Film Reviews by Steve

Slow burning relationship drama set just after WWI, adapted from the LP Hartley novel. It's about the connection between a wealthy aristocrat (Sarah Miles) and the combat veteran (Robert Shaw) she occasionally hires to drive her. She is lonely and grows to favour his company and encouragement.

The story explores the impact of the war on its survivors. The woman's husband died of an illness (presumably flu) and she is traumatised by her guilt and depression. The driver was a veteran of the trenches and is brittle and volatile. They hide their agonies behind the conventional roles of their class. But there is an awful feeling of impending calamity...

Though the film reflects on the aftermath of war more broadly, it mainly focuses on these repressed people separated by the gulf of their status. Robert Shaw is excellent as a prosaic man consumed by futile anger. But it's Sarah Miles' numb, burned out widow who slowly breaks your heart. Behind the big eyes, she is hollow.

The narrative takes the long way home, and proceeds at leisure. The period detail is evocative and sombre, with muted brown and cream interiors. The ending isn't a big strength, but is still appropriate. This is an observation on a country dazed by the shock of violence and loss, and of a class system that never really went away.

Conventional cold war spy thriller which overcomes its familiarity thanks to a wonderful ensemble of British character actors, and John Huston's expertise in the genre. It's quite uneven, but still absorbing entertainment. Paul Newman is an agent for MI6, who goes undercover as an Australian diamond thief in order to expose a gang trafficking imprisoned Communist agents to the East.

This casting is undeniably offbeat, but Newman is at least nonchalantly charismatic. He is backed up by Dominique Sanda as his implausibly elegant intermediary. And there is the superlative support of many veterans of the cold war on screen, including Harry Andrews and Michael Horden. Best of all is James Mason as the contemptible villain, a Commie spy posing as a Tory MP.

Maurice Jarre's score derived from Russian folk music is a genre cliche, but still works. The twisty plot is interesting and there are striking, touristic locations in Malta, Ireland and central London. Admittedly, the premise is much better than the resolution, but there is that satisfying mood of pessimistic melancholy which is standard in cold war spy films.

Credibility becomes dangerously stretched in the climax when Newman suddenly demonstrates a talent for swimming underwater, in his suit. There's nothing new here, but it's a lot of fun for fans of the genre. And a cameo by Nigel Patrick is bonus. By the way, the undercover spy doesn't wear a Mackintosh, that is the name of his Whitehall contact.

This is usually tagged as horror, but really it's a grim satire on the macho values of the Australian outback in the 1960s. It's the mythic journey into hell of a schoolteacher (Gary Bond) who gets tangled up in the lowbrow pursuits of the interior rustbelt of Victoria. It was initially a flop down under, though has since become a cult classic.

Its self analysis is brutally grotesque. The teacher intends to catch a plane to Sydney, but loses his funds in a game of 2-up and so penniless gets dragged down into the rituals of mateship; fighting, drinking and bloodsports. Then he drunkenly tumbles into the ultimate expression of male bonding with a debauched medic (Donald Pleasence).

It's is a surreal experience; a hallucinatory allegory about the way society instinctively confronts and assimilates otherness. This is accentuated by some freakish performances, with Pleasance predictably memorable. Great to see Chip Rafferty in his last role. It's a must-see for connoisseurs of the outré, students of Aussie cinema, and horror fans.

But there is a reservation. The darkest part of the academic's fall from grace is a horrific kangaroo hunt. We see their actual slaughter. This is hard to watch, which is sort of the point, but surely unethical. There is a postscript claiming it was included as a rebuke to this legal bloodsport. So you decide. In my view, it should not have been passed by the censors.

It's a little surprising how many directors over the years have attempted to pastiche the private eye films of the 1940s. This is the most successful. Albert Finney is a bingo caller/comedian who whimsically places an ad in the Liverpool Echo offering his services as PI. But as this is northern England, not LA, he is the sort of gumshoe who travels by bus.

His first case begins with an anonymous phone call, and soon he is opening a mysterious package containing a gun and a large bundle of folding money. And he finds himself investigating his own brother (Frank Finlay), a mercenary businessman recently married to the heartbroken sleuth's former squeeze (Billie Whitelaw).

The film's ace card is the script. The fast, snappy crosstalk that Finney employs to better emulate the celluloid heroes of film noir is witty and pretty funny. And there are cute plot similarities with The Big Sleep and The Maltese Falcon to amuse the film buffs. The location shoot around Merseyside, plus appearances by local actors, add some regional character.

