Film Reviews by Steve

This is Woody Allen's homage to the Eugene O'Neill influenced realist cinema of the mid 20th century. It's Clifford Odets, but without the politics. While the bright, warm primary colours of the photography are magnificent, it might have been more appropriate to be shot in black and white as those films were.

Woody's screenplay gives the impression of a stage drama minimally opened up for the screen. It reflects on the traumas and infidelities of a family trapped in Coney Island in the '50s, who work in the funfair. Like the big wheel of the title, they all keep on moving but never actually get anywhere.

There is a nostalgic but expressionistic interpretation of Coney Island in decline. Woody's rather theatrical dialogue feels appropriate to the historical setting. Kate Winslet delivers the customary strong female lead performance which the director seems ceaselessly able to draw upon.

It's a very exposing role and she dominates the screen. The story begins slowly as we get to understand her, but builds to an effective climax. It's well plotted and ends on a clever, dramatic sleight of hand. This is far from the disaster the critics claimed and deserves to be re-evaluated. Maybe on the stage.

This is a remake of Jean Renoir's La Chienne, a classic French melodrama made in 1931. It's a grotesque love triangle between Joan Bennett's slovenly sex worker, her stupid, swaggering pimp- Dan Duryea, naturally- and Edward G. Robinson as a middle aged downtrodden husband regrettably infatuated with Bennett.

The older man is a weekend painter who discovers he is a genius only when his paintings are stolen and sold by the other two. But fate is cruel and resolves he should not receive any of the reward or recognition, which leads him deep down into murder and madness.

Robinson is startlingly submissive as the humiliated dupe, tormented and mocked by Bennett. He kneels to paint her toenails ('make them masterpieces'), wears his wife's frilly apron in the kitchen and is constantly harangued to carry out menial tasks after a long day at the bank. There is a potent theme of sexual fetishism.    

Bennett is exceptional as the uncouth slattern. This is a powerfully pessimistic experience and its touch of the absurd just makes it more desolate. It's a key noir from the first classic wave, which has the schematic narrative of a parable as it relentlessly punishes Robinson for straying from his designated path.

*note, this fell out of copyright years ago and prints are often terrible.

Curious film noir which steals narrative riffs from many other genre classics (I Married a Dead Man, Suspicion, etc) but contains quite a startlingly original premise for the period about the ongoing ordeal of a distressed woman (Valentina Cortese) rescued by American forces from Belsen.

She steals the identity of her deceased friend from the camp in order to get to America where the the dead woman's son stands to inherit from the wealthy family who took him in. The survivor marries the family lawyer (Richard Basehart). But does he plan to kill her to seize the money for himself?

 The luxurious house of shadows on Telegraph Hill has ominous presence and a classic noir look. The secret old playroom with a hole blasted through a wall reveals a cliff edge overlooking San Francisco, suggestive of the guilt and fear of discovery that hides in the imposter's heart.

This is presented in a semi documentary style (incorporating newsreel of the camp) through flashback. Cortese is sympathetic in a role that puts her on screen for the whole running time and is convincing as a woman who has suffered profoundly. It's a lesser known Robert Wise film, but very suspenseful.

Film noir moves to the sunny suburbs of Los Angeles. Joan Bennett plays a harassed mother of two feisty kids who covers up the accidental death of her teenage daughter's older, mercenary lover and is blackmailed. When the extortionist (James Mason) falls in love with his mark, he must protect her from his brutal, less principled accomplice.

That's a crazy story, but we are expected to accept its emotional truth even though the narrative realism is stretched. For anyone able to make that allowance, this is a thrilling and compelling melodrama. The relationship between the two leads is extraordinarily moving, especially as production code convention means their feelings remain unspoken. 

The chiaroscuro photography of the house of shadows is exceptionally beautiful. The dark interiors contrast satisfyingly with the sunlit, prestigious, lakeside locations. Max Ophüls directs with impressive panache. And the stars are heartbreaking; both lonely in very different ways. For me, it's Mason's greatest performance.

