibly going to kill me. We’re not talking about some run-of-the-mill everyday man-flu here, this is like if Gwyneth Paltrow in Contagion screwed the monkey from Outbreak, then sneezed all over my Fruit & Fibre. My nose has become a sewer pipe for an over-producing factory of snot. And because of this ‘case of the sniffles’ (my mum’s words) I took a day off work (the first in living memory, save last year’s truck meets bike debacle) and whilst off I thought I’d endeavour to find the best kind of film to watch when you’re ill, and cross a few off the list whilst I was at it.

First off, discount anything subtitled or 3D, you feel bad enough already, having to wear glasses or read isn’t going to make you feel any better. Amelie is a great feel- good film, but if your head feels like wool almost anything in English is going to be a better choice. The same can be said for anything too obscure. David Lynch, Luis Bunuel, Lars von Trier, sit back down. Terry Gilliam is just about acceptable, as most of his work tends to have a light-hearted edge to it, but the others are going to look especially trippy, depending on your medicine cocktail of choice. Probably best not to watch Brazil though.

I’ve followed five schools of thought here: 1. Watch a western. Real men working hard for a living, fighting, killing and sexing up whores like real men should do might just inspire you to man up and show those germs who’s boss. If you’re a girl substitute this for some period Jane Austen nonsense. Being ill in olden times was not deemed proper. 2. Watch a horror, in an attempt to scare yourself so much you forget you’re ill, or possibly scare the illness away. I’m not a doctor, but I think this is medically possible. 3. Watch a depressing film. Seeing people worse off than you should make you feel better about the situation, in a “yes I may be ill, but at least I haven’t been buried alive” kind of way. 4. Watch a kids film, definitely animated, preferably Pixar. Lighthearted, simple to follow and always has a happy ending, this is a traditional antidote to any problem I come across. 5. Die Hard. John McClane has never found a problem he can’t shoot through, and you’re namby-pamby congested sinuses aren’t about to stop his track record. Plus, it’s festive, and I’m not waiting another 11 months before I can watch it again.

1: Our western of choice is Red River, primarily because LoveFilm delivered it through my door the day before the sick day. This is a proper western, with John Wayne and everything. He plays Thomas Dunson, whose woman is killed by Indians and, instead of seeking revenge like any other John Wayne character, sets out to start a cattle herd with his best friend Groot and a young boy with a cow. The boy grows up to be Montgomery Clift fourteen years later, and the three men must head a cattle drive of 10,000 bovine 1,000 miles in 100 days. It’s the kind of film where as soon as a kindhearted, friendly young farm hand expresses his intentions of spending his share of the pay for the drive on a pair of shoes for his beloved young wife, in the very next scene he is trampled to death in a stampede. Wayne gives one of his best performances as one of his most layered characters, and the film soon becomes less about the drive and more about the fate of Dunson and Clift’s Matthew Garth, as the two have different beliefs as to the correct destination for the drive, how to get there and how the men working under them should be treated. It’s a little long for the story it tells – in the third act diverting to assist a wagon train set upon by Indians just to add a romantic edge to the story, developing the script into a sub-screwball comedy, and I was a little disappointed by the surprisingly upbeat ending. That said, it was a good watch for a sick day, kept me engrossed and I genuinely cared about the characters come the close.

2: BBC iPlayer very kindly showed 1940s classic horror films Cat People and its sequel, the Curse of the Cat People recently, and having not got around to them yet, this was a perfect opportunity. Both films follow the life of Oliver, a 30-something New Yorker, who has apparently never been unhappy before, who falls in love with and marries a beautiful woman and has another, equally beautiful, intelligent and kind woman in love with him. Am I supposed to care about this guy or wish him dead? Anyway, the blurb for the film told me that Irena, the woman he falls for, is haunted by a past which threatens those around her with death and destruction. Couple this with a title like Cat People and I’m expecting either at some point she’s going to turn into a more feline werewolf than is traditionally expected, one side of her family are freakish upright-walking cat/human hybrids, anyone she loves will turn into a cat or at some point 50-foot long cats will drop from the sky and crush everyone she’s met. Disappointingly the first option is chosen, and the limited effects available in 1942 prevent a Rick Baker-esque transformation from being shown. There was an annoying lack of horror in both this and the sequel, which shows Oliver a few years older with a 6 year old outcast daughter, who is given a magic ring with which she wishes for a friend, only for that friend to be the spirit of a figure from Oliver’s past. Only a couple of scenes across the two films offer the slightest amount of tension and none are even the slightest bit scary, so I’m afraid cold theory number two remains untested. The characters are underwritten or superfluous, particularly the sequel’s Jamaican houseservant Edward, whose chief role is to spout dialogue the audience has already assumed or flat out knows, and I’ve have preferred more attention to have been spent on how stupid the woman is who, when she believes herself to be cornered by an attacker, jumps into a brightly lit swimming pool and splashes around for a bit.

