Film Reviews by SB

This is an absorbing and well-made film, but do not imagine that it is primarily about Sassoon and Owen. As its title suggests, the film is mainly about the healing of men mentally scarred by war. It concentrates on the work of Dr W Rivers, the effect of that work on him and the transformation of one particular patient. There is good period detail and fine performances, especially by Jonathan Pryce as Rivers, Jonny Lee Miller as the young soldier and Tanya Allen as the soldier's girlfriend.

Downton Abbey trivia - Julian Fellowes makes a cameo appearance as a pompous civil servant (this film was made well before he achieved fame writing Downton); and Jonny Lee Miller as the young soldier sounds and behaves spookily like the character Thomas Barrow in Downton Abbey.

Miss Marple investigates with the police panting to keep up, the Devon scenery is beautiful and everyone is happy, except the corpse(s). Why then does ITV not trust Agatha Christie? Instead a new back story and front story have to be inserted, together with lots of new or transformed characters. They can't even get right one bit which they do retain, a scene from a Jacobean tragedy - the key line from the play is omitted and instead we have a bit of melodrama. Why was Harriet Walter hired for this one minute mistake?

Sophia Myles is intelligent and attractive as the lead, and most of the supporting cast are fine. But any resemblance to Christie's novel is purely coincidental.

As usual, watch the Hickson/BBC version if you want it done properly.

This is another DVD with a counter-productive and insulting anti-piracy warning at the beginning.

I had not previously seen this Merchant Ivory costume drama although it was made over 30 years ago. Nor have I read the Forster novel upon which it is based, so I can say nothing about how well the film encapsulates the book. But on its own terms at least there is much to admire about the film. It is rather like a beautifully-made watch. Everything works – the direction and cinematography are perfect, the casting is spot-on, not just for the lead roles but also for supporting parts, the locations are beautiful but seem perfectly natural for the story.

This was a fairly brave film to make in the 1980s, when public sentiment towards male homosexuality had turned negative again in the wake of the AIDs crisis.

So there are many things to commend. However, for me there are two glaring problems. And I cannot say whether these arise from the film or the original text. The first is that the relationship between Maurice and Scudder seems so unlikely. Not because it is between two men but because they are so incompatible in every way except lust. Scudder is portrayed as a nasty amoral little man, the very opposite of Maurice.

Secondly, although the film ends romantically with Maurice and Scudder holed up in the boathouse making love by firelight, a none too subtle contrast with the (presumed) unsatisfactory marriage of Durham and Anne, that totally avoid the questions which Duham has posed earlier in the film – how are two men in such a relationship to actually live together in that pre-WWI world, a world which has rejected them socially and legally? Maurice proclaims that he is an outlaw, and that is precisely what he is becoming; but the implications of that are never shown. The problems would be compounded by the social and mental incompatibility already mentioned. It's difficult to avoid comparisons with the ending of the same team's film of Forster's 'A Room With A View', where a couple also defy convention – but where the same societal problems will never arise in such an overwhelming way, especially as the male hero of that story is far less dependent anyway on society's approval for practical things like money. Maybe at the end of the day the difference is the point; but it would have been braver still to have confronted these issues head on.

for another very middling thriller in this series. Frederick Forsyth again makes some pompous opening remarks; and then we are plunged into the messy world of terrorist The Jackal, who works off and on for the Soviet Union but is a distinctly loose cannon. When he is brought out of 'cold storage' to resume operations based in Rome, he is pitted against Alan Howard's crumpled British intelligence officer, who is again breaking the rules and acting unprofessionally.

Thre are lots of shadowy meetings; the Americans hang around the fringe of events and sulk because their Ambassador got killed; the Jackal undergoes unlikely transformations and is presented as a sexually manic psychopath. The best performance is from Pamela Villoresi as the double agent with her own personal agenda. The settings - which were actually filmed in Rome - add much-needed local colour, even when also used as a cheap substitute for the few scenes set in Paris.

The story itself is very simplistic and ends bloodily. Elizabeth Hurley is an unlikely investigative journalist who refuses to work for British Intelligence; and then promptly does so despite her very amateurish skills. In an explosion which nearly kills the man standing right next to her, she incurs not a mark on her lovely skin, what a surprise; but her eye-candy appearances fade out towards the end when the going gets gritty.

Okay for an evening when there's nothing much on TV.

This very poor rendering of Christie's novel is the result of putting together a team of people who don't trust their source material. So, it has to be improved. We get a new but superfluous sub-plot alluding to WWII, just so that two extra characters can do mysterious things and may have a motive for killing the nasty colonel. The poor poacher is packed off to prison at the start so they don't have to really include him. Miss Marple is the victim of a spurious accident and spends most of the film hobbling around (quite rapidly) with a stick, and has too much screen time. The policeman is amazingly friendly, discussing suspects, motive and opportunity with several villagers simultaneously. St Mary Mead isn't just an ordinary English village, it is amazingly pretty with lovely houses often photographed in the setting sun. Except it isn't real - because if you study the editing you can see it isn't a single place but an illusion constructed with jump cuts.

