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Jason Bourne (2016)   The Bourne Jasonity, as it is also known, makes one wonder a bit. Did the added luxury of time, notably absent from the pressure-cooker production schedule of the previous Greengrass-Damon Bourne efforts, ultimately have a negative effect on the end result? Does Bourne need conflict and up-against-it difficulties to make something special (there were copious reshoots on Identity too, of course)? Because Jason Bourne isn’t anything special. It’s a serviceable thriller, but as a Bourne movie, and the high standards by which the series is rightly judged, it’s something of a disappointment. Which leads one to doubly question the wisdom of blowing the cobwebs off Damon’s

Enemy of the State (1998)   Enemy of the State is something of an anomaly; a quality conspiracy thriller borne not from any distinct political sensibility on the part of its makers but simple commercial instincts. Of course, the genre has proved highly successful over the years so it’s easy to see why big-name producers like Jerry Bruckheimer and Don Simpson would have chased that particular gravy boat. Yet they did so for some time without success; by the time the movie was made, Simpson had passed away and Bruckheimer was flying solo. It might be the only major film in

Eagle Eye (2008)   I’m a sucker for a good conspiracy movie, but this most certainly is not it. One might, at a stretch, hold that there is a daring subtext beneath the glossy fireworks and routine action. But, if there is, it is insufficient to overcome a plot that takes a “dangers of the surveillance state” premise and almost perversely surrenders any of its potency to the most familiar and stale of science fiction trappings. Eagle Eye’s opening sections suggest it might be angling for a latter-day version of Three Days of the Condor; a (relative) everyman thrust into a

Déjà vu (2006)   Some interestingly distinctive ideas rather get thrown to the wind for the sake of more conventional “Everybody lives” uplift in this time-travel movie. In the course of which, there’s an unspooling of what initially seemed like clarity of concept A (observing an unchanging past) into a much lesser watertight concept B (interacting with that multi-timelined past). Déjà vu is an intriguing and well-spun movie for the first hour of its running time. Its strength is at once working on a localised level, which also carries the weakness of immediately drawing attention to itself (this tech, were

Edge of Darkness (2010)   Self-evidently, it was daft to even attempt to remake the BBC’s seminal serial Edge of Darkness, that brooding 1980s document of nuclear dread. It was pretty much perfectly formed, a signature piece of the inevitable, apocalyptic twilight of humanity. It also set director Martin Campbell on the road to Hollywood director status, cheerful skin flicks and Derek and Clive long behind him. You’d have thought his return to pastures ploughed here was a foolish and pointless choice, as directors who have done similarly (most frequently English-language versions of their originals) have rarely reaped dividends. That

KIMI (2022)   Steven Soderbergh’s latest impersonal, production-line effort – if only he really had retired – is pretty dumb but also highly efficient. Which counts for something when mounting a claustrophobic thriller. The director previously unleashed pandemic propaganda flick Contagion on a pliant audience and has more recently applied himself to whatever safe, popular, good liberal narrative exercises tickled to his rather eclectic fancy, be they the low-fruit Panama-Papers “exposé” The Laundromat or last year’s disastrous, uber-woke Oscar Ceremony. Here, he’s servicing more of the same – plandemic backdrop; a proliferation of obedient mask junkies; nominal threat of pervasive surveillance tech as a sub for

Demon Seed (1977)   Demon Seed lends itself to a scornful response, mostly because its premise is so outré as to be deemed absurd, risible even. It’s been said Donald Cammell intended to make a comedy, and some critics suggested he’d missed the boat in by failing to deliver a satire. However, it’s difficult to see how hilarious this might have been, based on the premise (machine violation and forced impregnation). And yet, conceptually, the picture is simultaneously silly and sinister. In that sense, Cammell, who rued the studio influence that spoiled his vision, might have been the perfect guy to bring it to the

