Directed by Richard Fleischer, who would go on to helm the similar themed 10 Rillington Place three years later, this is a grim retelling of the true life events of the murder of 13 women in Boston between 1962 and 1964. Henry Fonda is the detective leading the investigation and Tony Curtis stars as the serial killer in what is probably his best acting role of his career. The film is shot in a documentary style with split-screen techniques. As Fonda become thwarted by lack of evidence he calls in a psychic for help while Curtis continues his killing spree under the guise of a plumber.
An excellent film, well worth watching.
Yeah, well, sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand.
“Life, every now and then, behaves as though it had seen too many bad movies, when everything fits too well – the beginning, the middle, the end – from fade-in to fade-out.”
So begins Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s The Barefoot Contessa, a well-regarded and very bitter trash drama about a Cinderella girl in Hollywood. Ava Gardner plays Maria Vargas, a beautiful Spanish dancer persuaded to become a movie star by Humphrey Bogart’s weary director Harry Dawes. The story covers the three years and three ‘loves’ of her Hollywood life. The first of these is oil and movie mogul Kirk Edwards, a thinly veiled interpretation of Howard Hughes. This is a man she detests. Playboy Alberto Bravano rescues her in histrionic fashion, but she only tolerates his self-centred antics. The man she adores is an impotent Italian count, Vincenzo Toriato-Favrini.
The film strikes a curious bridge between implausible melodrama and circumlittoral no-drama. When Mankiewicz wants his characters to be profound, angry or just darn clever, he has them spouting quite impossible dialogue. There are several long speeches, lots of knowing asides, and that one tremendously dull verbal confrontation between Edwards and Bravano, which is settled by a classic put down from Ava Gardner: “I did not want to go. Now you have spoken, I feel I should go.” For much of the narrative, however, nothing happens. For instance a whole ten minutes is taken up by Bogart and Gardner discussing her suitability to be a film actress, a series of convoluted sentences which mean something and nothing. Another five minutes is spent introducing the backgrounds of insignificant characters at a casino.
When the really important details start arriving, Mankiewicz’s screenplay feels hamstrung by the conventions of the time. He can’t properly explain Vincenzo’s plight. Instead there’s a wedding night letter and an overwrought semi-confession. The oversight is shocking, both because it feels so unlikely – how could a war damaged veteran not explain his body is disfigured and missing a penis? – but also because it feels so cruel – didn’t someone tell poor Maria? What a callous bunch. Mind you, Maria is nothing if not a cheap date anyway [“To a girl with nothing, a man with hundreds is just as rich as a man with millions”] and cavorts openly with musicians, gypsies, dancers and chauffeurs with no thought for how others may react to her actions.
I won’t give away any more of the plot; I’ve probably spoilt it already. The film is remarkably heavy going. Mankiewicz was at the top of his game in the early fifties and his writing demonstrates this, yet it feels hopelessly out of place. There are some monumentally great lines, but they don’t provide the film with an emotional core. The movie is very static and lacks drive. It needed more directorial, cinematic ‘tricks’ to enliven what we see; the central flashback idea isn’t original enough to keep us interested past the first third. In fact once Maria leaves Spain for Hollywood, the film stumbles, misses out all of the star building process [which might have been interesting] and never gets back on its feet. Maria Vargas as a character becomes a cipher for all wannabe actresses with thoughts of glamour and riches. I’m not even sure there was a moral to the thing. It ends in the rain, exactly as it started, only this time the clouds are clearing, which doesn’t sit right on such a depressing portfolio.
It’s worth noting that Jack Cardiff photographed the movie and his work is quite original. He deepens the colours and the reds come up dark, bloody crimson, the greens almost black emerald, shadows seem to lurk over the characters. Much of the action takes place at night and those shadows creep everywhere. It’s almost as if he’s attempting to give a technicolour movie the look of a film noir. There is a particularly good shot of a bloody Italian sunset. Cardiff also makes Ava Gardner look ravishing.
The same year this film came out, Judy Garland made A Star is Born, which sort of treads the same ground. That film retains its dark edges, casts a bitter eye over Hollywood and the star / studio system, but never forgets to entertain. The Barefoot Contessa is too dark, too introspective and has a level of interest with peaks at ‘middling.’ I’m a big Humphrey Bogart fan, but he’s miscast here, as is almost everyone. It’s Ava Gardner’s movie, but she’s not a big enough actress to pull off the trick in the same way Judy Garland does.
OK I had to look that one up. Sounds dirty, but actually means "around or adjacent to the shoreline", I think in the sense of intertidal zone rather than manmade structures. I oughta know that, at one point in my life I hung out on the beach every day and loved exploring tidepools.
Still not sure how that modifies "no-drama" but its good to learn a new word!
I've not seen it, but in today's Times its film reviewer Kevin Maher says of the new Fast & Furious 9 'the tone here is late-era Roger Moore Bond (mostly Octopussy) where the awareness of farce is never far away and even brief moments of sobriety are infused with camp'. Enough for many of us to book our tickets - its 'In cinemas now' but at 143 mins it's a long car journey.
Wilbur Smith is something like a publishing phenomenon. Since his first novel When the Lion Feeds was a success in 1964 he’s gone on to complete an astonishing 35 books, almost all of which have sold in excess of 1 million copies. His very earliest work tended towards the short side, with action orientated plots and contemporary settings, although the occasional historical drama was dropped into the mix. Shout at the Devil, his fourth book, is one of those history adventures, set in German and Portuguese Tanganyika during the First World War, and loosely based on an actual incident, the Royal navy’s 1915 sinking of the Konigsberg on the Rufiji Delta. His central character is the Irish American Flynn Patrick Flynn, an ivory poachers who roams frequently into German territory and antagonises the local commissioner Fleischer. He recruits by stealth the Englishman Sebastian Oldsmith who eventually marries his daughter Rosa. When war breaks out, Fleisher has the opportunity to exact legal revenge on Flynn.
I used to read lots of Wilbur Smith when I was a teenager. I still have the copies somewhere. This was one of my favourites. My memory is that it had great historical detail, strong characters, an epic sweep and some thunderous action. It was also quite nasty. I remember horrific torture scenes and several quite gory murders or killings. After a while, all Smith’s books, especially his Courtney and Ballantyne adventures, seemed to read the same; endless elephant hunts and pages of long repetitive description. I hadn’t read one for thirty years until I recently picked up a cheap copy of Those in Peril and that opus did everything to confirm I was right.
What can be said for Wilbur Smith is he is very cinematic. His stories cover landscapes, stories and eras which have immediate visual appeal. It’s difficult to understand quite why his novels have not translated well to the screen. Perhaps it’s because his prose is criticised for being unsympathetic to the native tribesmen. It is a reasonable point, but if an author writes in an era of widespread racism, I think he’s perfectly entitled to reflect that. My memory of Smith’s stories is that for every stupid, violent or subservient character [whether a native or a colonial] there was always an intelligent, conciliatory and liberal opposite. As far as I’m aware, Smith isn’t a racist and supports the current South African democracy. He abandoned his native Rhodesia because of Ian Smith’s autocratic regime, although a move to neighbouring South Africa can’t exactly be dressed in ribbons.
The best of the movie adaptations is probably the earliest, 1968’s The Mercenaries, based on The Dark of the Sun, with a bristling Rod Taylor battling revolutionaries in the Congo. Producer Michael Klinger bought the rights to all Smith’s early stand-alone novels, but only managed to film two of them, Gold Mine [filmed as Gold, 1974] and Shout at the Devil. Both films were directed by ex-Eon editor and director Peter Hunt and this movie in particular employed a raft of ex or current Bond alumni: Michael Reed photographed, John Glen helmed the second unit, Alec Mills was cameraman, Maurice Binder did the credits, Syd Cain the sets, Bernard Horsfall has a small supporting role and, of course, Roger Moore, the newly appointed OO7 himself, starred in both films. Sometimes you feel all Shout at the Devil needed was Barry to write the score, Maibaum to touch up the script and Broccoli or Saltzman to add their names above the title and you’ve virtually got an Eon product.
