Listen. Since I’ve met you I’ve nearly been incinerated, drowned, shot at, and chopped into fish bait. We’re caught in the middle of something sinister here, my guess is dad found out more than he was looking for and until I’m sure, I’m going to continue to do things the way I think they should be done.

– Indiana Jones

I have no excuse for waiting twenty years to watch the #101 Movie of All Time on IMDb, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. After I enjoyed the first outing of America’s favorite archeologist, I wanted to visit the third film of the now quadrilology. This movie was a fitting end to series, but George Lucas wanted to bring Indy back.

At his college where he has become a celebrity is his own right, men of Walter Donovan (Julian Glover) approach Indie (Harrison Ford). Upon arriving at his place, Walter shows him a broken tablet from the 12th century. While translating the inscription, he learns about the location of the Holy Grail, the chalice that holds the blood of Jesus Christ and whoever drinks from it is issued eternal life.

Learning the lore about the Grail’s whereabouts, Dr. Jones learns that Donovan’s project manager of the expedition to find the missing piece of the tablet has gone missing. It’s his father, Professor Henry Jones (Sean Connery), scholar of medieval literature who tried to get a missing piece in Venice, Italy.

He remembers receiving a package from Venice containing his dad’s notes about all the evidence that he collected from his quest of the Holy Grail. Accompanying Indiana on his journey is Marcus Brody (Denholm Elliott) and Dr. Elsa Schneider (Alison Doody). They soon realize that other forces are preventing them to seek the Grail like The Brotherhood of the Cruciform Sword or the Nazis.

In the greater scheme of things, this movie is better than my all time favorite installment, Temple of Doom. This is not as good as the first movie. This movie’s action felt limp. Wasn’t enough pizzazz in it. The dialogue was tepid at best. The trademark humor was still there.

Judgment: It makes you wonder why would there be a fourth movie.

Rating: ****

Underworld (aka Transmutations) is a 1985 British horror film, written by Clive Barker and James Caplin, and starring Denholm Elliott, Miranda Richardson, Steven Berkoff, Larry Lamb, Ingrid Pitt and Art Malik, in which a mad doctor keeps mutants underground. The film was directed by George Pavlou.

Amazon Specials!

I’m playing with my format a little. Not sure if I want to keep the change – let me know what you think.

Data
Title: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Year: 1989
Length: 127 minutes
Director: Steven Spielberg
Writer: Jeffrey Boam; story by George Lucas & Menno Meyjes; characters by Lucas & Philip Kaufman
Starring: Harrison Ford, Sean Connery, Denholm Elliott, Alison Doody, John Rhys-Davies, Julian Glover
Music: John Williams
Distinctions: Oscar for Best Sound Effects Editing; currently #106 on IMDb’s Top 250

My reaction
How I saw it: on video several times (have on DVD), most recently yesterday
Synopsis: Indiana Jones’ father disappears while searching for the holy grail.
Concept: Good. Old-school adventure story, drawing on elements that made Raiders of the Lost Ark great.
Story: Good. The plot is largely just an excuse for action sequences, but it’s tightly written and delivers everything the audience wants.
Characters: Great.
Dialog: Good.
Pacing: Okay. A few scenes have a kind of weird rhythm, but the movie as a whole moves quickly.
Cinematography: Okay.
Special effects/design: Good.  The creature effects at the end are pretty lame, but the movie has a great look to it in general.
Acting: Great.
Music: Okay. There are some bits I like, but Williams doesn’t really take advantage of his classic theme music.
Subjective Rating: 8/10. Always good for an entertaining couple of hours.
Objective Rating: 10/10 3/4 (Good).

Existem umas coisas bem estranhas pelo mundo e ver um filme dirigido por um dos queridinhos do Andy Warhol, aka Paul Morrissey, protagonizado por Cook & Moore sobre Sherlock Holmes e Dr. Watson é no mínimo uma dessas coisas. Deu certo? Talvez. Também é um daqueles exemplares habituais Peter And Duds em clima de total suberversão do mais famoso livro de Arthur Conan Doyle sobre as peripécias de Holmes, afinal, depois de Basil Rathbone/Nigel Bruce e Christopher Lee/André Morell, a escolha mais do que lógica seria Peter Cook/Dudley Moore.

