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Lethal Weapon 2 (1989)   As an aficionado of ’80s-90s action cinema, I naturally loved all things Joel Silver (except Joel himself, natch… except in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, natch), yet I was never entirely persuaded by the Lethal Weapon series. The first is a more than decent movie, and the chemistry between Mel Gibson and Danny Glover is uproarious and infectious, such that the series is undoubtedly very difficult to dislike. But as action cinema, as boosted as it is by Michael Kamen’s robust scoring, the movies are never more than serviceable, competent, respectable. Richard Donner was no John McTiernan at his

Alien Nation  (1988)   I’m not sure there was a way to make Alien Nation, coming as it did in the socio-politically conscious science-fiction lineage of Planet of the Apes, and not make its themes seem somewhat clunky, overbearing and even patronising. The alternative would just have been to make some slick nonsense like Bright. Of course, if Alien Nation worked as slick nonsense, that would be something. Instead, it has just enough going for it to see why it was quickly spun off as a (short-lived) TV show (with a subsequent long-lived string of TV movies), but not enough to see it clear of abundant

Trancers aka Future Cop (1984)   On the evidence of Trancers, one might easily conclude the original version of Da 5 Bloods, before Spike Lee doused it with effluent, was a much more engaging and humorous affair, since both share screenwriters Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo. And if it’s true that Jimbo Cameron was a fan of Trancers, I wouldn’t be overly surprised. Because, for all that Charles Band’s movie shamelessly rips off Blade Runner, The Terminator and – at least to some batty and highly tenuous degree – Scanners, it does so with wit and inventiveness, while being cheerfully unpretentious about its low-budget trappings and

Runaway (1984)   About the biggest takeaway from Runaway: so that’s where Spielberg got his Minority Report robot spiders. In a very crude, clunky, 1980s Mechano set kind of way. Likewise, the bullet POV tracking shots may have got the drop on – what, Sniper? – by eight years, but they’re nevertheless the premiere, crude, clunky 1980s STV version. Crichton’s early successes (Westworld, Coma), benefited from a spartan – shall we say, generously – directorial approach, emboldened as they were by strong core concepts. But he was on less solid ground as the ’80s arrived, with considerably more talented visual technicians outmatching him at

Squid Game (2021)   Once in a blue moon, Netflix does deliver something worth one’s time, purely as an exception that proves the rule. Inevitably, however, the level of attention and praise heaped on Squid Game is disproportionate to both its merit and originality. At its core, Hwang Dong-hyuk’s series, riffing as it does on a range of influences, from Battle Royale (one he cited), to Big Brother (itself predicated on individuals’ capacities for selfishness and turning on one another), to Utopia (the discordantly perky soundtrack and day-glow colour scheme, as carnage and violence erupts all around), is really very familiar and its targets – capitalism, huh? – disappointingly prosaic.

Snake Eyes (1998)   The best De Palma movies offer a persuasive synthesis of plot and aesthetic, such that the director’s meticulously crafted shots and set pieces are underpinned by a firm foundation. That isn’t to say, however, that there isn’t a sheer pleasure to be had from the simple act of observing, from De Palma movies where there isn’t really a whole lot more than the seduction of sound, image and movement. Snake Eyes has the intention to be both scrupulously written and beautifully composed, coming after a decade when the director was – mostly – exploring his oeuvre more commercially

Insomnia (2002)   I’ve never been mad keen on Insomnia. It’s well made, well-acted, the screenplay is solid, and it fits in neatly with Christopher Nolan’s abiding thematic interests, but it’s… There’s something entirely adequate about it. It isn’t pushing any kind of envelope. It’s happy to be the genre-bound crime study it is and nothing more, something emphasised by Pacino’s umpteenth turn as an under-pressure cop. Actually, it was only Al’s fifth cop (out of eight, by my count), but there’s a lot of frustration and stress packed into those previous four (most of it in Sea of Love, come to

Day Break (2006)   Day Break is the rare series that was lucky to get cancelled. And not in a mercy-killing way. It got to tell its story. Sure, apparently there were other stories. Other days to break. But would it have justified going there? Or would it have proved tantalising/reticent about the elusive reason its protagonist has to keep stirring and repeating? You bet it would. Offering occasional crumbs, and then, when it finally comes time to wrap things up, giving an explanation that satisfies no one/is a cop out/offers a hint at some nebulous existential mission better left to the viewer to conjure up on

Beverly Hills Cop (1984)   You could reasonably argue Eddie Murphy was a phenomenon before Beverly Hills Cop, but following the release of Martin Brest’s 1984 box-office champ, the entire world now knew it. At about the same time, Bill Murray was making similar waves in Ghostbusters (no one was quoting Aykroyd and Ramis from that movie), so it must have been a particular rue to studios that both then dropped off the screen for a couple of years. With 1980s stars, in particular, there’s often a dissonance between the size of their hits and the actual quality (look no further than Tom Cruise).