His mute emotional pain is overwhelming. In the noir tradition, he suffers for a woman who may well be manipulating him for selfish reasons. At the end, she's free to just walk away... but surely devastated by his sacrifice? Or is Ophüls saying the poor must suffer and be morally compromised so the rich can live in righteous comfort? Don't miss this one.

The same year as Robert Wise's The Set-Up, his old associate at RKO, Mark Robson, also made a boxing picture which operates as a scathing critique of American individualism. This is about how much humanity a poor man must divest in order to succeed; the sociopathic exploitation of others it takes for him to achieve personal wealth and status.

It is a dystopic analysis of the mythology of the American dream. In the role that made him a star , Kirk Douglas plays a penniless nobody who lives with the indignity of poverty. When at absolute rock bottom, he is taken on by Paul Stewart's cynical boxing manager. In his quest to become champion, the contender betrays everyone he encounters.

The excellent support cast is led by Arthur Kennedy as the boxer's brother who has a manifest physical injury where the fighter has a hidden moral affliction. Kennedy loses out painfully to Douglas' unrestrained egotism. He is extremely affecting in the noirish shadows of this moral tale.

The boxing scenes are superb. It won an Oscar for the ringside editing and Franz Planer's photography is as gorgeous as ever. But it mainly scores as a vehicle for Douglas who is exceptional in a physical role unusual for melodrama in that period. His implicit and explicit aura of violent threat is very potent.

Classic farce with Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy as employed men of reasonable means, with wives who are not as aggressive as usual. In fact, Ollie calls his wife Mama, and Stan's wife calls her husband lover! What next, kids? This is the least idiotic Stan and Ollie ever got, and are almost functional, even if a trial for their spouses. Things have never been better.

The pals discover they each have a twin who... are also eternally bound together. Bert and Alf are sailors who have docked in Stan and Ollie's hometown. And they are as clueless as our heroes usually are. Which leads to inevitable complications of mistaken identity related to Stan and Ollie's wives and a couple of good-time popsies with their hooks in Bert and Alf.

 This is a wonderfully entertaining film, dense with gags. OK, some of them aren't all that original, like the three men trapped in a phone box, and the cake fight. But in the hands of the masters, they are funny all over again. All it takes is a long suffering sideways glance into the camera from Ollie.

Great to see James Finlayson, and there's quality in the support cast. Daphne Pollard and Betty Brown are fun as the wives. It's a slick comedy, which ends memorably with Stan and Ollie teetering on the side of the dock with their feet stuck in cement. Laurel and Hardy were lasting the '30s better their vaudeville contemporaries.

It's not obvious why anyone would trust Laurel and Hardy with delivering the valuable deed to one of the world's most profitable goldmines, and true to form they mistakenly leave it in the hands of a crooked saloon keeper (James Finlayson) and his mercenary moll rather than the exploited sweetheart (Rosina Lawrence) it was intended for.

Soon Stan and Ollie are breaking into the premises, trying to get it back. With only our heroes to protect the rights of the bullied youngster against the finagling Finlayson makes the audience really root for them. Which is awful, given how hopeless they are.

 The standout scene is the duo forcing entry into the upper room of the saloon using a pulley, with a donkey at one end and Mr. Hardy at the other. The donkey ends up on the balcony. There's some fine comedy arising from Stan trying to get a locket over Ollie's head without opening the clasp.

Laurel and Hardy are at the peak of their craft. Every visual gag and character reveal is perfectly honed. There's some singing and dancing but this adds a little warmth rather than unwelcome diversion. There's a meagre budget and a minor director, but as always, the stars transcend the production.

Mitchell Leisen's screwball comedy reflects on the economic realities of the depression. A Wall Street banker (Edward Arnold) is so enraged by his family's profligacy that he throws his wife's new mink coat over the balcony of his Manhattan penthouse. It lands on working girl (Jean Arthur) on her way to the office, knocking her out of the orbit of her ordinary struggles.

 She is sacked for the moral improprieties she is presumed guilty of to get the coat. But because she is judged to be the mistress of the third richest man in America, luxury traders lavish her with valuables when they draw the same conclusion. By chance (!) Arthur ends up giving a roof to the slumming son of the banker. (Ray Milland) in her penthouse suite.

