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Gaul To Arms

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La Haine has got the lot: fantastic music, powerhouse performances and ravishing visuals wedded to propulsive action. Not forgetting an anti-racist message that went off like a pump-action shotgun in the face of modern Europe's rising New Right. But above and beyond such political credentials, this ...

La Haine has got the lot: fantastic music, powerhouse performances and ravishing visuals wedded to propulsive action. Not forgetting an anti-racist message that went off like a pump-action shotgun in the face of modern Europe’s rising New Right. But above and beyond such political credentials, this digitally remastered pulp-thriller landmark simply explodes across the screen like a Molotov cocktail.

An early triumph for writer-director Mathieu Kassovitz, La Haine (1995) was filmed in the hard-knuckled high-rise fringes of Paris that are rarely seen on screen. “People think of Paris as the city of love or the city of light,” the 27-year-old Kassovitz argued. “But where you got love you got hate, where you got light you got darkness.”

Shot with restless cameras in sumptuous high-contrast monochrome, the film traces 24 eventful hours for three Parisian boys in the hood. In the role that catapulted him to stardom, Vincent Cassel plays Vinz with all the swaggering, wired, ugly-sexy insolence of a young Belmondo. Vinz is Jewish, sharp as a blade and seething with attack-dog anger. Meanwhile, Sa

Star Wars Trilogy

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Brian De Palma called the first Star Wars movie "gibberish". But George Lucas' vision, Harrison Ford's gruff charm, the Irwin Kershner-directed/Leigh Brackett-scripted The Empire Strikes Back and, of course, Darth Vader?one of cinema's great villains ?ensure the trilogy's immortality. Just don't mention the prequels.

Brian De Palma called the first Star Wars movie “gibberish”. But George Lucas’ vision, Harrison Ford’s gruff charm, the Irwin Kershner-directed/Leigh Brackett-scripted The Empire Strikes Back and, of course, Darth Vader?one of cinema’s great villains ?ensure the trilogy’s immortality. Just don’t mention the prequels.

Broth Of The Gods

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DESPITE ALL THE giddy revisionist hyperbole about midnight screenings, mass faintings and studio bidding wars during the unveiling of Reservoir Dogs at the 1992 Sundance Film Festival, the real winner of that year (with a Grand Jury prize to show for it, plus a Special Recognition award, compared to Tarantino's big fat zilch) was Alexandre Rockwell's sly, unassuming In The Soup. The movie was the then-35-year-old Rockwell's third attempt at a breakthrough picture, and though it bravely satirises the lot of the ambitious yet essentially mediocre film-maker, it does so with the effortless grace of a seasoned auteur. We have new-wave wannabe Aldolpho Rollo (Steve Buscemi), burdened by his own artistic pretensions and an obtuse 500-page screenplay called Unconditional Surrender. Aldolpho is broke, he can't afford to eat, he does nude cable TV for cash and has fallen behind on his rent. Enter garrulous Mafia hood and sometime aesthete Joe (Cassavetes regular Seymour Cassel) with the promise of full $250,000 budget. There's just one catch... OK, so the premise isn't revolutionary (and the likes of Bullets Over Broadway and Get Shorty have since made it feel even less so), but that's not Rockwell's priority. Instead he lets the story, told in inky monochrome, roll inexorably towards a bittersweet climax while he concentrates on razor-sharp character work and comic vignettes, like the crooning mobsters who sing Sinatra before extorting rent, or Joe's psychopathic haemophiliac brother Skippy (Will Patton), or Gregoire (Stanley Tucci), the hysterical French lover of Aldolpho's neighbour and secret crush Angelica (Rockwell's then wife Jennifer Beals), or the angry drug-dealing midget from Brooklyn with his ape-man bodyguard. And at the centre of all this there's Buscemi and Cassel? two stars of American indie credibility, one rising, one waning, both turning in peerless performances. Here Buscemi's protruding Peter Lorre eyes and overcrowded mouth hint at soulfulness rather than the weaselly mendacity of Reservoir Dogs, while Cassel's galumphing ebullience is infectious ?his rough'n'tumble relationship with his skeletal co-star is reason enough to see the movie in itself. As is Buscemi's sardonic voiceover. After Skippy's murder, he muses, "Something had gone wrong. There must've been one pissed-off midget out there." Brilliant. Sadly, Rockwell's career didn't ignite after Sundance '92, and was dogged by repetition and stagnation (see his Four Rooms story and his 1998 'Soup knock-off Louis & Frank) whereas Tarantino's was defined, as we know, by blinding dynamism and regeneration. Which somehow makes this tale of cinematic passion and noble failure even more crushingly poignant.

