Tom Hanks plays astronaut Jim Lovell in this big-budget nail-biting drama based on the 1970 moon shot. The excellent supporting cast - Ed Harris, Bill Paxton, Kevin Bacon and Kathleen Quinlan - make this one of the films of the year and although the third act was written in reality 20 years ago, it doesn't detract from the fact that the viewer will be on the edge of their seat by the last five minutes. Full marks to director Ron Howard for delivering a touching, very human story, although he does tend to revel in scenes of the family and friends back on earth and the insensitive media, at leats he treats people like people rather than pieces of meat in such movies as Die Hard With A Vengeance and Judge Dredd. Little wonder it became one of the biggest hits of the summer while the more violent movies bowed out early in the running.
*****
You've seen the posters. Cute pig; bunch of farmyard animals; glowing reviews. But how good is this tale of talking pig and his adventures as a sheep herder? Well, the answer is very good indeed. In fact, it's rare to see a packed crowd of twentysomethings laughing and gasping at any U certificate film so the kids must have loved it. Jim Henson's Creature Shop provided the stunning fake pigs, geese and horses while computer generated wizadry helped the beasts deliver some rather witty dialogue. There's one niggle and it's the fact that American voices were used in place of the Australian actors. It's a shame as this really isn't California and at least the European print could have been released as intact as possible. It's a fairytale admittedly, but the charm of the movie is wholly Australian. Nevertheless, director Chris Noonan deserves full marks for not over sentimentalising the whole affair while producer George (Mad Max) Miller has ensured this "pet' project of the last 10 years was brought to the screen with all the qualities of a classic film. As with earlier Aussie hits, Strictly Ballroom, Priscilla Queen of the Desert and Muriel's Wedding, there's no-one to touch the wizards of Oz when it comes to delivering quirky, original tales made with class and distinction. At the moment, Babe's legacy has meant millions of Americans are forsaking bacon butties and a similar effect looks set to happen in Europe. Whatever your views, this is one of the best films of the year and deserves the glowing praise of delighted critics everywhere. Babe. A corker of a porker.
*****
"Don't call me Babe!," snarls Pamela Anderson through gritted teeth in this comic book adventure. Well, okay then, how about Ms Wire, or just Barb? She plays a glamorous bounty hunter who obviously has a spot of trouble getting clothes to fit her. Pam clearly has trouble with her wardrobe department as they do insist on making tops 10 sizes too small for her ridiculously well-endowed figure. However, once you get past that world famous Anderson chest, is there anything else to recommend in this updated version of Casablanca? Well, um... There's some nice photography, a few decent action scenes and.. ahem. No not really. It's a big dumb movie with Pam at the forefront of a runaway vehicle heading ever onward to an inevitable conclusion. It will make a lot of money and keep teeange boys salivating over their bedroom posters for weeks to come, not to mention the ever hungry Pam rags gracing your local newsagent shelves. Can she act? Well, compared to Keanu Reeves, she comes across like Emma Thompson on a bad day. Can she carry the film? Open to question considering it's a formulaic affair lifting style and scant substance from a number of other movies (Terminator and the aforementioned Casablanca to name but two). However, considering it's based on a pretty lame comic book to begin with, one wonders how good it could have been under the circumstances.
*
Goodfellas in Vegas is perhaps the best way to describe Martin Scorsese's latest outing. Robert De Niro (in his second three hour movie of the year after Heat) teams up with the excellent Sharon Stone and psychotic Joe Pesci to take on the glittering Nevada gambling resort. This is easily one of the most violent films of the year with moments of such graphic and casual atrocities, you barely get the chance to hide your eyes before someone else is getting blown away. However, from the first few seconds of film, through Saul and Elaine Bass' mesmerising opening titles, the Italian American director has you hooked. Okay, so it's hard to imagine De Niro as anything other than himself - mean and moody with the usual method-like motives. Stone is his pill- popping alcoholic wife Ginger with a penchant for fine jewellery and colourful metaphors. In fact, there are probably more swear words per second than in any other film which makes one wonder if Scorsese knows what he's doing sometimes. How much control does he have over his actors and does he just let the like of Pesci and De Niro let off a head of steam as a form of cataharis? Well, whatever the result, Casino is a long, swanky beast of a film with a decade of details crammed into its three hours. Editor Thelma Schoonmaker will probably pick up an Oscar nod in a few months and the relentless period soundtrack helps things keep moving as an underscore to the hot headed rantings of the top-drawer cast. While you may not agree with the degrees of violence, there's no denying this is heady stuff with more style and power than half a dozen standard Hollywood flicks.