3: If you’re going to watch a depressing film, it has to be a true story, as no-one has ever made something up that’s worse than something you hear on the evening news. And so is the case with Glory, Edward Zwick’s tale of the first all black infantry regiment of the Federal Army during the US Civil War. It says something about late 80s/90s Hollywood that the only way we could be shown a story about black people is through the eyes of the white man brought in to lead them (Matthew Broderick). The movie is rife with clichés (the four privates we focus on all have memorable and recognisable character traits, and all share the same tent, including Morgan Freeman’s kindly old hand and Denzel Washington’s Oscar winning portrayal of the angry, rebellious ra1bble-rouser Trip) and guilty of using Matthew Broderick in a serious role, and too often dwells on sentimentality. It’s also an enraging film, watching the racism against the men denied uniforms and shoes because they are not believed to ever be used for warfare. As for good for illness, the schadenfreude aspect did make me feel a little better, but the severity of how much these guys had to go through just made me feel worse.

4: Here we go, the last Pixar film to be crossed off the list (A Bug’s Life, Cars and Up didn’t make it I’m afraid) tends to be one of the least remembered, though that may change once next year’s prequel Monsters University hits cinemas. This is the best kind of Pixar film, one set in a slight variation of the real world, showing a side of it previously unseen, yet whose origins exist as mythology in our world, in this case that there’s a monster hiding in your closet. The studio – the most consistently outstanding studio working today – takes this concept and forms not just a plot but an entire world around it, with the monsters working for a corporation collecting children’s screams to be used as power for their city. Somehow, who knows how, they manage to make two of these child-terrifying employees our heroes; Mike and Sully voiced perfectly by Billy Crystal and John Goodman), who must face the everyday woes of paperwork and fuel shortages like the rest of us office-ridden schmucks. I’ve mentioned it before, but the key to Pixar’s success is in the details. Mike uses a giant contact lens to cover the single eye that takes up most of his body, sprays on Wet Dog odourant before a date and takes his snake-haired girlfriend to the acclaimed restaurant Harryhausen’s. That, and top notch voice work from a cast including Steve Buscemi as dastardly reptile Randall, James Coburn as Monsters Inc. CEO Henry J. Waternoose and Yoda himself Frank Oz as Randall’s sidekick Fungus. Perfect viewing if infected or not.

5: Ah, Die Hard. You revolutionised the world of action movies, encouraging studio execs all over Hollywood to green light Die Hard... in a submarine, on a bus, in space concepts left right and centre. You gave us Bruce Willis as a believable action hero without the need for bulging biceps and legs like tree trunks (he even name-checks Stallone and Schwarzenegger in the script). And you gave us Alan Rickman’s greatest role until Galaxy Quest as the refined, immaculately attired thief Hans Gruber (I don’t count Snape as a new character, as he’s basically Gruber with a cloak). The film is note perfect and barely puts a foot wrong, though some characters are broad stereotypes, especially the members of Gruber’s crew, and McClane’s wife’s sleazy co-worker Ellis, so much of a bastard whenever he’s onscreen you root for the terrorists. I tend to put this on as a background film when doing other things, but this is incredibly counter-productive, as I invariably end up engrossed as soon as McClane throws a corpse out of window and I join in with a “Welcome to the party pal!” This was definitely the film that made me feel the greatest, or was at least the one I watched with the moost narcotics inside me, so I’m going to conclude that the best film to watch when you’re ill is one you never forwards, backwards and thrown off a building. If it’s a seminal 80s action movie, so much the better, just make sure it’s one of your favourites. If only a cold were curable by making fists with your toes on carpet.

