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The Drifters – The Definitive Drifters

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Between 1959 and 1964, The Drifters had 16 American hits, many written by top teams from New York's Brill Building, notably including "Save The Last Dance For Me", "Up On The Roof", "On Broadway" and "Under The Boardwalk". These are all-time classics by any measure and any collection featuring them is worth having. On this two-disc set, a great deal else from the group's extensive catalogue appears, not always to much effect. In the absence of something more selective, this is worth considering.

Between 1959 and 1964, The Drifters had 16 American hits, many written by top teams from New York’s Brill Building, notably including “Save The Last Dance For Me”, “Up On The Roof”, “On Broadway” and “Under The Boardwalk”. These are all-time classics by any measure and any collection featuring them is worth having. On this two-disc set, a great deal else from the group’s extensive catalogue appears, not always to much effect. In the absence of something more selective, this is worth considering.

Doug Dillard – The Banjo Album

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Before embarking on his Fantastic Adventure with Gene Clark, The Dillards' founder member issued this statement of intent?a sweet fusion of traditional folk tunes, Ralph Stanley-flavoured bluegrass and white-boy US blues. All the ingredients are in place?Jim Dickson production, Bernie Leadon's guitar, John Hartford's fiddle and Gene (on harmonica) among the crew, all providing a taste of that new '60s baroque which lends this style its longevity and charm.

Before embarking on his Fantastic Adventure with Gene Clark, The Dillards’ founder member issued this statement of intent?a sweet fusion of traditional folk tunes, Ralph Stanley-flavoured bluegrass and white-boy US blues.

All the ingredients are in place?Jim Dickson production, Bernie Leadon’s guitar, John Hartford’s fiddle and Gene (on harmonica) among the crew, all providing a taste of that new ’60s baroque which lends this style its longevity and charm.

Captain Sensible – The Collection

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To some, the Captain's 1982 No 1 romp through Rodgers and Hammerstein's "Happy Talk" was the ultimate punk sell-out. Silly beggars! It was, of course, a hilarious act of screwball subversion. Either way, its Goonish novelty was unrepresentative of the two albums that followed. As the best bits collated here show, solo Sensible traded in the same satirical Englishness as The Kinks and Madness ("Croydon", "A Nice Cup Of Tea"). His lovable "Rapper's Delight" pastiche "Wot" still raises a smile, but did 1984's touching "There's More Snakes Than Ladders" really only reach No 57? He was robbed.

To some, the Captain’s 1982 No 1 romp through Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Happy Talk” was the ultimate punk sell-out. Silly beggars! It was, of course, a hilarious act of screwball subversion.

Either way, its Goonish novelty was unrepresentative of the two albums that followed. As the best bits collated here show, solo Sensible traded in the same satirical Englishness as The Kinks and Madness (“Croydon”, “A Nice Cup Of Tea”). His lovable “Rapper’s Delight” pastiche “Wot” still raises a smile, but did 1984’s touching “There’s More Snakes Than Ladders” really only reach No 57? He was robbed.

Alternative TV – Action Time Vision: The ATV Anthology

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After instigating punk's Xerox bible, fanzine mogul Perry decided to "have a go myself" (as he explains in his enlightening liner notes), thus forming ATV. His earliest efforts remain his best, notably the reggae-tinged confession of impotence, "Love Lies Limp" (apparently a chide against the libido of journalist Caroline Coon, the then-girlfriend of The Clash's Paul Simonon) and 77's shrewd dismissal of punk bandwagon jumpers "How Much Longer". This double CD also traces his perseverance thereafter, from dub to jangling '80s indie. A mixed bag musically, though consistently entertaining in Perry's lyrical outlook.

After instigating punk’s Xerox bible, fanzine mogul Perry decided to “have a go myself” (as he explains in his enlightening liner notes), thus forming ATV. His earliest efforts remain his best, notably the reggae-tinged confession of impotence, “Love Lies Limp” (apparently a chide against the libido of journalist Caroline Coon, the then-girlfriend of The Clash’s Paul Simonon) and 77’s shrewd dismissal of punk bandwagon jumpers “How Much Longer”. This double CD also traces his perseverance thereafter, from dub to jangling ’80s indie. A mixed bag musically, though consistently entertaining in Perry’s lyrical outlook.

