November 2010

Posted on November 30, 2010 by badblokebob

Merry Christmas! Almost!

But before that, here’s the handful of films I watched in November…

Oh dear.

After doing so well for most of the year — including last month, where I made appropriate headway toward my new goal of 130 films — it’s rather slipped in November. Just four new films (and a couple of others I’ll review, but that don’t count in the slightest).

I blame TV. I’ve been watching repeat runs of Colditz and Due South, which between them add around 9 hours a week to my already significant TV viewing. 9 hours out of a whole week doesn’t sound much in isolation, but nonetheless those are the hours I usually use to watch films.

As we head into December, that leaves me with exactly 15 to get through to hit my new target. A not unachievable goal — I made it to 16 in May and August this year — but more of a push than I’d’ve hoped for. On the other hand, makes it a bit more exciting, eh?

#112 The Spiral Staircase (1947)
#113 Solaris (1972)
#114 Toy Story 3 (2010)
#115 Odd Man Out (1947)
#115a The Special Edition of Beauty and the Beast (1991/2002)
#115b The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)
#115c The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)

(I’ll give you one guess what the first film of December is going to be.)

Next time on the all-new 100 Films in a Year monthly update…

It’s the final countdown! The big push! A couple of other clichés!

31 days ’til the end of the year. (At least) 15 more films to watch. It always looks so much easier on paper…

Panic in the Streets (1950)

Posted on November 28, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #71
Elia Kazan | 92 mins | TV (HD) | PG

Film noir is a pretty unspecific genre, or unconscious movement, only really defined (however loosely) once it was already over. So to say a film noir isn’t particularly film noir-y might seem a tad daft, but, Panic in the Streets isn’t a particularly film noir-y film noir.

That’s not a problem, just an observation. There’s still a criminal underworld, a (slightly) downtrodden hero, criminal wrongdoings, some shadow-drenched photography, and a smattering of other traits that do place it within the genre, but it’s not a textbook example.

Its story is the methodical investigation of a potential plague outbreak in a hot, sweaty New Orleans, the latter often strikingly evoked. There are some good scenes — the discovery of the infection through to the immediate dealings with it; some of the villains’ sequences — but I’m not convinced by how it hangs together as a whole. Our heroes do have to go to some lengths in their battle to contain the outbreak and find its source, but it also seems relatively easily contained and kept out of the press. And when the dreaded happens and the papers do run the story, it doesn’t seem to affect much at all.

The cast are good, particularly Richard Widmark as Clint, the family man whose job seems under-appreciated and who longs for a bigger break. Is an outbreak his chance? He doesn’t approach it that way — he’s too busy getting the police to see sense, and managing his wife’s expectations and desires. Lead villain Jack Palance has a beautifully bad-guy-friendly skull-like face, with his jutting cheek bones and flat-ended nose. (I imagine I’m far from the first to make this observation, but hush.)

The investigation is at times almost a straight procedural, for which you’ll find no complaints from me — there’s something inherently satisfying about a very precise, focused procedural, such as Anatomy of a Murder — but Kazan and screenwriter Richard Murphy cut through this with Clint’s home life and unorthodox investigative methods. The balance between investigation and Clint’s family issues is quite well maintained for most of the film, and admirably doesn’t dive for a pat resolve on the latter, but the home life subplot ultimately lacks any kind of significant resolution, leaving its various elements aimlessly hanging.

Some hail Panic in the Streets as a five-star classic, but the problems I mention mean it falls short of that for me. I don’t want my negatives and four-stars to come across as damning with faint praise, though: it’s still an engrossing thriller with much to recommend.

Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie (1996)

Posted on November 25, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #97
Jim Mallon | 74 mins | DVD | PG / PG-13

I’m not that well versed in the cult fandom of Mystery Science Theater 3000 but, as I understand it, Turkey Day (i.e. Thanksgiving) is the MSTie (as fans call themselves) High Holy Day (I’m presuming not literally, but who knows?) Something to do with Thanksgiving marathons on whichever network MST3K was on at the time, I think.

Anyway, with that in mind, what better day to finally post my review of MST3K’s big screen endeavour than on that beloved American holiday.

The world, so they say (and by “they” I mean “absolutely no one” — I’m making this up), is divided into three sorts of people: those who love MST3K, those who’ve never heard of MST3K, and those who have a vague notion of what it is but have, for whatever reason, never seen any of it. (Of course, there will be that fourth group who don’t like it, but my saying’s already stretched at three. This is why I said “they say”, y’see, to absolve me of responsibility for the glaring oversight. But anyway…) I fall into the latter category. Having bought sci-fi mags for the past decade or so (thereby overlapping with the time MST3K was actually in production) I naturally have an idea what it is, but had never actually seen any of it… (you know what’s coming…) (wait for it…) …until now.