*****
A year after The Rock burst onto an unsuspecting audience, along comes Jerry Bruckheimer's latest licence to print money, Con Air. Nicolas Cage is back, this time as Cameron Poe, dreadful name for a hero - although he will have to go a long way to beat Tom Cruise's Cole Trickle in Bruckheimer's Days of Thunder. This time he is a paroled ex-army ranger mixed up with a bunch of convicted criminals who have hijacked a high security prison transfer plane. Cage, sporting hair extensions, beefed up muscles and an unintelligble accent, attempts to stop the band of ne'er do wells crashing on Las Vegas and causing extreme amounts of violence in the Nevada sin bin. Oh, and he wants to get home in time for his daughter's birthday and see his ridiculously photogenic wife. Aaah. As ever with Bruckheimer, this is flashy stuff mixing MTV-inspired visuals with rapid editing and a cast to die for. John Malkovich is great as Cyrus the Virus, Steve Buscemi - excellent as a Hannibal Lecter type, while Ving Rames, Colm Meaney and John Cusack are also on top form. Brit director Simon West makes a spectacular big screen debut ensuring heaps more work away from his advertising stamping ground. It's riddled with plot holes of course and you can barely understand what most of the secondary characters are saying but then again who cares. The second act drags somewehat but there are many memorable scenes. Buscemi's highly dodgy character sat in an empty swimming pool with a potential victim, a flying car on a chain (yes, really) and the finale that's so over the top it has to be seen to be believed. With a huge tub of popcorn and a massive drink, settle back and enjoy one of the hottest action thrillers of the year as the summer kicks in, preferably in a theatre with air con.
*****
Some people will do anything to get a film made. A couple of years ago, aspiring film-maker Robert Rodriguez offered his body to science so he could get his vision on screen. While boffins filled him full of colds, flu and the like, he wrote the screenplay for El Mariachi, the tale of a gunslinging guitar player. The movie - made for next to no money - attracted the attention of wise and wealthy Columbia executives who signed him for Desperado, the high gloss, big budget sequel currently pulling in the punters at Hull Odeon. Latin hunk Antonio Banderas is the eponymous gunslinger who carries an arsenal around in his guitar case and manages to give quite the moodiest big screen stare seen in a long time. Seeking vengeance for the death of his girlfriend, he unleashes his own brand of justice down Mexico way. It's not long before he falls for bookstore owner Salma Hayek, gets shot and stabbed a few times, strums his guitar in the more low-key scenes and ends up recruiting a couple of fellow Mariachis to take on the arch villain's small army of sweaty assassins. What makes this movie a cut above the average shoot "em up is the offbeat sense of humour and the Mexican locales. Let's face it, New York, LA and San Francisco have been used as big screen battlefields for the last 25 years so it's about time for a change, and here the dusty, sun-kissed streets and leather-skinned characters are as welcome as a breath of fresh air. While Banderas and Hayek burn up the screen with lusty glances and a fiery rapport, Steve Buscemi is excellent as the bug-eyed storyteller who pops up here and there and look out for Quentin Tarantino in an hilarious (as ever) cameo. Proving there is life after La Bamba, Los Lobos provide the hard-edged soundtrack while Rodriguez establishes he's a force to be reckoned with by writing, editing, producing and directing this spicy concoction. If you can see the original El Mariachi (popping up on Sky now and then), it will colour in a few grey areas but it's not essential. Desperado stands up on its own with some inspired shootouts and features some tongue- in-cheek humour to take your mind of the relentless bloodletting. An instant cult classic and it makes the upcoming Rodriguez/Tarantino collaboration From Dusk Till Dawn all the more enticing. Aribaaa!
