The first film I watched as part of my new-this-year What Do You Mean You Haven’t Seen…? initiative is also the oldest, a silent movie (with a synchronised music & effects soundtrack) starring, written and directed by Charlie Chaplin.
Billed at the start of the titles as “A Comedy Romance in Pantomime”, the film concerns the tramp (Chaplin, obv.) falling in love with a blind girl (Virginia Cherrill) who stands to be evicted from her home, and also befriending a rich gentlemen (Harry Myers) prone to drink and forgetting the tramp when he’s sober. These relatively slight storylines are really used to string together a series of skits, which I suppose is Chaplin’s forte. These are intermittently very funny, even if some stuff has now dated, probably through copying and repetition by others. However, towards the end there’s a boxing sequence which is flat-out excellent; so good that the old UK DVD used it on the cover, even though it’s a complete aside in the context of the film. Elsewhere, Chaplin puts the synchronised soundtrack to good use, using sound effects for added humour.
Though the film is mostly comedic and the romantic plot is a little thin, Chaplin also manages to construct moments that are affectingly emotional. The most notable is the ending, which remains a striking example of subtle acting yielding huge rewards. It is, you are oft told if you read up on the film, a famous screen moment, though I guess fadingly so because (I must confess) it only rang a vague bell even after I’d seen it. 
Much of the film’s emotional impact comes courtesy of Cherrill, who gives a suitably pretty and sweet performance. Chaplin wasn’t impressed with her as an actress and attempted re-casting (the film has a remarkably fraught production history), but I think it’s beneficial that never worked out. It’s always possible another actress could have been just as good, of course, but I can’t imagine any playing this role better.
Over 80 years since it was released, I think City Lights’ high place on some Great Movies lists is probably due more to it being Significant than plain enjoyable when viewed today — the kind of film that was great at the time and certainly has a place in history, but has perhaps been surpassed in some respects. Or maybe that’s just me being a young whippersnapper. Either way, greatness is never entirely superseded, and Chaplin’s most acclaimed film still has joys to impart.
* The original aspect ratio is 1.20:1, but the old UK DVD (at least) is definitely fullscreen. ^
Some films benefit from knowing as little as possible going in; some are at their best when you know nothing at all. But that’s pretty much impossible — unless you go purely on someone’s “you’ll like this, trust me” recommendation about a film you’ve never even heard of, you’ll be aware of something. Normally this comes from a review or blurb, and you just have to trust that the reviewer or copywriter was kind enough to keep it spoiler-free.
So here’s what the film lets you in on in the opening moments: in 1993, 13-year-old Nicholas Barclay went missing in Texas. In 1997, a boy claiming to be him surfaced… in Spain. He had Nicholas’ tattoos, but he had a French accent and the wrong colour eyes. And yet the first relative to see him, Nicholas’ older sister, gave a positive ID, and upon returning to America he was accepted into the family. Why did they take in such an obvious fraud?
but, nonetheless, it makes the documentary itself feel untrustworthy, just like its participants. Is that an intended effect? Arguably the film’s main theme is lies — the lies we tell ourselves, the truths we want to believe; confirmation bias, perhaps, though that term is never mentioned — but the documentary itself never lies to us… I don’t think. It just feels like it might be.
as the poster prominently tells us, this is “from the producer of 
It Happened One Night was the first film to win the Oscar “grand slam” (Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Director, Screenplay), and is still one of the few to have won everything it was nominated for (alongside 
The Walls of Jericho running motif is also nicely executed, leading to perhaps the sauciest final scene not to feature a single shot of human beings that I can think of.
Like ponderous arthouse fare, but also action-thrillers? Disappointed that these two passions must always be sated independently? Well recent retiree (we’ll see how long that lasts) Steven Soderbergh has come to your rescue.
But then the lead isn’t even an actress, but former MMA fighter Gina Carano, presumably cast because she can fight rather than for her acting ability. That’s not a criticism, however — she may not be on a footing to contest an Oscar any time soon, but Carano is more than fine to be an action movie lead. Her undoubted combat skills, meanwhile, lend the fights a bone-crunching realism that is likely to be welcomed by many. They’re very much a showcase for her ability too, because any sense of an equally-matched duel is hampered by pitting her against men who are actually just actors.