The twisty plot is fine, if not particularly inspired. It's just an excuse for Finney to make like Humphrey Bogart and pull out his gat. But beneath the droll repartee, there is a deep layer of melancholy that makes the film more satisfying than the usual spoof. There is a sadness to this night club comic who finds solace in fantasy, because reality is such a disappointment.

Taut woman-in-peril thriller made by the people who created sixties tv classic, The Avengers. It was shot around the Loire Valley, France and it's unusually bright and sunny for a suspense film which uses a lot of horror technique. But this allows Sandor Elès as the mystery man you are not really sure about, to hide impassively behind his cool shades.

The film is memorable for its casting of the two teenage English nurses on a cycling holiday. Blonde Michele Dotrice is the sexy/flirty girl who suddenly vanishes. Pamela Franklin is the sensible, practical friend who tries to find her. She's even called Jane. And she's on her own and doesn't speak the language or know who to trust.

It feels a bit unworldly now that this alien and unknowable foreign land of suspicious locals is the country just over the Channel. But it doesn't really matter. The film creates a lot of tension from not much at all. Just a stretch of road in rural France. It's stylishly directed, with lots of focus pulls which gives it a 60s/70s look.

This has the feel of an urban myth about the dangers of wandering off alone in a strange place. Principally, it's the two stars that stay in the memory. Franklin is, as usual, a reliable lead. But Dotrice, the victim, is more affecting. While her terrible fate is just a plot devise, there's  sadness to her loss, which isn't usual in this sort of film..

Low budget black comedy which bombed in the UK but was a cult hit in USA. It's an unusual film, but imagine a seventies British horror rewritten by Joe Orton. The four title characters are a family of posh psycho-killers who bring strangers back to their derelict mansion to role play nursery games, and then murder them.

So, not for all tastes. This could be video nasty material except there is no onscreen gore. But for those with relish for the genre, this is my pick for the best horror-comedy ever made. The situations are genuinely strange and, after a slow start, it is grotesquely hilarious.

Girly (Vanessa Howard) is a mature woman but acts like a pouty nymphette to attract unattached men to their stately home, which is decked out in Edwardian nursery clutter. And where Mumsy (Ursula Howells) is in charge. But when they capture a tough, chippy prole (Michael Bryant) he fights back by introducing a few new rules of his own.

The cheerful cruelty of the four murderers makes this a guilty pleasure that will offend some. There is interesting subtext about rules and role playing (which anticipates the Stanford Prison experiment), and how that relates to social class. And some satire of the aristocracy. But it chiefly succeeds as a bad-taste comedy and a surprisingly clever psychodrama.

This faithful biopic of the life and death of the famous Australian outlaw is flawed, but still the best big screen account. Its strength is the incredibly authentic recreation of the period, leading up to Ned Kelly's hanging in Melbourne jail in 1880. The most powerful episode is the graphic, gruesome prologue recreating his execution, shot inside the prison, which conveys genuine horror.  

Most prominent is the stunt casting of Mick Jagger as an Irish-Australian bushranger. At the time Mick had an image as a rock and roll outlaw, so maybe it made sense in 1970. And while quite subdued, he isn't actually bad. But the role is too demanding for a dilettante; his character must completely dominate the screen, and his dialogue becomes increasingly lengthy and poetic.

Plus, with hindsight, Jagger doesn't seem like much of an outlaw anyway. The support roles- played by Aussie actors- are diminished. It's really all Jagger, and the pungent recreation of the squalor of the Victorian outback. Eventually Ned becomes less of an outlaw, and more of an Irish rebel, fighting a civil war against the English political establishment.

The big disappointment is how much the story becomes like a conventional western. Especially the commentary of folk songs recorded by Waylon Jennings. Presumably to sell the film to a US audience. Maybe this- and a Pom playing Ned- is why it bombed down under. But there is a strong sense of colonial Australia, and the Kelly gang's legendary shootout, in their ploughshare armour, is haunting.

Maybe the best film for children ever made in this country. Sure it's old fashioned and cosy and its assumptions about class are dated, but it hits a special sweet spot for British audiences of family films. This is the setting of the story in the early Edwardian period against the background of steam railways...

Add in the splendid locations in rural Yorkshire and this gentle drama attains a state of bliss. Like most films for children, it's a story about the family under threat. The kindly father is- wrongly- sent to prison for treason. So for financial reasons, the mother and three children relocate to the north where the youngsters must adapt and learn life lessons...  