Ten Benson – Danger Of Deaf

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London-based quartet Ten Benson have been plugging their hard rock have been pluggiffs and caustic humour around the UK underground for the best part of a decade without ever troubling the mainstream. Danger Of Deaf is half best-of and half live album, featuring tracks culled from their two previous LPs (2000's Hiss and last year's Satan Kidney Pie) and re-recorded in one take to recreate the full Benson live experience. Overblown at the best of times, their AC/DC-aping rawk now begs comparison with Spinal Tap. The full catalogue of rock histrionics are employed here: distorted vocals from frontman Chris Teckkam, copious amounts of feedback and pitch-black lyrics. Novelty Christmas single "Black Snow" and the guitar riff on "Nobody's Wife" are superb. Impossible to take seriously, so just turn it up to 11.

London-based quartet Ten Benson have been plugging their hard rock have been pluggiffs and caustic humour around the UK underground for the best part of a decade without ever troubling the mainstream. Danger Of Deaf is half best-of and half live album, featuring tracks culled from their two previous LPs (2000’s Hiss and last year’s Satan Kidney Pie) and re-recorded in one take to recreate the full Benson live experience. Overblown at the best of times, their AC/DC-aping rawk now begs comparison with Spinal Tap. The full catalogue of rock histrionics are employed here: distorted vocals from frontman Chris Teckkam, copious amounts of feedback and pitch-black lyrics. Novelty Christmas single “Black Snow” and the guitar riff on “Nobody’s Wife” are superb.

Impossible to take seriously, so just turn it up to 11.

Roger Waters – The Wall Live In Berlin

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It would be hard to improve on the description of The Wall offered by the editor of Uncut recently in his "Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before" column. "An impossibly miserable psychodrama, four sides of groaning self-pity, morbid pessimism and relentless musical hogwash, "Allan Jones wrote in d...

It would be hard to improve on the description of The Wall offered by the editor of Uncut recently in his “Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before” column. “An impossibly miserable psychodrama, four sides of groaning self-pity, morbid pessimism and relentless musical hogwash, “Allan Jones wrote in describing Pink Floyd’s original 1979 studio recording. And nothing had improved when Waters performed the work live at the Berlin Wall on July 21, 1990. Even the galaxy of estimable guest singers, including Van Morrison, Sin

Various Artists – The American Song-Poem Anthology

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Older readers may recall those ads in US mags of the '60s and '70s which, for a sum of cash, offered to set your lyrics to music. Many responded, and this CD collects 28 of the best, and worst, examples, including the most notorious?John Trubee's "Blind Man's Penis"?and much genuine strangeness, featuring love songs to carpet bugs, Richard Nixon, masturbation and green fingernails. The most prominent figure is one Rodd Keith, whose "Heartbroken Pain" was later covered by Yo La Tengo. Intriguing stuff.

Older readers may recall those ads in US mags of the ’60s and ’70s which, for a sum of cash, offered to set your lyrics to music. Many responded, and this CD collects 28 of the best, and worst, examples, including the most notorious?John Trubee’s “Blind Man’s Penis”?and much genuine strangeness, featuring love songs to carpet bugs, Richard Nixon, masturbation and green fingernails. The most prominent figure is one Rodd Keith, whose “Heartbroken Pain” was later covered by Yo La Tengo.

Intriguing stuff.

Hollywood Mondo

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Kim Fowley's hoss is impossible to tether. Six-and-a-half-feet tall, resembling the worst nightmare in The Phantom Of The Paradise, too ugly for the agency, Fowley was born on the day Hitler invaded Poland. He grew up in the last Babylonian days of Tarnished Hollywood. His dad played Doc Holliday in the TV series, Wyatt Earp, and sent young Kim to finishing school, where he shared an inkwell with Nancy Sinatra. Fuelled on Elvis, Frankie Lymon and that whole American Graffiti drive-in fumble, Fowley befriended fellow freak Phil Spector before embarking on his quest to justify girlfriend Candice Bergen's assertion that he would make "dog crap rock and roll records". Kim's throwaway cult status is given a drastic makeover here, as the 32 tracks break all the rules of pop normalcy. His accidental legend does him a great disservice, too, since these gory gems are a full-fat rave, bringing to mind the vile gag?"Where's the party?" "It's in your mouth, and everyone's coming." Flitting between sultry LA, Swinging London (he stood in the audience at the Richmond Athletic Club with Eric Clapton watching the Stones, worked with Cat Stevens and PJ Proby's hairdresser Spider) and the black country rock of pre-Slade incarnation the N'Betweens, Fowley was there. His million sellers like "Alley-Oop" and B.Bumble & The Stingers' "Nut Rocker" are the jukebox gems on a depraved string of pearls. Never keen to cast his shadow in any one place, Kim rubbed alongside The Seeds, Them, The Soft Machine and The Rivingtons?whose "Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow" bookends this fantastically weird collection. Even a solo Kim was worth his salt. Imagine Ted Nugent fronting the Velvets with Mars Bonfire on guitar and you've got "Animal Man". He broke all the moulds and he didn't take non-prescription drugs. The teenage crippled Lord Byron will finally have his day.

