Downsizing

2017, US, directed by Alexander Payne

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

2017, US, directed by James Gunn

Churchill

2017, UK, directed by Jonathan Teplitzky

Going in Style

2017, US, directed by Zach Braff

So instantly forgettable it took me several weeks to remember that I had seen it.

Patti Cake$

2017, US, directed by Geremy Jasper

Logan Lucky

2017, US, directed by Steven Soderbergh

Certainly fun, and exceptionally well constructed, but you feel that Soderbergh could do a great deal more than revisit the one-big-heist territory that he seems to be so enamored with.

Hidden Figures

2016, US, directed by Theodore Melfi

Highly entertaining, and doing honour to the women whose achievements went unsung for too long, it's also a film that's quite interesting in terms of how it approaches the thematic material of race and gender, remaining serious yet allowing its characters an ebullience that is genuinely uplifting (the opening sequence, which ends with a terrific gag, is a fine example of this writ small).

Bringing Up Baby

1938, US, directed by Howard Hawks

There's little for me to add with respect to Hawks' wonderful film, which pairs Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn at their peak, except to note that I watched it on this occasion with a six-year-old and a four-year-old who remained rapt throughout, interrupting the film only to ask for occasional clarity regarding the identity of the titular leopard. The opening is so rapid-fire that I worried they would struggle to figure things out but my concerns were entirely misplaced, and they stayed with it through the final scene, aghast and delighted at the destruction on display.

The Man Who Knew Infinity

2015, UK, directed by Matthew Brown

Tasteful, visually attractive, and unfortunately deeply conventional in the British prestige picture tradition; both Dev Patel and Jeremy Irons are more than solid, but there's barely an unexpected note in the entire film.

The Trip to Italy

2014, UK, directed by Michael Winterbottom

Unsurprisingly, just as enjoyable as its successor.

The Trip to Spain

2017, UK, directed by Michael Winterbottom

I see a lot of bad films on planes, and every now and then there's a real surprise; The Trip to Spain, the third in an unlikely franchise, is charming and often hilariously funny, without ever excusing the characters' sometimes boorish behavior (the interplay of the two egos is at the heart of the picture: these men always need an audience, and in a pinch they'll accept an audience of one).

Retour de manivelle

1957, France, directed by Denys de La Patellière

One of those noirs where you find yourself wanting to advise the protagonists that their scheme may not go entirely to plan, though this in no way detracts from the pleasures of this bitter, often quite claustrophobic picture, scripted by Michel Audiard. Daniel Gélin is the patsy, who makes the rather critical mistake of trusting an icy Michèle Morgan; Bernard Blier has a relatively small, but enjoyably cynical, role as the policeman assigned to investigate the whole mess.

En cas de malheur

1958, France, directed by Claude Autant-Lara

Based on a novel by Simenon and scripted by the legendary Jean Aurenche and Pierre Bost, though it's hardly a career highlight either in behind or in front of the camera (Jean Gabin and Brigitte Bardot, both of whom are barely stretched by their roles, are the focus on the latter side). The film comes across as something like a 1950s French version of The Woman in the Window or The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry, without the restrictions of the American Production Code, though the sourness of the end does suggest a more interesting film could have been crafted by a director less self-consciously provocative than Autant-Lara.

L'Armoire volante

1948, France, directed by Carlo Rim

After enjoying La Maison Bonnadieu, I went in search of more by Carlo Rim. This feels very much like a Gallic Ealing picture, or at least Ealing on its more macabre days (there are, though, some very non-Ealing touches, such as the setting in a hotel which does a roaring trade in the short-staying customer). Fernandel, in unusually toned-down mode, features as a civil servant who is due an inheritance on the death of his aunt but needs her body in order to make his claim, and said corpse is notable mainly for its absence. There's a quite brilliant sequence in which the legal eagles outline the difference between a mere death -- of little consequence -- and a good, clean, legally-approved death with all its attendant paperwork.

