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 is the first post-me Disney; the point where, for whatever reason, I stopped watching their output. But, of course, Disneys — good Disneys, at any rate — are suited to every age group.
animal-sidekicks-with-no-dialogue-who-can-still-convey-their-thoughts-and-feelings-perfectly (I feel this tradition needs a snappier name.) Love interest Meg, meanwhile, starts out intensely irritating but is gradually redeemed. Good work, I say to the film’s 
(though even mentioning it in the same sentence as that number makes it sound better than it is). Only love interest Meg gets a passable song, not that I could remember it within hours of watching the film. Maybe it’s not all that bad really, but when early-’90s Disneys could produce several unforgettable tunes per film, it feels like a weak album from a band you usually enjoy.
Notorious for having numerous cuts forced upon it by censors, over 40 years after its initial release Witchfinder General — now uncut — seems almost tame. But gore and sadistic violence certainly aren’t the main attractions — there’s a lot more to the film than that.
shot against Reeves’ wishes, featuring needlessly topless wenches. This is the cut shown by the BBC.)
Witchfinder General is more action-adventure than horror.
Best of all is the witchfinder himself, excellently portrayed by horror stalwart Vincent Price. Indeed, all the credit may lay with him, because it’s his line deliveries and uncertain looks that make the character conflicted early on, a man who may believe he is genuinely doing good for Christian values, but is seduced down darker paths by money, power, lust, and the prospect of revenge. When he allows himself to be lured to Sara’s bedroom as payment for leniency on her uncle, we’re uncertain if he’ll take what’s intended or use her loose ways as proof of witchery. That it’s the former quickly indicates how seriously he takes his espoused Christianity.
to near-silhouette levels of blackness. It’s even less convincing than that fake blood. I enjoyed the score too. A completely new one was written for the US release, but I presume this was the original because it was slightly calmer and more haunting than one might expect from an action-adventure-horror movie (which I presume was the reasoning for the replacement).
In this behind-the-scenes musical, Fred Astaire plays Tony Hunter, a slightly washed-up star of stage and screen. One can’t help but wonder if his performance has an autobiographical edge. It’s of no concern to the viewer though, because he’s as wonderful as ever.
Gigi is a film about largely horrid people doing morally dubious things. But of course it’s a musical from the ’50s, so it all has a veneer of loveliness and respectability.
eventually Gaston realises he loves Gigi and her training is stepped up so she can become his latest conquest. I won’t go into the details of the ending, but their part of the story ends well.
I’m Glad I’m Not Young Anymore is also a nice change of pace, celebrating old age for a change.
“Oh dear,” is surely the initial reaction to Brigadoon. The Scottish accents are appalling, the costumes and setting gratingly twee, the Highlands recreated entirely on a soundstage. I wonder if many Americans visited Scotland in the wake of this film expecting to find such things? If they did, I imagine they were sorely disappointed.
I think it’s fair to say this isn’t the greatest of musicals (though I know some might disagree). The poor realisation of Scotland takes some getting used to — and remains either irritating or amusing, depending on your mileage for such things — and generally there’s a dearth of particularly memorable songs or dances. But it’s not bad either, once things get underway.
Infamously, on its release in America the much-hyped Rodriguez/Tarantino double bill was an almighty flop, so much so that it wasn’t properly released in its full form outside the US. Which is a bit ironic, if you think about it, because the US is the market least likely to respond to something a little bit experimental.
Chances are, if you don’t find this opening salvo entertaining in some way the rest of the film is going to prove a struggle.
It probably works better in context than described on the page, but Rodriguez has marshalled every disparate element to create a cohesive whole that’s exciting and funny. At this point, Grindhouse is firmly headed for a full five-star conceptual success.
though Roth can’t resist adding his own especially twisted brand of humour (I shan’t describe the final shot here).
But it’s not just the increasing lack of dilapidated print quality that prevents Death Proof from selling its concept. The screenplay is clearly a QT work, much more so than most of 
and if he chooses to create some more action-centric pictures in the future it would be no bad thing.
In fact, it might’ve played better if the films were the other way round, as it means Death Proof must be set before Planet Terror. I’d approve of this switch not only for chronological reasons, but because seeing one-scene bit-parters turn up in the-same-but-larger roles in the second film seems like it would be more satisfying as a viewer, rather than re-encountering these (in any case, minor) characters the way we do.
But Tarantino’s entry lets the side down by seeming to fail in its execution of the film’s conceit. I’m not convinced it would be any better viewed as a standalone Quentin Tarantino Film, but in context it certainly disappoints.
“Even ones good, odd ones bad.” So went 
For all that, I still got the sense of it being a bit like two or three episodes of TV stuck together, albeit two particularly epic stories with a slightly bigger budget. The story on Earth is a bit of a sideline, for example, the kind of thing that’s added to give half the cast something to do. Perhaps that’s unfair — it’s a decent enough tale, with significant relevance to the Trek universe, but it’s also low-key and, aside from being kicked off by a Borg attack, entirely unrelated to the goings-on on the Enterprise. Visually it’s even more of a mixed bag. Borg costumes and effects are at times impressive — the Queen being lowered into her body, robotic spine dangling, still looks good today, and her makeup is exemplary — but other drones seem to be clad in cheap bodysuits… which the actors surely are, but it looks it.
For a newbie, or a viewer light on Trek knowledge, it all works fine. There’s an awareness one’s missing out on something — Picard’s previous encounter with the Borg is alluded to often but not explained in full; even for me, as someone well aware that it’s one of sci-fi’s Big Stories, but who has never actually seen it, there’s a certain lack of explanation. Featuring a couple of new characters from hundreds of years before TNG’s regular timeline helps, because the crew occasionally have to tell them things everyone else would know; the downside is they’re not meant to be telling them everything, so some stuff still passes us by. But, importantly, none of this ever swamps the story; they’re just touches and moments that I know I’m not getting.
early on Picard explains that they won’t be noticed until they seem a threat… but they’re all carrying whopping great guns. And surely the very fact the humans have turned up deems them a threat? Also, why don’t the Borg recognise Picard? And later, during the largely fantastic sequence on the Enterprise’s hull, Picard, Worf and Hawk are clearly up to something nefarious and yet the Borg let them carry on. One or two Borg stop to intervene; Picard & co dispatch them; the rest of the Borg just keep working. Surely the fact these humans have just done away with several of your compatriots qualifies them as a threat that needs to be dealt with? It’s all a bit too convenient.
He’s put down the 
Relocated in the war years, the Musgrave manor is currently a home for convalescent soldiers, providing no end of potential suspects. Some may guess the culprit from the off, others will land upon them at other places throughout proceedings, but it seems to me there’s still enough going on to keep us guessing.
The interest of the piece for us normal, sensible folk, then, lies in what it exposes about this world: the ludicrous lengths they go to; the shockingly inflated sense of self importance. As with The September Issue, it presents no narration and a lot of long takes of documentary footage, leaving the viewer to draw their own conclusions. But there are conclusions to be drawn. Wintour is as much a closed book here as in the main film, but there are moments — glances, affectations, turns of phrase — that reveal a little bit more of the truth behind her icy demeanour.
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