Directed by Neil Jordan
Screenplay by Neil Jordan and Patrick McCabe, from the novel by Patrick McCabe
Photography by Adrian Biddle
Music by Elliot Goldenthal

Main Cast: Eamonn Owens, Stephen Rea, Fiona Shaw, Alan Boyle, Brendan Gleeson, Milo O'Shea

Early 60s Ireland: a young boy grows up against a background of comic books, SF films, TV serials, Catholosism, blood vows, the Cuban missile crisis, alcoholism and schizophrenia.

This is the best film I've seen all month. Okay, I know it's only the 1st of February, but it was so good I watched it twice. In fact I'd go as far as to say it's truly brilliant, and being a grumpy old git you won't hear me say that very often.

The movie grips slowly. Starting off in realist mode, and always from the point of view of the kid, it tightens the screws in such a way that the childish mischief, when it becomes increasingly dangerous and surreal, still seems completely logical. I mean, you're still with the boy when it begins to dawn that this is not fun, this is a descent into horrendous madness.

I repeat, a brilliant film, powerful, but also shockingly funny. Amazing performance too from the young boy.

Directed by Roger Corman
Screenplay by Jack Nicholson
Photography by Arch Dalzell
Music by The American Music Band

Main Cast: Peter Fonda, Bruce Dern, Susan Strasberg, Dennis Hopper

Peter Fonda takes LSD in order to "find himself."

This is an interesting movie alright, though hardly great. As a Corman fan, I was struck at how closely it paralleled the same director's earlier, superior, X - THE MAN WITH THE X-RAY EYES. Here, it looks like screenwriter Jack Nicholson was really really wow-man inspired to get all his wacky ideas down on paper after a particularly mind-blowing trip, only to have it all flummoxed in the ho-hum execution. At times the movie reminded me of how unenjoyable it is to watch the antics of drunk friends when you're stone cold sober. Case in point Peter Fonda going into a laundry and marvelling at the washing going round. Maybe that was to the film's credit, actually - we're seeing him from "outside", so we'll never really understand.

And yet the movie does also seem to want to have it both ways - to treat Fonda's trip both objectively and subjectively. Hence multiple scenes shot with rudimentary kaleidoscope and strobe effects, and umpteen dream/nightmare shots of horsemen, people in masks, girls in bikinis etc. Trouble is, those "point of view" sequences are simply not hallucinogenic enough. And Dennis Hopper on a merry-go-round putting Fonda on trial whilst spouting hip dialogue is risible in the extreme. But it's still all a fascinating piece of Corman history.

The music is credited to The American Music Band. Some sources mention Electric Flag as the band, but who are these people? Of course, there's plenty of great 60s guitar stuff (reminded me of BARBARELLA), but there are also some sax solos for Fonda's flight which are wild enough to be Coltrane himself.

This one's only relatively saving grace is the glorious music score by Argentinian jazz giant Gato Barbieri. But even then it is absolutely massacred in the film. It surges up in the middle of scenes and disappears just so swiftly, etc etc. An attempt to convey the alienation of the Brando character? Maybe. Either that or just a numbskull sensitivity towards film music.

Anyway, there are still moments when the score hits home. The great Oliver Nelson was the arranger and conductor for the movie, and, when allowed, it works wonders. I even suspect that Oliver Nelson himself wrote some of this stuff, being noticeably akin to his own splendid scores on occasion. By the way, despite its chronic use in the film, it makes for a wonderful soundtrack album (though I can't remember if Nelson was involved in the re-recording of that).

LAST TANGO IN PARIS (Italy/France 1972)

Directed by Bernardo Bertolucci
Screenplay by Bernardo Bertolucci and Franco Arcalli
Photography by Vittorio Storaro
Music by Gato Barbieri (with, I imagine, additional cues by Oliver Nelson)

Excellent performances indeed from the two leads, even if Bill Murray can never quite get rid of that impenetrable shield of irony.

Perfect use of music too - songs etc. No conventional score as such.

LOST IN TRANSLATION (USA 2003)

Directed by Sofia Coppola
Screenplay by Sofia Coppola
Photography by Lance Acord
Music by Kevin Shields

Directed by Alexander Mackendrick
Screenplay by Clifford Odets and Ernest Lehman
Photography by James Wong Howe
Music by Elmer Bernstein

Main Cast: Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis, Martin Milner, Susan Harrison

Smarmy press agent is used by megalomaniac newspaper columnist to break up the romance between a jazz musician and the columnist's own sister.

It's classic movie time. With its stark b/w photography and electrifying dialogues, SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS wonderfully unfolds as a seething urban nightmare. And the performances are riveting, especially Lancaster, truly monstrous in a great role, every bit as memorable as, for example, Orson Welles in TOUCH OF EVIL (the film has a Wellesian look overall).

I almost forgot - the plot itself, and its overly complicated handling, is perhaps the least important ingredient in the seething stew.