For those who’ve never heard of MST3K, it’s a bit like a DVD commentary… except instead of people involved with the film recounting anecdotes or academics offering analysis, we have people taking the piss out of it. I say “people” — one person and two robots. Who are obviously voiced by people. Look, that’s not the point. The movies they watch are all cheaply-made rubbish ones, well deserving of having the mickey taken (not to mention the all important fact that such efforts are generally copyright-free). The bloke and two robots appear on screen at the bottom as silhouettes, because… well, there’s no real need for it, other than to remind you they’re there and remove the issue of disembodied voices. The series started before DVD, remember, so the notion of an “audio commentary” wasn’t yet widely known. Besides which, I quite like seeing them there. OK, they don’t do much besides wiggle their heads or arms occasionally, but it feels more congenial than the disembodied chatter of an audio commentary.

Anyway, the gang set their sights on one film per episode — or, in this feature film, one film per film. They’re being forced to watch these movies, for various unimportant reasons, and every once in a while we get comedic ‘host segments’, where they get up to hijinks on their space station (I forgot to mention, they live on a space station). These bits are well-meaning and quite funny — and in this big screen outing have been shot with a suitably filmic gloss that the video-shot TV episodes lack, which adds a surprising magnitude to the still-small-and-cheap sets and props — but the real meat of the humour is in the riffing over the film.

In this film, the film is This Island Earth, Joseph M. Newman’s 1955 sci-fi… film (“2½ years in the making!”). “Classic” wouldn’t be the word, though MST3K: The Movie provoked some controversy among some film critics because they considered This Island Earth to be an SF classic, one that didn’t merit the derogation that MST3K usually lavishes on B- (or lower letters) movies. On the evidence of what we see here (not, it should be noted, the full film, which runs a quarter-hour longer than MST3K: The Movie; including those host segments, quite a lot must be lost), This Island Earth is perhaps of higher quality than some of the films tackled by MST3K, but is clearly a cheap effort and no classic.

Talking of things being shortened (I was, in the brackets), MST3K: The Movie is, unusually, a good fifteen minutes shorter than a regular episode of the series. There are reasons — partly to do with helping mainstream appeal, more necessary on the big screen than a minor cable network, and not wanting to outstay their welcome. Similarly, the jokes feature fewer obscure references than on TV and they’re more spaced out, to make sure people catch them (when laughing as part of a large audience, you see). This latter fact means that when the film is watched by yourself the gags can be more spread out than might be desirable, which is a shame. This improves as it goes on though — clearly most of what got lopped out of This Island Earth was cut from later on, and as the film they’re watching becomes harder to follow so we’re compensated with more laughs.

The quality of the humour varies, as is the case with so many comedies. For me, there were enough laugh-out-loud moments and significant chuckles to make it a good experience; equally, there were also a couple of fart-related gags, something I’ve never found funny personally. There are some current affairs-related references that not so much date the film as lose their currency as time wears on (this is 14 years old now after all), as well as culturally specific jokes that don’t carry across the pond. Such occurrences are an inevitably of this kind of humour, I think, and they’re not too prevalent to destroy the experience. That experience is very much like watching a movie with some mates when you’re in the mindset to take the piss out of the film. That is, if you get on with the characters (as it were) and sync with their sense of humour; if you dislike them or their humour, or like whatever they’re watching too much, then it’s probably more like some irritating yobs nattering away over something you’d quite like to watch thank you very much. (Equally, if you embark on this intending to watch This Island Earth, more fool you.)

MST3K: The Movie was disliked by the production team — too much studio interference during production left it an unpleasant experience. Tales of this pepper the web, if you want to go looking, but they include the studio forcing a story arc on the film, before conducting test screenings (to completely the wrong audience) which concluded they should cut out the resolution to said enforced story arc. Or the stupid release pattern, which failed so badly it’s never been repeated. MSTies have a more mixed response, as far as I can tell, but a significant number like it, particularly those for who it was their first experience of MST3K.