Le Septième juré

1962, France, directed by Georges Lautner

Yet another Bernard Blier film. Like the previous picture, it pairs him with Danièle Delorme, though the film could hardly be more different. It's also a very out-of-type role for Blier, but one of his strongest performances, and the sense of existential disarray is profound -- it reminded me at times of Chabrol's Que la bête meure, perhaps for that sense of bourgeois claustrophobia that is such a strong feature of the later film. It's far stronger stuff, too, than the average Georges Lautner picture and hard not to speculate that the presence of Blier fils as an assistant director had a positive impact on the picture, which is of considerable interest on the visual level, too. 

Sans laisser d'adresse

1951, France, directed by Jean-Paul Le Chanois

Another entry in the Bernard Blier filmography, the actor playing a cabbie who ends up getting more than he bargained for when he picks up a young woman at the Gare de Lyon. Directed by Jean-Paul Le Chanois, very much a middlebrow fellow, though the use of extensive location shooting here lends a surprising pre-nouvelle vague sensibility to Paris's streets (Pierre Granier-Deferre was one of the assistant directors, though I didn't detect too many signs of his more astringent presence). There's a quite wonderful verbal joust between Blier and Danièle Delorme, with Julien Carette, no slouch with a good line himself, watching on with a wry smile, and there's also a brief, early appearance from Louis de Funès, testing out his grimaces and his hand gestures (the latter are always much more amusing to me than the former). 

La Maison Bonnadieu

1951, France, directed by Carlo Rim

An enjoyable satire of bourgeois mores, with Bernard Blier as the head of the aforementioned house, dealing with his wife's infidelity. The comic aspects are generally to the fore, though as James Travers notes the (very fine) photography seems to owe more to dramatic, even noir, territory at times -- and several sequences, including those snapshotted here, are very nicely staged from the visual perspective. The direction is by the unfamiliar-to-me Carlo Rim, though on the strength of this film he bears further attention. 

Blier is, predictably, excellent, though Yves Deniaud steals several scenes as his right-hand man, while Berthe Bovy makes a delightful appearance as that rarest of plot devices, the grande-mère ex machina. It's also very interesting for its period in that the film places women squarely as the center of domestic power, without also implying that they are to be feared; Danielle Darrieux sparkles much as one would imagine, with both her wit and her beauty. 

Non coupable

1947, France, directed by Henri Decoin

A deeply cynical postwar film -- a category in which there is much Gallic competition -- about getting away with murder, with Michel Simon, playing a doctor, in especially fine form (as was the case with his very different part in the same year's Panique). While not directly about the recently-concluded war and its aftermath, it's hard not to draw inferences about the impact of those events on the French psyche, while Decoin also infuses a hearty dose of Simenon-esque commentary on the bourgeoisie, most obviously in the evening routine of the (male) notables in the local bar. Decoin's work behind the camera provides further evidence that he's a worthwhile addition to the postwar canon. 

Le Camion

1977, France, directed by Marguerite Duras

Duras, Depardieu, a truck. That's about it and yet this is an utterly compelling piece of work -- the visual juxtaposition of small, older woman and hulking young man is of course amusing and eye-catching, but so too is their studied verbal pas-de-deux, and the camerawork, especially in the interior scenes, has a lovely warm, limpid quality. Duras comes across as a fierce intellect, in addition to her unmistakable voice. 

Les Grandes familles

1958, France, directed by Denys de la Patellière

One of Gabin's more patrician roles -- as formal, in many ways, as his turn in Le Président some years later --  with the actor playing a tough-nosed paterfamilias/CEO, whose rigidity has troubling consequences for those around him (though Gabin  didn't always play lovable parts, this character is unusually uncompromising). It takes the film a few minutes to find its feet: the initial tone confused me greatly, as it implied a rather more comic film than was to follow. Bernard Blier also has a fine role as Gabin's factotum. 

Education de prince

1938, France, directed by Alexandre Esway

I've no prior familiarity with the work of Alexandre Esway, though he worked with many of the greats of French cinema -- including, here, Henri-Georges Clouzot as a writer, though there's little sign of Clouzot's later directorial preoccupations. The film was mostly of interest as one of the last lingering entries in Louis Jouvet's filmography. It's a slice of Ruritania very much of its period, and by the standards of his pre-war work, Jouvet has a larger role than was the norm, playing a kind of fixer avant la lettre, charged here with the eponymous education of a prince who is to take over the throne in his invented homeland. The film probably deserves to be slightly less obscure, for Jouvet is very enjoyable -- the role is hardly a stretch, but it's well-suited to his persona, and there are several nicely-turned lines to savour. 

