Dated, soupy, melodramatic at times. Main story, involving the wife who harbours her ex-lover from the police, is curiously underdeveloped and cannot arouse much interest. The other plot threads seem pretty emotionally irrelevant; the film doesn't tie together very well while we're watching it. Nothing stands out as particularly awful; film plods along so-so. Nice little supporting performance by Edward Chapman as the plain and dependable husband.
Reviews
26 Reviews
Sex, Lies, and Videotape
(1989)
Honesty...
6 November 2002
Now that the movie has been around for a decade and change, we know all about the seductively suggestive atmosphere and the mystery of the James Spader character. These, then, are no longer the most interesting things about the picture. It's a film about honesty -- honesty in conversation, anyway -- about how the Spader and Giacomo characters, who always say what they mean or ask what they want to know with frankness and clarity, bounce off the repression of MacDowell and the lies of Gallagher.
What's fascinating are the ways characters express themselves as conversation moves to more intense places. The mystery over what makes Spader tick is not quite as interesting, and the conclusion, which needs to investigate him and find some kind of conclusion, cannot be as absorbing as the intensely frank and striking buildup.
What's fascinating are the ways characters express themselves as conversation moves to more intense places. The mystery over what makes Spader tick is not quite as interesting, and the conclusion, which needs to investigate him and find some kind of conclusion, cannot be as absorbing as the intensely frank and striking buildup.
Suspiria
(1977)
Effective
4 November 2002
The film has some hammy acting, and often the editing does a poor job of establishing fundamental narrative details, but this is a strong piece of over-the-top Dario Argento style. Convoluted gore, ugly images like the infestation of maggots, a colour palette of harsh, extreme primary colours and the pounding score of ghoulish Italian rock do a good job of keeping us arrested and impressed. Perhaps not the classic that its hardened fans make out, but surely worth a look.
The Jazz Singer
(1927)
Good fun
4 November 2002
A simple story of a guy winning back his estranged father, told in strong and memorable images. Jolson looks just right, and although it was done for reasons of cost and technological limitations, it's actually pretty cool that this is a traditional silent movie that turns talkie for the performance scenes. It makes the terrific musical numbers come alive, and it gives the plotting no more or less emphasis than it deserves. Not a great film, but an enjoyable one, and obviously a historically significant one.
Rififi
(1955)
Still works...
27 October 2002
Many of the elements in "Rififi" have become familiar parts of the heist picture tradition, but it still plays damn well, for a few big reasons:
1) Noir, baby, noir! The mood is just great, with its dark, well-composed photography and tough, spare dialogue and performances.
2) That silent half-hour heist sequence is legendary for a reason, capturing minute details and tensions through a visual style that is easy to follow and absolutely gripping.
3) The ending, which shows the final death in a manner that is dizzying, dogged and powerful.
This remains a terrific movie.
1) Noir, baby, noir! The mood is just great, with its dark, well-composed photography and tough, spare dialogue and performances.
2) That silent half-hour heist sequence is legendary for a reason, capturing minute details and tensions through a visual style that is easy to follow and absolutely gripping.
3) The ending, which shows the final death in a manner that is dizzying, dogged and powerful.
This remains a terrific movie.
Cat People
(1942)
Effectively made
20 October 2002
This movie is so good-looking that our eyes just want to eat it up. Deep, moody patches of blackness abound; Jacques Tourneur and his crew might have been making a noir horror to disguise their B-movie budget and sets, but by God, the tactic paid off. Certain scenes see everything as blackness except for the bars of windows; shadows are everywhere all the time; the use of darkness is sometimes even announced, as with the famous scene in the swimming pool, where the reflections on the wall get darker and darker as Jane Randolph gets more and more worried that something is coming after her.
It's always pointed out that the movie works despite some very simple, perfunctory dialogue, and that's correct. "Cat People" is blunt in some of its characterisations, and the whole idea that Simone Simon will turn into a murderous cat when kissed by a man is a sexual metaphor that goes right to the brink of silliness. But the atmosphere makes the film involving nonetheless.
It's always pointed out that the movie works despite some very simple, perfunctory dialogue, and that's correct. "Cat People" is blunt in some of its characterisations, and the whole idea that Simone Simon will turn into a murderous cat when kissed by a man is a sexual metaphor that goes right to the brink of silliness. But the atmosphere makes the film involving nonetheless.