The X-Files 2.1: Little Green Men   I well recall the slight disappointment when the second season opener arrived. Was this the payoff to all that palpable excitement of The Erlenmeyer Flask? A limp retread of previous plots (1.10: Fallen Angel, 1.17: E.B.E.) varnished with some up-against-it dressing in the form of our protagonists’ now ex-X-Files status? The passage of time has done little to change that response. Little Green Men serves its remit of reconfirming the show’s credentials to newbies, but that remit is disappointingly coy. Glen Morgan and James Wong furnished an episode with the most Chris Carter-y Mulder monologues you ever did

The Anderson Tapes (1971)   A cult curio. Simultaneously ahead of its time in its pre-Watergate grasp of all-pervading surveillance and behind it in its quirky technique, this second collaboration between Sean Connery and Sidney Lumet succeeds in both engaging and being vaguely dissatisfying. The essential problem is that Lumet probably wasn’t the ideal guy for the job. The Anderson Tapes needed someone with a much tighter control of the frame; indeed, this would probably be the Brian De Palma picture, if only it hadn’t been another half decade before he had the clout to command this sort of budget. Lumet commented of the

Minority Report (2002)   Spielberg doesn’t really do downers. Sure, you can find them; his early attempt to make a movie in line with his peer group (Sugarland Express); the Oscar bait of Saving Private Ryan (softened by an interminable coda). And doubtless, unless he really messes with the plot, West Side Story will not be ending on a note of good cheer. And then there are the back-to-back science fiction outings that opened the century, both standing apart as rather curious fish. At first glance, Minority Report concludes very much with a prevailing sense of order restored; the bad apple in an otherwise honest system

Long Shot (2019)   What the hell am I doing, watching Seth Rogen movies? This is the second one in two months, and I was I sure I’d sworn off the boorish oaf. Presumably, I’m not alone, since Long Shot may have been largely well reviewed, but it also flopped. Could it be that moviegoers just don’t see Rogen as a romantic lead? Even – or especially – in a gender-reversed ugly-duckling role? At one point, referring to Charlize Theron’s Secretary of State and presidential hopeful’s thing with his stoner schlub (he’s stretching himself there) journalist-cum-speechwriter, June Diane Raphael’s staffer tells him

Toy Story 3 (2010)   If only for the merciful absence of a Randy Newman dirge (until the end credits), this might be the best of the trilogy. Well, what used to be a trilogy. Indeed, Toy Story 3 is superior to the previous two on almost every level until the last five minutes, which retrospectively tarnishes a fairly sentiment-light tale that also has a – surprisingly – strong emphasis on plotting, given the previous ones told the same basic tale. Even this one feels obligated to reuse several key story points. Because, as per usual, mishaps rather than out-and-out intent lead

Snowden (2016)   There are a fair few Oliver Stone movies I haven’t much cared for (Natural Born Killers, U-Turn, Alexander for starters), and only W., post millennium, stands out as even trying something, if in a largely inconspicuous and irrelevant way, but I don’t think I’ve been as bored by one as I have by Snowden. Say what you like about Citizenfour – a largely superficial puff piece heralded as a vanguard of investigative journalism that somehow managed to yield a Best Documentary Feature Oscar for its lack of pains – but it stuck to the point, and didn’t waste the viewer’s time. Stone’s movie is

Sneakers (1992)   I hadn’t seen Sneakers since its original cinema release, when I pegged it as a likeable but ultimately rather too amiable conspiracy yarn. I mean to say, conspiracy yarns can be a lot of things – straight thrillers, satires, outright comedies – but you don’t usually associate them with amiability. After reading a recent Birth Movies Death piece singing its praises, I thought it might be time to give the picture another look, to see if I’d confess to a glowing reappraisal. Unfortunately, no. It’s the same rather amiable, well-made-but-slight piece. Director Phil Alden Robinson was coming off the high of

Mr. Robot Season 2   I suspect my problem with Mr. Robot may be that I want it to be something it isn’t, which would entail it being a much better show than it is. And that’s its own fault, really, or rather creator and writer-director of umpteen episodes Sam Esmail’s, who has intentionally and provocatively lured his audience into thinking this really is an up-to-the-minute, pertinent, relevant, zeitgeisty show, one that not only has a huge amount to say about the illusory nature of our socio-economic system, and consequently the bedrock of our collective paradigm, but also the thorny subject of reality itself,

