Forget J-Lo?on this absolute jewel of a record, Teena Marie redefined the boundaries of female pop. The primary-coloured explosion of the title track suggests a familiarity with the mischief of Ze Records, as well as a clear foretaste of what Prince would achieve later that decade. Indeed, future Paisley Park prot
Teena Marie – It Must Be Magic
Other Side Of The Tracks
Just as the jam, and even The Style Council, exercised quality control when it came to B-sides, the solo Weller was similarly shrewd in his choice of extra tracks, even after he traded the romantic 45 rpm seven-inch for the sterile CD single. As compiled over Fly On The Wall's first two discs, his non-album off-cuts between 1991's "Into Tomorrow" and 2000's "Sweet Pea" fall into three categories. First there are ones that got away, like 1995's "A Year Late"?a harsh jab of acoustic melancholy which might have closed Stanley Road (instead it became the B-side of "You Do Something To Me"). Or 1997's Heavy Soul-era "Shoot The Dove", a mid-tempo rock spiritual which would have made a terrific single. Typical of Weller's maturing repertoire, both deserve inclusion on any career best-of. Secondly, there are instrumentals. Eight of them, from the early-'90s Acid Jazz hangover of "That Spiritual Feeling" to the block rockin' beats of "Steam" (its charging drum loop adapted from Stanley Road's "Whirlpool's End") and the E-wary funkadelia of '97's "So You Want To Be A Dancer". Thirdly, there's remixes. Portishead's spy-thriller distortion of "Wild Wood" (from a 1994 NME EP) still sounds great. Ditto Noonday Underground's sinister shake-up of Heliocentric's "There's No Drinking After You're Dead". Finally, there's the Button Downs (reverse of Pin-Ups?geddit?) covers CD; ad hoc homages to CSNY ("Ohio"), Dylan ("I Shall Be Released") and others. As well as unreleased takes on Ben Harper's "Waiting On An Angel" and The Beatles' "Don't Let Me Down", there's "Instant Karma", only previously available on last year's Uncut Lennon tribute compilation (Take 66). It's an intriguing epilogue, though Fly On The Wall is merited on the strength of its first two thirds alone, where Weller emerges as a prolific songwriter whose will to experiment has proved integral to his survival. The 10-year diary of a changing man, this is compulsive listening.
Just as the jam, and even The Style Council, exercised quality control when it came to B-sides, the solo Weller was similarly shrewd in his choice of extra tracks, even after he traded the romantic 45 rpm seven-inch for the sterile CD single.
As compiled over Fly On The Wall’s first two discs, his non-album off-cuts between 1991’s “Into Tomorrow” and 2000’s “Sweet Pea” fall into three categories. First there are ones that got away, like 1995’s “A Year Late”?a harsh jab of acoustic melancholy which might have closed Stanley Road (instead it became the B-side of “You Do Something To Me”). Or 1997’s Heavy Soul-era “Shoot The Dove”, a mid-tempo rock spiritual which would have made a terrific single. Typical of Weller’s maturing repertoire, both deserve inclusion on any career best-of.
Secondly, there are instrumentals. Eight of them, from the early-’90s Acid Jazz hangover of “That Spiritual Feeling” to the block rockin’ beats of “Steam” (its charging drum loop adapted from Stanley Road’s “Whirlpool’s End”) and the E-wary funkadelia of ’97’s “So You Want To Be A Dancer”.
Thirdly, there’s remixes. Portishead’s spy-thriller distortion of “Wild Wood” (from a 1994 NME EP) still sounds great. Ditto Noonday Underground’s sinister shake-up of Heliocentric’s “There’s No Drinking After You’re Dead”.
Finally, there’s the Button Downs (reverse of Pin-Ups?geddit?) covers CD; ad hoc homages to CSNY (“Ohio”), Dylan (“I Shall Be Released”) and others. As well as unreleased takes on Ben Harper’s “Waiting On An Angel” and The Beatles’ “Don’t Let Me Down”, there’s “Instant Karma”, only previously available on last year’s Uncut Lennon tribute compilation (Take 66). It’s an intriguing epilogue, though Fly On The Wall is merited on the strength of its first two thirds alone, where Weller emerges as a prolific songwriter whose will to experiment has proved integral to his survival. The 10-year diary of a changing man, this is compulsive listening.
