VILLAIN

1971, Michael Tuchner, 94 mins. 

A mother-fixated gangster is involved in a disastrous robbery. 

Although ostensibly a gangster movie, Villain is actually most interesting as a state of the nation film which portrays Britain in the early seventies as a country going rapidly down the drain. Nothing works properly, the system is corrupt, sex is degrading and you can’t even pull off a decent payroll robbery because the unions are going out on strike. Richard Burton is pretty good as Vic Dakin, the villain of the title - clearly based on a combination of Reggie Kray and Cagney in White Heat – and Nigel Davenport is splendid as his nemesis, the only honest copper in the Met. The location filming is fantastic, especially a botched heist on a Bracknell factory, and the cast is packed with familiar faces, ranging from  Donald Sinden to James Cossins. Not quite on a par with Get Carter but close.

DRACULA

1958, Terence Fisher, 82 mins.

An evil vampire directs his attentions to a bourgeois family.

Bringing colour and sex to the vampire movie, Terence Fisher’s Dracula is a riveting horror film directed with immense economy and acted with visceral ferocity by the iconic, although surprisingly rarely used by Hammer, team of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. Jimmy Sangster’s screenplay streamlines Bram Stoker’s novel - for budgetary reasons – but keeps the atmosphere and much of the horror while focusing on the sexual subtext which, according to Christopher Frayling, went largely unnoticed until this screen version. Numerous memorable images – none more so than Lee’s Count appearing in a doorway like a wild animal, fangs dripping with blood – and technical credits which typify the very best of Hammer; Jack Asher’s rich colour photography; James Needs’ pacy editing; Bernard Robinson’s lush production design; and Fisher’s direction which never puts a foot wrong in an incredibly fast-paced eighty two minutes. 

SITTING TARGET

1972, Douglas Hickox, 92 mins.

A convict escapes to get revenge on his unfaithful wife.

Sitting Target is a violent, grim, and compelling thriller which offers a sensational performance from Oliver Reed as an escaped convict obsessed with getting revenge on his cheating wife. Reed was always a powerful actor but here he turns the intensity up to eleven and keeps you compelled even while you’re appalled at his brutality. He’s well supported by Ian McShane as his more cheerful accomplice and there are effective cameo turns from a typically colourful Freddie Jones, Frank Finlay, and Edward Woodward as the copper on the case. The London locations are a delight and there’s one particularly good chase through the sheets and knickers of some tower block washing lines. It’s dated in some respects, particularly a lot of casual misogyny which sees the women uniformally treated like dirt. But it’s constantly riveting with an effective plot twist. 

JEREMIAH JOHNSON

1972, Sydney Pollack, 116 mins.

A mountain man becomes a legendary Indian fighter.

Robert Redford’s iconic presence dominates Sydney Pollack’s Jeremiah Johnson, a mountain-man Western, and adds immeasurably to its success. Johnson is a man of few words and only an actor with Redford’s charisma could carry off this decidedly oblique character.  The narrative, told against the backdrop of epic vistas, proceeds largely through encounters with Indians and various eccentrics, including the great Will Geer as an old-timer. John Milius wrote the screenplay for the film and although it was revised, it still contains numerous Milius touches – notably the nature of myth and the primal need for man to prove himself against nature. The attitude to the Indians is ambiguous and this was apparently deliberate on the part of the filmmakers. Sometimes the film becomes sentimental, particularly in the scenes with the squaw wife, but on the whole it’s compelling, entertaining and memorable.

HITCHCOCK

2012, Sacha Gervasi, 98 mins.

An engaging but fanciful account of a year in the life of the Hitchcocks

Based on Stephen Rebello’s book about the making of Psycho, Sacha Gervasi’s Hitchcock is most successful as a portrait of a marriage between two creative individuals, one of whom is renowned as a genius while the other is, mostly, content to stay in the background. Alma and Alfred Hitchcock were devoted to each other and the film plays around dangerously with fact in suggesting that there might have been rifts in the relationship, particularly as regards the possibility of Alma nearly having an affair because s she feels neglected. But Anthony Hopkins and Helen Mirren are delicious with Hopkins, as in Nixon, capturing Hitch’s essence rather than doing a straight impersonation. The stuff about making Psycho is fun, if not always particularly accurate, and the best scenes involve Hitch’s sly ability to dance nimbly round the studio and the censor..

TRADING PLACES

1983, John Landis, 117 mins.

A film about life-swapping.

John Landis’s comedy is an interesting example of how a film can change personality during its running time. The first two-thirds is an elegantly structured satirical comedy which charts the parallel rise and fall of Eddie Murphy and Dan Aykroyd. Then, during the final forty minutes, it changes into a screwball farce complete with disguises, silly costumes and a gorilla. Most people frown upon this development but I find it thoroughly satisfying, and its firmly in the tradition of the 1930s comedies which obviously served as the model for Timothy Harris and Herschel Weingrod’s script. The two stars are marvellous – this is before Murphy’s self-indulgence got the better of him – and there's great backup from Jamie Lee Curtis, Denholm Elliott, Ralph Bellamy and Don Ameche. One thing though – it’s one of the most badly photographed studio films I’ve ever seen.

MILLER'S CROSSING

1990, Joel and Ethan Coen, 115 mins.

A complex tale of love and betrayal among gangsters.

The peculiar talents of the Coen brothers were in evidence right from the start in Blood Simple but they were refined to perfection in Miller’s Crossing. It’s a period gangster movie which crackles with their characteristic style of dialogue   – slightly over-literary, self-conscious, unfailingly witty – and looks sensational thanks to Barry Sonnenfeld’s autumnal, achingly nostalgic cinematography. The plot twists and turns in a most satisfying manner but what makes this distinctive is that it’s not merely clever, it has a genuine emotional pull captured beautifully by Carter Burwell’s rich orchestral score. Great set-pieces abound but the one you’ll remember involves Albert Finney, a machine gun and a recording of “Danny Boy”. Gabriel Byrne and Marcia Gay Harden are memorable leads but the fun is had by the supporting talents of Finney, Jon Polito, J. E. Freeman and a weaselly John Turturro.