Peter Jansen

This film has good acting, well-scripted dialogue and high production values. And that is it! It's a good starting point, but it goes downhill from there. One soon wonders whether there will be anyone left to root for. The intended protagonist has come from New York, wound up as wife of a Cheyenne chief (How did THAT happen?), is no longer married to him (How did she manage it?), and is on the way to marry for money, saying so herself! Rummaging around the corpses after a massacre, she cares more for her lost yellow hat than for the vast loss of life. Who could fall in love with her? Well, Soldier Blue does, AFTER deciding that she is a traitor. The plot sucks, always showing or saying one thing, then pushing views based on the opposite, which makes this come across as deserving failure even as a mere propaganda film. Let the film's story speak for itself first, ignoring the question whether it is true for the moment: Is this a film about the Cavalry organising a massacre of a peaceful village (as described at the end)? Is it a film about the Cavalry organising a massacre of a village that just organised a massacre of a Cavalry detachment (as shown at the beginning), taking its gold and trying to use it to build up its firing power for further violence? Why couldn't the survivors follow the easy trail back to camp, if the villagers were peaceful? How would the villagers have acted, if the rifles had actually arrived? Were they better than those from the other tribe, who murdered their own comrade after the Cavalry soldier spared his life (against the protagonist's explicit demand!), having defeated him in single combat? This much is clear: A lot of people acted very badly. Unfortunately, that seems to be the norm in most places at most times. Which side was worse? It's probably too late now to find out. It may have been too late in 1970. I don't demand that the film makers tell me a true story, when even they might be at a loss to establish all the facts. But if they tell me one story, then I expect them to be committed to all of it, instead of presenting conclusions that simply don't match what they have just shown me. There is talk about Cheyenne land. Were they pueblos? If so, they certainly owned land, even if they weren't the first occupants. In New York, the British replaced the Dutch. Not far from New York, the British took land from the Dutch, who had taken it from the Swedish, who weren't the first occupants, either … The film doesn't show the Cheyenne as pueblos but as living in tents, which suggests nomads. Did nomads ever even try to acquire land? Don't they just mean to move on? I want clarity, not maximum graphic violence designed (at best) to bring about an emotional reaction. Showing a naked woman having her breasts cut off doesn't advance my understanding of American history. Does it embellish a massacre that really doesn't need embellishing — and give pornography a bad name at the same time? What does this film do for what little history there can be? Does it put a massacre into a fictional context to diminish it, when it doesn't need that either? Fighting forces have always been good at bringing out the inner serial killer in a frightening proportion of people. The only thing that can be said for this film is that at least it doesn't glamorize the violence it shows. That is not enough to get a third star from me.

The material and the cast made a solid 10 out of 10 possible. Regrettably, I find that I can only give the film a score of 6½ out of 10. Practically every opportunity was missed, except that of earning the wonderful Audrey Hepburn a well-deserved Oscar. It is the acting alone, that justifies more than one or two stars. Here we have a film in which a man can drive a car, at fairly high speed, through narrow streets, around curves, on uneven ground, with both hands off the wheel and both eyes off the road, kneeling on his seat and taking pictures to the rear that turn out well. That is merely one example of the lack of realism that permeates this whole production almost from the titles and almost to the credits. In a comedy, viewers can become accustomed to this. It causes next to no harm, but it raises expectations. Then, as the end approaches — WHAM! — realism hits with a vengeance, ruining what one was waiting for. Just as in "Wayne's World", the producers ought to have gone for the "mega-happy ending". I can stomach a long lesson about the supposed duties of a princess to her family and her country, but ultimately I am more interested in a script writer and a director/producer having a duty to me as a viewer. The young couple's situation may not be propitious, but it isn't hopeless, either. Having made viewers become emotionally invested in the protagonists, a script writer either has to find a solution for their problem or show plausibly that there is none. "Coming to America" has many much weaker passages, but it delivers the unrealistic happy ending that it promises from the outset. "Sommersby" does not make false promises and shows that an ending other than in tragedy can not be delivered. It has been reported that in order to be allowed to film on location, the director had to settle for shooting in black-and-white, which certainly let down viewers of a blockbuster even in those days and which must cost about one star today. In addition, the director had to put up with the casting, the film's only good point! The man didn't even want Hepburn, though without her outstanding acting this film would probably have been forgotten ages ago. Watch it once, if you have time to kill or find that your life would be incomplete without seeing everything Audrey Hepburn ever did, but if you care about plots and like the idea of a man starting out with mercenary motives and then falling in love, you will find "10 Things I Hate About You" far more rewarding. The press conference in "Notting Hill" may have been inspired by "Roman Holiday", but it, too, is a much stronger film. "A Royal Night Out" is shallower, but at least not flawed in its conclusion.