Mick Ronson – Hard Life
After his sizzling stint with Bowie, Mick Ronson recorded two solo albums before joining Mott The Hoople and going on to collaborate with Ian Hunter in a recording partnership that lasted 15 years. His third and final solo album, Heaven And Hull, was released a year after his tragic early death in 1993. This specially priced compilation offers 10 tracks without documenting their original provenance or providing writing credits. Hard to see who this package is aimed at.
After his sizzling stint with Bowie, Mick Ronson recorded two solo albums before joining Mott The Hoople and going on to collaborate with Ian Hunter in a recording partnership that lasted 15 years. His third and final solo album, Heaven And Hull, was released a year after his tragic early death in 1993. This specially priced compilation offers 10 tracks without documenting their original provenance or providing writing credits. Hard to see who this package is aimed at.
Leadbelly – Various Artists
Various Artists
POOR MAN'S HEAVEN: WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN VOL 6
BOTH BLUEBIRD/RCA
After The White Stripes, it's normal for young bands today to treat the blues as if it were a fashion accessory. Shame on them, since, as both these impeccable discs reiterate, it was once a life-or-death catharsis for luckless social lepers without so much as a pot to piss in. Take This Hammer captures the great Leadbelly fresh out of stir in 1940 and wary of "TB Blues", a common concern in the Depression era as also detailed on Poor Man's Heaven. Poverty, plague, failed crops and the gamut of human misery abound, typified by Harry "Mac" McClintock's divinely deadpan "Hallelujah, I'm A Bum"?75 years old but absolutely spellbinding.
Various Artists
POOR MAN’S HEAVEN: WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN VOL 6
BOTH BLUEBIRD/RCA
After The White Stripes, it’s normal for young bands today to treat the blues as if it were a fashion accessory. Shame on them, since, as both these impeccable discs reiterate, it was once a life-or-death catharsis for luckless social lepers without so much as a pot to piss in. Take This Hammer captures the great Leadbelly fresh out of stir in 1940 and wary of “TB Blues”, a common concern in the Depression era as also detailed on Poor Man’s Heaven. Poverty, plague, failed crops and the gamut of human misery abound, typified by Harry “Mac” McClintock’s divinely deadpan “Hallelujah, I’m A Bum”?75 years old but absolutely spellbinding.
Associates – The Radio 1 Sessions Vol 2: 1984-1985
Some albums are worth keeping for one track alone?in the case of this compilation, it's Billy MacKenzie's shattering piano-accompanied rendition of Dave Berry's "The Crying Game" perhaps the bleakest thing his tormented voice recorded. The remainder of the album sees him tackling songs from all phases of the Associates' career, including their then-current album Perhaps, as well as aimless covers of things like "Heart Of Glass", which remind the listener of the hole left by the departure of Alan Rankine. Mr MacKenzie's voice is as mischievously moving as ever, but, as with everything he did after Sulk, the material let him down. There but for the grace of Bono walked he.
Some albums are worth keeping for one track alone?in the case of this compilation, it’s Billy MacKenzie’s shattering piano-accompanied rendition of Dave Berry’s “The Crying Game” perhaps the bleakest thing his tormented voice recorded. The remainder of the album sees him tackling songs from all phases of the Associates’ career, including their then-current album Perhaps, as well as aimless covers of things like “Heart Of Glass”, which remind the listener of the hole left by the departure of Alan Rankine.
Mr MacKenzie’s voice is as mischievously moving as ever, but, as with everything he did after Sulk, the material let him down. There but for the grace of Bono walked he.
The Animals – Let It Rock
Originally issued in 1976 as In Concert From Newcastle, this live recording of The Animals at Newcastle's Club A-Go-Go in December 1963 was made by R&B impresario Giorgio Gomelsky on an Ampex tape recorder for the purpose of capturing some of the excitement the group was generating in its pre-fame period. The Newcastle dates are supplemented by some tracks with The Animals backing bluesman Sonny Boy Williamson. Raw and rough, this music offers a rare chance to check out the early-'60s British R&B boom, and will appeal to dedicated collectors.
Originally issued in 1976 as In Concert From Newcastle, this live recording of The Animals at Newcastle’s Club A-Go-Go in December 1963 was made by R&B impresario Giorgio Gomelsky on an Ampex tape recorder for the purpose of capturing some of the excitement the group was generating in its pre-fame period. The Newcastle dates are supplemented by some tracks with The Animals backing bluesman Sonny Boy Williamson. Raw and rough, this music offers a rare chance to check out the early-’60s British R&B boom, and will appeal to dedicated collectors.
