Some good friends recently handed me a bundle of DVDs they had inherited from a loved one who sadly passed away. I feel it’s my duty over the coming months to honour the gentleman’s impeccable taste in motion pictures by watching, reviewing and donating them to a charitable cause.

Harvey (1950)

For all intents and purposes, Elwood P. Dowd seems like a regular man about town. Kind, considerate and well mannered, Elwood is an upright gentleman of good standing who just so happens to be good friends with a 6 foot, 3 and a half inch, invisible rabbit named Harvey. After his sister tries to get him committed, a comedy of errors befalls the lives Elwood and Harvey touch upon. Heads are turned, hearts are won and the judgment of a man’s mental wellbeing is measured against a the nature of his soul.

Portraying the pure of heart never looked like much of a challenge to Jimmy Stewart, as he displays much of the same heartwarming affability that we admired in Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. The depth of character goes beyond the basic premise where a man’s sanity is questioned. Here a consistent drinker can also be a caring, charitable fellow. His eccentricities either hiding a profound trauma or an extraordinary gift. Some of the humour in Harvey is brought forth by the cynical lives around Elwood, judging the enlightened and questioning his faculties.

Adapted from the award winning stage play of the same name, one of Harvey’s biggest coups is retaining actress Josephine Hull in the role of Elwood’s sister, Veta Louise Simmons. Her Oscar winning performance is as integral to the comedic mayhem as Stewarts in the sense that she bears a fragility that peeks through her abrasiveness. The loss of their mother and the question of how one copes through trauma is a huge aspect in this motion picture. Hull’s fussy old maid persona buzzes with a manic desperation that would be exhausting if it weren’t for the soothing ease at which Stewart’s Elwood (and Harvey) stroll through scenes.

Once watched, there is little doubt as to why Harvey is considered such a classic motion picture. The unashamed joy and sentimentality within its message marries perfectly to the sincerity of James Stewart’s portrayal of Elwood P. Dowd.

It’s almost become the obligatory thing to do when reviewing an MCU feature to say, “this is the culmination of X years and Y number of films”, but never has this adage rung truer. The Russo Brothers again prove why they are the worthy successors of Joss Whedon’s Avengers consultants/ directors as Captain America’s trilogy is brought to a close.

While the stakes won’t lead to global destruction or the enslavement of the human race, Civil War takes a far more personal journey for its characters, dealing with the cause and effect of their actions. A team of gods having to take stock of the escalated dilemmas around them, “With great power comes great responsibility” etc. It’s with these lofty themes that Captain America: Civil War manages to tie together multitudinous threads from the twelve previous MCU movies, as characters are brought against each other in a rumble that to date is clearly the greatest action set piece in any comic book film.

In spite of the heavy subject matter and seriousness behind the real world implications of superheroes in a contemporary setting there is a powerful surge of humour that makes CA:CW stand out from its peers. Paul Rudd and Anthony Mackie manage the lion’s share of chuckles while newcomer (the spectacular) Tom Holland delivers not only the best iteration of Spider-Man we’ve seen so far, but also some of the best zingers too. I had my concerns about shoehorning Peter Parker into this already gargantuan motion picture but his inclusion is handled deftly, while Holland radiates a sincerity and verisimilitude we’ve not encountered over either Maguire or Garfield’s run.

Personally, I’d have liked a little more time with Chadwick Boseman’s T’Challa and Daniel Brühl’s Zemo, but I feel their oddly harmonious narrative will stand out as an enduring anchor to the rest of the plotting on future re-watches. The former is resolutely regal and kick-ass, while the latter is less of an overblown and undercooked villain and more of a malignancy that we may get to see develop should future instalments dictate it.

The establishing action sequence and tragedy that leads to the registration act at the centre of this film is well choreographed and brutal at times. Watching Avengers tackle flesh and blood, human-types is far cry from battling aliens and robots. In contrast, the final confrontation is considerably more personal and has all the weight that the summit of this trilogy has led to. With The Russo Brothers and Cap Trilogy writers Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely behind the next two Avengers sequels we couldn’t be in safer hands.

If superhero movies aren’t your bag there is very little here that will sway your opinion.

If you prefer your comic book movies dark, brooding and melancholic, this may not be the battle royale for you.

If you’ve bought the ticket and taken the ride for 12 films then you may just consider Captain America: Civil War among the best this franchise and indeed, the genre has to offer yet.

Captain America: Civil War is out now in the UK.

