Morgan's Ferry - Bonnie (Kelly McGillis) is an isolated middle-aged woman who has been shunned by the locals in her town for years. When a handsome young man named Sam (Billy Zane) and his friend, Monroe (Henry Rollins), end up ransacking Bonnie's dilapidated house for a supply of food and money, they enter into a bizarre relationship with her. Upon realizing that she is not afraid of or angry about their thievery, Sam becomes fascinated, while the volatile Monroe becomes angry. The events that follow are sure to effect the threesome's lives for years to come.
When successful lawyer Gwen Warwick begins a passionate extramarital affair with handsome young clerk Martin commiting infidelity is not her only problem. Soon after a rival colleague is murdered and all evidence points in her direction. In order to clear her name Gwen must race against the clock to find the killer. However as she unravels the murderer's motives Martin's name seems to appear one too many times.
In his last starring role W.C. Fields plays himself having a typical day at his studio Esoteric Pictures. Director Eddie Cline masterfully imparts a certain level of surreal spontaneity to Field's digressions and misadventures. Fields eats breakfast spars with a sarcastic waitress (Jody Gilbert) and then pitches his fractured script to studio head Franklin Pangborn. The script reading becomes a film within a film commencing with the hero of the tale (Fields again playing himself) leaping out of an airplane in hot pursuit of a flask of whiskey. He lands on the bed of an innocent young girl and tries to seduce her before her mom (Margaret Dumont) comes crashing in. Fields then escapes over a cliff in a basket. Things get even more bizarre before Pangborn throws him out and back into a reality that culminates in a lengthy frenetic car chase. There's also some musical interludes courtesy Gloria Jean a singing star Universal was grooming for success at the time. Though Fields undoubtedly bristled at the studio's insistence he share the bill the two actually display a touching rapport in their scenes together; just another small miracle in this truly unique and hilarious film.
A slasher-movie killer frightens a group of teens during their senior year of high school.
The Stranger, according to Orson Welles, "is the worst of my films. There is nothing of me in that picture. I did it to prove that I could put out a movie as well as anyone else." True, set beside Citizen Kane, Touch of Evil, or even The Trial, The Stranger is as close to production-line stuff as the great Orson ever came. But even on autopilot Welles still leaves most filmmakers standing. The shadow of the Second World War hangs heavy over the plot. A war crimes investigator, played by Edward G Robinson, tracks down a senior Nazi, Franz Kindler, to a sleepy New England town where he's living in concealment as a respected college professor. The script, credited to Anthony Veiller but with uncredited input from Welles and John Huston, is riddled with implausibilities: we're asked to believe, for a start, that there'd be no extant photos of a top Nazi leader. The casting's badly skewed, too. Welles wanted Agnes Moorehead as the investigator and Robinson as Kindler, but his producer, Sam Spiegel, wouldn't wear it. So Welles himself plays the supposedly cautious and self-effacing fugitive--and if there was one thing Welles could never play, it was unobtrusive. What's more, Spiegel chopped out most of the two opening reels set in South America, in Welles' view, "the best stuff in the picture". Still, the film's far from a write-off. Welles' eye for stunning visuals rarely deserted him and, aided by Russell Metty's skewed, shadowy photography, The Stranger builds to a doomy grand guignol climax in a clock tower that Hitchcock must surely have recalled when he made Vertigo. And Robinson, dogged in pursuit, is as quietly excellent as ever. On the DVD: not much in the way of extras, except a waffly full-length commentary from Russell Cawthorne that tells us about the history of clock-making and where Edward G was buried, but precious little about the making of the film. Print and sound are acceptable, but though remastering is claimed, there's little evidence of it. --Philip Kemp
The only way to escape his past. Escaped convicts Sam (Billy Zane) Monroe (Henry Rollins) and Darcy (Johnny Galecki) find their way to a run-down house owned by Bonnie (Kelly McGillis) a woman the locals have written off as crazy years ago. As they ransack her place for food clothes and money they realise that she has absolutely no fear of them. Her quiet strength enrages the psychotic Monroe but intrigues and mesmerises Sam. Bonnie's steely resolve sets in motion a chain of events that will leave all their lives changed forever...