Another way the film resembles the Bond movies of the early seventies is through its emphasis on humour at the expense of character. The novel was very efficient on the psychology of its personalities. Their personas were paper thin, but hugely believable. Humour was non-existent. The underlying relationship between the antagonists Flynn and Fleischer is one of antipathy, they really detest each other. In the film, while this is made fairly obvious, it is undermined by portraying Fleischer as a bumptious boor with an uncontrollable sadistic streak. His method of policing is to shoot first and lynch afterwards. None of his underlings question this arbitrary violence even when it is apparent he’s making mistakes. When Fleischer attempts to utilise the assistance of the German navy cruiser The Blucher, the captain roundly ridicules him. An earlier image of the Commissioner parading his troops, shouting endlessly, his bulk surrounding a worn-out looking mule, reinforces the idea he is a lazy, oafish incompetent. These moments demean Fleischer and turn him into a figure of fun, when he ought to be a roundly unpleasant, amoral person. Perhaps screenwriters Alastair Reed and Stanley Price chose to tone down his psychotic behaviours to allay any fears of an ‘X’ certificate.
Similarly, Flynn’s remorseless ivory poaching, an activity which has delivered riches into his pocket, is designed in part to purely antagonise his nemesis; there cannot be any other reason he consistently hunts over the border. The two men have a long history of confrontation. Unfortunately, Lee Marvin’s Flynn simply isn’t believable as a driven, revengeful hunter. His best friend was garrotted by the German, he himself is shot, his ivory confiscated and his daughter’s child murdered, yet he retains a peerless, cheerful and positive disposition, maintained by copious quantities of gin. Marvin, a very fine actor, is being badly directed here. Marvin seems to consciously be playing for laughs, when the screenplay doesn’t actually intend them. At one point Flynn conducts a comic fist-fight with Sebastian; in the novel this was a deadly serious event. The difference between the two readings of the incident is like introducing the fun of Wayne and McLaglan from John Ford’s The Quiet Man, when we ought to witness the orderly viciousness of Peck and Heston from Wyler’s The Big Country. Unfortunately, Peter Hunt doesn’t seem prepared to stop the two stars from continuing their night-time revelries [Moore and Marvin spent most of their free time drinking] onto the daytime set.
The novel also featured Fleischer’s soldiers subjecting Rosa to a multiple rape, which was the focal reason her marital relationship floundered; this is eradicated from the film, replaced with a few scenes revolving around Barbara Parkins’ grief. Roger Moore, playing Sebastian twenty years too late, does rather well in the scenes where he attempts to comfort his beloved. Once more, it is noticeable how good Moore is with moments of control and care, where his natural empathetic appeal can assert itself. Like Marvin, he isn’t served well by Peter Hunt’s uneven direction. The action is fine and everyone copes splendidly with this. The tension mounts appropriately towards the end and there some spectacular moments of derring-do. This is mostly John Glen’s second unit work anyway. Everyone though struggles within the confines of the comedic material.
The first half of the film doesn’t know whether to be a safari romp or a bloodbath, and because it’s both, the film is hopelessly unbalanced. The movie tries to be funny then tries to be deadly serious. The chapters jar and the audience notices. With about forty minutes to go, the film sorts itself out and chooses to be the solemn adventure thriller is ought to have been from the get-go. This is the most accomplished section, where Sebastian, disguised as a native, plants an incendiary device on The Blucher while it undergoes repairs on the delta. Things don’t go according to plan and with time running out, he and Flynn return to rescue Rosa from Fleischer’s evil clutches.
The ending doesn’t present itself entirely convincingly. I feel Rosa should have the last rifle shot. Sebastian’s tossing way of the gun suggests revenge, not the war, was always their motive, which is fine as far as it goes. The novel was less ambiguous about the future because everybody dies. Flynn is caught conducting a needless elephant hunt; Fleischer hangs him. Sebastian and Rosa infiltrate The Blucher in full knowledge Fleischer is aboard and commit suicide detonating the bomb. Only Flynn’s friend Mohammed survives the carnage. There is no happy ending. Everyone shouts at the devil on Wilbur Smith’s pages.
The film is well photographed and mostly looks exotic. Maurice Jarre’s music is good. At times, it’s exceptionally exciting. I’m undecided. Shout at the Devil is an uneven piece, neglected unfairly, but not quite as good as it could or should have been. Perhaps my final note can rest with a contemporary point: the film was tremendously successful at the time of release, earning over $15m, which for a British film in the seventies was a grand achievement.
On the big screen (part of a series of showings, starting with the Connery movies, now onto the Moores).
It's often said that a Bond movie is only as good as its villain. There's truth in that- QoS, for example has a weak villain though his lack of impact is obscured by the awful editing, that excuse for a title song, etc. In THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN we have a fairly average Bond film that manages to punch above its weight mainly owing to its villain who should be high on any list of great Bond villains. It's just a shame that he isn't in a better Bond movie, but his impact isn't obscured as with QoS.
The scenery is beautifully photographed and all the better for being seen in a cinema, as is the car chase sequence. However, a lot of the film takes place indoors and gains nothing. For example, the bedroom farce where Bond is visited by the two main girls works the same whether on a small screen or a large one as does the Lazar scene, M & Q parts, etc. I haven't checked with a stopwatch but it seems to me that more of TMWTGG takes place in smallish rooms (ie sets) than normal, and those don't need a cinema-sized screen.
Still, next week it's THE SPY WHO LOVED ME and that one on the big screen is most certainly one to look forward to.
I'm reading Wilbur Smith's Assegai now and it strikes me that the story is both highly cinematic and very different from what we usually see in movies.
Spoiler function should be used towards the end of your review ChrisNo1 though as I haven't seen that film so far no real reason to now. Isn't it a remake of one with Bogart or am I just imagining it? It's odd how esteemed Hunt was for OHMSS and while Gold is okay and dandy, this isn't so much.
Re Barbel's big screen Bond junket, it's odd how some Bonds really work well on the big screen and others less so. Golden Gun has a cheap look about it. Ken Adam not on for the big set finale and there's a fun story by the designer they went with in the book Some Kind of Hero - basically he didn't want to do it, but someone hinted it might dent his reputation in the industry if he turned it down. You do get just a whiff of ruthlessness in the EON story throughout. (The designer died weeks after talking to the authors but that's probably coincidental!)
Barbel - should I post a massive review of Spy Who before you see it or after?
I caught this on Hardyboy's recommendation of 60s/70s pop and he's right - it's superbly done. I was watching this movie - my first trip to the cinema since Le Mans 66 about March last year! - and had a big grin on my face throughout much of it. Nothing is wrong with it and it looks brilliant. In fact, I know I'll enjoy it more than the Bond film when it eventually trundles into cinemas.
Much of Cruella is one-upmanship between the young Cruella and her nemesis - this riffs on The Devil Wears Prada to great effect. It's this kind of - to use a word I picked up from Bond fans in the Gutter, I mean Twitter - sh**housery that worked so well between Bond and Goldfinger or Largo or Drax. I can happily watch that sort of thing all movie. Now you get the sense it's more the villain trolling Bond.
