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The Cooler

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William H Macy and Oscar-nominated Alec Baldwin are exceptional in this downbeat Vegas-set drama from first-time writer-director Wayne Kramer. Hardly anyone does pent-up malice better than Baldwin, and he's particularly combustible here as an old-school casino boss under pressure to modernise his operation, who turns somewhat unreasonable when Macy tries to walk out on him.

William H Macy and Oscar-nominated Alec Baldwin are exceptional in this downbeat Vegas-set drama from first-time writer-director Wayne Kramer. Hardly anyone does pent-up malice better than Baldwin, and he’s particularly combustible here as an old-school casino boss under pressure to modernise his operation, who turns somewhat unreasonable when Macy tries to walk out on him.

The Lost Boys: Special Edition

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This deeply schizophrenic teen vampire movie classic from Joel Schumacher has dark ambitions, not least in its child-murder subtext and blood-red lighting hues from Raging Bull cinematographer Michael Chapman. But too often it's railroaded by Schumacher's baser window-dresser's instincts, and ends up like a goth Goonies on acid.

This deeply schizophrenic teen vampire movie classic from Joel Schumacher has dark ambitions, not least in its child-murder subtext and blood-red lighting hues from Raging Bull cinematographer Michael Chapman. But too often it’s railroaded by Schumacher’s baser window-dresser’s instincts, and ends up like a goth Goonies on acid.

Monster

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Charlize Theron earns her Oscar as confused Florida serial killer Aileen Wuornos, not just for looking less attractive but because, after 20 minutes, you forget she's even a woman. So macho is her white-trash lesbian aggressor that you believe Christina Ricci is 'her' arm candy. Both excel as fuck-ups, and Patty Jenkins' script and direction are grim and gristly. Superb.

Charlize Theron earns her Oscar as confused Florida serial killer Aileen Wuornos, not just for looking less attractive but because, after 20 minutes, you forget she’s even a woman. So macho is her white-trash lesbian aggressor that you believe Christina Ricci is ‘her’ arm candy. Both excel as fuck-ups, and Patty Jenkins’ script and direction are grim and gristly. Superb.

TV Roundup

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Like Seinfeld and The Larry Sanders Show before it, the hilarious, misanthropic mayhem of Larry David's CYE has been lamentably treated by UK TV schedulers, clearly unused to programming such unfettered genius. All the more reason to recommend this five-hour festival of mordant mirth, in whose presence humbled awe is the only appropriate response.

Like Seinfeld and The Larry Sanders Show before it, the hilarious, misanthropic mayhem of Larry David’s CYE has been lamentably treated by UK TV schedulers, clearly unused to programming such unfettered genius. All the more reason to recommend this five-hour festival of mordant mirth, in whose presence humbled awe is the only appropriate response.

Blank Degeneration

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IN 1981, IN MILPITAS, California, a 16-year-old boy raped and murdered his girlfriend. Over the next few days, he took friends on trips to see her corpse, left lying by the riverbank. For a long time, none of them thought to call the cops. Dressed in grungey death-metal chic and transposed to Oregon's grey suburban haze, the basic facts of that case served as a leaping-off point for 1986's River's Edge, one of the most significant movies to address the growing numbness of Generation X?and also, conversely, one of the most disconcertingly entertaining. Written by Neal Jiminez, Tim Hunter's movie begins with John (Daniel Roebuck, a blubbery, beer-swilling blank) sitting by the girl he's just strangled. He mentions to sceptical high-school friends he's killed her, then leads them to the body. No one seems to feel much? except self-appointed leader of the pack Layne (Crispin Glover). He feels something: like he's in a movie, "like Chuck Norris", and although no one else, least of all John, cares, he begins riffing on his fantasy, urging everyone to save their buddy from being caught. River's Edge is like two films slammed together. On one hand, with its often overly emphatic messaging, and Keanu Reeves and lone Skye Leitch holding hands as the most sensitive members of the gang, bothered by the vague sensation something's not right, it's like a bleaker-than-usual John Hughes lost-teen flick. On the other hand, though, there's Dennis Hopper as a melancholy, one-legged, drug-dealing ex-biker with a blow-up sex-doll for a soul-mate, and Glover ripping scenes apart with his hysterically anti-naturalistic Valley Boy speedfreak act, treating the whole thing as expressionistic comedy. That unsettling discordance is, presumably, why David Lynch subsequently hired Hunter to direct episodes of Twin Peaks (another story of small-town teen secrets and a pale girl dead by the river) and, 18 years on, it's what keeps River's Edge so strangely alive. That and its chill prescience; in the portrayal of Reeves' 10-year-old brother Tim (the demonically androgynous Joshua Miller) the movie seemed certain of one thing: the next generation would be even number. He's the sort of kid who grew up to go to Columbine.

