What We Left Behind (2019)

Looking Back at Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (2019)

Dirs. Ira Steven Behr + David Zappone

A crowd-funded documentary that examines the legacy of DS9. There's some fan-input, but the bulk of it comes from the people who made the series what it was, from the traditionally unseen producers and crew to the onscreen cast.

The man on the cover cradling the station in his hands is Ira Steven Behr, whose role as show-runner from 1995 onwards was instrumental in shaping how DS9 evolved in its later years. The documentary feels very much driven by him, too.

That's not a criticism; the film is an engaging exploration that highlights the creative scope and accomplishments of all concerned - provided you like DS9. If you hate it or feel that it deviated too much from Gene Roddenberry's original vision, then you'll probably want to warp past WWLB.

The Chronicles of Narnia: Live Action Films (2005-10)

The Chronicles of Narnia: Live Action Films

Dirs. Andrew Adamson (Films I + II) / Michael Apted (Film III)

01. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005). Aside from a few minor changes and a couple of newly written action scenes — because it's Hollywood and they just can't help themselves — the WMG + Disney version of C.S. Lewis' beloved children's novel is better than I expected it to be.

The first third is excellent, including each of the young actors. Lucy (Georgie Henley) is particularly good, in that she successfully embodies the sense of wonder that a child should feel after finding another world in the back of an old wardrobe.

Things only really begin to slide when the talking CGI animals appear. The great lion Aslan should have a splendour that eclipses all else, but his being rendered in boring CGI most of the time means that he might as well not be there at all.

The unnecessary use of such across the board is a stain on what I feel is otherwise the best filmed version of the novel, to date.

At the Earth's Core (1976)

At the Earth's Core (1976)

Dir. Kevin Connor

A subterranean fiction story in which a senescent British scientist (Peter Cushing) and his American sponsor (Doug McClure) tunnel through a hill in a Jules Verne-esque contraption dubbed the Iron Mole, which would be a good name for an album by a stoner doom band, if it isn't one already.

The duo go way off course and end up far beneath the Earth's crust, wholly unprepared for the dodgy FX that they find there.

The draw for me was Cushing and Caroline Munro, but he'd little of value to do and she disappeared for about half of the movie.

The bizarre flora was fun, but the fauna was bad. The rubber-suit flying things could've had some menace if the lighting had worked in their favour, but it was bad, too. Overall, the movie was a bag 'o shite, even by Amicus standards. It was just about worth it to hear Cushing say, "You cannot mesmerise me, I'm British!" right before getting totally mesmerised.

Chariots of the Gods (1970)

Chariots of the Gods (1970 / 2021)

Dir. Harald Reinl

A documentary based upon Erich von Däniken's 1968 book of the same name, a work that was regarded as little more than supposition and pseudoscience by most of the scientific community. Likewise, Dir. Harald Reinl's film also lacks credible evidence to support the claims, but it's more enjoyable than its dog-shit cover might imply.

It posits that aliens may have had a hand in constructing many of the world's most famous ancient landmarks, such as the pyramids in Egypt and the statues of Easter Island.

The claims are often presented as heavily weighed suggestions or questions designed to encourage viewers to arrive at their own conclusions, but the hope is clearly that any such conclusions will be congruous with that of the filmmaker's own. For while it lacks evidence to prove that aliens did contribute, it also shows that we can't prove they didn't.

Regardless of which side of the extra-terrestrial fence you reside on, the documentary has some great footage of both the natural world and its people. The 50th Anniversary Edition (2021) is a new 2K scan from the OCN. That it was released in the 51st year seems entirely fitting.

The Cell (2000)

The Cell (2000)

Dir. Tarsem Singh

J-Lo dives into the mind of a very mentally disturbed, comatose serial killer (Vincent D'Onofrio) hoping to convince him to take her seriously now that she's an actress in a real, genuine, honest to grud film! If she fails to reach and reason with him in time, someone dies.

It's aged badly (or maybe that's me?), and is shallower than it pretends to be — step in it and your toes will barely get wet — but the movie has a few memorable moments, most of which come from D'Onofrio, who has an intensely overbearing cinematic presence. Without him it would be little more than a bunch of pretty moving pictures attached to a plot that draws from The Silence of the Lambs (1991) movie.