And that’s me, as you may remember. I can see that not everyone will like MST3K — the concept won’t appeal, or the style of humour won’t tickle some funnybones. But if the concept does appeal, the only way to tell is to try. Personally, I can’t wait to get stuck into more of the series. I believe there’s almost 200 episodes…

It Happened Here (1966)

Posted on November 23, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #98
Kevin Brownlow & Andrew Mollo | 96 mins | DVD | PG

Alternate histories are always fun, and nothing seems to have provoked more than the Second World War. Which, as a defining event in modern history for a good chunk of the world, is understandable. It Happened Here is perhaps one of the earliest examples, depicting a 1940s Britain under Nazi occupation.

Co-directors Brownlow and Mollo use a dramatic narrative, as opposed to faux-documentary, to show off their vision of an occupied Britain. They shoot it in grainy, handheld black-and-white with a rough-round-the-edges feel that gives it the air of documentary even when it’s undoubtedly scripted and performed. How much this is deliberate and how much an accident of circumstance, I don’t know — they were both young, amateur filmmakers at the time, working on a small budget; United Artists spent more on the US trailer than was spent on the entire film. Whatever the cause, it works, because they’re also not trying and failing to convince us this is a documentary, simply employing the visual cues which help sell their history as real. Using a dramatic narrative also gives the viewer an identifiable character, nurse Pauline, which works nicely by drawing us into the story’s world, helping us feel and relate to the compromises and sacrifices that have to be made — and, as the film forces us to realise, would be made — under such circumstances.

Pauline is apolitical, which for the sake of the film means she can get buffeted around, seeing many facets of occupied life. She’s drawn into the regime without losing our sympathy, but when she legitimately disagrees with it she’s shoved out of the way to a country hospital — which allows us to see another aspect; namely, the quiet but methodical enacting of The Final Solution in an occupied territory. The whole film builds to this point, gradually showing the darker and deeper levels of cooperation — which starts out almost harmless and ends with organised mass murder — meaning it never feels like Brownlow and Mollo are pushing an agenda too hard, but still confront us with the reality: that we’d probably succumb too, and this is where we’d end up.

The film is distinctly anti-Nazi, then, though not without its controversies in spite of this. At one point, real fascists play themselves. I think you can tell, because I suspected as much before I looked it up to see: they’re not great actors, but they deliver their horrific polemics with a calm zeal. The argument that this merely gives some hateful people a platform for their views isn’t without merit — they’re certainly given a good chunk of time to discuss them — but it’s an ultimately effective sequence. Other characters ask questions — or perhaps other cast members do, because, knowing the fascists are real, it becomes hard to tell if it’s all scripted and in character or just a real-life Q&A that Brownlow & Mollo filmed. Either way, it works because any right-minded person is going to see the inherent ridiculousness of their views with ease.

Another controversy arose over the villains being British collaborators — few German Nazis are seen — and the ease with which many agreed. But this is based in the facts of what occurred in other occupied territories; maybe Britain’s plucky spirit would’ve shown through, as many like to believe, or maybe many would have caved for the easier life — or, indeed, life at all. The film is examining several perspectives of occupation, and using the fictional context to good effect: this could have happened, the film says, however much we like to believe we wouldn’t have collaborated like (and/or resisted better than), say, the French.

Talking of the resistance, I presume the controversy didn’t stop with its depiction of collaborators: both sides are shown to be just as/almost as bad as the other. The film opens with occupying Nazis massacring women and children, including a hurried and confusing gunfight in which it’s unclear whether Pauline’s friends — all women and children — were slaughtered by the Nazis or a group of resistance fighters holed up nearby. Mirroring this, the film ends with a group of British resistance (and/or invading American and British troops) rounding up surrendered collaborators and gunning them down in cold blood. No one comes out of this well — and that is perhaps the most truthful part of all.

Nonetheless, It Happened Here is more anti-Nazi than pro-Nazi propaganda, in my opinion, though it’s easy to see why any material critical of the Allies could have outweighed the overall bias when the film was first released, just 20 years after victory in Europe. Generally, and viewed from a much more removed perspective, Brownlow and Mollo do a good job of offering conflicting perspectives with minimal comment, allowing the viewer to decide how ridiculous certain newsreels or opinions are, or how weak or misguided characters may or may not be — on both sides.