IN 1981, IN MILPITAS, California, a 16-year-old boy raped and murdered his girlfriend. Over the next few days, he took friends on trips to see her corpse, left lying by the riverbank. For a long time, none of them thought to call the cops.

Dressed in grungey death-metal chic and transposed to Oregon’s grey suburban haze, the basic facts of that case served as a leaping-off point for 1986’s River’s Edge, one of the most significant movies to address the growing numbness of Generation X?and also, conversely, one of the most disconcertingly entertaining.

Written by Neal Jiminez, Tim Hunter’s movie begins with John (Daniel Roebuck, a blubbery, beer-swilling blank) sitting by the girl he’s just strangled. He mentions to sceptical high-school friends he’s killed her, then leads them to the body. No one seems to feel much? except self-appointed leader of the pack Layne (Crispin Glover). He feels something: like he’s in a movie, “like Chuck Norris”, and although no one else, least of all John, cares, he begins riffing on his fantasy, urging everyone to save their buddy from being caught.

River’s Edge is like two films slammed together. On one hand, with its often overly emphatic messaging, and Keanu Reeves and lone Skye Leitch holding hands as the most sensitive members of the gang, bothered by the vague sensation something’s not right, it’s like a bleaker-than-usual John Hughes lost-teen flick. On the other hand, though, there’s Dennis Hopper as a melancholy, one-legged, drug-dealing ex-biker with a blow-up sex-doll for a soul-mate, and Glover ripping scenes apart with his hysterically anti-naturalistic Valley Boy speedfreak act, treating the whole thing as expressionistic comedy.

That unsettling discordance is, presumably, why David Lynch subsequently hired Hunter to direct episodes of Twin Peaks (another story of small-town teen secrets and a pale girl dead by the river) and, 18 years on, it’s what keeps River’s Edge so strangely alive. That and its chill prescience; in the portrayal of Reeves’ 10-year-old brother Tim (the demonically androgynous Joshua Miller) the movie seemed certain of one thing: the next generation would be even number. He’s the sort of kid who grew up to go to Columbine.

Secret Window

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Highly entertaining Stephen King adaptation, stylishly directed by David Koepp, with a mesmerising Johnny Depp as a best-selling mystery writer in the throes of a messy divorce who's accused of plagiarism?and threatened with unpleasant retribution?by sinister hillbilly John Turturro. Cue havoc on all fronts, and bodies piling up very quickly indeed. Splendid.

Highly entertaining Stephen King adaptation, stylishly directed by David Koepp, with a mesmerising Johnny Depp as a best-selling mystery writer in the throes of a messy divorce who’s accused of plagiarism?and threatened with unpleasant retribution?by sinister hillbilly John Turturro. Cue havoc on all fronts, and bodies piling up very quickly indeed. Splendid.

The Company

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112 minutes of Robert Altman's floaty, wispy ambient eavesdropping in the company of Chicago's Joffrey Ballet, with producer/star Neve Campbell drifting into dance numbers, performing a few grands jetes, drifting out again, snogging non-dancing co-star James Franco, then it's back to the real troupe, dancing, rehearsing, then dancing again. A test for even the most ardent Altman fan.

112 minutes of Robert Altman’s floaty, wispy ambient eavesdropping in the company of Chicago’s Joffrey Ballet, with producer/star Neve Campbell drifting into dance numbers, performing a few grands jetes, drifting out again, snogging non-dancing co-star James Franco, then it’s back to the real troupe, dancing, rehearsing, then dancing again. A test for even the most ardent Altman fan.

The Apple

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While the US administration portray. Iran as hostile to culture and dissent, Samira Makhmalbaf's films suggest otherwise. Her 1997 debut, made when she was 17, tells the story of the Naderi family (played by themselves), whose daughters were kept unwashed and imprisoned until they were 12. Simple, painterly, weirdly engaging, it subtly reveals that excessive faith and the repression of women are outmoded concepts even in that 'axis-of-evil' capital Tehran.

While the US administration portray. Iran as hostile to culture and dissent, Samira Makhmalbaf’s films suggest otherwise. Her 1997 debut, made when she was 17, tells the story of the Naderi family (played by themselves), whose daughters were kept unwashed and imprisoned until they were 12. Simple, painterly, weirdly engaging, it subtly reveals that excessive faith and the repression of women are outmoded concepts even in that ‘axis-of-evil’ capital Tehran.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

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A 1986 John Hughes charmer which has acquired, over the years, near-legendary status for accidentally pre-empting the "slacker" (lack of) movement. Matthew Broderick and his Chicago buddies play truant, but through quick wits get the wheels and the girls?wish fulfilment for the pre-Nirvana generation. Crisp fun for those who found Pretty In Pink a little too dark and troubling.