The Fall
WORDS OF EXPECTATION: BBC SESSIONS
SANCTUARY
A loose best-of from their Fontana years (1990 to '92, or Extricate to Code: Selfish), The War Against Intelligence is rife with classics ("Telephone Thing", "Free Range") but ultimately it's another superfluous addition to The Fall reissue overkill. Unlike the double BBC bonanza Words Of Expectation, though, it's a slightly rum affair. We've their first five Peel sessions from 1978 to '81, then a jump of 14 years to two more in '95 and '96. The concept makes no sense (1984's rare title track isn't even here), though the content itself is superb and the 1980 session ("Container Drivers" etc) is simply genius.
WORDS OF EXPECTATION: BBC SESSIONS
SANCTUARY
A loose best-of from their Fontana years (1990 to ’92, or Extricate to Code: Selfish), The War Against Intelligence is rife with classics (“Telephone Thing”, “Free Range”) but ultimately it’s another superfluous addition to The Fall reissue overkill. Unlike the double BBC bonanza Words Of Expectation, though, it’s a slightly rum affair. We’ve their first five Peel sessions from 1978 to ’81, then a jump of 14 years to two more in ’95 and ’96. The concept makes no sense (1984’s rare title track isn’t even here), though the content itself is superb and the 1980 session (“Container Drivers” etc) is simply genius.
Ron Wood – Always Wanted More
An inveterate jammer, Ron Wood has pursued a hyperactive solo career alongside his Rolling Stones rock-outs, releasing nine solo albums to date. This compilation, which draws on Wood's back catalogue, presents excerpts from his bluesy, rock'n'roll output without assigning tracks to their original albums or giving writing credits. As a relatively cheap way of getting hold of some of Wood's solo material, it justifies itself, but can't be considered an adequate introduction to his work in the absence of discographical documentation.
An inveterate jammer, Ron Wood has pursued a hyperactive solo career alongside his Rolling Stones rock-outs, releasing nine solo albums to date. This compilation, which draws on Wood’s back catalogue, presents excerpts from his bluesy, rock’n’roll output without assigning tracks to their original albums or giving writing credits. As a relatively cheap way of getting hold of some of Wood’s solo material, it justifies itself, but can’t be considered an adequate introduction to his work in the absence of discographical documentation.
Roxy Music – Avalon
Some imagined that by Avalon, Roxy Music had degenerated into non-ironic AOR. But the sounds on this, the biggest-selling album of their career, are as avant-garde as anything they'd ever done, just more subtle, Ferry having exchanged art attack for ambient seduction. Remember this came out in spring 1982, as New Pop was peaking?it's as if the Godfather had returned to show the rookies how elegant isolation should really be expressed. Throughout there are expressions of Ferry's uncertainty, plus evidence they'd been listening to Joy Division and Jan Garbarek. This new edition magnifies the contributions of Ferry, Mackay and Manzanera. The songs bring to mind what the New Romantics might have achieved?the discreet funk of "The Space Between" outdoes Simple Minds. Best of all is "To Turn You On", arguably Ferry's finest song, an ominous plea to the Other which is really a plea to himself.
Some imagined that by Avalon, Roxy Music had degenerated into non-ironic AOR. But the sounds on this, the biggest-selling album of their career, are as avant-garde as anything they’d ever done, just more subtle, Ferry having exchanged art attack for ambient seduction. Remember this came out in spring 1982, as New Pop was peaking?it’s as if the Godfather had returned to show the rookies how elegant isolation should really be expressed. Throughout there are expressions of Ferry’s uncertainty, plus evidence they’d been listening to Joy Division and Jan Garbarek. This new edition magnifies the contributions of Ferry, Mackay and Manzanera. The songs bring to mind what the New Romantics might have achieved?the discreet funk of “The Space Between” outdoes Simple Minds. Best of all is “To Turn You On”, arguably Ferry’s finest song, an ominous plea to the Other which is really a plea to himself.