Sadly, these don't include not patronising the lowly station master (Bernard Cribbins). Jenny Agutter's performance as the eldest child on the threshold of womanhood is legendary. Twenty year old Sally Thomsett is remarkably convincing as the 11 year old middle child. And Dinah Sheridan is warm and comforting as the best possible mother.

The story is prefaced by an older Jenny Agutter looking back. And the film has the feel of an idealised memory.There is little realism here. It's an adventure, a daydream of a far away age when girls ran through the green fields in pinafores and old gentlemen were kindly and wise. When there were buns for tea. A long, long way from now.

This frantic black comedy adapted from Joe Orton's controversial stage success no longer has the power to offend. But the satire about the British establishment, the catholic church and the police is still relevant and funny. Hywel Bennett and Roy Holder play a couple of bisexual longhairs who rob a bank and stash the loot in the coffin of Holder's recently dead mother.

Which leaves them with a body on their hands. The play was controversial and some were affronted by the comic use of a corpse! Which hard to work out, because this is farce. It's all slamming doors and bare behinds. Gradually their caper unravels thanks to an incredibly mercenary and sexy Irish nurse (Lee Remick) and a brutal and corrupt copper (Richard Attenborough).

And so the swag has to be split into ever smaller shares. The whole bundle is directed with great energy and the well chosen cast makes the most of some great dialogue. There's a genuinely eccentric gimmick in just about every shot. It now feels cartoonish, with the gaudy primary colours, the eye-popping edits and the commentary of rock and roll songs.

Joe Orton was reinventing the farce in the context of the revolution of the late sixties counterculture, to represent the generational divide and a growing suspicion of authority. It was intended to be confrontational. It no longer has that impact, but it's still a breathless, spontaneous bad-taste comedy which is full of surprises.

Tale of the occult set in rural England in the early 1700s, which is the definitive example of what came to be known as folk horror. Without Blood on Satan's Claw, it's difficult to imagine this sub-genre would exist at all... After a mysterious, furry skull is unearthed by a plough on the remote country estate of a lazy aristocrat, the children of his feckless peasants begin to worship the devil.

And then they ritually murder each other. The details are murky, but it seems the kids intend to coat a devil-beast with the uncanny patches of hair that now grow on their bodies. Which may be a metaphor for puberty! The rituals of the satanic children are actually quite extreme, and include the sexual assault and sacrifice of one of their group.

The film conveys its frisson of arcane wickedness with solemnity. It's the decadence that sells the tickets. It is most remembered for the famous scene when the naked leader of the cult (Linda Hayden) attempts to seduce the village priest: 'do you like what you see'. Then climaxes abruptly with the landowner (Patrick Wymark) cutting down satan with a sword.

The acting is unsubtle, but then this is exploitation horror. The plot is erratic. This is a cult item for blokes of a certain age, who remember seeing it- and particularly Linda- on tv as teenagers. But even without the lure of nostalgia, it is an eerie film which became quite influential. There are a couple of big scares, but its appeal is in the deviant mood of long ago occultism.

Mike Leigh's debut film is a characteristic exploration of the comedy of awkwardness. He received meagre funding from the BFI set aside for experimental cinema. And it was well earned. While this eventually becomes grimly funny, it seems like the intention is to achieve a heightened realism rather than to conventionally entertain. Some scenes are excruciating.

Anne Raitt plays a desperately lonely typist approaching middle age who looks after her sister, who has learning disabilities. Though the carer is profoundly inhibited, it eventually becomes clear that everyone she knows is even more shy and frustrated. Including her colleague, brilliantly performed by Joolia Cappleman, who fills the emptiness with crackpot gimmicks.

The scene when the unloved secretary has a date with an incredibly repressed middle aged teacher is close to being unwatchable. And yet it is uncomfortably funny. Leigh has a rigid technique which enhances the atmosphere of terrible anxiety. Repetitive sounds are amplified until they become irritating. Characters are isolated in wide, empty streets.

The camera tilts, but never tracks or zooms. The characters feel trapped in close up within the static frame. There is no soundtrack, just the ambient noise of a badly played guitar and an out of tune piano. But, we come to care for these people, isolated and tortured by their inability to communicate. There is no politics. Just an overwhelming pity for human sadness.

Maybe purists will be dismayed by Roman Polanski's adaptation of the mythic tragedy of Macbeth, but it shows another way of presenting the plays of William Shakespeare on the big screen. While the text is changed, the celebrated monologues are left intact. New lines are inserted to explain the narrative, so no-one should get lost.