*****
On paper, this movie looked like an ordeal from the word go. However, apply one Jim Carrey, the $20million dollar comedian, plus Kingpin director Peter Farrelly and it soon became one of the most lucrative comedies of 1995. Carrey and Jeff Daniels play two well-meaning dimwits who travel across America attempting to return a briefcase to its glamorous owner, becoming embroiled with ruthless mobsters, crazy cops and loony locals along the way. Lauren Holly is stunning as the love interest and while many of the gags have seen better days, at least the execution is fresh and lively. All in all, 102 minutes of prime escapism, which won't leave you intellectually enlightened but at least you'll be an awful lot happier. It's not been a great year for Jim Carrey. While 1995 saw his career go through the roof with this movie and Batman Forever, he followed through with middling efforts Ace Ventura 2 and The Cable Guy, a hugely expensive flop which left many critics wondering whether he could return to form with next year's Liar, Liar. In this engaging farce, two well- meaning dimwits travel across America attempting to return a briefcase to its glamorous owner, becoming embroiled with ruthless mobsters, crazy cops and loony locals along the way. 101 Dalmatians' Jeff Daniels co-stars with Lauren Holly and Teri Garr.
***
It may sound like a Travel Agents but this big budget sci-fi thriller from Paul (Mortal Kombat) Anderson feels more like a one way ticket to Hell. However, with timely events aboard the Mir space station, it has a certain topical credibility so settle back and get those nails ready for a good biting. Set in 2047, the eponymous spaceship is discovered after a seven year absence and you get the feeling it hasn't been drifting through the cosmos collecting space dust. Capable of travelling faster than light, alarm bell start ringing when the ship suddenly starts sending an SOS from Neptune. A salvage crew including Larry Fishburne, Sam Neill, Joely Richardson, Kathleen Quinlan and Sean Pertwee is sent in to investigate and before long, wish they hadn't. Essentially a haunted house thriller, this boasts a great look, some staggering effects and is the sort of sci-fi thriller feel not seen on the big screen since the halcyon days of Alien nearly 20 years ago. Anderson, still a mere slip of a lad, proves he can tell a decent story and handles state-of- the-art effects with aplomb. Having a decent cast such as Fishburne and Neill does little harm either. Nice too that it was shot on home turf, giving a squillion technicians at Pinewood more than a few headaches over the elaborate sets. With a little more polish, the script by first timer Philip Eisner and Seven scribe Andrew Kevin Walker could have made this a classic. As it stands however, it's just a good popcorn chiller for those who love a good fright with lashings of effects.
****
Hugh Grant's success in Four Weddings and a Funeral bought him a ticket to Tinseltown. That was inevitable from the outset but his debut US feature - Nine Months - went down faster than the Virgin balloon in the box office charts and Grant was left licking his wounds. The Divine Brown incindent didn't exactly help things so Grant had to pull out all the stops for his follow-up if he was to have a hope of surviving in the lucrative US movie world. Extreme Measures, his latest foray into the fickle world of big screen stardom, shows that he learned a lot from the last 18 months. Produced by his photogenic sidekick Liz Hurley and directed by Michael (Nell) Apted, this grungy ER-alike dramais more like Four Funerals and Lawsuit and the change of pace suits its star well. Hugh is the likeable British doctor Guy, a cool as a cucumber, overworked ex-pat trying to make his way in New York. When he can't account for a patient's mysterious metabolic meltdown, our word-perfect doc is drawn into a world of homeless "moles", shady doctors and ruthless assassins. This is far better than it should have been thanks to Tony Gilroy's script - polished up by Grant himself ("You're rather a creepy person aren't you," is pure Hugh), Apted's assured direction, and good performances all round. Gene Hackman is as good as ever while the usually perky Sarah Jessica Parker plays wisely against type as a rather dowdy assistant. Danny Elfman's score is functional enough and more reminsicent of his work on Batman Forever than recent hit The Frighteners, with heavenly choirs nicely accentuating Grant's descent into the underworld. Sadly, as with many thrillers these days, what starts off well, usually ends up going off the rails. The third act slots together like a TV movie and the finale just doesn't carry enough punch to make the cracking first two acts pay off. However, when it comes to providing food for thought, EM is much more of a main course than the mass-produced starters of say, The Preacher's Wife.