Tupelo Honey
Long before his death 26 years ago this month, August 16, 1977, Elvis had become a tea towel, a keyring, a lunchbox and a hideous porcelain effigy. To this day some folk?Elvis-hating folk?can't see beyond the kitsch, reminding us that he 'stole' the music of black America, never wrote his own material, sang shite songs in shite films and by his final concerts had come to resemble a manatee wrapped in a rhinestone tarpaulin. Elvis-hating folk delight in telling Elvis-lovin' folk these established negatives under the misguided premise they'll burst the sacred bubble. But what Elvis-hating folk fail to appreciate is that the joy of Elvis isn't based on his girth or his 2D portrayal of chopper pilot Rick Richards in Paradise Hawaiian Style, but on something much more fundamental?his voice. That un-be-fucking-lievable voice. It's what this box set is all about. How he controlled, unleashed, used and sometimes abused his superhuman vocal cords. A best-of, a novice's introduction, a career overview?Close Up is none of these. If you want to take the highfalutin, Greil Marcus stance, call it an 'essay' on Elvis' music making (if you don't, just call it a random celebration of the greatest pop singer of all time). Eighty-nine tracks over four CDs, every one a previously unreleased alternate take of one kind or another. It's daunting, it's gratuitous and it's fantastic, in that order. The Elvis reissue treadmill is such that by now it's easy to be cynical about RCA's barrel-scraping of the king's vaults, and admittedly there are times, especially on discs one ("Unreleased Studio Masters From The '50s") and four ("Live In Texas '72"), when Close Up is entertaining but barely enlightening. Not so the misleadingly titled "Unreleased Movie Gems" CD ("Frankfort Special" ain't no gem, baby!) where we discover that even when singing the shite songs from the shite films, Elvis had standards. During the ludicrous "Slicin' Sand" he halts proceedings in disgust at the lyric "sand in my sandwich", changing it before recording recommences. We also hear the full chandelier-shattering hurricane in his lungs let rip on a handful of takes featuring just Elvis and an acoustic guitar, transforming the usually mediocre "In My Way" into a devout spiritual. This same tangible holiness also pervades disc three, "The Magic Of Nashville"; literally so on "Stand By Me" (the trad gospel hymn, not the Ben E King classic), though even the hillbilly machismo of 1968's "US Male" is elevated by his godlike tonsils to the realms of rock'n'roll divinity. So Close Up isn't about reassessing Elvis, more reiterating what we Elvis-lovin' folk already know and will never tire of being told. Like him or loathe him, it's either this or the hideous porcelain effigy. If it's all right with the Elvis-hating folk, I'll take this, thangyuvehmuj.
Long before his death 26 years ago this month, August 16, 1977, Elvis had become a tea towel, a keyring, a lunchbox and a hideous porcelain effigy. To this day some folk?Elvis-hating folk?can’t see beyond the kitsch, reminding us that he ‘stole’ the music of black America, never wrote his own material, sang shite songs in shite films and by his final concerts had come to resemble a manatee wrapped in a rhinestone tarpaulin.
Elvis-hating folk delight in telling Elvis-lovin’ folk these established negatives under the misguided premise they’ll burst the sacred bubble. But what Elvis-hating folk fail to appreciate is that the joy of Elvis isn’t based on his girth or his 2D portrayal of chopper pilot Rick Richards in Paradise Hawaiian Style, but on something much more fundamental?his voice. That un-be-fucking-lievable voice. It’s what this box set is all about. How he controlled, unleashed, used and sometimes abused his superhuman vocal cords.
A best-of, a novice’s introduction, a career overview?Close Up is none of these. If you want to take the highfalutin, Greil Marcus stance, call it an ‘essay’ on Elvis’ music making (if you don’t, just call it a random celebration of the greatest pop singer of all time). Eighty-nine tracks over four CDs, every one a previously unreleased alternate take of one kind or another. It’s daunting, it’s gratuitous and it’s fantastic, in that order.
The Elvis reissue treadmill is such that by now it’s easy to be cynical about RCA’s barrel-scraping of the king’s vaults, and admittedly there are times, especially on discs one (“Unreleased Studio Masters From The ’50s”) and four (“Live In Texas ’72”), when Close Up is entertaining but barely enlightening. Not so the misleadingly titled “Unreleased Movie Gems” CD (“Frankfort Special” ain’t no gem, baby!) where we discover that even when singing the shite songs from the shite films, Elvis had standards. During the ludicrous “Slicin’ Sand” he halts proceedings in disgust at the lyric “sand in my sandwich”, changing it before recording recommences.