Blood and Grit take centre stage in Watch Over Me as a myserious drifter is given a chance for redemption when he crosses paths with as a woman on the wrong side of gang vengeance.

Watch Over Me at it’s core is nothing more than a formulaic tale of gang violence and a hero who feels responsible for the crimes he couldn’t prevent. Yet, it’s also equally refreshing to see a time honoured 90 min formula played out in 30 minutes. Our unknown protagonists backstory remains hidden until mid-way through and his motivation for appearing in this a crime ridden area of London remains hidden until the very last moments. Details are hard to come by and reveals happen at the perfect moments. What Watch Over Me proves is that this kind of simple violence still has a place in cinema, but only when used sparingly and at the correct moments. By not presenting itself for a full 90 minutes it doesn’t desensitise you to these moments and has no need to rely on the impossible or unbelievable to achieve and ever increasing awe factor to keep the viewer hooked.

Simon Pearce who is credited with direction, writing and editing this film does a fantastic job, with well thought out cuts and transitions. Although some of the choreography and editing could be improved to make some fights seem more realistic, it rarely detracts from the piece. Oliver Park who plays are unknown hero keeps his dialogue to a minimum which in this case is probably a good thing as both he and Adrian Bouchet (Dominic) appear slightly wooden and one-dimensional. Holly Georgia on the other hand who plays Emma shows a lot more emotion and delivers a much better performance than her co-stars.

At 30 minutes this is a highly entertaining and adrenaline filled film that could have dragged, but doesn’t. I fact I found it hard to take my eyes off the screen even for second as hooked as I was. Pearce clearly has a future in action and thrillers and I’m excited to see more from him. Watch Over Me is worth a watch as a short and definitely something I’d recommend if you’re looking for a half hour you won’t regret.

By Last Caress.

Bad Acid, a short horror film written and directed by David Chaudoir, tells the tale of Marvin Maskelyn (Tristan Beint). Marvin is a professional entertainer; a hypnotist, in fact. Years ago, in a more wide-eyed time, he was very popular. Photographs of Marvin rubbing shoulders with Peter Stringfellow, Tony Blair, The Spice Girls adorn the walls of his home. Those days are gone.

These days, Marvin gigs from working man’s club to working man’s club. He performs in front of a glittery curtain, a fez on his head, his assistant Amanda (Madeleine Bowyer) cueing in clichéd smoke effects and traditional middle-eastern music. Sim Sala Bim! His audience are unreceptive to his shtick, and heckle him frequently. His waxed, twirled moustache bristles like the whiskers on a cat. Sometimes, he can hold his ire; the show must go on, and all that. Sometimes, he can’t.

Marvin has a friend, Milton (Paul Croft), a dealer in unusual antiquities and curiosities. His shop looks like the place wherein one might purchase a copy of De Vermis Mysteriis, or one of those Lament Configuration boxes from whence sprang the Cenobites in Clive Barker’s Hellraiser series. What’s your pleasure, sir? Milton has an item which may be of interest to Marvin; a box containing a lamp procured from a 17th century excavation of ancient Babylon, previously owned by a prominent occultist and satanic rock musician who, like Milton, was an avid collector of the arcane. “The arcades??” Asks Marvin, more a David Brent-style figure of pity than the awe-inspiring Houdini he once was, and wants to be once more. “It looks like a stash box,” he says doubtfully. And indeed it is. Our departed rock musician has left inside the lamp a sheet of acid. Well, Marvin was a bit of a cheesy quaver back in the day and decides to roll back the years by indulging in a tab. Why not?

Why not, indeed.

Marvin experiences a vivid, terrifying vision in which he confesses his all-encompassing desire for a return to the height of his fame, and in which he is convinced to utilise the lamp in his act. That’s easily done; he already has a segment wherein he suggests to a hypnotized audience member that they can see a genie sprouting from a lamp, with “…green pantaloons, a big-barreled chest and a silk turban”, and he lost his previous prop lamp in a brawl with a heckler. But what exactly is going to come out of this lamp?

