After an almost imperceptible slight to his honour, gruff Napoleonic soldier Harvey Keitel challenges effete cavalryman Keith Carradine to a duel. The duel is fought, the outcome is inconclusive, and thus begins 16 long years of sporadic but all-consuming bouts between these two barely acquainted foes. An ambitious 1977 Cannes Award-winning debut from Ridley Scott, The Duellists is visually sumptuous, and is nicely underplayed by both Keitel and the endearingly camp Carradine. Yet it's a film defined by the brevity of its source material, a 'short' short story by Joseph Conrad.
Neil Labute adapts an AS Byatt novel and rather blots his edgy image. It follows Gwyneth Paltrow and Aaron Eckhart through Yorkshire and Paris as they uncover the personal secrets of a late-Victorian poet. Labute's emasculated in the company of academics, and the overall tone's uncertain and vague.
One of the worst products of Hollywood's epic era stars a youthful Richard Burton as the bold conqueror, replete with fluffy blond wig. Decently performed by Burton and the likes of Frederic March, Harry Andrews, etc, Alexander The Great is beautifully shot (and nicely cleaned up on this DVD by MGM/UA) but suffers from pacing so leaden that it makes El Cid look like The Terminator. Amazing to think that, five years later, writer/director Robert Rossen would redeem himself by making The Hustler.
As producer, Ridley Scott—clearly in a good mood—leads us on a pointless trawl through the dusty dirt roads of comedy thriller territory as confused country boy Clay (a smouldering Joaquin Phoenix) gets duped into hanging loose with fast-talking rhinestone cowboy Lester Long (Vince Vaughn). Quite where we fit into this generic nonsense is something else altogether.
Anthony Hopkins completes his Hannibal Lecter set with this remake of Michael Mann's Manhunter (1986). It's more faithful to Thomas Harris' novel, but a lot less stylish, and the performances are uniformly worse: Ed Norton is merely adequate as the empathic FBI detective, while Ralph Fiennes is positively wooden as serial killer Francis Dolarhyde, and even Hopkins is below par.
Jules Dassin's 1955 heist flick is the genre's benchmark movie. The silent 28-minute set-piece robbery scene provides the film's highlight, but elsewhere there's much to admire in Jean Servais' hangdog protagonist and Dassin's pre-Nouvelle Vague documentary approach to shooting Parisian nightlife.
Brian Cox and Leonard Rossiter are the TV executives broadcasting Sportsex and Artsex to keep the masses lulled into passivity in Nigel Kneale's 1968 dystopian TV play. It's creaky and dated, with the production values of Dr Who, and not in the least bit erotic—but it's also prophetic (of reality TV) and strangely compelling.
Jonathan Miller's 1966 adaptation of Carroll's fantasy masterpiece has a sitar soundtrack from Ravi Shankar, a dreamlike Victorian atmosphere and a cast to die for (Peter Cook, John Gielgud, Peter Sellers). Totally far out.