We also hear the full chandelier-shattering hurricane in his lungs let rip on a handful of takes featuring just Elvis and an acoustic guitar, transforming the usually mediocre “In My Way” into a devout spiritual. This same tangible holiness also pervades disc three, “The Magic Of Nashville”; literally so on “Stand By Me” (the trad gospel hymn, not the Ben E King classic), though even the hillbilly machismo of 1968’s “US Male” is elevated by his godlike tonsils to the realms of rock’n’roll divinity.
So Close Up isn’t about reassessing Elvis, more reiterating what we Elvis-lovin’ folk already know and will never tire of being told. Like him or loathe him, it’s either this or the hideous porcelain effigy. If it’s all right with the Elvis-hating folk, I’ll take this, thangyuvehmuj.
Lonnie Youngblood Feat.Jimi Hendrix – Two Great Experiences
In 1965 Lonnie Youngblood (aka The Prince Of Harlem) met Jimi Hendrix when the pair were serving it up for Curtis Knight's various R&B ensembles. The two men hit it off sufficiently well to try out a slew of period-piece studio jams?"Under The Table", "Wipe The Sweat", "Goodbye Bessie Mae" et al?which form the bedrock of a collector's must-have that may be too raw in the main for latter-day Hendrix fans.
In 1965 Lonnie Youngblood (aka The Prince Of Harlem) met Jimi Hendrix when the pair were serving it up for Curtis Knight’s various R&B ensembles. The two men hit it off sufficiently well to try out a slew of period-piece studio jams?”Under The Table”, “Wipe The Sweat”, “Goodbye Bessie Mae” et al?which form the bedrock of a collector’s must-have that may be too raw in the main for latter-day Hendrix fans.
Kylie Minogue
IMPOSSIBLE PRINCESS
BOTH BMG
Kylie's career has mostly depended on tabloid smoke and mirrors; her faux gay-icon survival sustained by editors' insistence on the illusory perfection of her arse as much as by rare good singles like "Can't Get You Out of My Head". That said, '94's Kylie Minogue, her debut for dance label Deconstruction, had moments of substance, like Arab-orchestral smash "Confide In Me". Classical overtures, St Etienne sessions and Prefab Sprout's "If You Don't Love Me" on the extra CD sketch the pop folly that nearly was. Impossible Princess from '96 (renamed Kylie Minogue after Diana's death), including Minogue's first lyrics and two Manic Street Preachers collaborations, is more experimental, with less tunes.
IMPOSSIBLE PRINCESS
BOTH BMG
Kylie’s career has mostly depended on tabloid smoke and mirrors; her faux gay-icon survival sustained by editors’ insistence on the illusory perfection of her arse as much as by rare good singles like “Can’t Get You Out of My Head”. That said, ’94’s Kylie Minogue, her debut for dance label Deconstruction, had moments of substance, like Arab-orchestral smash “Confide In Me”. Classical overtures, St Etienne sessions and Prefab Sprout’s “If You Don’t Love Me” on the extra CD sketch the pop folly that nearly was. Impossible Princess from ’96 (renamed Kylie Minogue after Diana’s death), including Minogue’s first lyrics and two Manic Street Preachers collaborations, is more experimental, with less tunes.
TLC – Crazysexycool
The story of this female Atlantan trio encompasses arson, excess, business wrangles and tragedy (Lisa 'Left-Eye' Lopes' death in a car crash last year). Surviving this soap opera, however, is some great pop?especially this, their 1994 second album. Crazysexycool sold 11 million in the US and remains a seductive fusion of R&B with hip hop, giving production breaks to future key players like Jermaine Dupri, Puff Daddy and OutKast affiliates Organized Noise (who helm "Waterfalls"). Some smoochy hackwork, of course, but the slick environs never entirely tame TLC's feisty vocals.
The story of this female Atlantan trio encompasses arson, excess, business wrangles and tragedy (Lisa ‘Left-Eye’ Lopes’ death in a car crash last year). Surviving this soap opera, however, is some great pop?especially this, their 1994 second album. Crazysexycool sold 11 million in the US and remains a seductive fusion of R&B with hip hop, giving production breaks to future key players like Jermaine Dupri, Puff Daddy and OutKast affiliates Organized Noise (who helm “Waterfalls”). Some smoochy hackwork, of course, but the slick environs never entirely tame TLC’s feisty vocals.