In a way, Scarlet Street is a remake. It's taken from a French novel, La Chienne (literally, "The Bitch") that was first filmed by Jean Renoir in 1931. Renoir brought to the sordid tale all the colour and vitality of Montmartre; Fritz Lang's version shows us a far harsher and bleaker world. The film replays the triangle set-up from Lang's previous picture, The Woman in the Window, with the same three actors. Once again, Edward G Robinson plays a respectable middle-aged citizen snared by the charms of Joan Bennett's streetwalker, with Dan Duryea as her low-life pimp. The plot closes around the three of them like a steel trap. This is Lang at his most dispassionate. Scarlet Street is a tour de force of noir filmmaking, brilliant but ice-cold. The Stranger, according to Orson Welles, "is the worst of my films. There is nothing of me in that picture". But even on autopilot Welles still leaves most filmmakers standing. A war crimes investigator, played by Edward G Robinson, tracks down a senior Nazi to a sleepy New England town where he's living in concealment as a respected college professor. Welles wanted Agnes Moorehead as the investigator and Robinson as the Nazi Franz Kindler, but his producer, Sam Spiegel, wouldn't wear it. So Welles himself plays the supposedly cautious and self-effacing fugitive--and if there was one thing Welles could never play, it was unobtrusive. Still, the film's far from a write-off. Welles' eye for stunning visuals rarely deserted him and, aided by Russell Metty's skewed, shadowy photography, The Stranger builds to a doomy grand guignol climax in a clocktower that Hitchcock must surely have recalled when he made Vertigo. And Robinson, dogged in pursuit, is as quietly excellent as ever. On the DVD: sparse pickings. Both films have a full-length commentary by Russell Cawthorne which adds the occasional insight, but is repetitive and not always reliable. The box claims both print have been "fully restored and digitally remastered", but you'd never guess. --Philip Kemp
Escaped convicts Sam (Billy Zane) Monroe (Henry Rollins) and Darcy (Johnny Galecki) find their way to a run-down house owned by Bonnie (Kelly McGillis) a woman the locals have written off as crazy years ago. As they ransack her place for food clothes and money they realise that she has absolutely no fear of them. Her quiet strength enrages the psychotic Monroe but intrigues and mesmerises Sam. Bonnie's steely resolve sets in motion a chain of events that will leave all their lives changed forever...
The legendary story that hovers over Orson Welles' The Stranger is that he wanted Agnes Moorehead to star as the dogged Nazi hunter who trails a war criminal to a sleepy New England town. The part went to Edward G. Robinson, who is marvellous, but it points out how many compromises Welles made on the film in an attempt to show Hollywood he could make a film on time, on budget and on their own terms. He accomplished all three, turning out a stylish if unambitious film noir thriller, his only Hollywood film to turn a profit on its original release. Welles stars as unreformed fascist Franz Kindler, hiding as a schoolteacher in a New England prep school for boys and newly married to the headmaster's lovely if naive daughter (Loretta Young). Welles, the director, is in fine form for the opening sequences, casting a moody tension as agents shadow a twitchy low-level Nazi official skulking through South American ports and building up to dramatic crescendo as Kindler murders this little man, the lovely woods becoming a maelstrom of swirling leaves that expose the body he furiously tries to bury. The rest of the film is a well designed but conventional cat-and-mouse game featuring an eye-rolling performance by Welles and a thrilling conclusion played out in the dark clock tower that looms over the little village. --Sean Axmaker
The only way to escape his past. Escaped convicts Sam (Billy Zane) Monroe (Henry Rollins) and Darcy (Johnny Galecki) find their way to a run-down house owned by Bonnie (Kelly McGillis) a woman the locals have written off as crazy years ago. As they ransack her place for food clothes and money they realise that she has absolutely no fear of them. Her quiet strength enrages the psychotic Monroe but intrigues and mesmerises Sam. Bonnie's steely resolve sets in motion a chain of events that will leave all their lives changed forever...
