Yeah, I know, three updates in a week.
What's all that about, then?
Jaws (1975): “Cold eyes! Dead eyes!” Awesome, suspense-filled Spielberg blockbuster about a shark terrorising a coastal community and the three men (Roy Scheider, Richard Dryfuss, Robert Shaw) who sail off the kill it before it kills them. Full of memorable set-pieces (if you didn't jump when the face appears in the hole at the bottom of the boat, you have no nervous system) and lots of memorable one-liners ("you're gonna need a bigger boat!")
J.F.K (1991): “You’re a goddamn liberal, Mr Garrison. You don’t know shit cos you’ve never been fucked up the ass.” Oliver Stone's riveting, obsessive, preachy, maddeningly self-righteous but fundamentally pulsating journey into the dark heart of US conspiracy theory. One of the most technically dazzling film experiences ever (the Oscar winning editing and cinematography should be watched by anyone who wants to know how to put a film together). There are moments in J.F.K where the viewer genuinely doesn't know if he's watching real archive footage or not. As a piece of dramatic storytelling, it's superb but ... it's also got faults and one of the biggest is not knowing when to say "stop!" The Donald Sutherland character is a case in point (based on genuine conspiracy loon, Fletcher Prouty, he almost derails the movie on his own). Great acting (Costner, Oldman, Joe Pesci, Laurie Metcalf and many others). Stone never made a movie a tenth as good as this again (and The Doors and Nixon are both fine films). With J.F.K, though, there's always a "but" lingering around the corner of ever compliment. The Director's Cut is almost four hours long but is, marginally, a better movie than the cinema version (30 minutes shorter).
Kids Are Alright, The (1979): Jeff Stein's exhilarating, non-linear history of The Who, told through archive TV and concert clips and interviews with the band. It could have gone all pretentious and serious (like Marty Scorsese's The Last Waltz), but the humour that the band (and, especially, Keith Moon) inject into the movie manages to put a break on Townshend's more arch moments. Too many great moments to list (but the bit of The Smothers' Brothers Show that opens the movie is worth it's weight in comedy gold). The DVD release restores about ten minutes of footage edited out of the original cinema release. Sadly, Keith died before he got old and missed the movie's premiere.
Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949): One of the greatest comedies ever made as Dennis Price sets out to murder numerous members of his family (all played by Alec Guinness) to gain an inheritance. Urbane, witty, full of punning social comment and wry observation. Ealing studio's finest hour.
Knack And How to Get It, The (1965): Inventive Dick Lester commentary on 60s Mod London. Quick-paced, stylish and with some keen observations on sexual politics. Rita Tushingham remains disturbingly alluring throughout.
LA Confidential (1995): Vivid, lithe and atmospheric recreation of the film-noire genre in the sleazy underbelly on 1950s Los Angeles. Guy Pearce, Russell Crowe, Kevin Spacey and, especially, Kim Bassinger are fabulous in James Ellroy's celebrated tale of corrupt cops, prostitution and human degradation.
Last King of Scotland, The (2006): Incredible feature debut for documentary film-maker Kevin MacDonald based on the novel of life in Idi Amin's Uganda in the 70s. Some brilliant performances (James McAvoy especially) but nothing can compete with Forrest Whittaker's extraordinary, manic, eye-bulging and Oscar-winning turn as the dictator. A staggering achievement for all concerned. Even Gillian Anderson’s English-rose accent is passable.
Last of Sheila, The (1973): With a script by Anthony Perkins and Stephen Sondheim it's worth it for curio value alone but this madly inventive thriller about the games played by a bunch of the international jet-set idle rich, leading to murder is clever and witty beyond it's station as a kind of cut-price Sleuth. Brilliant cast (James Coburn, James Mason, Ian McShane, Raquel Welsh) and assured direction by Herbert Ross and one of the cleverest last twenty or thirty minutes of any film ever made.
Lavender Hill Mob, The (1951): Charles Crichton's beautiful and hilarious heist movie concerning a gang of inept bank robbers in post-war London has matured well and is, if anything, even funnier these days than it was the 50s. A key-note example of Ealing comedy with a terrific cast (Alec Guinness, Stanley Holloway, Sid James, Audrey Hepburn). "£25,000. Enough to keep me for one year in the style to which I was unaccustomed!"
