Fascinating, propulsive, inside-out account of southern Santa Monica's badboy "Dogtown" skateboarders, their explosive mid-'70s emergence at the Del Mar Nationals, and their ultimate domination and artistic definition of their sport. Director Stacy Peralta and writer Craig Stecyk, both former skateboarders, provide access and insights, Sean Penn provides narration.
French study of a true-life serial killer who habitually robbed, kidnapped and killed in the south of France during the 1980s. Stefano Cassetti brilliantly captures the unhinged Succo, and there's a steely intelligence throughout, but Cédric Kahn's overly detached approach drains Succo's demonic acts of real terror or impact. That aside, definitely worth investigating.
The celebrated 1960 black comedy/horror that inspired the hit Broadway musical. Dim-witted flower shop assistant Seymour (Jonathan Haze) develops an intelligent plant who demands and receives human flesh for sustenance. Directed by Roger Corman in just two days, it's enjoyably trashy with a notable Jack Nicholson cameo.
If not, as it's perennially voted, one of the 10 greatest films ever made, 1952's Singin' In The Rain is at the very least the sharpest Hollywood musical bar none. Fifty years on, it's still as gooey a plot as they come but with a lethal dose of feel-good factor as sumptuous as its kaleidoscopic colours and Gene Kelly's ingenious choreography, who's complaining?
More convincingly medieval than his breakthrough film The Seventh Seal, The Virgin Spring is a dark ballad of revenge balanced between Christianity and paganism. Max von Sydow's daughter is raped and murdered; he kills the culprits. On the surface a simple tale, but laden with intricate themes of guilt.
John Carpenter's 1998 Vampires was a triumph of gonzo monster-mashing with James Woods in full kick-ass mode. The sequel replaces Woods with Jon Bon Jovi, which may explain why Carpenter describes his exec-producer role as "me picking up a cheque". Nevertheless, we get a stake in the mouth, a chest slash, a tongue biting, various beheadings, a punched-off head and two heads bashed together.
Clive Donner's 1963 version of Harold Pinter's debut is a faithful, relatively unaltered record of a trio of stunning stage performances from Alan Bates, Robert Shaw and particularly Donald Pleasence (as the splenetic tramp who takes advantage of the mentally crippled Shaw). Four decades on, you can see Mamet's starting point in the furious inarticulateness of Pinter's characters, each trapped in an unobtainable dream.
After a biological warfare research lab goes tits up when a virus gets loose, plucky security guard Milla Jovovich has to fight off hordes of the living dead in this fast-paced adaptation of the video game. No faulting the SFX or the action, but all the dialogue here is irritatingly clunky exposition, and the plot lies somewhere between predictable and brain-dead.
Keanu Reeves stars in this dismally formulaic affair as an inveterate gambler given one last shot at personal redemption when he's asked to coach a baseball team made up of apathetic no-hoper inner-city hard nuts. Based on a true story.