Visually, it's both bad and good: the CGI is awful, but many of the visual and optical effects are pretty wonderful, with a surreal quality that on occasion seemed inspired by the likes of the Quay Brothers; there's a tiny bit of Lynch, too.

Assassin's Creed (2016)

Assassin's Creed (2016)

Dir. Justin Kurzel

Besides the goal of making lorryloads of cash for its producers, game developer Ubisoft was probably hoping that the live action Ass Creed film would entice lorryloads more people to check out their long-running game series, which in turn would increase profits there, too. Anything is possible, I suppose, even when the movie they hoped would sway people is a 125 million dollar turd.

Given that it might be someone's introduction to the world, I'll mention how it presents itself, rather than how it translates its source to the screen. But in that respect, it's dire.

It begins in Spain, 1492. We meet Aguilar de Nerha (Michael Fassbender), a member of the Assassins Brotherhood, a secretive group who are collectively at war with the Templars. The Assassins fight for individual freedoms and expression, whereas the Templars seek to control society through imposed order.

Ninja Scroll (1993)

Ninja Scroll (1993)

Dir. Yoshiaki Kawajiri

I don't understand why Ninja Scroll is so named. It has a ninja — actually, it has lots of ninjas — but what's the scroll part about? Fuctifino. But what I know for certain is that when it comes to 90s era anime movies, NS is a classic. I've watched it a dozen times over the years and it impresses me every time. It isn't packed with plot like, for example, Akira (1988) or Ghost in the Shell (1995) are, but it has a visceral quality that many of its genre imitators failed to capture. [1]

Somehow, the historical setting enhances the fantastical elements, even though logic says they ought to be at odds with each other. A similar kind of complementary contrariety surrounds the two main characters: a skilled swordsman named Jubei, and a female Kōga ninja named Kagero, who has a special, hidden, devastating talent.

The villains, known as the Eight Devils of Kimon, are a peculiar bunch of freaks with unusual powers, and are all the more memorable for it.

The Railway Children (1970)

The Railway Children (1970)

Dir. Lionel Jeffries

Children's Classics - each generation will find qualifying examples from its own era, but some stories are rediscovered time and again.

In Britain The Railway Children, based on Edith Nesbit's 1906 novel, is an enduring classic from yesteryear that never goes away; nor would I want it to. Set in Edwardian times, it's about a mother (Dinah Sheridan) and her three privileged "suburban children", Roberta, Phyllis, and Peter.

They're forced to move from their comfortable townhouse to a country villa in Yorkshire and live a poor life, without a father. Whilst there, they befriend a proud but kind-hearted station porter named Mr Perks (Bernard Cribbins). 

It's simple in construction but remains as welcome and warming today as it was all those decades ago. The lesson that kindness isn't dependent on social status or material riches is perfectly woven into every relevant part. The ending is a little mawkish, but the journey toward it is direct and smooth, like the train tracks that carry the focus of the faithful children's good nature into their collective midst.

Lone Wolf and Child: Assassin on the Road to Hell (1989)

LWaC: Assassin on the Road to Hell (1989)

Dir. Tokuzô Tanaka

Tanaka's film attempts to tell the entire Lone Wolf and Cub story in just 140 minutes, which is an insane undertaking. Nevertheless, it's a valiant attempt and an enjoyable evening's viewing for samurai fans.

Hideki Takahashi stars as the Shogun's one-time executioner, Ōgami Ittō. He does a damned good job at it, able to show compassion when the situation calls for it, but just the right amount because too much might compromise his stoic attitude. He's also deft enough with the dōtanuki to be believable.

Young Daigoro is played by Koji Aeba. It's a wholly subjective view, but for me young kids in Japanese films tend to be much less irritating than young kids are in most American films. Daigoro isn't just a third wheel in the Lone Wolf story, or some kind of amusing gimmick, he's an integral part of the tale and, thankfully, while Koji was likely too young to understand the importance of what he was asked to do onscreen, he at least carried it without fault and without ever being irritating. GJ, kid.

Jacob's Ladder (1990)

Jacob's Ladder (1990)

Dir. Adrian Lyne

Jacob's Ladder has never had a poster or home release cover that did it justice, on any medium, so I chose the image that I consider to be most iconic. It was used to promote the film in UK Video Stores, and is the one that I had taped to my wardrobe door for many years as a teenager.