The Spiral Staircase (1945)

Posted on November 19, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #112
Robert Siodmak | 80 mins | TV | PG

A serial murderer is on the loose in 1900s New England, or 1910s Massachusetts (pick which website you want to believe). His victims are all disabled women, so at the wealthy Warren residence, both family and staff worry for mute maid Helen — particularly as it seems the murderer may be among them…

From this relatively simple premise, screenwriter Mel Dinelli and director Robert Siodmak spin a yarn that, over the course of just one dark and stormy night, blends together gothic horror, film noir, serial killer thriller and Christie-esque whodunnit. The resulting blend makes for a film that is, for several reasons, an exceptionally entertaining work. Perhaps I’m predisposed to like it, though, as those four constituent genres are all among my favourites.

Dinelli’s screenplay sets up the cast — and, therefore, the list of suspects — almost casually. With the threat not necessarily coming from within, we (or, at least, I) don’t immediately realise that we’re being shown a list of people to suspect. But as the bed-ridden and delirious Mrs. Warren issues dire warnings, and the house closes itself off from the outside world in the face of the storm, it becomes apparent that the culprit is already among them.

Some viewers allege that it’s at this point the story falls apart; that there’s only one possible suspect. I disagree. Though I can’t say the film entirely had me fooled, there are several suspicious characters, particularly if you’re prepared to consider extraordinary leaps of probability — and in genres like gothic horror, film noir and whodunnit, you should be. Indeed, while some see the killer as obvious others may consider them unlikely; but, for the attentive, the groundwork for the motivation is laid throughout.

And even if the killer is obvious, the film has much more going for it. Siodmak’s direction is exemplary, supported by equally alluring camerawork from cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca. In perhaps his most daring move, Siodmak takes us literally into the killer’s eyes to view his subjects, making the viewer to some degree complicit in this voyeurism. Elsewhere, genuine tension is wrung out of numerous sequences, something that can rarely be said these days, when victims and victors are all too obvious in most films. One excellent sequence sees repeated potential threats being set up, dissipated, only to be followed by another. It ultimately ends with humour rather than shock, but we’re still left with the thought — seemingly forgotten by the characters — of why was that window open in the first place? The climax, on the titular staircase, is all sharp angles and deep shadows, easily the equal of anything else in the film.

A mention for the sound design, too. Even during simple dialogue scenes, where one might expect silence but for the words in a film of this era, rain lashes against the window in the background, the heavy weather a ceaseless reminder of the threat lurking close at hand. It is, to use a cliché, a character in itself. Thanks to the enclosed setting, we spend a fair amount of time with these characters, and there are good performances too, but that’s for another reviewer to discuss — try Riding the High Country’s excellent appraisal, for instance.

What struck me most about The Spiral Staircase was its atmosphere. It’s the perfect filmic evocation of a dark and stormy night, and with its setting contained to one securely locked (or is it?) house, this is — depending on your disposition — either the last film you’d want to watch late on a rain-lashed night, or the perfect one. Having watched it on one myself, I most assuredly side with the latter.

The Spiral Staircase is on BBC Two tonight (or, more precisely, tomorrow) at 1am. Let’s hope there’s a storm coming…

Force of Evil (1948)

Posted on November 15, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #92
Abraham Polonsky | 75 mins | TV | PG / PG

Force of Evil comes well recommended, with places on several 1,000 Best Movies lists and inclusion both on They Shoot Pictures…’s 250 Quintessential Noir Films and in the US National Film Registry, not to mention a full 5/5 in Paul Duncan’s consistently handy Pocket Essential Film Noir. But it didn’t work for me.

To be blunt, I found it dull. The romance subplot feels tacked on and implausible, the main gambling plot is often poorly explained. I never felt properly attached to any of the characters — it doesn’t help that the lead is half-villainous, but then that’s worked fine elsewhere — and as the plot rumbles confusingly on I cared less and less, which made it tough to sit through. I was struggling to play catch up too often; in some films this can be part of the point, a virtue, but I didn’t feel like it was deliberate here. It doesn’t help that some events are virtually glossed over — worst of all, the death of a major character, which occurs off-screen and with little explanation.

IMDb notes that the film was cut by 10 minutes to be shown in a double-bill and this is now the only version that survives, which may explain some of these oversights. Despite my complaints, there are good moments, particularly a couple of short sequences that are beautifully directed and edited, but they’re few and far between and to me feel like they belong in a better film.

Duncan’s analysis (Force of Evil is one of seven noirs treated to an extended segment in his book) suggests a more complex reading of the film than I took from it, explaining much as symbolic or metaphorical. Considering I didn’t engage with the film, I’m tempted to see Duncan’s reading as a way of rationalising things that either aren’t there or were flawed, but the film’s wider critical acceptance suggests he may well be right.