You can go too far with the whole backstory makeover. We even had it a bit with Blofeld in the last one! Who next, Hitler? 'Well, he met some awful people in his 20s who just happened to be Jews, so that explains it, plus all those movies - The Sound of Music, The Great Escape, Casablanca - they wouldn't have happened without World War II and would Spielberg ever have got his Oscar?' - alright, so Hitler was real but movies even rowed back on Hannibal Lector's claim that some are just born evil: 'Nothing happened to me, I happened' in subsequent outings. Cruella's backstory involved murderous Dalmatian dogs - so that explains it- and the deathly dull post-war period which she jazzes up; it never quite paints her the an outright canine sociopath of the Disney film, but then you don't always want a whole movie devoted to someone like that, not when you're supposed to be amused by their antics and mostly rooting for them.
That said, it seems that the floor manager of Liberty's in Cruella would make a truly excellent Captain Hook if Disney wants to do his backstory. I don't know how they'll make his backstory sympathetic though his alligator tale puts him in the frame I guess. And Peter Pan can be annoying.
After the stunning financial success of Where Eagles Dare, producers Elliott Kastner and Jerry Gershwin sought out another Alistair MacLean screenplay for yet another blockbuster. When Eight Bells Toll doesn’t have the star power of Richard Burton and Clint Eastwood and was subsequently treated as half-baked by most U.S. critics. That’s a little unfair as there is much to admire. Given that the replacement lead was Welshman Anthony Hopkins, you wonder if the producers had tapped up Burton to take on the hard drinking, anti-authoritarian, action man and archetypal MacLean hero Philip Calvert.
MacLean had published the original novel in 1966, his first after a three year hiatus, and it is one of his most accessible efforts. It started his most financially productive period. Buoyed by the success of the movies The Satan Bug, Ice Station Zebra and Where Eagles Dare, MacLean’s books were flying off the shelves and the six volumes he completed between 1966/71 were all huge bestsellers. The writer saw movie adaptations as an effective way to promote his novels and ten films based on his works were released in just over a decade (1968 – 1979). Several more were in the pipeline and MacLean often wrote a working screenplay before completing a novel proper to ensure it would translate visually from page to screen.
The literary version of When Eight Bells Toll features one of MacLean’s very best opening paragraphs, quite possibly one of the best in the thriller genre, as his hero describes in detail the devastating power of a Peacemaker Colt, before informing the reader one is aimed directly at him. The movie retains the same opening scene, slightly elaborated, and from that moment, much like the brisk source prose, the action barely lets up. Thankfully MacLean provided a more satisfying conclusion to his screenplay than he did to his book. In fact, he’s developed a free-flowing, crisp script which allows the characters enough room to breathe without getting bogged down in extraneous background details.
Hopkins displays verve and vigour as Calvert, a naval intelligence officer loaned to an obscure branch of the British Secret Service run by a pompous Robert Morley, known as Uncle Arthur. He’s hired by Corin Redgrave’s young pen pusher Hunslett and together the two set off for the Scottish Isles on the hunt for a cache of stolen gold bullion. Suspicion falls on Jack Hawkins’ shipping magnate Sir Anthony Skouras, who is holidaying with his young wife Charlotte, played with demure cold-calculation by Nathalie Delon. Through a series of violent incidents including the machine gunning of a helicopter, an underwater fight with a salvage diver and a boat chase around the Isle of Skye, Calvert somehow manages to piece together who is responsible. Befriending a cutthroat band of local fisherman, he organises a daring assault mission on a windswept castle which contains more secrets than just the comely daughter of the Laird.
The film is a fun joyride. It never pauses long enough for the viewer to take in the preposterousness of what is happening. The cast give it their all and some scenes are tremendously effective. Belgian director Etienne Perier probably wasn’t experienced enough for this and it shows in the lack of visual imagination. It’s the sort of romp our ex-Bond alumni Terence Young or Peter Hunt could have handled with some success. Accomplished cinematographer Arthur Ibbetson can’t do much with the murky landscapes. John Shirley edits without panache, but he doesn’t mess about either, which compensates for the lack of artistic flair.
Luckily the film is mostly action, so it doesn’t drag, but there’s a tendency to flirt dangerously close to parody. MacLean’s screenplay prevents that because – unlike most of his screen work and his novels – When Eight Bells Toll forefronts the humorous side of the author. Hopkins, Morley and Redgrave deliver a series of fine darkly comic lines, which mostly succeed, though not always. Even when seducing Nathalie Delon, which takes three scenes of protracted salacious staring, Hopkins allows a little twinkle to crease his eyes as the double entendres trip off his and her tongue. The whole ninety-five minutes is thoroughly enjoyable. My only complaint is the repetitive music score from Walter Stott, which is suitably seventies but offers no variety. There’s an odd story attached to the composer, who is in fact the female Angela Morley, a transgender woman who would break boundaries by winning Emmy awards and becoming famous for writing the theme to the soap opera Dynasty.
Hopkins is rather good. He was still mostly recognised as a stage actor, but had done some film work including an adaptation of John Le Carre’s spy drama The Looking Glass War. On this performance, I rather fancy him as an action hero. Although he never took on another role quite like this, you wonder if the Bond producers sneaked a look when considering replacements for Sean Connery. I suspect Hopkins’ height may have done him a huge disservice. Producers Kastner and Gershwin had hoped to launch a series of thrillers starring Hopkins as Calvert but the movie’s relative failure in America curtailed that. The film did recoup its money with good receipts in the U.K. and Europe.
When Eight Bells Toll is a fine thriller which delivers its punches and gets out quick. It’s even got a nicely sour ending for the hero. An underrated near classic.
I enjoyed reading that fine review of a film (and book, of course) which I know well. Agree about the score- it starts ok, but never goes anywhere.
IIRC this was Hopkins' first film lead and naturally he's splendid. He was a little young and young-looking so his hair is greyed to make him look more of the tough agent who's been around.
I watched this with my father who was disappointed that Jack Hawkins, a star of his generation, didn't have more to do. We didn't know that Hawkins was dying of throat cancer. It took me some viewings to spot that he'd been dubbed by Charles Gray.
Lastly, I've been to many of the locations and, as is always the case here, they look gorgeous and stunning..... on a day when it isn't raining.
There was a false story going around at the time, that Jack Hawkins had had a voice box fitted into his neck. As Barbel said, he was actually dubbed by Charles Gray.
Yeah, well, sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand.
I really enjoy When Eight Bells Toll. It just has a good feel about it, it does occasionally border on parody and seems to try too hard in places but the cast is good, the locations very atmospheric and actions sequences great fun. It's a shame they didn't continue the series with one or two more.
You've got me in the mood now so I may have to watch it again this weekend🛥️🚁🥃
Hawkins sadly lost his voice (throat cancer) at some point in the 60s. He'd been a solid leading man, and well liked according to my late dad. He took smaller parts from then until his death in the early 70s, dubbed by either Gray or Robert Reitty (both Bond alumni).
I started off my weekend with a Friday double feature of military themed films starring Jack Nicholson - THE LAST DETAIL (1973) and A FEW GOOD MEN (1992). I thoroughly enjoyed both films, and Nicholson is in top form in both, although his role in the latter film is far smaller.
The Last Detail sees two US Navy sailors given the task of escorting a young convicted seaman from their base to a military prison. Their rail journey takes them through a number of cities including Washington DC, New York and Boston and the trio make several stops along the way in order to allow the young seaman a good time before the ordeal of incarceration. They indulge in a number of pursuits including beer, Buddhist chanting, a visit to a brothel and a snowy picnic. I found this a really memorable watch, at times very funny while also being quite cynical and tragic as well.