And there is an extraordinary amount of exciting, bloody, brutal action. Medieval Scotland is presented plausibly and in rich detail. And the gloomy atmosphere of the grey skies, the soaking hillside in the constant rain makes the mood dark and oppressive. Weather on screen is rarely compelling as this... Which complements the pessimism of the bard's cycle of ambition and guilt.

The film benefits from casting younger actors in the lead roles. Jon Finch is a charismatic, brooding Macbeth. He actually has a greater rapport with Martin Shaw as Banquo than Francesca Annis playing Lady Macbeth. She is insubstantial, though beautiful. But they are at an age when they might be recklessly driven. And it makes their ruin even more powerful.

The soliloquies are presented as voice-overs, which Finch delivers movingly. It made a huge loss. But for my money, it's the best screen version. While the famous lines are deeply poetic, the film feels persuasively realistic. Every single scene is presented with invigorating imagination. It remains intensely fatalistic, but also rousing, and spectacular.

This big screen version of the legendary BBC sitcom does little to tweak the formula, and is all the better for that. Most of the situations are repeated from the series, and they are still funny. And best of all, the incredible all-time-great tv comedy cast is all present. Their roles are mere caricatures, but the brilliant actors made them all national treasures.

My personal favourite is John Le Mesurier as the effete and ever-so-reasonable Sergeant Wilson. The few alterations are all fine. There is a different location used for Walmington-on-Sea, but it still conveys the impression of an idealised English village. Liz Fraser steps in to play Wilson's lady friend, but she is actually perfect.

It's an origins story of how the Walmington Home Guard came together under the bumptious leadership of Captain Mainwaring (Arthur Lowe). And spread chaos over their corner of the south coast. Until, inevitably they prove themselves against the enemy. Creators Jimmy Perry and David Croft, and the incredible cast had already made three series, and were well drilled... ...

Even if the Home Guard wasn't. By 1971, the British film industry was in decline. Big screen spin offs from tv series were money makers, if unambitious. It was a chance to see popular favourites in widescreen with much bigger budgets. Dad's Army is easily the best of these. Not because of these production values, but because its characters and the ensemble cast are immortal.

This loose adaptation of Muriel Spark's novel- via a stage production- is a satisfying brush with quality. There is an intelligent, witty script, evocative use of Edinburgh locations, a persuasive impression of the 1930s and its fashions, with a large, excellent cast, all stunningly photographed in sumptuous colour.

The film is primarily a vehicle for Maggie Smith's spectacular, charismatic performance in the title role, for which she won the Oscar. And the fascinating character of Miss Jean Brodie dominates the story; a naive schoolteacher in a private school who instills in the girls her own approval of the growing fascism movement in Europe.

And like Mussolini she appeals through emotion and personality rather than truth and egalitarianism. She satisfies her own needs before the wellbeing of her class. Which ultimately leads to tragedy. She is destroyed by one of her most precocious girls, formidably played by Pamela Franklin, who with chilling inevitability assumes the attributes of her mentor.

Robert Stephens is convincing as Jean Brodie's bohemian lover, a mediocre artist and teacher whose elitist sense of entitlement is as prodigious as hers. The awareness of where this authoritarianism is heading makes this an unsettling experience. While there is a compelling study of a misguided woman portrayed by a great actor, it is also a warning from history.

Rambling version of DH Lawrence's modernist novel mainly succeeds thanks to its period production and Glenda Jackson's Oscar winning performance as a sexually emancipated single woman living among the intellectual elite of a mining town after the '14-'18 war. It's handsomely shot around the midlands and the north of England, but its location is vague.

It's a film of ideas, expressed through long conversations about love and sex, work and freedom. It's a period piece, but when the actors are advancing theories on free love, gender roles and communal living it feels like it's more about the late sixties. The trend for Edwardian fashion and beards in the hippie era, and the psychedelic inserts, also suggest this duality.

The two most famous and effective scenes have no dialogue. The naked wrestling between Alan Bates and Oliver Reed in front of a blazing fire. And Jackson channelling her inner psychic bull by chasing a herd of cows across a field. But mostly this is a film of digressive philosophical talk. This is often fascinating, but eventually grows tiresome.

The later scenes in Switzerland are hard work. Ollie gives a strangely stoned performance as Glenda's repressed lover. Bates and Jackson give era defining performances, but are hardly ever on screen together. And if the film remains interesting as an insight into a long ago culture, this is England at the turn of the '70's, rather than after the great war.