This exceptional film has a plot that absolutely requires choppy editing and black and white photography. This makes it difficult to watch at times, but colour would have added a gaping plot-hole that one couldn't easily excuse. Unlike Predestination, Lola isn't entirely without paradoxes, but the writers made an extraordinary effort to take them to the absolute minimum compatible with having a story at all. It is a great what-if story that doesn't just play with history a little, like the heavily fictionalised The Imitation Game, but gives us a private charitable intelligence hub without as much precaution as at Bletchley Park of using findings sparingly if required, but with worse consequences for sacrificing ships. Unlike practically all other films with alternative histories, this one constructs a completely new culture, right down to the music, keeping everything plausible. A remarkable achievement! It is realistic about the different ways people react to defeat, about its potential to destroy great love, but adds an inspiring story about the great length to which people can go in a desperate effort to undo harm done. In doing so, it doesn't just enhance the characterisation but achieves the additional goal of making this a story that — but for the fantastical bogus engineering — one could buy as possibly true … If it were true, Hitler would have won the war if this film hadn't been made and shown on TV! How is that for a plot? Great acting from Stefanie Martini. All in all, a rare 10 out of 10.

Enjoyed by gamers, not so much by me: This film is driven by action, which I have to admit has been performed and shot to a very high standard, close to that of any Kathryn Bigelow action movie. In terms of plot, it is usually compared with Groundhog Day (1993), though by avoiding the major elements of fantasy it is actually closer to 12:01 P.M., a short film from 1990 that is sadly almost forgotten, even though it was nominated for an Oscar. The actual aims of the evil corporation in this movie are never clear, but there is nothing wrong with a MacGuffin as such. The firm's logo looks like it is meant to read "DYNOW", presumably for "Die Now!" The protagonist dies every day, which really makes Happy Death Day this film's closest antecedent. Personally, I regard Happy Death Day as a much stronger movie, not in spite of it being less action-heavy but largely for that very reason, as it spends time on developing more than one-dimensional characters. The acting is flawless, but I wish that one had given the actors a lot more depth. Admittedly, that wouldn't fit a video game. So for me, all in all this just barely makes it as a 6 out of 10.

A classic in itself, based on a classic in the classical sense! Nearly 2,300 years to bring to the screen what always belonged there but couldn't be put there, because the screen wasn't around, let alone Ray Harryhausen, the first artist who could give effect to the material's full potential. An ancient Greek legend giving the plot for a special effects action heist movie, obviously putting some emphasis on the protagonist putting together the right crew — what will WE do that will still interest people in the 44th century, something that will be innovative THEN, so much so that it can only be fully realized when robots are as ancient as the Acropolis is to us? The plot has the limitations inherent in the genre. "Thou shalt steal the Golden Fleece." How is that for a divine command? Fight your way to a foreign land, elope with its priestess and take the national treasure with you. The producers couldn't help it — it had to stay in the plot. But don't let anybody say unchallenged that this story hasn't aged well!