Bad Acid‘s writer/director David Chaudoir has at the time of this writing only directed a couple of shorts, but he is clearly not new to the art of filmmaking. This is an extremely accomplished piece of work. Whilst Mr. Chaudoir definitely isn’t messing about in wanting to find the horror of the piece, Bad Acid is presented with a devilish gleam in its eye too, reminiscent of the 70’s horror pics turned out by Tigon and Hammer; indeed, a reference to Tigon’s The Blood on Satan’s Claw (Haggard, 1971) confirms that lineage, although Bad Acid is contemporary, not a period folk-horror. In fact I could easily imagine Bad Acid taking its place in an Amicus portmanteau horror, wedged somewhere ‘twixt Tom Baker and Terry Thomas. It has that serious-about-horror, serious-about-humour retroactive charm to it. Tristan Beint is revelatory in the central role of Marvin Maskelyn; where has this guy been? He should be swiping half of Reece Shearsmith’s jobs off of him. And Tristan is supported wonderfully in his endeavour by Paul Croft as Milton, by Tiffany Haynes as Bella and especially by Madeleine Bowyer as Marvin’s put-upon assistant Amanda. The mystical, Arabian Nights-style score by Peter Diggens is excellent as well, perfectly complementing the tribulations of a man who’s faking it whilst simultaneously mocking him for what he doesn’t understand, too.

With its drug-themed title and equally evocative tag-line (“Fancy a trip?“), one could be forgiven for assuming that Bad Acid will at some stage during its runtime devolve into a surreal, extended burst of random psychedelia; some may be attracted to it via that assumption, just as some may be discouraged from it for exactly the same reason, but that’s not what Bad Acid is at all. Bad Acid is an expertly crafted, gleefully told supernatural cautionary tale, and comes highly recommended.

badacidfilm.com
flaxmanfilms.com
davidchaudoir.com

By Last Caress.

Pieces, the brand-new short-form horror from burgeoning Yorkshire production company Cappuccino Studios, is a fourteen-minute exercise in tension, eschewing the “gore” route but choosing instead to twist at our nerves, tuning them like guitar strings.

Isabella (Kristy Guest) has just attended the funeral of her grandmother, Theresa (played in flashback by Kate Sandison), and in lieu of her parents who have already made good their departure, she’s going to spend the night at her Nonna’s house, boxing everything away. As she goes about her task Isabella disturbs a pile of old books, one of which catches her eye; a journal, filled with strange drawings, symbols, sketches, runes. Did Nonna create this tome? There’s a jigsaw puzzle piece taped to one page, alongside a bold message: FINISH IT. Odd. Never mind. Isabella packs the book away with the others and cracks on.

Later that night, Isabella is pretty much finished her packing, and settles down to stay there for the night. There’s a creaking noise coming from the attic. Investigating, Isabella finds a rocking chair up there, which may well have been set in motion by a draught and subsequently caused the floorboards to creak. Okay then. There’s something else up there, piquing Isabella’s curiosity: a small tin box, in isolation on a table. On its clasp dangles a padlock. An open padlock. Well, you’ve just got to have a look, haven’t you? Isabella does indeed, and what she finds is a jigsaw puzzle. Taking it downstairs, she deduces after connecting just a couple of pieces that it’s a puzzle depicting a beloved photo of Theresa, her Nonna, taken by Isabella herself at her own fifth birthday party. Swept up by the reminiscence, Isabella resolves to complete the jigsaw. And hey, wasn’t there a puzzle piece inside that weird book too, with an instruction to “FINISH IT”? Maybe that’s one of the pieces of this puzzle! Shall we find out?

Should we find out?

Yorkshireman Dan Sunley, the writer and debutant director of Pieces, is an avid fan of the swell of J-Horror and K-Horror movies which arrived in the late nineties/early noughties, and this admiration is evident throughout the picture. As with so many of the finer examples of Asian horror cinema, Pieces is concerned with mining its frights from the everyday, the mundane. Whilst all houses are kind-of spooky in the dead of night, this is not a creepy Gothic mansion, it’s a run-of-the-mill suburban estate property; the deceased Nonna, Theresa, was not a wart-ridden hag with a pointy hat and a bubbling cauldron. She was just a woman. And whilst not everything is absolutely spelled out – as things almost never are in short horrors, and neither should they be – the wider story of what has transpired here is elegantly addressed with the inclusion of that rather creepy book, Nonna’s own self-written Necronomicon. Yup, Theresa and her life may have looked plenty mundane, but Nonna had clearly gotten herself deep into something badly… wrong.

Featuring a strong, sympathetic turn by Kristy Guest in the central role as Isabella upon whom this movie stands or falls, Pieces is an assured, clearly defined debut by Mr. Sunley, and comes recommended. I’d love to see him writing the UK’s own version of Ju-On: The Curse somewhere down the line.

http://www.piecesfilm.com/