The X-Files 10.3: Mulder and Scully Meet the Were-Monster   I’m a sucker for anything written by Darin Morgan. Well, provided it’s of-a-piece with the sensibility he brought to his previous X-Files and Millennium scripts; his contribution to Intruders was invisible, although that was likely down to fitting his brother’s template for the moribund show. Mulder and Scully Meet the Were-Monster exhibits his greatest strengths – although those not so enamoured of his style might cite them as worst indulgences – from unreliable narrators, to the hopeless/ hopefulness of it all, to swathes of self-referentiality.  I’m not sure he’ll ever equal Jose Chung’s ‘From Outer Space’ (which, mystifyingly, Rob Shearman

Selma (2014)   Selma feels like it has garnered more attention for omissions of recognition than its actual content, such that the big the Oscar conversation was how it got Best Picture nominated (and original Song, which it won) but no attention elsewhere, in particular for director Ava DuVernay. As these things go, it’s fairly easy to understand why, as for the most part Selma is sturdy but unexceptional biopic fare. Less so in the context of a ceremony that makes a habit of awarding average or inferior biographical pictures as some kind of badge of pride (see fellow nominees The Imitation Game and The Theory

Spectre (2015)   The appearance of Spectre supremo Hans Oberhauser (who are they trying to kid, right?) in the trailers for Bond 24, announcing himself as the author of all 007’s pain gave some who watched it, myself included, understandable pause. That, and the shards of photo pointed to the Bond series yielding to that ever-unwanted obsession of Hollywood, the accursed backstory. For Bond this is particularly numbskulled, as he’s one of the shallowest characters ever to grace the silver screen – something to be celebrated, rather than rooting around for blusher to bring out his pallid texture. Fortunately, Spectre mostly doesn’t make too much

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

The Prisoner 16. Once Upon a Time   We want information. Number Two is pressed back into service in order to find out the reasons for Six’s resignation. He demands to do things his way, which requires enacting the treatment known as Degree Absolute. This comprises a weeklong psychological test in which the patient and therapist are pitted against each other. Only one may emerge intact. A regressed Six is taken through various stages in his life, from childhood onwards, by Two, who takes the role of law and authority in every case. Six eventually turns the tables on Two,

Capricorn One (1977)   As far as ultimate conspiracy theories go, ones that have captured the zeitgeist and simultaneously the opprobrium of any who view talk of such sinister intrigues and machinations as conclusive evidence of tin foil hat-wearing detachment from a reality in which we are always told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, the Moon landings are in the top tier, jostling with JFK for primacy. Certainly, there are far more people willing to admit to doubts over the official account of the assassination of President Kennedy than whether the trio of Apollo 11

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)   For a film as hyped as this one in terms of influences (the ’70s conspiracy/ paranoia thriller), there was probably bound to be a degree of disappointment with the reality. Captain America: The Winter Soldier‘s ability to follow through is consistently beholden to hitting the prescribed Marvel marks. Perhaps I set the bar unfeasibly high following Iron Man Three’s resounding success at being completely what it wanted to be and hugely entertaining with it. Captain America: The Winter Soldier is sporadically first class, and has certainly grabbed hold of the most topical of themes to kick-start its plot, but it

Blow Out (1981)   Blow Out is one of Brian De Palma’s best films, and one whose status has grown in the years since its release. It’s a movie about the craft of making movies, and deconstructing them. As such it pays homage to specific earlier pictures (Blow-up, The Conversation) while maintaining the stylistic flourish that is so thoroughly De Palma. It’s a movie all about the establishing idea, which it explores with astonishing virtuosity. The only side effect of this is there’s a natural deflation when the bag has run out of gas. Still, this is one of the director’s wittiest

The Prisoner 10. Hammer into Anvil   We want information. When Number Two pushes Number 73 into committing suicide, Number Six vows that he will pay for what he has done. Six is summoned to an audience with Two where the latter tells Six he is the anvil to Two’s hammer. But Six observes a phone call in which Two is under pressures from his superiors and sees a way to use this against him. Six embarks on a plan of undermining Two through suggesting there is a plot against him, with Six as a spy reporting on Two’s performance.