Arthur is really very good as a bewildered working stiff carried far away by the tide of fate. Her hunger in the early scenes is palpable. She never feels fake and eclipses the faintly drawn support characters. Preston Sturges' script allows her to experience both sides of the depression.

There's a remarkable scene in an automated restaurant. The unemployed protagonist can't afford even these prices. A man washes in a glass of water. And we wonder how such extremes of wealth can co-exist. The banker treats everyone in his kingdom with contempt. The politics is woven into a charming and entertaining farce. But in Hollywood terms, this is quite subversive.

This is Cary Grant's breakout role in Hollywood. And co-star Irene Dunne establishes herself as a screwball star too. Together they are dynamite as a married couple who divorce and seek new partners but never re-find that elusive chemistry. They drift back together, at first over the custody of the dog, but really for the elegance and wit, and then, for the sex.

Director Leo McCarey gets this superficial set-up to sparkle. Some of the situations and plot complications are inspired. Apparently he wrote most of the final script and gets wonderful performances too, largely through improvisation. And the innuendo is pretty risqué. It is amazing it got past the Hays Office... Maybe because it is so good!

Grant and Dunne are one of the great screwball partnerships. And Ralph Bellamy as Irene's rich, unsophisticated suitor, is outstanding too. The sparring cosmopolitans are so aloof they look down on anyone who isn't a New York sophisticate. But the film gets away with it because of the charm of the stars.

 Grant rousting the blundering Bellamy to the mortification his ex-wife is hilarious, which Dunne matches in a scene where she pretends to be Cary's dipso sister to discredit him before his wealthy would-be in-laws. It never falters. Thanks to the all time great triangle of leads, this remains a consistent and compelling joy.

This second match-up of Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda- after The Mad Miss Manton in '38- is usually included among the great screwball comedies. Towards the end of the classic cycle, Preston Sturges began to write and direct just at the moment the comedy climate darkened around him. America was drifting into war...

His best films feel like pastiches. This owes much to Bringing Up Baby (1938) and Libelled Lady (1936). But Sturges steps up the slapstick. Fonda takes as many pratfalls in this as anyone in a Blake Edwards film. There isn't much verbal wit. This is more of a sitcom.

Fonda is a dull rich klutz ('snakes are my life') who is the mark for a con-girl (Stanwyck). She starts out to fleece him at cards but falls in love. After he catches on, the wealthy clot cuts her off. So she re-appears as an English aristocrat, and seduces him all over again...  just so she can jilt him.

Fonda handles the physical comedy surprisingly well. Stanwyck is appealing in a dual role and supplies the sassy romance the cute plot demands. Eric Blore stands out in the strong support cast as a con man posing as an an English Lord. It's a slight film, but entertaining with lots of star power.

It is 1937, and the Great War has been over for nearly 20 years. But Stan Laurel is still in his trench, unaware that everyone else has gone home. Away from his great pal for all that time, Oliver Hardy has made a reasonable life for himself. He has a wife. Admittedly Ollie is under her thumb, but they are very loving and they have a swell apartment in a nice area.

 Mr. Hardy enjoys a well ordered existence... until Mr. Laurel returns from the front. And then inside two hours, Ollie has been in a fight with James Finlayson, has his big game hunter neighbour's blonde wife locked in a trunk, while his own has turned into a dragon, and the kitchen is in flames. The duo are chased out of the building on the end of an elephant gun.

The big joke of the film is, would they really have been better off apart!? Are they fated to be destroyed by their association with each other? Well, for over a decade in their films, our heroes have always been just about to get everything right, when everything goes disastrously wrong. It just took a lot longer this time.

When they meet at the soldier's refuge, Ollie thinks Stan lost a leg in the war. Ollie is so tenderly solicitous that he carries Stan in his arms. When he finds out that Stan is intact he drops him in a heap. Which is their dynamic in one sketch. Maybe not their funniest but it's made special by the stars and their immortal alter egos.

Considering the amount of material Woody Allen has mined from his single term at NYU, it is perhaps surprising that this campus film is his first. It is set at a small university on Rhode Island, where the arrival of notorious philosophy academic (Joaquin Phoenix) unleashes debate about his teaching methods.