Well, as far as I know it is (and according to the bios out there!). So I thought I’d better make a birthday post here (and it’s probably time for a bit of posting anyway :)).

First I’d like to share a beautiful little clip from 1971 film Quest For Love. Perhaps some of you have already seen this clip, but for those of you who haven’t… ! This is the opening credits along with the first scene with Tom in the film.

Looks great doesn’t it! And that music score is absolutely divine! The name of the composer here is Eric Rogers. Thought he deserved a proper mention for that beautiful title music (checked up on him on IMDb and he’s also done the music score for Carol Reed’s 1968 film Oliver!, and for the very first original James Bond film (!) back in 1962, Dr. No – how about that). Well… If it is not after all Peter Rogers (his… brother?) that we should credit here in the end. I don’t know. His name is also credited here for something called the Ottilie theme.. maybe it’s this one.. (?). Well, to be on the safe side: a salute to them both! Just love the design and look of the opening titles as well..! Very beautiful with those roses.. Haven’t watched this film myself yet in its full length, but I have it (I managed to get hold of it a while ago), and I’m sort of saving it for a special time.

This summer I’ve been watching, among others, The Violent Enemy, Red King, White Knight (I managed to locate a well preserved Swedish VHS copy of it, with Swedish title: Kamrat mördare (!)), Dennis Potter’s Angels Are So Few, and then Tom’s appearance in the Blue Murder series, with Caroline Quentin (which turned out to be one of his last). Perhaps I will write something about all these productions later, I don’t know. I say _perhaps_ now, because always when I say I _will_ in this blog it never happens. *LOL* (so if I dont say it… !). Out of all of them, I’ve got to say that Angels Are So Few is probably my favourite. It’s probably some of the best I’ve ever seen with Tom, actually. He is absolutely amazing and heartbreaking in it. It’s a beautiful but very disturbing piece. But I absolutely loved it!

A lot of people (including myself) have probably wondered what happened to the Hope It Rains series over at Lovefilm.com (that I previously wrote about in a post earlier this year). Well, I have no idea what happened here, and why they took it off the site and out of their selection (but maybe there were som issues with rights after all (?)). But really sad it disappeared since it does not exist on DVD (or on old VHS, even, for that matter). And also sad that it somehow didn’t work out (for whatever reason), I mean because of the great idea of it all: to make an old series available in this way (which I thought was great and fun); for download on-line legally on a popular site, with new modern technique, for such a production that hadn’t been availabe in years. So really sad it didn’t work out. I can’t believe it could have cost Lovefilm.com that much, either, to have it featured there (as it is from 1991-92; I mean, it’s not exactly Doctor Who or Hustle now, is it?), so it’s a bit puzzling they took it off the site (if that was the reason). I hope some of you got chance to download it, though, while it was there. If not, and you’re eager to see it and looking for it, I might be able to help you out a bit.. well, kind of..  E-mail me for further information on that.

So far, I’ve only seen the first season of it, and what I can say is that it’s a really different sitcom, even different from “standard” British sitcoms; it’s a bit bolder and raw, and has a different tone about it. It’s also quite as much drama as a sitcom. It’s sort of a mix of it, which makes it a stand out from the average sitcoms. Not for all I can imagine, but I quite enjoyed it, even though it’s different. If you’re cynical, and have a taste for the black humour in life; this is it! But it’s cute also. Cynical and cute, and a bit wicked. Quite a combination! The acting chemistry between Holly Aird and Tom is what makes it worth to watch, they play off each other great I think! And then the series also features Eamon Boland in a funny little part as Dennis, a photographer and Harry’s (Tom’s character) best friend!

Anyway, here’s a funny short clip from a little scene, with Harry and goddaughter Jace “bonding” (…well, sort of… *LOL*).

“…But I’m in the bath!!!”  Haha. *:)

Well, I hope you all liked these clips!!