Sullivan's Travels
(1941)
Just perfect!
20 October 2002
The movie has everything: Satire, comedy based on the rhythms of speech, detailed characterisations of everyone from executives to bums, farce and thought-provoking musings on people's places in the world. All this is relayed to us in style that is funny, energetic and unpretentious. The dialogue is so smart and savvy that it plays as contemporary, and the movie arrests us; it's one of those pictures that we don't have to sit and wait for, but which grab us with their wonderful comic and dramatic spells. Forgive the hyperbole, but "Sullivan's Travels" is and always has been a flat-out classic.
Blonde Venus
(1932)
Silly but watchable
13 October 2002
Over-the-top study of how Dietrich's character gets sucked into a whirlwind of despair after taking a break from the role of housewife to return to the stage. She becomes involved in a love triangle before going on the run, where she has to beg for food, tell fibs to her little boy, and end up in a 15c-a-night flophouse where her hair is all frizzed up and she's shouting at other women who look like they've been on bourbon since birth. The beginning of this journey is ominously signalled by the now famous scene where Dietrich dresses in an ape suit and sings "Hot Voodoo!"
The shots are perfectly composed, with nicely darkened edges and misty air. Dietrich somehow retains the aura of a starlet despite being in a lot of messy situations; Cary Grant flashes a rough early version of his charming persona; Herbert Marshall gives an amusingly overwrought performance as Dietrich's jilted husband, looking so stiff in his shabby little grey suit that it's as if he is about to literally snap. An altogether trashy film, but not a boring one.
The shots are perfectly composed, with nicely darkened edges and misty air. Dietrich somehow retains the aura of a starlet despite being in a lot of messy situations; Cary Grant flashes a rough early version of his charming persona; Herbert Marshall gives an amusingly overwrought performance as Dietrich's jilted husband, looking so stiff in his shabby little grey suit that it's as if he is about to literally snap. An altogether trashy film, but not a boring one.
Morocco
(1930)
Flat, a disappointment
6 October 2002
Stilted and lifeless love triangle picture. Gary Cooper acts a little too gormless; it's not charming, because he's not in a comedy. Adolphe Menjou has an interesting character to play -- the type of rich sugar daddy who we expect to be a simple bad guy, but ends up with more emotion and dimension -- and the actor botches it, never quite communicating tone and seeming nervous for all the wrong reasons. Dietrich, of course, has classic screen presence, but the film hardly lets her use it, and gives her some of the least well-staged musical numbers of the era (the film stops as she sings without musical accompaniment, for the length of whole songs, over rooms full of mumbling).
The picture was a big hit, received Oscar nominations for its cinematography and art direction, and became famous for its exoticism and style. But the production values were eclipsed as Hollywood style developed, and "Morocco" looks like just another old Arabian-set star vehicle today. Films like "Casablanca" do a much better job of showing the chaos of Morocco through shots that are balanced and composed.
The picture was a big hit, received Oscar nominations for its cinematography and art direction, and became famous for its exoticism and style. But the production values were eclipsed as Hollywood style developed, and "Morocco" looks like just another old Arabian-set star vehicle today. Films like "Casablanca" do a much better job of showing the chaos of Morocco through shots that are balanced and composed.
Ikiru
(1952)
Touching, thought-provoking, with surprising moments of wit
12 September 2002
At the centre of "Ikiru" are the massive issue of mortality and the thoughtful, poignant performance by Takashi Shimura, but Kurosawa's direction also managed to find moments of humour in the oddest places. The wake sequence is brilliant in the way it gets laughs both sad and pure out of drunkenness and bad logic, satirises bureaucracy and its servants, and also lets us think about the meaning of life, whether a wasted life can secure a legacy by attempting to redeem itself near the end, and whether those attempts at redemption, if successful, actually qualify a life as meaningful.
The film could perhaps do without so much of the voice-over, which at times explains things a little too much, but that's a small complaint.
The film could perhaps do without so much of the voice-over, which at times explains things a little too much, but that's a small complaint.
Shy People
(1987)
Strange, haunting, very absorbing
17 August 2002
Barbara Hershey gives a great performance as the deeply repressed backwoods woman -- it could have been caricature work, but it's passionate, dedicated and determined yet restrained. Her character is so dedicated to code and rigid beliefs that after a while we surprise ourselves by starting to wonder if there's some truth, or sense, or admirable strength, to her punishing way of living.