Kim Fowley’s hoss is impossible to tether. Six-and-a-half-feet tall, resembling the worst nightmare in The Phantom Of The Paradise, too ugly for the agency, Fowley was born on the day Hitler invaded Poland. He grew up in the last Babylonian days of Tarnished Hollywood. His dad played Doc Holliday in the TV series, Wyatt Earp, and sent young Kim to finishing school, where he shared an inkwell with Nancy Sinatra.

Fuelled on Elvis, Frankie Lymon and that whole American Graffiti drive-in fumble, Fowley befriended fellow freak Phil Spector before embarking on his quest to justify girlfriend Candice Bergen’s assertion that he would make “dog crap rock and roll records”.

Kim’s throwaway cult status is given a drastic makeover here, as the 32 tracks break all the rules of pop normalcy. His accidental legend does him a great disservice, too, since these gory gems are a full-fat rave, bringing to mind the vile gag?”Where’s the party?” “It’s in your mouth, and everyone’s coming.”

Flitting between sultry LA, Swinging London (he stood in the audience at the Richmond Athletic Club with Eric Clapton watching the Stones, worked with Cat Stevens and PJ Proby’s hairdresser Spider) and the black country rock of pre-Slade incarnation the N’Betweens, Fowley was there. His million sellers like “Alley-Oop” and B.Bumble & The Stingers’ “Nut Rocker” are the jukebox gems on a depraved string of pearls.

Never keen to cast his shadow in any one place, Kim rubbed alongside The Seeds, Them, The Soft Machine and The Rivingtons?whose “Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow” bookends this fantastically weird collection. Even a solo Kim was worth his salt. Imagine Ted Nugent fronting the Velvets with Mars Bonfire on guitar and you’ve got “Animal Man”. He broke all the moulds and he didn’t take non-prescription drugs. The teenage crippled Lord Byron will finally have his day.

Steve Marriott – Signed Sealed

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Marriott's career after The Small Faces initially centred on the group he formed with Peter Frampton, Humble Pie. After six years of touring in the US, Marriott left Humble Pie and attempted to reignite The Small Faces, but when this failed, he fell back on returns to Humble Pie and stints in Europe with Packet Of Three, releasing two solo albums before his death in '91. This patchy compilation gives an idea of the music he made in his later years, but offers nothing by way of documentation.

Marriott’s career after The Small Faces initially centred on the group he formed with Peter Frampton, Humble Pie. After six years of touring in the US, Marriott left Humble Pie and attempted to reignite The Small Faces, but when this failed, he fell back on returns to Humble Pie and stints in Europe with Packet Of Three, releasing two solo albums before his death in ’91. This patchy compilation gives an idea of the music he made in his later years, but offers nothing by way of documentation.

Emmylou Harris – Producer’s Cut

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Collectors will want this compilation of Emmylou's early work for the inclusion of a duet with Johnny Cash on "Old Rugged Cross". Techno-buffs will want it for the crystalline 5:1 surround sound, remixed for DVD-A format by Brian Ahern, who produced 11 albums for Harris between 1975 and '83. The rest of us can simply enjoy a fine selection that places such classics as "Boulder To Birmingham" and "Pancho And Lefty" alongside less celebrated gems like "The Last Cheater's Waltz".

Collectors will want this compilation of Emmylou’s early work for the inclusion of a duet with Johnny Cash on “Old Rugged Cross”. Techno-buffs will want it for the crystalline 5:1 surround sound, remixed for DVD-A format by Brian Ahern, who produced 11 albums for Harris between 1975 and ’83. The rest of us can simply enjoy a fine selection that places such classics as “Boulder To Birmingham” and “Pancho And Lefty” alongside less celebrated gems like “The Last Cheater’s Waltz”.

Delaney & Bonnie And Friends – D&B Together

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The husband and wife tag team of Delaney and Bonnie hit that cusp where Eric Clapton and the entire '70s roadshow jam scene began, growling and grinding along similar lines to Sticky Fingers-era Stones. This was, their last album together (they divorced in '72), but it retains a frisson thanks to Clapton and Dave Mason's guitar work on "Only You And I Know" and the early "Groupie"?or "Superstar" for Leon Russell (or Carpenters) fans. Pass the chicken and listen, y'all.

