Following a frenetic opening, Joe Carnahan's Detroit cop movie settles into an edgy two-hander as Jason Patric's alienated undercover man returns to the streets to investigate a cop killing with the dead officer's explosive partner, Ray Liotta. It skirts cliché, but it's powered by a redemptive, almost overwhelmingly emotional current; and it's a joy finally to see Liotta in a role worthy of his talents.
A career highpoint for director Michael Caton-Jones, This Boy's Life also provides one of Robert De Niro's most memorably mannered performances as the parochial bullying stepdad to Leonardo DiCaprio's teen protagonist. With his seething Fargo accent and petty pronouncements ("I know a thing or two about a thing or two!"), he's always fascinating, even when the movie isn't.
Lengthy adaptation of Alice Walker's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about poor black folk in Georgia during the first half of the 20th century was Spielberg's first 'serious' film. The territory is admittedly dark (incest, domestic violence) and, despite its faults, it succeeds thanks to visual skill and a sterling cast led by Whoopi Goldberg.
Time has been kind to Less Than Zero. This kitschy exposé of teenage dysfunction in Beverly Hills, now freed from the weight of Bret Easton Ellis, has much in it to admire, from the fluorescent art direction and uber-'80s soundtrack to Andrew McCarthy's glassy-eyed performance and Robert Downey Jr's eerily prescient depiction of a rehab recidivist.
Hal Ashby's unsatisfactory Woody Guthrie biopic from 1976 uses a shovelful of sentiment to flatten out most of the bumps in Guthrie's life, but David Carradine contributes a glorious, low-key performance as the visionary legend who travelled his country throughout the Great Depression, singing for the beat-down folk and fighting off the Fascists. The real star, though, is Haskell Wexler's radiant dustbowl cinematography.
Johnny Knoxville and his cohorts torture, humiliate and occasionally shave themselves and others in this big-screen outing for the cult TV show. Much of their wanton destruction and reckless self-endangerment you can take or leave, but the bowling ball in the bollocks induces a major wince, as does the bungee wedgie and the between-toe paper-cutting.
Brendan Fraser is an American aid worker in Vietnam who just might be masterminding a US-backed anticommunist coup while seducing Phuong (Do Thi Hai Yen), the classically demure oriental lover of cynical British hack Thomas Fowler (Michael Caine). An intriguing, morally muddy adaptation of Graham Greene via director Philip Noyce.
Two cops are shot at; the survivor (John Savage) is ostracised by his colleagues for alleged cowardice, which takes him years to live down. Joseph Wambaugh's novel was faithfully treated by Harold Becker in this 1979 curate's egg, but brilliant as Savage is, it's an up-and-coming, intense actor named James Woods who lights the bonfire.