The city woman, played by Jill Clayburgh, is our way into the story, and yet she is depicted as somewhat silly and sheltered; her modern, idealistic comments and questions get across thoughts we agree with, and yet they aren't intended as powerful speeches, so our balance of skepticism and interest in Hershey is retained.
"Shy People" is full of powerful melodrama, strange and specific characters, striking settings, extreme dramatic implications and turning points. The material penetrates the mind and refuses to settle down in the form of cosy conclusions. An oddly powerful movie.
The city woman, played by Jill Clayburgh, is our way into the story, and yet she is depicted as somewhat silly and sheltered; her modern, idealistic comments and questions get across thoughts we agree with, and yet they aren't intended as powerful speeches, so our balance of skepticism and interest in Hershey is retained.
"Shy People" is full of powerful melodrama, strange and specific characters, striking settings, extreme dramatic implications and turning points. The material penetrates the mind and refuses to settle down in the form of cosy conclusions. An oddly powerful movie.
Blow-Up
(1966)
Strange atmosphere is not bad filmmaking
17 August 2002
"Blowup" still splits audiences, and as backlashes do nothing but grow, there seems to be more of a tendency to dismiss it as ostentatious and cardboard with each passing year. I will confess that the first time I saw it, I found it to be stiff, slow and pretentiously artsy. It was not until I caught it on television recently and got unintentionally wrapped up in the thing that I ended up loving it.
You need to be in a very receptive mood to appreciate the film, whose moments of uncomfortable, obnoxious silence are many and whose supporting players and props portray the swinging London of the 1960s as a place full of zombified phoneys, wrapped up in fads and affected behavioural ticks. It is understandable how the film's point of view may be dismissed as dated (which it is not, as presumably it seemed odd at the time) or that of a dismissive old man (which, possibly, it may be).
For me, however, the distancing emptiness of the film's aura creates an atmosphere of uneasiness, and focuses our attention on the lean, intense lead performance by the then striking young David Hemmings. It all pays off as the movie nears its close, the plot gets sinister, and the protagonist feels all the more solitary and confounded.
There are striking, colourful images throughout, and the scene in which Hemmings studies blown-up prints to see if his photographs harbour disturbing secrets is still a classic, gripping, beautifully edited moment. I'd love to see it on the big screen one day.
Pity about some of the early photography scenes, though. Hemmings plays them toughly, and it's possible to be involved, but in this post-Austin Powers era, it's hard not to wince or smirk at some of the uses of "Fab!" and "Super!"
You need to be in a very receptive mood to appreciate the film, whose moments of uncomfortable, obnoxious silence are many and whose supporting players and props portray the swinging London of the 1960s as a place full of zombified phoneys, wrapped up in fads and affected behavioural ticks. It is understandable how the film's point of view may be dismissed as dated (which it is not, as presumably it seemed odd at the time) or that of a dismissive old man (which, possibly, it may be).
For me, however, the distancing emptiness of the film's aura creates an atmosphere of uneasiness, and focuses our attention on the lean, intense lead performance by the then striking young David Hemmings. It all pays off as the movie nears its close, the plot gets sinister, and the protagonist feels all the more solitary and confounded.
There are striking, colourful images throughout, and the scene in which Hemmings studies blown-up prints to see if his photographs harbour disturbing secrets is still a classic, gripping, beautifully edited moment. I'd love to see it on the big screen one day.
Pity about some of the early photography scenes, though. Hemmings plays them toughly, and it's possible to be involved, but in this post-Austin Powers era, it's hard not to wince or smirk at some of the uses of "Fab!" and "Super!"
You Can't Take It with You
(1938)
Engaging
17 August 2002
From the very first character interactions, or indeed the title, the film announces it is going to be about the quirks of life being the most important and liberating things of all, as opposed to the pointlessness of regular worries and monetary greed.
It works. The film is slightly longer than two hours, and able to indulge in leisurely spells of spending time with the Lionel Barrymore character's family, who are constantly colourful in joyous, infectious ways. Regular people using their good nature to contrast themselves with the rich and powerful is always fun to see in Frank Capra movies, too, making the climax a touching one. This was not Capra's tightest or most powerful picture, but it hits the right bases.