A 1986 John Hughes charmer which has acquired, over the years, near-legendary status for accidentally pre-empting the “slacker” (lack of) movement. Matthew Broderick and his Chicago buddies play truant, but through quick wits get the wheels and the girls?wish fulfilment for the pre-Nirvana generation. Crisp fun for those who found Pretty In Pink a little too dark and troubling.

Wonderland

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Muddled, witless look at the notorious 1981 murders on LA's Wonderland Avenue, with an unconvincing Val Kilmer as faded porn star John Holmes, in over his coke-addled head in drug scams and violence. A pale cousin of Boogie Nights, its attempted narrative/ editing tricks flop badly. Kate Bosworth and Lisa Kudrow weep, and there's a scorching soundtrack (lggy, Patti, T.Rex). But kindness to the living exacerbates the mess.

Muddled, witless look at the notorious 1981 murders on LA’s Wonderland Avenue, with an unconvincing Val Kilmer as faded porn star John Holmes, in over his coke-addled head in drug scams and violence. A pale cousin of Boogie Nights, its attempted narrative/ editing tricks flop badly. Kate Bosworth and Lisa Kudrow weep, and there’s a scorching soundtrack (lggy, Patti, T.Rex). But kindness to the living exacerbates the mess.

The Return

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In remotest Russia, a father suddenly returns to the wife and sons he left 12 years earlier, and takes the two boys into the barren countryside on a fishing trip. Whether you read it as psychological thriller or allegory on human existence, Andrei Zvyagintsev's devastating directorial debut has established itself as a modern classic. This elegant film is charged with mystery, and dread that descends like fog.

In remotest Russia, a father suddenly returns to the wife and sons he left 12 years earlier, and takes the two boys into the barren countryside on a fishing trip. Whether you read it as psychological thriller or allegory on human existence, Andrei Zvyagintsev’s devastating directorial debut has established itself as a modern classic. This elegant film is charged with mystery, and dread that descends like fog.

The Fearless Vampire Killers

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Although panned on its 1967 release, Roman Polanski's third English-language movie, a horror comedy, is a delightful oddity. There's a dream-like, gothic quality to it as Prof Abronsius (Jack MacGowran) and assistant Alfred (Polanski) root out a nest of the undead in wintry Transylvania. The climactic Vampire's Ball is strikingly mounted, and it's easy to see how Polanski fell for leading lady Sharon Tate.

Although panned on its 1967 release, Roman Polanski’s third English-language movie, a horror comedy, is a delightful oddity. There’s a dream-like, gothic quality to it as Prof Abronsius (Jack MacGowran) and assistant Alfred (Polanski) root out a nest of the undead in wintry Transylvania. The climactic Vampire’s Ball is strikingly mounted, and it’s easy to see how Polanski fell for leading lady Sharon Tate.

To Live And Die In La

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Ridiculously entertaining car chase and all, William Friedkin's brutal, dumb 1985 crime flick resembles his French Connection resprayed for the West Coast. The movie benefits from LA shimmer and deployment of under-used actors: Willem Dafoe plays a ruthless, faintly perverse counterfeiter and William Petersen is the lawman in tight jeans crossing the line in pursuit of him. Listen for the Wang Chung soundtrack! Maybe not.

Ridiculously entertaining car chase and all, William Friedkin’s brutal, dumb 1985 crime flick resembles his French Connection resprayed for the West Coast. The movie benefits from LA shimmer and deployment of under-used actors: Willem Dafoe plays a ruthless, faintly perverse counterfeiter and William Petersen is the lawman in tight jeans crossing the line in pursuit of him. Listen for the Wang Chung soundtrack! Maybe not.

The Leopard

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Luchino Visconti's three-hour epic is a complex family saga, with Burt Lancaster as an Italian nobleman in the Garibaldi era. The colour and detail is so rich it's almost fattening. Visconti, calling in favours back in '63, wanted Lancaster (who's great), but outside Italy no one knew how to sell it, so it was hacked and dubbed. Now its sumptuous again, with a Nino Rota score and both Claudia Cardinale and Alain Delon in their prime.

Luchino Visconti’s three-hour epic is a complex family saga, with Burt Lancaster as an Italian nobleman in the Garibaldi era. The colour and detail is so rich it’s almost fattening. Visconti, calling in favours back in ’63, wanted Lancaster (who’s great), but outside Italy no one knew how to sell it, so it was hacked and dubbed. Now its sumptuous again, with a Nino Rota score and both Claudia Cardinale and Alain Delon in their prime.