X-Men: Days of Future Past

2014, US, directed by Bryan Singer

Baby Driver

2017, UK/US, directed by Edgar Wright

Dunkirk

2017, UK/US, directed by Christopher Nolan

Effective and affecting. Nolan's structural approach lends the film and its events a genuine power, with the use of a series of parallel storylines -- albeit not parallel in terms of their timelines -- creating a deepening resonance as the film progresses. It's obviously an extraordinary male film, as would have been likely when focusing on a single military event in the 1940s, and of course is very much concerned with its place in the mythologization of the British wartime experience, too. As a spectacle, I found it to be deeply moving -- huge in scale, with the resources very much up on the screen, but also respectful and sober. 

Merrily We Go To Hell

1932, US, directed by Dorothy Arzner

Arzner was one of the very few women directors of the studio era, a true pioneer (though female directors still remain far too rare in the modern Hollywood era), and while this is in many was a fairly typical studio-produced pre-Code film, with lashings of alcohol and adultery, I had the strong sense that the picture was more concerned with the "home front" and the consequences of bad (male) behaviour than was the norm for the period, which adds an interesting layer to the generic elements. Also, Fredric March and Sylvia Sidney are in very fine form, and their opening encounter is a peach; screwball before it had acquired the name.

Cast a Dark Shadow

1955, UK, directed by Lewis Gilbert

A chilling little British film, starring Bogarde at his most repellently appealing, paired primarily with Margaret Lockwood in a genuinely creepy near-chamber piece. The tone is carefully maintained throughout, though it's box-office failure surely stems from it being just a touch too close to the bone, without the redeeming facet of (obvious) humour, for most audiences.

National Velvet

1944, US, directed by Clarence Brown

L'Affaire SK1

2014, France, directed by Frédéric Tellier

Frédéric Tellier's first feature, a well-paced, fact-based procedural that some reviewers characterized as a Gallic Zodiac; however, while there are certain tonal similarities the narration, which proceeds along two tracks, is very different, and we're well aware of the identity of the killer. Indeed, the more apt comparison in some ways is with Bertrand Tavernier's very fine 1992 film L.627, or the multi-year TV series Engrenages, at least in terms of the depiction of the inner workings of a French police unit -- there's even a poster for the earlier film on the wall in the station at one point, as if to underline the connection (or signal the film's aspirations). 

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three

1974, US, directed by Joseph Sargent

Le Pull-over rouge

1978, France, directed by Michel Drach

The Dressmaker

2015, Australia, directed by Jocelyn Moorhouse

A Summer at Grandpa's

1984, Taiwan, directed by Hou Hsiao-Hsien

The mid-1980s produced some very fine coming-of-age films from very varied locations -- Bille August's Zappa and Twist and Shout, Lasse Hallström's My Life as a Dog, or Hou's delicate film, based in part on his screenwriter's memories of a summer spent away from home. As with My Life as a Dog, there's a parental illness in the background, casting an immediate shadow over events, though for the most part the carefree overrides the storm clouds, with the children testing the boundaries of their independence while gathering an understanding of the somewhat different boundaries that apply to adults. Like all of Hou's films, the pace is quite leisurely, with the director allowing scenes to expand in ways that permit the viewer to spend a good deal of time contemplating scenery, sound, and the often picturesque details of small-town life in which the kids make their own schedules. Absolutely absorbing throughout, with Hou drawing lovely performances from the younger cast members.

Deadpool

2016, US, directed by Tim Miller

D.O.A.