Red River - Choose film 6/10

Cat People - Choose life 4/10

Curse of the Cat People - Choose life 3/10

Glory - Choose life 6/10

Monsters Inc. - Choose film 8/10

Die Hard - Choose film 10/10

Lord of the Rings Trilogy

This 1001 book is starting to piss me off. Not only did it count a whole goddamn TV series as one film (slyly writing the length of one hour long episode instead of the full 10-hour marathon) but now it’s counted Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy as one film. This is less annoying, as all three films appear on all of the other lists used, but think, two other films could have been removed to make up the numbers. Maybe two of the crap films I’ve already watched. Thanks book editors, thanks very much. I watched Olympia and the Spider’s Stratagem for nothing. Bastards.

Since dominating the world of cinema upon its release and becoming a cultural landmark, the trilogy has suffered a little backlash, mainly in terms of plot. Some believe, and I’m topping this list with Kevin Smith for his Rings-hating rant in Clerks 2, that the whole epic journey to thrown the mythical One Ring into the fiery chasm of Mount Doom could have been achieved a lot faster with the use of the giant eagles seen at the start of the film rescuing Gandalf from Saruman’s clutches and at the end, flying Sam and Frodo to safety. “Hey,” they say, “why didn’t they just fly the eagles to Mount Doom, chuck in the ring, then fly home for another pint of mead?” “Well,” say I, “because of all the giant frickin’ Nazguls flying around, you ignorant festering spore of mould.”The Nazguls, ridden by Sauron’s elite ringwraiths, are giant winged demon creatures, a kind of hybrid between a dragon, a snake, a garbage disposal and the thing creeping up behind you right now. Admittedly, once on the ground they seem to be fairly easily dispatched when distracted by food, swift footwork and a well-honed chopping action, but notice how the eagles only show up to the battle once some of them have already been taken out, and even then seem to struggle. Just shut up.

There is far too much to say about this trilogy, far more than I’m willing to type at any rate, but it is clear that the production of these films was very much a labour of love for all involved, particularly Jackson, with the sheer scale of everything, from Bilbo’s under-hill cottage at Bag End, through the elven city of Rivendell, the stronghold of Minas Tirith, the fires of Mount Doom and everywhere inbetween being a phenomenal undertaking, consuming many years of the lives of all who took part. All the characters are perfectly cast, even those not required of any emotional heavy lifting (Orlando Bloom, we’re looking at you), and every character has more than enough time to shine. There are many memorable moments, from Gandalf’s stand-off against the Balrog in the mines of Moriah, to Legolas’ acrobatic takedown of the mountainous four-tusked Olyphant (which, of course, still only counts as one kill), not to mention the groundbreaking effects used to create the creature Gollum.

Don’t be put off by the dungeons and dragons feel, with the silly names, invented languages and occasionally ridiculous mythology (so it’s a ring that makes one person all powerful and anyone else invisible, that can only be destroyed in a giant volcano? Well yes that sounds perfectly plausible), for this is cinema as it is meant to be, showcasing action, drama, comedy, war, every genre you care to think of. There’s even an army of ghost pirates and a few coming-of-age tales in there too. Yes, the romantic sub-sub-plot between Aragorn, Arwen and Eowyn is largely superfluous and feels tacked on, and it is a little long (never bothered me that much, I’m more than happy to spend a whole day watching films), but for a spectacle this grand, it’s more than worth it.  

Choose film 10/10

Pixar Day

Had a bit of an accident this morning, got knocked off my bike on the way to work. I’m fine, but my bike’s wrecked, and I was confined to the sofa for the day, and couldn’t think of a better way to cheer myself up than watching nothing but Pixar films, and all off the list!

Kicking the day off is Ratatouille, a film about Remy (Patton Oswalt), a rat with a highly developed sense of taste and a craving for cookery. The film is brilliant for its use of impeccable physical and largely dialogue-free comedy, such as when Remy is darting and diving his way around a kitchen, desperately trying not to be seen making his way to an open window, or the montage of Remy learning to use Linguini, a hapless garbage boy, as a real-life marionette. The movie has two of Pixar's greatest bad guys in the forms of Skinner (Ian Holm) the head chef at Linguini’s restaurant, and Anton Ego, Peter O’Toole imbuing the harsh food critic with his dry, creaky tones, and his character rounded out with his skull-themed typewriter and coffin-shaped office. Ian Holm, Brad Garrett and the rest of the cast gleefully over-egg their French accents, and Jamie Oliver’s cameo as a health inspector is perfect.