Secret Affair – Time For Action: The Anthology
Those who remember little of Secret Affair beyond this double CD's titular anthem of the '79 'mod revival' will find almost nothing to convince them that these East End also-rans deserved greater acclaim. Weirdly, "Time For Action" itself is presented in its diluted 'US Remix' format (sans yobbish outro). The rest is average, '60s-centric pub rock (save the terrifying Dave Gilmour guitar territory of "Seen That Movie Too"), though the sleevenotes by vocalist Ian Page and guitarist Dave Cairns should please parka-clad nostalgists.
Those who remember little of Secret Affair beyond this double CD’s titular anthem of the ’79 ‘mod revival’ will find almost nothing to convince them that these East End also-rans deserved greater acclaim. Weirdly, “Time For Action” itself is presented in its diluted ‘US Remix’ format (sans yobbish outro). The rest is average, ’60s-centric pub rock (save the terrifying Dave Gilmour guitar territory of “Seen That Movie Too”), though the sleevenotes by vocalist Ian Page and guitarist Dave Cairns should please parka-clad nostalgists.
Mick Farren – People Call You Crazy: The Story Of Mick Farren
While many British rock bands were turning to love, peace and harmony in '67, Farren's Deviants were heading into bleaker proto-punk territory with MC5-style garage psychedelia. This package features tracks from the band's defiant debut Ptooff! (one of the first independently made and distributed British rock albums, selling 10,000 copies before Decca picked it up), '68's methadone-fuelled Disposable, and their '69 swan song, No 3. When the band split later that year (the remnants mutating into The Pink Fairies), Farren went on to be a solo artist, the editor of anti-establishment publication IT, and producer of the comic Nasty Tales.
While many British rock bands were turning to love, peace and harmony in ’67, Farren’s Deviants were heading into bleaker proto-punk territory with MC5-style garage psychedelia. This package features tracks from the band’s defiant debut Ptooff! (one of the first independently made and distributed British rock albums, selling 10,000 copies before Decca picked it up), ’68’s methadone-fuelled Disposable, and their ’69 swan song, No 3. When the band split later that year (the remnants mutating into The Pink Fairies), Farren went on to be a solo artist, the editor of anti-establishment publication IT, and producer of the comic Nasty Tales.
Killing Time
DIRECTED BY Steve Buscemi
STARRING Willem Dafoe, Edward Furlong, Seymour Cassel, Danny Trejo, Mickey Rourke, Tom Arnold
Opens July 4, Cert 18, 94 mins
After two years of gathering dust on distributors’ shelves, Steve Buscemi’s follow-up to his 1996 directorial debut, Trees Lounge, finally gets a UK cinema release.
Where Trees Lounge was a beautifully performed but slight, self-penned piece inspired by Buscemi’s pre-stardom years hanging around Long Island bars, Animal Factory sees America’s number one character actor adapt a novel written by fellow Reservoir Dog, Edward Bunker (Mr Blue to Buscemi’s Mr Pink).
As befits Bunker (Uncut’s favourite grizzled ex-con turned hardboiled crime writer and sometime actor), Animal Factory is a suitably unflinching take on the US prison system, as seen through the eyes of first-time convict Ron Decker (Furlong). Decker is facing 10 years without parole on a drug-trafficking charge when it becomes all too clear that his boyish good looks are going to do him no good whatsoever in the joint. Stalked by the prospect of savage beatings and sexual assault, Decker’s lot is improved when he’s taken under the wing of Earl Copen (Dafoe). For reasons that aren’t immediately clear, Copen, a prison veteran of 18 years, whose reptilian intelligence and toughness have made him king rat, takes a shine to Decker. Copen insinuates the young lad into his alpha-male crew of gravel-voiced convicts and schools him in the ways of institutionalised survival.
Animal Factory steers clear of the overplayed shiv-wielding, butt-fucking histrionics delivered by so many convict dramas and presents a singular view of uncompromising jailhouse life, set apart by its casual authenticity and measured pacing. While the threat of gang rape and shower-room bloodbaths are ever present, Bunker’s screenplay (co-adapted with John Steppling) portrays these harsh realities as matter-of-fact truths. Bunker and Buscemi are far more interested in the everyday workings of the US prison system and what it takes to retain a sense of self in this peculiarly codified, exclusively male environment.
