Low-key Argentinian road movie of sorts from director Carlos Sorin. A lost dog provides the impetus for an old man to amble off on a slow journey: he's not really looking for doggie, he's hunting meaning and a decent way to die. New friends shuffle about and there's much sentiment which would be panned if this was a Hollywood flick.
Beware: this re-release of Ivan Passer's neglected 1971 movie comes billed as "starring" Robert De Niro. In fact, Two Oscars Bob, then unknown, has little more than a bit part, as a cop hassling real star George Segal, in one of his best performances as a bottom-rung junkie stealing through a wintry New York to feed his habit. Czech Passers' first US movie combines black comedy with bleakness and a nicely shabby feel which, though not entirely successful, points toward his best film, Cutter's Way.
Hideo Nakata, Japan's master of suspense and unease, knocks one out of the park again with this follow-up to his Ring cycle. A neurotic single mother discovers a ghostly rising damp problem in the apartment block she moves in to with her little girl. Gradually, her sanity begins to ebb away. A squelchy study in female hysteria and maternal anxiety, yes, but also a good, old-fashioned spook flick.
Greenaway has more than once been known to disappear up his own aesthetics, but this collection of his short films plays to his strengths, tolerating little tedium. Disc One includes six films exploring his constant themes, from A Walk Through H (numbers, maps, the afterlife) to Windows (37 people fall through windows to their deaths). Disc Two features the obsessive Vertical Features Remake and The Falls (92 mini-biogs), and is—if you're in the mood—monumental like video art pioneer Bill Viola.
Misconceived pairing of Adam Sandler and Jack Nicholson, but still curiously enjoyable and often funny. Sandler underplays (though not to the extent he did in Punch-Drunk Love) as a geek wrongly diagnosed with rage problems; Jack's the quack assigned to set him straight. Comic twist being: Jack's borderline deranged. While some scenes misfire, there's usually a weird (intentional or not) tension between the two, each straining to pull off this unlikely marriage. They just about do.
Beginning as an eye-popping cavalcade of dismemberment, cannibalism and pigs gorging on human offal, this quickly turns into an occasionally amusing attack on the critics of director Lucio Fulci's work, with Fulci himself starring as a horror director wondering whether extended exposure to fake gore has turned him psycho-killer. Demented.
Dark, hugely inventive '93 animation from Tim Burton, possibly much too spooky for kids (or probably not, the sick little psychos). The Pumpkin King of Halloween tries to co-opt Christmas; the voices of Catherine O'Hara, Pee-Wee Herman and other disreputable types ooh and aah. Dazzling, macabre and faintly mad, an Oscar nominee for visual effects.
Never released theatrically in the UK, this operatic epic about a Korean peace delegation struggling to make it home from remotest China encompasses swordplay, romance, brooding landscapes and thousands of extras, yet doesn't quite add up to the crowd-pleaser it ought to be. Zhang Ziyi of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon fame is on hand as a princess who hooks up with the mostly Korean cast.
Back in January, Arthur Lee sold out two nights at the Royal Festival Hall. They were magical shows, Lee performing '67's classic Forever Changes in its entirety, complete with horns and strings. Some complained on the night about the sound balance, but there's no problem with the quality here. Lee's in celebratory mood, as he and his backing band LA psychedelicists Baby Lemonade storm through classics like "Bummer In The Summer" in a blur of brass and strings. Superlative stuff.