It works. The film is slightly longer than two hours, and able to indulge in leisurely spells of spending time with the Lionel Barrymore character's family, who are constantly colourful in joyous, infectious ways. Regular people using their good nature to contrast themselves with the rich and powerful is always fun to see in Frank Capra movies, too, making the climax a touching one. This was not Capra's tightest or most powerful picture, but it hits the right bases.
Re-Animator
(1985)
Exuberant adaptation of short story; quite surprisingly absorbing
1 August 2002
Most decent trash movies leave me with detached admiration. This one is astonishing in how intensely it engages us. Stuart Gordon, the director, keeps things tight. His film is slightly under 90 minutes long, and filmed in a manner that seems low-rent yet grandly alive and colourful. The scientific conversations don't throw lingo around without respect for the audience's intelligence; they flow logically, in a manner we can follow, while delivering on the level of junk science bluffing. The screenplay is wise to use a certain number of characters and locations for the action sequences; rather than hordes of faceless zombies coming at us, we've got our bearings.
Richard Band's music is such an obvious rip-off of Bernard Hermann's "Psycho" score that from the opening moments we both get a feeling of familiarity and smile along with the filmmakers' crafty sense of humour. The ending is such a deliciously sinister tease, played so well by otherwise straight-laced leading man Bruce Abbott, that as the credits roll we're already hungry for the sequel.
Another great performance comes from Jeffrey Combs, as Herbert West, the re-animator himself. Combs makes parts of his face and voice flat, while other parts go over-the-top, and he reminds us there are few purer pleasures than watching a well-played mad scientist.
Richard Band's music is such an obvious rip-off of Bernard Hermann's "Psycho" score that from the opening moments we both get a feeling of familiarity and smile along with the filmmakers' crafty sense of humour. The ending is such a deliciously sinister tease, played so well by otherwise straight-laced leading man Bruce Abbott, that as the credits roll we're already hungry for the sequel.
Another great performance comes from Jeffrey Combs, as Herbert West, the re-animator himself. Combs makes parts of his face and voice flat, while other parts go over-the-top, and he reminds us there are few purer pleasures than watching a well-played mad scientist.
Rashomon
(1950)
Starts slow, ends up absorbing and shattering
1 August 2002
The movie's use of conflicting flashbacks has been copied a great deal since 1950, and so it does not amaze us the way it must have viewers of the time. Eventually, however, Kurosawa's powerful images and emotions do engross us: The numb shock of the men recalling the testimonies, the mysterious, bleak self-hatred of the people who confess to the killing, the passionate extremes of behaviour in the flashback sequences. These combine to reach an extreme pitch; the film even manages to pull off the gamble of showing us a speech straight from hell.
The ending is curious. If it were to be taken at face value and we were to simply accept that the priest's faith in human nature had been justly restored, I might find it tacked-on and blindly faithful. But it seems more complex than that -- appropriate for Kurosawa, who throughout his life went through bouts of severe cynicism and depression. If there's positivity to be gotten from it, it's this: Yes, humans are terrible animals, and we do not have an innate sense of principle, but at least we're able to learn from our mistakes, understand the concepts of right and wrong, shame ourselves into doing better.
The ending is curious. If it were to be taken at face value and we were to simply accept that the priest's faith in human nature had been justly restored, I might find it tacked-on and blindly faithful. But it seems more complex than that -- appropriate for Kurosawa, who throughout his life went through bouts of severe cynicism and depression. If there's positivity to be gotten from it, it's this: Yes, humans are terrible animals, and we do not have an innate sense of principle, but at least we're able to learn from our mistakes, understand the concepts of right and wrong, shame ourselves into doing better.
Real Genius
(1985)
High-concept comedy that works
14 July 2002
Kilmer, who can have lively screen presence whenever he decides to, has fun with a wonderful character, a mix of brainiac and party animal. Jarret is sweet and engaging as the young protagonist; he's wide-eyed and likeable. The movie works a whole lot more than you'd expect -- it is sincere and creative, and by the time the climax comes, we're so involved that it plays like a thriller. It's one of those movies like "Weird Science" that's directed with precision and clarity, so that set-pieces that could seem random and stupid (like the indoor snowing and the house that turns into popcorn) end up having us grinning.