Animal Factory was shot in a disused Philadelphia prison. All non-speaking roles were filled by recruits from the Philadelphia penal system (hard-timers on day release) and it shows. Never have the extras in a convict drama felt so intimidating-they aren’t Actor’s Studio ponces in prison stripes, these guys are the real deal.
Dafoe and Furlong are ideally cast as mentor and ing
Bruce Almighty
OPENED JUNE 27, CERT 12A, 101 MINS Some people say Christian fundamentalists have hijacked American politics. But it's worse than that. The Stateside success of Bruce Almighty is the mark of a culture gone completely, medievally God-mental. Bruce (Jim Carrey) is a TV reporter who has such a bad day he curses God. God (Morgan Freeman) manifests, challenges him to do better and gives him the job for a week. In a series of over-played physical skits, Bruce uses his divine powers to part soup, blow wind up ladies' skirts, answer the prayers of everyone in town and make a rival newsreader's voice go all squeaky. Yep, he can do anything?except make his girlfriend (Jennifer Aniston) forgive his unfaithful ways. What to do? (Hint: it involves praying.) In a more enlightened era, this could have been a subtle, open-minded look at free will, aspirations, limitations and all that good human stuff. Instead it's a suffocatingly pious exercise in blinkered self-righteousness. There is a natural audience for this film, and the increasing number like it. But it's not us.
OPENED JUNE 27, CERT 12A, 101 MINS
Some people say Christian fundamentalists have hijacked American politics. But it’s worse than that. The Stateside success of Bruce Almighty is the mark of a culture gone completely, medievally God-mental.
Bruce (Jim Carrey) is a TV reporter who has such a bad day he curses God. God (Morgan Freeman) manifests, challenges him to do better and gives him the job for a week. In a series of over-played physical skits, Bruce uses his divine powers to part soup, blow wind up ladies’ skirts, answer the prayers of everyone in town and make a rival newsreader’s voice go all squeaky. Yep, he can do anything?except make his girlfriend (Jennifer Aniston) forgive his unfaithful ways. What to do? (Hint: it involves praying.)
In a more enlightened era, this could have been a subtle, open-minded look at free will, aspirations, limitations and all that good human stuff. Instead it’s a suffocatingly pious exercise in blinkered self-righteousness. There is a natural audience for this film, and the increasing number like it. But it’s not us.
Public Enemy
OPENS JULY 25, CERT 18, 138 MINS Fans of undercover cop movies frustrated by Hollywood's insistence on casting Martin Lawrence in all of them should instead turn east for their fix. Among those refreshing the genre are the forthcoming Infernal Affairs (set for a Brad Pitt remake) and this Korean police-procedural. Kang Woo-suk's thriller features a rule-busting anti-hero, a ridiculously cold-blooded villain and relentless action (including a chainsaw climax). What's not to love? Sul Kyung-gu plays Chul-joong, a jaded officer who rips off drug dealers. When internal affairs forces him to make a legitimate arrest for a change, Chul-joong finds himself trying to connect a pair of brutal murders to ruthless businessman Gyu-hwan (Lee Sung-jae). It has the best weapons demo since Steven Prince's in Taxi Driver, more gratuitous head-slapping than the Three Stooges, and the sort of verve and impact that's been missing from US cop films for ages.
OPENS JULY 25, CERT 18, 138 MINS
Fans of undercover cop movies frustrated by Hollywood’s insistence on casting Martin Lawrence in all of them should instead turn east for their fix. Among those refreshing the genre are the forthcoming Infernal Affairs (set for a Brad Pitt remake) and this Korean police-procedural.
Kang Woo-suk’s thriller features a rule-busting anti-hero, a ridiculously cold-blooded villain and relentless action (including a chainsaw climax). What’s not to love? Sul Kyung-gu plays Chul-joong, a jaded officer who rips off drug dealers. When internal affairs forces him to make a legitimate arrest for a change, Chul-joong finds himself trying to connect a pair of brutal murders to ruthless businessman Gyu-hwan (Lee Sung-jae).
It has the best weapons demo since Steven Prince’s in Taxi Driver, more gratuitous head-slapping than the Three Stooges, and the sort of verve and impact that’s been missing from US cop films for ages.
