The General (1998).

Brendan Gleeson is one of the finest out there and even in a stinker he’s never the one doing the stinking.

Jon Voight, best known these days as an outspoken MAGA acolyte, has his considerable talents on display as our protagonist’s Gardaí nemesis, the Nineties his thesp Indian summer. This and his barking turn in Anaconda (1997) is a mighty double bill I would recommend to anyone.

The black and white works, it’s frequently thrilling, and he’s a very funny character who maintains your interest.

Superb movie.

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Atonement (2007). I’ve seldom seen such drivel.

Even the opening credits annoyed me in this desperate movie, which is schematic as it comes in its plot contrivances, and a fucking pain to get through. And we have the inevitable fawned-over sequence shot, an intricately constructed bit of cinematography with no purpose other than to showcase the director. A characterless piece, it was dreadful. Every frame and utterance was weak Merchant Ivory or the worst embraces of The English Patient (1996). One is even pummeled with the delights of elegantly framed close-ups of actors with an incapacity to emote; it’s like their toaster has just died when a tragedy occurs.

It attempts to delve into a few ideas about the dangers of subjectivity and misinterpretation, but there’s nothing here that Hitchcock didn’t trample on innumerable times.

I hated it and everyone in it.

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Manchester by the Sea (2016).

Despite some well-written scenes built around awkward moments, this is a hollow tragedy wholly dependent upon flashback structure as a means of keeping the audience attuned. And with a protagonist who doesn’t deserve our sympathy, or attention, or any kind of movie made about him, and he’s a lifeless fucker at that.

You understand, with an unsympathetic lad, the brutal approach with the likes of Taxi Driver (1976) or Raging Bull (1980), but these movies were made with exceptional grace and a magnetic, kinetic urgency.

This was just a derivative, bubbling affair, the extended, longing shots of troubled souls staring at one another lifted from a thousand playbooks. I was bored with every character in this film, as was I with the reliance on rote soundtrack choices I’d expect to be made on a student production.

And Kyle Chandler is in it with one of the most exotic versions of a Massachusetts accent I’ve ever heard in a movie. These folk are American actors and can’t even do a dialect properly from a state in their own country.

Rubbish.

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Glengarry Glen Ross (1992).

It’s a pre-internet age and characters are using payphones to make sales calls.

Maybe it’s a metaphor for the ol’ ‘American Dream’ and its fallacies. But it’s mainly just a quote-fest with depressed, desperate lads crumbling. Memorable dialogue is heavy, exchanges that keep you engrossed. It doesn’t matter that the directorial style is a non-thing as it’s the filming of a play.

Impressive.

Total Recall (1990).

This is one funny movie.

Paul Verhoeven excelled at satirical splatter. Then he made Black Book (2006) and it was a sort of solemn drama and departure from corporate critique, and very good despite the absence of jokes. 

Arnie is incredible in this. For a good decade he could do no wrong, the best of the hulking beasts.

5/5, a glorious film.

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The Rock (1996).

Viewing at the cinema for a wee nostalgia evening, and it’s still incredible in every way and will always remain so. 

There’s a surfeit of goodies here: Cage at the start of his insane holy trinity that is this bad boy, Face/Off (1997), and Con Air (1997); Connery oozing nonchalant cool; the frankly mental Marines, these including Candyman and the Gordon Gekko lookalike who played the health inspector in Friends; the San Francisco vistas, and the fact that every moment of this risible scenario works, as in you do believe what is happening.

One of the rare action movies in which the music fits the thrills to a tee, and the images are exquisite, the best version of Michael Bay(hem). 

It’s a damn great movie. 

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Rushmore (1998).

Intriguing premise slides into tedium. The posters are good and the images make decent copy, but it’s not much of a film.

It gets lost in its own ‘quirkiness’, as tiresome as its protagonist must be to his teachers, and I was bored shitless for the last 45 minutes. It relies on its soundtrack to the detriment of anything approaching character development, the repetition of the scenes a right nuisance. It’s a short movie at the most.

Brian Cox is in it and it briefly livens up the show when he is on-screen. But he doesn’t stop it from being pish. I liked this once but clearly there was something wrong with me.

I was blind but now I can see.

Sisu (2022).

Sublime cinematography stuns from the very first minute and shows this is a director who understands visuals and how to elevate the script (his own) through them. 

Someone (I don’t know who) called it the John Wick of war movies. I’d subscribe to that view. It’s a total riot and a wee bitty nuts.

Time to watch a doc on the Winter War (1939-40).

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About Schmidt (2002).

This is about one of those retired characters who keeps on turning up to a workplace he’s no longer invited to. Or has nothing to do unless it’s scripted. The director excels at the awkwardness of human interaction and it’s the running theme of his oeuvre.

I’d like to imagine there are conscious, intended connections to Five Easy Pieces (1970), as it does feel like a companion piece, how the lad found his destination after the gas station pit stop.

It’s phenomenal work from Jack Nicholson in one of his last roles. He is a force of nature, and he doesn’t even have to shout. He’s just there with his presence and that’s enough, building a sad, bitter character into one with dimensions as the chap gradually learns to cope with his situation.

Jack has been missed.

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28 Years Later (2025).

If there is any kind of point to this movie, please let me know.

I couldn’t be arsed by the end, mainly because the film itself wasn’t bothering to do anything other than bore me.

I was bored.

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