SINGIN' IN THE RAIN

1952, Gene Kelly, Stanley Donen, 103 mins.

The coming of sound in words and music.

Often cited as the greatest of all Hollywood musical comedies, Singin’ in the Rain is particularly notable as a historical reconstruction of the early days of sound cinema and the crisis it brought about in the industry. Many of the funniest set-pieces are based on the various problems of recording sound, the biggest joke of all being that the gorgeous leading lady of the silents, deliciously played by Jean Hagen, has a voice that could strip paint at fifty yards. So the comedy works a treat but what most people remember is the music and dancing, both of which are top-notch. Gene Kelly is at his most creative and least pretentious, particularly in the iconic title number and the Broadway Melody  ballet, and Debbie Reynolds is simply radiant. The sensational Technicolor photography, courtesy of Harold Rossen, is to die for. 

SPIRITS OF THE DEAD (HISTOIRES EXTRAORDINAIRES)

1968, Roger Vadim, Louis Malle, Frederico Fellini, 121 mins.

Three Poe stories by three directors.

Spirits of the Dead was made towards the end of the 1960s vogue for multi-part films from voguish directors. It collects together three Edgar Allen Poe stories with varying degrees of success. Roger Vadim turns Metzergerstein , Poe’s first published story, into a highly amusing riot of Freudian symbolism featuring the leather clad Fonda siblings and a big black stallion. Louis Malle demonstrates a Sadean bent in William Wilson as Alain Delon, plagued by his seemingly omnipresent and omniscient double, subjects Brigitte Bardot to a whipping which is not in the original story. Finally, and most satisfyingly, Fellini offers us Toby Dammit, a funny and deeply disturbing fantasia set in 1960s Rome during which an alcoholic Shakesperean actor, memorably played by Terence Stamp, makes a decidedly unwise wager with the Devil – the patter personified as an unforgettably creepy little girl. 

COUP DE GRACE

1976, Volker Schlondorff, 97 mins.

A story of obsessive love set in the Baltic during 1919.

Few readers will be familiar with this German film but it deserves your attention as a tremendously powerful piece of cinema. Set in 1919 during the fag-end of the Russian Civil War, it portrays a story of obsessive love set against a land in turmoil. Shot in steely monochrome by Igor Luther and designed with impressive authenticity by Jurgen Kiebach, it is distinguished by a combination of radical politics with a strong narrative drive. Margarethe von Trotte is astonishing as Sophie, an aristocrat whose unrequited love for an officer leads inexorably to her own willed destruction as she plays sexual games and, when these fail to satisfy her, becomes a Bolshevik revolutionary.  The script and direction are unerring in their psychological accuracy, and the final scene – a tracking shot which sums-up the tragic themes of the film – is sublime.

The best way to get hold of this is on Criterion’s excellent DVD.

ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE

1969, Peter Hunt, 142 mins.

The first Bond movie without Sean Connery sees Bond battle Blofeld in Switzerland.

My favourite Bond movie and one of the best films of the Sixties. It’s got just about everything; wit, charm, astonishingly visceral action, a pounding John Barry score, gorgeous location photography, and classic villains in the shape of Ilse Steppat’s Irma Bunt and Telly Savalas’s definitive Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Admittedly, it’s also got George Lazenby but, personally, I like him – he does very well in the action scenes and has genuine presence, while his engagement with proceedings is a vast improvement on Sean Connery’s efforts in his later Bond movies. He has a lot to carry too – a more emotional storyline than usual which allows the role of the Bond girl, in the shape of Diana Rigg, to be fully developed; and an ending which hits you like a hard blow to the gut even when you know it’s coming.  

A QUEEN IS CROWNED

1953, 82 mins.

A record of the events of 2nd June 1953.

A documentary record of the coronation, A Queen is Crowned is of obvious historical interest. It begins with a brief examination of the extent of the Queen’s realm and the lead-up to the event itself, then concentrates on the parades and the key events of the service, minus the anointing which the filmmakers were denied permission to film. It’s accompanied by a portentous narration from Sir Laurence Olivier, written by Christopher Fry and hard to take seriously in its deferential solemnity. However, what makes the film extraordinary and worth watching - and rewatching - is the absolutely stunning use of Technicolor.  As a study in richly saturated colours it’s almost abstract, becoming an ecstatic reverie bathed in gold, red and green. The immediacy of the images really does give you an idea of what it was like to be there.

Network's Blu-Ray of this film is astonishingly beautiful and highly recommended.

THE ULTIMATE WARRIOR

1975, Robert Clouse, 95 mins.

Post-apocalyptic SF-action movie.

Another dystopian Science-Fiction movie from the 1970s, this rarely seen film is interesting despite its obvious cheapness and almost complete lack of plot development. It reflects contemporary concerns, depicting an America which has fallen apart following an oil crisis, and like many other films of its ilk, pits two groups against each other; one is led by intellectual and reflective Max Von Sydow while the other is headed by tough-guy William Smith. The eponymous hero is Yul Brynner and his iconic presence is used rather well by a scenario which requires him to be strong and silent. What’s fascinating is the film’s incredible cynicism – virtually everybody except for Brynner and pregnant heroine Joanna Miles is shown to be greedy, self-serving and governed by their basest instincts – unfortunately, this means that it’s very hard to care what ultimately happens to them.

BRASS TARGET

1978, John Hough, 110 mins.

The theft of Nazi gold is linked to an attempt to assassinate General Patton.