&

Happy Birthday to you Tom, wherever you are!  *sends thoughs* 

Que Peter Bogdanovich es uno de los cineastas surgidos del nuevo cine de los setenta que más amor siente y más le debe estilísticamente al gran cine clásico americano es una aseveración sólo comparable en su exactitud a la de que además de todo eso es uno de los más agudos estudiosos y divulgadores de las grandes obras y los grandes personajes de ese periodo del cine. Sus libros, artículos y entrevistas sobre los clásicos y los más relevantes personajes del Hollywood dorado son referencia obligada. Todas sus películas en mayor o menor medida, pero en especial las de su mejor época, los setenta (la magistral La última película, la comedia loca ¿Qué me pasa, doctor? o la estupenda Luna de papel), son tributarias de una forma de hacer cine perteneciente a los más grandes directores del periodo clásico hollywoodiense, como punto de referencia en cuanto a estilo y puesta en escena, pero también como permanente y nostálgico homenaje a un tiempo ya desaparecido (en ese sentido, inolvidable monólogo de ese gran actor llamado Ben Johnson en esa joya que es La última película). Quizá por eso, por mantenerse alejado de los gustos y modas del momento, es por lo que su carrera ha ido poco a poco diluyéndose y su presencia ha ido cada vez más ligada a los documentales y a los estudios sobre cine, e incluso a la representación de pequeños papeles en películas y series de televisión (como ese psiquiatra de la gran serie Los Soprano), que a la dirección de películas (de siete películas dirigidas en los setenta pasó a filmar dos en los ochenta, cuatro en los noventa y de nuevo dos en el siglo XXI, una de ellas un documental musical sobre el rockero Tom Petty). Con todo, en 1992 aún tuvo tiempo para filmar este desternillante tributo a los viejos tiempos de la screwball comedy titulado Noises off (literalmente algo así como Ruidos fuera), estúpidamente traducida en España según la habitual tendencia a infantilizar todo lo relacionado con la comedia y el humor, ¡Qué ruina de función!.

Basada en todo un clásico de la escena norteamericana, habitual tanto de los escenarios de Broadway como de las representaciones de teatro de aficionados o las funciones de fin de curso de las High Schools, escrito por Michael Frayn, la película, muy fiel al sentido y al texto originales hasta el punto de tratarse posiblemente de una de las mejores aproximaciones del cine al teatro o de teatro filmado, nos sitúa en pleno Broadway el día del estreno neoyorquino de una comedia titulada Nothing on. Mientras los últimos rezagados llegan a la sala, Lloyd (Michael Caine), el director de la obra, huye consumido por los nervios, la tensión y el pánico: no se trata sólo del trance ya conocido al llegar el día de cada estreno; es más bien que se huele la catástrofe tras los desquiciados acontecimientos que ha padecido la compañía desde que la obra echó a rodar (en lo que aquí llamaríamos provincias) a lo largo y ancho del país en preparación del estreno en Nueva York. Así, a través de un enorme flashback, nos cuenta Bogdanovich las peripecias de este grupo de actores desde los últimos ensayos antes de estrenar en Des Moines, Iowa, el principio del fin. Todo va mal desde el comienzo: los actores todavía no dominan el texto de la enrevesada trama, falta coordinación entre ellos y los encargados del atrezzo, aún quedan aspectos por pulir sobre luces y vestuario… El espectador de la película es introducido de lleno en el último ensayo previo al día del estreno y va a conocer a los personajes según vayan saliendo a escena. El escenario es una recreación de una casa de campo, un antiguo molino del siglo XVII reconvertido en vivienda rural, una sala de estar con una escalera que comunica al piso superior, todo lleno de puertas al servicio de los enloquecidos equívocos de la trama con personajes entrando y saliendo constantemente sin encontrarse.