****
In the middle of last year a rather clever poster graced the walls of a few multiplexes around the country. It was plugging The Frighteners and the credits looked promising. Robert (Back to the Future) Zemeckis producing, Peter (Heavenly Creatures) Jackson directing and ... Michael J Fox starring. Oh dear. The going did not look good but fast forward a few months and the result is a pleasant - or rather unpleasant - surprise. Fox plays Ghostbuster Frank Bannister, a down at heel psychic investigator in league with a trio of spooks. When a series of strange homicides plague a small town, Bannister finds himself in a struggle with death itself. Originally intended as an episode of the middling Tales From the Crypt series, Zemeckis offered the show to Jackson and then decided there was enough material to turn it into a film. Jackson agreed as long as he could shoot it on his home turf... New Zealand. Ordinarily this would have been out of the question, but with Jackson's Oscar Nomination for Best Screenplay a couple of years ago and Zemeckis' financial clout in Hollywood, Universal agreed. Which was probably the best thing that could have happened to the film. Studio execs are notorious for popping in on shoots and ordering a few improvements here and there, usually ruining the whole movie. However, when the film is being made on the other side of the world, they're more content to let the film-makers get on with it. Now special effects these days are two a penny and to impress an audience weaned on the likes of Star Wars, you have to have something original up your sleeve. Luckily Jackson delivers... in spades. The Death figure is mesmerising as it flits around the New Zealand town, chopping up anything that gets in his way, emerging from mirrors and paintings like some delirious hallucination. Admittedly, the finale boasts some familiar touches - imagine a cross between Ghost and a Nightmare on Elm Street and you get the picture, but at least there's enough of a story here to warrant the funky computer generated demons and jiggery pokery.Fox is competent enough as Bannister proving there's life after Marty McFly but Jeffrey Combs is outstanding as the twisted FBI agent Dammers who practically steals the film from both the diminutive star and the effects. Danny Elfman's score is a little too reminiscent of his work on Beetlejuice and Trini Alvorado has little to do except look attractive and scream a lot but niggles aside, this is entertaining stuff from one of the world's finest cult film-makers.
*****
Robert Rodriguez, director of Desperado has been a busy lad. Barely a few months after that was released, his follow-up hits British shores and it's a film of many parts. Not all are brilliant - Juliette Lewis could have done with being somewhere else - but on the whole, this is good cult fun with a great script by Quentin Tarantino. Dusk has been hanging around for quite a while, since 1990 in fact but only in dog-eared script form. Now had Tarantino not made Reservoir Dogs, that's the state it would have stayed in for a good while. But when Dogs opened, every Quent script and note to the milkman was dusted down and examined to see how fast it could be made into a big screen experience. George (ER) Clooney and Tarantino play Richie and Seth Gecko, two criminal brothers on the run, hotly pursued by the Texas police and bound for Mexico. They abduct Jacob (Harvey Keitel) and his annoying daughter, Kate (Lewis) and end up at an all-night bar, the brothers intend to meet their contact, Carlos and live a life of luxury down Mexico way. Now things take a sharp left turn when the regulars turn out to prefer O negative to a pint of Smiths. So there the scene is set for a showdown of Evil Dead/ Spaghetti Western proportions. It's not all gore and bloodletting, however. Salma Hayek (Desperado) pops up as a stripper who could give Pamela Anderson a run for her short change while the effects are delirious enough to keep genre fans happy for the 108 minute running time.
*****
This is an odd and quite intriguing little film which gives Alec Baldwin the chance to stretch instead of starring in hopeless causes such as The Shadow and Too Hot To Handle. The excessively hairy he-man plays an ex-cop with a drink problem (how original) who now runs a boat hire service in New Orleans. When a plane crashes yards from his craft, he and his wife (Kelly Lynch) are drawn into a web of intrigue involving a little Spanish girl, muscly bad guy Eric Roberts and Teri Hatcher who can probably found in the English dictionary under sultry femme fatale. The New Orleans locations and the taut direction by Phil Joanou make this better than the average murder mystery thriller although there a quite a few loose ends left by the time the closing credits roll.