Geraldine McEwan plays Marple reliably enough but with too much of a jaunty, almost saucy air. And why not, when a manufactured and immoral past is inserted for her just so she can sympathise with another character in an unlikely way? Stephen Tompkinson is the dim and incompetent policeman. Meanwhile Janet McTeer is an unhappy wife with a secret, who wanders around the village wearing a succession of wholly unsuitable dresses that no-one in her position would wear at such times and places. Of course she looks very well in them, as does Christine Coleman as Lettice, who shouts at her father and models rather fetching 1950s leisurewear while lusting after the romantic artist. Even the vicar's wife, who is meant to be just scatty and very kind, is also fond of a sexy dress or hat. Jane Asher is a well-dressed alcoholic rather than the tragic and mysterious counterpoint she is meant to be. In the midst of all this, Angela Pleasance lurks in black, looking like a witch, and the dreadful Miriam Margolies plays an interfering busybody quite convincingly.

The men fare slightly better. David Jacobi as the quick tempered colonel baffled by modern times is quite good (though he seems unlikely to have been capable of running the wartime operation which is connected with the inserted sub-plot), and Mark Gatiss is reflective as the curate. Tim McInerny is acceptable as the somewhat bewildered vicar.

If you want a proper account of the novel, watch the BBC version with Joan Hickson.

This is the sort of thing that gives TV drama such a bad name - formulaic and obvious story lines, stereotyped and poorly drawn characters, combined with a total lack of realism about how prisons actually work. Not worth bothering with. A serious misuse of Katherine Rose Morley's talents, and probably those of the rest of the cast.

It's the usual thing with the Chosen People – God makes sure they are saved, but goes about it in a very mysterious way, with lots of suffering involved. In this Old Testament epic, one of a series in which well-known actors in need of money appear in films made by surprisingly high profile directors whose careers have faded, Samson deals with the Philistines. Presumably Nicolas Roeg did his best, but as usual it's hard not to laugh when these people roam around the desert. The story is well known and need not be repeated here. There's lots of sand and lots of killing. A little bit of loving too, but not too much as it's only certificate 12.

Denis Hopper does his best to be the cynical old general, Michael Gambon does his world-weary father with a stupid son, and Elizabeth Hurley tries to act. She is outshone in that and even in the beauty stakes by Debora Caprioglio and Jale Arikan in much smaller roles as women who in their different ways really love Samson. It doesn't matter who plays Samson, all he has to do is kill lions, flex his muscles a lot and complain about not hearing God's signal. At three hours, it's a bit over-extended and would have benefitted from the editor's knife being wielded more often. But if you have those three hours spare, then there are worse DVDs to watch.

This disc (85 mins) consists of short films by new directors on the theme of living in London, hung together by an ongoing link about a woman running across London and the effect of that on her. Connection and disconnection is the sub-text.

It is inevitable in exercises of this sort that quality will be variable. One segment involving Juliet Stevenson and a lot of cats is thought-provoking with a twist, but some others are very jejeune. Imogen Stubbs has a one-minute cameo, which is a criminal waste.

This disc is best regarded as a diversion rather than something serious. It does provide further evidence that London is a hell-hole best avoided.

This made for TV video version from 2000 takes advantage of improved technologies since the 1973 Jewison film and therefore comnparisons are slightly unfair. But nevertheless, this is a far better production in terms of direction and appearance than that hippyish desert-set film. It is much more tightly focussed, the songs are with a few exceptions better done, and there's a more consistent approach to the world in which it is set (a sort of updated militaristic state).

However, that's not to say everything is great. While Jerome Pradon is good as Judas in terms of both singing and acting, Glenn Carter makes a very bland Jesus. Although JCS is in some ways as much about Judas as it is about Jesus, it's not good when he is much more charismatic than the Messiah. And Glenn Carter's singing is only adequate at best. As Mary Magdalene, Renee Carter is a believable prostitute and sings reasonably well, but she is not up to the demands of 'I don't know how to love Him'. Amongst the supporting cast, Fred Johanson does well as Pilate. Rik Mayall camps it up as Herod, but looks like an after-thought. It could have been anyone under those disco lights.

There are one or two not-so-good moments. At one point the apostles (often the weak link in this work) veer dangerously close to a Monty Python and the Holy Grail vibe, and the ending is too drawn out. But overall, this is a version well worth seeing.

I had looked forward for some time to watching this film, which has received acclaim and awards, but found it disappointing despite the work which has obviously gone into it.

It is welcome at least to have a film which at 2hrs 38 mins is not afraid to be longer than the regulation 100 minutes.