A Few Good Men is a film that is well known in the popular culture, and has become meme fodder in the Twitter age but I'd never seen it before, despite being quite familiar with its climactic courtroom confrontation between Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson. All round I found it a really solid military legal drama, kind of like a really well produced and lavish extended episode of JAG. It has quite a substantial running time, and towards the end of the hour mark I feared that my interest was waning slightly. Luckily though, once the actual court martial hearings began I was thoroughly engrossed by the drama and it built very nicely towards the well known climax. Obviously I was aware of how things were going to pan out, but that was certainly no spoiler in terms of my enjoyment of the film.
And then, I spent a cold and rainy saturday morning in the company of WHEN EIGHT BELLS TOLL. This film has been on my watchlist for a very long time but I've never quite round to putting it on. After Chrisno1's review and the subsequent discussions in this thread I though the time was right to give it a watch. It was a nice, brisk and entertaining 90 minutes or so. I enjoyed Hopkins' performance and would have liked to see him continue the role in subsequent films. The locations were also pretty good, and the cold and wet conditions I'm experiencing this weekend meant that I almost felt I was there. Highlights for me were the helicopter scenes with a young Maurice Roëves who I have always enjoyed as a character actor, and the underwater scene in the sunken ship which was nicely shot and quite suspenseful. I have to say I found it very strange watching Jack Hawkins, while hearing the voice of Charles Gray. I have watched many films starring Hawkins but I think this is the first I have watched in which he was dubbed.
@Gymkata - I also enjoyed reading your review of The Right Stuff. It's a film I've seen countless times and it up there in my top 20 films of all time. I finally got round to reading Tom Wolfe's book last year and I'd have to say that the movie is now one of my favourite ever adaptations of a book to the screen. It really captured the style of the book and transferred Wolfe's memorable prose into the dialogue of the characters on screen.
Aaron Sorkin [creator of The West Wing] penned this biopic of Molly Bloom, stroppy failed Olympian, who takes over a private poker game for the rich, famous and not-so famous, makes a million plus, loses it to the Mafia and gets indicted by the U.S. government on spurious charges in the hope she’ll name names in a money laundering scam.
I don’t understand the fascination with poker, its rules and jargon. There was a ‘poker school’ at my college. I hated the people who took part, all their showy, arrogant mannerisms and misogynistic attitudes. I saw a lot of that on display by the cast of characters here, most of whom are gamblers or associates, a few nasty Italian gangster types.
Jessica Chastain gives a career best [so far] performance as the titular Molly, but she lacks sympathy. Her holier than thou stance grated. Kevin Costner is good as her appalling, abusive father. The ‘happy families’ ending felt false and contrived.
Exceptionally long at 140mins.
I didn’t understand how Molly Bloom had come to write her autobiography before the court case and discovered in real life she wrote it afterwards to pay her costs, which makes more sense. Here Sorkin uses the book as a plot device which gives Idris Elba’s lawyer no intelligence for self-determination.
Not bad. Not great.
[P.S. I played in the bridge team and was rather good. I once bid seven no trumps and won the hand.]
Beatles songs aplenty in this tale about an aspiring but unsuccessful singer-songwriter who is hit by a bus during a world-wide electronic blackout and comes round, Day of the Triffid style, to find he lives in a country run by a right-wing populist Tory party under a pandemic.
Soon he finds himself unable to get furlough or like others in the music industry any kind of support from the Treasury as venues are shut down and festivals shut. What's more, immigration are after him and looking to deport him on a technicality so he is constantly on the run.
No Band on the Run however (it's not canon) but Pretti Patel pops up to do Ticket to Ride with adjusted lyrics ('I think I'm gonna be glad, I think it's today... I've bought your Ticket to Ride.. and I don't care!'), You Never Give Me Your Money while Get Back practically writes itself. You Won't See Me is set at the GP surgery of course. Sir Keir pops up to do Nowhere Man but that's on the DVD deleted scenes - it was cut from the final version, as was Don't Wanna Hold Your Hand.
The title song closure is nicely done and the lyrics fit except for showing a tearful Theresa May against the line 'Why she had to go, I don't know, she wouldn't say' was in bad taste.
In the wake of the success of Reservoir Dogs, Quentin Tarantino did a TV appearance where he went back to the video store at which he used to work and picked out three desert island films, which were Rio Bravo, Taxi Driver and Blow Out. For many years now, Blow Out was the only one of those 3 films that I had never got round to watching, until it popped up this month in a Neo Noir bundle on The Criterion Channel. So, eagerly I sat down and watched the film and despite having pretty high expectations for it, it managed to surpass those and I loved the movie.
John Travolta puts in an excellent performance as A B-movie sound effects guy who finds himself witness to a car accident while recording sounds for his latest project. This audio recording proves to be crucial evidence of a politically motivated murder, and he spends the rest of the film piecing together what happened to prove that it wasn't just an accident and to protect a young woman who he rescued from the car. John Lithgow also is also in top form as the villain. De Palma's direction is visually stylish, with some interesting and unusual camera moves and editing, plus multiple uses of split-diopter cinematography which gives the films an unsettling and off kilter look at times. The films also delivers with some really good suspense leading up to a dramatic finale.
I've given most of the films that I've ever watched a rating on Letterboxd, and I've only ever given top marks (four stars) to just over 50 of those. That usually occurs when a film makes some sort of deeper than usual connection with me, and I have a hard-to-describe and instinctive 'gut feel' reaction to it that leads to my awarding 4 stars. Blow Out is the latest addition to my list of 4 star movies. Thanks Mr Tarantino for the recommendation.
Blow Out is a film that just never ever seems to be on TV in the UK along with a whole load of others. When I was a kid, I imagined that by the time I got to my age the telly would be a treasure trove of classic movies back to back by this time, with Bond films shown several times a week. Well the latter happened - ITV4 always have them on - but otherwise there's something Orwellian about how so many classic movies just get excised from the collective memory in favour of staple classics like Casablanca, The 39 Steps, Singing in the Rain etc - all good but it's the same playlist.
Blow Out seems to be a sort of derivation or spoof on Blow Up, the classic David Hemmings 1960s film about a photographer who thinks he's captured a murder accidentally. I assume @Golrush007 knows this but it's been years - decades - since I saw that because like its near namesake that's not shown on telly either. I've no idea who profits from this arrangement.
"This is where we leave you Mr Bond."
Roger Moore 1927-2017
Silhouette ManThe last refuge of a scoundrelPosts: 8,668MI6 Agent
I imagine that the DVD, Bluray and digital download licence holders of the films concerned certainly benefit from the arrangement. If they're not shown on TV then people are forced to buy them on a physical or (increasingly nowadays) digital release format. That could be one possible explanation for it, anyway.
"The tough man of the world. The Secret Agent. The man who was only a silhouette." - Ian Fleming, Moonraker (1955).
Oh, that makes perfect sense. Except... it's counterproductive because most young folk simply are not aware of these films and there are so many of them, one won't buy them just to see them.
I mean, it's not like that with Bond - I'd argue that if it weren't for ITV showing these regularly you wouldn't have Bond fans because nobody would know about them, they've been kept alive much as the Beatles are. And people will still go out and buy the latest Blu Ray improvement or merchandise or remastered LP.
The young in the UK did not know much about Connery as Bond in the early 1980s as his films were not shown much on telly, perhaps an arrangement by Broccoli to protect and enhance the Moore brand.
Comments
THE BOSTON STRANGLER (1968)
Directed by Richard Fleischer, who would go on to helm the similar themed 10 Rillington Place three years later, this is a grim retelling of the true life events of the murder of 13 women in Boston between 1962 and 1964. Henry Fonda is the detective leading the investigation and Tony Curtis stars as the serial killer in what is probably his best acting role of his career. The film is shot in a documentary style with split-screen techniques. As Fonda become thwarted by lack of evidence he calls in a psychic for help while Curtis continues his killing spree under the guise of a plumber.