Lawrence of Arabia (1962): Towering in scope, conceit and homoeroticism(!), David Lean's epic - in every sense of the word - biopic of T.E. Lawrence still stands as a monument to those who said he'd never be able to match Bridge on the River Kwai again. O'Toole, Guinness and Sharif are great in this - the latter's arrival in the movie, in an agonisingly-held long-shot through a mirage, is one of cinema's most imitated shots.
Let it Be (1970): A voyeuristic look at the process of a group breaking up, Let it Be began with great intentions - the Beatles rehearsing and then performing an LP’s worth of new material. But the rehearsals, at Twickenham in January 1969, were a disaster – Ringo was bored, Paul had his bossy head on, John was strung-out on smack and distracted by Yoko’s presence and George got so pissed-off with the whole deal that he walked out. With hindsight, Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s editing decisions often seem to highlight the tensions within the band and some present have suggested that the atmosphere wasn’t nearly as bad as Let it Be makes out. Still, if its only contribution to the Beatles archive was the exhilarating version of ‘Get Back’ as the police arrive to break up the rooftop concert, Let it Be is a worthwhile document of a painful month. “I’ll play whatever you want me to play…”
Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, The (1943): Another brilliant, original gem from Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. A darkly funny and touching memoir of the title character (Roger Livesey) through fifty years and three wars and which manages to be sentimental without ever resorting to mawkishness. Made at a time when war movies were largely crass propaganda, this one has a genuine sense of pacifism (perhaps that was why Churchill reported hated it so much and refused to let Laurence Olivier out of the army to participate).
Likely Lads, The (1976): Just about the only TV-to-movie adaptation ever to stand an even vague comparison with the show that spawned it. A key text to the 'sober and unemployed' 1970s Britain, a world of unwanted change, class consciousness and harsh realism after the joyous abandon of the 60s. James Bolam and Rodney Bewes reprise their TV roles in a comedy with laughs, touching moments and some sharp and bloody teeth. 'In the chocolate box of life, the top layer's already gone and somebody's nicked the orange crème from the bottom!'
What's all that about, then?
Jaws (1975): “Cold eyes! Dead eyes!” Awesome, suspense-filled Spielberg blockbuster about a shark terrorising a coastal community and the three men (Roy Scheider, Richard Dryfuss, Robert Shaw) who sail off the kill it before it kills them. Full of memorable set-pieces (if you didn't jump when the face appears in the hole at the bottom of the boat, you have no nervous system) and lots of memorable one-liners ("you're gonna need a bigger boat!")
J.F.K (1991): “You’re a goddamn liberal, Mr Garrison. You don’t know shit cos you’ve never been fucked up the ass.” Oliver Stone's riveting, obsessive, preachy, maddeningly self-righteous but fundamentally pulsating journey into the dark heart of US conspiracy theory. One of the most technically dazzling film experiences ever (the Oscar winning editing and cinematography should be watched by anyone who wants to know how to put a film together). There are moments in J.F.K where the viewer genuinely doesn't know if he's watching real archive footage or not. As a piece of dramatic storytelling, it's superb but ... it's also got faults and one of the biggest is not knowing when to say "stop!" The Donald Sutherland character is a case in point (based on genuine conspiracy loon, Fletcher Prouty, he almost derails the movie on his own). Great acting (Costner, Oldman, Joe Pesci, Laurie Metcalf and many others). Stone never made a movie a tenth as good as this again (and The Doors and Nixon are both fine films). With J.F.K, though, there's always a "but" lingering around the corner of ever compliment. The Director's Cut is almost four hours long but is, marginally, a better movie than the cinema version (30 minutes shorter).
Kids Are Alright, The (1979): Jeff Stein's exhilarating, non-linear history of The Who, told through archive TV and concert clips and interviews with the band. It could have gone all pretentious and serious (like Marty Scorsese's The Last Waltz), but the humour that the band (and, especially, Keith Moon) inject into the movie manages to put a break on Townshend's more arch moments. Too many great moments to list (but the bit of The Smothers' Brothers Show that opens the movie is worth it's weight in comedy gold). The DVD release restores about ten minutes of footage edited out of the original cinema release. Sadly, Keith died before he got old and missed the movie's premiere.
Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949): One of the greatest comedies ever made as Dennis Price sets out to murder numerous members of his family (all played by Alec Guinness) to gain an inheritance. Urbane, witty, full of punning social comment and wry observation. Ealing studio's finest hour.