Disappointing
30 June 2002
The first ten minutes seem inspired, what with the great theme tune, the odd text preamble and the first few of those scientifically inexplicable and visually ridiculous tomato killings. But this is not a great comedy -- it ends up disjointed, boring and pretty desperate. The film's high-profile reputation is perhaps down to the fact that the tomato imagery is unforgettable and any movie with a title this good cannot help but find a place in history.
What we have here is a series of scenes that play like bad Mel Brooks set-ups. Look at the scenes involving the cramped room in which the army men discuss their plans. Yes, it is mildly amusing to see guys in suits and uniforms have to slide and scramble over a desk to reach a door, but we need more than that. To create a madcap screwball situation, filmmakers need to show a whole bunch of things going on at once, and juggle them with insane logic. There is a lack of energy and continuity; characters are left behind in the middles of scenes, or later run into characters who are supposed to be in different places, or break into song without the filmmaking around them seeming to recognise. Some of this makes us smile, because it's insane. Most of it does not.
The most interesting turn comes when we find out the identity of the villain. He's a guy with access to the President of the United States, and he's been engineering evil plants so that he can use his position of power to eventually step in, use his influence, become a hero and gain more power. The scary thing is that this guy looks just like Dan Quayle. You reckon the "potatoe" thing might not have been an accident, and Quayle was simply trying to cover up his knowledge of fruits and vegetables?
What we have here is a series of scenes that play like bad Mel Brooks set-ups. Look at the scenes involving the cramped room in which the army men discuss their plans. Yes, it is mildly amusing to see guys in suits and uniforms have to slide and scramble over a desk to reach a door, but we need more than that. To create a madcap screwball situation, filmmakers need to show a whole bunch of things going on at once, and juggle them with insane logic. There is a lack of energy and continuity; characters are left behind in the middles of scenes, or later run into characters who are supposed to be in different places, or break into song without the filmmaking around them seeming to recognise. Some of this makes us smile, because it's insane. Most of it does not.
The most interesting turn comes when we find out the identity of the villain. He's a guy with access to the President of the United States, and he's been engineering evil plants so that he can use his position of power to eventually step in, use his influence, become a hero and gain more power. The scary thing is that this guy looks just like Dan Quayle. You reckon the "potatoe" thing might not have been an accident, and Quayle was simply trying to cover up his knowledge of fruits and vegetables?
Sgt. Bilko
(1996)
Surprisingly entertaining
7 May 2001
What's impressive about this movie is that it doesn't try some phony attempt to capture the look or texture of the original Phil Silvers TV show; instead, in the writing of the Bilko character and the wink with which Steve Martin performs, it captures the spirit. There is a certain excitement and satisfaction in watching a con man pull of his schemes with charm and lack of shame -- that was the appeal of the original, and likewise here.
Rude Boy
(1980)
Abysmal
9 April 2001
One of the flattest movies I have ever seen. Mostly a collection of drab, long takes following around a young prick who joins The Clash as a roadie, does a bad job, then wanders around drunk, making tactless, muddled comments about race, the band's politics, and what he wants to do with his life. Dull, disjointed, quiet lines punctuate long silences; even the live performances of The Clash fail to give the movie much energy, due to poor sound design that cuts off absolutely all crowd noise and brings down the volume of the songs, so that most of them end up sounding like drab demo tapes.
The film is mainly a plotless mess. When it does focus on the main character, all we see is a buffoon stuttering out inarticulate and unwelcome comments to roadies and band members who hate him but just try to ignore him. Whatever the character study of this guy hopes to achieve, it has absolutely nothing to do with The Clash, whose music and politics are not examined at all -- they are simply seen as some rock group the 'rude boy' is following around and who get some concert footage in the picture. In the last twenty minutes we also get meaningless cutaways to political party conferences and to a black youth who has not been in the movie before, has no connection to any of the previously seen characters, and who is undergoing criminal charges for something which is never made clear.
Seeing this movie is tempting for Clash fans -- we want to see what the project is about, and we want to see the concert footage -- but it's an irrelevant, static mishmash that gives those in the audience a lot of time to scratch their heads.