DESPITE ALL THE giddy revisionist hyperbole about midnight screenings, mass faintings and studio bidding wars during the unveiling of Reservoir Dogs at the 1992 Sundance Film Festival, the real winner of that year (with a Grand Jury prize to show for it, plus a Special Recognition award, compared to Tarantino’s big fat zilch) was Alexandre Rockwell’s sly, unassuming In The Soup. The movie was the then-35-year-old Rockwell’s third attempt at a breakthrough picture, and though it bravely satirises the lot of the ambitious yet essentially mediocre film-maker, it does so with the effortless grace of a seasoned auteur.

We have new-wave wannabe Aldolpho Rollo (Steve Buscemi), burdened by his own artistic pretensions and an obtuse 500-page screenplay called Unconditional Surrender. Aldolpho is broke, he can’t afford to eat, he does nude cable TV for cash and has fallen behind on his rent. Enter garrulous Mafia hood and sometime aesthete Joe (Cassavetes regular Seymour Cassel) with the promise of full $250,000 budget. There’s just one catch…

OK, so the premise isn’t revolutionary (and the likes of Bullets Over Broadway and Get Shorty have since made it feel even less so), but that’s not Rockwell’s priority. Instead he lets the story, told in inky monochrome, roll inexorably towards a bittersweet climax while he concentrates on razor-sharp character work and comic vignettes, like the crooning mobsters who sing Sinatra before extorting rent, or Joe’s psychopathic haemophiliac brother Skippy (Will Patton), or Gregoire (Stanley Tucci), the hysterical French lover of Aldolpho’s neighbour and secret crush Angelica (Rockwell’s then wife Jennifer Beals), or the angry drug-dealing midget from Brooklyn with his ape-man bodyguard. And at the centre of all this there’s Buscemi and Cassel? two stars of American indie credibility, one rising, one waning, both turning in peerless performances. Here Buscemi’s protruding Peter Lorre eyes and overcrowded mouth hint at soulfulness rather than the weaselly mendacity of Reservoir Dogs, while Cassel’s galumphing ebullience is infectious ?his rough’n’tumble relationship with his skeletal co-star is reason enough to see the movie in itself. As is Buscemi’s sardonic voiceover. After Skippy’s murder, he muses, “Something had gone wrong. There must’ve been one pissed-off midget out there.” Brilliant.

Sadly, Rockwell’s career didn’t ignite after Sundance ’92, and was dogged by repetition and stagnation (see his Four Rooms story and his 1998 ‘Soup knock-off Louis & Frank) whereas Tarantino’s was defined, as we know, by blinding dynamism and regeneration. Which somehow makes this tale of cinematic passion and noble failure even more crushingly poignant.

Like A Rat Out Of Hell

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THREE STARS BY any normal evaluation. For Crispin Glover fanatics, however, a five-star experience. No one was waiting for a remake of the 1971 horror in which Bruce Davison trained killer rats to eat Ernest Borgnine, but here it is. Glover steps delicately into Davison's pumps as Willard Stiles, the milquetoast living in a crumbling gothic pile with his dying mother, mocked mercilessly at work by R Lee Ermey (Kubrick's favourite Marine instructor, in the Borgnine role). He's the world's loneliest boy, but finds comfort, and a solution to torment, when he strikes up a loving friendship with hyper-intelligent basement rats Socrates and Ben and several thousand of their hungry chums. Glen Morgan's direction has the quirky stylisation of a kid's movie? think Mousehunt gone seriously wrong?but lacks pacing, and, crucially for a horror, contains not a single scare. Difficult to imagine who it's aimed at beyond Glover fans, who'll have a ball. Made-up to look like Franz Kafka, his performance has all the rhythm and sinister, icky undercurrents lacking elsewhere, a long solo of neurotic melancholy, sexual angst and explosive fits of screaming, crying and running headfirst into doors. That he sings Michael Jackson's "Ben's Song" over the credits is but the cherry on the sundae.