1950, US, directed by Rudolph Maté

A noir with an intriguing narrative strategy, beginning, indelibly, with the protagonist reporting his own murder to the police, before the film switches to flashback mode to fill in the gaps in our understanding. These prove to be many and varied in this rather byzantine plot centered on an incriminating document related to the sale of a quantity of iridium, with our protagonist, Edmond O'Brien, simultaneously trying to unravel his own murder while doing what he can to manage his medical situation. O'Brien plays the role with a suitable sense of urgency, although director Rudolph Maté sometimes undercuts the gathering tension by intercutting conversations with O'Brien's secretary and love interest that don't seem to materially advance the plotline to any great degree. Still, a fine, mostly brisk noir suffused with the sense of paranoia that we've come to associate with the time period/genre.

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

2003, US, directed by Donald Petrie

Moana

2016, US, directed by Ron Clements and John Musker

Pete's Dragon

2016, US, directed by David Lowery

Moonlight

2016, US, directed by Barry Jenkins

La La Land

2016, US, directed by Damien Chazelle

The Young Offenders

2016, Ireland, directed by Peter Foott

A very funny first feature from Peter Foott that captures some of the same blend of comedy/affection of the British TV show/films The Inbetweeners infused with a very mild dose of the pathos of Adam and Paul, the film focuses on a pair of ne'er-do-wells who concoct an outlandishly naive get-rich-quick scheme. It's essentially a road movie, on bikes around West Cork rather than in cars across the American West, and while the script is often extremely amusing, it's the chemistry between the leads that really elevates the material; it's no surprise to discover that the film has spawned a TV series in an attempt to re-capture the magic.

The Accountant

2016, US, directed by Gavin O'Connor

Eyes in the Night

1942, US, directed by Fred Zinnemann

An early Zinnemann, featuring a blind detective and his duo of assistants -- one canine, one wisecracking 1940s character actor -- solving a very of-its-time wartime murder caper with a dash of Nazi spy intrigue. Despite the unusual detective trio, there's little memorable on offer here -- this looks and feels like a straightforward programmer.

Inferno

2016, US, directed by Ron Howard

Seen on an airplane journey, and awful on every level.

Tumultes

1932, France/Germany, directed by Robert Siodmak

The French-language version of Siodmak's Stürme der Leidenschaft, starring Charles Boyer rather than Emil Jannings. This is very early Siodmak, though it has some of the darkness and melancholy of the American films that brought him to greatest prominence in the 1940s, and it shows that he was already an assured hand with narrative. Visually, it's not overly distinctive, though several brief passages in the final third are more obviously Siodmakian. 

Jigsaw

1962, UK, directed by Val Guest

This is a contribution to the 2017 vintage of the Late Films Blogathon, hosted, as ever, by David Cairns at his wondrous blog Shadowplay. 

It's perhaps a bit cruel to suggest that Jigsaw belongs in Late Films company given that Val Guest was only halfway through his lengthy and eventful life when he filmed the picture, but his career often teetered on the edge and took an undeniable nosedive shortly afterward, so we'll say that this marked the beginning of the end, and a very long final phase it was. There's not much to redeem you once you're stuck helming Confessions of a Window Cleaner, though. 

Jigsaw is much more solid stuff, and like Guest's Hell is a City, made two years earlier, makes for a revealing glimpse into provincial Britain of the early 1960s; the films function as a fascinating north/south Manchester/Brighton diptych, with some compelling moments of local colour, perhaps especially in the earlier film. Structurally, Jigsaw is a fairly straightforward procedural, with Jack Warner playing the lead detective, and like many a later TV show the focus is resolutely on the professional rather than the personal lives of the cops -- there are brief mentions of offscreen lives, another contrast to Hell is a City, in which Stanley Baker's home life plays a critical role (interestingly, both films give prominent thanks to the local police forces, though the Mancunian force hardly benefits from Baker's portrayal). 

Warner is already well advanced in years here, well over the usual retirement age for the average copper -- not that it stopped him playing the lead in Dixon of Dock Green until 1976, a most remarkable feat given that the character was shot dead on his first appearance in 1950. The gravitas of age works rather well here -- unlike a younger detective, Warner has no need to get himself all hot and bothered over each and every lead, proceeding instead methodically through his inquiries, with Guest playing up shoe leather much more than forensics. He orchestrates a clear, compelling march through the exploration and elimination of leads, married to an intriguing depiction of the back-streets of Brighton and surrounds. We're not quite on the seamy side of the tracks, and yet the setting is always something just a little short of respectability, too -- as though the town's true colours come out in the off-season. 