The husband and wife tag team of Delaney and Bonnie hit that cusp where Eric Clapton and the entire ’70s roadshow jam scene began, growling and grinding along similar lines to Sticky Fingers-era Stones. This was, their last album together (they divorced in ’72), but it retains a frisson thanks to Clapton and Dave Mason’s guitar work on “Only You And I Know” and the early “Groupie”?or “Superstar” for Leon Russell (or Carpenters) fans. Pass the chicken and listen, y’all.

The Undisputed Truth – Hamilton Bohannon

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Hamilton Bohannon SUMMERTIME GROOVE Rating Star BOTH UNIVERSAL The Undisputed Truth always seemed like Norman Whitfield's musical laboratory. Side one of Face To Face is a gem; "You Make Your Own Heaven" is stealthy, clenched-teeth funk which simmers with tension rather than exploding, while "What It Is?" deconstructs itself as it goes along in the manner of PiL's "Fodderstompf". The Bohannon album kicks off with "Let's Start The Dance" and motors along as a streetwise equivalent of Moroder's "From Here To Eternity". Its blank grooves and agitated undertow anticipate both house music and the Talking Heads of "I Zimbra".

Hamilton Bohannon

SUMMERTIME GROOVE

Rating Star

BOTH UNIVERSAL

The Undisputed Truth always seemed like Norman Whitfield’s musical laboratory. Side one of Face To Face is a gem; “You Make Your Own Heaven” is stealthy, clenched-teeth funk which simmers with tension rather than exploding, while “What It Is?” deconstructs itself as it goes along in the manner of PiL’s “Fodderstompf”.

The Bohannon album kicks off with “Let’s Start The Dance” and motors along as a streetwise equivalent of Moroder’s “From Here To Eternity”. Its blank grooves and agitated undertow anticipate both house music and the Talking Heads of “I Zimbra”.

Canterbury Tales

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Is it fair to say Kevin Ayers, in this extraordinary body of work from three decades ago, achieved what Syd Barrett might have had he got himself together? Newly departed from Soft Machine, this enigmatic oddball immediately set about assembling the songs and sounds for his 1969 debut Joy Of A Toy. What's striking about this remarkable record is the playfulness of its experimentation. From the avant-garde brass band of the title track via the askew lounge music of "Song For Insane Times" to the epic ballad "Lady Rachael", the mood is liberated and open-minded. Badly Drawn Boy and Jim O'Rourke owe this record a bundle. On 1970's Shooting At The Moon Ayers assembled an unbelievably disparate group called The Whole World, including classical keyboardist David Bedford, improv saxophonist Lol Coxhill and a teenage Mike Oldfield on bass. The subdued improvisation works beautifully on sardonic ballads like "May I?", and Oldfield's bass playing is among the most inventive on any British rock LP. Ayers' masterpiece, however, is 1971's Whatevershebringswesing (again with Bedford and Oldfield), a fusion of seemingly opposed elements. It ranges from lighthearted rockers like "Stranger In Blue Suede Shoes" via the bucolically hypnotic title track to the startling "Song From The Bottom Of A Well", which anticipates PiL's METAL BOX LP by eight years. Bananamour (1973) saw Ayers moving closer to the rock mainstream, but it remains daring. Highlights include the drone-rock of "Decadence" and "Oh! Wot A Dream", a tribute to Barrett; who contributes guitar to "Religious Experience", a bonus track on Joy Of A Toy. We've rediscovered Drake, Martyn and Harper; it's time now to give Ayers your attention.

Is it fair to say Kevin Ayers, in this extraordinary body of work from three decades ago, achieved what Syd Barrett might have had he got himself together? Newly departed from Soft Machine, this enigmatic oddball immediately set about assembling the songs and sounds for his 1969 debut Joy Of A Toy. What’s striking about this remarkable record is the playfulness of its experimentation. From the avant-garde brass band of the title track via the askew lounge music of “Song For Insane Times” to the epic ballad “Lady Rachael”, the mood is liberated and open-minded. Badly Drawn Boy and Jim O’Rourke owe this record a bundle.

On 1970’s Shooting At The Moon Ayers assembled an unbelievably disparate group called The Whole World, including classical keyboardist David Bedford, improv saxophonist Lol Coxhill and a teenage Mike Oldfield on bass. The subdued improvisation works beautifully on sardonic ballads like “May I?”, and Oldfield’s bass playing is among the most inventive on any British rock LP. Ayers’ masterpiece, however, is 1971’s Whatevershebringswesing (again with Bedford and Oldfield), a fusion of seemingly opposed elements. It ranges from lighthearted rockers like “Stranger In Blue Suede Shoes” via the bucolically hypnotic title track to the startling “Song From The Bottom Of A Well”, which anticipates PiL’s METAL BOX LP by eight years.