The film is mainly a plotless mess. When it does focus on the main character, all we see is a buffoon stuttering out inarticulate and unwelcome comments to roadies and band members who hate him but just try to ignore him. Whatever the character study of this guy hopes to achieve, it has absolutely nothing to do with The Clash, whose music and politics are not examined at all -- they are simply seen as some rock group the 'rude boy' is following around and who get some concert footage in the picture. In the last twenty minutes we also get meaningless cutaways to political party conferences and to a black youth who has not been in the movie before, has no connection to any of the previously seen characters, and who is undergoing criminal charges for something which is never made clear.
Seeing this movie is tempting for Clash fans -- we want to see what the project is about, and we want to see the concert footage -- but it's an irrelevant, static mishmash that gives those in the audience a lot of time to scratch their heads.
Summer of Sam
(1999)
Energetic, involving, affecting
17 January 2000
Energetic and involving Spike Lee movie, which takes place in the summer of 1977, when Lee got his first cinema camera, and when the serial killer dubbed Son of Sam' was terrorising New York City. A nice balance between period recollection and imagination; covers some of the same thematic ground as `Do the Right Thing', but depends on a different style.
The Bone Collector
(1999)
Preposterous and ugly
17 January 2000
A preposterous thriller throughout; the kind of movie where a cop is instructed to cut the hands of a corpse to preserve fingerprints. What really disturbs me about it, though, is the complacency with which it deals with grisly serial killings. Gone are the days when filmmakers expected us to be shocked by `Silence of the Lambs', `Seven' or `Copycat'... their material is now deemed to be fit for any popcorn movie.
Angela's Ashes
(1999)
It is a dull waste of time, talent and toil? 'Tis.
17 January 2000
Flat, dull and pointless adaptation of Frank McCourt's witty Irish memoir. Terrific production values, but forced acting and a muddled script. Alan Parker is one of the best of all working filmmakers; I can't believe this is the film he's been so publicly exerting himself over for the past two years.
Bringing Out the Dead
(1999)
Very atmospheric, very exhausting
9 January 2000
Very good Scorsese picture that has been unfairly compared to "Taxi Driver". The lead character in this one, brilliantly played by Nicolas Cage, is essentially a good man, an ambulance driver fully aware and afraid of his impending mental collapse. The film is exhausting, but a triumphant atmospheric achievement, immersing us in neon light, bumpy movements, jump cuts, dissolves, slow-motion, fast-motion and subjective camera to bring us into the head of a man who has not slept in weeks, and exists on an unhealthy concoction on coffee, whisky and Marlboros.
Sleepy Hollow
(1999)
Beautifully crazy, like all of Burton's good work
9 January 2000
A reworking of a classic Washington Irving short story, "Sleepy Hollow" was expected to be Tim Burton gone subtle, and his prestigious bid for Oscar success. But it is in fact as distinctively crazy as all the rest of Burton's work -- a visually splendid, thoroughly exciting special-effects extravaganza set in 1799 that plays like a cross between Thomas Hardy and "The Evil Dead". Johnny Depp hilariously reinvents the famous literary figure Ichabod Crane; the superb visuals make the action climax stunning, and redeem some of the slow, confusing patches along the way. This film is further proof that the offbeat crannies of Burton's director's mind are worth visiting, and he knows how to take us into them.
Swing
(1999)
Dreadful. Zombie-like, retarded, pointless, aimless and dull.
10 May 1999
If movies could take IQ tests, Nick Mead's "Swing" would get minus-points. Incompetent, overlong and pointless, it's the only film I've seen that thinks a keyboard is a brass instrument. I'm sickened by the knowledge that it was filmed right here, in our great city of Liverpool, and some wonderful 70s furniture was wasted in creating its sets.
Of course, there isn't much reason for the movie to be set in Liverpool, and it isn't even set in the 70s. The latter factor doesn't bother me much, since the bits of dated decor were nice to look at, and the double-decade regression in fashions mirrors the arrested development of the characters. They're morons, plainly and simply, speaking their nonsensical dialogue like forced zombies, except for the odd cliché, like "I want you to have this..." or "You didn't think I'd wait for you forever, did you?"
The film exists in no genre known to man, with not enough jokes to be a comedy, plot to be a drama or romance to be a love story. Its situation involves Martin Luxton (Hugo Speer), who's getting out of jail as the film opens, and being given a saxophone by cellmate Jack (Clarence Clemons). Martin decides to form a swing band, and as he informs the neighbourhood, we meet his circle of family and friends. His mother and father, the ones with the 70s furniture, are unfathomable; his brother Liam, who develops a mean streak in the last act, had an accidental hand in getting Martin locked up; the love of his life, Joan (Lisa Stansfield), has married his odd arresting officer; and a lively neighbourhood kid, Buddy (Scott Williams), has developed the despicable dream of wanting to play for Manchester United.