THREE STARS BY any normal evaluation. For Crispin Glover fanatics, however, a five-star experience. No one was waiting for a remake of the 1971 horror in which Bruce Davison trained killer rats to eat Ernest Borgnine, but here it is. Glover steps delicately into Davison’s pumps as Willard Stiles, the milquetoast living in a crumbling gothic pile with his dying mother, mocked mercilessly at work by R Lee Ermey (Kubrick’s favourite Marine instructor, in the Borgnine role). He’s the world’s loneliest boy, but finds comfort, and a solution to torment, when he strikes up a loving friendship with hyper-intelligent basement rats Socrates and Ben and several thousand of their hungry chums. Glen Morgan’s direction has the quirky stylisation of a kid’s movie? think Mousehunt gone seriously wrong?but lacks pacing, and, crucially for a horror, contains not a single scare. Difficult to imagine who it’s aimed at beyond Glover fans, who’ll have a ball. Made-up to look like Franz Kafka, his performance has all the rhythm and sinister, icky undercurrents lacking elsewhere, a long solo of neurotic melancholy, sexual angst and explosive fits of screaming, crying and running headfirst into doors. That he sings Michael Jackson’s “Ben’s Song” over the credits is but the cherry on the sundae.

Shaun Of The Dead

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Suburban horror comedy from the creators of warped sitcom Spaced. When a mysterious plague strikes London, Shaun (Simon Pegg) has to battle hordes of blood-crazed zombies to rescue his mum and girlfriend. The zombie sequences pastiche the genre, adding genuinely witty slapstick, and the script is as good as Spaced or better. A delight.

Suburban horror comedy from the creators of warped sitcom Spaced. When a mysterious plague strikes London, Shaun (Simon Pegg) has to battle hordes of blood-crazed zombies to rescue his mum and girlfriend. The zombie sequences pastiche the genre, adding genuinely witty slapstick, and the script is as good as Spaced or better. A delight.

What’s New Pussycat?

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Definitively 'zany' '60s farce, written by Woody Allen, with Peter O'Toole as a Paris fashion editor inundated with willing, eager ladies. This sends him to mad shrink Peter Sellers, who's jealous. Meanwhile, Allen longs for O'Toole's fianc...

Definitively ‘zany’ ’60s farce, written by Woody Allen, with Peter O’Toole as a Paris fashion editor inundated with willing, eager ladies. This sends him to mad shrink Peter Sellers, who’s jealous. Meanwhile, Allen longs for O’Toole’s fianc

The Station Agent

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In a New Jersey backwater, Fin (Peter Dinklage), a dwarf fed up with the way the world reacts to him, moves into the derelict train station he's inherited and tries to ignore offers of friendship from a lonely snack-van man (Bobby Cannavale) and a divorced artist (Patricia Clarkson). Tom McCarthy's gem has something like the drift and precision of early Jarmusch?nothing much happens, except life.

In a New Jersey backwater, Fin (Peter Dinklage), a dwarf fed up with the way the world reacts to him, moves into the derelict train station he’s inherited and tries to ignore offers of friendship from a lonely snack-van man (Bobby Cannavale) and a divorced artist (Patricia Clarkson).

Tom McCarthy’s gem has something like the drift and precision of early Jarmusch?nothing much happens, except life.

The Charge Of The Light Brigade

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Tony Richardson's 1968 version of the military disaster mirrors the decade it was made in, with a strong anti-war theme. David Hemmings is a young trooper, Trevor Howard his brutal commanding officer and John Gielgud the high-ranking buffoon who orders the attack. An ambitious mess, but still compelling.

Tony Richardson’s 1968 version of the military disaster mirrors the decade it was made in, with a strong anti-war theme. David Hemmings is a young trooper, Trevor Howard his brutal commanding officer and John Gielgud the high-ranking buffoon who orders the attack. An ambitious mess, but still compelling.

Luis Buñuel Box Set

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Three of Bu...

Three of Bu

Zatoichi

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Takeshi "Beat" Kitano goes blond as well as blind to resurrect the long-running samurai avenger, and has more fun with it than original star Shintar...

Takeshi “Beat” Kitano goes blond as well as blind to resurrect the long-running samurai avenger, and has more fun with it than original star Shintar

Arizona Dream

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Director Emir Kusturica assembled Johnny Depp, Jerry Lewis, Faye Dunaway, Lili Taylor and Vincent Gallo in the desert and waited for inspiration. Quite what he was on can only be imagined. The movie has its ups and downs, but does boast two prime pieces of Gallo-ana: a reenactment of Cary Grant's escape from a cropduster, and a classic set-to between De Niro and Pesci with Vinnie playing both parts. Mad.