Bananamour (1973) saw Ayers moving closer to the rock mainstream, but it remains daring. Highlights include the drone-rock of “Decadence” and “Oh! Wot A Dream”, a tribute to Barrett; who contributes guitar to “Religious Experience”, a bonus track on Joy Of A Toy.

We’ve rediscovered Drake, Martyn and Harper; it’s time now to give Ayers your attention.

Let’s Get Metaphysical

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DIRECTED BY Andy and Larry Wachowski STARRING Keanu Reeves, Carrie-Anne Moss, Laurence Fishburne, Hugo Weaving Opened May 23, Cert 15, 218 mins The matrix reinvented sci-fi blockbusters for post-ironic, post-modern, non-linear future-kids. The best philosophical hip hop kung-fu cyber-noir mega-epi...

DIRECTED BY Andy and Larry Wachowski

STARRING Keanu Reeves, Carrie-Anne Moss, Laurence Fishburne, Hugo Weaving Opened May 23, Cert 15, 218 mins

The matrix reinvented sci-fi blockbusters for post-ironic, post-modern, non-linear future-kids. The best philosophical hip hop kung-fu cyber-noir mega-epic ever to namedrop hip cultural theorists, Greek mythology and Hong Kong action movies, it was our generation’s Blade Runner meets Alien meets The Terminator with a heady extra dash of underground sex’n’drugs kool. It may have been comic-book pulp at heart, but it was boundary-pushing, reality-warping pulp of the highest intensity

Perhaps inevitably, The Matrix Reloaded is a very different beast. Four years in the making, shot back to back with The Matrix Revolutions, the second in the trilogy is a jaw-dropping feast of mental acrobatics and cutting-edge technology. But it inevitably lacks some of the edgy freshness of the original, bowing instead to mainstream action thriller conventions. There are far too many minor new characters here whose sole purpose seems, Phantom Menace-style, to sell more action figures. There is also too little exploration of the infinite allegorical possibilities of the Matrix itself. Is it a political metaphor? Metaphysical puzzle? Mass hallucination? This time around, it feels like little more than a video game platform.

A lean and pale Keanu returns as Neo, the hacker-Messiah now wearing priestly robes to denote his quasi-spiritual Jedi-like status. Now officially partnered with Trinity (Moss) and supernatural sidekick to Morpheus (Fishburne), Neo is charged with saving the underground human enclave of Zion from a massive attack by Matrix machines?a showdown which, teasingly, the Wachowskis postpone until the next movie. He also appears to have acquired superheroic powers, which make him less vulnerable and less interesting. At one point, Neo saves the life of a dying friend after a fatal shoot-out inside the Matrix. But if he can rewrite the rules like that, surely the trilogy’s carefully constructed internal logic falls apart? Clumsy.

But no matter, because the good stuff here is state-of-the-art turbo-nutter shit par excellence. The action set-pieces especially make you want to stand up and cheer, beginning with a gravity-defying martial arts street battle between Neo and an ever-increasing army of Agent Smith replicants. The audacious and unnerving spectacle of several dozen Hugo Weavings moving in dynamic unison like a flock of birds is pure surrealist nightmare meets pop art collage, like Being John Malkovich crossed with Terminator 2. Attack of the clones indeed.

The other magnificent stunt sequence is a 15-minute road chase, which was staged on a loop highway on a disused US Navy base, taking 45 days and a staggering $40 million to complete. In this superbly orchestrated crescendo of heavy machinery and balletic violence, Trinity blasts the wrong way up a busy freeway on a supercharged motorbike while Morpheus fights off Agent Smith and other devious cyber-monsters from the roof of a speeding container truck. This hyper-intense orgy of destruction totalled 300 cars and almost justifies The Matrix Reloaded on its own. Which is just as well, because when the Wachowskis switch from mechanised carnage to human drama they quickly get bogged down in routine love triangles, family values and professional rivalries. Soap opera stuff, in other words. Even the erotic tension between Neo and Trinity has evolved into a boring Hollywood fantasy of gooey-eyed marital bliss. Sure, they get to shag each other, but in a tastefully lit missionary clinch with no hint of the S&M overtones which rippled through the first film. Shame.