The Hard Way (1991)   It would probably be fair to suggest that Michael J Fox’s comic talents never quite earned the respect they deserved. Sure, he was the lead in two incredibly popular TV shows, but aside from one phenomenally successful movie franchise, he couldn’t quite make himself a home on the big screen. Part of that might have been down to late ’80s attempts to carve himself out a niche in more serious roles – Light of Day, Bright Lights, Big City, Casualties of War – roles none of his fanbase had any interest in seeing him essaying. Which makes the part

Gigli (2003)   I can’t say I avoided Gigli due to all the terrible reviews and the Razzie sweep. There are plenty of movies commonly cited as lousy that I like or even rate (to mention a selection of Razzie’s targets: Ishtar, Jaws: The Revenge, Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, Hudson Hawk, Last Action Hero, Gods of Egypt). Martin Brest’s previous film had received bad notices but I unabashedly think it’s a good ’un. I had little opinion of J-Lo, except that she was appealing in Out of Sight. Mostly, I couldn’t muster any willpower to investigate because I found, and still do, Batfleck to be underwhelming. So

Heaven’s Prisoners (1996)   At the time, it seemed Alec Baldwin was struggling desperately to find suitable star vehicles, and the public were having none of it. Such that, come 1997, he was playing second fiddle to Anthony Hopkins and Bruce Willis, and in no time at all had segued to the beefy supporting player we now know so well from numerous indistinguishable roles. That, and inane SNL appearances. But there was a window, post- being replaced by Harrison Ford as Jack Ryan, when he still had sufficient cachet to secure a series of bids for bona fide leading man status. Heaven’s Prisoners is

The Wrong Arm of the Law (1963)   The signs were arguably there with the acclaim he received for his performance as Quilty in the previous year’s Lolita, but we’re right on the cusp of the second phase of Peter Sellers’ movie career here, just before The Pink Panther and Dr. Strangelove sent his star into the stratosphere. One might even trace this germ back to The Mouse That Roared (1959), his first significant US success and a spark for his more troublesome tendencies. Coming at the end of Sellers’ post-war British comedy period, The Wrong Arm of the Law is in some respects relatively run of the mill

End of Days (1999)   Or Arnie v Satan. And maybe, a decade earlier, it could have been a match worth catching. Or maybe not. Because End of Days simply cannot escape the fact that this is a terrible fit for the Austrian Oak. That it remains an entertaining movie – in most respects more so two decades on from its release, when it came across as no more or less than a rather desperate cash-in on pre-millennial angst – is almost entirely despite his presence. Which reeks of irony, as Schwarzenegger was quite forthright in laying the blame for End of Days’

Split Second (1992)   Greta Thunberg’s favourite movie. Probably. Well, her “people’s” anyway. Somehow, I managed to miss this one when it came out, although its lousy reviews probably had something to do with it. I was nudged into taking advantage of its current, Bezos-sanctioned availability by an Empire take calling it “glorious” and suggested “As a showcase for a mischievous Hauer behaving badly… it’s almost matchless”. The recently departed Rutger is on magnificently over-emphatic form, it’s true, and there’s frequent amusement to be had from the dialogue and chemistry between the star and sidekick cop Neil Duncan. However, Split Second lacks a crucial sense of

Stage Fright (1950)   This one has traditionally taken a bit of a bruising, for committing a cardinal crime – lying to the audience. More specifically, lying via a flashback, through which it is implicitly assumed the truth is always relayed. As Richard Schickel commented, though, the egregiousness of the action depends largely on whether you see it as a flaw or a brilliant act of daring: an innovation. I don’t think it’s quite that – not in Stage Fright’s case anyway; the plot is too ordinary – but I do think it’s a picture that rewards revisiting knowing the twist,

Number Seventeen (1932)   Number Seventeen isn’t exactly anaemic, or anonymous, but it is almost fiercely pedestrian, perhaps the least interesting picture Hitchcock put his name to during the ’30s. It runs a slender sixty minutes, but this tale of separate parties – cons and cops and some comic relief – descending on the titular house manages to feel long for all that, starved as it is of dramatic tension and cursed with largely uninteresting characters. It ought to have been something more than that, as a return to Hitchcock’s the crime genre that had recently paid dividends. Alas, he finds

Falling Down (1993)   Did Joel Schumacher, who died last month, ever make a classic movie? There are those who will go to bat for The Lost Boys, but “cult classic” is something of an eclectic beast (in that it doesn’t actually need to be a great movie, per se). I’m not convinced he did, but there was a spell there, for about a decade following Flatliners – yes, even after Batman & Robin – when I’d eagerly check out his latest picture, confident that his energised approach would at least offer something. Falling Down is a very flawed picture, but it’s also a highly entertaining and

Soylent Green (1973)   The final entry in Chuck Heston’s mid-career sci-fi trilogy (I’m not counting his Beneath the Planet of the Apes extended cameo). He hadn’t so much as sniffed at the genre prior to 1967, but over the space of the next half decade or so, he blazed a trail for dystopian futures. Perhaps the bleakest of these came in Soylent Green. And it’s only a couple of years away. 2022 is just around the corner. The secret of Soylent Green is, of course, everything about the movie. Like The Sixth Sense, it would probably be quite difficult to come to the