Second was Wall-E, about a lone robot cleaning up an Earth where the skyscrapers are dwarfed by towers of waste. The personification of Wall-E, from hanging his tracks up at the end of a day’s work, rocking himself to sleep at night and waking disorientated and low on battery life in the morning are all expertly and hilariously implemented, as is the notion of a robot love story, when Wall-E meets EVE, a futuristic female robot sent to search for sustainable life. The film comes with a message, showing the future mankind is destined for if we continue to abuse our planet and ourselves, depicting future humans as lethargic blobs, floating around on hover chairs, communicating completely digitally and eating lunch... in a cup. I have previously discussed my love of dinosaurs, but here I would like to add robots to the list of things that make me giddier than a small child in a sweet shop, and Wall-E has these by the Waste Allocated Load Lifter. If I could pick any job, past or present to work in, it would have been character designer on Wall-E, hands down, although after my run-in this morning, the film featured far too many robot collisions than I would have liked.

I find the Incredibles, the final Pixar film of the day, to be a little overrated, though by no means unenjoyable. It is often regarded as one of the more superior pictures in their history, yet I prefer almost all of their other films (Cars will not be discussed here). I like the premise, of a family of undercover superheroes being brought out of retirement, find the plot to move along nicely and remain interesting throughout, and enjoy spotting the references and nods to the superhero genre (“You got me monologuing”), but I feel there is something missing, preventing the Incredibles from scaling the heady heights of its brethren. I’m not sure if it’s the fairly flat characters, with Brad Bird’s Gok Wan-esuqe costume designer Edna or Wallace Shawn’s belligerently whiny boss being the only memorable standouts,  or if it’s the lack of humour, when compared to the rest of Pixar’s catalogue, but for me this will always be another film, rather than one I look forward to. Still good fun though.

Ratatouille 9/10 Choose film

Wall-E 10/10 Choose film

The Incredibles 8/10 Choose film

Jurassic Park

Last week some friends and I started a Movie Night, an event that will hopefully become a regular occurrence, and should allow me to keep crossing off films, whilst also achieve something approaching a social life. We kicked off the soon-to-be tradition with a film that means a great deal to me, Jurassic Park. I have previously waxed lyrical about the virtues of this cinematic landmark, or rather the shortcomings of the third film in the series, but I’ll try not to repeat myself too much.

The plot, and I really hope that none of you need to know this, although one of the attendees at the movie night admitted ashamedly that this was his first ever viewing of Jurassic Park, concerns a group of people traveling to an island where an eccentric (you can’t be mad if you’re rich) scientist (Richard Attenborough) has discovered a way of cloning dinosaurs from DNA found in mosquitoes frozen in amber. Inevitably, not all goes to plan, and there’s much merriment to be had in the dinos vs. people aftermath.

Jurassic Park is a masterclass in efficient film-making, showing a lot with a little. This is shown early on, when an early velociraptor encounter is terrifying, yet only a couple of close-ups of the raptors eyes are seen. Shaking leaves, haunting sound effects and shots from the dinosaurs own point-of-view are enough to believe the presence of this creature. When shown, the Stan Winston-created dinosaur models and ILM-rendered CGI are on the whole impeccable and, even though they are obviously fake (obvious for lack of plausibility, not quality) the illusion is so well realised that you almost believe.

As with most Spielberg classics, the key is in casting ordinary, relatable characters in extraordinary situations. In this case, Sam Neill’s Dr. Alan Grant has a well rounded persona, a palaeontologist stuck firmly in the past, unable to touch a computer without breaking it and loathing children. Just watch him trying to let go of Lex’s hand after he helps her up, or how he probably scars a child for life with his raptor story at the start of the film. He is ably supported by Attenborough’s scientist and Laura Dern as a paleobotanist, as well as Jeff Goldblum’s excellent interpretation of rock-star chaotician Dr. Ian Malcolm, although I never really understood why he was invited onto the island. Wayne Knight’s Newman-esque bad guy (does he play anyone else? But then why should he, he’s so good at it) is also a joy to behold, especially his childlike glee at the Bond-style gadgetry he’s provided with to steal dinosaur embryos, causing the chaos that ensues.