Soberbiamente narrada en tres capítulos que se corresponden con el estreno en tres ciudades diferentes, Des Moines, Miami y Cleveland, y que equivalen igualmente a los tres actos habituales de las comedias teatrales clásicas, cada uno de esos episodios tiene una finalidad concreta sin que por ello dejen de asomar las carcajadas. El ensayo en Des Moines sirve de presentación al espectador; gracias a él el público conoce tanto la historia que cuenta la obra que están representando, Nothing on, como a los personajes, “reales” y ficticios, que tiene delante. Nothing on es la típica comedia de enredo: Carol Burnett es Dotty, actriz consagrada, una de las divas del momento pero ya entrada en años y algo necesitada de éxito, que da vida a Mrs. Clackett, la atolondrada criada del matrimonio dueño de la casa que da por sentado que al estar sus jefes en España va a poder pasar un fin de semana tranquilo, sola, disfrutando de la televisión por cable y de las sardinas que tanto le gustan. El malogrado John Ritter es Garry, uno de los actores más conocidos y valorados de la escena americana, que da vida a Roger, agente promotor inmobiliario que, encargado de la venta de la casa, pretende utilizarla como nidito de amor al creer que sus dueños están de viaje. Le acompaña su ligue del momento, Vicki, interpretada en la obra por Brooke Ashton (Nicolette Sheridan), típica mujer florero de la comedia, rubia oxigenada, despampanante criatura que se pasa la obra en ropa interior, cerebro de mosquito, preocupada constantemente por insignificancias y por mantener las lentillas dentro de sus ojos, realmente incompetente para memorizar sus textos y entender el sentido de cada situación, que da vida a una increíble inspectora de Hacienda llevada a la casa por Roger para pasar la noche juntos entre sábanas y champagne. Ninguno de los tres cuenta con el regreso de los dueños de la casa, Philip y Flavia, interpretados respectivamente por Frederick Dallas (Christopher Reeve), un actor obsesionado con las motivaciones e introspecciones de su personaje, especialmente en las situaciones más absurdas, que taladra al director con constantes cuestiones relacionadas con la meticulosa construcción del personaje y la comprensión de todas y cada una de sus acciones, y Belinda Blair (Marilu Henner), la chismosa del grupo, la que está al tanto de los amoríos, encuentros, líos de cama y separaciones de toda la compañía, incluyendo las relaciones de todo el personal femenino, incluida ella misma, con el director de la obra. Completa el cuadro un ladrón que se meterá a robar justo cuando todos esos personajes se hallan en la casa, interpretado por un veterano, medio sordo y alcoholizado actor de antiguo prestigio llamado Selsdon (el ya desaparecido Delholm Elliott, precisamente el único que falta en la fotografía superior). Además de los personajes que interpretan la obra, el reparto de la película se completa con el director, ya mencionado, con la responsable de escena, Poppy (Julie Hagerty, famosa por ser la azafata de Aterriza como puedas) y el encargado del funcionamiento de todo, Tim (Mark Linn-Baker, visto en aquella serie televisiva titulada Primos lejanos).

Así pues, si Des Moines es una magnífica introducción, Miami es un no menor desarrollo. Una vez que el espectador está ya situado, conoce el escenario de la obra, la trama y los movimientos de los personajes en escena, la acción de la película transcurre entre bastidores. La situación entre quienes componen la compañía se ha deteriorado: Dotty y Garry han discutido por culpa de Frederick, al que Garry toma por amante de su novia, los líos de faldas de Lloyd se han vuelto más enrevesados y son de público conocimiento, a Selsdon le ha dado por retomar su afición a la botella en plena representación… Bogdanovich aquí se supera: mostrándonos las acciones tras el escenario, las discusiones y enfrentamientos de los actores y equipo técnico de la obra mientras deben conservar las apariencias ante el público, se eleva aquí hasta un nivel estratosférico, equivalente tanto a los más sublimes momentos de la comedia clásica americana como a las mejores coreografías de lo más granado del musical: las constantes entradas y salidas de escena de los actores combinadas con la comicidad de las situaciones propiciadas por las continuas discusiones y agresiones físicas y el constante intercambio de objetos (desde un cactus a una botella de J&B, pasando por un hacha, el sempiterno plato de sardinas y todos los juegos de ropa habidos y por haber que se utilizan en la obra) ofrecen un soberbio y aparentemente simple y cómico vodevil que, no obstante, oculta una construcción y ejecución tan precisa, tan exacta, tan milimétrica a la vez que desternillante, que puede tachársela sin duda de magistral sin exagerar un ápice.