Domino (2019)   Brian De Palma essentially appears to have disowned his unhappy latest motion picture encounter (“I never experienced such a horrible movie set”). He opined that he came in on a script that wasn’t of his own devising (by Petter Skavlan of Kon-Tiki) and did his failing best to apply his unique vision to it. And you can see that vision, occasionally, but more than that you can see unaccustomed cheapness and lacklustre material that likely wouldn’t play no matter how much cash was thrown at it. It was initially reported that the picture was taken from the director

Dragged Across Concrete (2018)   S Craig Zahler’s response to controversy surrounding his – unstated, but people draw their own conclusions from his cumulative body of work – politics is to double down. He casts Mel Gibson as a good-guy-really racist cop and has his characters, sometimes with extreme lack of finesse, espouse his own thoughts on having a freedom to traverse such rocky terrain. You might argue he’s trolling his audience, and you’d have some degree of justification there. Dragged Across Concrete shows once again that he’s a very talented filmmaker – if over-indulgent and offputtingly exploitation cinema-indebted – but it

In the Shadow of the Moon (2019)   One time, it would be satisfying if the main protagonist in one of these Grandfather Paradox constructions had done with the inherent inescapability of it all and expressly set out to blow the bloody doors off. If Boyd Holbrook’s increasingly bedraggled, hairpiece-hampered ex-cop, on realising that’s his granddaughter on the beach, the initiator of all these time-travel, would-you-kill Hitler murders – notably, there’s no discussion of whether this is a morally unconscionable mission, presumably because those responsible for kicking off the future civil war are hateful racists, so there shouldn’t be any

Reservoir Dogs (1992)   I’m not shy to admit I fully bought into the Tarantino hype when he first arrived on the scene. Which, effectively took place with the UK’s reception of Reservoir Dogs (and its subsequent banning from home video), rather than the slightly tepid post-Sundance US reaction. That said, I think I always appreciated the “package” more than the piece itself. Don’t get me wrong, I admired the film for what it achieved, shrewdly maximising its effectiveness on a limited budget by, for example, making a virtue out of not showing the all-important heist. But its influence was everything, more than the

Witness (1985)   Witness saw the advent of a relatively brief period – just over half a decade – during which Harrison Ford was willing to use his star power in an attempt to branch out. The results were mixed, and abruptly concluded with his typically too-late attempt to go where Daniel Day-Lewis, Dustin Hoffman and Robert De Niro had gone before (with Oscar-nominated results at bare minimum). That’s right, he did a disability turn – not quite “full retard” – in the much-derided Regarding Henry. And so, he retreated to the world of Tom Clancy, the point where his cachet began

BlacKkKlansman (2018)   If nothing else, BlacKkKlansman illustrates that Spike Lee is still entirely unable to judge when less is more. Only this time, his lack of discernment has come up roses, garnering him Best Picture and Director Oscar nominations. One can be cynical about this, crediting peer recognition to the picture’s socio-political currency rather than its quality, but then, wasn’t it ever thus with the Academy Awards? This really is a disappointing film, though, roundly failing to deliver on its you-couldn’t-make-it-up, must-see premise; one can only imagine how much more potent BlacKkKlansman might have been, had producer Jordan Peele opted to direct,

Den of Thieves (2018)   I’d heard this was a shameless Heat rip-off, and the presence of Gerard Butler seemed to confirm it would be passable-at-best B-heist hokum. So maybe it was just middling expectations, even having heard how enthused certain pockets of the Internet were, but Den of Thieves is a surprisingly very satisfying entry in the genre. I can’t even fault it for attempting to Keyser Soze the whole shebang at the last moment – add a head in a box, and you have three 1995 classics in one movie – even if that particular conceit doesn’t quite come together. Part of

Hotel Artemis  (2018)   Hotel Artemis is all set up. It’s solid set up, undoubtedly – a heightened, John Wick-esque criminal world by way of John Carpenter – but once it has set out its wares, it proceeds to pulls its punches. One’s left more impressed by the dependable performances and Drew Pearce’s solid footing as a (debut feature) director than his ability to develop a satisfying screenplay. Pearce’s most notable credits to date have been in collaboration or conjunction with other, more esteemed scribes (Shane Black on Iron Man Three and Christopher McQuarrie rewriting him on Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, Pearce having already

American Gangster (2007)   Is this the most rote of all Ridley Scott’s movies? I know, there’s serious competition, particularly in his post-Gladiator workhorse mode. On first viewing, there’s a temptation to forgive American Gangster its slackness and shocking lack of internal tension, on the basis of the embarrassment of names and faces attached. That wears very thin very quickly upon revisit. Even the then-Scott talisman of Russell Crowe and the usually reliable Denzel Washington seem cast adrift in this true-life-but-not-all-that-much-really-to-be-honest period piece concerning drug dealer Frank Lucas. The picture took seven years to get made, during which time it went from Ridders

Jaws (1975)   I decided to revisit Jaws, principally because I was intent on tackling the mostly maligned sequels, and it didn’t seem right to omit the genuine article. And also, because it’s never a chore to watch one of Spielberg’s very best movies, made before he began second-guessing himself and imposing peer-review conditions on form and content. The way I see it, there’s the ’berg before E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and the ’berg after E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, and I’d opt for the former over the latter any day. Untold reams have been written about Jaws, and will continue to be, a movie that changed the

Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)   One of the most interesting aspects of what can often be a rising level of tedious repetition over the extended awards season is the manner in which pictures are reappraised as the spotlight intensifies. A frontrunner can be reduced to tears as an accusatory critical challenge, usually political or (in historical or biographical cases) factual, begins to hold sway. Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri has been the recipient of the lion’s share of such flak this year, but I somehow doubt Martin McDonagh intended his picture to be held up to scrutiny as an exemplar

Bright (2017)   Is Bright shite? The lion’s share of the critics would have you believe so, including a quick-on-the-trigger Variety, which gave it one of the few good reviews but then pronounced it DOA in order to announce their intention for Will Smith to run for the Oval Office (I’m sure he’ll take it under advisement). I don’t really see how the movie can’t end up as a “success”; most people who have Netflix will at least be curious about an all-new $90m movie with a (waning, but only because he’s keeps making bad choices) major box office star. As to whether it’s any good, Bright’s

Blade Runner 2049 (2017)   It was a questionable thing for (Sir) Ridley Scott and Alcon to go ahead with a sequel to an all-time classic that wasn’t screaming for one, and whose very pervasive influence makes any attempt appear immediately defensive. How much credit they should get for pulling off the seemingly impossible is debatable, however. Ridders was certainly right to go to Hampton Fancher for (co-)screenplay duties, but the clincher was probably delegating directing to Dennis Villeneuve; the Ridley of today just couldn’t direct a slow-burn, immersive piece like his original, and would have turned Blade Runner 2049 into something

Detroit (2017)   A film about black people made by white people for white people. That’s the common charge levelled at Detroit, Kathryn Bigelow’s account of the 1967 Algier Motel incident. And it’s difficult to argue against the assessment. One might also add, “the majority of whom aren’t going to be interested in seeing it anyway, unless it gets some Oscar buzz, and even then”. Then, one might similarly doubt who Bigelow’s last few movies were for, exactly, since they seemed primarily designed to cement her status as a serious, politically-astute filmmaker who now shirks all that genre nonsense of her

Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets (2017)   In the aftermath of Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planet’s floundering US debut (unlike The Fifth Element, it seems doubtful that an international bonanza will compensate) and (mostly) critical mauling, there have been numerous post-mortems, ranging from the reasonable to the desperately lazy (audiences didn’t know the property; it wasn’t a sequel; it didn’t have stars; it had a weird title – none of which are an issue when something is a hit, Baby Driver, for example). Valerian was one of my most anticipated pictures of the year, in spite of what

Thelma & Louise (1991)   The stuff of a thousand spoofs, I’ve always had the lurking feeling Thelma & Louise lent itself to such treatment so immediately because Ridley Scott fashioned a film expressly intent on mythmaking. And also that, in the absence of readily available alternatives in populist, female empowerment cinema, the picture was seized on as instant classic, when Callie Khouri’s screenplay is a little too schematic for that, and Scott too transparent in his influences. As such, the positives in Thelma & Louise’s enduring legacy rest most heavily on the Best Actress Oscar-nominated performances of its leads. In terms of

Die Hard (1988)   When the first Die Hard sequel was given with the green light, Hollywood plumped for the wrong Bruce Willis franchise. If they’d only waited a couple of years, the perfect vehicle for a series of movies with a wisecracking Bruno persona arrived, one Joel Silver professes lent its original title to this series: Last Boy Scout. Instead, we were treated to a – ultimately, with the promise of a fifth to come – slew of unnecessary sequels to an original that, for all its high-concept styling (and so lending itself to the spate of “Die Hard in a…” copycats), was entirely

Die Hard 2: Die Harder (1990)   There’s a bizarre view spouted by some adherents, who surely can’t have seen Die Hard 2: Die Harder in a long time, that the legacy of John McClane is only shat on by the arrival of the baldy Bruce version in 2007. Admittedly, A Good to Day to Die Hard is lousy, but I’d argue Live Free or 4.0 is actually a more satisfying movie than with a Vengeance (which goes great guns for about half its running time, then splutters and disintegrates). And the suggestion that Bruce isn’t playing McClane in Live Free is nonsense, to the extent that he isn’t really playing McClane after the

Blade Runner (1982)   There seems to be an increasing temperament of late that it’s okay not to like Blade Runner really all that much. Which is fine; no motion picture cow should be taken as sacrosanct. Not even Citizen Kane. I can’t say I remotely agree, though. Blade Runner’s a rare picture that only improves with each viewing, even given the best attempts of Sir Ridders to undermine its ambiguities and greatest strengths. But that’s the philosophical subtext, never Scott’s strongest suit, and given the rest of his filmography, it’s almost as if he tripped into it here. Where Blade Runner truly excels, exhibiting its

The Hidden (1987)   A good number of ’80s movies haven’t aged at all well, or have to be taken with a hefty side order of cheese to be appreciated, but The Hidden is not one of them. Perhaps because its feet are firmly rooted in the exploitation arena, it opts not to get side-tracked into attempting to compete with its considerably higher-budgeted peers. On that level, it’s much closer in tone to James Cameron’s game-changing The Terminator, in attitude, pace and no-nonsense thrills. This is a science fiction movie shot like a cop movie, rather than a cop movie shot like a