7 out of 10 (the star system is too coarse). This is a remarkable film in more ways than one. It shows that Diana Dors could excel in a serious role and would have been a major enhancement to British cinema if she hadn't been typecast in parts that didn't deserve (and, one must recognize, didn't receive) her undivided attention. It would be idle to speculate, whether she brought this upon herself by a private life that was met partly with silly prejudice, partly with well-earned condemnation. Technically, there is little to be said against this film, apart from the fact that nobody seemed to be able to count. One would have thought, that Dors might have objected to firing seven shots from a revolver near the beginning, this being so clearly unnecessary. It would also have been better, if she had not kept trimming her eye-brows while awaiting her character's execution. Her cell seems dangerously cluttered and implausibly designed. Is this a fault of the production, or does it reflect actual British prison design from the era? There is a superficially shielded light-bulb high up but an unshielded one close to her bed. There is a table, where prison guards turn their backs to her, not always just one at a time. They knit while they watch her, evidently having been allowed to bring knitting needles into her presence. One guard is on her knees gathering chess pieces, in a convenient position for a mighty kick in her face. Visiting arrangements are insecure, too. But one can overlook all this under the mesmerising effect of Dors' voice-overs in the best stage-whispers before the days of Jodie Foster. Depending on people's views about religion, the chaplain may seem comforting or alienating. To me he is the latter, particularly by taking it for granted that love does not look at the worthiness of the beloved. What can prompt love without shared values and a commitment to living up to those? Is it possible for people to believe, that love is really blind rather than completely determined by character, as in Jane Austen's novels? I wouldn't accuse the film of being manipulative in its intent, but it will be so, partly, in its effect. In that respect, it is a film with a superior performance, but not a superior film altogether. For a good antidote to its shortcomings, best watch Crossed Over (2002), where you will also be treated to an even better performance by the superb Jennifer Jason Leigh.

A solid 8½ out of 10 (the star system is too coarse). Another awe-inspiring performance by Jennifer Jason Leigh, one of the best actresses ever, combines with a much more solid sense of the proper context for a death-row movie than one gets to see in Yield to the Night (1956). I am puzzled by a writer who is less able to see what justice requires than the woman at its receiving end did, but that can not detract from the film as such. Unfortunately, though, almost all characters other than Leigh's were written without depth and played as mere routine performances, hence no 10 out of 10.

This is just a boring film about the Zodiac killer, largely factual, and certainly plausible in showing its supposed hero as an incompetent. It deals with the case as well as its effect on the life of Inspector Matt Parish, the detective in charge of the investigation, as he drinks ever more alcohol and his marriage begins to disintegrate. He refuses to listen to sensible astrological links suggested by his wife and son. Seeing a car that may have been used in at least one of the killings, he does not take a cast of its tyres. It is owned by a gas station and repair shop proprietor and may have been taken by a former employee, a mechanic who is the prime suspect at this point. It does not occur to Parish to ask the owner whether he keeps a record of the car's mileage, so that one could check whether there is any indication of unauthorized use at the times of the crimes. Finding solved crossword puzzles (presumably in the suspect's handwriting) in the waste-paper basket at the man's former residence, he leaves them there to be thrown out with the rest of the trash instead of taking them to have the writing compared with the notes and to check whether the suspect's crossword skills involve patterns similar to those used in the coded messages he sent to the press. He doesn't do what apparently nobody else has done to this day, either. As the zodiac killer picked his own nickname, it might be an idea to check all horoscopes for the dates of the crimes and see whether there are any for which there are similarities for all those dates. On the premise of great astrological interest in the perpetrator, it might even be possible now to establish a day, time and location for his birth that would give him the right kind of horoscope to derive some assumed benefit from killing just when he did (and not afterwards). It might also have been an idea then (though not now) to visit all astrologers in and around San Francisco, show them the identikit picture of the killer and ask them whether they knew him or whether the dates of the crimes meant anything to them or any of their clients. Finally, in direct defiance of an order from the chief of the SFPD, he raids the suspect's home, causes a media circus and finds that he has the wrong man.