Director Emir Kusturica assembled Johnny Depp, Jerry Lewis, Faye Dunaway, Lili Taylor and Vincent Gallo in the desert and waited for inspiration. Quite what he was on can only be imagined. The movie has its ups and downs, but does boast two prime pieces of Gallo-ana: a reenactment of Cary Grant’s escape from a cropduster, and a classic set-to between De Niro and Pesci with Vinnie playing both parts. Mad.

And God Created Woman

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Roger Vadim brazenly raised the bar for unashamed hot nymphette action with his landmark 1956 debut, starring his then wife Brigitte Bardot as a horny St Tropez orphan who drives sophisticated men to violent destruction by rubbing her own breasts, lifting up her skirt and dancing with black men. The Betty Blue of its day.

Roger Vadim brazenly raised the bar for unashamed hot nymphette action with his landmark 1956 debut, starring his then wife Brigitte Bardot as a horny St Tropez orphan who drives sophisticated men to violent destruction by rubbing her own breasts, lifting up her skirt and dancing with black men. The Betty Blue of its day.

The Butterfly Effect

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Comedy punk heartthrob Ashton Kutcher's attempt to go 'serious' isn't as bad as it's been made out, though it owes plenty to every other go-back-in-time thriller. Vague chaos theory allows our boy to change his past and try to realign relationships with his father and his beloved Amy Smart. But things fall apart, and the mysticism's mystifying.

Comedy punk heartthrob Ashton Kutcher’s attempt to go ‘serious’ isn’t as bad as it’s been made out, though it owes plenty to every other go-back-in-time thriller. Vague chaos theory allows our boy to change his past and try to realign relationships with his father and his beloved Amy Smart. But things fall apart, and the mysticism’s mystifying.

Various Artists – Warp Vision (The Videos

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The adventurous Warp offer prize videos from the likes of Chris Cunningham ("Windowlicker", "Come To Daddy") alongside promos by, among others, fellow Sheffield alumni Jarvis Cocker. Lesser known but equally arresting, Jimi Tenor's "Total Devastation" and John Callaghan's "I'm Not Comfortable Inside My Mind" help make this an intriguing alternative history of one of the UK's most far-sighted labels.

The adventurous Warp offer prize videos from the likes of Chris Cunningham (“Windowlicker”, “Come To Daddy”) alongside promos by, among others, fellow Sheffield alumni Jarvis Cocker. Lesser known but equally arresting, Jimi Tenor’s “Total Devastation” and John Callaghan’s “I’m Not Comfortable Inside My Mind” help make this an intriguing alternative history of one of the UK’s most far-sighted labels.

Mac Nuggets

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Uncut recounted the tale of Fleetwood Mac's improbable reunion at length in May last year (Take 72). Now come two DVD releases commemorating the resumption of rock'n'roll's longest-running soap opera. Live In Boston is a straightforward concert film shot in September 2003 on their first tour in five years. The band clearly miss Christine McVie, the only member of the classic mid-'70s line-up not to participate, and on one level, they offer up stadium rock of the blandest kind. Yet the residue of their own infamous internal psychodrama remains intense, and there's an undeniable chemistry to these two-dozen performances, spread across two discs. "Rhiannon" proves that even in her fifties, Stevie Nicks can still beguile in her trademark black lace and chiffon. But it's the way she and former lover Lindsey Buckingham interact during the songs they wrote for each other?"Landslide", "Second Hand News", "Dreams", "Never Going Back Again", "Go Your Own Way"?that creates a compelling emotional melodrama that reaches its height on "Silver Springs", as Nicks chants: "Time casts a spell on you, but you won't forget me". Documentary Destiny Rules ostensibly tells the story of the recording of the band's 18-track reunion album, Say You Will, and rehearsals for the tour over a prolonged 18-month period in 2002-3. One says 'ostensibly', for everything Fleetwood Mac do remains haunted by the ghosts of their '70s past, so the fascination of seeing them back together lies almost totally in the fact that, although time may have healed old wounds, visible and livid scars remain. They're liable to reopen at any minute, too, for even while rehearsing and recording new songs, the band seem unable to help raking over the past. "It's pretty amazing that all this time later those subjects are still being dealt with in a really deep manner," Buckingham says with incredulity. Shortly after, there's a huge fight between him and Nicks involving contracts and lawyers and accusations of duplicity. It's all a bit like rubber-necking a motorway car crash. You ought to be repelled, but you can't help being drawn to the grisly spectacle.

