This version follows the classic story faithfully, if a bit unimaginatively. As the original is itself somewhat loose structurally, it makes any film version inevitably seem rambling. I know of no cinematic version of Alice in Wonderland that completely successfully overcomes this. This 1972 is usual in that respect. The set design is perhaps too closely modelled on the original Alice drawings, and as such, it is colourful and lavish although it looks rather dated and stagy by modern standards. One major drawback (which seems consistent with all the other Alice films) is that the songs are completely forgettable. A very youthful Fiona Fullerton is convincing as Alice, and a fun aspect of the film is to guess the identities of the heavily made-up cast of well-known actors, some of whom are more easily guessable than others.
Reviews
6 Reviews
Shoot the Messenger
(2006)
Hear the message
30 August 2006
As can be seen from some of the comments posted here, there are plenty of people intent on 'shooting the messenger', rather than listen to the message itself. In this case, the message happens to be the questioning of blame-culture which exists among certain sections of the black community. It is the contention of the author (Sharon Foster, herself a black writer) that it is this culture, and not that which is being blamed (ie white people), which is the cause of black underachievement. It is a serious argument, and one that can withstand close scrutiny, but that hasn't stopped the usual suspects from using their lazy cries of 'Racism' to try and silence the debate. A similar point was made during the film itself and it is interesting that many of the same terms of abuse used to castigate the main character in the film are identical to the ones being thrown around here (mainly by people who don't appear to have seen it). That would seem to indicate that Foster is, indeed, on to something.
Of course, this film could amount to no more than a 'worthy' drama, but 'Shoot The Messenger' is much more than that, due, in no small measure, to the quality of the writing. Foster has constructed an engrossing journey of self-discovery which begins with provocative words ( a gauntlet deliberately thrown in the face of the audience) uttered by Joe Pascale (excellently played by David Oyelowo), a well-intentioned but somewhat aloof black teacher, who falls foul of the authorities after he is accused of hitting a pupil. The fact that this is not true does not prevent him being vilified on a local black radio station. He loses the case in court and this leads him into a spiral of depression and madness, which he increasingly blames on black people (an interesting inversion of the blaming of white people which seems acceptable among his black contemporaries). I found this portion of the work the least satisfactory since the script sped over his insanity rather too quickly leading to loss of detail. After spending some time on the street, he is befriended by a middle-aged Black Christian lady. It is at this point the script really catches fire with some astute and occasionally hard-hitting views of the black community. All of this is maintained by a high degree of directorial energy and a high class cast. Highly recommended.
Of course, this film could amount to no more than a 'worthy' drama, but 'Shoot The Messenger' is much more than that, due, in no small measure, to the quality of the writing. Foster has constructed an engrossing journey of self-discovery which begins with provocative words ( a gauntlet deliberately thrown in the face of the audience) uttered by Joe Pascale (excellently played by David Oyelowo), a well-intentioned but somewhat aloof black teacher, who falls foul of the authorities after he is accused of hitting a pupil. The fact that this is not true does not prevent him being vilified on a local black radio station. He loses the case in court and this leads him into a spiral of depression and madness, which he increasingly blames on black people (an interesting inversion of the blaming of white people which seems acceptable among his black contemporaries). I found this portion of the work the least satisfactory since the script sped over his insanity rather too quickly leading to loss of detail. After spending some time on the street, he is befriended by a middle-aged Black Christian lady. It is at this point the script really catches fire with some astute and occasionally hard-hitting views of the black community. All of this is maintained by a high degree of directorial energy and a high class cast. Highly recommended.