His reckless depression and affairs with a chemistry professor (Parker Posey) and student (Emma Stone) make him a volatile presence. The characters are archetypes, though Phoenix's charisma makes much of his role. Stone and- especially- Posey are appealing support.

The story proceeds like an illustrated philosophy essay (with lectures) as existentialism is played off against Kant. Phoenix chooses the former when he takes direct action to poison a corrupt judge. Stone adopts the latter when she threatens to turn her teacher in. And Allen builds up the suspense better than he ever has.

The intellectual theories aren't much of a stretch. But there's an interesting political twist. The philosopher concludes his life only has meaning if he intervenes to ensure right is done. With democracy in crisis across the world, the alternative of direct action has come into focus. Which gives the film some contemporary political relevance.  

Charming Woody Allen screwball comedy set in the '20s on the Côte d'Azur, which has the sophisticated frisson of a Noël Coward play. Colin Firth plays a famous stage magician, a renowned misanthrope and sceptic, who is engaged to expose a popular and successful medium (Emma Stone) who is all the way from Kalamazoo, Michigan.

But he is convinced she is genuine... which upends his faith in science and nature... before finally tumbling her. Of course, having been made emotionally volatile by her credibility as a mystic, in the time it takes to rehabilitate his reason, he has been humbled enough to finally believe in the real magic, of romantic love.

This is fabulous entertainment, with a clever script, some nuanced subtext orbiting around the themes of faith and rationalism, and a fine plot. Firth is enjoyable as the pompous agnostic whose logical intelligence renders him cynical rather than wise. It is a joy to see him dally with the the delightful and beautiful Emma Stone.

The negative is that it isn't all that funny. I think that's because the stars just aren't comic actors. What might Cary Grant and Claudette Colbert have made of these roles! Firth retains too much dignity to be hilarious, and Stone is too passive. But that's a quibble. This is ridiculously fun. And the widescreen photography of the French riviera, is so lovely.

Typically affectionate nostalgia from Woody Allen for '30s Manhattan and golden age Hollywood. Jesse Eisenberg plays a naive major studio gofer promoted by his big shot uncle (Steve Carell).  The youngster falls in love with a secretary (Kristen Stewart) who he discovers is Carrell's other woman.

Heartbroken, the kid relocates to New York and opens a nightclub, ignorant that the enterprise is facilitated by the muscle of his older brother, a gangster. It's a bittersweet comedy which evokes a sense of how we may live contentedly in the present, but our lives are haunted by the the ghosts of past affairs, and once possible loves that never were.

This is the director's first film shot on digital cameras, which proves no detriment. The photography (by Vittorio Storaro) is  exceptionally beautiful, like all Allen's later films. Woody narrates, and he sounds frail, which suggests maybe we won't see him in front of the camera again.

The period recreation of east and west coasts between the wars is splendid, and it's a joy to imagine ourselves eavesdropping on conversations about Paul Muni and Hedy Lamarr. Or standing outside Spencer Tracy's mansion. It's a superficial film and not all jokes land successfully, but there are still moments of magic.

Following his London trilogy, Woody Allen alighted on Barcelona for another beautiful, touristic setting for his late career comedy-dramas. Around this time, about every third release was critically heralded as a return to form halting a declining trend. This was one of those. It was a box office hit and the Oscars came calling again.

 The story is a series of loose, transient triangles which form between Vicky (Rebecca Hall), a pragmatist looking for emotional certainty; Cristina (Scarlett Johansson), an impulsive romantic seeking intensity and novelty; and a pair of volatile Spanish artists played by Javier Bardem (unorthodox and passionate) and Penélope Cruz (crazy and passionate).

It's a reflection, or even an illustrated essay, on the nature of sexual/romantic desire. Not everything works. Sometimes it strays into the platitudinous and the Spanish stars veer close to caricature. But it is a vigorous, erotic and emotional experience. It searches for truth in how we are attracted to each other in a depth that is remarkable for 73 year old film maker.

It is a quest which looks for a way to be free of the social and psychological traumas that have haunted the romances of his characters for decades. The leads are beautiful and the locations and photography are gorgeous. And there is a love of life that is missing from many of Woody's noughties films.