Uncut recounted the tale of Fleetwood Mac’s improbable reunion at length in May last year (Take 72). Now come two DVD releases commemorating the resumption of rock’n’roll’s longest-running soap opera. Live In Boston is a straightforward concert film shot in September 2003 on their first tour in five years. The band clearly miss Christine McVie, the only member of the classic mid-’70s line-up not to participate, and on one level, they offer up stadium rock of the blandest kind. Yet the residue of their own infamous internal psychodrama remains intense, and there’s an undeniable chemistry to these two-dozen performances, spread across two discs. “Rhiannon” proves that even in her fifties, Stevie Nicks can still beguile in her trademark black lace and chiffon. But it’s the way she and former lover Lindsey Buckingham interact during the songs they wrote for each other?”Landslide”, “Second Hand News”, “Dreams”, “Never Going Back Again”, “Go Your Own Way”?that creates a compelling emotional melodrama that reaches its height on “Silver Springs”, as Nicks chants: “Time casts a spell on you, but you won’t forget me”.

Documentary Destiny Rules ostensibly tells the story of the recording of the band’s 18-track reunion album, Say You Will, and rehearsals for the tour over a prolonged 18-month period in 2002-3. One says ‘ostensibly’, for everything Fleetwood Mac do remains haunted by the ghosts of their ’70s past, so the fascination of seeing them back together lies almost totally in the fact that, although time may have healed old wounds, visible and livid scars remain. They’re liable to reopen at any minute, too, for even while rehearsing and recording new songs, the band seem unable to help raking over the past. “It’s pretty amazing that all this time later those subjects are still being dealt with in a really deep manner,” Buckingham says with incredulity. Shortly after, there’s a huge fight between him and Nicks involving contracts and lawyers and accusations of duplicity. It’s all a bit like rubber-necking a motorway car crash. You ought to be repelled, but you can’t help being drawn to the grisly spectacle.

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For those who survived the grinding tedium of last year's live Greendale gigs, Young's accompanying film at least attempts to contextualise his three-generational "musical novel" centred around the titular farming community in northern California. Written and directed by long-time alias Bernard Shakey, it charts the human fallout of one "split-second tragic blunder" on the old coast highway, when Jed Green (played by tour manager Eric Johnson) shoots dead a cop during a routine search of his coke-laden car. With Jed awaiting trial, the Devil?also Johnson, in flash-red shoes and jacket?takes residence in the town. The effect on Grandpa (pedal-steel legend Ben Keith) is catastrophic. Stunned by Jed's deed and with TV crews camped on the lawn and news 'copters whirring overhead, he flips, firing a shotgun into the air before fatally collapsing on the porch. Galvanised by the horror, 18-year-old grand-daughter Sun Green (Sarah White)?scion of struggling painter Earl (James Mazzeo) and Edith (Young's wife Pegi)?sets off into the world as a socio-political activist. Armed with megaphone and daubed in war paint, she first chains herself to the 16ft lobby statue of uber-industrialists Powerco, before emerging as an eco-warrior in the Alaskan wilds. Shot on Young's favoured underwater Super 8mm camera, it's a humanist endeavour that ultimately falls short, less for its narrative trick (no dialogue, just actors lip-synching the lyrics of Greendale throughout) than for the plodding mid-tempo monotony of the songs themselves. Had he delivered an inspired suite of material, this could have been something. A pity, since many of the larger themes (media invasion of privacy, global planet rape, political power-broking, social revolution) are more strident echoes of Young's early film work?Journey Through The Past ('73) and Human Highway ('82). The moment when slowly-mouthing Grandpa lies dying on the porch is more telling than Young perhaps envisioned in his deadpan lyric: "This guy who just keeps singin'/Can't somebody shut him up?"

For those who survived the grinding tedium of last year’s live Greendale gigs, Young’s accompanying film at least attempts to contextualise his three-generational “musical novel” centred around the titular farming community in northern California.

Written and directed by long-time alias Bernard Shakey, it charts the human fallout of one “split-second tragic blunder” on the old coast highway, when Jed Green (played by tour manager Eric Johnson) shoots dead a cop during a routine search of his coke-laden car. With Jed awaiting trial, the Devil?also Johnson, in flash-red shoes and jacket?takes residence in the town. The effect on Grandpa (pedal-steel legend Ben Keith) is catastrophic. Stunned by Jed’s deed and with TV crews camped on the lawn and news ‘copters whirring overhead, he flips, firing a shotgun into the air before fatally collapsing on the porch. Galvanised by the horror, 18-year-old grand-daughter Sun Green (Sarah White)?scion of struggling painter Earl (James Mazzeo) and Edith (Young’s wife Pegi)?sets off into the world as a socio-political activist. Armed with megaphone and daubed in war paint, she first chains herself to the 16ft lobby statue of uber-industrialists Powerco, before emerging as an eco-warrior in the Alaskan wilds.