8MM
(1999)
Snuff's enough
30 October 2004
This film starts with an interesting premise: What if the urban myth of the snuff movie was actually true? So we have Nicholas Cage, as a private detective, visiting the home of an affluent elderly lady (and her attorney- more of him later), who has discovered what seems an authentic death of a young girl recorded on video tape. This could have been developed along the lines of say, The Big Sleep, as a hardboiled detective story with unpredictable twists. Unfortunately the writer, having devised this potentially interesting plot, does very little with it except the obvious. We see Cage search through records and befriend a porn shop employee in his quest for the girl. So far, the film, though uninspired and routine, is watchable. However it will subsequently take a turn into first the ludicrous then the disturbed in its attempts to maintain interest. The ludicrous comes when the attorney is revealed to have a hand in the manufacture of the film. There is a scene which could be described as comic-book were it not for the unnecessary murder of the pornshop employee who has helped Cage. No sympathy is shown towards him; he dies simply to tie up a plot strand. Apart from this, the rest of the scene could be from Home Alone or some other kids' film, with the villains unconvincingly turning on each other while Cage resourcefully escapes. None of this is helped by the banal direction. The needless death of a character should of set alarm bells ringing for what subsequently happens. I hope I am giving nothing away, but Cage ruthless beats one of the villains, ties him up and, after phoning the mother of the murdered girl, sadistically kills him. I found this one of the most shocking scenes in a modern Hollywood film, and indicative of the sickness which seems to have overtaken that once great film-making industry of late. It might be argued that this murder is caused by desensitivation of pornography. If that was in the writer's mind, it certain did not make it onto film. All we see is a nasty man getting his just desserts by the American hero. This way of thinking has lead to Guantamo Bay and that Iraqi prison where the inmates were tortured. It seems ironical that a film against snuff should have a snuff scene (ie one served up for the gratification of the audience) in it. The climax of the film is trite and conventional.
A dog of a film
18 October 2004
Following the rudimentary outline of Conan Doyle's famous Sherlock Holmes tale, Peter Cook and Dudley Moore concoct a feast of comical whimsy. Or so they would have sold this weak film to its producers. As it is, it is a threadbare piece of work all too briefly lightened with flashes of genius(I laughed out loud when Dud encounters his double in the post office). We have bits of Pete'n'Dud's earlier stage material (ie 'i've nothing against your right leg, and neither have you') which were much funnier (because they were much fresher) in their original versions. Newer material seemed thin and drawn out. The accents that Cook and Moore avail themselves of (Jewish and Welsh) are funny to begin with, but soon pall. Likewise, the piddling dog is hilarious but dragged on for so long that the viewer starts to become annoyed and forget that he ever found it amusing. The music is a major drag. Dudley is an accomplished pianist, but his soundtrack in the manner of an old silent film accompanist falls as flat as the rest of the film.
The Legend of Hell House
(1973)
Under-rated chiller
18 October 2004
First, I must admit to finding early 70's British horror (especially early 70's British horror in which American actors are needlessly brought in to play the lead) generally silly and tiresome. But this little known horror flick is a cut above the average of the genre and has moments of inventiveness. Not that this is totally without some of the silliness and cheap exploitation that mars so much British cinema of the period, and a certain pervertiness inflicts the females (the men remain sensible throughout); one becomes a vamp and the other had a bizarre sexual encounter with a ghost. The plot concerns four people who enter what is described as 'the everest of haunted houses'. They do so, having been offered a cash prize by a mysterious benefactor who wishes to know the truth about the afterlife. This gives them a reason to stay, in spite of the strange and dangerous happenings that occur. The house was owned by a certain mister Belasco, a sadistic pervert in life, and equally so in death. The fame of the haunted house had brought a gathering of psychics there in the 50's, where they had all but one died or been driven insane. The one survivor was Roddy Mcdowell. He returns to Hellhouse with Gayle Hunnicut, who is another psychic, and the skeptical professor and his wife. The usual kinds of unusual things occur ('god moves in mysterious ways' says the professor. 'so does this house' replies MacDowell) but the delightful miss Hunnicut seems to be the haunter's focus, and I got a distinct notion early on that there would be an erotic connection between them. This proves true. At Breakfast, Gayle argues with the professor and the ghost attacks him. She believes it is Belasco's son, Daniel, and this is apparently confirmed when they find the gruesome remains of aman in the crypt. Even after burial, however, the ghost of Daniel keeps tormenting her. She is led down to the chapel for a grisly scene. Meanwhile the professor's wife succumbs to a spirit of carnality and comes on to Roddy McDowell. He spurns he as her husband watches. The professor is then eager to conclude his investigation of the building and turns on a device that electrically sweeps the place and eradicates spirits. After this the house is apparently clear, but the professor had reckoned without the ingenuity of Belasco. The ending is more original than most, but is not entirely convincing. It is also rather too subdued.