Sea of Love (1989)   It’s difficult to imagine Sea of Love starring Dustin Hoffman, for whom Richard Price wrote the screenplay but who bowed out over requests for multiple rewrites. Perhaps Hoffman secretly recognised what most of us don’t need telling; there’s no way he fits into an erotic thriller (I’m not sure I’d even buy him as a cop). Although, he would doubtless have had fun essaying the investigative side, involving a succession of dates on the New York singles scene as a means to ensnare a killer. Al Pacino, on the other hand, has just the necessary seedy, threadbare,

Robocop 2 (1990)   The potential for a decent movie is lurking somewhere within Robocop 2’s torrid metallic shell. Cast aside the tone-deaf visuals, the horrendous score from Leonard Rosenman (quite possibly the worst such to afflict a major motion picture outside of, well the ’80s; and at least they aren’t accompanied by the unheavenly choral charge of “Robocop!”) and the unerring facility for unpleasantness, and there’s something in there, deep underneath. Unfortunately, though, I suspect it was a doomed enterprise from the off. It falls apart through lacking the fundamental ingredients that make Robocop an abiding classic; an unwavering vision of what

Dick Tracy (1990)   So, I pretty much denounced Dick Tracy at first sight. I couldn’t understand why it seemed to be getting such a charitable response, since it fundamentally failed to understand the hows and whys of translating a comic to the big screen, certainly in terms of capturing the thrill or dynamism of reading one of the things. I had problems with Batman, but at least it featured Burton-esque quirks and a couple of memorable performances. Dick Tracy just sat there, oblivious, its only noteworthy aspect being an eyeball-grazing colour palette. But, I reasoned, said appraisal took place prior to my discovery and

Last Action Hero (1993)   Make no mistake, Last Action Hero is a mess. But even as a mess, it might be more interesting than any other movie Arnie made during that decade, perhaps even in his entire career. Hellzapoppin’ (after the 1941 picture, itself based on a Broadway revue) has virtually become an adjective to describe films that comment upon their own artifice, break the fourth wall, and generally disrespect the convention of suspending disbelief in the fictions we see parading across the screen. It was fairly audacious, some would say foolish, of Arnie to attempt something of that nature at this point

The Wicker Man (1973)   (Final Cut) There’s a strange kind of alchemy taking place in The Wicker Man, perhaps appropriate to a picture exploring the systems and structures of belief that inform our reality. Somehow it is transmuted into much more than its constituent parts. That may merely be a function of the era in which it was made, influences in the prevailing air coalescing, fusing, and forming something unique, but such an event could hardly be seen as commonplace even then. Whenever a picture is described as bearing a similarity to The Wicker Man, it’s usually nothing of the sort

The Wicker Man (2006)   There’s been a seemingly endless supply of remakes of ’70s movies since the turn of the millennium, most of which I’ve managed to avoid. I’ve yet to experience the dubious pleasures of Stallone’s Get Carter, Branagh’s Sleuth, or Rod Lurie’s Straw Dogs, for example. I did have a vague interest in Neil La Bute’s take on The Wicker Man, however, given it has developed its very own cult reputation, of a “so bad it’s good” variety. Most of which rests on a typically eccentric Nicolas Cage performance, which I tend to be all for. But still, I was resistant, out of

Zootropolis aka Zootopia aka Zoomania (2016)   The key to Zootropolis’ creative success isn’t so much the conceit of its much-vaunted allegory regarding prejudice and equality, or – conversely – the fun to be had riffing on animal stereotypes (simultaneously clever and obvious), or even the appealing central duo voiced by Ginnifier Goodwin (as first rabbit cop Judy Hopps) and Jason Bateman (fox hustler Nick Wilde). Rather, it’s coming armed with that rarity for an animation; a well-sustained plot that doesn’t devolve into overblown set pieces or rest on the easy laurels of musical numbers and montages. So credit is due to

Someone to Watch Over Me (1987)   It isn’t too difficult to see why Ridley Scott (Sir Ridders to you) was attracted to what has become one of his least conspicuous pictures. He had, after all, completed a trilogy of sci-fi/fantasy opuses, all of which had been criticised to a greater or less extent for favouring style and setting over substance. Here was his chance to respond to his critics, to deliver a fully-explored character piece, and set foot on solid contemporary ground (his first feature to do so). The problem with Someone to Watch Over Me is, while it is indeed a character

Midnight Run (1988)   Midnight Run has a lot to answer for. It gave Robert De Niro the impression he was great at comedy. He is great in Midnight Run. It’s easily his funniest performance. But that performance is a consequence of the alchemy of co-stars, script and director and, most fundamentally, that De Niro isn’t playing for laughs. Sure, he’s been funny in stuff since, mostly he’s been mugging off his taciturn tough nut persona, a one-trick pony show that’s usually been milked in undemanding and inconsequential material. Midnight Run is something else entirely; a buddy movie with genuine heart, a road trip that never