Pese a todo, en Miami la obra logra concluir sin que el público del teatro haya pecibido ningún desajuste reseñable en el resultado final salvo ciertas imprecisiones y dudas, algunas caídas de más y algún que otro sobresalto. Sin embargo, la compañía ha estado permanentemente al borde del infarto. En Cleveland, en cambio, los enfrentamientos llegarán al punto de que antes de que la obra comience las discusiones entre los actores puedan escucharse desde el patio de butacas; un presagio de lo que sucederá a continuación: el grado de encono entre todos ha llegado hasta tal punto que los enfrentamientos pasan de detrás del decorado a la propia escena. En este punto, Bogdanovich realiza igualmente un trabajo magnífico en los alocados momentos en que la trama de la obra es constantemente modificada sobre la marcha a medida que los actores, más concentrados en sus rivalidades personales que en la representación de sus papeles, van olvidando sus textos, cambiando las acciones que tenían que llevar a cabo, perdiendo el pie que deben dar a sus compañeros para que introduzcan sus frases, y debiendo improvisar constantemente en un patético, desesperado e inútil intento de reconducir una obra que se les ha escapado inevitablemente de las manos. Nothing on es así convertida en un híbrido extraño, con partes del texto original cada vez más irreconocibles y una buena cantidad de morcillas introducidas al buen tuntún por cada uno en la necesidad de mantenerse ante el público con cierta lógica y dignidad. Así, no es de extrañar que cuando la obra llega a Nueva York, con toda la prensa especializada en los palcos y primeras filas, a Lloyd le den ganas de abandonar el teatro y perderse entre los taxis amarillos de la ciudad…

Criticada a menudo por, presuntamente, resultar demasiado teatral (la película apenas abandona el escenario o su parte de atrás), la película es un excepcional tributo de Peter Bogdanovich a la comedia de enredo americana de los años treinta y cuarenta, y resulta fácilmente imaginable en blanco y negro con actores de la época. Al mismo tiempo, es un homenaje también a los escenarios de Broadway, al teatro y a las compañías itinerantes que recorren el país de punta a punta sin que, a veces, lleguen a los grandes escenarios y ocupen páginas en los periódicos o en las revistas del colorín. Pero, sobre todo, es una comedia brillante, lúcida, excepcional, con un estilo comercial y sencillo para cuya consecución en cambio hay una gran labor de arquitectura detrás, tanto de guión como de puesta en escena, que demuestra que la accesibilidad a un producto no está para nada reñida con la calidad cuando se trabaja con competencia, cuando se cuidan los materiales y se tiene respeto por el público, sin necesidad de acudir al humor soez, machista, zafio y de letra gorda al que los actuales “genios” de la comedia americana nos tienen acostumbrados con sus películas para adolescentes hormonados de cualquier edad. Que aprendan de Bogdanovich. Que aprendan de los que saben.

Playboy, Outubro, 1969 – Ensaio promocional para Assim Nascem Os Heróis (Too Late the Hero, Robert Aldrich, 1970)

Imagina a minha alegria ao visitar o blog do Rudá e dar de cara com este ensaio que ele encontrou no Design You Trust. Roubei sem dó, é claro.

I knew I was going to like this.  I didn’t have a doubt in my mind.  Even the opening Jack Hawkins voice-over “The men are the heroes.  The heroines are the ships.  The only villain is the sea, the cruel sea” didn’t piss me off the way that it normally would.  Of course that kind of expectation usually sets me up to be disappointed as my hopes are too high, but not in this case.

The great thing about The Cruel Sea is that it doesn’t pull any punches.  Films made pretty soon after the close of the second world war often gave a very airbrushed account of the war but in The Cruel Sea, we see the people left behind die or desert or cheat or grow apart.  We also see the heroes as real people they die, have breakdowns, fake illness, squabble and have doubts and concerns about the rights and wrongs of the war.  Tremendously realistic stuff this.  I haven’t checked, but I’d guess that this was based on a someone’s non-fiction account of their wartime experiences.  It features first-person narration from the main character and follows a pretty episodic structure.  That said, this style of narrative works well and allows the film to draw the viewer in to a series of extremely tense moments.  The intelligent use of silence and periods of intense concentration really crank up the tension which director Charles Frend stretches out for long periods of time.  Very controlled film-making that.