An excellent film, well worth watching.
See link.
Prince Charles Theatre, London — ajb007
THE BAREFOOT CONTESSA (1954)
“Life, every now and then, behaves as though it had seen too many bad movies, when everything fits too well – the beginning, the middle, the end – from fade-in to fade-out.”
So begins Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s The Barefoot Contessa, a well-regarded and very bitter trash drama about a Cinderella girl in Hollywood. Ava Gardner plays Maria Vargas, a beautiful Spanish dancer persuaded to become a movie star by Humphrey Bogart’s weary director Harry Dawes. The story covers the three years and three ‘loves’ of her Hollywood life. The first of these is oil and movie mogul Kirk Edwards, a thinly veiled interpretation of Howard Hughes. This is a man she detests. Playboy Alberto Bravano rescues her in histrionic fashion, but she only tolerates his self-centred antics. The man she adores is an impotent Italian count, Vincenzo Toriato-Favrini.
The film strikes a curious bridge between implausible melodrama and circumlittoral no-drama. When Mankiewicz wants his characters to be profound, angry or just darn clever, he has them spouting quite impossible dialogue. There are several long speeches, lots of knowing asides, and that one tremendously dull verbal confrontation between Edwards and Bravano, which is settled by a classic put down from Ava Gardner: “I did not want to go. Now you have spoken, I feel I should go.” For much of the narrative, however, nothing happens. For instance a whole ten minutes is taken up by Bogart and Gardner discussing her suitability to be a film actress, a series of convoluted sentences which mean something and nothing. Another five minutes is spent introducing the backgrounds of insignificant characters at a casino.
When the really important details start arriving, Mankiewicz’s screenplay feels hamstrung by the conventions of the time. He can’t properly explain Vincenzo’s plight. Instead there’s a wedding night letter and an overwrought semi-confession. The oversight is shocking, both because it feels so unlikely – how could a war damaged veteran not explain his body is disfigured and missing a penis? – but also because it feels so cruel – didn’t someone tell poor Maria? What a callous bunch. Mind you, Maria is nothing if not a cheap date anyway [“To a girl with nothing, a man with hundreds is just as rich as a man with millions”] and cavorts openly with musicians, gypsies, dancers and chauffeurs with no thought for how others may react to her actions.
I won’t give away any more of the plot; I’ve probably spoilt it already. The film is remarkably heavy going. Mankiewicz was at the top of his game in the early fifties and his writing demonstrates this, yet it feels hopelessly out of place. There are some monumentally great lines, but they don’t provide the film with an emotional core. The movie is very static and lacks drive. It needed more directorial, cinematic ‘tricks’ to enliven what we see; the central flashback idea isn’t original enough to keep us interested past the first third. In fact once Maria leaves Spain for Hollywood, the film stumbles, misses out all of the star building process [which might have been interesting] and never gets back on its feet. Maria Vargas as a character becomes a cipher for all wannabe actresses with thoughts of glamour and riches. I’m not even sure there was a moral to the thing. It ends in the rain, exactly as it started, only this time the clouds are clearing, which doesn’t sit right on such a depressing portfolio.
It’s worth noting that Jack Cardiff photographed the movie and his work is quite original. He deepens the colours and the reds come up dark, bloody crimson, the greens almost black emerald, shadows seem to lurk over the characters. Much of the action takes place at night and those shadows creep everywhere. It’s almost as if he’s attempting to give a technicolour movie the look of a film noir. There is a particularly good shot of a bloody Italian sunset. Cardiff also makes Ava Gardner look ravishing.
The same year this film came out, Judy Garland made A Star is Born, which sort of treads the same ground. That film retains its dark edges, casts a bitter eye over Hollywood and the star / studio system, but never forgets to entertain. The Barefoot Contessa is too dark, too introspective and has a level of interest with peaks at ‘middling.’ I’m a big Humphrey Bogart fan, but he’s miscast here, as is almost everyone. It’s Ava Gardner’s movie, but she’s not a big enough actress to pull off the trick in the same way Judy Garland does.
chriso1 said:
circumlittoral
OK I had to look that one up. Sounds dirty, but actually means "around or adjacent to the shoreline", I think in the sense of intertidal zone rather than manmade structures. I oughta know that, at one point in my life I hung out on the beach every day and loved exploring tidepools.
Still not sure how that modifies "no-drama" but its good to learn a new word!
I've not seen it, but in today's Times its film reviewer Kevin Maher says of the new Fast & Furious 9 'the tone here is late-era Roger Moore Bond (mostly Octopussy) where the awareness of farce is never far away and even brief moments of sobriety are infused with camp'. Enough for many of us to book our tickets - its 'In cinemas now' but at 143 mins it's a long car journey.
Headlined 'Absurd nonsense, but furiously funny'.
Roger Moore 1927-2017
Wasnt Arthur H Nadel involved animation , MotU I believe ?
The Rigg sitcom wasn't all that , strictly for Rigg fans imo
2012 , 2/6 , disaster movie about the end of the world , SFX good otherwise zzzzzzzz
SHOUT AT THE DEVIL (1975)
Wilbur Smith is something like a publishing phenomenon. Since his first novel When the Lion Feeds was a success in 1964 he’s gone on to complete an astonishing 35 books, almost all of which have sold in excess of 1 million copies. His very earliest work tended towards the short side, with action orientated plots and contemporary settings, although the occasional historical drama was dropped into the mix. Shout at the Devil, his fourth book, is one of those history adventures, set in German and Portuguese Tanganyika during the First World War, and loosely based on an actual incident, the Royal navy’s 1915 sinking of the Konigsberg on the Rufiji Delta. His central character is the Irish American Flynn Patrick Flynn, an ivory poachers who roams frequently into German territory and antagonises the local commissioner Fleischer. He recruits by stealth the Englishman Sebastian Oldsmith who eventually marries his daughter Rosa. When war breaks out, Fleisher has the opportunity to exact legal revenge on Flynn.
I used to read lots of Wilbur Smith when I was a teenager. I still have the copies somewhere. This was one of my favourites. My memory is that it had great historical detail, strong characters, an epic sweep and some thunderous action. It was also quite nasty. I remember horrific torture scenes and several quite gory murders or killings. After a while, all Smith’s books, especially his Courtney and Ballantyne adventures, seemed to read the same; endless elephant hunts and pages of long repetitive description. I hadn’t read one for thirty years until I recently picked up a cheap copy of Those in Peril and that opus did everything to confirm I was right.
What can be said for Wilbur Smith is he is very cinematic. His stories cover landscapes, stories and eras which have immediate visual appeal. It’s difficult to understand quite why his novels have not translated well to the screen. Perhaps it’s because his prose is criticised for being unsympathetic to the native tribesmen. It is a reasonable point, but if an author writes in an era of widespread racism, I think he’s perfectly entitled to reflect that. My memory of Smith’s stories is that for every stupid, violent or subservient character [whether a native or a colonial] there was always an intelligent, conciliatory and liberal opposite. As far as I’m aware, Smith isn’t a racist and supports the current South African democracy. He abandoned his native Rhodesia because of Ian Smith’s autocratic regime, although a move to neighbouring South Africa can’t exactly be dressed in ribbons.
The best of the movie adaptations is probably the earliest, 1968’s The Mercenaries, based on The Dark of the Sun, with a bristling Rod Taylor battling revolutionaries in the Congo. Producer Michael Klinger bought the rights to all Smith’s early stand-alone novels, but only managed to film two of them, Gold Mine [filmed as Gold, 1974] and Shout at the Devil. Both films were directed by ex-Eon editor and director Peter Hunt and this movie in particular employed a raft of ex or current Bond alumni: Michael Reed photographed, John Glen helmed the second unit, Alec Mills was cameraman, Maurice Binder did the credits, Syd Cain the sets, Bernard Horsfall has a small supporting role and, of course, Roger Moore, the newly appointed OO7 himself, starred in both films. Sometimes you feel all Shout at the Devil needed was Barry to write the score, Maibaum to touch up the script and Broccoli or Saltzman to add their names above the title and you’ve virtually got an Eon product.