Force of Evil has, as I noted at the beginning, come to be “recognized as a masterpiece of the film noir genre” (to quote Wikipedia’s handy summation), so I can’t help but feel I’ve missed something. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve underrated a film — or, indeed, a film noir — only to reassess my opinion with further hindsight. And yet, for that awareness, I can’t imagine ever looking back on this one with increased fondness. Sadly, the only force I experienced was boredom.

Living Free (1972)

Posted on November 13, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #111
Jack Couffer | 88 mins | TV | U / G

Living Free is, in many ways, a tale of obsession. I’m certain that wasn’t Joy Adamson’s intention in writing the book, and I don’t think it’s the filmmakers’ intention either, but the facts can still play that way. The Adamsons devote months of their time, give up a promising career, spend all their savings, drive themselves into debt, and are nearly killed several times, all in a frequently-extreme effort to save three delinquent lion cubs who would be put down were it not for their sentimental attachment.

Picking up immediately where Born Free left off — with literally the same shot, in fact — Living Free proceeds to recap the first film, inserting new actors Susan Hampshire and Nigel Davenport into footage from the predecessor. Watched 24 hours after the original, this feels like so much padding, but viewed in isolation — or six years later, as this was first released — it’s probably a useful primer. It also allows a chance to recap some of Born Free’s finer wildlife moments, including the cubs wrecking the house and the marvellous head-butting warthog. I love the head-butting warthog.

The rest of the story moves into What Happened Next territory: Elsa dies, the Adamsons’ obsession with finding and saving her cubs begins. The film skips the book Living Free, adapting threequel Forever Free instead, presumably for dramatic reasons — I imagine Elsa and cubs just living isn’t as much of a Story as her death and subsequent events.

Much of the film again plays like a documentary, particularly the sequences where Joy imagines what the cubs may have been up to during the weeks they were missing. Even after decades of excellent work by the BBC Natural History Unit, producing hundreds of hours of exceptional documentaries, the wildlife photography here is still often stunning. Stand-outs include one of the cubs playing with, and then being attacked by, a snake, or a slow-motion chase sequence which shows the beauty of both the lion and… whatever it’s chasing… (look, I’m no expert.) It may not have the same charm as the first film’s playful antics, but it’s by no means devoid of spectacle.

Living Free isn’t as endearing as Born Free. By the very nature of trying to keep the cubs wild, they’re less relatable than Elsa and consequently we become less attached to them. As you may’ve guessed, I found it more interesting to look on the film as a story of obsession, one that threatens to ruin the Adamsons’ lives, though ultimately it has an upbeat ending.

That said, nothing the film could have told (while sticking to the facts, that is) would rival the real-life tragedies that were to come: the Adamsons eventually grew apart, Joy was murdered by a former employee in 1980, and George was shot by bandits in 1989. It’s a sad end for a pair who, for all their faults, devoted their lives to doing good.

Born Free (1966)

Posted on November 12, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #109
James Hill | 91 mins | TV | U / PG

Born Free tells the true story of Joy and George Adamson, a Senior Game Warden in 1950s Kenya, who adopted three lion cubs after mistakenly killing their mother. Though they give two away to a zoo, Joy can’t bear to part with one, Elsa, and so they raise her — until circumstances force them to part with her. Despite Elsa’s age, Joy insists they try to release her into the wild rather than send her to a zoo.

Though obviously scripted, acted and directed as a drama, the film nonetheless often plays like a documentary. Partly this is because it’s based on a true story, so (allowing for dramatic licence) we know it happened, emphasised by an occasionally episodic narrative and Joy’s voiceover narration; and partly because the plentiful wildlife footage is real. The film benefits in this respect from being made in an era before animatronics or CGI could be used to have the animals do whatever the filmmakers wanted. It makes the storytelling that much more impressive and complements the ‘true story’ angle.

I don’t know how trained the lions used were, but all their actions come across as entirely naturalistic, be it playing early on or attempting to fit into the wild later. It’s easy to see why this is a classic for animal lovers: the constantly playful cubs are are delight, the affectionate older Elsa endearing, the attempts to release her ethologically engaging… Then there are the other animals, including elephants (always wonderful) and the Adamsons’ adorable pet… rodent… (look, I’m no expert.) Best of all is a head-butting warthog, who has instantly become my favourite film animal. The entire film was worth that sequence.