That said, the latter withstood Paul Greengrass’ shakey-cam and jumpy cutting on 
Just when you think the Underworld series is dead, it suddenly lurches back to life with a new instalment. Fitting for a series all about vampires & that, I suppose.
By taking such a bold move with the plot, meanwhile, the story pushes the series’ mythology in new and relatively interesting ways. It’s becoming a bit dense and fan-only (unless you let it wash over you and just enjoy the punching), but at least they’re not regurgitating the same old stuff. It manages a few twists along the way too, which is always nice. The plot seems to have been half worked around Speedman’s non-involvement, leading me to wonder why — he’s not too busy, surely? Perhaps he’d just had enough? But no, apparently it was genuinely just written this way. I guess he couldn’t be bothered to turn up for some cameo shots, because the stand-in is really obvious.
means the next one will probably turn up out of the blue with little hype, much as Awakening did last year. Plus, though this is the most expensive film to date (double the budget of the preceding one!), it’s also the most financially successful: $160.1 million worldwide, beating number two’s $111.3 million. Assuming Beckinsale still feels up for it, I imagine 2015 will bring us a continuation — and, hopefully, a conclusion.
Also worthy of commendation: new-style ‘evolved’ Lycans; a small role for Charles Dance (always worth seeing); the evocative near-future setting; good quality action sequences; some nice steel-blue cinematography/grading. Some of it was shot at 120fps on brand-new pre-alpha never-used RED cameras — take that Peter Jackson, eh. Plus it’s only a little over 1 hour and 18 minutes long without credits. Some would bemoan such brevity, but it has its positives.
The Pearl of Death is one of the better-regarded films of the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes canon, but somehow it didn’t quite click for me. That doesn’t meant there isn’t a lot to enjoy, however.
Elsewhere, Nigel Bruce gets to indulge in a slapsticky scene that, as ever, people who dislike this interpretation of Watson would be happy to do without. Also worth noting is the female lead, British actress Evelyn Ankers: she was a regular fixture of Universal’s horror features, terrorised in no less than 
Neill somehow managed to pick one of the least dramatic. Neither of these reveal fudges are ruinous, of course, and are outweighed by the handling of sequences like Holmes setting off the museum’s alarm, the ensuing robbery, the villains stalking round a potential victim’s house, and so on. Still, I was surprised to find them so wanting.
For many Westerners of a certain generation, Akira was their first (conscious) exposure to anime. Not so me: a step or two down, 
The visuals remain something to be savoured; they’re probably the film’s strongest point, in my opinion. Akira was an expensive production and it pays off on screen. It’s not just the bike chases that I appreciated either, while an extra decade of experience made the ending a bit less freakish! The other strong point is the audio. The BD’s booklet goes on about “hypersonic” sound. I’ve no idea if that worked on my system, but it sounded fantastic regardless.
Winner of the highest number of Oscars for Best Foreign Language Film (five), the Italian writer-director is “one of the most influential filmmakers of the 20th century”. He’s the only member of TSPDT’s Top 250’s top 10 (at #4) that I’ve not seen anything by. Significant gaps in my viewing include 
One of the founders of the French Nouvelle Vague (alongside the likes of Jean-Luc Godard, who I have seen films by), Truffaut is still probably best known for his first film, 
Though only at #52 on TSPDT’s Top 250 (there are 11 above him I’ve not mentioned), there’s no denying the notoriety of Herzog, the man who once got shot while being interviewed by Mark Kermode, amongst other bizarre anecdotes. Key works include 
The theatrically-inclined Australian scores just 3 on TSPDT’s ranking, their lowest awarded mark. Only five others suffer this ignominy, and the only one I’ve heard of is Ed Wood. According to TSPDT, none of Luhrmann’s films are Highly Recommended, Recommended, or even Worth a Look. The best he can hope for is 
100Films.co.uk 