Star Cops 9. Little Green Men and Other Martians   It’s one of those ironies that Star Cops feels like it’s really coming together just as it gets kyboshed (it was planned as the tenth episode, the ninth falling by the wayside due to strike action). Chris Boucher and Graeme Harper converge for a densely plotted, twisty little number that even tantalises with the prospect of aliens (proper science fiction!) showing up. That would be too far out, of course… Spring: We’ve got drugs, Mayan sculptures, dead pilots. How many cases have we got going on here? As Spring opines, there’s enough material here

Star Cops 8. Other People’s Secrets   The Star Cops “comedy” episode, although you’d think that being the case they’d have bothered to give Catweazle (Geoffrey Bayldon) an amusing role. I spent the first twenty minutes expecting the worst, with its broad (annoying) shrink out to piss everyone off and some atrocious comedy music from Justin Hayward and Tony Visconti, but it did grow on me, mainly because its custom-fitted to the portly Devis and he’s used rather well. Mind you, this is the one where he suggests playing “a game of hide the sausage” to Anna, which, even for a show playing

Star Cops 7. A Double Life   Thus far, Star Cops has maintained a degree of consistency. Nothing that gets into five-star territory, but nothing below average either. That changes with A Double Life (if titles are any indication of the show’s quality, this one certainly sucks), a feeble story taking in cloning, doppelgangers and another opportunity for the series’ unswerving appetite for stereotyping any given nationality or race; this time it tries its hand at Arab culture. John Collee scripts again (and the next too), but Christopher Baker is back in the director’s chair and one’s instantly aware of the dissipation of

Star Cops 6. In Warm Blood   A not-so-clever play on words for what is at times a highly intriguing first episode from John Collee. Graeme Harper is again invaluable in creating a strong atmosphere. I recall rating this one particularly highly, based on the moody exploration of the vessel Pluto 5 and wizened corpses discovered (resonant of both Tobe Hooper’s Lifeforce and the mummified pilot in Doctor Who’s Terminus a few years earlier). On the significant downside, it’s Japanese stereotypes in the spotlight this week. Scientific experimentation unleashed is again the subject of In Warm Blood, although whereas in Trivial Games and Paranoid Pursuits it was a

Star Cops 5. This Case to Be Opened in a Million Years   Another superb title, but Philip Martin’s debut for Star Cops, despite a twisty narrative and a number of red herrings, can’t quite live up to it. This one goes completely overboard with the stereotypes, to such an extent you can’t quite believe this is supposed to be played straight, and not a commentary on such things (as with Martin’s excesses in the earlier Gangsters). Suffering the most are the Italians, completed with Joe Dulce-style ker-razee accents that wouldn’t be out of place if the “French” policeman from ’Allo ’Allo went

Star Cops 3. Intelligent Listening for Beginners   One thing about the Chris Boucher scripted episodes, they have marvellous titles; evocative and cerebral at the same time. Intelligent Listening for Beginners has surveillance as it’s starting point, the idea of all this information being recorded (legally or otherwise) and how to possibly analyse it with any coherence or rigour is a pertinent one in an age where just that is happening (if there were intelligent listening, there’d never be a successful terrorist attack…) Then there’s his use of computer viruses; if he were really prescient, everyone would have got around the problem

Star Cops 1. An Instinct for Murder   I know it’s a cardinal crime, but I do actually like the Star Cops theme song. It’s both cheese- and synth-tastic and quite melancholy, which fits the show. I also think it suits the titles nicely, which are still quite evocative and creative (especially the astronaut’s space boot in the moon dust too). An Instinct for Murder is rather an ungainly opener, probably the side effect of creator Chris Boucher compressing an opening two-parter into just the one episode. I hadn’t revisited the series (which can currently be found in its entirety on YouTube) since the ’80s, but

True Detective Season Two   Season Two of True Detective has received a hard time of it, dragged through the dirt even well before the first episode aired.  Certainly, I found the casting, premise and trailers fairy unpersuasive, such that I waited until I could see the entire thing in one burst. I’m glad I did, as Season Two definitely lacks the compelling plotting and thematic undercurrents that made the first so addictive, and the commanding characters (or character; that’s Rust Cohle right there) that brought you back for more. Yet even as a lesser beast, I found Season Two diverting viewing, particularly from

Black Rain (1989)   By 1989, a decade had passed since Alien, and Ridley Scott was yet to experience a bona-fide follow-up hit. Blade Runner had received an (at best) mixed response and its box office was underwhelming (a sci-fi movie, from the director of the most defining entry in the genre since Star Wars, and the biggest star in the firmament; how could it fail?) Legend outright bombed, and appeared to put a permanent dampener on the director’s more immersive approach to world-building. He then served the penance of Someone to Watch Over Me, a low-key thriller that failed to muster much interest. Scott found himself

Deliver Us from Evil (2014)   Inspired by actual accounts, except having nothing to do with any of the actual accounts, Deliver Us from Evil is the tale of a New York cop kicking ass for the lord in tandem with an ex-drug addict priest. It really should have been a whole lot more fun and provocative than it is. Scott Derrickson, a rare Hollywood Christian, and co-screenwriter, could at least have injected some searching philosophical ruminations about the nature of good and evil into his picture, rather than the vapid guff discussed by Eric Bana’s Ralph Sarchie (the cop) and Edgar