I think that this legal comedy is very underrated, even by people involved in its production! If you want plot spoilers, best refer to Wikipedia, where you will get all the details you need. But this film really deserves more attention than that, in which case it should be watched at least twice. One has to be clear from the outset, that this is a farce. At the same time, it isn’t altogether low-brow British comedy in the Carry On style. Parts are intentionally very unsubtle. But don’t be misled by that into missing the more involved elements! Is it a tale of Box and Cox, as suggested by the judge? Most emphatically not! Miss Pilbright laughs, having been informed that she has to if the judge thinks that he has made a joke, even if she doesn’t understand it (and here there isn’t anything to understand). Matters are even said to be a “box-up”, whatever that is supposed to be. (But would Google let me write the other thing — and would it have been allowed on screen in 1962?) And yet, the whole film was produced by Betty Box … No, this film is NOT with Meg Ryan, who was an infant when it was made. However, Mary Peach, the female lead, looks like her, sounds like her and acts like her. One does, of course, know from the outset, that Mrs. Pudney (or Miss Worthing, or whatever her real name may be) is up to something highly irregular. The film is very good at maintaining suspense over this issue. Brenda de Banzie’s acting is exceptional for the era, too. What looks like awkwardly bad acting at some key moments will appear to be very apt for the occasion once her character’s real motives are known. Ron Moody is accused of over-acting, which would be true in a less lighthearted drama. Here, his antics are needed. Give him his due; give the script writer his due, too — it isn’t at all easy to come up with so many sayings fit for the film’s occasions yet comically attributable to monkeys! And the arch-conservative line “they don’t make things to last these days” just had to be given to the dancer whose tassel had disintegrated. Incidentally, the dance performed for the lawyer and the music for it make the impression of having inspired the beginning of one of the principal performances in Bugsy Malone. Given his name, it was about time that James Robertson Justice played a judge, and who could fault the way he did it? The put-down of the obnoxious police witness is very refreshing. It has to be acknowledged, that it doesn’t make sense for the judge to want a barrister to get more important cases for the very same conduct for which he wanted him to be disbarred. The scene with the wasps is also rather shallow. Surely these are very minor points in an otherwise well-written tale. All in all, this is one of the few films from 60 years ago that are still worth watching again and again.

Excellent acting is ruined by propaganda. PLOT SPOILERS FROM THE START Four young hooligans spend nearly half a day on a rampage through London, pushing people to the floor, vandalising things, brandishing a knife on every occasion, harassing young women. The whole endeavour culminates in a break-in in pursuit of £100 and the murder of an employee. The real gain turns out to have been 15 shillings (£0.75 in today's money). All four prove throughout the film that they are no more capable of a peaceful existence than a flock of seagulls, fighting each other when there are no innocent people around to gang up against. All four are put on trial. Their defence lawyer adopts a confrontational approach to prosecution witnesses that has rarely seen its equal in film history. He acccuses young women who had to endure sustained unwanted advances of having been out in order to be picked up. Just guessing, hoping to make mud stick, he pretty much accuses a witness of adultery, not even by searching questions but by flat-out stating that the man hadn't called the police to a disturbance caused by his clients on account of being with a woman other than his wife. Learning that the woman was said wife's sister, he just shrugs his shoulders and makes remarks to the effect that it was worth a try. He attacks another witness with the claim that he couldn't identify yobs because he isn't a psychiatrist! Later he brings a priest dressed like a teddy-boy into the court to impugn the witness's credibility further. He attacks a respectable old toilet attendant for his job and by implication his social class, asking him flat-out whether he is proud of being a toilet attendant, presumable as distinct from being a pompous shyster. Eventually, when he gets one defendant off and the three others admit their guilt, he accuses society at large of what nobody in the trial had done except himself. Supposedly, his clients were despised for their social class (!) and, apparently, should now get privileges for that class by escaping the penalty for murder, though he declares with regret that that won't happen. He dares people to stand up if they think that they can defend the law, not getting anybody to do so. Two of his clients don't get the death penalty, on account of being 16 and 17 years old. Sooner or later they would get out. Well, better luck next murder …