Knack And How to Get It, The (1965): Inventive Dick Lester commentary on 60s Mod London. Quick-paced, stylish and with some keen observations on sexual politics. Rita Tushingham remains disturbingly alluring throughout.
LA Confidential (1995): Vivid, lithe and atmospheric recreation of the film-noire genre in the sleazy underbelly on 1950s Los Angeles. Guy Pearce, Russell Crowe, Kevin Spacey and, especially, Kim Bassinger are fabulous in James Ellroy's celebrated tale of corrupt cops, prostitution and human degradation.
Last King of Scotland, The (2006): Incredible feature debut for documentary film-maker Kevin MacDonald based on the novel of life in Idi Amin's Uganda in the 70s. Some brilliant performances (James McAvoy especially) but nothing can compete with Forrest Whittaker's extraordinary, manic, eye-bulging and Oscar-winning turn as the dictator. A staggering achievement for all concerned. Even Gillian Anderson’s English-rose accent is passable.
Last of Sheila, The (1973): With a script by Anthony Perkins and Stephen Sondheim it's worth it for curio value alone but this madly inventive thriller about the games played by a bunch of the international jet-set idle rich, leading to murder is clever and witty beyond it's station as a kind of cut-price Sleuth. Brilliant cast (James Coburn, James Mason, Ian McShane, Raquel Welsh) and assured direction by Herbert Ross and one of the cleverest last twenty or thirty minutes of any film ever made.
Lavender Hill Mob, The (1951): Charles Crichton's beautiful and hilarious heist movie concerning a gang of inept bank robbers in post-war London has matured well and is, if anything, even funnier these days than it was the 50s. A key-note example of Ealing comedy with a terrific cast (Alec Guinness, Stanley Holloway, Sid James, Audrey Hepburn). "£25,000. Enough to keep me for one year in the style to which I was unaccustomed!"
Lawrence of Arabia (1962): Towering in scope, conceit and homoeroticism(!), David Lean's epic - in every sense of the word - biopic of T.E. Lawrence still stands as a monument to those who said he'd never be able to match Bridge on the River Kwai again. O'Toole, Guinness and Sharif are great in this - the latter's arrival in the movie, in an agonisingly-held long-shot through a mirage, is one of cinema's most imitated shots.
Let it Be (1970): A voyeuristic look at the process of a group breaking up, Let it Be began with great intentions - the Beatles rehearsing and then performing an LP’s worth of new material. But the rehearsals, at Twickenham in January 1969, were a disaster – Ringo was bored, Paul had his bossy head on, John was strung-out on smack and distracted by Yoko’s presence and George got so pissed-off with the whole deal that he walked out. With hindsight, Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s editing decisions often seem to highlight the tensions within the band and some present have suggested that the atmosphere wasn’t nearly as bad as Let it Be makes out. Still, if its only contribution to the Beatles archive was the exhilarating version of ‘Get Back’ as the police arrive to break up the rooftop concert, Let it Be is a worthwhile document of a painful month. “I’ll play whatever you want me to play…”
Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, The (1943): Another brilliant, original gem from Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. A darkly funny and touching memoir of the title character (Roger Livesey) through fifty years and three wars and which manages to be sentimental without ever resorting to mawkishness. Made at a time when war movies were largely crass propaganda, this one has a genuine sense of pacifism (perhaps that was why Churchill reported hated it so much and refused to let Laurence Olivier out of the army to participate).
Likely Lads, The (1976): Just about the only TV-to-movie adaptation ever to stand an even vague comparison with the show that spawned it. A key text to the 'sober and unemployed' 1970s Britain, a world of unwanted change, class consciousness and harsh realism after the joyous abandon of the 60s. James Bolam and Rodney Bewes reprise their TV roles in a comedy with laughs, touching moments and some sharp and bloody teeth. 'In the chocolate box of life, the top layer's already gone and somebody's nicked the orange crème from the bottom!'
Live And Let Die (1973): Roger Moore's debut as 007 followed the brash, sleazy, over-the-top template of Sean's last outing, Diamonds Are Forever, in this complex narrative mixture of gangsters and Caribbean voodoo that could be best described as The Saint Gets Shafted. Brilliant, pithy Tom Mankerwicz script and it features one of the series' best villains (Yaphat Koto) and sexiest Bond girls (Jane Seymour). Full of quotable dialogue ("Names is for tombstones, baby. Y'all take this honky out an' waste him!") and terrific set-pieces (the boat chase). Roger's Bond was never this hard or callous again.