The film also plays with the permissible when it comes to sex and violence in a way that feels of a slightly later era -- though Guest is careful to avoid anything truly gruesome, preferring to have our imaginations add the most ghoulish touches, and the point-of-view shots lack the truly terrorizing quality of, say, Peeping Tom. As David himself has written elsewhere, such modest pushing of the envelope was characteristic of Guest's work at the time, though there's no hint of the lurid on this occasion -- there's a dour, even sour, quality to the depiction of the sordid crime that has at least as much in common with the more domestic dramas of the era as it does with Guest's lively work for Hammer.

While Warner remained highly visible on television for another fifteen years, this was close to his swansong on the big screen, and I must confess that I've always found his bluffly English stolidity rather appealing -- there's not even the hint of a surprise in his depiction and yet it's low-key and effective, grounding the film in a sense of the real that complements the location shooting. The support is generally good, too -- Michael Goodliffe is very well-cast slightly lower down the class spectrum than we usually see him, which of course immediately makes him rather louche, as though he's done something vaguely disreputable and can't get better work than as a hoover salesman; the same might be said of the character played by John Barron, an actor who usually had a more military bearing, often as something of a martinet. There's also a glimpse of Ray Barrett, a key presence in many films of the Australian cinema revival of the 1970s and 1980s, although unlike Goodliffe and Barron he's entirely straight-laced here, in contrast to his most memorable roles back home.  As is sadly too often the case in films where women serve as victim, there are far less notable roles for female actors, though Guest does assign a key smaller part to his wife, Yolande Donlan, who turns the part into something far more memorable than the script probably deserves. 

The poster above seems to have little in common with the actual film -- I'd say the producers were disappointed that Guest delivered such a solid piece of work, not well-suited to the exploitation advertising that the poster suggests. For better or worse, Guest would give them what they wanted with most of the rest of his oeuvre...

Logan

2017, US, directed by James Mangold

It Always Rains On Sunday

1947, UK, directed by Robert Hamer

An atypically downbeat Ealing film, set over the course of the titular day with some brief flashbacks, and centered on a manhunt/criminal back on his home turf. The picture of British domesticity is very carefully and precisely undercut, with the crowded London streets seen to harbor a good deal more than they seem, while the East End’s market-sellers and Jewish businessmen (both legitimate and somewhat less legitimate) get an extended onscreen airing. Unlike in Hell is a City, which I watched immediately before this, there is a certain air of doomed romance, and while some commentators link that atmosphere to pre-war French films, I thought it equated at least as closely with some of the cynicism and sourness of immediate post-war French film.  

Hell is a City

1960, UK, directed by Val Guest

An excellent, unusual British crime film set in Manchester and centered on a manhunt/man-to-man battle of wits between a criminal back on his home turf and an experienced, hard-bitten detective (Stanley Baker), marred only by a score that is rather intrusive at times. There’s nothing romantic about the criminals here, and indeed there’s a brutality in the depiction of the central crime and its aftermath that I don’t usually associate with the time period. In addition to a wonderful gallery of mostly northern character actors, there are some very fine bits of location business: pubs, backstreets, and moors and, in one extended sequence, wasteland used for a game of coin-tossing of the kind we see some years later in Wake in Fright – oddly enough another film featuring Donald Pleasance. The picture was made with the cooperation of the Manchester police, notable mainly because Baker’s character is less than entirely positive, particularly with respect to his home life. 

Grand Central Murder

1942, US, directed by S. Sylvan Simon

A very efficient programmer that functions in some ways like an extended Agatha Christie unmasking: after some brisk early business, all of the suspects and several cops are gathered together to unravel a knotty mystery, with the lead detective in competition/collaboration with a wiseguy private dick/possible suspect (Van Heflin). There’s a breezy blend of tones -- murder, family dynamics, running jokes, banter -- that works very well, and the budget stretches to a good deal of location shooting that makes for an atmospheric and unusual backdrop. The camera movement is also quite creative in the cramped room where most of the action takes place, the camera roaming from one person to another as conversations evolve.