We’re introduced to the dinosaurs gently, first meeting the gentle herbivores and baby dinosaurs, before building up to the more threatening velociraptors and tyrannosaurus rex. The plot is largely dealt with in the first half of the film, leading for the remainder to be made up of unforgettable set pieces, such as the electric fence, or raptor encounter in the kitchen. Greatest of all though must be the introduction of the T-rex. I don’t think I’ve ever seen ripples forming in a glass of water since without being concerned there is a giant dinosaur about to attack me.

It’s not just a monster disaster movie though, as there are genuinely hilarious moments of comedy (the blink and you’ll miss it rear view mirror gag is comic perfection), and the scenes are pitched perfectly, with the T-rex car chase immediately calmed by a gentler encounter with a herd of brachiosaurs. All in all, this is an example of movie perfection, and I look forward to enjoying it many more times in the future.


Choose film 10/10

Toy Story Trilogy

Today’s volatile weather conditions allowed for a productive afternoon film-wise, as a planned bike ride along the beaches of Bournemouth was cut short by sporadic torrential downpours, meaning I crossed a trilogy off the list; Toy Story 1-3.

Watching the original Toy Story, the first feature-length motion picture created entirely using computer animation, always send me back to my childhood, aged 8 years old, sat in the cinema watching in wide-eyed wonder as the pixels were brought to life before me, with my Dad sound asleep in the next seat. It's one of my earliest film-related memories (my earliest cinema experience that I know of was the Lion King, but that's another post).


Pixar, for it is they responsible for both this wondrous memory and, perhaps, my love of film in general, have crafted in Toy Story that most miraculous of creations, a debut feature near perfect in execution, akin to Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs, or Sam Raimi's Evil Dead. The secret to Toy Story's success? My personal opinion is that, as with those others mentioned, the film has an overall, well known genre (children's animation), but refuses to stick to it, flitting between and parodying a cornucopia of other film genres, including war ("A good soldier never leaves a man behind!"), the heist in Sid's house, the zombie-like attack, a car chase, road movie, seemingly no movie staple is left untouched.


This multitude of movie pastiches continues through Toy Stories 2 and 3, taking in westerns, rescue missions, an amazing Star Wars riff, rom-com (Ken & Barbie), physical slap-stick comedy, a prison escape, nightmare sequence, even elements of horror, especialy with the trilogy closer's truly disturbing screaming monkey. Also, the ending of Part 2, involves that greatest of movie staples, a mad dash to and around an airport, yet Pixar approaches each aspect so uniquely that they appear fresh and new.

One of the highlights of the trilogy is the immensely enjoyable opening to part 3, where the original films have become so well known that they are ripe for self-homage, with the fantasy openings of the previous two films merged together in a tremendously fun fashion, making Pixar seem like the best possible place to work. If anyone from Pixar is reading, dear God please hire me. Please.


If I have to fault the films (and alas I do) then it is the first film's over-focus on its leads. Whilst the characters are good, and incredibly well inhabited by Tom Hanks and Tim Allen, it's the supporting characters that really shine brighter, and keeping the leads away from them for the majority of the picture is the only fault I can really pick. This problem was fixed by the time Toy Story 2 was released, with Rex, Hamm, Mr. Potato Head and Slinky-Dog being given a lot more well-deserved screen time, although the introduction of the weakest main character, Jesse, is just about corrected by pulling the one-two casting coup of Kelsey Grammar and Wayne Knight.

Also, being a mechanical engineer by day, I can't help but ignore that not all of the physics works out, but then this is a film in which inanimate toys come to life, so maybe that can be ignored. Also, at the end of Toy Story 3, how does Andy know Jesse and Bullseye's correct names? He was given them as gifts, and originally called Jesse Bazooka Jane. Sorry, shutting up.


Toy Story choose film 9/10
Toy Story 2 choose film 9/10
Toy Story 3 choose film 10/10