You'd think Martin would despair around this bunch of losers, like I did, but he keeps his dream alive, sporting a simpleton's smarmy grin and the kind of confidence that nobody as stupid as him should have. In its assortment of cretinous oafs, "Swing" contains an impotent sadist cop, a twitchy British Nationalist, fat Orangemen thugs -- but bewilderingly glosses over them, insisting to exist as silly fluff. I don't know why the filmmakers think sexual inadequacy, racism or any of the other issues beneath their characters' surfaces can be ignored, but they can't, and their inclusion is distracting when not dealt with.
The interesting Clarence Clemons is criminally underused, appearing mostly in odd cutaways, to recite some "how to" formulas. Hugo Speer, overused, doesn't bring the presence to Martin that a lead role requires, and made more of an impression with his less substantial turn in "The Full Monty". Lisa Stansfield, a successful singer early in this decade, carries herself appropriately, but her performance is marred by a sound mixer who hates her, and synchs her speaking voice in a strange manner. Most of the exterior scenes, in fact, see all the actors' voices lip-synched worse than in Z-grade monster movies, although the supporting performance of arrogant comedian Alexei Sayle gives all flaws a run for their money in the ridiculousness department.
There are, inevitably, some nice musical numbers, but "Swing" has virtually nothing else going for it. I'm tempted to give it my lowest rating of half a star, but it gets a whole one, since the feeling it left me with was not one of passionate hatred. I simply didn't care.
Of course, there isn't much reason for the movie to be set in Liverpool, and it isn't even set in the 70s. The latter factor doesn't bother me much, since the bits of dated decor were nice to look at, and the double-decade regression in fashions mirrors the arrested development of the characters. They're morons, plainly and simply, speaking their nonsensical dialogue like forced zombies, except for the odd cliché, like "I want you to have this..." or "You didn't think I'd wait for you forever, did you?"
The film exists in no genre known to man, with not enough jokes to be a comedy, plot to be a drama or romance to be a love story. Its situation involves Martin Luxton (Hugo Speer), who's getting out of jail as the film opens, and being given a saxophone by cellmate Jack (Clarence Clemons). Martin decides to form a swing band, and as he informs the neighbourhood, we meet his circle of family and friends. His mother and father, the ones with the 70s furniture, are unfathomable; his brother Liam, who develops a mean streak in the last act, had an accidental hand in getting Martin locked up; the love of his life, Joan (Lisa Stansfield), has married his odd arresting officer; and a lively neighbourhood kid, Buddy (Scott Williams), has developed the despicable dream of wanting to play for Manchester United.
You'd think Martin would despair around this bunch of losers, like I did, but he keeps his dream alive, sporting a simpleton's smarmy grin and the kind of confidence that nobody as stupid as him should have. In its assortment of cretinous oafs, "Swing" contains an impotent sadist cop, a twitchy British Nationalist, fat Orangemen thugs -- but bewilderingly glosses over them, insisting to exist as silly fluff. I don't know why the filmmakers think sexual inadequacy, racism or any of the other issues beneath their characters' surfaces can be ignored, but they can't, and their inclusion is distracting when not dealt with.
The interesting Clarence Clemons is criminally underused, appearing mostly in odd cutaways, to recite some "how to" formulas. Hugo Speer, overused, doesn't bring the presence to Martin that a lead role requires, and made more of an impression with his less substantial turn in "The Full Monty". Lisa Stansfield, a successful singer early in this decade, carries herself appropriately, but her performance is marred by a sound mixer who hates her, and synchs her speaking voice in a strange manner. Most of the exterior scenes, in fact, see all the actors' voices lip-synched worse than in Z-grade monster movies, although the supporting performance of arrogant comedian Alexei Sayle gives all flaws a run for their money in the ridiculousness department.
There are, inevitably, some nice musical numbers, but "Swing" has virtually nothing else going for it. I'm tempted to give it my lowest rating of half a star, but it gets a whole one, since the feeling it left me with was not one of passionate hatred. I simply didn't care.
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