And so what we have here is the war through the eyes of a Navy captain who guides ships which escort cargo convoys through the u-boat ridden waters of the Atlantic.  It was made by Ealing and features a great cast who all do a great job.  Hawkins in the lead role is the star but Donald Sinden comes awfully close to stealing some of his scenes, he just doesn’t have the kind of material is given.  The contrast between the grim stoicism with which Hawkins issues the instruction to drop munitions amongst the survivors of a wrecked freighter in the hope of destroying the u-boat he believes is beneath them and the hollow, broken remorse he shows in the scenes from that evening are the key to the whole thing.  Horrible things were done and had to be done.  Regrettable things, things that will live on your conscience until your dying breath.  But they were done for the greater good and the sacrifice and loss and pain and regret that everyone endured was necessary to prevent Nazi success (though the film takes the last bit as read rather and barely considers it).

There are sequences in this film which are almost unbearably tense.  As the ship lies still in the presumed presence of a u-boat under repair, the men are shown inside listening for the slightest sound, dipping with sweat, crossing themselves, lookin anxiously at one another. All of the time there is almost total silence on screen.  The release of the tension when they move on again is enormous and the extent of that shows the strength of the film as a means of bringing the reality of the war at sea home.

And that is what there is to take away from The Cruel Sea, its very real depiction of the awful conditions that the war really entailed.  Harrowing and memorable.  9/10

September
Directed by Woody Allen
Grade: B

September is a particularly underrated film, in my opinion. While not as robust and delicious as Hannah and Her Sisters (1986), neither is it nearly as sour or pretentious as some have made it out to be, comparing its tone to that of his 1978 downer (although still a great film) Interiors. Six characters are gathered for the weekend at a summer home in Vermont, all of whom, in Woody Allen fashion, are romantically connected to each other in some way and, as usual, have a hard time keeping their feelings (and hands) to themselves. Infidelities pile upon insecurities, relationships change, and lives take on new directions.

It is a simple and short film (82 minutes) and reads more like a stage play than traditional cinema. There are still trademark scenes of extended dialogue, many times covered in one continuous shot, that allow the actors to perform and the camera to follow without any editing to manipulate the story. Of course, philosophy and philandering are common bedfellows in almost any Allen film, and September is not without its cerebral side, with writer and artist-types pondering their lives through a veil of self-important intellectualism. It’s smart people with romantic issues. But, isn’t that just what makes a Woody Allen film great? You can also always count on great music, and the only musical score in the film, aside from the opening and closing credits, comes from the jazz records that are spun or the piano that is played while at the house.

I was surprised that I hadn’t seen this film already, and found myself taken in by it immediately. The only drawback to the film is that it isn’t long enough, which forces the story to move along – quickly – and I can understand why some viewers have felt like it was a train wreck of love affairs and emotional disasters as the script, like the characters in the house, are confined to such small quarters. However, this is the Woody Allen I love, and I admire any film that can be so unconventionally clean and free from rapid-fire scissors and still hold interest. September is about people, and sometimes you just need to sit, shut-up, and listen to people – watch them, even – without being dragged through a film by the collar like someone cramming the Smithsonian in a day. It’s a fine, little gem.

The month of September holds special meaning for my wife and I, as it does for most Americans. I’m partial to fall, and as a New Englander, September ushers in a rich time of year signifying change – not only in the foliage around us, but in ourselves, as well. For some reason, I’m particularly inspired by autumn. However, September also brings my wife and I back to the time when we were living in Los Angeles, the memory of the worst terrorist attack on American soil, and our subsequent escape, albeit temporary, from the fallout of that event.

I was working on the Universal Studios lot on September 11, 2001, and it wasn’t long after the attacks that the movie studios in Los Angeles were placed on heightened alert as there had been some sort of intelligence that had come through about the possible bombings of one or more studios. From then on, every morning as I drove through the gates off of Lankershim Boulevard, my car was inspected by guards and bomb-sniffing dogs before I could continue onto the lot. It was indeed a scary time – and a strange feeling has long lingered as I remember waking to my ringing phone that fateful Tuesday morning – and the attacks were already over. One of the World Trade Center buildings had already collapsed. Many had died and the West Coast was just waking up.