It doesn't give any real indication of what the story is about, but, after viewing, you'll maybe agree that it does at least capture the tone of the film's more unsettling, thematically dark moments.

I'm deeply sympathetic to whoever initially chose it because I now find myself wanting to convey why I feel the film excels in its genre, but also want to avoid providing info to anyone who hasn't seen it, because a first viewing is best experienced with as little foreknowledge as possible.

It's a psychological horror in which a Vietnam vet named Jacob (Tim Robbins) struggles with fragmented memories of at least two traumatic events: one that occurred before the war, and one that occurred during it.

Batman: The Animated Series: Movies (1993-03)

Batman: TAS: Movies (1993-03)

inc. The New Batman Adventures

01. Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (1993, Dirs. Eric Radomski + Bruce Timm) was the first film in the DC Animated Universe (TAS).

Its Bruce Wayne (Kevin Conroy) isn't just an angry orphan fighting against a world that he feels took something irreplaceable from him, he's a flawed dark avenger, suffering emotional conflicts as he weighs the lure of a normal, loving relationship against an earnest vow to protect others from the pain he weathers. He's fully aware of why he does what he does, but finds reasons to justify it.

The emotional twists and turns in the story are supported by a number of flashbacks that, among other things, tell the story of his first few forays into night-time vigilantism.

Never-Ending Man: Hayao Miyazaki (2016)

Never-Ending Man: Hayao Miyazaki (2016)

Dir. Kaku Arakawa

A TV documentary about Studio Ghibli co-founder Hayao Miyazaki. It begins with an announcement of retirement from a man not suited to retirement, and then shows what he does afterwards, which is go back to work.

Among other things, it explores the making of his short film Boro the Caterpillar (2018), including his openness and frustrations of using CGI during the creative process. The handheld camerawork feels amateurish, resembling something shot on a phone, intended for YouTube more than TV,  but over time (and probably more by accident than design) it captures something close and personal, thanks mostly to being present during moments of insight from its subject: an artisan with a lifetime of true experience.

I feel that what we get is merely a lucky glimpse of a larger, unseen whole, but it's still worthwhile viewing for anyone interested in how an animation studio of Ghibli's calibre does things.

Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965)

Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965)

Dir. Russ Meyer

A trio of hell-raising go-go dancers out for thrills in the California desert end up with dollar signs in their eyes and blood on their hands.

Russ Meyer was a filmmaker and photographer who loved his subject. A large portion of the scenes in which the hourglass-figured women appear is structured and framed to accentuate their feminine dominance; it has more low angle shots than a Japanese kaijū movie. Faster, Pussycat also benefits from having a ton of cheesy but extremely quotable lines of dialogue.

The acting isn't the kind that wins mainstream awards, but that's to be expected. Nevertheless, Tura Satana's performance as the leader of the fast-car loving threesome gives the film a vigour that many similar budgeted movies lack.

Earthquake (1974)

Earthquake (1974)

Dir. Mark Robson

A collective of Los Angeles residents have their personal dramas thrown into perspective when a huge quake hits the city, causing chaos on the streets and prompting office workers to fall out of skyscraper windows. Among the affected are hydroelectric dam technicians, a successful businessman, a cop, a stunt bike driver, and a part-time actress with a young son.

It tries hard to make its mini-dramas relatable to its audience, but the highlight of the whole affair is the execution and inventiveness of the destruction within and around the sets and models. The matte paintings are great, too.

Of the ensemble cast, Charlton Heston was probably the bigger star at the time, but it's George Kennedy as the aforementioned cop that I'll remember most. (Coincidently, both men were in the movie that I watched the night before, made and released in the same year: Airport 1975. It wasn't very good, though.)

Earthquake was hugely successful at the box office, but it didn't stay on top for long. Just one month later The Towering Inferno (1974) hit screens and took the Disaster genre's crown.

The Karate Kid: Movies (1984-94)

The Karate Kid: Movies (1984-94)

Dirs. John G. Avildsen (Movies #01-03) / Christopher Cain (Movie #04)

01. The Karate Kid (1984). After moving to California with his mom, Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio) quickly makes an enemy of a clichéd high school bully. Both parties have an interest in karate, which adds flavour to what's on the surface a straightforward 80s underdog story.