In rock’n’roll terms, The Matrix Reloaded is far more heavy metal than techno. Sadly, the original film’s pop-savvy cyberpunk ethos has been trampled underfoot by stampeding nu-metal and stodgy geezer-techno bollocks like Paul Oakenfold. The much-praised “rave” scene in a vast subterranean cathedral looks like nothing more than a Club Megadog student-crusty white-rasta knees-up from 1992. Ugh. Most damningly, this lurch towards the mainstream appears to have diminished the film’s intellectual and literary horizons. The Matrix was ablaze with allusions to Alice In Wonderland, Jean Baudrillard, Guy D

Ripley’s Game

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OPENS MAY 23, CERT 15, 110 MINS Highsmith's sociopath playboy was last played by Matt Damon in The Talented Mr Ripley. Here, John Malkovich is superb?urbane and malicious, manipulating those around him out of a mixture of spite and boredom. It's a performance to rank alongside his best work. Now married and living in Italy, Ripley is something of a mystery to the local residents. He soon discovers what they think of him when he overhears picture-frame maker Jonathan Trevanny (Dougray Scott) make a disparaging comment about his lack of taste. Soon enough, Trevanny is drawn into a particularly sadistic and murderous game engineered by Ripley and his former associate Reeves (Ray Winstone). Shot with a sophisticated sheen by Liliana Cavani, the film begins on shaky ground?Winstone falls back on his usual cocky Cockney routine, while a beret-wearing Malkovich seems content to impersonate Frank Spencer. But, as Highsmith's well-crafted plot unfolds, Ripley's Game becomes a fascinating study in innocence, guilt and revenge.

OPENS MAY 23, CERT 15, 110 MINS

Highsmith’s sociopath playboy was last played by Matt Damon in The Talented Mr Ripley. Here, John Malkovich is superb?urbane and malicious, manipulating those around him out of a mixture of spite and boredom. It’s a performance to rank alongside his best work.

Now married and living in Italy, Ripley is something of a mystery to the local residents. He soon discovers what they think of him when he overhears picture-frame maker Jonathan Trevanny (Dougray Scott) make a disparaging comment about his lack of taste. Soon enough, Trevanny is drawn into a particularly sadistic and murderous game engineered by Ripley and his former associate Reeves (Ray Winstone).

Shot with a sophisticated sheen by Liliana Cavani, the film begins on shaky ground?Winstone falls back on his usual cocky Cockney routine, while a beret-wearing Malkovich seems content to impersonate Frank Spencer. But, as Highsmith’s well-crafted plot unfolds, Ripley’s Game becomes a fascinating study in innocence, guilt and revenge.

Dark Water

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OPENS JUNE 6, CERT 15, 101 MINS Ring, the first collaboration between horror novelist K...

OPENS JUNE 6, CERT 15, 101 MINS

Ring, the first collaboration between horror novelist K

Broken Wings

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OPENS JUNE 16, CERT 15, 87 MINS Nir Bergman's first feature is a delicately observed, morbidly comic study of a grieving family. Dafna Ulman has been struggling to cope since the death of her husband. She's skint. Her teenage son has quit school and taken a dead-end job distributing flyers, dressed as a gigantic mouse. Her teenage daughter, who dreams of becoming a pop star, is furious that she's always the one left to baby-sit for her doe-eyed five-year-old sister and traumatised 10-year-old brother, whose petty hobby is diving into empty swimming pools. There's something paradoxical about the Ulmans. Mother and kids are intelligent and resourceful, but so wrapped up in their grief that common sense has left them. Teetering on the verge of mawkishness, with a lachrymose soundtrack, the film is lifted by Bergman's eye for psychological details, his line in deadpan humour and his constant willingness to show both the hostility and the tenderness the family clearly feel for one another. An auspicious start.

OPENS JUNE 16, CERT 15, 87 MINS

Nir Bergman’s first feature is a delicately observed, morbidly comic study of a grieving family. Dafna Ulman has been struggling to cope since the death of her husband. She’s skint. Her teenage son has quit school and taken a dead-end job distributing flyers, dressed as a gigantic mouse. Her teenage daughter, who dreams of becoming a pop star, is furious that she’s always the one left to baby-sit for her doe-eyed five-year-old sister and traumatised 10-year-old brother, whose petty hobby is diving into empty swimming pools. There’s something paradoxical about the Ulmans. Mother and kids are intelligent and resourceful, but so wrapped up in their grief that common sense has left them. Teetering on the verge of mawkishness, with a lachrymose soundtrack, the film is lifted by Bergman’s eye for psychological details, his line in deadpan humour and his constant willingness to show both the hostility and the tenderness the family clearly feel for one another. An auspicious start.