*****
Blockbusting buddy movie for Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman. Pitt gives a fine performance as the eager beaver young cop, all designer stubble and get up and go out to catch a demented murderer indulging in the seven deadly sins, while Freeman delivers and assured portrayal of a man who looks like even breathing is a chore and who obviously knows more than he's letting on. What unfolds is a rather clever little thriller made for relatively little money. In fact, it's so dark and dingy, the lighting crew must have used a couple of 40 watt bulbs for the first 80 minutes of the movie. However, the literate and intelligent script by Andrew Kevin Walker keeps the viewer hooked from the erratic start to the strangely complete finish, making this a perfect sequel to The Usual Suspects, despite both films being made by different crews and with no apparent link until the finale. The reason for its success? Well, in theory, it's just pushing all the buttons we want touched to scare us witless. Tap into any audiences' subconscious fears: Possession (The Exorcist); being eaten alive (Jaws); being kidnapped by a serial killer (Silence of the Lambs); throw in plenty of scenes of tension; atmosphere; subtle character development that nearly always pays off at some point and as long as you're not a complete fool, the result should work a treat. Of course, having a decent cast and crew doesn't do much harm either. Directed by pop promo veteran David Fincher - the man behind some of Madonna's most memorable videos and the abominable Alien3 (not his fault it has to be said) - this is stylish, gothic and about as chilling as modern stalk and slash thrillers come, at times looking like a cross between Blade Runner and NYPD Blue. The critics have been raving about it recently and American movie goers have welcomed it with as much fervour as Silence of the Lambs. For those with a strong stomach and a liking for insomnia, this is one sin well worth indulging in. However, a word of advice without giving too much of the plot away. Don't have any spaghetti sauce before you go and see it. You certainly won't want any afterwards.
*****
For once the hype is justified. War of the Worlds meets Earthquake with effects to die for and a cast of thankfully decent actors who don't command salaries the length of many phone numbers. You all know the story by now, Fox's top-notch ad campaign has seen to that, but this is not about re-vamping the well-worn storyline. With enough elements that should fall apart after 10 minutes let alone 140, ID4 manages to suspend the illusion of UFO invasion, feature a small army of B movie actors and tell a story on the scale of which has not been seen for some time. If cocky fighter pilot Will Smith shines, then delightfully eccentric hacker/cable guy Jeff Goldblum positively burns your retinas out, which, against the backdrop of 15 mile long spaceships devastating the world is no easy feat. There are a wealth of movie in-jokes for the fans; sumptuous production design and a decent drowned out score from Blighty's own David Arnold. After all is said and done, you leave the theatre feeling good with the daftness of the whole affair annoyingly sliding back into focus after 2 hours of pushing it to one side. The American flag-waving will leave many laughing into their popcorn but you can't deny the power of President Bill Pullman's "Into the night" speech as the world prepares for the final conflict. A sequel is now in the pipeline (inevitably) and with writer/director Roland Emmerich proving at last that he can make a balanced sci-fi adventure, the prospects for its success do not look too shabby at all. For the time being, see it on the big screen before the levelleing effects of video - a bit like watching the movie through a keyhole - reduce it to little more than a trumped-up episode of V.
*****
The 2000ad comic strip made flesh is an unusual affair. Director Danny Cannon grew up with the fascist future cop and was eager to make the expensive film as close to the source material as possible. Sylvester Stallone plays the hard-bitten copper with initially camp embarrassment,. He sound like he's chewing tobacco and delivers the immortal line "I am the law" like his punch drunk alter ego, Rocky. The special effects range from the eye-popping as in the opening titles to the rather elementary - the bike chase just can't compete with its superior predecessor in Return of the Jedi. Writer William Wisher (Terminator2) and Steven DeSouza deliver a pretty routine adventure tale with few twists and rather flat finish. With so much cash spent on the look, it's just a pity a decent writer of some standing - Lawrence Kasdan (The Empire Strikes Back) would have been a superb alternative. Still, good scripts have never been Hollywood's forte. As long as there's lots of explosions, the chance of a sequel, action figures and t shirts, who cares whether it actually makes any sense or not? Well, an awful lot of people actually, and you don't have to be highbrow arthouse critics to enjoy a good line or two. Still, it's the nature of the beast and Judge Dredd, alas, is something of a lame tiger.