Another way the film resembles the Bond movies of the early seventies is through its emphasis on humour at the expense of character. The novel was very efficient on the psychology of its personalities. Their personas were paper thin, but hugely believable. Humour was non-existent. The underlying relationship between the antagonists Flynn and Fleischer is one of antipathy, they really detest each other. In the film, while this is made fairly obvious, it is undermined by portraying Fleischer as a bumptious boor with an uncontrollable sadistic streak. His method of policing is to shoot first and lynch afterwards. None of his underlings question this arbitrary violence even when it is apparent he’s making mistakes. When Fleischer attempts to utilise the assistance of the German navy cruiser The Blucher, the captain roundly ridicules him. An earlier image of the Commissioner parading his troops, shouting endlessly, his bulk surrounding a worn-out looking mule, reinforces the idea he is a lazy, oafish incompetent. These moments demean Fleischer and turn him into a figure of fun, when he ought to be a roundly unpleasant, amoral person. Perhaps screenwriters Alastair Reed and Stanley Price chose to tone down his psychotic behaviours to allay any fears of an ‘X’ certificate.
Similarly, Flynn’s remorseless ivory poaching, an activity which has delivered riches into his pocket, is designed in part to purely antagonise his nemesis; there cannot be any other reason he consistently hunts over the border. The two men have a long history of confrontation. Unfortunately, Lee Marvin’s Flynn simply isn’t believable as a driven, revengeful hunter. His best friend was garrotted by the German, he himself is shot, his ivory confiscated and his daughter’s child murdered, yet he retains a peerless, cheerful and positive disposition, maintained by copious quantities of gin. Marvin, a very fine actor, is being badly directed here. Marvin seems to consciously be playing for laughs, when the screenplay doesn’t actually intend them. At one point Flynn conducts a comic fist-fight with Sebastian; in the novel this was a deadly serious event. The difference between the two readings of the incident is like introducing the fun of Wayne and McLaglan from John Ford’s The Quiet Man, when we ought to witness the orderly viciousness of Peck and Heston from Wyler’s The Big Country. Unfortunately, Peter Hunt doesn’t seem prepared to stop the two stars from continuing their night-time revelries [Moore and Marvin spent most of their free time drinking] onto the daytime set.
The novel also featured Fleischer’s soldiers subjecting Rosa to a multiple rape, which was the focal reason her marital relationship floundered; this is eradicated from the film, replaced with a few scenes revolving around Barbara Parkins’ grief. Roger Moore, playing Sebastian twenty years too late, does rather well in the scenes where he attempts to comfort his beloved. Once more, it is noticeable how good Moore is with moments of control and care, where his natural empathetic appeal can assert itself. Like Marvin, he isn’t served well by Peter Hunt’s uneven direction. The action is fine and everyone copes splendidly with this. The tension mounts appropriately towards the end and there some spectacular moments of derring-do. This is mostly John Glen’s second unit work anyway. Everyone though struggles within the confines of the comedic material.
The first half of the film doesn’t know whether to be a safari romp or a bloodbath, and because it’s both, the film is hopelessly unbalanced. The movie tries to be funny then tries to be deadly serious. The chapters jar and the audience notices. With about forty minutes to go, the film sorts itself out and chooses to be the solemn adventure thriller is ought to have been from the get-go. This is the most accomplished section, where Sebastian, disguised as a native, plants an incendiary device on The Blucher while it undergoes repairs on the delta. Things don’t go according to plan and with time running out, he and Flynn return to rescue Rosa from Fleischer’s evil clutches.
The ending doesn’t present itself entirely convincingly. I feel Rosa should have the last rifle shot. Sebastian’s tossing way of the gun suggests revenge, not the war, was always their motive, which is fine as far as it goes. The novel was less ambiguous about the future because everybody dies. Flynn is caught conducting a needless elephant hunt; Fleischer hangs him. Sebastian and Rosa infiltrate The Blucher in full knowledge Fleischer is aboard and commit suicide detonating the bomb. Only Flynn’s friend Mohammed survives the carnage. There is no happy ending. Everyone shouts at the devil on Wilbur Smith’s pages.
The film is well photographed and mostly looks exotic. Maurice Jarre’s music is good. At times, it’s exceptionally exciting. I’m undecided. Shout at the Devil is an uneven piece, neglected unfairly, but not quite as good as it could or should have been. Perhaps my final note can rest with a contemporary point: the film was tremendously successful at the time of release, earning over $15m, which for a British film in the seventies was a grand achievement.
On the big screen (part of a series of showings, starting with the Connery movies, now onto the Moores).
It's often said that a Bond movie is only as good as its villain. There's truth in that- QoS, for example has a weak villain though his lack of impact is obscured by the awful editing, that excuse for a title song, etc. In THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN we have a fairly average Bond film that manages to punch above its weight mainly owing to its villain who should be high on any list of great Bond villains. It's just a shame that he isn't in a better Bond movie, but his impact isn't obscured as with QoS.
The scenery is beautifully photographed and all the better for being seen in a cinema, as is the car chase sequence. However, a lot of the film takes place indoors and gains nothing. For example, the bedroom farce where Bond is visited by the two main girls works the same whether on a small screen or a large one as does the Lazar scene, M & Q parts, etc. I haven't checked with a stopwatch but it seems to me that more of TMWTGG takes place in smallish rooms (ie sets) than normal, and those don't need a cinema-sized screen.
Still, next week it's THE SPY WHO LOVED ME and that one on the big screen is most certainly one to look forward to.
I'm reading Wilbur Smith's Assegai now and it strikes me that the story is both highly cinematic and very different from what we usually see in movies.
Spoiler function should be used towards the end of your review ChrisNo1 though as I haven't seen that film so far no real reason to now. Isn't it a remake of one with Bogart or am I just imagining it? It's odd how esteemed Hunt was for OHMSS and while Gold is okay and dandy, this isn't so much.
Re Barbel's big screen Bond junket, it's odd how some Bonds really work well on the big screen and others less so. Golden Gun has a cheap look about it. Ken Adam not on for the big set finale and there's a fun story by the designer they went with in the book Some Kind of Hero - basically he didn't want to do it, but someone hinted it might dent his reputation in the industry if he turned it down. You do get just a whiff of ruthlessness in the EON story throughout. (The designer died weeks after talking to the authors but that's probably coincidental!)
Barbel - should I post a massive review of Spy Who before you see it or after?
Roger Moore 1927-2017
I caught this on Hardyboy's recommendation of 60s/70s pop and he's right - it's superbly done. I was watching this movie - my first trip to the cinema since Le Mans 66 about March last year! - and had a big grin on my face throughout much of it. Nothing is wrong with it and it looks brilliant. In fact, I know I'll enjoy it more than the Bond film when it eventually trundles into cinemas.
Much of Cruella is one-upmanship between the young Cruella and her nemesis - this riffs on The Devil Wears Prada to great effect. It's this kind of - to use a word I picked up from Bond fans in the Gutter, I mean Twitter - sh**housery that worked so well between Bond and Goldfinger or Largo or Drax. I can happily watch that sort of thing all movie. Now you get the sense it's more the villain trolling Bond.