All the President’s Men (1976)   It’s fairly routine to find that films lavished with awards ceremony attention really aren’t all that. So many factors go into lining them up, including studio politics, publicity and fashion, that the true gems are often left out in the cold. On some occasions all the attention is thoroughly deserved, however. All the President’s Men lost out to Rocky for Best Picture Oscar; an uplifting crowd-pleaser beat an unrepentantly low key, densely plotted and talky political thriller. But Alan J. Pakula’s film had already won the major victory; it turned a literate, uncompromising account of a resolutely unsexy

The Parallax View (1974)   As with a number of more self-evident candidates, The Parallax View was inspired by the spate of assassinations of prominent political figures during the 1960s. A particular spur was the 1968 shooting of Robert Kennedy. Brother John’s murder was a decade old when the film entered production and the web of conspiratorial theorising regarding that case was just as complex then as it is now, only a little fresher. Director Alan J Pakula, star Warren Beatty and writers Lorenzo Semple Jr. and David Giler did not adopt the tack of a “straight” telling (seen with the 1973

The Prisoner 3. A. B. and C.   We want information. An under-pressure Number Two orders Number Fourteen to test an experimental drug on Number Six in an attempt to extract the reason or his resignation. Two is convinced that Six was planning to sell out, and has narrowed the suspected parties down to three; “A”, “B’ and “C”. In an induced dream state, Six encounters each in turn at an extravagant party. But Six becomes increasingly aware of the artifice and manipulates the third dream to introduce “D”, revealed as Two himself. The reasons for Six’s resignation remain unrevealed,

The Prisoner 2. The Chimes of Big Ben   We want information. Number Six agrees to collaborate; if Number Two agrees to halt the interrogation of new arrival Number Eight. Six enters the Village Arts and Crafts Competition, but this is a cover for an escape bid he is planning with Eight. Six’s art doubles as a sailing boat, and he and Eight travel to London. Meeting with his bosses, Six is on the verge of discussing his resignation, but realises he is still in the Village when the chimes of Big Ben match the time on his watch; there

The Prisoner 1. Arrival   Where am I? Much has been written of The Prisoner over the years. Perhaps even more than comparable cult series, it’s very finite duration has encouraged fans to pore over its every nuance and quirk. I have to admit that, whilst I’d count it among my television favourites, I have tended to resist over-analysing the series or any impulses to weave together its disparate threads into a text providing clarity and definition. I don’t much care whether Number Six is really John Drake, why he resigned (it’s pretty much the series’ MacGuffin; unimportant except in that it

Three Days of the Condor (1975)   Sandwiched between two grittier, but equally star-powered, conspiracy thrillers (The Parallax View and All the President’s Men, both from Alan J Pakula), Three Days of the Condor essays a shift from the bleak resignation of the machine (be it corporate or state) consuming all resistance that was found in the 1974 Warren Beatty picture. There, a dogged journalist finds himself completely ill-equipped for the truths he uncovers. In contrast, Condor finds its protagonist already part of the system. And, only being a lowly “bookworm” (reading manuscripts from across the Globe to sniff out hints of spy code and communication

The President’s Analyst (1967)   Writer/director Theodore J Flicker’s The President’s Analyst was released at the tail end of 1967, a year which, in retrospect, appears to have been the peak moment for a generation who believed they could bring about real and lasting societal change. Flicker’s film refracts the spirit of the times through the prism of comedy. And the result, as is often the case with great satires, endeavours to have its cake and eat it too. So its ideas and themes are dressed in a recognisably ‘60s style, from the saturated colours of the widescreen cinematography and the jazz-pop