Mad Max (1979)   It’s most common for movie series to peak begin on a high, before anyone had an inkling there would be further chapters, and then inexorably decline. A few notables buck the trend, however. Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn is one, where the comic energy makes its predecessor look threadbare by comparison. Mad Max 2 (or The Road Warrior) is another, a movie that fully embraces propulsive, kinetic action and the mythic potential of its protagonist. While both these elements are in nascent form in Mad Max, it’s really by reflection of what came after, and Mel Gibson’s star-in-waiting status, that George Miller’s

Sitting Target (1972)   Oliver Reed, still relatively youthful (his early thirties, so mid-fifties in liver years), before the booze pickled his brains, is a powerhouse of simmering rage in this stylised thriller from skilled journeyman Douglas Hickox. Oli’s an ’orribly unsavoury animal, busting out of prison just so he can knock off his old lady. It’s matter of honour, or pride, or something. Oli’s steaming pissed and it’s going to get messy. This thriller has been compared to Get Carter, but Alexander Jacobs’ screenplay (from Laurence Henderson’s novel) lacks the same cool precision. Jacobs contributed to a number of decent

The Lego Movie (2014)   The sheer, all-pervading awesomeness of The Lego Movie appears to have persuaded even the sternest critical voice. It’s the animated movie of the year, the one that everyone adores, and it isn’t even made by Pixar. I was fully prepared to find it equally as awesome as everyone else; smart, self-aware, thematically rich and very funny. And it is… but not quite to the unsurpassable classic level I’d been led to believe. At its heart, The Lego Movie has worthy but stolid messages about the values of creativity and teamwork, wrapped in a bow so efficiently tied that

The Leftovers Season One: Part 2   The second half of Season One of The Leftovers evidences a series that has found its feet, and then some. Each episode is a standout in its own way, from Nora’s strange encounters at a departure conference, to Kevin’s mad dad running loose, and his National Geographic fixation (very Lindelof, that), to the stunning encounter with Patti in a cabin in the woods, to the inevitable flashback episode that explains everything and nothing, and on to the finale with its tenuous optimistic note. Doubtless that still point is set to be shattered in 2015; HBO has confirmed

Robocop (1987)   Robocop is one of a select group of action movies I watched far too many times during my teenage years. One can over-indulge in the good things, and pallor can be lost through over-familiarity. It’s certainly the case that Paul Verhoeven’s US breakthrough wears its limited resources on its battered metal-plated chest and, in its “Director’s Cut” form at least, occasionally over-indulges his enthusiastic lack of restraint. Yet its shortcomings are minor ones. It remains stylistically impressive and thematically as a sharp as a whistle. This year’s remake may have megabucks and slickness on its side but there

Miami Blues (1990)   If the ’90s crime movie formally set out its stall in 1992 with Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs, another movie very quietly got in there first at the beginning of the decade. Miami Blues picked up admiring reviews but went otherwise unnoticed on release, and even now remains under-recognised. The tale of “blithe psychopath” Federick J. Frenger, Jr., the girl whose heart he breaks and the detective sergeant on his trail, director George Armitage’s adaptation of Charles Willeford’s novel wears a pitch-black sense of humour and manages the difficult juggling act of being genuinely touching with it. It’s a little

R.I.P.D. (2013)   Roundly slated as a Men in Black rip-off, R.I.P.D. has to face up and plead guilty as charged. It’s Men in Black without the star chemistry and servicing the strictly formulaic plotting of that series’ second instalment. Really though, it’s just pretty mediocre. This has been rather over shadowed by everything else it represents; further evidence that Ryan Reynolds is box office poison and also a huge loser for Universal as one of the biggest bombs of 2013 (barely making back half of its costs). It’s curious how little this feels like a Robert Schwentke movie. His previous pictures at least feel fairly clean and

True Detective 1.6: Haunted House   The far-out theorising of the fifth episode (probably my favourite so far) is all but jettisoned as True Detective is brought back down to earth with a thud and a bump and a grind in Haunted House. It’s a definite and intentional pullback from the investigation side (barring a couple of scenes, and one especially memorable one), which tidies the hedgerows and brings the narrative fully up-to-date. And it serves to really cement that this is all about the decaying lives of the detectives at its centre; the solving of the crime needs to pay-off satisfyingly to

True Detective 1.5: The Secret Fate of All Life   This is the first episode I’ve watched all on its lonesome, and I have to agree with those suggesting it’s a series that pays to watch in weekly instalments rather than as a big chunk. Having said that, the last series that I was addicted to in such a manner was Lost (for not dissimilar metaphysically and philosophically speculative reasons). And look how that investment paid off. True Detective at least will reveal itself as a true success or a true failure in a mere few weeks, but the journey (as with ninety percent