It might be kindest to say the script and acting are often “of their era”, the plummy British accents appropriate but also instantly dating. Not that it matters a jot, because the film isn’t really about the people, it’s about the animals they look after and peripherally how the humans’ lives impact on that care. Those that don’t give a monkeys about wildlife films may wish to subtract a star (or three); for everyone else, it’s delightful.

Tomorrow, my thoughts on the sequel, Living Free.

Late Spring (1949)

Posted on November 10, 2010 by badblokebob

aka Banshun

2010 #78
Yasujirō Ozu | 104 mins | TV (HD) | U

This is one of those films I always feel horrendously under-qualified to bother offering any kind of thought on. It’s the kind of film you suspect benefits most not just from repeated viewings and a desire to dig deep into its themes, but also a wider understanding of the director’s work and thematic concerns. This is only compounded in the case of Ozu by the fact I watched Tokyo Story a few years ago and didn’t get on with it in the slightest (but more on that whenever I get round to re-watching & reviewing it).

For all that, I don’t mean to say Late Spring requires the wish or will of a viewer to watch it multiple times, watch at least a selection of Ozu’s other films, and supplement that by reading a variety of articles and books; just that, when it comes to discussing a 60-year-old film that is the subject of numerous intelligent and well-informed articles and books, it seems there’s nothing for the first-time viewer to add. Which is always the case I suppose, so I offer my usual handful of thoughts of a modern first-time viewer.

In which case, what can I say? Well, any Ozu enthusiast who hasn’t been switched off by the last two paragraphs will be pleased to know I got on considerably better with this than Tokyo Story (which bolsters my belief that his most renowned work is indeed worth a second shot). One issue, I suspect, is that I knew nothing of Ozu before my first experience; having read up on him (if only a little), his idiosyncratic squared-off shots and straight-on close-ups feel less blatant and frequent here, and being aware of their deliberateness perhaps makes them less intrusive. That said, I remain unconvinced by it as a guiding notion — I’m sure there’s a reason beyond the proliferation of American cinema that the visual style we’re used to seeing in most film and TV is, well, the visual style we’re used to seeing.

Similarly, the film has an intentionally unhurried pace. Again, perhaps one (or, at least, I) needs to be prepared for this to engage with it. Perhaps I’ve just grown up a bit — despite the image some may have of film students as pretentious art-lovers, I was far from alone in my second-year-uni group in finding Tokyo Story intolerable (indeed, I never heard anyone bar the lecturer express a liking for it). This enduring impression renders elements like Late Spring’s consistently cheery, bouncy music a surprise when maybe it shouldn’t be — after all, it would seem to reflect Noriko’s ceaseless smiling, laughing and happy demeanor; which all serves to increase the emphasis on her anger and sullenness when the prospect of marriage and leaving her father seriously raises its head. (And I’m afraid that’s the closest to analysis you’ll find here.)

It would be a lie to say Late Spring came as some kind of personal revelation to the unimpeachable genius of Ozu; but, at least, I got on with it considerably better than I did Tokyo Story. I might even go so far as to say I enjoyed it. Wonders never cease.

Late Spring is on Film4 and Film4 HD tomorrow, Thursday 11th, at 11am.

Hercules’ New Groove

Posted on November 6, 2010 by badblokebob

Hercules and The Emperor’s New Groove are connected by two things: firstly, they’re among the first Disney films I didn’t see because I’d Grown Up; secondly, I’m not sure I’d’ve wanted to see them anyway because I always thought they looked rubbish.

In truth, I think the second factor was more powerful than the first, because I’ve always liked the Disneys I liked — I don’t actually remember a time when I felt I’d grown out of them, just a time when I didn’t watch them.

Finally seeing this pair now, I find that my expectations were surprisingly flouted in one case, and sadly vindicated in another. But you’ll have to read on to see which is which…

2010 #99
Hercules

“It suffers from songs that are at best unmemorable and at worst irritating. The gospel-styled Greek Chorus sing dreadful dialogue, while Hercule’s big song is like a wimpy first draft of Mulan’s… [The] love interest gets a passable song, not that I can remember it now… [but] it looks great in HD.” – Read more…

2010 #102
The Emperor’s New Groove

“There are some good bits like the sequence at the diner, or a lot of Kronk’s stuff… The villains are a delight. It’s hard to hate them when they’re somewhat wronged and more pleasant to spend time with than the hero… [and it] again looked nice and crisp in HD.” – Read more…

When I said “you’ll have to read on to see”, I meant the full reviews. These quotes may be (deliberately) misleading…

100Films.co.uk

100% movies. Except when it's about TV.

Monthly Archives: November 2010