Another day, another Bond movie. Forgive me if I can't get worked up about the McConcept, although David Arnold is, by any standards, a slick operator who does as much as anyone could to keep the formula fresh. Paul Oakenfold has a stab at remixing the James Bond theme, and, of course, Madonna and Mirwais concoct that title song. Here Madge contrives to sound like a tracheotomy victim rattling through an outtake from the Music album. "Sigmund Freud," she croaks. We wonder why. Then we realise she's simply trying to tell us she read a book once.
Unlikely as he is—a white, upper-class rapper who positively revels in his Ivy Leaguery—Paul Barman offers a surprisingly fresh take on hip hop clichés. The absurd sexscapade "Cock Mobster" balances graphic detail with literary conceit ("I think of the pube I got while reading the Rubaiyat"), owing more to Woody Allen than standard rap bravado. But attempts at gravitas ("Anarchist Bookstore", "Talking Time Travel") resonate with all the panache of a student union debate.
French study of a true-life serial killer who habitually robbed, kidnapped and killed in the south of France during the 1980s. Stefano Cassetti brilliantly captures the unhinged Succo, and there's a steely intelligence throughout, but Cédric Kahn's overly detached approach drains Succo's demonic acts of real terror or impact. That aside, definitely worth investigating.