Gallipoli

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Occasionally worthy slice of war-is-hell hand-wringing from pre-Hollywood Peter Weir circa 1981 is elevated by eye-popping 'scope photography from Russell Boyd and two credible central turns from Mel Gibson and Mark Lee as the Yin and Yang of Australian machismo. On the other hand, the repeated sampling of Jean-Michel Jarre's Oxygen was possibly a mistake.

Occasionally worthy slice of war-is-hell hand-wringing from pre-Hollywood Peter Weir circa 1981 is elevated by eye-popping ‘scope photography from Russell Boyd and two credible central turns from Mel Gibson and Mark Lee as the Yin and Yang of Australian machismo. On the other hand, the repeated sampling of Jean-Michel Jarre’s Oxygen was possibly a mistake.

Fleetwood Mac

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Clearly made by and for Americans, this doc overlooks the Peter Green line-up. Charting only the personal disintegration of Green, Jeremy Spencer and Danny Kirwan, the story rushes on into the great soap opera that was the Mac as they conquered the world with Rumours. There are few heavyweight contributors, although first bassist Bob Brunning is enlightening and Stan Webb is hilariously perceptive.

Clearly made by and for Americans, this doc overlooks the Peter Green line-up. Charting only the personal disintegration of Green, Jeremy Spencer and Danny Kirwan, the story rushes on into the great soap opera that was the Mac as they conquered the world with Rumours. There are few heavyweight contributors, although first bassist Bob Brunning is enlightening and Stan Webb is hilariously perceptive.

Pet Shop Boys

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Is it pop? Is it theatre? Filmed on their 1991 British tour and supported by a cast of thousands, Neil and Chris dress as public schoolboys, patients in a mental asylum, clowns, secret agents, Elvis lookalikes and cowboys as they play their greatest hits from "West End Girls" to "Where The Streets Have No Name". Well, it sure beats a bunch of beery blokes hunched over Fender Stratocasters.

Is it pop? Is it theatre? Filmed on their 1991 British tour and supported by a cast of thousands, Neil and Chris dress as public schoolboys, patients in a mental asylum, clowns, secret agents, Elvis lookalikes and cowboys as they play their greatest hits from “West End Girls” to “Where The Streets Have No Name”. Well, it sure beats a bunch of beery blokes hunched over Fender Stratocasters.

Spear Of Destiny

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Barely six months after the demise of Theatre Of Hate, Kirk Brandon was braving it on stage in Manchester in March 1983 with a new band, name and repertoire. That his audience look mighty perplexed by SOD's brassier tribal goth-dub makes his fearless performance, caught here, even more compelling.

Barely six months after the demise of Theatre Of Hate, Kirk Brandon was braving it on stage in Manchester in March 1983 with a new band, name and repertoire. That his audience look mighty perplexed by SOD’s brassier tribal goth-dub makes his fearless performance, caught here, even more compelling.

Page & Plant

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The duo's 1994 take on Unplugged, which involved recording new material in Morocco and rearranging old Zep songs with Middle Eastern flavours and musicians, was a brave but preposterous conceit. Filmed in a Welsh valley, in a slate quarry and cross-legged with locals in Marrakesh, they're only really credible and incredible in their natural environment?a stage.

The duo’s 1994 take on Unplugged, which involved recording new material in Morocco and rearranging old Zep songs with Middle Eastern flavours and musicians, was a brave but preposterous conceit. Filmed in a Welsh valley, in a slate quarry and cross-legged with locals in Marrakesh, they’re only really credible and incredible in their natural environment?a stage.

Badly Drawn Boy

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Less a standard promo stash than a loosely strung set of surreal vignettes, BDB's first video roundup is a riot. If the Python-meets-Floyd animatronics of "You Were Right" or "Disillusion"'s human Broadway cabbie seem deliciously askew, try sending in the misery clowns (" Another Pearl"), Joan Collins'rich-bitch depressive ("Spitting In The Wind") or the mallard-hating Countdown assistant of "Something To Talk About".

Less a standard promo stash than a loosely strung set of surreal vignettes, BDB’s first video roundup is a riot. If the Python-meets-Floyd animatronics of “You Were Right” or “Disillusion”‘s human Broadway cabbie seem deliciously askew, try sending in the misery clowns (” Another Pearl”), Joan Collins’rich-bitch depressive (“Spitting In The Wind”) or the mallard-hating Countdown assistant of “Something To Talk About”.

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