Local Hero (1983): Bill Forsyth transplants a 1930 Frank Capra "feel-good" movie to the Scottish Islands in the 1980s. Enchanting and very funny, with a stunning Mark Knoffler soundtrack and great performances (Denis Lawson, Peter Riegert, Burt Lancaster, Fulton MacKay, Peter Capaldi). The sequence with the rabbit pie is as dryly funny as British comedy ever gets.
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998): Guy Ritchie's feature debut is a astonishingly pacey and often amusing Pulp Fiction-style clash of numerous storylines all surrounding the seamier side of Cool Britannia London. Jason Flemyng, Dexter Fletcher, Nick Moran and Jason Statham are terrific as four mates caught up in one ridiculous cock-up after another. Vinnie Jones simply astonishes as the psychotic Big Chris (“it’s been emotional!”), Lenny McLean is wonderfully foul-mouthed. Even Sting couldn't screw this one up. Though he does try his best. Great soundtrack too. Most of the same cast returned in Ritchie's follow-up Snatch – which is twice as long and half-as-good.
Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, The (1962): Tony Richardson’s grim and gritty adaptation of the Alan Sillotoe play about the shackles society places on rebellious youth. Tom Courtney (in a career-defining role), James Bolam and Michael Redgrave at their absolute best. Keep your eye out for a cameo by a hideously young John Thaw. “I'm going to let them think they've got me house trained, but they never will, the bastards. To get me beat, they'll have to stick a rope around my neck.”
Longest Day, The (1962): Probably costing far more than the actual Normandy D-Day operation The Longest Day works on several levels - the most obvious being the "don't blink or you might miss several" nature of the Star-Studded cast. Much of the cast works very well (Sean Connery's comedy double act with Norman Rossington is an unexpected highlight). Some less so, and some is just downright tokenism - Rod Steiger getting all of 43 seconds on-screen for example. But overall, it's always a highly watchable and beautifully shot movie. It's also an admirably balanced film - far from the expected conceits of John Wayne and Robert Mitchum taking on the Third Reich virtually single-handedly - how many other WWII films include both German and (almost uniquely) French perspectives of the war to such an extent that almost half of the dialogue is in a language other than English. The Longest Day is a film about five beaches, many battles, and many men - some, as Richard Burton says, dead, some crippled and some lost. Epic in every sense of the word.
Long Good Friday, The (1980): John MacKenzie's violent London gangster movie (with political overtones) set a new benchmark for British cinema and spawned a generation of imitators - most with about a fiftieth of the dazzling wit and outrageous passion of this. Bob Hoskyns and Helen Mirren in, literal, star-making performances. "What a diabolical fuckin' liberty!"
Looking for Richard (1996): Highly personal documentary following Al Pacino's attempts to stage a production of Richard III that's both relevant to modern audiences and faithful to the text. A wonderful dissection of a brilliant text - contributions from Kevin Kline, Kenneth Branagh and James Earl Jones, amongst others. Hugely original.
Loot (1970): Farcical, yet curiously satisfying adaptation of Joe Orton's cause celebre stage comedy and bank robbery, sex and death. Roy Holder and Hwyel Bennett are terrific as the cosh boys with a problem of where to hide their haul although Lee Remick is badly miscast as their partner and Richard Attenborough only works spasmodically as the epically inept police inspector, Trubshaw (the stage role made Michael Bates a star). Nice outré mod trappings and some hilarious dialogue cover most of the cracks.
Lost Boys, The (1987): The film that made Kiefer Sutherland a star and without which Buffy the Vampire Slayer would never have happened. Joel Schumacher's testosterone-charged movie kick-started the concept of a modern urban-horror stripped of it's gothic roots but with a vital ingredient added, humour.
Love and Death (1975): Woody Allen takes the piss out of 'War and Peace' with a wit and genius the he was seldom able to match thereafter (when that famous line in Stardust Memories talks about his "early, funnier" movies, this is probably the one to which it refers). Loads of stand-out moments and hilarious one-liners ('I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Actually, make that I run through the valley of the shadow of death') and with a stunning use of Prokofiev's music. 'Funny', a word Woody would soon forget he ever knew the meaning of.