Max

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DIRECTED BY Menno Meyjes STARRING John Cusack, Noah Taylor, Leelee Sobieski, Molly Parker Opens June 13, Cert 15, 109 mins It's 1918 in Munich, and in the aftermath of World War I those crazy rock'n'roll guys called 'artists' are excited: all bets are off, the future's what they make it. Tomorrow, they feel, belongs to them. They're having so many fresh ideas, in the wake of the changes and horrors they've witnessed, that everybody's arguing, heatedly, about which road modern creativity should take. Max Rothman (Cusack) lost an arm in the war, which means he can no longer paint. He channels his energy into opening and promoting a cutting-edge art gallery. In his downtime, he flits between elegant wife (Parker) and unconventional mistress (Sobieski). Life's challenging, but good. Max is always discovering new artists?a drunken George Grosz (Kevin McKidd) throws up in scene one, and when a shy, neurotic loner (Taylor) begs for a chance, he's generous, as the young man's a fellow war Vet. But this guy's ideas get increasingly out there. His name? Adolf Hitler. Max is a fable, blurring fact and fiction to catch the fire of a rich but catastrophic turning point in history. Meyjes, who wrote it, brews a vibrant movie that emphasises its 'modernism' in every sense. It's not a dull, faithful period piece. Liberties are taken, yet its colours and ideas develop real emotional pull. A one-armed Cusack?in serious rather than larking-about mode here?is splendid as the smooth extrovert hiding inner frustration, an amalgam of several legendary art figures. Sobieski's muse is based on Meret Oppenheim, and the Jewish 'issue' simmers subtly till it spills. Taylor, however, steals the film. His young Adolf is a creepy, fidgety act of revenge waiting to happen. We're brought to believe his 'talents' could've been misdirected in such a tragic way. "I think it's good," says Max, dismissing Hitler's early drawings ("harmless" flirtations with Nazi "kitsch"), "but you can go even deeper." Films where people talk a lot about the meaning of art don't often work. This one does. "I reckon he's a nothing," suggests Max of Hitler. "Perhaps that's his secret?perhaps it's the age of the nothing." A masterpiece of poetic license, Max gets everything right. Superb.

DIRECTED BY Menno Meyjes

STARRING John Cusack, Noah Taylor, Leelee Sobieski, Molly Parker

Opens June 13, Cert 15, 109 mins

It’s 1918 in Munich, and in the aftermath of World War I those crazy rock’n’roll guys called ‘artists’ are excited: all bets are off, the future’s what they make it. Tomorrow, they feel, belongs to them. They’re having so many fresh ideas, in the wake of the changes and horrors they’ve witnessed, that everybody’s arguing, heatedly, about which road modern creativity should take.

Max Rothman (Cusack) lost an arm in the war, which means he can no longer paint. He channels his energy into opening and promoting a cutting-edge art gallery. In his downtime, he flits between elegant wife (Parker) and unconventional mistress (Sobieski). Life’s challenging, but good. Max is always discovering new artists?a drunken George Grosz (Kevin McKidd) throws up in scene one, and when a shy, neurotic loner (Taylor) begs for a chance, he’s generous, as the young man’s a fellow war Vet. But this guy’s ideas get increasingly out there. His name? Adolf Hitler.

Max is a fable, blurring fact and fiction to catch the fire of a rich but catastrophic turning point in history. Meyjes, who wrote it, brews a vibrant movie that emphasises its ‘modernism’ in every sense. It’s not a dull, faithful period piece. Liberties are taken, yet its colours and ideas develop real emotional pull. A one-armed Cusack?in serious rather than larking-about mode here?is splendid as the smooth extrovert hiding inner frustration, an amalgam of several legendary art figures. Sobieski’s muse is based on Meret Oppenheim, and the Jewish ‘issue’ simmers subtly till it spills. Taylor, however, steals the film. His young Adolf is a creepy, fidgety act of revenge waiting to happen. We’re brought to believe his ‘talents’ could’ve been misdirected in such a tragic way. “I think it’s good,” says Max, dismissing Hitler’s early drawings (“harmless” flirtations with Nazi “kitsch”), “but you can go even deeper.”

Films where people talk a lot about the meaning of art don’t often work. This one does. “I reckon he’s a nothing,” suggests Max of Hitler. “Perhaps that’s his secret?perhaps it’s the age of the nothing.” A masterpiece of poetic license, Max gets everything right. Superb.