There are teenager levels of romance to contend with, but it's illustrated with the best intentions, so it's not as forced as it could've been.

The real treasure is the believable sincerity that characterises the relationship that Mr Miyagi (Pat Morita) has both with the eager-to-learn Daniel and the wider world, as a whole.

Morita's understated performance keeps Miyagi as a supporting character while simultaneously elevating him to become the true emotional core of the story. With a single wordless glance he can communicate a whole chapter's worth of feelings. He embodies what belief, patience, wisdom, and sensitivity can accomplish when each element achieves balance.

The Dark Tower (2017)

The Dark Tower (2017)

Dir.  Nikolaj Arcel

'The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.' Those twelve words, the opening paragraph in the first part of Stephen King's fantasy western opus, will resonate with anyone that's read the book. Nothing about the film adaptation, however, has even the slightest hint of such resonance.

It begins with Jake (Tom Taylor) in NY, which, as fans will know, means it draws from more than the first book. The boy is having dreams about the Tower that include the Man in Black (Matthew McConaughey); but revealing the primary antagonist so early robs him of any and all mystery; he's a man who ought to be partially defined by his elusiveness. But that's only the beginning of the film's failings; there are many, many more reasons to turn off.

Kids Return (1996)

Kids Return (1996)

Dir. Takeshi Kitano

Told mostly in flashback, it's the story of two high school friends, Shinji and Masaru (Masanobu Andô and Ken Kaneko, respectively), who occasionally go to school but spend very little time in actual class.

The tutors have given up on them, seeing them as either directionless morons or little more than petty thieves in training. In time, the duo would probably agree... but a single event gives perspective that leads to insight.

Often in Kitano films the secondary characters are just as interesting as the primaries, but in Kids Return some of the lesser characters actually stole the show, being arguably even more interesting than the two main ones and I'd love to have seen their sub-stories expanded and further explored.

Oddly, even though it's but a tiny portion of the film insofar as the total running time goes, I was affected more by the scenes set in the present than in flashback.

Tomb Raider: Movies (2001-18)

Tomb Raider: Movies (2001-18)

Dirs. Simon West (I) / Jan de Bont (II) / Roar Uthaug (III)

01. Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) is a typical summer actioner, but unlike some other video game adaptations it at least makes an effort to reference its origins: the Manor, exotic locations, impossible jumps that require crucial timing, puzzle solving, and dual-wielding gun-play are all reminiscent of the games that inspired it.

Unfortunately, it also carries over some of its parent genre's failings, including a feeling that the person directing the non-playable bits hasn't got much of a clue about how to construct and pace a successful action scene. That's particularly true for the opening, but, thankfully, things gradually get better as the movie goes on.

The story is a globe-trotting adventure born from the pursuits and hobbies of the super-rich (on both sides of the equation). It's basic stuff.

Getting Any? (1995)

Getting Any? (1995)

Dir. Takeshi Kitano

Comedy doesn't always travel well, especially when many of the gags are reliant on cultural knowledge that a foreign audience may lack.

I'm in that bracket, so keep that in mind when I say the comedy is well-timed but just isn't funny. Its structure is little more than a series of absurd sketches loosely documenting a hopeless man's desire to have sex in a car, but first he needs a car. His leaps of logic in service of his lascivious goal make no sense, but perhaps that's part of the joke(?).

Along the way it parodies various other films, including Lone Wolf and Cub, Zatoichi, kaijū (specifically Mothra), The Fly (1986), and, bizarrely, Ghostbusters (1984), all of which are more enjoyable than Getting Any?.

The Omen: Films (1976-06)

The Omen: Films (1976-06)

Dirs. Various

01. The film that single-handedly caused kids named Damien to get targeted by bullies at school throughout the 80s (and beyond?), The Omen (1976 / Dir. Richard Donner) is a 1970s suspense / horror film that relies on mood and pace to elicit a progressive sense of dread in the viewer.

Gregory Peck is utterly believable as the American Senator with an evil little shit for a son (Harvey Stephens). Throw in some horror convention, a creepy nanny, a house that lacks life, and a biblical poem and you have a classic that looks dated but still manages to shock and entertain.

In lesser roles are David Warner, Billie Whitelaw, and Patrick Troughton, all of whom are equally great. Prolific composer Jerry Goldsmith's musical score adds an extra layer of palpable eeriness.