***
A few years ago, Robin Williams starred in Hook. It was a multi-million dollar fantasy adventure, shot on Sony soundstages and concerning one man's childhood, a couple of kids and a wealth of special effects. Now he stars in Jumanji, another multi-million dollar fantasy adventure, shot on Sony soundstages and concerning the loss of one man's childhood, a couple of kids and a wealth of special effects. No change there then. However, where Hook fell down was in that it centred on too much of the hero's personal problems - finding time for the kids in the busy busy 1990s as well as being out of touch with his lost youth. Here, the s ame factors are ever present, but handled with a much lighter touch. Directed by Joe Johnston (Honey, I Shrunk The Kids), the film centres on an ancient board game where players are sucked into a wild fantasy world and can only be free if they finish the game. Eac h time someone rolls the dice and moves, more terrors are released, from natural disasters to stampeding elephants and hordes of monkeys. A smash hit in the US, it uses state-of-the-art computer-generated images of rampaging animals to transport wild creatures into modern urban settings. "The one thing they can't do with this technology is humans, but it's probably next," said the acclaimed funnyman on a recent trip to the UK. Williams, looking rather old these days, and the supporting cast - especially 13-year-old Kirsten Dunst (Interview with the Vampire) are superb as are the production crew. Composer James Horner revamps his old Aliens theme for the moments of suspense and revelation while the spe cial effects guys have a field day with their computer generated beasts. Trouble is, many of the elephants and rhinos look transparent and as clever as they are, don't hold a candle to the animatronics wizards at Jiim Henson's Creature Shop. (If the inevitable sequel is mooted, the Henson crew would be ideal candidates for the job.) Stylistic points aside, and despite the lack of anything approaching a decent story, the end result is a thrilling diversion for the young and young-at-heart.
***
At first sight, this movie - perhaps best described as the flip side of Independence Day - looked like it couldn't fail. A top-drawer cast with everyone from Jack Nicholson in two roles, Glenn Close, Pierce Brosnan and Danny DeVito right up to ageing Welsh pop god Tom Jones looked good for a start. The effects practically define the term "cutting edge" with George Lucas' team at ILM working overtime to bring the computer generated Martians to life. However, while all this clever technology, impressive production design and top-drawer cast were being assembled, it seems screenwriter Jonathan Gems forgot to include a story in his script. There are plenty of cameos, the odd battle scene and moments of impressive originality, however, all this was done far better in Fifties movies such as Earth Vs Flying Saucers, This Island Earth and The Day The Earth Stood Still. Maybe it was the fact those writers and directors didn't have a $70million budget to work with or the fact that the B movie stars that took part did it because they were one step away from the dole queue so added that necessary touch of realism. Not so easy when your cast are all fully fledged members of Hollywood high society. Mars Attacks! ends up like a hot air balloon. Colourful and impressive on the outside, but airy and empty inside the envelope. However, at least you get the chance to see Tom Jones act his socks off in his first - and let's hope not last - movie, and Michael J Fox get turned into a smoking green skeleton after a mercifully short screen time. The question now is: Can Tim Burton turn things around for his follow-up or have the halcyon days of Pee Wee's Big Adventure, Batman and Beetlejuice gone forever? Let's hope not as the tousle-haired thirtysomething is one of the best film-makers on the planet when he isn't given so much rope that he hangs himself and most of his cast. In his case, less is most definitely more.
*****
Enter the Dragon meets Star Wars in this big budget chopsocky adventure based on the lucrative computer game. There's always been a problem with adapting games into movies. Super Mario Bros was enjoyable enough (although it had little to do with the pixel-based production) while Street Fighter was so ham-fisted, it ranks as one of the worst films ever made. So while MK is no classic, it's certainly not a bad piece of hokum on its own terms. But what of the plot? Well, screenwriter Kevin Droney really had his work cut out providing some sort of slender story to weave around the repetetive fight scenes, however, the scant plot developments that do arise are all the more welcome after watching two warriors kick each other black and blue for five minutes. Christopher Lambert stars as the grey-haired mystic Lord Rayden who guides eclectic warriors Johnny Cage, Sonya Blade and Jackie Chan clone Liu Kang through a series of adventures in the Mortal Kombat tournament. There, they tackle diaphonous gremlins, four-armed fighters and various ne'er do wells while computer generated effects fizzle and crackle around them like a faulty set of Christmas tree lights. There's a techno soundtrack lifted straight from the game advert; some stilted dialogue and half hearted mysticism, but on the plus side, British director Paul Anderson - so fresh-faced he could easily pass for half fare on the bus - imbues the movie with lashings of style and a modicom of wit. In essence, it's a much better film it ever deserved to be.