You can go too far with the whole backstory makeover. We even had it a bit with Blofeld in the last one! Who next, Hitler? 'Well, he met some awful people in his 20s who just happened to be Jews, so that explains it, plus all those movies - The Sound of Music, The Great Escape, Casablanca - they wouldn't have happened without World War II and would Spielberg ever have got his Oscar?' - alright, so Hitler was real but movies even rowed back on Hannibal Lector's claim that some are just born evil: 'Nothing happened to me, I happened' in subsequent outings. Cruella's backstory involved murderous Dalmatian dogs - so that explains it- and the deathly dull post-war period which she jazzes up; it never quite paints her the an outright canine sociopath of the Disney film, but then you don't always want a whole movie devoted to someone like that, not when you're supposed to be amused by their antics and mostly rooting for them.
That said, it seems that the floor manager of Liberty's in Cruella would make a truly excellent Captain Hook if Disney wants to do his backstory. I don't know how they'll make his backstory sympathetic though his alligator tale puts him in the frame I guess. And Peter Pan can be annoying.
Roger Moore 1927-2017
Napoleon Plural- please, be my guest. ☺️
Eh? I'm not travelling all the bloody way to Scotland to see a Bond film!
Roger Moore 1927-2017
😁 Your loss!
WHEN EIGHT BELLS TOLL (1971)
After the stunning financial success of Where Eagles Dare, producers Elliott Kastner and Jerry Gershwin sought out another Alistair MacLean screenplay for yet another blockbuster. When Eight Bells Toll doesn’t have the star power of Richard Burton and Clint Eastwood and was subsequently treated as half-baked by most U.S. critics. That’s a little unfair as there is much to admire. Given that the replacement lead was Welshman Anthony Hopkins, you wonder if the producers had tapped up Burton to take on the hard drinking, anti-authoritarian, action man and archetypal MacLean hero Philip Calvert.
MacLean had published the original novel in 1966, his first after a three year hiatus, and it is one of his most accessible efforts. It started his most financially productive period. Buoyed by the success of the movies The Satan Bug, Ice Station Zebra and Where Eagles Dare, MacLean’s books were flying off the shelves and the six volumes he completed between 1966/71 were all huge bestsellers. The writer saw movie adaptations as an effective way to promote his novels and ten films based on his works were released in just over a decade (1968 – 1979). Several more were in the pipeline and MacLean often wrote a working screenplay before completing a novel proper to ensure it would translate visually from page to screen.
The literary version of When Eight Bells Toll features one of MacLean’s very best opening paragraphs, quite possibly one of the best in the thriller genre, as his hero describes in detail the devastating power of a Peacemaker Colt, before informing the reader one is aimed directly at him. The movie retains the same opening scene, slightly elaborated, and from that moment, much like the brisk source prose, the action barely lets up. Thankfully MacLean provided a more satisfying conclusion to his screenplay than he did to his book. In fact, he’s developed a free-flowing, crisp script which allows the characters enough room to breathe without getting bogged down in extraneous background details.
Hopkins displays verve and vigour as Calvert, a naval intelligence officer loaned to an obscure branch of the British Secret Service run by a pompous Robert Morley, known as Uncle Arthur. He’s hired by Corin Redgrave’s young pen pusher Hunslett and together the two set off for the Scottish Isles on the hunt for a cache of stolen gold bullion. Suspicion falls on Jack Hawkins’ shipping magnate Sir Anthony Skouras, who is holidaying with his young wife Charlotte, played with demure cold-calculation by Nathalie Delon. Through a series of violent incidents including the machine gunning of a helicopter, an underwater fight with a salvage diver and a boat chase around the Isle of Skye, Calvert somehow manages to piece together who is responsible. Befriending a cutthroat band of local fisherman, he organises a daring assault mission on a windswept castle which contains more secrets than just the comely daughter of the Laird.
The film is a fun joyride. It never pauses long enough for the viewer to take in the preposterousness of what is happening. The cast give it their all and some scenes are tremendously effective. Belgian director Etienne Perier probably wasn’t experienced enough for this and it shows in the lack of visual imagination. It’s the sort of romp our ex-Bond alumni Terence Young or Peter Hunt could have handled with some success. Accomplished cinematographer Arthur Ibbetson can’t do much with the murky landscapes. John Shirley edits without panache, but he doesn’t mess about either, which compensates for the lack of artistic flair.
Luckily the film is mostly action, so it doesn’t drag, but there’s a tendency to flirt dangerously close to parody. MacLean’s screenplay prevents that because – unlike most of his screen work and his novels – When Eight Bells Toll forefronts the humorous side of the author. Hopkins, Morley and Redgrave deliver a series of fine darkly comic lines, which mostly succeed, though not always. Even when seducing Nathalie Delon, which takes three scenes of protracted salacious staring, Hopkins allows a little twinkle to crease his eyes as the double entendres trip off his and her tongue. The whole ninety-five minutes is thoroughly enjoyable. My only complaint is the repetitive music score from Walter Stott, which is suitably seventies but offers no variety. There’s an odd story attached to the composer, who is in fact the female Angela Morley, a transgender woman who would break boundaries by winning Emmy awards and becoming famous for writing the theme to the soap opera Dynasty.
Hopkins is rather good. He was still mostly recognised as a stage actor, but had done some film work including an adaptation of John Le Carre’s spy drama The Looking Glass War. On this performance, I rather fancy him as an action hero. Although he never took on another role quite like this, you wonder if the Bond producers sneaked a look when considering replacements for Sean Connery. I suspect Hopkins’ height may have done him a huge disservice. Producers Kastner and Gershwin had hoped to launch a series of thrillers starring Hopkins as Calvert but the movie’s relative failure in America curtailed that. The film did recoup its money with good receipts in the U.K. and Europe.
When Eight Bells Toll is a fine thriller which delivers its punches and gets out quick. It’s even got a nicely sour ending for the hero. An underrated near classic.
I enjoyed reading that fine review of a film (and book, of course) which I know well. Agree about the score- it starts ok, but never goes anywhere.
IIRC this was Hopkins' first film lead and naturally he's splendid. He was a little young and young-looking so his hair is greyed to make him look more of the tough agent who's been around.
I watched this with my father who was disappointed that Jack Hawkins, a star of his generation, didn't have more to do. We didn't know that Hawkins was dying of throat cancer. It took me some viewings to spot that he'd been dubbed by Charles Gray.
Lastly, I've been to many of the locations and, as is always the case here, they look gorgeous and stunning..... on a day when it isn't raining.
There was a false story going around at the time, that Jack Hawkins had had a voice box fitted into his neck. As Barbel said, he was actually dubbed by Charles Gray.
Great review Chris.
I really enjoy When Eight Bells Toll. It just has a good feel about it, it does occasionally border on parody and seems to try too hard in places but the cast is good, the locations very atmospheric and actions sequences great fun. It's a shame they didn't continue the series with one or two more.
You've got me in the mood now so I may have to watch it again this weekend🛥️🚁🥃
@Barbel & @CoolHandBond I had no idea about this. I thought Hawkins was doing a Charles Grey impersonation! 🤔
Hawkins sadly lost his voice (throat cancer) at some point in the 60s. He'd been a solid leading man, and well liked according to my late dad. He took smaller parts from then until his death in the early 70s, dubbed by either Gray or Robert Reitty (both Bond alumni).
I started off my weekend with a Friday double feature of military themed films starring Jack Nicholson - THE LAST DETAIL (1973) and A FEW GOOD MEN (1992). I thoroughly enjoyed both films, and Nicholson is in top form in both, although his role in the latter film is far smaller.