I think the main negatives are:

a. the protagonist, conductor Lydia Tar, is a very unsympathetic character; she is brittle and arrogant. Now of course it's possible to have an unsympathetic protagonist but for this to succeed the audience still needs to be able to side with that person in some way, even if it's a not very healthy way. Here that is very difficult. This characterisation is enhanced or worsened, depending on your point of view, by Cate Blanchett's trademark cool demeanour;

b. the various accusations and situations piled up against Tar are too numerous and therefore each is dealt with too superficially. It would have been better to have concentrated on one situation (eg her obsession with the new cellist) and shown in much more detail how that particular pack of cards collapsed;

c. the last 30 minutes is a bit of a mess, rushing by into ever more unlikely situations;

d. although the film takes aim at people who judge based on stereotypes and lazy thinking, the treatment of this issue is pretty much primer-level only.

The design, locations etc are mostly dark and shiny, set in Berlin and what purports to be New York, and at the end Asia. They are coherent and glossy, but there is a bit of a feeling of design for the sake of design.

Would I watch it again? Well, I wouldn't buy it.

it really has nothing to do with the subject matter, which is standard Cold-War spies and traitors stuff with a bit of a twist, set in West and East Germany in the 1980s. Alan Howard plays his stiff upper lip man with a well-concealed heart, the Americans keep an eye on things in case the British screw up, the Russians are devious, etc etc. Anyone and everyone can get betrayed at the drop of a hat. Looks like a bit of a period piece now, especially as the budget was far from that of James Bond. Although it is no doubt a lot more realistic than Bond. Frederick Forsyth is wheeled on to make some pointless comments at the start. Brian Dennehy plays the crumpled central character well. Worth watching once, anyway.

This biopic of Loretta Lynn's early days as she became a singer takes an unhurried approach as it builds the detail of her life as a child in rural mining country in Kentucky, then as a very young wife and mother (though not quite as young as the film says). But always engrossing, because of the authenticity of what we see. Tommy Lee Jones is very good in the potentially unsympathetic role of the impatient, hustling husband who sees a lot of potential and is prepared to work hard but has some emotional weaknesses. But the centre of this film is Sissy Spacek's raw but warm performance as Loretta. She is best in the first half, because that gives her more scope than the second – although she delivers the songs herself very well. For some actors a single performance defines their career, whatever else they do well, and at least she got the Oscar to recognise this one.

The original French title of this film ('Profession:Reporteur') gives a better idea of what this film is about, with its suggestions of being an observer rather than participant, of always being restless and moving on, of a deep form of superficiality. Basically a story of how a man tries to disappear by adopting another man's identity and then finding that man's life even harder to live, the film has two very good performances in the leads. Jack Nicholson is deeply unlikeable but very right for the reporter, and Maria Schneider's performance as the young woman he finds en route is more multi-dimensional than in 'Last Tango in Paris' which she made only a couple of years earlier. She has changed physically too and manages to embody distance alongside sizzling heat. The ending of the film, where the surroundings seem to swallow up life, is a masterpiece of direction.

The only thing that seems unlikely is that the 1970s Spanish police would devote so much time and effort to chasing around on the basis of very vague information about someone who is not even Spanish. But the wife's involvement lends an essential extra side to the story.

This 1999 film set in small-town America was an early entry in the 'teen goes to gay conversion therapy camp and finds a friend' genre. But although subsequent efforts have been better, this one is still worth watching. Of course the subject offers some very easy targets for satire as well as crude humour, and this film's particular approach is to enhance the joke by relentless mocking of sexual stereotypes, use of garish pink and blue, camping it all up and so on.

The cast is mostly fine. Natasha Lyonne is adequate in the lead role, beset with stupid parents and treacherous friends. Michelle Williams is touted in the cast list, but her role as cheerleader team captain is tiny. Clea DuVall is seriously hot as the surly and subversive dyke Graham. A decent (?) way to spend a spare 90 minutes.

Recently shown again on BBC TV, Norman Jewison's hippyish version of Jesus Christ Superstar shows its age, with a mob of disciples and other followers spilling out of an old bus and roaming the Palestinian desert. The budget was not large, to judge by the lack of any convincing Jerusalem locations, and the very small numbers who greet Jesus on Palm Sunday. The film has a few good ideas, in particular the presentation of the priests as strangely garbed dark figures climbing over scaffolding, watching, always watching.

The film is sung-through with no spoken dialogue, and one wonders what Melvyn Bragg, credited as a 'writer', actually had to do. After all, everyone knows the story.

The best performance is by Carl Anderson as Judas; he sings well, and makes an effort to act. Some of the support roles like Pilate and Herod, are adequate. But Ted Neeley's main qualifications for the part of Christ seem to be long hair and an ability to sing/scream at a high pitch; his very demanding song 'Gethsemane' does not come off well. And the best song in the piece, 'I Don't Know How to Love Him', cruelly exposes the vocal limitations of Yvonne Elliman as Mary Magdalene, however convincingly she soothes Christ's cares.

Worth seeing, once.