***
Gruff Nick Nolte joins forces with a host of familiar faces of this period mystery thriller which can oly be described as The X Files meets The Untouchables. Nolte plays Max Hoover _ a suitable advert for powerful vacuum cleaners if ever there was one. He's an an LA cop saddled with the rather strange case of an ex-lover (the statuesque Jennifer Connelley) turned into pavement pizza in the middle of the desert. Together with his hard men colleagues Michael Madsen and Chris Penn of Reservoir Dogs fame and Chazz Palminteri (Diabolique), the lads try and get to the bottom of a film revealing some suspicious goings on between the buxom Connelly, an A-bomb test general (John Malkovich) and a building protected by official type Treat Williams. To be fair, there's not much to it in the plot department. Production design from Richard Sylbert (he plays the coroner by the way) is to die for and the script is amiable enough, just a pity everyone has to say "Max" every other sentence. A little violent for some tastes but the lads will be kept happy by some snappy violence and Connelly - a thinking man's Anna Nicole Smith. And while some viewers may leave well alone on the strength that it co-stars a certain Melanie Griffith, the revelation is that even she's not too bad given little to do but bawl her eyes out and traipse around in some posh frocks.
***
Imagine Steve Wright and Chris Evans crossed with Ozzy Osbourne and you get shock jock Howard Stern. Actually, he's not that shocking. What he says makes a lot of sense and what he says in this engaging, loud, rude and very honest biopic makes for an entertaining insight into the shallow world of American broadcasting. US radio is among the most conservative in the world. Spend a week listening to a zillion stations in California and you'll never moan about Radio One again. Which is probably why Stern made for such a breath of fresh air during his media explosion in the mid-Eighties. Private Parts charts the rise of the lanky American from weedy college kid, through fledgeling DJ to his current status as hot property with the number one show in New York. This man was so popular if he ran for president tomorrow he'd probably get in. Betty Thomas, perhaps best remembered as Lucy in Hill Street Blues, proves she can make a decent film given the right material. Her atrocious Brady Bunch movie will soon be forgotten but Private Parts will hopefully linger for years to come. This is not for the easily shocked but for those tired of the current rash of lacklustre blockbusters, then this is an intriguing, honest and a thoroughly wicked pleasure.
*****
Of all the films to get more than their fair share of negative press over the last year, Showgirls wins first prize. Is it a bad film? Well, yes, but very few people have said why. They've blamed the young star Elizabeth Berkeley, slated writer Joe Eszterhas and made director Paul Verhoeven out to be a half- wit. All clearly unfair. Admittedly Berkeley's acting style is far from brilliant - she jerks around while performing even the most mundane tasks, eating chips, squirting ketchup. It's all done like a some malfunctioning robot. As is her allegedly "hot' dancing. Imagine a cross between a mid Eighties Michael Jackson video shot by a Playboy crew and you get the picture. This is often an hilarious film which, made by any other film-maker, would have been merely a glorified mini-series. Nomi Malone (Berkley) goes to Las Vegas to become a star. Starts as a stripper and "lap dancer', gets the chance to go for a role in highly camp musical Goddess - dozens of impoverished, very lean dancers prancing around a papier mache volcano while Raquel Welch lookalike Cristal (Gina Gershon) takes centre stage. Cristal is a Texan. We know this because she punctuates every other word with "Darlin," and wears cowboy hats. She also looks capable of biting a chunk out of a phone book so pity anyone who crosses her. Of course, Nomi, the robotic, lap-dancing wannabe is also eager for stardom, has possibly bigger teeth than Cristal and can also paint her talon- like nails a funny pattern to boot so beware. As the well-worn drama unfolds - Eszterhas has essentially rewritten his former assignments Flashdance and Basic Instict - Nomi mingles with aspiring dancers, seedy businessmen and naive young things all in search of the ultimate thrill. There are some bits in the third act which would have been best left out but this is a film that at least goes for the gut. It fails on many levels but On the production side, it's lush, highly decadent and boasts some bizarre costume design. Eurythmics veteran Dave Stewart provides the music, there a few AFKA Prince and U2 songs and a few unintentionally classic lines. On the whole, an astonishing, flawed fairy tale which is destined to become a cult classic. Just don't take your grandma.