I’ve long had a soft spot for this daft and absurdly complicated conspiracy thriller. It’s a mad fantasy involving the post-war theft of Reichstag gold and the death of General Patton which gets by on sheer nerve. There’s a starry cast although the plaudits go to Patrick McGoohan, camping it up and having fun with an extraordinary accent, and Max Von Sydow, who adds much-needed gravitas to the whole affair. The plot is idiotic and virtually impossible to follow, but there are numerous diversions along the way including nice cinematography and a pounding score by Lawrence Rosenthal. The biggest problems are the two leads; John Cassavetes looks bored out of his mind and is even more disengaged than he was in The Fury, while a perfectly coiffured Sophia Loren must be among the most unlikely war refugees in film history. 

THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE

1973, Peter Yates, 102 mins.

A small-time crook gets in over his head.

Robert Mitchum could be a terrible, lazy actor when his mind wasn't on the job. But here, as small-time crook Eddie Coyle who is destroyed by his basic decency, he demonstrates just how good he could be at his best; subtle, mesmerising and able to break your heart. It’s a bleak, sad story but leavened with rich characterisations and plenty of salty humour, delivered to perfection by a cast of familiar faces including Peter Boyle, Richard Jordan, Steven Keats and Alex Rocco. The direction by Peter Yates is an outstanding example of how to make the most of a good script and a capable cast and the result is his best film; he trusts the audience to listen and be patient. Victor J. Kemper’s cinematography has that characteristic 1970s grittiness and Dave Grusin’s jazzy score keeps you in the mood. 

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (1925)

1925, Rupert Julian, 78 mins.

A mysterious figure stalks the Paris Opera House.

Although the film itself has a number of serious flaws, all can be forgiven for the iconic performance of Lon Chaney in the title role; one of the greatest pieces of silent film acting. Like all great tragic monsters – and Erik the phantom is an assuredly tragic figure despite his dreadful behaviour – Chaney’s creature conquers his grotesque ugliness, itself a triumph of make-up, through immense nobility and pathos.  He effortlessly dominates the film, which isn't hard to do since the supporting actors are a poor bunch and Norman Kerry’s young romantic lead Raoul is insipid. But the visual spectacle remains awe-inspiring, especially the opera house set, and the pace and drive of the narrative keep it remarkably watchable considering its age. The set-pieces are wonderful, especially the 2-strip Technicolor masked ball sequence and the legendary unmasking scene at the organ. 

NB: There are numerous versions of this film around. My favourite of them all is the 78 minute version available from Park Circus on Blu-Ray which has been stunningly restored. 

THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT

1979, Jeff Stein, 111 mins.

A celebration of fiteen years of The 'Orrible Who

Sheer pleasure from start to finish, this is a collection of songs and interviews from the first fifteen years of The Who. It was originally intended to commemorate fifteen years together but when Keith Moon died during production, it became a tribute to the greatest drummer in rock history. He’s on wonderful form here, whether going mad during “Baba O’Reilly” or taking his clothes off on the Russell Harty show. The insight comes largely from the reliably eloquent Pete Townshend seen in conversation with Melvyn Bragg and a young Jeremy Paxman. But the songs are the thing and they’re quite wonderful. Pride of place goes to the almighty diptych from “Who’s Next” – “Baba O’Reilly” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” but we’re also treated to clips from Woodstock and superb versions of “A Quick One While He’s Away”, and “Magic Bus”. 

REDACTED

2007, Brian De Palma, 90 mins.

Two American soldiers in Iraq engage in rape and murder.

Brian De Palma returns to his political and experimental roots with considerable success in this re-run of "Casualties of War" set in Iraq, although the political message is blunter than in his early work. The mixture of styles is often impressive, although the skill of the filmmaker detracts from the supposed amateur nature of the footage and the inexperienced acting is a stumbling block. Yet there’s an intensity to the film which is largely created by Bill Pankow’s superb editing, and a cumulative sense of tragic inevitability which is hard to forget. The reprisal scenes – notably a staged execution – are particularly disturbing, as is the ambivalent ending. But what impresses most is De Palma’s passionate anti-war stance which caused so much trouble in the media when the film was first released, shortly before it was buried at the box office. 

FRACTURE

2007, Gregory Hoblit, 113 mins.

A brilliant engineer kills his wife and seemingly gets away with it.

Gregory Hoblit is one of those filmmakers who is perfectly competent but relies almost entirely on a decent script if he is to do anything above average. His debut Primal Fear is still the best thing he’s done. Fracture is a rather too clever-clever thriller which comes on like a courtroom drama but gets the trial stuff out of the way quickly and concentrates on a not terribly fascinating battle of wits between Ryan Gosling and Anthony Hopkins. The latter seems to be enjoying himself in a role which is reminiscent of Charles Laughton in The Big Clock but Gosling is rather bland and the excellent supporting cast – Fiona Shaw, Cliff Curtis - has little to do. It's entirely typical of the film that in lieu of an exciting climax, it winds up with a perfunctory bit of legal manoeuvring. 

OCTOPUSSY

1983, John Glen, 131 mins.

Bond in India and East Berlin and, er, Sotheby's.

Despite misgivings, this is one of my favourite Bond movies. The stereotypical portrayal of India jars – although it helps if you see it as part of the “Boy’s Own” tradition of Gunga Din – and some of the "adolescent antics" disapprovingly mentioned by Q are embarrassing in the context of Roger Moore’s obvious age. But on the whole it's a brisk, funny, and exciting film, which looks a treat and offers two delicious bad guys - Louis Jourdan's exquisitely wry Kemal Khan and General Orlov, played by a madly overacting Steven Berkoff. The technical credits are, as you’d expect, top-notch. There’s a fine John Barry score and a nice cameo from the extraordinary eyebrows of Douglas Wilmer. Dreary Maud Adams in the title role drags the film down, but thankfully doesn't have too much to do, and the ending is strangely anti-climactic.