Along with the additional security throughout Southern California came a frightening rumor that there would be an impending attack on Los Angeles on September 22, symbolically eleven days after the first attacks. My wife and I, at this time just two years before we would marry, decided that it was time to get away from it all, if only for a day. And, on that Saturday, September 22, 2001, at her suggestion, we drove north to the Santa Ynez Valley and spent the day doing what my wife simply loves to do – visit wineries – and we prayed that we would not find downtown Los Angeles in ruins upon our return.

We visited four different wineries that day, including our favorite, Cottonwood Canyon. On a side note, we call September 22 our “Wine Country Day”, and regularly ship a couple of their crisp, white wines to our home for what has become a wonderful tradition. Our favorite Cottonwood varietal is their Estate Chardonnay (you can read my post about it here, paired with Peter Greenaway’s film The Belly of an Architect.) However, one of the other wineries we stopped at that day was Curtis Winery, which is about a quarter-mile down the road from the famous Firestone Vineyard. Curtis is where I found my second favorite wine (although my first-place red), their 1999 Heritage Cuvée, a robust red with cherry and plum aromas, but what makes this wine a favorite is the broad smoky-peppery finish. That’s a trait that I now routinely look for in red wine, as it always takes me back to that day. Oh, what a smell or a taste can do for a memory.

Like the film of the same name, September has something unique in it that speaks in hushed tones and asks you to take a moment to reflect – on a good many things. An excellent wine can certainly do that as well.

Find more info about Curtis Winery on their website at www.curtiswinery.com.

Recuerdo a Denholm Elliott.

The trailer for the new Indiana Jones movie The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull has me counting down the days until its release.

On May 22, the adventure will continue when Harrison Ford reprises his title role and teams up with Shia LaBeouf as Mutt Wiliams (Mutt?  Really?) in search of what else, the Crystal Skull.

What is the Crystal Skull?  Your guess is as good as mine.  But according to Wikipedia, as models of the human skull made entirely of quartz, crystal skulls are believed by some to have supernatural powers, including healing.  

While the trailer gives us little insight into the plot of the movie, it is no less exciting.  I, for one, am looking forward to seeing Jones swing back into action (literally if you watch the trailer) regardless of the specific plot.  After all, I haven’t been disappointed by Indiana Jones to date.

Also returning for the fourth installment in the Indiana Jones franchise is Karen Allen as Marion Ravenwood, Jones’ squeeze from the first movie. 

Joining the cast is Cate Blanchett as Agent Irina Spalko.  Could she be a love interest for LaBeouf or a force to be reckoned with?  Also making an appearance is John Hurt as Abner Ravenwood.  Isn’t that Marion’s dead dad? 

Missing from the film are Jones’s dad Henry (Sean Connery) and curator Dr. Marcus Brody (Denholm Elliott), according to imdb.com.  Let’s hope the additions can make of for these absences because Henry and Brody will be missed.

Although the parentage of LaBeouf’s character is still being debated (a Variety article says yes, a Vanity Fair article says no), you have to wonder if the name Mutt is a reference to Indy being named after a dog.

I just recently rewatched the trilogy with my aunt who had never seen the movies.  The Last Crusade remains my favorite film.  But after seeing the trailer, I have hopes of Crystal Skull.  May can’t get here soon enough.

Already a classic adventure yarn.

Vodka, and Coca Cola… Détente in a glass!

Vernon Bayliss (Denholm Elliott) is a veteran hack, and a very pissed one at the moment. He’s tired, past his sell-by date, a leftie serving out his time on a right-wing rag – and he’s just helped stitch up an old friend for his newspaper.