Shot on Young’s favoured underwater Super 8mm camera, it’s a humanist endeavour that ultimately falls short, less for its narrative trick (no dialogue, just actors lip-synching the lyrics of Greendale throughout) than for the plodding mid-tempo monotony of the songs themselves. Had he delivered an inspired suite of material, this could have been something. A pity, since many of the larger themes (media invasion of privacy, global planet rape, political power-broking, social revolution) are more strident echoes of Young’s early film work?Journey Through The Past (’73) and Human Highway (’82). The moment when slowly-mouthing Grandpa lies dying on the porch is more telling than Young perhaps envisioned in his deadpan lyric: “This guy who just keeps singin’/Can’t somebody shut him up?”

Procol Harum – Live At The Union Chapel

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Recorded last December at the end of the 2003 world tour, it's spooky watching Gary Brooker singing "A Whiter Shade Of Pale" so many years after it scored 1967's summer of love. Yet his voice hasn't altered one iota. A third of the 21 tracks come from their 2003 album, The Well's On Fire. But it's old favourites like "Homburg", "Shine On Brightly" and "A Salty Dog" that command all the attention.

Recorded last December at the end of the 2003 world tour, it’s spooky watching Gary Brooker singing “A Whiter Shade Of Pale” so many years after it scored 1967’s summer of love. Yet his voice hasn’t altered one iota. A third of the 21 tracks come from their 2003 album, The Well’s On Fire. But it’s old favourites like “Homburg”, “Shine On Brightly” and “A Salty Dog” that command all the attention.

Tom Dowd – The Language Of Music

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The late Tom Dowd's influence on music is legendary. As an engineer, he invented the eight-track recorder. As Atlantic Records' in-house producer, he worked with Dizzy Gillespie and Ornette Coleman before helping Aretha Franklin, Dusty Springfield, The Allman Brothers and Ray Charles. His life is traced here through interviews with Dowd himself, Charles, Franklin, Ahmet Ertegun and Eric Clapton, and through fine archive footage and recordings, Inspiring.

The late Tom Dowd’s influence on music is legendary. As an engineer, he invented the eight-track recorder. As Atlantic Records’ in-house producer, he worked with Dizzy Gillespie and Ornette Coleman before helping Aretha Franklin, Dusty Springfield, The Allman Brothers and Ray Charles. His life is traced here through interviews with Dowd himself, Charles, Franklin, Ahmet Ertegun and Eric Clapton, and through fine archive footage and recordings, Inspiring.

Ramones – Raw

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Compilation of live concert footage, TV clips and Marky Ramone's on-the-road video footage from 1979-2002 misses the Ramones' prime. Marky's films are mundane trivia with little character insight. MTV news clips tell the story of Dee Dee's drug addiction and departure only in passing, but alongside their tearful Rock'n'Roll Hall Of Fame induction, the impressive live footage shows why they outlasted their peers.

Compilation of live concert footage, TV clips and Marky Ramone’s on-the-road video footage from 1979-2002 misses the Ramones’ prime. Marky’s films are mundane trivia with little character insight. MTV news clips tell the story of Dee Dee’s drug addiction and departure only in passing, but alongside their tearful Rock’n’Roll Hall Of Fame induction, the impressive live footage shows why they outlasted their peers.

Janet Jackson – From Janet To Damita Jo

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Stats show that Middle America's "mass moral outrage" at Janet's Superbowl boob-bearing came from a noisy couple of hundred. Her career may survive, then, though no thanks to this year's scrappy LP Damita Jo. This gathers all the videos from the last four, the best of which is "That's The Way Love Goes", where she maximises her feline moves, timid voice, and gorgeous loping grooves. But she's definitely in decline.

Stats show that Middle America’s “mass moral outrage” at Janet’s Superbowl boob-bearing came from a noisy couple of hundred. Her career may survive, then, though no thanks to this year’s scrappy LP Damita Jo. This gathers all the videos from the last four, the best of which is “That’s The Way Love Goes”, where she maximises her feline moves, timid voice, and gorgeous loping grooves. But she’s definitely in decline.

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