*
Weathergirl Nicole Kidman is whiter than white. A sunny presenter who could so easily land a job on any TV station. You know the type, all teeth and oozing health dressed in bright, sunny colours. Except, scratch away the immaculate veneer and there beats a heart of ice. It's a cliche that's been well worn over the years, most recently in the excellent comedy Serial Mom. The media is evil. TV is bad for you. It corrupts. Another cliche thrown into the melting pot, stirred an allowed to simmer by screenwriter/actor Buck Henry and Indie film-maker Gus Van Sant (Drugstore Cowboy, My Own Private Idaho). The result is actually quite engaging with Kidman giving the performance of her life as the career-obsessed TV star who will do anything to get on in life. Interspersed with documentary footage from family and friends, using a mixture of film formats, 16mm, video and the like, it rakes over the same ground as Natural Born Killers, but whereas that was a high-octane adult cartoon, this is a lazy shopping trolleyride through the aisles of suburbia. A trio of useless teens, with perhaps the greasiest hair seen on the big screen in some time, are drawn into Kidman's world - and naturally pay the conesequences. An unusual mix of mainstream comedy, drama and independent social comment, this is perhaps the neatest of Van Sant's movies, with loose ends tied up very neatly. The fine cast includes Matt Dillon, Jurassic Park's roly-poly villain Wayne Knight, and in a fitting cameo, cult director David Cronenberg. Not a film to die for, but certainly worth a couple of hours of your attention.
***
Terry Gilliam's glorious sci-fi thriller was his first, long-awaited movie for five years and it's an absolute corker. Apart from the awe-inspiring production design and sharp script, the cast is to die for. A bald Bruce Willis, Oscar nominated Brad Pitt and the achingly beautiful Madeleine Stowe are all immersed in a fable loosely based on the 1962 arthouse flick, La Jetee, teetering somewhere between Terminator, Back To The Future and Outbreak. Criminal James Cole (Willis) is recruited to find the source of a disease which has wiped outmuch of mankind in the year 2035. Going back in time he misses his destination of 1996 and ends up as a suspected schizophrenic in a 1990 Philadelphia hospital. Befriended by the clearly unhinged Jeffrey Goines (Pitt), Cole flits back and forth between 1917 and 1996, getting shot in the leg and falling in love with psychiatrist Kathryn Railly (Stowe) along the way. Confusing, stunning and unmissable.
*****
Bill Paxton has always deserved better than just being the supporting star who got wiped out toward the end of the film or just generally treated like a fool. In Aliens, he added that necessary touch of panic while all hell broke loose around him; he added depth to the flawed but intriguing Slipstream and in One False Move, proved that aside from coming out with some of the big screen's smartest one-liners, he could also act. Now he gets a shot at the big time in Twister, the big budget movie about tornado chasing that has roped in some of the cream of Hollywood's top-drawer talent. Steven Spielberg, Speed's Jan De Bont and no less than Michael (Jurassic Park) Crichton have all been hard at work producing, directing and writing one of the summer's most breath-taking movies. The basic plot finds estranged couple Paxton and Helen Hunt chasing the eponymous whirlwinds around America while they rip huge holes in peoples' land and generally ruin everyone's day. Throw in corporate scientist bad guy Cary Elwes (he's British so he had to be a bad guy, right?), Jami Gertz, the woman caught in the middle of Hunt and Paxton, heaps of computer generated jiggery pokery and enough adrenaline-induced thrills to keep you on tenterhooks for a few hours after the film is over. The result is an eye-popping movie that could have done with a lot more humanity and a lot less visual terror, but compared to the dreadful crop of recent flicks (Kingpin especially), this is like a breath of fresh air.
*****
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roger crow 1998
Disclaimer: All of the above is just my opinion. This does not reflect that of my employer or anyone else. So don't sue me. Cheers.