Magnificent Ambersons, The (1942): Not quite the film Orson Welles wanted to make (he hated the obligatory "happy ending" inserted after he'd been forcibly removed from the project and described the 88 minute version as "edited with a lawnmower") but still a quite extraordinary achievement. An ambitious retelling of the Booth Tarkington novel. Agnes Moorhead won an Oscar for her role as the headstrong Fanny.
Manchurian Candidate, The (1962): Based on Richard Condon's novel, John Frankenheime's tingling tale of post-Korean War political paranoia and assassination plots was, reported, one of John Kennedy's favourite movies, which makes the climax all the more horrendous. A career highlight for most of those involved (Laurence Harvey, Frank Sinatra, Janet Leigh and, especially, Angela Lansbury - it's impossible to watch the manipulative bitch she plays here and believe it's the same woman in 973 episode of Murder, She Wrote!) Cool, sophisticated, menacing and with some very harsh things to say about parental love, forget the crappy remake with Denzil Washington, this is the real deal.
Man Who Fell to Earth, The (1976): Shit-weird Nic Roeg adaptation of Walter Travis's novel which saw David Bowie, essentially, take his stage-persona to the movies and emerge ... sort of bald and with funny eyes. Three quarters of The Man Who Fell to Earth is riveting, original, and features one of the greatest moments in movie history (when Thomas Newton reveals his true self to his girlfriend and she pisses her pants). Sadly, it all falls apart towards the end and gets muddled as the CIA subplot takes over.
Man Who Would be King, The (1975): John Huston's last great movie, loosely based on a Kipling short story about two British soldiers mistaken a God and his priest in Northern India by the local tribes. High adventure of the kind you'd expect from the man who directed The Maltese Falcon and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre and double-dealing inevitably followed. Michael Caine and Sean Connery are an unparalleled double act (it's such a shame they didn't make more movies together). Full of magnificent dialogue ('Listen to me you benighted muckers, we're gonna teach you soldiering. The world's noblest profession. When we're done, you'll be able to slaughter your enemies like civilized men!') and a stirring, passionate ending. A masterpiece.
Masque of the Red Death, The (1964): One of the most colourful and *least boring* films ever made! Everything is right in this handsome and majestic movie. The titles, splattered Technicolour-red, point the way to the literate, almost Shakespearean, tragedy that follows. The cast respond to Charles Beaumont and Wright Campbell’s accomplished screenplay, whilst Nic Roeg’s camerawork is the stuff of legends. The Masque of the Red Death rejects many traditional horror-movie clichés to deliver a powerful and well-observed essay on the culpable depths of human depravity. It is also an admirably balanced film; Prospero (Vincent Price), for example, is told that each man creates his own heaven and hell – a cunning rejection of the, somewhat shallow, orthodox good-thumping-evil climax that the genre traditionally demands. Most memorably, there is the final scene, depicting death’s weary messengers trudging ever onward. A morally satisfying end to what is, undoubtedly, Roger Corman’s masterpiece.
Ma Soeur!, À (2001): Catherine Breillat's tense, unusual story follows the sexual development of two French sisters in their early teens. Their middle-class family embody the social mores and protective attitudes that, they feel, stifle them. Terrific performances by both two girls - Anaïs Reboux and Roxanne Mesquida. However, nothing will prepare the viewer for the absolutely shocking conclusion which comes completely out of left-field. English title: Fat Girl.
Matter of Life and Death, A (1946): “What’s your name?” The films of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressberger should be studied by anyone who has a wish to understand the complexity, strangeness and reassuring warmth of the British psyche. A studded allegory of war, love and loss, this remarkable movie gloriously slaughters many sacred cows in its clever construction. Even real-life accidents seem serendipitous in hindsight - the lack of enough Technicolor stock meant that half the film (the 'Heaven' sequences) had to be shot in black and white. David Niven's finest performance. A thing of fragile and intricate beauty. Belatedly released in the US under the horrid alternate title Stairway to Heaven (talk about msising the point).Melody (1971): Sweet and charming portrait of adolescent romance in early 70s Britain starring Jack Wild, Mark Lester and Tracy Hyde. A beautiful movie full of naively wonderful middle-class takes on teenage rebellion and defiance wrapped up in a love story between 13 year olds. The magnificent soundtrack (by the Bee Gees) is also worthy of considerable praise. Also known as S.W.A.L.K. Directed by Waris Hussain.
Modern Times (1936): Charlie Chaplin's pointed satire on the mechanisation of modern life and industry is well realised and occasionally hilarious. The last great silent movie.
Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975): A film that manages to poke fun at - and the list of not inclusive - BBC radio sound effects, swallows, the French, left-wing politics in Britain in the late 1970s, the French, the monarchy, religion, traditional notions of bravery and cowardice, the French, rabbits, medieval justice, historian Kenneth Clark and, most notably, the French. A wildly ambitious movie, particularly given it's frugal budget, full of hilarious set pieces (the Knights Who say 'Ni', Arthur's fight with the Black Knight, the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch) and some of the most quotable dialogue in movie history ("your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries!") Daft, from start to finish. And brilliant.
Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979): Controversial, challenging, hilarious knee-to-the-groin of organised religion by Chapman, Cleese, Gilliam, Jones, Idle and Palin. As with Holy Grail, the targets are scattergun (you can see the glee in John Cleese's eyes as he gets to poke fun at his old Latin teacher in the 'Romani ite Domum' bit: "If it's not done by sunrise, I'll cut your balls off!") Again, a script that can be chanted along with ('what have the Romans ever done for us?' "Splitters!' 'Biggus Dickus' etc.) and who else but these fellahs could have even thought about getting away with the crucifixion being accompanied by 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life'? Spike Milligan appears in a cameo, as does Executive Producer (and 'saviour') George Harrison as the man who loaned them the money for the sermon on the mount! Any film that can provoke a reaction like this one got deserves all the success this one achieved.
Monty Python's Meaning of Life (1983): Often overlooked in the light of past triumphs but in many ways, Meaning of Life is the Pythons most ambitious movie. A caustic variant on The Seven Ages of Man, it's got some cracking jokes (the machine that goes 'ping'), accurate observation on the delicious ironies of life and some downright effing weird bits ("Fishy, fishy!"). And, a handful of terrific songs - indeed, it's essentially a musical (with the Arlene Phillips choreographed 'Every Sperm is Sacred' sequence a particular highlight). And you have to see it with the hugely enjoyable - and rather moving - support feature, Gilliam's 'Crimson Permanent Assurance'. Just, you know, stay away from that wafer-thin mints.
Mummy, The (1959): Terence Fisher's use of Technicolor literally smacks the viewer in the face in this handsomely designed and well-scripted film. He had a tough time playing the role, but Christopher Lee's performance is one of the best of his entire career - a silent, unstoppable killer, the literal stuff of nightmares. Jimmy Sangster's urbane script catches the mood perfectly, presenting the strange customs of an alien culture transplanted, seamlessly, into Hammer's omnipresent rural Victoriana. It was also part of a significant trend in British cinema of the late 1950s which commented upon the horrors of Britain's colonial past and how the disintegrating Empire was, frankly, ready for some payback. Fantastic photography by Jack Asher, matched by Bernard Robinson's designs and Roy Ashton's make-up for Lee. A lavish, groundbreaking production, and one of Hammer's very best.
Murder by Death (1976): Neil Simon spoof whodunit notable for an amazing cast (Alec Guinness, David Niven, Peter Sellers, Maggie Smith, Peter Falk, Elsa Lanchester, Truman Capote). Taking the piss out of every genre cliché imaginable makes it a must for fans of detective movies.
Murder by Decree (1979): Intriguing mixture of Sherlock Holmes (a great performance by Christopher Plummer), conspiracy theory and Jack the Ripper (the idea that the murderer was the queen's doctor Sir William Gull as part of a Freemason plot had first appeared in Stephen Knight's 1976 book Jack the Ripper: The Final Solution). Beautifully filmed by Bob Clark with loads of intricate period detail and a fabulous cast (James Mason goes down the Nigel Bruce route for inspiration for his Watson, though he still gets some lovely one-liners).
My Darling Clementine (1946): John Ford's stunning dust-bowl Western retelling of the OK Corral legend. Henry Fonda is a great Wyatt Earp although Victor Mature's Doc Holliday chews scenery with the best of them. Historically questionable but a work of considerable merit.
My Fair Lady (1964): One of the most loved musical comedy's ever made - even people born twenty years after it was made will know most of Lerner and Loewe's classic songs (‘One the Street Where You Live’ – sung in the film by Jeremy Brett – is my particular favourite). Occasionally flat, stagy and faüx naïf direction by George Cukor by Audrey will simply melt your heart as Eliza Doolittle (and, despite rumours to the contrary she did do her own singing).
Groovy Movies will return. Eventually.
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