Le Cercle Rouge
OPENS JULY 4, CERT 15, 140 MINS Corey (Alain Delon) wears a rakishly tilted Fedora and a tightly belted trenchcoat. A cigarette hangs form his lower lip. He's an ex-con with a daring diamond heist in mind. His crew consists of the hot-headed Vogel (Gian Maria) and ace alcoholic marksman Jansen (Yves Montand). It's an easy steal. Enter the dogged Police Commissioner (Andre Bourvil)... Le Cercle Rouge, the penultimate feature from crime auteur Jean-Pierre Melville (made three years before his death) simply shouldn't work. It's preposterously hardboiled for a movie made in 1970. It practically oozes Hammett, Chandler and 1940's Warner Brother B-picture style. And it conspicuously conflates Melville's own past noirish standouts: the heist from 1955's Bob Le Flambeur, the suave protagonist from 1967's Le Samourai, and the all-pervasive 'cool machismo' that defines the limits of Melville's universe. And yet it's precisely this boldly un-ironic approach that gives Le Cercle Rouge its raw voltage. Like the best Howard Hawks westerns, Melville's men are hardened professionals with Gary Cooper stares who'll follow their own code right to the end, even if it means death. And, invariably, it does.
OPENS JULY 4, CERT 15, 140 MINS
Corey (Alain Delon) wears a rakishly tilted Fedora and a tightly belted trenchcoat. A cigarette hangs form his lower lip. He’s an ex-con with a daring diamond heist in mind. His crew consists of the hot-headed Vogel (Gian Maria) and ace alcoholic marksman Jansen (Yves Montand). It’s an easy steal. Enter the dogged Police Commissioner (Andre Bourvil)…
Le Cercle Rouge, the penultimate feature from crime auteur Jean-Pierre Melville (made three years before his death) simply shouldn’t work. It’s preposterously hardboiled for a movie made in 1970. It practically oozes Hammett, Chandler and 1940’s Warner Brother B-picture style. And it conspicuously conflates Melville’s own past noirish standouts: the heist from 1955’s Bob Le Flambeur, the suave protagonist from 1967’s Le Samourai, and the all-pervasive ‘cool machismo’ that defines the limits of Melville’s universe.
And yet it’s precisely this boldly un-ironic approach that gives Le Cercle Rouge its raw voltage. Like the best Howard Hawks westerns, Melville’s men are hardened professionals with Gary Cooper stares who’ll follow their own code right to the end, even if it means death. And, invariably, it does.
Brown Sugar
OPENS JULY 18, CERT 12A, 109 MINS Brown Sugar's hip hop credentials are established at the start, as key figures from Russell Simmons to De La Soul reminisce. Former Krush Rap publisher Michael Elliot's script then uses the music's history to frame the relationship between Sidney (Sanaa Lathan) and Dre (Taye Diggs), from their meeting as children at an '80s rap battle onwards. Elliot and director Rick Famuyiwa subvert expectations by creating characters who're not only black and bourgeois (Sidney is a successful rap journalist, Dre an A&R man) but believable?a rarity in a genre used to relying on stereotyping. When Sidney and Dre start dating other people, a conventional 'happy' ending seems in doubt. But the sex is more funnily frank than usual as, after years of expectation, Dre gives Sidney "the most beautiful... five minutes I've ever had". Mos Def and Queen Latifah are on hand as best friends, and only the music, essaying hip hop's romantic side, disappoints in this otherwise low-key success.
OPENS JULY 18, CERT 12A, 109 MINS
Brown Sugar’s hip hop credentials are established at the start, as key figures from Russell Simmons to De La Soul reminisce. Former Krush Rap publisher Michael Elliot’s script then uses the music’s history to frame the relationship between Sidney (Sanaa Lathan) and Dre (Taye Diggs), from their meeting as children at an ’80s rap battle onwards. Elliot and director Rick Famuyiwa subvert expectations by creating characters who’re not only black and bourgeois (Sidney is a successful rap journalist, Dre an A&R man) but believable?a rarity in a genre used to relying on stereotyping. When Sidney and Dre start dating other people, a conventional ‘happy’ ending seems in doubt. But the sex is more funnily frank than usual as, after years of expectation, Dre gives Sidney “the most beautiful… five minutes I’ve ever had”. Mos Def and Queen Latifah are on hand as best friends, and only the music, essaying hip hop’s romantic side, disappoints in this otherwise low-key success.