True Detective 1.4: Who Goes There   I’m going to go against the grain here and suggest that, in spite of the bravura seat-of-the-edge fireworks of the final section (including a six-minute take), the fourth is the weakest episode so far (although, given the quality of this series, that still means it’s very good). It feels like a cynical switch of gears, a self-conscious ratings-grabber by way of a huge set piece gun battle. It takes the show out of the police procedural and into the territory of an action movie, as Rust relives his undercover days. The opening interrogation

Red Heat (1988)   Arnold Schwarzenegger’s sole buddy cop picture, from a director who had already delivered the genre’s defining article (48 Hrs, even though one of the buddies isn’t a cop). The formula is now well established; a mismatched pair, one is funny/crazy the other is the straight man. One was Eddie Murphy, the other was Nick Nolte. Here, one is James Belushi and the other is Arnie.  Casting Arnie as a Russian is the kind of bright idea to a Hollywood producer who thinks Austrian and Russian accents are interchangeable comes up with, but the actual stroke of genius

Rising Sun (1993)   I probably give Rising Sun an easier ride than it deserves. It isn’t really much cop even as a murder mystery (it certainly fails to deliver a satisfying resolution) and the attempts to dilute Michael Crichton’s paranoid, xenophobic message about the encroaching Japanese are only partially successful. It also lacks a sufficiently intriguing plot to justify its excessive length. But, as iffy and unlikely as much of the movie is, and riddled with plot holes, I do find it vaguely entertaining. Much of that is down to Sean Connery, whose wigmaker was trying out ever more daring variations

Beverly Hills Cop III (1994)   I wasn’t sure I’d ever made it all the way through Beverly Hills Cop III before. But some sequels are so awful, all that remains is an amorphous memory of their fundamental shitness (Robocop 3, Highlander 2: The Quickening). So I thought, best be certain; give it another chance. But, my God, it stinks. The first sequel to the 1984 phenomenon that really put Eddie Murphy on the map had already experienced diminishing returns but, by inflation adjusted (and worldwide gross) standards, it remains his second most successful non-animated movie. Understandably, ideas had been knocking about for a trilogy-forming

48 Hrs. (1982)   As big screen debuts go, Eddie Murphy’s must be the one to beat. He arrives as a fully-formed star, and his performance as Reggie Hammond is deceptively confident. As the passing decades have proved, success on SNL is no guarantee of a sure-thing acting career. Murphy’s an instant natural, though. Yet he adopts a less out-and-out comic persona than in Beverly Hills Cop a couple of years later.  He’s able to fit seamlessly into Walter Hill’s supercharged cop action and isn’t at all out of place trading insults with “proper” actor Nick Nolte. Could you imagine Chevy Chase doing the

A Good Day to Die Hard (2013)   It’s evidently a conscious decision, but a wilfully perverse one, that the canvas of John McClane’s adventures has steadily broadened with each subsequent instalment. The claustrophobia and tension of one man fighting the odds in a tower block has been steadily diluted, first as he transferred to an airport, then a city (New York), then the eastern seaboard of the United States and now a whole country (Russia). A Good Day isn’t quite as terrible as the slating it’s received would suggest, but it’s not very good either. The script is perfunctory and the

Beverly Hills Cop II (1987)   I think it’s safe to say that Tony Scott wasn’t the greatest comedy director. Things worked out fairly well when the humour was borne from dialogue intrinsic to the script (Last Boy Scout, True Romance) but an improvised approach didn’t really mesh with an auteur ethic based on how cool the light in each individual shot looks and how many filters and smoke machines are needed. The audience clearly knew something wasn’t quite right. Beverly Hills Cop was the most successful film of 1984 in the US, grossing $234m (more than half a billion adjusted for inflation); BCII made

Striking Distance (1993)   For a star who became very quickly identified with action heroics on the big screen, it took Bruce Willis a few years to succumb to formula vehicles. Partly, this was no doubt down to his desire to stretch himself (the variety of parts, lead and supporting, in a variety of genres between ’88 and ’95 is testament to this, the consequent number of turkeys not withstanding). Partly I like to think it was because he had an eye for a script with a bit more to it. Of late, I’ve realised that was most likely wishful

Dredd (2012)   A far superior Judge Dredd movie to Stallone’s “I am duh lorr”, Pete Travis’ (although the conversation over how much of the finished edit belongs to Alex Garland getting all proprietorial will probably run and run) film is lean, gritty and ultra-violent. The pared-down, low budget approach finds an amenable plotline within the enclosed environment of gang-leader Ma-Ma’s Peach Trees tower block, which she puts into shutdown when Judges Dredd and Anderson apprehend a suspected perp (Wood Harris, better known as Avon Barksdale in The Wire). The negative side is there’s not much in the way of satire here, either

Dirty Harry (1971)   Right-wing tract or a more ambivalent study of two extreme characters (as the tagline said, “Dirty Harry and the homicidal maniac. Harry’s the one with the badge“)? There is evidently an element of wish-fulfillment in terms of identification with the Callahan character; he is pro-active in a world where bureaucracy and injustice are endemic. As such he is presented, initially at least, with situations in which it is easy to be u unperturbed by his casual dispensation of violent justice (recounting how he shot a would-be rapist) or setting up iconic scenes of coolness (dealing with