It’s the mid-80s, Thatcher era Britain. American nuclear missiles at airbases across the UK, privatisation, the ‘me’ decade, fag-end of the Cold War… Young reporter Nick Mullen (Gabriel Byrne) is keen to climb the greasy pole in the Street of Shame, and when Labour MP Dennis Markham (Ian Bannen) is caught up in a sex scandal, he sees his opportunity. He looks down at his nose at Vernon, a washed-up old sot, but he realises that Vernon may help him land a scoop on fellow traveller Markham. In essence Mullen is a parasite, feeding on whatever he can suck out of Vernon’s liver-spotted carcass. Venal, self-serving, cunning, Mullen gets his scoop, and Vernon sinks into booze-soaked depression – but we know that something is up…

So, what’s going on? Well, Dennis Markham – a former chair of the Commons Defence Committee – has been sharing a mistress with an East German military attaché. Cue snatched telephoto pics, doorstepped interviews and front page splashes; a man in disgrace. Vernon was the man given the job of putting the accusations to his friend. But despite his alcoholism, we see in Vernon an honour that the cynical, laid-back young Mullen just doesn’t have. That is, until guilt creeps in.

Written by Martin Stellman, who cut his teeth on Quadrophenia and Babylon, and directed by TV specialist David Drury, Defence Of The Realm is just the sort of film that isn’t being made in Britain at the moment. It’s unflashy, muted in places, and most of all, it’s got ideas, an agenda, points to make. Snatch it is not. Red herrings and MacGuffins are thrown casually across the whole film, adding to Mullen’s increasing confusion, when the plot – both of the film and within it – is essentially a very simple one: corruption, conspiracy, cover-up.

The familiar motifs of conspiracy thriller are all here – deep throat sources, anonymous tip-offs, bugging, burgling – but script, direction and acting all raise it above the level of cliché. There are some hackneyed elements, sure – Mullen composes his final article to a classical symphony, his piano a typewriter, for example – but overall the film is an exercise in restraint. Nothing is over-explained, giving the audience a chance to lead itself down blind alleys. The use of TV and radio news reports in the background also helps move the story along, adding depth to many of the smaller plot points, which are rarely if at all, addressed. It’s a sophisticated approach, and one that doesn’t detract from the main storytelling. The point-of-view is subtle too, with the director resisting the temptation to reveal too much of the story from the eyes of anyone but Mullen. The effect? Oppressive, claustrophobic, plodding exposition, entwined with the sugar pill of the reporter-procedural, leading up to a frenzied climax.

In particular it boasts excellent pacing: it starts at a relaxed pace, but by the end, as the pieces fall together, as Mullen becomes driven, leaves behind his old, childish self like a snakeskin, everything quickens to a nauseous crescendo, more detail is painted in, new characters appear from nowhere, old characters reappear in different guises, and the viewer senses bad tidings. There are even hints that this is a tragedy, with an inevitability to the ending: Vernon is Mullen through the kaleidoscope of a lifetime, and we soon find out what that means… Mullen becomes paranoid, mistrustful, insular; he knows bad things are happening, but he doesn’t know who to trust or how to dig himself out. His only ally is Markham’s secretary, Nina (Greta Scacchi), but this is not Woodward and Bernstein uncovering the truth in All The President’s Men; this is a war of survival for them both. A meeting on the old Hungerford bridge, half-drowned out by passing trains, the footfall of passing pedestrians, and aeroplanes overhead (perhaps a nod to that classic of paranoia/conspiracy cinema, The Conversation) demonstrates that these are not two seekers after truth, but scared people caught up in something they know is far bigger than either could deal with. They are not waving, but drowning.

Also worth mentioning is the editing (Michael Bradsell) and photography (Roger Deakins). Cross-cutting and contrasting colours are both used to great effect in creating mood and moving the story along, especially in the final part of the film. It’s discreet as well, and has the effect of signalling a change in tone and pace, something many directors struggle with. The visuals certainly helped Deakins find work – he ended up a stalwart of Coen brother films – which shouldn’t be a surprise to viewers familiar with his slate of British films: Stormy Monday, White Mischief, Sid And Nancy and The Kitchen Toto all came under his lens.

A fine film, which brings in elements that still resonates today – think Dr David Kelly, government secrecy, terrorist attacks, it’s all in there – but in a trad thriller package. Find it, watch it, get scared.

Further viewing:

• Edge Of Darkness (TV)
• State Of Play (TV)
• All The President’s Men
• The Conversation
• Hidden Agenda