Slay With Me

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DIRECTED BY Park Chan-wook STARRING Shin Ha-jyung, Bae Du-na Opened May 30, Cert 18, 121 mins The amazing international success of South Korean cinema's new wave continues with this psychologically and physically punishing thriller from director Park Chan-wook. Moving implacably forward through a world of really bad shit, this uncompromising crime movie is as hard-boiled as it gets. The morally complex, ruthlessly focused narrative begins with deaf-mute anti-hero Ryu (Shin Ha-jyung, from Park's previous movie, Joint Security Area) being laid off from a job he needs in order to pay for his sister's kidney transplant. Encouraged by his anarchist girlfriend (Bae Du-na), he initiates an ill-conceived plan to raise the money by kidnapping the daughter of his former boss (Song Kang-ho). Inevitably, the whole enterprise takes a considerable turn for the worse, and the body count begins to rise. But despite the unremitting savagery Park orchestrates, the film has an impressive empathy for victims and perpetrators alike?the characters' motives are clear, the repercussions inevitable and the resulting tragedy deeply felt by all involved (including the viewer). The deliberate pacing of the film's early stages more than pays off; having moved all of his pieces into position, Park unleashes a series of gut-churning set-pieces that forces us ever deeper into the hellish world his characters have created for themselves. Bodies are destroyed at a formidable rate, with Ryu swinging his baseball bat in a manner that would make Barry Bonds proud, and a 'knife in the neck'gag that deserves to become a classic moment in cinematic violence. You may be repulsed, but the film's grip is so strong that you won't be able to look away for long. The grim fare is put across with great flair by Park; elegant, deep-focus compositions allow the degenerate action to play out on various levels in single shots, while crucial twists and shifts in perspective are integrated organically rather than used as an excuse for a smart-arsed complex structure. Matching the impact of what's on screen is a sound-design that ranges from unsettling, over-amplified noise to the muffled churning in Ryu's tortured head, allowing the viewer to experience events on an uncomfortably intimate, near-subliminal level. The intensity continues even beyond the end credits; you'll be unsteady on your feet long after you've finally left your seat. Some piece of work.

DIRECTED BY Park Chan-wook

STARRING Shin Ha-jyung, Bae Du-na

Opened May 30, Cert 18, 121 mins

The amazing international success of South Korean cinema’s new wave continues with this psychologically and physically punishing thriller from director Park Chan-wook. Moving implacably forward through a world of really bad shit, this uncompromising crime movie is as hard-boiled as it gets.

The morally complex, ruthlessly focused narrative begins with deaf-mute anti-hero Ryu (Shin Ha-jyung, from Park’s previous movie, Joint Security Area) being laid off from a job he needs in order to pay for his sister’s kidney transplant. Encouraged by his anarchist girlfriend (Bae Du-na), he initiates an ill-conceived plan to raise the money by kidnapping the daughter of his former boss (Song Kang-ho).

Inevitably, the whole enterprise takes a considerable turn for the worse, and the body count begins to rise. But despite the unremitting savagery Park orchestrates, the film has an impressive empathy for victims and perpetrators alike?the characters’ motives are clear, the repercussions inevitable and the resulting tragedy deeply felt by all involved (including the viewer). The deliberate pacing of the film’s early stages more than pays off; having moved all of his pieces into position, Park unleashes a series of gut-churning set-pieces that forces us ever deeper into the hellish world his characters have created for themselves. Bodies are destroyed at a formidable rate, with Ryu swinging his baseball bat in a manner that would make Barry Bonds proud, and a ‘knife in the neck’gag that deserves to become a classic moment in cinematic violence. You may be repulsed, but the film’s grip is so strong that you won’t be able to look away for long. The grim fare is put across with great flair by Park; elegant, deep-focus compositions allow the degenerate action to play out on various levels in single shots, while crucial twists and shifts in perspective are integrated organically rather than used as an excuse for a smart-arsed complex structure.

Matching the impact of what’s on screen is a sound-design that ranges from unsettling, over-amplified noise to the muffled churning in Ryu’s tortured head, allowing the viewer to experience events on an uncomfortably intimate, near-subliminal level. The intensity continues even beyond the end credits; you’ll be unsteady on your feet long after you’ve finally left your seat.

Some piece of work.

Springtime In A Small Town

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OPENS JUNE 13, CERT PG, 116 MINS Film and politics are so inextricably linked in China that Tian Zhuangzhuang's decision to remake the 1948 classic Spring In A Small Town is itself a political act. The original's director, Fei Mu, was dismissed as right wing by the communists after his death. In ad...

OPENS JUNE 13, CERT PG, 116 MINS

Film and politics are so inextricably linked in China that Tian Zhuangzhuang’s decision to remake the 1948 classic Spring In A Small Town is itself a political act. The original’s director, Fei Mu, was dismissed as right wing by the communists after his death. In adding to Mu’s posthumous rehabilitation, Zhuangzhuang thumbs his nose at the authorities under the cloak of homage.

A shame the result couldn’t be more compelling. For while there’s much to admire in this elegant tale of a m

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