The Last Detail sees two US Navy sailors given the task of escorting a young convicted seaman from their base to a military prison. Their rail journey takes them through a number of cities including Washington DC, New York and Boston and the trio make several stops along the way in order to allow the young seaman a good time before the ordeal of incarceration. They indulge in a number of pursuits including beer, Buddhist chanting, a visit to a brothel and a snowy picnic. I found this a really memorable watch, at times very funny while also being quite cynical and tragic as well.
A Few Good Men is a film that is well known in the popular culture, and has become meme fodder in the Twitter age but I'd never seen it before, despite being quite familiar with its climactic courtroom confrontation between Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson. All round I found it a really solid military legal drama, kind of like a really well produced and lavish extended episode of JAG. It has quite a substantial running time, and towards the end of the hour mark I feared that my interest was waning slightly. Luckily though, once the actual court martial hearings began I was thoroughly engrossed by the drama and it built very nicely towards the well known climax. Obviously I was aware of how things were going to pan out, but that was certainly no spoiler in terms of my enjoyment of the film.
And then, I spent a cold and rainy saturday morning in the company of WHEN EIGHT BELLS TOLL. This film has been on my watchlist for a very long time but I've never quite round to putting it on. After Chrisno1's review and the subsequent discussions in this thread I though the time was right to give it a watch. It was a nice, brisk and entertaining 90 minutes or so. I enjoyed Hopkins' performance and would have liked to see him continue the role in subsequent films. The locations were also pretty good, and the cold and wet conditions I'm experiencing this weekend meant that I almost felt I was there. Highlights for me were the helicopter scenes with a young Maurice Roëves who I have always enjoyed as a character actor, and the underwater scene in the sunken ship which was nicely shot and quite suspenseful. I have to say I found it very strange watching Jack Hawkins, while hearing the voice of Charles Gray. I have watched many films starring Hawkins but I think this is the first I have watched in which he was dubbed.
@Gymkata - I also enjoyed reading your review of The Right Stuff. It's a film I've seen countless times and it up there in my top 20 films of all time. I finally got round to reading Tom Wolfe's book last year and I'd have to say that the movie is now one of my favourite ever adaptations of a book to the screen. It really captured the style of the book and transferred Wolfe's memorable prose into the dialogue of the characters on screen.
MOLLY’S GAME (2017)
Aaron Sorkin [creator of The West Wing] penned this biopic of Molly Bloom, stroppy failed Olympian, who takes over a private poker game for the rich, famous and not-so famous, makes a million plus, loses it to the Mafia and gets indicted by the U.S. government on spurious charges in the hope she’ll name names in a money laundering scam.
I don’t understand the fascination with poker, its rules and jargon. There was a ‘poker school’ at my college. I hated the people who took part, all their showy, arrogant mannerisms and misogynistic attitudes. I saw a lot of that on display by the cast of characters here, most of whom are gamblers or associates, a few nasty Italian gangster types.
Jessica Chastain gives a career best [so far] performance as the titular Molly, but she lacks sympathy. Her holier than thou stance grated. Kevin Costner is good as her appalling, abusive father. The ‘happy families’ ending felt false and contrived.
Exceptionally long at 140mins.
I didn’t understand how Molly Bloom had come to write her autobiography before the court case and discovered in real life she wrote it afterwards to pay her costs, which makes more sense. Here Sorkin uses the book as a plot device which gives Idris Elba’s lawyer no intelligence for self-determination.
Not bad. Not great.
[P.S. I played in the bridge team and was rather good. I once bid seven no trumps and won the hand.]
Yesterday
Beatles songs aplenty in this tale about an aspiring but unsuccessful singer-songwriter who is hit by a bus during a world-wide electronic blackout and comes round, Day of the Triffid style, to find he lives in a country run by a right-wing populist Tory party under a pandemic.
Soon he finds himself unable to get furlough or like others in the music industry any kind of support from the Treasury as venues are shut down and festivals shut. What's more, immigration are after him and looking to deport him on a technicality so he is constantly on the run.
No Band on the Run however (it's not canon) but Pretti Patel pops up to do Ticket to Ride with adjusted lyrics ('I think I'm gonna be glad, I think it's today... I've bought your Ticket to Ride.. and I don't care!'), You Never Give Me Your Money while Get Back practically writes itself. You Won't See Me is set at the GP surgery of course. Sir Keir pops up to do Nowhere Man but that's on the DVD deleted scenes - it was cut from the final version, as was Don't Wanna Hold Your Hand.
The title song closure is nicely done and the lyrics fit except for showing a tearful Theresa May against the line 'Why she had to go, I don't know, she wouldn't say' was in bad taste.
Roger Moore 1927-2017
😀😀😀
Not good then....?
I don't know whether to laugh (it's very funny) or cry (it's sadly accurate) but either way that's excellent NP.
BLOW OUT (1981)
In the wake of the success of Reservoir Dogs, Quentin Tarantino did a TV appearance where he went back to the video store at which he used to work and picked out three desert island films, which were Rio Bravo, Taxi Driver and Blow Out. For many years now, Blow Out was the only one of those 3 films that I had never got round to watching, until it popped up this month in a Neo Noir bundle on The Criterion Channel. So, eagerly I sat down and watched the film and despite having pretty high expectations for it, it managed to surpass those and I loved the movie.
John Travolta puts in an excellent performance as A B-movie sound effects guy who finds himself witness to a car accident while recording sounds for his latest project. This audio recording proves to be crucial evidence of a politically motivated murder, and he spends the rest of the film piecing together what happened to prove that it wasn't just an accident and to protect a young woman who he rescued from the car. John Lithgow also is also in top form as the villain. De Palma's direction is visually stylish, with some interesting and unusual camera moves and editing, plus multiple uses of split-diopter cinematography which gives the films an unsettling and off kilter look at times. The films also delivers with some really good suspense leading up to a dramatic finale.
I've given most of the films that I've ever watched a rating on Letterboxd, and I've only ever given top marks (four stars) to just over 50 of those. That usually occurs when a film makes some sort of deeper than usual connection with me, and I have a hard-to-describe and instinctive 'gut feel' reaction to it that leads to my awarding 4 stars. Blow Out is the latest addition to my list of 4 star movies. Thanks Mr Tarantino for the recommendation.
Blow Out is a film that just never ever seems to be on TV in the UK along with a whole load of others. When I was a kid, I imagined that by the time I got to my age the telly would be a treasure trove of classic movies back to back by this time, with Bond films shown several times a week. Well the latter happened - ITV4 always have them on - but otherwise there's something Orwellian about how so many classic movies just get excised from the collective memory in favour of staple classics like Casablanca, The 39 Steps, Singing in the Rain etc - all good but it's the same playlist.
Blow Out seems to be a sort of derivation or spoof on Blow Up, the classic David Hemmings 1960s film about a photographer who thinks he's captured a murder accidentally. I assume @Golrush007 knows this but it's been years - decades - since I saw that because like its near namesake that's not shown on telly either. I've no idea who profits from this arrangement.
Roger Moore 1927-2017
I imagine that the DVD, Bluray and digital download licence holders of the films concerned certainly benefit from the arrangement. If they're not shown on TV then people are forced to buy them on a physical or (increasingly nowadays) digital release format. That could be one possible explanation for it, anyway.
Oh, that makes perfect sense. Except... it's counterproductive because most young folk simply are not aware of these films and there are so many of them, one won't buy them just to see them.
I mean, it's not like that with Bond - I'd argue that if it weren't for ITV showing these regularly you wouldn't have Bond fans because nobody would know about them, they've been kept alive much as the Beatles are. And people will still go out and buy the latest Blu Ray improvement or merchandise or remastered LP.
The young in the UK did not know much about Connery as Bond in the early 1980s as his films were not shown much on telly, perhaps an arrangement by Broccoli to protect and enhance the Moore brand.
Roger Moore 1927-2017