The Stranger, according to Orson Welles, "is the worst of my films. There is nothing of me in that picture. I did it to prove that I could put out a movie as well as anyone else." True, set beside Citizen Kane, Touch of Evil, or even The Trial, The Stranger is as close to production-line stuff as the great Orson ever came. But even on autopilot Welles still leaves most filmmakers standing. The shadow of the Second World War hangs heavy over the plot. A war crimes investigator, played by Edward G Robinson, tracks down a senior Nazi, Franz Kindler, to a sleepy New England town where he's living in concealment as a respected college professor. The script, credited to Anthony Veiller but with uncredited input from Welles and John Huston, is riddled with implausibilities: we're asked to believe, for a start, that there'd be no extant photos of a top Nazi leader. The casting's badly skewed, too. Welles wanted Agnes Moorehead as the investigator and Robinson as Kindler, but his producer, Sam Spiegel, wouldn't wear it. So Welles himself plays the supposedly cautious and self-effacing fugitive--and if there was one thing Welles could never play, it was unobtrusive. What's more, Spiegel chopped out most of the two opening reels set in South America, in Welles' view, "the best stuff in the picture". Still, the film's far from a write-off. Welles' eye for stunning visuals rarely deserted him and, aided by Russell Metty's skewed, shadowy photography, The Stranger builds to a doomy grand guignol climax in a clock tower that Hitchcock must surely have recalled when he made Vertigo. And Robinson, dogged in pursuit, is as quietly excellent as ever. On the DVD: not much in the way of extras, except a waffly full-length commentary from Russell Cawthorne that tells us about the history of clock-making and where Edward G was buried, but precious little about the making of the film. Print and sound are acceptable, but though remastering is claimed, there's little evidence of it. --Philip Kemp
The Stranger, according to Orson Welles, "is the worst of my films. There is nothing of me in that picture. I did it to prove that I could put out a movie as well as anyone else." True, set beside Citizen Kane, Touch of Evil, or even The Trial, The Stranger is as close to production-line stuff as the great Orson ever came. But even on autopilot Welles still leaves most filmmakers standing. The shadow of the Second World War hangs heavy over the plot. A war crimes investigator, played by Edward G Robinson, tracks down a senior Nazi, Franz Kindler, to a sleepy New England town where he's living in concealment as a respected college professor. The script, credited to Anthony Veiller but with uncredited input from Welles and John Huston, is riddled with implausibilities: we're asked to believe, for a start, that there'd be no extant photos of a top Nazi leader. The casting's badly skewed, too. Welles wanted Agnes Moorehead as the investigator and Robinson as Kindler, but his producer, Sam Spiegel, wouldn't wear it. So Welles himself plays the supposedly cautious and self-effacing fugitive--and if there was one thing Welles could never play, it was unobtrusive. What's more, Spiegel chopped out most of the two opening reels set in South America, in Welles' view, "the best stuff in the picture". Still, the film's far from a write-off. Welles' eye for stunning visuals rarely deserted him and, aided by Russell Metty's skewed, shadowy photography, The Stranger builds to a doomy grand guignol climax in a clock tower that Hitchcock must surely have recalled when he made Vertigo. And Robinson, dogged in pursuit, is as quietly excellent as ever. On the DVD: not much in the way of extras, except a waffly full-length commentary from Russell Cawthorne that tells us about the history of clock-making and where Edward G was buried, but precious little about the making of the film. Print and sound are acceptable, but though remastering is claimed, there's little evidence of it. --Philip Kemp
Ladder 49: (Dir. Jay Russell) (2004): What does it take for a man to run into a burning building when everyone else is running out? Why do firemen leave their families each morning to risk their lives for strangers? The film chronicles Baltimore firefighter Jack Morrison (Joaquin Phoenix) as he makes the transition from inexperienced rookie to seasoned veteran. As he struggles to cope with a risky demanding job that often shortchanges his wife and kids he relies on the support of his mentor and chief Mike Kennedy (John Travolta) and his second family - the brotherly bond between the men of the firehouse. But when Jack becomes trapped in the worst blaze of his career his life and the things he holds important - family dignity courage - come into focus. As his fellow firemen of Ladder 49 do all they can to rescue him Jack's life hangs in the balance. Guardian: (Dir. Andrew Davis) (2006): In an effort to find his place in life a troubled young man enlists in the Coast Guard where he's taken in by a renowned rescue swimmer who's hardened by the loss of his team from an accident years back. Unfortunately for the pair the past is about to re-incarnate itself...
Allowing for all the low-budget shortcomings that plague any straight-to-video production, Starship Troopers 2: Hero of the Federation serves up 92 minutes of passable SF action. Parlaying his veteran status as an animator, special-effects wizard, and stalwart survivor of the CGI revolution, Phil Tippett (with returning screenwriter Ed Neumeier) makes a woefully uninspired directorial debut with this makeshift sequel to Paul Verhoeven's 1997 blockbuster, retaining the jarhead militarism of Robert Heinlein's original novel while serving up more bugs, an all-new cast of attractive young stars and all-too-familiar plot elements borrowed from a dozen better movies. "Bigger is better" is out of the question under such meagre budgetary circumstances, so Tippett and Neumeier compensate with gruesome bug fights and gross-out effects at regular intervals, some standard-issue nudity and escalating paranoia (echoing Carpenter's The Thing) when a new breed of bugs use human hosts (à la The Hidden) to overtake a stranded platoon of Federation soldiers on a bug-infested planet. Relying on murky confinement to hide nondescript sets, Starship Troopers 2 has three engaging leads in its favour: US TV regular Richard Burgi is solidly cast as the titular hero (he's the military equivalent of Pitch Black's Riddick); Colleen Porch is engaging as the most sensible Federation survivor; and screen veteran Ed Lauter makes the most of his salty role as a battle-hardened general. Unfortunately, they're adrift in a knock-off sequel (shot on high-def digital video) that could never do justice to its energetic predecessor. --Jeff Shannon
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