Munich, 1918, where (fictional) art dealer Max Rothman (John Cusack) befriends and encourages the young artist Adolf Hitler (Noah Taylor). But Max is Jewish... Even if the overall results are a bit glib and predictable, both of the central performances are terrific—especially Taylor, whose Hitler is a creepily believable human being.
Throughout cinema history there have been certain flashpoints, the sparks produced when a director and an actor recognise in each other their alter ego: Ford and Wayne; Scorsese and De Niro. Perhaps the most intense of these has been the extraordinary collaborations between German visionary Werner Herzog and the fabled maniac who became his artistic double and evil twin, the late Klaus Kinski.
This incredible set chronicles their tempestuous relationship via the five features they made together.
Early Peter Greenaway movie ('85), from when his undeniable visual genius wasn't yet smothered by pretentiousness. Zoologist twin widowers (!) mourn their wives but begin an affair with a survivor of the crash which killed them, whose leg's been amputated. And set the animals free from the zoo. Homages to Vermeer, a Michael Nyman score, and relentless perversity with a point. Exhilarating!
Shekhar Kapur directed this third version of AEW Mason's regimental romance about the Sudanese war. Unfortunately, his ambitions to turn it into a critique of British imperialism are drowned under James Horner's glutinous score and colourless performances from the vapid Heath Ledger and chums. Notable exception—Djimon Hounsou, as the noble nomad who saves our brave English boys from a fiery desert hell. There's also one great battle scene.
The American newspaper heiress' kidnapping and brainwashing by the self-styled urban revolutionaries of the Symbionese Liberation Army, as retold by Paul Schrader. In the title role, Natasha Richardson goes through the trauma with committed desperation, but, despite being based on Hearst's own memoir, you never feel any closer to her, even if Schrader's film is often as claustrophobic as the cupboard in which she was imprisoned for 50 days.
Eleven years after his original expressionist classic, Dr Mabuse The Gambler, this 1933 sequel from Fritz Lang, banned by the Nazis for its political undertones (Mabuse/Hitler parallels), follows the titular crime lord's activities from beyond the grave, and features the original Lynchian'creepy velvet curtain' scene, plus one of cinema's first breakneck POV car chases.
Dour, long-winded erotic thriller, directed by Jane Campion like her favourite recent films have all been made by Joel Schumacher. Meg Ryan, apparently auditioning for a re-make of Klute, is the New York teacher shagging Mark Ruffalo's homicide cop who she begins to suspect is a serial killer. Bollocks, frankly.
Ninth-rate martial arts animé about a killer with the mind of a six-year-old child. Frankly, a six-year-old child would have written something more entertaining than this—the only imagination on display here is reserved for the gore and violence, which is accompanied by a great deal of noise but no sense, and even the animation is unimpressively low-rent. Utterly worthless.
This not-as-crap-as-you'd-fear rehash of the much-loved '60s caper, with director F Gary Gray ensuring it isn't all just gung-ho car-chase action, throwing in stylish backdrops and a good joke or two for good measure. A shame, then, that the charisma-free Mark Wahlberg leads, and perhaps they should've opted for a fresh title, but a stellar cast including Ed Norton, Charlize Theron and Donald Sutherland can't be all bad. Lively enough.