Canterbury Tales
(2003)
Chaucer for chimps
15 October 2004
This BBC adaptation of Chaucer's exquisitely bawdy Miller's tale is a truly dispiriting experience. I doubt that Chaucer's name would even be remembered let alone revered as the father of English literature if this shoddy updating is the only evidence that most people had to go on.
Chaucer's original is one of the great stories of the middle-ages; bawdy, irreverent, but ultimate life-affirming. The adaptation has converted this timeless work into contemporary banality. One cannot even call it hackwork, so badly is it done. One of the most important aspects of Chaucer's story was that the cuckolded husband has a bizarre notion that the world is nearing its end (and we don't know many people like that, DO WE, gentle reader?), and in anticipation of the coming flood, has gerry-built a boat in his attic which he has taken to sleeping in on the advise of Nicholas who is tupping his wife. Thus, when Nicholas' arse it burnt by Absolon, and he cries out 'water, water' the tale reaches a great comic climax with the husband waking up and, believing this to be a cry that the flood is coming, cutting the boat loose and falling down the stairs and bashing his head. This is a part of Chaucer's beautifully crafted story (ie one of the main points of it) that is absent from this version. I wonder why, since we hardly lack muttonheaded messianic figures and Nostradamian nincompoops in our own times any more than in Chaucer's. Perhaps the makers worried about offending a religious minority (the minority here being not christians, who are an easy aunt sally for them, but new-agers). Actually, I think that the literarily-lobotomised adapter removed it because it was not realistic (in a soap opera sense) and therefore not relevant to its target audience. It is a strange decision. The real lowpoint of this abysmal work, however, was the dialogue; some of the flattest I've heard. It was like Chaucer re-written for the batwatchviewer, every other line being a reference to some aspect of contemporary pop culture. The actors do what they can with this dreary stuff, but it has been drained of all the life that Chaucer, good man that he was, had taken the trouble to put in there.
Chaucer's original is one of the great stories of the middle-ages; bawdy, irreverent, but ultimate life-affirming. The adaptation has converted this timeless work into contemporary banality. One cannot even call it hackwork, so badly is it done. One of the most important aspects of Chaucer's story was that the cuckolded husband has a bizarre notion that the world is nearing its end (and we don't know many people like that, DO WE, gentle reader?), and in anticipation of the coming flood, has gerry-built a boat in his attic which he has taken to sleeping in on the advise of Nicholas who is tupping his wife. Thus, when Nicholas' arse it burnt by Absolon, and he cries out 'water, water' the tale reaches a great comic climax with the husband waking up and, believing this to be a cry that the flood is coming, cutting the boat loose and falling down the stairs and bashing his head. This is a part of Chaucer's beautifully crafted story (ie one of the main points of it) that is absent from this version. I wonder why, since we hardly lack muttonheaded messianic figures and Nostradamian nincompoops in our own times any more than in Chaucer's. Perhaps the makers worried about offending a religious minority (the minority here being not christians, who are an easy aunt sally for them, but new-agers). Actually, I think that the literarily-lobotomised adapter removed it because it was not realistic (in a soap opera sense) and therefore not relevant to its target audience. It is a strange decision. The real lowpoint of this abysmal work, however, was the dialogue; some of the flattest I've heard. It was like Chaucer re-written for the batwatchviewer, every other line being a reference to some aspect of contemporary pop culture. The actors do what they can with this dreary stuff, but it has been drained of all the life that Chaucer, good man that he was, had taken the trouble to put in there.
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